Читать книгу An Illicit Indiscretion - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 9

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ The glorious woman on top of him hissed in whispered outrage. The spill of light from the upper window showed her to advantage, all curves and golden hair in her anger.

Dashiell chuckled at her misplaced chagrin. ‘What am I doing? You’re the one climbing out windows.’ Not to mention sitting astride a strange man. He was rather surprised she hadn’t moved yet. Instead she clapped a hand over his mouth, her breasts rather erotically teasing his chest as she leaned forward. Oh, this was quite promising indeed. In spite of the cold earth at his back, Dashiell could feel the beginnings of an arousal coming to life.

‘Hush! Keep your voice down. Do you want everyone to hear you?’ Her gaze anxiously quartered the garden for any sign they’d been heard.

Her nerves were an affirmation of sorts. She wasn’t quite innocent if she worried over discovery. Good. Innocent girls were not nearly as fun. He didn’t want her innocent. He just wanted her. His body was making that very clear at the moment.

She removed her hand and stood up, brushing her hands on her trousers. ‘It’s safe. No one heard you.’ Then she did something no gently bred young woman had done for the past six months, and quite frankly no woman had done since he was sixteen—she walked away. She flat out ignored him.

She strode to the base of a tree and bent over to retrieve something she’d apparently left. He followed her. He’d not been wrong about her derriere. Nor had he been wrong about her motives. Whatever they were, they were premeditated and that spoke of trouble.

‘That’s it? You’re just going to leave?’ Dashiell leaned against the tree, casually blocking her exit. She’d have to deliberately step around him.

‘Yes. Were you expecting something else?’

‘How about thank you? I did save you from a potentially injurious fall, one that could have prevented you from leaving altogether.’

‘Saved me? Hah!’ She gave a magnificent toss of her hair. You caused it. I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t startled me. I had decided to drop but then you called out and I dropped a bit prematurely.’

She tried to move past him towards the back gate. But Dashiell wasn’t ready to let her go. He was having far too much fun and this adventurous miss wasn’t nearly as annoyed as she pretended to be.

‘Where are you going?’

‘It’s none of your business really. Now, if you’ll excuse me?’ She slung the retrieved satchel over one shoulder and tried again to pass. This time Dashiell let her, falling into step beside her. He had no intentions of letting her go that easily. Intriguing women were a rare commodity given his current circumstances.

‘Are you walking? If you are, might I offer you a ride? My coach is parked on the street.’ It was an impulsive offer. She might be a dangerous criminal, although he doubted it. She didn’t seem the type but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a petty thief. To be honest, all signs did point in that direction. Giving her a ride could make him an accomplice.

Dashiell shrugged off the risk. He was Heathridge’s heir for goodness’ sake. No one was going to accuse him of anything. As for her, he couldn’t say. She might be accused of plenty. He knew nothing about her. But wasn’t that the point? If he knew, he wouldn’t be offering.

His little thief stretched up and struggled to reach the latch. Dashiell reached over her and slipped the latch with ease, catching the scent of lavender on her skin. His little thief was clean and somewhat unpracticed. Not being able to reach the latch could have been potentially dangerous if she’d been chased. Surely a thief who premeditated leaving satchels in yards would have given more thought to her escape route.

‘You don’t know where I am going.’ She countered with another saucy toss of her head when he followed her through the gate. He’d wager those glossy tresses would be the shade of butter-cream in full-light. He felt his groin tighten at the prospect of those golden waves spread across a pillow.

‘Destination doesn’t matter. It’s either go with you or go back in there.’ It was a quickly derived conclusion based on the acquaintance of moments but it was the truth. She was clever, daring and she held the distinction of being the first woman he’d met in months that had no inkling of who he was. Of course, she was entirely unsuitable for anything more than a short adventure. This would be it, Dashiell decided in a flash of insight. She would be his last adventure before he settled down and did his uncle’s bidding.

Decision made, Dashiell felt a wide smile spread across his face. He’d committed. The game was thoroughly engaged. Now, he just had to convince her. He jerked his head back towards the house. ‘Frankly, given my choices, you seem like a lot more fun.’ He gave her a smouldering look that had yet to meet with any successful resistance.

The blond haired temptress eyed him with a touch of cynical contemplation but she was smiling. She was going to give in. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’

‘Only the pretty ones.’ Dashiell winked and held open the gate with a gallant gesture. ‘After you, miss. My carriage awaits.’

Elisabeth settled across from her unlooked for companion, her satchel on the seat beside her, It’s either go with you or go back in there. Those words had resolved her internal debate; those words and the fact that a very handsome man—even in the dim light she could tell he had looks aplenty-had said them to her, to Elisabeth Becket the social anomaly who’d managed to avoid a successful match in four Seasons despite her father’s dowry and her own good looks.

Such an occurrence was nearly as rare as her comet. Of course, he didn’t know who she was. That might have changed everything. But more than the words, he’d seemed genuine beneath his flirtatious flattery and impulsive offer. Lord knew he’d certainly been genuine beneath his clothes. The body she’d landed on had been lean muscle and sculpted planes beneath those evening clothes.

The import of what she was doing settled her: She was getting into a carriage and driving off with one of her mother’s dinner guests. There was a special peril in that. It relieved her to know she wasn’t riding off into the night with a complete stranger. He had made the Graybourne guest list, after all. But she was riding off with someone she might encounter in polite circles later and that brought a whole new danger to this escapade.

She should be more appalled at what she was doing, but the truth was, she wanted to go with him.

‘Was the party that bad?’ Elisabeth asked once they were under way. ‘Or are you accustomed to doing this often?’

It was hard to decide who was crazier: she for accepting a ride or him for offering one. Maybe they both were. For all he knew, she was going to Scotland. For all she knew, he might be a ravager of women, her mother’s guest list notwithstanding.

The man across from her stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. ‘It wasn’t bad so much as it was boring.’ He gave a sigh that spoke volumes and in that moment Elisabeth felt she’d found a kindred soul. Then he gave voice to the very thoughts that had filled her own mind. ‘Every night, it’s always the same. I was in the mood for something different.’ He favoured her with a thoughtful smile that said he found her delightfully different. Plenty of men had found her different in the past, but not delightfully so.

Lord, he was handsome with that smile. She could rule out ‘ravager.’ Ravagers were supposed to have bad teeth and poor hygiene habits. He looked like the seducing sort. From the light of the carriage lamps, it was blatantly clear he could have whoever’s company he desired without ravaging. Her stranger was striking: dark-haired, classically featured with a sharp nose that looked like it had come straight from a Roman coin.

The carriage hit a rut in the road. Elisabeth reached for a hand strap, acutely aware of his gaze upon her and the silence that filled the coach.

‘I suppose introductions are in order before we go much farther. I’m Dashiell.’ He drawled in easy tones that suggested he was not nearly as unnerved by their situation as she was.

‘Elisabeth,’ she replied in firm tones, hoping to convey a confidence to his. First names only would be best. She didn’t want this seductive almost-stranger finding her when the adventure was all over. It would be her ruin if word got out.

‘Now that’s established, let’s move on to our next item of business. Where are we going, Elisabeth?’ He was smiling again.

Probably to perdition. But he clearly didn’t care. What kind of man walked out of a dinner party given by the prime minister’s premier cabinet member and simply didn’t return?

‘You can drop me off in Greenwich.’ Elisabeth managed, a sense of caution reasserting itself. ‘I can find my way from there.’ The less he knew the better. This was all a game to him, something to break up his ennui. But it couldn’t be a game to her. She was just beginning to understand the risks she was taking if he discovered who she was.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You were planning to walk to Greenwich in the dark of night?’

‘If I had to.’ She hoped her defiance covered her uncertainty. She hadn’t known exactly how she was getting to Greenwich. She’d only known she was going. ‘I could have taken a hansom cab.’

The eyebrow went up again in doubt. ‘Dressed like that? I don’t think a driver would have believed you could pay the fare all the way to Greenwich.’

She hadn’t thought of that but she wasn’t about to tell Mr. Handsome-And-Apparently-A-Touch-High-Handed he might have a point.

‘No matter, it’s all worked out perfectly, don’t you think?’ Dashiell said expansively. ‘I’ve escaped a tedious dinner engagement with eighteen other guests and you have simply escaped.’ He fixed her with a look that warned her she wouldn’t like the next thing to come out of his mouth. ‘By the way, Elisabeth, what were you escaping from?’

Elisabeth reconsidered her earlier preference. First names might preserve anonymity but using them also took away all formality. The sound of her name on his lips was positively intimate in the confines of a carriage at night. This was a man who could turn a woman’s head with little or no effort. She had to be careful or he’d be coaxing all of her secrets out of her.

‘I’d prefer to keep that information to myself.’ She sounded so prim, so very much like…her mother. Elisabeth fought the urge to cringe. Here she was in a carriage with a dashing stranger who hadn’t decided she was a bluestocking freak yet, and she sounded like a governess.

‘I’d prefer to know a little bit more about the company I keep. Surely you’re just a teeny bit curious about me, too. It’s an hour to Greenwich so I have a proposition for you.’

A proposition.

A deliciously wicked tremor skittered down her spine. This man wasn’t suitable company at all, and to think he’d made her mother’s guest list. What had her mother been thinking? Maybe thoughts hadn’t had anything to do with it. She was testament enough that good judgement seemed to fly right out of the equation when faced with the handsome charmer sitting across from her. For all of her carefully laid plans to see the comet, she’d jettisoned them rather quickly at his offer of a ride.

Of course, accepting the ride was only good logic. She could defend her choice to some extent. It stood to reason it would be a faster, more direct option than finding her way on her own. But now, the logic was starting to shift.

‘What kind of proposition?’ Elisabeth crossed her legs in a nonchalant gesture and hoped she sounded more sophisticated than she felt.

‘A game of Consequences. I’ll ask you a truth and you can decide to answer it or not.’

‘And the consequence for not answering?’ Elisabeth asked just a little bit breathless at the possibilities. This carriage ride was fast becoming something more than expedient transport. It was becoming freedom, a chance to be someone else besides Viscount Graybourne’s daughter. For a brief while she could be free from the confines of a life that stifled much of the person she actually was. Meeting Dashiell-The-Handsome-Stranger was becoming a once in a lifetime opportunity just like the comet and she was going to seize it.

He gave her a wide smile and she knew, just knew, he was going to say something outrageous. ‘Kisses, Elisabeth. We’ll play for kisses.’

That delicious tremor made a return journey down her spine. Why not? If anyone found out she’d been alone in a closed carriage with a man, no one would care what they’d done in it. The sin was already committed if they played for kisses or not. She might as well go the distance. In the last twenty minutes she’d committed almost every sin known to debutantes. It seemed a very short fall to include this one to the list.

Elisabeth smiled. ‘Ask your first question.’