He gave a little huff of amusement. “No. They would not, and that you could still believe that shows exactly the kind of person you are.”
“A fool, you mean,” she said tightly, quite used to her parents telling her she was too naïve, too willing to look for the good in people who would end up using her for their own ends.
“No!” he exclaimed, his dark brows pulling together. He shifted on the seat, turning towards her, which pressed his knee harder against hers. “Not that. Never a fool, Bunty.”
Bunty stared at him, unable to work this strange creature out. What did he want from her, this beautiful man who looked like a god, who was supposed to be wicked and wild? He was meant to be the worst kind of rake, and yet had such kindness in his eyes, and he was looking at her now like… like….
“Bunty,” he said, his voice low.
“Y-Yes?”
“I should like to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
Bunty’s heart gave an odd little kick in her chest and she felt an awful blush creep up her chest, up her neck, heating her face. Good lord, she must be scarlet by now. How dreadfully unattractive and gauche. He grinned at her and reached out, touching her cheek.
“Such a pretty colour,” he murmured. “I love that you blush so easily. I wish I could see where the colour begins.”
“My lord!” she exclaimed, wondering why she wasn’t cross with him for having said such a thing, but she was not. Shocked, yes, but not a bit cross.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the sheepish look he gave her quite adorable, even though wickedness still glinted in his eyes. “I know I ought not say such things, but I’ve never been good at dissembling, at saying the right thing, the polite thing. I’m not polite at all, but I suppose you know that.”
“Not in the least,” Bunty replied, wishing she did not sound so breathless, but his fingers were still caressing her cheek. She had the urgent desire to lean into his touch, like a cat. Good heavens. “As I said, you were always kind. Unlike many of your ilk.”
“In what way was I kind?”
His fingers trailed along the line of her jaw, down her neck, and Bunty shivered.
“You never ignored me. You smiled at me, and not in a mocking way, but like we might be friends if we were introduced. I appreciated that more than you’ll know.”
“Bunty,” he said, and the way he said her name, all soft and low, made her breath catch in her throat. She looked up at him, struck by the way his eyes had darkened. “That wasn’t kindness, love. I have so wanted someone to introduce us, but no one would let a devil like me near such a prize. The only way I could be near you was to fall into a trap set for another, but perhaps it was fate.”
A prize? Bunty’s mind had grown fuzzy at his proximity. He was leaning closer to her and his scent filled her mind. He smelled of clean linen, soap, and something male and musky that made her insides tremble with longing. She could hardly comprehend what he was saying. Her brain had fallen into a swoon when he’d said her name so softly, and it showed no signs of reviving.
“May I kiss you now?”
“K-Kiss?” she murmured hazily, blinking at him.
His mouth was so close to hers, his full lips sensuous, and the urge to press her mouth to his was overwhelming. So she did. His lips were soft and warm and… oh good heavens. She’d kissed him!
She drew back with a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Oh!” she said in horror. Good God, what would he think of her now? That she was a brazen hussy, most likely. Mortified, she lifted her gaze to find him looking down at her in amusement.
“Well, don’t stop there,” he said, one large hand moving to her waist. He leaned in again and nuzzled at her cheek, his voice a delicious whisper against her skin. “Do it again.”
Bunty swallowed, wondering if she dared.
“Please,” he added.
Well, how could she resist when he asked so nicely?
His mouth was so close she only had to move a little and their lips touched again. Bunty let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by how sweet it felt to kiss him. She pressed a little firmer and withdrew and he only watched her, saying nothing, not moving. Bunty kissed him again, a soft press of lips, followed by another, and another, and oh, it was lovely but… she wanted more.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted.
“Are you sure?” he asked, and she was struck by how dark his eyes had grown, the black swamping the blue. His voice was low and breathless too, and he licked his lips, as though tasting hers.
Bunty’s own breath hitched. “Sure about what?”
“That you don’t know what you’re doing. It seems to me that you are quite adept.”
Bunty frowned, uncertain if he was sincere.
“Don’t tease me,” she said quietly. “I know there must be far more.”
“I wasn’t teasing, but yes… there’s more.”
“Show me, then.”
No doubt she was an unattractive shade of puce by now, but there was nothing to be done about that. Besides, he’d said he liked her blush. Strange man.
“With pleasure.”
Bunty gasped as he took her in his arms and held her close before his mouth covered hers. His kisses were nothing like hers had been. There was nothing shy or tentative about the way his mouth sought hers, or the way his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. His tongue! Bunty gasped and went to pull back, but he held her there, his tongue invading her mouth and stroking and… pleasure rolled through her. The day was cold, and their secluded spot out of the sun chillier still, yet Bunty was burning up. A slow fire had begun low in her belly and melted everything it touched until her bones were molten and everything beneath her flesh simmered. She was pliant in his arms, willing to go where he led, willing to do almost anything to keep the delicious liquid heat spilling through her body. His hand moved over her, up from her waist, moving slowly higher as Bunty’s pounding heart reached a crescendo. She held her breath as he carried on higher still to cup her full breast. He caressed and gently squeezed, and even through all the layers of material the sensation was incredible. Bunty moaned with pleasure.
“Christ,” he murmured, eyes wide as he broke the kiss.
Bunty was slammed back to reality in an instant.
Good God, what was wrong with her? She’d let him ravish her in the middle of Hyde Park, and would have allowed him a great many more liberties if he hadn’t stopped. Where were all the lessons her mother had taught her? Gone. Burned away in the passion he had made her feel. No wonder he was considered so bloody dangerous.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, wanting to die. “I don’t know what c-came over me….”
“Sorry?” he repeated, obviously perplexed, and she thought perhaps a little annoyed too. “What the devil are you sorry for?”
Bunty hesitated. “N-Nice girls aren’t supposed to behave like that.”
He let out a sigh and reached for her, cupping her cheek. “You’re the nicest girl I have ever met, and I loved every minute of it. Please don’t regret it, but I suppose I had better take you home. We’re not married yet.”
“Why?”
Lord Courtenay frowned at her. “Why what?”
“Why are you marrying me?”
He hesitated and Bunty held her breath, for once in her life allowing herself to hope for a man to say something that did not make her feel unattractive and unwanted. He turned and looked at her, his expression intent.
“Not for your dowry, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m not marrying you because I must, and I’m not marrying you for your money. I swear upon my honour, for whatever that tarnished article may be worth to you.”
Bunty smiled at him. It wasn’t exactly a romantic declaration, but it was more than she’d dared hope for. “I think your honour is a most valuable thing, my lord.”
He stared at her, something in his eyes that she could not read.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “And it’s no
t ‘my lord.’ Not anymore. I should like you to call me Ludo.”
Chapter 3
“Wherein Lord Courtenay takes a wife.”
8th December 1820. London.
Ludo stared around his rented rooms, trying to see through the eyes of a gently raised young woman who had been bred for greater things than this blasted hovel.
Hell and damnation.
Oh God, what had he done? She would take one look at this dump and walk straight out again. He could take her to a hotel for their wedding night, but… but this would still await them the next day. She’d see then exactly what a pitiful excuse for a man she’d married. She hadn’t realised yet, the poor girl. For the moment, his looks had charmed her, just as they’d charmed so many other women before her. They ought to be good for something, he thought bitterly, after having ruined his life in every other way. The Courtenay family were all fair-haired, with green or hazel eyes. His father and his two older brothers fitted the mould perfectly: medium height, medium build, sandy hair, fair skin and green eyes. And then there was Ludo. Standing well over six feet, he was built like an ox, with hair the colour of midnight, skin that spoke of Mediterranean climes, and eyes of bright blue.
A cuckoo in the nest if ever there was one.
In the days before she’d died, his mother had told him his father had been an Italian count. The handsomest man she had ever met. Her lover had wanted her to run away with him, but she had not wanted Ludo to live with the ensuing scandal. God, how he wished his mother had run, and taken him with her. It could not possibly have been worse.
Ludo reached down, picked up an empty brandy bottle and set it on the mantel. He was getting married tomorrow. This would not do. He needed help.
An hour later, he returned to his rooms with three of his favourite ladies from the brothel around the corner. They had not been best pleased at being woken during daylight hours, but the promise of being paid double their usual rate—and the lure of one of their favourite customers—had got them moving.
“Well then, lover,” Jenny said, pressing herself against him with a suggestive smile. “What’s got you all riled up, then? Three of us going to be enough, is it? He’s in the mood for some sport, I reckon, girls.”
The other two women giggled, and Ludo sighed, hoping they would not hate him for asking for their help.
“No sport, Jen. I’m sorry. The truth is, I’m getting married tomorrow.”
They stared at him.
“Oh!” Sarah said, her face clearing. “He wants to sow the last of his wild oats.”
“Bleedin’ ’ell,” Rachel crowed. “I don’t reckon ’e’s got none left!”
The three of them fell about laughing and Ludo sighed, unhooking Jenny’s arms from his neck.
“No, no. You’ve got it all wrong. Please, ladies. I need your help. I’d not ask otherwise. I’m getting married and the poor girl is getting a wretched bargain as it is, without… without bringing her back to… to this….” He gestured about him in despair. “I know I’m a devil for asking it of you, but please? Help me make it look a bit less….”
“Like a tomcat’s hideaway?” Jenny suggested, raising one eyebrow.
“Exactly,” Ludo replied, relieved.
Jenny tutted at him and folded her arms. “Not sure we ought to help him, girls, not if it means he’s going to be a proper husband and mend his ways.”
Rachel snorted. “When did gettin’ married ever stop a bloke from having his fun? Won’t change nothin’.”
Jenny studied Ludo for a long moment, and he felt a wave of heat burn up the back of his neck. “Nah. Ludo’s a good ’un,” she said softly. “If he says his vows, they’ll mean summat. Won’t they, love?”
Ludo nodded, something in his chest constricting at being read so easily, when he’d hardly dared acknowledge the truth himself.
“She a nice girl?” Jenny asked, smiling at him.
Ludo nodded. “Better than I deserve, Jen.”
“Ah, come on then, ladies. Roll your sleeves up. Let’s help the poor sod get his house in order.”
“Do we get summat for our trouble when it’s done, eh?” Sarah asked him, moving close enough to run her hand over his chest and down to more intimate areas.
Ludo caught hold of her wrist and raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers. “A generous purse and my undying gratitude, Sarah.”
The girl heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. “Ah, well. As you like, handsome.”
By late afternoon, Ludo’s rooms had been thoroughly cleaned and aired, fresh sheets put on the bed, and an embarrassing number of empty bottles disposed of. Once the girls had gone, each of them in possession of a generous sum for their troubles, Ludo had headed out to buy a wedding ring. A simple gold band was all he could afford, but his hopes rose exponentially on seeing the ring tucked into its little red box. A new beginning, he promised himself. On the way back, he’d noticed a flower seller, her basket crammed full of Christmas roses. He made the girl’s day by buying the entire basketful. It would be an excellent way of brightening up his less than elegant abode and, besides which, the flowers made him think of Bunty.
Ludo stared down at the large bouquet in his hand and laughed as he walked home. This was his last night as a bachelor. No doubt he ought to be out drinking with his friends and making the most of his freedom. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less. He had caroused and debauched his way through life since he was a very young man, and now that was done. Now he would have a wife, someone to come home to, someone who gave a damn if he came home.
She would give a damn, wouldn’t she?
Bunty was everything good in life. She was kind and brave and clever and… and she would give him a chance. He ran up the steps to the front door and let himself back into his rooms, feeling his heart sink to his boots as he realised no amount of cleaning and tidying would turn them into the kind of place Bunty would expect to live in—like a house in Mayfair.
Oh, God. She would hate him.
***
“Bunty, darling. I’ve been thinking. We were too hasty. You need not go through with it,” her father said.
Bunty looked around from her sentry position by the front window to see her parents standing side by side.
“What?” she asked, a little irritated to have her attention taken from watching the road.
Lord Courtenay—Ludo — should be here soon. They were to be married at two o’clock. Her father had arranged the special licence and the minister was seated in the back parlour with a cup of tea whilst he awaited the arrival of her bridegroom.
“I did a little investigating about Lord Courtenay at my club yesterday, and the reports are far from good. Worse than we had realised, even. Your mother and I have been talking and… oh, Bunty. My dear child, we cannot help but think that in such circumstances, ruination might be better than marriage to… to such a man.”
Bunty’s eyes grew wide as she realised her father was in earnest.
“But, Father, I should be shunned by polite society. What would I do? Where would I go?”
“We thought perhaps your Great-Aunt Hildebrand,” her mother said, her voice quavering. “She lives very quietly, no one there would know you, or would know about….”
She sobbed and buried her face in her handkerchief.
“You think I would be better served living with an old lady of eighty in the wilds of Cumbria than marrying Lord Courtenay?” Bunty replied, astonished and horrified.
“If it were any other man, my dear.” Her father’s eyes were filled with pity. “But Courtenay… Everyone knows he’s a bastard, for all his father was duped into acknowledging him. He was disowned by his family, and he’s raised hell at every opportunity since. He’ll likely squander your fortune and subject you to heaven alone knows what indignities. He has no money, no prospects. What can you hope to gain by marrying him?”
“But it’s all arranged,” Bunty protested. “You went and got the licence; you agreed the terms wit
h him. You cannot change your mind now.”
“No,” her father said, his voice firm. “But you can, and no one would think less of you for not marrying such a man.”
Bunty stared at her father. She knew everything he’d said was likely true. It was impossible to deny the accusations against Ludo. The scandals were legion, his reputation blacker than pitch. Leopards don’t change their spots, whispered a little voice in her head.
Her breath caught as she heard the front door close and, a moment later, the butler announced him. Bunty’s heart thudded as Ludo appeared in the doorway. Oh, but he was magnificent. His powerful thighs were clad in buff breeches, the embroidered cream waistcoat and dark blue coat exquisitely cut, highlighting his impressive physique. Bunty could not draw a breath at all as he bowed low to them and then moved towards her, smiling with such warmth that she wanted to cry.
“Miss Bunting,” he said, a look in his eyes that was just for her as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “How lovely you look. I am the most fortunate of men.”
Tears stung her eyes as she realised he was sincere. He truly thought her lovely.
“My lord.” Bunty jumped at the force of her father’s voice. “We have spoken with our daughter, and there has been a change of plan. There is something she would like to say to you.”
Ludo stiffened, looking from her father back to her. Bunty flushed, horrified and uncertain of what to say, until she saw the hurt in his eyes. It was only there for a moment before his expression was wiped clean. He stood tall and did not meet her gaze.
“Of course,” he said, with no inflection in his voice. “I quite understand. There is no need to distress yourself, Miss Bunting. I believe I know what you wish to say.”
He bowed, stiff and formal, and turned away from her.
Panic gripped Bunty at the terrible idea she might lose her chance to know this man better, to know more of the tender soul who had kissed her as if she was everything he’d ever wanted, who had told her she was lovely and actually meant it. She reached out and grasped his arm.
The Christmas Rose: A Rogues & Gentlemen Novella Page 3