Her Notorious Viscount (8 page)

“I will not go to your chamber, Lord Stoneworth!” she snapped.

He flinched at the use of his brother’s title, but ignored it this time. “Then how do you propose you examine my wardrobe, my dear?”

She sputtered and blinked as she pondered that question. A few times she parted her lips, but then snapped them shut as if she had come up with an idea, but reconsidered it. Finally, she pursed her mouth in frustration.

“I suppose it is the only way. But I cannot teach you to be gentlemanly and then allow you to do something so
ungentlemanly
as taking me to your room alone.”

Nicholas smothered a smile. He didn’t think any other woman had ever argued so strenuously against joining him in his chamber. Which made Jane utterly tempting.

But after his loss of control the last time he kissed her, he supposed she was correct in her assessment of their situation. If he was alone with her, with no chance of being caught, and passion struck him…well, it might not end with a mere kiss.

“My valet of sorts is upstairs and not yet asleep like the remaining servants. I could have him stand by in the room with us to ensure that I do not ravish you.”

She stiffened at his choice of words, but then nodded once. “Yes. That would suffice. For future reference, though, an ideal chaperone would be another woman. Normally she would be older and married. But under these strange circumstances, I would accept a servant of any kind. As long as you feel you can trust him.”

Nicholas motioned to the door and led her down the hallway and up the stairs toward the bedchambers. “Oh yes,” he murmured as he paused at Rage’s door. “I trust him.”

Jane blinked as he knocked. “You have your valet sleep in a family chamber?” she whispered. “Honestly, Nicholas, we must talk about—”

But before she could finish her admonishment, the door to Rage’s chamber opened.

Jane broke off as she looked up and up at him. Nicholas had never uncovered many facts about Rage’s upbringing, but had always assumed his friend was raised on the streets. Despite the fact that he was well-spoken and highly intelligent, Rage had a rough, wary quality that most street folk had. A wan, sad knowledge of the world and all its evils.

But unlike some, who became beggars or were crushed by the experience entirely, Rage had become strong. He and Nicholas had only fought in matches a few times, but even when they sparred, Rage was a handful for Nicholas. Powerful, skilled in his knowledge of where a punch could do the most devastation.

Rage’s nose was a bit crooked from one too many fights, his skin was dark with sun, and his hair was close cropped to his head. Jane shot Nicholas a glare, and he realized she recognized his friend for what he was.

And that was no servant.

“Miss Jane Fenton, may I present to you Ronan ‘Rage’ Riley. He is my best friend, my sparring partner, and yes, occasionally my valet. And Rage, this is Jane.”

“Miss Fenton,” Rage said coolly. Nicholas saw his brief, blunt appraisal and then the quick, roguish grin of approval.

“Good evening,” she said, hardly looking at Rage. Instead, she folded her arms and glared at Nicholas. “You know this still isn’t proper! This man is no ordinary servant. In fact, he’s not really a servant at all, is he?”

Rage remained silent, even when Jane sent him a quick side glance, as if her question were for him, not Nicholas. But she didn’t quite understand how loyal the men were. Rage wouldn’t reveal anything until he was certain of Nicholas’s motives.

“Perhaps not,” Nicholas answered instead. “But since most of the other servants are off doing personal business or sleeping in their warm beds, you have few choices. We either use Rage as chaperone or we wake everyone else and line them up so you can choose the correct one, and thus expose yourself to their remarks and questions later.”

Jane let out a sigh so loud and low that it seemed to vibrate from her chest. Then she threw up her hands in surrender.

“Very well. I suppose you would not try to ‘ravish me,’ as you put it earlier, with your friend standing by.”

Rage flashed a quick smile since that had never stopped either of them before, but Nicholas sent him a look to keep him quiet.

Luckily Jane hadn’t noticed and continued, “Have I mentioned to you before that you are utterly impossible?”

Nicholas grinned as he motioned for Rage to accompany them down the hallway to his own chamber. “At least once, my dear. But it never hurts to hear a compliment over and over.”

But now all that was flying back in Nicholas’s face because after her initial shock at encountering yet another uncouth boxer, Jane seemed to have fallen under Rage’s sway. Every time the other man spoke, she smiled. His ridiculous jokes about the “sad state” of Nicholas’s wardrobe made her laugh. And she seemed endlessly interested in his fighting career and past.

In short, everything that irritated her about Nicholas seemed to delight her in Rage.

Jane turned to him for the first time in what felt like an hour.

“It is clear to me after examining your attire that you need an entirely new set of clothing.” She motioned to his open wardrobe with one hand. “Most of your things are befitting your activities in the underground, but will not suit in the life you will now embark upon. And those things that you have that are more sophisticated seem to be from the time before you left Society. They no longer fit you well, and fashions change, even for men.”

Nicholas set his jaw. The last thing he wanted was to waste some ungodly amount of time standing for a tailor. But there was nothing to be done about it. Even before they had come upstairs, he’d known what Jane would say.

He just hadn’t realized it would amuse Rage so damned much. His friend was grinning like a fool.

“Fine,” Nicholas said through clenched teeth.

Jane acted as if he hadn’t spoken and turned to his friend. “Mr. Riley, can I depend upon you to ensure that Lord Stoneworth arranges for a tailor to come here tomorrow? And if I leave a list of items he will require, will you see to it that those things will be measured for and ordered?”

Nicholas moved between them with a growl of displeasure. “I said yes. I do not require supervision in such a simple task.”

Jane shrugged as she snapped his wardrobe shut. “If you want to convince anyone that Mr. Riley is your valet, then these are the sorts of things he will be required to arrange. You are no longer living in the underground, gentlemen. A man of Nicholas’s stature does very little for himself.”

Nicholas felt all the fire bleeding out of him at that comment. That was what he hated most about this entire situation. If he fully accepted the burden of his brother’s life, he would be subject to all manner of rules, regulations, and expectations. His independence would be torn away, leaving him nothing more than a dressed-up tiger in a circus. Caged, toothless, unable to change his fate.

“Are we finished here?” he asked.

His feelings must have been reflected in his voice, for both Jane and Rage looked at him with twin expressions of surprise. Then Jane’s look softened.

“Yes,” she said. “It is very late and I should be going. Lady Ridgefield is planning a party in three days. Until it is over, she will likely keep much closer watch on me.” She sighed softly. “In these situations, she sometimes even comes to me in the night with new ideas.”

Nicholas shot his friend a look and Rage held out a hand to Jane. “Miss Fenton, it has been a pleasure.”

She extended her own hand without hesitation and even blushed when Rage lifted it to his lips instead of shaking it. Nicholas’s humor dropped even further as his friend left them alone.

“Well,” she said softly, moving toward the door. “Good night.”

“Wait,” he said, suddenly loath to have her go since they would not see each other for a few days. “Let me accompany you.”

She hesitated. “But—”

He cut her off. “It is late. I would feel better if I saw you to Lady Ridgefield’s. I won’t exit the vehicle, simply wait until I see you go inside.”

Jane worried her lower lip a moment. “Very well.”

Jane wasn’t exactly certain what she had expected when Nicholas offered to take her home, but it wasn’t this. He was slouched down like a petulant child on the opulent leather carriage seat across from her. He wouldn’t even look at her, and an undefined tension coursed between them.

Was he angry that she couldn’t come back to him for a few days? Did he think she was trying to renege on their agreement? And if he was, would he go back on his end of the bargain?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

She straightened up and looked him in the eye. “Are you angry with me because I cannot return tomorrow?”

He started, almost as if he had forgotten she was there at all. Slowly, he maneuvered to sit up straight. “I knew that your employment might prevent you from coming to my home at will. I assume you are not lying to me about Lady Ridgefield’s gathering.”

Jane cocked her head. If it wasn’t her absence that upset him, then what was it? For she felt his mood was directed toward her, not just some general aggravation.

“Then have I offended you by my assertion that you need new clothing?” She leaned forward. “If I was too blunt—”

He actually smiled a little, which gave her great relief. “You could never be too blunt for me, my dear.”

“Then allow me to be blunt now,” she said, her frustration with his attitude mounting, though she wasn’t certain why she cared. “You seem to harbor some ill feelings toward me at present. I would like to know what I have done to offend you. If it is not my absence, nor the clothing—”

He moved so swiftly that she hardly had time to react before he was right on top of her. He shifted to her side of the carriage, caught her arm in one hand, and with the other softly covered her lips to stop her talking.

“Look at me, Jane. Do you think I give a damn about clothing?” His thumb moved against her lip, stroking over the skin there.

Jane caught her breath beneath his touch. Her entire body tingled, making her overly aware of her reactions to this man. Her heart pounded so loudly it drowned out nearly all other sounds. Her legs shook, despite the fact that she was seated. And she felt her nipples tighten beneath her gown, although it wasn’t cold in the carriage.

And she was also suddenly hyper aware of the man next to her. How big he was. How he smelled deliciously of sandalwood and foreign spices and something she couldn’t place, but spoke to her on an almost elemental level. She found her gaze drifting from his bright eyes down to his lips.

“If I am in an ill humor,” he continued, his voice low and rough, “it is because I did not like watching you with my friend. I hated that you laughed at his pathetic jokes. That you looked at him at all.”

Jane snatched her gaze from his mouth and back to his eyes. In a hundred years, she never would have guessed that was what troubled him. That…that…well, it was jealousy, wasn’t it?

And it made so sense.

“But—” she began.

He shook his head. “I realize it is utterly foolish. I don’t care about you, so I have no reason to give a damn about who makes you smile. And yet tonight, I did.”

Then his fingers traced up the curve of her jaw and found their way into her hair. He tilted her face gently, and she recognized what he was about to do. And to her shock, relief washed through her as his lips came to press against hers for the second time in as many days.

This time his kiss didn’t surprise her, as it had the first time. What did shock her was the strength of her own reaction. Just as before, a weak, needy feeling spread through her body, starting at the point of contact of their lips and cascading downward until her entire body was on fire.

She didn’t fight the flames, although her fading rational mind screamed at her to do so. To stop him.

Instead, she found herself lifting her hands to the rough material of his sleeves, clinging to his arms and feeling them contract beneath her fingers. Then she was sliding across the carriage seat as he tugged her even closer.

His mouth moved, slow and seductive. Infinitely gentle and powerfully erotic.

It was strange, before he touched her, she would have thought such a large, powerful man would demand with his kiss. Steal. But Nicholas didn’t. He coaxed.

Perhaps because he knew he could take any time he liked, he had trained himself not to do so. He didn’t have to prove his superior strength when it was such an obvious fact.

Whatever the reason, the slow, seductive kiss tore down her defenses, stole her breath, and made her utter a low moan against his lips.

The sound seemed to incite his passions. His fingers stroked along her spine, and she arched against his chest with every wild sensation.

But as quickly as the kiss had begun, he thrust her aside, pushing himself into the farthest corner of the carriage seat and staring at her from the half dark.

“You should go, Jane.”

She shook her head, hoping she could somehow shake away the troubling effect of this man, and found that the carriage had stopped. Out the window, she could see the dark shape of Lady Ridgefield’s house.

She glanced back at him. His eyes practically glowed in the low light, giving him that feral, animal look that she didn’t think she’d ever manage to “train” out of him.

“I—” she began, her lips hot, her hands trembling.

He growled as interruption. “Run, Jane. Before you cannot.”

Without replying, she wrenched the carriage door open, ignoring the footman who had come to offer her assistance, and scurried away across the manicured grass toward the servants’ entrance she had left unlocked earlier in the evening.

And though she never dared look back, she was all too aware that Nicholas didn’t leave until she was safely inside…nor did he tear his hot gaze away from her retreating form.