Landing on top of Steven, Royce shifted to the side just as the door opened.
"Dear God!"
Lord Hammington's exclamation brought Royce stumbling to his feet, fully aware of the picture he presented while sprawled on Laurel's bed with Steven.
* * *
"…so when Lord Hammington burst in upon Royce and Steven and caught them laying together in your bed, he demanded an explanation of what they were doing and why they were doing it in your room. So, Royce calmly explained everything to Lord Hammington."
Leaning forward, Laurel urged Harriet to continue. "What did he say?"
"From what Lady Hammington gathered, Royce told Lord Hammington that he'd exchanged rooms with you earlier in the evening as you complained of noises in the walls." Her gaze danced with mirth as she paused. "He then suggested that Lord Hammington have his rodent problem addressed."
She couldn't help but laugh at Royce's audacity, even as she admired his quick thinking. "How did he explain being found on the bed with Steven?"
"He's truly quite clever, your Royce," Harriet murmured.
"Harriet, please."
"I know, I know," said Harriet with a wave of her hand. "I truly am not encouraging you to reconsider Royce's proposal, but you must admit there is something appealing about his persistence."
"I imagine you find his persistence appealing because you're not the one forced to outwit him," Laurel pointed out, not all together pleased about her friend's change of heart. "Now, please, Harriet. I'm dying to hear how Royce explained his delicate … position … to Lord Hammington."
Grinning, Harriet leaned closer. "He told Lord Hammington that you believed you'd seen a rat scamper under the bed, but before he could look for it, Steven called upon him to see if he would like to have a late night brandy."
"That still doesn't explain how they both ended up on the bed."
"I'm getting to that part," Harriet said with a tinge of exasperation. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—"
"Sorry," Laurel mumbled.
"Royce told Lord Hammington that when he and Steven bent down to look for the creature, Steven lost his balance and knocked both of them onto the bed."
"Of course he puts the blame squarely upon Steven's shoulders."
"Naturally," Harriet agreed with a laugh.
Smiling over the image, Laurel settled back in her chair. "One thing that still confuses me, Harriet, is why did Lord Hammington burst into my room in the first place."
Harriet's discomfort was obvious. "You won't like the answer, Laurel."
Gazing warily at her friend, Laurel urged, "Tell me anyway."
"Lord Hammington received a note saying that you needed immediate assistance."
"But who would send Lord Hammington a note—" A horrid thought took hold of Laurel. "That cad," she whispered.
"What was that?" asked Harriet.
But Laurel knew there was no other logical explanation. "It was Royce," she said grimly.
"Who sent the note?" At Laurel's nod, Harriet frowned darkly. "Impossible. He wouldn't do such a thing."
"What other explanation can there be? How many times do I need to be disappointed by that man in order to learn not to trust him?"
Reaching out, Harriet placed a comforting hand upon Laurel's knee. "You don't know for certain it was he."
"It had to have been," Laurel said, trying to hide her disappointment. "Think upon it, Harriet. What would have happened if I had been in my room? I would have been discovered with Royce. At that late hour, I would have been thoroughly compromised."
"Then he could have announced your engagement to save your reputation and you would have had no choice but to accept his marriage proposal, Harriet concluded, her eyes widening with every word. "He is clever, isn't he?"
"Not nearly clever enough, for I managed to escape his nasty trap," Laurel pointed out, allowing her fury to burn away any thoughts of Royce being anything but a scoundrel. "I will admit that it surprises me that Royce would seek to accomplish his goals in such a dishonorable manner, but perhaps I underestimated his desire to win." The last spark of hope buried deep inside of Laurel flickered out. "Next time, I won't be so naive."
* * *
"I heard about last night's debacle, Royce, and I'll have you know it displeases me greatly," Elizabeth Van Cleef announced coldly.
Responding in kind, Royce said, "Then it is a good thing that I don't live my life to gain your praise."
"Don't snipe at me, Royce. If you'd stayed clear of that girl, none of this would have occurred."
Royce wanted to do nothing more than to walk away. Still, her position demanded respect, so he forced himself to act politely. "Let's remain pleasant, Mother," Royce murmured, crossing the sitting room in his mother's chambers.
Taking a seat near the window, Elizabeth tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair. "I wish to discuss this situation, Royce."
"Well, I don't," he countered, keeping his voice light. "I must say that I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you avoided country affairs like this."
"I usually do, but I decided to enjoy the out of doors for a bit." Pausing briefly, Elizabeth gave him a chilly smile. "While I appreciate your attempt to change the subject, it will not dissuade me from expressing my displeasure with your behavior."
"Then feel free to natter away to your heart's content," Royce offered as he bowed to his mother. "I, on the other hand, shall take my leave."
Thrusting to her feet, Elizabeth snapped back her shoulders, a gesture Royce had seen more times in his youth than he cared to remember. "We need to speak about this."
"I think not," he replied breezily. "At the moment, I need to find 'the situation,' as you refer to her."
"I forbid you to see her again."
His mother's pronouncement brought a bitter laugh from Royce. "Sorry to disappoint you yet again, Mother, but the days of you monitoring my actions have long since passed."
Elizabeth scowled at him. "The Simmons chit is utterly unsuitable to become the next Countess of Tewksbury."
Royce's long held patience snapped and he took a step forward. "Allow me to point out that as the present Earl of Tewksbury, it is my privilege to decide just who is suitable to become my Countess. And no one…" Royce murmured, pausing for effect, "…no one will speak out against my choice. Not even you, Mother."
Lifting her chin, Elizabeth glared at him. "I shall say whatever I want to anyone I please. You cannot dictate my actions to me."
"True," he said in a silky voice, "but I can dictate how much you receive for your monthly stipend."
"You wouldn't dare!"
Shaking his head, Royce walked toward the door. "Don't force my hand, Mother," he warned softly before leaving her alone in her rooms.
* * *
Laurel was still stewing when Royce came upon her in the gazebo.
"There you are," Royce called, strolling into the glass-enclosed house. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
She'd retired to this seldom-used gazebo, hidden deep within the garden, precisely so he wouldn't find her. "Why?" she asked with a weary sigh.
A side of his mouth quirked upward. "Not mincing words, I see," he murmured. "Am I to presume that you heard about last night's events and are upset with me?"
Crossing her arms, Laurel faced Royce. "Very astute of you."
"I've been wondering how you knew I was in your room." Royce paced around the edge of the gazebo.
"As I was returning from Harriet's room, I heard whispering in the hall and I thought I'd interrupted a midnight tryst, but when I peeked around the corner I only saw you slipping into my room," Laurel explained, shifting to face Royce. "Naturally, it took a few minutes for me to trust my eyes, because I never would have imagined that you'd do something so despicable."
Lifting both his brows, Royce stopped pacing. "Despicable? Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"
Staunchly, she ignored the twinge of hurt she saw in his eyes. "No
t at all. What would you call it when a gentleman comes uninvited to a lady's room late at night?"
"A manner of courtship perhaps?"
"Courtship?" Stepping forward, she poked at Royce's chest with her finger. "Perhaps in some backward civilization that would be considered an act of courtship, but I assure you, Lord Van Cleef, that in civilized company, you gravely insult any female unlucky enough to catch your eye."
Grabbing hold of her finger, he tugged her closer. "Forgive me if you find my technique a bit rusty, but I'm unaccustomed to chasing down a female in order to speak with her privately."
"So you resort to trickery?" she demanded, trying not to quiver beneath his touch.
"If you'd ceased your stubborn refusal to talk to me, I wouldn't have been forced into drastic measures."
"Oh, so now it's my fault." Fury bolstered her courage and Laurel moved closer, glaring up into Royce's face. "The least you could do is take responsibility for your own actions."
"You continually challenge me, daring me to chase you, yet the moment I make a bold move, you accuse me of taking this game of ours too far."
Tilting her head upward, Laurel nudged him with her hand. "I don't wish to 'play' anymore, Royce. You took it too far when you arranged for us to be discovered by Lord Hammington."
"I did nothing of the sort," Royce protested. "Which is precisely why I searched for you today. I wanted to warn you that someone tried to arrange for your disgrace."
"Yes," she ground out, "you."
Annoyance flashed in his eyes as he tightened his hold upon her. "I just told you that I didn't send that note to Hammington."
Sniffing in disbelief, Laurel gave him a look of scorn. "As if I could believe anything you said."
"When have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"
"When haven't you?"
With his free hand, Royce grasped her shoulder. "Though I'd like nothing more than to shake some sense into you, Laurel, it is more important that you listen to me. Last night as I was about to enter your room, another man tried to go in before me, but I startled him and he fled before I could find out his identity."
She allowed her disbelief to color her features.
"It's the truth," Royce protested. "The whispering you heard was the two of us arguing."
Her laugh sounded bitter even to her own ears. "So now you're trying to convince me that a complete stranger, for some nefarious reason, wanted to disgrace me."
"Yes." Royce closed his eyes for an instant, before meeting her gaze once more. "I know it sounds a bit—"
"Implausible," she supplied.
"I was going to say far-fetched."
"Either way, you're quite right." Laurel tried to take a step backward, but Royce held her tight. "Please release me. I've had enough of your fairy tales."
"You must believe me, Laurel. Your reputation might be in jeopardy."
"It is," she conceded smartly. "Thanks to you."
Immediately, Royce pulled her against him and lowered his head until his face was mere inches from hers. "Trust me, Laurel, I've had a very trying day already, so tread lightly and listen carefully. I had nothing to do with the note Lord Hammington received." As Laurel opened her mouth to protest, Royce cut her off. "You must believe that someone has attempted to soil your good name."
"If I believed that, then I could just as easily believe all sorts of fantastical tales," Laurel returned swiftly. "Who knows what could happen then? There are all sorts of fairy tales I could believe in … such as the idea that you might be interested in me simply because you find me enchanting." Widening her eyes, she feigned a look of excitement. "Or perhaps I could even make myself believe that you wish to marry me because you, oh, I don't know, let's say because you love me."
An odd expression crossed Royce's face. "You are the most bedeviling woman I've ever met," he said finally.
"Then leave me alone!"
"I wish I could," he rasped, so low she barely made out the words.
A strangled sound echoed from his throat as Royce lowered his head toward her, closing the distance between them. The world spun on its axis as Royce pulled her against him and melted her with the touch of his lips.
She was lost.
* * *
Chapter 11
« ^ »
Elation soared through him as Royce satisfied his raging hunger for this delectable woman in his arms. Laurel Simmons frustrated him, challenged him, excited him in a fashion no other woman had ever done.
Needing to meld with her, Royce deepened the kiss, swept away by the intense cravings stirring within him. He curved his hand around her shoulder, wishing he could tug the offending material off her soft flesh, freeing her to his touch. Desire flamed within him as Laurel melted into him, her full breasts pressed against his chest.
This woman made him want things he'd never before imagined. He didn't know why and didn't care; all he knew was that life with her would be the stuff of fantasy. A shiver coursed through him as her fingers curled into his spine, eliciting a desire to feel the scrape of her nails along his flesh.
Driven with passion, Royce angled his head, parting her lips once more. Then, just as he moved, Laurel broke off the kiss and yanked herself out of his arms.
"No," she whispered hoarsely, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth.
"Laurel." Royce moved to hold her again, to kiss away any lingering doubts she might have about his motives.
"Don't touch me."
The wavering in her voice brought him to a halt. "Please, Laurel, I need to reassure you."
Her eyes had grown round, almost as if shock had taken hold of her. "No more," she said with a shake of her head, before she spun on her heel and ran from the gazebo.
He wanted to race after her and demand an explanation, but he knew she wouldn't thank him for his effort. Knowing Laurel as well as he did, he guessed she'd soon regret showing him any weakness at all and the fact that she'd stood before him with tears in her eyes would be more than she could bear.
Letting out a defeated sigh, Royce walked to the door and gazed down the now deserted garden path. He couldn't understand what had just happened. One moment Laurel had lost herself within his arms and the next she'd broken down in front of him, begging him not to touch her. Vexing, Royce decided with a firm nod. It was the perfect word to describe the woman.
While Laurel was far more intriguing than any other female of his acquaintance, there was little doubt that she, along with the rest of her species, was a complicated creature that delighted in tormenting the male species. Whether it be through their flirtatious ways or by direct manners, women knew how to reach inside of a man and twist him inside out.
Taking a deep breath, Royce tried to remain focused upon the facts. Despite his determination, he found claiming Laurel as his own was proving to be far more challenging than he'd ever imagined. Perhaps James and William were correct after all. Perhaps women, by their very nature, were troublesome creatures that required much care and time in order to keep them happy: Royce doubted if women understood that everything in life had a natural order and they were simply a part of a man's life, not the whole of it. However, it was the burden of a man to make the lady understand that simple fact and until he did, his life would be chaos.
Perhaps he should begin to blend his theory with the tried and proven courtship techniques of his friends, James and William. Then, once Laurel had wed him, he could consider all the trouble he'd gone through well worth the effort.
Satisfied by his reasoning, Royce felt he could now dismiss the ache he felt whenever he saw Laurel as purely natural. No, he no longer had to be concerned by the amount of time he spent thinking of her or about the way his heart tightened whenever he saw her.
Undoubtedly it was simply a result of all the energy he was expending when he devised new strategies to capture his bride.
Tucking his hands into his waistcoat, Royce strolled back toward the house, wondering when he'd be able to speak with Laurel a
nd discover exactly what was bothering her. Until the chance arose, he would keep a close eye on her and try to discover just who had threatened to ruin his lady's reputation.
And once he did, he would destroy the bastard.
* * *
"Why did you leave the Hammingtons' party in such a hurry?"
Flinching at the question, Laurel splashed a bit of tea onto the table. "I'm sorry I didn't let you know I was heading back to London, Harriet, but I'd just seen Royce and was so upset I wasn't thinking straight."
"I suspected as much," Harriet replied, reaching forward to accept her tea. "What happened? Did you confront Royce with your suspicions?"
"Yes and he denied he'd sent the note to Lord Hammington." Wiping up the spill, Laurel set the dampened cloth on the tray. "He was most adamant about it."
"Did you believe him?"
"Part of me wanted to," Laurel admitted, trusting Harriet with the truth, "but, logically he was the only one who had a motive … despite his tale about another man who'd tried to enter my room."
Harriet took a sip of her tea. "What are you going to do now?"
"Nothing."
An incredulous expression shifted onto Harriet's face. "You can't be serious."
"I most certainly am." Setting down her teacup, Laurel leaned forward. "I've given the matter a great deal of thought, Harriet, and I realized that while I accused him of playing games with me, I was just as guilty." She splayed her hands wide. "After all, I countered every move he made, twisting his plans, and, by my actions, encouraged him to continue his pursuit. If I had simply let the matter drop, he would have soon tired of his attempts and let me be."
"So no matter what he does, you plan on acting cool."
"Exactly." Laurel nodded firmly, sitting back in her chair. "Cool, yet polite." Smiling, she lifted her cup in a toast. "Here's to the end of the game."
* * *
Royce felt like snarling at William and James as they approached him. Couldn't a man enjoy an evening in peace? he wondered. It had been a week since his return from the country and, with his lack of response from Laurel, he was hardly in the mood for their crowing.
A MERRY CHASE Page 10
