“Hello? Is anyone there?” she called out in a loud whisper but was only met by silence.
Mustering every ounce of courage she possessed, Lydia walked further into the woods and called out a bit louder, “Hello?” but the only response she got was the sound of leaves fluttering in the gentle breeze.
Disappointment consumed her as she looked about, hoping to find someone but seeing nothing. Though she was exhibiting an extraordinary amount of bravery this night, she wasn't quite certain she dared venture too far in the woods by herself.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded larger in the silent cocoon of the forest.
Ten minutes passed before Lydia finally concluded that no one was going to meet her. Feeling saddened by the realization, she turned on her heal and began huffing back to Trenton Hall. It was apparent someone was playing a silly game with her, and she wondered who'd be so cruel.
Stomping through the undergrowth, Lydia suddenly heard the sound of horse's hooves combine with her own soft footfalls and stilled, turning quickly to see who had approached. In the dark, she could only make out the figure of a man sitting atop his horse.
“Who's there?” she asked, feeling a bit of apprehension for the first time that night.
“I didn't think you'd come,” the vaguely familiar male voice said, surprise apparent in his tone.
“Why wouldn't I come?”
The man dismounted, then grabbed the reins and walked over towards Lydia, leading his horse along. “Because it was foolish for you to do so. I suppose that's precisely why you did it though. Am I correct?”
As the man drew near Lydia recognized him at once and found that she was suddenly very perturbed. “You!” she hissed. “What is this all about?”
Levi cocked his head and gave her a half grin. “I thought I would teach you a lesson.”
Lydia hated the smug look he was giving her. His chestnut hair was windblown, one dark lock falling casually across his brow, and it looked as if he hadn't been shaved for several days.
She balled her fists angrily at her sides and through gritted teeth asked, “Why would I need a lesson from you?”
“Because you don't seem to grasp the fact that your actions have consequences. Do you know what my first reaction was when I received your letter?”
Nearly a se'nnight ago Lydia had sent Levi a letter begging him to speak to her father about the punishment he'd inflicted since learning of her escapade in breeches. She documented the severity of the punishment and bemoaned her fate of being forced to remain trapped at home, unable to participate in the social events she so enjoyed. Her purpose in sending him the letter was not to forge some bond with him but to appeal to his softer side as she sought his aid in getting her punishment lifted. Apparently, she'd been a fool to think he'd assist her in any way.
When Lydia didn't answer Levi's question, he did so for her. “I laughed, Miss Phelps. Long and hard. I have to thank you for providing me with such amusement. Your letter portrayed me as the worst sort of cad for doing what I did. I find it laughable that while seeking my assistance you didn't even attempt to flatter me, but rather insulted me with every line. It was then that I realized you were not contrite in the least. You may be upset that you were caught, but you certainly are not upset for your actions.”
“I didn't do anything wrong,” she nearly screamed, wanting to throttle the arrogant brute and strangle him with her bare hands.
He smirked as he slowly shook his head. “Once again, you are wrong. But nonetheless, I'm convinced that words will never persuade you of that fact, that is why I decided to show you.”
Lydia looked at him strangely, feeling as if he were speaking to her in riddles. “What do you mean?”
Levi ignored her and dug into his saddlebag. Retrieving a bundle of clothes, he thrust them into her arms and said, “Put these on.”
“Ha! To think I would ever do as you bid is absurd.”
“Your resistance is expected. I find you do not surprise me in the least. Let me rephrase the command...put these on, or I ride to Trenton Hall at once and alert your father that you snuck out to the woods for a clandestine meeting.”
Lydia's blood boiled as her fingers tightened around the clothing in her hands. She wanted to claw his eyes out. “You are the vilest man I have ever had the misfortune of knowing. Why do you torment me so?”
Levi didn't answer her; he just looked at her with a wicked grin on his face.
At that moment, realization dawned, and Lydia's eyes widened. “You hate me because I didn't kiss you, don't you?”
For the briefest of moments, Levi's smirk disappeared, and his eyes flickered away from hers. But all too soon, he was looking at her once more, his face impassive and his eyes cold. “Do not flatter yourself, Miss Phelps.”
Ignoring his insult, she decided to plead with him in the same way she'd done that fateful night. “Please, Levi. I do not wish for further discord between us, nor do I wish to be taught a lesson. Please, just let me go, and I swear I will do anything you ask.”
She watched as his eyes dipped to her parted lips and she was certain that victory would be hers. He'd demand a kiss once more, and this time she was prepared to give it. It would be a small price to pay for her freedom.
Lydia held her breath as he walked slowly towards her. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as he reached up and cupped the back of her head with one hand. His face lowered towards hers, and he pulled her close, so close that she could feel his warm breath fan across her lips and smell the brandy on his breath.
Her eyes, of their own accord, drifted closed as she drew in a deep, anticipatory breath then waited for his lips to press against her own. Her legs felt weak as she waited, as if they'd give out and she'd fall to the ground if it weren't for him holding her steady with his large hand.
“The only thing I want from you is obedience. Put on the clothes at once,” he hissed, never moving his face from hers.
Lydia's eyes snapped open. With disappointment, she realized he was not going to accept her bargain. “I cannot change out here in the open, in front of you.”
“I'll turn my back,” he said, though he made no effort to do so.
“It's too scandalous.”
“Don't feign innocence, Miss Phelps. You and I both know it's only an act.”
It wasn't an act, at least not where Lydia was concerned. It was one thing to run about doing silly things with your best girlfriend as an accomplice; it was another thing entirely to do something so daring with a member of the opposite sex.
“You've got it all wrong, Levi. I'm not the person you think I am.”
“I think,” he spoke lowly, making her insides heat, “that I know you better than you realize. Now, my patience is wearing thin. Put the clothes on.”
His brown eyes were so close she could see the golden ring around his pupil, and she thought it strange that in all the years she'd known him, she'd never noticed it before. But then again, he'd never been so close.
“Very well. I can see you will not be satisfied until you prove your point. Turn around and close your eyes or I will not do as you bid.”
“Very good,” he purred, a satisfied grin spreading slowly across his face before turning his head and brushing his lips ever so softly against her own.
It wasn't a kiss, not really. It was more of an accidental brushing of the lips, Lydia tried to reason, but she felt as if she'd been burned. Her fingers traced the spot where his lips had just been, and she wondered if she'd imagined the contact.
Forcing herself to snap out of her reverie, Lydia quickly changed into the shirtsleeves, and breeches Levi had supplied. When she was done, she bundled up her clothing and asked, “What shall I do with these?”
Levi grabbed them from her arms and stuffed them inside his saddlebag before turning and grabbing Lydia around the waist. Without her corset and stays, Lydia felt as if he were touching her bare skin and felt her face bloom with color. She reached up and placed her hands on his upper arms to
brace herself as he hoisted her atop his saddle and noticed for the first time just how strong he was.
Though Levi was slender and trim, he was not weak, a fact that was evidenced by his ease in flinging her into the saddle. Two seconds later he was mounted behind her, sliding his arms around her waist as he clutched the reins in his hands. Having nowhere else to gaze, Lydia found herself staring at his hands. He had a thin white scar on his left hand that started on the knuckle of his middle finger and jutted down towards his thumb. Without thinking, she reached forth and traced it with her finger and felt him stiffen in the saddle behind her.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. His hot breath swirling in her ear made her shudder.
“Tracing your scar. What caused it?”
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” she urged, surprising herself by her sudden interest in him.
“I got it in a duel.”
Lydia gasped. “A duel? Truly? With whom?”
“A very angry husband. Apparently, he did not welcome the attention I showered upon his much-neglected wife.”
“Ugh,” she groaned in disgust. “I don't believe you.”
“Because you don't wish it to be true?” he questioned.
She was thoughtful a moment, trying to decide why it was she didn't believe him. Finally, she answered, “Because duels are illegal and you're far too boring and straight-laced to ever participate in anything so daring.”
She felt his entire body rumble as he laughed. “Miss Phelps, it would appear there's another lesson I need to teach you.”
“What is that?” she asked, feeling like he was mocking her and not liking it one bit.
“That if a man truly desires a woman, nothing is considered too daring in his pursuit of the prize.”
Drawing a long puff on his cigar, Aaron laid down his hand of cards and watched as Lord Phelps did the same and grimaced. He'd won the last three rounds of faro, leaving Lord Phelps several pounds poorer. He gathered up his winnings and extinguished his cigar before taking the glass of port his host was offering him.
“Well plaid, Duncan,” Aaron said as he took a swig of the port. “I can't remember the last time I had so much fun playing faro.”
Duncan shook his head in disgust. “'Twas not due to the quality of competition, I can surmise. I was not playing at my best.”
Aaron stacked the coins he'd won into a neat pile before him. “I'm willing to play again. What do you say, double or nothing?”
Duncan laughed before downing the last of his port. “Though tempting as it may be, I must resist. Besides, Lady Phelps will thank me,” he said with a wink. Both of them knew his losses were not significant enough to do any damage.
“As you wish.”
Both of them rose from the table, Aaron depositing his coins in this jacket pocket as they made to exit the room. Lord Phelps came up short and said out of nowhere, “Do you intend to participate in the season? Now that you have Lady Alexandra under your care I was curious to know whether your plans have changed.”
Aaron knew he was referring to his plans to remain elusive during the season. For years he'd traveled to London in order to take his seat in the House of Lords, but had made it a point of remaining largely absent from the events put on by the members of the ton. Like he'd told Alexandra, the season was nothing more than a marriage mart, and seeing as how he had no intention of ever marrying again, he saw no reason to participate in the season. Most people knew this about him and just accepted it as normal, though they still graciously sent him invites to most of their parties.
He rubbed his jaw and stifled a yawn, the first signs of exhaustion creeping in after a long day. “I haven't given it too much thought. Samuel is, as we speak, on his way home from his grand tour. As soon as he arrives, I anticipate wedding plans will be put in place. It will be up to him to decide if he'd like to take his betrothed to London.”
“Cleaning your hands of the gel, eh?” Lord Phelps asked as he leaned in closer and nudged his arm. “Her and my Lydia are quite the pair. My wife calls it an adventurous spirit, I call it hard to handle. I hope Samuel is prepared for the taming.”
Unbidden, an image of himself taming Alexandra into submission popped into his head, and he felt his insides heat with desire. “I'm certain he can manage. I'm ready to retire for the night,” he lied, if only to avoid further talk of Alexandra. For, if truth be told, the fantasies that were now intruding upon his mind would keep him up for hours.
Aaron excused himself, then took the stairs leading to his bedchamber two at a time. He hoped that the exertion would help alleviate the anxiousness he felt anytime he thought of Alexandra. The girl was much more than the forbidden fruit; she was like a disease that infiltrated one's body uninvited, wreaking havoc and leaving a person forever altered.
Aaron had to laugh at the analogy as he entered his bedchamber—one minute he was comparing Alexandra to a desirable object, the next to a plaque. Perhaps he was being a bit extreme.
Percival was waiting for him as he entered. Aaron reached up and untied his own cravat and tossed it to the man, who caught it deftly in his hand before laying it on the dressing table and proceeding to assist Aaron with his undress.
From where he was standing, Aaron could see out the window facing the back of the house. He gazed absently into the darkness as Percival performed his nightly routine, doubting sleep would be swift to claim him that night.
Percival removed his jacket, allowing Aaron to tug his shirtsleeves off over his head. He began to work on the fall of his breeches as Percival slid to the ground to remove his boots. His hands fell still as a flash of white caught his eye. Ignoring his valet at his feet, he stepped towards the window.
He heard Percival grunt in annoyance but ignored him as he moved forward, trying to get a better look. Sure enough, he saw it again—a white object seemed to float across the field.
“What in tarnation?” he asked underneath his breath as he stared at the apparition.
Percival rose and straightened his shoulders, joining his master at the window. “What is it you see, my lord?”
“I'm not quite certain. Perhaps it's a ghost.”
Percival leaned forward and squinted his eyes to get a better look. “A ghost? I hardly think so, my lord. It appears to me as if it's nothing more than a woman in her nightgown.”
Aaron did a double take before looking at Percival in astonishment. “You can see that far off?”
“Indeed, I can, my lord.”
“Your eyesight is impeccable. Next time I go hunting, I insist you come along.”
His praise made Percival redden ever-so-slightly. “As you wish, my lord, though I must confess I've never handled a weapon before.”
“Leave that up to me. I just need your eyes to spot the prey; I'll take care of the rest.”
“As you wish,” he repeated once more, this time with a barely contained excitement lacing his words. “But as for tonight...” he let his sentence trail off as he gazed once more out into the field.
Aaron sighed. “Do you think something is amiss out there? Shall I go see what is going on?”
“I merely spotted the prey, my lord. It's up to you to take care of the rest.”
Grumbling, he pulled his shirtsleeves over his head, leaving it un-tucked. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't investigate?”
“I'm certain it's nothing, my lord, but 'tis better to find that out for yourself than to lie abed and wonder.”
“Precisely. Don't wait up for me, Percival. I can undress myself,” he said as he shut the door quietly behind him and went to see exactly what was going on.
Aaron found the cool air outside to be quite exhilarating as he jogged along, through the gardens and out towards the spot where he'd seen the ethereal vision. His eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the darkness, and he berated himself for not having the foresight to bring a lantern with him, though truthfully there had been no time.
His lungs expanded as he breathed heavily, jogging just a little faster as he approached the forest. There in front of him, not too far off, was the girl he'd seen from his window.
“Alexandra?” he hissed as he drew closer, watching her white, nearly transparent gown swirl around her as she ran.
He quickened his pace and caught up to her in no time at all. Without thinking, he reached for her and pulled her back towards his chest. She fought him at first, and it was apparent she didn't realize it was him.
“Darling, calm down, it is I, Aaron.”
She softened in his arms. “Aaron?” she asked, a strange tilt to her voice.
He suddenly realized she hadn't known his Christian name. He dipped his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Yes, Aaron.”
For a moment she leaned her head back against his chest, and he allowed himself to enjoy the way she felt in his arms, her body pressed against him, only a thin layer of cotton between them. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and he found himself pressing his nose into the mass and breathing deeply of the subtle orange blossom scent. It was the most alluring thing he'd ever smelled, and it caused him to forget entirely the reason they were out near the edge of the woods in the middle of the night.
“What are you doing here?” Alexandra asked, regrettably pulling away so she could look into his face.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said as his eyes, of their own accord, dipped from her exotic, almond-shaped eyes down to her silhouetted curves, barely hidden from his view. His eyes darkened with desire.
Her face twisted into concern. “She's gone.”
“Who's gone?” he asked, his eyes returning once more to hers, though his thoughts were still on her body.
“Lydia. I told her she shouldn't go.”
“You are speaking in riddles, my dear. Take a deep breath then start at the beginning.”
Alexandra did as he said, explaining the strange missive Lydia had received just that afternoon and her subsequent attempt to talk Lydia out of responding to the bizarre summons.
“At the end of our conversation, I was thoroughly convinced she had no plans to do anything so foolish as to venture out here alone. If I would've known she'd intended to go, I would have gone with her.”
The Marquess's Maddening Dilemma Page 7
