Engaging the Earl

by Diana Quincy

  “And why is that?” The cords in Nugent’s reddening neck worked. “Surely you are not suggesting—”

  Rand suppressed a groan. Surely, she did not mean to—

  “Just that the sooner we marry, the better,” Kitty said.

  Color infused Nugent’s face. “Why you blackguard—”

  Well. That had not gone as he had planned. Thanks to Kitty’s loose, lying tongue. But he could hardly dispute her insinuation that she was already ruined without looking like a complete cad. “My lord, I assure you my intentions are completely honorable. I secured a special license before leaving town. We can marry immediately.”

  “I see. You had it all planned out.” Kitty’s father glared at him. “You wormed your way back into our good graces so you could cause this scandal to embarrass us all.”

  “No, sir,” he said gently. “However, I do care deeply for Kat and, with all due respect, nothing will keep me from taking her to wife.”

  “You’ve made certain to leave me no choice in the matter.” Nugent slumped back into his chair, suddenly looking all of his almost fifty years. “Get out of my sight, the both of you.”

  Rand bowed and turned to go. Once they stepped into the hall, Kitty said, “That didn’t go too badly.”

  He shot her an incredulous look. “Why on earth would you insinuate that I seduced you?”

  “I couldn’t very well tell him the truth.”

  He frowned. “I shudder to ask which ‘truth’ you speak of.”

  “That I was the one who seduced you.”

  “No one was seduced,” he said pointedly. “You comprehend perfectly that I made certain you were not ruined. To my own extreme discomfort, I might add.”

  “I’m not the one who insisted on waiting. I was more than happy to anticipate our wedding night.”

  “I told you to leave speaking with your father to me. I had a plan all worked out.”

  “Ah, but someone once told me a sound strategist ensures the other participants are drawn into playing her game, according to her rules.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You planned what you said in there?”

  “Precisely.” She smiled pertly. “You aren’t the only one with a strategy.”

  …

  “Are we here?” Kat peered out the carriage window at the rough-hewn landscape as the footman pulled the door open. She shivered against the austere nature of the North Devon coast. With its unspoiled rolling valleys and greenery, it should have presented an idyllic tableau. But instead, the stalwart shrubs and wild plants punctuated the greenery in an almost defiant way, as though toughened by time and the elements, daring nature to do its worst. Lord, but this strange place seemed far from civilization. “Is this Waterford?”

  “Almost.” Rand, seated across from her, stepped out first before turning to help her down. The first days of her marriage had been a weary blur of continuous travel punctuated by brief stops to change the horses or to overnight at coaching inns.

  She took his hand, anxious for this tiresome, never-ending journey to be over. “Then why are we stopping?” Her bones ached from the ceaseless rattle of the carriage. Her clothes were wrinkled and she needed a bath. She’d never been so exhausted.

  He pointed over the valley. “That is Waterford.”

  Her eyes followed the direction of his hand, and Kat’s disagreeable mood floated away on a whooshing breath of wonderment. They stood on high ground and beyond the valley, across a smooth expanse of meadow and parkland, nestled among hills to one side, jagged rocks to the other and a small inlet of the bluest sea she’d ever seen, an immense brick castle shimmered in the slanting afternoon sun, as though nature had contrived to showcase it for approaching visitors.

  Rand gazed out over it. “This is my favorite view of Waterford,” he said, the pride apparent in his voice, “and I thought to share it with you.”

  She exhaled. “It’s a castle.”

  “Of course. Waterford Castle.”

  She ran her eyes over the turrets and battlements. “You never said it was a castle. You only referred to it as Waterford.”

  Vera yelped from somewhere behind her, then both Fanny and Rand’s man emerged from the back coach, a look of distaste on the valet’s face. Happy to be free of the confines of the coach, the animal loped out onto the sloping hill.

  “Vera seems to like it,” she said. “But of course the disloyal creature seems to like everything about you.”

  He took her hand. “Come, the carriage will have us home in a matter of minutes.”

  Home. Gazing at the imperious collection of stones set against the grass-covered hills across the inlet, the beauty of this unspoiled place tugged at something in her chest. “Can we not walk?” Unable to bear the thought of another moment in the carriage, she experienced a longing to immerse herself in this place.

  “As you wish.” Motioning for the coachman to continue on, he offered his arm and they set off. Rand gazed back over his shoulder at Fanny, who stood uncertainly by the luggage coach, still staring at Waterford. “No need for a chaperone, Fanny, she is my wife now.”

  “It is wrong of you to tease her,” Kat said as they started down the hill toward the castle.

  “I confess, even after I’ve taken you to wife, she still makes me feel like an errant schoolboy off to sneak a kiss.”

  Would he steal a kiss? Her blood slowed thick and warm in her veins at the remembered sensation of his lips covering hers.

  “Do you approve of your new home?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  She refocused on the elemental majesty before her, the parapets and tall stacks with crenated caps set against the unforgiving landscape. Tears pricked her eyes. “I do believe it is the most beautiful place I’ve ever set my eyes upon.” She regretted they would not stay for long, just a fortnight for their wedding trip. “Does it have dungeons as well?”

  “As it happens, yes. But they are just cellars. And the castle is not so very old. It is really a simple country house built to resemble a castle.”

  “Hardly simple,” she murmured. “What happened to the people who lived here?”

  “The Randolph title died out after just one generation. Two brothers held the title. The first earl married, but died without issue. His brother and heir never married.”

  “So now you revive the title.”

  “It was so awarded.” His dark eyes settled on her. “But, by marrying, I like to think I am well on my way to breaking the solitary tradition of the Earls of Randolph. And an heir perhaps will follow before long.”

  Heat flushed through her at his allusion to intimacy. He hadn’t touched her since the evening of the Harvest Home. They’d departed for Dorset immediately after taking their vows and Fanny had slept with her at the inns along the way. But this evening, he surely would come to her.

  They stretched their legs across a wide expanse of cultivated parkland, which appeared even more so against the raw, craggy edges of the coast beyond it. They walked past the front and side retaining walls—brick walls covered in ivy—and up the stairs to the generous stretch of drive in front of the castle.

  A modest staff had lined up to welcome them. “How many servants are there?” she queried in a low voice.

  “Just six for now, since most of the house is closed up,” he said. “And we are only here for a short while.”

  And then they would return to Town. “Do you think a fortnight is long enough time for the scandal to blow over?”

  “Are you regretting your decision?”

  “Of course not.” Her wedding to Laurie was to have been in a sennight. Instead, she was here with Edward, as his countess. No, she was not sorry. For once, she’d taken what she wanted rather than done what was expected of her.

  The introductions were brief. Mr. and Mrs. Cully were married. He served as both butler and caretaker of sorts while she acted as both housekeeper and cook. There were two maids of all work, a footman, and a gardener. They stepped into the gothic-styled main e
ntrance hall where ornately carved wooden panels reached as far as her shoulder before meeting sand-colored stone, which ran two floors up to the ceiling. A central staircase at the rear broke into two flights, each with heavy fluted banisters and carved newels. The principal room to the right had ornate geometric designs in the plaster ceiling and leaf decorations in the cornice. A fire flickered in the immense marble hearth at one end of the room while a triple bay window looked out onto the bay.

  “It’s breathtaking,” she said, going to the window to better take in the view.

  “Do you like the water?” Rand asked, coming to her side.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her gaze followed seabirds making a circle formation out above the calm blue waters. “I’ve been to Bath of course, but it is nothing like this.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I had the same feeling when I first laid eyes on Waterford.”

  “Would Countess Randolph like to freshen up before supper?” Mrs. Cully inquired.

  Countess Randolph. It took Kat a moment to realize the housekeeper referred to her. She had expected to be the Viscountess Sinclair. “I should like that very much.”

  Rand bowed in a formal manner. “I shall see you at supper.”

  Her apartment, done in faded shades of blues and greens, suited her. Consisting of a sitting room, dressing room, and bedchamber, her rooms, while not extravagant, were large and comfortable. Two banks of windows were her favorite part; one overlooked the rolling park and valley beyond, while the other opened over the inlet.

  When she descended for supper a short time later, Kat was surprised when Samuel the footman led her past the dining room and outside through double-terraced doors instead. They stepped out into the courtyard which was enclosed on three sides, but the open side offered a breathtaking view of the inlet and the mountains beyond it. She spotted Rand in dark formal dress, standing next to an elaborately set table for two.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” He came toward her with a proffered glass of claret. “I took the liberty of asking Mr. Cully to serve an early supper out here so we could enjoy the view.”

  She smiled and took the glass. “It is perfect.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow you’d like to walk down to the water for a closer look.”

  She tried to quiet the nerves rioting in her stomach. This evening would likely be her wedding night in truth. “I would like that very much.”

  Samuel and Mr. Cully appeared with covered trays of food.

  Rand smiled at her. “It appears dinner is served.”

  …

  Rand wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Kat look as breathtaking as she did during supper. Her short curls shimmered in the setting sun. Gleams of light also settled gently over the gentle slope of her delectable breasts, which her gown showed to extreme advantage. For a moment, he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he had yet to bed his wife. Yet he did know. A coaching inn was no place for their first intimate encounter. Especially if he were to experience one of his bouts.

  As serene as she appeared, once supper was over, the way Kat fisted the skirt of her gown belied her nerves. “Are you well?” he asked.

  “What?” Her expression smoothed. “Yes, supremely.” When she turned away to look out at the inlet, he admired the long line of her neck, left bare by her short curls and the generously-cut décolletage of her bodice.

  He walked up behind her and pressed his lips to the warm, smooth spot with its delicate wisps of hair. She shivered against him. “Are you cold?” he murmured against her neck.

  “No. Do you know the history of this house?”

  He inhaled the delicate scent of femininity with an underlying tint of violets. “How do you mean?”

  “Mrs. Cully says the last earl was in love with his brother’s widow and lived here with her, never marrying, forgoing an heir.”

  “I had heard some such thing.”

  “He must have loved her very much.”

  “As I love you.” That he had said it aloud surprised him, but he did not regret it.

  She turned to face him with luminous eyes. “Truly?”

  “There has never been anyone else.” He took her glass from her and walked back to set both his and hers on the table. Then he came back to her and took her into his arms, touching his lips to hers. She opened her mouth and the taste of the shared claret swirled between them, their tongues rubbing against each other.

  His deadened insides swirled to life, heat pouring through him. Every inch of his being swelled open to soak in the essence of this woman. His woman. To have her warm feminine curves pressed up against him, to have her fitted so snugly in his arms, felt supremely right. And he wondered that it had taken so many years for them to arrive at this place.

  He broke the kiss. “Kitty,” he said, his forehead up against hers. “Perhaps you should retire and prepare to receive me.”

  She looked up at him with rosy cheeks. “Yes.” And she moved away from him, across the courtyard, disappearing inside. He walked over to the table and picked up the claret, finishing his first and then hers, but stopping there. He wanted to have his wits about him the first time he made love to Kitty.

  He followed after a quarter of an hour, slipping into his chamber where Burgess awaited him. The valet helped him undress and brought out his dressing gown, before disappearing without a word. Which was quite unlike Burgess. But then, this was unlike any other night.

  His nerves stretched tight inside his chest where anxiety warred with desire. He abhorred the idea of having an episode in Kitty’s bed, or anywhere within her sight. Even though he’d found the strength to reveal himself to Drummond—and prayed the doctor could eventually help control his bouts with madness—he still intended to forever hide his impairment from Kitty. Drawing a deep breath, he tightened the belt of his dressing gown and stepped up to the door that adjoined to hers. Vera rose from before the fireplace and trotted over to accompany him.

  “Sorry, girl,” he said, “but this I do alone.”

  …

  Even though she’d been anticipating the knock at the adjoining door, Kat started when it finally came. She rose to her feet from the chair she’d been sitting in, tugging at her short curls, regretting that she no longer had the long curtain of hair to shield herself.

  The door opened and Rand stepped through, dressed in a burgundy dressing gown with dark paisley designs. The open neck and swirls of dark hair on his chest told her he wore no shirt. “May I join you?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, relieved her voice did not betray the cacophony of nerves rioting in her belly.

  He approached her, his dark eyes shining, and ran a finger along the silk of her dressing gown.

  “I am sorry it is so plain. I had a special one made for my wedding night—” The words trailed off. An exquisite lace and sheer night rail had been made for her wedding night with Laurie. It remained in London.

  “It is just as well,” he answered in that grainy tone of his. “You won’t be in it for long.”

  She caught her breath, the granite intent in his voice made her insides twitch. Taking her into his arms, he brought his mouth down and pressed warm, surprisingly soft lips against hers.

  He pulled away and began to loosen the belt of her dressing gown. “May I?”

  She froze. “Do we put out the candles?”

  “Only if you insist upon it.” His hands moved down to the sides of her hips. “I should like to see my wife when I make love to her.”

  “As you wish.” She’d quickly parsed that if he could see her, she’d be able to see him. And she wanted to. Badly.

  He loosened her belt and the dressing gown fell open revealing the valley between her breasts and the private place between her thighs. “Nothing underneath,” he said in a cragged voice. “Brave girl.”

  Going to his knees, he put his lips to the smooth expanse of skin between her breasts, his large hands sliding behind to caress the curves of her bottom. His mouth trailed down over her
rib cage and belly, to the vulnerable nest of tufted hair that shielded her most feminine place. When he put his lips there, Kat gasped and made some undecipherable utterance, the shock of it almost sweeping her off her feet. “Should you do that?”

  Rising to his feet in a swift motion, he caught her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. “Yes, and I will do so often.”

  She resisted the urge to pull her loose robe shut, to cover herself. Fear sprouted at being laid bare and vulnerable to this man who had hurt her more than anyone. Refusing to yield to cowardice, her mind swerved around the poisonous thoughts and steadied itself by latching onto the one truth that had never changed for her: no matter what he had done to her, she loved Rand. She’d chosen her course and would gladly see it through.

  The counterpane had been pulled back and he laid her against the cool bed linens. She still wore her robe but it was opened wide, laying her bare to him. Standing by the bed, he loosened his own dressing gown belt. He shrugged it off, baring an impossibly thin form, all rangy musculature stretched taut over bone. A puckered, angry-looking scar marred one shoulder and a series of lighter scars ran down one arm. She could make out his ribs, the muscled stomach, the line of hair that trailed down to his large jutting member.

  Climbing onto the bed, he came up over her and covered her with his body. The feel of his powerful frame against hers sent an avalanche of unschooled sensation rushing at her.

  Her world narrowed to his all-engulfing presence. He was like the power of the sun, and overwhelming heat and light burned into her everywhere their bare skin met. His chest rubbed against her sensitized breasts, his hard belly on hers, their hips melded and his arousal pressed against the softness of her belly. His masculine scent filled her senses until she could discern nothing beyond the press of virility engulfing her.

  His kiss was hot and openmouthed, making her blood run heavy and heated through her limbs and down to the core of her. When she felt him breech her opening, it seemed natural to widen her legs in welcome.

  “Can you take it?” His dark keen gaze focused on her face. “I know I should be more patient with you, but I find I cannot.”