A Lady's Prerogative

by Annabelle Anders

“We should not be out here, alone, together.” Her own thoughts flustered her. “Is it your wish to compromise me? Are you imagining I would then be forced into marriage with you?” She was feeling prickly but continued traversing along the cultivated wilderness walk beside him. As they walked deeper into the trees, the shadows grew darker.

  “And that would be so disagreeable,” he said, “marriage to the Earl of Hawthorne?” He spoke of his title with disdain, as though he, himself, found it unpalatable.

  She did not respond. They took several steps in silence.

  “I thought we declared a truce,” she said after a few tense moments. She lifted her other hand to the crook of his arm and grasped hold as they climbed a small rise. “I am sorry for snapping at you. I am irritated with my father..” And then she corrected herself. “Not only my father. I am irritated with my life.” The darkness made it easier to make such an admission.

  He placed his other hand atop hers. “And why is that?”

  “Have you not been listening to the gossip, my lord? I allowed a magnificent match to slip through my fingers. I could not keep my fiancé from allowing another woman to steal him away.” These spiteful words were not hers. No, they were sentiments she’d read in the papers before leaving town. “And now, I am here.” They had arrived atop the hill, leaving the trees behind. She released his arm and stepped away. Gesturing dramatically, she held her arms wide and threw her head back. “Banished to the country, a disgrace to my parents.”

  Realizing how self-pitying her words sounded, she dropped her arms and looked off into the distance. “She is a friend to me, you know, the new duchess. I am not angry with her, or with him.” Natalie knew she should not be outside, at night, alone with this rake. She did not wish to heed her conscience though. Talking with Garrett Castleton was all too easy. She was being careless with her reputation. But as she’d already decided, protecting it had gotten her nowhere. She would rather run, or swim, or fly! She needed to somehow escape her own skin. She didn’t care what she did so long as she felt alive again.

  She’d told the earl his stay here could be an opportunity for him. That he could find some respectability and perhaps establish a few well-connected alliances for himself. She’d told him he ought to take advantage of the situation for his own benefit.

  Well, perhaps she too was being presented with an opportunity. If she truly wanted to know more of intimacy and physical passion, was not a well-practiced rake the perfect person from whom to learn?

  Garrett watched the different expressions flit across her face. In truth, he hadn’t considered the part she had played in his own father’s diabolical scheme. Lady Natalie had been but a casualty, a pawn caught in the war his father had declared on Cortland and Ravensdale. Although innocent of any wrongdoing, she was being punished for circumstances completely out of her control. Watching her curl her arms around herself, he removed his jacket and placed it upon her shoulders. He itched to wrap his arms around her as well but would not. He most certainly did not wish to find himself caught in a parson’s trap at this time in his life. He had too much work to do.

  He was also all too aware that marriage to him would be no prize for any lady.

  “And now your father has chosen another duke for you,” he said instead.

  She looked over her shoulder and laughed at that. Her laughter sounded brittle. “And I shall have to disappoint him once again.”

  “What do you plan on doing to run the duke off?” he teased.

  She turned to face him fully. “I thought I might spill my soup on him.”

  “If he leads you in to dinner again, you could trip and fall, pulling him to the ground with you.”

  “And grab one of mother’s flower arrangements as well. I could crack the vase upon his head and bury him in water and blossoms.”

  “That should do it,” he said. He was glad to see her smiling again.

  Pulling the jacket more closely around her, she glanced back at him. “So, what do you think of Marcus?”

  “Very cheeky of you,” he said. “To send me a valet who would have been devastated for life had I refused his services.”

  “He is enthusiastic.” They began walking again. The well-maintained wilderness path would take them back to the manor eventually.

  “Your family has very…interesting servants. I take it the butler is married to your housekeeper? Is your father’s valet married to the cook, by chance?”

  “Whipple has never married. Marcus’s mother abandoned him when he was seven. I was just a child, myself, at that time, but it created something of a scandal…Not that Whipple fathered a son out of wedlock, but that my parents allowed Whipple to take him in. Marcus is a favorite of the household staff.”

  Garrett shook his head and laughed. “And this poor boy wants nothing more than to become a gentleman’s valet?”

  “He does, my lord,” Natalie said. “But, alas, is there a gentleman who might be willing to take him on?”

  Garrett placed her hand on his arm once again. He assumed they were both using the term gentleman loosely. “You don’t play fair, my lady.”

  She chuckled, and they continued around the path. Natalie chided him for not bringing any fish back from the afternoon’s expedition. He insisted he’d caught dozens of them, huge beasts too great in size to be carried back to the cook’s kitchens. He feigned outrage at her refusal to believe him. They further surprised each other by finding other topics that interested them both, and before they knew it, the manor came back into view. The windows glowed, and piano music drifted out into the night. Natalie stopped and let out a wistful sigh.

  “You are very lucky, you know.” She sounded serious again.

  Garrett thought he’d misheard her for a moment. “Pardon?”

  “I said you are really quite lucky.”

  He had not misheard. “How is that?”

  “If you were a woman and you acted with such disregard toward society”—she slanted him a sideways and disapproving glance—“as you have, there would be no second chances for you. A lady could never act as a rake and be forgiven.” She slipped his jacket off and handed it back to him. He looked down at the jacket, not sure what she expected him to do with it.

  “Take it. I am fine now. I will enter through the back, and you may use the front door. It is best nobody knows we spent so much time together, alone.”

  He took the jacket, not bothering to slip it back on. He just stood there dumbfounded, watching her. “Why would a lady wish to play the part of a rake?” he couldn’t help asking. Was she referring to herself?

  The girlish sparkle disappeared from her eyes, and a bleak longing replaced it.

  “Throughout my engagement, over the course of an entire year, my fiancé bestowed only two kisses upon me.” She touched her cheek. “One here.” And then she touched her lips. “And once here. And yet, when I caught him looking at the woman who is now his duchess, he beheld her with…hunger! I am certain he kissed her more than twice. And with an open mouth, no less.” Perhaps she felt safe telling him all this because of the darkness. Perhaps she was restless because of her recent broken engagement. Whatever the reason, an intensity of emotion emanated from her.

  And then she stepped forward and put her hand on Garrett’s chest. She licked her lips and surprised him by admitting, “I have seen you watch me with a similar expression. You may kiss me, if you wish.” Her eyes were bold as they gazed up at him.

  Garrett’s heart beat rapidly. What on earth was she saying? Both her hands were on his shoulders now. Of course, he wanted to kiss her. His body roared with hunger. Hell, he’d imagined sharing much more than kisses with her on more than one occasion. And suddenly, she was not so unattainable after all.

  But at what cost? She was a young noblewoman set aside to marry a duke. Perhaps not Monfort, but her parents had high hopes for an exceptional match. Garrett ignored the pull of desire coursing through him and continued to hold his jacket between them. He did not trust this. He d
id not trust her.

  “What is it that you want, my lady?” he asked. He did not wish to be toyed with.

  In an abrupt display of temper, she jerked away and stomped one of her dainty little feet. “Oh, blast and fiddlesticks! You’re a rake, for heaven’s sake. Must I spell it out for you? I Want. A. Kiss.” Her eyes flashed like sapphires. “There, now are you satisfied? You ask me why a woman would ever wish to be a rake, well, I will tell you: To experience life, that’s why. Women go from their parents’ care to that of their husbands. Always, always being protected. Never experiencing anything real. I just want to know…I want to know.”

  He felt the frustration radiating from her. Or was that his own? When the words stopped flowing, she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

  He should turn on his heel and walk back to the house right now. Playing such games with Lady Natalie Spencer would bring him nothing but trouble.

  She pulled at him in a most primitive way. In the moonlight, her hair shone like golden silk. The breeze swirled the gown she wore around her person, tantalizing him with hints of her softness and curves. The look in her eyes, in addition to her words, conveyed how badly she wanted his touch—his kiss. He’d never been a man to deny himself sensual pleasure.

  But she was an innocent. She was his host’s daughter, his friend’s sister.

  As he looked at her, a tear, suspended on one of her long lashes, lost its hold and trickled down to the corner of her mouth.

  Oh, hell! Now he had caused her to cry. He could not win tonight! His control snapped.

  Garrett tossed his jacket onto the path and grabbed her by the elbows. “Do you know what you are asking?” he ground out between clenched teeth. He was angry with her for tempting him, angry with himself for being tempted. Truce be damned! He pulled her close, his face mere inches from hers, and inhaled deeply. The mingled scent of her perfume and soap fed his desire yet more.

  He had not asked to come to this damn house party. He had not asked to play the gentleman with the daughter of his host and hostess. He hadn’t asked for any of this, and he was damn tired of society’s indecipherable games.

  There was no more denying himself tonight. He grasped her chin and tilted her head back. His other arm clamped about her tightly.

  As his lips claimed hers, passion, fueled by fury and lust, unleashed.

  She ought to push him away. She ought to compress her lips into a tight barrier. She ought to twist her face to the side to dodge his assault. She did none of these things.

  No, Lady Natalie parted her lips and allowed him full access to the tender skin there. She tasted sweet and warm. Without moving away, he spoke into her mouth. “Is this what you want?” His ran his tongue along her teeth and the roof of her mouth. “And this?” She represented all he could never have. How she had provoked him! He was angry. He was also aroused. Hell and damnation!

  Instead of pushing him away as a woman of gentle breeding ought, Lady Natalie clutched him with fierce but delicate hands and arched her body into his. He’d gone from playing the part of an affable gentleman to allowing his baser emotions to take control. Pulling her closer, he pushed his knee into her skirts, between her thighs. A low moan of pleasure escaped her.

  She should be frightened.

  Her hands grasped at the back of his head, pulling him closer. “Yes,” she breathed against his lips. “Yes.”

  Very familiar with giving and receiving pleasure from willing females, he knew her body was his for the taking. His own rejoiced, but at the same time, his brain sent up an alarm. This was too easy. This was all wrong. Tapping his last vestiges of self-control, Garrett ripped himself away.

  Looking bereft, she hugged herself against the shock of the cool night air. As awareness of his rejection struck her, she shivered. Garrett refrained from apologizing.

  Retrieving his jacket from the ground, he ran a trembling hand through his hair. His cravat now dangled round his neck. His eyes looked anywhere but at her. Already, guilt dogged him.

  “Why did you stop? What did I do wrong?”

  He glanced at her coldly. The control that had snapped inside of him moments before was thankfully back in place. “You are wrong. Everything about you is wrong!” He gritted his teeth before continuing. “Earlier this afternoon, you implored me to alter my behavior so I could impress your parents’ guests with my fine gentility. You even obtained a valet for me. And now, this evening, you’re ready to lift your skirts like any Drury Lane doxy? What the hell is your game? Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

  He would not await an answer. With those parting words, he turned on his heel and strode away from her. He did not look back.

  Chapter Seven

  Shocked by her own actions, Natalie stood frozen on the path long after Lord Hawthorne’s departure. Conflicting sensations ran rampant through her. His abrupt departure was chilling, and yet, inside, Natalie felt warm and flushed from the desire he’d awakened. After several moments, casting off the trance that had captured her, she tentatively touched her fingers to her lips. The normally plump flesh there ought to be burning. It ought to be feverish after his scorching kiss. But her lips felt no different than before. How was that possible?

  His departing words cut deeply. If he’d been trying to hurt her, he had succeeded. And she’d deserved every word.

  Shame swept through her, both for her wanton actions and her contradictory behavior. But…an overwhelming giddiness came over her nonetheless.

  No wonder the mothers and chaperones had kept him away from all the debutantes. The man had practically set fire to her toes!

  She would not be devastated by his parting words.

  She would not wallow in self-pity from his rejection.

  After months of feeling as though her life was fatefully mapped out before her, she thrilled to feel a glimmering of hope in her heart once again. She would not scoff at such a gift.

  Light-hearted for the first time in ages, she skipped around back and entered through the servants’ entrance, her irritation with being trapped in the country obliterated. What a night!

  After climbing the stairs to her room, Natalie’s euphoria dissipated as she mulled over Lord Hawthorne’s parting words. He had, in fact, been angry when he’d left her. And being thrust away from him so harshly had not been pleasant at all. He’d yelled at her. He’d asked what kind of game she was playing. Was she, in truth, playing games?

  He hadn’t met her gaze after their kiss. She had seen his eyes though—they had been blazing. He’d looked tormented, almost like a caged animal. Did I do that to him? She was not sorry for the kiss, but she did feel bad for making him so explosively angry, especially after getting along so well throughout most of their walk. She had felt as though they were, well, friends. Ought she to apologize?

  Her maid, the ever-present and anxious Mrs. Tinsdale, awaited Natalie’s return to her room. She even went so far as to scold her, saying a young lady ought not to be gallivanting about the countryside in the dark, no matter it was her own parents’ property. The older woman, once nanny to the family, had taken the task as lady’s maid to Natalie once all the children had grown. The Spencers were the only family she’d ever known. She’d not given up her original role, however, when it came to caring for Natalie.

  “Don’t fuss so, Tinsdale. There is nothing wrong with a midnight stroll.” Natalie bristled inside. She should not have to answer to her maid, as well as to her parents, her brothers, and all of society! She didn’t have the heart to reprimand the woman though. Dearest Tinny didn’t deserve Natalie’s ire. Argh! She felt so…trapped!

  Long after Tinsdale left, Natalie lay upon her bed staring at the ceiling. But she did not see the ceiling. No, rather she was recalling intensely black eyes flashing in the moonlight, eyes as black as opals with a few tiny creases at the edges. The creases had appeared when he smiled at her. And he had smiled, yes he had. Before that kiss.

  He wasn’t dangerous, quite. He was exciting. He represented a wo
rld she’d never known. He’d somehow brought her back to life.

  And now she’d angered him. She blinked several times at the thought.

  She must apologize! Yes, an apology was not only appropriate but imperative. And she mustn’t wait until tomorrow. She must apologize tonight!

  Buoyed by her decision, Natalie donned her dressing gown and slipped quietly out of her room. Lord Hawthorne was staying in Joseph’s old room. As Joseph was nearest to her in age, she’d often snuck into his room late at night for one reason or another. But Joseph was gone. A very different bachelor now occupied his room—one who was not a brother to her—one who was not in good temper with her at the moment.

  Pacing outside his door, Natalie very nearly turned around several times to return to her own chamber. Ladies simply did not do this sort of thing. Why, she would be ruined forever if one of her mother’s guests caught her behaving so outrageously! But she was not the same girl she’d been all spring. She would take some chances. She would follow her heart.

  After looking down both lengths of the corridor to be certain she was not observed, she stepped up to the door and knocked.

  She didn’t have to wait but a moment.

  “Enter,” a voice ordered from behind the closed door.

  After taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed her way into the masculine abode. Oh Lord, he was not alone.

  Marcus was gathering the earl’s discarded clothing and preparing to leave his new master for the night. His eyebrows rose in surprise upon seeing Natalie standing at the open door in her dressing gown. “Did you forget that Joseph no longer lives here, my lady?”

  Just then Lord Hawthorne appeared from behind the privacy screen. He was barefoot, wearing a deep blue silk dressing gown loosely tied at the waist. The hem barely skimmed the floor. Unbidden, Natalie imagined strong calves rising from those slim masculine feet. As the gown gaped, a deep V of his naked chest stole her attention. The smattering of black hair contrasted with the paleness of his skin.

  Natalie tried to remember what Marcus had said. Oh, right, something about this being Joseph’s room. “Er, ah, no, Marcus, I have something of import that I must discuss with Lord Hawthorne.”