by Lucy Monroe
“What? You have nothing to say to me?”
She mutely shook her head.
Her silence seemed to taunt him and his rage exploded. “I will teach you to sit there in silent defiance!” he roared.
He swung his arm in a wide arc and in the split second before impact, Irisa realized he was going to strike her. Then his hand connected with her cheek and the blow knocked her off the small velvet chair. A roar sounded from near the doorway, but her vision was filled with small sparks of light and a ringing in her ears prevented her from assimilating this new course of events.
However, even her dazed condition could not disguise the loud thump of her father landing against a nearby wall.
She turned her head toward the sound, trying to see through the stars floating before her eyes. Sure enough, Papa sat against the wall like a naughty child in the nursery. Mama recovered miraculously from her faint and flew across the room to her fallen mate.
Slowly, so as not to exacerbate the pain now exploding in her head, Irisa turned to see who had landed Papa such a facer. A pair of Hessians topped with buff riding breeches blocked her vision.
She raised her head, again with meticulous care. “Lucas?”
He leaned down on one knee next to her, his beloved, but traitorous face filled with concern. “Are you all right, little one?”
“Yes.” Her face hurt, but no more than her heart.
“I would kill him, but he’s your father,” Lucas said violently.
She believed him. “He wishes he wasn’t.”
“What?” Lucas’s eyes were filled with wrath, but his voice was gentle.
“Papa. He said he wished I wasn’t his daughter. I always knew it, but he never said so before.”
“Hush, sweeting.” Lucas hooked one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees and then stood.
The feel of his arms around her was infinitely comforting. The knowledge that as soon as he heard of her notorious drive through the park she would lose this closeness, hurt more than the throbbing pain in her face. It was the first and last time Lucas would ever hold her so intimately.
She refused to waste one second of it. Turning her face into his shoulder, she inhaled the masculine scent that was uniquely him. She would treasure this memory for the rest of her life. It was almost worth the agonizing soreness in her head. She wasn’t aware they were leaving the drawing room until Mama’s tear-filled voice reached her.
“Where are you taking her, Ashton?”
“To the Drakes. You can send her clothes and personal belongings there. She will stay with them until our wedding.”
Irisa forced herself to stir in his arms at the pronouncement. She longed to see Thea, to be cosseted by her sister, but she could not bear the thought of going there now. Thea would see the bruise that must be forming on her cheek. The very thought of what Drake might do when he learned Papa had inflicted the wound sent chills down Irisa’s spine. Drake adored Thea and would protect those she loved with fierce determination.
If Irisa were going to stay engaged to Lucas, disaster might be averted. Drake would trust Lucas to protect and defend her, but Lucas would withdraw his offer once he learned why Papa had been so upset. With no one else to champion her, she knew Drake would take up the challenge on his wife’s behalf.
“Please. Not Thea’s. Not yet,” she whispered against Lucas’s neck.
“Where then? You will not stay here. You will never again spend a night under your father’s roof.”
A loud gasp followed that pronouncement, but Irisa ignored it. Where could she go?
“My great-aunt, Lady Upworth, keeps a house here in town.”
“Did you hear?” Lucas asked, his attention fixed over Irisa’s head.
“Yes,” Mama replied, her voice husky with an emotion Irisa did not recognize, “I’ll have Irisa’s things sent over.”
Irisa’s heart squeezed in pain at the speed with which her mother agreed to be rid of her. Oh well. She had expected something like this. Perhaps not the violence of Papa’s reaction; it had been so long since he had lost control with her like that. However, she had known that neither he nor Mama would forgive her outrageous behavior.
***
Lucas was forced to wait in the hall while servants brought the Langley carriage around to the front of the townhouse. He had ridden over and could not very well take Irisa to her aunt’s house riding double with him on his horse. There had been enough activity today to keep the scandalmongers occupied for the rest of the Season.
Irisa’s ride through Hyde Park with Clarice was bad enough, but the violent row in the Langley’s drawing room would fuel gossip in several others before the day was out. Lucas knew it was a foolish hope that the servants at Langley House would keep the day’s events to themselves. Even if they did, news that Irisa had removed to her aunt’s was bound to get out and cause speculation.
Irisa lay in his arms, her head still tucked into his shoulder. She had not said anything else since asking him not to take her to her sister’s home. Later, when she was feeling more the thing, he would make her tell him why she hadn’t wanted to go to the Drakes’, but right now that was the least of his worries. He was still dealing with the overwhelming fury he felt upon walking into the drawing room to see Langley slap his daughter right out of her chair.
Lucas had been too far away to stop him and could not rid himself of the knowledge that if he had arrived just one minute earlier, Irisa would not now be bruised and hurting. He wanted to take out his frustration on her father, but he couldn’t. Right now, Irisa needed Lucas more than he needed to pound Langley.
“The carriage is ready, milord.”
Lucas looked up at the sound of the butler’s voice and nodded.
He started forward and Irisa spoke. “Put me down, Lucas. I can walk.”
“No.” He needed to hold her, to assure himself that she was all right.
Besides, if he put her down, the temptation to return to the drawing room and finish what he had started with Langley would be overwhelming.
She twisted uselessly in his arms. “Please. There will be enough gossip as it is.”
Now was a fine time for her to become concerned on that score. “I’m not putting you down, so you might as well cease your struggles, little one. If you don’t, anyone watching is liable to think I’m kidnapping you.”
She stopped moving immediately and he laughed.
“I don’t see anything even remotely funny about this situation, Lucas.”
He squeezed her more tightly to his chest. “I know you don’t. It’s going to be all right, sweeting. Trust me.”
Saying the words reminded him just how little trust she had shown in him thus far and pain mixed with the rage coursing through him. True to form, her next words exhibited that same lack of faith in him.
“It won’t, you know. I don’t think it can ever be truly all right again.”
The only reason he didn’t start shouting at her was that she sounded so bloody forlorn. From what he’d heard when he entered Langley House, she’d also been yelled at enough for one day. As much as the idea irritated him, he should probably wait until later to confront her about their relationship. There would be plenty of time to set her straight tomorrow.
***
For once the English sun shone brightly into the well-tended, but small garden attached to Aunt Harriet’s townhouse. Irisa sat with her legs curled under her on a quilt near the box hedge and enjoyed the warmth of the spring day, letting it soak into her skin and relax her. She had allowed the shawl she had worn over her raspberry muslin gown drop in a pool of fabric around her.
It had been three days since her notorious ride through the park and banishment to Upworth House. Aunt Harriet and Pansy had both done their best to coddle and cosset her, but even their tender affections could not lighten the burden of her emotions. She missed Lucas.
She shouldn’t, the faithless lecher, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself - anymore than
she could stop herself from remembering Miss de Brieuse’s final words to her. My lady, you would not listen to me regarding the details of my association with Ashton. S'il vous plait. I beg of you. Ask him. It is not what you think.
It was almost as if Miss de Brieuse had been trying to tell her that she was not Lucas’s mistress, that the evidence of Irisa’s own eyes had been false. Not that it mattered now. Lucas might not have known about Irisa’s mad escapade when he rescued her from Langley House, but he was bound to have heard all the details by now.
So, why had he sent her flowers yesterday? Pretty yellow rosebuds that she had wept over. Why had he called three days in a row to be turned away by Aunt Harriet? Surely he would not insist on ringing a peal over her as well. Could he not handle the dissolution of their engagement through the solicitors?
Both Pansy and Aunt Harriet were determined that Irisa should rest. They somehow thought the bruise on her cheek incapacitated her. She acquiesced because she didn’t want to face Lucas. It was cowardly, but she was still smarting from her parents’ complete rejection. She could not face another verbal barrage from the man she loved.
She wished she could stop loving him, but even the memory of Lucas holding the lovely Miss de Brieuse could not kill Irisa’s feelings for him. Who better than her to know that the strength of one’s emotions did not depend on the actions of the person loved? She had loved her parents all her life.
However, her love did not mean that she would marry Lucas, or that she would ever return to live in her parents’ home. She was done trying to earn affection where none existed. Knowing she was right to turn away from both her parents and Lucas did not make it hurt any less, however. She missed Lucas terribly.
As if her thoughts had conjured up his image, suddenly he stood looming over her. “Good afternoon, Irisa. Your guards have finally relaxed their vigil enough to allow me entrance.”
She did not want to look up and see the expression of disgust sure to be on his features, nor did she particularly want him to see the ugly mark on her face. However, putting off the inevitable would not make it easier to face. The last three days had shown her that.
She raised her head, keeping her own face free of expression. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
He cursed and reached out to touch her cheek. She knew what he saw and it wasn’t a pretty sight. A purplish, blue mark already going green and yellow around the edges covered almost the entire left side of her face. Papa had big hands.
She barely felt the brush of Lucas’s finger as he examined the damage to her face. He cursed again. A word she had never heard a gentleman say before, though she had once heard the stable master at Langley Hall say it after being kicked in the unmentionables by a horse.
Lucas dropped to the quilt beside her. “I’m sorry, little one. I wish I had gotten there soon enough to prevent this.” He brushed her cheek again with almost painful tenderness.
She opened her eyes wide in surprise. Lucas was not behaving at all as she had expected him to. “You cannot blame yourself for this. I brought it on myself with my foolish actions.”
He put his finger under her chin and tipped her head until her eyes met his. His expression was so intent, it was almost frightening. “Listen to me. You did nothing to warrant such an attack from the man who should protect you above all others. Langley is a fool with a fool’s temper and he well knows now that he should never have unleashed it on you.”
Irisa reached up to grip Lucas’s arm. “What do you mean? What have you done?”
“Nothing that need concern you. It is just as I said. Your father will not make the same mistake again. Ever.”
“You did not call him out?” she asked, voicing the unthinkable.
“No.” Lucas flexed the fist that was not holding her chin. “There was no need. He has seen the error of his ways.”
Irisa could see from his implacable expression that Lucas would not say any more. She shivered. And she had been concerned about telling Drake.
“Now. Let us discuss your foolish actions.”
She tried to draw her head away, but Lucas would not let her.
He gripped her chin gently, but firmly. “Why did you do it?”
“Does it matter? Surely my actions speak for themselves.”
“If you mean, does it matter to our future together, then no it does not. But, your actions do not speak for themselves and I want an answer.”
He didn’t ask why again, but simply waited for her to answer him. His fingers against her chin were warmer than the sun beating down from the sky and it was all she could do not to move her head and turn his gentle hold into a caress. How she longed to feel his hands on her body, his mouth covering her own. Why had he given his passion to another woman?
Sudden, aching tears wetted her eyes and she blinked, trying desperately not to let them fall.
Without warning, Lucas’s mouth covered hers in the gentlest caress she had ever known. Her mouth parted on a gasp of surprise and Lucas fit his lips to hers in a sensual mating that sent her senses scattering to the four winds. His mouth tasted unlike anything she had ever experienced. There were no words to describe it. It was just right. She had always imagined that lips would be soft, but Lucas’s were firm and mobile. With each fractional movement, she succumbed more deeply to his kiss.
Without conscious volition, her hands moved to grip his shoulders, her fingers curling into the solid muscle.
He groaned and she found herself in his lap, her body nestled against him from where her bottom rested against his thighs to her breasts crushed against his waistcoat. It was the most delicious sensation she had ever known. Lucas’s tongue caressed her lips and then dipped inside her mouth before retreating. She moaned and opened her mouth wider.
He repeated the teasing foray over and over until she wanted to scream with her torment. Feelings she did not know she was capable of washed over her body like a wave crashing against the shore. She felt both stunned and thoroughly soaked by them.
Lucas drew his mouth from hers and pressed her head against his waistcoat where she could hear his rapid heartbeat. His breathing was every bit as ragged as hers as well.
“Now, tell me why.”
“I don’t know if I can explain it to you,” she said against his chest.
“Try.”
She actually found herself smiling at his wry command. He was so arrogant and he didn’t even realize it.
“I wanted out of our engagement.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized what a lie they were.
She wanted to marry Lucas more than anything else in the world. Perhaps that is why she had really done what she had done. She had been afraid she would not have the courage to cry off, so she had acted in such a way as to force him to do so.
He sighed and she felt it in the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek. “Why didn’t you just jilt me if you were so set on ending our association?”
She wasn’t about to share her new insight with him. She told him her original reason instead. “I don’t want to marry. Not ever. Once I realized that, I looked for a way to both end our engagement and put a stop to Papa and Mama’s efforts to see me wed.”
“You accomplished one goal at least. Your parents will not be doing any more matchmaking on your behalf.” His rueful humor took some of the sting from his words and what they represented. “But after the way you just responded to my kiss, I find it difficult to believe you don’t want to marry me.”
She felt the color creep into her cheeks, but remembering why she had decided not marry brought an entirely different emotion than embarrassment to the surface.
She sat up and glared at Lucas. “You can make me respond to your kisses, but you can’t make me trust you and that’s why I never want to marry. I won’t be a gentleman’s ornament and brood mare, expected to hide my feelings and tolerate my husband’s infidelities while I remain chaste and neglected.”
He gripped her arms, the touch of his fingers translating the
tension in him to her. “That’s been the problem all along, hasn’t it? You don’t trust me and because of your lack of trust you’ve done damage to your reputation, hurt an innocent woman and forced a rift with your family. Not that I see that last bit as a great loss.”
“What innocent woman have I hurt?” Surely he was not speaking of Mama. He had made his feelings for her parents abundantly clear.
“Clarice de Brieuse.”
That was too much! For him to call his mistress an innocent woman and accuse Irisa of hurting her, he might as well have slapped her like her papa had done.
She yanked away from his loose hold and scrambled off his lap. “How dare you bring up your mistress’s feelings as if they are of more import than mine? You may not love me, Lord Ashton, but you have the obligation of a gentleman to protect me until such time as our engagement is at an end.”
She was practically shouting at him, but she could not make herself care. What was one more notorious incident to add to her undoubtedly growing reputation?
“Since the only way this engagement is going to end is in marriage, I will continue to have a responsibility to protect you – even if that means protecting you from your own idiotic plans and notions,” Lucas returned in a fair imitation of a lion’s roar.
She settled her fists on her hips like any fishwife and scowled at Lucas’s too bloody tempting male beauty. “If you think I’m going to marry you after finding out about Miss de Brieuse, you are indeed a fool, my lord.”
Lucas came up off the quilt with such speed she could not even think of running, much less act upon it. He put his hands around her waist and lifted her against him until they were eye level.
“You are going to marry me and you are going to trust me and if you ever call me my lord again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Each word came forth like a bullet.
Then his mouth slammed down onto hers. Where the other kiss had been gentle, exploratory and sensually alluring, this meeting of their mouths was nothing less than a possession.
