Attracted to the Earl

by Bronwen Evans

  The idea of leaving made her body shake and shiver even though the fire was warming the room nicely. For the first time in eighteen years she would be alone. Traveling seemed exciting when she had Dora and Molly to accompany her, but now it rose up like a sea monster, filling her with trepidation.

  She rolled over onto her back and starred at the intricately carved ceiling. Liar. It’s not the traveling on your own. Or not really. It’s the idea of leaving Guy. On that thought she gave a loud sobbing gasp and rolled to hug his pillow. His sandalwood scent filled her senses. She loved him. Why couldn’t she have been born a lady? Trying to keep the tears at bay she focused on the fact she did not regret one moment with Guy.

  She sat up and began to arrange the pillows so she could create a seductive pose. Tonight was supposed to be joyous, not morose.

  Dinner had been a relaxed affair after several days of tension. The wedding being held in the morning was lifting everyone’s spirits, and having Lord Clevedon and the duke present was a distraction.

  Abigail still had not heard why the two men were here. When she’d asked, Guy merely said they were passing through. She thought that odd, given they seemed to splutter when she asked where they had come from, and Guy had changed the subject.

  She’d been nervous to meet a marquess and a duke but both men were polite and kind, although she got the impression they were studying her closely. She wondered if she’d passed muster?

  Just then she heard Guy approaching and she threw back the sheet covering her prone body. She lay on her stomach, a pillow under her midriff, lifting her bottom enticingly into the air. She knew Guy loved taking her from behind. The marks left on the wall from where she gripped his headboard was testament to that.

  As he stepped into the room she threw him a seductive smile over her shoulder, and her heart filled with pride when she noted his jaw drop.

  He moved toward the bed, untying his cravat as he went. “Now, there is a sight that would make a man give you your heart’s desire.”

  “Then I desire you naked in this bed with me.”

  He tugged off his jacket, his shirt following. “Don’t you move. Stay exactly where you are.”

  She giggled. “You’d have to drag me from the bed kicking and screaming. I have been thinking about this all day.” She had. She wanted tonight to be special.

  Her heart sang as she watched him tearing at his clothes. “God, you look beautiful. Careful or I’ll never let you leave this room ever again.”

  Pain engulfed her briefly. From beneath her lashes, she peered up at him, wishing things could be different.

  Soon he stood fully naked next to the bed. He was magnificent. His erect, thick, and pulsing cock pointed out from his body as if seeking the pleasure she could give it. He bent to clasp her nape, staring at her through glittering eyes. Then he lowered his head and claimed her mouth.

  She loved the feel of his tongue in her mouth. He tasted of brandy and cheroots—everything masculine and stirring to her blood. She tilted her head back, trying to draw him down onto the bed, returning his burning kisses with all her fire.

  When her hand reached to wrap around his engorged cock he broke the kiss, panting and eager to watch her explore him further. She could not help herself. She gave a decidedly possessive squeeze before she moved her hand upon him. He groaned loudly in the quiet room.

  He let her play but not for long. Soon he fell onto the bed and lay on top of her back, raining little kisses down her spine. He knelt behind her, pressing her forward and lifting her onto all fours. “I love this view.” His finger traced the crack of her bottom and she pressed backward to try and make him touch her where she so urgently needed to feel him. “Patience, my love. We have all night.”

  She shivered at the promise of expert loving in his voice. He smoothed his hands over her bottom, giving each cheek a firm squeeze and she grew wetter, knowing what he was looking at. The very core of her womanhood. She imagined him sliding into her—deep to her womb.

  He bent over her, kissing slowly, his tongue trailing lower and lower down the back of her thighs. “I love these legs. Especially when they are wrapped around me as I’m buried deep inside you.”

  She gasped out, “I thought you liked me on my knees.”

  “Yes, that too. You are perfect. Perfect for me.”

  A finger found her wetness and entered her. She arched her back like a petted kitten. She braced for what was coming. A long sigh escaped her mouth as his tongue swept through her folds and a second finger entered her from behind. Soon he was feasting on her, and her limbs began to shake with the force of holding off her orgasm. She wanted to come but with him buried deep inside.

  “Don’t hold back, I’m going to make you come over and over tonight.”

  “Yes. Please, oh, God.” She pushed back as he buried his face and tongued her deep. Her release hit her like a rampaging bull. It took her to the bed, with Guy having to hold on to her hips to keep her on her knees. She was panting hard, her heart pounding in her chest when she felt his erection nudging her wet entrance. He took his time sliding in bit by bit and then drawing all the way out. She almost fainted from the sensation. Over and over he clung to her hips and tortured them both with pleasure.

  Finally he drove all the way, buried himself deep, and held there on a massive groan. She was desperate for him to move. She wiggled her hips and his grip tightened. “More,” she begged.

  “Give me a moment. I want this to last,” he said, an edge of pain to his voice.

  Finally he began to move, thrusting into her again and again. His passions unleashed saw him move faster, go deeper and harder. “Grab the headboard.”

  He was so deep inside her they became one. They were moving like two animals in a field; she loved this feeling of being mounted, of him taking her at his whim.

  He was bent right over her now. “It’s never been like this before, Abigail. God, I love you,” he blurted out in a ragged whisper at her ear.

  She could feel the love, and finally it sank in that maybe Guy was not just taking the safe route by marrying a lowly woman who would be so grateful she would keep his secret.

  Could she let herself love him back and take the risk with him?

  “Oh, Abigail. I’m going to explode, the way you move. It’s heaven inside you.”

  Love for him consumed her. She turned her head and he found her lips. Finally the world outside retreated and it was only them. No one else mattered. Nothing else mattered. Just the love between them.

  Her heart opened and she broke the kiss to say softly, “I love you, Guy Neville, Earl of Argyle. I love you and always will.”

  He tensed behind her before showing her how much he loved her with every stroke of his magnificent body. Never had she imagined she would find a man she would give her body to so completely. So selflessly. And greedily want more.

  “Come with me.” His gentle urging and his love-filled gaze were all it took to send her flying to the heavens. She closed her eyes and let ecstasy take her, as Guy gripped her hips hard and thrust one final time, emptying his seed deep within her. Passion consumed her. Dimly through the haze of pure release she heard the escalation in his deepening moans. The powerful surges of lightning-strike pleasure wracked them both. He held her close until their panting subsided and he eased her white knuckles from his headboard.

  He rolled them over and pulled her into his arms. “Say it again.”

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I love you.”

  He kissed her long and deep. “May I hope this means you have changed your mind about becoming my countess?”

  She cupped his cheek and nodded. “But ask me after Kit and Dora’s wedding. I don’t want to spoil their day.”

  He briefly looked away.

  “What is it?”

  He took her hand in his. “I have to go to London straight after the wedding.”

  “Is that why your friends are here?”

  He nodded.

  She
rolled to face him. “Is this about Patrick?”

  “Let’s not talk about this now. I don’t want to ruin the moment. It was such a lovely surprise to have you waiting for me in my bed. I want that every night.”

  She wanted to push for answers but she didn’t want to ruin the magic they just shared. Instead she snuggled down and asked him to tell her his plans for their forest.

  Chapter 19

  “You look beautiful.” Abigail’s eyes filled with tears when Dora turned away from the cheval mirror to show off her wedding outfit. The dress was a pale pink silk that highlighted her slender figure and the paleness of her skin. The bodice was demur yet hinted at the bounty beneath and the row of pearl hooks down the front of the gown would drive Kit mad. Dora looked gorgeous, a radiant bride, and Abigail was bursting with pride and love.

  “Molly worked days to make it for me and her ladyship gave her the material. That was very kind of her.”

  She smiled at Dora. “I think she will like having you near since her own daughter lives so far away.” She moved to stand before her daughter and took Dora’s hands in hers. “Is there anything you want me to tell you before tonight?”

  Dora’s face flushed with color. “I think Kit is aptly able to show me everything I need to know.”

  “I’m sure he is, which is as it should be.” She kissed her embarrassed daughter’s cheek and was a wee bit relieved. “He will make you a fine husband. Not because he is handsome or rich but because he truly loves you.”

  “I know. Sometimes I’m scared to breathe because I’m so lucky. I’m scared something will take it all away.” Dora sighed. “Speaking of taking away, I know Kit’s upset that we cannot have a honeymoon just yet because of Patrick.”

  Abigail nodded. “I had hoped the men would have caught him before you wed. But no more talk of Patrick. I’m not about to let that horrid man ruin your day.”

  Dora frowned. “Caught? They know where Patrick is. Did Guy not tell you? That is why Lord Clevedon and His Grace are here.”

  Abigail shook her head as her stomach tightened. “Guy knows where he is? So they have captured him?”

  Dora bit her bottom lip. “I think you should speak to his lordship.”

  “I have not seen him this morning.” Nerves began to churn. “Please tell me. I will worry throughout your wedding otherwise.”

  Dora led her to the settee and they sat side by side. “His Grace has agreed to become the trustee for the Argyle estate.”

  “Trustee? Why does Guy need a trustee? He’s more than capable of running the Argyle estate.”

  Dora took Abigail’s hands in hers. “Patrick is arranging to petition the Chancery to become trustee. He is accusing Guy of being incompetent. They are basing the case on his inability to read and how Kit has him under his thrall.”

  “But that is nonsense. Kit is working for Guy. Patrick kidnapped you. Guy can have him arrested.”

  Dora looked devastated. “His Grace believes it is too late to press charges because we did not alert the magistrate at the time. It is only Guy’s word against his cousin’s and with his cousin’s allegations…His Grace believes the courts might think Guy has made it all up.”

  “But we can testify…” Why would Guy not fight this? Realization struck like forked lightening. “Oh, God. Patrick is threatening to reveal my past.”

  They sat in silence as Abigail digested the terrible news. “No. Guy can simply defend such a liable action. Guy should go to London and prove he is more than capable. He can obviously show what a liar Patrick is. The military would speak up. His friends would speak up.”

  “Patrick knows he wants to marry you.” Dora’s softly spoken words were accompanied by a squeeze of their joined hands. “I’d love to see you marry Guy too. It would be perfect. You would live here, near me. But Kit says if your past is known it would give Patrick’s words about Guy being under Kit’s thrall some substance.”

  At Dora’s stricken look Abigail felt the blood run cold in her veins. “It’s me. He won’t do that so as to protect my reputation. Oh, God.” She stood and began pacing. “No. I can’t let him do this. I can’t let him simply appoint Bedford as trustee. It’s like telling the world he is stupid. An imbecile. Exactly what he has fought so hard to disprove all his life.”

  Fool. What a fool she was. She could never marry Guy. Not with her background.

  “Bedford is sure they can keep the trusteeship secret. No one needs to know that he has appointed a trustee, or why. Guy is resigned to the situation.”

  Resigned to it. He should not have to be resigned to it. “Out of spite Patrick will ensure everyone knows. He will paint Guy as an idiot who cannot be left to manage.” She let her anger at Patrick Neville chase away the devastation of what she must do.

  “I have to talk to him.”

  Dora pleaded with her. “Please wait until after my wedding. I want you with me. I want it to be a joyous day. I will only get married once and I’m so happy I want everyone else to be happy too.”

  Dora was right. This was not the time. But she would not be the cause of Guy giving up. He’d fought so hard all his life. She did not care about her reputation. She would gladly have the world know of her shame if it meant Guy kept control of his estate.

  She pressed a kiss to Dora’s forehead. “You are absolutely right. It is your day and I am so happy for both you and Kit.” She looked at the clock on the mantel. “Are you ready to be Mrs. Hunter?”

  Dora’s face became a picture of radiance as she smiled. “I can’t wait.” Just before they left the room, Dora turned to her, pulling Abigail in close for a big hug. “Thank you, Mother. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I hope I will be as good a mother to my children.”

  And the tears she’d been fighting came. “Thank you, darling. I would go through it all again to have a daughter such as you.”

  On that note the two women, arm and arm, made their way downstairs to join Kit before the vicar.

  * * *

  —

  The wedding breakfast was almost at an end, and Abigail had been stewing on what to do about Guy and the trustee issue. She spied His Grace leaving the dining room and decided to follow.

  He was already on the stairs when she called to him. “Your Grace. May I trouble you for a private word.”

  He hesitated but turned to her with a smile. “Of course.”

  “Perhaps we could step into the drawing room for a moment.” Her nerves made her almost stutter. She was talking to a duke as if she were some fancy lady.

  He followed her into the room and closed the door. He stood waiting with a raised eyebrow.

  She took a deep breath. “If his lordship was to defend Mr. Neville’s accusations, would he win?”

  “He does not wish to defend—”

  “That is not what I asked, begging your pardon, Your Grace.”

  He seemed to admire her tenacity. “I believe he would because he will have many of the Secret Service, army, and peerage behind him. My word will have significant weight and I believe Lord Clevedon is a close acquaintance of Baron Eldon, the chancellor. Besides, Patrick is Roman Catholic and Eldon can’t stand Catholicism. To top that off, we can prove Neville is in dun territory and that he has motive to get his hands on the money.”

  “Then it is because of me that Guy is not defending himself against Patrick.”

  “I cannot say.”

  “Cannot or will not?” She took a step toward the powerful man who could help Guy get his dream. To have his secret out in the open but show the world how it does not matter. “Please be honest with me. I can’t be the reason he loses his estate.”

  “He is not losing the estate. I shall merely—”

  “I don’t wish to disparage you, but I don’t think you understand what running this estate means to him. His father used to beat him and abuse him for not being able to read. His father tried to hang him, for goodness sake. All his life he thought he was stupid and would amount to nothing. When he became
the earl, it was his chance to prove to everyone that not being able to read did not define him. Having you made trustee will be admitting defeat. He has lost and his father has won. I can’t be the cause of that.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting you and Stephen support Guy in defending Patrick’s petition. I don’t care that I may be dragged into this and my reputation trampled. I was not born a lady and I never aspired to be one. I’m a commoner. The scandal of my birth will soon be forgotten. No one cares about me.”

  He smiled. “Argyle cares.”

  “Then he must be made to not care.”

  “You are quite extraordinary, do you know that? I can see why Guy cares for you.”

  She remained silent, praying he would help her.

  “I will do as you say. We shall go to London and begin to plan our defense. But I will leave the task of informing and getting Guy’s agreement of this plan to you. In order to beat Patrick, Guy must want to fight.”

  She felt hope surge through her veins for the first time today.

  His Grace turned to leave the room but he stopped at the door to look at her. “I promise you this, Miss Pinehurst. I will stop Patrick for Argyle, and no matter what happens I will ensure you always have employment in any role you want.” When her mouth dropped open he said, “I look after my friends. And you, Miss Pinehurst, have just made yourself a very powerful friend.”

  Abigail’s legs were trembling. All she had to do was convince Guy. That would be her hardest task.

  “He’s upstairs overseeing his packing.” The duke held the door open for her as she swept past. “Good luck.”

  She’d need it. One of the reasons she loved Guy was because he wanted to protect those not in a position to protect themselves, like giving the young lad with the stutter a job in his stables so he would not be set upon.

  Guy would protect her reputation even if she refused to marry him.

  She knocked on the bedchamber door, which was slightly ajar, and entered. Kit was busy filling a chest with clothes. “Go and join your wife,” Abigail said, smiling. “I can help Guy pack.”