Lady Falls (Black Rose Trilogy) (9 page)

She craved another encounter with Phillip and longed to prove that the exchange in the gazebo was not a unique or fleeting experience, but she didn’t trust herself to sit unmoved while he was nearby.  Lord Trent missed nothing when it came to her and she wasn’t ready for his interrogation. 

Not yet.

Why is it that when it comes to Phillip, I have the sinking sensation that I will never be ready for what lies ahead?

Chapter Eight

The following morning, Raven stopped in the library to pick up another book for her bed stand.  She’d only just settled on what she hoped would be a distracting read to help her sleep better when she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned with a smile thinking Phillip had found her again only to realize it was Lord Morley.  He was wearing his riding clothes but she couldn’t tell whether he was fresh from a ride or just heading out.  In either case, the sight of him no matter what he was wearing was enough to jar her senses and bring her to her feet.

“Lord Morley!  Are you…”

“Miss Wells.  I would normally ask what you are reading but in your case, I find the idea fills me with trepidation.”

“Why, Lord Morley?  Are you afraid that it may be something wholly inappropriate?” Raven said as she held out the book toward him.  “I will disappoint you when you see that it is a study of the history of the Celts.”

“Perhaps.  Though from what I’ve encountered in you, I would recommend you avoid everything to do with rebellion lest some portion of that treatise on those savages inspire you to play the harridan.”  Lord Morley kept his hands behind his back.  “Women need not read of battles.”

Raven squared her shoulders, determined to hold her own but also to give no offense to a guest of the manor.  “I will set it aside while you are here, sir.”

He shifted his stance, studying her.  “I am glad to find you alone.”

“Are you?”

“I wanted to speak to you as directly as possible and it seems I have my chance.”

“On what subject, sir?”

“On the matter of my wife.”

Raven was sure her heart’s rhythm changed and a trickle of icy fear tumbled down her back.  “Your wife?  Why would you wish to talk to me about your wife, your lordship?”

“I cannot help but suspect that you have formed a friendship with Millicent.”

“Suspect?  An odd word choice when it comes to the natural alliance of women during a country party.”  Raven kept the hold on her book deliberately gentle so that nothing in her carriage would give away the wariness that had gripped her.  “What do you fear?”

“I fear nothing.”  His eyes were cold.  “Millicent is like a child in many ways and enjoys your silly games and diversions.  Well and good.  But I do not approve of the way Trent has given you free rein.  You will not speak as you did at that picnic in front of my wife.  I will not have you thoughtlessly spewing your opinions as an infant vomits porridge.”

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.  Is it the nature of my opinions that offends you so?  Or that I possess a mind of my own?” Raven lifted her chin. 

Lord Morley stared at her, aghast.  “It is this attitude you will refrain from displaying in her presence!”

“Do you fear that I will set some kind of perverse example for your wife?” Raven asked calmly.  “Surely Lady Morley is a woman grown and not prone to paying the slightest attention to the conversation of an ill-behaved girl.”

“No woman of quality would!” he growled.

“Then you should feel nothing but relief!” she sighed as if the matter were happily settled. 

“You steer clear of me and mine, Raven Wells!” Lord Morley took a menacing step toward her but Raven didn’t flinch.

“Yes, your lordship.  As the law dictates, your wife is yours to rule.”  Raven matched his move with one of her own and pressed the book in her hands squarely against his chest.  “But you must bear in mind, I am not any man’s to rule and if you think to command me, you’re a fool.”

“How dare you!”

Raven stepped back and curtsied.  “I will naturally do as you wish, Lord Morley, and be the meekest version of myself in your wife’s presence.”

His mouth fell open at her unexpected capitulation and the sight of a very innocent and yielding girl looking at him contritely through lashes the color of blackest soot.  The shift was so fast, he could barely fathom it.  “You…called me a fool.” 

“I?  No!  I said if you thought to overstep with me, then that would make you a fool.  But you are no fool, sir.  Are you not?”

“Trent should beat you within an inch of your life.”

She looked up at him aware of the void at her feet.  Her mistake in taunting him clanged against her ribcage. 
All that rage, and he can’t touch me.  But, oh god…his wife will be within reach and I may have condemned her to the worst of it. 
“Please.”  Tears filled her eyes and she allowed her very genuine fear to show.  “I reacted poorly to your request because—I thought you were mocking me!  Your wife dislikes me, sir and for you to forbid a friendship seemed…cruel.”

“Millicent dislikes you?” he asked.

“As you do!  I’ve made an abysmal showing and….” Her voice hitched and she put a hand to her throat.  “I will say no more.”

Lord Morley nodded, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.  “See that you don’t and I will not share this exchange with your guardian.”

“Thank you, your lordship.”

“Ah!  There you are, Morley!” The earl hailed from the doorway.  “We are set to mount up, man!”

“Of course.”  Lord Morley turned stiffly and headed toward the earl.  “I spotted your ward and lingered to thank her for amusing Millicent with that game yesterday.  It was a good tonic after her cold.”

“Yes, yes, Raven is a delight.  Come on, man!  We’ve gotten Sheffield up in the saddle so there’s no time to waste.” The earl saluted Raven with his riding crop and smartly turned to lead his guest out.

She waited until she heard the front door close behind them before she raced up to her room to ring for Kitty. 

Within minutes, Kitty was there.  “It’s early to change, mistress, but what may I do for you?”

“You must tell Mrs. Lindstrom to find Lady Morley immediately and tell her that if her husband questions her, she is to express nothing but dislike for me.  He is unhappy at any hint of a friendship between us and I…may have angered him when he confronted me on the topic.  Kitty, she must be warned and prepared!”

“Oh, my!” Kitty sighed.  “Where is he now?”

“Off for a ride with the other men, so there is no time to waste.”

“I’ll see to it but please, miss.  Between a husband and wife, there is no place for you to be caught meddling!”

“Yes.  Brilliant advice.  Thank you, Kitty.”  Raven crossed her arms.  “Now, go and do as you are bid.  Mrs. Lindstrom will have to be the messenger as quickly as she can.”

Kitty nodded and left on her urgent errand. 

Raven sat down at her vanity table and tried to absorb the developments of her afternoon.  She’d intended nothing more than being a supportive soul during Lady Morley’s stay.  Clearly Millicent’s husband wasn’t open to any such casual connections…

Raven looked at her reflection in the mirror and weighed out her choices. 

Obedience and retreat as Lord Morley wished.

Only if that is what Lady Morley truly wishes.

She did not know the lady’s mind well enough to hazard a guess. 

“Well, that,” she announced to an approving mirror, “is something I will rectify.  And if the lady desires an ally in truth, then so be it!  A few books on the art of war may be just what my education is lacking.” 

After lunch, she waited for the men to return from their ride and approached the earl in his study before he retired to his rooms to rest and change for dinner. 

“Raven?  Why do you look so glum?”

“I am sorry to intrude on your day, but I fear I may have failed to show restraint and allowed my temper to get the better of me today.”  Raven held her place just inside the doorway. 

“What have I taught you about restraint?”

“Very little.”  Raven’s brow furrowed, truly concentrating on the puzzle.  “That it serves only at tea parties and social gatherings.”

“And otherwise?”

“Otherwise I should trust my instincts and rein in my impulses only when they might cause true harm.  You said it was a mark of intelligence to be bold where others are cautious.” Raven touched her forehead to cool her temples.  “Frankly, it is the one lesson you have repeated so often I wonder that you did not carve it over my doorway.  “I should be bold when others are cautious.”

“Good girl.”

“Your lordship?” Raven smoothed out her skirts.  “I have the distinct impression that boldness is not often associated with ‘goodness’ when it comes to the fairer sex.  I tend to anger your more conservative friends.  But…”

“Never fear the natural order of things, my dear.  And if we carry this analogy forward, then real men are hunters and far more likely to admire a tigress over some paralyzed timid warthog.”

Raven smiled.  “I see.  Well, when you put it that way, it is hard to see the appeal of a warthog to anyone.”

“You know I hate women who simper.  I always have.  Is it any wonder that I should strive to instill in you a fearlessness that others in your sex lack?  They may not always admit it, Raven, but every woman around you brims with envy at your courage of character.  Ignore them.  Life is short.  You must seize what pleasures you can in this wretched world and demand your full measure.”

She nodded.  Lord Trent was warming to the familiar topic, his voice rising and the cadence increasing with his passions.  Whenever he was like this, she knew that the time for true debate was gone.  His ecstatic conversations were often entertaining, but they could easily turn to fury or despair.  Her guardian’s moods were as changeable as the weather, and his emotional storms just as violent.

“Is it unconventional?  Yes!  But what a priceless gift to you, girl!  What need we of useless rules?  Conventions are a tool in your hands, not a prison!  Do you see the difference?  The smallest and wildest animal is free to rely on their instincts.  You are meant to be free, aren’t you, dearest?  Free to follow your heart and your passions?  For if humans are superior to dumb beasts, then why would we have fewer freedoms?  Why would we enjoy less?”

Raven blinked.  He was veering close to the edge of mania and she dreaded it.  “Fear not, Lord Trent.  I will be bold where others are cautious.”

He looked back at her, his expression slightly surprised as if he’d forgotten his audience. “Yes, yes.  Go.  Go and for god sakes, at dinner I expect to see you in those ruby and diamond hairpins I bought you.”

“Oh,” Raven stood quickly, grateful for her dismissal but slightly confused.  “I thought you wished me to save them for London.”

His lips pressed together in a tight line of disapproval.  “Don’t be stupid.  If ever you were going to appear like a wealthy heiress, it is now, Raven.  What the hell good are those jewels doing in some dull cupboard?  Shine, girl, shine!”

She dropped her head in submission but then caught herself.  He hated simpering females.  Raven lifted her chin and gave him a saucy smile as she curtsied.  “I will blind everyone at dinner with my display, sir.”

“That’s my girl!  There she is!” Trent beamed, clapping his hands.  “My daring little duchess!”

Raven retreated from his study at a good pace, hoping he interpreted the speed as her eagerness to please and not her desire to flee him while his mood held.  Years in his company had given her enough practice in the art of strategic withdrawals to last a lifetime.  But
she knew that he meant well and was a victim of his passions.  Poor man, she thought, it is probably why he has never married as that sharp wit and uneven temperament has likely frightened off more than one “simpering female” in his path.

Perhaps I will challenge Lady Baybrook to apply her talents for matchmaking to Lord Trent.  Even if she fails, it might be entertaining to watch things unfold…

Chapter Nine

Phillip was disappointed not to see her the next morning.  The previous night, she’d dazzled in a red gown with rubies in her dark hair and he’d struggled to hold his own.  It had been two days since he’d kissed her in the gazebo and there’d been no opportunity to find her alone since then.  He was wracking his brain to think of an excuse to change places with Mr. Carlton at dinner or to invite her on some innocent outing without the older women catching his scent. 

He’d finally landed on a scheme to offer to teach her to play cards or chess after the meal but he’d missed his chance to speak to her.  The dry tenor of male conversation had grated against his nerves and he’d tried not to count the endless minutes before the earl finally finished his port and signaled the return to the salon where the ladies awaited them.  Only to be greeted by Raven’s absence and the conveyance of her polite apologies for her retreat to her guardian by way of Mrs. Carlton.

Not that he’d expected to be able to say very much with so many witnesses in attendance.  The earl was in a grand mood but it would have evaporated if Phillip weren’t careful.

To appease Sheffield and put on a good face, he’d agreed to a bridge game though not to any betting.  Despite everything, he’d stayed up far too late.  As a result, he’d missed breakfast entirely and wasn’t sure where any of the other guests had gone for the day.  The days were passing too quickly and a new desperation was starting to seep into his thoughts.  Phillip walked the estate aimlessly and then wandered back toward the house in his best attempt at a casual search for Raven that wouldn’t look like a search.  One of the footmen gave him a strange look when he recrossed the foyer for the third time and Phillip accepted defeat.

So much for my career as a spy!

“May I direct you somewhere, sir?”

It was too late to lie to preserve his dignity.  “I was wondering where Miss Wells could be found?”

To the footman’s credit, his expression didn’t change.  “She is commonly found in the solarium at this time of the day, Mr. Warrick.  It’s the third door past the blue salon.”

“Thank you.” 

Phillip made his way down the hallway and found the door open to a room that obviously occupied the corner of the manor facing southeast.  A wall of windows created a bright oasis that looked out over a carefully landscaped miniature orchard.  The room was arranged for conversations amidst wrought iron racks of ornate plants and broad leafy ferns.  Phillip stepped in to see if she had selected one of the padded seats but Raven was nowhere to be found.

He raked his fingers through his hair.  “This is ridiculous.”

“Pardon?”

He wheeled toward the sound of her voice, amazed to discover that she was on the floor in the corner sitting amidst several embroidered Japanese-style cushions; a book of poetry in her hands.  He blinked at the vision of Raven Wells with skirts the color of red sea coral pooled around her like a fairy queen sitting on a lily pad.  Never in his life had he seen a woman sit so provocatively on the floor, an exotic pasha eschewing the nonsense of western chairs.

It had never occurred to him to look down when he’d come in.

“I meant…that I felt…”

Before he could hold out his hand, she gracefully rose from the cushions unaided, a smile on her face.  “You have come upon me in one of my favorite hiding spots, Mr. Warrick.”

He eyed the emerald green silk cushions on the ground.  “Miss Wells.  Do you ever do or say anything expected?”

“Of course not.  What would be the purpose?” she answered with a smile.  “Besides from all that I’ve read, most men don’t expect a woman to do much of anything beyond the limits of their imaginations so why bother trying to be predictable?”

“Miss Wells.”  He stepped closer and lost his train of thought.

“Yes?”

“Who are you hiding from?”

“Must I choose only one?  I think it might be Lady Baybrook.”  She leaned in with a mischievous smile.  “I have the distinct impression that she longs to rap my knuckles with her fan.”

The scent of her hair and her skin permeated his senses and the bloom of familiar heat spread throughout his frame.  Kissing her again was inevitable.  “I don’t think you are a child to be punished.”

“No.  But I fear I can be naughty all the same.”

Damn it. 
His body tightened instantly and Phillip had to shift his weight to make sure his coat was shielding his state from her view.  She was already so close that pulling her into his arms would have been as effortless as taking a breath.  “Miss Wells.  You have an amazing gift for saying the most unpredictable things.”

“So I have been told.” Raven studied him for a moment.  “Do you still have an aversion to optimism, Mr. Warrick?”

“It has faded considerably.”

“Has it?”

“Truth be told, your company could make an undertaker smile, Miss Wells.”

“You weren’t all that sour to begin with, sir.” She reached out to playfully push one hand against his shoulder and he caught her bare fingers in his, trapping her touch and impulsively extending the contact.  

He waited for her to hesitate, to demand that he take no such liberties or chide him for coming to her alone.  He meant to prove to her that no matter what he’d demonstrated in the gazebo, he was perfectly capable of restraint and gentlemanly conduct.

Capable, yes. 

Her youth and inexperience meant she was relying on his self-discipline and stronger will to prevail over hers.  But when Raven Wells placed her bare fingers over his heart a thousand trails of fire began to work through his body and her eyes met his without shame—there was nothing to prove.

“Will you ask me to dance on Saturday, Mr. Warrick?”

“You and no other.”

“How scandalous!” she gasped with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.  “You will set every woman in the county against me, sir!”

He touched her chin to tip her face up toward his.  “Would you rather I didn’t?  Shall I appease them and make a show of filling up dance cards?”

“No.”

“I see.  So I am to stand against the wall with a foreboding scowl on my face while you take the floor with all those ‘local young bucks’?” he teased.

She looked at him through the flirtatious veil of her dark lashes.  “Will you?”

“I have decided that when it comes to you, Raven Wells, I will always strive to be first.”

“First?”

“You gifted me with your first kiss and I hope with your first dance…” He reached up with his hand to touch the velvet soft curve of her face.  “I find that I am hungry to retain the privilege to always be first in all things when it comes to you.”

“You and no other hold that privilege, sir,” she whispered.

He kissed her.  He kissed her because to not kiss her was an impossibility.  Only this time, there was no preamble of cautious exploration.  The embers of desire ignited at the first touch of his lips to hers and time folded to create the illusion that he had never let her go.  Civilized restraint evaporated when she sighed against him, melting into his frame so that the weight and contours of her body were pressed toward his.  Her mouth parted for the onslaught of his tongue, an eager offering that proved his beautiful siren had forgotten none of the lessons of the gazebo. 

Wildfire swept through his veins, so fast that he knew he had to slow them down.  He lifted his chin to deny her access to his mouth but Raven’s hunger was not so easily thwarted.  She shyly kissed his throat instead, her tongue flicking shyly over his adam’s apple and making him groan.  His arms tightened around her, lifting her from the floor. 

“Am I hurting you?” she asked softly. 

“Not at all,” Phillip shook his head with a smile.  “Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

“Wha-what?”

He turned the tables on her, sliding his mouth down the pulse of her neck.  Raven’s reaction was clear.  He’d meant to teach her a lesson on just how delectable her touch had felt but as she arched her back, writhing against him, sighing and gasping, Phillip was lost.

“Yes!” She cried out sweetly.  “Oh, my!  This is….impossible!  Phillip!”

Her innocent candor was beyond disarming.  Other women may have pretended a weak protest while their hands were finding the buttons to his pants but there was no mistaking the genuine surprise and fearless fire in Raven’s eyes.  It was power he had never known to show her what a kiss could bring—and a paralyzing responsibility.

“Please don’t stop!” she pleaded tipping her head to one side to offer the enticing porcelain of her neck to taste.  “It’s so lovely!”

Oh, god.  My beautiful shameless girl!

He complied to gently kiss the warm column of her neck again, lingering briefly at the well behind her ear only to land at the juncture where her shoulder sloped across, playfully grazing the most sensitive points of her skin with his teeth. 

Raven clung to him, shuddering and dancing on the tips of her toes to stretch upward, as a flower following the sun.  His hands sought her skin, exploring only what he could reach.  Modest fashions gave him very little but Phillip was in no mood to complain.  Even so, it was too easy to lightly trail over fabric and imagine the flesh beneath, the contours and textures of her breasts; Phillip covered the rise of her breasts, cupping them to take full measure of the bounty that was Raven.

“More, oh, please, whatever this is I beg you not to stop!”

Damn it! 
He lifted her up against him, kissing her again to sample the hot silk of her mouth, the velvet of her tongue; pressing her against his frame, willing her to become aware of just how much he needed her.  Raven transformed into a sensual human vine entwining her fingers into his hair and ranging over his back and shoulders, eagerly seeking to map his body.

“Yes, oh, yes!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Trent’s voice was as startling to the pair as a gunshot and Phillip released her immediately to put her on her feet before shifting to shield her with his back while Raven quickly readjusted her skirts and tried to restore her hairpins.  Phillip winced at the humiliating awareness that the buttons of his pants were straining to hold his raging erection and if Trent hadn’t come in, it would be hard to deny where things were headed.

I can lie to myself if I wish but those silk pillows on the floor would have served and…shit! 

Of all the ways he’d wanted to present his attachment to Miss Wells to Trent, being discovered in a completely inappropriate embrace in the man’s solarium was very near the bottom.  “I apologize, Lord Trent.” Phillip kept his voice steady.  “It is entirely my fault.  Miss Wells has done nothing to encourage my—“

“Raven, to your room.  Leave, Mr. Warrick and I alone to talk.”

Her sigh of defeat was quiet enough that only Phillip could hear it, but she obediently stepped out with her head held high.  “Your lordship.  Please.”

“Go.”  Trent’s voice was as yielding as granite and Raven was forced to leave without a word, no doubt convinced that whatever she said would only make things worse for Phillip.

Damn.  If he throws me out, I’m going to have to kidnap that woman.

Hell, when did my life become a penny novel?

“Warrick.”  Geoffrey came closer and eyed him the way a general would an errant officer.  “I know you’re expecting a bit of a tantrum but we are grown men and too seasoned for the scene, don’t you think?”

“Too seasoned?”

“Can I say that you are still young, Warrick, a man in his prime at twenty-eight without admitting to being the dusty old man?”

“You’re hardly old, Lord Trent, and I would hope to be old enough not to use youth as an excuse for my behavior.”  Phillip squared his shoulders.  “I’m not a child to cry ignorance.”

Trent smiled.  “It’s to your credit then.  But Raven…” His smile faded.  “She is not for you.”

It was the last thing he’d expected to hear and shock tempered his reply.  “Pardon me?  Does that mean that you have another suitor in mind?”

“No.  In truth, no,” Geoffrey shook his head.  “Not exactly, but the Phillip Warrick I have come to know, the one who decries gambling and has fiercely guarded his conduct since I met him last—earning a reputation for his serious attention to his duties…”  Geoffrey sighed.  “You need a woman made of sterner stuff, with an eye to economy and a simpler spirit.”

“I’d die of boredom.”

“That’s what you think but trust me.  Slow and steady wins the race.”  The earl’s tone took on a fatherly note.  “It’s my turn to apologize for spoiling Raven so.  She’ll make an ambitious match in London this season thanks to word of her vast dowry.  She will plague some filthy rich man with her philosophies and pretty looks.  But you’re a sensible soul, my boy.  All the wealth in England should not induce you to marry against your better judgment.”

Phillip had to close his eyes for a moment against the torrent of disbelief coursing through him.  He opened them with a determination to clarify his position.  “I am apparently less sensible than you believe and do not aspire to all the wealth in England.”

Trent held up a hand to stop him.  “There is no harm in a kiss if that is the extent of it—is that the extent of it so far, Warrick?”