by Alice Gaines
He kissed her jaw. “One more favor.”
“How many favors are you going to ask?” she demanded.
“Just one more. Don’t tell anyone that we’re going.”
“Anyone? Not even Millie?”
“I’ve become attached to Lord and Lady Mitford, but we don’t want them to join us for this house party,” he said. “Nor Blandings, either. And I suspect Miss Rhodes might do something to stop you.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“I know I am.” He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”
That did sound odd. Before she could puzzle it out, he moved his lips to her ear and blew hot breath into it. Everything slipped from her brain except the feel and scent of the man and the images of what would happen once they got to the country.
She shivered. “You’d better let me go now before I tear your clothing off.”
“I was about to say the same thing.”
“Midnight,” she said.
“Midnight.”
***
Juliet Foster’s head felt so right on his shoulder, and her body fit perfectly against his own as the carriage rolled along toward Derrington Manor. Each time a wheel hit a rut or a hole, she’d rock away from him but remain asleep, and he’d hold her carefully, snuggling her back under his arm and staring down into her face. With her eyes closed, she might have resembled an angel. In reality, she was only innocent in one respect, and that would change as soon as they reached the manor. He’d hate himself for taking her virginity if he hadn’t done everything but stand on his head to get her to marry him.
Darkness had fallen long ago, but he’d traveled this landscape often enough to know they’d arrive at the manor in an hour or so if they went directly there. Instead, they’d stop at the inn in the village. Now that he’d become a trickster, he’d set a trap for his opponent should she decide to go wandering later.
The carriage lurched sharply, and she woke with a little yip and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep all this way and leave you alone.”
“You must be exhausted. We’ve hardly stopped traveling since last night.”
“I don’t mind.” Her eyes sparkled in the light from the lanterns swinging on the outside of the carriage. She snuggled up to him. “I hope we’ll be at the manor soon.”
“Soon.”
The carriage rolled past the church, its steeple making a dark outline against the cloudless sky. Starlight flickered down on the village as more and more of it came into view. Houses and smaller cottages, a few with candles flickering from within. All very tidy and welcoming.
Miss Foster pushed away from him and gazed outside as they approached the town square. “How lovely. What is this place?”
“Derrington Heath.”
“Derrington,” she repeated. “Imagine, having a place like this named after yourself.”
“My title comes from here, not the other way around.”
“Still, you must be proud.”
He’d never thought of things that way. Things were the way they were, no more. He stroked her cheek with his finger. “It makes me proud that you admire my home.”
She smiled, and with more light, he might have seen her blush. Where was the creature who had defied him at every turn? Once he’d agreed to teach her the ways of the flesh—an honor by anyone’s measure—it seemed she’d come to trust him. She’d let him take her away in the middle of the night, all alone. She had no friends here, no family, and no way to contact the outside world unless he allowed it.
The carriage rolled up to the inn and stopped. Miss Foster turned to him and quirked a brow. “We’re not going to the manor?”
“After a bit. We need to eat, and my cook will have gone to bed already.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
“You’ll need your strength,” he said. “For your ordeal. Later.”
She huffed at him. “Honestly.”
“Vixen, you’ve pushed me past endurance. I may not be gentle with you.” He’d meant that as a joke, but the words might have more than some reality to them. She had pushed him, hard. Heaven knew what he’d do when he wouldn’t have to stop himself. His rational mind might have no say in the matter.
“Come on,” he said. “The food in here is simple but good.”
He opened the door of the hired coach and climbed out. What a journey it had been. His gig from London to Chatham, where they’d waited for a train. Now, this conveyance to take them to the manor, as no one there expected them and wouldn’t have sent a carriage to pick them up. His staff from London would catch up eventually.
“Don’t unpack. We’ll be going on to the manor,” he said to the hired driver. “Go inside and have some food and drink.”
“Aye, my lord,” the man said.
That taken care of, he helped Miss Foster from the carriage. Holding her hat onto her head, she tipped her head back and studied the inn. “Derrington Arms.”
“A bit of an affectation, that. Something like the Pig and Whistle would fit the place better.”
“I like it,” she said.
“Then, why don’t you become Lady Derrington?” He gestured around him. “All this can be yours.”
She gave him the usual sour look, but some of the bite had drained out of it.
“I’m allowed. I haven’t proposed to you yet today and it’s almost midnight.” He leaned toward her. “I’ll ask you to marry me again before we fall asleep.”
“Then, that will count for tomorrow, won’t it?” She put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him away. “I’m hungry, after all.”
He curled her arm around his. “I exist to feed all your appetites.”
She huffed again but smiled. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, and he’d be an idiot if he weren’t, too. He escorted her inside. The main room was warm and cheery, as it always was. Except for the almost total lack of patrons, one would think they’d come at a much earlier hour. A few men in the corner played dice entirely too loudly. Farmhands, by the look of them, drinking up their pay. The innkeeper would find them beds to sleep the stout off at no charge. Good for his fellow man and good for business. The kindness always brought them back. Always.
The owner himself stood behind the bar, polishing his glassware. When he spotted Derrington, he set his work down and hurried over.
“Your lordship,” he declared. “We had no idea you’d planned to return.”
“I only decided myself the other night.” He gestured toward Juliet. “Mrs. Marlow, this is Mr. Rufus Quinn, the finest hotelier in these parts.”
“How nice to meet you, Mr. Quinn,” she said. “This is a lovely establishment.”
“The only one in these parts, and I’m the only hotelier, but his lordship does enjoy his little joke,” the man said. “Let me show you to a table.”
Quinn did and pulled out a chair for Miss Foster. She took it and sat, sagging a bit in her seat.
“Rest for a moment,” Derrington said, “while I confer with our host about some supper.”
“My lord, we can do that very well right here,” Quinn said.
“By the bar, if you will,” Derrington said.
The man’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, but he obeyed, leading Derrington far enough away from Miss Foster for private conversation.
“We’ve some mutton stew left, my lord,” Quinn said. “Some cheese and bread, baked today. And there might be a bit of gooseberry tart.”
“Excellent.”
“I’ll go tell Martha to bring it all out.” Quinn turned toward the kitchen, but Derrington stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.
“There’s something you should know about the lady,” Derrington said.
Quinn gave him an evil chuckle. “None of my business, sir, what you and the lady—”
“It’s not like that.”
“Whatever you say, sir.”
He might take offense at the man’s implicati
ons if they hadn’t been spot on about how he planned to pass the night. “She’s a relative.”
Quinn gave him the bland smile of a man who didn’t believe a word of the story but honestly didn’t care.
“No, truly. A distant cousin,” Derrington said. “From the Italian side of the family.”
“She sounds American, sir.”
Of course, she did. Why hadn’t he ever cultivated the art of lying before? “She’s been in the United States for many years. Recovering.”
“Recovering?”
He dropped his voice an octave. “Recovering.”
“Here, now.” Quinn leaned toward him. “Is it something catching?”
“Nothing like that.” Derrington tapped his own temple. “She’s not quite right in the head.”
“Pity.” Quinn clucked his tongue.
“As I said, the Italian side of the family.”
“And she seems so nice,” Quinn said. “Normal.”
Derrington glanced toward Miss Foster. She sat patiently at the table. A bit droopy, perhaps, but that was to be expected after such a long voyage with hardly any rest.
“From childhood, she’s had a tendency to wander off and lose herself among strangers,” he said. “Of course, it became dangerous as she got older.”
“Of course,” the innkeeper repeated.
“The family sent her to the best asylum in the United States. I think they just wanted her out from underfoot,” he said.
“Why, the poor thing,” Quinn declared. “I didn’t know Italians were so cruel.”
“Caligula,” Derrington whispered. “Enough said.”
The man’s eyes widened to fill his face. “Good of you to rescue her, your lordship.”
“Alas, I wasn’t soon enough. By the time I found her, she’d gone completely ’round the bend.” He gritted his teeth and swiped at his perfectly dry eye. Who knew if the act would work? He’d never done anything this devious before.
Quinn clapped him on the shoulder. “Buck up, sir.”
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “After a while, she came to believe she’s a New York heiress named Juliet Foster. She’d run away from the asylum and beg for help to get back to her home.”
Quinn clucked his tongue again.
“One poor soul got her all the way to Manhattan before he discovered the truth,” Derrington said.
“I’m glad you’ve brought her here to heal, sir.”
“Long walks, country air, good English cooking. We’ll fix her.”
“I’ll get that dinner for you now, your lordship,” Quinn said.
“I knew I could depend on you,” he said. “Remember, though…”
“Yes, sir?”
“If she should manage to escape and wander in here claiming to be an American heiress who’s being held against her will, send for me.”
“Absolutely.”
“And let the rest of the village know.”
“Your family has been good to us,” Quinn said. “We’ll be happy to return the favor.”
“Stout fellow.”
Quinn turned and headed for the kitchen. Derrington gazed back at Miss Foster. He’d played a nasty trick on her. A whole series of nasty tricks, and they’d get even nastier if she tried to leave too soon. Tonight, he’d give her her reward.
***
If a building could loom, Derrington Manor did. It dwarfed the carriage as they pulled up the circular drive and stopped in front of the imposing entryway. When Juliet climbed out and stood before the building, she had to crane her neck to see all the way to the roof.
Derrington came up next to her and put his hand at the small of her back. “It’s not much, but we call it home.”
“Joke all you want. It’s magnificent.”
“I won’t tell you right now that this could be yours, too.” He leaned over and put his mouth against her ear. “I’ll save that for when I have my cock buried deep inside you.”
A thrill coursed through her, liquid and hot. Her knees threatened to buckle, but he caught her and held her against his body. His firm, strong body.
“Frightened?” he asked.
“No,” she answered. “That is, a little.”
“You should be. I plan to ravish you thoroughly.”
“Let’s go inside.”
The door opened as if it had heard her words and complied on its own. It wasn’t magic, though, as she discovered when they climbed the steps and crossed the threshold. A gray-haired woman dressed in a nightshirt and robe held it and dropped a curtsey when she saw Derrington.
“Mrs. Wills,” he said. “I’m sorry for waking you.”
“We heard the coach pull up the drive,” the housekeeper said. “I hope the house is properly ready for your visit.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine. Russell and the rest will be here soon to help you.” He grasped Juliet’s elbow. “This is Miss Foster.”
If the housekeeper took offense at a woman coming here alone with the lord of the house, she didn’t show it. She curtseyed again. “Welcome to Derrington Manor.”
“Thank you.”
“Two rooms are made up, as usual, my lord,” Mrs. Wills said. “There should be plenty of water for baths.”
“You’re an angel,” he answered. “The driver will need a bed. And see if you can find someone to help with the trunks.”
“As you say, sir.” She closed the door and hurried off.
“Well, here we are.” Derrington pulled her into his arms and gave her his best devilish smile. “The scene of the crime.”
“I’m glad you brought me here. It’s beautiful.”
Beautiful was an understatement. The huge foyer sparkled with marble and brass, in the light of several candelabras set around the periphery. The huge chandelier would make things bright, indeed, when lit. A curving staircase seemed to soar to the floor above, and statues stood in alcoves here and there.
She inclined her head toward one of them. “Are those the nudes you told us about?”
“Some of them.”
“None of the men look as impressive as you.”
He laughed. “You flatter me.”
“I’ll see you completely naked tonight,” she said. “No hiding beneath the covers.”
“You’ll do anything you want to me tonight.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Anything that enters your head.”
“And you’ll do the same for me.”
“That’s our agreement.”
She sighed happily. “I’ve waited so long.”
“Wait a little longer. You can have a hot bath first.” He released her, but took her hand in his. “Come. Let me show you your room.”
***
More opulence, everywhere she looked. The house even had the same modern plumbing as the fine houses of Manhattan and London. The light from the candles gleamed off the faucets and mirror, amplifying the glow enough that she could see the steam rising from her bath water. She dipped her head back to rinse the lavender-scented lather from her hair and then rose again to rest her back against the tub and close her eyes.
This could be the most important night of her life. Though she’d considered her virginity an annoyance—a small obstacle to achieving her goal—her first time with a man had taken on a new meaning. No, not a man, but this one. For whatever reason, the most handsome man in the world, the most rakish and the most seductive had decided he wanted her. He might have asked to marry her for all the wrong reasons, but the state of his body didn’t lie. He really did want her.
She’d been awkward as a child and then just gangly as an adult. Neither coarse nor delicate, her features simply didn’t impress anyone. She didn’t have the large breasts men seemed to admire. Even her best asset—her mind—rebelled against the proper woman’s role, making her clever rather than compliant, headstrong rather than docile. She couldn’t even pretend to be a female paragon of virtue because after five minutes of trying, she bored herself into a stupor.
And yet, she�
��d somehow managed to attract this desirable man. For some reason, he enjoyed her cleverness. He even tolerated her headstrong nature and came back for more of the same.
He wanted her.
She tipped her head back and let out a full-throated laugh. Her voice bounced back at her off the tiled walls. It sang of a woman who knew her own desires and would have them fulfilled. A confident and lustful sound. Tonight, she’d be both of those things.
She’d stay at the manor for some time, too, while he taught her the art of lovemaking. She could enjoy herself. Hell, she could enjoy him. As long as she kept her wits about her and didn’t fall in love with the man, they could have a wonderful time, irritating each other by day and burning off the energy of the battle by night. She could do that. Hold him physically close and emotionally distant. She’d never tried that before, but if she put her mind to it, she could manage.
He showed up at the bathroom door as if he’d risen from the steam of her bath. He held another candelabra in his hand—high enough that it threw his face into shadow. He wore a robe and, from what she could see, nothing more. He was naked from the hem all the way down to his toes. Dear Lord in heaven, he somehow even managed to have sexy feet.
“Still in there?” he said. “I might think you’re avoiding me.”
“This was too delicious to rush. Besides, I wanted every inch of my body clean before you defile it.”
He barked a laugh. “You make absolutely no sense, do you know that?”
“I like to keep you on your toes.”
“Tonight, I’ll have you sitting on my cock.”
Lord, what he did to her when he said things like that. Even with him standing across the room, her pearl responded with a soft ache, and a tiny gush of moisture seeped from inside her. She might have lied to herself and thought it was bath water, but her body knew differently.
“That got your attention,” he said. “Or at least, it shut your mouth.”
“You have quite a way with words.”
“And even more ways with my hands.” He entered the room, set the candelabra on the floor, and knelt behind the tub. “Let me wash your back.”
“A Peer of the Realm bathing a mere commoner?” she said.
“I don’t see why I shouldn’t. After all, I’ve had my face between your legs.” His hand appeared in front of her. “The soap and cloth, if you please.”
