“Ah.” His silvery gaze narrowed to irritated slits. “And I chose not to answer because I didn’t want to. Obviously.”
She pressed a finger to her lips, trying to quell her irritation. Unfortunately, that brought his focus down to her mouth and the seductive gleam back to his eyes.
He reached out to gently tug a lock of hair straggling down by her cheek. “In any case, both keys are on my desk. It wasn’t necessary for you to grope me.”
“Royal said the key would likely be in your pocket,” she said defensively.
He flashed a sardonic smile. In all fairness, she had been groping him.
“I did it with good intentions,” she said.
He nodded. “As you said, you were worried about me.”
“Your family is worried about you. I volunteered to check on you.”
“By stumbling around in the dark and then crawling through the window?”
Put like that, it did sound rather absurd.
He craned over the arm of his chair to stare down at the whisky decanter. “Dammit, it’s empty. Miss Knight, would you be so good as to fetch me another decanter from the sideboard.”
“I believe you have had enough drink for one evening,” she said in her best governess voice.
His disgusted snort told her what he thought of that assertion.
“Sir, if you would—”
“Why did you crawl in here instead of Royal or Angus?”
She tried to think of a diplomatic way to phrase it. “Because it was fairly evident that you would not welcome an intervention from them.”
He snorted. “You mean you were afraid I’d bash their heads in. As were they, no doubt.”
She waggled a hand. “Royal was quite willing to take the risk. However, I didn’t think a brawl would be helpful at the moment.”
“So you were the noble sacrifice, sent into the lion’s den?”
Victoria couldn’t hold back a wry smile, since that was exactly what she’d been thinking just before she’d crawled through the window. “I was fairly certain you wouldn’t bash my head in.”
He leaned forward, his lips curling up in a rather menacing sneer. “So, you think me a tame lion, Miss Knight?”
She refused to be intimidated. “No, I think you a gentleman, sir. And a kind man, as well.”
He slumped back with a sigh. “Not according to my brothers or Angus. To them, I’m a bastard for keeping Logan away.”
He looked so grim and weary she instinctively rested a hand on his knee. “They know you’re still grieving.”
“They told you everything, I suppose,” he said.
She was surprised to find herself leaning against his leg. Somehow, though, it felt entirely natural.
“I’m so very sorry about your little boy,” she said.
For several long moments, all she heard was the ticking of the clock on the mantel and the hiss of the embers in the grate.
“I still miss him so much,” he finally said.
The quiet sorrow in his voice all but broke her heart. “What was he like?”
He stared into the fire. “Cam was a bright light for all of us, lass. The sweetest boy. I know it sounds a cliché, but he was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Not his wife. Victoria tucked that bit of information away for later.
“Did he look like you?” she asked.
He chuckled. “He was a Kendrick, all right. He had black hair and blue eyes, and he was always happy. Cam was much like Kade in that respect, a good-natured child who loved everyone. He also had a knack for getting into trouble, just like the twins.”
“Boys usually do.”
The warmth faded from his expression. “My wife didn’t know what to do with him. She’d wanted a girl, someone like her instead of a rambunctious Kendrick male.”
Victoria hid her surprise. Most aristocratic women felt like a failure if they didn’t produce a male heir within a few years of marriage.
As if sensing her surprise, Arnprior shrugged. “Janet was never truly comfortable with children, especially boys. She loved our son but did not see the need to involve herself in his care.”
Victoria tapped his knee. “Which is why people like you hire people like me.”
He flashed her a rueful smile. “True, but I loved spending time with Cam. I was used to managing boys, because I had to raise my younger brothers.”
“Surely you had Angus to help with that, too.”
“Yes, he was a grand help,” he said sardonically.
“I know he’s a trial, but he cares for you and wishes to support you. As do your brothers.”
“One would never know it, considering the way they’ve behaved lately.”
“And we’re working to change all that, are we not?”
He reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. The touch of his warm, rough skin, the way his hand all but swallowed hers up, made every nerve in her body skitter with anticipation.
“I failed them,” he said gruffly.
“I don’t follow.”
“After Cam died, I lost myself. I did things I’m not proud of.”
Victoria squeezed his hand. “You lost so much. First your wife, and then your little boy.”
“No, Angus was right. The rest of them were grieving too, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything other than Cam was dead and Logan was responsible.”
From what she’d heard, Logan had taken the loss almost as hard as his brother, but now was not the time to make such an argument. “I’m sure you did the best you could for everyone.”
He scoffed. “I abandoned my family when they needed me the most, using my military duty as an excuse. I was a coward.”
“Now, that is just nonsense. And I might venture to add, my lord, that it is not productive to engage in self-recrimination when one is feeling, ah, under the weather.”
“Spoken like a true governess,” he said, gently taunting. “Do you have any other advice for me?”
She thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps you might stop blaming yourself for everything?”
Arnprior snorted. “You must admit I’ve done an appalling job with my brothers, especially the twins. I should have been here to ride herd over them, as well as attend to the rest of my responsibilities.”
“Graeme and Grant are grown men. They are not entirely brainless and are certainly old enough to know better.” She frowned. “Well, Graeme acts as if he is rather brainless, but I’m still hopeful we can work on that.”
He softly chuckled, then let go of her hand only to capture her chin between his fingers. “Miss Knight, have I told you lately how happy I am that I hired you?”
She stared at him, once more transfixed by his amazing eyes. “I think you have, from time to time, communicated your appreciation.”
When he chuckled again, she couldn’t help wincing at how starched up she sounded.
A silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional pop of the embers and the slow, steady rhythm of his breath. And perhaps he could hear the thrumming of her heart, which was beating so hard she wanted to press a hand to her chest. It seemed impossible to move, even though she should be scrambling to put distance between them.
His gaze slid down to her mouth, and then he tilted her chin up to bring her closer as he leaned in. He was going to kiss her, and she couldn’t do a thing to stop him.
Correction. She didn’t wish to do a thing to stop him, even though stern warnings were writing themselves across her brain in big, black letters.
His warm breath whispered over her face. “Och, lassie, I don’t believe I’ve shown my appreciation quite enough.”
It was the brogue that did it, by adding a rough, husky note that seduced her as nothing else could have. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her entire being waiting for his kiss.
The soft sweep of his callused thumb brushed over her lips, then traced their outline. That simple touch weakened every muscle in her body. When his mouth descen
ded on hers, it took every ounce of strength not to collapse into a heap at his feet—because that would have been an extraordinarily stupid waste of the moment.
Arnprior kissed her slowly but possessively, with soft, damp caresses that teased her mouth with delicious warmth. His tongue slipped gently along the seam of her lips, not pushing or rushing, but simply tasting. After several moments of soft teasing, he then kissed her again with a provocative pressure that made her want to cling to him.
By now, both of his big hands were cradling her head as he kissed her with leisurely expertise. Her fingers fluttered up to rest on his wrists as she absorbed the heady taste of whisky and a man who knew exactly what he wanted. She sensed the barely leashed passion in him and the danger that the slightest push would tip him over the edge. He would then take what she so tentatively offered, dragging them down a path from which there was no return.
Victoria wanted him as much as he wanted her. But the earl was drunk and weary of soul, no doubt simply seeking comfort in the first available warm body. It surely had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with the grief and worry that threatened to overwhelm him.
So stop him. Now.
His firm mouth moved over hers in a seductive slide that somehow obliterated any desire to retreat or deny him. When his tongue slipped out to gently press open her lips, she couldn’t hold back a moan.
In an instant, everything changed. He growled low in his throat, his tongue surging into her mouth as he devoured her with a soul-searing passion she’d never imagined could exist. Victoria’s entire body began to throb with desire, urging her to press herself against him without restraint or shame.
When he suddenly let her go, she gasped and clutched at his knees to keep from toppling over. For a moment, they stared at each other. His blue eyes were hungry and turbulent, his breath unsteady. Victoria knew she should take the chance to escape, but all she could do was stare at him, transfixed by the irresistible pull of his passionate gaze.
“Come here, you,” he growled.
A moment later, he clamped his hands around her waist and swept her up into his lap. She sucked in a startled breath, amazed by his almost frightening strength. This time, however, when he tried to settle her across his lap for more devastating kisses, she resisted, slapping both hands on his chest to hold him off. For a moment, she was distracted by the feel of his hard muscles under the slippery silk of his waistcoat.
His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“You cannot possibly wish to kiss me.” She’d hoped to sound more decisive, but her voice came out on a breathy squeak.
His lips curved up in a wicked grin. “I assure you, Miss Knight, I wish to kiss you very much.”
When his head bent to hers, she pressed her fingers against his lips. “Stop, please.”
He pulled back with an exasperated sigh. “Perhaps you’d like to enlighten me as to why you wish me to cease something that is clearly pleasing to both of us.”
She had to give him credit. For a man thoroughly in his cups, he sounded remarkably articulate.
As she was reclining in his lap in a graceless, immodest sprawl, she struggled to sit up.
He sucked in a pained breath. “Careful, my dear.”
“Sorry, sir.” That impressive bit of masculinity was again pressing against her bottom. Apparently, wriggling about too vigorously might damage it, which was—
Stop thinking about it.
But that was almost impossible when sitting on the aroused lap of the most virile man she’d ever met.
Victoria cautiously sat up and met his gaze. Rather than a passionate lion, he now looked more like a surly bear—one awakened from a long hibernation. She’d read that such bears could be very dangerous, since they were both grumpy and hungry.
Arnprior was definitely hungry.
Blowing an errant bit of hair from her face, she tried to adopt her most stern governess look. Unfortunately, his only response was a blink and then a slow smile curving up the corners of his mouth as he settled his hands around her waist.
“All right, Madam Governess, try to convince me that I don’t wish to kiss you.”
“You’re simply trying to distract yourself, sir. You’re feeling . . . a bit under the weather.”
“Is that so?”
“Resorting to pleasurable activities is often what people do when they’re feeling . . .”
“Under the weather?” he finished with a grin that resembled a smirk.
She sounded utterly ridiculous, but she had no choice but to stick it out. “Yes, exactly.”
When he shifted underneath her, she had to bite back a gasp at the feel of his hard thighs and even harder erection.
“Miss Knight, let me reassure you that I am feeling quite a lot,” he murmured. He punctuated his comment by kissing the tip of her nose. It was a sweet, funny gesture that almost made her giggle.
Giggling was not allowed, since it would only encourage them both. He certainly needed no such encouragement, and she felt like she was hanging on by her fingertips.
He cupped her chin and once again rubbed his callused thumb gently over her lips, drawing forth tingles of pleasure. The man was a menace—a handsome, seductive sorcerer.
“Tell me what’s wrong, my sweet?” he murmured.
“Aside from the fact that I’m sitting on my employer’s lap?” she asked tartly.
“Yes, aside from that,” he said, seeming to believe it was entirely reasonable for her to be perched on top of him.
At the moment she seemed to be having a problem in marshaling arguments for not sitting on his lap.
Think harder. “We’ve already verified that you’re only kissing me as a way to distract yourself.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything.”
“I disagree. I’m entirely in possession of my wits, and I know exactly what I want to do.”
“My lord—”
He tipped her back over his arm, taking her mouth in another deliciously passionate kiss that all but blasted her resistance into the next county. Helpless to do anything but clutch at his broad shoulders, Victoria held on and kissed him back with dazed enthusiasm.
But when one of his hands went to her knee and started inching up her skirts, she froze, her brain seeming to knock about in her skull. Then she hurtled into a memory, one that flashed vivid and horrible. Thomas Fletcher was holding her down as his sweaty hands tried to pull up her gown.
Panic squeezed her chest and rocketed through her veins. She reacted instinctively, jerking away and swatting at the brawny body that encircled her.
“Stop, stop,” she gasped, struggling to get away. Blind fear ruled her body, making it clumsy and stiff.
Instantly, Arnprior retreated. “All right, love, all right. But stop struggling or you’ll hurt yourself.”
She was in the grip of something stronger than reason. Her intellect knew she was safe with him, but her body rebelled. “I . . . I . . . can’t . . .” she stuttered.
A moment later, she found herself deposited back on the stool.
“Just breathe, Victoria,” he said, gently stroking her hair. “You’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you.”
She nodded, feeling utterly miserable and more stupid by the second. But Arnprior just continued to stroke her hair, murmuring comforting words in a low, soothing voice.
Soon, she felt herself again, but also embarrassed. She knew Arnprior would never hurt her. She’d even wanted that kiss as much as he had, and yet she’d been unable to control the fear that had swept through her like a raging storm off the loch.
“Do you want to talk about what just happened?” the earl asked.
She shook her head. She hated talking about Fletcher. Dominic had also made it abundantly clear that no one, not even Arnprior, should know that her attacker had died at her hand.
Besides, if she told the earl, he would probably view her with disapproval or even disgust. And the notion that he
might then send her away was more distressing than she could ever have imagined.
“I’d rather not,” she whispered.
Arnprior looked puzzled, but then slumped back in his chair. “God, what an idiot I am. I forgot that you’d been subjected to this sort of behavior in your previous position. I beg you to forgive me for acting in so disgusting a manner, Miss Knight. I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”
He closed his eyes, looking disheartened. He’d certainly never meant to hurt her, and she couldn’t bear to let him feel worse than he already did.
Victoria smoothed her skirts, composing herself. Then she rested a hand on his knee. His eyes lifted and his gaze fastened on her face.
“I think you are the most honorable man I’ve ever met,” she said gently.
“Yes, as my behavior tonight has so clearly indicated.” He shook his head. “You should go, my dear. I’ll be fine.”
She knew with total conviction that he would not be fine if she left him.
In fact, she never wanted to leave him again.
Victoria packed that astounding revelation away in the back of her mind, to be examined later when she was calm enough to be rational about it.
She slipped off the stool and onto her knees in front of him. “I’m not leaving you, sir.” Cautiously, she rested a hand on his chest, right over his heart. It thumped hard and fast under her palm.
“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly.
She shrugged. “Honestly, I haven’t a clue.”
That startled a laugh out of him. “I suppose I don’t have a clue, either. But I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to hold you,” he said, gently stroking her cheek. “Just that and nothing more. Would that be all right?”
“I think I’d like that.”
“Are you sure?”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes.”
As he came down to her, gently lowering her to the floor, she castigated herself for being ten times a fool.
But Arnprior needed her warmth and her comfort. And she needed to comfort him, with a desperation that almost stole her breath.
She found herself flat on her back on the carpet, the soft woolen pile prickling the back of her neck and her calves. He wrapped his body around hers, his face resting on her chest. Her bodice had slipped a bit, and his bristly cheek nestled against her sensitive skin. He was incredibly big and muscled, and the size and strength of him should have scared her out of her wits.
The Highlander's Princess Bride Page 20
