Arcana (21 page)

I think about being thrown roughly against the fence, and I tense. Emotions crash inside me. I feel as violated as I would have if Lord Blackburn stripped me naked. He touched a part of me so intimate, so much a part of who I am. Anger flares as brightly as the sun within me. I want to hurt him. I want to search among all the artifacts of this room and find something sharp to inflict the same amount of pain and fear he caused in me.

Suppressing this loathsome feeling, I inwardly inspect the damage. I feel perhaps a little fatigued, much like I do when I use a bit of arcana—like making the rope fly up during the horse race. The difference is that he took it from me; I didn’t expend it. And it isn’t hard to imagine what might happen if he was able to continue—if he took it all.

Anger and disbelief crash over me again and again. My back aches, but it’s nothing I cannot heal later. I wish I could tell Lord Thornewood everything, but I don’t dare. “I’m fine, my lord, thank you.”

He shakes his head once, brusquely. “We may forgo such formalities. Please, call me Colin. Now, did he touch you?”

I know he means more than the forced kiss. I drop my eyes and shake my head once. Lord Thornewood—for there is no way I can think of him by his given name—lets out a breath as his wide shoulders relax.

I want to reach out and take his hand, but I cannot—already our private conversation in the corner has drawn attention. “Thank you for . . . just, thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. May I get you something to drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

I smile gratefully. “Yes, thank you.”

I watch him weave deftly through the crowd, brushing off all attempts to waylay him. He returns with a small glass, and I take it from him with a shaky hand.

After a sip of the thin wine, I ask, “I do wonder, though, how did you know to come to my assistance?”

He glances away, an almost sheepish look crossing his face. “I watched you leave after the last dance, and I saw he followed not long after.”

I manage a wry smile to cover my surprise. “I hadn’t realized you monitored my movements so closely.”

His self-conscious look disappears into one of naked admiration. “I do, and I have since the moment we met.”

For once, I have nothing to say in return, only a wide smile upon my face. But lest I actually get a chance to bask in this glowing feeling, Eliza and Amelia approach us.

“Lord Thornewood,” Eliza says with a slow smile I’m sure she means to be coy, “you cannot think to spend the remainder of the ball in this corner.”

He drags his eyes from my face to hers. “No, of course not.”

I stiffen and shrink back into myself. How could I have forgotten? I think of them flirting with each other on the dance floor and take a gulp of wine.

“I’m very glad to hear it because I have a cousin who is eager to speak with you. The two of you knew each other at Oxford.” She points out a man in a beautifully tailored coat talking animatedly to our hostess.

“Edward,” Lord Thornewood says with a nod. “I hadn’t realized he was in town.”

Eliza takes a step toward her cousin. “Come, I’ll help you get reacquainted.”

“Will you excuse me, Kath—Miss Sinclair?” Lord Thornewood asks, and I watch Eliza’s eyes narrow at his slip.

Backed into a corner, I cannot say no without appearing both desperate and rude. “By all means.”

The waltz that has been danced the entire time I’ve been speaking with Lord Thornewood ends, and Penelope joins me. I’m relieved to see her. There is nothing quite like distraction to cope with something traumatic.

“I saw Eliza steal Lord Thornewood from you a moment ago,” she says, a look of disdain on her face as she glances in their direction.

“She resented not being able to eavesdrop.” I frown. “I am surprised he went so willingly.”

Penelope puts a gloved hand on my arm. “Too much attention from a suitor is scandalous to Society, dear, you know that. I’m sure he was trying to spare you from their censure.”

I let out a breath of disgust. “Such stupid rules! How can anyone ever follow them?”

“You and Lord Thornewood must get along famously. You both care so little for Society.”

“Yes, it’s what tends to happen when you haven’t been forced into the thick of it as you have.” I glance at her mother who is even now hanging on every word of a potential suitor for Penelope.

Penelope lets out a little groan. “Not Sir Bondsworth, Mother. He’s old enough to be my father.”

“Oh, Penelope,” I say in a fair imitation of her mother’s brush tone, “he is very rich, and that’s all that matters.”

She laughs—probably to keep from crying. “So what were you and Lord Thornewood talking about so intently? I thought you found him disagreeable.”

I take a sip of my wine to stall for time. Should I tell Penelope what happened? She has become a very dear friend these past few weeks. If we are overheard, though, the results could be disastrous. And though she and Lord Blackburn are distant cousins, I am still reluctant to reveal everything I know about him. I decide I will tell her a portion of the truth, but not here. Not where we could possibly be overheard.

I smile, and it turns even brighter when Lord Thornewood catches my eye from across the room. “I find he is growing on me.”

I seek out my grandmother and beg her to leave early, but my pleas go ignored. Worse, she keeps asking me where Lord Blackburn has gone and what I have done to upset him. So by the time Lord Thornewood returns, I am in a foul mood and a tad tipsy.

“Oh-ho, so
now
you’ve deemed it a good time to seek me out,” I say.

Annoyingly, he seems unperturbed by my acidic tone. “I came for that dance I requested of you earlier.”

I
harrumph
and glance around, my vision just a little swimmy.

He pulls the wineglass from my hand. “You’ve had enough of this, I think.” He leans toward my ear and murmurs, “But I don’t blame you.”

He holds out his arm to me, and tears pool in my eyes. Horrified, I blink rapidly until they evaporate unshed. Before he can lead me to the dance floor, I put pressure on his arm. “Wait. Can we—can we just stay here?”

He must sense how shaky I am because he guides me to one of the strategically placed chairs—the ones for elderly ladies to sit and rest. I don’t even care. I sit with a luxurious sigh.

“Should I find your grandmother and tell her you’re ready to leave?”

I let out an unladylike snort. “Be my guest. Maybe she’ll actually listen to you.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I can do better than that. I’ll take you home myself.”

I glance over at my grandmother, who is deep in conversation with Lady Hasting, as usual. She will be furious when she finds out. The wine has guaranteed I don’t care.

I stand. “Yes, I think that would be wonderful.”

It isn’t until we’re standing at the top of the stairs while the driver pulls ’round Lord Thornewood’s carriage that it hits me: Lord Thornewood and I will be entirely alone. In the dark. In a very small space. In spite of the trauma I have just survived with Lord Blackburn, I do not fear the same from Lord Thornewood. I know he would never harm me.

No, it is not fear of him that makes me hesitate. It’s fear of what
I
might do.

The footman tries to hold the door open for us, but Lord Thornewood waves him away and helps me into the carriage himself. I settle into the seat, and the carriage dips a bit as he takes the seat on the other side. He raps on the ceiling and we roll forward.

I arrange and rearrange my skirts. Our legs are inches away from each other, and I can feel the wine-induced flush spreading.

Lord Thornewood clears his throat. “Do I remember correctly that you have a sister?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“Will she be at home?”

I glance up sharply. “Yes.”

“I only ask because I don’t feel comfortable leaving you there alone—even with a house full of servants.”

“Surely you don’t think I’m in any danger?” The thought had not occurred to me, and a cold, sharp fear grips me. I will be sure to bar my door tonight.

He lets out his breath in a rush, the polite indifference he wears so well slipping enough for me to see the torment underneath. “I don’t know what to think,” he says in a voice that is more like a growl. “When I found him—his hands all over you—it was all I could do not to demand satisfaction.”

“I can’t think of anything more horrible than someone dueling over me.” I lean forward and touch his arm, my eyes intent on his. “Swear you would never do that.” He lets out some sort of grunt in affirmation, and I sigh. “I have to admit I’m a little surprised,” I say. “It’s not like you’ve gone out of your way to be around me this week.”

His eyes search my face like he can’t tell if I’m serious. When he determines I am, he frowns. “I can’t imagine what I’ve done to make you think that.”

The wine loosens my tongue even more than usual. “Well, you’d leave only moments after arriving at every ball and event I attended.”

“I see. Is that all?”

“No. You favor Eliza over me.” The words are out before I can stop myself. I wrap a cloak of righteousness about me so I can’t feel the embarrassment.

His sharp bark of laughter makes me jump. “Eliza! How could you think that?”

“At Duchess Cecily’s, you were hanging on her every word as you danced. And just this evening, you jumped at the chance to leave with her.”

His laughter dies away, but his eyes still hold some of the mirth. “Are you so naïve you don’t realize how much Eliza dislikes you?” I avert my eyes briefly. It’s rather obvious—probably to most everyone—how she feels about me. “You do? Well, then, you might see the things I did in a different light. That night at the Duchess’s, if you’ll recall, your own brother had just given her some serious fuel for gossip. And tonight, she’d seen you with Lord Blackburn—not outside, no one saw that, I made sure of it—no, she saw how much attention he gave you. As embarrassingly conceited as it sounds, favoring her with my attention provides the perfect distraction and keeps her from doing too much damage.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

“The reason I left early during all those events is much harder to admit, but it has to do with our lascivious mutual acquaintance.”

I think about his snide comment about Lord Blackburn being my shadow. I clear my throat and say quietly, “Because I was with Lord Blackburn?”

His jaw tightens. “It makes me sick I let my pride and jealousy get in the way. Thank God I stayed tonight.”

I don’t even want to think about that scenario. “It seems I completely misunderstood your intentions, my lord. Then again, that isn’t unusual for me apparently.”

“I won’t have you blame yourself,” Lord Thornewood says sharply.

I shrug and look out the window. I don’t blame myself—though I was warned by Lord Thornewood about Lord Blackburn’s character.
Blame
isn’t the right word—it’s more disgust than anything.

The carriage comes to a stop, and we stare at each other. His eyes are on me, an intense expression on his face. I pause, mesmerized by it. He leans forward and cups my cheek, and I freeze, afraid to break the spell.

The kiss is achingly gentle—so different from the horrible forced one with Lord Blackburn. But everything changes when I respond. He groans and tugs me onto his lap. I rearrange my skirts until I am draped across him and then we are pressed so tightly together we become one heartbeat, one breath.

His hands leave trails of fire wherever they touch. When his lips leave mine to kiss my jaw, my throat, and lower—the tops of my breasts—my breathing changes to quick pants. His eyes seem to devour me with one sweep, and I writhe on his lap . . . needing something I cannot yet name.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says, his lips at my throat.

I grasp the collar of his shirt and give a little tug until our mouths connect once again. Our tongues tangle, and I press closer to him, eliciting a groan. He pulls back, pressing gentle kisses on my temple and cheekbone. The reduction in pleasurable intensity only makes me squirm more. A teasing smile crosses his face for a moment before he continues his onslaught on my mouth. His tongue gently rakes over my bottom lip, and I let out a shuddering sigh.

Warm, strong hands caress the curves of my spine. Fingers plunge into my hair, freeing it from its chignon.

We kiss until I can barely think of my own name. Until Lord Blackburn’s face is obliterated from my mind.

“Please tell me to stop,” he says between kisses. His hands grip my waist tightly before sweeping gently over my ribs and up to my breasts.

I gasp—both from surprise and pleasure.

He slides his hands back to my waist and leans forward to press a gentle kiss on the side of my neck. “Forgive me, my darling. I had all the intentions of playing the gentleman this evening.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” I say. “You are mistaken if you think I was innocent in this.” I touch my still-tingling lips. “I wanted this just as much as you.”

He drops his gaze to my lips, an almost hungry look flaring in his eyes. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he says, his voice deep and husky.

The footman helps me down, and I avoid his gaze, a blush flaring over my skin. I hope he hasn’t seen anything—I hope the door blocked his view.

“Will you be at Hyde Park tomorrow?” Lord Thornewood asks.

I smile widely. “I can be.”

He trails his fingertips down my cheek, and my legs suddenly feel as though they will no longer support my body. “I very much hope you are. There’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

“How intriguing,” I murmur, my eyes still riveted on his. “Where should we meet?”

“Near the river, of course,” he says, a hint of teasing laughter in his eyes. “Perhaps under the small copse of trees?”

I nod. “I know the place.” We’re quiet for a moment, and I look away before I fantasize about kissing him again. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

“It was my pleasure.” He raises his hand to knock on the door, but stops himself and turns back to me. “I implore you to call me if you need any further assistance. I would be more than happy to carry out my threats to Lord Blackburn.”