Raven's Bride, page 15
Glenys Shea was firmly off-limits, like a sister or a ward. And there was no real danger he’d cross the line. He had long since reined in his sexual desires. Marriage to Ellen taught him what discipline he’d not already acquired, and there were few opportunities for self-indulgence in the years after her death.
He could control his fantasies too, by immersing himself in his book. The waking dreams of last night had roused feelings he’d thought safely buried, but they would vanish again after a good night’s sleep. Or a long, arduous hike in the moorlands. As soon as Glenys snagged the ball and claimed her forfeit, he would head for the hills.
With a shout of triumph she leapt to her feet and danced a little jig, the blue ball clearly visible in her hand. Her voice echoed in the pool house and carried outside.
“Got you now, my lord Ravensby. Got you now!”
17
ASH STEELED HIMSELF to take his punishment.
Not wanting Glenys to imagine he’d been spying, he pulled off his coat and tugged his shirt from the band of his trousers.
As if planning a swim, he entered the pool house with the coat held over his shoulder by his thumb and feigned a look of surprise to see her there. “I beg your pardon, Miss Shea. If you wish to have a dip in the pool, I can return later.”
“What a corker!” She gave him a sassy smile. “You know precisely why I am here and what I’ve been doing!”
Heat slithered up the back of his neck. Had she been aware, all along, of his presence outside the window?
She made a tsking sound with her tongue. “I must say it was poor-spirited of you to plant this”—she lofted the croquet ball—“dead in the center of the pool. You meant me to go in after it, did you not?”
“For an otherwise intrepid young woman,” he responded blandly, “you are remarkably averse to a touch of cool water.”
“Cool! I only wonder how that pool remains liquid. It’s cold enough to be a solid block of ice. But your plan failed, because I figured another way to get at the ball. Want to see how I did it?”
He swallowed a groan of relief and followed her to the fishing poles, strands of catgut line, waterlogged basket, and assorted paraphernalia. She looked vastly pleased with herself, bright-eyed as a robin and gesturing with both hands as she described her strategy.
He listened with half an ear, wholly enchanted with her delight. Some men would enlist for a thousand games like this one, just to see Glenys Shea in full display.
Then she pointed an accusing finger at him. “I outwitted you, my lord, but that does not excuse your beastly attempt to force me into the pool. For future reference, hell will freeze over before I set one toe in that water.”
“There is also,” he observed, “the matter of your own underhanded deviltry. Need I be more specific?”
To her credit, she didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I set you up by inventing the game. You tried to circumvent my plot. I bettered you.” She lifted a brow. “Does that about cover it?”
“Perfectly.” He met her gaze. “All but the forfeit, and I shudder to imagine what it is you want from me. Name your prize, Miss Shea, and let us be done with this nonsense.”
To his astonishment, flags of color blazed on her cheeks. “You won’t like it,” she murmured, examining the ball in her hand with sudden fascination.
“I didn’t expect to. But gentlemen pay debts of honor, and it seems I have acquired one.”
“Here, then.” She passed him the ball and took a step back, her chin raised in a gesture of defiance.
When she said nothing more, the hairs at his nape began to prickle. “Well, what is it?” he demanded impatiently.
“I want you to kiss me.”
The ball dropped from his hand.
They both watched it roll to the edge of the pool, teeter there for a moment, and disappear under the water with a plopping sound.
She looked back at him, shoulders squared. “You heard me. A kiss. Just one. It involves no money, and no great expenditure of time. Exactly like I said in the rules.”
He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Miss Shea, you exceed every boundary of proper conduct. It is out of the question. I am astonished you even suggest such a thing.”
“You shouldn’t be,” she said frankly. “By now it must be obvious I’ve had absolutely no contact with men who weren’t related to me. Not since I was nine years old, anyway, and I don’t think we can count Reverend Hensworthy. Well, there was also a gardener at Miss Pipcock’s School, but he was positively ancient.”
Thoroughly bewildered, Ash could only stare at her.
“The point is,” she went on, “I require experience. By now I should have been kissed, don’t you agree, and most women of my age have some notion of what it feels like. But I have none, which is awfully unfair because I’ve been curious about it for donkey’s years.”
“In that case, you can wait a bit longer,” he said sternly. “Your husband will teach you everything you’ve ever wanted to know.”
“Pooh.” She tossed her head. “I’m more likely to find a buried treasure than a man who wants to marry me. One I’d accept, at any rate. For all that I’m in no position to be choosy, I’ve terribly high expectations.”
Do I meet them? he wondered briefly. Not that it mattered. He thrust the question from his mind. “You should have gone for Killain,” he said between his teeth. “Whatever your expectations, I am certain you could do no better. And he’ll be more than willing to educate you.”
Her peal of laughter rebounded from the marble walls.
What in hell was funny about that? He glared at her, furious because she was willing to betray Geoff, who was obviously smitten with her, for a stolen kiss in a pool house with another man. Was she trying to mount a comparison? Good Lord, Geoff would win hands down. Geoff had kissed ten women for every one Ash Cordell ever held in his arms.
“His ball is affixed to a rosebush,” she said. “I saw it this morning. But I’ll leave Harry to find it, because my brother wants something from Lord Killain and I do not.”
Trying to absorb that startling avowal, Ash ran his fingers through his hair.
“I made my choice,” she said when he failed to speak. “I wanted you to kiss me. But apparently the idea is repellent to you, so I withdraw the forfeit. You may give Harry three extra shooting lessons instead.”
“You continue to misunderstand, Miss Shea.” Aware he sounded like a pompous ass, he gentled his voice. “I have taken you and Harry into my charge. As a consequence, it would be a violation of honor to—”
“Words, words, words.” Picking up the towel she’d dropped while dancing about, she wrapped it around her shoulders. “And I thought it was cold in here before you came in. Compared to you, Lord Ravensby, that pool is a boiling cauldron.”
“I speak of your own good, young lady.”
“On the contrary. You quibble with me about honor, which a moment ago required you to pay your debt and now prevents you from doing so. Next we’ll be debating how many angels can stand on the point of a hat pin. Pray forget I ever mentioned the subject of kissing, my lord. I’ll seek what I need elsewhere.”
“The devil you will!” In two quick steps he came up to her, grasped both ends of the towel, and pulled her against his body. “We’ll get this over with now.”
He meant to press a swift, impersonal kiss on her lips and be done with it. But she melted against his chest, pliant and supple, closing over him like warm water. God save him. Immediately, he was lost in her.
His mouth brushed her cheek, and the smooth line of her jaw, and her throat. He kissed her eyelids, and her thick, furry lashes, and finally her lips.
They were chastely closed, but infinitely soft. Her arms encircled him and her hands moved over his back, and she made a tiny sound when his tongue licked at the corner of her mouth. He nibbled at her full bottom lip, tasted the moist, velvety flesh underneath, and willed her to open for him.
She did, eagerly, rising on her toes to match his height.
His hand tangled in the soft curls at the back of her head as he pulled her closer still and deepened the kiss. Cinnamon and peaches, he thought hazily. And then her tongue met his with naive passion, vibrant with the life that flowed from her in waves. Flowed through him, until he felt as if he were kissing the sun.
After forever, all of him ablaze, her fingers clawing into his back and his hand reaching to cradle her breast, consciousness hit him like a mace.
What in bloody hell was he doing?
Disentangling himself, mouth and arms and the thigh that had pushed between her legs, he set her firmly away.
She gazed up at him, her eyes confused. “Oh my,” she whispered, taking a step back. And then another, one finger touching her swollen lips. “Oh my. I had no idea.”
And he had no idea what to say. What he’d just experienced was equally new and startling. Stunning.
Frozen in place, he watched her take another step back, shaking her head as if trying to emerge from a dream.
“How splendid you are,” she said. A luminous smile curved her mouth. Her eyes shone like stars.
Bedazzled, he saw her take another step back.
Her foot met empty air.
Before he could react, she dropped like a stone into the pool.
GLENYS MANAGED ONE gulp of air before the icy water closed over her. She seemed to sink forever, but her toes met the bottom tiles and she kicked against them, shooting up faster than she’d gone down. She popped out of the water and back again, thrashing and sputtering and colder than she’d ever been in her life.
Paddling furiously with one hand and both feet to stay afloat, she pushed a clump of wet hair from her eyes and looked up at the earl.
He was doubled over. Laughing.
She could hear him, even through the water in her ears. The sound echoed in the marble pool house, bouncing at her from the ceiling and walls.
Suddenly, she felt warm all over. He was laughing.
In her joy, she began laughing too. And forgot to paddle. In a flash she was underwater again.
This time, when she emerged, Ravensby knelt by the edge of the pool, an expression of concern on his face. Her flailings had carried her to the center, almost to where the croquet ball had been. “Can you swim?” he called.
She was tempted to pretend she could not, forcing him to dive in after her. But he had laughed, so she dog-paddled to him and lifted her arms.
He took hold of her, pulled her out in a swift, easy move, and propelled her outside into the sunlight. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll get some towels.”
She watched him disappear into the pool house and hopped about on the lawn to keep herself from icing over. The place around her heart still felt warm, but the rest of her had gone numb.
When she thawed out, she would think about that kiss. Relive it a thousand times, probably. It had been the best thing that ever happened to her … except for the moment when she saw him laughing.
And he had liked kissing her. She knew that he did. For just a little while she, Glenys Shea, had made him happy.
There would be no more kisses, though. She understood him well enough to know he would not touch her again. Suddenly, her future looked woesomely drab. What could ever measure up to being kissed by that glorious man?
But he might laugh again, if she was careful to put him at ease with her after what they just shared. Concentrate on the laughter, she told herself. Don’t threaten him. He’ll come back all righteous and gentlemanly, wearing honor like a suit of armor. Don’t let him know how you feel, or you’ll drive him away.
Ravensby, jaw set and eyes distant, returned with an armload of towels. He took care not to look at her as she dried her face and arms.
Glancing down, she saw that Harry’s shirt and trousers were plastered to her body, outlining every dip and curve. Her nipples, on breasts that had puffed out after a few weeks of good food, were clearly visible. With care, she tied one towel around her waist and draped another over her neck, making sure her breasts were covered.
“Can you make it to the house?” he asked in a flat voice. “You are shivering.”
“Truly? I didn’t know icicles could shiver.” She grinned. “Are you pleased with yourself? You got your way after all.”
“I … ?” His taut face relaxed slightly. “Ah. Because you wound up in the pool. I confess that was my intention, but it was a damnably stupid idea and you have my apology for even thinking of it. Moreover, I should not have laughed when you—” He waved a hand, clearly lost for words.
Yes, he was reacting just as she’d expected. Which failed to make it any easier to deal with him. “Holy hollyhocks!” she exclaimed. “What nonsense. It was fun matching wits with you, and I love a challenge. Nor do I mind a bit when I lose. Actually, I won on all counts except the last, when I went clumsy and stumbled into the water. And that, Lord Ravensby, was funny. Had you not laughed, I’d have given up all hope for you.”
“It will not be in the least amusing if you come down with a cold, young lady.” Briskly, he took her elbow and steered her at a fast pace toward the house. “You will have a hot bath, hotter tea, and a fire in your room.”
There’s a fire in my heart, she thought, struggling to keep pace with him. You put it there.
So cold you are, my lord earl, but you send me up in flames.
And I burn and burn and burn.
18
AS GLENYS EXPECTED he would, Ravensby withdrew even more into himself after the incident at the pool. For the next week, they exchanged only formal greetings when they chanced to meet.
She made lists the first few nights, lists of ways to entice him from his study and his ridiculous book. But when she wrote Drape yourself naked across his desk, she gave it up. Although her figure had improved, she remained the plain female she’d always been, perhaps a jot more alluring than a parsnip.
The days passed slowly, in company with Lord Killain, Lady Nora, and Harry. But often she chose to spend time with Big Charlie, who took her on long walks around the estate. He seldom spoke, except to point out a particular flower or tree. Sometimes he would start a sentence and be unable to finish it. She felt comfortable with him, though.
Lord Killain had told her about Waterloo and the fragment of metal that pierced Charlie’s head on the battlefield. There was no telling what he’d been like before the shrapnel hit. Killain found him wandering in a Brussels alley, brought him to England, and nursed him until his body healed.
“I’m one of his strays,” Charlie once said. “So is the earl. Lord Killain sweeps up the lost people and takes care of us.”
The same way Ravensby took care of the Sheas, she understood. Unlike Killain, he wasn’t in the least warm and friendly. He didn’t know how to be. But he cared for them nonetheless.
At dinner on Sunday evening, Lady Nora put down her soup spoon and focused her sharp eyes on Harry. “Your table manners are atrocious, young man. They must be mended, along with your conversation, and we must see to your wardrobe immediately. Gentlemen do not dine in buckskin breeches.”
“I got nothin’ else,” he protested.
With a sniff, Lady Nora turned to Glenys. “The both of you require proper dress and more experience with polite discourse. No wonder my nephew refuses to join us at the table. I’ll see to it he does, once you are fit company. Killain, day after next I’ll take these reprobates into town for some decent clothing. Make the arrangements, please.”
“I’ll be happy to,” he said. “Where would you like to go?”
“Castleton,” she said after a moment’s thought. “As I recall, there is a ruined fortress overlooking the town. I wish to paint it. We can shop in the morning and have a picnic lunch after.”
“Peverel Castle,” Killain said, chuckling. “I cannot wait to see your portrayal, Nora.”
She lifted her chin. “You, sir, have no appreciation for art. Why should I paint the castle as it is? One may as well look at the thing and be done. I interpret. I transform. I illuminate the essence of inanimate objects.”
“And I,” he said with a gleam in his eyes, “will see to getting you there.”
“Excellent. Invite Ravensby to come along. He’s been all but a hermit of late. Not good for him.”
Glenys agreed wholeheartedly.
TWO DAYS LATER they set out for Castleton.
Glenys, anxious to improve her skills on horseback, elected to ride. And to please her brother, she asked his advice about controlling the lively gray mare Killain had selected for her.
Harry found fault with every move she made. By the time they arrived at Castleton, the two of them were no longer speaking.
Lord Killain took a sullen Harry off to buy shirts, stockings, and cravats, while Lady Nora and Glenys called at the sole vendor of ladies’ clothing.
“I cannot like any of these fabrics,” Lady Nora complained when the dressmaker went to the back room for measuring tape and pins.
Glenys held out a length of forest-green crepe. “This will do well enough.”
“For a matron, my dear. It would not flatter you.”
Glenys doubted any material on the planet was up to that challenge. With effort, she tried to look interested as Lady Nora consulted again with the dressmaker.
Ravensby had not joined the excursion, and his absence leached away her pleasure. She had lain awake most of the night, formulating a list of conversational topics designed to amuse him. With a whole day in his company, she could certainly find a way to make him laugh again.
But when they had all gathered after breakfast, Lady Nora in a carriage with two of the maids and everyone else on horseback, Ravensby failed to appear. Glenys pulled Lord Killain aside, begging him to change the earl’s mind. Who could know of their outing, or that it took them to Castleton in particular? Besides, Charlie and half a dozen other bodyguards would be there.
“This is meant to be a holiday for them,” Killain explained gently. “They’ll bend an elbow in the pubs, chat up the comely lasses, and forget their duties for a few hours. That will not be possible if Ravensby comes with us.”
