Love's Guardian

by Dawn Ireland

“Incident?” Morgan’s voice held a note of interest. “You’d not be getting into more trouble, Worthington, and me not around.” He gave his head a woeful shake. “You’re always having all the fun.”

  Luther shrugged. “It was a poacher with bad aim, nothing more.”

  Declan picked up his crystal goblet and swirled the red wine around the inside before giving Luther an assessing stare. “Lady Lochsdale chose to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The doctor assured us she’s received a minor flesh wound.”

  “You were shot?” Catrina paled under her powder.

  “It was nothing.” Alex didn’t want to talk about her injury. Why couldn’t Luther leave it alone?

  She should never have asked him to stay for dinner. His ingratiating manner annoyed her. Luther didn’t believe in being nice, unless he wanted something. And she was the something he wanted.

  This was all Declan’s fault. It would never have happened if he hadn’t been in the hallway, Lady Catrina still attached to his arm, when Luther arrived. The invitation had come out of her mouth before she could stop it. Now she had to contend with Luther and her uninvited guests.

  Declan turned a cool gaze in Alex’s direction. All night long, as he’d played the charming host to his friends, he’d barely noticed her. Why did he choose this moment to pay attention to her?

  She was surrounded. Declan at the head of the table to her left, Luther to her right, and Lady Catrina across from her. Tomorrow, she’d be sure to sit between Eleanor and Morgan.

  “Lord Worthington,” Catrina purred.

  Alex stabbed a glazed carrot with her fork. Was it her imagination, or was that woman’s voice even breathier than before?

  Catrina leaned toward Declan and placed her hand on his arm. “I had planned to go riding in the morning, but if the woods aren’t safe, perhaps you should accompany me.”

  Catrina’s low cut dress left little to the imagination. If that’s what Declan liked in a woman, it was a good thing Alex had never considered him husband material.

  “I’d be pleased to accompany you,” Declan responded, then stared directly at Alex. “I’m sure Lady Lochsdale would like to join us. She has a fondness for early morning rides.” Declan raised his glass in a mock salute to her. “I can’t think of anyone who could give a better tour of the grounds.”

  Damn him. It had been a little over a week since her injury, and she’d finally healed enough to take Blade out. How had he guessed she’d planned to ride in the morning? “I don’t think I’d make a very good guide.”

  She didn’t want company, especially this company. The feeling was mutual, judging by the pout on Catrina’s lips.

  “But I insist.” Declan smiled, showing even, white teeth. “The air will do you good.”

  He wasn’t going to let this drop. Alex sighed. “I’ll meet you in the stable at first light, but if you’re not there, I’m leaving without you.”

  “Done. Oh, and you ladies will ride sidesaddle, of course.”

  Lady Catrina seemed puzzled. “How else would we ride?”

  “Lady Alexandra has a habit of riding astride.”

  “Lord Worthington, you jest.” Catrina looked scandalized until she realized Declan wasn’t kidding. Then a knowing smile curved her lips.

  “Is that one of the reasons you didn’t find a husband at your first Season?” Catrina’s voice was smug. “You poor dear. I understand, not having parents and being raised by your grandfather, you couldn’t be expected to be well-versed in social etiquette. Not to worry, I’m sure I can find you a husband this time.”

  “Perhaps Lady Alexandra shouldn’t go at all,” Luther said. “What with her recent injury, she could look for a husband from amongst the local gentry.”

  “I’ve promised Lady Alexandra a Season in London.” Declan’s blue eyes narrowed as he studied Luther. “She deserves a large selection of suitors to choose from. Don’t you agree?”

  Luther raised his hands, palms upward in a gesture of submission. “I was just making a suggestion. I only want what will make Lady Alexandra happy.”

  They were doing it again, talking about her as though she wasn’t in the room.

  “Lady Alexandra, do you have any other habits that Society might consider unacceptable?” Catrina gave her a condescending look. “I need to know for your own good. We wouldn’t want you scaring off suitors with scandalous behavior.”

  “I’m not sure.” Alex pretended to ponder. She picked up the knife off the platter where Edgar had been carving the roast. The blade was well balanced. “Lord Worthington seems to think I have a problem with sharp objects.”

  “Lady Alexandra,”—Declan’s voice carried a warning—“put the knife down.”

  “See, he seems to be concerned. He just doesn’t know me well enough to understand I hit whatever I aim for.”

  In one quick flick of motion, Alex let the blade fly. It landed with a thud in the wooden relief above Catrina’s head, its ornate handle embellishing the apple at the center of the still life.

  Silence echoed in the room. Alex decided it was time to retreat. “If you’ll excuse me. I seem to have lost my appetite.”

  She almost made it to the door before Lady Catrina erupted into hysterics. Alex could hear Eleanor trying to calm the distraught woman. Strangled sounds that seemed suspiciously like laughter were coming from Morgan, while Luther complained about her appalling lack of manners. Over it all, she heard Declan’s roar. “Alex, get back here.”

  Alex had always had a good sense of self-preservation. She picked up her skirts and ran.

  Blade’s nose had a velvety softness that felt good against Alex’s palm. She rubbed his favorite spot between the ears. Unlike people, animals never expected anything from you.

  She buried her face against her horse’s neck, inhaling his animal smell. It always made her think of her early years at Oakleigh. How many times had she hidden in the stable when she felt overwhelmed by the world outside?

  But that was then. She was an adult now and the Countess of Lochsdale; it was past time for her to be cowering. She straightened and put a particularly unruly piece of hair behind her ear.

  “So this is where you’re hiding.” Declan’s voice came from the shadow of the doorway.

  “I’m not hiding.” Alex made a show of adjusting the blankets on Blade’s back. “I came to check on my horse.”

  “At nine o’clock at night?” He walked into the glow of her lantern and stood, arms crossed, staring at her. “I think you owe Lady Catrina an apology.”

  Why did he have to look so magnificent? The light playing across the angles of his face gave him an air of authority. She suddenly felt like a child being reprimanded for picking on one of the other children.

  “Apologize? Why? So she can continue to berate my family?” She probably sounded petulant, but that woman annoyed her beyond reason.

  “I’ll admit Lady Catrina’s comments were unfortunate, but that was no reason to throw a knife at her.”

  “If I’d been throwing it at her, she’d be bleeding now. I was making a point.”

  “Let’s just say the point’s been taken.”

  She sat down on feedbags piled against the stall and leaned back against the rough boards. “I’m tired of people like her. I don’t fit into Lady Catrina’s world.” She turned her attention to Declan. “Why are you forcing me to?”

  “Because you must.” He sat down next to her with a sigh. “You’re different from most women.”

  She enjoyed being different, but she didn’t want it thrown in her face. “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand more than you think.” Declan tugged a piece of straw from one of the bags and studied it. “Do you know how I met your grandfather?”

  “No.”

  “He caught me hunting on his land about a mile from here.”

  “You were poaching?”

  Declan smiled. “I was trying to get my father to notice...It doesn’t matter now. The point is I had a reb
ellious youth. I didn’t want anything to do with my title or society. I thought all lords were like my father.” Declan stood and dragged his fingers through the lock of hair at his forehead. “Lord Lochsdale taught me it’s not the title, but what you do with it that’s important.”

  “You didn’t want to be an earl?”

  Declan gave her a small smile. “Contrary to what the common man believes, being an earl does have its limitations.”

  “That holds true for a countess as well.” She went over to the lamp and adjusted the wick. The flame burned brighter, chasing away the shadows. “Grandfather used to tell me that with a privileged position comes responsibility. I never really understood what he meant until after he died.”

  Declan moved closer to her and wrapped a burnished curl around his index finger. “You don’t need to change to fit in, Lady Lochsdale. Actually, I’d be disappointed if you did.”

  He smiled at her, and she felt as if they were two friends sharing a secret.

  “Just go along with what Society expects. Ultimately it will help you accomplish your goals.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Will you promise me something?”

  “What?”

  Declan let go of the curl. “Act like a lady, but don’t ever become one.”

  She wrinkled her nose and glanced down. “I don’t think you need worry.” She plucked at the yards of material gathered at her waist. “The weight of a woman’s skirts are enough to discourage that.”

  Declan laughed. “Good. Now I think we should get back inside before the others start to worry.”

  She picked up the lantern and gave Blade a last pat. Declan headed for the door, but she stopped him. “Lord Worthington, are you still riding in the morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Must I accompany you?”

  “Think of it as practice with the sidesaddle. If you intend to ride in London, it will be expected. You do own a riding habit?”

  “Of course.” She grinned at him. “Well, actually I didn’t, but Grandfather insisted.”

  “Thank God.”

  “It isn’t the ride I object to.” Alex hesitated a moment, searching for words. “The truth of the matter is I’d rather not spend much time with Lady Catrina.”

  “I know. I’ll speak with her, but I wish you’d try to get along.”

  “Why?”

  “Lady Catrina has influence with the Ton. Besides, I’m fairly certain I’m going to ask her to be my wife.”

  She almost dropped the lantern. Wife. He couldn’t. Aside from Catrina’s beauty, what else did she have to offer?

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t see. She’s the perfect wife for me.” Declan crossed to her and took the lantern from her nerveless fingers. When she tried to turn away, he grabbed her arm and held her gaze. “Alex, why does it matter who I marry?”

  Declan studied her face until she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Did you think we might...” He let go of her and stepped away. “This is ridiculous. I enjoy your company, but aside from a couple of impetuous kisses, we aren’t involved.”

  “No, we aren’t. You’re my guardian and I’m your ward. For a moment I’d forgotten.” She jerked out of his grasp. She had to escape. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish packing. The sooner we get to London, the sooner I can find a husband. Better yet, maybe I should reconsider my options here.” She headed for the door, but wasn’t quick enough.

  “Lady Lochsdale.”

  She turned back. “Yes?”

  “I’d never approve Addington as your husband. I meant what I said about staying away from him.”

  How dare he tell her with whom she should associate. “I intend to encourage all my suitors. My speedy wedding is one of the few things we agree on. Goodnight, my lord.” She turned and walked out into the blackness.

  Chapter 8

  Alex adjusted her pillow for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. The light of a full moon streamed through her window, turning everything it touched to silver.

  She gave up trying to sleep and slipped into a nightgown. Sitting cross-legged on the window seat, she dropped her chin in her hands and stared out the window, not seeing anything. She couldn’t stop thinking about Declan’s surprise announcement.

  It wasn’t as if his upcoming engagement had anything to do with her sleeplessness. That would be preposterous. She found him attractive, that was all. Certainly they had nothing to base a relationship on. He’d been overbearing and unpleasant since he arrived.

  Her little inner voice warned she wasn’t being fair. Declan hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. When he’d smiled at her this evening, she’d felt like she could accomplish anything. Then there were the kisses.

  Closing her eyes, she remembered how it felt to be in his arms. How different his kisses had been from the stolen kiss she’d shared with Lord Duprey. In Declan’s arms, she was aware of every touch, and her body yearned for greater intimacy.

  Her eyes snapped opened. This preoccupation with her guardian had to stop.

  A movement in the garden drew her gaze. There, near the statue of Pan, stood a woman. Her dark cloak billowed out behind her as she paced back and forth in front of the statue. At one point she drew back her hood, and moonlight glinted off golden curls. Only one woman on the estate had hair like that.

  Catrina.

  A few minutes passed before a man dressed in dark clothing detached himself from the shadows and joined her. Alex couldn’t make out his features, but after a brief conversation they strolled arm in arm out of sight.

  It had to be Declan. He’d met his ladylove for a late night tryst.

  That effectively cooled her romantic fancies. How foolish to think she was more to Declan than a responsibility. He probably kissed every woman he met. She straightened and squared her shoulders. She needed to forget about him and concentrate on her future.

  Her future? With a sigh, she turned sideways and stretched her legs out on the window-seat. Was it asking too much to have respect and love in a marriage?

  She remembered her mother standing on the prow of The Merry Elizabeth next to her father. They were always laughing, as if each moment together brought them great joy.

  A part of her had hoped for that kind of life. She’d wanted someone to share with, but finding a husband had turned out to be just another responsibility she’d acquired since her grandfather’s death.

  Declan was right. She hated to admit it, but she needed Society. She’d have to try and fit in, at least until she married.

  With her arms above her head, she stood and stretched, then relaxed and rolled her shoulders. She’d start trying to befriend Catrina in the morning. If she could accomplish that, the rest of the Ton would be easy.

  She crossed the cool floor, slipped out of her nightgown, and got into bed. As she snuggled under the covers, she considered what Declan had told her about his youth.

  Based on the stories she’d read in the Gazette, he appeared to be perfectly at ease with members of the Ton, and yet he’d implied he wasn’t. Aside from his disdain for titles, why did he consider himself different? And why would Catrina be the perfect wife?

  She was thinking about him again.

  She tried to make her mind go blank, but the last image she saw before sleep claimed her was Declan’s face. His smile warmed her in a way no blanket ever could.

  “If it isn’t our knife throwing hoyden. You decided to join us after all?” Catrina taunted Alex from atop one of the stable’s gentler mares.

  Alex slowed her stride as she came to the small group of riders and servants clustered near the stable. Catrina, a frothy creation in silk, clung to the horn of her sidesaddle, looking down at Alex like she was some kind of poor relative. But her eyes gave her away, she watched Alex’s hands, as if afraid a knife may appear at any moment.

  Perhaps it was just as well she’d secreted her blade in her boot. Eleanor said lack of sleep made her less than reasonable
. Well, she’d had very little sleep last night, and if that woman made one more insulting comment—

  “You’re late.” Declan sounded like a tutor reprimanding his charge.

  She turned to find him glowering down at her. Strong hands reigned in his skittish mount. Man and animal struck her as very alike, leashed energy that fought to be free.

  Alex swallowed. His raw magnetism beckoned, challenging her to accept him. Seduction in the form of devastating looks, and an assurance that threatened to make her forget that she wanted, no, needed, to control her life. Her stomach clenched as she studied his unrelenting visage. Had anyone ever truly bested him?

  She lowered her gaze, and moved to scratch Declan’s magnificent stallion between his ears, even though she had to stand on tiptoe to do so. It pleased her that the horse didn’t move away. With a slight shift, she managed to look around the animal’s large head. “What’s his name?”

  Declan raised an eyebrow, but answered the question. “Knight.”

  “As in Arabian Nights?”

  “No, as in Arthur’s knights of the Round Table. He has the heart of the destriers of old.”

  “I suppose the two of you ride off to rescue damsels in distress?”

  The corners of Declan’s mouth tugged upward. “We’re hardly the rescuing kind.”

  Catrina adjusted a curl that had come loose from her chignon. “Nonsense, my lord. You rescued me from the pallor of London in spring.” It was almost as if she struck a pose, perched on her sidesaddle, layers of cornflower blue silk skimming the side of the mare.

  Declan raised an eyebrow at Catrina. “If you’ll recall, I didn’t invite you.”

  Catrina appeared nonplussed. “You knew I’d come.” She adjusted the lace in the décolletage of her habit.

  Didn’t Catrina own any high-collared dresses? Alex looked down at her serviceable hunter green riding habit and decided it would never do for London. When she glanced back at Catrina, she noted the woman still watched her. Friendly was not the word she would use to describe the look.

  She’d best make her apology and get it over with. Avoiding the inevitable wasn’t going to make it any easier. She crossed to Catrina and gazed up at her. Time to start pretending. Please God, don’t let my true feelings show on my face, just this once.