Nathan’s shoulders tensed. “I’m not in competition for her favors.”
“ ‘Course yer not. She’s got eyes only for you.”
Nathan’s head whipped around to face Hopkins. “What do you mean?”
Clearly his voice was sharper man he’d intended because Hopkins eyed him with a combination of hurt and surprise. “Beg yer pardon, Dr. Nathan. Meant no disrespect. ‘Tis just we used to always speak plainly to each other.”
Nathan dragged a hand through his hair and silently cursed his thoughtlessness. Hopkins had been with his family since before he was born, and he’d always viewed the kindly man who loved horses as much as he did as a friend. “We still can speak plainly,” Nathan said, clasping the older man’s shoulder. “Forgive me. It’s just that your words startled me.”
Hopkins acknowledged the apology with a nod, then said, “Surprises me, that does. Usually yer keen observant. Ye didn’t see the way she looked at ye?”
“As a matter of fact I did. She looked as if she wanted to skewer me then roast me over a slow flame.”
“Yep, that was the look.” Hopkins chuckled. “Got it bad fer ye, she does.” He narrowed his eyes at Nathan. “Wonder if she noticed the way ye look at her?”
“As if I wanted to toss her into the first coach leaving Cornwall?”
“No, like she were a ripe peach ye wanted to pluck. Then feast on.”
Damn it all, when had he become so bloody transparent? Before he could voice a denial, Hopkins chuckled. “And ye don’t look happy about it, either. No point in denyin‘ it. Been able to read ye like a book since ye were a lad.” He squinted toward the now empty doorway. Obviously the trio had walked away. “A well-favored filly, Lady Victoria is. Spirited-I can tell. And a fine rider. Still, a pampered London diamond… not the sort of lady ye used to fancy. And would be my guess that yer not the sort of man she usually takes a shine to.”
“Oh? And what sort of man am I?”
“ ‘Tis more the sort of man yer not. Yer not one of them fancy London swells with yer nose hoisted in the air traipsing from party to club to gamin’ hell and back again. Yer a decent, hardworking man. No offense meant to the lady, but I doubt she’s ever looked twice at someone as lowly as a doctor. Understandable. But she’s lookin‘ now.” He shot Nathan a pointed look. “And yer lookin’ back.”
“You seem to have divined an awful lot in a short amount of time,” Nathan said.
Hopkins shrugged. “ ‘Tis my nature to study folks.”
Before Nathan could make any further reply, a commotion was heard outside, followed by a loud cry that unmistakably came from Victoria. “Oh! What are you doing? Stop!”
Nathan raced toward the doors, Hopkins directly behind him. When he emerged, he skidded to a halt, his gaze raking over the tableau before him. Gordon and Colin, both looking chagrined, knelt next to Victoria, who was crouched down and clutching her hem of her gown. Her face was devoid of color. All three were staring at Petunia, who stood near them, her fuzzy chin working back and forth as she chewed.
Nathan strode forward and crouched next to Victoria, alarmed at her pallor. Grasping her upper arms, he asked tersely, “Are you all right? What happened?”
“That idiotic goat of yours is what happened,” Gordon said, his tone dripping with disgust. “Not only did the beast scare poor Lady Victoria to death, it gnawed a hole in her riding costume. That animal is a menace. Why, it could have bitten her.”
Nathan’s gaze shifted to Petunia, who flicked her tail then sashayed toward the pen. Returning his attention to Victoria, he said, “You’re not hurt, are you?”
After she shook her head, he rose, helping her to her feet. “My apologies. Petunia is famous for nibbling on things she shouldn’t. I’m sure your riding costume can be repaired. If not, I’ll see that it is replaced.”
“It is not my riding costume that concerns me,” she said in a choked voice. She stared up at him with stricken eyes. “It is your note.”
“What about my note?”
“Your goat just ate it.”
Ten
Today’s Modern Woman should never waste the opportunity to view a superior male specimen, particularly if he is in some state of undress. If faced with such a stroke of good fortune, she should not allow modesty to dictate that she squander such a lucky turn of events. Enjoy the moment, look your fill, and be prepared for what might happen next.
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
Her stomach churning with disbelief and dread, Victoria watched Nathan’s eyes narrow. She expected him to shout, but instead he said with quiet, icy calm, “I beg your pardon?”
She swallowed. “Your note. It was eaten. By your goat.”
“Please tell me that is just a hideously bad rhyme.”
“It is a hideously bad rhyme. But true, nonetheless.” His gaze dropped, arrowing in on the ragged spot of forest green hem she still clutched in a white-knuckled grip. “You’d sewn it into your hem.”
“Yes.”
His gaze jumped back to hers, pinning her in place. “You led me to believe it was in the house.”
“I never said that. I said I would return it to you once we were back here.”
“Why didn’t you simply return it at the beach? Knowing your sewing abilities, it surely wouldn’t have been too difficult to rip open a few sloppy stitches.”
Victoria flung down her ruined hem, planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes right back at him. “If certain people didn’t find it necessary to keep secrets from me and hide letters in my luggage, and other people refuse to let me help-”
“If you’re referring to your father and me-”
“Of course I’m referring to my father and you. If the two of you weren’t so pigheaded, it wouldn’t have been necessary for me to sew the note into my hem. Where it was perfectly safe, until your goat ate it.”
“So it’s my fault the note is gone?”
Victoria lifted her chin. “Partially, yes. Although I am willing to accept a portion of the blame.”
“How incredibly generous of you.”
Before Victoria could respond to his sarcastic reply, Lord Alwyck broke in. “Will someone please explain what you’re talking about? What note?”
Nathan sent her a warning look, but she ignored him and turned her attention to Lord Alwyck. “My father secreted a note for Dr. Nathan in my luggage. Unfortunately for him, I found it before he could retrieve it. Even more unfortunately for him, his goat just ate the note out of the hem of my skirt where I’d hidden it.”
Lord Alwyck shot Nathan a piercing look. “Why was Wexhall sending you a secret note?” When Nathan’s only reply was an unreadable steady stare, Lord Alwyck said slowly, “The fact that you’ve returned here… a note from Wexhall… this has something to do with the jewels.” The words rang like an accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Nathan’s gaze didn’t waver. “If Wexhall had wanted you to know, he’d have told you. Or perhaps I would have told you, depending on what instructions he gave me in the note. But now that the note is gone, I don’t suppose we’ll know. At least until I am able to contact him to tell him what happened.” His gaze swiveled to Victoria. “Which, needless to say, is an extremely inconvenient delay.”
Lord Alwyck turned to Lord Sutton. “Did you know about this, Colin?”
Lord Sutton nodded. “Yes. I’d planned to tell you about it during today’s ride.” He turned to Nathan. “Gordon had every right to know.”
“I never said he didn’t. However, I would have preferred to have all the information from Wexhall’s letter before telling anyone anything.”
“Still good at keeping secrets it would seem,” Lord Alwyck said to Nathan. His voice sounded calm, but it was obvious to Victoria by the frigid look in his eyes that he was very angry. “You had no right to keep me in the dark.”
Nathan hiked a brow.
“Why would you care? It wasn’t your reputation that suffered.”
“Perhaps because I was shot during the failure of the mission the last time out. Or had you forgotten?”
A tension-laden silence filled the air. Victoria pressed her lips together to prevent herself from spewing any nervous babble to fill the void. A muscle jerked in Nathan’s jaw, and she noted his hands were clenched.
“No, I hadn’t forgotten,” he said in a flat tone. He turned toward Victoria, and she stilled at the utterly bleak look in his eyes. A curtain then seemed to fall over his expression, leaving complete blankness where only seconds ago shadows and pain and regret had dwelled.
“You read the note, examined it, did you not?” he asked her tersely.
“Yes.”
“Good. You’ll come with me to the house and write down everything you can remember while I compose a letter to your father. Now.” Without waiting for a reply or so much as glancing at his brother or Lord Alwyck, he turned on his heel and strode toward the house.
Lord Alwyck muttered something that contained the words “rude” and “autocratic,” then said aloud, “It appears you need an escort to the house, Lady Victoria. May I have the honors?”
Victoria yanked her gaze from Nathan’s retreating back and noted that Lord Alwyck’s eyes still reflected anger, while Lord Sutton stared after his brother with a troubled expression. “Thank you, but I don’t wish to delay your ride. If you will both excuse me…” She hurried away before either gentleman could stop her.
Walking as swiftly as she could without resorting to running, Victoria tried to settle her jumbled emotions before she faced Nathan again. Part of her felt horribly guilty that her actions had led to the destruction of the note. Another part of her itched with irritation at Nathan for the dictatorial manner in which he’d flung commands at her. Good Lord, one minute the man was kissing her-
She cut off that thought immediately. This was no time to think about that kiss. That mind numbing, glorious, dazzling kiss-
Enough. Later. She would think on it later. Right now she was annoyed with him for tossing orders at her as if he were a general and she a lowly foot soldier. But tempering her annoyance was the deep pull of sympathy she’d felt right down to her core when she witnessed that flash of desolation in his eyes. The depth of the naked pain she’d seen had shaken her and filled her with an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him, to offer him comfort from whatever had caused that look. How was it that she wished to simultaneously cuddle and cosh him? The man roiled her emotions in a way no one else ever had. And she was quite certain that she didn’t like it one bit.
When she entered the house through the French windows leading to the terrace, a footman greeted her. “Dr. Nathan asked that you please meet him in the library, my lady.” He cleared his throat. “He specified that I should stress the word ‘please.’”
In spite of herself, Victoria’s lips twitched. “Thank you.”
“He said that you would no doubt wish to change clothes first, and that he’d arranged for a meal to be sent to your bedchamber.”
Victoria couldn’t hide her surprise at his show of thoughtfulness. Of course she’d had every intention of changing her clothes before joining him, but a private meal would be most welcome.
“Please tell Dr. Oliver I will join him as soon as I have eaten and made myself presentable.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Victoria hurried to her bedchamber. When she looked in the cheval glass, she gasped. Good Lord, her hair resembled a bird’s nest. But it wasn’t the disheveled state of her coiffure that stunned her as much as her face. Pink stained her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, a souvenir from not wearing her bonnet on such a sunny day, which would no doubt cause her to skin to freckle. Her eyes appeared huge and… glowing. And her lips…
She leaned closer to the glass and tentatively touched her fingertips to them. There was only one way to describe her reddened, swollen mouth: thoroughly kissed. Her eyes slid closed and in a heartbeat the thoughts she’d tried to hold at bay invaded her mind. The dizzying way he’d held her, touched her, the thrilling hardness of his body pressing into her, the delicious feeling of running her hands over his strong torso and back. In spite of all she’d learned from reading the Ladies’ Guide, never in her life had she imagined what she’d shared with Nathan in the cave. He said he’d been curious to discover whether the second time around could be even better than the first. She wouldn’t have believed it possible that the magic he’d introduced her to three years ago could be surpassed, but it had been. And God help her, she hadn’t wanted him to stop.
Straightening, she scowled at her reflection. “Be careful of this man and do not underestimate him,” she whispered to the wide-eyed woman staring back at her. The plan was to make herself unforgettable to him-not the other way around. If she and Nathan were to share another kiss, she would make certain it was on her terms.
That decided, Victoria opted not to ring for Winifred, knowing that the sharp-eyed abigail would instantly note her unsettled manner and kiss-swollen lips. Instead, she simply removed her riding habit, used the basin to freshen up, then set about detangling her hair. After arranging the unruly curls into a simple Grecian knot, she donned her favorite pale blue muslin day gown. She’d just slid her feet into the matching slippers when a knock sounded on the door.
At her bid to come in, a smiling young maid entered, bearing a silver tray that she set on the cherrywood table next to the bed. An enticing aroma floated from beneath the dome-covered dishes, and Victoria’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. “It smells wonderful.”
“One of Cook’s specialties, my lady. A rich hearty stew made from an assortment of local seafood. Cook made it especially for Dr. Nathan, as it’s his favorite.”
Considering the fact that Nathan refused to eat the animals given to him as payment, it didn’t surprise her that his favorite meal was fish. After the maid withdrew, Victoria dipped her spoon in the rich mixture and sampled a bit of broth with a small chunk of flaky white fish. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes in ecstasy. She’d never tasted anything so delicious. Two fluffy rolls accompanied her stew, and she used them to soak up the last drops of the savory meal. Clearly the sea and salt air affected her appetite, for she couldn’t recall enjoying a meal more. Indeed, she looked into the empty bowl and heaved a forlorn sigh.
Laying aside her linen napkin, she made her way to the foyer, where Langston escorted her to the library.
Victoria stood in the doorway and allowed her gaze to wander around the well-appointed room. Sunlight poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the center half of the back wall, the sparkling glass flanked by dark wood bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes. A huge desk stood in front of the windows, catching the natural light. Another full wall of bookcases soared from the floor to the twenty-foot ceiling, delighting Victoria and filling her with the urge to explore the wondrous room. The cheerful blaze burning in the grate of a huge marble fireplace occupied the opposite wall, bathing the room in gentle warmth. A blue and maroon Axminster rug covered the floor, and overstuffed chairs were placed in cozy groupings around the room. The brocade settee angled in front of the fireplace beckoned one to curl up with a favorite book. She breathed in and briefly closed her eyes at the familiar and much-loved scents of leather, aged parchment, and beeswax. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was alone. Where was Nathan?
Deciding to sit while she waited, she crossed to the fireplace. As she rounded the settee, she halted. Nathan’s mastiff, B.C., lounged on his side on the hearth rug, his body taking up the entire length, canine snores emitting from his snout. What had Nathan said B.C. stood for? Boot chewer? Behemoth Canine was more apt, if you asked her. Never in her life had she seen such a tremendous dog.
Just then the beast’s nose twitched, as if he’d caught the scent of something. His eyes blinked open, and heavens, for such a large animal, he was very fast, on his feet in seconds,
staring at her-hopefully not as if she were a savory pork chop.
“Nice doggie,” Victoria murmured, taking a cautious step back. “Nice big huge doggie. Go back to sleep.”
Instead B.C. walked slowly toward her. Recalling from some distant childhood lesson that one shouldn’t run from a dog, as it encouraged them to chase you, and praying that Nathan had been correct when he’d said the beast was gentle, Victoria remained perfectly still. B.C. halted in front of her. After giving her gown a nose twitching sniff, he sat on his bottom, then lifted his massive right forepaw toward her.
Victoria blinked. “Shaking hands are you? But, er, we’ve already met.” Clearly B.C. didn’t care, because he kept his paw extended. Praying this wasn’t a precursor to chewing off her arm, she hesitantly reached out and shook his paw. The instant she released him, he stood and bumped her hip with his muzzle. Then he pushed his cool, damp nose against her wrist and licked the back of her hand with a tongue that was larger than her shoe.
She gave his head a tentative stroke then scratched behind his dark ears. This set up an immediate tail wagging that threatened to sweep an end table clear of its Staffordshire vase. “Ah, so that’s what you like,” Victoria murmured, continuing to scratch while moving around to sit on the settee in an effort to save the vase’s life. B.C. followed her, and once she was seated, her other hand joined in. With her seated and B.C. standing, they were just about on eye level with each other. She scratched vigorously, and laughed at the dog’s rapturous reaction. His tail wagged, tongue lolled, and a blissful humming sound rumbled in his throat.
“Why, you only look like a big, ferocious dog,” she scolded with a laugh, moving her ministrations down to the straight, coarse coat on B.C.‘s fawn neck. “Inside you’re just a little sweet puppy.”
B.C. grunted and moaned, as if to say, “Finally… someone who understands me!”
So engrossed was she in rubbing down the dog, she didn’t realize she was no longer alone until a familiar deep voice said, “I see you’ve made a new friend.”
Not Quite A Gentleman Page 13
