My Darling, My Disaster (Lords of Essex)

by Morgan, Angie

  Gray craved her willing body in his arms, but he also wanted answers. He wanted to know what she hid from him, and he knew that it was more than just the princesses’ whereabouts and the unsupported claim that their father had evidence of Zakorov’s own traitorous activities.

  “The letters you spoke of,” he said, trying another tactic. “The correspondences that require ciphering. You said you don’t have them. Do the princesses?”

  She shook her head. He considered the tempered response an encouraging victory.

  “Where are they then?”

  Lana finally turned to face him. When she spoke, her voice shook. “I am sorry, but the more you know, the more danger you face.”

  It sounded similar to what Langlevit had said. Langlevit. Gray took a measured breath. His time in the Royal Army might have afforded him the ability to cipher code. Langlevit, whose mother had recommended her to Lady Dinsmore in the first place. Gray had already discarded the possibility once before, but what if Langlevit did serve the princesses and Lana because of his ties to the War Office?

  Could he be Lana’s ally of means?

  He would not get any confirmation from Langlevit himself. His only option was to source it from Lana. And here was the perfect opportunity.

  His gaze slid to the woman seated primly across from him. She thought she was protecting him by not divulging what she knew, and her conviction made him feel an odd sense of admiration—he knew several men of his acquaintance who did not have the same force of will and courage as she. It was a noble quality, if unwarranted in this case.

  He set his jaw. He’d do whatever was necessary to get her to confide in him. A small part of him acknowledged that if Langlevit were Lana’s ally of means, he was far better suited to assisting her than Gray. After all, he was a highly decorated military man and an earl. Gray didn’t stop to consider that his interest in Lana’s affairs was bordering on obsession…or the why of it. He only knew that he wanted her to trust him. Fully, and not conditionally, as she’d done out of some misplaced desire to protect him. She was the one who needed protecting.

  He would begin by exploiting a weakness of hers.

  “Tell me about your sister.”

  She reacted to the command with a small line of worry creasing her forehead. “What do you wish to know?” Her voice remained cool, and she quickly smoothed her brow. As if she wanted him to know that she could see through his ploy. Gray almost smiled.

  “What is she like? Is she funny? Smart? Or is she bratty like mine?”

  “Lady Briannon is far from bratty, my lord. She knows her own mind, which is a trait most men do not tend to admire in women.”

  He smiled. “Luckily, I’m not most men. I like a bit of fire in my women.” The compliment was overt, and he was rewarded by a slight flush in her cheeks. “So tell me, is your sister anything like you?”

  Lana’s eyes glinted with amusement then. “No, thank goodness. She’s quiet, preferring to read instead of socialize. Then again, she’s not yet fifteen. She is sweet and kind, and always has a thoughtful word for others.” Warming to her subject, Lana’s entire demeanor changed. The tension melted out of her cheeks, and her eyes sparked with humor. “She loves animals. Our home used to be filled with all manner of creatures she insisted needed good homes. Quite a menagerie at times. I fear my parents may have been a bit overindulgent.”

  “Protective,” Gray said. “Sounds like someone I know. Do you miss her?”

  “Terribly.”

  “Perhaps you could visit her. In Cheshire, did you say?”

  “Cumbria.” She jerked her chin up, her hand flying to her mouth. Frustration and self-disgust flashed in her eyes, and Gray felt a sharp sense of accomplishment. He was one step closer than he’d been several minutes before. Lana’s face resumed its shuttered expression, and she glared at him with ill-concealed resentment.

  Cumbria. He knew several peers who had estates there. Including Langlevit. The earl was becoming a more obvious choice by the second. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. Langlevit’s entanglement meant that the princesses’ situation, and Lana’s, was more than grave. After all, he wasn’t a peer looking to collect favors with the Russian tsar, but a man skilled in the art of war. And Lana was caught in the middle of it.

  A lump of dread settled in Gray’s stomach, wrestling with the nervous worry already pooling there from news of Sofia’s illness. It was the sole basis for the brusqueness of his next question.

  “Is your ally Lord Langlevit?”

  Her expression betrayed nothing this time. “I do not believe I have to answer that, my lord.”

  “You do.”

  Their gazes clashed in a fierce battle of wills, but Gray did not give one inch. She more than met his challenge, and the tension in the coach spiked several notches. Grown men had cowered from the deadly look he knew was upon his face, but she did not. Lana set her jaw and stared down the length of her nose with disdain, as if he and his pernicious demands were beneath her. Despite himself, his admiration for her courage rose, along with a mad desire to take her into his arms and kiss the defiant temper from those trembling lips.

  “Lana, I only want to help.”

  He realized Langlevit had likely sworn the same thing, and while his military history and top ranking in the Prince Regent’s army would have bolstered Lana’s faith and trust, there were also associated risks to only trusting one person with the truth. As an officer, Langlevit could be called away on some obscure duty for the Crown. The man had disappeared time and again in the past, often for months on end. If that came to pass now, Lana would be left unguarded. Unprotected. Gray could not abide that.

  “I do not require your help.”

  Gray did not relent. “Is it Langlevit?”

  “I cannot betray such a confidence.” In spite of her stony expression, her hands had begun to fidget in her lap. Gray sensed victory within his grasp but knew she would not fall to his trickery again. He only had one other tool at his disposal—one he had no shame employing.

  Without breaking eye contact, he lifted himself and settled upon the seat beside her. Apart from the slight flare of her nostrils, she stayed rigid and silent, glowering at him in mutinous defiance, as if she knew exactly what he was planning to do. He closed the distance between them, noting the shift in her breathing and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She was not immune to him, he knew. And neither was he to her, if his stampeding pulse and the hardness of his groin were any signal. A warning brewed in those transparent eyes of hers, fraught with anger, fright, and desire. She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, and Gray nearly lost his thin hold on his composure then and there.

  He pressed forward until mere inches separated them. Lana sighed theatrically and leaned back. He had to commend her change in tactic. “Must you be so high-handed? May I remind you that your seat is over there, Lord Northridge?”

  “I like this one.” He hid his smile. Her tells were becoming more obvious. She addressed him properly and with scholarly diction when she meant to fortify herself.

  “Then I shall be forced to move.” She stood, the skirts of her dress rustling in the carriage, but Gray reached out a quick hand, capturing hers.

  Her intake of breath was swift at the contact of their bare hands. She tugged futilely against his grasp, her eyes falling to the discarded gloves that had slipped from her lap. His thumb stroked the top of her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “Release me,” she whispered.

  “Do you truly wish me to?”

  “Yes.”

  The pads of his fingers slid around to the soft underside of her wrist, feeling her pulse hammer beneath his touch. “If that’s true, then why does your heart gallop so?”

  Her chin hiked its customary notch before the lie left her lips. “If you have not yet noticed, this godforsaken road is perilous. I’m simply terrified of falling.”

  Gray grinned and was just about to release her wrist when the carriage hit a
large rut. Lana clutched at his forearm wildly for balance before twisting and toppling right on top of him.

  The backs of her thighs slammed onto his lap, and Gray groaned, all restraint forgotten as his hands went to her arms to keep her from slipping off. They slid up to her neck and tipped her chin to the side, and then his mouth closed on hers. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she twisted her head to meet him more fully.

  Though the position was awkward, they devoured each other, her deliciously curved backside pressing down on his raging arousal. Gray didn’t want it to frighten her, but he could no more control himself than he could his desire to explore every inch of her sinful mouth. His palms wandered the expanse of her throat as she arched against him and moaned. She tasted every bit as good as he remembered. Better, even. Bracing her body with his left arm, his right hand curved around her to caress her breasts through the material before impatiently tugging the bodice down to free them.

  Gray was grateful that the shades were half closed, although no one would be able see them while the carriage was in motion anyway. Her position, splayed atop him and exposed as she was, was both scandalous and scintillatingly arousing. If he grew any harder, the fabric of his trousers wouldn’t be able to hold him. It had been ages since he’d lain with a woman. His self-imposed celibacy had been a trial, even without the warmth of a woman’s body pressing against his. Now, his fingers roaming possessively over Lana’s breasts and her rounded bottom caressing him with every turn of the carriage wheels, Gray welcomed the sharp-edged torture. He wanted her pert nipples in his mouth, but he didn’t want to give up her lips. Not just yet.

  “Gray,” she whispered. “We need to stop.”

  Not you have to stop, but we. He loved that she did not claim to be noncompliant, as if she had no part in what was transpiring between them. It obliterated his earlier worry that she was allowing his kisses only because she did not want to risk his wrath should she reject him. No, she craved his touch as much as he did hers. The knowledge emboldened him. Keeping his mouth firmly locked on hers, Gray’s hands slipped down her stomach to tug on her skirts, dragging them up, inch by torturous inch.

  “Not yet, Lana,” he whispered.

  Her body froze above his, her eyes flying open as if suddenly aware of his hands skimming her stockinged thighs. Gray sucked her lip into his mouth, holding her prisoner with his teeth and with his eyes, his fingers climbing higher. He watched her carefully for a sign—any sign—that she truly wanted him to stop. Her hands curled into the sides of her dress, and as his fingers pushed past her drawers, a soft cry of pleasure rushed into his mouth. Her hips arched into his palm with another desperate sigh.

  “Gray—”

  “Shhh,” he said. “Let me touch you.”

  Her eyes widened as his hand cupped her, and Gray almost spilled himself at the warm, velvety feel of her. She was hot and damp, her dewy skin clinging to his as his center finger moved gently into her core. Lana’s head fell back to his shoulder. Gray shifted his body slightly so that he could claim her lips once more, his tongue imitating the indecent movements of his finger. Her hips pushed upward, rocking against him with instinctual need. He adored how responsive she was, holding back nothing.

  “Please,” she moaned. Gray knew she did not know what she was asking for, but he would give it to her. Even if the wild rocking of her bottom against his erection caused him to burst in his trousers, he would pleasure her.

  “Soon, love.”

  He continued to stroke her, his thumb pressing against the small nub at her entrance, and then her body went still, a stifled cry escaping her lips as she found her release. Gray kissed her, smiling with pure satisfaction at the bemused look on her face. He straightened her skirts and took her lips in one more leisurely kiss before adjusting her to the seat beside him.

  He drew an aching breath into his lungs. His own arousal had not abated, but Gray did not care. He kissed the side of her jaw and caressed her arm. He couldn’t stop himself from touching her.

  “Please. Stop,” Lana whispered, turning her head away and dragging her dress up over her bared breasts.

  He frowned at her mortified tone. A bright flush suffused the skin of her nape. “Lana?”

  “Please, Lord Northridge, I must ask you to…move away.”

  Move away?

  Gray turned her shoulders to face him. The aloof, unreadable set of her features threw him. She’d lost herself to him moments before, and yet now her incurious expression was as impassive as that of a seasoned dowager. He hadn’t misread the signs—she’d permitted his touch. She had wanted his touch. He moved to take her hand, but she pulled it away.

  “I need…I need a moment,” she said, and without looking at him, rapped on the side of the carriage. “Colton, please stop. I need some air.”

  She reached for the carriage door before the conveyance had even come to a complete halt.

  “Lana, wait,” Gray snapped, afraid she’d shove the door wide and topple out. He reached for her again, but like before, she recoiled.

  “Don’t! You… We shouldn’t have…”

  But by then the footman had opened the door himself. Lana sealed her lips and quickly descended into a wooded lane. She disappeared beyond the tree line. As soon as he could be certain his arousal would not precede him out of the carriage, Gray took his leave as well. His eyes stayed on the trees as he leaned against the coach.

  He was such a fool. In the heat of the moment, he kept forgetting who Lana was. A lady’s maid. And one who did not aim to dally with the lords of the manor. Not that he was one of those lords. At least, he had not thought he was. But Lana was so unlike any woman he had ever met. It was in the way she spoke and the way she carried herself. Perhaps working in the employ of royalty back in St. Petersburg had rubbed off, because in truth, he had to remind himself of the imparity between them.

  Regardless of her unguarded response, Gray also suspected she was a virgin. The look of shocked surprise on her face when his hand had coaxed her over the edge hadn’t been artifice. Nor had her embarrassment moments before. No man had touched her as he had. The thought pleased him, even though it shouldn’t have. There was no future for them, no way for him to do right by her, and if he took her innocence, she would have no future, either. She should expect to marry one day and have a respectable place in a respectable household.

  Respectability. He was consumed by its polar and ignominious opposite. It was the last thing he could offer her.

  Gray sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. The woman made him want unreasonable things, the same way his daughter made him want unreasonable things. He wanted, desperately, too many things he could not have. Lana’s body. Her trust. Her affection. He wanted her to look at him as she did when she spoke of her sister, to hold him in such esteem.

  But he was bound to his station and his duty. And Lana was bound to hers.

  After a few moments, she returned, every strand of hair tucked into place and her face serenely composed, as if nothing untoward had happened. Her swollen lips were the only things that hinted otherwise. She did not look at him, and Gray frowned, keenly conscious of the unsatisfied ache between his legs. He’d also lost any hope of getting Lana to trip up and admit who her ally was. But if he were being honest, he’d forgotten his motives entirely the moment Lana had landed in his lap.

  Hell. He would ride a while with Colton and take the air himself. Lord knew he needed it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gray stayed with Colton for the rest of the journey, and for that, Lana was grateful. Despite recalling every single moment in excruciating detail over and over, she was in a far calmer state by the time they arrived in Essex past nightfall. She had convinced herself that her moment of lunacy, of pure idiocy, had been nothing but a mistake. A ridiculous, foolish mistake. One that she would never repeat. And she could only do that by staying as far away from Lord Northridge as possible.

  Lana had no illusions that she’d been seduced by a master. Bu
t she also knew that she could have stopped Gray at any time. She hadn’t wanted to. She never wanted to where he was concerned. The man made her daft, and she feared she’d offer up her innocence without a qualm in the world if he ever touched her that way again. A rush of heat flooded her thighs at the scandalous memory of where his fingers had been, and her breath caught on a silent tremor.

  It had felt too delicious for words. Her soul had splintered apart and then smashed back together at the exact point where his hand had pleasured her body. She’d never felt anything like it. The sensations had almost been too much to bear, but Gray had held her so tightly, anchored to him, that she’d felt safe even when she’d fallen apart. Lana blinked. If that was a part of what men and women did in the marriage bed, no wonder her parents’ chamber door had been closed more often than it’d been open. They’d always been more passionate than most.

  She blushed fiercely. Her parents had been married. She and Gray were not. They could never hope to be, either, at least not in her current circumstances. The social rules were the same across the Continent. She was a maid. And he was a lord.

  Lana shook her head. She was lying to herself—she was a princess dallying with a rake and putting her honor out for the taking.

  Good heavens, what was she thinking? Marriage was out of the question. She’d be lucky to make it out of England alive with Zakorov on the hunt for her and Irina. She needed to put Lord Northridge out of her head and not fill it with foolish fantasies of what could be. No matter which way she looked at it, they were from two different worlds.

  Furthermore, she told herself firmly, she did not like the man. You like him well enough, her inner voice countered slyly.

  He was nosy and demanding and overly protective, butting into her private life as though he believed he belonged there. Yet, you like that he does.

  Touching her in ways that weakened her resolve. Making you want more.

  He made her want to trust him. He made her want to give herself over to him. And you do want to, body and soul.