The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series)

by Collette Cameron

  With a final pat on Adaira’s shoulder, Mother lifted the breakfast tray from the bed. Handing it to Maisey, she said “Please take this below, and ask for Adaira’s bathwater to be sent up.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Maisey bobbed a curtsy before swiftly leaving the room.

  Adaira unfolded the note. Scanning the contents, her heart somersaulted, then plummeted to her knees. It was a summons from Roark. This soon? She’d thought she’d have a bit more time before she was requested to leave. She raised her gaze to her mother.

  Lifting her note, Mother said, “I’m bid to meet with your father and Lord Clarendon at half past eleven. I assume yours makes the same request?” Mother offered a small smile of encouragement. “Yes?”

  Adaira nodded incapable of forming words at the moment. She’d not expected to feel stricken. After all, wasn’t this what she wanted? To be spared a month of tedious gatherings and social posturing?

  To be rid of Lord Clarendon, Roark, once and for all?

  Of course it was.

  She burst into tears.

  Nearly two hours later, wearing a creamy gauze morning dress adorned with white lace and ribbons, Adaira stood beside her mother outside Roark’s study. A lacy fichu was tied around her neck and tucked into her bodice. No one could tell by looking at her she had any bruising.

  The door stood closed. Nonetheless, muted baritone voices rumbled from within. The temptation to lay her ear against the carved wood to hear what they said overwhelmed her.

  On second thought, perhaps she didn’t want to know. Smoothing her dress for the sixth time in half as many minutes, she twisted her lips at the irony. The simple gown suggested innocence.

  Adaira knew otherwise.

  As did Roark.

  Mother touched Adaira’s arm. “Are you ready?”

  Best to get to it and get the worst over. With focused intent, she swallowed the knot lodged in her throat. “Yes. The sooner we face the dragon, the sooner I can be on my way.”

  Mother sighed. “You’re making an assumption.”

  Grimacing, Adaira shook her head. She glanced around the entry. After overhearing the unpleasant conversation last night, she was aware how easily one could eavesdrop unnoticed in this house.

  “Addy, you don’t know what he’ll do.” Mother drew Adaira’s attention back to the present.

  Lowering her voice, Adaira said, “Don’t I? I shouldn’t have been outside last night. Once again, my impetuous behavior has caused a scandal, but in my defense, I was terrified for Fionn.”

  “I’m sure his lordship won’t be overly harsh. He may wish to speak to you about the fire and Brayan.” Her mother smiled reassuringly. “While it’s true you should have remained with the rest of the women, you did save the earl’s life.”

  “Which wouldn’t have needed saving if I hadn’t been wandering the grounds last night. He’s not likely to be gracious about that.” A week ago she’d have told him to go to the devil if he’d objected to her actions. She wouldn’t have given a fig what he or society thought of her. Now, it mattered. Roark’s disapproval mattered.

  Glancing down, she frowned, then adjusted the lace to cover a reddish-blue mark at the top of one breast. “You know how he responded when I kept him confined in the dungeon. Imagine what his reaction will be to almost getting killed because of me.”

  She cast a glance around the entry, fingering the familiar, comforting cross once more in its place. “He’s a trifle hardhearted.”

  That wasn’t altogether true. Adaira had come to admire and appreciate the man under the stoic, severe exterior. She wouldn’t let herself dwell on why. The cold fury she’d seen on his face before she swooned hadn’t been the least bit encouraging. Ominous was more apt. After Brayan’s lies, she was prepared for the worst.

  Genuine shock flashed across Mother’s face. Impatience edged her voice. “Adaira, surely you’re not serious. You’ve seen his staff and the animals he keeps. Those aren’t the actions of an unfeeling man.”

  “But,” Adaira said, “he’s a man ruled by rigid propriety and pride. I understand what he must do, and I appreciate why.” That she did, surprised her. Maybe her association with Lord Clarendon had benefited her after all.

  She raised her hand to knock. “Can we be about it then?”

  Grasping her shoulders, Mother turned Adaira to face her. “He could have had you imprisoned for abducting him. Instead, he invited us into his home to afford you a tremendous opportunity. That’s the act of a compassionate man. Where is your gratitude?”

  Wrapping her hands around her middle, Adaira nodded. “What you say is true, but has Roark ever defied conventionality when it comes to his expectations for women of his station?”

  “Roark?” Disbelief, quickly replaced by a knowing, most unnerving look swept Mother’s face. A smile pulled at her mouth. “Did he give you leave to use his first name?”

  Tosh. Best to ignore that.

  Rattled, Adaira forged onward. “True, he makes unusual concessions for his staff. He’s compassionate and kind to his pets and other animals. And yes, he did make an exception to enforcing the law for abducting a peer.”

  She paused and flicked her fingers at the study door. “He even makes allowances for himself.” Gesturing across the foyer, she said, “For pity’s sake, he has an owl in his library!”

  Sophie took that moment to let out a haunting hoot.

  Mother chuckled. “Do you think she knows we’re speaking about her?”

  Adaira crooked a brow. “An owl, Mother. Who does that? I’ll wager no one else in le beau monde. I confess his traits are charming and endearing. Any woman would be touched by those engaging qualities.”

  Mother raised her winged brows but remained silent.

  Drat, she has that I-know-what-you-are-thinking look in her eye.

  Adaira rushed on. “Yet, I cannot recall a single instance when his inflexible adherence to social propriety and decorum for a woman of quality has been relaxed so much as a feather’s worth.”

  Egads, she sounded as pompous as Roark. No, as the Roark she’d first met.

  Fisting her hands, she recovered, taking a calmer approach.

  “In that regard, when has he shown me the slightest leniency? It’s as if he has a point to prove, and I’m the means by which he intends to demonstrate it.”

  “You misjudge the man, Addy. You’ve been set against him from the onset.” Mother peered at her, probing into her soul with her intelligent gaze. She murmured, “I don’t understand why you disdain every single man.”

  Not every man. Not anymore.

  The urge to burst into tears overwhelmed Adaira again. She was able to pretend her earlier outburst was a result of last night’s trauma and Brayan’s death. While those contributed to her uncharacteristic bout of sobbing, the thought of being sent away in disgrace from the one man who’d ever touched her wounded heart was what turned her into a caterwauling disaster.

  It was of no matter. The noose was knotted. No sense in delaying the inevitable. Squaring her shoulders, Adaira lifted her chin. She raised her hand to the door once more, at the precise moment it opened.

  Caught off balance, she pitched forward into Roark’s arms.

  CHAPTER 27

  Adaira’s nose pressed into Roark’s solid chest. He gripped her shoulders, steadying her. Well, this wasn’t the entrance she wanted to make, to be sure.

  Why does he have to smell so good?

  “I beg your pardon.” She shifted to move from his grasp. The fichu hung askew off one shoulder. She sent a self-conscious glance to Mother gliding by. Were her lips twitching?

  Roark’s hands continued to gently cup Adaira’s shoulders. His penetrating gaze held hers. “Are you well?”

  Concern and something deeper simmered in his eyes. Sh
e returned his regard trying to read his mind. His focus sank to her chest. Shame sluiced through her, heating her face. Averting her gaze, Adaira stepped from his clasp.

  She nodded as she adjusted the fichu. “I’m well, my lord. And you?”

  Her parents conversed softly on the other side of the room, but the handsome man before her held her attention.

  Through half lowered lashes, she cast him a surreptitious glance. He looked splendid. Nothing like the fierce demon crouched over her in the coach house.

  In fact, if she didn’t know the sorry state he’d been in last evening, she’d be hard pressed to believe he’d come close to dying mere hours ago. Except for a scratch along his left jaw, Roark appeared the picture of health.

  Today he wore a deep blue jacket with a striped waistcoat in shades of blue and gray. His buff pantaloons were tucked into gleaming Hessians. Certainly not the pair from yesterday. Had the lake debacle truly only been yesterday? His dark hair was brushed into the latest fashion, and a sapphire pin graced the impossibly complicated folds of his snowy neckcloth.

  Adaira took a few steps farther into the room. Father, with Mother at his side, stood before slightly ajar French windows framed by heavy burgundy drapes. He didn’t appear angry or upset. In fact, a cheerful smile tilted his mouth. If she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes glinted merrily. It was difficult to be certain with the sunlight illumining him.

  The smell of ink, leather bound books, sandalwood, and barely a hint of tobacco lingered in the altogether masculine room. Several paintings, mostly sporting hunting scenes, dominated the wall behind an immense black walnut desk. One side of the room boasted a full, but tidy, bookshelf complete with stuffed pheasants and quails on the topmost shelf.

  Her attention was drawn to another wall. A pair of ornate swords, a shield with the Clarendon family crest, several small daggers, and a rather large, wicked-looking whip had been attractively arranged against the paneled backdrop.

  Roark approached her from behind. “If you’ll have a seat.”

  He indicated a striped hunter green, maroon, and beige settee. “Lady Ferguson, please make yourself comfortable, as well. May I get you ladies anything to drink? Ratafia?”

  “No, thank you.” Adaira sank onto the settee and made a pretense of arranging her skirt.

  “I’m fine as well, my lord.” Mother settled beside Adaira, poised and seemingly at ease.

  How can Mother appear so calm? Adaira placed her hand on her rioting middle. It felt like camels and goats and frogs and all manner of animals were doing their worst to her stomach, heart, and lungs.

  “Lass, it’s happy I am to see ye looking so bonnie.” Father bent to kiss the crown of her head. Taking two long strides, he lowered himself into one of the brocade armchairs facing the settee. His large form dwarfed the chair.

  Adaira scrutinized Roark’s face before running her gaze over the rest of him. How could she have thought him a trow? A glass of umber-colored liquid in one hand, he rifled through a short stack of papers atop his desk.

  Perusing one, he set it aside. After tossing back the contents of the glass, he raised his eyes and smiled. “Thank you, ladies, for your promptness.”

  Adaira canted her head but didn’t speak. She’d the uncanny feeling everyone in the room knew something she didn’t. Had he decided to press charges, now that she’d proven she couldn’t ever be a proper lady? She squeezed her hands together, the nails biting into the soft flesh of her palms.

  No, she wouldn’t believe that of him. Not after the kisses they’d shared.

  With a final glance at the documents on his desk, Roark came around to the front. Resting his hips against the edge, he crossed his ankles, folded his arms across his wonderfully muscled chest, and smiled again.

  He does have nice teeth.

  “I’m sure you want to know why I’ve asked you here.”

  “No, not especially.”

  “Adaira, hush,” Mother admonished, though not unkindly.

  Bother, I said that aloud.

  Roark grinned unabashedly. Humor danced in his beautiful eyes. Now she knew how he’d felt muttering his thoughts for the world to hear. He seemed rather more chipper today than she’d expected. Didn’t he have a vicious headache?

  Meshing her lips together, Adaira determined not to speak her thoughts again. The man already read her mind half the time. She’d not be helping him by blurting them aloud.

  She covertly eyed him. The lout was still smiling. Must he be so cheerful? She edged her gaze to the empty glass.

  Cognac? Whisky? This early in the day?

  How much had he imbibed? Perchance that was why he’d a constant smile plastered on his face. Or was he that pleased to be rid of her? The gazelles flitting about her ribs bumped to a halt.

  “But, before we get to the matter, I’m afraid I have a confession to make, Adaira.”

  The menagerie started cavorting again.

  “Indeed?” Why, she sounded quite poised despite the elephants turning somersaults in her middle.

  He nodded once before angling upright. He moved to sit in the chair beside Father. “Yes, I’ve misled you, although it wasn’t intentional.”

  Was he referring to their kisses? Surely he hadn’t mentioned that indiscretion to her parents. She had no featherbrained expectations their kisses meant anything more than shared passion. Roark was most skilled in the kissing department. She’d been curious, that was all.

  She’d simply been experimenting.

  Liar.

  Adaira straightened her spine. He couldn’t have told her parents about their kisses. Father wouldn’t be sitting calmly. He’d be shaking Roark senseless.

  “How so, my lord?” Adaira asked coolly. She was becoming quite accomplished at this playacting. Mayhap, she’d make a fine lady after all.

  Shooting her father an unreadable look, Roark raked a hand through his hair. He winced. “Ouch. Forgot about that knot.”

  He gave her a rakish smile. “I gave you my word Fionn would only breed with horses of your choosing. Because of the fire last night, I’ve been lax with the horseflesh, and today he—”

  Was he blushing? He had to know she’d seen horses mate. A smile curved her mouth. “Yes? He. . .?”

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “Tenacity is in season.”

  “Ah.” She stared at him. She’d already decided the mare was a prime specimen. “The other matter?”

  The smile faded from his face. “I know the events of last night are difficult for you to discuss, but. . .”

  “My lord, let me save you a great deal of discomfort.” Adaira folded her hands in her lap. After veering each of her parents a quick look, she took a bracing breath.

  “I followed you into the carriage house after I thought I saw someone lurking there. However, due to the flames and the breeze flitting shadows about, I was unsure. When I entered the building, as you know, I found you alone.”

  “Lass I told ye to return to the house.” Father frowned at her, censure in his tone.

  “Yes, I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t obey. But I simply couldn’t leave until I knew Roark wasn’t in danger.” She crossed her arms, then remembered it was unladylike to do so and uncrossed them. Drat, she’d addressed Roark by his first name too.

  “Anyhow, Brayan followed me in. He was deep in his cups.” She wasn’t about to divulge the fervent kissing taking place before Brayan’s appearance.

  “You hit your head on the barouche when he punched you. It knocked you unconscious. Brayan tried to force himself on me, but I smashed a whisky bottle over his head.”

  Last night she’d assured her frantic mother and equally worried father that Brayan hadn’t had his way with her. It took some convincing too. They’d difficulty believing she’d been able to overpower someone Brayan�
�s size.

  “Then someone heaved a lantern through one of the windows. The last thing I remember is trying to get you,” she tossed a look to Roark, then her parents, “out of the building.”

  Adaira sagged against the settee, her dress fisted in one hand. “There, that’s the whole of it.”

  Do your worst, my lord.

  “You weren’t. . .” Roark paused. “Unlike the other time, you were left untouched?”