by Ivory Lei
Lucas cursed and tore his gaze from the delightful little baggage who was his fiancée when he realized he was reacting to her physically. He hadn’t expected this. Never in all his imaginings during the long journey to this godforsaken place did he think his fiancée would be the most intriguing female he’d set eyes on in a very long time. This was not good. He didn’t need this complication.
She is a means to an end, nothing more.
Her father’s abandonment had ended his father’s life. Lucas’s father had become a hollow version of the man he’d been before the loss of his wife and fortune. Penelope’s father turning his back on their situation had been the final blow that made Father pull the trigger. Father’s will was a testament to how that last betrayal had affected him, for now he was forcing Lucas to make sure Maitland made good on his promise.
Penelope’s voice brought him back to the present. “Have you had your fill, my lord? Or would you like to study my nose for a while longer?”
His lips twitched with amusement. “I’ve had my fill for now, Miss Maitland.” He watched as her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “And you are wrong, you know. I’m not opposed to marrying you. But tell me what it is I can help you with.”
Her lips thinned, and her hazel eyes flashed with resentment, and he thought he heard her mutter something under her breath that sounded like “butter the crumpets” before she put her hands on her waist and started tapping her toe.
“It’s very gentlemanly of you to spare my feelings, but your actions over the past years speak volumes of how you feel about this whole affair.” She gave a sigh of irritation. “All you have to do, my lord, is show up at some functions around the village with me, and pretend that we are actually engaged. And then you can leave.”
“But we are engaged, Miss Maitland,” he reminded her.
“Yes, yes, I know that,” she said impatiently. “But certain people need to be reassured of the fact. Now that I think about it, you’ve chosen the perfect time to grace us with your presence.”
“Why?”
She raised clear eyes to his. “My lord?”
“Why do you need to convince people of the legitimacy of our betrothal?”
“It would give me time.”
“Time for what?”
“To save face, of course,” she muttered after a moment’s pause. “The least you could do for the fiancée who stayed faithful all these years is spare her the humiliation of being Anne of Cleves,” she added in a desperate tone. “I have to live here after you go. If you leave immediately following our discussion, people will think that, in the manner of Henry VIII, you took one look at me and decided you ‘like her not.’”
She could sway even an earl to spend a portion of his valuable time to humor her, and though Lucas wasn’t fooled, he was reluctantly impressed. Oh, he could tell she was hiding something from him, but she’d convinced him she was worth the time it would take to find out what it was.
“My lord,” she said quietly, “I would be forever grateful if you agree to my terms. That’s all I ask of you.” She smiled up at him and patted his shoulder in a beseeching manner. “Stay a few days, and I’ll repay you in any way I can.”
Lucas took hold of her other hand and held it against his chest. “My services won’t come cheap.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t have a lot of money.”
“I don’t need your money,” he replied, echoing her words from earlier.
“Then what do you want?” she asked, her hands clenching into fists as if to restrain herself from shaking him.
She was a bossy bit of goods, but he was determined to take the lead in this strange bargaining situation.
Lucas pulled her to him and leaned down, smiling against her ear when he heard her gasp of surprise. He was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to remind this exasperating woman exactly what her duty was. “I would like you to pay me with a kiss.”
And with that, he bent his head to claim her mouth and everything to which he’d been entitled almost from the day she was born. “Should we seal this bargain, Penelope?”
Her gaze dropped to his lips, a mere breath away from hers, as he waited for her to decide. He stood unmoving while she hesitated, then he saw a flash of longing and curiosity in her eyes. A surge of triumph crashed through him when she tilted her head back and rose on tiptoes to meet his mouth.
He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, turning it up to his and savoring the feel of her creamy skin as his thumb stroked her flushed cheek. He inhaled the sweet fragrance of roses and soap wafting off her, beckoning him closer.
He’d intended to give her a brief, gentle touch — a polite greeting between prospective lovers. But the moment she crushed her mouth to his, he was lost. His lips caressed, tasted and molded hers as he claimed her mouth in a seeking kiss of blatant ownership.
His hands moved down her body, exploring her form as he’d been itching to do from the moment he saw her light up the dining hall with her smile. His mouth drank her in, and he reveled in her response to him as she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, while he untied her bonnet and shoved it off her head so he could kiss her more thoroughly.
Lucas lifted his mouth from hers to taste the elegant line of her throat, letting his fingers sink into her hair to grab a fistful of the fragrant, reddish brown curls. He heard the pins holding her thick mane fall to the flagstone floor, the sound accompanied by her ragged breathing. She was magnificent. He didn’t know why Penelope was letting him touch her so, but he wasn’t going to question something that felt this good. He just enjoyed the fact that she was as he trailed kisses up her delicate neck, glorying in the moan that tore from her lips.
He shuddered when he felt her hands glide through his hair. He kissed her proud chin, and she sighed. His mouth curved in a smile as he trailed kisses along her jaw, unable to deny the keen satisfaction he felt at her innocent response to his caresses. She was so responsive, so open, so sweet … With this woman, a man would know exactly where he stood.
“My lord — ”
“Lucas,” he corrected, his mouth against the tantalizing curve of her ear. He traced it with his tongue, grinning when he heard her gasp. “We are betrothed. You should call me Lucas.”
“Lucas,” she sighed his name in a beckoning whisper that drove him mad.
He cupped the back of her neck in his hand and drew her mouth closer for another taste. This time he sought to deepen the kiss. His tongue invaded her parted lips, greedily claiming every delicious, silken part.
He growled his approval deep in his throat when she matched his movements. Good God, he could get addicted to her eagerness, her willing response to him. Never had a woman felt so good and soft in his arms. She clung more tightly to him, encouraging him even further. He plundered her generous lips over and over, drinking in the intoxicating taste of her as pure, undiluted lust roared through him.
Then a knock sounded at the door.
Penelope started, tearing her mouth from his.
“Polly?”
He barely heard Penelope’s friend calling her through the pounding in his head, but the opportunity it presented was clear. He could end this and claim Penelope right here. There’d be a witness, and they’d be married by tomorrow at the latest, scruples be damned.
Yes, this was what he should do. He should save his tenants, save his fortune … he lowered his head.
He should kiss her again.
• • •
As Mari’s apologetic voice from the other side of the door drifted through the room, Penelope put her hands on Lucas’s hard chest to push him away while she drowned in mortification.
Instead of letting her go, his arms tightened even more, forcing her to feel the unyielding evidence of his arousal, which pressed against her through the folds of her gown. The n
ew intimacy made her freeze, her hands still lying on his chest.
His dark eyes glittered as shock and awe played over his stark features.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, his heated gaze roving over her face. Then his grip on her waist tightened as he began to lower his head to hers once more.
“My lord!” Penelope panicked and pushed at his chest again.
“Lucas,” he insisted.
“Lucas,” she said, watching his onyx eyes smolder as she stood in his embrace. “My friend, Mari, is at the door. I must go see what she wants.”
As if on cue, another knock sounded, a louder one.
“What is it, Mari?” Penelope called out, though she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Lord Ravenstone. Lucas.
“Ummm, are you and his lordship finished talking? A note arrived from Highfield Manor. Dr. Walker is home.”
Penelope’s eyes widened at the news. “What does Papa want?”
“I think he’s heard about his lordship’s presence because he wants you to come home immediately.”
Dear Lord! That was all it took for her to wriggle out of Lucas’s arms, ignore his protest and fling the door wide open, revealing Nelson and Mari on the other side, their eyes full of questions.
Mari gave her a knowing smile. “Where’s your bonnet?”
Penelope’s hand flew to her unbound hair, which was now hanging down her shoulders and back thanks to Lucas’s rapacious fingers. She probably looked exactly like the newly revealed strumpet that she was.
Blushing furiously, she followed Mari’s amused gaze and saw Lucas once again staring into the fireplace, his back to them.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Mari said in a respectful tone and curtsied.
Lucas looked over his shoulder, inclined his head in a mocking bow and smiled. “Good afternoon Miss Mari, er … ”
“Smythe,” Penelope put in helpfully. “Marian Smythe.”
Lucas shifted his gaze to her, his smile turning warm and full of promises, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Smythe,” he said huskily, without taking his eyes away from Penelope.
Mari loudly cleared her throat, turning everyone’s attention to her as she walked into the room and handed a letter to Lucas. “This note is from Penelope’s stepfather, my lord. I am to tell you that Dr. Walker respectfully requests your presence at Highfield Manor this evening.”
Lucas finally turned away from the fireplace and reached for the note, putting it in his pocket. “Thank you, Miss Smythe. I am looking forward to meeting Penelope’s family. Although I regret it means I’ll have to do without the excellent meals from this fine establishment tonight.”
“Oh, you are too kind, my lord.” Mari blushed with pleasure at the compliment to her cooking. “May I be of any further assistance?”
“You can help me with my hair,” Penelope answered. “You’re much quicker at it than I, and if I don’t hurry, Papa will have my hide.” She bent down to pick up her bonnet and hairpins from the floor.
“Very well,” Mari said with an air of efficiency. “Sit down on the settee and we’ll have you ready in no time. I’ll just close the door … “ She gave Penelope a wry look. “I’d hate for Mama to find you like this. You know she’s the biggest gossip in Bouth.”
Five minutes later, Penelope had her bonnet back on and was following Mari out the door when Lucas grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him.
“I’ll escort you home.”
The notion was so ridiculous she burst out laughing. “Lord Ravenstone, Rusland Valley is but a five-minute horse ride away, I know everyone who lives here, and I have Nelson. I hardly think I’d need an escort.”
“Nevertheless, I am providing you with one.” He offered his arm to her, forcing her to accept.
She hesitated, but she knew she could hardly refuse without making a scene. “Very well, if you insist.” She put her hand on his arm and let him lead her out of the room.
He’d been physically in her life for less than two hours and already he was taking over. He had only to say her name in that dark, possessive way and she fell into his arms.
She’d actually kissed the man! Worse, if Mari hadn’t interrupted Penelope probably would have offered all she had to give just to have another taste of being wanted. The minute he’d held her in his arms, she’d reverted to being that naive girl who dreamed of her fiancé, writing letters and wanting him to show her what passion was like. When he held her, she almost believed she really was his cherished betrothed.
But she knew better. He asked her if she knew his birthday. Of course she did. Because of her silly, girlhood dreams and his notoriety, there was little about him she didn’t know. She reminded herself that entitled gentlemen only cared about someone if the person were useful to them.
But what possible use could she be to the earl? She had no money or connections to speak of. What did he expect to gain? Men didn’t become interested in her unless there was something in it for them.
As they stepped out of the inn, she realized it had stopped raining. It was still muddy, but at least she wouldn’t get wet on the short journey home.
“Let me know everything that happens,” Mari whispered beside her.
“If I survive it,” Penelope whispered back.
There wasn’t time to say anything more as Lord Ravenstone held her waist and helped her mount her aging gray gelding. He then mounted the biggest horse she’d ever seen, and as they silently rode off with Nelson trotting behind them, she felt not unlike a convict being led to execution.
It certainly seemed as if her life as she knew it was about to end.
Chapter Three
Lucas ground his teeth in frustration as he watched Penelope ride up the valley with him seated atop her ancient horse.
Lucky horse.
The thought almost made him groan. She had been humiliated after her friend burst into the room. With his plan foiled, he’d had no choice but to stand with his back to them, hiding his erection to avoid making a spectacle of himself. A vision of Penelope bending over to retrieve her bonnet from the floor flashed through his mind, and he had to shake his head to clear it of the tantalizing image.
He’d mishandled their first meeting.
What the devil had come over him? Penelope deserved better than to be forced to engage in outrageous behavior in a damned coaching inn by a lout like him.
She was his fiancée, for Christ’s sake, not some tavern whore.
He would do well to remember that fact next time. The clock was ticking, and he couldn’t risk scaring her off by acting like some aging lecher.
Lucas sighed as he looked over the place where Penelope grew up, letting the fresh, grass-scented breeze cool his face. He could easily imagine her as a young girl, running through these sun-kissed fields, climbing over the dry stone walls and getting into trouble for feeding scraps from the dinner table to flea-ridden dogs.
Somehow, he couldn’t imagine his little forest nymph spending her childhood cooped up indoors like the haughty debutantes he’d seen out in Society.
She had a clever mind and a natural curiosity about the world that would’ve made her eagerly want to explore it firsthand. Like the way she’d been naturally curious and eager to explore the rudiments of kissing, twisting him into knots in the process. He felt his breeches tighten uncomfortably as memories of her innocent response to his advances assailed him.
Damn and blast. Maybe he was better off finding another bride. Although Lucas understood his father wanted him to marry Maitland’s daughter, his will didn’t actually specify Penelope’s name.
He could even buy himself another bride — if the gossip about him being “damaged” made it difficult to secure a member of the ton, then perhaps some practical merchant’s daughter would be willing to marry him for h
is title. Someone who didn’t pose such a threat to his equilibrium or want to get too close.
He knew the dangers that resulted from letting someone too close — the madness of his parents’ marriage was proof of that. Lucas had no wish to repeat his father’s mistakes. He was still paying for them now, and his father had been dead for fifteen years. A prim, timid Society miss would pose no risk and suit his purposes better.
He wanted a staid marriage with a dutiful wife who’d bear him an heir and let him get on with his life as she went on with hers. No passionate kisses to threaten his self-control. No eager embraces and no tender caresses, no soft, hazel eyes and —
Christ. He raked a hand through his hair and looked at Penelope once more. She glanced at him and smiled, silently reminding him of something vital he’d found out at the inn.
She’d waited for him.
He felt like a bastard for the satisfaction that flowed through his veins at the thought. Her outrage at his late entrance into her life had been real. Only skilled actresses would have been able to fake the pain behind her accusation at his tardiness.
Apparently, she knew nothing of her father’s defection. Lucas was certain the current baron knew about it, however. He intended to deal with that man as soon as possible.
He was debating how best to proceed with his plans when she waved her arm in a sweeping gesture toward a charming, two-story Palladian manor of decent proportions with ivy-covered walls. Part of the west wing of the house was used as an apothecary shop, which was now closed for the day.
“Here we are,” she remarked.
He dismounted in the front courtyard, which overlooked the open park they’d just ridden through, and held Penelope by the waist to help her off her gray gelding. As they stood facing each other, his hands seemed to develop a will of their own and roamed the lush curve, drawing her nearer to him.
“Thank you for escorting me home, Lucas.”
Her eyes shone at the mention of “home,” and he automatically bent his head to have another taste of her lips before he remembered where they were and pressed a perfunctory kiss to her forehead instead.