Desmond grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. His manner was intense and focused. "Then you must never say such things to me again. Do not even think them. Do you understand me?"
He let her go and dropped his arms to his side. He turned and sat down on the settee by the fire. He lowered his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair.
He looked up. "Come here," he commanded softly.
He held out his hand. She went to him and sat down. "So, are we agreed?" Desmond asked.
Rebecca nodded wordlessly. She swallowed.
"You must say the words, Rebecca," Desmond urged. "You must promise."
He cradled her cheek in his right hand and lowered his lips to her mouth. He was poised to kiss her.
"I promise," she whispered.
"Go on," said Desmond, waiting. He scrutinized her hair, her eyes, her neck. He felt like an addict after the longest driest spell and she was his vice. His longing for her already consumed him.
Rebecca started again, "I promise never to say…" He kissed her lightly on the lips. "…or think…” He kissed her cheek. "…such things again." He kissed her neck and lingered there.
"Ever," Desmond whispered against her throat. "Ever," she repeated, breathlessly, her eyes closed.
"All right then." Desmond murmured in her ear.
His lips traveled back to her throat while his hand wandered slowly to her breast. As he squeezed her firm round flesh, he could feel her nipple stiffen against his palm through the thin cotton fabric of her nightdress.
"Desmond, no…" she whispered, panting softly. "Nora will be here soon." Desmond stopped and looked up at her. "You're right," he said, licking his lips. "You must get back to your bed." Desmond looked out the window in an attempt to cool down.
Rebecca settled herself back against her pillows, fixing her hair, adjusting her gown. He smiled at her and sat down at her bedside.
"I almost forgot. I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small gray velvet box. He grabbed her hand and placed the box in her palm.
Rebecca smiled. "What is it?" she asked him, her eyes bright with pleasure.
"Open it," he replied.
She flipped the tiny case open and drew in her breath. "It's beautiful, Desmond."
"My father gave it to my mother and now I'm giving it to you." He reached up to caress her hair. "Are you pleased?"
"What do you think?" Rebecca looked at him, smiling. She placed it on her ring finger and stared at it. "I love it, Desmond."
"Good. Then maybe later on tonight, you can show me how grateful you are." Desmond grinned. "Get some sleep. I will see you at dinner." He kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, Rebecca. More than anything."
He closed the door quietly behind him. He felt sure that the storm had passed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was quiet in the back courtyard after the clamor of the morning deliveries. The cobblestones were wet, slick and dirty. Tobias enjoyed the cold moist air of the late morning, almost as much as he enjoyed the warm sharp taste of his cigar.
Life had been good to him since Charles Wexley's illness made him bed bound. He was now the valet to Lord John Garway. True, his ascension to the position may only be temporary, but he was no worse for wear. And he had to look out for himself, didn't he? Any position for however long it lasted was never a bad thing, particularly if you were a working class lad.
Mrs. Hewitt, Lady Garway's personal maid, approached him from behind and interrupted his mental assessments. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"They're worth more than a penny, aren't they, now? I'm valet to the Earl of Delafield." Tobias replied smugly.
"Don't be puttin' on airs with me." She took out a cigar. Tobias was quick to give her a light. "Not unless you want to find yourself in my cross-hairs." She took a quick drag off her smoke.
"So what about Lady Rebecca then? Did she throw him over?" asked Tobias, smiling to himself.
"She can't have been that daft. I saw Mr. Baines here earlier for a visit." Mrs. Hewitt replied. "She's lucky to have him, if you ask me. She's lucky to have anyone."
"Well, that's no thanks to us," Tobias remarked. He took his time before he asked her, "Do you ever regret it?"
"Regret what?" challenged Mrs. Hewitt.
"You know very well," Tobias said quietly. "If it weren't for us, no one would have been the wiser about that Sir Isaac. It would have all blown over as quick as you please." He flicked his ashes and added, "She might have had her pick of a dozen princes."
"I suppose. Sometimes I wish I could undo things for Lady Garway's sake." Mrs. Hewitt took another puff. "Other times, I'm of the mind that Lady Rebecca should enjoy her just desserts, the heartless minx." She flicked her cigar ash. "Anyway, there's nothing to be done about it now."
"Isn't there?" Tobias asked but it was more of a statement than a question. "If you could, Mrs. Hewitt, wouldn't you set it straight? If only to spare Her Ladyship a scandal?"
Mrs. Hewitt didn't reply right away. But, she told herself, it was food for thought. Her debt to Lady Garway was one that she could never repay. She took one last drag from her cigar and tossed it off against the wet stones. Tobias did likewise. "We'll see about it," she finally countered. "I'll do my diggin' and you do yours. Between the two of us, we may come up with something."
Mrs. Hewitt did not have to wait long before she arrived at her first opportunity to unearth information about Lady Rebecca. Her mistress had social visits in the village in the afternoon. The preparations would be rigorous since Her Ladyship wished to make an impression. That meant Mrs. Hewitt would have that much more time to extract the most pertinent details from her. Not that she needed the extra time. It was Mrs. Hewitt's special talent that she could coddle and finagle news and maneuvers from Her Ladyship in a matter of minutes.
Mrs. Hewitt chose her moment as Lady Garway sat at her vanity, putting the final touches to her hair. They were trying out a number of different combs and ornaments.
"The staff were very concerned last night, ma'am, with Lady Rebecca gone for so long and arrivin' in such a state," Mrs. Hewitt began.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hewitt." Lady Garway nodded. "It was awful."
"She's all right, then?"
"Yes, she's fine, thanks to Desmond," her mistress replied.
"That's a grace, isn't it, ma'am? The marriage is to go forward." Mrs. Hewitt smiled graciously at her.
"Of course, it is. Why wouldn't it?" If it was possible for Lady Garway to scowl, she managed it then.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, truly I am. But the entire staff is aware of the ill-founded rumors circulatin' in London and elsewhere." Mrs. Hewitt continued her ministrations. "But certainly, those aren't in play anymore, what with Mr. Baines and Lady Rebecca's engagement."
"If only that were true," Lady Garway fiddled with the cluster of combs before her on the vanity. "I'm afraid Sir Isaac may still wreak some havoc." Her lips set themselves in a firm straight line.
Mrs. Hewitt's face showed not the least bit of surprise at the mention of the older gentleman. "Lady Rebecca never really gave a care for him, ma'am, you can be sure of it. He's no threat to Mr. Baines."
"That's not what I meant," Lady Garway sighed. "He's a politician, Mrs. Hewitt. Rumors and scandal are his bread and butter." She looked at herself in the mirror. "Thank you, Mrs. Hewitt. That's perfect." She rose from her vanity for the next stage in her preparations. Lady Garway didn't need to say anything more. Mrs. Hewitt had what she needed.
By the end of the day, Rebecca was quite herself again. All the same, she took extra care in her preparations for Desmond's return. She chose a pink gown, hoping it would add some color to her cheeks. She stood before the mirror. It brought to mind his first visit to her room. Her white naked curves against his black dinner jacket. The warmth of his hands on her breasts, his lips against her throat.
A heated surge rushed from her center down to that cleft between her thighs. The sensation was lush, hot and
delicious. He would come to her again tonight. She would see to it.
Rebecca stood at the door with Abbott as Desmond and his mother entered the manor. "Mrs. Baines, so happy to see you," Rebecca said as she kissed her on the cheek. She turned to Desmond and grabbed his hand. "You look well, Desmond."
"I should say that to you," Desmond replied, "although you look a great deal more than well."
Rebecca felt his eyes traverse her face and body. She so hoped that she pleased him.
"Rebecca, I hope you're feeling better?" asked Mrs. Baines.
"Much better, thank you, Mrs. Baines," replied Rebecca with a smile.
Desmond interrupted their exchange. "Would you excuse us, Mother? I have something rather important that I wish to discuss with Rebecca."
"Certainly, Desmond," Mrs. Baines replied and she turned to Rebecca and smiled. "Rebecca, we'll talk later. Be sure that we do." Mrs. Baines followed Abbott to the drawing room.
Desmond grabbed Rebecca's hand and led her to the east library. Once in private, Desmond turned to her, "You are absolutely captivating tonight, Rebecca.” And with his hands at her waist, he pulled her to him.
Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck and their lips met in a long and sensuous kiss. "You have plans," he whispered against her lips. "I can tell."
She ran her hands down his chest and under his dinner jacket. "The seduction of Desmond Baines," Rebecca replied softly, looking up at him. She placed her hands on his hips and pressed herself against him.
"Mission accomplished." Desmond smiled. He grabbed her hands. "Come and sit with me," he said and led her to the nearest settee. Desmond held her hands in his. "I've spent the afternoon thinking about us, about our future." Rebecca tilted her head and looked into his eyes expectantly. He continued, "I've decided. I cannot wait until June to marry you." He searched her face for some sign of agreement. Rebecca's lips broke into a shy smile.
He looked down at her hands. Her fingers were so soft, elegant and slender. She wore the ring he had given her earlier that day. The gems sparkled and the garnet seemed a darker red against the paleness of her skin.
"When I am away from you, I long to be with you. And when I am with you, I dread the moment when I have to leave you." He shrugged his shoulders. "I have never felt this way with anyone. I guess I always suspected that it would be like this...with you." He looked at her. "So there it is. Then there is that other matter."
"Other matter?"
"Rebecca, I know you do not want to think about it, much less talk about it." He stood up and walked to the window. "I can't help it. Even now that he's gone, he has this power to torment you. It's maddening. I want to wring his bloody neck." He turned and looked at her. "I'm sorry, Rebecca."
"Don't be." She joined him and linked her arm with his. "I'm quite over it, you know. You've made me stronger. I feel like I can face anything now as long as you're with me."
Desmond turned to her. "That may be and I'm happy for that. But our marriage will send him a message. You are out of his reach. His threats are meaningless. He can't hurt you any longer." He put his arms around her waist. "So let's do it, Rebecca. Let us be wed as soon as we can."
"I agree," Rebecca replied with a sure smile. "I think that's a lovely plan."
"I hoped you would agree." Desmond reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece paper.
"What is that?" Rebecca asked him.
"What do you think it is? It is our marriage license." Desmond grinned. He gave it to her and she opened the folds to read it.
Rebecca brought her hand up to her mouth. There was no doubt of her pleasure. She returned the paper to Desmond. It was one step closer to a reality that she never dared dream of.
"So when are we to marry?" she prompted. Her smile was radiant.
"In four weeks?" suggested Desmond. "That will allow for the publication of banns. We can be married on the fourth Sunday." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.
"Four weeks it is then," rejoined Rebecca, smiling still. "Mother will go into shock." She laughed. She placed her hands about his neck, leaning back and pressing her lower torso into his hips. "Can I see you later tonight?" she asked of him demurely. "We can celebrate."
Desmond looked down at her, smiled and said nothing.
"Desmond?" she chided.
He held her gaze and grasped the back of her neck in both of his hands. What power she possessed over him. Did she even realize it? He lowered his head to hers.
"Would you like me to come to your room after dinner?" he asked her softly. Then he kissed her. His tongue slipped between her lips and ran along the rim of her tongue.
Rebecca felt faint with desire. She melted her curves against the hard straight lines of his body, her hands on his shoulders.
Desmond slid his hands down her back, stopping at the side of her hips. He pressed her against him as they kissed. He was already hard.
She caught her breath. "Yes, Desmond."
The dinner bell sounded. Desmond touched his forehead to hers. "We'll see."
He took her hand in his and led her out of the library.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Desmond and Rebecca entered the dining room, everyone was already settled. Desmond sat between Lady Garway and Lady Louisa, while Rebecca placed herself by her grandmother and Mrs. Baines.
"Thank heaven,” said the elderly Countess light-heartedly, "We were on the verge of sending out a search party." She smiled at Rebecca and whispered to her, "Your betrothal to Desmond becomes you, my dear."
Rebecca unfolded her napkin and threw a sparkling glance towards her grandmother. "We have good news," Rebecca told her. "I hope it pleases you."
The Countess directed her attention to Desmond across the table. "News again?" she uttered, "Desmond, your propensity for drama astounds me.”
Mr. Baines obliged her. "The good news is that Rebecca and I have hastened our wedding plans. We will marry in four weeks' time." He looked to Rebecca and met her gaze. Her eyes were aglow.
Lady Garway gasped. "You cannot be serious. Rebecca, that is impossible!"
Rebecca smiled at Desmond. She was the very pith of calm and self-assurance. "Mother, at one time, I may have agreed with you. But Desmond has convinced me. We will not be swayed." She did not move her eyes from Desmond's gaze. She sensed a lovely ache in her depths.
"I say this is wonderful news," said Lord Garway.
"Yes, it is wonderful news," Mrs. Baines echoed. "And many hands make light work. It can be readied in four weeks easily." She looked to Lady Garway for agreement.
"I suppose," Lady Garway said with a high degree of disfavor in her tone. "Why, Rebecca? June is the perfect month for a wedding. We might have hosted the reception in the garden." Her disappointment was tangible.
"Mother, be grateful that we are not running off to marry in Scotland like Owen did," Rebecca said, laughing. "It doesn't bear further discussion. Our decision is made."
"Yes, it is," Desmond concurred. He was happy to be seated directly across from Rebecca if he could not be beside her. He watched her as she chatted easily with his mother and her grandmother. She seemed to be the great facilitator between the two, a role that was not easily achieved.
He marveled at the length of her neck, and the willowy elegance of her arms. The dinner candlelight played against her hair, her eyes and the luster of her skin.
He wanted to touch her, to let his hands run along her throat, her shoulders, to feel the small curve of her back against his fingertips.
He thought of their last evening together. Totally unclothed, her body was lush with pleasures and her surrender to him was transcendent. A hot swell of desire filled his core. As if on cue, Rebecca looked at him and smiled. He was powerless. He knew then he would do whatever necessary to have her tonight.
"Don't you agree, Desmond?" Lady Louisa's voice broke into his reverie.
He was reluctant to disembark from his train of thought but he answered her, "I am sorry, Lady L
ouisa. What were you saying?"
"I was just saying to Mother how a church wedding would have so much more meaning than one here at the manor."
"Rebecca and I haven't discussed it." He sipped from his wineglass.
Louisa continued. "You do recall them, Desmond? You must agree. We really do have the loveliest chapels in the county." She added quietly, "Although perhaps in Rebecca's particular case, it would not be quite appropriate to be married in a church setting." She sipped her wine.
"I beg your pardon?" Desmond turned to her.
"Louisa!" her mother whispered to her harshly. "What are you saying?"
"I only meant that Rebecca prefers to do things in such grand fashion. A wedding in small country chapel may not suit her at all." Lady Louisa allowed herself the faint hint of a smile.
Desmond looked quickly to Rebecca to see if she had overheard their exchange. He was content to see that she was still animating the conversation between the two matriarchs.
"I know very well your meaning, ma'am," Desmond told Louisa. "Such incivility doesn't suit you." He took another sip from his glass. He set himself to cutting his meat on the plate before him. "I know that you and Rebecca have a bitter relationship. I can't say that I understand it."
"It's not your business, Desmond," Louisa replied coldly. "It is a wound that is old and deep."
"But it is my business, Lady Louisa. Anything that affects her welfare is my business." He looked at her. "You and I are friends. But I cannot suffer any disrespect towards her."
Rebecca looked at Louisa and Desmond in conversation. Desmond looked displeased. She wondered what had transpired. He was so far away and this dinner service was interminable. She stared at him from across the wide expanse of the table. She hated this distance between them. She watched him as he brought a piece of food to his mouth. She remembered a time not so long ago when she had to stop herself staring at him, from even looking in his general direction.
Now she was able to eye him as much as she pleased without guilt or censure. And he was so very pleasing to look at. His blue eyes were her primary weakness. Often when he stared at her, she felt naked, laid bare and she could see his appetite for her. She could not deny him anything when he looked at her like that.
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