Her eyebrow quirked. “Not even for heirs? You are an only son. Is it not your duty? At your age I thought you’d be securing your line.”
“One day perhaps, but I have too much living to do still.”
“You cannot do that with a wife? Or is it you still have too many women to bed?”
He almost wanted to tell her the truth. Her sarcasm grated and pricked his pride. He was nothing like Carmichael. He did not bed countless women. He was quite selective. He did appreciate the female form because soon he would not be able to see it. The swirling fear and nausea returned.
“I make no secret that as a man in his prime I enjoy sex, consensual sex. I won’t apologize for that, but I won’t disgrace a wife by marrying and behaving dishonorably. Hence, when I meet the woman who makes me want only her, I shall marry.” A small lie. No woman would ever make him want only her because he would not allow himself to fall in love. Knowing the Clevedon title would die with him hurt almost as much as the idea of any son of his having to face his decision—become a burden on those you love or kill yourself.
His words seemed to take all the fight from her. “I wish you’d talk to my brother. My parents had a love match but I think he feels he won’t ever meet a woman he could fall in love with, so he will do what many men of his standing do. Marry for good breeding, for alliances, and keep mistresses.”
Stephen pondered on his parents’ marriage. They certainly held each other in high regard and were often affectionate with each other but were they in love? When his father killed himself, he was too young to really understand the truth of his parents’ marriage. His mother certainly mourned his father but…had his father killed himself to save his mother from watching him deteriorate because he loved her, or was it his pride?
His body shook and his hands started to tremble. He’d never considered why exactly his father had blown his brains out. He naturally assumed he hated being a burden but was there more? Besides his mother and sisters, who would really care if Stephen threw himself off a cliff?
He would leave nothing of himself behind. At least his father had his children.
Cold waves of fear embraced him. Would he be brave enough and selfless enough to let go of this life if he fell in love?
For a moment the woman sitting before him made him doubt his plan. Made him doubt the sacrifice he must make. The tough decisions that only he could make. He was waiting to ensure his youngest sister was married before bowing out. Once his family was safe he could disappear knowing that financially they would all be provided for and all taken care of. He would sail away on one of his ships and never return. The middle of the vast Atlantic would be an interesting resting place.
“You’ve gone quite pale. It’s almost as if the idea of marriage is as abhorrent to you as it is to me,” she said.
She had no idea.
Never had he wanted to distract himself with a woman’s touch as he did right now. Soft curves to chase away the bleakness of his future. He clutched at the one thing he knew calmed him and fed his conviction to live until he could no longer see.
“At least let me show you how much pleasure can be found between a man and a woman before you decide to become a drab, dried-up widow. Let me teach you what you will be missing.”
The wariness entered her gaze once more. “Smooth move, my lord.”
“Stephen. My name is Stephen, and I’d love to hear the sound of my name on your lips.”
To his surprise she acquiesced. “Stephen.”
His soul quivered at the purring sound that swept over him like a hot Mediterranean breeze. He could barely speak. He wanted to stay here and have her say his name until she would never forget it or forget him.
Instead, he focused on what would help her the most. “We should leave for Essex as soon as possible. How long will it take you to shut up your house and head for home?”
“Three days should be sufficient.”
He nodded. “We will travel together.” He did not allow time for her to protest. “I shall ride Charger, my stallion, some of the way and then with you in the carriage too.”
She hesitated before speaking and something flickered in her eyes. “What do you hope to find in Seaford?”
“Answers. Or leads to answers. I want to speak with your staff and tenants and those at the tavern.”
“I would have thought the magistrate already has those statements,” she asked.
“For some reason he doesn’t. He only has one man’s testimony from the tavern.”
Her mouth formed a small O-like shape. “You think that is Rotham’s doing?”
“It’s someone’s doing. Surely they interviewed more people than that. If you are wanting to implicate a sister of a duke you best have more witnesses than one—so why hasn’t he? What is he hiding? I’m going to ensure we have many, many testimonies even if I have to track down every man that was at the tavern that night.”
“They will most likely be locals, so I can help with that. I’ll get my man of business, Mr. Knightly, to send out word. The men will come forward if I ask.”
“Good.” He rose to his feet and approached the settee she was sitting on. He sat down indecently close beside her and took her hands in his. “Before I go I wish to leave you with something that may make you imagine how stimulating our journey south will be.”
* * *
—
Stephen held her hands, his pressing thumb making strange pulses throb in her palms. She watched the heat flare in his eyes, and the pulsing spread to her arms, into her blood, and her heart pounded in her chest.
She was determined to hide her intense physical attraction to him. Men like him expected women to fall at their feet and she would not be one of them, no matter what her body thought.
She looked up and it was a mistake. His expression stunned her. Something had entered his eyes and veiled his features. Something vaguely dangerous and utterly mesmerizing. Her heart rose to her throat. She could not look away, even though something inside warned, nay screamed, for her to run as fast as she could.
How could a man switch from cool investigator to hot-blooded seducer in a few strides?
She would not run. She would never run from—or to—a man again.
He smiled like the devil. “A kiss. All I want is one kiss before I leave.”
Penelope should have been prepared.
She eyed Lord Clevedon—Stephen—warily. A kiss? Why did she not believe that?
She had been kissed many times before. Some kisses she had freely given while others had been taken. Somehow her body, which was already trembling, understood that a kiss from a man like Clevedon would not soon be forgotten.
Her whole body tingled with wayward, hostile excitement and she cursed Lord Clevedon under her breath.
“Come, Penelope. I’m sure you’ve been kissed many times before. All I ask is that you allow me one kiss.” He was too clever for her because he added, “and I’m not talking about a peck on the cheek or a mere press of lips. I expect you to allow me to taste you fully.”
That did not sound very pleasant. It sounded dangerous.
Still, she had agreed to allow him to try and seduce her. She inwardly scoffed. Why was it so appealing all of a sudden? Perhaps she should get this over and done with. For surely one kiss is likely to have the opposite effect on her. She’d most likely hate it.
But she should have guessed what kind of kiss it would be. Even before his lips touched hers she should’ve known it would not be chaste, innocent, or forgettable.
What did surprise her was that he didn’t plunder or try and conquer as she’d expected.
He leaned toward her and there was a wealth of restraint in his touch and he plied her mouth with soft, seductive kisses, nipping gently at her bottom lip, teasing her with light little pecks to the corner of her lips.
Even his touch surprised her. A soft hand on her cheek and another on her shoulder as he held her motionless for his tender assault.
He coaxed her lips open. His tongue flicked to touch hers, then entered.
The invasive intimacy sent deep, visceral thrills down to her hips. It served as a stark reminder of how susceptible she was to a man’s tender touch, to a man’s seduction. It took her back to a young girl, giddy with the taste of her first sexual stirring.
For a moment she wished she were the frigid woman her husband always accused her of being. What Carmichael never understood was that it was he who made her loathe intimacies of any sort.
The warmth of Stephen’s embrace chased the awful memories of Carmichael away. It had been a long time since she’d been held this way, touched this way, and for one moment she felt alive and she could almost thank him for that.
He began to cover her face with soft caresses from his lips. She was glad for the brace of his arm holding her in place, keeping her from leaning into him. Her body was traitorous, yearning for something she’d denied herself for many years. This man knew how to strum her body, knew how to make her feel things she thought long dormant.
And it was only a kiss.
He drew back, holding her gaze as he used his thumb to nudge her lips apart. Her blood quickened as she watched him, and without hesitation she moved her tongue forward, sliding it against the tip of his thumb.
His eyes gleamed in triumph as he lowered his head and whispered against them, “It was very enjoyable. I look forward to kissing you again.” He pressed one final kiss to her lips and added, “And don’t try telling me you didn’t enjoy it. Your body would make a liar out of you.”
Then he was gone. Striding from the room with all the confidence of a man who knew his place in this world and that no one would stand in his way. A man she definitely needed on her side.
Yes, to protect her innocence. That was the only reason she submitted to him.
For one moment self-pity swamped her. Her marriage to Carmichael was supposed to have been a dream come true. To give herself to the one person she loved with all her heart. Only reality had been a cold, bitter pill.
The night of her wedding, in her marriage bed, Carmichael had been too drunk to even know what he was doing. He did not take his time; he did not try to make it less painful for her, nor did he any night after that.
Just for one moment the idea of giving in to Lord Clevedon’s seduction beckoned like the cliffs she’d almost thrown herself off during the lonely years following her wedding. Ironic that Carmichael died on those very cliffs.
A heavy sadness lodged beneath her heart. A lifetime without intimacy stretched out before her. Wasn’t that what she wanted? Yet it took only one kiss for her to doubt the plan she’d mapped out for the rest of her life.
She moved to the window and watched Stephen climb into his carriage. Stephen, the name meant “crown” and she could certainly believe he was the king of seduction. It suddenly occurred to her that for the first time since her husband’s death she might no longer be in control of her life.
And that was enough to scare her silly.
Chapter 6
To Penelope’s relief, Stephen did not join her in the carriage at all during the first day of their travel south. By the time they stopped at the inn for the night her nerves were ragged. They still had another day of travel to endure, and he would have to rest his stallion for some of it.
The door to the carriage opened. “We have arrived, Lady Penelope.”
She blinked at Stephen. She’d been so lost in her panic about sharing a carriage with him that she had not noticed the carriage had stopped.
She took his hand and stepped down. She recognized the Purley Way Coaching Inn, a fine establishment with clean, comfortable beds.
“I sent word this morning to arrange for rooms.”
She breathed a little sigh at the word “rooms”—plural.
“Supper will be waiting, and baths will be prepared soon afterward.”
She allowed him to lead her into the tavern. He led her to a private parlor, where a fire was already roaring in the grate. He bowed over her hand and said, “I should just see to Charger. You may wait here while your maid sees to your room. Once your room is ready you could freshen up and then meet me back here for supper in an hour. Does that suit?”
With Stephen being so polite it was difficult to deny that request. It was only their first day into their journey; she could hardly beg off due to tiredness. She would use that excuse tomorrow night when they reached Hadleigh. She would need to ascertain if there had been any local developments.
“I shall join you as soon as my horse and I have been cleaned up.”
Right after he left, a serving girl brought her tea. She removed her bonnet and ran a hand over her hair. She couldn’t wait for her bath. She may not have time for one tomorrow night. It was a longer day’s ride.
Just then her maid, Jane, arrived. “Your room is ready, my lady.”
She smiled. “You must be tired too. Have something to eat while I have supper with his lordship and then once you’ve helped me into the bath, go and have an early night.”
Jane stood chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t mean no disrespect, my lady, but are you sure asking for Lord Clevedon’s help was wise? If he finds—”
“He won’t. I’ll make sure he looks in the right places.”
“Excuse me for asking, but how will you do that?”
She stood up to go to her room and ran her hands down her gown. “A man bent on seduction has his mind on other things…I shall just have to let myself be seduced.”
* * *
—
An hour and a half later she opened the door to the private parlor and found Stephen lounging in a chair by the fire. He immediately rose to his feet when she entered.
She noticed that he’d taken the time to shave and she loved the woodsy scent that clung to his skin. The dimples stood out as he smiled and she could not help but smile back.
“You look ravishing for a woman who has had a tiring journey today,” he gallantly said as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Shall we?” He held out a chair for her to sit at the table, which was covered in plates of mouthwatering food. She had not realized how hungry she was.
“Thank you.” She could not stop the shiver as his fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he moved to take his seat.
To take her mind off the intimacy the small room generated, she asked, “Did you learn anything else of note before we left London?”
He handed her a plate of freshly baked bread. She took two slices.
“I have ascertained a list of the known smugglers in the areas around Southend and along the coast southwest.”
“May I see it? I might know who you need to speak to in the local villages.”
“I left it in my room. I can show it to you after dinner if you are not too tired, or perhaps it’s best we leave it until our drive tomorrow. I’ll accompany you in the carriage so I can rest Charger.”
Goodness. A whole day in his company. Heaven or hell? She feared it would be the former.
She tried not to dwell on what it would be like squashed in the carriage with all his enticing masculinity and his wicked smile. Instead, she said, “I’d like to stop tomorrow night near Rayleigh if that is all right. I realize that will mean an extra night’s accommodation, but my lady’s maid Jane’s sister lives with her husband there, and I let her spend the evening with them when we pass through. There is a lovely coaching inn—”
“There is no need for an inn. My sister is married to Lord Helmstone. I shall send on ahead and we can stay with Dorothea and Jonathan for the night. Then perhaps we can stop and question some of your tenants as we make our way to Hadleigh Park, your home, as it’s a mere three-hour carriage drive.”
&nb
sp; She thought she hid her alarm well. The earl’s estate backed onto hers. “I did not realize the earl had married. When did this occur?” Jonathan was a true friend, but he knew some of her secrets, secrets she did not wish Stephen to learn. How had she overlooked this piece of news?
“They married at the beginning of the season. They had met last season and had corresponded. The wedding happened very quickly. Dorothea said it was love at first sight. They had a small wedding by society standards. That is what Dorothea wanted as Jonathan, as you may know, has a stutter and is not good with large groups of people.”
“I know Lord Helmsford of course. He is my nearest neighbor. A nice man. We are friends of a sort. Your sister has chosen well.” Why had Jonathan not informed her of his marriage? She thought of the pile of correspondence she’d left behind when she’d decamped to London. “I don’t have a gift for them. Can we stop in Rayleigh so I may get them something?” He merely nodded and looked surprised.
She did like Jonathan. He had called on Carmichael and her not long after her wedding, which was good of him given he was a private person due to his stutter. He had been kind to a young girl with a husband who left her alone for long periods, and he’d been the first to help her when Carmichael’s body was found, dealing with the magistrate and organizing the funeral.
“Dorothea and Jonathan can act as chaperones while I stay in your home. I wrote to them before we left and I’m quite sure once they know the circumstances that they will want to help.”
She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Or maybe it was. Jonathan would be her strongest ally, certain she had nothing to do with Carmichael’s death, and he was adamant it had been an accident and the magistrate was happy to sign off Jonathan’s findings—until Lord Rotham insisted it be investigated further.
Even so, she would have to keep her wits about her.
“I love my home. I hope you’ll find it comfortable too. My grandfather was not happy that it became Carmichael’s property upon my marriage, but he never made me feel foolish for the mistake I made. He loved me regardless. He blamed Carmichael, of course. I’m just sorry he did not live to see me finally free of my husband. He hated Carmichael and how he treated me.”
Drawn to the Marquess Page 6
