Her first inclination was to defend her family. But he was right as far as it went. She had jilted him for an older, wealthy man and for the reason he said. And, if Perth were to be believed, Mathias had not acted as quickly as he had assured her he would.
‘I did nothing that is not done every day by members of our class.’ Her words slurred slightly and in spite of their argument, her eyelids were heavy. The medicine was making her drowsy despite the acrimony that flowed between them. She wondered if a wish to escape from this hurtful airing of truth was also behind her creeping exhaustion.
‘True.’ His voice now held no emotion. It was as though, having had his say, all the emotion that might have held sway over him was gone.
‘And I did not know that Mathias took so long to reach you. For that I am sorry.’
He continued to scrutinise her. There was an ugly gleam in his eye that made her wonder if she had mistaken his lack of emotion. She wondered if there were things she did not know. Mathias had never told her about that meeting. She had never been brave enough to ask.
‘Don’t be. It was a salutary lesson in the workings of your family.’
She was the first to look away. Much as she had tried not to think too deeply on it, she knew her family had not treated him well. Leaving him at the altar of the small country church where she had promised to meet him to be married by special licence was not done. Her only balm had been to know that eloping with her lover was not acceptable either. No, she never should have embroiled herself with a penniless young army officer, no matter how much she had loved him. Her family had never made any secret of the need for her to marry well. She had let her emotions rule her for a brief, bitterly regretted period.
Now she was reaping the harvest her rash actions had sown. No, not just now. She had been doing so for the last ten years. De Lisle had never trusted her and had made her life a misery because of that. Nor had the ton ever accepted her. A woman who jilts one lover and then has a duel fought over her between that lover and her new husband is never accepted. That taint was still with her. This abduction, when word got out as it inevitably would, would ruin her completely. Perhaps that was Perth’s intention. And perhaps it no longer mattered. She preferred the country.
When she glanced back at him, his head was turned away. He lounged back, his beaver hat at an angle that shaded his eyes. His hands rested in his lap. His legs stretched across the space separating their seats. His dusty Hessian boots were scant inches from her slippered feet. Perfectly at his ease, he appeared to have fallen asleep.
All the emotional turmoil of the last minutes seemed to have been sloughed from his shoulders like so much baggage that is disposed of without a second thought. How she wished she might forget the past ten years.
She woke at the sudden cessation of sound. She sat up and looked out. Flambeaux illuminated a small, boxy and symmetrical building made of what appeared to be butter-coloured stone. She wondered if they were in the Cotwolds. They could have reached here in the time they had been travelling.
Perth opened the door before she had the chance to notice much else. He extended his hand to help her down.
For an instant, she thought about resisting, but the firm line of his jaw told her plainly that he was in no mood to countenance defiance. Very likely he would merely reach in and haul her out.
She took his hand and allowed him to help her. A good thing, too. Her head ached from the whisky and laudanum. She told herself that was the reason the feel of her gloved hand in his gloved hand had felt so intimate. But she knew it was only a sop. She had always been attuned to him physically and emotionally.
When he released her, she managed to stand without his help, most of her weight on her good leg. The medicine had not been good for her head, but it had helped her ankle. She took a deep breath and looked around, determined not to feel so acutely Perth’s nearness.
Immaculate lawns stretched out like a velvet skirt in the silver light of the moon. Birch trees ringed the circular drive. Roses in their last gasp decorated the borders, their scent perfuming the air.
‘Your hunting box?’ she asked.
‘My retreat,’ he countered. ‘This is not hunting country.’
That did not tell her much.
Without a word, he went to talk with his coachman. His words drifted to her on the breeze.
‘Take the horses and men back to town. I will notify you when I want you to return.’
He was stranding them here. She took a step toward them, intending to tell Perth she had no intention of staying here indefinitely, but her bad leg buckled again. She caught herself with a painful gasp.
‘Stubborn,’ Perth said, striding to her side and swinging her up into his arms—again.
‘I am heartily sick of this position,’ she muttered, angling her head so that she did not look at him.
‘But I am not,’ he said, holding her a little tighter.
She suppressed a moan. Even through the layers of their clothing, it seemed that his body burned into hers. The scent of him assaulted her senses. She remembered the first time she had been this close to him. She had been intoxicated by delight.
They had only just met the night before at Almack’s. He had asked her to dance two country dances and then left. Now he was calling on her, along with several other gentlemen. But he was the only one she could remember, the others having vanished into the past. He had leaned over to take a cup of tea from her and the hint of cinnamon had wafted over her. With a quizzical look, she had met his eyes—and been lost.
His warm breath moved over the nape of her neck sending little currents of excitement skidding down her spine and bringing her back to the present in a sensual rush. This compromising position had to end.
She twisted in his hold. ‘Let me down. I am perfectly capable of standing on my own.’
He mounted the last steps and entered the house. ‘Of course.’
He set her down abruptly. His arm fell away from her legs first, leaving them wobbly. Then he released her back. She was on her own, standing in the elegantly furnished foyer of his house.
‘Milord,’ a man said, coming hastily in through a side door.
He was short, slim and bandy-legged. His hair was brown peppered with grey. A short beard, neatly trimmed, spoke of independence. It was not fashionable to have a beard. He wore a serviceable country jacket and breeches that had seen newer days. Still, he had an air of dependability about him.
‘Fitch, I trust everything is ready?’
The little man drew himself up ramrod straight. ‘I should hope so, milord.’
For only the second time since Perth had abducted her, she saw him genuinely smile. ‘A manner of speech only, Fitch. I never doubted for a second your ability.’
Only slightly mollified, the servant looked at her. His lively gaze took in everything about her. He nodded as though agreeing with his own assessment.
She held out her hand. It was not the accepted thing to do with servants, but she sensed there was more between this man and Perth than servant and master.
‘I am Lillith, Lady de Lisle,’ she said.
Fitch took her hand and bowed over it. Very continental. ‘I am Fitch. His lordship’s batman.’ He released her hand.
‘Batman?’ she asked.
‘And general factotum,’ Perth said. ‘He has been with me since I first entered the army.’
Lillith’s smile faded. And he undoubtedly knew exactly what had happened ten years ago. She was to be held prisoner by two men who had no reason to care about what was best for her.
‘I have dinner almost done and her ladyship’s room ready,’ Fitch said, stepping back.
‘Roast beef and potatoes,’ Perth said.
‘If you wanted French food, then you should hire yourself a Frenchie to cook it,’ Fitch said. ‘I am an honest Englishman and I cook like one.’
‘With a Gaelic man’s sensibilities,’ Perth said, a spark of humour in his grey, nearly black eyes. Changing t
he subject, he said, ‘I will take Lady de Lisle to her room so she can freshen up and then we shall be very glad of supper.’
Lillith edged away, refusing to grimace as her ankle made itself known. ‘Lady de Lisle will take herself.’
Both men looked at her. Perth dark and sardonic, Fitch with his brows pinched in worry.
She gritted her teeth and hobbled to the staircase. The solid mahogany wood was a burnished auburn. Taking a deep breath, she leaned on the banister so that it took her weight and hopped up the first step on her good leg. Three stairs later, she stopped to catch her breath. Looking up she nearly groaned. It seemed that the next floor was in the sky. Her stubbornness had gotten her into difficult scrapes before, but none this physically trying.
‘Perhaps you would care to lean on me, my lady,’ Fitch said from where he stood at the bottom of the staircase.
Three steps and she was winded and her good calf threatened to cramp. ‘Perhaps I would, Fitch,’ she said, measuring each word for they cost her dearly. At least it would not be Perth helping her.
She glanced at the Earl. He stood where she had left him. His hooded eyes watched her like those of a bird of prey that was keeping in sight its next meal. From somewhere, she found enough energy to toss her head in defiance. Her hair swirled around her shoulders, but when all was done the small act of rebellion did nothing to make her feel better.
Fitch was beside her, his shoulder fitted under her arm, and still Perth did not move or say a word. As she continued up the stairs she felt his gaze on her back. A scorching awareness engulfed her and would not leave no matter how she tried to put him from her mind or how she panted in exhaustion.
‘We are nearly there, Lady de Lisle,’ Fitch said, his nasal voice pitched to give encouragement. ‘Not much more and you will be able to rest. I will prepare a nice hot bath for you. That will help.’
She nodded. There was not enough air in her lungs to speak. Her left leg burned with exhaustion. For a fleeting moment she allowed herself to imagine being carried by Perth. He might excite her and make her unsure of herself, but he never made her so tired she wanted to collapse and cry in frustration.
They reached the first-floor landing long after Lillith had decided she could go no further. And she still had to get to her room. A sigh escaped her clenched lips.
‘Enough,’ Perth said from right behind her.
Lillith started. She had been so focused on preparing herself for the next ordeal that she had not heard him follow.
‘Enough what?’ she panted. ‘I will say when I have had enough, not you. ’Tis bad enough that I am here against my will.’
She felt Fitch stiffen, but the man said nothing. Just as well. She was rapidly descending into a horrible mood and Perth did not look any merrier. He never had liked having his will thwarted. For that matter, neither did she.
‘You will hurt yourself worse if you keep this up.’
‘I will do as I please.’ She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. She would hop to wherever her room was. ‘Where do I go?’
Perth made a sound that she chose to ignore.
‘It is this way, Lady de Lisle,’ Fitch said, once more extending his arm.
‘Don’t be any more stupid than you must,’ Perth growled. ‘Use this.’ He thrust the cane from the carriage into her right hand. ‘It is not ideal, but it is better than what you intended.’
She suppressed a sigh of relief. Much as she desired to show the Earl that she would do as she pleased, she had not looked forward to more hopping. Her fingers curled around the gold knob. She had large hands for a woman, but the handle of the cane was nearly too big. But then Perth was a tall man.
With Fitch guiding her, Lillith started down the carpeted hallway. Her right shoulder ached abominably from using her right arm so much for support and her left leg felt ready to crumble for the same reason. Somehow she held her back straight. Fortunately, they did not have far to go. This was not a large house by aristocratic standards.
Fitch opened the door with an economy of motion and followed her in. The room was delightful. Mellow yellows and creams graced the walls and curtains. A large bed took up most of one wall. Burl walnut furniture, a table and two cosy chairs, grouped around a cheery fire. Her spirits lifted.
‘Here, Lady de Lisle,’ Fitch said, moving to her side. ‘Let me help you now. His lordship has stalked off to his room. You have no need to further tax yourself.’
This manservant was a knowing one. She slanted him a look. ‘Your master is overbearing.’
‘He does have that habit, my lady. It comes of being in the army for so many years.’ He deposited her in a cream-coloured chair before moving to one of the three doors in the room and opened it. ‘This is where your clothes are, my lady. And if you will be so kind as to rest, I will have your bath prepared shortly.’
‘A bath?’ Just the thought was divine. The pleasure was fleeting as she remembered his other words. ‘Clothes? Those are not mine.’
So Perth used this house to entertain women. She should not be surprised or hurt by that. Many men did the same thing. Her brother was one. Still, knowing that Perth considered her no better than one of his lightskirts hurt—hurt badly.
She told herself she was a fool, but that did not ease the tightness in her chest. He had abducted her and kept her with him for nearly an entire day against her will. This latest was nothing. Nothing, she told herself.
‘Pardon me, Lady de Lisle,’ Fitch said, interrupting her internal tirade. ‘But his lordship had them specially made and brought from London for you.’ There was a kindness around his brown eyes. ‘Lord Perth does not bring women here. This is where he comes to be alone. You are the first woman he has entertained here.’
The vise around her chest seemed to loosen and breathing was just a little bit easier. Once more she was being a ninny where Perth was concerned. When would she learn? Still, she felt better.
Her innate graciousness surfaced. Fitch was not responsible for his master’s actions. ‘This is a delightful room. And I should be very grateful of a hot bath. It has been a long journey.’
Fitch nodded. ‘I know, my lady. I will have everything quickly.’
As soon as the door closed behind Fitch, Lillith let herself completely relax. Her head fell back to rest on the stuffed chair and her eyes drifted shut. Even her ankle seemed to ache less. She dozed off.
Too soon she heard a loud knock. ‘Come in.’
Fitch stood in the doorway, wrestling with a hip tub. ‘I am sorry that we don’t have anything larger, my lady, but this is all I can handle. His lordship has sent away all the servants except me.’
‘Whyever for?’ she asked. ‘This is a great burden on you.’
Fitch pushed the tub across the rug until it sat directly in front of the fire. With the expertise of practice, he draped large towels around the tub.
‘His lordship does not want word of your presence to leak out.’
She made a very unladylike noise. ‘He should have worried about that before he kidnapped me.’
Fitch did not reply. ‘I shall be right back with several buckets of hot water.’
‘Your master should be helping you,’ Lillith shot back as Fitch closed the door behind himself.
‘I intend to do so,’ Perth said.
Chapter Four
‘Wha—?’
Lillith twisted around to see one of the three doors opened and Perth standing on its threshold. He filled the space and made her nerves jump.
Suspicion raised its ugly head. ‘Where does that door go?’ she demanded.
He smiled, a brief stretching of firm lips. ‘To my room.’
The breath caught in her throat. ‘I might have guessed,’ she said bitterly. ‘You are determined to make this as unpleasant as you can for me.’
His look turned thunderous. ‘I don’t have to try. You are already doing everything possible towards that end.’
He pushed off from the door jamb and sauntered towards
her. His jacket was gone and his cravat missing. The white lawn shirt he wore had the top two buttons undone.
Black hairs curled enticingly over the edges of his shirt. She could imagine how crisp they would feel against her fingers. Her right hand lifted before she realised what she was doing. She dropped it to her lap with a lack of grace that was unusual. A blush suffused her face.
How many times must she make a fool of herself over this man? It seemed too many.
‘Do you not know how to knock?’ she said, putting all her frustration at herself into the words. Petty as her demand had sounded, it did stop his progress towards her. That was a great relief to her strained nerves.
‘When it pleases me.’ His gaze ran over her. ‘You are exhausted. As soon as your bath is over we will eat and then you will go to bed.’
Go to bed.
Chills chased up her spine followed closely by lightning. This was the situation she had both dreaded and desired. For too long, she had wondered what it would be like to make love with him. But not like this. Not for revenge.
Before she could think of something to say, there was a knock on the door to the hall. ‘Come in,’ she said, her voice a little too husky.
Fitch entered with two pails of steaming water. He glanced at Perth on his way to the tub. Just seeing the hot water and smelling the lilac-scented soap that Fitch pulled from one pocket momentarily took Lillith’s focus off the earl.
Longing must have shown blatantly on her face for Perth said, ‘I will go with you, Fitch. Lady de Lisle seems ready to dive into the two inches of water and it would be better if she could submerse herself.’
Both men left. Lillith gave herself several deep breaths before forcing her weight up on to her good foot and the cane. She crossed to the hip bath and picked up the soap. She smelled the creamy bar. She had been right. It was lilac. Perth had remembered what she wore.
Her heart did a painful flutter. Such a small thing, and yet to her it spoke of deeper emotions than she could have hoped for. Carefully, she set the soap back onto the special ledge built into the tub and then moved to the door Perth had entered through. She stopped on the threshold.
The Rogue's Seduction Page 4
