“How kind of you to say so.”
Rheda noted she did not return with a similar compliment. Why would she? Compared to this lady, Rheda looked like a farmer’s daughter.
“You keep country hours I see, Miss Kerrich. I assume you are here to see Lady Hale.” Her words were in contrast to her smile, which bordered on a smirk.
Rheda decided she’d had enough of being politely slighted. “Please, call me Rheda. Who else would I be here to see?” She made her tone as sweet as her shimmering temper would allow.
Lady Umbridge inclined her head. “You may call me Fleur.” She indicated the tea pot. “May I?”
“Please. Help yourself—Fleur.”
Fleur poured her tea and added three sugar lumps. “I adore sweet things. Now where were we? Oh, yes. We were discussing your reason for visiting so early in the morning. It would appear you are either trying to avoid someone or perhaps arranging a fortuitous meeting. I wonder which?”
Rheda fidgeted with an escaped strand of hair. How did Lady Umbridge know her motives? She’d been hoping to bump into Christopher. She wanted information. What did Christopher believe was the reason for the viscount’s visit to the area? Rheda knew Lord Strathmore wasn’t here to buy property.
“I can see by the guilty look on your face, it was not Lady Hale you’d hoped to see this early. Perhaps it was one of the guests, Lord Strathmore perhaps?” She lifted a straight eyebrow. Her blue eyes focused on Rheda. “I knew Rufus when he was younger. He was quite the boy.” She paused. “Now he’s become quite the man. All man.”
Rheda couldn’t help the heat that stole over her features. Without thinking she uttered, “I saw enough of Lord Strathmore last night, thank you.”
Fleur sat back in her seat and smiled. “So he said on his return last night.”
Rheda’s head jerked up. Last night? He hadn’t left Tumsbury Cliff Manor until well after three. Rheda had gone to bed earlier but had been unable to sleep knowing he was in their house. She’d not had time to warn Daniel. She hoped her brother hadn’t left the viscount alone. They had secrets that needed to remain hidden from an astute Lord Strathmore.
But Daniel insisted Rufus teach him how to play faro. They’d played well past midnight. It was close to three in the morning before she’d heard Caesar leave the stables. How was it that Fleur had talked with him so late? Her eyes flashed to Fleur and took in her raised eyebrows. Color flooded Rheda’s face—there was only one way she would have known. He’d met with her on his return—early in the morning. Met with her for what?
Suddenly, the room grew as dark as if the sunlight had been sucked from the sky. Stupid girl. Her stomach gripped. She didn’t want to know.
Fleur tried to feign innocence. “He did say how much he’d enjoyed your little supper. I believe the word he used was quaint.” The last word held hints of malice.
Rheda tried to hide the fury Lady Umbridge’s words provoked. An image of them together, naked in Lord Strathmore’s bed, discussing her lack of social skills, made her muscles seize with—no. She sucked in a breath. She was jealous. How could that be? She’d scratch his eyes out. Lord Strathmore might have an intellect she found stimulating and attractive, but as far as women were concerned, he was no different from any other man. He could arouse her passions, but that was merely physical. She had no emotional attachment to him. Except, of course, he could cause her a great deal of trouble if, as she suspected, he was here on His Majesty’s business. Why did she care where he took his pleasure? Like every other man she’d known, he flattered to get what he wanted. Then he’d discard her just as easily. He’d lie to get his way and then indulge wherever and with whomever he pleased.
She stood, but she couldn’t seem to get her legs to move.
Lady Umbridge gave a satisfied smile, fully aware of the inference generated by her conversation. “Leaving? So soon? But we have only just started to get to know each other.”
“I was hoping to speak with Chris—Lord Hale—this morning. Have you seen him?”
“I have.”
Rheda swiveled to stare at the doorway. Rufus. She cursed herself. His velvety smooth voice trickled over her like a summer shower.
“Lord Strathmore, do join us. Miss Kerrich appears to be in a hurry to talk with Lord Hale. Have you seen him?”
Rheda didn’t want to look at him. She hated that she had to stand in the same room as his mistress and pretend that only yesterday he’d sworn that he’d die without a taste from her sweet lips. Men. They were all scoundrels.
She looked up to find Rufus studying her. She squared her shoulders and met his blatant stare. His full lips broke into a knowing smile. He could see her prickling with jealousy, and Rheda didn’t like it. She did not want to care who warmed his bed.
But she did.
Unfolding his arms and pushing away from the doorway where he’d been leaning like a Greek god surveying his domain, Rufus sauntered into the room. He seemed to ignore Lady Umbridge and addressed himself directly to her. “Lord Hale is still abed.”
Yet for all his cool composure Rufus seemed on edge. “If you’ll excuse us, Lady Umbridge, I shall escort Miss Kerrich for a stroll in the gardens until Lord Hale has risen.”
“Darling, of course I don’t mind. We saw enough of each other last night. Besides, I’m not hungry. Not hungry for food anyway.” And she gave a giggle. “My hunger is more intimate in nature, if you remember. Last night only whet my appetite.”
Rheda watched Rufus’s lips tighten and his face redden. His eyes narrowed; his dark brows dipped low over his bold nose. He was livid.
“That’s enough, Lady Umbridge. Do try to be less vulgar when in company.” Rheda noted he had not attempted to deny Fleur’s statement. She could tell by the look of guilt flashing in his deep-brown eyes that he had indeed been with Lady Umbridge last night. The pain made her fingernails dig into her closed palms.
Something of her horror must have shown in her eyes because he took a step toward her, his eyes pleading. She inwardly cursed. She did not want him to know she cared.
Rheda tipped her chin up to an angle of defiance. Her features smoothed to a blank mask, the camouflage that was so much a part of her.
She’d survived her father’s constant disappointments by facing bitter truths. She would not shy from them now. The truth was Lord Strathmore had been playing with her. He wanted to use her to gather information. He did not really desire her over and above a woman with such obvious experience. A woman who would know how to slake a man’s appetites. A rake’s appetites. Rheda wouldn’t know where to begin. Rufus would find her lacking in comparison.
Rufus didn’t know she was inexperienced in the arts of pleasure. He believed the gossip about Prince Hammed. He obviously thought a scandal-ridden spinster would be easy to seduce. From her response at their first meeting, he probably thought she’d tell him everything in exchange for a night in his bed.
She blinked away the welling tears. To think she’d almost decided to play his game. To let him teach her about passion. She shivered in revulsion. She’d not share a man with another woman. Not after seeing what it did to her mother.
He must have sensed some of her thoughts because he growled low in his throat, and with a firm grip on her elbow he all but propelled her out of the room as Lady Umbridge broke into peals of laughter behind them.
They were halfway toward the front steps leading down into the rose garden before Rheda realized where they were headed.
“Let go of me,” she hissed. “I’ll wait inside.”
Rufus ignored her futile attempts to break free of his grasp. She felt the anger emanating from every inch of his hard, lean body. What had he to be angry about? Angry perhaps at being caught. He was the one seducing her while sleeping with another.
Rufus didn’t speak until they reached the arbor. “My, my. Is the little wild cat jealous?”
“Why can’t a man be satisfied with only one woman. Why can’t he be true to her and only her?” She
turned on him, her voice filled with scorn. “Why is one woman never enough?” He was exactly like her father. “Jealous? Hardly.”
“It may surprise you, hellion, that some women do find me attractive and will do anything to share my bed.”
“Lucky for me I’m not one of them. I’m not desperate enough to share.”
He moved in close enough for her to smell the masculinity that clung to him. “Seethe your claws,” he growled as if she were the one in the wrong. “If you were mine ... I wouldn’t share, either.”
His grip tightened on her arm.
“I don’t know what right you’ve got to be angry,” Rheda said, her eyes darkening with pain. “I’m the one who’s just been made fun of by your paramour. What delightful tales about me did you share with her?”
He fought to speak normally, but his voice emerged sharp and brittle. “Lady Umbridge is not my mistress. Not now. Not ever. She’s the last woman I’d ever share a bed with.”
“I see. Fancy that, a rake with taste.” Rheda made a scoffing sound beside him. Her mouth straightened into an unhappy line. “I don’t believe you. No wonder you found my feeble attractions wanting last night.”
God, how wrong could she be? He’d wanted her with a hunger that made his stomach and every part of him ache to possess her. “Wanting? I’ve wanted no woman as much as I want you. I did not indulge my fantasy of ravishing you last night for several reasons. None of them involved worrying about a relationship with Lady Umbridge. I have none. She is Lord Worthington’s mistress, if you must know.”
She shook her head and raised a hand to keep her wind-tossed hair from her eyes. “Why would Fleur intimate otherwise ?” He couldn’t mistake the disbelief in her face. She turned away. He cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. “It does not matter to me who you share a bed with.” The wind whipped at her low words, so he had to lean closer to hear. A dizzying waft of her scent mixed with the fragrance radiating from the rows of flowers made his nostrils flare in response.
“Liar.”
She gasped.
A torrent of words fought to escape, words that would tell her how much he desired her, how exquisite she was, how sensual and how addictive. He stifled them all. He had no right to pay compliments to a woman he could place in the hangman’s noose. His soul grew colder than a frozen mountain peak. He’d known twelve years ago what clearing his father’s name would cost him. What he’d not understood, could obviously never have comprehended, was that his pilgrimage would likely kill the last shred of his humanity.
He wanted it to be over. Wanted his task finished. He wanted his life back.
He would settle down and become the head of a respectable, scandal-free family. He would put aside his desires, his wants, and ensure the Strathmore name rose to prominence once again. He’d sworn it on his father’s grave.
His cravat suddenly felt very tight.
The woman before him was everything he craved and everything he should fear. Beautiful, sensual, spirited, intelligent, and secretive. But was she deadly?
Rheda was like a drug seeping into his blood. In small doses he could control his need for her, but the more he saw, felt, and scented her, the stronger the craving became, until he could all but forget his mission. He could feel his resolve not to bed her slipping like a set of whore’s drawers.
Should he heed Alex’s advice? Was he so coldly calculating that he could seduce, bed, and then arrest her? He looked down into vibrant eyes of ocean green. They were defiantly challenging, and his blood heated. He would not delude himself. The answer was yes.
He took a breath and felt like a sinner in confession. “I have never willingly indulged in any relationship with Lady Umbridge.” He pressed on. “Yes, she was in my room when I returned from Tumsbury Cliff Manor last night. But not at my invitation. She’s simply trying to cause trouble. She’s the one who is jealous. She can sense my interest in you.”
He saw Rheda’s eyes flick over his face, and he steadfastly met her gaze.
“I want to believe you,” she said at last.
He didn’t understand why that was important to him. He advanced his course further. “There is one point on which I know we can agree. You want me just as much as I want you. Can you honestly deny it?”
She looked away, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth. When her gaze returned to his face he could tell she’d made a decision. “What does it matter? You would never want a marriage with the likes of me, and I’ll not hurt my brother with any further disgrace. There can be nothing between us.” She sighed in resignation. “Who you chose to sleep with is none of my concern.”
He allowed anger to seep into his voice. “It is of no importance who I’ve slept with in the past, true, only who I now wish to sleep with.” Lady Umbridge had pleasured him last night without his permission. He didn’t want to inform her he had actually been dreaming of Rheda’s mouth on him at the time. He pulled her to him like a fish on a line. “There is only one woman I want in my bed.” He took her lips in a kiss, the taste of her rousing his need to boiling point.
Guilt assailed him. He shouldn’t care about her, but he did. She was trying to do the right thing by her brother. He respected her for that. Let her walk away. But he couldn’t let her demise stand in his way. Not until he knew whether she was involved with smuggling or worse, treason.
Rufus’s heart clenched in his chest at the thought. A successful mission could mean her death. If she were guilty she’d hang. Not even he could save her.
He heard her wince. He noticed he was gripping her arms tightly and loosened his hold. He frowned. He couldn’t let himself have any feelings for this woman. Not when he might have to arrest her—or worse—see her put to death.
Instead he turned his anger upon her. “Then let’s end this before anyone gets hurt. Tell me about the barrel. What are you hiding? Who are you protecting?”
“Tell me why this information is so important. Then I might tell you. Can’t you trust me—”
He released her and stepped away. “No. I don’t trust anyone. Especially beautiful women.” He pushed his coat aside and lifted his shirt. Rheda gasped as his torso came in to view. “A woman whom I trusted gave me this. A woman equally alluring as you. A woman who also asked me to trust her.”
He was so beautiful. His chest and stomach glowed golden in the sun. Her hand rose to touch the sparse brown hair sprinkling his chest. Only when he was silent did she notice the jagged scar that sliced down his left side, destroying the perfection. She couldn’t imagine any woman wanting to mar such beauty. She had to curl her toes up tight to stop herself stepping forward and planting kisses on the scar’s jagged length.
“Who was she?” she asked in a quiet voice.
The pain drained from his eyes. He quickly lowered his shirt. “She is of no consequence.”
“That’s not true. She hurt you.” She tentatively touched his chest. “Why?”
“Why?”
“Why did she knife you?”
He looked away, his mouth set in a firm line. “Because I was a fool.”
“You’re a fool if you judge all women by one bad experience.” He tugged at his cuffs. “Says the woman who judges all men by her father’s standards of honor.”
She turned away before he could see the pain in her eyes. “You did not know my father.” Then she swung back to face him. “If you had you’d probably have liked him. He, too, loved bedding as many women as he could, while never engaging any other emotion than lust.”
Rufus’s lip curled up in disgust. “Lust is an emotion men cannot hide. A woman can see and feel a man’s lust. On the other hand, women can fake lust as easily as they can fake every other emotion. That is what makes women so dangerous.”
Rheda watched the play of emotions roaming his features. She saw hurt, pain, and something that looked a lot like guilt. “The woman who knifed you—you loved her.” It wasn’t a question. “You surprise me, Rufus. I never would have imagined a man like you be
ing capable of love. Interesting ...”
He narrowed his gaze. “I never make the same mistake twice,” he warned. “Don’t play games with me, Rheda. You won’t like the outcome.”
She moved until her hand pressed against his side where he had been wounded. “Only yesterday you were expertly demonstrating how pleasurable games could be. Why the sudden change of heart?” Her hand crept up his chest until she could feel a beat under her palm. She looked into his warm brown eyes and saw her answer. Her heart suddenly seemed to be trying to own all of her chest cavity. Did he have feelings for her? Was that why Rufus was determined that she believe he was not sleeping with Lady Umbridge? She could neither help nor hide her victorious smile. “Perhaps with me more than simply your lust is engaged.”
She could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest under her hand. His breathing increased, and his pulse raced. She licked her lips and stood on tiptoes to place a gentle kiss upon his sensuous mouth. He groaned and pulled her hard against him. Just as he’d stated, Rufus could not hide his lust for her. But was he hiding other feelings? She longed to find out.
Rheda took charge of the kiss. She plunged her tongue deep into his mouth, tangling with his tongue in a duel to control the rising taste of pleasure. She withdrew to stroke the inside of his cheek as he had done to her, before reissuing her challenge for dominance. She played with his tongue like an expert and won. He seemed to enjoy her occupation, if his escalating moans were anything to go by.
The kiss carried her away. She was lost in a swirl of desire. Her breasts ached for his touch, her belly churned, and she grew hot and restless. If he laid her down on the grass and lifted her skirts to sink between her thighs, she’d let him. The knowledge of her complete surrender should have frightened her, but instead it made her grow bolder.
She reached between them and ran her fingers over the hard ridge at his groin. His size was daunting and thrilling. What would he feel like when he drove deep within her? A wave of heat swamped her, and her fingers frantically fought with his trouser buttons, eager to free him to her touch. He lifted his head and roughly pushed her out of his arms. He stood looking at her with such heated longing it made her knees weak. His breath came in ragged pants, and he swallowed convulsively.
Invitation to Scandal Page 14
