Lady Lissa's Liaison (To Woo an Heiress, Book 1)

by Randall, Lindsay

  “Obviously, plots of deceit do not sit well with you, do they, Lissa? At least, not ones that go awry.” His voice was hard, unrelenting. “Allow me to take a chance at assuming what you are feeling at this moment, my lady. I suspect there is revulsion and guilt, not to mention anger. I suspect your anger is greatest of all.”

  Lissa sucked in huge gulps of air, forcefully blinking back the tears that threatened to choke her. She willed herself not to crumble, not to play the caught, scheming female Wylde obviously thought her to be.

  “I can explain—” she began.

  “I am counting on that,” he cut in.

  She glanced out into the darkness, feeling as gloomy as the night was black. “You must think the worst of me,” she said after a long moment of silence.

  “I’d like to. In fact, I ought to.”

  It was the tug in Wylde’s voice that caused Lissa to look back at him. “But?” she questioned.

  “Ah. You would like if there was a ‘but’ on my part, wouldn’t you, Lissa? It would resolve you of your own play in this. Would make you feel better.”

  Drat him, Lissa thought, for turning the tables on her, for making her feel so hideously miserable. She stubbornly turned her head, glancing at a black wall of night and nothingness.

  “I—I did not mean for things to turn out as they have,” she said.

  “Of course not.” His voice was tombstone cold. “You simply wished for your name to be linked with mine. You wanted all to believe you were in the throes of some sort of new love, but hoped to do so by not having to spend more than just a morning in my ugly presence. Admit it, Lady Lissa of Clivedon Manor, you sought to make a perfect puppet of me.”

  “No!” she insisted, turning back toward him. “That wasn’t the whole of it, n-not really. Maybe at first was, but… but not after I’d met you. You must believe me.”

  “Given the circumstances, it is deucedly difficult to believe anything you might have to say.” The heat that poured out of him at that moment threatened to smite her. He moved suddenly toward Lissa, his body just a dark shadow in the deep night.

  Lissa instinctively backed away, pressing her body against the rail. ‘Twas a foolish response, for she merely aided him in pinioning her to that blasted rail.

  Lissa felt the heat of his lean, whipcord body pressing in against hers. His hands were on her shoulders, his thighs brushing and then stilling against her own. She drew in an astonished breath.

  Wylde ignored that breath.

  There was nothing but the two of them. Nothing but this heated moment.

  How very foolish that Lissa had entertained the notion of using this man to her own advantage, thinking to deter her other suitors by his presumed presence in her life. Gad, what an idiot she’d been!

  He was the lone wolf she should avoid! Not Chesney, not Langford, nor even any of the other men who had come to find her in the wilds of Derbyshire.

  Worse, she was an even bigger fool for not considering how Lord Wylde could color her life—how one look, one touch from him, could make her become clay in his very capable hands.

  Lissa yanked her head to the side, trying to drag herself out from under the spell he could weave about her. But she was wrong to believe she could banish the bewitching effect he held over her senses.

  With all the fury of a hurricane, it hit Lissa that Gabriel Gordon, the sixth Earl of Wylde, could stir her heart like no other.

  Though he was no stranger to duels, had left a would-be bride alone at the altar and had left that female alone when she killed herself, was a man who had abandoned his parents at the times of their deaths, and had made a name for himself as being nothing but cruel and dispassionate, Lissa felt her heart being enslaved by him.

  Surely she’d gone mad, she thought. This was preposterous! There was no reason or even rhyme to her feelings for this man. By all accounts she should hate him.

  But hate was far from her mind.

  Though Lissa knew she should tell Wylde to go away, knew she should blast a world of things at him, she didn’t. Heaven help her, but she couldn’t.

  “Having second thoughts?” Wylde asked, holding perfectly still against her, his words in her right ear. “Think you that you ought to have thought twice about whom you ensnared in your ‘liaison’?”

  Lissa felt tears of both fright and anger threaten to choke her. “You have no clue about what I am thinking,” she gasped. “You know nothing about me, nothing at all.”

  “Ah, but I do,” he murmured. “I know a great deal about you, Lissa. I know, for instance, that your body fits to mine like leaf to tree … that your mouth is soft, sweet and, oh, so pliant beneath mine.” He stared down at her long and hard. “I also know you let it be known to one and all that the two of us have become entangled in a liaison. That is why I am here tonight. If it is a puppet you seek in me, a puppet I shall be—but on my own terms.”

  Lissa’s eyes widened. She tried to pull away, but Wylde wouldn’t allow it.

  “I shall make this liaison exactly what I want it to be,” he continued inexorably. “I shall lay claim to your time whenever and wherever I wish. You will be at my beck and call. Your time will be my time.”

  Lissa flared. “Do not be daft! How ludicrous!”

  “Is it?” His black gaze seared into hers, causing tingles to chase down Lissa’s spine. “You began this charade. I merely intend to accommodate you… to be your gentleman to the final degree. You have forced my hand and have literally thrust me out of the anonymity I sought. You have given me no other choice. If I am to be embroiled in a liaison, Lissa, make no mistake that it will be my way.”

  “How dare you?” she blasted. “I have never, in all my life, been treated so hideously!”

  Wylde stiffened at the sting of her words, but did not back off. “No? Well, I have been treated hideously in my life,” he muttered, “and I didn’t like it then, and certain as Hades do not like it now.” He nodded toward the doors of the ballroom. “As far as your guests are concerned, Lissa, the two of us are connected, in thought, word and deed. I had no choice in the matter, no say whatsoever. Because of you and your selfish manipulation there is no going back for me. For good or ill, my name has been thrust with yours.”

  “If I could take it all back, I would.”

  “But you cannot.” He leaned closer. “You have made your unholy alliance. Now you must live with it.”

  “There are those,” she warned heedlessly, “who will not accept such a thing so easily, my lord. Gentlemen who will come to my assistance and who will not hesitate to stand up for my honor.”

  He had the audacity to laugh—a low, dark sound in his throat. “What a coil, then, that you have created, Lissa. Gad, but you ensnare me and my blackened name on one hand—and yet encourage your many untried suitors on the other.” He clicked his tongue. “You really ought to choose a side, Lissa, lest someone actually get hurt because of all this.”

  “Do not dare to intimate that you would bring harm to young Chesney, or—or even Lord Langford!” she returned, incredulous.

  At mention of Langford, Wylde stiffened. “How I detest that man,” he muttered. “The cawker is nothing more than a presumptuous skirter, not fit for proper company. You are to steer clear of him, is that understood?”

  “It absolutely is not!”

  He cursed lowly. “Damnation, Lissa, if you know what is best, you will make this promise to me.”

  “You have no say over my life!” she shot back. “And I detest your unsavory penchant to try and sway me. How dare you presume to tell me with whom I can and cannot associate?”

  “I’ll tell you how… It is because you have enmeshed me inside of whatever scrape it is you believe holds you tight. You’ve linked your name with mine, Lissa, and that is something you should not have done. You’ve dredged up my past, laid it bare for all to remember, and now you’re about to reap the benefits of that sorry act. Though you thought I’d be a child’s puppet on your string, you were wrong. What
I will be is a perfect nuisance in your life. Before all is said and done you will remember the name of Gabriel Gordon.”

  Lissa blanched, knowing therein was the rub. Though the man was moody, mercurial, and plain ornery, she was affected by him. His kisses had branded their way into her brain, perhaps even her heart, and she knew there was no way at all she’d ever, ever forget him or his name. But she would be cursed before she would allow him to know such a thing!

  “Perhaps it is true what everyone says about you,” Lissa shot back. “Perhaps you are ‘the Heartless One’.”

  “My dear Lissa,” Gabriel muttered, his voice void of all emotion, “you have no idea. None at all.” He’ nodded toward the door that led back inside. “Shall we?”

  “I’d rather walk a plank into shark-infested waters.”

  “I believe you already have,” he murmured. “I suggest you start swimming.”

  So saying, his lordship moved back a bit, took Lissa’s right hand in his left one, and then, ignoring her deep frown, turned toward the doors leading to the assembly room.

  Lissa realized she had no other choice but to go with him.

  Together, the two of them headed back inside.

  Chapter 10

  The minute Lissa and Lord Wylde stepped back into the manor house, Lissa realized that her reputation had been massacred not by the rumors of a liaison betwixt herself and Wylde, but because of the bold kiss his lordship had stolen for all to see while holding her in a sliver of light near the terrace doors. With that single deed he’d managed to upstage her plot of seeing all her suitors’ hopes dashed with one fell sweep by the illusion of a liaison. Indeed, he’d succeeded in maligning her fine reputation most assuredly!

  Lissa felt the undeniable urge to turn and race back outside, but Wylde’s hold on her arm was far too snug. It seemed he was not yet finished queering her game.

  Another set had begun, this one a quadrille. From the corner of her eye, Lissa spied Lord Langford, cooling his heels at the far side of the room. She remembered then that she’d promised this dance to him. Wylde obviously recalled her promise as well, for he quickly propelled her in the opposite direction, before Langford could move to intercept them.

  Lissa’s cheeks flamed, but she inwardly scolded herself not to allow her emotions to be written on her countenance, for every eye of every guest was upon her and Wylde. She would only fan the malicious gossip should she act uncomfortable at his side.

  “Faith,” muttered Wylde, “it appears as though you’ve enticed the entire male population of the ton to trail you into this shire! Gad, but I’d almost forgotten what it is to live within the fish bowl of the haute monde. Not a moment’s privacy or peace.”

  “It was your outlandish kiss at the doors that has sealed their interest in us this night, sir,” she reminded him sharply.

  “Ah, no, Lissa,” Wylde whispered, leaning his head toward hers as he neatly guided her to the side of the dance floor,” ‘twas your totty-headed scheme of creating the illusion of liaison with me that did the deed. One must be careful what one wishes for lest it come to pass, don’t you think?”

  He did not give her a chance to reply. Instead, he moved her effortlessly toward the refreshment table, procuring a glass of punch for each of them.

  Lissa took hold of the glass, her hands trembling as she took a sip.

  Wylde reached out, touching her hand. “You should try and relax, Lissa. It will not aid your cause to appear so jittery at the side of the man with whom you’ve coupled your good name. A lady in the throes of new love does not, after all, tremble like a leaf in the wind when in the presence of her beloved.”

  “Blast you,” Lissa muttered. She had had enough. She set down her glass on the table, then glared up at Wylde. “Really, sir, I’ve had quite enough of your assuming ways for one night.”

  “Have you?” he asked, an insufferably chatty tone in his voice. He took a leisurely sip of punch, his black eyes watching the other guests who were all covertly eyeing him and their hostess. “I take it you have not considered how I must be feeling at this moment.”

  “The word ‘smug’ comes to mind,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Alas, if only it were as simple as that. No, Lissa, your plotting and planning have left me feeling far from smug. Devil take it, but you obviously did not pause to ponder what a seemingly harmless rumor for you would mean to me and mine.”

  Lissa realized what he said was true enough. She hadn’t thoroughly considered what effect her outlandish plot might have on him, and unfortunately, due to Tilly’s loose tongue, things had gone from nothing to something with all too alarming speed.

  “I told you, sir, I—I never meant for things to get so out of hand,” she whispered, feeling a miserable ache burst to life inside her chest.

  “Aye, so you told me,” he said, voice turning dark. “Unfortunately, it does not right your wrong.”

  “Then why even bother to come here at all?” Lissa challenged. “You could have simply stayed clear of me, allowing the rumor to die out. Why show yourself this night, in such a public arena? And why, oh, why, did you feel so—so inclined to… to kiss me for all to see?”

  “Perhaps,” he murmured, “I could do no less.” He took another sip of punch, looking at her over the rim of the glass, his obsidian eyes unreadable.

  “You speak riddles, sir,” Lissa said, not daring to decipher what emotions lay behind his darkling gaze.

  “Do I? Forgive me. The last thing I wish to do is confuse you, Lissa. Allow me to be quite frank.” He leaned his head toward hers, his lips brushing alongside her ear in a far too familiar fashion. “The truth of the matter is, you remind me of someone from my past… yet at the same time, you are like no woman I have ever met.”

  Lissa drew in a deep, unsteady breath at his words and their close contact. She wanted desperately to pull away, to place a safe distance betwixt them. But she could not. She felt galvanized in place, unable to move. If his goal was to surprise and unnerve her, he had succeeded.

  “You—you are standing far too close to me,” she whispered. “I… I believe it—it would be best if you did not murmur into my ear in such an intimate manner.”

  She felt, rather than saw, his mouth form a smile. “Where is that daring female of this morning who implored me to ‘hook our trout’?”

  “She is right beside you, and she is most upset by your forward ways, sir.”

  “Call me Gabriel,” he insisted, his familiarity knowing no bounds.

  This time Lissa did pull back. She stared up at him, her cheeks burning. “I most certainly will not.”

  “Ah, but you will,” he vowed, as though knowing something about her—about the two of them—that Lissa had yet to realize. “Sooner or later, you will do just that, Lissa.”

  Something in his gaze nicked at her very soul. She forced herself to ignore the deep-seated sensation. “You, sir, “she said, emphasizing the last word, “are altogether too certain of yourself.”

  “Gabriel, you mean.” His mouth quirked with a wry grin.“After all that we’ve shared this day—in my river hut, and just a moment ago on your terrace—you cannot mean to continue addressing me in such a stuffy manner as ‘sir’ and ‘my lord.’ Besides, ‘twould not aid your purpose to address your lover in such a fashion.”

  Wylde finished the last of his punch with one gulp, returned the glass to the refreshment table, then took Lissa’s left hand in his, neatly tucking it into the crook of his right arm. Before she could deter him, he whisked her toward the door leading out of the dancing hall.

  He did not bother to ask for an introduction to the guest of honor or even to Aunt Prudence, nor did he speak to anyone else in attendance. Instead, he managed to compound the effects of his brash behavior of the evening by leading Lissa straight out into the empty hallway, leaving her guests to wonder what was afoot.

  Once there, he propelled her to the front door, then dared to touch her lightly on the cheek with one gloved hand.
“Good night, Lissa,” he said.

  She was stunned. “So this is how the night is to end?” she asked, angry beyond words. “You dare sweep into my midst, order up a waltz, kiss me for all to see, then spirit yourself away without so much as a by-your-leave?”

  “Do not look so astonished. After all, you would not have chosen me had you not had an inkling as to how thoroughly improper I can be. I merely played along with your game. You should be quite pleased with the turn of events this evening. I gave you exactly what you wished for—a tempest in a teapot, a liaison to outdo any and all before it. As I see it, you should be thanking me.”

  Lissa felt embarrassed, angry, and confused to boot. “You have abused me most hideously,” she whispered, almost unable to form the words. Her lower lip trembled, so close to tears was she.

  Something in Wylde’s gaze shifted then. It was almost as if he was sorry for his actions, but she couldn’t be certain.

  He paused, staring at her long and deeply, as though drinking in every nuance of her features. Lissa sensed keenly then that a part of Wylde hadn’t wanted to come here at all… and that perhaps a part of him did not want to be standing alone with her in the hallway just now because he was afraid of what might happen between them.

  Surprising her own self, Lissa whispered, “I have to wonder what it cost you to step back into the midst of your former peers… to come out of your reclusive hiding. By the look on your face, I would wager it has cost you greatly. I am sorry for that, my lord. I never meant to invade your life, to alter it in any huge way… but, clearly, I have done just that.”

  “Aye,” he whispered, nodding, his voice suddenly sounding odd, uneven, “you have altered my life. God’s truth.”

  Apropos of nothing, Wylde framed Lissa’s face with his hands. He looked into her eyes for a fraction of a moment, offering her time enough in which to push him away or slap him for his forwardness. She did neither. Instead, she gazed up into those black, fathomless eyes of his, and then held perfectly still. In the span of a heartbeat, he brought his mouth to hers, gently, reverently.