Love's Guardian (16 page)

“Lord Worthington deemed it necessary for me to stay with him.” She made a conscious effort to stop worrying at her dance card.

“I’m sure Lord Worthington had his reasons”—Luther’s eyebrows raised—“but surely you aren’t staying there alone?”

Declan moved closer to her. She could see the tension in his jaw as his gaze narrowed on Luther.

“My mother and sister are staying with me.” His voice held thinly veiled anger. “You needn’t worry. She’s well chaperoned. I’ll take good care of her until she’s married.”

“I’m sure you will.” Luther plucked at the lace around his sleeve. “Well, little cousin, perhaps Lord Worthington will allow us to dance. You can tell me what you've been doing since you arrived.”

“Another time, Lord Addington.” Her guardian became politely formal. “Lady Lochsdale just told me she’s tired. I’m taking her home.”

Declan put his hand at the small of her back and propelled her toward the door. They stopped long enough to say goodnight to his aunt and cousin, but she knew Luther watched every movement from across the room. Relief swept over her when they stepped outside, away from the malice in his eyes.

Declan didn’t want to be in an enclosed carriage with Alex, alone, at night. He sighed. There really hadn’t been a choice. Either he took her with him, or he left her there for Addington to play his games.

“I really wasn’t that tired,” Alex commented as Declan handed her up into the carriage. “Isn’t Catrina going to miss you?”

“Morgan will take her home.” He’d already made arrangements for him to do so. Catrina was beginning to annoy him. Two nights of being constantly at her side could try anyone’s patience. He got in and sat across from Alex, making sure their knees didn’t touch.

It was warm for the beginning of June. Alex removed her cloak and set it beside her on the seat. He wished she’d put it back on.

She wore her mother’s dark green gown. Damn, he’d been right about how she’d look in that dress. The simplicity of the lines, as well as her upswept hair with two fat curls trailing over her shoulder helped accentuate her fragile beauty.

Why couldn’t the fabric have come to her neck? Instead, it dipped down, exposing the tops of her creamy breasts. He closed his eyes. Maybe he could feign sleep.

“Lord Worthington, tell me about yourself. I know so little about you, but you know a great deal about me.”

He stared at her not-so-innocent expression dimly visible in the carriage. Why the sudden curiosity? Wary, he wished he had the slightest inkling what she was up to. “What do you want to know?”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“Are your father or mother alive?”

“No.”

“Are you going to answer any of my questions with more than one syllable?”

“No.”

“A man of mystery. I bet everything I read about you in those newssheets is true. Did you really challenge the Duke of York to a horse race on Derby Day?”

“Yes.”

“I’d love to go.” She absently brushed at one of the curls that had worked its way into her cleavage.

He had difficulty taking his eyes away from the spot. When he did, he realized Alex gazed at him expectantly. “What?”

“Could we go to Derby Day?”

He shook his head, feeling somewhat bemused. “Of course. I’ll see to the arrangements. It’s three weeks from Saturday.” He hadn’t been there in years. Unlike most females, he suspected Alex would enjoy it.

“What if I’m betrothed by then?”

He found it incomprehensible that in three short weeks she could belong to someone else. Surely it would take longer than that.

Without warning, the coach lurched around a corner, feeling as if it rode on only two of its four wheels. The waxed leather seat gave Declan little purchase. He grabbed for the loop near the door, missed, and found himself tossed to the floor. Alex soon followed, landing on top of him in a tangle of limbs. He tried to straighten in the cramped space, grunting slightly as his back struck one of the warming bricks.

The horses snorted, and frantic curses filled the air as the carriage lurched hard to the left, then righted itself before coming to a stop. Quiet descended.

Alex had landed so that her chin came even with his forehead, and her attempts to right herself brought about a different kind of pain.

“Please stop wiggling.” He managed to get the words out between gritted teeth. “Are you hurt?” His question created a puff of warm air that reflected back at him from the alabaster perfection of her throat.

“No.”

His breathing quickened. Her welcoming curves pressed along his entire length. He shifted, the slight friction rubbing his now throbbing manhood against her. His brain refused to work.

Unable to resist, he nuzzled forward until his lips traced the soft skin exposed to him. He inhaled her fragrance. The smell of vanilla, mixed with her unique scent, was driving him wild.

With his tongue, he traced a small circle on her neck. She tasted salty. He licked the spot, moistening it for his kiss.

Just as he was about to press his lips to the tender area, Alex shimmied down his body and gave him access to her mouth. She couldn’t have been aware how erotic her movements were. Dazed, he drew her to him. His demanding kiss went far beyond all rational thought. A groan escaped him as he cupped her face, then moved his hands further back to remove the pins from her hair and twine his fingers in her glorious mane.

“My lord, my lady, you all right?” The driver’s voice came from somewhere above them. He stiffened.

With his hands on her shoulders, Declan lifted Alex off of him and settled her onto the seat before the driver’s torch could illuminate the inside of the carriage. “We’re fine.” He scrambled back onto his seat and picked up Alex’s cloak from the floor.

The coachman opened the door and peered inside. “Sorry about the turn. Didn’t ken I had that much speed. Saw the street at the last minute. These flambeaux aren’t much help.”

While attempting to straighten his cravat, Declan peered at the driver in the flickering light. “How much farther?”

“It’s just ahead. A few hundred yards.”

“Good, we’ll walk the rest of the way.” He handed Alex down from the carriage, paid the driver, then placed the cloak around her shoulders. They started down the street, and after several minutes, Alex broke the silence.

“You never answered my question. Will you still take me to Derby Day if I’m betrothed?”

Thank God she was going to ignore his indiscretion in the carriage. “That will be up to your future husband to decide. Once you’re married, we won’t be seeing much of each other.”

“I see.” She stopped, and he joined her, even though he had no desire to halt their progress. With her hand on his arm, she studied his face. “Will that make you happy?”

What did she want from him? He understood the rapier-wielding hoyden in breeches better than this woman. “Alex, you aren’t making sense. Three weeks ago you couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

“I’ve gotten rather used to having you around.” She wrapped her cloak tighter about her body. “I thought you might miss me.”

“Let’s see, what might I miss about you? Trying to keep you from danger? No, I prefer my life quiet. Stepping in every time you use that knife of yours? I rather enjoy my skin intact.”

“How about stolen kisses?”

So, she wasn’t going to ignore what happened in the carriage after all. He lifted her chin so the light from the nearby torch played across her features. She didn’t look real. “I’ll not deny my attraction to you. But that’s all it is.” Hope seemed to die in her eyes. “Dammit, Alex, I have my life planned, and you’re not a part of it.”

She jerked out of his grasp. “You’d rather be lonely. So be it.” She turned and ran the last few feet, up the steps, and into the house.

Lonely? Just because he’d learned to depend on himself didn’t make him lonely, did it? He enjoyed her company, but when she was gone, would he miss her? That tiny part of him he’d considered dead answered.

Yes.

Alex threw herself on her bed, her skirts flying in every direction. She reached up under them and yanked out the rump and hip pads, tearing off one of the ties in the process. She struggled with the lacings up the back of the gown and finally took out her knife. With a feeling of satisfaction, she cut the satin strips.

Dressed only in her chemise, she sat down at the end of her poster bed and laid a cheek against the cool, polished wood. Lady Bradford had been wrong. She’d been through all the balls and suitors for nothing. How could she make Declan jealous if he didn’t love her? Her throat constricted, and she swallowed several times, trying to ease the tension. She’d made a fool of herself, but no more.

Tomorrow she would give Declan her list. There were only four names she would even consider. All four were out to increase their wealth with her holdings. She hoped their greed would make them manageable.

Lord Duprey was the only one on the list she worried about when it came to the marriage bed. He had a look in his eye she didn’t like, but he would be preferable to Luther.

She lay back, staring at the ceiling. If only the driver hadn’t opened the door. There was no doubt Declan desired her, but if she made love to him, would it make a difference? She’d broken with convention all her life, but this time she was afraid of the consequences.

“Milady, there’s a Lord Addington here to see you. I left him in the drawing room.”

Alex looked up from the letter she’d been writing to Eleanor. Her maid seemed a bit anxious. Luther had that effect on people.

“Thank you, Mary. Do you know where Lord Worthington is?”

“He left early this morning.”

“When is he expected back?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Are Lady Bradford or Lady Anna in?”

“They’ve gone on their afternoon calls. No one’s in residence, milady.” Mary studied the floor, as if tying to find a spot she’d missed in cleaning. “Besides, Lord Addington seemed very anxious to see you alone. He said to tell you he had some information about Lord Worthington.”

What trouble was Luther trying to stir up? She sighed and put her ink and quill away. She might as well face him. He’d keep coming back until she did. “That will be all, Mary. I’ll see him.”

The maid left. Alex dusted her letter and slipped it in the drawer of her writing desk, then took Berta’s shawl out of the window bench and wrapped it around her shoulders. It wasn’t cold this morning, but she needed its reassuring feel.

She entered the brightly lit drawing room and stopped a few feet from the gold brocade settee. Luther sat in a high-backed chair beside the fire, snuffbox in hand. He rose. His cream colored breeches were a perfect match for his velvet coat. Pale lace spilled from his cravat and draped at his wrists.

The man had the appearance of an angel. Then why did she have the feeling he was going to put her through hell? “Lord Addington, this is a surprise.”