The Earl's Perfect Match

by Kimberly Nee

  “I would love to, Conn.” She set her glass on the nearest tray and allowed her brother to lead her out onto the parquet floor.

  “You seem almost as happy as Claudia,” he remarked as the orchestra started a new piece. “Why is that? Does his lordship have anything to do with that? He seems to be monopolizing you this evening.”

  “Don’t be that way, Conn. He’s our host and I like him. Besides, I seem this happy because I am this happy,” she replied, unable to keep the smile off her face. “And don’t ask me why, because I’m not telling.”

  “Lena.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the authoritative note in his voice. “Don’t ‘Lena’ me. Not today.”

  “Lena,” he said again, this time adding a scowl for good measure.

  “It won’t work.” She caught sight of Cordelia standing alone behind Lady Rosamund, Christina, and Eleanor. “Be nice and go dance. She looks lonely.”

  “Dance with—” Conn peered over his shoulder at the clump of ladies. “Isn’t she the one who stutters?”

  “Only when she’s nervous, Conn. So don’t make her nervous.”

  “I make all women nervous. I can’t help that.”

  He said it with heavy pride in his voice, and she rolled her eyes. “You aren’t trying to woo her into your bed, Connor Sebastiano. It’s only one dance, so be a gentleman. I promise, it won’t kill you.”

  Conn whistled and then shook his head. “No more champagne for you. You’re a mouthy little wench when you’ve had a few.”

  “Just dance with her. I think it would make her night.”

  “Lena.”

  “Conn.”

  They stared at one another, neither one backing down. Elena had to fight to keep her expression grim, but the corners of Conn’s mouth twitched. She stared harder. He cracked, his stone face crumbling and his eyes dancing with merriment.

  “You’re good, Lena. It’s almost frightening.”

  The battle of wits won, she allowed her face to ease into a smile. It felt better to smile anyhow, and it suited her lighthearted mood. “Go. She looks lonely.”

  “I’m not about to strand you on the floor.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m going to get some air. That last glass of champagne did go straight to my head.” She pulled out of his arms and gave him a gentle push toward the far side of the ballroom. “She’s very nice. Just don’t act like you’re going to devour her, and she’ll be fine.”

  Conn didn’t look so certain, but he did as she bid and made his way over to Cordelia. As she walked, Elena peered over her shoulder, in time to see Cordelia’s face light up as bright as the sun and her hand come to rest in Conn’s.

  Feeling satisfied with herself, she wound her way toward the terrace doors and stepped outside. The weather remained beautiful, the air cool thanks to a gentle breeze, and she strolled toward the maze. She smiled as she remembered her last adventure in it, when Bennett had kissed her for the first time.

  Her time in England was growing short now. With the wedding over, Conn would make his way into London to ready their ship for the return to St. Phillippe.

  She sighed as she sank onto one of the little wrought-iron benches at the maze’s entrance. A week earlier, she had pined for her home. Now? Now she never wanted to leave England. She thought she could be happy there, at Dunning Court, surrounded by elegance and beauty in the delightful English countryside.

  With Bennett Markham.

  “Well, look who we have here.”

  She jumped, jolted from her reverie by the unfamiliar voice slitting the evening peace. Then Lord Huxley’s pale face came fully into view in all its weasel-like glory, still bearing the bruises, along with several scabs, left from his scuffle with Bennett. Immediately, she straightened and drew her lacy wrap up over her shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

  “If I recall, you are not the Countess of Dunning and therefore, I needn’t answer to you.

  “Perhaps not”—she rose from the bench—“but you and I both know you were asked to leave by the Earl of Dunning. And I’d be willing to wager you would not be welcome inside. Why are you even here?”

  “I was on the guest list when the foolish earl was to marry the Spaniard’s daughter. I have as much a right to be here as you.”

  “Then, by all means, why don’t you come inside and wish the bride and groom well?” she countered, holding his glare easily. It would take more than his looking down his nose at her to rattle her. “If you dare show your face, that is.”

  “If I dare—” His teeth flashed in a smile that never reached his eyes. He moved closer and with each step he took, she tried to match it by moving to her right, toward the maze’s entrance.

  For all the good it did. He still closed the space between them.

  “No need to dart off, my dear,” he assured her through his grin, his voice so oily, his words practically slid from his lips. “I don’t bite.”

  “I have nothing to say to the likes of you.” Now she had trouble holding his gaze. She’d never felt so uncomfortable as she did just then. His was an eerie stare, his eyes almost entirely pupil, his smile wolfish and all glistening, sharp teeth.

  “Oh, but I have plenty to say to you.”

  “You need to leave me be.”

  “Why? Have you a sweet spot for Dunning? According to people I’ve spoken with, there is some speculation about the two of you.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.” The hedge bit into her back as he stepped closer still. “Now, let me by. They are expecting me inside. This is, after all, my brother’s wedding.”

  “You do have a sweet spot, don’t you? Tell me, why?” He caught her by the shoulders, his fingers like clamps as they tightened on her. “What could you possibly see in a fop such as Dunning? Wouldn’t you rather take a tumble with a fellow who knows what he’s doing? One who knows exactly what a woman such as yourself needs? Far better than Dunning, who’s a bit of a clod between the sheets, or so I’ve heard.”

  Her stomach did a slow roll. She tried to stop it by swallowing hard and concentrating on each slow breath she drew. Her voice remained even as she said, “I beg your pardon, Lord Huxley, but you need to leave me be.”

  “Do I? I’m not certain of that, Miss Sebastiano. Tell me, did that fool not do anything the last time you were in this maze? Did he give you his handkerchief and a shoulder to cry upon, and not even try to steal a kiss? That was what I’d heard happened.”

  “That is none of your concern.” She got herself free from his grasp. Fear chilled her insides. They were alone, in a secluded place far enough away from the house to render them out of earshot. She could scream herself hoarse and no one would hear her over the orchestra. “Please excuse me. I think I hear my brother call—”

  He jerked her hard into his chest. “No, he isn’t.”

  “Lord Huxley, have you gone mad, let go—”

  He cut her off with a fierce kiss that was a kiss in name only, grinding his lips against hers, his tongue slicking over them as he tried to force his way inside. She refused to give in, not even when she tasted blood. Her teeth had cut her bottom lip.

  She pounded against his chest with closed fists, wrenching away from him as best she could. But he was relentless, strong and unyielding, and her arms burned with fatigue for her efforts.

  Finally, she clouted him upside the head. He howled, clapping a hand to his ear while she shoved him. “I said, leave me be!”

  “No!” He stumbled, but then lunged, his shoulder plowing into her belly to knock the wind from her lungs. They crashed to the ground, him groaning, her struggling to suck in any air at all, and he pinned her down with his knees, trapping her skirts to render her immobile.

  “It’s best not to fight, little girl,” he said with a grunt, reaching for the falls of his breeches with one hand. “I take what I want, and what I want is you.”

  Her head pounded, her lungs shrieked for air, and when she was finally able to drag in a breath, she b
ellowed, “NO!” and with both hands clasped together, punched him as hard as she could between his legs.

  His shriek was earsplitting, as he toppled off her, clutching himself with one hand and drawing his knees to his chest. She flipped onto her belly and scrambled to her feet, saying, “I said, no. Are you deaf?”

  “You bitch,” he seethed, although his voice was not quite its normal deep timbre.

  No one had ever called her something so vile to her face, and it just made her even more furious. “And you are a bastard.” She whipped about to glare at him. “Come near me again and not only will I find a sword, but I promise you, I will cut your tool clean off.”

  “What goes on here?”

  She and Huxley whipped about as Bennett rounded the corner of the maze’s entrance. His gaze alit on Huxley and he growled, “Did I not make myself clear the last time, Huxley? You are no longer welcome at Dunning Court.”

  “Ben, now, let’s not be hasty,” Huxley replied in that oily tone, his smile looking more forced than ever. “She is only a simple island girl. Who cares if I have a bit of fun with her?”

  Elena gasped, her fist moving almost of its own volition to meet Huxley’s nose with a resounding crack.

  “You bitch!” Huxley clapped a hand to his nose, blood seeping around his fingers. “You whore—”

  While he most likely never saw the second blow coming, Elena certainly did. Without so much as a flinch, Bennett leveled Huxley—dropped him to his knees with a fierce blow to the jaw.

  “If you are not off Dunning property in the next quarter of an hour, I will have Garland set his dogs on you,” Bennett said, towering over Huxley, who whimpered and spit blood at the same time. “And do not think to show your face around here again. Ever. Is that understood?”

  Huxley glared around his hand, gurgling, “You bastard. You will regret this.”

  “Oh, I’m certain I will.” Bennett caught Elena by the hand. “You have ten minutes now. I suggest you do as you’re told. Garland’s dogs will tear into you as if you were a fox.”

  He didn’t wait for Huxley to answer, but escorted her from the maze. As they put distance between them and it, relief washed over her in an icy wave. She thought she’d hidden her fear, her upset, well enough. But apparently not that well. Of course, her hair was probably a disheveled mess, and her gown was likely either ripped or stained, or both.

  Either way, her composure crumbled, and when she was close enough, she fell into his arms, unable to control the tears pressing in on her eyes. She’d never been so relieved to see someone before.

  He caught her easily and wrapped her in his embrace. “What happened?”

  “I’m fine,” she managed to say, dragging the back of her hand across her eyes. She hated crying, hated anyone being witness to it. “But I’m fairly certain I gelded Huxley.”

  “Gelded him? What the bloody hell happened? He’s not even supposed to be on my property.”

  “Be that as it may, he was and he attacked me, that’s what happened.” She pulled out of his arms and tried to smooth her gown into place. Unfortunately, as she’d thought, the silk was grass and dirt stained and the skirt sported a jagged rip on one side—from Huxley’s knee, most likely.

  “Attacked you?” He caught her face in his hands, his thumbs gently sweeping along her cheeks. His eyes searched hers. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, wincing as she drew in a deep breath. Her side ached, but she didn’t know why. “I’m fine. A bit damp from a terrible kiss, but that’s all.”

  “That’s all?” Bennett’s voice was a low growl, tinged with red fury. When she nodded, he said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  As he made to go into the maze, she caught his hand. “No. Please. Will you see me to my room?”

  “I can’t do that, Miss Sebastiano. Not with a houseful of wedding guests. Let me get your brother. Your reputation—”

  “My reputation be damned, and I don’t want Conn. I shudder to think what he’d do.” She sniffed, gently pulling on his arm. “Please?”

  He faced her, linking his fingers through hers, and she saw the resolve in his eyes weaken. Then, with a low sigh, he said, “Of course. We’ll go in the servants’ doorway. It leads to the rear staircase, where we won’t be seen.”

  “That’s the way I went in the last time I was out here. The other night, when you kissed me.”

  He smiled as they started toward the door in question. “I thought as much. Have I apologized for what I said that night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I was a fool for letting you walk out of there at all, never mind letting you walk out upset and hurt.”

  She didn’t reply, but grazed his thumb with hers as they neared the house. He reached for the door handle and pulled the door open. As they stepped inside, he glanced down at her and frowned.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You didn’t tell me he drew blood.” Bennett caught her face in his hands again, more gently than he had outdoors, and tilted her head back. The faint circle of light from the sconce above made her squint. After being out in the night, even that low light hurt her eyes.

  “I wouldn’t open my mouth when he kissed me. I think I cut it on my own teeth.”

  His fingers twitched against her, and he brought one hand down to touch her bottom lip. She winced. It felt puffy and sore, and when she probed with her own fingers, she found the swelling in the left corner.

  His lips brushed it ever so gently. “Are you certain you’re fine?” he whispered as he straightened up.

  “I am. He was in far more danger that me. However”—she peered up at him—“how did you know to come out and look for me?”

  “I saw you go outside, but didn’t want to rush out after you and have all the gossips wondering why. Now I wish I had.”

  “I’m fine, Bennett. Honest. It’s sore, but it will heal.”

  “Come along, then.” He threaded his fingers through hers and led her down the narrow corridor to the staircase they’d been on when Galen and Diego had their battle. This time he didn’t release her hand.

  At the top of the stairs, he paused and grinned. “What did you do to him?”

  “I hit him. As hard as I could. Where it would hurt the most.”

  A wince flashed across his face. “You don’t say.”

  “I do say. He had it coming.”

  “Which hand?”

  She stared up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Which hand did you hit him with?”

  “Both. I wanted to be sure he felt it for a long time.”

  He brought her hands to his lips, murmuring, “I have the feeling he will, darling,” before brushing her hands with a kiss.

  It was the lightest of touches, but it swept through her like wildfire, made her toes curl and the shivers were delicious. She pulled a hand free, brought it up to catch the front of his shirt. Without thinking, she tugged, pulling him down to meet her lips.

  He caught her by the hands, pinning them flat to the wall, lacing his fingers through hers, as he slowly, teasingly thrust his tongue between her lips to caress hers. Her breath hitched as his mouth moved so leisurely against hers and he pressed his body flat against her. Heat radiated from him, sank into her, and she sighed into his mouth at the increasing pressure of his arousal against her belly.

  His breathing grew ragged around the edges as he broke the kiss to sweep his lips along her cheek, up toward her hair. “Oh, love, you’re about to have me at your mercy,” he said, brushing her ear with a kiss. “If there is anything you want from me, say it now and it is yours.”

  “You, Bennett,” she whispered, eyes closed, head lolling to the side as he kissed his way down along her neck. Oy. It felt heavenly, sent shivers up and down her spine—the most delicious shivers she’d ever felt. They warmed her from the inside out and had the same effect on her as the champagne, leaving her lightheaded and feeling as if she could fly if she so desired. “You are all I want.”<
br />
  “You, my love, are easily bought,” he replied huskily, coming up to smile at her. His gaze locked with hers, serious and tender. “I’m yours. Tonight. Tomorrow. For the rest of my days.”

  As he spoke, he reached around her and twisted the crystal door handle to her room. The door swung open, and he backed her into the darkness, seizing her lips in a fiery kiss alive with hunger and need. The door closed soundly behind him, and he twisted the key.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Inside her room, he spun her about, this time pressing her into the door. She melted into him, her fingers sliding up along his nape, into the fall of his dark hair. She was aware of every moan, every sigh that rose to his lips as she stroked him here and there. Her fingers tangled in the fall of his cravat and she tugged, slowly unwinding the linen from his throat. She let it go, sent it fluttering down into the darkness, lost in the shadows.

  He pulled away and her mouth went so dry at the sight of him that her voice no longer worked. All she could do was stare up at him, unable to believe he really stood there before her. In the faint slice of moonlight filtering through the windows, he looked more handsome than she’d ever seen. He was still dressed in his black breeches and a stark white lawn shirt, open at the throat, and where it opened, a V of chest was on display. Now even her throat went dry. Please forgive me my lusty thoughts.

  She fought to control her wildly beating heart, but it was impossible. She was so close to winning Bennett’s heart. She didn’t want to fail now.

  She didn’t want to disappoint him.

  However much he tried to reassure her, he had known other women intimately. It would only be human nature to compare her, an inexperienced virgin, to them. Would she come up lacking? Would he be counting the moments until he could leave her bed?

  She bit down hard on her sore bottom lip without thinking. The thought of paling in comparison made her feel queasy, as did the thought of his holding other women in his arms, touching them. He’d kissed them, perhaps from head to toe. He’d seen them naked and tasted their charms, and what if—?

  “What’s wrong, Elena?” His eyes sparkled in the low light that danced along the sheen of his hair, falling almost to his shoulders in loose waves. Normally he kept it tied back, but seeing him this way did the oddest thing to her senses. He looked so positively…feral. That was the only way to describe it. She’d become so accustomed to the proper gentleman that seeing this man looking at her as if he’d like nothing more than to eat her with a spoon made her heart pick up its pace.