The gravelly timbre of his voice rang with deep concern. Almost as if he truly cared and speaking of it was difficult for him.
Adaira stifled a groan.
“Other time?” One of Mother’s hands clutched her throat, the other Adaira’s forearm. Horror shown in the gaze she speared to her husband. “What other time?”
Leaping from his chair, outrage lining his craggy face, Father looked ready to throttle Roark. “What’s he talking about, lass?”
Adaira threw Roark an accusing glare and lifted a trembling hand to her forehead. The onset of a headache pinched behind her eyes and forehead. What a blessing it would be if the floor would open and swallow her.
“I’m sorry, Adaira, I assumed they knew.” Roark’s voice rose in righteous irritation. “They’re your parents, for God’s sake! They’ve a right to know.”
“My lord, I’m trying very hard to maintain me temper. Ye’d best be explaining.” Father rarely got angry, but when he did, the outcome was most unpleasant for the target of his wrath.
Monkeys must be riding the rhinoceroses gallivanting around Adaira’s insides. Queasiness rose and fell in undulating waves as a dread induced sweat dampened pretty much all of her.
Splendid. Now, she could add perspiring like a lathered horse to her list of ladylike attributes.
Roark met Father’s gaze head on, not the least intimidated. Or, if he was, he hid it superbly. “No, Sir Hugh,” Roark leveled her an unreadable look. “That’s your daughter’s place.”
Bugger it to Hades and back. She pressed her palms against her middle. Stop, will you?
With a sigh of resignation, Adaira closed her eyes, silently seeking the strength to voice what she’d been loath to entertain in her thoughts for so long. In the briefest manner possible, she told the sordid tale.
“You see,” she said, staring blindly at the floor, “I blamed myself. If I hadn’t been sneaking from the keep, he’d never have had the opportunity.”
“How could you keep this from us?” Mother gathered Adaira in her arms, weeping softly into Adaira’s hair. “For four years. Oh, how you must have suffered, chérie.”
Her compassion sparked answering tears, and Adaira found some release from the burden she’d carried alone for so long.
Father stomped back-and-forth before the settee, muttering under his breath. “It’s a good thing he fled Craiglocky. If I ever find the bastert, I’ll kill him.”
Adaira jumped when he slammed his fist into his palm.
“That won’t be necessary. Brayan broke Godwin’s neck.” Roark delivered the news, though his voice sounded every bit as irate as Father’s.
Mother’s startled, “What?” was muffled by Father’s, “What the bloody hell do ye mean, Brayan broke his neck?”
“How do you know that? You were unconscious.” Adaira stared hard at Roark.
“I was half-conscious for a few moments before blacking out altogether. I heard Brayan’s confession.”
A fierce scowl on his face, his breathing labored and ragged, Father fisted and unfisted his hands. “Well?”
Roark could do the telling. Since she couldn’t bear to relive the horror again, Adaira let her mind wander.
Visions of the priory she’d seen when visiting Tante Floressa as a child crept from the corner of her mind. What was its name? The white stone walls surrounding the abbey had been rather charming. As were the flower and vegetable gardens. And there’d been lovely singing. Adaira wasn’t gifted with a singing voice. Maybe she could attend the livestock in the stables. Surely they had a horse or cow or two.
“Adaira, you said someone threw a burning lantern into the building?”
Roark’s sudden change in subject jerked her out of her reverie, dragging her back to the present. Her head throbbed full on now. The instant they were through here, she was crawling into bed and burying her head under a pillow until the carriage arrived to haul her away.
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Yes, the window at the back.”
Roark joined her father in pacing the room. He paused in front of her. “I don’t suppose you saw who threw it?”
Raising her gaze, she stared at him dumbfounded.
It was dark outside. And it was at the rear of the building. And I had my head buried in my knees crying my heart out.
He gave a curt nod. “No, I thought as much.”
Roark had read her mind again. Or had she spoken out loud?
Heaving a gusty sigh, he plowed his hand through his chestnut hair. He winced again. The once neatly combed strands were disheveled, and a few flopped across his brow. “Well, let’s be seated and get to the matter I wanted to discuss.”
“Are you serious?” Adaira spread her hands, her voice raising an octave.
“This wasn’t what you wanted to discuss? What else is there? I’ve had to relive every atrocious thing that has ever happened to me, and you tell me there’s more?” She hurled the last words at him. Gone were the tender thoughts she’d entertained of him upon entering the room. She itched to box his ears, insensitive cur.
Fearing she was about to dissolve into a blubbering puddle, she leapt to her feet, then stomped to the window. She gazed out, wishing she could escape. Several guests mingled in the gardens she’d seen from her bedchamber. They strolled the well-tended paths or sat on benches arranged beneath flower-laden arbors.
Girding herself with anger, she pivoted to face him. “Oh, wait, how remiss of me. Of course, there is. This is where you tell me to leave your house because you cannot have a woman of my repute tainting the premises.”
The tears balancing on her lids, spilled over, hot and salty. They trailed down her heated cheeks. She’d cried more since meeting Roark than she had the entire rest of her life combined. And she couldn’t abide weepy women. Her gaze trained on the floor, she dashed at the droplets. A pair of polished black boots appeared next to her gown’s hem.
“No, Adaira, you have it wrong.” Reaching into his jacket, Roark removed a neatly folded handkerchief. He handed it to her, waiting while she patted her damp face.
“I do?” She snuffled into the starched fabric. She refused to meet his unsettling gaze, unable to face the censure she knew shimmered there. “What is it, then?”
“Look at me, vixen.” Lifting her chin, he chuckled. His blue eyes deepened to sapphire when he laughed.
Grinning lazily, he smoothed a thumb across her lips.
Drat, the elephants and camels were back, and from the feel of the obnoxious beasts, they were flipping cartwheels in her already unsettled stomach. She peeped over Roark’s shoulder.
“Where are my parents?”
Roark glanced behind him. “I imagine they thought to give us some privacy.”
Adaira twisted her lips into a watery smile. “I’m quite certain that’s not the least bit proper, my lord.” Neither was the hand cupping her jaw and chin, or the fingers caressing her cheek.
This didn’t seem like a man hell-bent on sending her on her way. She opened her mouth to say as much but was cut off when his mouth descended to claim hers.
Tender, but insistent, his lips skimmed hers. His tongue caressed the seam of her lips, bidding entrance. Shifting in his arms, Adaira tilted her head and opened her mouth, granting him access. Warmth built in dizzying waves, ever stronger and hotter, sending delicious sensations to her core.
Oh, but the man knew how to kiss. He cupped her bottom, squeezing the fullness as he arched his hips into her in a gentle, sensual rhythm. Her nipples tautened, her breasts swollen and weighty against her stays.
Roark trailed kisses over her eyes and cheeks, then nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Do you know how much I’ve wanted to kiss you?” he whispered.
Gasping, Adaira sagged against him as pure desire sluiced to ev
ery pour. Should he attempt to lift her skirts and have his way with her, she wouldn’t be capable of resisting. It astounded her. She wasn’t afraid. How could that be? Her desire for him had even pushed aside her unpleasant memories.
After several more tantalizing moments in which her entire body threatened to become a mass of jelly, Roark drew back. She mewed in protest, raising on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck. Their kissing couldn’t end, not yet.
She felt the rumble of laughter deep in his chest as he eased her arms from him.
“No more. Not now, anyway.” Holding her hands, his lips slid into a smile.
Adaira returned it, a glimmer of hope dared to creep into her heart. “Now? Does this mean you’re not sending me away?”
“Away? Why would I send my betrothed away, vixen?”
CHAPTER 28
Roark squelched a chuckle at the flabbergasted expression on Adaira’s face. She blinked rapidly. Her perfectly sculpted mouth opened and closed several times. He’d rendered her speechless. Quite a feat, considering her quick wit and even quicker tongue.
“You look like a trout gasping for air.” He laughed aloud as temper immediately replaced the astonishment in her eyes. She wadded his handkerchief. For a moment, he thought she’d hurl it at him.
“Betrothed?” she finally managed to sputter in a strangled squeak. Yanking her fichu back into place, she swung away from him, pacing to the center of the room, before spinning back around.
“Betrothed?” She speared a glance to the closed door. “They knew?”
He nodded, unsure why her response caused him a frisson of uneasiness.
“And approved?”
He bristled at the incredulity in her tone. Why wouldn’t they approve? Cocking his head, he nodded once, short and sharp. This wasn’t the reaction he’d anticipated, not that one could be certain of anything with Adaira.
Tapping her foot on the floor, she planted her hands on her hips and muttered to herself, “Well, of course, they did, dolt.” Her focus settled on his desk. “Those papers you were shuffling earlier—the draft of the marriage contract, I presume?”
He gave a cautious nod.
She marched to the desk, and after tossing the handkerchief onto the polished surface, snatched the terms of settlement he’d set aside. Without asking permission, she scanned the top page.
“Hmmph.” Adaira gave him a quizzical look, before carefully replacing the document.
Roark approached the desk. “You’re welcome to read the entire contract if you wish.”
Her eyes searched his briefly, as if seeking something. Her gaze sank to the papers. She flicked their edges. “Thank you. I’d like that, but not at the moment. Anyway, you know as well as I do, I have no say in the matter.”
She started to turn away, but froze. Facing him, worry clouded her eyes. She pressed her lips together, her gaze swinging between Roark and the terms of settlement.
“Fionn? He’s not part of that?” She pointed to the papers.
Roark shook his head. “No, I insisted he remain your property.”
Her shoulders relaxed. She exhaled a pent-up breath. For a fraction of a second, a smile teased the corners of her mouth. She spun away from him. Forehead furrowed, she paced about the room. He regarded her thoughtfully. What was going on in her impetuous, unpredictable mind?
Casting him puzzled glances every few seconds, she muttered beneath her breath. What was she thinking? She rubbed her hands up and down her arms before pressing them to her middle. A middle so small, he was sure his hands could span her waist.
Such a petite little thing, but in physique only.
Adaira had the personality and temperament of a behemoth. That brought a grin to his lips. Spirited, undaunted, and unintimidated, she reminded him of one of Aunt Beatry’s pugs he’d seen trying to take on a boarhound once.
Adaira frowned at him, tromping to-and-from across the Oriental carpet. Holding the cross at her neck, she slid the chain from side to side while rubbing the amber stones with her thumb.
Her skirts swished about her small feet as she marched. The white gown wasn’t the least alluring, yet its simplicity enticed him, hiding curves he ached to hold. Curves he’d pressed against him or cupped in his hands minutes ago.
Roark’s already aroused member pulsed at the memory.
Easy, boy.
She sailed across the floor, back-and-forth, reminding him of a caged lion.
His head throbbed unceasingly, which was why he’d indulged in a bit of cognac, hoping to take the edge off the pain. He eyed the cabinet containing his spirits. With a slow release of breath, he denied himself. He needed his faculties sound.
He regarded Adaira closely. Was she angry? Angling his head, he clasped his hands behind him. He rocked back on his heels.
No. He’d seen her infuriated.
Shocked? No doubt. He’d expected as much.
But hurt? Did she feel betrayed? Possibly.
She was much more sensitive then she let on, but not inclined to weepiness. She was intelligent and perceptive. She must know her parents agreed to his offer because of their deep love for her.
But that wasn’t what troubled her. Her lovely eyes were filled with confusion and doubt.
She marched to stand before him, then brazenly poked his chest. “Why?”
He could see the pulse at her throat ticking rapid and uneven. Her breasts rose and fell in agitation.
Reluctantly, Roark lifted his gaze from the creamy mounds and arched a brow. “Why?”
“Yes. Why would you agree to marry me?” Adaira’s dark gaze dropped to his lips. She swallowed. “You cannot be pleased to be saddled with the likes of me.”
“You think not?” He rubbed the side of his head in an effort to relieve the ache centered there.
“I’m not what you want in a wife. Not dignified and sophisticated, or . . . or well-endowed.” She blushed furiously, coloring pink to the tips of her ears.
She valiantly plowed on. “Everyone knows it wasn’t you who assaulted me in the carriage house. No one expects you to do the noble thing, least of all me.”
Hesitation and wariness softened her tone.
He touched the cross at her throat, feeling her raging pulse. “You’re not pleased? You don’t wish to marry me?”
She cast him an astonished look, genuine surprise widening her eyes. “Truth to tell, I never thought to marry at all.”
“Ah. But, if you had thought to, would I suffice for a groom?” He traced her collarbone with his finger. She swallowed, then licked her lips, but didn’t move away. His groin tightened a fraction more. The pain in his head was fast becoming secondary to the unrelenting thrumming between his legs.
“I don’t want you forced into a union not of your choosing. You don’t have to marry me out of pity. I know you’re a compassionate man, but it’s not your responsibility to save me or my reputation. It’s too late anyway.” She grasped his hand, forcing him to cease caressing her silky skin.
“I’m stronger than I look, Roark. I’ll be fine.” She shrugged her shoulders. The fichu slid askew. Adaira ignored the drooping lace.
Smiling, a heart-wrenchingly sad smile, she said flatly, “I’m quite used to being the source of gossip and disapproval. One really does become immune after a while.”
Shoulders sagging, she dropped her gaze to her hands, and fidgeted with a ribbon on her gown.
Like hell one did.
People erected barriers and defenses and lived a lonely life of isolation. Or behaved outrageously, keeping the company of those even more scandalous than themselves. Or they became bitter and unfeeling, afraid to hope for anything better than the harsh hand they’d been dealt. He couldn’t let that happen to his free-spirited Adaira.
Stifling an oath, Roark straightened his shoulders. The infernal pounding in his head and throbbing in his nether regions affected both his patience and his ability to focus.
“You’d prefer censure and ostracism?”
Adaira tilted her chin, meeting his eyes. “I prefer them over being compelled to marry a man who doesn’t want me. You have made it very clear you disapprove of everything about me. I’m not foolish enough to mistake your lust for anything more than what it is, pure animalistic drive.”
The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series) Page 28