Mandy

by Claudy Conn

  * * *

  Just as Mandy lay awake determined not to think about the duke, he was sitting up in his room, going over the strange tense conversation he had experienced with Skip during dinner and trying to force her image out of his mind.

  Skippy was never given to moods and bleak utterances and yet, the evening had showed him a side of his friend he had never witnessed ever before.

  Skip always had something to say and jest about in his habitual urbane manner, but the viscount clearly was reticent during their evening together, almost to the point of rudeness.

  They had been too close, too long for the duke not to wonder about this and say, “Skip, I have no wish to intrude on your privacy, but perhaps I may be able to help with whatever is troubling you?”

  “Help? Who said anything about needing help?” retorted the viscount shocked out of his meandering.

  The duke had been sure that his friend was blushing. “You didn’t have to say anything about it. ‘Tis obvious to me,” retorted the duke surprised even further by his friend’s attitude.

  “Well, nothing is troubling me. What’s more, going to bed,” the viscount said suddenly getting up and putting down his unfinished glass of port.

  “No, really old boy. Doing it too brown ain’t you?” the duke was actually stunned by this. “Going to bed at eight? What sort of gudgeon do you take me for?”

  The viscount leveled a look at his friend and said, “Devil is in it that…never mind…got this headache, Brock. Don’t feel quite the thing. Rest…that’s the ticket, ole boy. Sorry to be such a poor host…but can’t be helped.”

  “Right, well then, off with you,” the duke returned. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He had not believed a word Skip had uttered, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it at that moment.

  Thus, he had gone up to his own room earlier than he was wont to do in London and wondered how the devil he was going to get any sleep. What sort of hell had he plunged himself into in Yorkshire? Every sense, every nerve knew something was toward with the viscount, but if Skip wouldn’t speak of it, there was nothing he could do.

  On top of that, was the problem of clearing Ned’s name and getting it done as quickly as he was able. Matters were getting murky and although he was certain he knew Skip too well to be brought to believe that he had anything to do with Celia’s death, he was concerned about getting to the entire truth of the matter. Why hadn’t Skip mentioned his connection to her earlier? Was that what was pecking at the viscount?

  He moved to the balcony, throwing off his buckskin waistcoat and standing just outside the balcony door to breathe in the sultry night air, when something caught his attention and he went perfectly still.

  A dark clad figure moved stealthy across the lawns.

  He recognized the shape and style of movement and knew immediately who the darkly clad figure was. What in thunder was going on?

  “Devil a bit!” he mumbled. Skip! So that was it—the viscount had turned in early because he wanted to sneak off. Why?

  Just what the deuce was going on here? He had almost confided in the viscount that he had met the twins and knew where they were hiding. Now, he was glad he had held his tongue. It appeared the viscount had a secret or two of his own.

  Sleep had not come easy after that. He was sick at heart because Skip was such a dear friend and this was disconcerting. He just didn’t know what to make of it, as no explanation that made any sense sat well with him.

  He left his bed early in the morning as the sun streamed through the window whose drapes he had not closed. His heart and head both felt heavy.

  Conjectures pounded in his brain as he washed and shaved. He donned buckskin riding clothes and his shining hessians, but he was torn about what he was going to do with regard to the viscount.

  He found upon entering the breakfast room that he wouldn’t have to deal with it, as the viscount had already gone off, which did nothing to relieve his concerns.

  By damn, he told himself, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

  * * *

  Mandy’s sleep had been fitful. She had risen washed her face and hands with cold water and thrown on one of her brother’s fresh shirts. It hung to her knees and she grimaced over the way she looked. At first, this had all been a grand adventure. Even dressing in boy’s clothing had been so very exciting. Now, with no end in sight, she was beginning to feel ‘blue deviled’.

  She went looking for him and found him sitting outside in the shade of the overhang of the abbey’s Chapel. “‘Tis so hot, isn’t it Neddy?” she said as she dropped beside him and nudged his arm with her shoulder.

  “Aye,” he agreed but gave her a grin. “More than usual, I suppose.”

  “And that dried beef was an awful breakfast. I was giving some thought to going into Manchester where no one knows us and have a decent meal at an Inn. Could we, Ned?”

  “Coo,” stuck in Chauncey coming around the corner at that moment. “Of all the addle-brained notions, missy. Some picture the three of us would set and with the likes of Fowler nosing about, it just won’t serve.”

  “But Chauncey, Mandy has a point,” Ned stuck in. “Manchester is big enough and too full of odd sorts for us to be noticed. And I’m hungry for a decent meal too.”

  “Lord love ye, children and children is whot ye be, not thinking it out.” He sighed heavily and offered, “I’ll see what I can do. Have a fancy for pigeon pie meself.” He stretched his husky limbs and announced, “Think I’ll pay a visit to m’darlin’ Bess. ‘Tis time I gave her a song.”

  “At Sherborne?” Mandy objected fearfully. “Oh Chauncey…no, not now…anyone could see you.”

  “Ain’t a fool, missy and ye would do best to remember that. I’ll just catch one of the boys in the field and send him to fetch Bess to me with what we need. There isn’t a Sherborne servant not wishing to help ye and Ned. So don’t be worrying yerself. I won’t be long.” He eyed Ned. “Ye can come along for the ride, but keep yer cap hat tucked in low over yer face.”

  “Well then, why can’t I come with you?”

  “I need Ned to help me carry the supplies, but it would be best if we didn’t stir up any dust for anyone to follow. Ye stay here. If we get nabbed I don’t want ye caught up in it.”

  Mandy sighed for she knew that Chauncey would hog-tie her to a post if he had to just to keep her from following.

  She watched them go and sat back against the limestone wall. At least it was cool against the stone in the shade. Bored silly, she closed her eyes, but when something, she wasn’t sure what, startled her and she opened them, it was to find a pair of deep and twinkling blue eyes regarding her.

  Her heart began thumping hard within her chest. She jumped to her feet, but her knees threatened to cave and she held her palm against the stone wall as she tried to sound casual. Instead of light and unconcerned her voice came out of her throat with a squeak, before she was able to clear it and coherently say, “Oh—but you did give me a start.” Hearing the words stagger out of her mouth made her cheeks get hot while her mind got fuzzy. She felt a fool which did nothing to help her compose herself.

  “Did I?” he said as he somehow moved in and towered over her. “I had no intention of doing so, but perhaps it may serve as a warning in the future, after all, it could have been anyone.”

  He was infuriating. Here she was flustered by his big handsome self and all he could do was find fault with her. She put her hand on her hip and moved away from him saying over her shoulder, “I should have known you would start the day out with some odious remark. I suppose ‘tis in your nature.”

  He managed to get in front of her and block her path, ignoring her words to ask, “Where are Ned and Chauncey? Why are you here alone?”

  “If you must know, they went off to get some food…as our breakfast of dried beef was sorely lacking,” she answered on a sigh.

  He frowned and repeated “Bloody dried beef, damn but I hadn’t realized that was all you
had left.”

  She saw it wasn’t a question as she watched his expressions flit over his face. He sounded annoyed which made her realize he cared to some extent, but she still could not get the snippiness out of her voice as she replied, “Indeed, dried beef and not enough of it at that.” She realized she sounded caustic and shifted her tone, giving him a fleeting smile as she added, “Chauncey got it into his head that he had to have pigeon pie and so they went off in search of it.” she chuckled.

  “Of course, pigeon pie,” the duke said with a boyish grin. “And they left you behind and you are feeling a bit out of sorts.”

  “They did and I am,” she agreed pleased to find he understood.

  “Come Mandy, do walk with me. I should like to discuss something with you.” He offered his arm.

  Mandy eyed his bent elbow. She took her knit cap up from the ground, slapped it off her thigh to shake loose any dirt and tucked her thick long hair up and under it.

  She stared again at his arm, so large, so muscular and although she hesitated she did place her fingers on his arm. He took those fingers and pulled them through the crook of his arm and patted them.

  His touch felt so protective and so very right. She felt that no harm could ever come to her when she was in his company. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel that way?

  She peeped up at him and then down at herself and she giggled. It suddenly dawned on her that the picture they presented was absurd and she began to bend over with uncontrolled mirth.

  “Whatever are you laughing at?” he asked, grinning broadly.

  “If anyone were to see us…me dressed with my hair tucked under my cap and looking like a schoolboy and you…the big protective buck, oh…” she giggled and got the words out piece meal. “They…” giggle “would…think…we…present a very odd picture, indeed.”

  He looked at her and said, his voice low and laced with a tone that made her shiver, “If you wish to look like a schoolboy…” he touched first the long strands of golden hair that had escaped her cap and then moved his finger gently down her neckline to where the swells of her breast were enticingly displayed because she had undid a few buttons just before he had arrived because of the heat. His eyes traveled back to her lips and then met her gaze, as he said, on a hoarse note, “you must don something a bit less revealing, for my pretty gamine, your exquisite proportions most certainly give you away.”

  She felt the fire in her cheeks. She felt her body tremble with an excitement she told herself she must not feel, and then he took her hand from his arm and held it within his own and for the first time in her life, Mandy thought she might swoon.

  She was wildly, insanely overcome. She was a shaking body of need. She wanted him to take her into his arms. She wanted him to want her, to kiss her, to touch her and make her a woman. Her mind, her body, her emotions were a ball of bursting need and that need was centered on him.

  She lowered her eyes to the ground as he pulled her along and heard his sensuous voice as he told her, “Come, let us walk in the woods where we can not be easily discovered.”

  “I…I suppose,” she faltered, bucked herself up and said, “No impropriety can be attached to my walking alone with my guardian in the woods?” If her words were meant to put him in his place, they fell short.

  He snorted derisively, and then stopped to hold her shoulders. His face was drawn in a frown as he said, “No more than your meeting with Sir Owen yesterday.”

  She gasped, “That was not intended.”

  “I wonder,” he answered on a frown. “However, it might interest you to know that Sir Owen paid us a visit yesterday, at Wharfdale Manor…a most unusual visit.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Apparently Sir Owen feels that Skip is concealing something regarding his connection with Celia,” the duke offered thoughtfully.

  She sighed, “He told me the same thing.”

  “Do you think it possible?” he asked and she felt his penetrating gaze.

  “All I know is that Celia was desperate…she was five and twenty and thought her chances to marry well were over. She was casting her lures so yes, it is possible that Skip was taken in for a time…”

  “Indeed, he has admitted to having had a slight intrigue with the poor woman.”

  Mandy went quiet. She may be still a maid without experiences, but she wasn’t a fool. She had seen certain glances pass between Skip and her cousin Celia when he came to visit. She sighed, “It doesn’t matter. Skip and Celia could only have been a passing fancy, nothing more.”

  He frowned. “You are very loyal to him. How did he earn your high regard?”

  She looked up at him and answered with a question, “He is a friend, are you not loyal to him? I thought the two of you were more than close.”

  He waved it all away and said, “You are quite right. I don’t think Skip’s interest was anything but fleeting and does not have anything to do with the fix we find ourselves in.”

  “Then why mention it?” she asked eyeing him curiously. He seemed out of sorts.

  “Because your suitor, Sir Owens, seems to think it does. Owen thinks that Skip is cloaking his past and present activities in such a way as to hinder Ned’s chances of clearing himself.”

  “First, Sir Owen is not my suitor! He is mistaken in his belief about Skippy—as I am certain you know.” Mandy’s hands were on her hips as she glared at him. It was so important that he understand she was not interested in Sir Owen. Why? Why should she care?

  “Not your suitor? That didn’t seem to be the case when he had you in his arms…” the duke snapped.

  “Had me…in his arms?” she was livid.

  “Like this,” said the duke who then took her forcefully into his embrace.

  Mandy made no push to resist. She didn’t want to. She knew she was behaving like a tart, but she wanted this and had hoped for this moment with him with all her heart. Why now would she resist?

  The look he gave her was full with hunger. His blue eyes seemed to devour her just before he brushed her lips with his own, gently kissing her, before that kiss became more insistent and she parted her lips to receive more.

  His touch exploded a river of fire in her veins. She burned for him. His touch aroused her in a way she had never thought possible. It was as though she had been waiting for him all her adult life. There was no one like to him.

  There was no feeling like the one he drew from her. He broke from the kiss but not to stop. He was gently touching his lips to her ears, to her neck, nibbling as she arched to his ministrations. What was happening to her? This was something she might regret in the morning? No…no regrets. She might forever yearn for him when he no longer wanted her, but for now…now he did want her and she wanted him.

  “Why did you sit alone with him?” he asked hoarsely.

  “I…he saw me…I had to make certain he wouldn’t give me away…”

  “So you kissed him to make him keep your secret?” he demanded as he looked into her eyes.

  “No, he tried to kiss me…I stopped him,” she answered roughly and put a hand to push at his chest.

  “Don’t push me away, Mandy…don’t…” he said and his lips were on hers again, melting away all her anger.

  When he came up from that kiss and nibbled at her bottom lip, he whispered, “You have bewitched me,” he groaned and then whispered her name again as his fingers undid the remaining buttons of her shirt. His hand slid inside and cupped her breast and fingered her nipple as his mouth closed on hers. She was lost to that kiss. It was all consuming. When he broke from it to lower his head and lick her nipple with his tongue she gasped with the sensation he had aroused in her.

  She felt a tightness in her stomach and clenched her thighs, but his hand had moved to her rump and pulled her into him.

  She felt the hardness of his manhood against her body and arched instinctively. She felt a ravenous hunger, a hunger for everything he was.

  Everything about this felt right, felt meant. His
body against hers was glorious wonder. Primal hunger rushed through her as her hands roamed his arms, bare now for somehow his shirt and waistcoat were gone. She stood back to look at him, but he was already taking her back into his arms, covering her lips with his own.

  Her brother’s shirt lay on the ground with his, and he was bending his head to her bare breasts again, cupping them in his hands as his tongue licked at her nipples making them taut, making her yearn for something she couldn’t name. And then he was suckling there and she felt something building up between her thighs. Never before had she felt this way. She didn’t know a man could make a woman feel so good.

  He had off her boots and breeches.

  She stood naked before him and the look on his face banished all shyness and replaced it with pride. He made her proud to be a woman for his expression told her she was the most exquisite woman alive.

  And then he whispered, “Ravishing, my love…I am your servant.”

  He lowered her to the ground and was on his knees bending over her as he rained kisses down her neck, to her breasts, lower still to her belly, where he nibbled.

  His hand cupped the cleft between her thighs and exerted pressure as he shook that area with deft movements and told her she was perfection.

  His boots were gone, as were his breeches and she stared at the hardness of his shaft and the way it danced in anticipation above her.

  He saw her looking at him and took her hand to softly say, “Touch this, touch me, precious beauty…”

  And she did. She ran her hand up and down its length and then looked at his face with wonder as she whispered his name, “Brock…I am not sure what I am doing.”

  “And yet, you thrill me more than any other woman ever has, my sweet, my little gamine,” he answered groaning as he took his hard throbbing shaft from her and set himself between her thighs.

  She stared into his deep blue eyes. Everything about him pulsated with masculinity, feral and erotic. She wanted him. It was all that she knew. She might regret this later, but she didn’t think so. Would he regret it?

  Her friends had told her that men liked to hear naughty talk in the bedroom and that it was fun. Would he like to hear it? She said softly, “I know something about what you want me to do to with your…cock.”