That Bianca would not do.
She would not risk all for a practiced knave’s scrumptious kisses. An immoral blackguard who had no right seducing his ward.
Bianca shoved away from him and delivered a stinging slap to his face before retreating into the farthest recess of the landau.
“I’m not, nor will I ever be, one of your strumpets, Pierce.”
Pierce returned to his side of the carriage, and silence descended in the vehicle. Not oppressive or angry. Melancholic, or perhaps disillusioned, better described the atmosphere. He seemed in the habit of disappointing Bianca, and that realization pricked something long dormant buried deep in his chest.
As insane as it was, he wanted her approval. Why he should, when he didn’t care a fig what most people thought of him, caused him concern.
She kept her head averted, and he traced her regal profile with his gaze. Likely, she was as deep in thought as he. Perhaps as muddled, too, given the shroud of sexual awareness permeating the small enclosure.
He was not accustomed to denying his carnal appetites. Best get used to it. Tupping one’s ward was not done.
Her hands lay primly in her lap, the oval nails short and neat. She wore no rings, no jewelry at all, for that matter. He would see her adorned in gems and the finest garments, though not because she required embellishments.
No, far from it. Beauty such as hers needed no enhancement.
It dawned on him, with startling amazement; he meant what he’d said to Lenora. He would marry Bianca, and not just if that was the singular way to keep her away from Bertram.
But only if she was willing, naturally. Despite his stained repute, Pierce was still considered quite a catch. Any fool holding a title was. She needn’t tell him his earldom meant less than a nip of sugar to her, which made her all the more unusual and beguiling. He’d met her less than twenty-four hours ago, yet it seemed he’d known her for years.
What was it about this woman that penetrated his defenses? Had him actually considering matrimony?
Getting ahead of yourself again there. First things first. Wait and see what the Chancery Court rules.
That could—probably would—take weeks, and so Pierce had opted to quit London post haste. While Burroughs drove Bianca hither and yon earlier, to put the hounds off the scent, as it were, Pierce sent a note ahead directing Popplewell to pack his bags. He also requested that Elsie accompany them, for he meant to be on the road in less than an hour.
A tiny sigh escaped Bianca, and her shoulders slumped a mite before she squared them and continued to stare at the shade.
She truly did have an obstinate streak, the brave darling.
He’d made a colossal mistake, kissing her, though the kiss was the most delicious, the most moving he’d ever experienced.
She had every right to refuse his advances.
In fact, in some queer way, it brought him satisfaction. Not physical release, as his disgruntled lower half could attest. Unable to resist the impulse, he touched his tongue to his lower lip. The sweetness of her plump lips yet remained upon it, and God help him, he wanted to sample the honeyed riches of her mouth again.
It would be worth another slap, but he was not a man who forced himself on women. He didn’t relish being covered in bruises either. Bianca managed a surprisingly strong blow. If there ever were another kiss, she would initiate it.
And there would be another. And another.
He felt sure of it. But kissing only. Nothing more. He didn’t deflower innocents. A wife however…
Desire sparked between them, powerful and enticing, each time they were together, and unchecked passion simmered beneath her proper exterior. Odd thought that he might find himself having to refuse her advances.
Another sort of challenge.
She would shrink in mortification if she suspected how easily he read her. Recognized the signs of willingness, even if she wasn’t aware of them.
He touched a finger to his tender cheek, and the movement drew her focus.
She bit her lower lip, her repentant gaze trained on his face.
“I forgot to tell you, Bianca. Your possessions were delivered to my house this morning.”
Relief brightened her eyes and softened her features. “Thank you, but how did you know where we lodged?”
“My man, Churchgrove, can find out most anything with the aid of a coin or two slipped into a greedy palm.”
A tiny, rather wry smile quirked her mouth. “I cannot imagine having that sort of power.”
As his wife, she would.
For the third time in the same number of minutes a similar thought intruded.
Unwise, his thoughts rambling along that path. Instead, he reflected on her honest observation.
He did take the privileges his title afforded for granted, and her furrowed forehead gave him pause. Had he become the very thing he detested? A self-centered elitist?
A taste, tangy and bitter, filled his mouth. It took a second to recognize it as disgust. He who’d judged so many was no better than they. What right did he, or anyone for that matter, have to condemn another?
What right did Pierce have to exact judgment on Fairfax?
The former captain had only been following orders.
AamA had aided the Munda rebels. Against Father’s wishes and advice, too. Maybe if Father were at home when the raid occurred, he might have been able to intervene.
But AamA didn’t deserve to die because of her involvement.
Fiend seize it. His bloody conscience wouldn’t shut up.
This temporary sojourn into respectability might be just the thing to escape the indulgent, self-absorbed life Pierce had lived these past several years. Halverstone might be just the place to do so, too. He could ride all he wished, and if he recollected correctly, bass and trout populated the large pond, while grouse and hares inhabited the fields.
Maybe he would become a gentleman farmer, though what he knew of farming wouldn’t fill a salt spoon. Also, upon arriving at Halverstone, he must attend to hiring additional servants.
He bent forward and lifted the shade an inch.
Nearly there.
From the corner of her eye, Bianca observed him.
Was she aware of his every move as he was of hers?
What was it about her that fascinated him so? Given her repeated peeks in his direction, she was equally enthralled.
The squab made a squishing noise as he settled against the plush backrest once more. “Another couple of minutes and we’ll arrive, Bianca. I’d like to depart within the hour.”
“And how do you propose I enter the house without being seen?” Distinct frostiness tempered her question. “Perhaps your reputation is tarnished beyond repair, but I don’t care to have mine equally as blackened. I do not have a fortune at my disposal nor a host of influential friends to rush to my defense when something untoward occurs.”
Not ready to forgive him just yet, and why should she? He had acted the cur.
It was his duty to protect her honor.
“We are going to Rebecca’s. Her residence is closest to mine.” Pierce should’ve told her that from the onset. “You shall alight there, and I’ll continue on to my house with no one the wiser. I’ll collect my bags and your possessions, as well as Popplewell and Elsie. She shall act as your chaperone and abigail until Lenora finds someone suitable.”
Bianca pressed her lips together, but she couldn’t silence the protest simmering in her eyes.
What was it she was trying so hard not to say?
Ah, he should have thought of this. Women preferred picking their own lady’s maid.
“Or if you would rather, you may conduct interviews for the position yourself. I could use your assistance hiring additional staff at Halverstone too.” He hooked his ankle across his knee, then tapped his fingers on his upper thigh. “If you would be so kind as to oblige me.”
Fiddling with the clasp of her cape, she gave him a sideways look. “I’ve never had an abig
ail, and I do not require one.”
“No,” he said, straightening his cuff. “But you do require a chaperone, do you not?”
She conceded defeat with a small sigh. “You know I do.”
Touché.
One point for me.
Pierce checked his pocket watch. “I shan’t be above thirty minutes in returning. I must have your word that you won’t try another stunt and dart away again. It would be most unfair to Rebecca.”
Bianca, her chin tilted at what only could be described as a mutinous angle, regarded him with those thickly fringed amber eyes for a full minute before giving a reluctant nod. “I left to retrieve my belongings. And had I known you’d already collected them for me, I wouldn’t have—”
Her voice trailed off, and she dropped her gaze to his boots.
He would forsake his carnal ways if that was the only reason she’d fled Lenora’s, but Pierce let it go. Bianca had been through quite enough in the last eighteen or so hours.
“How far away is Halverstone?” She deftly changed the subject, but he was not daft enough to presume she had accepted her fate.
“A jot over five hours, but there are numerous inns along the way. We’ll be stopping every ten miles or so to switch the team.” He offered a compassionate smile. “I know this is most irregular, Bianca, and I’m sorry for it.”
She laughed, a sad, fragmented sound that nicked his heart. A heart that hadn’t felt much of anything in so long, he welcomed the faint sting.
“‘Irregular,’ my lord? You are a stranger, and you presume I want you dictating every aspect of my life? Do you have any idea how objectionable that is? And I have no choice, do I?” A derelict curl escaped its pin as she shook her head. “I should never have come to London. I just want to go home to Elmswood Parke.”
“You can stay with Lenora, if you prefer.” Even as he said the words, Pierce prayed Bianca would reject his offer. He wanted to get to know this intriguing woman with a temperament as wild as her bright hair.
“Oh, but I cannot,” she refused, her eyes flaring with renewed ire. “You see, I won’t impose myself on another ever again.”
He arched a disbelieving brow and dropped his foot to the carriage floor. “Impose?”
“As a ten-year-old, I was thrust upon my aged aunt and uncle when my mother died from a stomach ailment. My father disappeared five years before that. Then when Uncle Sylvester died, Bertram inherited my guardianship. He made it perfectly clear I was an unwelcome obligation. And now, I’ve been foisted upon you. This,” she waffled her hand between them, “was your doing, my lord, not mine. So you can suffer the inconvenience of my presence. Not the Timberlys.”
No inconvenience, but a most lovely diversion. Mayhap more.
“But be warned, my lord.” She stabbed her shabbily gloved pointer finger at Pierce. “I am neither amiable nor biddable, and what’s more, I don’t want to be either. I predict a day shall soon come that you’ll rue agreeing to my cousin’s terms.”
The carriage slowed, then rocked to a stop.
Try as he might, Pierce could only partially subdue his delighted grin, and even her castigating glare couldn’t quell the upward twitch of his mouth.
“That sounds very much like a challenge, Bianca. And I whole-heartedly accept.” He placed a finger across his lips, contemplating her. “I also have a prediction.”
“I’ll just bet you do,” she muttered, trying to squeeze farther into the corner.
Where was the bravado of a second ago?
“I predict a day shall soon come,” he said, “that you’ll beg for my kisses.”
Bianca nearly vaulted off the seat.
Of all the insufferable, arrogant balderdash.
Beg for the handsome lout’s kisses, indeed.
We shall see.
Summoning her most dazzling smile, she stood, and partially stooped over Pierce—all casual masculinity splayed against his seat. She drew her fingertip from the red hand mark on his face to the corner of his mouth.
His pupils dilated and his breath quickened
Fascinating.
Was that what happened to a man when aroused?
Did it hold true for a woman too?
She dipped lower still, and his mouth parted the merest bit as he cupped her sides with both hands.
He flexed his fingers, digging the tips into her ribs.
So wicked of her. But the power proved heady and unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
Inch by inch she bent her neck lower, and lower still until only a finger’s distance remained between her mouth and his. Instinct made her run the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip.
His heavy lids drooped over those penetrating, mesmerizing eyes—thank God, for I was about to lose myself in those fathomless depths—and he released a shuddery breath.
“What do I get if you lose, Pierce?” she whispered, in the sultriest voice she could muster.
“I shan’t.”
At the seductive timbre of his voice, she swallowed hard. He ran his hands up and down her sides and only by biting the inside of her mouth did she keep from gasping at the intoxicating sensation.
“In fact, I’ll up the stakes, my sweet. You’ll plead for much more than my kisses, Bianca. You’ll beg me to take you. Even in here.” He slid his hands down to her hips, tracing enticing circles across her bum.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping.
Playing unfair, was he?
Well, she could too.
“Tsk. Is that any way to speak to your new ward?” Resting one hand on his thigh, perilously close to the thick bulge straining against his pantaloons, she tapped his mouth with her finger.
He rocked his hips the merest bit, nudging her palm with his masculine hardness while pursing his lips against the fingertip of her other hand.
Such burning heat vibrated up Bianca’s arms, it was all she could do not to snatch her hand away. A startled puff of air did escape her this time.
She was dabbling in hazardous territory. One that he had far more expertise in than she. No doubt his vast experience led him to believe he knew how she would respond.
Fine then, she would be completely unpredictable.
Go port when he assumed she would go starboard.
Giving him what she hoped was a siren’s smile—after all, she had no practice at this seduction business—she said, “I’ll take Elmswood Parke if over the next month I do not willingly kiss you. And you must agree to let me live there. Oh, and no plying me with your seductive wiles either.”
“We shall see.” A lazy chuckle rumbled from his broad chest and he pulled her between his powerful legs. “And what do I get if you lose, my sweet?”
He nuzzled the hollow where her neck met her ear—oh, sweet mother of God—and her dratted knees turned to gruel.
The latch rattled, and she jerked away mere seconds before the door swung open.
Scandal averted.
By a hair’s breadth.
As Burroughs helped her descend, Bianca’s heart yet banged against the hollow of her throat. Thank goodness for her cape’s high clasp, which hid her hopscotching pulse and the clear evidence of her transgression. And desire.
She faced the landau and gazed up at Pierce.
Unperturbed, his mouth curved the merest bit; he appeared inordinately pleased.
“You asked what you receive if I lose. Nothing, my lord. Absolutely nothing. For if you succeed, I shall have already forfeited all that matters to me.
“My virtue, my reputation, my pride, and any chance for a respectable future.”
Halverstone House, Shire County, England
Deep night shrouded the countryside by the time Burroughs tooled the coach to Halverstone House’s front steps. Pierce yawned and brushed his fingers across Bianca’s satiny cheek. “My sweet, we are here.”
The coach that had carried Popplewell, Elsie, and everyone’s luggage stood a few feet farther along the drive.
Bianca s
tirred, then slowly opened her eyes, blinking groggily. Her head lay against the curve of Pierce’s shoulder, the arm cradling her to his side having fallen asleep some time ago. Yet he hadn’t been able to bring himself to shift her away and bring relief to the numb appendage.
Covering her mouth, Bianca yawned daintily and straightened. She frowned, an endearing furrow of confusion. “How did I get beside you? I distinctly remember sitting over there when we boarded the coach after our last stop.” She pointed to the opposite seat.
He gave her an unrepentant grin. “You were bobbing about on the seat like a fledgling robin clinging to a frail branch. I feared you’d tumble to the floor and perhaps injure yourself.”
“Oh. Then thank you for your consideration.” She scooted across the vehicle and collected her reticule and a tattered hatbox.
No false dramatics or pretense of offense. No, his ward was a sensible miss, and perhaps they might strike a truce while they were here. He’d like that more than he cared to admit. Even to himself. In fact, he looked forward to their stay at Halverstone more than he’d anticipated anything pleasurable in a great while.
The door swung open, and a haggard Burroughs lowered the step.
“Burroughs, you have earned an increase in wages. How does twenty—no-thirty percent sound?”
Sudden vigor brightened the driver’s lined eyes. “That’s very generous of you, sir.”
“No more than you deserve.” Pierce exited first, nodding to the assembled staff as he handed Bianca down.
Digby, the butler, stood on one side of the stone stairs with his wife, Halverstone’s housekeeper and cook. Two maids of all work, as well as the groundskeeper—Broomfield—stood on the other side. Each appeared as if they’d piled out of bed mere moments before.
Probably had when the first conveyance arrived.
“I trust the journey wasn’t overly rigorous, my lord?” Digby, several stubborn strands of hair poking straight upward at the back of his head, making him look like a disgruntled Asian flycatcher, nodded a welcome. His inquiring gaze strayed to Bianca for a second.
“Not at all. We stopped frequently, hence our late arrival. I apologize for not sending word ahead.” Pierce drew Bianca forward. “May I present my ward, Miss Bianca Salisbury?”
Earl of Wainthorpe Page 9
