Never Miss a Chance (Kellington Book Two)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “He really should think about marriage,” said Lady Riverton. “And it is my hope above all others that Riverton shall marry soon, as well.”

  “On that subject, Mama…” began Riverton.

  “Ladies,” said his mother quickly. “It is time to leave the men to their brandy and cigars. Please join me in the drawing room, where I hope to persuade our dear sweet Melissa to play and sing for us. She really is quite exceptionally talented.”

  “You are too kind, my lady,” said Melissa, as she blushed becomingly. “I’m so out of practice, I’m sure I cannot do justice to your instrument.”

  “Nonsense,” said her mama. “You shall acquit yourself beautifully, as you do in all things.”

  The ladies rose as one to move on to the drawing room. Lizzie lagged a little behind the others only to have Miss Rennard put her arm through hers.

  “Would it be too much to hope that she’s actually tone deaf?” asked Miss Rennard.

  “I think,” said Lizzie turning to the lady, “that you and I shall be lifelong friends.”

  When the gentlemen finished their port, they rejoined the ladies. Miss Simons sang three arias in Italian, and provided the English translation. Lady Nicholls then suggested that Riverton join Melissa for a series of duets the two had perfected at long-ago family functions.

  They sang beautifully together and looked like two fair-haired angels. They were, of course, impeccable in their musicality. And it was obvious to everyone they had a bond of real friendship.

  “I had no idea,” said Stalford as he leaned in to whisper in Lizzie’s ear at the back of the room, “that Riverton was so musical. It’s like he’s a changed man. One who’s almost human.”

  “Take care sir,” said Lizzie in quelling tones. “You are talking about my fiancé.”

  “Yes,” said Stalford. “But for how long? If you’ll excuse me, my dear, I must speak to Edith about something. If you need anything, please send for me. Any time of day or night.”

  As Stalford took his leave, Lizzie realized she’d had her fill of the evening’s entertainment. But she’d no sooner left the room, than Riverton was by her side.

  “At last,” he said, as he reached for her hand. “We can finally be alone.”

  All he needed to do was touch her hand, lightly stroking his thumb over her palm and Lizzie was ready to melt. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” she asked.

  “To talk?” he asked. “Or to do something else?”

  Lizzie was enraptured by the feel of his hand, by the look in his eyes. By the very masculine smell of sandalwood and leather. “To do something else,” she whispered.

  His eyes flared. “I’d like to take you upstairs, my dear, sweet Lizzie. But I’m afraid that would be most unwise. Will you go outside with me instead?”

  Lizzie nodded. She would’ve preferred the “most unwise” option, but it didn’t really matter where they went, so long as she could be alone with him.

  He led her into the library, then through the French doors to the side garden. It was a warm evening and the air was redolent with the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass. They walked hand in hand without saying a word, keeping to the side of the lawn closest to the trees. That both of them wanted to escape undetected was clear. Words were unnecessary to convey the urgency they both felt.

  They were headed toward the lake. There were a million questions Lizzie wanted to ask, but she preferred not to break the spell. She didn’t want to hear answers that could tear her world apart. She might never have anything more than that night, but she wanted to make the most of it. She needed to make the most of it.

  * * *

  Marcus was a wreck. The pledge he’d made to Lynwood to protect Lizzie, to treat her with respect reverberated in his head. But it was completely drowned out by the primal knowledge that he finally had her alone on his property. On what would soon be their land. He’d like to be with her right now in their bed, but he couldn’t risk her being discovered. He longed to make her his. But he knew it was too soon for her. He hoped they could further their intimacy, but judging by the conflagration the last time they were alone together, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop in time.

  They reached the lake. They stood looking out, with the moon reflected on the still surface. He pulled her into his arms, with her back to his front.

  “This has always been a special place for me,” he said. “It has an almost mystical pull for me. I didn’t….” He paused for a moment, considering how much he should tell her. “I didn’t have any friends while I was growing up. My parents believed no one in the village was worthy of us, and it went without saying that I would never be allowed to play with the servants’ children. They once caught me swimming with the son of one of our grooms. They turned the man out the next day.”

  “That’s horrible,” said Lizzie, aching for the child he once was.

  “Yes, it was. But the first thing I did when I went to university was to find the man and his son. Both now work at my estate in Cornwall. I think if I hadn’t seen the unfairness of the situation as a lad, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.”

  Lizzie felt his arms close tighter around her. Her eyes filled with tears. He was such a good man. Too good of a man to be dragged down by her. She had to end this association once and for all.

  But first, she had one night to spend with him.

  She felt his lips on her neck, below her ear, making his way down to her shoulder. One of his hands moved to her breast, cupping it, rolling the already hard nipple between his fingers. His other hand travelled downward, between her legs. Making her grow wetter with every stroke.

  She leaned back against him. Her bottom pressed against his cock and she heard him groan. She knew he was as anxious as she. The honor which had prompted him to offer for her had no place in this embrace. It was about man and woman, driven by need and something much deeper. At least it was for her.

  His hands drew back, but before she could protest, she felt him undoing her gown, kissing her neck as he went. First her gown fell, then her corset and finally her chemise. She somehow had the strength to break away from him, then turn to look at the man who was driving her wild.

  She’d never seen him as lost to passion as he was at that moment. Breathing heavily, he was as far from his usual urbane self as it was possible to be. His eyes devoured her, and everywhere his gaze landed, she felt heat.

  “Take your clothes off,” she said, wondering how she found the breath to speak.

  He nodded slightly, then tore off his jacket and waistcoat, as she removed her slippers and stockings. She watched as he took his shirt off, marveling at his bare chest. He undid the placket of his breeches and her breath hitched as his hard cock jutted outward.

  Suddenly, she was overwhelmed. Not by the thought of making love to him, but by what she would be forced to do when it was all over. She turned toward the lake, then started walking.

  “Where are you going?” he asked with a raspy voice.

  She kept walking, but looked back at him.

  “For a swim.”

  She felt him come after her even before she saw the flicker of motion. She laughed as she ran ahead to the lake, then waded in and began swimming. The cool water felt refreshing on the hot summer night. He soon caught up to her, then pulled her into his arms. His lips came down on hers possessively. There was no hesitation. No sign of the polite gentleman. All she felt was hunger and passion. His arms pressed her to him as his muscular legs entwined with hers as they worked to stay afloat.

  He lifted her enough to bring a breast to his mouth. He suckled her nipple, sending sensation all the way through her. Nothing about this was gentle, but she knew she was safe. She could spend a lifetime in his arms and know nothing but the passion which would keep her warm on the coldest of nights. And more importantly, kindle the joy in her heart.

  He moved one hand down her body, then slid a finger into her. Her muscles immediately gripped.

  “Oh, love,” said Marc
us with a groan. “You’re so tight. So wet. So mine.”

  Any thought he had of stopping was long gone. He had to make her his. Tonight. He pulled his finger out, then moved the head of his cock to her opening. He rubbed back and forth until neither could stand the tension any longer. He pressed in for half an inch, then slid out again. He repeated the motion over and over in an agonizingly slow rhythm, trying to stretch her, trying to ease his way in.

  She had her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms at his shoulders. And as much as she wanted to look down to see how they fit together, she was unable to look away from the eyes that were locked on hers. It was a memory she’d keep with her always.

  He lifted her in his arms, then began wading back to shore. He carried her out of the water, then laid her down on the grassy bank.

  He covered her with his body. A wall of muscle. The man she loved. He’d lost none of the urgency as he spread her legs with his thigh. “My love,” he whispered, “I’m afraid this will hurt. I’ll be as gentle as I can, although God only knows how I’ll be able to keep myself in check.”

  “I don’t want you to hold back, Marcus,” she said as she kissed him. “Please….take me. I want to be yours tonight.”

  At the words, Riverton’s last bit of sanity fled. With one hand under her bottom, he guided the head of his cock to her creamy opening. As gently as possible, he pressed into her. His cock was swollen harder than he’d ever known it, and she was incredibly tight. Even as wet as she was, he could feel her tense as he slowly pressed further in.

  He kissed her. And as he tangled his tongue with hers, he breached her maidenhead. He felt her flinch, then stilled and cursed himself for causing her pain. But at that moment, buried so deeply in the woman he loved, he knew this had been predestined since the time their souls had formed.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Lizzie clearing her throat. “Marcus,” she whispered. “This has been most fascinating. But there’s more, is there not?”

  He smiled, kissed her once again, then began to move slowly. Inch by inch, in and out. Setting a rhythm she had no problem following. They lost themselves in each other.

  Riverton wanted to make it last for hours, but knew he was too close to the edge. He moved his hand between them, pressing Lizzie where she was most sensitive. She immediately came for him, issuing a most gratifying cry. Moments later, Riverton followed her over the edge.

  It had been an experience beyond any he’d ever known previously. He was in awe of where they’d go from there.

  * * *

  The knock at the door caught Tara unaware. She quickly put away her notebook, then reached for the knife she always kept close, even though it was most likely the maid Lord Riverton had so kindly assigned to her. How he was related to his mother and sisters, she hadn’t a clue. The man was the only decent one in the lot.

  She opened the door to see a pile of freshly laundered undergarments. But they weren’t being delivered by the maid. They were in the hands of Lord Arthur Kellington.

  “Returned, as promised,” he said, as he simultaneously deposited the clothing into her arms, stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “And in much better condition than when I found them. It looked like you’d been rolling around in the mud, my dear. And while that conjures up any number of delightful visions, it can’t possibly make your maid’s life any easier, can it? Oh, but I forgot. Your maid didn’t accompany you. And where did she go again?”

  “Get out of my room,” she said, even as she felt the tiniest bit close to swooning by having Arthur in her bed chamber. And she never swooned.

  “Is that any way to treat your most trusted confidant?”

  “You are not my confidant, my lord, nor can I imagine any circumstances in which you’d be terribly trustworthy.”

  “Then you have a limited imagination. But fear not – I have enough for the both of us. However, what I’d truly like to know is who you are really and why you’re trying to conceal a knife in your hand.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Tara placed the knife on the dresser, then stalled for time by slowly putting away her undergarments.

  “May I help with that?” asked Arthur. “I’ve always wanted to get into a lady’s drawers.”

  At her fuming look, he innocently pointed to the dresser and its drawers.

  She somehow stifled a smile. “I am Tara Rennard, a distant relation of Lord Riverton and his family.”

  “Then you have aged exceptionally well, since the only female Rennard I could find in the family Bible would be in her late 60s.”

  “The Bible must not have been updated.”

  “That is, of course, one theory. In this case it’s not the right one, but it nevertheless qualifies as a theory. But fear not, the Bible is secreted away in my room, safe from Charlotte’s prying eyes.” He turned serious, as he looked around the bed chamber. “But if you have come to rob the place or otherwise wreak havoc, I’m afraid I’ll have to make your deception known to Riverton. He is a good friend to my family and will soon marry my sister. I cannot allow you to importune him.”

  Tara took a deep breath and considered her options, well aware of Arthur’s intent gaze on her. He had the appearance of a ton rake who wandered aimlessly through life, but she was beginning to realize that wasn’t the real Arthur.

  And, in other circumstances, she would’ve liked to have known the man beneath the veneer.

  Finally, she spoke. “I’m looking for something.”

  “That’s obvious. But the question is what do you seek?”

  “A treasure map.”

  Judging by his look of surprise, he hadn’t expected to hear that. “Somehow I don’t remember pirates ever sailing on Riverton’s lake.”

  “It wasn’t a pirate. It was a common thief. My mother’s aunt used to tell us stories about a treasure that had been stolen from my great-great-grandfather. The thief had a partner who double-crossed him. As the man closed in on him, the thief hid the treasure away, then left a map leading to it.”

  “And you believe he left the map in Riverton’s lake.”

  “I don’t know for sure. But my family has been searching for the map for generations. I recently acquired some old letters written by the thief which alluded to a lake in Kent. I thought perhaps he might’ve hidden the map here.”

  “So you invented the story about being a family connection.”

  “Yes.” He could tell she was genuinely conflicted about it. “I don’t mean any harm. I just want to recover what belongs to my family.”

  “Why not simply tell them what you seek?”

  “Perhaps I would have, if Lord Riverton had been at home when I arrived. But, well, I’d heard stories of his mother and sisters. I didn’t think they’d be the type to let me look for the map, then simply take it away.”

  “They definitely would’ve let you search for the map. But you’re right about the taking away portion. How do I know what you’re telling me is true?”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I’m afraid not. I don’t trust easily. It’s a bad habit of mine.”

  “One of many, I’m sure. You’re a gamester, are you not?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you doubtless have the ability to read people. You tell me if I’m being truthful.” She closed the distance between them, then looked up at him.

  As he gazed down at her clear blue eyes, her full lips and the wisps of fiery hair that refused to be contained, he knew she wasn’t being completely honest, but he was equally certain she posed no danger to Riverton’s family. Despite the knife on the dresser.

  “What about the Marleys?” he asked. “Are they in on this, too?”

  Her face shuttered before she turned away.

  “The Marleys are almost certainly as they seem. They’re no concern of mine.”

  Again, he knew she wasn’t being completely truthful, but had no real evidence on which to base his claim. “Well, Miss Rennard – or whatever your name is �
� your secrets are safe with me. You’ll note I referred to ‘secrets’ in the plural, since I’m sure there are more than one. I will, however, be watching. And if you attempt to hurt anyone in this household, you’ll most definitely regret it. Now I must wish you good night. It’s time for me to go back to my bed chamber and bar the door. Charlotte can be most persistent.”

  Then he slipped out of her room, leaving Tara equal parts worried and intrigued.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “You are as utterly useless as teats on a bull,” said Edith to Stalford, as they met in a clearing in the woods the next morning at the indecently early hour of nine of the o’clock. Edith had sent him the summons two hours earlier, awakening him from a most pleasant dream involving two opera dancers and an obscene amount of winnings at the gaming tables. Stalford had been tempted to ignore the message, but had no doubt Edith would awaken him even earlier the next day or place snakes in his bed or come up with some other torture like making him listen to more of those dreadful Italian arias from the night before. Besides, however unpleasant the conversation would be, at least with Edith, things were always interesting.

  An odd realization, that.

  Stalford raised a brow. “Most ladies do not use the word ‘teats’ in polite conversation.”

  “I think you’ll find, Stalford, that I’m not like ‘most ladies.’ Nor do I care to be.”

  “I had already gathered as much.”

  Stalford eyed the woman who’d become such a thorn in his side. There was nothing of the timid, insipid miss about her. She was quite unlike the other ladies of the ton, from the use of salty language to the total lack of dissembling when they conversed. Edith was a devious one, but oddly, in her interactions with him she’d been refreshingly honest. An attribute he normally had little use for. She made no effort to cover up the less savory parts of her personality. He wasn’t even sure she possessed a sweet side. She had a goal and would do anything to achieve it. As a politician, he admired that drive. If she’d been born a man, she most likely would be Prime Minister by now. It was a chilling and surprisingly erotic thought.