by Darcy Burke
“You changed your mind?”
“Yes. She then told everyone that I attempted to kidnap her.” He made a sound of disgust low in his throat. “Most didn’t believe her, thankfully, but it was dodgy there for a while. I was given the cut direct on several occasions, and my father was furious with me. I was labeled a rogue, a scoundrel, and a rake—the worst sort of reprobate. I grew frustrated with everyone’s judgment, especially since I’d ultimately done the right thing. I decided to become what they accused me of.”
She was quiet a long moment. “I can’t imagine your father approved.”
“Not at all. He was livid. We didn’t speak for some time.” He looked toward the portrait of his father that hung on the wall to the left of the desk. In it, the former earl stood with his pony when he was about seven or eight years old. The portrait was his father’s favorite because of his love for the animal. Tobias had always hoped his father would speak to him with the same tender fondness with which he recalled his horse, but he never had. Now, Tobias wondered why he hadn’t removed the painting. Perhaps Tobias was still hoping, even now, to find some glimpse of affection from the man.
“When I learned he was ill, that he was dying, I thought we would repair things, but he wasn’t interested in such sentiment.” Instead, he’d focused on what Tobias needed to do when he was gone—take care of his ward and marry as soon as possible or suffer the consequences.
“I’m so sorry,” Fiona said softly.
“He found my behavior abhorrent, and I must admit I did my damnedest to ensure he felt that way. His disapproval was the best approval I could earn.” He shook his head. “Looking back, that was not a terribly wise choice considering that I would need to marry at some point.”
“I did not help matters with my behavior.” She grazed her fingertips against his leg, sending a flash of heat through him. From the moment he’d glimpsed her in the doorway, his body had thrummed with a steady, insistent longing. Her touch amplified the sensation so that need pulsed through him, sending blood rushing to his cock.
He shifted in an attempt to get his coat to mask his desire, but it was fairly hopeless. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice.
“Please don’t continue to fret about what happened,” he said thickly. “My reputation was well known before you dressed up as a maid.”
“Still, you were on the way to improving things, and I ruined that.”
He stared at the pale column of her throat where her pulse beat strong and sure, and perhaps a bit quickly. “Did you?”
Her lips parted, and he wondered if she felt the same arousal as him, if that was even possible. For he was powerfully drawn to her and wanted nothing more than to lay her out on the settee, lift her skirts, and bury himself between her legs.
“What are you asking?” she whispered.
“I’m not really asking anything.” In his mind, he peeled her stocking away and kissed the backs of her knees before skimming his tongue along her thigh. Clearing the lust from his throat, he continued, “I’m merely pondering whether you had anything to do with it. Perhaps I am truly what my father and everyone else believes—a reprobate, a rogue, a scoundrel.”
“Of course you aren’t.”
“No? Then why is it that when I look at you, all I can think about is kissing you? And not just your mouth. In my mind, I strip away your clothing so I may kiss you everywhere. That is surely improper, for you are my ward. No, it’s beyond improper, it’s scandalous.” He straightened his arm and allowed his fingers to graze her shoulder—first the part that was covered with the sleeve of her gown, then her bare flesh as he moved toward her neck. “It’s positively shameless.”
“Would it be so bad if it was just one kiss?” the question was higher than her usual tone. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated with unmistakable desire.
“But what if it wasn’t?” He trailed his fingertips up the side of her neck to a spot behind her ear. He gently pressed his thumb to her jaw.
She leaned forward and put her mouth on his, shocking him, as she’d done that day in the garden. No, it wasn’t shocking like that. He’d never imagined they would share a kiss before that. But in every moment since, he’d hoped for the chance. Now, it was here.
Cupping the side of her head, he brought his other hand to her side where he splayed his fingers along her back and tucked his thumb beneath her breast. He slanted his lips over hers, rising slightly from the settee.
She curled one hand around his neck, clasping his nape. He brought his thumb forward and pressed against her chin. Pulling back for the barest moment, he whispered, “Open your mouth just a bit so I can show you—”
Her lips parted, and once again she shocked him as her tongue met his. She gasped at the contact, and he lost himself in the wonder of her response. He forced himself to go slowly, to show her every divine progression of this ritual, of the sweet and dazzling moments when one first learns a lover’s terrain. Perhaps she would find it was like studying a new map. He hoped she found it that entrancing.
The kiss deepened, each of them exploring the other. Her fingers dug into his head and neck, and he thrust his hand into her hair, desperate to pull the pins away so he could bury himself in her softness.
He did not, however, because to do so would be to completely lose himself. That, he could not do. She was his ward, and while they were in a private place, the door to his study was not closed.
Despite that, he did not pull away. He didn’t want to interrupt this magnificent moment. Pressing her back into the corner of the settee, he brought his hand to her front where he cupped her breast. She gasped again but didn’t withdraw. In fact, she clutched him more tightly and arched up against him.
A deep growl rose in his throat as he tore his mouth from hers. Not to leave her, but to further survey the map before him. He kissed her chin, her jaw, then her mouth once more, eagerly devouring her. She tipped her head back and pulled on his hair as he trailed his lips down her throat. He clasped her breast more firmly and dragged his thumb across the bare skin above the neckline of her gown. How he longed to rip the garment, and those beneath it, away, to expose the landscape of her body.
“Oh yes.” She let out a delightfully dark and gritty moan followed by a whimper that made Tobias even harder. He licked along the edge of her bodice and suckled her flesh.
She cried out and he put his hand over her mouth. Looking up at her, he saw the stark desire etched into her features and nearly lost all control. He put his finger against her lips. “Shhh.”
“My lord,” she breathed before sucking the tip into her mouth.
“Tobias,” he hissed. “My name is Tobias.”
Her only response was a nod and the press of her hand against his neck. Tipping his head back down, he tried to make sense of her gown. It was the sort that gathered at the front, so he could loosen the tie tucked into the front of her bodice and the garment would open.
Testing his theory, he pulled the tie. The gown gaped, exposing the corset beneath. And beneath that was her infernal chemise. “I hate women’s clothing,” he muttered.
Undeterred, he reached down for the hem of her gown, lifting her skirt until he found it. Raising it farther, he exposed her leg until his fingertips found her bare thigh. She parted her legs, but instead of taking that as encouragement, he froze.
What on earth was he doing? She was still his bloody ward, and this was shameless.
Tobias released her and sat back, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, even though his pulse had finally begun to slow. Because it had to. This wasn’t just shameless, it was madness.
She stared at him, her gaze confused. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, I did. I never should have allowed any of that to happen.”
“You say that like you’re in charge. Why don’t you manage your body and your choices, and I’ll manage mine.” Giving him a look that was somehow both prim and enticing, she tied the lace of her dress, cinching the bodice back so it covere
d her undergarments. “I welcomed everything that just happened, and I enjoyed it.”
“Fiona, I am your guardian.”
“Thanks to your father.” She rose and smoothed her hands down her rumpled dress. “Now I think I may harbor a particular dislike for him too.”
What was she saying? “This can’t happen again.” The words came out low and harsh because he had difficulty summoning them.
“You said that before, and yet here we are.”
Satisfied that he could stand without displaying the crux of his desire now that his erection had somewhat waned, he stood. “Please forgive my lapse in judgment. I shall resist temptation in the future. I told you what I am.”
Her gaze moved over him, stirring his cock once more. “A rogue. A rake. A scoundrel. A reprobate.” She spoke with soft deliberation, and it was sweet poetry. “Yes, I can see what you are, and contrary to what you may think, it isn’t bad.” With a flick of her skirts, she turned and left the study.
“Christ,” Tobias murmured as he sank back down onto the settee, his body deflating with unquenched lust.
Not only did he want his ward, but he was also now beginning to consider if he could actually marry her. The question was whether she would consider it too.
Chapter 16
After a night of sleep in which torrid dreams awakened her several times, Fiona spent the morning feeling agitated and uncertain. She’d managed to keep herself together while in Tobias’s presence, but as soon as she’d reached her room, she’d collapsed against the door in a quivering mass of unsatisfied desire.
As she lay in bed, she’d closed her eyes and recalled the book she’d found in her father’s library. Complete with detailed drawings, the treatise outlined ways in which men and women gave and received pleasure. She’d been horrified when she’d first found it, and then over the years, she’d returned to it as her curiosity had grown. If not for that book, she wouldn’t have had a clue about what might happen with Tobias. As it was, she knew what could have happened, and she was wholly disappointed when it hadn’t.
It also meant she knew how to provide herself with at least a modicum of relief.
He’d opened her eyes to what she was missing, to what marriage could bring. She’d been foolish not to consider this physical aspect and the fact that it was directly tied to the magnetic pull she felt toward him. It was desire, pure and simple, and she’d never felt it for anyone else, including Lord Gregory.
Frowning, she finally emerged from her room and immediately found Prudence in their sitting room. Seated at the small round table near the windows, she looked up from the newspaper she held. “Are you feeling all right today?”
“I didn’t sleep well.” Fiona didn’t want to tell her what had happened. She wasn’t sure she agreed with Tobias that it was shameless, but it was most certainly improper.
“Were you able to speak with Lord Overton about our encounter with Lady Bentley?” Prudence knew Fiona had gone downstairs for that purpose. Thankfully she’d been abed when Fiona returned.
“Briefly,” she said. “Apparently, he did court her, and she did choose Bentley over him. He did not, however, attempt to kidnap her.” Fiona rolled her eyes.
“Of course,” Prudence murmured. “I noticed you were downstairs for quite some time.”
There was no question, but Fiona heard her curiosity quite loudly. “I went to the library to spend some time with the maps.”
The butler stepped into the sitting room just then. “Pardon my intrusion, ladies. Miss Wingate, if you are free, your presence is requested in his lordship’s study.”
A wave of heat spiked through Fiona, followed closely by a crisp burst of anxiety. What could the earl want? Would it be awkward to be with him in the place where they’d embraced so intimately the night before?
“I’ll be right there, Carrin,” Fiona said, brushing her hand over the back of her upswept hair.
After the butler departed, Prudence said, “You look fine. Actually, you look very pretty.”
Darting a glance toward Prudence, Fiona dropped her hand to her side. “Thank you.” And blast because Fiona didn’t want anyone, including Prudence, knowing that she cared what she looked like in Tobias’s presence.
Tobias. She really oughtn’t call him that, even in her head.
Fiona walked downstairs, her pace altering between fast with anticipation and sedate with trepidation. By the time she reached the study, she felt as if she’d taken a few laps around the house.
As she stepped over the threshold, she nearly tripped. Tobias wasn’t there.
His secretary, a round-faced gentleman with dark, receding hair and a warm smile, stood from where he sat in a chair beside Tobias’s desk. “Good afternoon, Miss Wingate. Thank you for coming to meet with me. Will you sit for a moment?”
She glanced toward the settee but didn’t want to sit there. Instead, she took another chair on the other side of Tobias’s desk. “I didn’t realize I was coming to see you, Mr. Dyer. Carrin only told me that my presence was required in the study.”
“I see, well, my apologies. It wasn’t my intent to surprise you. With the deadline for his lordship’s marriage in ten days and his lack of a bride, I thought we should discuss the specifics of your inheritance.”
Her what? Fiona stared at him as words utterly failed her.
“Now, the twelfth is a Sunday, so the property will officially transfer to you on the thirteenth. The property does have a steward who was hired by Lady Overton, and you will likely wish to retain him, at least for a while—”
Fiona held up a hand and finally managed to push forth speech. “What inheritance are you speaking of? I am not aware of a property or anything else, for that matter.”
Mr. Dyer’s complexion paled by at least a shade. He shifted in his chair and glanced down at the papers in front of him on the corner of the desk. “Oh. I thought his lordship had informed you of the terms of his father’s will.”
Outrage warred with disappointment inside her. “He has not. I pray you will enlighten me since it seems to involve…me.” She somehow summoned a smile but feared it wasn’t at all pleasant. She clasped her hands so tightly in her lap that her fingers started to go numb.
Dyer hesitated. No doubt he was perplexed as to why his employer hadn’t told her a thing about any of this. He certainly seemed confused.
The secretary coughed. “Well, this is irregular, as I thought his lordship had told you of the situation. His father’s will states that his lordship must wed within three months of the prior earl’s death, and that date is the twelfth of March.”
Now Tobias’s search for a countess and his seeming inability to find one made sense. He wasn’t looking for a wife because he wanted one but because he had to marry. The servants’ chatter that Prudence had overheard also made sense.
“What happens if he doesn’t wed by that date?” Fiona asked.
“If he remains unwed, one of his properties will be transferred to you.”
“How can that be? Aren’t an earl’s properties entailed with the title?”
“It varies, but in this case, the estate in question belonged to Lord Overton’s mother’s family—that is, the current Lord Overton. Upon her marriage to the prior earl, Horethorne became his property.”
Fiona’s mind spun. She was to own an entire estate? That would change everything. She wouldn’t have to worry about Mrs. Tucket or herself, never mind when or whether she should marry. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. It was rare for women to own property. She wondered if her cousin was aware of this and whether he could prevent her from claiming it.
“The estate will be mine? It won’t belong to a gentleman who will hold it for me?”
The secretary shook his head. “The instructions are clear—you will be the owner.”
She stared at him in utter disbelief. This was beyond unexpected. It was a bloody miracle. “Does the estate have income?”
“Enough to support the house and provide a m
odest living for the inhabitants.”
This was unbelievable. “You said it’s called Horethorne?” The name was familiar.
Dyer smiled. “Yes, it’s a lovely estate in south Somerset.” As soon as he said Somerset, Fiona remembered where she’d heard the name of the estate. And with that, she recalled precisely what it was before the secretary even finished. “His lordship spent most of his childhood there.”
Her stomach sank. “Lord Overton told me about his mother’s house,” she said softly, her heart aching at his father’s cruelty. “Why would the previous earl write such a thing into his will?”
Dyer averted his gaze. “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“How can that be? You were his secretary, were you not?”
“I was. His lordship was an exacting employer, and he did not suffer inquiries, particularly regarding his intent. Such curiosity was insubordination in his eyes.” The secretary’s chin seemed to quiver a moment before his jaw tensed. “I cannot disagree that this act was singularly ruthless.”
Yet while it was terrible for Tobias, it was wonderful for her. Again, she wondered why Tobias’s father had involved her in any of this. It was one thing to be her guardian, but to see she had an extravagant Season, a large dowry, and now an estate?
“If Lord Overton weds by the twelfth, I will not inherit Horethorne, is that correct?”
Dyer nodded. “The likelihood of him doing so is quite low, however. He would need to marry by special license or perhaps run away to Gretna Green.” He said the last with a smile, then quickly sobered. His neck flushed. “Please forget I said that.”
Fiona wasn’t sure if the man was aware of the rumors about Tobias and Gretna Green but thought he must be. Why else would he react that way? Her mind returned to earlier in the interview. “You were surprised I didn’t know about this. Did his lordship tell you I knew?”
