To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood (Wicked Wagers 3)

by Bronwen Evans

  “I’m so sorry, my lady, I thought I’d make it home...but the babes coming.” Another choking scream began. The sound like a wounded animal.

  “Shush, it’s going to be all right,” she whispered as she stroked the woman’s head. Beads of perspiration dotted the young woman’s brow. “What’s your name, dear?”

  “Johann...,my lady,” the last words yelled into the still and overheated room. “My husband, Timothy, is a groom at the house.”

  “Is this your first child?”

  “Nooooooo.” She was breathing heavily. “This be my second. I think it might be coming soon. I hope it’s a girl...I already have a boy,” she screamed.

  She turned to Henry. “You’ll have to go for help.”

  Henry was trying to make the woman comfortable. Arranging her clothing and placing pillows under her head. He drew Amy a short distance away. “Have you been at a birth before?” Amy shook her head. Henry noted her clenched hands, the grip making her knuckles white. “Would you prefer me to stay and you go up to the house for help? It’s not something a young lady should see.”

  “I don’t see why not. I’m liable to have a baby of my own one day.” The woman’s cries made it difficult to think. “You’ll be faster than me.” She pushed him toward the door. “Go.” With more confidence than she felt she gave him a steady smile. “We’ll manage.”

  Henry took another look at Johann, took off his jacket and handed it to her. “You’ll need something to wrap the babe in.” At her dismayed look he added, “Just in case,” and took off at a run. Amy looked at the jacket hanging over her arm. She could smell his masculine scent on it and she prayed he’d get back with help in time.

  She took a deep breath and turned with what she hoped was a confident smile. “Now then, Johann, let’s see what this wee babe is up to...”

  Henry ran as fast as he could, directly to the house. He sent one of the lads off to the village to notify the midwife, he collected Honeyton, the cook, who’d proclaimed she’d had several children, and then on the way back made sure to stop at the stables and bring along Johann’s worried, but ecstatic husband, Timothy.

  Henry and Timothy made it back to the summer house before the women, only to be greeted by wailing from a very healthy sounding pair of lungs.

  Timothy entered first and raced to his wife’s side where she cuddled a baby hidden in Henry’s ruined jacket. But Henry’s eyes were drawn to Amy.

  She sat on the floor at Johann’s feet. Her clothes were covered in blood and they clung to her with sweat, yet she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. A wondrous expression plastered her face.

  Henry crossed to her and crouched down. “You did it, Amy.”

  “Johann did all the work. I just caught the baby at the end. Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

  “She?”

  “It’s a girl.”

  Honeyton finally arrived and Henry scooped an exhausted Amy up into his arms heedless of the mess. “Let’s get you back to the house, you look tired and you definitely could do with a bath,” Henry laughed.

  She tugged on his sleeve. “Take me over to Johann. I want to say goodbye.”

  The two women smiled at each other with tears in their eyes. “Thank you, Lady Amy. I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

  “Nonsense. You were very brave. It was humbling to watch a new life enter this world. Thank you.”

  “Timothy and I have picked a name for.” She smiled shyly up at them. “Amy Henrietta Gordon. After you both.”

  A tear slipped out of Amy’s eye and she clung to Henry. “Thank you. That means so much to me. I’ll come and visit Amy tomorrow, once you’ve rested.”

  They said their goodbyes and left Honeyton and the other women to help the lass home. Henry carried her back toward the house his heart light.

  He tenderly wiped a stray wisp of damp hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “You lost the treasure hunt. You won’t be able to name the foal.”

  She beamed up at him dreamily. “A little girl was named after me. A baby I helped bring into this world. Nothing could be more perfect.”

  He was so proud of this woman. Many a debutante would have fainted away at the thought of helping Johann but Amy stood her ground not phased at all. Not only that, she was moved by the glory of new life. She never hesitated in giving where needed. What a wonderful woman. What a wonderful wife and partner she’d make him.

  “Named after both of us. Amy Henrietta Gordon. She shares both our names.”

  He wanted to share his name with Amy and make her his wife. She was perfect for him. He was even more certain Amy was his soul mate.

  Today he’d hoped to start his wooing but it hadn’t turned out exactly as he’d hoped. It was even better. They had shared something profound and he could now feel a special bond between them.

  The distance and remoteness Amy used to hold him at bay over the last few days was gone. Now he could finally begin to make progress and he was determined to take advantage of her euphoria. Tonight he’d start his campaign in earnest.

  #

  “Do you ride, Lady Amy?”

  Turning to look up at Henry, Any froze as she met his intense gaze. He stood looking at her in a manner he’d never used before. Like a starving man at a feast. Just like Marcus sometimes looked at Sabine. Her heart stuttered as did her mouth.

  Today had altered the balance between them. They’d shared something special. Witnessed something personal and unique, and she was having difficulty keeping her feelings for him in check. She had to move their relationship back to formality in order to keep her distance. It was that she didn’t trust Henry, she didn’t trust herself.

  “P-Pardon?”

  “Ride...”

  He looked utterly gorgeous. Speaking of starving... He looked good enough to eat. She put her hand on her chest and felt her heart begin to race wildly.

  His tawny fringe was pushed to the side highlighting long sweeping lashes, which lowered slowly as his gaze swept down her figure, then lifted again so that his stare captured hers. One perfect eyebrow lifted.

  Amy licked her lips in order to pry them open. Her mouth suddenly dry. “Yes, my lord. I do ride.”

  “Then perhaps you’d like to accompany me on a ride in the morning. The Roman city ruins near Silchester are said to be worth investigating, and it’s only a half-hour’s ride from here.”

  Breathe. “I’d like that, thank you.”

  Amy found his continued perusal disconcerting. He’d never paid her this much attention before. From a distance he’d been enchanting, but up close he hummed with vibrancy, heat radiating from his body in waves.

  “I haven’t had the occasion to formally thank you for helping Sabine. You’ve made my good friend, Lord Wolverstone, very happy.”

  Her face began to heat. “It was nothing that anyone else would not have done. Marcus was the hero. He got to Sabine in time to save her.”

  His smile momentarily slipped, why she was not sure.

  “I’m not sure many young ladies would have helped as you did. Not when they could become Countess Wolverstone by remaining silent.”

  There seemed to be some hidden meaning behind his words. His face was alert, searching for...what?

  “Marcus did not love me.”

  Henry laughed. “That has not stopped women before. The ranks of nobility are full of marriages void of any love or real affection.”

  Amy promptly scolded herself. Of course he would laugh at her notion. Yet it hurt. After listening to his late night discussions with his dead brother, she thought Henry wanted what she did—love.

  Perhaps not. He was looking for the owner of the earring even when he’d whispered another’s name. Men. They were all alike. Love was convenient when required to gain what they most desired. Trouble was love lasted only as long as the pleasure.

  She rolled the stem of her empty glass between her fingers and wished Sabine would call them all in
to super.

  She risked a glance at him. She wished she could think of something clever to say. Instead she burbled forth quite forcefully, “I will only ever marry for love.”

  “Very wise,” he replied.

  Was he teasing? She was saved from further conversation by a servant. Henry stepped aside to let the man refill her glass. As soon as he’d left, Henry took the seat beside her on the settee. She gulped back a moan. She should have invited him to sit, but his presence was throwing her off-kilter.

  A gleam entered his eyes. He leaned close, his thigh touching her leg through the silk. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

  Amy glanced at him uncertainly, wondering if he were making fun of her, but his countenance screamed seriousness. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Are you in love? Come, it’s a simple enough question.”

  Amy looked quickly around the room, was he serious? As if she would tell him such personal information. She looked across to Marcus and caught his eye, pleading for help. He simply lifted his glass and smiled back at her.

  “Marcus is considered to be an extremely handsome man. He has broken many hearts in his time. Not intentionally, of course.”

  She tried to repress her flush of embarrassment. “I’m sure you’re right, but I think of Marcus as purely a friend.” She had not meant to have her words come out so sharp but really! “Why are the secrets of my heart so important to you, Lord Cravenswood? Perhaps you’d like to share who your heart belongs to?”

  There, that will put him in his place. Who is Millicent? But to her horror he picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. They scorched her skin even through her glove. Suddenly he gave her a slow, charming, devilish grin that seared all her nerve endings. “There are many secrets I’d like to share with you, my sweet.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again, deciding it wiser to halt this conversation before she got herself into real trouble.

  At her muteness, the gleam in Henry’s eyes intensified. “For instance, did you know men find the thrill of the hunt very exciting?”

  Hunt? Amy’s eyes flared and she stifled a gasp. Was he indicating his hunt for the owner of her earring? Did he know it was hers or was he simply ferreting for information?

  At her confusion he leaned further toward her and whispered, “However, it’s what we do once we’ve caught our pray that is pleasurable.”

  Scandalous. His words were scandalous.

  His eyes held hers with remnants of a challenge swirling in their depths. There was something intimate, almost possessive about Henry’s scrutiny, and Amy once more found herself remembering what it felt like to kiss him, remembering the heat and hardness of him...

  She gave a light shrug of her shoulders. “I was of the opinion that unmarried earls with considerable fortunes were the hunted. You have plans for letting yourself be caught perhaps?”

  “Indeed. Capture is not so terrible when caught by the right woman.”

  Amy’s stomach flipped. “Oh? You have someone in mind.”

  “Perhaps. How’s Tinkles?”

  At his question Amy completely forgot the glass of sherry in her hand, and it tipped when her hand flew to her mouth, depositing the contents of her glass straight into his lap.

  “Oh, no!” she exclaimed, looking utterly dismayed as she brought her hands to her mortified cheeks. “I am so very sorry, my lord. How dreadfully clumsy of me.”

  She pulled out her handkerchief and bent over Henry and began urgently wiping the staining liquid from his breeches. She was not about to let this opportunity pass. If she could reach his pocket...

  The fabric was already thoroughly soaked, she noted to her chagrin. No matter how much she dabbed, her efforts were not helping stop the spreading stain.

  Then she moved the handkerchief higher, padding near to his pocket, toward the juncture of his thighs, and Henry sucked in a sharp breath. With a jerky movement, he caught her hand, holding it away from his lap. “You best leave that to me, or I’ll reveal certain personal secrets, my sweet.” His eyes had gone very dark, full of fire and his voice held a strange huskiness. Just as it had in the dark a few nights ago. What did she expect? She’d been fondling his loins, for mercy sakes.

  Amy dropped her soaking handkerchief as if it were on fire and jumped to her feet. “Please forgive me. I...”

  “No harm done. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a soaking as much. Or the clean up.”

  It wasn’t so much his words, as the way he said them, full of devilish wickedness.

  Swallowing hard, Amy made a valiant effort to compose herself. “I’ll of course pay for the trousers. The stain is unlikely to come out.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not as if you did it on purpose.”

  Amy’s pink face felt as if it turned an even brighter red. “Of course I didn’t do it on purpose. Why on earth would I...”

  The earring. Did he think she’d done it in order to grope his pockets? Blast. She had tried to take advantage of the opportunity.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I must change before supper is called.” He made a polite bow and left her pondering just how much Lord Cravenswood new about the owner of the earring. If he knew, why was he playing games with her? She stood looking after his retreating back her mind a whirl.

  Marcus made his way to her side. “Have you frightened Cravenswood off?”

  “An accident of the liquid kind, I’m afraid.”

  He smiled down at her like a mischievous school boy. “I haven’t seen you wearing the earrings I gifted you. You did say you loved them.”

  Amy had made Sabine and Caitlin promise not to share any details with their husbands, fearful it would get back to Henry, but Marcus’s look was too knowing.

  “I do love them, but they don’t go with this dress.”

  Caitlin came to her rescue and soon Marcus drifted off to talk with Harlow.

  “Nice work with the drink. I saw you getting intimate with Henry. Was the earring in his pocket?”

  Caitlin’s pronouncement made her face heat once more. “I...I couldn’t tell.”

  Caitlin laughed. “But you found his family jewels, so to speak. Excellent start.”

  Amy’s face turned scarlet at Caitlin’s ripping and she wished this night would end.

  #

  Climbing the stairs, Henry gritted his teeth as he waited for his overheated pulse to cool. Since the night in his garden, the mystery lady, whom he now knew was Amy, figured prominently in his erotic dreams. His dreams consumed him, largely because he’d been unsexed, so to speak, for so long. His hiatus was well and truly over. He was rock hard and fit to burst from her simple touch.

  To have Amy’s slim fingers pressing against his cock, stroking him just as he’d imagined...Christ, it almost unmanned him.

  There was no doubt Amy Shipton was a very desirable young woman. If her heart already belonged to another, he’d kick himself. All this time she’d lived just across the road. Harlow was right; since his brother’s death and Millicent leaving, he’d become a eunuch.

  Her enchanting smile, full of innocence, quick and bright as the sun, had brought a sharp hunger leaping forth in his body. He took great delight in teasing her. The moment she’d smiled up at him, his heart had suddenly started beating as if after a long sleep.

  He had to get this yearning under control. He still didn’t know her heart. Her beauty appealed to him. She looked very much like Millicent, except younger, more innocent and that worried him.

  Was his physical attraction because of her similarity to Millie? While he never loved Millie, he certainly desired her greatly. Were his eyes fooling his heart into believing there was more to this girl? He really knew nothing about her.

  Amy had luscious thick, black as a stormy night, tresses. Millicent’s hair was very similar. It was far too easy to visualize exactly how it would look spread out over his white pillows. He knew how it would feel sliding over his bare skin—like silk.

  Henry bounded
up the stairs to his room, eager to change and get back to the intimate gathering.

  #

  Henry’s dinner had not been to his liking. Oh, the food was excellent, but the company left a lot to be desired. He would definitely have a quiet word with Sabine. She’d seated him at the opposite end of the table from Amy. Worse, she’d seated Comte Le Page on Amy’s right.

  His frustration was still simmering by the time the men moved to rejoin the ladies after a few ports and cheroots. It shot to boiling when he noted Amy was not present.

  He wanted to spend more time with her. He knew he affected her, for he watched the tiny pulse at the base of her neck jump when he was near. Of course, it could be her pulse jumped in fright. She might be expecting him to launch himself on her again, as he had in the garden.

  What must she think of him? No wonder she was avoiding him.

  “I believe Amy is in the conservatory, escaping from Comte Le Page. Why don’t you go and rescue her?”

  He swung round at Caitlin’s words.

  He noted the Frenchman wasn’t in the room. “Perhaps she’d be disappointed if I rescued her.” He watched Caitlin’s face carefully.

  “Would that bother you?” she asked.

  His jaw tightened and he clenched his fists.

  “She’ll be pleased to see you, I’ll give you that,” and she moved to join the other guests.

  Pleased. What the hell did that mean? Amy had been avoiding him for the last few days. He’d never understand women.

  He tried to stroll towards Marcus’s conservatory but his body hummed with nervous energy and it was almost a run.

  The door to the conservatory was ajar and heat and the smell of plants hit him when he entered. The perfume from some of the roses and colorful flowers was overpowering. Marcus’s mother was a keen gardener and the large rectangle conservatory housed many exotic plants commissioned from all over the world. It was a mini jungle, and he swore as a leafy twig snapped back and hit him in the eye.

  He could hear murmurs from deeper in the room. The moon was almost full and he needed no lighted candle to find his way.