From the Viscount With Love

by Bethany M. Sefchick

Frost had no idea how long he stood there, but after a time, he sat down on the ground, the horse securely tethered to a nearby tree, and simply allowed himself a moment to breathe. There was a quiet peace here, the same sort that he found at Hallowby Grange, and in that moment, he realized how much he missed his country seat. Life in the country was simpler. There were no seductive angels in Oxfordshire to temp him with mouths made for kissing and bodies made for sin, all wrapped up in neatly proper packages. Or if there were, he had yet to meet them, thank the good graces.

  Then, as if simply thinking of her made her appear, a rustle of bushes forced him to turn, not liking that his solitude was about to be intruded upon. Until he saw her standing there, all lush feminine curves and flushed skin in a riding habit that he knew very well she had not owned yesterday. And in that moment, he knew that all of his careful plans from that morning meant absolutely nothing. For when face to face with the lovely Lavinia, Frost forgot everything - including his family and his good intentions - and saw only her.

  "Robert." Lavinia deliberately kept her voice soft, not wishing to break the spell of the small clearing. Here, with the thicket of trees surrounding them, it was just about impossible to remember that one was actually deep within the heart of London and not in the picturesque countryside. Or that she had somehow managed to lose her groom nearly a quarter of an hour ago and had been wandering around lost ever since, praying that no one discovered her before she could locate the young man again.

  But that had been before she had stumbled upon Frost, sitting here like some pagan god just right for worship.

  Lavinia had been watching him for several minutes now, enjoying the way the sun played across his handsome features. From this angle, she could tell that his nose had been broken once, likely many years ago, the sharp bump just at the bridge not normally visible. She could also see a small scar that ran from the back of his jaw and up along the side of his ear before disappearing beneath his hair. More than anything, she longed to brush back the single lock of tawny brown hair that had fallen over one temple as he sat, hat beside him on the grass, along with his gloves.

  In fact it was his hands that had captured and held her attention the longest. They were strong hands, more suited to a workman than a gentleman, but she imagined their strength came from boxing or some other gentlemanly sport. His fingers were long and tapered, yet she could see the hidden strength in them when he flexed the digits as if relishing the feel of the grass beneath his hands. His right hand had several long, thin scars across the back where the flesh was seared white and no longer took color, not even his natural color. She wondered what he had done to earn the marks and hated that he had been hurt in any way, even though the injuries had most likely occurred when he was a child.

  In that moment, Lavinia realized that she was all but completely in love with Frost and it shook her to her core. For he did not love her. She knew that. He desired her, certainly, and he might enjoy her company, but he did not love her. After all, she was a prostitute, if not in truth then in name, and gentlemen did not fall in love with women such as her.

  Not to mention that in her rather limited experience, love meant putting another's needs before one's own and Frost could not do that for her. He cared for her and protected her, but she was not the sole focus of his world as his wife would one day be. His family was his priority, as it should be. As was proper. His focus should not be her. But for a moment, she wished that she was the most important person in his world. Even if only for a hour.

  "Lavinia." Frost's voice was just as soft. For a moment, she thought he might send her away, but instead, he patted the vacant patch of grass beside her. "Come. Sit by me. Just be certain to tie Fiorella to a tree on the other side of us. Hercules does not much care for her nor she him."

  As she did as he requested, Lavinia slanted a look at Frost. "Such an unusual and exotic name for such a docile and sweet animal. When your groom - whom I am afraid to admit that I lost along the way - saddled her for me, I thought he would tell me her name was Daisy or something equally as sweet as she is."

  For some reason, that made Frost chuckle and she asked him about his odd reaction. "Lady Fiorella de Castillo, or simply Fiorella as we call her, is my sister Dory's horse. She named the mare years ago after reading some sort of absurd gothic novel in which that was the heroine's name." He glanced over at the dapple-gray mare that was now busily nibbling on grass. "She is not nearly as exotic as her name implies, but Dory is not one to be swayed easily when she desires something."

  "Much like the rest of the family," Lavinia quipped before pausing for a moment to drop down beside him with a rather unladylike thump. "I overheard you arguing with Sarah earlier. You did not wish her to go out driving with Lord Raynecourt." She plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers. "I thought you two were friends."

  Frost had rather hoped Lavinia hadn't heard that quarrel, as it did not paint him in a very good light at all. "Yes, we are, and that is precisely the reason why I do not wish the two of them together. We are too similar, Rayne and I. He is far too wild for someone like Sarah. Not that they are courting, mind you. It is simply another insane scheme by my mother to tame any hint of scandal before the end of the season. Give the gossips so many things to talk about that no one item in particular will stand out."

  Lavinia was quiet for a moment. "Yet, in many ways, you two are nothing alike." That earned her a snort of derision from Frost but she pressed on. "Yes, you both have reputations as rakes, but despite that, you are more likely to cling to social norms. I have seen for myself, not to mention heard you that first morning in your study. Despite your penchant for breaking rules, you secretly like them as well, thinking that without them, all of Society might fall to ruin."

  "I...do. Yes, I do at that, I suppose." Frost had initially thought to scoff at her observation, but Lavinia was surprisingly astute.

  She shrugged. "I feel the same, though it might not seem that way at first. Rules prevent us from running amok and destroying lives willy-nilly. Without rules, or perhaps guidelines is a better term, we would...go astray." Lavinia's mother certainly had. One broken rule had led to another and then to another and then still another. When all was said and done, more than just one life had been ruined. Not that Frost needed to know that.

  Frost eyed Lavinia keenly. "I must confess that you do not strike me as the rule sort. But then, I do not know much of you."

  Ignoring his thinly veiled request for information about her past, Lavinia continued on as if she had not heard him. "On the other hand, Lord Raynecourt is very studious at his core. He breaks rules but does not care for them as you to. To him, intelligence is everything. I can tell simply by the way he speaks that he lives a great deal inside of his head. He takes his physical pleasure, certainly, but unless the lady in question can capture and then hold his attention? He grows bored rather quickly."

  Frost had, of course, had heard about Lavinia and Sarah's run in with Rayne's most recent mistress at Madame LaVallier's. Word of the incident had reached his ears - and likely Rayne's as well - less than an hour after it had taken place. However, at the moment, Frost didn't bring up the topic. Instead, he allowed himself to appreciate Lavinia's far-too-accurate insights into his friend.

  "And how does Sarah fit in to all of this?" Frost waved his hand in the air casually, as if he didn't care in the least, though in fact he very much did. If Lavinia could give him even a tiny glimpse into the mind of his now closed-off sister, he would owe her a very large debt of gratitude.

  Lavinia discarded the grass and instead picked up a small wildflower and twirled it between her bare fingers, having removed her riding gloves before she sat down. "Sarah is far more intelligent than most people give her credit for being. You included, though you might not wish to hear that assessment. She is no bluestocking, but she is witty, intelligent, and well-read. Your friend Rayne sees those qualities in her and yes, they are friends, though in a different way than you and the earl a
re, certainly. He appreciates her mind first and then the rest of her. If being around each other makes them happy, why not allow it?"

  "Because they cannot marry." Frost had given that same answer so many times over the last few years that it was nearly instantaneous. "Sisters are off limits to best friends. Everyone knows this. Besides, they are not well suited and he is completely inappropriate."

  "No," Lavinia corrected Frost gently, "he simply has a slightly scandalous reputation for breaking ladies' hearts, which you do not like. Otherwise, he is a wealthy, unattached earl with much to offer a woman. There is nothing at all inappropriate about him." She paused and looked out over the sparkling water. "Not like me."

  Instead of replying, Frost levered himself to his feet and held out his hand. "Walk with me." It was more command than request and Lavinia found that she could not refuse him.

  Together, they strolled arm in arm along the water's edge and once again, she found herself slipping back into the hazy dream where she was a true lady of Society and Frost was courting her in hopes of securing her hand in marriage. Around them, the late spring air was warm with a teasing hint of summer that was not far away. The waters of the Serpentine sparkled and shimmered, reflecting the puffy white clouds that drifted high overhead. London days such as this one were rare indeed, and all Lavinia wanted to do was to soak in the peace and warmth of this day. She would long for it, she knew, when she was gone from Town and from Frost's life as well. So why not make a memory when she had the opportunity?

  When they reached the far side of the lake where another thick row of hedges cut off easy access to the rest of the park, they turned around and retraced their steps, though they did take time to investigate a small folly that rumor had it played a scandalous part in the romance of Lord and Lady Ardenton. At least that was one of the many rumors that floated through the halls of Lycosura where the girls in trade dreamed of becoming ladies and falling in love with a wealthy and titled lord who might save them.

  Lavinia had never allowed herself that dream. Not even back home in Grandfather's castle. It had been far too risky for her already bruised and battered heart. But today in the sunlit serenity of this secluded portion of the park, she wondered - if only for a moment - if such dreams could possibly come true.

  When Frost finally did speak, his voice was low and rough and Lavinia had to strain to hear him. "You know that I do not view you as a prostitute, correct? Even before I met you, I could not bring myself to do so."

  "Why?" Lavinia asked, fighting the urge to cup his cheek with her hand to show her appreciation for his kind words. "I seriously doubt that other men view me thus. At least those who have seen my face, though they are admittedly few."

  Unable to stop himself, Frost leaned over and kissed Lavinia gently, her soft lips warm from the sun and tasting vaguely of apples. "Because I am foolish? Because everything about you, even the little information I managed to collect before I met you, practically cried out to me that you are a lady beyond reproach."

  She shook her head. "Make no mistake, Robert. I may yet be chaste, but I am far from innocent. And no proper lady would do what I have done these last few years."

  "What have you done, Lea?" he challenged, twisting her heart just a little with his use of that nickname. "Nothing more than what you were forced to do, from what little I know of your past. You did not do those things out of your own free will, did you?"

  "No." Lavinia's voice was a mere whisper. "I felt that I had no choice. That was not how I was raised and my grandfather, in particular, would be appalled if he knew what I have done."

  Frost stroked the back of his hand across her cheek. "So your family knows nothing of what you have done in recent years, do they?" When she turned her head away, he pressed on. "Please, Lavinia. Tell me what in your past is so terrible. I do truly wish to know." He could not say why, precisely, he wished to know. Only that he did.

  Looking up at him, Lavinia felt something inside of her shift and crack. It was foolish to love this man, for she could never truly have him. But she could do something for him now in this moment, something he might look back upon in the coming weeks that would cause him to remember her fondly. If he remembered her at all.

  "This, Robert. I did this." Lavinia sank to her knees in front of him before he could protest and reached for the placket of his breeches. He would likely enjoy this, she knew. Most men did.

  "No, Lavinia. You will not debase yourself so. Not for me and not for another man ever again." Frost's words were hard and yet somehow soft at the same time. She paused in her actions and looked up in confusion. She knew that he desired her. The evidence of that desire was but a hair's breath away from the palm of her hand, hidden only by a few layers of cloth. So why would he not take the gift she was offering him? Other men would, surely.

  Instead, Frost lowered himself so that he was now kneeling as well, their gazes locked. "I told you. To me, you are a lady and ladies do not do this sort of thing."

  "I know for a fact that they do, my lord."

  Before she had entered Lycosura, Lavinia had spent a few nights at a newly opened pleasure house Aaru, a sort of odd combination of gaming hell and pleasure house that was not solely restricted to men. During those three seemingly endless nights she had spent there hiding in the shadows and hoping not to be noticed, she had witnessed women dressed in fine gowns doing precisely the sorts of things she had just been about to do with Frost. At the time, Lavinia hadn't given the masked women much thought, but after the Dershem's ball the previous evening, she now recognized at least two of the woman at the ball as having been at Aaru as well.

  Slowly, Frost eased Lavinia back onto the grass so that she was lying beneath him. "Perhaps some do at that, and if you truly wished to do that for me, I would not object. After all, I am a man with needs. Despite Lord Raynecourt's warnings about not thinking with my cock, and the very promise I made this morning to keep my hands off of you." He searched her eyes and as much as she wished to look away, she found that his silvery gray gaze held her in place. "Except that I find it increasingly difficult to behave with honor the longer I am in your company. And I have the sense that you do not truly wish me to be completely proper where you are concerned. However, I do have the impression that you think I expect something...more from you than merely chaste kisses, as it were."

  "Don't you?" Lavinia had yet to encounter a man who didn't. "Don't you want more from me than merely a kiss?"

  "Oh, I want it. In fact, I want you. Very much. Do not mistake me, pet." Lavinia shivered a little when he used the endearment. "But I do not want you to see that act as an obligation you must fulfill. For it isn't that way."

  "What if I told you that I wanted to do such wicked things with you? That I wished to do that and more." She bit her lip. "Because I do wish for that. All of it. Everything. With you." Because a part of Lavinia, the part of her that knew pleasure, did want to. Very much. In fact, for the first time in her life, she wished to do more. And she didn't fear the idea of such an intimacy as she had with any of the men who had come before. She did not desire those men. She did desire Frost. Very much. But only him. She had never felt this inclination with another.

  He grinned down at her and she felt her heart turn over in her chest. "Then I think that, when the time is right, we might be able to arrange something that we will both enjoy. But only when the time is right. And only if I feel you truly desire me and are not just attempting to foolishly pay back some debt that you do not truly owe."

  With each word that he spoke, Frost could feel his good intentions regarding Lavinia slipping farther and father away. What was it about this infernal woman? All she had to do was gaze up at him with those luminous blue eyes and he was lost! All his good intentions and vows to put his family's safety and reputation first gone as if those thoughts had not been at all!

  When Frost saw Lavinia on her knees before him just now, it had been all he could do not to rip open his breeches and offer her his rock-hard cock
, imagining how exquisite it would be to feel her lips around his aching member. Somehow, he had managed to hold himself back, though it had nearly killed him.

  And somewhere in the middle of that internal tug of war with his conscience, he had made a decision - a rather important one and one that directly contradicted the promise he had made to Rayne that very morning. Before Lavinia left him, Frost would take her to his bed. They would engage in the bedsport he had been aching for and show her the true meaning of pleasure. If he was careful, no one - save for the two of them - would ever need know. He could keep his family's reputation safe and still obtain what he currently desired most, which was Lavinia in his bed. He simply didn't know why he hadn't thought of the possibility of having both long before now. It would require some planning and some care, but it could be done.

  "I do desire you, Robert. Never doubt that for a moment. In all of my life, I have never desired a man the way I desire you. I will not lie about that. Other men did not tempt me and I feared many of them. But you are different. And I do not know why." Lavinia could sense that Frost was wrestling with some greater issue that she did not understand. She did not want that. She wanted her courtly and slightly scandalous viscount back once more. That was the man she liked, not this one who was torn by a decision she knew nothing about.

  So for the first time in her life, Lavinia decided to be truly bold, to act like the seductress she had long been painted to be. Reaching up, she cupped Frost's face as she had longed to do earlier and then stroked her fingers along the underside of his jaw. She traced the line of his firm, sensual lips with her fingertips, gasping a little when he nipped at them lightly.

  "What do you want, Lavinia?" he asked, his eyes turning a molten silver color, sparking an intense, aching need inside her as well.

  For Lavinia, there was no question what she wanted. None at all. "Touch me, Robert," she whispered. "All I want is for you to touch me. In whatever way pleases you."