A Warriner to Protect Her

by Virginia Heath

  The glow from the lantern made his skin appear almost bronze and cast interesting shadows around the large muscles on his arms and shoulders. A dusting of dark hair fanned over his chest and narrowed before disappearing under the waistband of his breeches. Jack appeared blissfully ignorant of how vastly improper their current situation was and Letty was loath to appraise him of the fact in case he reassessed the situation and put his clothes back on. Did that make her a hussy?

  Probably. But she didn’t care right now.

  ‘I will be soaked to the skin instantly the moment I touch it. At least this way, I will have something reasonably dry to put on afterwards.’ He stood on one leg to tug off a boot. It was swiftly followed by the other one. She held her breath and scandalously hoped he would shimmy out of his tight breeches as well. Without the covering of his coat, the soft fabric clearly encased an impressive pair of thighs and a pleasingly firm, rounded bottom she had not noticed before. Had she ever noticed a gentleman’s bottom before? If she had, it was no wonder she did not remember it. For several seconds she scanned her memories for the Duke of Wentworth’s bottom and came up blank. Whatever his posterior resembled, all previous bottoms of her acquaintance paled into insignificance in comparison to her present company. To Letty’s complete disappointment, the breeches remained resolutely on.

  ‘This shouldn’t take long.’ With that, he strode purposely towards the sheep.

  Further conversation proved impossible because Letty’s body was behaving in the most peculiar way. For a start, she could not tear her eyes away from his powerful back as he grappled with the animal. How could she when those muscles moved intriguingly under his smooth skin? It took a tremendous amount of fortitude to force them elsewhere and even then they kept drifting back guiltily until she realised he could not see her eager staring with his back to her. After that, she allowed herself to ogle him shamelessly. His back, his broad shoulders, the muscles in his arms and his delightfully firm bottom were all studied far more than was really necessary because, it went without saying, they would be seared on her memory for ever. But as she did so, to her consternation her knees were definitely becoming increasingly wobbly and her heart was beating so loudly it drowned out the bleating of the panicked sheep. And she was hot. Very, very hot. All over.

  Whilst such an unexpected display of his own nudity did not apparently bother Jack, Letty was definitely overwhelmed with the impact of his raw manliness. Her arms had involuntarily tightened about the warm pile of his clothing she held. Better that than to give in to the desire to march over there and touch him herself. But his garments were an unsatisfactory substitute.

  How would he feel? She definitely should not allow her errant thoughts to wander there! Unfortunately, those thoughts were not done wandering and refused to listen to her.

  Would his skin be soft like hers? She already knew his body would feel deliciously firm beneath her palms. Her fingers itched to be able to explore all of those indents and bulges properly. Just to be certain.

  Letty had never experienced desire like this before. She had flirted with battalions of men, usually just for fun or because that was what everyone expected Violet to do, yet once or twice she had been curious about what it would be like to kiss a man. She had recently given a great deal of serious thought to kissing the Duke of Wentworth—just in case she did end up marrying the man. However, whilst she definitely wanted to kiss Jack, she also wanted to touch, lick and nibble him, too.

  All over.

  A new and blush-worthy development she had not considered before—even with her dashing Duke. She sincerely doubted she would ever be able to talk to Jack again without thinking about him without his clothes on. It was a good job it was dark. From the intense heat radiating from her skin, Letty knew she was flushed. Flushed rather than blushing all over, which was scandalous in itself. She should be horrified to witness such an improper display of naked male. Not be revelling in it. Fantasising about it. Wishing it would never end.

  It did not take Jack long to dislodge the sheep’s hooves from the mud and, rather ungratefully, the animal struggled in his arms as he carried it to the safety of firmer ground. ‘You have done that before.’ Letty’s voice was undeniably hoarse as she attempted to sound nonchalant. For good measure she sucked in a few calming breaths in an attempt to bring her fluttering pulse under control. It didn’t work.

  ‘Too many times.’

  He grabbed the shirt from her arms and to her total fascination, began to use it as a towel. First he rubbed it briskly over his head, unaware that in doing so the muscles in his arms bunched in a most appealing way and he gave her a glimpse of the two dark patches of hair beneath them which held her transfixed. Then he used the balled linen to roughly dry his exposed skin. It was on the tip of Letty’s tongue to offer to do it for him and that shocked her so much she forced herself to stare at her feet rather than gaze longingly at his splendid body.

  Too soon, he relieved her of his heavy coat and slipped it on, stuffed the sodden shirt into one of the pockets, then bent to pick up the lantern, leaving Letty still holding his waistcoat and her holly, painfully aware of the fact she could still see tantalising glimpses of his bare torso as they walked back towards the house and feeling very, very aroused by the sight.

  When they entered the kitchen, Jamie Warriner took in the scene with his usual blank look, but his eyes lingered on Letty’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes and she was certain she saw a flash of amusement in his inscrutable gaze.

  ‘Dinner is in half an hour.’ Then, as an afterthought, he smiled at her.

  Oh, good heavens! He knew what she was thinking about his elder brother. A blush joined the flush and heated her face further. Letty probably resembled a beetroot. She tried to brazen it out. ‘Excellent. That gives me time to freshen up then.’ And to have a lie down, ostensibly, she reasoned, to think about how she was currently feeling. However, her legs were now so unsteady, Letty knew if she didn’t lie down soon, she would probably fall down. Or swoon. Swooning was more likely. ‘If you will excuse me, gentlemen.’

  She was still clutching her bunch of holly as she scurried upstairs and didn’t care. Jack had unsettled her. He kept doing that, she realised. His smile, his manner—rakish one minute, domineering the next—his kindness, fierce loyalty and, not least, his pride. He was absolutely right to be proud, she supposed. He had been so young when he had taken on the burden of responsibility for his brothers and the estate, something she found both admirable and touching. Then, of course, there were his gorgeous deep blue eyes and now his truly magnificent body was thrown into the heady mix. Letty gratefully sank down on the mattress and flopped back against the pillows to allow her mind to properly consider it now she was alone. One did not need a vast amount of experience with the male form to know when one had seen a singularly perfect specimen...

  * * *

  Jack stood next to Jamie and surveyed his drawing room. Letty had not exaggerated when she had claimed to have cleaned all of the nooks and crannies. He could not remember the last time anywhere in this dilapidated old house had ever felt so inviting or smelled so overwhelmingly of polish.

  ‘She did this all by herself?’

  ‘It was impressive to watch. The woman is a demon when she gets going. I genuinely feared for the windows when she started cleaning them.’

  ‘And you didn’t help her move the furniture?’ Jack was still baffled as to how she had managed to drag in the heavy oak side table from the other room all alone. On the surface, Letty appeared to be such a delicate little thing.

  ‘By the time I came home she had already moved it all. Neither Joe nor Jacob helped her either.’

  Jack scratched his head and smiled. ‘She’s done a splendid job.’ Who would have thought a spoiled heiress was capable of actual graft?

  ‘Indeed she has. Your Letty is a feisty one.’

  Jack was
reluctant to take the bait, but knew from bitter experience it was better to tackle it head on rather than leave such an outrage unchecked. ‘She’s not my Letty, Jamie, so have your fun elsewhere.’

  Jamie shrugged and feigned disinterest. ‘Is she not? Perhaps I misread the obvious signals she was sending out.’

  He couldn’t ignore that. ‘Signals?’

  ‘You fluster her.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘I’ll say. Just now she was all pink and nervy. What did you do her?’

  ‘Nothing. She apologised for this morning, we chatted and then I had to pull a sheep out of the mud.’

  Jamie allowed his eyes to travel slowly down Jack’s body and then pulled apart the front of his greatcoat. ‘Like that? Where has your shirt gone?’

  ‘You wouldn’t wear your shirt if you were handling a wet sheep either.’

  ‘That explains it, then. You gave her a show of your raw manliness—women like a bit of the untamed savage in their men. Displays of half-naked brute strength have a tendency to make females swoon. I don’t suppose your Letty is any different.’

  ‘Stop calling her my Letty. You know full well there is nothing untoward going on.’ Much as he would like there to be. Jamie merely shrugged again, but it was a gesture loaded with meaning.

  ‘I rather think she is your Letty, Big Brother. There are four devilishly handsome Warriners in this house, yet she has taken a fancy only to you. There is no accounting for taste.’ Jamie turned and limped back to the kitchen, forcing Jack to follow him like a lapdog, desperately hopeful to hear more of his brother’s tantalising theories, but Jamie did not elaborate. Instead, he poked the point of a knife into his boiling potatoes and pretended Jack did not exist. Asking anything now was tantamount to a confession of guilt and he did not need his astute brother knowing he was burning with lust and fraught with longing for the woman, so Jack poured himself some milk. He tried to choke it down nonchalantly when all he really wanted to do was shake his irritating brother by the shoulders and demand he explain himself. Immediately.

  After an eternity, Jamie spoke again with far more measured casualness than even his acting skills extended to. ‘I suppose it doesn’t hurt that she is an uncommonly pretty little thing.’

  Jack experienced a surge of possessive jealousy at his brother’s comment. ‘Is she? I can’t say I’ve given it much thought.’

  ‘Liar!’ Jamie threw his head back and laughed then, something he rarely did. Jack had never craved the satisfaction of punching his brother in the face more. ‘Every time you look at her your tongue is hanging out and you practically drool.’

  The best form of defence, even when your brother had your exact measure, was attack. ‘I wonder if Napoleon’s troops didn’t injure your thick skull as well as your leg, Jamie. Clearly you have begun hallucinating.’

  Jack stalked from the room to the boisterous sound of his brother’s laughter, feeling a strange mix of emotions which unnerved him. Was Jamie right? Was it within the realms of possibility that a fêted society beauty might have taken a fancy to him? While the prospect warmed him, he would have to be an idiot to give the theory any credence. If she was flustered, it was probably due to his uncouth disrobing in the presence of a lady. At the time, he hadn’t given it much thought. He always stripped to the waist when he rescued wet sheep. They all did. Now that he considered it, he supposed proper gentlemen would never do such a thing. His instruction in correct etiquette had been woefully neglected by both of his parents, so was it any wonder the poor girl had been shocked by his crass behaviour?

  Letty’s flush would have been pure embarrassment, not admiration for the untamed savage as his brother had suggested. Instead of being impressed at his display of brute strength, all Jack would have managed was to cement her opinion of him as a brute. The very last thing he should be doing was holding out a preposterous hope of anything else with her.

  In Jack’s experience, hope in any form was normally the kiss of death. Every single time he had experienced that fickle emotion, fate had had very different ideas. As if Violet Dunston, incomparable diamond from sophisticated London, would seriously lower herself to be with somebody like him. Even if he weren’t a Warriner, he boasted little to tempt her. No money, poor manners, a crumbing house and the son of a man who had ruined another heiress once upon a time. Yes, indeed—plenty to turn her head there!

  And besides, he had enough burdens in his life already, without yearning for the additional complication of a woman in it. Even if by some miracle she did find something attractive in his brutish savageness, wives and Warriners did not mix. The Warriner men were doomed to make women unhappy, and although he was not a violent man, like his father, or a drunk, again like his father, he was loaded with far too many responsibilities to take on another one and he could not bear the idea of reading the inevitable disappointment in any woman’s face when she realised she had made a huge mistake in shackling herself to him.

  Added to that, it certainly did not help matters that Jack’s estate was in the direst of straits, he was tarred with the worst reputation possible, barely had twenty measly guineas to his name and was definitely not the sort of man an incomparable would ever consider as a potential mate in any lifetime, let alone this one. Not when she had wealthy dukes falling all over themselves to court her, who definitely did not need her money at all and could give her exactly the sort of life she had been born to live and doubtless yearned to get back to.

  Chapter Eleven

  Twenty-two days left...

  ‘What are you doing?’

  The barked question nearly caused Letty to lose her tenuous balance on the tiny occasional table she was teetering on. ‘I would have thought it obvious, Jack. I am cleaning the chandelier.’ The large, only remaining dusty thing in the vaulted hallway had been taunting her.

  ‘You are going to break your neck, woman!’ He strode towards her, looking simultaneously annoyed, windswept and enormous in his undone greatcoat. Unfortunately, this time there was both a shirt and waistcoat firmly in place beneath it. His big hands steadied the table and he stared up at her with barely disguised irritation. ‘Get down this instant!’

  Every time Letty heard his dictatorial tone it grated and childishly she became more set on doing whatever it was he disapproved of, even though she knew he was right. Her position had been dangerously precarious and she should be grateful he had come to her aid. She should be, but she wasn’t. ‘No! Just look at all the dust and the cobwebs.’ With a flash of ill-advised defiance, she wielded her feather duster on the dingy glass droplets again and the table wobbled ominously beneath her feet despite his hold on it.

  Letty’s arms waved as she tried to balance herself, only to find this completely unnecessary when his hands gripped her thighs in a most improper manner. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, you stubborn wench!’ Seconds later her feet left the table top as he hoisted her into the air until her shoulders came level with all of the cobwebs.

  Suddenly, cleaning the silly thing as quickly as possible became her main priority, because his head was inches from her navel and those distractingly strong arms were wrapped very tightly just below her bottom. Never had a feather duster moved so fast, yet as rapid as her movements were, they did nothing to take her mind off their intimate position.

  Letty could feel his breath on her skin. Warm, slightly laboured, it floated through the soft linen of the shirt she was wearing. His shirt. The heat of his hands seared through the buckskin of her breeches, his breeches, until she was aware of the exact shape of his palms and the weight of each of his fingers pressed against her legs. And there was nothing else between the fabric and her skin. She had no underwear. The corset and chemise she had been wearing on the night of her abduction had been ruined along with her evening dress and slippers. Letty had never wished for a corset more than she did right at this moment, because it would ha
ve acted like armour. A boned and impenetrable layer of protection between this vexing man and her decidedly vexed body.

  Almost desperately, she scrabbled for the last of the cobwebs. ‘All done!’ This was sung with far too much relief and in a voice a great deal more high-pitched than normal. ‘You can put me down now!’

  Misguidedly, she had assumed he would plop her back on the table and then help her down. He did no such thing; instead he carefully lowered her to the ground by sliding her down his body. Whilst this probably made sense in view of the feeble nature of the table she had chosen to use, the logistics of the task proved to be more disconcerting than merely being held aloft. It involved Jack’s arms shifting position as he shuffled her downwards. They grazed over her bottom before circling her waist, his face now level with her breasts. That warm breath did peculiar things to those as it permeated the flimsy linen.

  A moment later and her breasts were pushed flush against his chest, and Letty hoped he was not as aware of her suddenly pert nipples as she was, although she suspected they would be awkwardly apparent through the fine linen of his shirt now that only two layers of thin material separated them.

  Her eyes locked with his as they came level. Up close, there were darker flecks of sapphire in the intense blue and his pupils were larger than she was used to seeing them. Unnerving. Her pulse leapt further when they briefly flicked to her lips. He blinked and for a moment Letty thought he might kiss her, so intense had the atmosphere between them suddenly become—but if he was as attracted to her as she was to him, he hid it well. Effortlessly, he lowered her until her feet came into contact with the floor; her neck tilted back to look up at him, reminding her of the huge difference in their heights. The peculiar exchange had probably taken no more than a few seconds in total, yet her fevered imagination had slowed it all down in order to savour the whole experience.