Lisette

by Gayle Eden

  Of course, the heroine was nothing like her. She seemed to do a lot of fainting and dramatic gasping, trembling, and such. When her eyes were pulled from the pages to look out, it was another dark man Lisette saw in her mind’s eye... A man standing under a streetlamp in long coat with his black hair wind tossed and silver eyes shining in his hard visage.

  In the back of her mind, as the coach rocked over the miles, she was asking, what is it? Why do I feel the urge to touch you? Why do I feel as if behind that aloof mien, you are begging me to?

  * * * *

  They made it to Wimberly with only a few incidents such as having to take a detour due to a bridge collapse, and some predicament with one of the horses that was taken care of in one of the townships. They left the mount there and procured another. The groom would collect it and make the exchange later.

  At the manor, Deme and Haven settled in his apartments.

  When she had unpacked and slept an entire day, Lisette pulled on trousers and boots, a jumper and coat and took her horse on a jaunt across the woodlands. She enjoyed the ride but sensed that she was desperately trying to find a peace that was not going to come.

  The new routine in the house began when her younger sisters, April and Autumn, arrived. They were obviously glad to be home. The duchess and duke were beside themselves too, since it was entirely too calm without the boys.

  Lisette kissed and hugged them. They had been at school since they were five. Not being identical, April had black hair and Autumn’s was browner, but both wore it long and tied back in ribbon. They were ten now, and so sharp and witty that she and Haven were vastly entertained the evening they had dinner with them in the nursery. April was the more petite, Autumn would be tall. It was Autumn too, who was more interested in adventure, exploring and animals. April showed signs of being an intellectual, although they were both full of spirit and life.

  Over the next week, there was a governess and tutor chosen for them to finish off their training. Much the duchess could do, and the dancing master. Lisette knew they would enjoy it as much as she had the siblings had. Her mother never appointed someone she herself did not like, and she did not believe in all work and no play.

  Haven and Deme were wrapped up in each other and in their future plans, and with the graces occupied with the girls, Lisette spent time reading and taking long walks, exploring all of her favorite childhood places—remembering—how she had to be dragged inside once she was well enough to be out of doors.

  She thought about her debut, and how odd it seemed that other females simply accepted being treated inferior. However, she did feel a bit disappointed not to make one friend, until she had met Juliette when she had been a ward of Monty’s.

  Yes. It was an enjoyable feeling to grow into womanhood, however poignant her memories of childhood. There were other exciting things womanhood brought, and she had explored those with as much enthusiasm as she had her other interest as a girl.

  When she was in her chambers alone however the woman in her thought of only one man though. Lisette lost moments simply sitting and replaying Marston’s voice inflections, and his rare expressions in her head. Still not knowing what she was looking for.

  One early evening, she was in the downstairs parlor when she overheard Deme and Haven in the foyer. She went out to see what was going on, and noticed they were dressed to go out.

  “Are you going to visit Juliette and Monty?” Lisette asked them.

  Haven nodded, pulling on her gloves, her short deep red hair down and her cream wool gown made for warmth rather than fashion. “Monty sent a note, asking us over. Juliette did invite you, but we were not sure to accept or not?’

  Lisette’s brow arched. “Why ever not?”

  Haven grimaced. “Monty invited Viscount Marston down, you see. They apparently found much in common once they became better acquainted, and his lordship discovered he had a volume that Marston had been searching for some years, at Wolford. So he is visiting them at this time.”

  “Oh…” Lisette looked away and then back. “Well, I did tell you how he spoke to mama so agreeably, and that we’d met and I’d apologized. I see no reason that we’d be uncomfortable around each other at this point.”

  She could tell Haven was eyeing her closely, but all her friend said was, “Famous. Why don’t you fetch your coat and we’ll wait for you.”

  “I shall.” Lisette left the foyer and hurried up the stairs. She quickly got dressed; white stockings, a chemise and warm blue gown. She combed her hair and tied it back, grabbing a coat from the wardrobe, and then hurried down and out the door, the butler held.

  It was while walking to the coach that she realized her heart was beating fast. It was all that running about, she decided. However, when her brother said, “I’m surprised you decided to come. Your cheeks are charmingly flushed. Are you sure we are not going to be treated to some dramatic scene between yourself and Marston? Must say, I didn’t like him much at first, but I am warming to him.”

  “You know why I was resistant to the match.” She eyed her brother’s grin and that rakish fall of black curls over his brow. “It was nothing personal to him.”

  ‘I’m glad it stopped snowing,” Haven smoothly changed the subject. “I want to ride before I grow too fat to do so.”

  “Fat with our babe.” Her brother murmured, nuzzling Haven’s neck and slipping a hand under her cloak.

  When Haven kissed him, Lisette turned her eyes out the window, half hearing their teasing and affectionate fussing while she thought, (what is it about him I can’t let go of in my mind? Why do I feel as if I must answer that or go mad?)

  * * * *

  Upon arrival at the Marquis estate, they were shown into the parlor, where Monty, Juliette and their guest, were gathered. While Haven and Deme greeted the couple, after Lisette had hugged Juliette and spoken to Monty, she found herself standing beside Marston.

  She searched for something to say, given the fresh awareness of him.

  “How is your friend, Mr. Smith?” was what came out.

  “Very well. Thank you. He is on holiday at present.”

  “Give him my regards.”

  “He would want his extended to you as well. He talked of you most of the evening when we returned from Vauxhall.”

  “I’m flattered.” She laughed. “He certainly has something about him that makes one want to get to know him better.”

  “Yes. An exceptional or more interesting man does not exist. Not in the saint category, you understand.” His smile was laconic. “Rather in the loyalty one.”

  “Then you are fortunate to have him as friend and member of staff.”

  Having been listening, Deme said, “Smith? Met him briefly but was too foxed to attend much. He certainly has the cure for too much whiskey—and stupidity.”

  That brought up the events that took place before her ball, and the tale came out. After listening too, Monty said, “You must introduce him to us, Marston. Bring him with you on your next trip.”

  “I would be pleased to do so. He’s an admirer of your works my lord.”

  The conversation, thankfully, moved from there.

  The women talked while the men had a separate conversation, and afterwards there was dinner served in the formal dining rooms.

  For the most part they were all a close unit and everything was informal among them…..Save for Marston, who though he was included and encouraged in conversation, seemed aloof from it all.

  At some point, Lisette glanced at him across from her to find he had apparently eaten his fill and was watching the others. His gaze turned as if sensing her regard.

  Feeling her nape prickle as well as that “other” emotion she had yet to name, she murmured, “When you are around people who are passionately in love, you often feel the outsider. For all my parents argue, they are much the same, so we grew up with that notion they can unknowingly become oblivious to anyone else.”

  He responded, “An outsider…It is a state familiar to m
e.” Then before looking away and picking up his wine, added, “I envy them.”

  She finished her meal and they moved back to the parlor, everyone getting comfortable.

  Lisette found herself studying Marston often. She must have seen him at his leisure whilst at Wimberly but could not recall doing so. All the men were relaxed in their shirtsleeves, but Elisha seemed more defined and muscular than she had previously noticed. He was a tall man, long of limb and lean hips, with his raven hair layered that way, and without jacket, it made him appear—more intimate. In an odd way, less aloof.

  “I’m sorry,” she heard him say to the group. “I don’t know how to play cards.”

  There was a heartbeat of awkwardness, since no one knew a soul who could not play, and then Monty smoothly suggested chess, since they had apparently played that before.

  Lisette drew in a breath and attempted to sound cheerfully casual whilst suggesting, “Nonsense, set up the table. I will teach Marston to play.” She arose from her chair and strolled over to grin at the Viscount. “I’ll explain the game and help you choose cards. We shall best the both of them.”

  “Oh, I say.” Deme laughed. “That’s a rather ambitious boast, my girl.”

  There was more teasing whilst the table was set up in the center of the parlor, across from the fireplace. Lamps were situated to provide the best light to that area.

  While they were moving chairs and fetching wine all around, she let Marston catch her eye and told him, “You’ll catch on quickly.”

  “I’m sure I shall.”

  Seeing something in his gaze that made her heart flutter, she left him and found herself a straight chair to position slightly back.

  However, when everyone was seated, Juliette and Haven between their husbands, and he took his seat, Lisette realized how close she would be to him in order to see his hand, and be able to whisper or gesture what to play.

  The couples were talking, laughing, and just at his shoulder, she was explaining the gist of the game. As he picked up his cards, his head was leaned toward her, his cheek in her vision. Lisette breathed his cologne and scent—something warm and masculine, too pleasing.

  “Don’t let her teach you to cheat,” Haven drawled.

  “I won’t.”

  Lisette answered a few of his questions on strategy and then the game began.

  For the most part, it was lively. Certainly, Juliette and Haven provided entertainment—muttering to and elbowing their husbands, Juliette often laughingly accusing Monty of sending Deme signals. At times, Lisette would reach and point to one of the cards Marston should play, but from time to time she had to lean and whisper in his ear—which had her noticing the swarthy skin, the strong bones of his jaw, and the blue black of his hair when the light caught it.

  By the third hand, he was catching on, but would still ask her recommendations here or there. When not helping him, she joined the conversations and fun, all of them giving Deme a hard time because he had spent years in gambling Hells.

  “Doesn’t count because I was foxed,” he drawled, grinning drolly. “Besides, Monty plays like a military strategist.” He laughed, “And Juliette and Haven reveal everything with their smug snickers.”

  “Well, I’m not at all impressed.” Lisette snorted at him. “The Viscount has the victory in one of those games. You were easily out witted.”

  “And you are slow—witted.” He glared playfully at her.

  “I take after my eldest brother.”

  Everyone chuckled. Because the game was in play, she went back to attending Marston’s hand. He had strong masculine hands, his fingers long and naturally dark.

  “There. That’s your best bet.” She leaned up to whisper, her hand on the back of his seat.

  He turned his head, leaning it back a bit to hear and doing it rather too quickly so that her lips accidentally grazed his skin.

  There was a moment, a second, covered by the chatter of the others, when a current sizzled.

  She drew back.

  He stilled, and though the play went on, that tension thickened and the air seemed to warm his scent and her perfume, so that it mingled with the fine wine.

  His back before had left inches meeting the chair where her hand rested, but was suddenly now against her fingers. Lisette could feel the heat of his skin through his lawn shirt.

  Elisha looked over his shoulder and asked her something. She leaned up and explained, extending her arm to pluck the card. With their faces inches close, Lisette’s gaze moved up, over his suddenly sensual mouth, his strong nose before meeting his own. It was there, the tension in his half-shuttered expression. Those eyes had been traveling up from her own mouth.

  Breathing, releasing unsteady breaths between her lips, Lisette’s skin tightened.

  “Are you sure that is the right one?” he asked roughly.

  She could tell he gave no thought to the question. She swallowed. “Certain of it. It’s the only play you have.”

  That gaze went to her mouth again before the silver eyes met hers and he offered low, “I’ll trust you on that score.” Not without some effort, he then pulled his gaze away and back on the game.

  Her senses were responsive to him. Her skin was aware of the stirrings inside her—that attraction, and a potent disquiet. Her mouth watered.

  Peeking at her hand on the chair back, the backs of her fingers against his shirt below his broad shoulders, Lisette felt the urge to lift them and allow her fingertips to feel that skin through the thin garment.

  At some point—Lisette did slowly uncurl them and subtly let them touch. When Marston stilled she knew he was aware of it.

  To cover her boldness, she said with forced lightness, “Play that one next.” leaning up again to point to the card.

  He leaned his torso her way, showing her the card she could already see. She discerned he did it deliberately to make them nearer to each other. “That one?”

  “Yes.” She whispered.

  He played the card, but Monty won that set.

  Haven and Juliette arose to fetch the cart they had had brought in with pastry and refreshment. They were over there talking about husbands, and Monty and Deme were having a conversation.

  Lisette scooted up more, to shuffle for Elisha. She could feel his gaze hot on her neck and face and at the point she set the deck down for him to deal, she peeked at him.

  He was waiting for it apparently, and murmured, “I fear I am as yet skilled in… the nuances, I depend upon you to guide me in the right direction.”

  No woman of Lisette’s love of excitement and familiarity with sophisticated flirtation could miss the meaning. Nor could she pass up the offer to participate in quite another game. “I shall endeavor to do so, Marston. It would please me above all things to have a hand in your—newly acquired skills.”

  The others came back and he dealt the cards. Lisette observed though during the game, when she spoke in his ear, her hand would subtly brush his strong back. Her nipples had a tingling itch and grew harder when he deliberately let his cheek graze her lips at another point. From that point, they found subtle ways to brush each other’s skin. He more or less caressed her lips now with his cheek. On more than one occasion, Marston dropped his hand from the table and though it looked as if it rested on his thigh, it was touching her knee.

  Lisette was aware of the others, the game, but was soon too caught up in her senses to care who won. She felt it was the same for Marston.

  After that set Monty suggested, “Ladies, will you excuse us to enjoy our cheroots and brandy?”

  Lisette arose also, needing to make use of the retiring room.

  “Marston?”

  “I’ll join you directly,” he said with a half grin.

  With Juliette and Haven across the room, the others gone, he looked up and uttered, “Would you mind handing me my jacket.” He nodded to where it lay across a chair back.

  “Not at all.” When Lisette brought it to him, she watched him unfold his tall frame, usin
g a smooth motion so that the jacket over his arm and hid his groin. She took everything in, the tension in his hard face, glitter in his eyes, and had seen that distended outline in his snug fitting trousers.

  Lisette glanced up.

  Their eyes held a brief moment before he went to join the men, and she up the stairs.

  In the bathing closet, Lisette relieved herself and washed her hands. Then with fresh water, she dampened a cloth and raised her hair to pat the back of her neck with it. Seeing the sparkling of her aqua eyes, the slight full look to her lips, and her flushed cheeks, she felt not relief but another lightening quick surge of pleasure at their play arousing him.

  Setting the cloth down on the pan, she raised her hand to the low square bodice of her gown, letting it rest there and feeling her heart racing. Moistening her lips, Lisette eased her fingers downward in the bodice, edging past the silk neckline of her camisole until she touched her hard-distended nipple.

  Closing her eyes, she felt it and with the other pressed a hand to her sex when the warmth and tingles increased. Opening her eyes, she wafted a long breath and removed her hand from the pocket of material. Yes, many things about being a woman were exciting.

  Smoothing a hand over her tied back hair, she left the chamber, not hearing the others until she entered the parlor once more. The men were not back, as yet, and Juliette and Haven were in a corner admiring some piece of art the duchess had sent Juliette.

  Going over to the windows, she noticed a hard black rain had started. Touching her finger to the chilly pane, she was able to see her reflection and that of the room when the men entered. Lisette observed the way Marston casually laid his jacket back over the chair, and saw Deme and Monty join their wives, and heard a new conversation start.

  The Viscount had seen her, and was walking over to join her. She watched him arrive via that reflection. When stopped, he was standing behind her. His height and breadth were emphasized, or rather; her pettiness was—since her head was even within his breastbone. He made all appearance of watching the rain, but was eyeing her reflection as well. They did that for an extended time. Lisette realized he could see her breasts rising and falling—likely had noted her nipples were pressing against the bodice.