Stranded with the Reclusive Earl

by Eva Shepherd

* * *

  Iris fought to get her breathing under control as she emerged from her dazed state. What had just happened? She looked up at the stern man standing in front of her, then down at her bunched-up blouse. It was obvious what had just happened. And if she couldn’t tell from her blouse, then her sensitised breasts, her pounding heart and that intense throbbing between her thighs made the answer abundantly clear. The real question she should be asking herself was, How had that happened? One moment she was trying to rebuke him for his behaviour, the next moment she was acting like some woman she didn’t know, a wanton woman who was allowing, indeed encouraging, a man to take liberties with her.

  What on earth had she been thinking? That question also answered itself. She had not been thinking. The moment he had touched her arm her mind seemed to cease to work and she had lost the ability to think.

  And then his touch had moved to a kiss. If she actually had been capable of thinking before she felt his lips on hers, his kiss would have certainly put an end to that particular skill. In fact, after what had just happened, she was unsure whether she’d be able to think in a rational manner ever again.

  She ran her tongue along her bottom lip and sighed. While she might have lost the ability to think, she certainly hadn’t lost the ability to feel. Her entire body had come alive under his touch, as if every nerve end from the top of her head to her smallest toe had been stimulated and aroused. She closed her eyes and sighed again. She had not known it was possible to feel that way, and she had loved every second of it. Had loved the intensity of the emotions that had coursed through her when he took her in his arms, had loved the passion his caresses had aroused deep within her, had loved the sense of abandonment, of giving herself over to him.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him, desperate for him to hold her close once more, to push his hard chest up against her soft, yielding body, to touch and caress her.

  Iris sighed again and smiled. She had no regrets. How could she possibly have any regrets over what had happened? It had been wonderful. Her only regret was that he had stopped when he did, leaving her wanting more, so much more.

  He, on the other hand, did not appear to feel the same way, if one was to judge by the serious look on his face. But Iris knew that was a deception. He might be trying to look as if he was unaffected by what had just taken place, but she knew differently.

  He had been just as lost in the moment as she had. Well, almost as lost. He had managed to pull back, something she knew she would have been incapable of doing. Something he, unfortunately, had been capable of doing.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure who should reprimand whom on that little breach of etiquette,’ she said with a small laugh. ‘Or whether we’re equally guilty.’

  ‘I think you should leave, Lady Iris,’ he said, his voice back to its brusque manner, his lips drawing into a thin line.

  ‘No,’ she said, causing him to look even more affronted. ‘I think we should talk about what just happened.’

  He exhaled loudly. ‘Yes, you are right. I apologise. What I did was unforgivable. I should not have taken advantage of you.’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘I did. I should never have kissed you, never have...’ He paused and tilted up his chin, as if unable to even discuss what had just happened between them. ‘For that I am profoundly sorry.’

  ‘But I kissed you as well.’

  He paused, his chin still lifted, his body rigid. ‘But I did more than just kiss you.’

  Iris smiled. ‘Mmm, yes, you did.’ She bit the edge of her thumbnail and smiled, pressing her arm against her still sensitive breast. ‘And I let you, wanted you to. You have nothing to rebuke yourself for.’ Except perhaps for stopping when you did.

  ‘You are an innocent young lady,’ he said, his voice starting to rise as if angry that she was not allowing him to completely abase himself and wallow in guilt like a conscience-stricken penitent.

  ‘Not quite as innocent as I was when I woke up this morning,’ she said, unable to resist the jest.

  ‘And for that, too, I apologise.’

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. He really was determined to take all the blame, wasn’t he?

  ‘Theo...’ She paused. ‘I suppose I can call you Theo now. After what happened I think we can probably drop the formality of using titles.’

  He nodded but his expression did not soften.

  ‘Theo, if I don’t blame you then there’s no reason why you should blame yourself.’

  She looked at him, imploring him to believe her. His face remained fixed and he gave no sign that he would accept that he was without guilt.

  ‘And anyway, no one knows what happened between us. I don’t intend to tell anyone, and I assume you won’t either.’

  ‘That goes without saying,’ he said, his voice offended.

  ‘Good. Well, no one knows, so my reputation has not been ruined. As long as no one finds out, no harm has been done.’

  He slowly shook his head. ‘You really are a unique, remarkable young woman,’ he said, his voice appearing to be full of awe.

  Iris shrugged. Nothing she had said seemed particularly remarkable to her. ‘And you’re rather remarkable yourself,’ she said with a smile, slowly looking him up and down.

  He merely replied with a humph, as if that was something else he would not accept. Iris wanted to list all the ways in which he was remarkable. He was brave, handsome, more honourable than she wished him to be, but the most remarkable thing about him was the way he made her feel when he touched her. Until he had kissed her, caressed her, she had not known it was possible to feel such intensity, such passion. Yes, it really was all rather remarkable.

  She looked down at his hands, those strong, slender hands with the tapering fingers, and wished he would touch her again. But she knew that was not going to happen. He was adamant that what he had done was wrong, and, judging from the way his body was still clenched so tightly, it was unlikely he would commit another wrong very soon.

  Damn him, she said to herself, sighing.

  At least her reputation was safe, although that felt like a very small consolation for what she had missed out on.

  ‘I suppose you’re right. I suppose I should go,’ she said, disappointment clearly showing in her voice.

  ‘Yes, I believe that would be for the best,’ he said, his voice still formal. ‘I shall call for my carriage to take you back.’

  ‘No, that will not be necessary. After all, if we’re to keep all this between the two of us it would not do for me to arrive at the Walbertons’ in your carriage.’

  ‘You are right. And I am sorry you are going to have to walk back alone.’

  ‘Again, not your fault. I came here alone. I’m perfectly capable of walking back alone.’ She looked down at her dishevelled blouse. ‘But I had better tidy myself up first.’

  ‘Of course.’ He turned his back on her as if giving her privacy, although, as he couldn’t see her, that was a pointless gesture. Or was it a symbolic gesture? Was he telling her that he was turning his back on her, rejecting her?

  As she fumbled with her blouse she hoped not. She tucked it into her skirt, and something dropped out from under her clothing and bounced on the carpet. She bent down to pick it up and discovered it was a small button from her chemise.

  It was such an innocent little thing, but its presence in her hand was the result of something far from innocent. She smiled as she placed it in her pocket, as if saving a souvenir, a memory of what had happened between them. She was going to have some explaining to do to Annette when she discovered the missing button, but she’d think of an excuse later.

  ‘Right, then, I’ll say goodbye,’ she said, brushing down her skirt.

  ‘Goodbye, Lady Iris,’ he said, turning back to face her. ‘And once again, I cannot apologise enough for my behaviour.’

  ‘And once
again, you have nothing to apologise for.’ She continued to stare up at him. She really did not want to leave. Did not want to just walk out of his house, out of his life, and pretend nothing had happened, but that was what they had agreed. For the sake of her damn reputation, they would act as if the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced had never actually happened.

  She looked towards the door, the one through which she should be departing, and then back up at him. Would it be completely unacceptable if she rose up on tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss goodbye? After all, she wouldn’t be doing anything they hadn’t done already, and what harm could one little kiss do?

  She swallowed down her reservations and took a step towards him, wondering how he would react. Hopefully in a manner very similar to the way he had reacted last time they had kissed.

  ‘Goodbye, Lady Iris,’ he said firmly. As if reading her mind, he took a step backwards and reached out for the bell to summon Charles, but before he could do so there was a knock on the door.

  As if caught doing something she shouldn’t, Iris jumped back. They both stood up straighter, the very picture of propriety—or was that the very picture of guilt?—and turned towards the opening door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Enter,’ the Earl said, his voice overly terse.

  Charles came into the room, followed by Iris’s mother, who hadn’t waited to be introduced.

  ‘Lady Springfeld, my lord,’ Charles said, looking slightly affronted at the older woman’s boldness as she pushed past him.

  Theo made a low bow and greeted her mother, while Iris quickly scanned down her dress to make sure all was in order, and patted her hair. At least she could blame any escaped strands on the windy walk over to the Earl’s home. Then she beamed a smile at her mother, as if delighted to see her. But she was no actress and her mother was not convinced. She looked from Iris to the Earl then back to Iris, her raised eyebrows and wide eyes causing increased heat to rise on Iris’s already warm cheeks.

  Iris drew in a deep, steadying breath, still smiling as brightly as she could. If ever there was a time for a white lie it was now, and hang any punishment the gods planned to send down on her. She doubted any retribution they could dish out would be worse than her mother’s wrath if she ever found out what had just happened between her and the Earl.

  ‘Mother, how wonderful to see you.’ White lie number one. ‘I was out for a little walk and decided to call in on the Earl.’ White lie number two. ‘We were just discussing how much fun last night’s dinner was.’ White lie number three. Or was that lie actually white? Given what had really happened, claiming they had merely been talking was at the very least a bit grey around the edges, and possibly even heading towards a rather black lie. Iris forced herself to hold her smile, even though her cheeks were now starting to ache.

  Her mother’s eyebrows moved slightly higher up her forehead. ‘Indeed,’ she said, drawing the word out so that it spoke volumes. She slowly looked the Earl up and down, and Iris was certain that he would be as grateful as she was for his long frock coat, which covered up any incontrovertible evidence of what they really had been up to.

  ‘I discovered Annette in quite a fluster,’ her mother said as she slowly turned her attention back to Iris. ‘She said you had sent her back to the house to retrieve your reticule, but she could not find it. Then she was supposed to meet you in the village. Not at the Earl’s home.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I got a bit lost, yet again.’ Iris pulled a little moue, as if to say silly old me. It was another white lie, but she had lost count and now had no idea how many they tallied up to. ‘And then I found myself in the vicinity of the Earl’s house, so I couldn’t really pass without popping in and saying hello.’

  ‘And I assume you have said hello by now?’

  ‘Mmm, yes, I have.’ And what a way to say hello. Iris’s forced smile became genuine and she had to suppress a little giggle that was threatening to escape.

  ‘Would you like some tea, Lady Springfeld?’ the Earl said, showing surprising hospitality, particularly under the circumstances.

  ‘No, thank you. I believe my daughter has intruded long enough,’ her mother said, showing an uncharacteristic lack of friendliness.

  ‘Then I will call for my carriage to take you home,’ he said.

  Her mother waved her hand in dismissal. ‘No, thank you. Iris and I have much to discuss and I think a nice walk back will be the perfect time to have that discussion.’

  Iris fought hard to hold on to her smile. Much to discuss? She didn’t like the sound of that. Not one little bit.

  * * *

  Iris and her mother walked along the now familiar country lane between the Earl’s house and the Walbertons’. The wind had dropped and the walk was rather pleasant. Or at least it would have been if Iris weren’t dreading what her mother was going to say about her latest lapse in propriety by turning up at a man’s house uninvited and unaccompanied. And that was just the impropriety her mother knew about.

  As they strolled along, her mother commented on what she was seeing, admiring the trees, the small cottages and the well-tended hedges that lined the road. Iris started to relax and enjoy herself. She had got away with it, she thought with a satisfied smile.

  ‘I am not naïve, my dear,’ her mother said, suddenly changing the subject from a discussion on the delightful cottage gardens.

  Her sense of satisfaction, along with her smile, disappeared. ‘No one has ever suggested you were.’

  Her mother sent her a sideways glance. ‘You might be surprised to know this, but I am very familiar with how a woman looks when she is impassioned, and even more familiar with that state in a man.’

  Iris grimaced—partly because it was now obvious she had not got away with it, but mainly because she’d rather not think about how her mother knew what a man looked like when he was impassioned. No one ever wanted to think about one’s parents in that way, and Iris was no exception.

  ‘I know exactly why a woman gets that flush on her cheeks and her neck, and it is certainly not because she’s been discussing what happened during a dinner party which I believe for the Earl was anything but fun.’ Her mother stopped walking and turned to look at Iris. ‘And her lips do not usually get quite so swollen and her eyes are not usually glazed because she has had a pleasant conversation.’

  ‘Oh,’ was all Iris could think to say.

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ her mother replied.

  They continued walking, this time in silence. Iris suddenly felt rather guilty. Not because of what she had done, but because she did not want to upset her mother, and most certainly did not want her mother to be ashamed of her.

  ‘You are in love with him, my dear,’ her mother finally said, breaking the silence in a most unexpected manner. Her voice was quiet, but the words hit Iris as if she had shouted them from the rooftops.

  Iris came to a sudden halt. ‘In love? With the Earl? No, I am not.’

  Her mother smiled. ‘Yes, you are. I have watched you with all those young men who have tried to court you. You have been friendly. You have even flirted on occasion. But you have treated all of them as if they were nothing more than friends. None of them has affected you the way the Earl of Greystone has.’

  Iris stared at her mother, taking in the implication of her words. No, it couldn’t be true. She could not be in love with the Earl. She could not be in love with a grumpy recluse, even if he was handsome and his kisses could make her forget what day it was, who she was and what she was doing.

  Slowly Iris shook her head, which caused her mother to smile.

  ‘I suspected you held the Earl in high regard the first time you mentioned his name. Your voice softened. A sure sign that you had feelings for him. And then every time you mentioned his name after that you reacted in some way—either you softened your voice, you looked flustered, or as if you were deliberately trying to act n
ormally. It has all been rather entertaining, actually.’

  Her mother pushed a wayward strand of hair back off Iris’s face. ‘I would have preferred you to have fallen in love with another man, but so be it.’

  Iris bristled and she glared at her mother in shock. ‘Why? Because he’s blind? He might be blind but he’s more capable than most sighted men, and certainly a lot braver than any man I’ve ever met. I would have expected better from you, Mother.’

  ‘Oh, get off your high horse, Iris. No, it is not because he is blind. You know as well as I do why it would be a lot easier if you had fallen in love with one of the other men who have pursued you.’

  Iris sighed and her shoulders slumped. ‘Lady Redcliffe?’

  Her mother nodded. ‘Yes, Lady Redcliffe. Lady Walberton told me last night all about the Earl and Lady Estelle, as she once was. It would definitely be better if you had fallen in love with a man who was not still in love with another woman.’

  ‘But I’m not in love,’ Iris said again, her voice sounding defeated.

  Her mother merely rolled her eyes, something Iris doubted she had seen her do before, and they commenced walking, although now Iris was finding it all but impossible not to drag her feet.

  Was she in love with the Earl? Was that why he had taken over her thoughts every waking hour and was even invading her dreams? Was that why she was going out of her way to see him, even if it meant breaking all the rules of polite society? Was that why she was so desperate to have him kiss her, and once in his arms wanted him to do so much more than just kiss her? Perhaps her mother was right. She was in love with the Earl of Greystone, a man who was in love with another woman.

  ‘But all is not lost,’ her mother said, returning to her usually cheerful manner. ‘Even if the Earl is in love with another, there is nothing to stop him falling in love with you and forgetting all about Lady Redcliffe. There is no denying he feels something for you, or my eyes are starting to deceive me, which I know they are not.’