The earl stood, hands on his hips, under the protection of the columned entrance. “Lady Arabella did not take Lucifer?” he asked James, the head groom. Heavy rain fell in sheets in front of them, and a chill wind billowed the sleeves of the earl’s white shirt.
“No, my lord.”
“Very well, thank you, James, for coming to the house. Fetch a cloak before you return to the stables. It’s going to get even colder.”
Damnation. Did she find his company so damned distasteful that she preferred catching a chill? In a very short time his worry for her safety had worked its way to anger. God, he would throttle her for being such an idiot to remain out in such weather.
He was planning exactly how he would wring her neck when through the thick blanket of darkness and rain he made out the vague outline of someone running from the stables full tilt up the front lawn. The figure drew closer, and he saw it was Arabella, skirts held above her knees, racing toward him. She took the front steps two at a time and drew up panting in front of him.
She was a sodden mess. He looked her up and down and said in a voice of great disinterest, “Do you believe it wise to be out in such weather?”
“No, not at all. But these things happen, you know. It’s not important.” Then she had the gall to shrug.
“Just where the devil have you been?”
Arabella swept her soaked hair from her forehead, lifted a black arched eyebrow, and said, “I have been running in the rain. See, my hair and gown are wet. My slippers are soaked. Now, I believe I will go change my clothes.”
He looked at that neck of hers and pictured his fingers tightening about it.
“Really, sir, you shouldn’t be standing out here. It’s cold and you just might take a chill. Just feel the wind.”
Give him a crisis and he was the calmest of men. Give him a new situation and he would quickly adapt and show his experience. Give him troops and he would never lost his self-control. She swept past him into the front entrance hall. He stared after her, then yelled at the top of his lungs, “Ma’am, damn you, get back here! I have something to say to you. Damn you, don’t you shrug at me or raise your damned eyebrows!”
She paused beneath the chandelier. He wished she had kept going because her gown clung to her like a second hide. He could clearly see her breasts and hips. He didn’t like what it made him feel. He didn’t want to be as hard as a stone when he was angry at her. At the moment, she didn’t deserve him to desire her.
“Well, what do you have to say?”
She had the gall to tap the sodden toe of her left slipper against the marble floor. “Sir, are you suddenly dumb? I thought you had something to say.”
“We shall dine in thirty minutes in the Velvet Room, ma’am,” he said in a surprisingly calm voice. “I refuse to have my dinner delayed any longer.”
She began up the stairs, pools of water forming at her feet, then turned to look down at him. “Now I understand. You’re angry at me because you are too much the gentleman to eat your dinner without me. I’m sorry the time got away from me. I promise I will be down as quickly as I can change my clothes.”
The earl wished there was something to kick in the huge entrance hall, but there were only two ornately carved massive chairs from the seventeenth century. They probably weighed more than he did.
He had downed only one snifter of brandy when Arabella came into the Velvet Room, wearing black silk, as usual, and looking as if she had napped the entire afternoon. She looked fresh and full of life. She also looked innocent and guileless. Ha, he knew better. He wished he hadn’t seen her breasts and hips so clearly outlined through her wet gown. He wished he could keep this damned female in perspective. He would marry her, he had to marry her, but still, he didn’t have to feel anything else about any of it.
He was immune to her, at least most of his body was. She didn’t look particularly fashionable in that dreary black mourning gown. Ah, but that hair of hers. It hung down her back in damp waves, thick and glossy. A narrow black ribbon secured it back from her forehead. His palms itched to touch her hair, to wrap it around his hand over and over, to pull her slowly to him until her breasts were pressing against his chest.
This would never do. “Well, I can only hope that we won’t have to call Dr. Branyon to prescribe for you.”
He sounded annoyed, which was surely odd. Annoyed because he would be eating his dinner a bit late? She said, grinning at him because she was a girl who enjoyed fueling annoyance, particularly his annoyance, “I am blessed with my father’s good health,” she said, all good humor. She walked to where he stood by the fireplace. She didn’t stop until she was less than a foot from him. What was she doing? Was she trying to goad the bear? The earl found himself a trifle daunted. No, he would never be daunted.
It was just that she wasn’t behaving like she had all week. Rather than avoiding him, she was tracking him down to the very spot where he was standing. He turned away from her and walked toward the door. He would go to the dining room. That made sense since he had complained that she had delayed his dinner.
“Justin.”
He whirled around and stared at her incredulously. Surely he had not heard her aright. Why was she behaving in this strange way? He said, “I am sir to you.”
“Well, yes, you have been sir. I was wondering if you would mind if I used your given name now?”
“I have only known you for a bit more than a week. We haven’t been sufficiently friendly or intimate to justify it. No, I will remain sir to you.” Then, to his astonishment, he watched her run her tongue over her bottom lip. A very nice full bottom lip, he saw, now wet and shining from her tongue.
“I’m trying to become more friendly. Perhaps you would change your mind? Perhaps after dinner?”
He shook his head. “You cannot be Arabella Deverill,” he said firmly. “Perhaps you are her twin sister, long kept in hiding in the attic, beneath one of those forty gables.”
“No, she is still there, in her chains. Have you heard her howling? No, that’s not possible. There hasn’t been a full moon. She only howls at the full moon.” She grinned at him shamelessly. “Now, sir, please come here and sit down. You and I have some serious matters to discuss.”
“What serious matters?” he asked, not moving. “No, don’t say anything. If there are serious matters between us it can only mean one thing. A woman does not woo a man. Besides, I will not speak to you about anything of importance until after I’ve had my dinner.” He gave a ferocious pull on the bell cord.
“My father always said that a man’s stomach was important to him. Not the most important—he would never tell me what that was—but nonetheless, I suppose I must agree that to be at your best, you must have a full belly.”
He could but stare at her. He would marry her and bed her and then, at least, she wouldn’t be so damnably innocent. “Ah, here you are, Crupper. Have the footmen bring out dinner in here this evening. Lady Arabella doesn’t wish to travel all the way to the dining room.”
A few minutes later, the earl looked down at the roast pork and fresh garden peas. “Just as Lady Arabella ordered, my lord,” Crupper said. The smells were delicious.
“You ordered this?”
She nodded.
“I do not particularly care for roast pork, Crupper. Have you other dishes as well?”
“Of course there are other dishes,” Arabella said. “Cook always prepares roast pork for me on Thursdays.”
“Hell, leave the damned pork, Crupper, and forget the other dishes. This will do admirably.”
His lordship’s language was deteriorating alarmingly. Lady Arabella didn’t seem to mind, so Crupper decided he wouldn’t mind either. There were a lot of changes at Evesham Abbey. It was a trying time for everyone. If the earl wanted to curse, it was probably the best for everyone. It was better than him hurling something. As Crupper got older, it was more difficult to duck, and duck he had many times under the former earl’s reign.
Crupper waited u
ntil he had very nearly bowed himself out of the Velvet Room before giving his message. “A footman arrived from Talgarth Hall, my lord. Lady Ann and Lady Elsbeth have decided to remain for dinner, not wishing to venture out in this weather.”
So, Justin thought, he would be alone with her. For the first time. He wondered if she would try to bolt. No, not likely, particularly given the strange way she was acting since she’d come downstairs. He remembered to say, “Thank you, Crupper.”
There was no conversation for ten minutes.
Finally, Arabella said, “Is the roast pork to your liking, sir?”
He was eating like a pig. He couldn’t very well say that the damned pork irritated his stomach. “It’s passable,” he said, and took another big bite. Then he dropped his fork to his plate and sat back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. He had given her the upper hand—rather she’d taken it and not given it up—and now she was in control, not he. He was obliged to laugh. He remembered thinking that she was admirable upon one occasion. He could not but admit to it again.
“Have you been rehearsing all week for this evening?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She did know, and he knew that she knew, but he said easily, “Well, you have avoided me, probably hidden under the stairs whenever I came too close. It’s only reasonable that you’ve used your time this week to prepare your performance for this evening. Have you decided just how you would deal with me?”
He’d gotten her fair and square, but she wasn’t ready to throw in her hand just yet. She slowly laid down her fork and leaned back in her chair, mimicking him, cocking her head to one side. “You know, sir, the cleft in your chin is really quite attractive. I wondered at first if I would ever find it anything beyond the ordinary, but I find that I have. You are quite handsome with it, sir.”
“You will keep pushing? All right then, ma’am. Would you care to examine my attractive cleft more closely?” He paused just the barest moment, then added, “If you hadn’t noticed, there is also a great deal more of me that I trust you will find equally attractive.”
“I trust you will find the same true of me, sir.”
“After seeing you in your drenched, very clinging gown, ma’am, I honestly can’t imagine being disappointed. However, I am a man who prefers actual proof, not just speculation.”
He wanted plain speaking, she’d give him plain speaking. She’d hit him on the head with plain speaking. “Oh, I see. You mean you want me to take my clothes off?”
“That would be an excellent start, but I doubt it is exactly the thing to do this evening. Come, ma’am, enough fencing about. Let’s sit by the fire and discuss your serious matters.”
He led her to a small sofa and sat himself very close to her. Probably too close, but that was just too bad.
She turned to face him, looking at him squarely in his gray eyes. “I have decided that I will marry you.”
“Not an ounce of preamble,” he said, as he picked up her hand and began to study her fingers. “Not even a small warning or the barest signal that you were going to blast me out of the water. Would you believe me if I told you that you have just made me the happiest man alive? No, I can see that you won’t believe me. Actually I wouldn’t either.”
“This has nothing to do with happiness, sir. Why are you looking at my fingers? You’re playing with them. They are just fingers. Why?”
“You have lovely fingers. At least in this, we are not alike. Graceful hands you have, ma’am, quite unlike mine. No happiness for us, ma’am?”
“You know very well why we must wed. I am willing to do my part. Are you willing to do yours?”
“Parts. An interesting word. There will be many parts for us, ma’am, if we marry. Are you willing to accept me as a man and not just a poor fellow who happens to live in the same house with you?”
“What do you mean exactly?”
He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed each one of her fingers. “A preamble, ma’am.” He pulled her closer and kissed her mouth. Not a deep kiss, just a light touching. Still, she jerked back. He looked long into those gray eyes of hers. He lightly touched his finger to her chin, then ran it along her jaw. “Never before been kissed, ma’am?”
She shook her head, all that lovely hair dry now, all glossy and blacker than a sinner’s deeds. She was staring at him, at his mouth, then down at the hand he held, the fingers he’d kissed.
“There is a bit more. Perhaps you won’t find that repellent either. But one shouldn’t rush these things. Would you like to kiss me again?”
She nodded her head. “All right.”
This time she came to him, her palms flat against his chest, but she wasn’t pushing against him, no, she was just resting her hands there, one over his heart and he knew she could feel the quickened beat. He kissed her again, still lightly, not forcing her in any way. He touched his tongue to her lower lip, the one she’d licked. She jumped. He cupped her face between his large hands. Actually, he wanted to press her down on her back, pull up her skirts and look at her. He could only imagine how beautiful she would be. Then he wanted to kiss her, slide his hands up the insides of her thighs. He gently eased his tongue into her mouth.
She didn’t jump this time. If he wasn’t mistaken, and indeed he wasn’t, she was interested and becoming more interested by the moment. He began to stroke his hands through her hair, tangling his fingers, wrapping her hair about his hands, bringing her closer and closer until her breasts were against his chest and her hands, fluttering a moment, came around his back.
“These are parts,” he said into her mouth. “The whole is when we will come together. Marry me soon, ma’am, or I just might expire from my need of you.”
She raised her head. She seemed without words, which was a surprise, for since he’d known her—such a short time really—she’d always been brash, arrogant, ready to take on any comers, particularly him. She touched her fingertip to the deep cleft in his chin. She outlined it. She examined it. “A part,” she said, leaned over and kissed his chin.
“I like all the parts I’ve seen thus far.”
“Good.”
“I like your coat, too, sir. Weston?”
It was her father’s tailor.
“Yes,” he said, and continued to stroke that soft hair of hers.
She leaned her forehead against his chin. She drew several deep breaths, saying finally, her voice scarcely above a whisper, “I’ve been so frightened—not scared frightened—but a new sort of frightened that has quite turned me tip over tail. I know I haven’t treated you well, perhaps I have even been something of a shrew around you, at least before I decided to stay away from you.
“I’ve thought and thought, sir, and I think perhaps we can work a marriage out between us. A good marriage. I will try to do my part. What do you think?”
He laughed, kissed her, and pulled her against him. “I think that life will be very interesting from now on. Let’s marry, ma’am. Let’s do it soon. I will try to do all my parts as well.”
“Perhaps we could celebrate our agreement? Perhaps you could kiss me again? I truly do not mind it at all.”
The earl could practically taste her. He had her so close, so very close, her mouth just an instant away from his and this time he would teach her to open her mouth to him, and then he would—
“Well, hell,” he said, and pushed her away just as the door opened and a laughing Lady Ann and Elsbeth came into the room, their cloaks glistening with raindrops, Crupper trailing behind them.
“It is pouring,” Lady Ann said as she handed Crupper her wet cloak. “Perhaps we should have remained at Talgarth Hall, but both Elsbeth and I wanted to come home. Ah, you ate your dinner in here. But, goodness, the two of you ate so little. Why, you ate scarcely anything at—”
Lady Ann shut up. She stared at her daughter, then at Justin. It wasn’t at all difficult to imagine what had been going on before her and Elsbeth’s untimely entrance. Arabella’s face was re
d. Her lovely hair had enjoyed a man’s hands tangling through it.
The earl rose. His lust had died a quick death, thank God. “Lady Ann, Elsbeth,” he said. “Welcome home. Perhaps you would care for some tea?”
Lady Ann wanted to laugh. It was only her daughter’s embarrassment that kept her quiet. She saw that Elsbeth looked confused. She was staring at her half-sister, her mouth readying itself to open and ask questions. “Ah, my dear Elsbeth,” Lady Ann said quickly, “I think we had best go to our bedchambers.”
Elsbeth didn’t look all that eager to leave. She looked eager to stay and talk. The earl said, “Yes, both of you are wet. We will see you in the morning.”
“No,” Lady Ann said, the laughter lurking in her voice, “I believe that Elsbeth and I will come down again and join you for tea. In about half an hour, Justin?’
He wanted to curse, but didn’t. He wanted to take Arabella to the attic and show her more parts than she could as yet begin to imagine. Instead, he said on a sigh, “Yes, thirty minutes.” He had never before imagined that Ann would do this to him. Ah, but she was enjoying herself immensely. As for the two of them, he didn’t dare kiss Arabella any more during the next thirty minutes. He wouldn’t be able to stand up if he did.
The Heir Page 9
