The tension immediately left his body. As much as he wanted to hurry to her side, he was content to listen to more drivel from Lady Diane, knowing Mary was indeed part of the gathering, and he would have time to finally put to rest the questions that had plagued him for weeks.
…
Mary spotted him immediately.
Although she was certain no one realized she had been searching for Redgrave from the time she and her mother had alighted from their carriage, she warmed, remembering the last time they’d been together, how he’d made her feel.
She also drew upon the memory of Drake’s inquisition once Redgrave had left the house. Rather than cause a fuss, she’d begun bringing Alice with her everywhere she went. But she hadn’t seen Redgrave since the afternoon he’d walked away from her house and climbed into his carriage.
Now he was here, and they were to be under the same roof for three days.
And nights.
As she chatted with Lady Chadwick and her niece, Miss Cahill, she perused the area unobtrusively. Lady Diane barely took a breath as she regaled Redgrave with some sort of a story. But Mary’s heart did a thump when she noticed he stared directly at her. His raised eyebrow and slight tilt to his head told her he noticed her staring.
She tried to hide her smile, but it was no use. The lock of hair that perpetually fell over his forehead had her hand aching to run her fingers through it and smooth it back. Of course, it would only fall down again.
His broad shoulders were encased in a dark blue jacket, his cravat starched and flawless. His pale blue waistcoat and buff breeches fit him perfectly. She tried very hard not to be drawn to him, but her attention continued to return in his direction.
“Mary, I have invited several young men.” Lady Chadwick tapped her on the arm with her fan. “I dearly hope you will encourage them to join in the games and activities I have planned. You are so very good at helping everyone feel comfortable.” She leaned in closer to her mother. “We do need to see about Mary finding a suitable husband.”
Mary sighed. Would she ever pass the age when ton hostesses no longer threw gentlemen in her path? Not that she didn’t appreciate their efforts; they only meant well, but in all the years, all the house parties, all the balls and soirees, she’d never met a man who’d made her forget what had happened with Claremont.
Until Redgrave
“Now, my girl, you would be wise to take a look at Viscount Hollis. The man has plenty of money, and I hear he is desperately seeking a wife to share it with.”
Of course he was desperately seeking a wife. The man was rotund, short, almost bald, and smelled of onions. Why was it that once a woman moved past a certain age, those who had no business doing so assumed she was desperate enough to grab onto any male who wandered by? She shuddered at the thought of Hollis’s sausage fingers touching her the way Redgrave had.
“Hmm. Possibly,” she said.
Lady Chadwick leaned in. “Or Redgrave. I know your family had an issue with him years ago, but that is water under the bridge. He is quite pleasant to look at, and if his attempts to pretend he has not been watching you since you arrived are any indication, there is definite interest there.” She nodded in his direction.
Her mother raised two perfect eyebrows. “Indeed?”
“Redgrave and I are merely friends,” she blurted out. “We serve on the same committee on behalf of the orphans.”
“Yet Redgrave spent a considerable amount of time cosseted with Manchester last week.” The dowager cast at glance at Mary. “I wondered what that was about.”
“I have no idea, Mother. I asked Drake myself, and he said it was not my concern.”
Several hours later, Mary sat with the ladies in the drawing room, sipping on tea while the gentlemen enjoyed their port. She’d already grown weary of the constant talk of London gossip: who was considered a diamond of the first water, who, unfortunately, had been relegated to the wallflower set, and who was rumored to be in negotiations with whom on marriage offers.
She drifted away from the group and wandered to the window. A cool breeze came through the French doors, calling her to take a leisurely walk before full darkness arrived. She slipped out the door and took a breath of the brisk early summer air. Lady Chadwick had a beautiful flower garden that sat directly to the left of the patio stairs.
Mary walked among the flowers, sniffing the perfumed air, enjoying the slight wind that tickled the wisps of hair that had come loose from her bun.
“I thought the evening was beautiful, but now it has grown even more so.” The familiar voice made her heart thump, and a slight smile tug at her lips.
She turned to see Redgrave no more than three feet from her. “My lord.” She gave him a slight curtsy.
He grinned and took her extended hand, leaving a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. Her heart jumped, and the butterflies in her stomach dipped and swayed. He did not release her hand, but covered it with both of his. “How fortunate for me to find a beautiful lady wandering by herself among the roses.”
Mary snorted. “I thought Lady Diane had your attentions.”
“Ah. You noticed? I am pleased.”
“Nonsense. She titters so often and so loud ’twas hard not to notice.”
He stared into her eyes. “I would prefer that you noticed because it mattered to you.”
Any words she might have retorted stuck in her throat as she stood captivated by his piercing, half-shuttered eyes. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “No.”
Goodness, was that her voice?
“No what, my dear?”
She shook her head as if to clear it. “It matters not to me with whom you converse.”
Redgrave pulled her farther down the path where they were hidden by the balustrade on the patio. “Ah, if only it did matter.”
“Redgrave, the men are gathering for a card game. Care to join us?” Chadwick’s voice startled them both.
“Of course,” he responded. He dropped Mary’s hand and they strolled arm in arm back to the patio. Before he left her he leaned close to her ear. “Meet me in the stables at eight tomorrow morning. I feel the need to start my day with a ride and would love your company.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he winked and followed Chadwick into the house. Mary’s peaceful time in the garden had been shattered. Her heart beat too fast, her breath came in spurts, and she felt as though she should have Alice pack her belongings and head back to London.
Instinctively, she knew there was danger to be had in Redgrave’s request.
Chapter Eighteen
Redgrave bounded down the steps from the house to the stable. The morning air was damp, with a hint of rain. Hopefully, that would not stop Mary from joining him. The time had arrived for them to have a serious talk about their future.
The stable master wiped his hands on a dirty cloth and approached Redgrave. “Good morning, my lord. Will you require a mount?”
“Yes. And please also pick one for a lady who will be joining me.”
The man pulled on his forelock and returned to the stalls. Tapping his riding crop against his thigh, Redgrave studied the front door, willing Mary to pass through. He checked his pocket watch, amazed to see it was only a few minutes past eight.
The stable master led out a midnight black gelding.
“He is wonderful. What’s his name?”
“Night Raven.” The man said the animal’s name like the whisper of a prayer.
“Surely that is my mount.” Mary’s voice floated over the two men. “Thank you very much.”
Redgrave turned to see her walking toward them. Her deep green riding habit fit her lush form perfectly, defining her curves in such a way that had him aching to pull her against him. Her golden brown curls piled on top of her head were partially covered by a green hat with a feather that tickled her cheek. He bowed and took her extended hand. “You look stunning this morning. You put Lady Chadwick’s flower garden to shame.”
He turned
her hand, giving him access to the silky skin on her wrist where the cuff of her riding habit met her glove. He placed a kiss there, regarding her with shuttered eyes, pleased with her reddened cheeks. Yes, he had disturbed her. A sense of male satisfaction swept through him.
She pulled her hand away. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the stable master. “So, is this my mount?”
“No, my lady,” he said. “This is for his lordship. I have a gentle mare for you.”
Mary shook her head, the curls on the side of her head whipping back and forth. “No. I do not want a gentle mare. I want an animal capable of racing Lord Redgrave.” She grinned in his direction. “And winning.”
The stable master attempted to hide his smile as Redgrave frowned. “I think not.” He turned to the manager. “Perhaps instead of a ‘gentle’ mare for her ladyship, a livelier one, but be certain it is a safe ride.”
He’d expected resistance on her part, but to his surprise she relented. Once again the manager pulled on the brim of his cap and returned to the stalls.
Redgrave fisted his hand and placed it under the horse’s nostrils, allowing the animal to give it a sniff. Satisfied with the animal’s acceptance, he then ran his hand down his velvety nose. The horse shook his head and stamped his approval. Redgrave continued to stroke the animal, wishing it was Mary’s smooth skin he caressed. “I am pleased you have chosen to join me, although I hope our ride won’t be cut short.” He glanced toward the sky. “If those clouds are any indication of our looming weather, we might not get very far.”
“Are you afraid of a little rain?” Her lips twitched with mirth.
“Not at all. But I would certainly not wish for you to catch a chill.”
Mary laughed. “No worries, as I enjoy a strong constitution. ’Tis rare for me to be sick. However, I do not wish to subject my horse to slippery footing.”
“I agree.” His hand dropped to his side as the stable master led a lively bay mare to Mary.
“Oh, she’s lovely.” She ran her hand over the horse’s face. “What is her name?”
“Raindrop, my lady.”
Redgrave and Mary burst out laughing. “I hope that is not an omen,” she said, stroking the animal’s side.
Mary gasped as Redgrave wrapped his hands around her waist and hefted her onto the horse’s back. “Goodness, you startled me.” She took in a deep breath, then hooked her right leg over the pommel and adjusted her skirts.
Once they were mounted and riding away from the stables, Redgrave paused to let Mary go ahead of him on the narrow path that led through the wooded area to open space. “I never understood how ladies are able to handle their horses riding sidesaddle.”
“I will let you in on a little secret,” Mary tossed over her shoulder. “When I ride at my family’s country estate I wear breeches.”
Just the thought of Mary in breeches, her long legs and backside outlined for his enjoyment, had the blood rushing to his lower parts, causing him to shift in his saddle. “That is something I would very much like to witness.” The area opened up, and he moved to ride alongside her.
“My father insisted all us girls ride astride once he caught us jumping fences. He had the modiste come to the house to make breeches for all of us. Except Marion. She was too much of a lady to ride astride.”
“Ah, yes. Marion. I heard her lost husband has returned.”
“Indeed. We were all so pleased when Tristan returned. He had been injured when his ship exploded at sea. He survived but was left blind.”
Blind. How horrible for the man. “That’s terrible. How is he doing now?”
Mary stared off into the distance. “Very well, actually. It took some convincing on Marion’s part, for he wanted them to divorce, but they are now happily settled in the country where they train dogs for use by the blind, and have a lovely three-year-old girl, Daisy Susan.”
They reached a spot where the trees ended and a wide open space called to them. They both gave their horses their heads and flew over the area, eating up the ground, clumps of dirt flying behind them. Redgrave held his mount back in order to remain next to Mary.
He glanced over at her and grinned. She grinned back, her carefully set curls loosening and whipping behind her in the wind. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. She pulled ahead, and he no longer held his horse back. They raced across the field, the thunder of the horse’s hooves echoing off the line of trees surrounding the field.
Mary pulled on her horse’s reins and settled into a trot, then a walk. He did the same and they rode side by side, breathing heavily. “Nothing feels better than a race first thing in the morning.” She voiced the words between gulps of air.
They continued on in companionable silence, each with their own thoughts as their breathing eased. Redgrave studied the area, looking for a place they could stop, give the horses a rest, and have some privacy for the conversation between them that was long overdue. “I think a short break for the horses might be a good idea.” He nodded toward a copse of trees to his right. “That looks like a decent spot.”
He swung his leg over the back of the horse and moved to Mary’s side. She watched him curiously as he slowly brought his hands up to cup her waist. She moved her leg off the pommel and slid toward him, her body making direct contact with his. Whatever was in the air, she felt it, too. She licked her lips and looked up at him as he placed her on her feet. Her hair fell in abundant waves around her shoulders, the hat that had previously sat so perkily on her head now resting on the back of her neck where the wind had blown it.
His hands slid up her arms, and he grasped her shoulders. Drawing her near, his head descended, and he took her lips in a tender kiss.
And felt as though he had come home from a long journey.
…
Yes. It was just as she had remembered. The taste of Redgrave, the feel of his hard chest against her soft breasts, his strong hands holding her. He pulled back slightly, then moved her head into a different position and crushed her to him, taking the kiss deep. He nudged at her lips and she opened to him, the taste of mint and tea on his breath.
No longer wanting to be just the recipient of passion, she wrapped her arms around his waist, bringing a low groan from somewhere deep inside him. His powerful thighs pressed against her skirts, and she could feel his desire through the layers of clothing.
His hands moved to caress the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her curls. Her clothing grew tight, constricting. She wanted to open the buttons of their jackets, remove what lay between them to feel his rough skin against her smoothness. He pulled away from her mouth and nibbled at her ear. “I cannot stay away from you.”
“Nor I, you.” She couldn’t believe they stood in the open, kissing as though the world might end that night. The blood rushed through her head, her heart pumped in rhythm with her short breaths, making her dizzy. She gripped his muscled arms, her only anchor in the shaky world he’d created.
It was then that she felt the first drops of rain on her face. She blinked twice and glanced up. With no warning, the few drops turned into a downpour.
Redgrave grabbed her hand. “Come, we must get out of the rain.”
“Where? We are in the middle of nowhere.”
Without responding, he tossed her onto her saddle and headed for his horse. In seconds, he was mounted. “Follow me. There is a hunting lodge back that way.”
Keeping her head down, she followed him about a half a mile through a wooded area. A small house sat under a thicket of trees. The rain eased up as they reached the house with the leaves on the numerous shade trees to catch the water. She kicked her foot free of the stirrup and before she could slide to the ground, Redgrave had pulled her from the horse and carried her to the house.
“Put me down. I can certainly walk.”
He kissed her in response.
Like most hunting lodges, this one was left unlocked. He settled her on her feet and brushed wet ringlets from her forehead. “I will see to
the horses. You should get out of as many layers of clothing as you can. I know you have a strong constitution”—he tapped the end of her nose—“but I still do not want you to catch a chill.”
Before she could open one button on her riding habit, he was gone.
She pulled the sodden hat from the back of her head and shook out her wet hair. Once she removed her jacket, she shrugged out of the straps holding up her wet skirt. Luckily, her petticoat was still dry. Her shirt was a bit damp around the collar, but not so much as to chill her. At least she remained somewhat respectably dressed.
The door flew open, and Redgrave stepped through. His large body took up the entire entrance space. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his wet hair. “I put the horses in a small stable behind the house. They should be comfortable there until we are able to leave.”
Mary ran her hands up and down her arms as Redgrave removed his jacket. His riding breeches were soaked, the wet fabric clinging to his body. She tried very hard to ignore the sight, but her attention was drawn to him. Hopefully, he would not rid himself of those.
“Are you cold? I can start a fire.” He removed his soggy cravat and rain-splattered waistcoat, leaving him in his shirt and breeches. She’d been cold before, but she was certainly warming up now.
Wet strands of hair rested on his forehead that he shoved back as he strode to the fireplace, taking the tinderbox from the mantle. Squatting down, he took the steel and flint from the box. He held the steel over the tinder in the tinderbox while he struck the flint against it. After several tries, a couple of sparks kindled. He fanned the small flame with a few steady breaths and then applied the tip of a sulphur match to it, which ignited a blue flame.
From there he lit the tinder of a fire the previous occupant had thoughtfully laid on the hearth. Mary watched in amazement as Redgrave went through the steps. “All these years I have enjoyed many fires, but I never paid much attention to how they were actually started.”
The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 17
