To Wed A Viscount

by Adrienne Basso

  Knowing there was no choice, Faith tugged gently on the reins, intending to slowly lead the animal home, all the while hoping that she had caused no permanent damage to the gentle mare. Thankfully, by the time she reached the clearing, a full hour later, the horse was no longer limping. Faith’s own legs were tired and she was hot and sweaty, but she would not risk riding the horse.

  She crested the hill of Georgie’s favorite lake. The tranquil spot looked restful and inviting. Faith decided she would relax for a few minutes by the water’s edge. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she spied a figure racing down the slope toward the water.

  “Hello. Hello,” Georgie called. He lifted his arms above his head and waved them excitedly in the air.

  Faith smiled and waved back. The child ran straight to her, and Faith bent down to catch him, savoring the feel of his exuberant hug. He smelled like sunshine and freshness and little boy.

  “What a delightful surprise to find you here. But surely you haven’t come all this way on your own, Georgie?”

  “Father is with me.”

  Faith raised her head and caught sight of the viscount casually strolling toward them. He was dressed in a tan coat and buff breeches. Tall, black Hessian boots encased the sculpted muscles of his powerful legs. He looked relaxed and amused and utterly divine.

  Faith’s mouth tightened. Physical awareness of him started her heart thudding at an erratic pace. The impact of his masculine beauty struck hard at her senses. She knew it would never happen, yet she wondered longingly what it would feel like if he greeted her with the same exuberant embrace his son had.

  “Why were you walking your horse?” Griffin asked as he drew nearer. “Is something wrong?”

  “The mare stumbled over some thick tree roots and I feared she had badly injured herself. It seemed safer not to add the extra burden of my weight.”

  “You haven’t been eating all that many of Cook’s fine pastries,” Griffin said, his teeth flashing in a grin. “Or have you been sneaking down to the kitchens late at night when the rest of the household is asleep?”

  “I am in my bed each night, husband,” Faith said with exaggerated innocence. “As you well know.”

  “It has been my delight to know,” he added in a husky whisper. “For I greatly enjoy sharing that bed with you.”

  His widening grin brought a blush to Faith’s cheeks and she quickly forgave him for not greeting her with an affectionate hug. “You are a fair distance from the house,” she remarked. “Are you on an errand or out for a walk?”

  Griffin’s smile deepened. “Georgie and I are out on an adventure. We have abandoned our work for an afternoon of fishing.” The viscount tapped the wooden poles he carried on his shoulder. He removed the shorter one and held it out to his son. “All you need to do is to fill your bucket with a few wiggly worms and then you will be ready to get started.”

  The boy reached down and scooped up the bucket he had dropped before embracing Faith. “Shall I dig some extra worms for you to use, Papa?” Georgie asked, his eyes bright.

  The viscount appeared to consider the question before answering. “A good fisherman should always get his own bait, but I think in this case it would be permissible for you to do it for me.”

  “Hooray!” Georgie nodded his head vigorously. “Then you can take the fish from my line when I catch them.”

  The child leaped away in delight. Leaning closer, Griffin whispered in Faith’s ear, “Georgie will never admit it, but he hates touching the fish when they are dangling helplessly from the line. I think he feels bad that they have been captured. He always tells me they are too small to eat and I should toss them back in the lake.”

  “He is such a sensitive little boy,” Faith said softly. “Too kindhearted to bear seeing the poor creatures perish, even on his dinner plate. We shall have a difficult time of it when he realizes bacon comes from pigs. It’s his favorite food.”

  “That certainly won’t be a pleasant conversation,” Griffin agreed.

  The couple shifted their attention to Faith’s horse. Griffin handed off the other pole to her, then bent down and carefully examined the mare’s leg. Sunlight glistened in his hair, highlighting its natural shine. The sight brought on an unexplained rush of emotion, and Faith wished she possessed the confidence to lower her hand and run her fingers tenderly through his dark locks.

  “Do you think she is badly injured?” Faith asked when Griffin finished his examination.

  The viscount shook his head and took back his fishing pole. “It doesn’t seem too serious, but I’m glad you decided not to ride her. I’ll make sure Higgins takes a look at that leg the moment we return. He has a real way with animals and I trust his judgment.”

  Faith nodded in agreement, relieved that Griffin had found no further injuries. The viscount took up the reins and began to carefully lead the horse down the shallow hill. Faith joined him.

  She put her hand on his arm when they approached the lake. “I think my poor mare needs a cool drink,” Faith said. “Thanks to the dust in the road, my throat feels particularly parched, so she must be feeling the same.”

  The viscount brought the horse to the edge of the water and the mare immediately started lapping noisily. When the animal had drunk her fill, he led the mare to a shady area and knotted the reins around a sturdy tree trunk.

  Then he turned to his wife and produced two small flasks from his coat pocket. “You are in luck today, my lady. I have brought along some refreshments. Cider for Georgie and something that packs a bit more of a punch for me.” The viscount held up his bounty. “Which do you prefer?”

  “Cider will be fine,” Faith said. She tugged off her riding gloves and accepted the viscount’s offering.

  Griffin passed her the flask with an apologetic grin. “I’m afraid you’ll have to swill it. Georgie insisted that would be easiest and pulled a prickly face when Cook suggested we pack a proper picnic with jugs of refreshment, plates, cups, and napkins.”

  “I understand. Picnics with linen napkins are for young ladies. And glasses are far too civilized for two rugged fishermen,” Faith said, removing her bonnet. She shoved a damp strand of hair out of her eye, tipped the flask to her lips, and took a long swallow.

  Griffin’s eyes were smiling when she returned the flask. “What is wrong?” Faith ran the back of her hand across her mouth, then glanced hastily down at her bodice and skirt. “Is cider dribbling down my chin? Have I spilled some on my habit?”

  “No, Faith. I was merely observing your actions.” Griffin moved closer. His masculine scent enveloped her, and the urge to embrace him heightened. “You drink with such gusto. It is quite an extraordinary sight.”

  “Ah, unladylike gusto.” She preened shamelessly before him. “Do you find it offensive, sir?”

  “Just the opposite. I find it invigorating. I like passion in my women.”

  Faith’s heart skipped. Is that what I am? His woman? She looked into his hot, silvery eyes and felt herself starting to melt. Perhaps she was finally succeeding in closing the distance between them.

  “Look at all the worms I’ve found.” Georgie appeared suddenly by Faith’s side, carrying his bucket in both hands. “I must have hundreds!”

  With a grunt, the child lifted the bucket for their inspection. They dutifully glanced inside, their heads nearly touching in the process.

  Griffin cleared his throat. “An excellent start, son.”

  Georgie set the bucket on the ground, crouched low, and studied the contents. “I like the big ones best.” He picked up a twig and carefully nudged apart a pair of worms. “But I need more. I want to catch lots and lots of fish today.” With a look of unmistakable determination the boy ran to the edge of the water to resume his digging.

  Griffin smiled. “I believe that Georgie enjoys digging up the worms far more than the actual fishing.”

  Faith returned the smile, then turned to watch the child. “What boy wouldn’t? You must stay still and quiet to catch a
fish, a difficult challenge for our energetic youngster. Besides, acquiring bait is probably the only permissible excuse for mucking about in the mud and getting completely filthy.”

  “Judging by the condition of his clothes most days, I can see that mud possesses a certain amount of charm,” Griffin commented.

  He offered Faith his arm, and they strolled to a shady spot. Once there, Faith gratefully lowered herself to the grass and settled her back against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes darted constantly toward Georgie as he knelt in the mud on the banks of the lake, his small hands gleefully flinging clumps of dirt in the air.

  Truthfully, she wasn’t exactly certain what sort of assistance she could offer the little boy if he plunged into the water, since she was unable to swim a stroke, but her eyes never left him.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Griffin stretched out beside her. Though Faith’s eyes never strayed from the child, all of her other senses were very much aware of the man now lying so intimately close.

  “Georgie does have a talent for finding dirt, no matter where he is or what he is doing,” he remarked with an indulgent trace of pride in his voice.

  “A trait he shares with his illustrious father,” Faith declared.

  “I beg your pardon.” Griffin’s eyes swung back toward her.

  Faith reached out and ran her hand back and forth over the top of the grass. “Oh, come now, Griffin, you must be honest with yourself. When we were children you spent half your time in the dirt and the other half running away from your nurse to avoid your bath.”

  “Compared to you, I suppose I was quite a sight. You would throw a fit if you got even a speck of dirt on your clothes.”

  Faith’s hand stopped. “Was I really such a prissy little girl?”

  Griffin rolled his eyes. “You were impossible. Always demanding to be included in our games and complaining mightily if you were defeated or could not keep up. And you cried anytime your hands or face or dress became dirty.”

  “I was not that bad.”

  “You were. Thankfully, you have managed to change. A bit.” His eyes lit with teasing humor. “However, you are as bossy as ever.”

  “Griffin!” Faith pulled up a handful of grass and flung it at him. He nimbly rolled out of the way before any landed on his person.

  “See, you are as spoiled as ever and unable to take any sort of criticism. Just like when we were children.”

  Faith tried to school her features into an indignant expression, but instead she started giggling. “I suppose my father did on occasion indulge my girlish whims.”

  “On occasion? He always did as you asked.” Griffin shook his head. “Neville and I often wondered what your secret was for getting your own way. I used to think it was because you were a girl, but Harriet could never get our father to even listen to her opinions, so I decided that couldn’t be the reason.”

  “I was an only child,” Faith said. “My parents had no one else on whom to focus their love and attention. I greedily got it all.”

  “Your parents adored you, Faith,” Griffin said quietly. “I think we all felt a bit envious of that love and devotion.”

  Faith drew up her knees and clasped her legs with her arms. “We were very fortunate children. All of us.”

  Griffin nodded. “Ah, those were carefree days. Lord, it seems like a lifetime ago.” The viscount’s face took on a wistful, indulgent expression that reminded Faith very much of his young son. “If I had known then that I would one day be responsible for all of this land and tenants and farms, I would have appreciated my freedom far more.”

  Guilt snarled at Faith. Griffin’s simple words were a stark reminder of the burdens he now carried. Of the responsibilities he had never expected to assume and the wife he had never thought to have—her.

  She sighed and rested one cheek on her updrawn knees. “ ’Tis not so awful to be an adult, is it?”

  The viscount raised his head. She felt his eyes do a slow sweep of her person, lingering on her bosom. “Oh, there are a few advantages.”

  Faith’s spine stiffened, and she felt her shoulders straighten. She tilted her head to gaze at him. That lazy, half-lidded grin told her exactly what he had on his mind. Seduction. The desire he felt was there in his face, in the fire that smoldered in his eyes. Faith nearly shivered at the delicious thought.

  Ever since the harvest ball last month he had continued to share her bed each night. Since he rarely displayed any affection during daylight hours, that nightly intimate closeness was something Faith greedily coveted.

  But Faith was ever mindful that they were not alone in this secluded romantic spot. Tipping her face to the sun, she closed her eyes and pretended to relax, hoping her amorous husband would take the hint and drop the subject.

  He did not. Though she kept her eyes closed, her escalating senses told her he was moving closer. Her heart gave a little jump. She could feel a blush tingle up her throat and settle in her cheeks.

  Then his fingers began idly tracing patterns in the palm of her bare hand. Faith gave a small gasp at his touch as pleasure curled deep within her.

  He sat up and moved closer. She still refused to look at him, yet he was impossible to ignore or dismiss. With each breath she drew, Faith inhaled the alluring, masculine scent of him, and it stirred her passions anew.

  The viscount leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. “I have always wondered what it would feel like to make love outdoors, by a lovely lake, in the cool autumn air with the sunshine warming my flesh. Are you not also curious, my dear?”

  Faith’s breath nearly stopped. The images that overtook her were mind numbing. His hard, hot body lying directly atop hers, skin to skin, joined intimately together.

  “I imagine it would be most uncomfortable,” she managed to squeak out. “Lying on the hard ground, having one’s shoulders pressed against the wet grass.”

  “Ah, love, you wound me.” Griffin grasped her chin firmly and turned her head. She opened her eyes and he smiled seductively. “How dare you think me such a rough beast. I would never abuse your delicate skin in such a harsh fashion. No, it would be my back pressing against the hard earth, while you sat astride me, your legs draped across my waist.

  “Or perhaps we would stand in the sunshine together, my lips caressing your neck as I snuggled closer, pressing your back against my chest. Whispering words of encouragement, I would urge you to brace your hands against the trunk of a tall oak tree and bend forward. Then slowly, gently, I would part your silken thighs and ease myself into your warmth.”

  Faith’s cheeks grew hot. More forbidden images crowded her mind, of them joined together in the fashion of mares and stallions. Free and natural, encouraged to be totally uninhibited by the beauty of their surroundings and their trust in each other.

  “You seek to corrupt me, my lord,” she whispered.

  “Have I succeeded?”

  Yes, she wanted to shout. You need only look at me with desire and I melt.

  Faith took a deep breath. “I fear your curiosity will not be satisfied on this day,” she said haltingly. “Our son is only a few feet away. ’Tis hardly the time for such a wicked dalliance.”

  “Then we must return at another time. Perhaps when the moon is full?” he said in a husky whisper.

  Faith shivered at the pagan thought of making love beneath the stars. “But the moonlight cannot offer the warmth of the sun.”

  “Is not moonlight more magical? More mysterious and forbidden?”

  “I confess the cover of darkness intrigues me, my lord. Yet I fear I am too practical. Would I not be cold?”

  “Not if you are with me.” The viscount’s hands cradled Faith’s head, and he pulled her toward him, bringing his lips to hers. Their tongues met in an excited, yet controlled kiss.

  When it was over, Griffin pulled back slowly, seeming to savor every moment. They stared at each other, both breathless. Faith shut her eyes briefly, unable to stop the quiver of longing that seared her.

  Gr
iffin cleared his throat. “It pains me, but I must admit that you are right, my dear. Now is not the time for our indulgences. And I promised you sunshine on your naked skin. ’Tis not fair for me to go back on my word. Yet I fear if we wait until I am finished working on these blasted accounts there will be frost on the ground. Even my boundless ardor for you will not be able to overcome those elements.”

  Faith smiled. “I could help you.”

  “Indeed?” He leered at her sexily and she blushed.

  “I meant with the accounts.”

  “You?”

  “Yes.”

  His brows drew together. “I have never known a female who could deal successfully with matters of business.”

  “Merry does it,” Faith replied defensively. “Actually, she manages a fairly large fortune. Almost entirely on her own.”

  “How extraordinary.” Griffin stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though I suppose I really shouldn’t be surprised. Lady Meredith proves time and again that she is a wholly unique woman.”

  His praise was like a rude jolt of reality. Faith struggled with the jealousy and resentment, eventually succeeding in conquering both. Yet she lacked the confidence to repeat her offer of assistance.

  A stiff formal silence engulfed them. Faith shifted as a slight breeze ruffled a few loose strands of her hair. With a grimace she realized her chignon was coming undone, the pins no doubt loosened when Griffin had held her head and kissed her soundly.

  “What’s wrong, Faith?”

  “Nothing.” She clasped her hands tightly to her upper arms and rubbed vigorously. “Everything.”

  Griffin assumed a puzzled expression, but waited patiently for her to explain.

  “A few weeks ago, I, along with Harriet and Meredith, spent the better part of afternoon tea spouting off to Elizabeth about how she must be sure to marry a man who values her not only for her beauty and sweet temperament, but for her intelligence. A man who is not afraid to ask her opinion in a wide variety of important matters, nor is too timid to listen to that opinion.”