Nicola Cornick - [Bluestocking Brides 02]

by One Night of Scandal

  He gathered her more closely against him, sliding his hands gently down her back, alive to every curve and line of her body beneath the enticingly trim riding habit. He had never ached so much for a woman before, nor lost touch with all reality other than that which he held in his arms. But Deb was soft and vibrant, and when she leaned closer to him and with a little sigh matched the stroke of his tongue with her own, he was powerless to resist.

  The horses shifted and pulled them apart, and Richard reluctantly let Deborah go. He moved back, his eyes on her face. She looked completely bemused for a second, dazed and dazzled, and he felt a violent satisfaction to have so thoroughly undermined her defences. Then her expression warmed into anger.

  ‘I knew you were a rake!’ she said furiously.

  ‘I am so pleased to have been able to prove you correct,’ Richard replied.

  Deborah made a noise of disgust. ‘I could have outrun you had I been riding astride.’

  ‘Now that,’ Richard said with appreciation, ‘I should have liked to see.’

  Deborah made another squawk like an infuriated hen and set the horse to walk along the path out of the wood. It was a narrow track and Richard let her go first. Last autumn’s bracken mingled with the pine needles underfoot and the horses’ hooves made a crunching sound on the undergrowth. Deborah was holding herself upright, ramrod straight. There was indignation in every line of her figure. It made Richard want to laugh. He was willing to bet that half her annoyance stemmed from the fact that she had not been able to help responding to him. And what a response. It scorched him to remember it.

  ‘You did kiss me back,’ he pointed out mildly.

  That gained him a stormy look from those deep blue eyes. ‘I have no recollection of it.’

  ‘You have a short memory, then. Come here and allow me to remind you.’

  Deb quickened her horse’s pace to a trot and burst out of the shade and into the open field again. ‘Is my penalty for losing the wager also to find that I cannot lose your company, Lord Richard?’ she demanded.

  Richard smiled. ‘I feel that I should escort you home, Mrs Stratton. One may come across all kinds of rogues if one has the folly to ride out without a groom in attendance.’

  Deborah raised her whip and tapped it thoughtfully against the palm of her hand. ‘Perhaps I could deal with them.’

  ‘I thought that I had already demonstrated that you could not?’

  Richard watched in amusement as Deborah’s fist clenched more tightly about the handle of the whip. The leather of her gloves strained across her knuckles. Her intentions were all too clear.

  ‘I find my need for solitude to be quite overwhelming now, Lord Richard,’ she said coldly. ‘Sufficient to defend it with violence, even.’

  Richard laughed. ‘You have no need to go so far, Mrs Stratton. I can take a hint as well as the next man.’

  He thought that she almost smiled then, despite herself. ‘All evidence to the contrary, Lord Richard,’ she said. ‘I have always thought you remarkably slow to understand.’

  Richard quietened Merlin, who had picked up the tension in the air and was sidestepping nervously.

  ‘Perhaps you are underestimating me?’ he said softly.

  ‘I doubt it,’ Deb snapped. ‘My estimation of you has always been that you are a thorough-going rake, and I have seen nothing to contradict that.’

  ‘I cannot fault your assessment of me,’ Richard said. ‘All that I question is your own response. You are not as indifferent to me as you pretend.’

  He saw the colour come into Deborah’s cheeks then and thought it a mixture of indignation and guilt. She did not wish to admit her attraction to him, but because she was of so honest a disposition she was having difficulty with lies and half-truths.

  ‘You are mistaken,’ she said.

  ‘I do not think so.’

  ‘You are conceited.’

  ‘Possibly. That still does not prove that you dislike me.’

  ‘I dislike you intensely.’

  ‘And that does not prove that you are not attracted to me.’ Richard threw up a hand. ‘Come, Mrs Stratton—Deborah—admit the truth.’

  ‘I did not give you the right to address me by name, my lord,’ Deborah snapped.

  ‘No, you just gave me a passionate kiss in the woods. I concede that one does not need to be on first-name terms to do such a thing. Indeed, you could make love to me and never need to call me by my name—’

  He saw the flash of fury in her eyes, but he did not flinch as the whip came down. It hit the mare’s flank rather than his face, and the creature took off across the fields as though it had the fires of hell snapping at its heels.

  This time Richard let Deborah go, watching with admiration as she leaned from the saddle to retrieve her hat from the grass without even slowing the horse’s stride. With a whimsical smile on his face, he turned Merlin in the opposite direction and cantered back towards Kestrel Court along the track that ran beside the edge of the river, the Winter Race. The path was soft and sandy beneath Merlin’s hooves and the horse settled to a tidy pace leaving Richard at liberty to think about Deborah Stratton. He had forced himself to self-control when dealing with her, but she had brought out every primitive and masculine instinct within him. It was damnably difficult to behave like a gentleman when all he wanted to do was carry her off.

  Richard sighed, deliberately allowing the tension to drain from his body. It had been an interesting morning. First there had been the mysterious letter addressed to the editor of the Suffolk Chronicle. He wanted to know what that had been about. Then there had been his encounter with Deborah herself, as madcap and passionate and yet as determinedly strait-laced as ever. Their meeting had only strengthened Richard’s determination to pursue his unconventional wooing. And since he could never pretend to be a sober man, and since she thought him a rake, a rake’s courtship was what she would get.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Is there something the matter, Deborah?’ Olivia Marney enquired of her sister when, later that day, they were sitting on the veranda at Midwinter Marney Hall partaking of tea. ‘You have barely sat still for five minutes at a time this afternoon and you seem most agitated. What can have happened to upset you?’

  Deborah pumped herself down on the cushioned seat of the wicker chair and toyed with the spray of lilac that she had wrenched from a nearby bush. Its bruised petals gave off a sweet perfume. Deb laid the spray aside with a sigh. No doubt Olivia, who had put years of effort into the gardens at Marney, would be watching her with concern in case she destroyed her life’s work in one fell swoop. The way Deb was feeling, it was a distinct possibility.

  ‘I am sorry I am such poor company,’ she said. ‘I feel quite liverish today. Maybe it is the sun.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Olivia poured her sister another cup of tea and pushed the plate with the homemade fruitcake in Deb’s direction. ‘It has never bothered you before. I thought that you went out riding this morning?’

  ‘I did.’ Deb moodily swallowed a mouthful of tea. It tasted too strong and she wished that she had asked for lemonade instead. She put her cup down and studied the prospect across the lawns to the ornamental shrubbery. It was cool and leafy, and should have been soothing to the spirits. Deb found that it was not.

  ‘Did you not enjoy yourself?’ Olivia was enquiring. ‘Usually riding puts you in such a pleasant frame of mind.’

  Deb frowned. ‘No, I did not enjoy myself. I was plagued by that rogue, Richard Kestrel. He insisted on accompanying me for some of the way. He quite spoiled my outing.’

  Olivia’s brow cleared. ‘Oh, I see. It is Lord Richard who has put you in this vile mood! I should have guessed. No one else has his talent for upsetting you.’

  ‘He kissed me,’ Deb said. ‘Can you believe the audacity of the man?’

  There was a clatter as Olivia dropped her silver spoon on the tiled floor. She bent to retrieve it, sitting up with a slight flush on her face. ‘Good gracious, Deb, you should warn
me before you make an announcement like that! Nothing half as exciting ever happens at Midwinter Marney Hall.’

  Deb was momentarily distracted from her own thoughts. ‘Do you mean that Ross never kisses you, Liv?’

  ‘Never,’ her sister said. ‘We have been married six years, you know, so it is hardly to be expected. Besides, we quarrel so much that there is never time for anything else. But we were not speaking of my situation, were we, Deborah? Tell me what happened.’

  Deb shrugged slightly. She found that she did not wish to confide the whole tale of her encounter with Richard Kestrel, for it might involve some awkward explanations and she was not at all sure of the precise nature of her feelings. Olivia was famously perceptive, and would hit at once on the idea that Deb was in some strange way attracted to the rakish Lord Richard. Indeed, when Richard had tried to seduce Deb the previous year and Deb in a flurry of outrage and shock had unburdened herself to her sister, Olivia had merely smiled in a maddening way and said that she had been expecting it for several months. She had seemed a great deal less surprised than Deb was herself, and not particularly shocked.

  ‘It was no great matter,’ Deb said now, glossing over the ill-advised race and the fact that she had lost it. ‘We were riding through Winter Wood and Lord Richard took the opportunity of the secluded surroundings to steal a kiss.’

  She sighed sharply. ‘I suppose that it was my fault for lowering my guard. After all, I know what type of man he is.’

  A tiny frown touched Olivia’s face. Looking at her, Deb wished that she could achieve Olivia’s effortlessly cool façade. Such an outward show of composure would be of great use when dealing with the advances of a rake like Lord Richard Kestrel. Alas for her, Deb felt that she wore her heart on her sleeve, and, no matter how she tried, she was incapable of hiding her feelings. When a scoundrel like Lord Richard provoked her she reacted impulsively. It always got her into trouble.

  Deb sighed and stirred her tea, forgetting that she had already done it once and that she did not take sugar anyway. She wished that she could achieve Olivia’s levels of serenity. Her sister seldom lost her temper and always appeared tranquil. Occasionally Deb would wonder if Olivia had no warmer feelings at all, for she never saw evidence of them. She had even wondered if this was responsible for the estrangement between Olivia and her husband Ross. Ross was by temperament quite similar to Deb herself for he had a quick temper. Deb had always thought this was one of the reasons why they dealt together so well. Olivia, in contrast, was tranquil and self-possessed. She reminded Deb of violets and cool water, whereas if she had to characterise her own temperament she would have thought of hot coals and scarlet roses.

  Olivia’s frown had deepened slightly. ‘Is it possible to kiss on horseback?’ she enquired now. ‘I had always imagined it would be a little difficult. I take it that you were on horseback at this point?’

  ‘Of course we were!’ Deb tried not to sound too sharp. ‘You do not think that I dismounted so that he could kiss me properly, do you?’

  Olivia raised her brows at her sister’s tone. ‘There is no need to be snappish. You might have been tempted.’

  ‘Well, I was not,’ Deb said untruthfully. ‘Lord Richard takes the most shocking liberties and I do all I can to discourage him.’

  ‘So you were on horseback and it is possible to kiss properly in that situation,’ Olivia mused. ‘How interesting!’

  Deb sighed crossly. For once she did not feel that her sister, normally so sympathetic, was giving her appropriate support.

  ‘It was not interesting, Liv,’ she said. ‘It was quite outrageous.’

  ‘Oh, pooh,’ Olivia said. ‘Outrageous, indeed! I wish I had your difficulties, Deb. You would not hear me complaining.’

  ‘Liv!’ Deb was genuinely scandalised. Despite the unsatisfactory state of her marriage, Olivia had never indicated for a second that she would look elsewhere for consolation.

  Olivia shrugged, but her blue eyes were twinkling. ‘No need to sound so huffy, Deb. I did but wish to point out that most ladies would give their best gown to be in your shoes as far as Lord Richard Kestrel was concerned—yes, and throw in their jewels as well, into the bargain!’

  Deb snorted. ‘What nonsense—’

  ‘You protest too much,’ Olivia said, plucking a grape from the silver bowl of fruit at her elbow. She looked back at her sister and her gaze was shrewd. ‘Cut line, Deb. You know that you like him. There is no point in trying to gammon me—or yourself either.’

  There was silence that fizzed with indignation and then Deb subsided with a little sigh.

  ‘Oh dear, I confess that you might be right. How is it that you know me so well, Liv?’

  ‘Years of observation,’ her sister said calmly. ‘You are easy to read, Deb. You like Lord Richard Kestrel, you enjoyed his kisses and, though you are shocked at yourself for even considering it, you are wondering just how far you could let him go before you got into difficulties.’

  ‘Liv!’ Deb said again. The colour flooded her face. Her sister’s assessment was uncannily accurate.

  ‘Well?’

  Deb rubbed a hand across her forehead. ‘I admit that I enjoy Lord Richard’s company,’ she said, feeling a certain relief that she could discuss her feelings honestly with Olivia. ‘He has a very engaging manner, in an impudent sort of a way…’

  ‘And his compliments are very pretty.’

  ‘True, but very practised.’

  ‘And are his kisses practised too?’

  Deb traced patterns on the top of the wicker table. For all her belief that Lord Richard was nothing more than a rake, there had been something sweet about his kisses, something that had evoked a shockingly strong response from her.

  ‘I do not know,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I have very little means of comparison. I imagine that a man of his reputation must be very good at kissing, which is why I felt so…’ She waved her hands about descriptively.

  ‘So…’ Olivia prompted.

  ‘So dizzy and shivery and excited…’ Deb shivered again now, thinking about it. She was obliged to admit that there had been something between the two of them from the moment that they had met on the bridleway. It had been like flint striking steel; a spark, a flare and then the flame caught. It mattered not whether she liked Richard or not. Something had ignited as soon as their eyes had met.

  Olivia laughed. ‘Yet you wish to run away from him? Oh, Deb!’

  Deb drank some of her cooling tea. ‘I find it disturbing to be so attracted to a man whose way of life I utterly reject,’ she said.

  ‘I imagine,’ Olivia said shrewdly, ‘that you find it disturbing to be attracted to a man at all when you swore you would never trust one ever again.’

  Deb shrugged awkwardly. ‘At the time—after Neil’s betrayal—I could not imagine ever finding a man I could like.’ She looked out across the cool green acres of the garden. ‘Now I am not so naïve as to believe I could not have feelings for someone, but…’ she frowned ‘…I could never act on them.’

  ‘Never?’ Olivia looked quizzical.

  Deb fidgeted. ‘I could never contemplate marriage…’ She fidgeted with her teacup again then looked up to meet her sister’s level gaze. ‘I cannot quite believe it, Liv, but lately I have had thoughts…’ she hesitated, then continued more firmly ‘…thoughts of what it might be like to take Richard Kestrel as a lover. What could be more shocking than that?’

  A quiver of breeze ran along the veranda, sending ripples across the little ornamental pond where the fat goldfish basked and stirring the branches of the lilac so that its scent suffused the air.

  Even now, Olivia’s calm was not impaired. ‘There are plenty of things more shocking,’ she said. ‘I can see that you would not be much taken with marriage but you might find that to take a lover would be far more pleasurable…’

  Deb stared at her. ‘How would you know?’

  ‘I do not,’ Olivia said calmly. ‘I am only speculating.’

 
; Deb shook her head. ‘It is a scandalous plan. I do not support such behaviour and neither do you.’ She sighed. ‘Goodness knows, after the huge outrage over my elopement, I simply should not be thinking of compounding my folly with this. It is the sort of fantasy that is all very well in theory, but must never be made a reality. It is far too dangerous.’ She wriggled in her chair. ‘Anyway, Lord Richard is not the sole cause of my ill temper. I had a letter from Papa today.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ To Deb’s relief, Olivia let the subject of Richard Kestrel drop. ‘Is Papa pressing you to return to the fold?’

  ‘More than that, he is commanding me.’ Deb licked her finger and picked up the cake crumbs from the plate in most unladylike fashion. ‘He threatens to cut off my allowance if I do not return to live at Walton Hall.’

  Olivia made a little sound of distress. ‘That is harsh, although I know he only wants what is best for you, Deb. I do not suppose you can countenance it?’

  ‘No.’ Deb put the plate down. ‘It is not simply the difficulty of returning home after three years away, Liv. That would be restrictive and unpleasant, but nowhere near as difficult as refusing the match with cousin Harry—again.’

  Her sister shuddered. ‘Is that what Papa is proposing?’

  ‘I fear so,’ Deb said. ‘I spoilt his plans when I eloped with Neil and now he sees an opportunity to make the match that I rejected the first time around.’

  Olivia’s gaze was troubled. ‘Surely Papa would not force a match? I know that he can be very autocratic but, if you were unwilling, surely he would not persist?’