The Selfless Sister (20 page)

Douglas smiled. “I would be more than honored to show you. Did you know we even have a buttery?”

“Where they made butter?”

“Every house of any size had a buttery where ale and wine were kept, all under the supervision of a yeoman of the buttery.”

“Ah, in other words, the butler?”

He nodded and gestured toward a dais at the other end. “That’s where the lord of the manor used to sit in his stately chair and receive tribute from his tenants.” He laughed and continued, “Lords were much more lordly back then. If I tried that now, my tenants would think I’d gone daft. And privacy wasn’t an issue in the thirteen hundreds. Behind the dais there would have been no more than a leather curtain to divide off the lord’s sleeping area.” He glanced upward. “There used to be a vaulted roof with elaborate high-braced arches. It’s hidden from view now, thanks to one of my less-than-brilliant ancestors. He installed an attic. In so doing, he concealed the beautiful wood-carved arches with this low ceiling.”

“Ah, the attic,” she said, remembering what Lady Perry had said. “Is there really a ghost?”

“So you’ve heard of Sir Giles,” he said, laughing again. She noticed that his laugh produced charming dimples in his cheeks, a fact she’d not noticed before, or perhaps she had never seen him laugh like this before. He continued lightly, “Alas, I have never seen the ghost, nor has anyone in my family. It appears Sir Giles saves his ghostly apparitions for the servants.”

“What does he look like?”

“Except for some sort of white, diaphanous murkiness, he’s invisible. According to the servants, he mainly makes his presence known by a series of moans and the clanking of chains, or some such rot. We used to keep the attic locked, but not anymore. It wasn’t necessary because the servants make a point to steer clear of it.” He drew closer and said softly, “As far as they’re concerned, it’s as if the devil himself lived over our heads.”

His nearness was troublesome and becoming more so. She found his presence overwhelming as he stood there looking at her with that crooked grin on his face. Now, in the dimness of the great hall, in the light cast by flickering flames from the fireplace, she was so conscious of his so very masculine presence, she was finding it hard to breathe with any sense of normality.

His gaze roved and lazily appraised her. “I know what’s going through your head.”

“Do tell,” she said lightly, concealing her chagrin that anyone, especially Lord Belington, might know what she was thinking.

“Tonight you find yourself a woman alone, in the home of a man who is nearly a stranger, and ”—there was a slight twinkle in his eye—”horror of horrors, completely unchaperoned.”

“That’s society’s problem, not mine,” she countered. “You, yourself, said how silly we were not to acknowledge that women have babies. Well, I’ve always thought it totally silly that society decrees a young woman must be chaperoned twenty-four hours a day just because she’s single.” She sniffed indignantly. “If I don’t know how to take care of myself by now then I never shall.”

He answered smoothly, “I admire your honesty.” He stepped closer. “Among other things.” The intimacy of his action caused her to drawn in a sharp, silent breath and her heart to beat faster. He went on, “Do you remember our kiss?” On what seemed to be a sudden impulse, he gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. She noticed his breath was coming faster. “I have not forgotten. I keep thinking of it.”

“So do I.” Now why had she said that? A girl was supposed to pretend indifference. With a jolt she remembered her appearance. Earlier, she’d been so concerned with sneaking Alethea out of Southfield, she’d had no time to run a comb through her hair or even look at herself in a mirror. And this plain blue muslin gown she was wearing was far from her best. How bedraggled she must look!

His heart pounding, Douglas watched Lucinda reach to smooth her hair. “Don’t bother.” He took her hand. “You look beautiful. I cannot tell you what a pleasure it is to see you again.” He wasn’t lying. Her unexpected presence had shaken him to the core, so much so he’d been hard-put to act the casual host. Now, as he looked into her large, expressive eyes and touched her velvety smooth hand, he knew he wanted her. No sense analyzing why he wanted her, he just did, and desperately. “Lucinda,” he whispered, and drew her close, placing his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes, savoring the sweet lavender of her scent.

For a moment, she allowed herself to nestle in his arms. Then she pulled back and regarded him with an expression so full of concern it wrenched his heart. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said. She pulled farther away. “We can’t do this.”

“And why not?”

“Because of Edgerton. Don’t you think one hasty elopement is enough? How much scandal can the countryside stand?”

In frustration, he gripped her shoulders and shoved her to arms’ length. “That’s all you care about—the scandal?”

“Of course not,” she cried, “but I worry about the effect all this will have on my family. Aside from Edgerton, I can only imagine how devastated Alethea’s mother will be when she hears Alethea has not only eloped, but with a Belington. His grandmother, too, will be devastated. How could I possibly add to their grief?”

He was well aware she was only being reasonable, yet his customary predilection toward keen, sensible reasoning had vanished as he looked down at her and saw the gentle swell of her breasts beneath the folds of her blue gown. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that the meticulous caution he always applied to his dealings with women had just been cast aside with the utmost abandon.
Damme, I don’t care
, he thought, as he bent to possess the lips of the one woman in the world he should avoid like the plague.

Feeling Douglas’s lips on hers, Lucinda wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer in complete surrender. She ached for his touch as she thought,
he does care
. She was not sure why she should feel so jubilant, considering Douglas was the last person on this earth she should be involved with, but just the same, she felt a vast gratification that she was again in his arms. She had no idea how long the kiss continued. All she knew was that she was growing increasingly warm all over and that never, in her entire skimpy history of kissing men, had she ever pressed against a man so tightly that she felt every hard inch of him. And reveled in the feel, she thought, as with a moan, he at last raised his lips and half lifting her, settled onto the settee in front of the fireplace, cradling her on his lap, holding her snugly in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed up at him, knowing, not caring, that the glint of eager passion must surely be showing in her eyes. “How beautiful you are,” he whispered, voice husky with passion. “I know we shouldn’t, but—”

“Stop talking and kiss me,” she whispered back. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears as he bent to kiss her again. He went slower this time, scattering kisses down her forehead, her nose, down to her lips which he possessed with an eager cry, covering her mouth hungrily, his breath coming hard. She felt his hand slide slowly, tantalizingly up the side of her gown, clear to her breast. A thrill such as she had never known before shot through her. He raised his lips, but with a whispered, “Umm,” she cupped her hand behind his head and guided him to her lips again, yielding to the burning desire, the aching need, for another kiss. She heard herself moan with a pleasure that radiated outward from the center of her being.

She did not want him to stop. And why should they stop? Alex was gone, the servants had gone to bed, there was no one left awake but the two of them. For the first time in her life, not only was she completely alone with a man, unchaperoned, but she had no fear of discovery. The thought made her giddy, as if she weren’t giddy enough already in the midst of her growing passion! If she so chose, they didn’t have to stop. Here, in the fairy tale castle, this utterly charming, masterful man could take her—make love to her, totally, completely, and they wouldn’t be discovered.

Or would they?

Now she knew how it was possible that Alethea had gotten herself with child.
It could happen to me, too. I really must stop
. His hand moved again, causing tremors of pleasure to course through her, causing passion to rise within her like the hottest fire, clouding her brain. She firmly informed herself that in just a minute she would gather her wits and insist they stop. Definitely, she would do just that, in just a minute. But for now...she felt as if she were floating in a cocoon filled with warm pleasures. Ah, such divine ecstasy! She wanted to cry, I love you! but forced herself to refrain.

Suddenly Douglas pulled his lips from hers in a move so abrupt she gasped. He raised his eyes to something or someone on high. “Good God, what am I doing?” Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her to a sitting position. “We cannot do this,” he said, in a voice hoarse with emotion. She could feel his body trembling. He shoved her from him roughly, arose from the settee and strode to the fireplace where he stood, his back to her, one hand grasping the marble mantle piece, his shoulders heaving as he appeared to be intently examining the flames.

She returned to a sitting position and asked, “Whatever is wrong?” Desperately she smoothed her gown and made an effort to straighten her hair.

He was silent for a time, then turned to face her, his face white and strained. “I want you, Lucinda, more than any woman I have ever wanted in my life. But how can I...?” He could not continue, and began shaking his head in utter disbelief, as if he was amazed at himself. After a deprecating laugh, he went on, “They call me the invulnerable Lord Belington, the man whose heart has always been impervious to love. And so I have been until tonight. I cannot believe that just now I came close to taking you right here, in front of the fire, like some kind of weak-willed, profligate, decadent
—”

“But I, too
—” she tried to protest.

“This is entirely my responsibility.” He shook his head, clearly amazed at himself. “How could I have done this? Especially after Alex
—”

He bit his lip and began to pace, taking long, deliberate strides seemingly intended to calm himself. After a time, he came to sit next to her on the settee again, only this time he sat apart and there was not the slightest hint of intimacy. “My deepest apologies,” he said sincerely. “You are not in any way to blame. I stopped because
—I’m sure you understand.”

Her heart sank. Never had she known such keen disappointment. Only minutes ago she, in her complete naivety, had been about to embark upon a passionate journey with a man she assumed had some genuine feeling for her–-perhaps even love. She was wrong. Had he loved her, he could never have stopped so abruptly and pulled away. How humiliating that she had been willing to risk all for the sake of passion, whereas he, practical man that he was, put his fear of Edgerton Linley far and above any emotion he might have felt for her. Oh, how degrading! She felt like crawling into a hole. At least she hadn’t cried out she loved him, as she had felt like doing. The only course left for her now was to salvage what little dignity was left to her. “You’re right, of course,” she said, managing an indifferent shrug. “My goodness, we did get a bit carried away, so this is all to the good.” She stood. “Where is my cloak? I must go.”

Douglas abruptly disappeared, shortly returned with her cloak, and draped it carefully over her shoulders. “Pitney awaits us in the gig. I shall accompany you home.”

“No!” She felt a kind of panic coming on. “Please, that won’t be necessary. I positively cannot risk Edgerton seeing you.”

“At three o’clock in the morning? Surely he’ll be sound asleep.”

“I don’t care what hour it is, I prefer going home by myself, and having your driver drop me off away from the house.”

“Very well, then,” he said reluctantly. He walked her outside to where the gig was waiting and helped her seat herself beside the driver. For a long moment, he looked up at her, not speaking. He clasped her hand. “You do understand?”

“Of course.” She tilted her chin and with cool formality continued, “I doubt we shall meet again any time soon, Lord Belington, but I thank you for your assistance”
—she flicked a cautious glance toward the driver—”in the matter at hand, so without further ado, I shall be off to Southfield. Good bye, sir, and I bid you good fortune.”

That surely put him in place, she thought with satisfaction. She addressed the driver. “Pitney, shall we go? And, please, as quietly as you can.”

Chapter
14

The night had turned even chillier, Lucinda noted as the gig left the driveway and turned toward Southfield. Darker, too, which was all to the good. The darker it was, the less easily she could be detected. “Will you let me off at the beginning of the driveway, Pitney? No need to wait. I’ll be safe.”

Pitney, a small, wiry man of fifty or so, grunted and hunched his shoulders. “I’m to drive partly down the driveway, let you out, then wait ‘til you get inside, mum. I have me instructions.”

“Oh, well, then.” She wouldn’t want to get the man in any trouble. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her and attempted to calm herself—not easy when her thoughts were spinning wildly. Never had she felt so dazed, so unsure of herself. What have I done? she wondered, appalled at herself for having nearly—nearly! succumbed to the charms of Lord Belington. And to think, he was the one who brought their passion to a halt, not she. If it had not been for Douglas, she might have—oh, it was unthinkable that she might have...!