Authors: Elizabeth Boyce
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Historical
He felt the blood seep through his sleeve and fingers. His wound clearly needed attention.
Penelope was apparently of the same opinion. “Let me have a look at your arm, Lucas. Please, darling.”
He shot his gaze to Colin, who stood there frozen. “Go and take the pistols back to the house, lad. Your sister and I have some matters to discuss.”
The boy nodded and seized on the excuse to get out of there.
When Colin had disappeared, his fiancée approached him carefully. “You have to take your coat off. I need to see how badly you’re hurt.”
He couldn’t resist growling at her, but he obliged.
She let out an anguished cry. He looked down and saw his white shirtsleeve soaked with blood.
“It’s only a flesh wound. The bullet barely grazed me. Don’t swoon,” he warned darkly.
She grew indignant. “I
never
swoon. I’ve seen bloodier wounds, believe me.” She reached into her reticule for her medicines then added, “You have to take off your waistcoat and shirt.”
“You’ll have to help me,” he replied, pulling on his cravat.
There was a picnic basket and a folded blanket on the ground. Penelope spread the blanket out, asked him to sit on it, and took a healing salve from her reticule before turning back to face him.
Lucas stared back at her expectantly, his hand still gripping his arm to staunch the blood.
“We’ll need a tourniquet for that wound,” she announced, looking around her for something that would be appropriate to use, and grimaced.
She would have to use her petticoat.
It was the only thing clean and absorbent enough to do the job, and they both knew it. He watched her closely, waiting to see what she would do.
She didn’t hesitate about her actions; she just turned her back on him and lifted her skirts, tearing strips off her petticoat.
He could hardly believe
this
was happening. The nymph was out in the woods with him, nursing him back to health. His well-being seemed to be the only thing she was focused on. All thoughts of whatever had brought her out here in the first place had been forgotten.
How many hours had he fantasized about this? To have those beautiful, healing hands on him? Lucas would gladly shoot his other arm himself. And she’d called him
darling
. Did she even realize that?
Penelope unbuttoned his waistcoat, and he groaned.
“Is it aching?”
Oh, yes, it’s aching.
Only “it” wasn’t his wound. He squirmed, trying to hide his erection. She would surely kill him before this was finished.
“It’s fine,” he said tightly.
She tossed his waistcoat on the ground and started working on his shirt. Lucas gritted his teeth and clutched his wound tighter to keep from reaching for her.
She finished unbuttoning his shirt. “You have to let go of your arm so I can take the shirt off.”
He obeyed with surprising speed; he even managed to grin. Getting shot was his greatest move yet. He should have known blood was the way to Penelope’s heart.
• • •
Penelope couldn’t believe he was acquiescing to her ministrations so readily.
What was he up to now?
She shoved his shirt off his shoulders and tossed it on the ground by his waistcoat. And she very nearly swooned at the sight of his bare chest. She’d never seen such a splendidly male torso. It was an expanse of hard muscle smattered with soft, springy hairs. She licked her suddenly dry lips. She had to keep her mind on her task.
She examined the wound on his upper left arm. It wasn’t deep, but it needed to be cleaned and dressed. When she touched his wound, the muscles in his arm leapt and he let out a low hiss.
She stopped immediately. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” he rasped. “Go on and tend to me, Penelope.”
Something in the way he spoke made her look at him sharply. What she saw took her breath away.
His eyes were blazing, and there was a dark hunger in his features that made him look like a starving beast, ready to devour her whole.
She cleared her throat and returned to cleaning his wound.
Why did he have to have this effect on her?
It wasn’t fair. She was on the verge of losing her home, and all he had to do was give her one of his hot gazes and she came running.
It was this obsession with him that got her into this mess in the first place.
When she was satisfied that his wound was clean, she gently rubbed her healing salve on it, then she wrapped a strip of her torn petticoat around it.
“How’s that?” she asked.
He looked at his arm and flexed it. “Excellent. You did a wonderful job.”
She couldn’t suppress a nervous chuckle. “Well, I can hardly leave you to bleed to death after I stupidly shot you.” She met his midnight gaze, letting him see her sincerity. “I really am sorry for that. I don’t know what came over me. One minute I was desperate to talk to you, but when I saw Colin holding that pistol, all I could think of was to get it away from him.”
“I will never let anything hurt your little brother,” he said quietly.
“I know. But we heal people, Lucas. It’s what we do. I suppose that’s why I overreacted to seeing my brother with a weapon that can hurt someone. I’m sorry.”
She began apologizing again, but he put his index finger on her lips, silencing her.
He slid his finger from her lips and softly traced her cheek then cupped her chin, forcing her to keep her gaze on his.
“I’ll forgive you,” he murmured, “on one condition.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip.
The touch made her shudder with anticipation. “What condition?” she whispered.
His eyes gleamed wickedly. “I’ll forgive you only if you’ll have lunch with me.”
She stared at her fiancé, took in the invitation in his eyes and considered the basket of food on the ground. With the failure of her little creditor scheme, she might not have another chance to be with him again.
She nodded in agreement.
Chapter Seven
She sat on the blanket beside Lucas, sipping some wine while her mind reeled from the shock of the day’s events. She put the wineglass down and buried her face in her hands to stop the world from spinning. She’d always tried to do the right thing by people, and now she seemed to be making mistakes left and right. Her family could lose their home because of her ruse. And she had very nearly killed an earl.
“Would you like to tell me about it?”
The question shook her out of her daze. Lucas appeared so calm sitting beside her, casually eating bread and cheese. Who would have thought he would look even more powerful when bared from the waist up?
She watched his mouth as he chewed, fascinated by how masculine he was, how he would be in control of any situation thrust upon him. It was evident even with the way he ate — there was purpose in his every bite, no action was wasted.
“We lost, Lucas,” she finally made herself say. “Mr. Henson visited today and demanded his money. He’ll be back in a few days to take over Highfield Manor.”
“I thought you said our engagement would convince him to give your family an extension.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “I thought so, too. It didn’t work.” She let out an anguished moan. “I don’t know why I thought I could convince him. I failed, like I failed at convincing my uncle to let us stay at Maitland Hall when Father died.”
“Calm yourself. You’re getting overwrought.”
“
Overwrought?
” she burst out. “I am more than overwrought, my lord. I’m one second away from losing my breakfast!”
He reached out and his large hand took hold of hers. His strength had a comforting effect. “Tell me what happened at the meeting with Henson.”
She told him everything. He appeared calm until she got to the part about Henson’s suggestion of using Sarah as a bargaining tool.
“The bastard!” he growled. He let go of her hand and started to get up. “I’ll kill him.”
“No!” She grabbed his fingers and pulled him back down. “You are not going to kill anyone. Really, is that the male answer to everything?”
One raven brow rose in challenge. “You think he doesn’t deserve it for attempting to blackmail you into whoring out a child?”
She clung to him. His comment made an idea take root in her mind. It was going to be risky, but at this point, they had nothing to lose. If she were very careful in the execution of her plan, it might even work. It was so simple; Penelope didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before.
She grinned. “Of course he deserves it! Lucas, you’re a genius.”
He tucked an errant lock behind her ear. “I know.” He got up. “So, where does this Henson live? I’m going to teach him a lesson about taking advantage of distraught women.”
She got up, too. “You are not going anywhere near him. He’s dangerous.”
“You cannot stop me, nymph.” He took a step toward the house.
She held his arm again before he could progress further. “Listen to me, Lucas. I know for a fact Mr. Henson has killed at least two men on the dueling field. Will you stop being angry for one minute and think, instead of acting like — ”
His eyes turned as chilly as midnight. “Like Raving Ravenstone?”
She grabbed his other arm and shook him. “You will never call yourself that horrible name again, do you hear me?”
His lips twitched and his eyes gleamed with wry amusement. “You are one bossy bit of goods, did you know that?”
Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was soft, almost reverent in its tenderness, and Penelope gave herself up to the sweet shock of it as she had done the last time.
Lucas seemed to sense her willingness, for he growled his approval as he lifted his mouth to trail hot kisses down her sensitive neck. “I think you would make an excellent countess, sweetheart.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her throat. “It would be an honor to be married to you.”
She swallowed. “You seem awfully sure I’ll marry you,” she said shakily.
He touched his tongue to her beating pulse, making her jump. Then he straightened and looked straight into her eyes while his large hands cupped her face.
“Enough of these games,” he said in a husky tone. “Will you marry me, Penelope?”
“I don’t think we’ve had enough time to — ”
She let out a strangled gasp when he suddenly tugged her down to the blanket and pulled her onto his lap.
“It looks like you need more convincing,” he whispered, his hot breath wafting over her, sending a quivering sensation down her belly. Then he claimed her mouth with his, and she drifted her hands up his bare chest to link around his neck, offering herself up to him.
She dimly felt him unbuttoning her gown with a tenderness that was at odds with the wild hunger of his kisses. She’d been waiting to have him kiss her again and she was glad,
eager
, to let him do what he wanted with her, to feel the heady pleasure he gave her.
When he plunged his tongue deep in her mouth, she moaned with delight and held him tighter, loving the feel of his warm, naked skin beneath her hands. She started to move her hands over his broad shoulders, and he lifted his mouth from hers to kiss the area just below her chin.
“Yes. Touch me, my sweet nymph. Let me feel your hands on me,” he rasped against her throat.
For once, the nickname he’d given her sounded apt, for Penelope felt rather like a wicked nymph enticing this warrior to share her world in the woods.
She wanted Lucas to be in her world.
She always had.
Penelope let her hands skim down his back, his taut muscles leaping in reaction to her touch. She was so enthralled with the feel of his naked skin that she barely noticed him shoving her gown down to her waist. Then he pressed open-mouthed kisses down her neck and collarbone, and she stiffened at the new intimacy his caresses demanded.
“Lucas, are you sure … ?”
“Yes,” he muttered. “Bloody hell, yes.” His eyes were glittering with need. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first met you.” He sucked her breast through her chemise, dampening the sheer fabric, tonguing her nipple as he caressed the other one with his hand, fondling her flesh beneath the thin covering.
Penelope clutched his dark head, not knowing whether she was pulling him to her or pushing him away. All she knew was that Lucas was touching her in ways she never thought a man would want to. Especially not this handsome man who had finally walked into her life, turning it upside down, awakening a dormant part of her she hadn’t realized was there until he coaxed it to life with his heated touch and demanding kisses.
He tugged her chemise down, exposing her breasts to his dark, hungry gaze. She squirmed on his lap in embarrassment, then stopped immediately when she heard him groan.
“Don’t stop,” he murmured hotly against the slope of her breast. He positioned her to sit fully on top of the hard bulge in his trousers, urging her to move as he sucked her breast so hard she cried out with the sheer pleasure of it.
“Do you like that, nymph?” he rasped against her skin.
“Oh, yes … ” she whispered.
“Should I do it again?” he asked, his tongue laving the sensitive tip of her breast, sending a delicious shiver up her spine.
“Please, Lucas … ” She pressed herself against him.
A choked laugh escaped him. “Anything to please you, sweetheart.” Then he sucked at her breast again, making her moan.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she started to rub herself against his hard thighs shamelessly, straddling him, trying to ease the ache building up inside her that seemed to be concentrated on the damp area between her legs. She cradled his dark head as he released her erect nipple, and his mouth proceeded to suck at her other breast while he caressed the one his mouth just left with his hand, rolling her sensitized flesh between his fingers.
She was lost in the sea of desire that Lucas seemed determined to drown them in as his mouth tugged at her breast and his hands gripped her waist, urging her to keep rubbing against his aroused manhood.
“Yes, nymph. Like that … God, that feels so good,” he whispered against her breast.