The very dark sky.
Many more hours must have passed then she realized for day to have turned into night.
“What time is it?” she demanded of his chin. “At least tell me that much.”
“Half past eight,” he replied before he carefully lowered her onto the bed. Onto his bed.
Lynette inhaled sharply as her head fell back against one of the pillows. It smelled of him. The entire room smelled of him because it was his room. He’d brought her into his private chambers and he’d tucked her into his bed. The place he slept every night. The place she might have ended up if they hadn’t been interrupted at the ball…
“I need to leave.” She struggled to push herself upright, small hands sinking into the thick covers. “I need to leave at once.”
“You need to rest.” Unfazed by her struggles, he adjusted the pillows behind her head and drew a blanket up to her waist. “You are at risk for a concussion. I could not in good conscious allow you to return home.”
Now he chose to have a conscience?
Staring up at him in disbelief, Lynette uttered one single word. “Why?”
His took his time before answering. Brow furrowed, he crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, gaze darting to the far wall before it flicked back to her face. For an instant so quick if she’d blinked she might have missed it, she saw an emotion in his piercing green eyes she wouldn’t have believed him capable of unless she’d witnessed it herself.
Regret.
“Let me help you. I owe you that much.” And without another word he turned and left the room, leaving Lynette staring after him in bewildered confusion.
From within the silent confines of his private study, Nathaniel steadily and inventively cursed himself as he filled a glass with a liberal amount of scotch.
What the bloody hell was he doing? He never should have brought the chit to his townhouse, let alone picked her up and put her in his bed. But the urge to help and protect the delicate beauty had been unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he’d been unable to watch her suffer.
Tossing his head back, he drained the contents of his glass in one hard, burning swallow before pouring himself another. Nathaniel wasn’t the type of man to regularly indulge in spirits, but if there was ever a time to get a bit drunk it was tonight.
Refilling his glass to the brim, he absently swirled the scotch in a clockwise circle as he stalked to the closest window and stared broodingly out into the night, his thoughts torn between the woman who slept upstairs and the brother he hadn’t seen in eight months.
Adam Blackbourne, the dark sheep of the family…and his identical twin.
He’d suspected his brother was behind everything from the first moment Lynette opened her eyes and stared at him with such loathing that he’d felt her hatred all the way down to the soles of his feet. His suspicions had only been confirmed when their conversation took a darker turn and she accused him, in no uncertain terms, of forcing himself upon her.
Given that Nathaniel had never forced himself upon anyone, it was easy to deduce the true culprit. Even easier when he knew this was not the first time Adam had used his identity for ill means.
What he didn’t know was what his brother had been thinking. Why take advantage of such a young innocent? What could Adam have possibly gained aside from a cheap thrill? It was easy enough for Nathaniel to look the other way when his brother wasted money, but gambling was one thing and seducing a girl barely old enough to be out of the schoolroom was quite another. Yet if Lynette could be believed – and he had absolutely no reason to doubt her – that was exactly what Adam had done.
Nathaniel did not yet have every piece to complete the puzzle, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what it would look like once he did. After all, this wasn’t the first one he’d had to put it together. But it was the first time he found himself actually giving a damn.
To think of his brother using his rakish charm to woo Lynette when she’d been young and defenseless made his blood heat and his jaw clench. Adam had always been a notorious womanizer, but at least his regular prey – bored wives and wealthy widows – knew the unspoken rules, and aside from a few dramatics here and there which Nathaniel unfailingly resolved with a pretty bauble or a handsome payout, were not hurt when all was said and done.
But Lynette was different.
From the way she was acting towards him now, she obviously hadn’t known the rules. He didn’t know exactly what had happened between her and Adam, but the words she hadn’t said revealed just as much as the words she had. Whatever his brother had done to her she hated him for it, and Nathaniel couldn’t say he blamed her.
She should have been married, but there hadn’t been a ring on her left hand. Given her beauty, he could assume it was not her personal attributes that left her without a husband but rather her personal character. A character that would have been besmirched beyond repair if she and Adam were discovered in a compromising position. Having witnessed the vitriol in her eyes when she’d glared at him, Nathaniel knew his assumptions were as close to the truth as he was going to get without hearing the entire story first-hand.
His twin had seduced her, they’d been caught, and while he’d been able to slip away unscathed like the wily serpent he was, Lynette had suffered the full consequences of a ruined reputation.
“Bollocks,” Nathaniel muttered under his breath. Leaving the scotch untouched on the sill, he turned blindly away from the window and raked both hands through his thick, unruly hair as he wondered how much longer he would have to continue picking up after his brother’s messes.
The worse part, he thought as his gaze tracked a lonely carriage rolling slowly down the street, was that Adam hadn’t always been this way. As children they’d been hellions, but their mischievous pranks had always been good-natured. They’d never tried to hurt anyone on purpose (even though their antics had sent more than one nanny running out of the house in tears). Unruly and boisterous, they had both loved to push the boundaries set before them and it wasn’t until they went to Eton at the age of sixteen that Nathaniel began to change.
He became serious, at times even somber, and dedicated himself to his studies, much to his father’s relief. With each passing year his maturity grew, and when he at last returned home it was as a man full grown. One who understood the privileges afforded him in life and the weight of responsibility that came with them. A weight he would carry with him the rest of his years as the heir to an honorable title that spanned generations.
Unfortunately, Adam’s transition from boy to man had not gone as smoothly.
He left Eton after only eighteen months and became addicted to gambling. Reckless, headstrong, and unwilling to listen to reason, he burned through his inheritance as though it were kindling…and his greed was the fire. When it was all gone he begged his brother for more and Nathaniel – though he saw the error of his ways now – had foolishly given it to him. There wasn’t anyone on earth he loved more than his twin, and he’d wanted Adam to be happy, not realizing until it was too late the only thing that would make Adam happy was the one thing money could not buy.
The earldom of Townsend.
As the firstborn son – even by such a short span as five minutes – the title was Nathaniel’s by right. When their father passed, he would become the eighth earl of Townsend. It was not a position he craved, but nor was it one he would abdicate even if he were legally able, for he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Adam would have the family fortune spent and the properties sold before the year’s end, leaving their mother and sister without a shilling to their name.
Adam wasn’t a bad man. Of this Nathaniel was convinced.
But he also wasn’t a very a good one.
Lynette Swan was proof enough of that.
At least this mess would be relatively easy to fix. He would simply grant Lynette and each one of her sisters a generous dowry; one sizable enough to attract a suitable husband despite the gossip attached to their name. I
f for some reason they chose not to marry, he would subsidize their dowries with a yearly allowance. The money was inconsequential to him. He may not have been as wealthy as a duke, but he had a head for business, and though he’d not yet been granted his full inheritance he’d already made its sum twice over.
One way or another, Lynette Swan would be well compensated for the suffering she’d endured courtesy of Adam’s rash actions, Nathaniel’s guilt would once again be eased, and they could all continue on with their lives as though nothing were amiss.
Satisfied with his plan, Nathaniel shed his coat and shirt before stretching out on the full length sofa that had been gifted to him by his late grandfather when he first purchased the townhouse. It was an antique and stuffed with horsehair which meant it was bloody uncomfortable, but given that his bed was currently occupied it was the only place he had to rest his head at the moment. He could have taken one of the guest bedrooms, but the idea of being in such close proximity to Lynette while she slept was…unsettling.
It wasn’t because he was attracted to her. That would be absurd. He was merely being…considerate of her personal boundaries and her elevated emotional state.
Yes, Nathaniel thought as he rolled onto his back to stare up at the vaulted ceiling. That is it. I am being considerate.
Although if that was entirely the case, why couldn’t he get her face out his mind? Especially considering she was not at all the sort of woman he usually found himself drawn to.
Nathaniel was a man who appreciated exotic beauty, and there was nothing the least bit exotic about Lynette’s dark hair and dark eyes. With her porcelain complexion and delicate features she was the quintessential English rose, which meant he shouldn’t have been the least bit attracted. Coupled with her sharp tongue, she was the exact opposite of what he preferred. And yet…and yet she did hold a certain allure. One that was as mysterious as it was impossible for him to ignore.
Tossing onto his side, he closed his eyes…but try as he might he couldn’t think of anyone or anything else but the feisty brunette beauty lying in his bed, and when he finally drifted off to sleep his dreams were only of her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lynette awoke with a start. For a moment she remained frozen as she recalled what had happened and where she was. Raising a hand to her temple, she gingerly probed the tender spot where her skull had met cobblestone and winced when she felt a sizable lump under a tangle of hair. She could only hope the lump would go down in time, although with the way her luck had been playing out lately she wouldn’t have been surprised if the darn thing grew bigger.
How was it, she wondered as she kicked the covers aside and slowly sat up, that the one man in all the world she’d hoped never to see again had been the one to rescue her from certain death? Why couldn’t it have been a dashing duke or a charming foreigner or a handsome entrepreneur or…well, anyone but Nathaniel Blackbourne?
And why had he insisted on keeping her at his house? Not that she’d exactly been in a position to leave. The moment he left the room and her head had hit the pillows she had fallen into a deep, dark, dreamless slumber. One that had carried her through the night to the bright, brilliant light of day.
Jumping down from the bed, she padded across the room in her stockings to the closest window and drew the heavy velvet curtains aside, allowing sunlight to flood the bedroom. Squinting a bit as her eyes adjusted, she next went to the full length mirror leaning against the far wall…only to do a double take and gasp in dismay when she saw her reflection.
Who was that wide-eyed, wild haired woman staring back at her? Lynette may not have been a vain woman by nature, but she did have a care for her appearance, and right now she looked as though she’d spent the past few weeks living under the London Bridge.
Having fallen from its tidy coiffure while she slept, her inky mane was a mess of tangles and knots and unruly curls. Loose, it nearly touched the small of her back and without a comb there was no way she would be able to pin it back into place. There were purple shadows under her eyes and her skin was so pale as to nearly be translucent, making her lips stand out in dark contrast against her milky white flesh.
A ghost, she thought. I look like a homeless ghost.
And if that wasn’t bad enough her dress was wrinkled beyond repair and she didn’t have the foggiest notion of where her hat and cloak and shoes had run off to. A quick glance around the massive bedroom revealed they weren’t in the immediate vicinity, which meant they’d been taken somewhere else. Although come to think of it, she didn’t remember removing her shoes or her hat. Then again, most of last night was a bit murky around the edges. The only thing she could recall with vivid clarity was the one thing she wished she could forget: Nathaniel.
The sooner she left his house the better, but she couldn’t exactly go parading down the street in nothing but a wrinkled dress and a pair of stockings. Her reputation may have been less than sterling, but that did not mean she hadn’t a care for what others thought of her.
Returning to the bed, she searched through the sheets and the pillow covers for the dozen or so pins that had fallen out of her hair. Finding only half of them, she nevertheless managed – after a bit of teeth grinding effort – to twist her hair into something that vaguely resembled a bird’s nest. There was nothing she could do about the state of her dress, but her cloak would cover much of it…if she could find out where her cloak was, not to mention her shoes.
Half expecting Nathaniel to be lurking on the other side of the door, she opened it cautiously, but there was no one in the hall save a scullery maid who glanced at Lynette with benign indifference before she turned the corner and disappeared from view.
“No doubt she’s used to seeing women come out of this room every hour of the night and day,” Lynette muttered under her breath before she proceeded down the long hall, her tiny feet swallowed up by a thick Persian runner worth more money than all of the contents of her parent’s house combined.
When she reached the grand staircase she paused, not sure whether to proceed downstairs or wait at the top for someone to come fetch her. Surely Nathaniel hadn’t forgotten he’d left her in his bedroom, although knowing him she wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to discover that was precisely what he had done. Despite the bewildering way he’d acted last night – pretending not to know who she was and feigning concern for her welfare – Lynette knew he was not a kind man, nor one who cared anything for her.
He was a snake, and while snakes could slither through the grass undetected, they had to reveal their true selves at some point in time, as Nathaniel had done when she’d found him with his arms wrapped around another woman mere minutes after professing his love for her.
The pain of his betrayal, once so sharp it used to steal her breath whenever she thought of it, had dulled with time, but it was still there, an ache she’d never been able to completely rid herself of. It was a reminder of how foolish it was to fall in love. A reminder that no matter how handsome and charming a man might appear, she could never trust him with something as precious as her heart.
Drawing her shoulders back, she descended the staircase one step at a time, fingertips trailing along the glossy railing. When she reached the foyer she paused and took note of her surroundings, gaze skittering from the chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling to the gilt-framed paintings hanging from the fawn colored walls. To her left was a parlor; to her right the dining room. Both rooms were empty and after a moment’s hesitation she turned to her left and proceeded into the parlor.
A small room, albeit sumptuously decorated with matching rosewood furniture and a breathtaking Axminster carpet in soft shades of blue and gold, it offered a broad view of the street via oversized windows framed with heavy silk draperies. Bracing her palms on the wide sill, Lynette peered through the glass in an attempt to get a better idea of her current location. She vaguely recalled being carried up one street and down another, but aside from a few brief glimpses of people’s shoes as they walk
ed past her view had been restricted to Nathaniel’s shirt.
She searched for a telling monument or even a sign of some sort, but there was nothing except a long line of townhomes with gabled roofs and wrought iron fences. What grass she could see was still damp with morning dew, indicating the hour to be quite early. That, coupled with the absence of anyone or anything on the street, told Lynette that wherever she was it was a wealthier section of London where people did not see fit to rouse themselves from their beds until the sun was firmly ensconced in the sky and half the day had passed them by.
Hearing a small noise, she turned and startled upon seeing Nathaniel in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly touching either side of the wooden frame. Though his eyes were bright and alert, he had the look of a man who had just risen with tousled hair and a blond shadow of scruff clinging to his chin and jaw. The white linen shirt he wore above a pair of dark gray trousers was untucked and only partially buttoned, revealing a tantalizingly large portion of his smooth, muscular chest.
Oddly, she did not remember him being so...well, defined. When they’d kissed and her hands had been inadvertently trapped between their two bodies she’d encountered soft flesh and a stomach that was well on its way to being paunchy. Now his abdomen was flat, his chest was broad, and the muscles in his arms were easily distinguished through his clothing.
“Do you know,” he drawled, his tone just as insufferably arrogant in the morning as it had been last night, “if I looked at a lady the same way you are looking at me now I believe I would earn myself a slap.”
Mortified to discover she had been ogling him in a very wanton manner, Lynette jerked her gaze back up to his face and silently willed the pink flush in her cheeks to disappear.
“I have no idea to what you are referring,” she said primly.
For the Love of Lynette Page 5
