by Diana Ballew
The two ladies had offered to allow the gentlemen to linger over their port after the meal was finish, but all three opted to join the women and have brandy instead. Whit and Lisbeth were shortly singing a bawdy duet between fits of laughter. It seemed all too soon when the clock struck, and Lisbeth said she must be on her way home. Whit’s offer to escort her was readily accepted, to no one's surprise. Isabella bade her cousin and Rafe goodnight soon afterward. She wasn’t even aware of the yearning in her gaze as she looked at her former butler, but he was, all too much.
Chapter 10
Isabella was up and riding early the next morning. She hadn’t waited to see if ‘her gentlemen’ would join her. She needed the time alone. She was horribly dispirited.
Why, of all the men for her to be attracted to, did it have to be the one fellow she couldn’t have?
She returned home from her outing feeling no better, even though she had again allowed Dilly to fly with her across the blossoming fields.
What was she to do? This would be their last evening as her guests, she just knew. They might even leave that day! Her gentlemen would return to their exciting lives in London, soon forgetting North Bindlefork and her. She hated this melancholy that sapped her of her usual clear thinking and decisiveness. It wasn’t in her nature to feel sorry for herself.
Well then, she just needed to figure out a plan – a strategy with which to resolve this dilemma. Of course, just what the dilemma was exactly, was still a subject of confusion. She wanted to find out the truth behind Rafe’s parentage, but, given that he was illegitimate, what good would it do her? He would still be a bastard and it would still cause a scandal if they married.
Marry him?
Oh, goodness!
She was in love with him!
Isabella stood perfectly still, her head cocked to one side. Anyone seeing her would have thought she was listening for something. And, in a sense, she was.
She was listening to her heart and her head, searching for truth. In her practical way, she turned it over in her mind, took stock of her feelings, and concluded that she was indeed in love with Rafe Easton.
Yes, it was true. She loved him for his humor and intelligence. She loved the way he made her feel safe, protected. He seemed to take pride in the way she ran the estate and how she handled her people. And when he touched her, kissed her, her heart soared, that so handsome and wonderful a man should want her.
Oh, goodness! She would be Mrs. Easton! She frowned, shook her head and resumed walking toward breakfast. She was getting way ahead of herself. Marriage was nowhere on the horizon. Uncle Hugh and Alex would never allow her to marry beneath her station, even if the fellow was their friend. And, of course, there was the slightly important question of whether Rafe wanted to marry her. He might not feel the same way.
But if he didn’t love her, what made him seek her out more than once? Why was there so often a hungry gleam to his cobalt eyes when he stared at her, a look that seemed to go beyond mere lust? And he was awfully protective of her. How was she to know what to think? After all, he was duplicitous and hiding something, she was sure.
“Damnation,” she muttered entering the dining room.
“Beg pardon, my lady?”
She looked up, recognizing the voice of the subject of her fancy. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He stood and bowed to her and she saw he was wearing a very handsome jacket of fine tan wool with a white shirt and chocolate-brown breeches. She was rather glad he no longer was confined to wearing his serving uniform.
“’Morning, Bella. Been out riding?”
“Yes, Cousin Alex,” she answered without thought. Her gaze was locked with Rafe’s. His eyes were so bright, and she thought she saw that desire in them that often led to him kissing her.
At least, she hoped so.
“Sit down, Bella. You’re miles away, me girl. Come back to the table with us.”
Isabella sank into a chair and finally managed to look away from the man she had only just realized had stolen her heart.
“Was it a pleasant ride, my lady?”
“Yes, thank you, Lord Langley.” She managed to pull herself together. She started to rise with her plate, but Rafe was suddenly there at her elbow, taking the dish from her and grinning.
“Allow me, my lady. I have done it before.”
Rafe filled her plate, then set it before her and took his own seat again.
“We want to thank you for your splendid hospitality, me dear,” Alex said, leaning over, placing one huge hand over hers. “It’s been an interesting visit, to say the least, but we feel we shouldn’t burden you any longer.”
“I see,” Isabella said quietly. She stared at the back of her cousin’s hand. It was a nice hand, well formed and warm, but it didn’t stir her as Rafe’s touch could. “You’ll be off this morning, then?” She told herself she would not cry. She never cried, it was too annoying and useless.
“Oh, no,” Whit said, cheerily. “You’ll have all three of us at your beck and call until tomorrow morning.”
She looked up from her plate at Rafe. “Not until tomorrow? How wonderful.” She smiled. At least they would have this one last day. Her only wish was that they could spend some little time together, just the two of them.
“Well, troops, what shall we do now?” Alex said, looking around the table at his companions. He had finally swiped his plate clean, and now leaned back and patted his smooth stomach.
“Isabella still needs a proper butler. Aren’t there any to be found way out here?,” Rafe asked.
“Only the already employed variety, I’m afraid. I did make inquiries, before you sent Easton to me.”
“Yes, Bella,” her cousin said. “You are a sensible girl, and of course would try to settle your own problem. We shall simply have to send a real one back to you from London, me dear.” Alex gave her an assessing look. “Someone old, who won’t be tempted by your ample charms, me beauty.” He chuckled as she tossed her napkin at him.
“Really, Alex, you are absurd!”
“I quite agree with you, this time, old man.” Rafe nodded approvingly at Alex, then turned his gaze back to her. “Someone very old. Too old to be able to chase her around the parlor.” He ducked to avoid being hit in the head with a freshly baked muffin.
“And nearly blind,” Whit joined in. He was thrown a lace trivet, which didn’t quite make it across his plate.
“Nonsense! What a lot of rubbish.” Isabella felt herself blushing to her roots. “Send me someone from London, then, and I promise not to corrupt him. I’ll be my most haughty. He’ll positively hate me, I swear.” She was still not used to being teased about her appearance. How silly they were! Why would anyone chase her around the parlor, for heaven’s sake?
Rafe shook his head and smiled at her warmly. She felt her toes curl inside her boots at that smile.
“Impossible, my dear.”
“Quite, little cousin. We shall have to find someone staid and somber, like your Tilbot, Rafe.”
“Tilbot is your butler?” Isabella’s eyes narrowed. Was there nothing he had told her that was true?
“Er, yes.” Rafe replied, looking uncomfortable.
“My, you must be getting along quite well to have a butler, what with being, shall we say, born on the wrong side of the sheets.”
“Quite. Now, gentlemen, why don’t we have a morning ride, before the morning is completely gone.”
Isabella watched as Rafe stood, bowed to her, then marched out of the room. Gracious, she must have offended him. He was apparently sensitive about his illegitimacy.
While she carefully prepared for dinner that evening, Isabella again replayed in her mind what had happened after luncheon.
Lisbeth had ridden over and joined them for the afternoon meal, and it had been gay indeed. Later, while her friend and Whit had shared a game of cards, Rafe and Alex had caught up on acquaintances, Isabella listening in. It was apparent he was involved quite closely with the Ton, for a
supposed bastard – too much so, she thought. Of course, having spent her entire life in the remote countryside, she certainly was no expert in the workings of the elite of the city’s society, but gossip traveled, and general rules dictated a basic truth – bastards would never get too close inside the ranks, not unless extremely well connected.
After Lisbeth departed, with Whit once again escorting her, Alex decided to look over the small town to see if he could find an amusing trinket to bring back to his current mistress.
For the first time in days, Rafe and Isabella found themselves alone. They were in the parlor, having just seen her cousin off, she on the settee and he leaning against the mantle, watching her, his long muscular legs crossed at the ankles.
“Well,” Isabella said,feeling uneasy and anxious, but excited none the less. Attempting to distract her rioting nerves, she said, “Would you like to take a ride? It is warm today, but not overly.”
Rafe slowly smiled. She realized she was holding her breath and tried to breathe naturally. She hoped he wouldn’t mention they had already had their ride that morning. This would most likely be the last chance they had to be alone together.
“A ride with you would be quite enjoyable, my lady.” He chuckled.
She smiled shyly at him. “Shall we, then?”
After she had changed into a riding habit, they walked to the stables and were greeted by the obliging Harry, who immediately fetched their mounts.
Soon the two were flying across the field, a blanket of yellow, red, purple, and white flowers, the warmly scented wind rushing to meet them.
They came to the line of trees and slowed the horses to a walk, then dismounted as the lake opened up before them.
“I do love this place. My parents used to bring me here to picnic when I was little.”
“I’m sure you were an imp, a bit serious, but still an imp.”
She snorted and pushed back her hair. “I was never an imp. Nonsense. But I was rather serious, I suppose.” She plucked a blade of grass and twiddled it between her fingers as she strolled closer to the waters’ edge. She looked at him from over her shoulder. “You were an imp, if anyone was.” She could imagine him as a small boy, a natural charmer, and a wheedler.
He chuckled, leaning back against the trunk of a tree, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Yes, you’re probably right. I do remember my mother telling me how I’d make the cook cry with a sad story so she would feel pity for me and give me treats.”
“And what stories work for you now that you are grown?” Isabella teased, sitting down by a clump of blue hyacinth in full bloom.
“Ah,” he replied, a sensual, confident smile turning up the corners of his firm mouth, “such stories I have would cause even one of the dowagers of Almack’s to weep.” He pushed away from the trunk and sauntered toward her.
She smiled up at him and cocked her head to one side. He was so very handsome. “You, sir, are incorrigible, indeed.” She patted the ground beside her. “Here, come and tell me a story to make me weep.”
“I have a feeling you’d be a tough audience, my lady fair.” He sat down, then eased back, supporting himself with one elbow. His gaze settled on her lips. It was insane to have come to this secluded spot with him.
“I think I want to kiss you again, my lady.”
“Really?” Isabella could only stare at him, lounging there and looking at her hungrily. He was far too charming for a practical girl’s frame of mind.
“Really. Come here, Bella.” He held out his hand to her.
“Goodness, Rafe, you know we shouldn’t.” Her pulse was erratic and it was becoming difficult to breathe. Heaven help her, she wanted his mouth on hers. She wanted those long fingers touching her and making her tremble.
”Come here, Bella.” He gave her a wicked grin, then reached out, lightening quick, and pulled her down on top of him.
“Rafe!”
“Hush.”
He rolled her over with him, so that she lay beside him, her hair spread out like a fan around her. He lay on his side, propped up with his elbow, and just looked at her. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and that seemed to be it for him. He leaned down and kissed her hungrily. She trembled, responding back eagerly. He ran his tongue softly against her lips, teasing her until she parted her mouth, then slipped his tongue inside. He moaned as their tongues touched and deepened the kiss. Rubbing his chest softly against her breasts, she groaned deep in her throat. He cupped her cheek with his hand, then slid his fingers down the smooth skin of her throat. With his thumb, he caressed the throbbing pulse, while he kissed her cheeks, her temples, her chin and finally again her lips.
“Sweet, Bella,” he murmured against her mouth. “My sweet, sweet Bella.”
He used his lips and tongue to trail a path down her throat, while he slid one finger down the valley between her breasts to her stomach. She gasped and pressed against him. He splayed his fingers out across her flat abdomen and her muscles tensed with anticipation. He explored the tops of her breasts with his mouth, and she began to wriggle beneath him in the most delightful way.
Isabella arched against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She had never thought anything could feel this right. To be in his strong arms, to feel him tight against her, was bliss. Her breasts and the apex of her thighs tingled, and she could feel his arousal hard against her leg. It was wonderfully wicked. She never wanted it to stop. If it stopped, he would leave her. The thought made her clutch him to her tighter still.
“Rafe, your mouth is wonderful,” she moaned as his lips and teeth were doing exquisite things to her nerves.
Rafe groaned and buried his face in her neck.
“Rafe? Did I do something I shouldn’t have?” He was suddenly so still.
“Yes, no, . . . damnation. You’re very passionate and have quite overwhelmed me, Bella.”
“Oh.” She was quiet for a moment. “Isn’t overwhelming you a good thing?”
Rafe’s laugh sounded somewhat painful. He finally raised his head to look down at her. “Isabella, you have a passionate nature and normally I would be praising the heavens.” He reached out and smoothed the hair back from her face. “But this really isn’t the proper thing to be doing, at least not for you and me, no matter how much we are enjoying ourselves.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I am not your husband, nor even your fiancé and you are a very proper young miss with no experience.” He smiled, wryly. “I, however, should know better.” He sighed. “Someday, my sweet lady fair, you will understand.” He kissed her, softly, then stood and pulled her up next to him.
Isabella was so disappointed she wanted to scream. She felt more alive when with him than she ever had in her life and he was pulling away. She knew he was right, of course. Even if she did love him, they should not have been lying in each other’s arms that way. It was true, he was not her fiancé, and she would be ruined if anyone saw them together. But blast and be gone! It had felt so right. Was it at all possible that he could love her too? But what did any of it matter as he was leaving soon? Ah, she was such a fool to allow him into her heart.
Rafe made small talk while he brushed grass from her gown. He deftly rearranged her hair in a simple knot and then inspected her with a mock frown. “Well, I can’t do much about the swollen lips, but otherwise you look fairly presentable.”
She gave him a curtsy, hoping to appear nonplussed. “You however, sir, need a brushing down as well. Why, you have a twig in your hair.” She began to briskly clean him up, her hands only occasionally lingering a bit longer than necessary in places.
He finally shooed her flitting hand away. “That will be fine, I’m sure, my lady.” His tone was stern, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.
Isabella gave him what she hoped was a saucy look, then ran to her horse. “I shall race you back, sir.” She swung up into the sidesaddle with ease. “The winner shall have whatever her heart desires.” She would have him, if she could really have her wish. It certainly wasn�
�t his fault about his parentage.
“Ha! He shall, my lady.”
It was a tie, they decided, both having reached the stables breathless at nearly the same moment. Their gazes locked, and she wondered what his desire was, hoping that it mirrored her own.
Chapter 11
In her room, while her maid arranged her coiffure, Isabella touched her fingers to her lips, just as Rafe had done when they had separated some hours ago.
“Until tonight, my sweet Bella,” he had said so very softly, his blue eyes warmly caressing her face.
Isabella sighed in remembrance. How could a man so incredibly handsome desire her? What was she, that he would want her? She started to shake her head, but was reprimanded by her maid.
“My lady, please!”
“I’m sorry, Alice.”
“Gracious, you are a fidget tonight, not that I can blame you, given your ladyship’s company. Three such handsome young lords.”
Alice helped Isabella into her bronze silk dress, her last suitable evening gown that hadn’t yet been worn in any of her guests’ presence. It clung to her breasts and waist like a second skin. Isabella thought the color made her eyes appear greener, a feature she had always thought her best physical asset.
“Oh, my lady, I envy you!” The maid sighed dramatically. “Dinner with three such fine young men and you lookin’ so lovely. They’ll fair to be trippin’ over each other to get your attention tonight, you mark my words.”
Isabella laughed. “Surely my cousin will not be too affected.”
“Cousin or no, he’s still a virile young man, my lady.” Alice gave her a knowing look and a nod.
Isabella shook her head disbelievingly. Her hair, pulled up at the sides and left loose down her back, swept her bare shoulders. “Nonsense.”