She forced herself not to take a step back. “You’re deliberately pretending to be more fearsome than you are, sir. Earlier today, you very chivalrously rescued me—not the act of a villain. Besides, I hardly think murderous thugs lurk in libraries in the middle of the night reading…” She stepped forward to get a better look at the book he was holding. “Jonathan Swift?”
“I find pessimists amusing sometimes,” he confessed easily, his expression unapologetic. “Perhaps they make me feel more cheerful by comparison.”
“You aren’t normally cheerful?”
“Hardly, but then we thugs have to keep up appearances.”
Alyssa laughed. “I will keep that in mind.”
“Well,” he said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight; his eyes raked her up and down with evident appreciation, making Alyssa recall that she was not dressed for a debate on literature. “I must say it never occurred to me to consider my reading choices so…revealing.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, embarrassment flooding through her. With all his talk of danger, she’d been picturing burglars and murderers, while he’d been hinting at the pitfalls of addressing a relative stranger alone in the middle of the night when wearing nightclothes. “Oh, dear.”
“Exactly my thoughts.” He nodded solemnly, but his dark brown eyes were lit with amusement.
She nervously touched the knot in her sash, “I…I should go. After all, I wasn’t going to linger anyway. I’ll just take an old favorite and be on my way.” She crossed to the shelves and took a volume without even looking at it. Clutching it to her chest, she turned to him. “There then, I’ll just bid you good night.”
He left his own book on the chair and drew nearer, the firelight playing off his features. She simultaneously felt a curl of pleasure and a small spark of fear. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was suddenly attuned to him, and cared nothing for the rules of any hour.
He reached out to her, and Alyssa’s breath caught in her throat. Surely he wouldn’t—
His fingers curled around the book’s spine, taking it from her easily. “Lady Peabody’s Guide to the Art of Flower Arrangement?”
“I…I was having trouble sleeping,” she countered.
“This should solve that problem.” He held the book out to her. “An old favorite?”
She snatched the small volume back from him, wishing she’d had the luck to reach for a book on the art of shin kicking. “There are several amusing anecdotes.” She looked up at him, another wave of awareness sweeping through her. He was close, but in a strange way, not close enough.
Go. Tell him good night and then just go. You’re acting like a ninny.
Instead, she heard herself saying, “I should thank you for…keeping your word. You would have had an opportune moment earlier today in the salon to top Mrs. Wolfe’s tales of my mishaps with one of your own.”
“A gentleman is only as good as his word.” His eyes darkened with a look that sent another silken coil of pleasure down her spine.
“Lucky for me that you are such a gentleman,” she whispered.
He shook his head slowly, his smile in the firelight casting a spell that kept her in place as he drew closer. “Did I make that claim?”
“You…” Alyssa suddenly couldn’t remember what he’d claimed earlier, much less why she was holdingLady Peabody as if it were a shield. “You did.”
“Oh,” he said with a nod, “then I suppose I must be.” His hand ever so slowly reached out and captured the long, thick braid that trailed over her shoulder. “Still, it seems to me that I have too readily forgone the chance to boast of your rescue. Surely your father would have been pleased…”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Well,” he said, shrugging again, a casual gesture that diverted her attention away from his strong hand holding her braid. “I’ve been feeling guilty since I agreed to deceive your father, a man I hold in high regard and whose trust I have hopes of earning in business. My very livelihood and reputation are now in jeopardy, and I am entirely at your mercy. It hardly seems fair of you to ask such a thing, without…”
“Without?” She held her breath.
“Without payment,” he supplied, his voice deep and soft, like a caress.
“You want money?!” she squeaked in shock.
His eyebrows arched in disbelief, his fingers temporarily ceasing their gentle play on her braid. “Miss Martin, you do have a way of saying the most surprising things.”
“What kind of payment are you suggesting then?” she asked.
“I was thinking of a kiss.”
For just a moment, she could have sworn that the space between them had diminished, that all the air in the library had become electrically charged. The sensation came too quickly for fear, and Alyssa marveled that even without really touching her he could evoke a fever-like heat in her blood.
His lips brushed hers for one fleeting moment, a feathery touch full of promise; but before she could marvel at the tender shock of it, his arms were around her, his hands splayed on her back, and first impressions fell away in a sweet blaze as his mouth claimed hers completely. Her lips parted at the onslaught of white-hot passion, and the discovery of his tongue and the sensations it elicited banished the world. His teeth grazed the pulsating flesh of her lower lip, and Alyssa’s joints melted at the jolt of delicious pleasure. A daring she had never known overtook her as she in return sampled each texture and taste of him. Another sound escaped her, but it was far from a lady-like sigh. It was a small moan of need, uttered without thought as Alyssa arched against him, eager for more.
Without warning, he gently ended the kiss, his breath hurried as he slowly stepped back to hold her at arm’s length. “Miss Martin…”
“Yes?” She held still, her own breathing ragged, struggling to focus on his face. A twinge of horror at her unbridled reaction to his kisses flooded her.Oh, dear. I’m sure a lady would have had at least one fleeting thought about protesting. Did I disgust him by not doing so?
He released her completely and bent down to retrieve the book she’d dropped, and she felt the intimacy of the moment slip away. “Your secrets are safe with me.” He held out the slim volume and then made a slight bow, effectively ending their exchange. “I hope you enjoy Lady Peabody’s excellent company.”
She nodded, still somewhat dazed, and escaped in a flurry of lace. Instead of relief, she felt confused at the abrupt end of his kiss and at the realization that she was more than a little disappointed.
Disappointed? That he hadn’t proven himself to be less of a gentleman? How is that possible? What would Mrs. Harris say? Something stern about minding her surroundings and applying herself to better decorum, no doubt. Oh, my word! I stood there in my nightclothes, engaged him in conversation and then…I let him…
She was sure she’d shocked the man. Hurrying back to her room, Alyssa could only be grateful that the sole witness to her most recent bit of lunacy was Lady Peabody and her flower arrangements!
Leland watched her go, taking a few moments to recover his composure.
Damn it!
He returned to his chair by the fire to pace in front of it in frustration. He’d come to the library to retreat from the apparitions of Alyssa Martin that were keeping him from his rest, only to find himself haunted in the flesh. She’d come upon him like a vision in ivory lace and green ribbons and all his stern philosophies had melted to drivel.
The small ornate clock over the mantel chimed the half hour, and he finally stopped his march. He hadn’t intended to touch her, much less enter into a lively game of sensual blackmail. But it hadn’t felt like a game. For the first time in his life, his own infallible reason hadn’t stepped in to remind him of the dangerous consequences.
Her inexperience had been sweetly evident, but it hadn’t been nearly as jarring as her innocent and unguarded reaction to his touch. But she was his host’s daughter. He was a guest under their roof. It would be pure villainy to take advantage o
f Martin’s invitation by seducing his daughter. She was also only weeks away from her social debut, and possessed a fortune that every eligible bachelor from eighteen to eighty would be vying for. A dry inner voice reminded him that she was exactly the kind of ripe prize his family expected him to secure.
All his vows of personal integrity and proclamations against such a marriage tasted like ashes in his mouth. If a gentleman was only as good as his word, then he was in a terrible tangle.
Four
Sleep well?” Alyssa blushed as she took her seat at the breakfast table. “Yes, thank you, Father.”
He grinned merrily, unaware of her discomfort at the inquiry as he settled back into his meal. “I imagine there is no better rest to be had than your first night back home.”
“Oh, yes!” she agreed, focusing on the eggs on her plate. She couldn’t remember falling asleep the previous night, but odd heated dreams featuring Leland had chased her into the morning. As the sun had mercilessly driven her from bed, Alyssa had decided that kissing was hazardous to one’s health. How could anyone survive for long without a good night’s sleep?
“Ah!” her father hailed. “Mr. Yates! I was wondering if we’d see you this morning.”
Alyssa managed not to drop her fork before composing her features into a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Yates.”
“Good morning, Miss Martin.” He took his place across from her, looking entirely too rested and handsome as far as Alyssa was concerned.
“I’m so glad to have you both here,” Mr. Martin went on. “I have a bit of a favor to ask.”
“What kind of favor?” Alyssa asked.
“Well.” He set aside his kipper. “Mrs. Wolfe has invited me to accompany her for some shopping in the village. Apparently, there are a few more gifts and sundries she would like to purchase before Christmas, and I didn’t wish to send her off alone.”
“You are too thoughtful a host for that, sir,” Leland noted
“And the…favor?” Alyssa pressed, a bit confused.
“I’m afraid I also promised to take Mr. Yates on a riding tour of the property this afternoon. I was thinking that since you would have enjoyed the outing as well, my dear, there’s no reason you couldn’t take my place.” He gave her a hopeful look, like an expectant schoolboy begging a treat. “I wouldn’t trouble you, but Mrs. Wolfe is most insistent and I find I wouldn’t mind a bit of holiday shopping.”
Alyssa swallowed hard, not wishing to disappoint her father, but—to be alone with the man who made her bones turn to jelly? Afterthat kiss? “I would love to, but I’m sure Mr. Yates would rather wait for you, Father. Perhaps tomorrow or—”
“The weather is too fine to waste and it may not hold much longer,” Leland interjected, the very picture of innocence though his eyes sparkled with amusement at her reaction. “I’m sure the tour will be most enjoyable with such a pleasant guide. I confess I had been looking forward to the ride, sir, so it is most generous of you to volunteer your daughter.”
“You see?” Her father reached across the table to take her hand. “No need to lose the day after all!”
“Should I ask Mrs. Cunningham to chaperone?” Mr. Yates offered, and Alyssa bit back a squeak of surprise. She’d hardly expected him to crusade for her protection. Before she could second the brilliant return to proper etiquette, her father waved a hand.
“She doesn’t ride and, frankly, I hardly think a chaperone is required in these circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” she asked, unable to stop the question.
Her father chuckled, eyeing them both benevolently. “I believe I can trust Mr. Yates well enough, especially as a man so openly reputed to avoid romantic entanglements. No, I have no concerns.”
Alyssa wasn’t sure whether to be flattered at his trust or a bit miffed that he was so wretchedly wrong. In any case, she could hardly argue without revealing too much of her own transgressions. She risked a look at Mr. Yates, and was rewarded with another of his heart-stopping smiles.
Leland turned to her father. “Thank you, sir.”
It’s a conspiracy! Well, I don’t care. I’m not afraid of you and you can look as handsome as you please!Alyssa thought. She was sure of one thing. If she kept a good seat on her horse, he could hardly manage another one of those kisses.I’ll tie myself to the saddle if I have to!
She spurred her mount forward, secretly pleased at the docile little mare and her sweet manners. To his credit, Mr. Yates didn’t seem to mind the leisurely pace his livelier horse was forced to match. The weather had cleared, though a few patches of winter white lingered in the hollows and shaded groves. She loved the rolling hills and admired her father for keeping the remnants of the old-growth forest, which had been thinned over the years by previous tenants and farmers. As a child, she’d always imagined that the trees were ancient friends and great manses for the fairies and sprites her nanny had told her of. Now the landscape’s beauty was stark and undeniable. As they covered the estate’s terrain, winding along a riding path through the grove, Alyssa was grateful to have her own horse—though the sight of Leland’s thighs in tight deerskin riding breeches was enough to stir her blood. She glanced over at him, determined to redirect her thoughts. “Tell me more about yourself, Mr. Yates.”
He arched his eyebrows. “Where should I begin, Miss Martin?”
“Any of the usual points would suffice,” she suggested with a smile. “Your family? Your home? Perhaps you could tell me about your business?”
He laughed. “And bore you to tears?”
“I doubt you are so dull.”
He shrugged. “Only if your standards for excitement are exceedingly low.”
“You are deliberately being mysterious!” She tossed out the accusation, laughing.
“Gentlemen aren’t allowed their secrets? Only ladies, then?” he countered.
“Aha! Then youdo claim to be a gentleman!”
He smiled enigmatically. “I try.”
“You, sir, are a rogue—and I am not fooled by you in the slightest.” She lifted her chin, a surge of confidence fueling her saucy words.
“Thank God,” he said. “But how do you know that I am a rogue?”
She blushed. “Well…I know the signs.”
“Really?” His skepticism was palpable and it urged her on.
“I’ll have you know that I am well-informed about scoundrels.”
“Well informed. I see. And the signs?”
“Scoundrels are handsome and charming, with easy flirtatious manners that make them very affable. A scoundrel ignores the rules of good society, but he’s like a chameleon, fitting in anywhere, often welcome in all sorts of circles.”
“Sounds like a frightening fellow,” he interjected, his expression somber though his eyes betrayed his merriment. “Definitely to be avoided.”
She frowned, realizing now that everything she’d said seemed a compliment to the dratted man. “Scoundrels lack credibility,” she added sternly.
“So, a man of mystery would be…”
“A gentleman need never prevaricate.” Alyssa nodded in triumph, pleased to have her argument come to a witty turn.
“Well”—Leland leaned over as if disclosing a confidence—“that will certainly narrow your search for a husband. I take it you’re looking for a very honest man who is ugly, a complete bore, but with good references and lofty introductions. And of course, as a strict adherent to the rules, he should indicate no interest in your person beyond tentative attempts to hold or—dare I say it—kiss your hand?”
Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. Her description of a scoundrel hadn’t seemed laughable when she’d spoken, but its opposite was beyond preposterous. Still, this was hardly a debate she could concede. “You are deliberately twisting my meaning! And deliberately trying to get me flummoxed!”
In a spark of spirit, she spurred her trusty mare off the path, intending to make a point of putting some distance between them. But instead of a flashy show of indepen
dence, fate once again intervened. Her mind was on the infuriating Leland Yates and not on her chosen direction. The density of the grove of trees didn’t invite or allow the haughty gallop she’d envisioned and disaster set in within a few paces. Low branches formed a stubborn web of snares; barren twigs and branches tangled in Alyssa’s bonnet and curls and arrested her forward progress. The pain was startling, but the humiliation of getting stuck well within view of Mr. Yates was worse.
She reached up to try to free herself, but only managed to make the mare sidestep from her struggles. “Whoa, girl!”
“Miss Martin?” Leland’s voice carried from the safety of the path.
“Yes, Mr. Yates?” Alyssa responded calmly, determined to brazen it out and salvage what pride she could.At least I kept my seat in the saddle.
“May I offer you a hand?”
Her heart skipped a beat at the familiar words. Twice in as many days, she’d managed to get herself stuck—and once again it was the delectable Mr. Yates on hand to rescue her.
“I…I appear to be imitating Absalom.”
She heard him approach, the sound of his horse’s hooves muted by the soft ground.
“Just remain still.” His voice was soothing, to keep the mare from spooking at his encroachment. His approach was slow, as he navigated the low branches and wove his way around the worst of it to reach her. At last, he drew his horse alongside hers. His expression was concerned, but also reassuring. “Just stay as still as you can, Miss Martin, and we’ll have you free in no time.”
She started to nod, but winced at the tug on her hair. “I suppose you’re going to remind me that invisibility isn’t an option?”
He smiled. “It hadn’t occurred to me. But let’s see to you first and then we can return to the debate.” He reached over and gently began to assess the damage.
Alyssa held her breath as he ever so slowly snapped some twigs and then eased her riding hat from her head. It caught on another sharp branch, but he carefully made the effort to save her fashionable accessory. He studied it briefly, before tucking it behind him.
The School for Heiresses Page 29
