She turned away, lifted her skirts, and took a step.
She was just in time to hear his laughter boom out. It startled her. She spun back to face him.
His laughter turned into a squeak. Ignominious sound. And she would tell him so, too.
“Get down,” he suddenly ordered, covering her body with his own.
Get what?
He lay atop her on the stairs. She pushed against his immovable chest. “What are you—”
The squeaking grew louder. Only it didn’t come from the duke, it came from—
“Bats,” she shrieked, trying to squirm out from under him so she could run.
“Stay put,” he ordered.
Bats, oh my goodness, bats. She squeezed her eyes shut. Fluttering wings flew around her. She could just picture their furry little vampire bodies, felt the air stir as hundreds, nay, thousands of the creatures flew around them.
“Elizabeth,” Lucien warned.
They were all over her. Eating her.
“Elizabeth,” he yelled.
It was only then that Elizabeth realized she was screaming. Loudly. She stopped.
A moment of silence, the sound of the fluttering bat wings fading. “Well,” he drawled. “Now the castle bats are not only blind, they are deaf, too.”
She clutched his shirtfront. “Bats. Oh my goodness, Lucien, those were bats.”
He covered her hands with his own. “Quiet, they are gone now.”
Were they? Elizabeth opened her eyes only to realize she couldn’t see a thing.
The torch had blown out.
“Lucien, please tell me you have another lucifer upon you?”
“I’m afraid I do not.”
Elizabeth became aware of him then. Aware that he leaned his weight into her, pressing her back into the edge of a step.
“Get off me,” she urged.
“I’m not so sure that I shall. After all, this might be the last time I’m allowed to lie with you thus.”
“The step is cutting into my back.”
He lifted his weight off of her instantly. “I beg your pardon, my dear. Here. Let me help you up.”
And to her surprise, his touch was gentle as he asked, “Are you alright?”
And gracious, was that his hand that lifted and somehow found her chin in the darkness … his touch soft, his fingers probing for injury. She stepped back and turned away.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Back up the stairs.” She couldn’t, wouldn’t begin to think of him as a caring, gentle human being. That way was madness. Witness her aunt.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
She lifted her skirts, taking a step as she said over her shoulder. “And why is that?”
“Because all those bats are no doubt clinging to the ceiling above.”
She froze.
“Thank goodness I closed the door behind us. Of course, you might be the type who likes the ghastly little creatures. I, for one, do not wish to have my eyes nibbled out.”
“They eat eyes?”
“Some do.”
She wished she could see him. Oh, how she wished she could see him. “Then what do we do?”
“We go down,” he said.
“Down. But how? We have no torch.”
“I know the way.”
“Why does that not reassure me?”
“Because you don’t trust me.”
He was most correct.
“Which is a pity because it means you will be staying here for a very long time. Ta ta.” He squeezed past her, the heat of his body startling.
“No wait,” she cried, hating him at that moment. Ooo, how she wished she could just push him down the stairs. “I shall go down with you.”
“Excellent idea,” he approved. “Here, take my hand.”
No. She didn’t want to. Gracious, she truly didn’t, but it was a necessary evil, she told herself. Lifting her hand, she felt for his own. Warm fingers suddenly enveloped her. She shivered.
“If you feel yourself falling, cry out. I will catch you.”
And his voice had softened again, making her ask, “How far is it to the bottom?” because she didn’t want him to be kind to her. It was far easier to think of him as the wicked duke.
“Not far.”
They had already climbed down half a dozen steps. “Is this a scenic tour of the dungeon then?”
He stopped suddenly. She crashed into his back. He turned in time to steady her with his hands, his fingers lightly clasping her waist. Gracious, but she hated the way his touching her made her feel.
“If you must know, I was going to take you down to the beach to watch the sunset.”
She didn’t know why his words made her heart suddenly still, but they did.
“Unfortunately, this is the only way to get to it. Under the walls.”
“Oh,” was all she could think of saying. He’d been taking her to see the sunset. How … nice.
“I am only sorry that once we find the torch, get down to the bottom, then relight it, the sunset will be gone.”
And he truly was disappointed. She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear it in his voice.
For the first time since their marriage, nay, for the first time since meeting him, Elizabeth felt her heart soften.
Careful, Elizabeth, a voice warned. You might find yourself actually liking him.
But then he ruined everything by saying, “Of course, the last woman I brought here said the journey below the castle took away the enjoyment she might have received out of the view. Not surprising since this is hardly a romantic stroll. ’Twas originally built as an escape passage for my ancestors. Given the fact that I have done nothing to beautify it, I suppose you would have felt the same way.”
She stiffened. “Do not compare me to one of your mistresses.”
“Mistress?” he said, his tone sounding confused. She could see his face. Just barely, for he shook his head. “No, my dear. ’Twas not my mistress, but my nanny.”
“Your nanny?”
“Yes. I was ten. She was twenty, and I was desperately in love with her. Unfortunately, she never saw my potential, though I did my best to convince her of it.”
She could only gape.
“Speaking of mistresses,” he said, and she could see him stroke his chin, “the thought occurs to me that since we shall undoubtedly miss the sunset, there might be another way to make use of this time.”
Her heart suddenly stopped, then resumed beating at a furious pace.
“You want to learn how to entice men. What better way to teach you than instructing you on the sensory delights of touch?”
“Touch?” she croaked.
She could barely see him nod, felt her breath catch as she saw him lean toward her.
“Indeed,” he said softly, his breath floating over her face. “When there is no light, one’s senses are heightened.”
“But I can see you,” she choked out.
“As I can see you,” he observed. “ ’Tis the light from the entrance to the cave we are near.”
As if to give proof to his words, she felt a breeze stir against her cheeks, the salty smell of dank seaweed and sand filling her nose. She could hear a roar that faded in and out.
“But no matter, for instructional purposes, this should do well.”
She stilled, felt every nerve in her body tense. And for all that the air had chilled, she suddenly felt very, very warm.
“Do well for what?”
“Why, this, my dear.”
Her breath caught as she waited. For what? asked a voice. She didn’t know, but she knew she wouldn’t like it.
And then she felt it. Just the softest of touches, though how he’d moved without her noticing she would never know. And then she realized he hadn’t touched her. He’d blown on her neck. She could smell the lemons. She swallowed, the feel of his breath like the most intimate of touches. “What are you doing?” she asked. Oh, gracious.
�
��Patience,” he said softly. “I’m teaching you something.”
She tried to draw away.
“Don’t move,” he instructed, clasping her waist.
“Let me go,” she ordered, her body stirring in places she knew it had no business stirring in. Not with him.
“Do you not want to learn about men, Elizabeth?” he asked, leaning toward her, his hands not releasing her.
No, she did not. Not this way.
“Do you not want to learn what it is that stirs their blood?” He blew on her again.
“No. I, I’ve changed my mind.”
“Have you?” he whispered in her ear.
The hairs on her neck stirred as if brushed by an unseen hand. And in its wake, her skin warmed. Oh, heavens. She closed her eyes. Her knees suddenly felt as supportive as noodles.
“Let me go,” she groaned.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He let her go. She almost fell.
He caught her, saying, “Careful.”
She tried to catch her breath, was dismayed to realize she felt like she’d run a mile. He stared down at her as if he waited for her to change her mind. The air seemed to hum, she wondered if the bats returned, then admitted she didn’t care.
And then he drew away from her. “Stay here,” he ordered.
“Where are you going?” she gasped out, her heart pounding to the point that she felt out of breath. Gracious, what had he done to her? Just a mere breath had made her heart beat erratically.
“I am going to the bottom of the passage to collect the torch that rolled down there. Lucifers are kept at the bottom, so I should like to relight it so I can come back and fetch you.”
She placed a hand upon her stomach and the strange flutterings. “I see.”
And, indeed, she could see him turn, heard his steps fade away, only the sound of a water dripping nearby keeping her company. And suddenly, Elizabeth felt terribly afraid.
Ah, but was it from being alone? Or was it from his touch?
She closed her eyes, suddenly more confused than she liked to feel. And that bothered her. The man was a reprobate. A rogue. Someone a wise woman should keep a healthy distance from. But she was married to him.
Married to a rake just like her aunt had warned her against.
Sudden light made her eyes snap open. They must have, indeed, been near the bottom, for the duke was back in seconds, his smiling face staring down at her wickedly in the flickering torchlight.
“You lost your hat,” he observed.
She clutched at her head. She hadn’t even noticed.
“Would you like to go back for it?”
She tried to sound calm as she said, “If ’tis all the same to you, I’d like to go back to the main hall. I feel a headache coming on.”
She didn’t know why her words made his smile falter, what he meant when he said, “I see,” in a tone of voice that indicated he might just be disappointed. “Very well. Follow me.”
“What about the bats?”
“They won’t stir because of the light. You will be quite safe.”
And she was, the trip up the steps as uneventful as the trip down was eventful. Yet when he opened the passage, she couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of … what? Disappointment? Surely she wasn’t upset that she’d missed his sunset? Or was it something else, something Elizabeth refused to identify?
“Have one of the servants fetch Mrs. Fitzherbert. She will show you to our room.”
Our room. “Where are you going?” she asked when he turned back to the passage.
“To catch the tail end of my sunset,” he said without looking back. Elizabeth watched him go, disconcerted to realize that she was, indeed, curiously disappointed.
It didn’t take Lucien long to reach the mouth of the cave, nor the rock outcropping that overlooked the ocean. ’Twasn’t really a beach, although there was a small strip of sand below the stone platform he stood upon. Rocks tumbled from beneath it, a boat able to be launched during high tide. But right now that ocean was far below him, the sea mirroring the color of the sky above it: Angry, vibrant red.
Elizabeth would have loved it.
He smiled wryly. How utterly silly to want to show her a sunset. Even sillier to think she’d want to spend time with him.
A salty breeze slapped his face. It bit hard at his cheeks, flung the lapels of his jacket open, the ends of the cravat he wore flying behind him. He splayed his legs and braced himself against the icy shock of it, crossing his arms in front of him to keep the cold air at bay.
And what kind of a bacon-brained idea was it to teach her how to seduce a man, he wondered? Although, truth be told, ’twas a most interesting sort of task. Even a wee bit devilish, for what man would be able to resist her once he was through with her.
And therein lay the crux of the problem. He desired her. Devil take it, he actually enjoyed being with her. ’Twas most disconcerting. And troubling, for one thing he did not want to do was bed his wife.
Turning his back on the sunset, he slid down the wall that had been erected around the cave’s entrance to prevent erosion. The back of his jacket snagged on the grainy stones. Coldness crept through the material making it feel wet. He hardly noticed.
What to do?
Did he retract his offer to teach her the art of seduction? A humorless chuckle escaped. God, who would have thought she would affect him so? It had been a shock standing here on the stairs, a strange longing filling him as he touched her chin. Thank God she’d gone back to the castle. He’d been more than happy to let her.
Henry, my brother. What a fine kettle of fish I’ve landed in.
Henry undoubtedly laughed himself silly.
Wiping a cold hand over his face, his gaze turned unseeing as he pondered the problem of Elizabeth. Undoubtedly, she would leap at the chance to call his “lessons” off. She’d as much admitted that in the passage. Dare he let her? Dare he try to battle his desire for her? What a challenge that would be. Resisting one’s wife.
Aye, but did he dare?
Lucien contemplated the problem for goodness knew how long, but in the end, he was no closer to a decision about what to do than when he’d first arrived.
“Where is she?” he asked after returning to the castle. His cheeks felt frozen, his limbs ached from the cold, and yet he felt curiously alive.
“Would you be talking about her grace?” the impertinent footman asked, a man who had shed his footman’s attire on more than one occasion to help him labor upon the castle.
“No, Ian, I am talking about the potbellied pig I brought home.”
“A pig is she?” Ian asked with lifted red brows. Technically, the man was supposed to be an underfootman, but the lines blurred when one was employed by the duke of Ravenwood.
“I was not referring to the duchess, and you know it,” Lucien said impatiently. His servants truly had gotten shockingly familiar. “I was referring to your wife.”
Far from being angry at the slur, Ian gave a bark of laughter. “Now, now, Yur Grace. I know ye fancy me wife, don’t try to bamboozle me.”
Lucien merely smiled. “You know I jest, just as you know I wish to know where my duchess is.”
My duchess. Hmm, he liked that.
Ian stroked his chin, appearing to give the matter some thought. “Lemme think. I knows Mrs. Fitzherbert showed ’er to your room.” He scrunched his brow. “Then I believe she took a bath.”
Lucien’s manhood, which had shrunk considerably in the cold, suddenly leapt to life again.
“Then I believes she was to take dinner in the dining room.”
The dining room. Elizabeth eating food. Her tongue licking those wonderfully full lips.
You are a sorry, sorry man.
“Thank you,” he all but croaked, turning toward the back of the castle.
“Will you be joinin’ her?” Ian asked.
And suddenly Lucien realized that to play with his wife was to play with
fire. The question was, how did one bow out of their “agreement” gracefully.
“I could arrange to have a romantic dessert sent up,” Ian added.
And that was when an idea came to mind. An idea so excellent, so perfect, his heart leapt in glee. It might actually work. He didn’t need to call it off, he would make sure she would. That way, he didn’t lose face. Excellent.
“Yes,” Lucien purred. “Have your wife prepare some fruit, that is, if she’s visited the exotic fruit peddler recently?”
“She has,” the little man said.
Lucien smiled. “Good.” He thought a moment, his lips tilting wickedly. “Then have her send up some bananas.”
Lucien could swear Ian knew his every thought. Lord love him, he probably did.
“Right away, Yur Grace.”
Lucien turned again.
“Would you like some melons to go along with that?”
Lucien stopped, turned halfway, his sly smile growing. “No. I think her grace’s melons are more than adequate.”
Ian looked surprised, and then amused by the comment. “Aye, I think they are, too.”
Lucien’s smile abruptly faded. His servant’s grin faded, too. “At least, that’s what the men’ve been sayin’.”
“Indeed,” Lucien drawled, his eyes narrowing. “Well, you can tell the men that her grace’s melons are not for discussion.”
Ian nodded, his expression at once horrified and contrite. Lucien realized he might have been a bit harsh with the man. After all, ’twas he that’d brought up the subject. But he wasn’t about to apologize.
He turned away, not seeing Ian’s happy smile. “Got it bad, ’e has,” he mumbled. And as the servant turned to the kitchen, an astute observer would have noticed the little man skipping. “Got it bad, indeed,” he chirped.
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth all but jumped when she heard the door to the dining room open. It wasn’t that she didn’t expect company. Goodness knew a bevy of red-and-purple-garbed servants had been in and out. One still stood to the right of the door, his back ramrod straight. If the door opened too hard, he’d be smashed like a fly. But what jolted her was seeing her husband.
“My dear Elizabeth,” Ravenwood said, his green eyes back to their mischievous norm. “I see you washed the bat dung out of your hair.”
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