Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel

by Samantha Grace

  “I beg your pardon, but I no longer have an appetite.” Lana pushed from the table and hurried upstairs to gather her wits before being forced to endure Drew’s company.

  ***

  Drew stood beside the carriage waiting for Lana and grinned. He had five days to press his suit. With his brother lifting the ban on her, Drew would court her with vigor. He’d win over his little peach before the first day ended, and Lana would share his bed that night.

  His heart faltered a moment when she stepped outside into the sunshine. She wore her auburn hair knotted at the nape, a jaunty yellow bonnet framing her pretty face. A strip of creamy skin peeked out from her collar and begged for his kisses.

  He winked as she whisked to the carriage with her head held high. “Miss Hillary, you look ravishing this fine morning. In fact, I would go as far as to say you are more radiant than the sun itself.”

  Rich and Phoebe moved at a slower pace behind her. She ignored the hand Drew offered to assist her into the carriage and clambered up the stairs. Rich handed Phoebe inside and followed, leaving Drew to climb in last. He sighed as he dropped onto the bench beside his brother. Setting off down the lane, he glanced at Rich and found him gazing at Phoebe, never taking his eyes from her.

  Drew suppressed a chuckle. Lana didn’t stand a chance against both of them. Rich would find a way to sit beside his wife before noon, and Drew would be that much closer to winning Lana.

  Approximately two hours later, they stopped to change horses. Phoebe had been squirming and looking uncomfortable for quite some time. Rich assisted her outside and hovered like a mother hen. Drew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His brother’s worry was for naught. Nothing could happen to Phoebe and the baby. Drew refused to believe otherwise.

  His gaze settled on Lana’s middle. What if she carried his child? Similar thoughts would have sent him into hiding not long ago, although he had taken precautions never to leave any woman with child; at least he had until now. A slow smile spread across his lips.

  He fell into step with Lana as she strolled around the outer perimeter of the coaching yard. “Do you fancy children?”

  She gave him the evil eye and kept walking. “I have nothing against them.”

  Drew chuckled. “Such enthusiasm speaks for you, Lana. Do you truly want no children and no husband?”

  “I don’t see how this is of interest to you, my lord.”

  He blew out a deep breath, moving the hair on his forehead. “It’s quite ridiculous to revert to addressing me in such a manner. You had begun to call me Drew even before we were intimate.”

  She gasped and hurried her step, but Drew whirled her around to face him. “I’m not going to pretend it never happened, peach.”

  “If you were any kind of a gentleman, you would.”

  “I believe I established from the start of our association that I was no gentleman. And it is my concern if you like children or not since you could be carrying mine.”

  Lana’s pallor drained of color, and he caught her around the waist to keep her from crumpling to the ground when her knees buckled.

  “I insist upon taking the honorable path. Marry me before anyone is the wiser.”

  She recovered enough to bear her own weight, but he kept his hand on the small of her back.

  “I believe I have established I am uninterested in becoming your wife. Nothing has changed.”

  Lana’s stubborn streak ran deeper than he’d thought.

  Drew’s hand brushed over her round little bottom before he stepped away. “I refuse to give up, Lana.”

  Twenty-three

  Lana supported her weight against the rough bark of an old oak, waiting for the driver and footman to change horses before continuing their journey.

  What have I done?

  Her legs trembled as she contemplated the possibility of carrying a child. She would never forgive herself for being so foolish. How would she raise a child alone?

  If she found herself with child, she would have to reveal her compromised state to her parents. A hard, icy knot of shame settled in her belly. She would disgrace her entire family.

  She would need to hide away until the babe was born, and the prospect of being away from everyone she loved destroyed her. But what other option would she have if she remained unwed?

  In the distance, Drew played with his nephew, the lad joyfully squealing as he chased his uncle. Drew allowed the youngster to tackle him to the ground, where they wrestled, and Stephan hopped up and down on his uncle’s back with delighted screams. Lana giggled at their antics in spite of herself.

  Perhaps she should consider Drew’s proposal, even if he only made his offer to save her reputation. Lana might be able to cope with the shame associated with an illegitimate issue, but asking a child to bear the stigma seemed exceptionally cruel. Yet, Drew was little more than an overgrown child himself. He’d likely make the worst of husbands and fathers.

  With fresh horses hooked to the carriage, the party readied for departure. Phoebe wobbled down the stairs of the coaching inn with Lord Richard’s arm around her waist. Fine lines of discomfort formed at the corners of her lips. Once she had safely navigated the stairs with her husband’s assistance, Phoebe drooped with exhaustion. Lord Richard hurried back inside the coaching inn for a moment to conclude whatever transaction required his attention.

  Lana sighed with resignation. She couldn’t ask her friend to endure such obvious suffering because of Lana’s injured pride. “Phoebe, you should seek comfort from your husband. Perhaps you should sit beside him for the remainder of the journey.”

  “No, I couldn’t ask you to—” Her friend bit her lip and regarded Lana with troubled blue eyes. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

  “Please, I insist.” What difference did propriety make now? Lana was ruined.

  “You should pay heed to Miss Hillary,” Drew said from behind Lana. “This journey is taking a toll on you, Pheebs. If nothing else, think of my brother.”

  Lana glanced back to see if he gloated, but Drew’s expression seemed sincere, as if he too had noticed the hardship on Phoebe. She looked uneasily between them, but at their encouraging nods, she consented. “Thank you, Lana.”

  Lana threw a grateful smile Drew’s direction, unsure if her gratitude stemmed from his part in convincing her friend to see to her comfort or for not making Lana feel like a cake for her concession.

  The little boy ran up to Drew and tugged on his jacket. Drew scooped the lad and swung him over his shoulder, prompting more squeals from the youngster. “Allow me to return this monkey to his cage, and we may resume our journey.”

  “I’m not a monkey, Uncle Drew.”

  “Quiet, little monkey,” he teased as he carried him to the second carriage to rejoin his nanny. “Are you aware monkeys don’t speak?”

  More peals of laughter floated on the air. “I’m not a monkey.”

  When Drew jogged back to their carriage and offered his assistance traversing the stairs, Lana accepted his help. He graced her with one of his heart-stopping smiles and sent her senses reeling. How was she to remain strong when he unscrupulously used his arsenal of seductive weapons against her? If she grew weak in the knees from a simple smile, what would happen if he chose to employ more persuasive means?

  Drew squeezed her fingers before releasing her hand. Joining her on the bench, his firm thigh pressed flush against hers. The contact inspired vivid images of her straddling those thighs in this same carriage. Scooting away, Lana flattened herself against the side of the coach and scowled her displeasure. Drew rewarded her efforts with a wicked grin, inflaming her even more.

  Phoebe grunted as she settled against the squads. The poor dear had grown large with child over the last couple of weeks, although she had hid it well with billowing high-waist gowns. Lord Richard’s arm went around his wife, and she rested her head against his shoulder. A short while later Phoebe slumbered as her husband rested his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes. Their affection caus
ed a pang of envy.

  Lana shifted uncomfortably and averted her gaze out the window, watching the passing landscape until her eyelids grew heavy. With the road proving uncommonly smooth, the carriage swayed gently, lulling her.

  ***

  Drew watched Lana with amusement. Her eyelids had finally dropped, and her head bobbed every so often, startling her into a brief semiconscious state before she surrendered to sleep again. After the fourth head bob, he inched closer and cradled her against his chest.

  He sighed with relief when she didn’t wake and push him away. Grazing his lips across her silky hair, he breathed in her sweet scent, a hint of lily of the valley with an added trace of Lana’s unique essence. Her fragrance was irresistible, and he hugged her closer. Drew could hold her like this for the rest of his life, if only she would allow him.

  He couldn’t say he regretted bedding her. In fact, he anticipated making love again—soon. Yet, he hated how their relationship had changed, how guarded she had become. Over the last few weeks, he’d grown fond of Lana’s tendency to blurt whatever thoughts skittered around her charming mind. Her quick wit proved razor sharp and challenged him unlike any woman he had ever encountered. He missed her carefree spirit and laughter, and part of him feared they might never regain the intimacy they had shared as friends.

  Lana snuggled against him but still didn’t wake. His arms tightened around her as a smile pulled at his lips. So, this is love.

  A moment later Rich woke, took in their intimate embrace, and raised an eyebrow. Drew simply grinned like a besotted fool and cared not what his brother thought.

  ***

  “Lana, wake up.”

  Warmth pressed against her forehead, and she nestled her cheek against her pillow, breathing in the light fragrance of sandalwood-scented sheets. She didn’t want to abandon the warmth of her bed or her wonderful dreams just yet.

  “We’re arriving at our next stop, peach.”

  Peach? Her eyes flew open. She wasn’t lying comfortably in her own bed, but rather in Drew’s arms.

  Oh, dear Lord. Her whole body sagged with disgrace. Shoving away from his cozy embrace, Lana smoothed her skirts while keeping her gaze on the floor. She didn’t dare sneak a peek at her traveling companions for fear she would crumble if she saw censorship on their faces.

  “They are still sleeping,” Drew whispered, his breath warm against her neck.

  Her gaze flicked to Phoebe and her husband, relieved to discover them both sound asleep. Turning to Drew, she whispered, “Did—did you just kiss me?”

  A smirk played about his lips. “Were you having naughty dreams about me again?”

  Lana crossed her arms and slumped low on the bench. “More like a nightmare.”

  Her sharp retort only served to widen his smile and deepen his dimples. “Ah, there’s my little peach. I’ve missed you.”

  Familiar warmth infused her body despite Lana’s determination to remain immune to Drew. She could easily have inappropriate dreams about the scoundrel, although one typically referred to them as fantasies while still awake. A fleeting memory of Drew buried inside her made her center pulsate with excitement. Her body seemed ready to surrender, but Lana willed herself to stay strong. Neither her body nor her heart could be trusted, as history had shown. She needed to rely on her common sense, although even it had failed her most times in Drew’s presence.

  To hide her embarrassing state of arousal, she wrinkled her nose and frowned. “I asked you not to call me peach.”

  Twenty-four

  Lana forced each bite of roast beef down her constricted throat. Drew’s scrutiny made her uncomfortable. It was as if he followed her every movement. To battle the riotous beating of her heart, she drained her glass of wine. Drew refilled her goblet the moment it touched the tablecloth, earning a suspicious glower from her. Yet, halfway through the second glass, waves of warmth washed over her and her nerves dissipated some.

  Several minutes later, Phoebe groaned as she struggled to her feet with the assistance of her husband. “Lana, please forgive me, but I must retire early.”

  Lana swallowed against her rising panic. “Oh, of course. I’ll be all right.”

  Drew placed his arm on the back of Lana’s chair. “I will see that she makes it safely to her room.” A seductive glint in his sea blue eyes made Lana’s stomach flip.

  “I-I might retire early as well,” she said.

  “An even better idea,” Drew murmured where only she could hear.

  “See that you do get her back safely, Drew,” Phoebe said. “It’s horrifying to consider what might have happened the other night.”

  Drew met Lana’s gaze and his eyebrows shot upward. “What does she mean? What happened the other night?”

  Lana cringed. If Phoebe weren’t pregnant, she might tackle her to the ground and cover her mouth. Lana stole a look at Drew and found his lips had settled into a firm line.

  Phoebe’s hands landed on her hips. “Lana was accosted in the gardens the night you and… She and you… Well… She did tell you about the incident, did she not?”

  “Come, love. Miss Hillary can apprise Drew of the details.” As Lord Richard led his wife from the private dining room, Lana considered making a dash for the door.

  When they were alone, Drew’s eyes bore into her. “What details, peach? Someone accosted you after I left the gardens?”

  Lana fidgeted with the napkin lying across her lap. “Likely a thief after my jewelry. I managed to get away. Truly, it’s of no consequence.”

  “Allow me to judge the seriousness. Tell me what happened.”

  Her hands trembled, and she breathed deeply to slow her racing pulse as memories of that night threatened to overwhelm her. “A man… He appeared out of the fog. I thought he was you at first, but his speech… I knew I was mistaken. He was vulgar and threatened to—”

  Drew leaned forward, a dangerously dark look transforming him. She had only known Drew to be the jovial sort, and his graveness disconcerted her. “Did he hurt you?”

  Lana’s fork clattered against the plate as she set it down. “No. I ran into the maze and escaped him.”

  “And you never thought to mention this to me? He followed you to the carriage?”

  “I tried to tell you, but then—” She choked back tears.

  “Come here, Lana.” Drew lifted and settled her on his lap. Her limbs flopped ineffectively as if her entire backbone had turned to mush. She couldn’t have stopped Drew if she wanted. To have him holding her in his protective embrace, cradling her body against his chest, released a myriad of emotions. Tears filled her eyes, making everything blur together. Finally, Lana allowed herself the luxury of letting go, surrendering to her vulnerability.

  Drew rocked her back and forth. “There, there, my sweet. You are safe.”

  His tender voice and soft caresses rent soul-wrenching sobs from her. She cried until she couldn’t shed another tear while Drew continued his gentle ministrations.

  When her sobs subsided, he kissed her cheeks where they were still wet. “No one will ever hurt you again, peach,” he promised. “You’re no longer in danger.”

  Lana disagreed. She was in dire danger, because she had fallen hopelessly in love with Andrew Forest.

  ***

  Drew escorted Lana to her room. He desired her as a man addled by opium craved his drug. He needed her, and he could have her. She hadn’t pushed him away when he’d gathered her to his chest in the private dining room. She hadn’t protested as he had walked her to the room. She hadn’t barred him from her room even though his presence in her private lodgings was highly improper.

  Yet, even with the bed in his line of sight, Drew couldn’t take advantage of Lana’s vulnerability. When he made love to her next, she would be an active participant in the decision.

  He couldn’t resist kissing her, however. He wasn’t a damned saint. Cupping her head, he urged her to meet his lips. Lana’s rosebud mouth tasted as sweet as ever, like fruit and minted tea.
She returned his kisses, leaning into him and brushing against his shaft.

  He stifled the moan ready to escape his lips. Leaning his forehead against hers, Drew called upon every ounce of his willpower. If he didn’t leave soon, he would toss her on the bed and do all kinds of inappropriate things.

  “Until next time, Lana,” he whispered. Drew broke contact and moved toward the door.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He glanced over his shoulder to discover Lana wide-eyed with disbelief. Perhaps her emerald eyes even held a hint of relief. “Not for good, peach. You won’t rid yourself of me that easily.”

  ***

  Lana bristled when the traveling party arrived at the inn for the last night of their journey. It had been three days since Drew had treated her with anything other than polite respect. No flirting, no subtle innuendos, and no more marriage offers. One would think she was his blasted sister for all the interest he showed now. And to think, Lana had considered accepting his proposal.

  The driving force behind her decision may have been the possibility of carrying Drew’s child, but after he had exhibited such compassion when she told him of the thief in the garden… Well, it hardly mattered now that her stance on his suitability as a husband had wavered.

  Lana rubbed her forehead to ease the pounding behind her eyes. Oh, what cause did she have to complain? Drew had remained a perfect gentleman. He had stood in her room three strides from her bed, and he hadn’t attempted to seduce her.

  She marched into the White Stag with Drew on her heels. Throwing an angry look over her shoulder, Lana didn’t notice Phoebe had stopped and nearly plowed into her.

  “Are you all right, Miss Hillary?” Drew reached out to steady Lana.

  Miss Hillary? Tension spread from her shoulders up her neck and into her jaws as she clenched her teeth. Again, he behaved as a perfect gentleman. And that was the blasted problem. He had become the proper gentleman she’d sought all along, except, drat it, she liked the scoundrel he had been and mistrusted his newly acquired manners. Obviously, he no longer fancied her, so he hid behind detached politeness. He probably couldn’t wait until their arrival in London so he could return to his whoring ways.