Now the situation was a hundred times worse.
No.
A thousand times worse.
Not only was she trapped upon a rock for no real reason at all, the gentleman who scowled at her down by the lake yesterday was now crawling his way toward her in an exceedingly predatory manner.
And could she bring herself to move from her silly, splayed position? Of course not. It was as though every limb had decided to glue itself to the rock. They were heavy and unwieldy and entirely disobedient.
As was this man. He should have listened to her and moved on. Mary-Anne would eventually return with aid. Though, Lucinda was not at all sure she wanted her mother to find out about this. It was about the most reckless thing she had done in five years and she did not want Mama to fear for her falling back into her old ways. Why did their mother have to insist on them staying here? Why did she think they needed the fresh air for their health? She and Mary-Anne were perfectly healthy people.
If one did not count feeling entirely hot and flustered at the proximity of this man.
The man’s shirt sleeves pulled against strong arms. When he’d rolled them up, she feared she might go into a faint—and she had never fainted in her life. He revealed slightly sun-kissed arms scattered with dark hair—dark hair that matched the color atop his head. Shiny, with a slight wave and perfectly cut, it matched his elegant attire and devastating good looks.
She should not admit that to herself, really. It would not help the situation. Here she was, splayed out like some offering to the birds, entirely humiliated, with her fate in the hands of a far too good-looking stranger. She had no doubt he knew that about himself too. After all, even the most average of men thought themselves to be quite something. This man no doubt imagined himself a god amongst mortals.
Unfortunately, he would not be wrong.
She lifted her head to peer at him then dropped it down again. What a terrible, terrible, embarrassing, awful situation.
What a ridiculous one too. Nineteen-year-old Lucinda would never have found herself stuck like this. She would have climbed the rocks, climbed down, and likely rescued the gentleman instead. But nineteen-year-old Lucinda had also been a fool and she could not allow herself to revert to that, no matter how much better that seemed than her current situation.
He neared and she tried not to look at him. From the corner of her eye, she caught his smile, and her heart gave a little flutter. His eyes were a rich brown, almost nutty. She cast her gaze upward, which from her angle was more like straight ahead, across the horizon. A huge mistake really as it made her incredibly dizzy. She reluctantly set her gaze on the only steady thing—him.
“What is your name?”
“Miss Lucinda Evans.”
“May I call you Lucy?”
“Certainly not!”
His grin grew. “I am going to come and take your hand, Lucy. Can I do that?”
She longed to run away. To leap up, dash down the rocks and never set foot in Cumbria ever again. However, what she longed to do and what she could physically do were two different things.
“We have not even been properly introduced,” she muttered.
“I think it’s a bit late for that.”
She narrowed her gaze at her rescuer. Oh she had read him entirely correctly. This man knew precisely how handsome he was, and no doubt used it to his advantage. A rake, through and through.
Well, he might get away with calling her Lucy for now but once her feet were on the ground, she would be telling him in no uncertain terms that he should not even acknowledge her presence until such a time they were properly introduced. And hopefully that would be never. The last thing she needed was to relive this humiliation again.
He inched over. With scarcely enough width for them both, his body came far too close to hers. She held her breath and closed her eyes when his hand met hers. Instinctively, she curled her fingers around his, aware of the brush of bare fingers against the fabric of her gloves. She opened her eyes and found herself staring directly up at him. His eyes were a hazel brown, one cheek bore a dimple while the other did not. Up close, devastatingly handsome did not even brush the surface.
“I’m going to take your other hand now.”
Lucinda had little idea what he had planned but apparently she had no ability to refuse him. He curled his fingers into hers and drew her slowly upright. Wind wrapped about her, making her shiver.
“Can you shuffle forward?”
Wide-eyed, she studied the vast expanse of hills and mountains about her. “I-I’m not certain.”
“Look at me, and only me,” he ordered.
She did so, feeling a strange calmness at his presence that warred with the heavy thump of her pulse in her ears and the tingle that prevailed throughout her arms at his touch.
“Now slide forward a little.” He shifted back on his knees as she inched forward on her rear. “That’s it,” he urged, keeping her fingers gripped in his. “Do not look down.”
Lucinda looked down.
“Lucy, look at me.”
She snapped her gaze back to his, away from the drop to one side of the rocks that was far steeper than she’d realized. “I think you should leave me.” She tried to take her hands from his. “I’ll stay here.” She offered a sunny smile. “I’ll be just fine.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Her rescuer held her fingers tight. “But if you wish to stay, I shall stay too.”
“Goodness, no!” She could not imagine how scandalous it would be should someone discover them together.
“Then you had better keep moving.”
“Fine,” she mumbled.
Shifting a little more, she found herself on the edge of the rock and able to swing her legs down. The man released one of her hands and stepped onto the next rock, then guided her down until they were almost at the bottom. He staggered back slightly and she reached for him, gripping his sleeve with her free hand and righting him.
He grinned. “Many thanks.”
Once he reached the ground, he offered out both hands and she eyed the large jump from the final rock to the ground. How on earth had she clambered up it in the first place?
“Trust me.”
Trust him? She did not even know his name, and he still insisted on calling her Lucy. Why should she trust him?
“Lucy.” He offered out his arms again. “Just jump.”
Closing her eyes, she took a breath and leaped.
Arms banded around her, holding her suspended in the air. She snapped open her eyes to find herself chest to chest with the man. His breath was warm upon her face and she picked up a hint of sandalwood emanating from him. Up close, she spied amber flecks in his eyes. Up close, devastating seemed too mild a word.
For a few moments, she stared at him, feeling her heart thud hard against his chest. Or perhaps that was his heart beating against hers, she could not be certain. Then she realized she was not the only one staring. His gaze tracked across her face, to her lips, then met hers. His pupils darkened.
Swallowing hard, she tapped his shoulder. “Um, you may put me down now.”
“Ah.” He eased her down, sliding her all the way down his body, and making her feel as though she had just been wrapped in prickly wool and her whole body had become sensitized and alert.
She took a step back and placed a hand to the rock before she tumbled to the ground and found herself roly-polying down the hill. At this point, she would not be surprised if such a thing happened. He must have noticed her unsteadiness and took her arms in his hands, his fingers warm and strong through the fabric.
There it was again. The darkness in his gaze.
Before she quite comprehended what was happening, he moved in and pressed his lips firmly to hers.
She jolted back, a hand to her mouth, her lips tingling from the short contact. “What…what did you do that for?”
“Well, we did nearly die.” He shrugged, his lips quirking.
“We most certainly did not, and
you cannot…” She drew in a long breath. “You cannot go around kissing people. It’s scandalous!”
“Lucinda!”
Lucinda whipped around, took a few steps toward the edge of the hill and spotted her sister, her bright red hair streaming behind her, making her way up the hill with a large man in tow—a farmer perhaps by the looks of his garments. At least it was not their mother. But either way, she did not need her sister spotting her with this man. If he moved quickly, Mary-Anne might not spy him from her position.
She hastened back. “You should go,” Lucinda urged.
“Goodness, now that’s a thank you.”
“Well, of course, I am most grateful but—”
He smirked. “You want me gone.” He shrugged, retrieved his jacket and hat. “Good day to you, Lucy. Let me know if you wish to climb any more rocks. I should be most happy to oblige.”
Well, that’s not going to happen, she wanted to blurt out but by the time she’d glanced back at her sister and then to the man, he had gone. She eased out a breath. With any luck, she would never see him again. Which was precisely what she wanted.
For certain.
Most definitely.
Chapter Four
“Is there a reason there’s a large gathering of women in the garden?” Leo asked, peering out of the window of the breakfast room. “And so damned early too.”
Alex glanced up from the newspaper and folded it and then set it on the white linen besides his half-finished food. “Mrs. Jones said there had been a few requests for tours. And it is hardly early, Leo.”
“Well, Adam is not even down for breakfast,” his brother pointed out.
“Because Adam keeps his own time.”
Leo chuckled and returned to the circular table positioned directly in the middle of the room. Sunshine streamed in through the large windows on two sides of the room, offering up a promise of impending summer. A fine time for a tour of the gardens to be certain. But he would not be going in search of these female visitors. Not after yesterday and the rescue of the delectable Lucy.
He suspected that as long as he lived, he would not forget the image of her splayed out on the rock, her red curls surrounding her and her long legs on offer. He smirked to himself. The image should have been amusing but apparently he was so starved for female companionship already, it was slowly becoming his newest fantasy.
Leo took a long sip of coffee and nodded toward the newspaper. “Any talk of us?”
“How did you guess?”
“It was the disgusted look you gave when you set it down, though the gossip does not usually bother you.”
“It does when it means we’re stuck here, and some poor woman’s situation is turned into entertainment.”
“Good Lord, you have a heart, Alex.”
He fixed his brother with a look. “I may not be interested in love affairs, but I’m not callous.”
“I know, I know.”
“Besides, you are a fine one to talk. I cannot recall you even keeping a lover for more than one night. Unless things have changed.”
Leo shifted slightly in his seat and reached for a fresh slice of bread and then slathered it with jam. “I simply have no interest in long-term affairs.”
“Since Rebecca, you mean.”
His brother’s face paled slightly, and Alex cursed inwardly. They never spoke of Rebecca, the girl who had vanished years ago and shattered Leo’s heart, just the same as they never spoke of Alex’s late wife Eliza. There were some brothers maybe who shared all their matters of the heart, but they were certainly not those sorts of people. Eliza’s death had been a shock, forcing Alex to consider quite what he wanted out of life. It certainly was not to sit around and mold in his grand estate, much like he was doing now.
“Forgive me,” he murmured.
Leo shook his head with a tight smile. “No matter. Rebecca was a long time ago.”
“Indeed.”
“So what do the papers say about us?”
“They reckon Adam is most likely the father.”
Leo’s brows lifted. “Really?”
“Do not sound so surprised.” Adam strode into the breakfast room and dropped into the chair next to Leo. He leaned back while a footman poured coffee and then reached for a piece of bread, tearing it into chunks and shoving them into his mouth.
“If Mother could see you now...” Leo shook his head.
“She would give me a kiss and a hug and tell me I’m her most handsome and favorite son?” Adam suggested.
“Hardly.” Alex picked up the newspaper and waved it at him. “Not when all of London believes you to be the father of Miss Kingsley’s child.”
Adam shrugged. “I cannot help that everyone thinks I’m the most virile of us three.”
“What makes you think that?” Leo asked. “You’re more likely to be playing cards than taking lovers.”
“That’s what you think,” Adam countered. “I can do both, you know.” He laced his hands behind his back and sighed. “I miss it. Cards in one hand, a woman on my knee...”
“Good Lord, no wonder everyone believes it’s you who is the father.”
Alex shouldn’t be surprised by his brother’s arrogance. He wasn’t wrong about being the favorite son really. Their mother was careful not to show it, but Adam had nearly died of smallpox as a child and even now, she was protective of him. It seemed that protective attitude had ensured Adam had more arrogance than Leo and Alex combined.
“You know if this situation continues, we shall have to do something about it ourselves,” Adam said.
“Do what, though?” Leo asked.
“Find the damned man responsible and threaten him until he does the right thing?” Adam suggested.
Alex blew out a breath. “It’s certainly worth thinking about.”
“At least the scenery is pleasant.” Adam rose from his chair. “Quite pleasant indeed.” He moved to the window and peered out. “Say look. A redhead. You favor redheads, do you not, Alex?”
Keeping his posture stiff, Alex shrugged. He was not going to look. Not going to see if it was Miss Lucinda Evans. His curiosity did not need to be satisfied. He peered at his unfinished breakfast and muttered a curse before rising from the table. He ignored his brother’s smirk and went to the window to view the gathering of women strolling through the ornamental gardens. Sure enough, the redhead proved to be Lucy.
Wearing a cream dress today with the same high neckline, her simple matching bonnet made the most of those red curls. Beside her, a younger girl walked. He had not had a good look at her yesterday, but he assumed the smaller version of Lucy was her sister.
“It seems rude not to greet them.” Adam gestured outside.
“We are staying put,” Alex said tightly.
Because, chances were, if he met with Lucy again, he’d be mightily tempted to break every promise he had made to his mother.
∞∞∞
“I HEARD THERE’S a huge armory in Eastwick Hall. We should go and see it.”
Lucinda shook her head vigorously at Mary-Anne. “We have only been invited to see the gardens.”
And Lucinda did not much blame the housekeeper for not offering them a tour of the house. Since their arrival in Langmere, more and more ladies had flocked there, filling up every inn, boarding house, and spare room in the modest town. By her count, at least twenty of them were touring the gardens today and she imagined there had been many more requests to visit the house. The housekeeper likely had much better things to do than lead a crowd of nosy, chattering women about the house.
“We should ask at least. I read it’s one of the biggest collections in the country.” Mary-Anne paused to run a finger along the petal of a bright pink rose. “Much more interesting than boring old gardens.”
“This is a beautiful garden,” Lucinda said primly.
“But not nearly as exciting as medieval armory and swords,” her sister declared. “Just think how many men those swords have likely run through.”
“How did you know about the collection anyway?”
“I can read, you know, and you, dear sister, have a vast collection of books on the medieval period.” She gave a smug smile. “I found one on the area in your room.”
Lucinda pursed her lips. “I would really rather you did not go into my room. Nor read those books. Some are quite gruesome and unsuitable for a young lady.”
“Then why do you own them?”
“Well, I—” Lucinda waved a hand. “I’m not that young. Besides, I would like some privacy please.” Lucinda hastened a few steps to catch up with the group of women. Their mother strolled alongside Mrs. Barker and Lady Nottingham quite a way ahead, leaving Lucinda to look after Mary-Anne.
Mary-Anne scurried to her side. “Why do you need privacy? You do not have secrets after all unless you count those boring letters from Bernie.”
Bernie. Lucinda sighed. She really ought to write him a letter. She’d owed him one for a few weeks. The trouble was, she struggled to know what to write to him. She did not do many interesting things and he never seemed to ask any questions, so she was forced to rabbit on about nothing in particular.
“Bernie is not boring,” Lucinda said.
In truth, she suspected she was the boring one. She never used to be but what else could she do? She had caused so many problems when she was younger that being boring seemed the preferable path.
“He is dull and boring and shall never propose.”
“He will someday. We are in no rush.”
“I hope he never does.”
Lucinda almost let slip an agreement. Bernie had shown interest since she turned twenty. At least, everyone assumed it was interest. He had never gone so far as to declare anything properly, but her family approved of him, he was fairly attractive and he was the sensible sort. Excellent husband material really. He would never flirt or cause scandal or break her heart.
The trouble was, she was not getting any younger and he still had yet to announce any proper intentions toward her.
The other trouble was she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
The Tempting of a Devilish Lord (The Lords of Scandal Row Book 2) Page 3