by Alice Gaines
He pressed a finger against her lips to stop her. “Don’t answer now. Allow me to win you over.”
She pushed his hand away. “Save yourself the effort. If I were to marry again, I wouldn’t marry you.”
“Don’t be so sure.” He smiled as he gave her a small bow. “Now then, how shall we get back?”
“To Hollyfield?” she said.
“Or Carlton House. I could join the others.”
Yes, and they could all witness them arriving together on the back of her mare. Brows would arch, and tongues would wag. She’d never cared much for what little good reputation she had, but being connected to him was more than she’d ever want to have to explain.
“Hollyfield it is,” she said.
“I’m sure Mrs. Oxley would be happy to assist me there.”
The young duke’s mother. The one Lily referred to as the buzzard. She hadn’t come for tea. She’d probably watch from an upstairs window as they arrived snuggled next to each other on the horse.
“Or Lady Deauville,” he said.
She groaned inwardly. The only person in the world worse than Mrs. Oxley. He’d planned this, too. Even if she didn’t agree to have him court her, she still ended up in a compromising position. Curse him.
“Very well,” she said. “One of us will take the horse, and the other will walk.”
“My ankle won’t allow me, I’m afraid.”
The bastard had worked out every detail. She glared at him. “You’ll ride back to Hollyfield, and I’ll walk to Carlton House.”
That took him back a step, and he seemed honestly at a loss for words. After a moment, he sputtered a bit. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not? I have two good ankles.”
“But it’s so far.”
“It’s only the neighboring estate, and I’m quite familiar with the way there,” she said.
He placed his palm over his heart. “But, Lady Rushford, what would the others think of me?”
“What do they think of you now?”
His eyes narrowed in anger. She really shouldn’t have thrown his station in life into his face like that.
“No one will need to know I walked back unless you tell them.”
“I’ll be riding your horse,” he said.
She hadn’t considered that. The only other solution would be for one of them to ride back and return with a carriage or another horse. That would bring even more attention to the fact that they’d been together, unchaperoned, for some time.
“I insist,” she said. “You’ll have to make up some story for how you came to be in possession of my horse.”
“What kind of story?”
“You’re clever,” she said. “I have faith in you.”
“But, I say, really—”
“Good day to you, sir.” She turned on her heel and stalked away. When he continued to call after her, she kept going. Thank heaven he finally gave up. The last thing she needed was for that man to trail her back to the party.
*
The knock at the front door came loudly enough that it penetrated into the gaming room even over the sounds of the storm outside. By the time Jason got there, the butler had already opened it to admit a drenched Mrs. Thornton. Her hair had been whipped around by the wind, but it still didn’t match the wildness of her eyes. A carriage stood in the drive, so the rain had managed to make her that wet in her walk up the steps.
“You must help, Captain Northcross,” she said. “It’s Bess.”
“Lady Rushford? Is she ill?”
“She hasn’t come back from this afternoon.”
“But the tea was at Carlton House. I saw her there myself.” He had, and he’d stayed strictly away from her. That hadn’t kept him from gazing at her from time to time when no one else had been looking. He was fast becoming obsessed with her.
“She got a note from someone and rode off to help,” Mrs. Thornton said. “I shouldn’t have let her go. It’s my fault.”
“Calm yourself, Mrs. Thornton.” He squeezed her hand. “We’ll find her.”
“I do hope so, Captain Northcross. I hate to think of her out in this weather.”
She had a point there. The little lady was a force of nature in her own right, but even she couldn’t stand up to a storm like this. She could catch her death if someone didn’t find her soon.
“Who sent the note?” he said.
“Neither of us could tell. I should have forbid her to go,” she wailed.
“You would have wasted your breath there,” he said.
A buzz started behind him. Some of his party had overheard the conversation and had come to see what the to-do was about. Sarah had knitted her expression into one of concern.
“Is something wrong with Lady Rushford?” she said, her hand at her elegant throat.
“She’s gone missing, yes.”
“Perhaps Mr. Montgomery knows something about it,” Sarah said.
“Montgomery,” he repeated.
The man in question stood off to one side, watching the proceedings without Sarah’s sham of worry.
“What do you have to do with this?” Jason demanded.
“Everyone knows he appeared here with her horse this afternoon.”
“The devil you say,” Jason said.
“She told me to take it,” Montgomery replied.
Jason approached the man, nearly sticking his nose into the bastard’s face. “You took a lady’s horse?”
“She insisted. She said she didn’t have to go far and she knew the way well. I assumed she’d gotten home before the storm broke.”
“Well, she didn’t. If she comes to harm, I’ll hold you accountable.” He might hold himself accountable as well. He’d known from the first that the man was up to no good, and perhaps if he’d been there when the fellow first showed up, he could have sent him away somehow. Grace was too kind to do that sort of thing, but Jason didn’t have as many scruples.
Montgomery stood his ground, seemingly calm, but anger flashed in his eyes. “I don’t know why you should hold anyone anything. She’s no concern of yours.”
“Nor yours.”
Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Two males doing silent battle for dominance. Montgomery blinked first, taking a step backward.
“You were the one she went to meet,” Jason said finally. Damn it all, the bastard had had free run of Hollyfield. Maybe Jason should have assigned a footman to follow him about and keep him from causing trouble. No gracious host ever did such a thing, but he might have thought of a way.
“I was,” the man answered.
“To what purpose?”
“I’ve said all I intend to,” Montgomery said. “I promised the lady strict discretion.”
“At least tell me where so I have a point to start my search.”
“The circle of stones,” Mrs. Thornton said from behind him. “At least, that’s what the note said.”
“Fine. I’ll head there immediately.”
Peter worked his way to the front of the group. “I’ll go with you.”
“As will I,” Montgomery added.
“I’ll go alone,” Jason said. “We can’t have anyone else getting lost.”
“I must insist,” Montgomery said. “I’m responsible for her trouble.”
“Your ankle is bad,” Jason said.
“I can ride a horse.”
“Not very well,” Jason said. “Besides, if you were to stray, I’d jolly well leave you out there.”
“Captain, you can’t mean that,” Sarah said.
He turned his glare on her until she averted her gaze.
“Have a horse saddled,” Jason said to Imrey.
“Very good, sir.” The man went off at a good clip to follow his order.
He turned to Mrs. Thornton. “Go back to Carlton House and have a bath heated. I’ll get Lady Rushford back shortly.”
*
The wind howled so loudly outside the gamekeeper’s cottage that Bess cou
ld almost hear it calling her name. She sat in front of the fire with a blanket wrapped around her and nothing but her chemise underneath. Her dress had soaked through and would only chill her. With any luck, she’d warm up enough soon to climb into the narrow bed and get some sleep.
“Bess.” The sound came again. A real human voice, and male. What fool had risked himself in this storm?
She went to the door and opened it. Immediately, cold rain slapped her in the face. It fell almost horizontally. In another moment, she’d be dripping wet again.
“In here,” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Bess?” came the answer. “Where are you?”
“The cottage. Follow the sound of my voice.”
A figure on horseback appeared finally like a soggy apparition.
“Put your mount in the lean-to and get in here before we both drown,” she said.
With that, she shut the door against the storm and removed her dress from the chair where it had been drying in front of the fire. That idiot outside would need the warmth more than her clothing did.
When he entered, the wind blew the door crashing against the wall behind him, but he struggled it closed again and stood there, water pooling at his feet.
When he turned to her, his identity became clear. Jason Northcross, of course. Her erstwhile acquaintance and now friend and the very last man she should share a cottage with overnight.
“What in bloody hell were you thinking?” he demanded.
“I?” Of all the impertinence. “What about you?”
“I came to rescue you, damn it.”
“I bloody well don’t need rescuing.” If he could use foul language, so could she. Goose, gander, and all that. “You ought to know by now that I can take care of myself.”
“What was I to think when Mrs. Thornton showed up in a state declaring you were lost?”
“Rose.” That explained a lot. The dear could have been worried, but she also knew about this cottage. It would suit her purposes to strand her with Captain Northcross, the foolish romantic.
“What do you mean by giving your horse to Montgomery?” Captain Northcross said.
“It was the only way to get rid of him, if you want to know the truth.”
“Why did you agree to meet with him at all?”
“I didn’t know it was him. The note only said someone needed my assistance.”
“Do you help everyone who asks?” he said.
“Largely, yes,” she answered. “Now, take off that wet coat and sit by the fire.”
She turned and hung her dress on a hook near the hearth.
“What are you wearing?” he asked, finally forgetting his anger long enough to notice her state of undress.
“Don’t worry. I have my chemise on under here. You’ll want to undress as much as your delicate sensibilities allow.”
“It’s not my sensibilities I’m worried about,” he mumbled.
She stared at him. “I beg your pardon.”
He paused in the act of removing his coat. “Nothing.”
“See that it stays nothing.”
“I shall.” He stripped down to his pants and shirt, pulling the tails of the latter free so that the garment billowed around his body. In the firelight, the fabric was a startling white, making him seem even larger than he already was. After he sat, he removed his boots and socks.
Had she ever thought a man’s feet graceful before? Had she ever thought about a man’s feet at all? His had a high arch and long toes, and if she weren’t careful, she’d end up staring at them. Instead, she took her seat and stared into the fire, clutching the blanket around her.
“What did Montgomery want with you?” he said. “Aside from the obvious.”
“I don’t understand either of you. You seem to think I’m some sort of temptress.”
“You do own a mirror, don’t you?”
“I look in it every day. I must see something different than you and he do.”
“Did he make any indecent advances?” he said. “I’ll kill him if he did.”
“There’s a charming proposal.”
“I mean it, Bess.”
When had he started addressing her by name rather than title? Granted, they found themselves in rather intimate quarters, but he’d promised to behave himself.
“His proposal was quite decent, I assure you,” she said. “He’s taken a fondness to me, he says, and wants me to marry him.”
“Good Lord,” he said. “You’re not going to do it, are you?”
“Do you think I’m mad? Of course not,” she answered. “But you can see why I was so keen on getting rid of him.”
“I think I’ll thrash him anyway.”
“Ah, male posturing,” she said. “The air’s positively thick with it.”
“Scoff all you want. He’s not finished troubling you.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “But I can take care of myself.”
He glanced around the cottage. “Like this?”
“I was doing better than you were.”
“Without a horse?”
“This has become tedious. I’m going to sleep.” She rose and went to the bed. After tossing the spare blanket to him, she curled up in her own on the mattress.
Pretending to close her eyes, she watched him from beneath her lashes. She hadn’t been so close to a man since her husband’s death, and Jason Northcross was nothing like Bert. As he stood to drape the blanket over himself, she could make out every ripple of muscle under his shirt. Strong arms and fingers. She’d enjoyed his embrace already. What would those fingers feel like on her body, especially in the secret places? What sort of havoc could he wreak with the hardness she’d felt in his pants?
She shouldn’t entertain such thoughts, and yet, how could she help it? He sent off a charge that reached to her all the way across the room. Would she find him asleep in the chair in the morning? If she did, would she sneak into his lap for a kiss while his guard was down? What would happen then?
Too many possibilities, all of them forbidden, and he was less than ten feet away.
Chapter Ten
Bess woke some time in the night to a strange sound. For a moment, she had to focus on where she was. Definitely not in her bedroom. In the dim light from the fire, she made out the interior of the gamekeeper’s cottage. Oh yes, the storm. She’d taken shelter here from wind and driving rain, both of which had died down. Not even a drip sounded on the roof above. So what was that noise?
Jason Northcross, of course. He was doing something in the chair by the fire. Could that be his teeth chattering?
“What are you doing over there?” she asked.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
His voice displayed displeasure in the extreme. What did he have to be angry about? He’d intruded on her, not the other way around.
“Is that your jaw clattering?” she asked.
“I’m cold, if you must know the truth.”
“Throw some more wood on the fire.”
“We don’t have much left,” he said. “I’m saving it.”
“In heaven’s name, for what?”
“For later. If the fire goes out, we’ll both become very cold, indeed.”
He had a point. She’d planned to bank the fire and stay warm with her own body heat, nestled under two blankets. Because of him, she’d had to make do with one. She’d grown a bit chilly herself. They had a problem, and only one solution offered itself. He’d resist, but neither of them had any choice, really.
“You’d better come get in bed.” With me. Dear Lord, what was she saying?
“I can’t do that, and you know very well why.” Delightful. He’d gone from sounding angry to petulant.
“This is hardly the lap of luxury,” she said. “Do you honestly mean to tell me that you couldn’t control yourself, even under these circumstances?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. Somehow the chair still managed to creak.
�
��Neither of us will get warm and neither of us will get any sleep with you and your blanket over there,” she said.
He still didn’t utter a word. After a long moment, he sighed.
“Your brother and sister will be angry with me if you catch something dreadful,” she said.
“They wouldn’t approve of me making love with you, either.”
“They wouldn’t know if you didn’t tell them.”
He went back to silence, his body a rigid silhouette against the glow of the fire.
“Everyone’s going to be quite scandalized that we were out all night together, anyway,” she said.
“You’re giving me permission?” he whispered.
Now it was her turn for silence. He refused to take complete responsibility for what would happen next, if indeed she allowed it. In truth, she already had with her invitation. After their earlier encounters, neither he nor she could pretend any surprise that things would get out of hand if he got under the covers with her, especially as neither of them were fully dressed. And faced with the real possibility that she’d let him—no, ask him to—take the ultimate liberties with her, she finally had to admit the truth. She wanted him. She’d wanted him that first night after the opera. She’d wanted him in her rose garden and by the river. And she wanted him now, more than she wanted anything else in the world.
The fact that she’d protested the opposite for this long only spoke to a dishonesty she hadn’t thought herself capable of. She claimed she didn’t care what others thought of her, but she’d held him away for just that reason. As a widow taking a younger man to her bed, she could be the object of ridicule. Then, too, she had to face her fear that he’d find her less than perfect and might even regret dallying with her. And yet, if she turned him down, she’d always wonder what she’d missed.
“I am giving you permission,” she said. “Complete permission.”
For a moment, he still didn’t move. Then he let out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it. She might have been holding her own.
The chair creaked again as he rose. When he lifted the tails of his shirt and reached to the fastening of his pants, she looked away. She’d feel him soon enough. She could look later. His step came slowly as he approached the bed. He spread the second blanket on top of her and stood, looking down. He’d left his shirt on but was naked below. So big. So male. So absolutely beautiful.
