by Owner
followed her nausea, away.
****
“Here again, Lily?” Dorian asked as the door silently opened.
Absentmindedly, he pondered how she could gain entrance to his house and
at will, but he soon discarded the thought, preferring to concentrate on the
delights that lay in store for them both this night.
There was a hesitant pause. "Why, of course, Dorian,” she murmured
eventually.
She was probably surprised that he knew it was her. But how could Dorian
explain that as soon as she walked through the door, his body reacted as
though a fire had been started right next to him! As though a knife were
being pressed to his throat . . . . .
He could only liken it to an atavistic need that coursed through him,
whenever her light and floral scent permeated the air.
Ridiculous, perhaps, but the truth nonetheless.
He could not help it. He laughed at the blatancy and nonchalance of her
words and turned his head to awkwardly stare up at her from his position in
the warm depths of his favorite armchair.
Lily was once more clad in the traveling cloak and as soon as she closed the
door behind her, she stepped out of it. His brows arched as she lay the
swathe of material over the vacant chair beside him and his eyes followed
her every movement as she walked around his chair to come and sit with
him.
And she literally sat with him.
Lily perched her pert behind on his knee and sank back against him, pushing
them both against the armchair's backrest.
“How was your day?” she asked quietly and sighed as he tucked his arms
about her.
A grin graced his lips. This was all very domesticated, he thought, but for
some reason, he rather liked it, especially as she seemed content to chat.
There were some questions he wouldn't mind hearing the answers to and
this gave him the perfect opportunity. He had swiftly noticed yesterday that
she could be an evasive minx.
“It has been . . . uneventful,” he replied truthfully.
“That is probably because you haven't left the house,” she commented dryly.
“And how do you know that?”
“My dear Earl, I highly doubt that you would leave the house in your current
apparel!” she remarked and peered down at his red tartan waistcoat that
was hardly the latest in fashion, but was nice and warm and the English
summertime was being its usual fickle self. The day had been quite cold!
He said as much and watched as she grinned. “I do not care what you wear,
and red is in fact, quite the color when combined with your hair, my lord
Dorian. But, it was a salient point, no?”
“Yes, my dear, I concede that point in your favor.”
“Ah, that pleases my competitive nature.”
“You are competitive?”
She laughed.
He simply grinned as she nodded.
“I have a brother, Dorian. Of course, I'm competitive.”
“Aye, I've met Devlin. I imagine becoming the Marquess has killed some of
that boisterous nature of his . . . . A shame that.”
“Indeed, but you are only half correct. Inheriting the title has hardly phased
him. It is our mother's condition that concerns both him and myself.”
“I can imagine.” He nodded solemnly then sighed. “Have you attended any
of the ton's vapid events?”
She ducked her head and shook it quickly. Dorian raised a brow and chucked
her under the chin with his thumb.
Lily stared at him as she bit her lip. “I have been ill, my lord.”
He tutted. “Dorian! Not, my lord! You should be in bed, if you've been ill,
Lily,” he stated with a frown.
“That is why I did not wish to tell you! I knew you would say that. But it is
too late. For I am here!” she muttered defiantly.
Dorian rolled his eyes but sighed with defeat as she glared at him. "You left
early this morning,” he quietly commented rather than further chastising her
about failing to take care of herself. As he spoke, Dorian lifted a hand to play
with a tousled strand of rose gold hair.
Her lips curled nervously inwards and he dropped her hair to trace a finger
along the line of her mouth. “You were sleeping so peacefully, I did not wish
to wake you.”
“I doubt a cannon being fired in the room would have wakened me. I was
dead to the world, my dear. Your very kind administrations enabled me to
sleep peacefully for the first time in a week. For nothing else but that, I
thank you! You are more addictive and more effective than laudanum. If I
were a physician, I would publish the effects of my study of your body in a
medicinal journal.”
Lily smiled faintly and prodded her finger against the slight dimple in his
chin. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, then sighed
with pleasure as she rubbed her nose against his jaw.
“Have you decided upon your true reason for your visits here?” he asked
quietly, sorry to shake the soft mood but curious as to her reply.
She jolted in his hold and had she not been pressed so closely to him and
had it not been awkward, he knew she would have jumped out of the chair
and on to her feet.
“I-I told you why! I do not wish to marry, but that does not mean that I am
dead from the waist down.”
He hummed under his breath and trailed a finger over the taut skin of her
cheekbone. “There is something about your words that prods me into
disbelief, I'm afraid, Lily. Have you ever heard of the quote; 'The lady doth
protest too much, methinks . . . ?' I find it quite suits your tone.”
“Well, that is an issue of your own making, my lord! Not mine!” she said
tartly. “I am not protesting too much. I am annoyed at being questioned.”
Dorian laughed. “Indeed. But there is no need to be so prickly. It was only a
remark.”
“Yes! One that inferred I was lying!”
“Not lying, per se, perhaps distorting the truth.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do not distort the truth yourself! What do you wish to
hear? That I'm madly in love with you and can't stand to be apart from
you?”
He stilled. “Would it frighten you if I said yes?”
It was her turn to freeze. She pivoted towards him and with a slightly
trembling hand, cupped his chin. “Would you mean it?”
Dorian nodded.
Her mouth trembled. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you, standing
there with your cronies, somber and serious as they laughed and joked.
Then we danced. Your body was pressed against mine. Your face was but an
inch away from my own. I wanted nothing more but to kiss you. And then . .
. you walked away.” She laughed. It was a cold sound that prodded him into
flinching slightly.
“As ridiculous as it seems, Dorian, m-my body missed the imprint of your
own. In that twenty minute dance, it had grown accustomed to the heat and
pressure of your weight against it. From that moment, my mind . . . and my
heart were not my own.”
She paused and ducked her head. He fought hard to stay silent and let her
speak her own words at her own pace, but it was difficult, for the quaver of
>
truth in her statement had desire flooding through him like a river that had
burst its dam.
To think that she wanted him, had wanted him from the first . . . . It sent
shock waves along his spine. She licked her lips and his eyes focused on that
as though her mouth held the truth and knowledge behind man's very
existence.
“I am here, because I love you, Dorian, because I want to be with you.” Her
lips opened and for endless moments she hesitated. When she next spoke,
he instinctively knew that Lily was not about to divulge the words that had
been on the very tip of her tongue.
Her eyes held the truth, but her mouth disclosed a different sentiment
entirely. “It is the duty of every debutante to know any and all information
of any free bachelor. My aunt told me of your wife and her death,” she
whispered huskily. “I could not imagine after your trauma that you would
even wish to attend the ton's ridiculous events, and yet I saw you there. And
you appeared to be as miserable as I had imagined. It hurt me, literally hurt
me, to see you surrounded by the superficiality of your friends and their
jocular humor in which you were not joining.
“I knew I had to know you. If for one moment, I could lighten your load, I
determined to do so. Not out of pity,” she hurriedly added, spying the
militant look in his eye. “Out of . . . love. I wanted to ease your pain and
take it away. I know now the pain stems from another matter entirely but
that does not change how I felt.”
He nodded slowly and stared deeply into her green eyes. Truth was
embedded at the very root of those emerald irises, but there was also
another emotion, one that he could not entirely discern.
Was it sorrow?
Perhaps pain?
“You felt sorry for me, do not deny it,” he murmured wryly.
Lily scowled up at him. “Do not joke about this, Dorian. I did not! If I'm
honest, I understood your situation. How could I not? My mother can barely
cope with the thought of life without my father . . . . Surely it is quite natural
for two people who have suffered with grief to understand the other's heart.
I empathized with your predicament.”
“What every red blooded man wishes to hear!”
She slapped his shoulder. “Blue blooded, my dear. Blue blooded,” she chided
with a wink.
He grinned. “Touché.”
“I was taught by a master. There was a reason my father nicknamed my
brother, Devlin the Devil!”
He pondered that a moment and traced a finger along the line of her collar
bone. “You're in London with your aunt?”
“Yes and my uncle too. They very kindly agreed to house me during my
Season, although I quite believe that Aunt Millie is enjoying the fuss a lot
more than I am!”
“I take it she is completely unawares as to your current location?”
She smiled. It was a slow, teasing expression of the minx's humor. “If you
mean that she does not know that I am seated upon my lover's lap in
naught but my petticoat . . . then, yes, you are indeed correct, Dorian. I am
quite certain that she would expire with shock were she to learn the
complete truth!”
He grinned and once again conceded the point. It was a long time since he
had felt so charged with life, so eager to cross swords with a worthy
opponent in a conversation that truly mattered. Vibrancy, a gift from her to
him flooded him and for the first time in years, he felt alive, truly alive.
“Is your family completely blind to the fact that you do not wish to wed?” he
asked, his tone muted so as not to display his sheer wonder at possessing
this woman's love and its effects on him.
She shrugged. “They know. My aunt is quite certain that I am merely
suffering with trauma from my papa's death and is equally as certain that,
like my mama, I shall fall instantly in love with my future husband.
Apparently, it is quite the family trait, even more so than our auburn hair.
Well, that is in the world according to Aunt Millie. My papa once said that
unicorns and fairies exist in her world, and I don't find that too difficult to
believe!”
She paused and a strange expression overcame the cast of her futures. “My
brother doesn't give a damn," she frowned as she swiftly continued. "My
mother wants what is best for me, even in her dazed state. My uncle knows
that I will not be forced and, for the most part, leaves me be. My aunt
attempts to match make, and I try my damnedest to foil her plots.
“Indeed, she has me settled in the country with some sixty-something,
dandified coxcomb! While I care for my aunt and uncle's opinion, I will only
do what I please.”
“I had gathered! Very few young misses would steal into a prominent Earl's
townhouse in search of the sinful pleasures of the flesh!” he murmured
quietly and tried to hide the anger he felt at her aunt's interference.
It was quite idiotic to feel jealousy or even anger, but feel it he did. More
than anything, it brought home how he felt about her, how deep his feelings
truly ran. To say it surprised him was an understatement.
“Ah, but that is because I am unique,” she retorted with a chortle. “I have
never denied this fact.”
“So one is classed as unique if one breaks every rule in our society?”
“Yes, of course!”
He hid a smile and leaned forward to nuzzle his face against her throat. Her
scent was like pure gold to his nostrils, and he inhaled it until he felt sure he
would never forget it.
Only this morning, when he had awoken to his butler Hague's surprised
cough and realized that he was quite alone, had Dorian realized how
imperative this one lady's presence was to his peace of mind. Not only had
she gifted him with the best night's rest of the month, even if it had been in
front of the dying fire and on the floor, she had lifted the veil of darkness
that had been encompassing him these years past.
Ever since Camille's betrayal, he had spiraled into a path of self-destruction .
. . . It would be ridiculous to say that this woman had prevented him from
traversing any more of that particular path, but she had jolted him from . . .
what did she call her mother's grief? . . . stasis! Yes, indeed, she had jolted
him from the stasis that had absorbed him so entirely.
He could do naught but thank her for that. He could do naught but love her.
“You are quite a comic, Lily.”
“No, I'm not really, and, in this case, I'm being deadly serious. I-I do admit
that it is in every person's nature to follow the crowd, but one must break
away for fear that one will become a sheep. I do not deny that it took my
father's death to prod me into this realization, but I am not jesting about my
wishes for the future, Dorian. Perhaps they are a little different, a tad
unusual, but it is what I want. And why should the rest of the ton's opinion
matter to me?”
He said nothing, just pressed a kiss to her neck.
With a jolt, Lily blinked at the sensitive press of his lips against the tender
flesh of her throat and wondered if he bel
ieved her nonsensical attempt to
prod him into believing that she wanted nothing from him but love and those
sinful pleasures of the flesh he had mentioned earlier.
For one breathless moment, Lily had intended to tell him the truth, the
whole truth. Once her avowal of love had slipped from her mouth, the desire
to divulge and free herself from the burden of her blackmail had been great.
Lily had had to fight herself fiercely to ensure that her mouth was kept quite
closed. For what good would it do?
No good whatsoever. Of that, she was fully aware!
When she had walked through the door to his study, an intense feeling of
homecoming had assailed her. Along with that fierce emotion was a
tiredness that came from the fact her slumber had not been restful and from
her earlier malady.
She had walked through the study and taken a seat upon his lap. Settling
there, she had felt so innately comforted that she had determined to simply
talk to him and he had welcomed that opportunity with a grace that had
quite pleased her.
It had come as a great surprise to see that the large painting of his dead
wife had disappeared. A part of her wondered what that meant. In its stead
was a large faded mark on the wall and a smaller oil painting of a large
horse, rearing into the sky.
Did that mean he had let the memory of his betrayer go?
She bit her lip at the thought.
If she had done one thing for him, one thing to help him rather than harm
him, perhaps this was it.
Mayhap, Lily had successfully freed him from the bitterness that had
consumed him upon the realization that his wife was not the woman he had
believed her to be.
A part of her hoped that were he to learn the real reason behind her visits to
his house, that for this alone, he would be able to forgive her.
Lily sighed and nestled a little deeper into his embrace. The desire to spill all
to Dorian was great and she had to close her eyes against it. The thought
that were he to learn the truth and then cast her out, hate her, was too
much to bear.
There was nowhere she would rather be than in this man's arms and it hurt
her deeply to realize that they could have no future together. Not unless,
she did indeed discuss the blackmailer with him.
Another jolt of fatigue rushed through her system and Lily knew that at that
moment, she simply didn't have the energy to discuss something of that
