Scandalous Lovers

by Diana Ballew

  “Bosh, Sheila Dooley is a ninny.”

  “She may be a ninny, but your previous chaperone is now a married one, so I put my groats on what she says.” Lisbeth suddenly sat up. “I almost forgot! Father is bored and wants to have a party. Could you come this Saturday?”

  “Whyever does your father want a party? He only grouses when your mother plans one.”

  Lisbeth giggled. “Actually, I want one and convinced him it was his idea. He is dying to show off his new mare. And I don’t badger him with the details like Mother. I just do everything my way.”

  Isabella agreed to come. They visited for a while longer and she listened while Lisbeth rehashed the latest local gossip. Lisbeth adored gossip and Isabella had learned to put up with her dear friend’s bad habit, as she saw it. At least the blonde wasn’t given to repeating cruel misinformation.

  Long ago, Bella had given up trying to discuss any of the trials of running the estate with the other girl, who would only shake her head and look bored and puzzled at the same time. The friends stuck to more ladylike topics.

  After being summoned by the pull bell, Bella’s new servant showed Lisbeth out. The blonde coyly fluttered her lashes at him, and he obligingly smiled.

  After observing the flirtatious smile pass between her butler and friend, Isabella had a hard time remaining still until the door was closed behind the other girl. She suddenly found she was furious.

  “I’m going for a ride, Easton. Please tell Harry to saddle Dilly.” Isabella turned and briskly mounted the stairs. She had to get out of this house, had to get away from that man! How dare he smile at Lisbeth with such masculine appreciation? He never smiled at her that way. It had been so knowing, so intimate.

  Half an hour later, Isabella, wearing a soft peach riding habit, was galloping toward her lake, her auburn hair unbound and streaming out behind her. The wind cooled her heated cheeks, and the solitude calmed her ire.

  It really was absurd of her to be angry at Lisbeth for doing what came naturally to her – flirting with any handsome man, butler or not. It wasn’t Easton’s fault for smiling at the irresistible Beth. Was any man immune to her friend’s charm? No, even her father, a very logical fellow, had been wrapped round Lisbeth’s little finger.

  As soon as the lake was in sight, Isabella felt her spirits lift. Today she would indulge in a refreshing swim. It was just what she needed to sooth her frazzled nerves. Within moments, she was off Dilly and stripping off her clothes, carefully hanging them over several branches.

  Isabella dove into the water with a shout of pure joy, loving the feel of the coolness enveloping her naked body. As she broke the surface of the water, she pictured Easton in her mind's eye, his eyes regarding her with devilish amusement, his firm sensuous mouth smiling a wicked smile. She closed her eyes and embraced the image, scissoring her legs to tread the water. She tried to imagine what it would feel like to have those lips pressed to her own. How would his long fingers feel touching her, caressing her bare skin? The action of her legs made currents swirl about her body and she thought that this must be what it was like, to have fingers brushing against her skin and touching her intimately. She bit her lip as a tingling sensation began to flutter low in her belly.

  “But it cannot be,” she whispered to the reeds and the willows as she opened her eyes. Chagrined at herself and at her wicked thoughts, she dove back under the surface.

  Some while later, she was back on the shore, dressed once again, save for her riding jacket and boots. She tried to keep thoughts of her handsome butler out of her mind, but it was impossible. Her swim had not soothed her this time, it only enflamed her yearning for the man. She sat upon the carpeting of soft moss beneath a huge, old willow and braided her damp hair loosely. The warm, filtrating sunlight and cool, soft breeze invited her to lean back against the gnarled trunk and shut her eyes.

  She issued a frustrated sigh. Easton could never find her attractive, surely. And even if he did, there was nothing the broad-shouldered, virile dark man could do about it, was there? It was all too absurd.

  Just who was Easton, really?

  Rafe waited a moment longer before emerging from his hiding place only a few yards from Isabella’s sleeping body. Thank God he was no longer nearly panting with lust; however, his body was still painfully aroused. Well, he’d asked for it, hadn’t he, coming here on a warm afternoon, knowing she might take a swim? Yes, he deserved this excruciating state. But, good God, she was lovelier than he’d imagined! Her body was utter perfection. He’d been right to think her legs shapely, and that exquisite little derriere of hers begged for the touch of his hands. He knew each cheek would fit just right in his palms. Her breasts were full and firm with dark pink jutting nipples that made his mouth water, her hips flared enticingly and her stomach was smooth. She was bloody Venus incarnate.

  He watched her a moment longer, trying to figure out what to do. He was sorely tempted to make love to her, but knew it would be a selfish act, and surely he was above that. He was an experienced man, not some randy young boy who might take advantage of such an opportunity. And she was an innocent, a proper little virgin.

  Albeit, an incredibly alluring one, but still a virgin.

  This was the perfect instance to test himself, to prove, if only to himself, that he was above acting on a simple case of lust. Surely he could keep his resolve, no matter the situation?

  Perhaps he could satisfy at least one curiosity and steal a kiss? What was the harm in that? She was fast asleep, dreaming chaste little dreams, no doubt. He needed to prove to himself that she didn’t taste or feel nearly as exquisite as he kept imaging.

  Rafe quietly approached her figure on the spongy ground, then eased himself down beside her. He wished her hair wasn’t braided so that he could run his fingers through her tresses. He studied her beautiful face, relaxed completely in slumber. She had a proud, stubborn chin, and a pert little nose. Her cheekbones were high, accentuating her slanted eyes. And those lips were simply made for tasting, full and red, like the ripest of strawberries. She was stunning. He eased closer, watching her carefully for signs of awakening. Slowly, he lowered his head until his mouth was but a whisper away from her own. He breathed in the smell of her and was engulfed with wanting. Gently, he touched his lips hers. God, her mouth was soft and seemed made to mold to his. He desperately wished she would open her mouth so that he could taste her sweetness, but knew he must be content with only this. Still this was heaven, the feel of her, so warm and yielding, so very supple. Unable to resist, he touched his tongue to her lips, running it feather-soft against her lower lip. He shuddered, and regretfully, withdrew from her heat. She sighed in her sleep and turned her face toward him, as if seeking his mouth again.

  Damn, she tasted even more divine than he’d fantasized. Lightly, but with intense yearning, he brushed his knuckles against her petal-soft cheek, something he’d wanted to do countless times since he’d met her. Smiling wryly at his own behavior, he rose and took his place back in the trees to keep watch over her while she continued her nap.

  Isabella felt strange when she awoke, oddly restless and yearning, but for what exactly, she didn’t know. Her lips tingled and she raised her fingertips to touch them. She had dreamt a kiss, yes, she remembered now. And how silly, it had been Easton kissing her. Even her subconscious couldn’t resist the man! It was bad enough she daydreamed about him, but even a peaceful nap wasn’t safe.

  Goodness, it was as if she were becoming obsessed with the butler. She found herself anticipating of dinner, as he would be close at hand looking devilishly handsome in the soft candlelight, his ebony hair gleaming and such an intense look in his eyes that she trembled when their gaze would lock. She sighed. How pathetic she was, getting jealous over so mild a flirtation between him and Beth! At this rate, she was surely to become a bitter old maid, with only cats and probably a senile Mrs. Combs for company.

  The angle of the sun told her she hadn’t slept for too long. She stretched, rose and pulle
d on her spencer, then her boots. A sharp whistle brought Dilly to her, and she easily swung up into the saddle. She absently wondered which gown she should wear this evening to dinner, caught herself in her musings, and called herself a fool.

  Chapter 4

  “Please, my lady! You must hold still or I’ll never get your hair right.” Alice, Isabella’s maid who worked wonders with coiffures, was nearly cross-eyed with irritation.

  “I’m sorry, Alice,“ Isabella said sheepishly, knowing she was being difficult, but she was too excited that Saturday evening had finally arrived to feel much remorse. It had been months since she had been able to attend a party. She couldn’t wait to try on her new gown, which had just that day been completed by Alice and Mrs. Combs’ daughter. It was a dreamy silk confection in midnight blue with an opalescent, sheer overskirt and off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. The deep scoop neck was not like her other ballgowns. She hoped it reflected her emerging maturity. After all, she was no longer a young girl. She was her own mistress now, the baroness, and had been for more than two years. It was time she stopped dressing in the demure gowns of a young miss and began to present herself as the lady of the manor she was.

  “There,” Alice was finally satisfied with her handiwork. “There won’t be no other lady lookin’ so pretty, I’ll wager, my lady.” She stepped back, her hands splayed on her full hips, and allowed Isabella to see her reflection in the large oval mirror hung above the small dressing table.

  Isabella could only stare at her image. She actually looked lovely! Her thick hair was pulled up away from her face, accentuating her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones, and then cascaded down her back in loose curling waves. Alice had added small sprigs of pure white baby’s breath and blue silk ribbons at each temple, which added luster to her auburn tresses, and, once again, drew attention to her eyes.

  “Oh, Alice,” she breathed, “it’s wonderful!”

  Alice, who knew too well how gifted she was, smirked with pride, then hurriedly helped Isabella on with the new gown. When she was dressed, complete with matching slippers and gloves, Alice couldn’t resist applauding.

  “You’re fit to sit at court, right beside the Regent, you are, my lady.”

  Isabella laughed in delight, then blushed, realizing she had never before revealed so much décolletage. “You don’t think I’m just a bit too much on display?” she asked her maid, indicating the swell of her bosom.

  “Bosh, I’ve seen Miss Lisbeth show more ‘charms’ than that in a day dress. You look a proper lady, you do indeed.” Alice knelt to smooth a wrinkle from the back, muttering under her breath, “you’ll take a little wind right out ‘o her sails tonight.”

  “Alice, please go and tell Easton to have the coach brought around. I cannot wait another moment to be on my way.” Isabella ignored her maid’s mumbling, all thoughts focused on the party. She decided to wear only the diamond earrings her father had given her on her sixteenth birthday. They were the only truly nice pieces of jewelry she owned, anyway. What need was there for a lot a flash way out here in North Bindlefork? No, such money was better spent on plows and oxen and grain.

  What was she to do about those dratted fifty sheep, anyway?

  A few moments later, Isabella, with a silken cape of midnight blue lined in white over her arm, nearly skipped down the grand staircase. She had reached the last step when she saw her handsome butler near the front door. He was looking at her in a most peculiar way which immediately had her pulse racing.

  “Easton, is the coach ready?” He said nothing as he stepped closer to her. “Easton?” She cocked her head in puzzlement at his intense stare.

  * * *

  “My lady, the carriage is waiting, as you requested.” He stepped closer still and laid the cape over her shoulders. “You have no escort, my lady, nor a protector.”

  Isabella stood still, feeling a little uneasy, wondering at the harshness in his tone. “I’m sure I shall be quite alright, Easton. I am only going to my dear friend’s home, where I have known every person who will be in attendance since my birth.”

  It wasn’t as if she were going off alone to the city for goodness sake! Why was he acting so disapproving of her? It really wasn’t his place to judge her. Did he think she would make a fool of herself? Did he, with his haughty London ways, think a simple country lady such as her could not comport herself properly?

  “Shall I go with you, my lady?” He seemed to realize the absurdity of what he said the moment he had uttered it, snapping his jaw together and stepping back.

  “Really, Easton, how preposterous.” She frowned at him as she pulled the cloak closer around her. “Good night.”

  “Good night, my lady. Have a pleasant evening, I’m sure.” He yanked the heavy door open and practically shoved her out.

  Isabella was more than a little perplexed by her new butler’s attitude. Why on earth did he seem so angry with her? He was odd, that was it. That must be why he had to leave London. He had become too familiar with his employer and had been sacked, surely. Yes, he was definitely odd, indeed.

  She sighed. Odd or not, he was too attractive for any girl’s sanity to endure. Even when he scowled at her, as she saw he was doing from the doorway, he was beyond compare.

  Isabella tried to dismiss Easton’s strange behavior from her mind and focus on the lovely evening as the coach traveled down the long country road. The moon had just risen and the countryside was set aglow in its soft light. Young Harry, her driver, whistled a jaunty tune as they traveled along. It really was a shame Easton couldn’t have accompanied her.

  It didn’t seem long before they arrived at Lisbeth’s large family home, which was brightly lit, the sounds of the orchestra spilling out into the night. Isabella was so excited, she could barely wait long enough for the footman to open her door.

  The moment she stepped foot in the festooned entry, Lisbeth was on her. “Goodness, simply everyone is here! Charming Mr. Dalton is back from town and is currently sipping punch with Sheila Dooley.” She paused in her mindless chatter to gape at Isabella, who had removed her cloak and handed it to a footman. “Oh my gracious! Isabella!”

  Isabella adopted her cultivated nonchalance as she pulled her gloves off. “Yes, dear, what is it?” It really was hard not to laugh at her friend’s astonished look.

  “You’re breathtaking!” Lisbeth looked near to tears. She glanced down at her own very pretty and alluring pink dress. “I look positively dowdy standing next to you.”

  Isabella laughed at the absurdity of her friend’s remark. “Nonsense, Lisbeth, you couldn’t look ‘dowdy’ in a burlap sack with ashes on your nose.”

  Lisbeth didn’t look convinced.

  “Really, you know that you outshine every other woman here. You’re just not used to me wearing a grown-up female’s gown.”

  “Grown up and out,” Lisbeth murmured, then grinned. “You look smashing, and I can’t hate you for it. I love you too much.” She grasped Isabella’s hand and led her over to where her father stood, expounding on his latest horse purchase. Soon, both young women were surrounded by gentlemen and remained so the rest of the evening.

  It was quite late when Isabella mounted the steps to her own home. Her feet ached, and she was bone weary from having danced so much. Lisbeth’s “charming Mr. Dalton” had trod upon her feet several times, obviously distracted by her bosom, which he had practically drooled upon. It amazed her that men would overlook her plain face if enough décolletage was revealed. But obviously, some things were more appealing to men than a pair of dimples or a pretty bow mouth. It was nonsense, really.

  Isabella was startled when the door opened for her. She had assumed all the servants were asleep, as the house was dark and still. But, there was Easton. She mentally shrugged, realizing that Bent had always been on hand to do just the same, despite the hour of day or night.

  As she stepped inside and past him, she thought she smelled liquor.

  “Did you enjoy yourself tonight, my sweet lady
fair?”

  “I beg your pardon, Easton?” Isabella could barely credit her ears. What had he called her?

  “Did an appropriate number of young gentlemen fawn over your ample charms, my lady? Did they all vie for the chance to dance with you and flatter you shamelessly? Did any manage to maneuver you behind a potted fern and steal a kiss, or more?”

  Isabella could only stare at him. Goodness, he was looking at her arrogantly, one black brow arched. She suddenly noticed that he wore no coat or cravat, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. Never had respectable Bent been seen in such a state. Of course, it only made Easton appear more handsome and perhaps a bit like a rake.

  “I do believe you are foxed, Easton.”

  “Nonsense. Butlers don’t get foxed.” He frowned. “I shall, of course, have to ask Tilbot to be sure. But I feel quite confident that while butlers may occasionally become tipsy, they never get foxed.” He shook his head emphatically.

  “I think it best you find your bed now, Easton.” Isabella began edging toward the stairs. Given the predatory gleam in his eyes, escaping her attractive butler seemed a very sensible thing to do right now. And heaven only knew, if she was anything, she was a sensible person.

  “No, my bed is too bloody small.”

  Easton, now grinning wickedly, was advancing on her. Oh, dear. She would swoon, surely, if he touched her. She’d never swooned before in her life, of course, but she had a feeling that this was truly a swoon-worthy situation if there ever was one.

  “I’ll bet my groats that your bed is big and soft, my lady fair. I’ll bet it has room enough for two.”

  “Easton,” Isabella squared her shoulders and attempted to look at him haughtily. “My bed is of no concern of yours. You are obviously in no frame of mind to converse in a reasonable fashion, and so I bid you goodnight.” She turned and nearly ran to the foot of the stairs. She swung around to see if Easton had yet toppled over and found she was almost touching his shirtfront.