Lady Falls (Black Rose Trilogy)

by Renee Bernard

  “You know I hate women who simper. I always have. Is it any wonder that I should strive to instill in you a fearlessness that others in your sex lack? They may not always admit it, Raven, but every woman around you brims with envy at your courage of character. Ignore them. Life is short. You must seize what pleasures you can in this wretched world and demand your full measure.”

  She nodded. Lord Trent was warming to the familiar topic, his voice rising and the cadence increasing with his passions. Whenever he was like this, she knew that the time for true debate was gone. His ecstatic conversations were often entertaining, but they could easily turn to fury or despair. Her guardian’s moods were as changeable as the weather, and his emotional storms just as violent.

  “Is it unconventional? Yes! But what a priceless gift to you, girl! What need we of useless rules? Conventions are a tool in your hands, not a prison! Do you see the difference? The smallest and wildest animal is free to rely on their instincts. You are meant to be free, aren’t you, dearest? Free to follow your heart and your passions? For if humans are superior to dumb beasts, then why would we have fewer freedoms? Why would we enjoy less?”

  Raven blinked. He was veering close to the edge of mania and she dreaded it. “Fear not, Lord Trent. I will be bold where others are cautious.”

  He looked back at her, his expression slightly surprised as if he’d forgotten his audience. “Yes, yes. Go. Go and for god sakes, at dinner I expect to see you in those ruby and diamond hairpins I bought you.”

  “Oh,” Raven stood quickly, grateful for her dismissal but slightly confused. “I thought you wished me to save them for London.”

  His lips pressed together in a tight line of disapproval. “Don’t be stupid. If ever you were going to appear like a wealthy heiress, it is now, Raven. What the hell good are those jewels doing in some dull cupboard? Shine, girl, shine!”

  She dropped her head in submission but then caught herself. He hated simpering females. Raven lifted her chin and gave him a saucy smile as she curtsied. “I will blind everyone at dinner with my display, sir.”

  “That’s my girl! There she is!” Trent beamed, clapping his hands. “My daring little duchess!”

  Raven retreated from his study at a good pace, hoping he interpreted the speed as her eagerness to please and not her desire to flee him while his mood held. Years in his company had given her enough practice in the art of strategic withdrawals to last a lifetime. But she knew that he meant well and was a victim of his passions. Poor man, she thought, it is probably why he has never married as that sharp wit and uneven temperament has likely frightened off more than one “simpering female” in his path.

  Perhaps I will challenge Lady Baybrook to apply her talents for matchmaking to Lord Trent. Even if she fails, it might be entertaining to watch things unfold…

  Chapter Nine

  Phillip was disappointed not to see her the next morning. The previous night, she’d dazzled in a red gown with rubies in her dark hair and he’d struggled to hold his own. It had been two days since he’d kissed her in the gazebo and there’d been no opportunity to find her alone since then. He was wracking his brain to think of an excuse to change places with Mr. Carlton at dinner or to invite her on some innocent outing without the older women catching his scent.

  He’d finally landed on a scheme to offer to teach her to play cards or chess after the meal but he’d missed his chance to speak to her. The dry tenor of male conversation had grated against his nerves and he’d tried not to count the endless minutes before the earl finally finished his port and signaled the return to the salon where the ladies awaited them. Only to be greeted by Raven’s absence and the conveyance of her polite apologies for her retreat to her guardian by way of Mrs. Carlton.

  Not that he’d expected to be able to say very much with so many witnesses in attendance. The earl was in a grand mood but it would have evaporated if Phillip weren’t careful.

  To appease Sheffield and put on a good face, he’d agreed to a bridge game though not to any betting. Despite everything, he’d stayed up far too late. As a result, he’d missed breakfast entirely and wasn’t sure where any of the other guests had gone for the day. The days were passing too quickly and a new desperation was starting to seep into his thoughts. Phillip walked the estate aimlessly and then wandered back toward the house in his best attempt at a casual search for Raven that wouldn’t look like a search. One of the footmen gave him a strange look when he recrossed the foyer for the third time and Phillip accepted defeat.

  So much for my career as a spy!

  “May I direct you somewhere, sir?”

  It was too late to lie to preserve his dignity. “I was wondering where Miss Wells could be found?”

  To the footman’s credit, his expression didn’t change. “She is commonly found in the solarium at this time of the day, Mr. Warrick. It’s the third door past the blue salon.”

  “Thank you.”

  Phillip made his way down the hallway and found the door open to a room that obviously occupied the corner of the manor facing southeast. A wall of windows created a bright oasis that looked out over a carefully landscaped miniature orchard. The room was arranged for conversations amidst wrought iron racks of ornate plants and broad leafy ferns. Phillip stepped in to see if she had selected one of the padded seats but Raven was nowhere to be found.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Pardon?”

  He wheeled toward the sound of her voice, amazed to discover that she was on the floor in the corner sitting amidst several embroidered Japanese-style cushions; a book of poetry in her hands. He blinked at the vision of Raven Wells with skirts the color of red sea coral pooled around her like a fairy queen sitting on a lily pad. Never in his life had he seen a woman sit so provocatively on the floor, an exotic pasha eschewing the nonsense of western chairs.

  It had never occurred to him to look down when he’d come in.

  “I meant…that I felt…”

  Before he could hold out his hand, she gracefully rose from the cushions unaided, a smile on her face. “You have come upon me in one of my favorite hiding spots, Mr. Warrick.”

  He eyed the emerald green silk cushions on the ground. “Miss Wells. Do you ever do or say anything expected?”

  “Of course not. What would be the purpose?” she answered with a smile. “Besides from all that I’ve read, most men don’t expect a woman to do much of anything beyond the limits of their imaginations so why bother trying to be predictable?”

  “Miss Wells.” He stepped closer and lost his train of thought.

  “Yes?”

  “Who are you hiding from?”

  “Must I choose only one? I think it might be Lady Baybrook.” She leaned in with a mischievous smile. “I have the distinct impression that she longs to rap my knuckles with her fan.”

  The scent of her hair and her skin permeated his senses and the bloom of familiar heat spread throughout his frame. Kissing her again was inevitable. “I don’t think you are a child to be punished.”

  “No. But I fear I can be naughty all the same.”

  Damn it. His body tightened instantly and Phillip had to shift his weight to make sure his coat was shielding his state from her view. She was already so close that pulling her into his arms would have been as effortless as taking a breath. “Miss Wells. You have an amazing gift for saying the most unpredictable things.”

  “So I have been told.” Raven studied him for a moment. “Do you still have an aversion to optimism, Mr. Warrick?”

  “It has faded considerably.”

  “Has it?”

  “Truth be told, your company could make an undertaker smile, Miss Wells.”

  “You weren’t all that sour to begin with, sir.” She reached out to playfully push one hand against his shoulder and he caught her bare fingers in his, trapping her touch and impulsively extending the contact.

  He waited for her to hesitate, to demand that he ta
ke no such liberties or chide him for coming to her alone. He meant to prove to her that no matter what he’d demonstrated in the gazebo, he was perfectly capable of restraint and gentlemanly conduct.

  Capable, yes.

  Her youth and inexperience meant she was relying on his self-discipline and stronger will to prevail over hers. But when Raven Wells placed her bare fingers over his heart a thousand trails of fire began to work through his body and her eyes met his without shame—there was nothing to prove.

  “Will you ask me to dance on Saturday, Mr. Warrick?”

  “You and no other.”

  “How scandalous!” she gasped with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “You will set every woman in the county against me, sir!”

  He touched her chin to tip her face up toward his. “Would you rather I didn’t? Shall I appease them and make a show of filling up dance cards?”

  “No.”

  “I see. So I am to stand against the wall with a foreboding scowl on my face while you take the floor with all those ‘local young bucks’?” he teased.

  She looked at him through the flirtatious veil of her dark lashes. “Will you?”

  “I have decided that when it comes to you, Raven Wells, I will always strive to be first.”

  “First?”

  “You gifted me with your first kiss and I hope with your first dance…” He reached up with his hand to touch the velvet soft curve of her face. “I find that I am hungry to retain the privilege to always be first in all things when it comes to you.”

  “You and no other hold that privilege, sir,” she whispered.

  He kissed her. He kissed her because to not kiss her was an impossibility. Only this time, there was no preamble of cautious exploration. The embers of desire ignited at the first touch of his lips to hers and time folded to create the illusion that he had never let her go. Civilized restraint evaporated when she sighed against him, melting into his frame so that the weight and contours of her body were pressed toward his. Her mouth parted for the onslaught of his tongue, an eager offering that proved his beautiful siren had forgotten none of the lessons of the gazebo.

  Wildfire swept through his veins, so fast that he knew he had to slow them down. He lifted his chin to deny her access to his mouth but Raven’s hunger was not so easily thwarted. She shyly kissed his throat instead, her tongue flicking shyly over his adam’s apple and making him groan. His arms tightened around her, lifting her from the floor.

  “Am I hurting you?” she asked softly.

  “Not at all,” Phillip shook his head with a smile. “Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

  “Wha-what?”

  He turned the tables on her, sliding his mouth down the pulse of her neck. Raven’s reaction was clear. He’d meant to teach her a lesson on just how delectable her touch had felt but as she arched her back, writhing against him, sighing and gasping, Phillip was lost.

  “Yes!” She cried out sweetly. “Oh, my! This is….impossible! Phillip!”

  Her innocent candor was beyond disarming. Other women may have pretended a weak protest while their hands were finding the buttons to his pants but there was no mistaking the genuine surprise and fearless fire in Raven’s eyes. It was power he had never known to show her what a kiss could bring—and a paralyzing responsibility.

  “Please don’t stop!” she pleaded tipping her head to one side to offer the enticing porcelain of her neck to taste. “It’s so lovely!”

  Oh, god. My beautiful shameless girl!

  He complied to gently kiss the warm column of her neck again, lingering briefly at the well behind her ear only to land at the juncture where her shoulder sloped across, playfully grazing the most sensitive points of her skin with his teeth.

  Raven clung to him, shuddering and dancing on the tips of her toes to stretch upward, as a flower following the sun. His hands sought her skin, exploring only what he could reach. Modest fashions gave him very little but Phillip was in no mood to complain. Even so, it was too easy to lightly trail over fabric and imagine the flesh beneath, the contours and textures of her breasts; Phillip covered the rise of her breasts, cupping them to take full measure of the bounty that was Raven.

  “More, oh, please, whatever this is I beg you not to stop!”

  Damn it! He lifted her up against him, kissing her again to sample the hot silk of her mouth, the velvet of her tongue; pressing her against his frame, willing her to become aware of just how much he needed her. Raven transformed into a sensual human vine entwining her fingers into his hair and ranging over his back and shoulders, eagerly seeking to map his body.

  “Yes, oh, yes!”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Trent’s voice was as startling to the pair as a gunshot and Phillip released her immediately to put her on her feet before shifting to shield her with his back while Raven quickly readjusted her skirts and tried to restore her hairpins. Phillip winced at the humiliating awareness that the buttons of his pants were straining to hold his raging erection and if Trent hadn’t come in, it would be hard to deny where things were headed.

  I can lie to myself if I wish but those silk pillows on the floor would have served and…shit!

  Of all the ways he’d wanted to present his attachment to Miss Wells to Trent, being discovered in a completely inappropriate embrace in the man’s solarium was very near the bottom. “I apologize, Lord Trent.” Phillip kept his voice steady. “It is entirely my fault. Miss Wells has done nothing to encourage my—“

  “Raven, to your room. Leave, Mr. Warrick and I alone to talk.”

  Her sigh of defeat was quiet enough that only Phillip could hear it, but she obediently stepped out with her head held high. “Your lordship. Please.”

  “Go.” Trent’s voice was as yielding as granite and Raven was forced to leave without a word, no doubt convinced that whatever she said would only make things worse for Phillip.

  Damn. If he throws me out, I’m going to have to kidnap that woman.

  Hell, when did my life become a penny novel?

  “Warrick.” Geoffrey came closer and eyed him the way a general would an errant officer. “I know you’re expecting a bit of a tantrum but we are grown men and too seasoned for the scene, don’t you think?”

  “Too seasoned?”

  “Can I say that you are still young, Warrick, a man in his prime at twenty-eight without admitting to being the dusty old man?”

  “You’re hardly old, Lord Trent, and I would hope to be old enough not to use youth as an excuse for my behavior.” Phillip squared his shoulders. “I’m not a child to cry ignorance.”

  Trent smiled. “It’s to your credit then. But Raven…” His smile faded. “She is not for you.”

  It was the last thing he’d expected to hear and shock tempered his reply. “Pardon me? Does that mean that you have another suitor in mind?”

  “No. In truth, no,” Geoffrey shook his head. “Not exactly, but the Phillip Warrick I have come to know, the one who decries gambling and has fiercely guarded his conduct since I met him last—earning a reputation for his serious attention to his duties…” Geoffrey sighed. “You need a woman made of sterner stuff, with an eye to economy and a simpler spirit.”

  “I’d die of boredom.”

  “That’s what you think but trust me. Slow and steady wins the race.” The earl’s tone took on a fatherly note. “It’s my turn to apologize for spoiling Raven so. She’ll make an ambitious match in London this season thanks to word of her vast dowry. She will plague some filthy rich man with her philosophies and pretty looks. But you’re a sensible soul, my boy. All the wealth in England should not induce you to marry against your better judgment.”

  Phillip had to close his eyes for a moment against the torrent of disbelief coursing through him. He opened them with a determination to clarify his position. “I am apparently less sensible than you believe and do not aspire to all the wealth in England.”

  Trent held up a hand to stop him. “There is no harm in a kiss if that is the
extent of it—is that the extent of it so far, Warrick?”

  “Yes, but that hardly—“

  “Then all is well.” Geoffrey straightened his coat. “I will naturally address Raven about her unladylike display and remind her that my generosity and substantial provisions for her future will not stand for another lapse in her judgment. As for you, Mr. Warrick, I know that you will refrain from all unseemly contact with my ward during your stay.”

  “Raven is innocent, Lord Trent! There is no need to reprimand her since I had every intention of approaching you to—“

  “Mr. Warrick. Slow and steady wins the race.”

  Phillip’s jaw dropped and before he could compose a response to the earl’s cryptic words, the man turned on his heels and left Phillip standing alone in the storm of his thoughts. “What the hell was that?”

  Did he mean to say that I should persist in my courtship but at a more respectful pace? Did he mean to forbid me? “She is not for you” does not exactly fit with “there is no harm in a kiss”!

  Phillip made his way to an oversized chair by a potted palm and sat down as his legs numbed. I should at least celebrate that I’m not packing my bags but I’ll be damned if I know what I’m supposed to do next…

  One thing was clear.

  Until her guardian physically threw him from the house, he wasn’t going to give up an inch of ground. The mention of that “ambitious match” had carved his plans into stone and he’d be damned if he would lose her to another man without a fight.

  **

  The knock on her door was firm but not too frightening. “Come in.”

  Geoffrey entered and then closed the door behind him. “Where is your maid?”

  “Downstairs.”

  “Good. Then we can speak with some assurance of privacy.” He took another three steps in the room and stopped, suddenly staring around him. “Odd! I’ve never been in this room, have I? It is not unpleasant, is it?”

  Raven blinked a few times, familiar with her guardian’s propensity for diversion. “It is a lovely bedroom and I can’t recall a reason that would have brought you over its threshold until now.” She took a deep breath to let it out slowly. “I am mortified of what you must think of me—of Mr. Warrick—of us!”