Читать книгу The Notorious Bridegroom - Kit Donner - Страница 9

His hands tightened on the young woman’s hips upon hearing Isabella, reluctant to let her go, yet not wanting his ex-mistress to find her here in his arms. A brief hesitation, then his wet companion rolled out of his surprised arms onto the hard floor with a thump. Her action immediately cooled his heated senses.

With no further delay, he rose onto his good knee and deftly raised himself off the floor. In his haste, he did not risk another look at the young woman, but hurried across the room to the unlocked door to prevent Isabella from entering.

Too late. She burst into the room in a manner which suggested no amount of bars or locks could have prevented her. Her azure-blue silk dressing gown hissed around her silk slippers as she pushed past him.

“Mon chéri, you know I do not like waiting. And it has been so long since you have made love to me,” she told him reprovingly, with red lips pouting.

He closed his eyes and muttered a groan. He did not turn around but waited for her anticipated reaction.

“Bryce, how could you? You are quite careless,” her cool voice adding to the chill in the air.

Ironically, she had just reminded him of how warm he had been. Puzzled, he turned to find the countess gliding to the open window. No trace of the damp sprite remained. She had simply vanished.

Suddenly a fearful thought occurred to him. Had she escaped the way she’d arrived? In a few strides, he reached the window, but Isabella had already closed it.

“This rain has certainment soaked the curtains. What a dilemma! You should have shut these windows earlier,” she chided him. She faced him with a sly smile painted on her lips. “Mon amour, I could not stop thinking about your invitation,” she purred.

He brushed her aside and yanked open the casement windows. A quick glance to the left and down allowed him to breathe again. She had not left by the window. The only other exit was the door to his valet’s room, which had a door to the hallway. Desperately, he tried to think of a way to get rid of Isabella as he shut the windows again.

Isabella’s long arms curled around his waist as she pressed her full breasts against his back, then stepped away and walked in front of him. “Bryce, why are you wet? Were you standing at the window letting the rain soak you?”

“Ah, yes, I thought I saw something outside, so I leaned out to see what it was.”

“I can dry you. Come to bed. I have what you need.” Her searching hands efficiently found his aroused member, still hard with the memory of another woman. “And you have what I want.”

Bryce removed her hands from him. This was a foolish idea. It had been from the beginning. She had been amusing a few years ago, but when he returned last November, she had insisted on accompanying him home. She thought he needed her. She was wrong. He had not had a need for her in a long time.

However, Providence had played a hand in the arrangements by bringing the countess’s cousin Alain Sansouche, a suspected French spy, with her to Paddock Green. And while Sansouche was under the same roof, it would be easier for Bryce to observe him.

Keeping Isabella at arm’s length while he continued with his plans to locate the ring of French spies had proven to be a nuisance these past few months. Obviously not undone by his lack of encouragement, she pressed her hands to his chest and raised her head to seal a wet, inviting kiss on his lips.

The kiss, vastly different from the one with his wet nymph, triggered Bryce to his senses. Where the nymph’s kiss had broken through his despair, Isabella’s felt cold and manipulative. He’d tasted youthful, redeeming innocence and wanted a second course of the vision that had dropped into his arms.

Intent on his comparison, he realized too late the countess had pulled him to the bed. He watched her dispassionately as if he was in the audience and not a participant of the show as she reached up and slowly untied the only ribbon holding her dressing gown together. She lay back on the bed waiting for her temptation to work as it had done before.

The temptation she sold was hard not to buy. Long, thick blond hair draped over one milky-white shoulder, her tall, full body shone pale against the black canvas of the rich marble counterpane. Honeyed nipples pouted for attention.

But another woman occupied his mind. A woman he had held briefly and would remember for a lifetime. He reached across Isabella’s white body and gathered her dressing gown together, securing the ends with their tiny blue ribbons.

“I think perhaps you should leave,” he said, his voice quiet.

“But why do you turn me away? I thought you wanted me. You asked me here tonight.” She pursed her bright lips, then rose indignantly from the bed in displeasure over his rejection. Because of his plans, he needed her in his home and cast about for a worthy excuse for his behavior.

“Please forgive me, Isabella. My leg rather pains me this evening.”

Bright blue eyes grew concerned, and she threw herself into his arms. “Why ever did you not tell me? Perhaps I could stay and rub it? Would it not feel better?”

Her cloying perfume nearly suffocated him. He easily detached her ivylike arms from around his neck and showed her to the door. “Thank you, no. I need to rest.”

“Bryce, do you not realize I love you? I believe you once cared for me.” She dared a hand on his arm, her gaze searching his face, almost looking as if she remembered how to cry.

He removed her hand gently before responding. “Isabella, you do me no service in your love for me. I have told you that before.”

“I will not give up hope, mon cher.” Isabella, with a tiny smile on her face, lifted her chin and sailed through the door, taking her still-intact pride with her.

Bryce sighed in relief and quickly closed the door to begin his search for the wet young woman. Where could she be? He looked under the bed, then in his valet’s room, hoping she might have hidden there waiting for him, her lithe body still flush with the heat of their embrace.

But his search proved fruitless. He then exhausted most of the house and did not rest until he had looked into every darkened corner for a splash of dark hair and willing full lips.

Finally, reluctantly, he accepted that she was gone. Left him without a promise to return or proof she even existed. He wandered back to his rooms and threw himself on the bed.

Had he only dreamed her? Had he really held her sweet form in his arms? When sleep finally arrived, his body and soul sought sanctuary from his regular nightmares with thoughts of Mrs. Grundy. Was she his savior or his nemesis?

Safely back in her room, door locked, Patience fumbled with the sleeves of her damp nightdress. In her haste, she ripped the seam at the wrist, causing her to mutter an oath. She threw aside the nightdress and wrap and then buttoned herself into a long linen shirt before crawling into bed. She gathered the bedcovers up to her neck, but the shivering would not stop.

She knew it was only a matter of time before he uncovered her disguise. Maybe not tonight, but soon, if she didn’t use more sense. Would he suspect she was one of the new maids? She could only pray he would have no cause to look further than the first two floors, and hoped that her venture would have no ill affect on her health. Thankfully, her guardian angel had seen her through this little escapade.

Suddenly, Patience sat up. She had not taken her lucky onyx with her. Yes, that must be the reason why fortune had deserted her.

With a tired shake of her head, she settled back onto her small, lumpy bed. Although she’d intended to put the night from her mind, when she closed her eyes, the past hour replayed itself like a nightmare. Or possibly more like a lovely dream, as if his lordship was not her enemy but her lover.

Back on the ledge, she had already decided to return to the other bedroom when the earl held out his hand to her. Panicked, her mind went daft. His voice rang in the wet night loud and yet gentle, compelling her to trust him to save her. Her hand held in his firm grasp, she knew he would not let her fall.

After he had carried her through the window, she remembered a fright so great that if he’d asked her what she was doing out there, she would have confessed her deception.

Everything had happened so quickly that before she realized it, she had landed on top of his warm, hard body. Stunned at being discovered, Patience allowed this stranger to press a kiss on her unsuspecting lips. She had never been kissed in such a way that numbing fear could dissolve into sweet, mind-robbing pleasure. She heaved a sigh. He had tasted of rain and fire and—she licked her lips—brandy.

Patience shuddered, thinking how close she’d come to becoming unmasked. If not for her quick action of rolling right under the bed and over to the far side, she would still be in the earl’s room trying to explain why she happened to be standing outside his window in the pouring rain.

Before she had crawled through the opposite door, she had taken a quick peek across the room and saw the earl embrace a woman. Probably his mistress that the servants had mentioned earlier. She was amazed that the earl could so easily trade one woman for another. But if what she suspected of him to be true, his Don Juan nature was yet another sly trick in his basket of spy misdeeds.

With the earl and countess absorbed in each other, it had seemed a perfect time to exit. She went through a small study, which she disappointingly had no time to explore, to the hall door, nearly safe. As if the French were after her, she flew down the hallway and up to the attic, hoping no one was up and about to see her flight.

Secured in her tiny room, she’d deliberated over whether she was thankful or disappointed that the countess had arrived when she did. What was the matter with her? Of course she was thankful, ever so grateful that his seduction had ended when it did. She chose not to pursue musings on what might have happened if the countess had not made an appearance. Oh, how could she have let herself be cozened by him?

True, he was handsome when he smiled, and he might kiss as if he could set her world on fire, but she, Patience Leticia Mandeley, would have none of it. She vowed not to let him near her again when her emotions were unguarded.

She would be more careful in the future. This spy business certainly would take some practice.

Oh, the earl was a devious one. I will just have to watch him more closely next time. Since he was a spy, he probably knew all sorts of ploys to make people talk. Convinced that she would yet prove to be a worthy opponent in his game, she drifted off to sleep, still reproaching herself for vividly remembering the earl’s kiss and finding pleasure in it.