As Alex walked with Lucinda away from the picnickers and closer to the water’s edge, she inched closer and closer until her bountiful breasts were pushed right up against his arm.
“God’s teeth, Lucinda,” Alex chided, deliberately widening the distance between them. “Have you no understanding of discretion at all?”
“Don’t be silly,” she cooed, glancing about. “No one is paying us the slightest attention.”
“Even if that were true, it matters not,” Alex said reprovingly. “This is hardly a private setting. Are you trying to fuel the gossips?” He recalled Olivia Whitlunde’s remark from the night before, as well as the comment Tiffany had made when they’d stood out on the terrace.
Lucinda shrugged and pressed her breasts up against him once again. “Perhaps we should sneak away and find ourselves a more private setting then,” she murmured seductively.
Rather than inciting his desire, her brazen suggestion had Alex’s temper rising. Was she really so reckless? He stopped and turned to face her, his expression harsh. Even if he was interested, which he wasn’t, her shameless conduct was beyond the pale. “Have you completely lost your mind?” he bit out in an icy whisper.
She frowned. “Of course I haven’t,” she answered petulantly.
“Well then, perhaps you could at least try to assume some measure of prudence in your behavior.”
“I was under the impression that you liked my behavior exactly as it was.” After a moment, when he said nothing in response, her features tightened perceptively. “However, if that is no longer the case, then perhaps I should take my behavior elsewhere.” The threat in her voice was implicit. The implication, that she could have any man she desired.
“Perhaps you should.” His tone was even and devoid of inflection. Nonetheless, she recoiled as if he’d slapped her. Lucinda Langdon was a beautiful woman and clearly accustomed to getting what she wanted, especially when it came to men.
She stiffened. “You don’t mean that,” she said, studying him through narrowed eyes.
“Actually, I do.”
“You bastard,” she said indignantly. “You think you can end it, just like that?” She snapped her fingers, her face reddening in anger.
It was a decidedly unattractive color on her. “End it?” he looked at her in disbelief. “It was one night for Christ’s sake,” he continued, shaking his head incredulously. “But even so, that is exactly what I think,” he said, then abruptly turned on his heel and walked away. Despite the outraged hiss that followed him, he didn’t look back.
As Tiffany meandered through the wooded terrain, she tried to make sense of her feelings regarding Alex. Although she knew it was foolhardy to pine for a man who might never return her affections, she seemed incapable of controlling her wayward emotions. And after last night, having experienced the wonder of his kiss, it seemed that she was helpless to deny the depths of her feelings any longer. Heaven help her, she was falling in love with Alexander Warrene, truly, madly, deeply and beyond reason. Therefore, the question now it seemed was what did she do about it? Or perhaps, what could she do about it?
Unfortunately though, as she continued her leisurely ride, she couldn’t seem to come up with an answer. It was frustrating to say the least. Lost to her thoughts, she scarcely noticed when the first few drops of rain began to fall around her, dripping intermittently through the thick cover of leaves overhead. In fact, it wasn’t until a large glistening droplet landed with an unmistakable splat directly upon the leather pommel that she was shaken from her musings and looked to the sky. Through a gap in the trees she could see that it was darkening. Urging her mount toward the small clearing that lay ahead, she broke free of the sheltering trees and scanned the sky above. Her eyes widened as she noted the dark, ominous looking clouds moving swiftly in overhead. She’d been so distracted that she hadn’t even noticed the changing weather.
Collecting her bearings, she realized that she had traveled farther away from the picnic site than she had intended. Silently castigating herself for her lack of attention, it was then that she heard the first low rumble of thunder. Mentally calculating how long it would take her to get back to the group, she emitted a low groan. She doubted that she could make it before the rain began to fall in earnest. Besides, the others had probably noticed the darkening sky long before she had and most likely had already begun their return to Sethe Manor. Blast her rotten luck! As she considered her options, she noticed that her riding habit was quickly becoming dotted with tiny wet splotches. Marvelous! She was going to be soaked within minutes.
Glancing back to the trees, she wondered how much cover they would provide once the rain really began to fall. Not much, she figured; and the sprinkles were already turning into a light drizzle. All too soon it would be pouring buckets. She needed to make a decision and she needed to make it quickly. Dare she try to make it back to the house in the storm, or did she look for shelter and simply wait it out? Sadly, neither option was all that appealing. Just then, another loud rumble of thunder sounded overhead, spooking the mare and causing her to side-step nervously. As Tiffany patted the horse’s sleek neck and tried to calm her, the solution suddenly came to her. The old overseer’s cottage! She and Ashleigh had stumbled upon it weeks ago during one of their rides. She looked up, once more scanning her surroundings as she tried to recall its exact location. If she remembered correctly, it wasn’t all that far from where she was now. If she hurried, she might be able to escape the worst of the storm. It was certainly worth a try, she reasoned. Urging her mount forward, she went in search of the small dwelling.
Back at the picnic site, most of those present had already mounted their horses or hastened into the waiting carriages, eager to make it back to Sethe Manor ahead of the oncoming rainstorm. In the mad scramble, only Ashleigh seemed aware that Tiffany wasn’t among those heading back to the estate.
As Nicholas and Brendon assisted the last of the guests into the carriages, Ashleigh mounted her horse, spying Alex upon his own mount not far away. She called out to him and he rode quickly to her side.
“You haven’t seen Tiffany, have you?” she asked as he pulled up beside her.
Alex frowned. He’d been about to ask her the same question, for he hadn’t noticed Tiffany amongst the riders who’d already departed. “No, as a matter of fact I haven’t.”
“Oh dear,” Ashleigh breathed.
Alex regarded her intently. “What is it?”
“She went for a ride around the lake a short while ago, and it seems that she hasn’t yet returned.”
Alex glanced upward at the darkening sky. “How long ago, exactly?”
“I’m not sure,” Ashleigh responded anxiously. “Twenty, maybe thirty minutes ago.”
His frown grew more pronounced. “Which direction did she take?”
Ashleigh pointed in the direction of the dark-colored clouds. “There’s a path that winds around the lake.”
“Yes, I know it.” He’d accompanied Nicholas across the Sethe private lands many times before. “Return to the house with the others,” he told her. “I’ll find her.”
Ashleigh nodded. “What should I…” she trailed off, eyeing him expectantly.
Alex understood what she was asking. “With all of the commotion, I doubt that anyone has noticed her absence,” he began. “And most likely, if anyone does wonder as to her whereabouts, or mine, they will assume that we are already on our way back to the house with the others.”
“Yes, alright. And when you do return, tell her to enter the house through the servant’s entrance and to use the back stairs. Her chamber is at the end of the hall, so she should be able to slip in without being seen. In the meantime, I will do my best to keep her father occupied.”
Alex nodded in agreement and then turned toward the woods.
Much to Tiffany’s dismay, by the time she reached the branch in the path that led to the overseer’s cottage, the rain had gone from a steady drizzle to a continuous downpour. She was complet
ely drenched from head to toe, and with the wind having picked up, she was starting to shiver with cold. Clamping her jaw closed to keep her teeth from chattering, she pressed on. Fortunately, she had only to travel a short distance more before she was able to make out the shape of the small house through the heavy sheet of rain partially obscuring her vision. Heaving an audible sigh of relief, she urged her mount forward.
Blinking her eyes several times to rid them of the droplets that clung tenaciously to her thick eyelashes, she steered the mare to the side of the cottage and then dismounted in front of the small wooden stable. Careful not to slip on the muddy ground, she pulled open the heavy wooden door and quickly led the horse into the shelter. Guiding her into one of the two empty stalls, she then covered the mare with one of the old blankets she’d spotted lying in the far corner of the room.
Satisfied that the horse was taken care of to the best of her ability, she left the stable a few minutes later and made a mad dash to the front of the cottage. Skidding to a stop just outside the front door, she grasped the metal latch with her wet fingers. As she’d hoped, the door was unlocked. Stepping inside, she quickly scanned the interior, assuring herself that the cottage was still uninhabited. Thankfully, it looked as though it was. Shoving the door closed behind her with a relieved sigh, Tiffany leaned her head back against the heavy portal and blew an errant lock of wet, clinging hair from the corner of her mouth, noting as she did that her soft, bouncy curls now fell in long, sopping-wet ringlets around her shoulders. Regrettably, she’d lost her hat to the wind some time ago.
Looking down, she saw that her jacket and velvet riding skirt were a soggy mess as well. Standing there, the sodden, heavy material clung to her legs as water dripped from the hem of the skirt onto her boots, as well as the wooden floor. Even her petticoats were damp, causing her to shiver as the wet fabric brushed against her skin. Grimacing, she could only imagine what her father’s reaction would be when he saw her. Oh well, she mused glumly, there was little she could do about that now. At least she was out of the rain. Determinedly, she tried to focus on that one positive note as she glanced around the small room.
Curious, she and Ashleigh had stopped to investigate the tiny cottage on a previous outing and had discovered that, although small, it contained all of the necessary features needed to house at least one person in reasonable comfort. Now, looking around, Tiffany saw that everything appeared to be just as it had been before. A small wooden table and two sturdy-looking wooden chairs were set against the wall to her left. Directly ahead was a large overstuffed chair with a matching footstool and a small leather sofa, all of which were situated in front of a stone fireplace built into the rear wall. And lastly, a narrow bed and a small bedside table were placed against the wall to her right. As her eyes drifted back to the fireplace, she was relieved to see a pile of wood stacked neatly to one side. Pushing away from the door, she wondered how long it had been since anyone had lived there. Considering the layer of dust that covered just about everything in the sparsely furnished room, it had probably been a while. However, she could hardly complain, for a little dust was certainly preferable to the storm that was presently raging outside.
Moving to the table and chairs, Tiffany pulled off her wet riding gloves, tossed them onto the square tabletop and then began to undo the numerous buttons that ran down the front of her jacket. With her luck, she would likely become ill if she remained encased in her sodden garments for much longer. Unfortunately though, her fingers were numbed from the cold and it took her several minutes before she managed to free the last button. Finally, once she was able to peel off the wet material, she then draped the jacket across the back of one of the chairs in the hope that it might dry more quickly. Hesitating for only a moment, she then removed her thin silk shirt, with its once elaborate froth of lace at the neck. There was no one to see her, she reasoned, and she felt warmer already, now that the icy cloth was no longer clinging to her damp skin. Spreading it out atop the other wooden chair, she then reached for her sopping wet skirt and quickly stepped free of the heavy fabric. Moving across the small room, she placed it atop the chair that sat before the fireplace.
Clad only in her thin chemise, damp petticoats, silk stockings and tall riding boots, she moved briskly toward the small woodpile stacked next to the hearth. Once she had a fire going she would move the other chairs closer to the fireplace so that the heat could reach her discarded garments. Grasping an armful of wood, she tossed several medium-sized logs onto the metal grate that sat within the brick hearth and surrounded them with smaller bits of kindling. Though she had never lit a fire before, she’d seen the maids and footmen do it numerous times, and thus she was fairly confident that she could manage the undertaking herself. Locating the tinderbox, she promptly set about igniting the wooden logs. Surprisingly, it proved to be a far more difficult task than she had imagined. But gritting her teeth she refused to give up, and after several minutes of trying she finally managed to spark a small blaze. Clapping her hands in excitement, she blew gently upon the tiny fire and then watched in gleeful satisfaction as the flames slowly grew higher and higher.
Once she’d warmed her hands and assured herself that the fire would remain lit, she then dragged the two chairs across the floor and placed them on either side of the fireplace. With that accomplished, she looked toward the bed and was delighted to see that a colorful quilt lay folded at the foot of the mattress. Despite the fire now heating the room, she was still dreadfully cold. Lifting it from the bed, she gave it a few good shakes before setting it aside as she shimmied out of her petticoats. Tossing them atop the mattress, she then wrapped the quilt around her body as she moved to the small sofa. After pulling off her riding boots, she slid her silk stockings down her legs, laying them carefully across the arm of the sofa before settling herself back against the thick cushions. Pulling her bare feet up from the cold floor, she tucked them underneath her, drawing the edges of the quilt tightly around her.
Chapter 6
Muttering under his breath, Alex vacillated between cursing Tiffany for her foolishness and worrying about her well-being, for the rain had been falling hard and steady for the past several minutes and as yet he’d seen no sign of the wayward miss. He could only hope that she knew well-enough to seek cover rather than trying to make it back to Sethe Manor, as the storm seemed to be worsening by the minute. As a crack of thunder boomed overhead he cringed, imagining how frightened she must be. Urging his stallion forward, he scanned the surrounding area for any sight of her, but alas, Tiffany Marlow was nowhere to be seen. Familiar with the area, he knew that there was a cottage not far from where he was now, a small dwelling that was inhabited from time to time by the Leighton’s various estate managers, but he had no idea if Tiffany knew of its existence. If she did, would she have had the sense to seek refuge there, he wondered? As there was no other means of adequate shelter that he knew of, he decided that it was worth checking. A few minutes later he was on the path that led to the isolated cottage.
As the warmth from the fire gradually drew the chill from her bones, Tiffany sat quietly on the small sofa, listening to the steady drumming of the rain upon the roof, the wind rattling the glass window panes and the intermittent cracks of thunder that seemed to grow louder and louder with each passing moment. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and tried to think about something else, anything that might keep her from fretting over her present situation. She gave a startled gasp of surprise however, when the door swung open just a few seconds later and a fierce gust of wind blew a cold, icy blast of rain into the small room. She bolted upright and turned to the door, her heart in her throat. Eyes widening, she was stunned to see the Earl of Chesterfield standing upon the threshold.
Taking in the scene before him, Alex could hardly believe what he was seeing. After discovering the mare in the stable, he’d thought to find Tiffany huddled in fear within the small cottage, frightened by the howling wind, driving rain and booming thunder. He sure as hell
hadn’t expected to find her curled up on the sofa, lounging before a warm, crackling fire as if she hadn’t a care in the world. For a moment he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or infuriated. He decided on infuriated.
For a moment Tiffany merely stared at Alex in utter disbelief, watching in stunned silence as rivulets of water dripped from every part of his body to land in an ever widening pool at his feet. He stood frozen in place, simply staring back at her for several long seconds as the wind and rain swirled behind him. And then, with a muttered curse, he finally turned and slammed the door shut. When he spun back around to face her, she saw anger reflected in his grim countenance.
“My lord, what…what on earth are you doing here?” she uttered, completely unnerved by his unexpected appearance, not to mention his foreboding expression.
Alex was cold, wet and growing angrier by the second. “What am I doing here?” he demanded, his jaw dropping in incredulity. He glared at her. “Have you any notion as to the trouble you’ve caused, young lady?”
Tiffany stiffened. He was looking at her as if she was a child who’d intentionally misbehaved. Could this day possibly get any worse? “Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” she replied dolefully. “And as I am sure to receive a severe tongue-lashing from my father in regard to my thoughtlessness and lamentable behavior soon enough, you needn’t trouble yourself, my lord.” Turning back around, she returned her gaze to the fire, fighting back the sudden sting of tears.
You, and Only You Page 8
