Lucien shrugged and looked away as if he had not actually seen her at all. “I thought it would give you an opportunity to prove to our brother that your Mister Claybourne here is not exactly the devil's own minion, as he seems to believe.”
Phoebe was not at all happy with his reasoning, but after a moment's consideration, she sighed and turned to allow Edward to assist her with her wrap. “Aye, perhaps. But you obviously neglected to consider how I am then to prove to my betrothed that my brother has not sunk into the role of old Lucifer himself.”
Chuckling at her wit, Lucien patted her consolingly on the shoulder. “I am sure you will think of something, Phoebe. You always do.”
9
Lucien was wrong.
Not one thing she had tried during the past ten days to make her brother and her betrothed at least present a semblance of getting along with each other had worked. While Lucien had seemed certain she could handle the unreasonable tension between the two men, Phoebe was no longer sure.
After the first day spent with both men at her side, she had known there was a problem. After five, it became abundantly clear she had but two choices: if she wanted to spend time with her brother, she must neglect her betrothed. If she wanted to spend time with Edward, getting to know him as she should, given that their wedding was but a handful of days away, she must ignore her brother.
Keeping the two men apart—far apart—was the only sure way to prevent Tristan and Edward's constantly going at one another, but both distance and separation from either of them annoyed her, and that realization rattled her, as well.
Her need to spend time with Tristan was completely understandable. He was her brother and he had been away from the family for two long years.
But Edward—he was merely the man she agreed to wed to save Tristan.
They were barely acquaintances.
They were not in love.
Edward had even so much as told her he felt no grand affection for her, practically from the first time they had met.
So why, then, did she feel this sudden but urgent need to be near him?
Not that holding Edward's attention for any length of note was possible lately, given the interfering presence of her brother. Clearly, Tris did not care for Edward in the least, but Edward was her betrothed, and she actually enjoyed his company! Or she had begun to, she amended, before Tristan decided to appoint himself her personal chaperon and ruin what few hours they had to be together each day. She rather liked his kisses, too, but for the past ten days, not a single one of those had been forthcoming.
During their last several outings, upon which her brother had made it his personal mission to intrude, Edward had become more and more impersonal and distant. He was distracted, and irritable, and she knew it was all Tristan's fault. She also knew her brother was purposely being a pain because he was hoping to force a change of mind, if not a change of heart.
Hers.
Tristan wanted Phoebe to forget about Edward and the wedding altogether, but he wasn't being fair to Edward. In fact, he wasn't even giving him a chance! And there was yet another thing she had only just realized that she found particularly irritating: precisely when had her brother's company become a bother to her?
Her own needs and mixed desires for time with both men confused her equally as much as Tristan and Edward's petty childishness frustrated. Why she suddenly found it pertinent to spend at least a few hours of each day in Edward's company was beyond her. She did not understand the strange enigma which had taken hold inside of her and made her yearn to hear the sound of his voice, even if he was speaking to someone else. When had his presence become a necessity to her?
Answers eluded her, but what she did know was that she needed to be with Edward today, without the interfering presence of her brother, and to manage that, she needed help.
She was halfway down the hall before she remembered Claire was staying in the girls' old room. Alaina had moved into a room of her own—Lucien's old one, because he had moved into their parents' suite in anticipation of his marriage to Claire—at the opposite end of the corridor, and Emily was sharing their old one with Claire until the wedding. Creeping back down the hallway, she stopped in front of Lucien's old room, undecided. What if they laughed at her? Gathering her courage, she tapped lightly at her sister's door. “Alaina? It's me, Phoebe. Can I come in?”
The door was snatched hastily open and three faces stared out at her from inside. Claire, Alaina, and Emily all seemed to reach out at the same time, pulling her into the room.
“We were talking about you,” Alaina admitted before Phoebe could ask what was going on.
She frowned. “Me? Why?”
“The wedding, of course. It's days away, you know, and there are a million things to do.”
Unless there were one less bride to worry about, Phoebe thought. Cocking her head to the side, one brow arched, she said, “If I do not get a moment or two to speak with Edward alone, I fear there will be only Claire to talk about.”
“What do you mean?” Claire asked. “Has Edward attempted to find a way out of the marriage?”
“No, no,” Phoebe explained. She went to make herself more comfortable on Alaina's bed, and the trio of girls followed. “But he might, if Tristan doesn't stop with his incessant bullying. Edward and I have barely spoken two words to each other during the past week and a half, and neither of them were personal. I had hoped we could spend this time getting to know each other, but Tristan seems determined to keep us apart.”
With her finger and thumb, she massaged her temple. “It is almost as if he is trying to sabotage this wedding, but...”
“We can't let him do that,” Emily said. “If you don't marry the Vykhurst heir, the earl will withdraw his support and Tristan would go back to Newgate.”
“Yes, well, I am not sure the earl's support matters so much anymore, Em. Not with Lucien and Sebastian and Tony...”
“But you made a promise, and now you must keep it,” Claire reminded her, almost quoting word for word what she had told Tristan when she had been trying to make him understand why she would not simply forget about this wedding.
“Yes,” she said. “Or that is why I would not cry off before, but now there is something else. Something I don't think any of us truly expected.”
Alaina grinned, then clapped her hands together and bounced on her toes like she had when she was but a child. “You fell in love with him! In love! Oh, I knew it! First Lucien and now you. This is so exciting!”
“I don't think it is love, Alaina, but there is definitely something,” Phoebe mused. For a moment, she wandered off, becoming lost in thought. “I miss his company. Not like I missed Tristan, of course, but I do, and it is so odd. Edward and I barely know each other, after all.”
“It's love,” Alaina insisted.
Phoebe sat up, then got to her feet. “Well, if that is so, it will soon be an unrequited love if I do not figure out what to do with Tristan. He is being quite the pain.”
The girls burst into conversation, each blurting their suggestions for distracting Tristan so that Phoebe might have a few quiet moments alone with Edward. Em was far too practical, of course. Her plan was to simply tell Tristan he was being a nuisance and to send Phoebe on her way with Edward this afternoon—as if Tris would have naught to say in the matter.
Alaina, bless her, was the one to come up with a worthy distraction. As long as Emily did exactly as she was told, and with Claire's help, all would be well. In fact, her plan had already been set into motion. A footman had been dispatched to let Edward know there had been a change in Phoebe's plans for the day—she would meet him at the big tree near the edge of the meadow this morning instead of waiting for him to come and collect her in the early afternoon.
While the message was being delivered, Phoebe hurried back to her own chamber and rushed through changing her attire. Her mauve gown was set aside in favor of her best riding ensemble—a rich brown coat and vest over a bright yellow blouse. E
lise put her hair up in a fetching arrangement which was barely covered by a chocolate lace trimmed, sunny yellow hat—and now, hardly daring to breathe, she sneaked down the servant's stairs to the kitchen. She would then slip out to the stables where her mare had already been saddled and stood waiting.
In the small parlor off the kitchen, Emily sat in the floor in front of her brother's chair, dutifully showing Tristan an entire trousseau of tapestries she had sewn during the years he had been away. She could hear Alaina narrating, creating brilliantly elaborate stories for each piece while Claire stood blocking the door. She offered a quick smile of encouragement as Phoebe slipped past.
At the stables at last, Phoebe pulled on her gloves and then hoisted herself up onto the horse's back without assistance. Carefully settling herself for the ride, she shook out the reins and, taking care not to foil their carefully laid plans in her haste, set the animal to a leisurely walk, pacing herself until she was sure her departure would not be noticed.
Once certain she was far enough away from the manse to not cause a distraction, however, she loosened her grip on the reins and let the horse have its head. Laughing with pure exhilaration now that she had successfully made her escape, she raced away toward the meadow, a new kind of excitement taking hold.
At the designated marker for their unexpected morning rendezvous on the other side of the meadow, Edward waited, his mood foul, with one booted foot propped against the base of a tall oak. The message he had received said Phoebe would meet him soon but he fully expected Tristan St.Daine to be the one to come trotting over the rise—and he was certain the bugger was coming to tell him Phoebe had changed her mind, that she had decided to cry off the wedding, despite her oath to the contrary.
Not that he could blame her.
Her brother was safe again and he—well, he hadn't exactly been the model betrothed these past days. She could thank her brother for that. Phoebe might not see how Tristan had insinuated himself between them and made it all but impossible for any true courting to take place, but to him, Tristan's mission was glaringly obvious—he meant to separate the two of them by any means possible—and the duke, it seemed, had given his blessing to the plan.
He even had to admit the younger St. Daine had played his hand well. Phoebe would simply see his distraction and withdrawal of late as a lack of interest on his part, a change of mind as it were, given that he had already told her his heart was not involved. But the truth was, she would be wrong.
Edward had been aware of Tristan's intentions from the beginning, and to be honest, he had fully expected the bothersome ogre to succeed. Throughout each outing, Tristan had done his utmost best to distract him from his courtship of Phoebe and he had been quite a distraction. A nuisance, even. But if his goal had been to make Edward forget about his sister, in that, he had failed. If anything, the constant wedge her brother sought to drive between Phoebe and himself with his constant, pesky presence only made Edward more determined to find a quiet, intimate moment alone with his betrothed.
All those many hours they had been forced apart, separated while they were supposed to be growing closer, all he had thought—could think, actually—was of the many things he could be saying, doing, and enjoying with Phoebe if only her brother would do them both a favor and fall off a cliff. Shamefully, he had even considered helping him do so once or twice. Unfortunately for him, however, there were none handy from which to nudge his future brother-in-law.
For some reason, the thought that Phoebe would refuse to honor her promise irritated him. He and his grandfather had done their part: the prodigal St. Daine son had been located and moved to relative safety away from the squalor in which he would have had to suffer if the earl had not stepped in. But this morning's irritation with Tristan had nothing to do with the situation regarding Phoebe's brother and everything to do with his own unexpected interest in the lady herself.
He actually liked her, and that surprised him.
Not only did he find her desirable, he also enjoyed her company. Her smile. The sound of her voice. The smell of her skin. And when they kissed...
Leave off with that, Claybourne. You are standing here waiting for her brother to deliver the unfortunate news that you are no longer betrothed and you use the time to torture yourself with thoughts of how nice she smells?
Scowling, he kicked off the tree and walked a few feet away to stare at the horizon, matching the soft and misty morning colors to various paint hues which he mixed and blended in his mind while he waited for Tristan to arrive.
He could see the canvas, swathed quickly in strokes of muted blues and deep, vibrant greens laid over a thin, malleable wash of white. Next, clouds would begin to appear and dark trunks for the trees edging the lush meadow spread out before him. His thoughts flew as he imagined his brushes might, a push here and a gentle swirl there. A long, unbroken stroke, and then a few quick upward flips of the brush and the scene began to come alive. A bird called from the distance and he immediately made place for it in his mental painting.
Lost now in the beauty of his surroundings and the idea of capturing it forever, he absently noted the chestnut mare as it appeared from the wooded area at the edge of the meadow. Reds and yellows and browns swirled together and a cantering horse appeared upon his imaginary canvas almost without thought. On its back sat Phoebe, her hair flowing free like a sable banner behind her as she raced toward him, a happy smile turning her lips upward as she slowed the beast to canter ever near.
“Good morning!”
10
Jolted from his imaginings by the lilting call of her voice, Edward realized the horse and rider in his vision had not been a product of his imagination after all. Phoebe had been cantering toward him for some minutes now. He raised a hand and tilted his head in acknowledgment of her greeting. She slowed the animal to a walk now that she was almost upon him. He reached for the reins when she drew up at his side. “Where is your watchdog?”
“Busy,” she said, and he noted the merry twinkle lighting her eyes. Her smile brightened. “Emily was most excited to show off her tapestries this morning. She simply could not wait another day to impress our brother with her skills. There were still quite a few waiting to be viewed when I rode out.”
“Will he be joining us once the viewing is over?” he asked cautiously.
Phoebe chuckled. “Not if Alaina can arrange otherwise. The girls have agreed to keep him occupied for me—at least until luncheon.”
The humor in her tone brought his gaze snapping up to hers. “Are you saying you arranged for your brother to be absent from our outing this morning? Purposely?”
Her laughter was sultry. He had reached up to help her dismount and could feel the tremors of it trilling through her body. “I did. Are you upset?”
To be spared the constant glares and barely veiled barbs Tristan was wont to dish out with every other sentence? Edward bit his tongue. “I suppose I shall have to find a way to content myself with Elise's presence instead.”
“Elise?” Confusion clouded the mischief in her gaze until understanding finally dawned. “Oh, my word! Elise! My brothers are going to kill me!”
She walked away a few steps, mumbling beneath her breath about what a complete ninny-head she had been to come out entirely unchaperoned when all she had wanted was to be able to see Edward without Tristan's constant interference for a few hours. When she turned to face him again, he could see the wretched guilt brimming in her eyes. “I was in such a rush to leave before Tristan realized I was coming out without him, I completely forgot to bring her along.”
She reached out to him, lacing her fingers through his. Together, they walked the several paces to the tree where he had waited and he laced the reins of her mount over a branch alongside his. Three seconds more was all it took for him to sum up the situation. Phoebe had obviously made some sort of bargain with her sisters to keep her brother occupied so she could slip out of the house undetected to meet him. In her haste, she had also neglected to in
form her maid she would be in need of an alternate chaperon.
They were alone.
“Finally.”
The word slipped from him on a reverent groan while his arms slipped around her waist, tightening to pull her close. His lips fell on hers, almost bruising in their urgency, but he met no resistance. Instead, Phoebe raised herself up to better fit her body to his, her mouth opening on a sigh beneath his to allow his tongue free reign, and Edward suddenly felt as if he might well devour her on the spot.
He could not get enough of the taste of her.
His mouth moved upward to nibble at her earlobe before moving to the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat and then down to the shadowy valley between her breasts exposed by the low neckline of her riding habit.
“How I have wanted you, wanted this,” he broke the kiss to whisper urgently against the softly sloping rise of her breasts.
“Edward, please,” he heard Phoebe whisper and he stopped abruptly, his fingers clenching against her sides in protest. Lifting his head, he opened his mouth to utter an entirely forced and insincere apology for his actions, but the pleading he saw in her gaze had nothing to do with a desire for him to leave off with what he had been doing. Her little mewl of protest further supported his realization that she wanted him to continue, that she, in fact, wanted more still.
He lowered his head again, all too happy to oblige.
Phoebe was burning, melting in an inferno created by the heat of his body pressed against hers, the feel of his lips on her skin, his breath blowing hotly over a sensitive bit of flesh she had not realized he had exposed. His mouth closed over it, bringing her nipple inside with a gentle tug, and she almost swooned with the rush of unexpected pleasure suddenly washing through her body.
She wanted him.
In every way, as much as possible, and she did not want to wait to have him. Desire inflamed her and the heat of it was nigh unbearable. Threading her fingers into his hair, she held him to her breast, moaning her pleasure at his touch as his lips and tongue created a furor within her that would not be appeased by a simple kiss.
An Unexpected Passion (Unexpected Series Book 2) Page 8
