Diana had taken only a few steps when a hand latched on to her upper arm. She looked up to see the familiar face of Lord Horace Manfield, the current Viscount Northrup, and a known womanizer. He was nearly twenty years older than Diana and had already been through three wives without begetting an heir. There were rumors that when his wives were unable to bear him children, he had them killed, making it look like accidents. She wasn't certain she believed that, but then again, she wasn't certain he did not do those things, either. He looked like the type of man who would harm a woman if she displeased him. According to Eliza, the man's estate was also in a shambles, and he lacked the proper funds to restore it. It was something of an embarrassment to him, which also heightened his temper at times.
This was the sort of man Lachlan had warned her about avoiding once it became known that she was no longer claimed by Hathaway. Conversely, once it was known that Lachlan was courting her, men like Northrup might stay away, not wishing to anger a marquess, even a half-Scottish one. Especially a half-Scottish one. Except that Lachlan hadn't quite made his intentions to pursue her clear just yet. Then again, even if he had, Northrup might just be desperate enough not to care.
Diana wished she had thought to mention to Lachlan that she and Julia were stepping outside the box for some air. For at some point, Julia and her crowd of admirers had moved away, probably back into their respective boxes. Unfortunately, Oliver and Patience had disappeared as well, most likely when the house lights dimmed a bit, indicating that the play was about to resume. She was well and truly alone in the hallway with a man she had no wish to further her acquaintance with.
"My lord." Diana gave Lord Northrup a polite but curt nod. "I would thank you to release me. I do not know you well enough for such familiarities."
"But you know Hallstone well enough, don't you? And he's a libertine if there ever was one. Just like his father." The man's breath stunk of cheap whiskey and suddenly Diana felt more than a little afraid. It was not a feeling she was accustomed to, for in general, she was well liked and well regarded by most of society. No one had cause to wish her harm. "You know him well enough to go driving in the park. Everyone saw you making calf eyes at the man like the little trollop you are. So why not give the rest of us poor men a chance?"
His words were slightly slurred and all Diana wanted to do was get away. She doubted that Northrup would harm her, especially in such a public place, but if the man was truly desperate, then he might do something rash like kiss her. Or worse. That would ruin her, which she suspected had been the man's plan from the moment he saw her relatively alone in the hallway.
"Lord Northrup, please let go of me." The hallway was darkening and once the performance started, Diana doubted that anyone would hear her if she screamed. Then again, they might and if they did, that would be giving the nasty man precisely what he wanted.
"Just a little taste, my sweet," he cooed in such a sickening voice that all Diana wanted was to take a good long soak in her favorite copper tub to wash herself clean of the man's oily charms. "I know that Hathaway thought you weren't quite the thing, but he's a finicky man. The rest of us? Not nearly so much. Especially when you come with such a nice consolation prize."
Diana felt sick to her stomach and she remembered Lachlan's warnings about how some of the men in society viewed her now, about her dowry and the rumors that she was tossed aside because she failed to please the duke in bed. None of it was true, of course, but then, there were people in the world stupid enough to believe just about anything. Clearly, Lord Northrup was one such man.
She attempted to wrench her arm free once more, but the man's grip was tight. "I will ask you once again, my lord," she ground out through clenched teeth, "to please let me go." In truth, Diana was terrified, her stomach clenching in fear as the man held her in his iron grip. She wanted to go home. She wanted Lachlan. More than anything she wanted to see his smiling face and laughing eyes and know that she was protected. He would keep her safe. He would not allow any harm to befall her. He had promised.
Oh God! Where was he when she needed him the most?
"Oh, you're going, my sweet," Northrup whispered, "straight to my bed so I can claim you. And that delicious dowry of yours when your papa finds out what we've done."
"No. I said no!" Diana attempted to fight the rising panic that filled her throat with bile. She had finally been set free from a prison not of her making. She had only felt the first stirrings of passion with Lachlan. She wanted more of that. She wanted more of him. In that moment, he was what she longed for, something she had never thought possible. "Please. Don't do this. Let me go." Except that she was losing the battle, Northrup dragging her farther down the hallway, farther away from the Radcliffe's box. Away from Lachlan.
She thought she might be ill as she scratched and clawed at Northrup as best she could, her blows from her fists landing ineffectively on his shoulder. Her body was alternately hot and cold, sweat running down her brow as she attempted to dig the heels of her slippers into the carpet with little effect. If Northrup managed to get her outside and into his carriage, that would be the end of her. Nothing her father - or Lachlan - could do would prevent the inevitable and she would most likely meet the same fate as the previous three Lady Northrups. Dead - either in a carriage accident like the first or fallen from a tree like the second. She wasn't certain how the third one had died.
With that image in her mind, Diana fought harder, her fingers scrabbling against the wall as Northrup dragged her along. She knew she was making noise, far too much for it to go unnoticed, but she no longer cared. All she wanted to do was get away. Surely someone would believe she was an unwilling victim. She prayed that it was so, even though she knew it was unlikely.
Just as she saw the stairs come into view, their progress suddenly stopped and the hand that had been wrapped around her arm was gone, setting her free. In her haste to get away, she stumbled and landed on the floor in an inglorious heap. However, she was able to gather her wits enough to look up and see her rescuer. Her heart leapt in her chest when she realized it was Lachlan. He had come for her! And as foolish as that might make her, she was more grateful than he would ever know.
"I believe the lady asked you to release her. Politely. I am asking now with far less grace than she showed." There was a quiet anger in Lachlan's voice. Diana had heard that same tone before when Lord Breckenright had nearly challenged a man to a duel the previous season. A bellowed threat was one thing, but a quietly stated one was far more dangerous, at least in her opinion.
"I didn't mean any harm," Northrup sneered, casting a glance at where Diana still sat on the floor, though she was doing her best to right herself. "And it's not like the chit is an innocent any longer. We all know why Hathaway tossed her over. You just got to her first."
With a low hiss of rage, Lachlan lashed out, striking the man in the nose, quite possibly breaking it given the crunch of bone that accompanied the hit. Diana yelped but quickly covered her mouth with her hand, not wanting to attract any more attention than they probably already were.
"Do not speak to the lady ever again," Lachlan growled, still shaking his hand from where he had connected with Northrup's nose. "And if I ever see you or hear of you coming near the lass again, it will be pistols at dawn. Do I make myself clear?" Then he reached into his jacket and tossed down a handkerchief to the man. Northrup's nose was now spouting blood like a fountain, staining his cravat dark with his own blood. "She is an innocent lady and you and your ilk would do well to remember that." He was not precisely quiet about his last sentence either.
Behind her, Diana could hear the swish of velvet curtains being opened and could nearly feel the stares of those peering into the hallway to see what the fuss was about. After all, this was much greater fun than anything occurring on the stage and she knew it. Despite his claims that he did not know the intricacies of London society, Lachlan apparently knew it as well.
With a sharp turn, he reached down and offered a Di
ana a hand so that she might stand up more easily. "My lady. Shall we depart? I find that I have lost my taste for the theater."
On unsteady legs, Diana placed her hand on Lachlan's arm and allowed him to lead her from the theater, never more grateful for the hard bunch of muscle beneath her touch. This man would defend her. He already had. And she lost one more little piece of her heart to him, one more that she was not certain she could ever get back. Or if she even wanted to.
Chapter Eight
"I should have hit the bloody bastard harder," Lachlan muttered under his breath as his carriage rolled through the darkened streets of London, his face still an unreadable mask of fury. He was also aware that he should not use such language in front of a lady, but at present he could not bring himself to care. "He assaulted you!"
"He did not harm me, though I do allow that was his intention. However, he merely bruised my arm a bit. Lachlan, please. I am well and untouched. Let that be enough for now." Diana drew in a shaky breath, still reeling from her encounter with the odious viscount. She did not want the hotheaded Scot to see how much the incident with Lord Northrup had truly frightened her, especially since he had threatened least twice to return to the theater and beat the man into a bloody pulp.
"Had I not thought to come looking for you when Julia returned without you..." Lachlan let the thought trail off, as if he could not bear to complete it.
Unable to stop herself, Diana moved to sit beside him instead of remaining in the seat on the opposite side of the carriage as was proper. Not that there was much proper about them being alone together in a carriage anyway. "Then this evening would have ended far differently. And I do not wish to think about it." She laced her gloved fingers through his, wishing not for the first time that she could feel the heat of his skin against hers. "Even afterwards, you were so calm and clever, sending those notes. I was not capable of such rational thought. Thank you."
Unwilling to allow her out of his sight for even a moment, Lachlan had waited with Diana in the theater lobby instead of returning directly to the Radcliffe's box to make their excuses for leaving. The marquess wasn't completely convinced that Northrup was the only man out to attempt to snare Diana that evening, especially as rumor had it that there were new bets on the books at White's concerning her virginity and how soon she might marry, as well as what gentleman of note she might wed. Some of the bets were pure long shots, placed by men who stood no chance with a lady like Diana. At least not if they approached her properly. Approaching her improperly, however, was another matter completely. That was clearly the choice Northrup had made and Lachlan doubted he was the only man to do so.
As they had waited for his carriage to be brought around, Lachlan had somehow had the presence of mind to dash off two quick notes to be sent by messenger. One went directly to Lord Radcliffe, stating that if anyone - anyone at all, even Candlewood - inquired, the duke and his wife accompanied Diana home in their carriage after the performance. The other note was sent to the Saintwood town home, informing Diana's parents that Lord Hathaway and his mother had insisted upon escorting Miss Banbrook back to her residence. Because the situation would have been awkward and confusing, instead Lady Radcliffe had insisted upon seeing Diana home after the performance.
Since there were still nearly two hours remaining in the bloody play, as well as the mad crush to depart the venue that would take place as soon as the play ended, that gave Lachlan some time to both calm himself and make damn certain that Diana was well and unharmed.
In his opinion, she was still far too pale and the red marks from Northrup's beefy fingers were altogether too visible on her pale, delicate skin. Damn it, but he wanted to hit something again, be it Northrup for his disgusting proposition or Hathaway for placing Diana in such a precarious position in the first place. Had the duke not been such a coward, she would not have been in such a position this evening. Then again, if not for the duke, Diana would mostly likely be already wed, something that only made Lachlan more unsettled. He did not want to feel more than desire for her. He would not.
"He should have released you long ago, were he a true gentleman," Lachlan finally snarled, needing Diana to know that, in his opinion anyway, the duke was still partially at fault for her present circumstances. "It would have been naught but a kindness. The man is a coward!"
Diana was completely confused. When Lachlan became upset - not that she had witnessed such behavior very often - she found that on occasion, she could not follow his logic. And at the moment, he was extremely upset. "You mean Northrup? Until this evening, I have never spoken to the man. Not even a polite greeting."
"Hathaway. The bloody, perfect, boring Duke of Hathaway." There was no mistaking the disgust in Lachlan's voice or the complete and utter dislike for the man that flared in his eyes. "He did this to you. If he had been a real man, he would have set you free long ago."
"But then I might not have been free when you arrived in town," she whispered so softly that he barely heard her, giving voice to his worst fear.
Ever since Northrup had accosted her, all Diana could think about was what she would do if Lachlan was stripped from her life. Or worse, if she had never met him at all. It disturbed her on many levels, ones she did not care to think about. Without this man beside her, would she have ever begun to know true passion and desire - and, dare she even think it, love - at all? She highly doubted it and suddenly, she felt the urge to tell him so. "Knowing my mother as I do, she most likely would have pressured me to marry another titled gentleman, one I did not care for. One who was old and did not care for me either, only hoping for the heir I might one day provide him. And that would have been a true shame."
Her words gave Lachlan pause as a bolt of pure need shot through him. He drank in her ethereal beauty in the dim light from the carriage's single lamp and knew that he had to taste her again - just a little. His desire for her was too strong and they had already agreed to court. He would not be taking what she had not already consented to give him. Then an image of Northrup dragging her down the hallway flashed through his mind, igniting fresh anger and terror inside of him. "My God, Diana. If I had lost you...."
He never finished his sentence, as just then she shifted again and he caught the faint whiff of her perfume, light and delicate. Just like her. Without thinking, Lachlan pulled her onto his lap and buried his fingers in her hair, bringing his lips to hers in a passionate, all-consuming kiss. He knew he should show some restraint. She was an innocent after all. Yet he could not help himself. He wanted her far too much. He was that desperate to taste her.
To his delight, Diana did not hesitate in her own desire. Rather she returned his kiss with as much passion as he had shown her, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling more fully against him, her legs spread over his massive thighs so that she straddled him. In the back of his mind, Lachlan was aware that surely she could feel the evidence of his desire pressing into her. He was not a small man by any means and when he was this aroused, there was simply no possible way to hide it. Nor did he particularly want to. However rather than becoming embarrassed by his erect state, Diana seemed curious, shifting this way and that on his lap, fitting that most secret part of her body against his - precisely where he longed for her to be. But with far less clothing between them. By God, she would be the death of him. But what a delightful way to go.
She was kissing Lachlan. Again. And this time, she was holding nothing back, not even her body's needy reaction to his. That thought flashed through Diana's mind as his lips played across hers, warm and strong with just a hint of softness. This wasn't their first kiss, true, but this one was different. There was a desperation in the way his mouth pressured hers, the way his tongue teased along the seam of her lips, tracing them lightly, almost begging for more.
Unable to resist him, Diana opened her mouth slightly, just as she had the other evening when she had unknowingly smiled against his lips, overcome with joy at the knowledge that Lachlan was her first true kiss. As she exp
ected, he took full advantage, his tongue darting inside of her mouth to tangle with hers, plunging deeper, seeking more, though how much more she had to give him, she was uncertain. His hands gripped her tightly, his fingers alternating between caressing the soft skin of her cheek and tunneling through her thick mass of hair. She was vaguely aware of her diamond hairpins scattering on the floor of the carriage, but it was as if the sound came from a great distance. Her entire being was filled with nothing but thoughts of Lachlan, of the heat and passion he had ignited inside of her.
Restlessly Diana shifted against him, needing to be closer, the heat in her blood spiraling lower, making her breasts ache and her fingers tingle where she threaded them through the silky soft hair at the nape of his neck. Another kiss from him, this time his marvelous lips skimming over the sensitive skin of her neck, licking and tasting her, just as she longed to do to him. The fire inside of her crept lower still until it settled between her legs in a pool of heat that made her restless and left her yearning for more.
Diana wasn't stupid. She might never have lain with a man before, but she knew the basics of coupling. Between her time in the country and relatives who talked far too much, she knew the basics of how males and females mated. She also knew this feeling inside of her, the one that left her restless and aching, was her own desire for Lachlan bubbling to the surface. Yet she also knew she could not act upon it or abandon herself to the sheer pleasure it promised. But she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to! For the first time in her life, she wanted to abandon propriety and give herself to this handsome half-Scot in every way possible.
A Marquess Is Forever Page 14
