by Meara Platt
“Not me, sweetheart. Your heart wants this to happen. I want it to happen, too.” He brushed a loose curl off her cheek. “You’re still blushing.”
“I can’t help it. What I did…” The words caught in her throat.
He sighed. “I know you’ve never allowed any man to touch you this way before. My chest may be puffed out with pride and I may be grinning like an ass, but I understand what’s happening between us. I think you do, too. You haven’t accepted it yet, that’s all. But I have. You’re not some conquest of mine. You’re the only woman who leaves me breathless and out of control. You’re the only woman I want in my life.”
She nodded against his chest. “I’m still appalled by my behavior and you ought to be as well.”
He tipped her chin up and smiled at her. “Very well, I’m shocked and… do I look sufficiently aghast?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Not in the least, you bounder. Stop grinning.”
“I can’t. I’m imagining you naked right now.”
She playfully smacked him on the shoulder. “I forbid you to do that!”
“Can’t help it. I’d carry you up to my bedchamber right now and do a proper job of ravishing your delectable body, but I don’t think I can manage you and my crutches on those stairs.” He paused a moment and his grin faded. “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever beheld. From the moment we met, I’ve been silently thanking the Fates that brought us together. If I’m fortunate enough to get you to the altar, I’ll be tossing my crutches in the air and dancing a very ungainly jig.”
She blushed again. “What we just did… felt very right because it was with you. Everything feels right when I’m with you.”
“Feeling is mutual.” He tweaked her nose, but continued to hold her in his arms, enveloping her in his embrace. He hadn’t said he loved her, not with words. But being in his arms right now, she could believe that he was saying it with his every caress. “Anything else you’d care to discuss, lass?”
“Other than your seductive prowess?”
“Prowess?” She felt the gentle rumble of his chest against her cheek as he laughed. “I’m just a big oaf! Please, let’s speak of anything but that.”
She grinned against his chest, liking that modesty about him. Although she’d had no experience in such matters, she’d seen how the young ladies at Eloise’s tea party were drawn to him. He hadn’t needed to utter a word or toss a smile to render them giddy. She cleared her throat. “Now that we’ve settled the matter of this list… we have settled it, haven’t we?”
He nodded. “Yes, sweetheart.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Now onto the next problem.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What problem?”
“That fertility god Lily smuggled into her room. How are we to get it back to the Royal Society?”
His appealingly fiendish grin brought a merry laugh out of her. “Out with it,” she demanded, still laughing. “You’ve figured out how to do it, haven’t you?”
“Lily isn’t the only one with a devious mind,” he said, his criminal pride showing. “I’ve already explained my plan to Eloise.”
“Your grandmother knows?”
“She knows, is thrilled about being asked to help, and can’t wait to put the dastardly scheme into effect.”
Laurel’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Never say she has a devious heart!”
“Very well, I won’t say it. However, my sweet grandmother not only approves, but is more than willing to participate.”
Laurel’s curiosity was piqued. “What’s your plan?”
* * *
Sneaking the fertility god back into the Royal Society proved an effortless undertaking, for Graelem’s grandmother had no trouble convincing the Duke of Lotheil, a long-time friend of hers, to hold an afternoon tea in the Royal Society exhibition rooms in honor of a new project he was about to announce. Since this new project concerned the addition of a new wing to the building, what better place to reveal the news to the world than the very place where the renovations were to occur?
The duke agreed, even though these halls were a male bastion and no female Fellows had ever been inducted. But this was to be a celebration, not a scientific symposium, so gentlemen and ladies from the best families were invited.
Graelem gave his grandmother all the credit for the success of their ploy, for she had convinced the duke not only to hold the event there but also to permit ladies entrance into all the halls, even the private exhibition rooms and library for the day.
In truth, the festivities required a woman’s touch, and Eloise was just the woman to take the reins and act as the duke’s hostess. The old darling had a shocking streak of larceny in her heart, but she explained it away with a mere wave of her hand. “The duke and I have been friends forever,” she had told Graelem. “But he can be a pompous old goat at times. Not only he, but his entire Royal Society, thinking men are smarter than women. This will show him.”
She had invited the cream of society to this exciting event, men and women of the highest ranks… and the Farthingales.
Eloise, as part of their plan, had insisted on commissioning an enormous cake for the grand celebration, one that was too big to simply carry in. The many layers of lemon and cocoa butter were delicate and had to be brought in on a cart, a cloth-covered rolling cart.
While the cake sat atop it, hidden underneath was Lily’s fertility god.
Graelem, still on crutches, attended the event with his grandmother. “Eloise, you old pirate,” he teased as they stood near the display case where the fertility god belonged, “I always suspected you were a smuggler or a highwayman in your younger days.”
“Nothing of the sort,” she shot back, but the twinkle in her eyes gave away her delight at the notion.
He laughed and gave her a quick hug. “I’m suitably impressed. I’ve never met a criminal as calm as you.”
The small wrinkles at the corners of her mouth twitched just before her lips curved into an unrepentant smile. “Putting a thing back where it belongs is a worthy project. One might even call it a charitable undertaking. Ah, here are Lily and her family. Do they know the plan?”
He nodded. “Lily and her sisters do. They know it. Love it. And wish they had thought of it themselves. However, we decided it was best to keep the Farthingale elders in the dark, although little escapes George Farthingale’s notice. He probably suspects his nieces are up to something since they’ve been on their best behavior these past few days, and he knows that always means trouble.”
Graelem glanced around the filling hall. “But I don’t see George here yet. Perhaps he’s figured out the scheme and is quietly distracting the duke’s attention. Ah, there’s Laurel’s father. Poor man, I wonder if he knows. He looks happy. No doubt he hasn’t a clue what his daughters are about to do.”
“Poor Sophie, she’s tried so hard to make proper young ladies of her daughters. However, I think she’s secretly proud of their spirited natures. No boiled mushrooms for brains with these girls.” Eloise laughed and shook her head so that the lilac egret feather matching the color of her fine silk gown bobbed up and down. “Oh, good. Speaking of those little devils, they’re coming toward us.”
The twins, along with Daisy and Laurel, hurried across the expanse of exhibition hall to greet him and his grandmother. Graelem watched three dark heads with blue eyes approach, but it was the fourth that caught his attention, the soft golden hair and aquamarine eyes that were Laurel’s. “Rose apologizes, but she couldn’t make it,” Laurel said in a conspiratorial whisper.
“We don’t really need her for this,” Dillie added. “And Julian would be apoplectic if his wife were caught. She can’t run very fast in her condition anyway. She’d be more of a hindrance than a help. But she’s cheering us on in spirit and wishes to convey her deep appreciation to you and Eloise for all your help. Is the head under the cake cart?”
Lily was already behind it and bent over to take a peek. “If you ro
ll the cart a little to the left, we can sneak it out from the back with no one the wiser. I’ll pick the lock to the glass case while Dillie and Daisy drag it out from under there. Lord Moray, thank you for agreeing to serve as our lookout.”
Since responding with “my pleasure” seemed to condone the theft and scurrilous return of that object, he chose to say nothing and merely nodded.
Graelem’s grandmother gasped. “Lily, you know how to pick locks?”
Lily blushed. “It’s quite simple really. One merely needs to loosen the lock spring with a hair pin and—”
“Child, I don’t need to know anymore. Just get that monstrosity back where it belongs while Laurel and I create the necessary diversion.” Eloise took Laurel’s arm. “Come along, my dear. Time for us to get to work.”
Graelem winked at Laurel.
Laurel responded with a special smile for him, one that reached into her beautiful, sparkling eyes. She was happy for many reasons other than the most obvious one, that Lily would not be hunted down and tossed in prison. As important was the fact that she was no longer house-bound. Her punishment had ended the moment Graelem had been able to leave Eloise’s townhouse. Most important, though, was the fact that she was beginning to think of him as the man with whom she’d share the rest of her life.
In truth, he couldn’t imagine his life without her either.
His good humor was cut short by a sudden, painful twinge in his leg. This first excursion was already straining his broken limb, and he needed to find a quiet place where he could stretch out and elevate it. He would do so as soon as his lookout duties were over, once the petty thief twins put the fertility god back where it belonged.
He scanned the crowd, all notion of a pleasant afternoon now fading when he noticed Devlin Kirwood among the guests mingling in the great hall. The unpleasant young lord had not yet noticed him, and Graelem preferred to keep it that way. Coming to blows at the Farthingale party was bad enough. The duke would be in a purple rage if the fight extended into his treasured exhibition halls.
Also, the twins weren’t finished yet, and he couldn’t risk all eyes turning upon them.
But he knew Devlin had spotted him when the idiot suddenly tossed him a scowl and began to approach with hands curled into fists at his sides.
Damnation. He really didn’t want to engage the man here.
However, he had no qualms about flattening him with one punch again if the blackguard refused to back off.
To his relief, Lady Anne Hollings entered the exhibition hall and also noticed Devlin. She hurried to his side, apparently unaware of the direction of Devlin’s gaze or his intentions. Anne caught him by the arm and began what appeared to be an urgent conversation.
A shiver crawled up Graelem’s spine as the pair suddenly turned to stare at him.
What were they up to? Anne’s smiling gaze was more predatory than pleasant, while Devlin kept his petulant scowl firmly in place. “Girls,” he quietly called over his shoulder, “hurry up.”
Although Laurel and his grandmother were creating a fine diversion that had attracted a large crowd including the duke, neither Devlin nor Anne was looking at them. No, indeed. They were more interested in him than in Eloise’s fake attack of the vapors. Damnation again.
“Almost done,” Daisy assured him. “Come on, Lily. Stop studying the other specimens. You can do that outside the glass.”
“Fine,” the little bluestocking said, emitting a sigh, “but what fun is that?”
“A lot more fun than prison,” Dillie, ever practical, assured her.
Within a matter of moments, the twins and Daisy were back at his side looking up at him with triumphant blue eyes. “All done,” Lily said.
He grinned at them and gave an exaggerated wipe of his brow. “Thank goodness. The foundations of England have been restored.”
Daisy shook her head and laughed. “But for how long? One can never be sure with Lily on the loose.” She had a sweet, charming laugh, and Graelem wondered how many poor fools would fall hard for this beautiful girl when she had her come out next year.
Too bad his cousin Gabriel wasn’t suitable. No, Gabriel traveled with a fast set and would find Daisy too traditional for his tastes.
Daisy took the twins by the elbow. “Let’s tell Eloise and Laurel that the deed has been accomplished. I expect that Eloise is eager to miraculously recover from her bout of the vapors. Will you join us, Lord Moray?”
He declined, needing to ease the pressure on his leg, which had gone from uncomfortable to fiercely throbbing. He’d noticed some chairs in one of the smaller lecture rooms and decided to rest there. He didn’t need an audience while he attended to his busted limb.
Also, he’d be away from the main festivities if Devlin were so foolish as to confront him again.
He had just stepped away from the noisy hall and was about to slip into one of the nearby rooms when a gentleman cut him off. “Hellfire,” he muttered, recognizing his distant cousin, Jordan Drummond, who would be the heir to the Moray fortune should Graelem not marry by Midsummer’s Day. “It’s you. What are you doing in London?”
“Is that any way to greet your cousin?” Jordan was fashionably dressed, down to his fine silk cravat that was perfectly knotted, and might have passed for one of London’s elite were he not as big as Graelem and his shoulders not as brawny. But his cousin’s eyes were bloodshot, and his breath reeked of whiskey, not the light champagne punch offered at this celebration.
Graelem tried not to breathe in the stale scent of spirits as Jordan leaned closer. “I noticed your betrothed and came looking for you to offer my congratulations. She’s a fine-looking filly. I’m surprised you managed to rein her in.” He let out a grunt. “Bet she’ll make for an excellent ride on your wedding night… or have you already ridden her?”
He slammed Jordan against the wall, grateful that they were alone and out of sight of the main hall. There was enough scandal surrounding his betrothal to Laurel that he didn’t wish to add to it. “Crawl back into your hole, Jordan,” he said quietly, but with unmistakable anger. “If I ever hear you talk about Laurel that way again, I’ll kill you.”
His cousin let out an angry oath. “You bloody bastard! Those Aberdeen properties should have been mine. Uncle Silas promised them to me. Do you think to take them from me? Think again, for I’ll have all of the Moray estate soon, all but the run down manor house I’ve always hated anyway. That inheritance will be mine. Mark my words, for you’ll never marry her by Midsummer’s Day.”
“Is that a threat?”
Suddenly, as if realizing he’d said too much, or perhaps he feared Graelem would finish him off here and now, he stumbled backward and hurried back into the main exhibition hall.
Graelem started to return there as well, for his cousin’s words disturbed him and he wanted to be sure that Laurel was safe, but his leg chose that moment to spasm. He had no choice but to get his weight off it now.
He hobbled to the closest lecture room, a small space that held about ten chairs neatly aligned in two rows of five chairs each. Overlooking the sensation of fiery knives stabbing his leg, he set his crutches down along the first row, turned the head chair in the second row so that it was perpendicular to the others, and sank onto the head chair with a heavy grunt. “Damn it,” he muttered, suppressing a yelp as he elevated his leg and stretched it out across the others.
He closed his eyes to stem the blinding pain that was in a rampant romp up and down his leg. Would the blasted bones never heal? He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth until the spasms subsided to a dull throb.
When he finally opened his eyes, Lady Anne Hollings was standing in the doorway, studying him as though he were a juicy haunch of mutton. Bloody hell. The girl was trouble. First Jordan and now her. Could this day get any worse? “Lady Anne, you shouldn’t be in here.”
“I saw you step away.” She twirled a soft curl and cast him a seductive smile that he found not in the least appealing.
“Only to ease my leg.”
“Oh, dear. It must be stiff and throbbing. Is that all you wish to ease?” She moved toward him with a predatory, feline stride, her steps slow and sensual as she approached him, her gaze fixed on the male organ between his legs that she obviously hoped would be stiff and throbbing for her as well.
It wasn’t.
He groaned inwardly and quickly rose to grab his crutches, knowing he was about to be set up. This had to be what she and Devlin had been discussing so intently earlier—a plan to stage a sexual encounter. He wasn’t a fool and didn’t think for a moment that she had any interest in him beyond his inheritance.
She looked at him, confused, as he hobbled his way to the door. “Where are you going?” Did she really believe she had anything to tempt him?
He grinned wryly. “You’re a pretty woman, Anne. Don’t waste your time interfering in your friend’s happiness. You may not believe in love, but Laurel does, and she deserves someone far better than Devlin Kirwood.”
“Such as yourself?” She sneered at him and blocked his way when he attempted to walk out into the hallway. “Do you honestly believe she’ll marry you?”
“You’ll be better served finding someone who will treasure you. I’m certain there’s a marquis or viscount who would love you if you gave him the chance. It certainly isn’t Devlin Kirwood. He’s a bounder and isn’t to be trusted.”
“And you are? You’re the one who’s tricked Laurel into an unwanted marriage.” She tipped her chin up and set her body at the threshold, as though daring him to push her out of the way.
He wouldn’t do it, of course, for he’d never handled a woman roughly and wasn’t about to start now. Jordan was another matter altogether. His cousin had always delighted in causing trouble for him, setting him up to take punishment for things he’d never done as a boy, and laughing when Jenny or Silas inevitably took the switch to him. He’d never forgotten those undeserved beatings.
But Anne was before him now. Unfortunately, he couldn’t simply lift her up and set her aside either. He needed his crutches for balance and she was going to fight like the devil to stay in his way. They’d both fall and then he would have to take the brunt of the impact to cushion her landing. Despite her being an insufferable nuisance, he didn’t want Anne to get hurt.
