Bitten By the Earl (Lords of the Night Book Two)

by Sandra Sookoo

  And they weren’t budging.

  “Remember the years we could ice skate right here in this park?” His eyes gleamed, perhaps with memories.

  “Yes.” Her smile widened. “Would that we could do such a thing again.”

  “If it grows cold enough.”

  Near the entrance to the park, he charmed a flower seller, and then presented Elizabeth with a posy of red rose buds nestled amidst greenery. She lifted them to her nose and inhaled the familiar fragrance. Closer to their carriage, he bought her a gingerbread cookie and they shared that as well as a mug of steaming mulled wine.

  Elizabeth sighed. It had been a lovely outing. “This has been nice. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome.” Rafe guided her to the carriage. Ten feet away from the vehicle, he paused, put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her head. He met her gaze. Adoration shone in his darkened depths. “I cannot think of a better way to spend my time.” He covered her lips with his in such a tender kiss that it brought tears to her eyes.

  Before she could grow lost in the embrace, he pulled away and she murmured a slight protest. “It feels like my very own fairytale.”

  “Keep thinking that.” He tapped the end of her nose.

  She didn’t want the day to end. “Stay for luncheon. My brother is out until evening.”

  “Perhaps I will, for even storybook heroes grow hungry.”

  Elizabeth tugged on his cravat. “Do you hunger for anything besides food, Rafe?” she whispered as he handed her into the carriage.

  “I think you already know the answer to that,” he whispered, and his eyes flared red as he joined her in the vehicle.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Elizabeth sighed when Rafe’s carriage rolled to a stop in front of her townhouse. The morning had ended all too soon. She wished she could have those hours back merely to relive them and experience every emotion.

  “For an ordinary day, this has been nearly extraordinary,” she said as Rafe handed her out of the vehicle. She held the posy he’d given her, intending to press the buds within the pages of a book so she could better remember the day. The pressure of his lips against hers lingered, and the tiny fires in her blood he’d ignited earlier from merely showing compassion toward the residents of the Dials still burned strong. “Thank you.”

  He stood scandalously close to her a fraction of a second longer than necessary despite the pedestrian traffic. Even though Donovan was out, anyone could see them on the street, and that knowledge could find its way back to the duke, perhaps spoken in innocent conversation. “It was truly my pleasure.” Then he let her go and put space between them.

  “Come. I’m not nearly ready to give you up so soon,” she murmured. Was that throaty sound truly her voice?

  “You, my dear, will land us both in the soup if we’re not careful.” His eyes held a wicked gleam that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

  She couldn’t help her grin as they traversed the short walkway to the house. As soon as they gained the front steps, the green-painted door swung open and Griggs stood aside to let them pass.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Devon. Lady Elizabeth,” he greeted in guarded tones while he bounced his gaze between the two of them. “I was unaware you intended to bring a guest home, my lady.”

  “I suppose that is my prerogative,” she told the butler, and by willpower alone refrained from glancing at Rafe. If she did, she would dissolve into giggles.

  “Indeed. However, it might prove a tad awkward, for Lord Rockingham is waiting for you in the Gold Parlor.”

  Her smile died and her heart dropped into the toes of her slippers. “He is early.” Only then did she look at Rafe, and her throat tightened at the despair in his gaze. Gone was the easy comradery and teasing.

  “Be that as it may, Lady Elizabeth, the marquess is here. What should I tell him?” Griggs asked as he closed the front door behind them.

  What a coil. Her pulse pounded through her veins so hard that she felt it in her temples and fingertips as she handed the butler her outwear. Best see Lord Rockingham and have his visit over with so she could return to spending time with Rafe. Then cold guilt swept in. But it wasn’t the marquess’ fault she couldn’t decide between the two men, and she had agreed to his calling upon her. Drat, drat, drat!

  “Tell him I shall attend to him directly,” she finally said, and when Griggs left the entry hall, she looked at Rafe, went so far as to lay a hand on his forearm. “Rafe…” His muscles tensed beneath her fingers.

  “Don’t,” he whispered, and when he raised his gaze to hers, the red ring around his irises glowed. He shook off her touch. “You knew Rockingham would be here, yet you encouraged me inside anyway.” His voice shook, with rage or sorrow she couldn’t tell.

  “Like I said, he was early, and I’d forgotten while I was with you. We’d had such a lovely time together, and I didn’t want the morning to end…” She trailed off, for he headed toward the door. “Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere he is not,” he shot over his shoulder. “Your attention is demanded elsewhere.”

  “Please, don’t.” Elizabeth caught him as he reached for the door handle. She took hold of his arm and wrenched him around to face her. Shaking her head, she tugged him away from the oaken panel. “I invited you, not him. There’s the difference.” When she met his eyes, she sucked in a breath at the banked anger swirling in the hazel depths. “Stay. Don’t ruin the day with jealousy.”

  “Why, so you have us side by side for comparison?” Bitterness fairly dripped from the question.

  “No. Because I want your company, for the marquess won’t stay long. He never does.” Tears gathered at the back of her throat. Why was being courted so difficult? “Surely you wish to make the better showing,” she couldn’t resist adding.

  One corner of his lips twitched. “Touché.”

  “Good.” Having him agree was only part of the victory. “Our plans for tomorrow stand, yes?”

  “I will continue to court you, Lizzy, until you say otherwise,” he said in a quiet voice as they made their way through the corridors.

  Warmth filled her chest and she smiled. “Thank you.” There wasn’t time for further conversation, for they arrived at the Gold Parlor, and as soon as Lord Rockingham spied Rafe with her, he launched to his feet, the bouquet of roses and lilies he held quivering.

  The tension in the air was palatable. Elizabeth imagined being able to cut into it with a knife and take out little squares, but the laughter that rose in her throat felt hysterical and she tamped down on the urge to let it loose. Beside her, Rafe growled, low and steady, and the sound sent gooseflesh over her skin. Would his beast come out?

  “Good afternoon, Oliver,” she said into the thick silence and moved forward. “You weren’t scheduled to stop by until tea time.”

  “Hullo, Elizabeth. That is so, but I had some spare time and wished to see you earlier. I’m sure you don’t mind.” He held out the bouquet wrapped in pretty pink paper, and as he did so, he narrowed his eyes on the dear little posy Rafe had given her. “If you’d like, I can dispose of those nearly dead things.” His tone suggested the rose buds were mere weeds.

  “I shall keep both floral tributes, thank you,” she murmured, and to diffuse the tension, she quickly rested the bouquets on an ivory-inlaid table off to one side of the room. “Oliver, you remember Lord Devon.”

  “Of course.” Lord Rockingham glared at Rafe, while the earl shot a glance brimming with displeasure back at him. “You didn’t tell me that you were spending so much time in the earl’s company, Elizabeth.”

  She took a seat on a nearby settee. More to the point she fell onto that piece of furniture when her knees shook. How did the marquess know of her recent activities? “I don’t believe that is any of your concern,” she said, and with a look at the men, both of them sat. Oliver on the settee across from hers and Rafe in a delicate gilt-framed chair to her left after he’d removed his great coat, top hat and gloves. T
he items reposed on the chair behind him as he sat on its edge.

  “It is my concern if your safety is compromised,” he continued with a scathing glance at Rafe, but then just as quickly dismissed the earl, whose face had reddened and his hands had curled into fists.

  “Perhaps it is you the lady needs to remain wary of,” Rafe bit out.

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I am in no imminent danger from either of you.” Though flattered to think the men might come to blows for her attention, annoyance roiled through her that they seemed to think they owned her. “Behave, or I’ll have Griggs toss you out. Both of you.”

  Rafe grunted something she assumed was an apology, while Oliver smirked as if he’d won a prize.

  “I have brought you a gift.” Only then did she notice a round willow basket at his booted feet.

  “Oh? What is it? Perhaps a book of fairy stories, or a volume of poetry?” she asked with a quick glance at Rafe while the marquess bent down and flicked the latch on his basket. A ghost of a grin tugged at the earl’s lips but his posture remained tense.

  “None of that. Such things give the reader false hope for their life,” Oliver responded. As soon as he eased the basket’s lid open, he withdrew a black kitten from the depths. “I thought you might find a kitten useful on the days you wish for companionship and I am not available.”

  She ignored both slights as she accepted the ball of fur. The female feline had mostly unrelieved black fur except for a thin white stripe on her nose and faint white tips on her front paws. Two big greenish eyes blinked up at her. The kitten batted at Elizabeth’s fingers when she waved them. “What an adorable animal,” she breathed and promptly put her lips to the top of the kitten’s head. “I shall name you Hope,” she proclaimed, and set the kitten on the Aubusson carpet.

  The marquess scoffed. “Are you certain you wish to give it such a moniker? It is a black cat, after all.”

  “Quite certain, for even within the darkest of night or the blackest of circumstances, there is always a glimmer of hope. Perhaps you cannot see it, but it is always there,” she said quietly and kept her focus on the kitten instead of looking at Rafe, for she had named the animal for his benefit.

  When the kitten scampered over to Rafe’s boots and he peered down at the inquisitive feline, the ball of fur arched her back, hackles up, and hissed at him.

  “Ah, see there,” Oliver said in a tone that smacked of superiority, “Animals know instinctively who they can trust and who they cannot.” He glanced at Elizabeth. “You would do well to heed the warning.”

  Finally, Rafe broke his silence. He narrowed his eyes upon the marquess. “Or perhaps they, like many others, have mistakenly believed what is said about someone behind their backs without bothering to discover what is deeper.” He leaned down and scooped the kitten into his long, elegant hands. The signet ring on his left pinky finger gleamed against the cat’s unrelieved black fur. “For that matter, most people assume black cats are unlucky and something to avoid.” He turned his body away from the marquess as he lifted the squirming kitten aloft. The red ring around his irises flared ever so slightly as he locked gazes with the animal. Seconds later, the kitten was quite docile in his hold. “But the reality is that nothing in life is fearful. One must first conquer the barriers and preconceptions they’ve built around a thing.”

  Heat slapped at Elizabeth’s cheeks, for she well understood what he referred to. Words crowded the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t find the courage to utter any of them. Besides, he didn’t play fair. Had he enthralled the kitten? She had no idea if those powers worked on animals, or if the kitten had truly seen nothing threatening in him.

  “That may well be so, Lord Devon. However, fear is put into place for a reason, and rumors are often grounded in fact,” the marquess drawled as he rested an ankle over a knee. “It is better to remain cautious than become involved out of a misguided sense of loyalty or obligation.”

  The fire in her cheeks intensified. These men, so skilled in verbal warfare that was barbed with thinly veiled hints, would be the death of her. “Eventually, one must form their own opinions of a situation or a thing, and go on from there,” she said into the thick silence brewing through the room.

  So why the devil couldn’t she follow her own advice?

  “In the end, all creatures who have found themselves misunderstood either form friendships with each other, or they disappear into the night, content to remain alone.” Rafe tugged the bit of leather from his hair. He dangled it in front of the kitten, who tried to catch it between her paws. “Until the prejudices of this world dissipate, this is how it will always be.” He now held the kitten on his lap, his concentration on playing with the feline, a slight smile curving his lips.

  Elizabeth watched him with bated breath. Sometimes the simplest things were the fondest. Before, he’d been ready to snap Oliver’s neck in two. Now, with the arrival of the kitten, Rafe’s anger had subsided. Perhaps there was hope after all.

  She glanced at the marquess, who stared at Rafe with animosity brimming in his blue eyes that he didn’t try to hide. “What is it you wished from me this afternoon, Oliver?” What she really wanted to do was run upstairs and root through her jewelry boxes to find a sparkly bracelet that could serve as Hope’s new collar. Gemstones would look fabulous against her midnight fur.

  “I’d wanted to ask you to go for a drive, but since you’ve just come in from undoubtedly doing that with him, I’m at a loss.”

  She smiled. “We can do something I adore together. I have many books, as I mentioned before. Perhaps you’d like to read to me?” He had the perfectly-pitched voice for such an activity.

  Oliver frowned. “You spend too much time lost in your books. There is a world around you that should hold your attention. Perhaps you’d like to visit the sites of London with me? Or we could drop by the London Tower Menagerie.”

  “Mayhap the reason I like reading is for the escape from this world,” she murmured. At this point, she wished the men would leave her alone, for she was growing out of sorts with both of them. In a bid to further compare them, she asked, “If you must know about my movements this morning, I went to the Dials on one of my charity missions. It is something I believe in wholeheartedly. Members of the ton who have the means should help those less fortunate. Rafe accompanied me. If you would like, the next time I go out, you may do the same.”

  The marquess leaned forward. He planted both boots on the floor and rested his forearms on his knees. “That is a dangerous activity to indulge in, Elizabeth. Perhaps your talents would serve you best by remaining here where you are safe.” He threw an ugly glance at Rafe. “From everything.”

  Her temper snapped. “Well, you cannot expect the poor and indigent to live in a Mayfair address, can you?” No, she couldn’t imagine the Adonis across from her ever unbending enough to accompany her. “The upper ten thousand have a responsibility, Oliver. Wealth only comes on the backs of those who toil for it.”

  “And if I give out heaps of coin, what then? They will squander it all and still remain poor, constantly asking for another hand out.” His voice rose and the hairs on the back of her neck quivered. “It is my right to do what I wish with my fortune, as it is my obligation to keep you away from those who would take advantage of your soft nature. I only wish to protect you, Elizabeth.”

  So did Rafe, but he didn’t seek to stifle her. “Protection comes in many forms.”

  Rafe set the kitten upon the floor, and the ball of fur immediately leapt upon his knee. “I would rather die than harm her, and I would thank you to cease attempting to bait me, Rockingham.” His tone brooked no argument, but still he remained in control, and Elizabeth’s respect for him rose a notch.

  “Ah, so then the gloves are metaphorically off, are they, Devon?” He rested the full weight of his gaze on Rafe. “I’ve heard the rumors about you, and I do not want you around the lady any longer. Do you understand? If word gets out of your true nature, you will soon fin
d yourself in more trouble than currently dogs your heels.”

  “I’d wondered when you’d break polite protocol and outright threaten me,” Rafe said in the way of a reply. The red ring in his eyes glowed. “You have no authority over me, Rockingham. I will continue to court Elizabeth until she alone tells me nay. Do you understand?”

  Oliver snorted. “I had assumed Manchester would have warned you away by now.”

  “I beg your pardon?” With anger still boiling a hot path through her chest, Elizabeth sprang from her settee. The men scrambled to their feet. She turned her attention to the marquess. “You are behind my brother acting like an overbearing nodcock?”

  “You need to be more specific, for your brother is a duke and they are heavy-handed in all of their dealings.” Though his tone had returned to the polite notes, a hint of humor danced in his eyes.

  The bloody man was enjoying this! “He ordered Rafe to leave me alone. Was that on your suggestion?”

  “I did not, but I did mention to the duke that I wanted no obstructions for your attention. Perhaps that was how he interpreted my statement.”

  Elizabeth huffed. The curls on her forehead ruffled. “You could have asked me. Despite what you might think, I’m the one in control of my life. Not my brother.”

  His expression shifted. It took on a hard edge, but perhaps that was merely a trick of the light, for he’d been nothing except kind and polite in his dealings with her. “Would you have told the earl nay?” he asked in a lowered voice, even though Rafe still stood looking on with the kitten moving about his boots.

  Heat fired in her cheeks as Elizabeth stood her ground. How dare this man assume he held exclusive claim to her time.