Arlie’s stomach clenched into a tight knot. “You knew my mother?” she asked, sitting up straight, trying to act composed—a difficult task when her cheeks burned under the woman’s scrutiny.
“Yes…an actress was she not?”
Arlie glanced over her shoulder at the empty room, and then to the door that stood ajar.
The woman’s lips curved into a smile. “You need not fear your past will be discovered by others. I am the Dowager Countess of Rochford, Dominic’s grandmother, and therefore your secret is safe with me.”
Arlie released the breath she’d unconsciously been holding. Dominic’s grandmother? It took Arlie a moment to digest the information. “I apologize. I did not know Rochford had any family.”
The dowager rolled her eyes dramatically. “Of course you didn’t. Dominic barely acknowledges me as it is. Why would he bother to introduce his ward to me?”
“I am pleased to meet you, madam.”
The woman gave her a sharp, calculating look. Arlie had the impression the woman wanted something from her.
“How are you enjoying yourself so far, Miss Whitman?”
“I am having a wonderful time.”
“I’m certain you are,” she replied. “What a different life this is compared to the one you left behind. Tell me, what do you think of my grandson?”
Arlie could feel her heart begin to accelerate and her cheeks flush again. “He is very kind, and more than generous.”
“Is that all?”
Since her arrival at the manor, Rochford had not bothered to tell Arlie about his grandmother. In fact, by the older woman’s grim expression, Arlie had to believe the relationship between the two was less than amicable. She elected to speak carefully. “He is a wonderful guardian. He’s seen that I have the best of everything.”
The countess tapped her bejeweled fingers on the chair’s arm. “We must not be speaking of the same man, for my grandson is not setting a very good example, now is he?”
“Sorry?”
“Hrmph,” the dowager said beneath her breath. “You know who, or rather what, the Duchess is to Dominic.”
Arlie merely nodded.
“A fine example he’s setting, particularly when he is searching for a suitable husband for you. What you must think of the institution of marriage…”
“I am not so young that I don’t understand these things.”
The dowager smiled then, and she appeared years younger. “Dear girl, though we have only just met, I could be of great assistance to you in your quest to find a suitor…that is, if you wish for my help.”
How could Arlie possibly tell the woman no, especially when she looked entirely too pleased at the prospect of helping. Plus the dowager knew everything about Arlie. “That would be wonderful.”
“Good, good,” she replied, patting Arlie’s hand, the bracelets on her wrist rattling. “There are a number of suitable and wealthy men here, but I must insist that you not stake claim to anyone just yet. You must let them all know you are a woman who deserves to be treated with respect and dignity. You must be courted as though you are a princess, and you must not, even for an instant, believe you deserve less.”
Arlie nodded.
“Well, I suppose you have had enough for one day. Tomorrow we will take up where we have left off. Now remember, my grandson may not take my interference well, so I would ask that you not tell him we have met.”
“Certainly,” Arlie replied, standing and helping the woman from her chair. As expected, the dowager barely reached to Arlie’s shoulder.
“We will talk soon,” the dowager said, and without another glance, walked out the door.
* * * * *
The horse sensed Arlie’s excitement.
Though she could not ride astride like the men, Arlie did not let that small factor keep her from enjoying the hunt. She reveled in the fact that Dominic had been true to his word and kept by her side all morning.
Last night she had been so exhausted she’d fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Once she thought she heard footsteps outside her door, but her dreams lulled her back to sleep, and when she did wake, she felt well rested and more than ready to join in the hunt.
Dressed in a royal blue riding habit with a matching hat, she shifted in the sidesaddle, getting as comfortable as possible. It was so ridiculous to make a woman ride this way. It was unnatural, making one feel off-balance. But she made do, knowing that complaining would get her nowhere. Very few ladies participated in the hunt at all. Unfortunately, Veronica was one of those that did.
The Duchess wore maroon riding habit. Exquisite, down to the black velvet derby she wore on her head at a jaunty angle. Arlie felt a jab of jealousy. The woman’s beauty and sense of style rivaled all at the party.
Arlie noticed the Duchess kept glancing in Dominic’s direction, but he seemed not to notice. In fact, he kept his attention on Arlie the entire time—perhaps to detract attention away from his relationship with the Duchess.
Arlie watched Dominic from the corner of her eye. His six-foot-three frame astride the black horse made a powerful impression. Dressed casually in a white shirt and navy breeches tucked into black knee-high boots, he appeared completely at ease, as though born to the saddle. His unruly dark hair only added to his rugged good looks. Arlie’s heart swelled with affection and desire for him. Not one woman at the party could keep their eyes off Dominic, herself included. No matter where he went, hot gazes followed.
As though sensing her perusal Dominic turned, his smile devastating. “Let me guess, you yearn to rip that sidesaddle off your horse and ride astride?”
Her heart did a little flip as she returned his smile. She wanted to do far more than rip the sidesaddle from her horse. She wanted time alone with him. Time to show him what she felt for him, to prove to him once and for all she was a woman and not a child. “You know me too well.”
And just when she thought nothing could ruin her present good mood, Veronica brought her mount up alongside Dominic. She smiled wide, her eyes sparkling like gems. “It’s a wonderful day for a hunt, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, it is,” Dominic replied, while Arlie tried in vain to smile.
Arlie watched Dominic closely, waiting for the smoldering fire in his eyes as he talked with his mistress. Yet as the minutes ticked by he offered Veronica no lust-filled stares—just cordiality. Over the years he probably had learned how to mask his emotions, especially if he was accustomed to bedding married women.
Veronica turned to Arlie. “Miss Whitman, you are quite an accomplished rider. Perhaps I can interest you in a race later today?”
“I would love—”
“I think that would be inappropriate,” Dominic cut in.
“Oh, Dom, really. It would be such fun, and I am so weary of always having to ride against men. Two women competing should add a little excitement to the party. So, what do you think?” Veronica stared at Arlie, waiting for a response.
“I would love to,” Arlie replied, realizing she meant it. Having raced against many a man in Wales, Arlie knew she could give the woman a run for her money and then some. “But only if I am able to ride astride.”
Veronica’s brows lifted. “A woman after my own heart. We shall see you soon then.” With a wave of her hand, the duchess cantered off.
Arlie glanced at Dominic who frowned. “I think you just made a grave mistake. Veronica prides herself on her horsemanship.”
Arlie smiled innocently. “Come now, it will be fun.”
“What if you were to fall, or perhaps—”
“What if? What if?” She smiled and a thrill ran through her seeing the side of his mouth lift. “Truly, I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Five hours later, Arlie sat astride her mount, blood pumping in her veins as she waited for the sound of the gun. At her side, Veronica was dressed similarly in a split skirt, her face a mask of concentration. The duchess was obviously bent on winning. A shame…because Arlie had no intention of
letting her.
The gun blasted, and they were off. The blood pulsed through Arlie’s veins as the horse beneath her ran like the wind. The flag they rode for sat just over a hill, down in the valley.
Arlie heard Veronica behind her, gaining on her. Leaning lower over the horse’s neck, Arlie urged the mount faster. Up ahead two men held flags. The women took the turn at the same time. The crowd appeared tiny from the distance, yet Arlie heard their excitement, yells of encouragement urging her on. Perhaps some would be tempted to throw the race, particularly when the lady of the manor rode in said race.
Arlie had to win, that’s all there was to it. Somewhere in the sea of faces was Dominic—she would make him proud. And she would prove a point, if not to Veronica, then herself.
“Come on!” She urged her horse on, leaning lower, leaving Veronica behind her in a cloud of dust.
The finish line was a blur, and when she passed it the crowd went wild, sending up cheers. Turning in the saddle, Arlie looked back to see Veronica at least fifteen feet from the finish line. She’d dismounted and was having a groomsman check the shoes of her horse. The woman couldn’t even lose graciously.
Turning back to the awaiting crowd, Arlie caught sight of Dominic’s grandmother. She stood, leaning heavily on a cane, her expression unreadable, yet Arlie could swear she saw amusement, and perhaps even surprise there. Arlie nodded in her direction, and the Dowager discreetly nodded in return, then turned and headed toward the manor.
* * * * *
Dominic stood back from the crowd and watched in stunned silence as Arlie crossed the finish line. Langley clapped him on the back, and he nearly choked on the breath he’d unconsciously been holding.
“Wow!” Langley said, a broad grin speaking his delight.
Arlie turned in the saddle and looked back at Veronica who played the poor sport. Her husband ran over to console her, and Dominic’s gaze returned to Arlie.
She gave an animated grin and Dominic’s heart tripped like a schoolboy’s. What a treasure this young woman was. A woman whom fate had decided to drop into his lap.
How he yearned to fight his way through the crowd and lift her up into his arms…and back to his bed. His body burned with the need to take her beneath him, to drive into her ripe body until she trembled and cried out his name in ecstasy.
Arlie dismounted then turned to someone in the crowd. She smiled timidly, biting her lower lip, a nervous habit of hers—one he’d noted long ago. The glance only lasted but a few seconds, then she nodded, almost in understanding. Dominic willed himself not to scour the crowd to find who she had connected with, but he had to.
He was not surprised to find that the American, Daniel Butler, who stood next to Dominic’s grandmother, had been on the receiving end of that smile.
Daniel boisterously congratulated Arlie and stepped forward with a single red rose. Arlie took the flower, brought it her nose, and then wrapped her small fingers around his extended arm. Unable to watch, Dominic told Langley he would see him that evening, and headed back to the manor.
He could not understand his emotions where Arlie was concerned. One minute he cursed her presence in his life, the next minute he wondered what he would do when she was no longer a part of it. He wanted to give Arlie the best life he knew how. Yet he could not bear the thought of handing her over to another—a man who would take her to his bed and fuck her as soundly as Dominic wanted.
What would he to do if Arlie professed her love for the young American?
Dominic entered the manor, and climbed the stairs to the second floor, cursing himself for having brought her to this place at all.
“Could you please draw a bath?” he asked a passing maid, who appeared happy to oblige him. “I’m the second door on the right.”
“Right away, my lord,” she said, her cheeks turning pink while her gaze raked over him hungrily. Another time he might have been interested, but now Arlie filled his mind completely.
He opened the door to his room and shut it behind him. Stripping off his shirt, he glanced out the window and saw that the crowd had thinned, yet others still celebrated. Leaning forward, he searched for Arlie. Not seeing her, he kicked off his boots and began unbuttoning his pants when a knock sounded at the door.
Thinking it was the maid come to draw his bath, he opened it to find Arlie.
“Rochford, I…” Her eyes went wide at his state of undress. “Is this a bad time?”
He re-buttoned his pants and motioned her in. “Not at all, please come in.”
She stepped into the room and he closed the door behind her. She turned to him, her gaze wandering down his body, stopping, it seemed, at the line of hair that disappeared beneath the band of his pants. He wondered how often, if at all, she had seen a man’s body. How he yearned to show her more.
As though realizing where it was she stared, she ripped her gaze back to his.
“Congratulations on your win,” he said, grabbing the shirt off the back of the chair, and hastily put it on.
“Thank you, my lord. I enjoyed it, though I think I may have angered many people by not letting the duchess win.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”
Her brows furrowed into a frown. “But it does, really. For all that we’d like to think other peoples opinion don’t matter, it does. It matters a lot.”
Something in the tone of her voice gave him pause. She looked so wild and vulnerable…and desirable, standing there, her beautiful hair in disarray, her cheeks glowing with excitement, her green eyes gleaming with the triumph of her victory.
Unable to resist, his fingers moved along the edge of her jaw as he lifted her chin. “You cannot worry what the world thinks, Arlie. What matters most is what’s in your heart. Only you can be the judge of your emotions. Let them guide you.”
Her eyes instantly softened, the expression on her face blissful as she stared at him—with what? His heart missed a beat. He knew well what that look meant. He’d seen it a thousand times. Could it be that she desired him as much as he desired her? He dropped his hand, unsure of what to make of it.
Her gaze fell to her feet, obviously uncomfortable. When she glanced up a moment later, the fire in her eyes had vanished, making him wonder if he had only imagined it.
“You’re right, I alone can make my happiness.”
Her full lips parted slightly as she stared up at him. Unwelcome emotion raged within him and he said, “You should prepare for tonight’s festivities.”
He walked over to the door and opened it. She said nothing as she passed by him. He wanted to reach out and stop her, pull her up against his body, kiss her pouty pink lips until they were swollen, and teach her everything about sex.
He shut the door behind her, and let out the breath he’d been holding. Dear Lord, what was he to do now?
Perhaps he had imagined the desire in her eyes. Perhaps the atmosphere, or the excitement of winning the race had made her appeared interested in him. He ran a hand through his hair. At the end of the week, he would take Arlie and they would leave this place and return to Rochford Manor, where she would resume her studies.
He would have his work, and she would have her studies.
Liar!
Arlie had got under his skin, and the only way he could put her from his mind was to see her married off, and soon.
Which made him think of the young American. Up to this point, Dominic had tried to deter the man from continuing his pursuit of Arlie, but Daniel was by far the best choice for her. And if Daniel did marry her, they would eventually live in America—far away where he could forget about her. Then another dark thought followed that one. Could he actually handle a lifetime without seeing her again? Definitely not.
He was still contemplating all sorts of things a few hours later as he stood in the ballroom watching Langley and Arlie waltz among the other masqueraders. Where others went to the extreme to mask their faces, Arlie did not and he was glad. Her beauty was breathtakin
g. Dressed in a sleek white gown that hugged every curve of her body, Arlie was a sight like no other. He would have loved the gown on anyone else, but not the woman whose virtue he was supposed to protect. She had worn her pale hair high on her head, long curls cascading down her shoulders and midway down her back.
A Greek goddess, and a very fair one at that, he thought, frowning when he noticed she had once again foregone a corset—and if he wasn’t mistaken, undergarments as well. His gaze ripped back to her face, but it was too late, his body had already come to life. Blood rushed to his groin, causing a deep ache in his already rigid cock.
A moment later, Langley, as though sensing his discomfiture, brought Arlie to his side after the dance. “Rochford, the lady tells me you are her next partner.”
Arlie smiled up at him and he wasn’t about to tell her no, even though he didn’t really care to dance, especially in his current state of arousal. He would much prefer to go for a walk in the cold air, but instead he took her arm in his and led her out on the floor. His hand rested on her hip, the small amount of fabric between his flesh and hers proving he’d been right about her wearing nothing beneath. As she stared up at him, he knew he had never seen anyone as beautiful or desirable.
“My lord, who are you supposed to be tonight?” she asked with an arched brow and a playful smile.
He returned the smile, feeling more lighthearted than he had in days. “Once I dressed up like everyone else, but I find it much too tiring. Instead, I choose to come as myself.”
She laughed. “Sometimes you sound so old.”
The words struck a barb within him, and his smile faltered. He didn’t think of himself as old, yet since Arlie was a mere seventeen, she probably thought him ancient. “I’m only sixteen years older than you,” he reminded her. “Sure, old enough to be a brother, but—”
“Or an uncle,” she added, her smile saying she enjoyed the game far too much.
He grinned. “Touché.”
“Actually, sixteen years is not that much,” she surprised him by saying.
“Is it not? I was under the impression you thought different.”
Dangerous Desires Page 7
