She dried herself, shivering. After only a few more days she would be embarking on a whole new life, one in which she would have to rely on Lord Lensborough for everything. Julia and Phoebe may have crowed over what they termed her conquest, but she couldn’t look on it like that. She felt like a human sacrifice. They were going to take her to London, dress her up, parade her in public and lay her out on a marriage bed, all to satisfy his lordship’s demand for an heir.
She got a surge of rebellious pleasure in tossing the hideous engagement ring into her sandalwood jewel casket when she discovered it was too bulky to wear with her close-fitting riding gloves. Lord Lensborough might think he owned her, but she would make sure there would always be some little corner of her life she could call her own.
It was with head held high and eyes snapping defiance that she met him in the stable yard.
His amused ‘good morning’ was like oil being poured on to a fire.
‘Is it?’ She ignored his offer of a boost, stepping instead on to the mounting block.
‘I think so,’ he said, swinging himself into his own saddle. ‘The perfect morning for a good gallop.’
Hester hooked her knee over the pommel and adjusted her skirts. There would be no gallops in London. No escaping to the stables when her spirits were low. Riding in London was a ponderous, decorous affair, requiring messages being sent to the mews, grooms providing chaperonage, sedate trots along designated bridle ways, constant interruptions by persons wishing to have conversations. And without her dear Strawberry to ride, how could she tolerate even that? Shooting his lordship one defiant look, Hester dug her heels into Strawberry’s flank, and, bending low over her neck, left the yard at the gallop.
With a bark of laughter, Lord Lensborough plunged after her. His bay stallion soon caught up with her shorter-legged mare, and as they thundered neck and neck through the park, they began to leave the rest of their party farther and farther behind.
A quick sideways glance was enough to tell Hester that he was enjoying this. His coal-black eyes glowed with the pleasure of holding his straining mount level with her own, though the powerful beast wanted to lead. Her mouth twisted in a smug smile. His lordship would not look so pleased with himself when he saw where she was taking him.
This might be her last chance to see Lena. Ever. He’d claimed to understand her motives for stooping to mix with society’s outcasts, but she couldn’t assume he would permit her to continue doing so once she was his wife. He would soon have the power to curtail her movements. But he was not going to stop her bidding farewell to her niece, and explaining to Jye that she was getting married and leaving the area. The sooner he understood she was no milk-and-water miss whose conformity to society’s expectations he could take for granted, the better it would be for him.
She cleared the last hedge that separated her uncle’s lands from her own and swung Strawberry’s head round to canter along the bank of the stream that watered the tan.
‘What a spurting little mare you have there,’ Lord Lensborough said as he pulled up beside her. ‘Do you wish to take her to London with you? Though, of course, we will not be able to enjoy a decent gallop like this.’
Hester barely heard him. The clearing where the gypsies had been camping was empty. Only a few mounds of ash and patches of flattened, yellowing grass showed where they had been.
She became conscious of Lord Lensborough’s hand laid over hers where she gripped the reins. ‘I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘They have gone, and you never had a chance to say goodbye to the little girl.’
She whipped round to glare at him. ‘As if you care! If you had your way, I would never see her again.’ It was what Lionel had said. What husband would want his wife to consort with gypsies, let alone own to a relationship with one?
‘But you will see her again, with or without my permission, won’t you?’ The ghost of a smile hovered about his lips.
‘Yes.’ Her whole body quivered with defiance as she flung her reply back at him.
His smile broadened. ‘Then all I can do is request the same terms you agreed with your uncle.’
She gaped at him stupidly. ‘T…terms?’
‘Yes, that you keep your visits discreet, and do nothing to raise Lena’s expectations unfairly.’ He leaned over and, with one finger, lifted her chin to close her mouth. ‘Do you think I am such a tyrant that I would forbid you something that means so much to you?’
The gentleness in his voice and touch was Hester’s undoing. Great fat tears began to roll down her cheeks.
‘I…I am sorry,’ she hiccupped. It was unfair to take her anger out on him. It wasn’t his fault she could not bear the thought of intimacy with a man. It wasn’t his fault that Lena had disappeared, or that there was no way of knowing when she would see her again. None of it was his fault, yet he was going to be saddled with her and all her problems. The more she tried to gulp back the tears, the faster they flowed, till she gave up, sagged over Strawberry’s neck, and just sobbed into her mane.
She felt strong arms go about her waist, and Lord Lensborough was dragging her out of the saddle, her feet were on solid ground, and he was cradling her against his chest. He rocked her while she wept, her hands hanging limp at her sides. When there were no more tears left, she just leaned into him, letting his strong arms cocoon her, while she breathed in the familiar scent of his clothes, the scent that had become inextricably linked in her mind with security. After a while it occurred to her that if this was any other man she would want to pull away. Instead of which, she had an almost overwhelming urge to undo his coat and burrow as closely into his big, strong body as she could get. The urge confused her, alarmed her. With a little gasp, she stepped back, and gazed incredulously into his face.
He loosened his hold as soon as she made to move away. His only indication that he was reluctant to let her go completely was in the fact that he kept his hands resting lightly round her waist.
But he would. If she commanded him to release her, he would. Her breath caught at the realisation that she could wield power over this great, strong man. For some bizarre reason, that knowledge made her want him to keep his hands exactly where they were.
‘Are you ready to talk now?’ He frowned. ‘That was the whole purpose of engineering this time alone with you, after all. When your family are about they seem to do all the talking for you.’
‘What do you want me to say?’
She could not bear the concern she read in his eyes, and focused instead on the stitching around the top buttonhole of his coat. ‘You must know that I have not been capable of stringing two sentences together since you rescued me from Lionel. I cannot get it out of my mind, no matter how hard I try.’
Her hands ventured up the front of his chest, her fingers finding a home amongst the many capes at his shoulders. ‘I cannot eat, or sleep, and then I find I have somehow become engaged to you…and now this…’ She gestured towards the abandoned camp. ‘This was the last straw.’
‘At least becoming engaged to me was not the last straw.’ He laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. She had hurt him.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her eyes filled with tears at the thought she had caused him pain. ‘So sorry,’ she repeated.
‘What have you to be sorry for?’ Gently he drew his thumb across her cheek, brushing a tear from her face.
‘I never thought I would get married,’ she tried to explain. ‘And I don’t think my reaction can have been very flattering to a man of your pride.’
‘Ouch.’ He pretended to wince. ‘But you did not refuse. I gain comfort from that. You must feel there is something about me that raises me above the level of other men.’
‘No, that’s just it. You generally make me so angry I forget to be shy, that is all. I don’t think I have ever really thought of you as a man at all.’
She gasped after the words had left her lips. What was it about Lord Lensborough that made her blurt out the first thing that came into her head?
‘No red-blooded male can
take that sort of insult to his masculinity without instantly having to prove himself, my dear,’ he growled.
The hand that had been caressing her cheek slid round to the nape of her neck. He meant to kiss her. Dear heaven, and she had goaded him into it. Her heart began to pound wildly as he slowly lowered his head towards hers.
She could stop him.
She could step smartly away, or turn her cheek, or tell him to stop, or even give vent to her mounting panic by slapping his arrogant face.
Or—she swallowed—she could try to get accustomed to the sort of things he would require of her once they were married. Steeling herself for the first touch of his mouth on hers, she clung on to his coat for dear life, and closed her eyes.
No, that was no good. The only way she could get through this was to keep her eyes fixed on his, and reassure herself that this was Lord Lensborough. The man who had rescued her. The man she had begun to trust.
She felt the warmth of his breath as he sighed. His arm snaked about her waist, drawing her closer to him. It was absurd, but as soon as she felt his arm round her, she relaxed. With his arms about her, she could face anything.
Then his lips were on hers.
And it was not so bad. Just Lord Lensborough, very close to her, that was all. He only applied a very gentle pressure on her mouth, tentatively tasting her. She sighed with relief. She had been an idiot to think he would roughly force his tongue between her teeth. Even her aunt had told her he would be a gentleman in this respect. Was this what she meant? That there was a different way of going about things than Lionel had led her to believe?
Then his mouth was not on hers any more. Instead, he was raining dozens of kisses on her nose, her cheek, along the line of her jaw. Kisses so light they were like butterfly wings skimming all over her face.
‘Hester.’ His voice was hoarse. A tremor ran through his big, powerful frame. ‘I want to kiss every single one of your freckles.’
Her freckles? The laugh died on her lips as he drew her closer and kissed her mouth again. He held her so tightly that even through their clothes she could feel his arousal. He pushed his hips against her stomach, making her every bit as aware of his jutting masculinity as Lionel had ever done, and yet she was not afraid. On the contrary, the pressure of his mouth on hers, coupled with the security of having his arms wrapped tightly round her, was a bit like the sensation of floating in the tarn on a hot summer’s day. She was surrounded by the alien element of his masculinity, yet her burgeoning trust in the man buoyed her up. A pleasant languor began to glide through her limbs.
She could bask in Lord Lensborough’s kisses. Lionel’s had made her feel as if she were drowning.
When he probed gently with his tongue, she responded by granting him the entry he sought, secure in the knowledge that she could refuse. Eventually, with a shuddering sigh, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and dazed that she had not even found that deeply intrusive kiss unpleasant. She had even fleetingly wondered, when his tongue had stroked the roof of her mouth, what it might be like to taste him in turn.
‘Come.’ His voice harsh, Lord Lensborough turned abruptly away as she touched her hand to her lips in wonder.
When he went to sit on one of the logs left round the ashes of a camp fire, Hester wondered what she could have done to put that scowl on his face. Feeling suddenly very vulnerable without the warmth of his arm about her waist, she followed him as if tugged by an invisible leash.
When she sat next to him, he jerked his leg away from the brush of her skirts. Her heart sank. She knew she had done something wrong.
She hung her head to hide her burning cheeks. From the very first, Lionel had accused her of leading him on, of teasing him, though she had no idea she was doing so. Perhaps something about the way she kissed had made Lord Lensborough draw the same conclusion.
‘After that,’ she heard Lord Lensborough say, ‘I think you should use my given name, don’t you?’
And in the coach, she had lain there, permitting him all sorts of liberties. Had she only been fooling herself that she had to keep still, to lull him into a false sense of security?
‘It is Jasper.’
Had she secretly enjoyed some of it? Was that why she had the nightmares? Not because she hated it, but because of guilt that deep down, so deep that she could not admit it openly, that sort of treatment was what she wanted?
Lord Lensborough sighed heavily. ‘If there is anything about the arrangements that have been made you dislike, you have only to say, and they can be changed. I know you are shy—your aunt explained that you found your Season difficult. If you cannot face being paraded before the ton, we could just have a private ceremony somewhere, without fuss.’
She had to force herself to attend to what Lord Lensborough was asking.
This wedding was all about what others wished. She knew that his mother, Lady Augusta Challinor, wished to host a grand society event. From what Julia had said about her formidable godmother, it would be foolish to set her back up by declaring she would rather be married from The Holme, with Em’s elderly father presiding over the ceremony. Besides, she knew how much her cousins and aunt were looking forward to going to London and mixing in circles they’d not previously had access to.
‘I don’t have strong feelings about it. I told you I never thought I would get married. I only hope your mother will not be too disappointed in me. I do not shine in company.’
‘Hester…’ he plucked her clenched fist from her lap and kissed her knuckles ‘…how could she be disappointed in you? You have persuaded me into matrimony, and will give her grandchildren. With a little grooming you will soon outshine society’s accredited beauties.’
She snatched her hand away, sickened by the juxtaposition of the word applied to horses with the reminder that her primary function was to bear children. To think she had almost been seduced by his practised kisses, charmed by his honeyed words, when he had never raised his mind above the level of animals rutting in the field!
He frowned. ‘Isn’t there any way I can make this easier for you, Hester? Would it help to have a friend to stand with you? Shall we invite Miss Dean to come with us to London to act as your companion?’
Her resentment coiled and subsided. It was hard to keep her guard up against a man who kept on thinking of the very thing she would have wished for herself. He had even guessed she would like Strawberry with her before she’d mentioned it.
She wanted to go home. She needed to unravel her tangled thoughts in private, away from this irritating man who would keep turning her preconceived notions about him upside down. Who made her feel both safe, yet trapped, wanton and ashamed, and resentful and grateful all at the same time.
She leaped to her feet and strode away to capture Strawberry’s trailing reins.
‘We should not leave the horses standing in this cold.’
Lord Lensborough rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet. He had kissed her and she had melted. Oh, she had soon withdrawn into her customarily defensive position, poised to strike, but for a few glorious moments she had been his.
And look at her now, all fingers and thumbs as she tried to untangle the reins. Coming up behind her, he couldn’t resist catching her round her tiny little waist and throwing her up into the saddle. She uttered a little shriek of surprise, but she did not spit venom at him.
No—she averted her head, trying to disguise her blushes by carefully arranging the skirts of her habit. Chuckling, he strode over to where Nero was nosing hopefully at a patch of frost-blackened grass.
She was shy, just as everyone had warned him. But he’d just proved that a passionate nature simmered beneath that prickly shell, just waiting for the right man to bring it to the boil.
* * *
He was not surprised when she became extremely busy over the next two days. She was afraid of being alone with him, thinking he might try to kiss her again.
Not that she was afraid of him, he was sure, but of her own response to him. He
was more certain of it every time she blushed and looked away on the occasions they had to be in the same room. How hard it must be for her to admit she’d enjoyed kissing him, especially to herself. She had vowed she would never marry, and now here she was, darting puzzled little looks at him whenever she thought he was not aware of her.
But he would not gloat over clearing this first hurdle. He was not stupid enough to bruise her pride by pushing for further intimacies just to prove that he could. He laughed at himself. Who was he trying to fool? He dare not take Hester into his arms until they were safely wed. The longing that had ripped through him when she had melted into his embrace had shocked him with its intensity. He had never felt the slightest desire to experiment with al fresco sex before, but one kiss from Hester and it had been all he could do not to fling her to the ground and slake his raging need in her deliciously quivering body. He’d had to break off before he’d lost control.
* * *
His self-control was sorely tried when they finally set out, and they had to spend all day cooped up together. Stephen Farrar, who had decided he might as well make the most of Lord Lensborough’s luxurious travelling coach to return to the metropolis, and Emily Dean were hopeless chaperons. They were so intent on quarrelling with each other, that the others might as well not have existed. By the end of the very first stage to London, his frustrating awareness of Hester, coupled with the constant bickering, left Lord Lensborough thunderously ill tempered.
The evening meal, though excellently prepared, was eaten in an atmosphere that was poisonous with simmering tension. So he ought not to have been surprised when Hester woke up at about two in the morning having a nightmare.
Her screams were so piercing they had him vaulting out of bed, across the landing and into her room without even a token thought to the propriety of what he was doing. They had several other occupants of the upper floor peering blearily out to see what was causing the commotion as well.
As soon as he burst through the door, she gave one inarticulate cry, and crossing the room, flung herself into his arms.
His Cinderella Bride Page 19
