Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1 - Louise Allen, Christine Merrill - Страница 72

Heart drumming against her ribs, gasping from her headlong flight across the garden and up the stairs, Laura closed the door to her room and sagged against it.

Moonsick madness. That’s all it had been, enchantment spun from her silly dreams and a touch of moonlight.

Sensible Laura Martin would never behave so again.

But even as she tried to excuse the episode, shame flooded her chest, thick and stifling.

She could not blame the magic of the garden, her foolish fancies or even Lord Beaulieu’s overpowering presence.

‘Twas her own folly alone that had brought her to this near catastrophe. Her weakness in accepting an escort she should have refused at the outset, her fault in underestimating the strength of her own greedy desire that had almost led her to commit the same wantonness she’d witnessed through the west wing windows.

How could she be disgusted by Lady Ardith’s lechery when she’d felt the same imperative pulsing in her blood?

Lord Beaulieu had enticed her, certainly, but ‘twas she who’d eagerly responded. Heat burned her face as she remembered the shivering shock of his lips against hers, the rasp of his tongue releasing a scalding flood of sensation that seemed to melt her bones, turning her fluid in his arms, starving for something she could not name but frantically sought. Craving the touch of his hands, his mouth, closer, deeper, as man desperate with thirst craves water.

And she craved it still. What she’d felt for her young suitor in her mother’s garden years ago was but a feeble precursor to the raging desire she’d discovered within herself tonight, like the tepid sunlight of an early spring morning that precedes a blazing July noon.

What she might have done, have allowed Lord Beaulieu to do, had that graphic vision of lust not shocked her into recognizing her own, she could only imagine.

And what must Lord Beaulieu think of her now? A woman who’d mouthed propriety, then shown herself as ready for a mindless tumble as the most amoral society matron. Regardless of the tangle of her own wildly contradictory feelings toward his lordship, in light of her behavior tonight his opinion of her must be humiliatingly clear.

A lonely woman, ready for the price of a few compliments to become his convenient during the short time he remained in the country.

Tears burned her eyes as she stumbled to the bed and struggled to strip off the beautiful, never-to-be-worn-again gown.

Cinderella, home at last among the shattered fragments of her dream.

Frustrated and furious, Beau paced the moonlit paths. Damn Mac and the randy Lady Ardith for choosing that particular chamber for their blatant display. He wanted to pursue his Sparrow, comfort her, recapture the magic shattered by that unintentional glimpse of mindless coupling, but some inner sense warned him she was too upset now for him to attempt it.

Tenderness softened the edge of anger. For all her mature calm, she was such an innocent, ‘twas little wonder she’d been shocked. He’d been dismayed, as well, and he had far more experience than she.

Though brutal honesty compelled him to admit, had that unfortunate episode not occurred, he’d have been driven as urgently as Mac to unbind the spangled cloth veiling the lady he wanted so badly, to gently tutor her through every nuance of pleasuring and being pleasured. Even now, the desire to do so still thrummed in his veins.

But only when she was ready, only as far, as fast as she would willingly follow. Unlike the meaningless tryst they’d stumbled into viewing, their eventual joining would contain a joy and tenderness that fired lust into something purer and more lasting. A single night would not be nearly sufficient to satisfy his craving. No, he wanted all of her—heart, mind, as well as body—for the indefinite future.

She knew that—didn’t she? A niggle of doubt troubled him. Surely she didn’t think he’d lured her to the garden only to use her body with the sort of casual carnality they’d inadvertently observed?

The doubt occurred only to be dismissed. They had shared the burden and worry of Kit’s illness, chatted of books and herbs and philosophy, touched each other’s thoughts and emotions in countless small, significant ways before ever their bodies touched. She couldn’t possibly think he viewed her as an object of temporary dalliance.

No, she’d been startled, repulsed, a reaction he treasured for the modesty and discretion it displayed. Nonetheless, just to be sure, he’d proceed carefully tomorrow, treat her with a special gentleness that, combined with a night’s sleep and the prosaic perspective of daylight, would erase from her mind the event that had caused so abrupt and dissatisfying an ending to their walk.

She would leave today, Laura decided as she looked out through the raindrops slipping down her window-pane. Clouds enveloped the garden in a mist-shrouded drizzle, changing the silver walkways, urns and plantings of last night into soggy brick and sodden earth utterly devoid of magic.

As her life must be. She walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the plain brown bombazine. The gown seemed heavier than she remembered, its muddy hue uglier compared to the frosted emerald of the dinner dress. A little brown sparrow, Lord Beaulieu had called her, unnoticed and insignificant.

So she was. So she must be. And if desire could so blind her to that fact, if her protective instincts had eroded so badly that she could stray as far from that role as she had last night, then she must depart at once.

For the truth was, scold herself ever so severely in the fastness of her chamber, she knew if the earl were to walk in the room this minute, her hands would still itch to resume tracing the contours of his body, her mouth yearn to meld with his and see what new delights he could teach her. It shamed and horrified her to discover within herself such a deep vein of carnality, but in the stark light of morning, she was too honest to deny its presence or power.

Intensified by admiration and affection, such a force would be nearly impossible to resist. And if fully satisfied in a connection both physical and emotional, it would create a bond that would shatter her soul to sever.

She’d likely given him her heart already, a gift he’d never sought and surely wouldn’t appreciate. At least if she prudently fled now, she might avoid completing the disaster by bonding with him in body, as well.

A leaden despair settled in her gut. Even if they both wished it, there could never be anything legal or permanent between them, nothing beyond a fleeting, temporary liaison. Besides, she had only her girlish fancies to suggest that the earl even desired her for more than assuaging the same need for which Lady Ardith had met Dr. MacDonovan.

She had more self-respect than to stoop to that.

Kit Bradsleigh no longer required her round-the-clock presence. Her garden needed tending, her dog craved companionship, and she ought to seek the solitude necessary to reconstruct the boundaries that protected her.

That isolated her.

She reached out to stroke the silky lightness of the dinner gown, still draped on a chair where she’d abandoned it last night. She closed her eyes, allowing herself for a moment to relive the feel of Lord Beaulieu’s arms around her, the taste and touch of his tongue. A ragged sigh born of pain and loss slipped from her throat.

Then with quick, efficient moves she donned the brown gown, hung the spangled emerald dress back in the wardrobe, and left the room.

* * *

After handing Peters the chessboard, Laura turned back to Kit Bradsleigh. “I’ll be coming by daily to check on you and follow any orders Dr. MacDonovan leaves for your care.” Written ones, she hoped. After last night, she’d rather not meet the doctor again in person.

Kit eased himself painfully back against the pillows. “Both of you … deserting me at once.”

“Dr. MacDonovan has sicker patients to tend. And I’m close by. Soon you’ll be able to get downstairs to dine and receive callers, so I daresay you’ll not be so bored.” She smiled. “Most of them probably won’t beat you at chess.”

He grinned back. “Like a challenge. Besides, I’m not … quite myself yet. I demand a rematch.”

“Soon,” she promised.

As she rose to depart, though, he caught her hand. “Can’t begin to thank you—”

“Nonsense!” she interrupted. “I thought we’d settled this long since.”

He shook his head. “With you so stubborn and me so incapable, we just … stopped discussing it. But you must know … our family considers your service an unredeemable debt. Beau especially.” He paused, stifling a cough. “No, let me finish. We’re a small family … just Beau, Ellie and me. Parents killed in a carriage accident …! was too young to remember. But Beau was there … in the carriage. He seems to think it his duty now … to protect us from all harm. And after this, you, too. Should you ever need us, need anything, you have only to ask.” He paused, unsuccessfully trying to keep the gasp from turning to a cough.

Laura took his hand. “There is no obligation.”

Gripping his shoulder to damp down the cough’s vibration, Kit once more shook his head. “Lifelong vow,” he said when he could breathe again. “Word of a Bradsleigh.” He squeezed the hand she held.

Protect her from all harm. Oh, that the Bradsleighs or anyone else could do that! But despite his influence, even the mighty Earl of Beaulieu was not above the law. Whatever safety she found must come, as it had since she’d chosen this course, solely from her own efforts.

“Rest now,” she urged, gently withdrawing her hand. “I’ll stop to bid you goodbye before I leave.”

He squeezed her hand again and closed his eyes. With a nod to Peters, she left the room.

She’d snatched a hasty breakfast this morning, not wishing to encounter the earl, and now hoped he’d be occupied with his London satchels long enough for her to slip in a visit to Lady Elspeth and explain that she was returning home. After that, ‘twould take little time to pack her few possessions. While the family was at luncheon she could pay her last call on Kit and depart.

Back to the safety of her cottage. Her books, her garden, her life of loneliness.

Before she indulged in greensick moping, she’d best remember on just how thin a thread that life still hung.

At her knock, Lady Elspeth bid her enter. To her delight, Lady Catherine was there, too.

“Miss Laura, come see! John Stableman gave me kittens!”

“Your mama lets you keep them here? I should think they’d rather be living in the stables.”

“Oh, no,” the child assured her. “They want to be here with me and Mama.”

Over the girl’s curly head, Laura looked up to see Lady Elspeth roll her eyes.

“You must thank your mama and the squire for letting them remain in your rooms, then. And be gentle with them,” she cautioned as the girl reached to pluck one small furry body from the basket she’d fetched.

“Uncle Beau showed me how to hold them. He said they can break, just like my doll.” She offered Laura a squirming, hairy handful. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

Laura accepted the small creature, which mewed reproachfully at being removed from its cozy basket and regarded her with indignant blue eyes. “Handsome indeed. I’m glad you have some new friends to play with. Soon, your uncle Kit will be well enough to play with you, too. In fact, he’s so much better I’m returning to my own home today. I’ll stop by daily to check him, of course, but—”

“No!” Lady Catherine wailed. “You cannot leave!”

Laura deposited the kitten back in its basket and took the little girl’s hands. “I shall not forget my friends.”

“Catherine,” her mother remonstrated, “Mrs. Martin has a house of her own which she must be missing. She’s been kind enough to stay here to help Uncle Kit, but of course now that he is better she wants to return home.”

The child patted Laura’s dress and frowned. “If we gave you more dresses, would you stay? Uncle Beau will buy them! He told me he loves buying ladies pretty things.”

While the girl’s mother tried to explain to her why that would not be proper, Laura briefly wondered how many “pretty ladies” the earl had bought gowns for. A fair number, she imagined. Never her, she vowed.

Catherine’s blue eyes filled with tears. Clearly unable to comprehend why anyone she’d befriended would wish to leave her, she turned from her mother back to Laura. “But who will take me for my walk? Silly Mary doesn’t know anything. And you tell the bestest stories!”

Laura bit her lip. For as long as the earl remained in residence, she wished to keep her visits to Everett Hall as brief as possible. But knowing how little there was to occupy a lively child—and recognizing poor Mary really was dull-witted—she couldn’t withstand the appeal on Lady Catherine’s face.

“I will walk with you every day, after I’ve checked your uncle,” Laura conceded.

“But you will not stay?” the girl said, her lip still quivering.

“I’m sorry, poppet. I really cannot.”

“Catherine, you must not tease.” Lady Elspeth tried to soothe her unhappy daughter. “Miss Laura has already done so much for us. She’s promised to visit you—and me, too. After all—” she smiled at Laura “—we have plans to make.”

Before Laura could inquire what sort of plans Lady Elspeth had in mind, a quick knock at the door was followed by the entry of the one person Laura had most hoped to avoid—Lord Beaulieu.

While Lady Catherine threw herself at her uncle, chattering about kittens, Laura retreated to the window seat, disgusted to note her heartbeat accelerating merely because the earl had entered the room. She’d take no part in the conversation, avoid his eye, and make her escape at the earliest possible moment.

But she’d reckoned without her champion. Laura edged to the door while the earl duly inspected the kittens, but before she could slip out, Lady Catherine pointed at her.

“Uncle Beau, Miss Laura says she must go home today, and I don’t want her to. Please make her stay!” The little girl gazed up to give her uncle a melting smile. “She’ll stay if you ask her. Everyone does what you wish.”

The earl’s smiling face sobered abruptly. He looked over at Laura, brows creasing in a frown. “Going home today? You made no mention of it to me.”

His eyes impaled her, almost—accusing. Laura forced herself to look away, shaking her head to clear a sudden light-headedness. “Mr. Bradsleigh is recovering nicely, so there’s no need for me to remain in residence.”

“But with Dr. MacDonovan departing, it would be wise to have someone of skill standing by, at least for the first several days. Surely you’ll not abandon your charge now, Mrs. Martin.”

She couldn’t let him make her weaken. Moistening her lips, she replied, “I’m not abandoning him. Dr. MacDonovan assures me Kit no longer needs care through the night. I shall check him every day and faithfully administer any treatments the doctor believes necessary. But I do have a household of my own that needs tending.”

“A household which could manage without your presence for a bit longer, I should think.”

“Perhaps. But I should be more comfortable returning there,” she said pointedly. Damn him! He would have her close to bewitch at his leisure. Well, she’d not allow it.

His belligerent manner softened suddenly. “I had hoped to offer you every comfort here,” he said quietly.

She felt the insidious longing invade her again. What could a few more days hurt? She could be strong.

Liar.

She shook her head. “I—I appreciate all you have done. But I really must go.”

“Even should I beg you to stay?”

She forced herself to resist the intensity of his gaze. “Even then.”

After a long moment he gave her a stiff nod. “Very well. Go, then.”

Lady Catherine had been watching the exchange with a smile, evidently entirely certain of her uncle’s powers of persuasion. At that, however, she jumped up. “No, Uncle Beau! You cannot let her go!”

Lady Catherine ran to Laura and seized her hands. “Please, can you not stay? The kittens will miss you too.”

Laura knelt down and gave the girl a quick hug. “Friends can still be friends even when they’re not living in the same house. I shall walk with you every day, I promise. And if your mama permits, you can visit me. I have a dog who would love to have you throw sticks for him, and there’s a walk by the river we could explore.”

The girl looked up at Laura. “A friendly dog?”

“Very friendly. I’ve also got a big tabby cat and a pond full of frogs.”

After a moment, Lady Catherine nodded. “I suppose you have to go home. Your dog and cat and frogs must be lonely.”

Laura rose. Lord Beaulieu stood watching her, arms crossed over his chest, looking angry and—surely it wasn’t hurt she read on his face. She jerked her glance away and walked toward the door.

“Return to your little household, Mrs. Martin,” the earl said, a bitter edge to his voice. “Your very small household. Given how clever you are with children, ‘tis a great shame your late husband didn’t bless you with any.”

The pain was instantaneous, automatic, and even after more than two years, devastating. Without thinking she whirled to face him. “How true, my lord,” she snapped. “Especially considering that I buried one.” Dipping a curtsey, she fled the room.