Alone together. Bloody hell, he was losing his mind!
"Why, thank you… Austin. So, am I forgiven?"
He jerked his attention back. "Forgiven?"
"Yes. For, urnmrnm…" She glanced down at his ruined clothes.
He followed her gaze. "Ah, yes. The extremely sad state of my attire. Are you truly sorry?"
She nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes."
"Do you promise never to do such a dastardly thing again?"
"Hmmm. Do you mean never-as in never again in my entire life?"
"That was the general idea, yes."
"Oh, dear." She pursed her lips, but her eyes glowed alight with mischief. "I'm afraid I cannot make such a far-reaching promise."
"I see." He heaved a sigh of resignation. "Well, in that case, can you possibly endeavor to behave yourself long enough for us to make it back to the house?"
"Oh, yes," she agreed with a beaming smile. "I can promise that."
"Thank God. In that case, I suppose I'll have to forgive you. Let's get out of this water before we shrivel up." He turned and started back toward shore. "Are you coming?" he asked when she didn't follow him.
"I wish I could, but I can't," she said struggling to move. "My feet have sunken in the mud and my skirts are too heavy to budge." Her dimples winked. "Do you suppose I could trouble you for some assistance?"
Austin looked heavenward. "The last time you asked me that I ended up receiving a mud bath." He glared at her. "I trust you'll recall your promise to behave yourself? I could leave you out there, you know."
She held her hand over her heart. "I promise."
He sloshed his way back to her, muttering uncomplimentary words about females in general. "Put your arms around my neck."
She did so and he swept her up into his arms, nearly staggering under the combined weight of her and her sodden clothing. Cold water poured from her garments, sluicing down his body, while mud oozed from her boots. She nestled her face on his shoulder and his body tightened in reaction to the feel of her wet body snuggled against his chest. He bent his head and breathed in the flowery fragrance of her hair. Damn it, even covered in mud she still smelled like lilacs.
Once on the shore, he lowered her until her feet touched the ground her body slowly dragging along his. Her wet clothes clung to her, outlining her curvaceous shape, and he swallowed a groan. Her hardened nipples were clearly outlined against the damp material, and her legs appeared endless. God, she was incredible. Even slathered in mud, he wanted her.
His entire body pulsed to life, and when she tried to step back his hands tightened on her waist. God help him, he'd never wanted to kiss a woman more. Even as warning bells clanged in his head, he moved his mouth slowly toward hers. He had to taste her again… just one more time.
She slapped her palms against his chest. "What are you doing?"
"I was preparing to collect my payment."
"For what?"
"My ruined attire."
"By kissing me?"
"Of course. It's an old and noble custom here in England. One kiss for a muddy shirt and breeches. Did no one tell you?"
"I'm afraid it has not come up in conversation."
"Well, now that you know, you'd best pay up. Otherwise, it's debtors' prison for you."
She raised her brows. "One kiss?"
"I'd be happy to charge you two. In fact-"
"Oh, no," she said hastily. "One is fine."
"Well, since you insist…" He drew her closer, until her breasts brushed his chest, then covered her mouth with his own.
The instant their lips met, he was lost. Utterly and completely. Lost in the silky feel of her, the warm taste of her, the soft, flowery scent of her. Every rational thought slipped from his mind as his hands ran up her sides and cupped her full breasts. He teased her nipples into points and she gasped dropping her head limply back. He took immediate advantage, running his lips down the long slender column of her throat, each touch dragging him deeper and deeper into a heated haze where nothing existed but the woman in his arms.
"Austin…" she breathed. "Please. We must stop."
Expending an effort that nearly killed him, he lifted his head and gazed into her dazed desire-filled eyes. Lust smacked him so hard his knees nearly buckled. He wanted nothing more than to peel off her wet gown and make love to her. And if he didn't move away from her now, he might do just that.
He stepped back and immediately missed the feel of her pressed against him. Unable to resist the urge to touch her, he reached out, took her hands, and entwined their fingers.
Elizabeth pushed the hazy cobwebs from her mind. For the second time, this man had kissed her breathless. Mindless. Until nothing mattered but him.
But she'd had to stop. She'd allowed him more liberties than any decent woman would. But the effort had cost her. She'd wanted nothing more than to let him continue kissing her, touching her, igniting her skin, filling her senses with his heavenly taste and woodsy scent.
At that instant he squeezed her hands and his thoughts filled her mind with breathtaking clarity.
He wanted to make love to her.
Wanted to peel off her wet gown and touch her. Everywhere.
Making love. Love. Heat flooded her and her heart nearly jumped from her body. Is that what this feeling was? This bone-melting, can't-breathe, can't-stop-thinking-about-him, ever-want-his-kiss-to-end feeling? This overpowering need to help and protect him?
Dear God, was she falling in love with Austin?
Chapter 7
The trip back to the house was made in silence. Elizabeth rode on Myst in front of Austin, wrapped in his strong arms, his warm body surrounding her.
Am I falling in love with him?
Her mind immediately rejected the possibility. No. To love this man would bring her nothing but heartache. Although he obviously found her attractive enough to kiss, he did not trust her or believe in her or her visions.
And even if he did the situation was impossible. He wasn't just any man. He was a duke, and she'd be a fool to entertain the idea that he would ever have deep feelings for an unsophisticated woman like her. No doubt he had only to raise his finger and dozens of beautiful, wealthy women would dash to his side eager to do his bidding. His position would require him to marry a woman of high social standing-and she was not that woman.
A lump lodged in her throat and her insides ached. She desperately tried to convince herself that she was merely attracted to him, simply infatuated but her heart stubbornly refused to listen. It didn't matter that he didn't, wouldn't, return her feelings. Nor did it matter that she hadn't known him long. After all, how long did it take to fall in love? A day? A month? A year? Her parents had fallen deeply in love at first sight and Papa had proposed within two weeks. Her mother had always said "Somehow, the heart just knows." Now Elizabeth understood what she'd meant.
But the realization was bittersweet.
Heaving a sigh, she leaned back against Austin and once again his loneliness, the emptiness that haunted him, seeped into her mind. She clearly sensed that secrets troubled him, but she couldn't discern what they were. Her heart ached for him. She had to help him. Make him whole again.
And if a broken heart was the price she must pay, so be it.
They arrived at the stables several minutes later. Austin dismounted, then assisted Elizabeth down as Mortlin ran forward.
"Blimey! Are ye hurt, Miz Elizabeth? Rosamunde just this minute returned to the stables without ye. Scared me to the toes, it did."
"I'm quite all right, Mortlin. Just a bit dirty."
Mortlin's gaze wandered over her. "A bit? Why, ye look like…" His voice tapered off as his gaze moved to Austin. The groom's jaw dropped open. "God save us! Wot 'appened, yer grace? It's a bloody mess yer lookin' like!"
"We're both fine, Mortlin. We took a small spill in the lake, nothing more."
"Ye fell off Myst?" Mortlin clearly couldn't imagine such a thing.
"No." Austin fixed the bugged-
eyed groom with a repressive stare and silently handed him Myst's reins. Mortlin clearly recognized the "no-more-questions" look and snapped his mouth shut so quickly both of his teeth rattled.
Tucking Elizabeth's dirty hand under his filthy arm, Austin escorted her back to the house. She seemed uncharacteristically quiet, and he wondered what she was thinking. He forced himself to keep his own thoughts carefully blank… just in case. Of course her talk of visions was ridiculous, but she was uncannily perceptive.
She inclined her head toward the terrace. "Good heavens, there's Caroline. She just caught sight of us and is staring in much the same manner that Mortlin did. Quick! Shoot her that icy glare you silenced Mortlin with," she suggested out of the side of her mouth in a laughing undertone.
"Caroline is unfortunately immune to even my most freezing stare," he whispered close to her ear.
"What a pity," she whispered back.
"Indeed. It seems I'm suddenly surrounded by females who find me less than intimidating. I must be losing my touch."
"Not at all. Your touch is…" Her voice trailed off and he paused drawing her to a stop beside him. A becoming blush stained her cheeks.
"My touch is what?"
She cocked a brow at him. "Do you normally fish for compliments in such a shameless manner, your grace?"
"Only on days when I resemble something dragged from the lake."
On the terrace, Caroline couldn't decide what amazed her more-her brother's unprecedented filthy appearance, or the sight of him smiling and whispering in Elizabeth's ear. Elizabeth, Caroline noted with interest, had her arm linked through Austin's, and her face glowed with a becoming blush as she laughed at something he said.
The couple stopped walking and Caroline's pulse speeded up at the long, intense look that passed between them. She'd never seen Austin look at anyone quite that way.
Happiness swelled in her heart. How wonderful to see her brother smiling and enjoying himself! It was a sight she hadn't seen in much too long.
"Have an accident?" Caroline asked when they stepped onto the terrace.
"No, thank you. We've already had one," Austin replied in a bland tone and kept right on walking, escorting Elizabeth to the house, as if nothing were amiss. Caroline watched them enter the house and a smile curved her lips.
This was turning out to be a very interesting house party.
After leaving Elizabeth at her bedchamber door, Austin entered his own chamber and bit back a bark of laughter when his normally unflappable valet stared at his filthy attire in slack-jawed amazement.
"That is a look I'm growing quite accustomed to, Kingsbury," he remarked shrugging out of his ruined shirt.
"I'll have a bath drawn immediately, your grace," Kingsbury said gingerly holding Austin's muddy attire as far away from himself as possible.
Several minutes later, Austin eased himself into a huge tub of steaming water and closed his eyes with a contented sigh. His mind suddenly flashed to an image of Elizabeth, who was no doubt stepping into her own fragrant bath, her magnificent hair cascading down her back in a mass of glorious curls.
He imagined himself joining her in the tub, his wet hands gliding over her full breasts, teasing her nipples into hard peaks. Austin… she would groan in that heated smoky voice. He saw himself lean forward and draw one ripe nipple between his lips and suckle until she moaned in pleasure.
"Are you all right, your grace?" Kingsbury called through the door.
Yanked from his sexual reverie, Austin realized with no small amount of chagrin that he had been the one moaning, a most annoying habit of late, it seemed.
"Yes, Kingsbury, I'm fine," he snapped.
Damn.
This was turning out to be a very irritating house party.
At dinner that evening, Austin sat at the head of the table and surreptitiously observed Elizabeth. She sat at the far end next to a young viscount whose gaze grew more admiring as the meal wore on. Austin couldn't decide whether to applaud Caroline or curse her fashion efforts on Elizabeth's behalf. By the fifth course, the damn viscount couldn't seem to stop staring at her.
And who could blame him? She looked breathtaking in a low-cut, coppery-colored gown that showcased her full breasts and creamy skin. Austin noted with ever-growing grimness how the viscount's admiring gaze often strayed to the tantalizing skin swelling above her bodice.
And her hair. God! A single clip held the loosely gathered mass of curls on top of her head. Wispy tendrils surrounded her face and shoulders, and the rest fell down her back in a shimmering curtain of satiny ringlets. No doubt the seductive coiffure was again the work of Caroline's abigail. He didn't know whether to fire the woman or triple her salary.
He'd made it a point to avoid Elizabeth in the drawing room before dinner, but he'd been intensely aware of her every single movement, a fact that irked him to no end. He had to stop this… this whatever it was he was doing with her. Kissing her, touching her were blatant errors in his normally fine-tuned better judgment. And they were errors he could not afford to repeat.
After spending most of the afternoon reflecting, he'd decided his only course of action was to wait. Wait for Miles to return from London. Wait to receive information from his Bow Street Runner. Wait to get further instructions from the blackmailer. He chafed at the necessity, but there was no alternative.
After their time together at the lake, it was nearly impossible to believe that she was working in cahoots with the blackmailer or indeed knew anything about the letter he'd received. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it became clear that she simply possessed an uncanny intuition that she placed far too much credence in. She believed her visions were real and had told him about them to help him. She wasn't vicious or out to harm him. She was merely… misguided.
Misguided… and tempting beyond all endurance. She set his blood on fire and he could not seem to exorcise her from his thoughts. And that damned viscount sitting next to her was now openly ogling her.
With each passing course, Austin's mood grew grimmer and he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the inane conversations going on around him.
"I believe you're in a brown study, your grace," a female voice remarked in a throaty undertone. A gloved hand brushed over his and he forced his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Countess Millham, the woman seated on his left, sent him a coy smile. Since her elderly husband's convenient death two years ago, the countess had engaged in numerous affairs, but she'd yet to lure Austin to her bed. He had the distinct impression she hoped to change that tonight.
She leaned closer, affording him an unimpeded view of her breasts that spilled over her bodice in a show of cleavage that he knew stupefied most men. Her emerald gaze roamed his face, her eyes glowing with sexual promise- the exact sort of look from the exact sort of woman he should be concentrating on.
With her eyes steady on his, she discreetly slipped her hand under the table and boldly caressed his thigh. "There must be something a woman can do to gain your attention, your grace," she murmured in a husky whisper meant only for his ears.
He did nothing to stop her or to encourage her; he simply watched her and waited for his body to react to her touch. Her tongue peeked out and she slowly wet her upper lip, her eyes blatantly telling him what she'd rather be doing with her tongue. Her questing fingers moved higher on his leg.
But instead of lust for her, he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. This beautiful woman, with her voluptuous body and promises of sexual delights, didn't ignite the slightest spark of desire in him. He moved his hand under the table to forcibly halt her caress. At that same instant his mother stood signaling the end of the meal.
Clearly misunderstanding the reason why he'd placed his hand under the table, Countess Millham smiled wickedly, as she stood along with everyone else. "Until later," she whispered close to his ear as the women departed for the drawing room, leaving the men to their cigars.
Leaning back in his chair, he lit a chero
ot and blew out a long stream of fragrant smoke. Countess Millham had provided him with a perfect and much-needed opportunity to ease the relentless ache clutching his loins. So why the hell wasn't he happy?
Because she s not the one you want. Thoroughly annoyed with himself, he signaled a footman for a brandy and tossed back the potent drink in a single gulp.
He suspected this was going to be an excruciatingly long evening.
Elizabeth entered her bedchamber and leaned back against the closed door, grateful to escape the drawing room and the chattering women. Aunt Joanna and Caroline had both expressed concern when she'd pleaded a headache and excused herself to retire early, but she couldn't remain with the guests any longer. There were too many people, too many disjointed images flashing through her mind. Her head felt as if a corps of drummers pounded on her brain.
And then there was him. It was painfully obvious Austin was avoiding her. He'd barely acknowledged her before dinner, and every time she'd glanced down the table at him, his attention seemed riveted on the beautiful woman with the large breasts sitting at his elbow.
She'd turned her attention to Viscount Farrington, with whom she'd discovered a common interest in drawing. To her surprise, he paid her several flowery compliments and professed a desire to sketch her. She'd tried to concentrate on him, but she was constantly distracted by the vague, unsettling images flashing in her mind and the presence of the man at the head of the table.
After changing into her night rail, she mixed a headache remedy and slid into bed. Indistinct images collided in her brain, teasing her, just out of reach. She closed her eyes, willing the thoughts to go away, but they persisted. Austin's face popped into her mind his mouth curving slowly upward into a devastating smile. She tried to push him from her thoughts but failed.
What was he doing right this minute? Was he with the woman who had claimed his attention all through dinner? Was he touching her? Kissing her?
A groan passed her lips. The thought of Austin touching another woman pierced her with a pain that stole her breath, a pain made all the more agonizing because there was nothing she could do about it. Her feelings for him were hopeless.
Whirlwind Wedding Page 8
