The Viscount's Vixen

by JoMarie DeGioia

  “We need to get you back to the house, love,” he said in a low voice.

  Betsy blinked in confusion. Michael chuckled deeply and retrieved her clothes from the floor. She dressed quickly and ran her fingers through her tangled curls, putting them somewhat back in order. He smiled at her delightful appearance and hugged her to him. With a few more tender words, he sent her back to the main house.

  He watched her go. What the devil was he to do now? His eyes fell on the velvet ribbon nearly buried in the straw. He deftly plucked it from its hiding place and brought it to his lips. Grinning broadly, he tucked it into his pocket and returned to his office.

  ***

  Betsy entered the mansion and hurried toward the grand staircase, nearly knocking over her little sister Mary in her haste.

  “Forgive me, Mary,” she rushed out. “I didn’t see you there.”

  Mary furrowed her brow as she looked closely at her.

  “What happened to you?” she asked. “Did your horse throw you?”

  “Why would you think such a thing?”

  Mary placed her hands on her hips. “You look like you’ve been rolling in the hay.”

  Betsy bit her lip to keep the laughter from bubbling forth. She quickly realized that her mother would no doubt soon be joining Mary and would likewise puzzle over her odd appearance. She brushed a few pieces of straw from her skirt and managed a smile.

  “I had a bit of trouble seeing to my horse’s grooming, Mary. That’s all. I’m going to ring for a bath right away.”

  Mary apparently took Betsy at her word and skipped into the parlor. Betsy breathed a sigh of relief and raced up the stairs. She ordered a bath, caring not a whit it was strange for her to do so at that particular time of day. As she crossed to her dressing room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the cheval mirror. Her color was high, her eyes bright. Her hair was an absolute mess. Smirking at her ludicrous appearance, she donned her wrapper and awaited her bath.

  When she was bathed and her hair neatly brushed and styled, she let her mind wander back to all that had happened between Michael and herself. His sweet words and caresses had made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. He’d told her he would set things to rights, although what that meant precisely, she was uncertain. Would he offer for her hand? As long as she was rid of the odious Earl of Templeton, she would be most pleased.

  Thank goodness he was still in London. She wouldn’t have to suffer his barbs that evening. And she could gaze upon Michael as much as she wished to, although she thought it best if she hid her feelings from her relatives until such time as Michael announced his intentions. Humming to herself, she readied for tea.

  That evening at dinner—and afterwards, when the men rejoined the ladies—Betsy couldn’t keep her eyes from Michael’s magnificent form. One glance in his direction brought their passion rushing back to her mind. Her breath came fast as she recalled his body upon hers, the passion etched on his handsome face as he moved above her. Except for her initial pain, it had been the most wonderful experience of her life. No matter what would happen between them in the future, she knew she wouldn’t spend another moment agonizing over her betrothal to Lord Templeton.

  She knew with absolute certainty there would be no wedding to the esteemed earl, despite her parents’ objections to her breaking her engagement. Michael glanced her way in the next moment, his beautiful eyes dark. He would set things to rights, he’d said. How should she approach her parents? Perhaps if she spoke to Maggie first. Her sister would surely understand her feelings, having loved Philip so intensely for so long.

  She rose and crossed to where her sister sat. Maggie smiled up at Betsy as she joined her.

  “How is your evening, Betsy?”

  “Very pleasant, Maggie,” Betsy returned, perching next to her on the settee.

  Maggie smiled and leaned toward her. “I believe that’s due to a certain gentleman’s absence?”

  Betsy nodded vigorously, her gaze unconsciously returning to where Michael stood with Philip.

  Maggie’s smile widened. “And also to another gentleman’s presence?”

  Betsy blushed, unable to keep the smile from her lips. After a quick glance at her mother assured her the woman was paying them little attention, she leaned closer still.

  “Maggie, what am I to do?”

  “You need to decide for yourself, sister.

  Betsy gave a quick nod. “I realize that,” she agreed quickly. “But I don’t think I can tell my mother.”

  “Betsy, dear,” Lady Bridgewater said, coming to stand before them. “When Lord Templeton returns on the morrow, we’ll need to sit down and discuss some particulars.”

  Betsy and Maggie exchanged a glance. Betsy straightened her slight shoulders and faced her mother.

  “Surely we don’t have to attend to such matters at this time, Mother.”

  “Now dear, a wedding takes a great deal of planning. Why, only this morning you asked me if all would be accomplished in time.”

  Michael watched her closely through narrowed eyes as she reddened. Betsy read his pique and was confounded. Why, just a few moments before he’d been favoring her with those smoldering glances that always made her heartbeat faster. She looked back at her mother and Maggie.

  “Mother,” she began, “I’d merely asked if we should perhaps postpone the nuptials.”

  Maggie’s brows shot up in surprised approval. Betsy saw it and felt decidedly stronger in her resolve.

  “We discussed this earlier, Betsy,” her mother said. “I believe we can complete our preparations long before January.”

  Betsy shook her head as her eyes settled on her father. Lord Bridgewater gazed in wonderment at her.

  “Is this true, Betsy?” he asked her. “Do you wish to postpone the wedding?”

  Betsy looked from her mother’s disapproval to her father’s bewilderment and was nonplussed. Taken with Maggie and Philip’s speculative glances, she could only wish to divert attention from the topic at hand. She glanced at Michael, further confounded by the mix of emotions evident on his face.

  “I only…” She looked back at her father. “I don’t think we should discuss this at this moment, Father.”

  “As you wish it, my dear,” he said. “There will be much time to discuss your wedding when Templeton returns.”

  Betsy smiled not at the thought of her fiancé’s return, but at her father’s quick dismissal of the topic. When she next glanced at Michael, she saw a look of speculation had replaced that of irritation on his face.

  As the evening wore on, Betsy couldn’t hide the effects of her tumultuous afternoon, yawning behind her hand.

  “Are you tired, Betsy?” Maggie asked her.

  “Yes.” Her eyes settled on Michael. “I had quite an eventful day, I daresay.”

  Michael must have heard her comment. He nodded to Philip before coming to stand before her. “Betsy, in light of Lord Templeton’s absence, I hope you’ll allow me to escort you to your chamber?”

  He smiled then, a bright smile that caused her heart to flutter. She nodded and put her hand in his offered one, coming swiftly to her feet.

  “That would be lovely,” she said with an incline of her head.

  She bade good night to her family, barely hiding her own smile.

  Chapter 9

  Michael stopped before Betsy’s door and smiled down at her. He cupped her face and brought his lips to hers, kissing her deeply before pulling back.

  “I’ve wanted to do that all evening.” He stroked her cheek. “How are you feeling, love?”

  “Feeling?”

  He nodded. “Are you tender?”

  Her eyes widened. She quickly lowered her lashes, reddening. “I feel fine, Michael.”

  Relief filled him. He’d watched her all evening for any sign of the unavoidable pain he’d caused that afternoon.

  “I’m glad,” he said, hugging her to him.

  Betsy sighed as she cuddled against him. He droppe
d a kiss on her hair and held her closer.

  “What will you tell Templeton tomorrow, Betsy?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll make certain, however, that he knows I’m not marrying him.”

  Damn right.

  Betsy toyed with the hairs at the nape of his neck, absently stroking him with her fingers. God, he loved when she did that. He was well aware of her soft body pressed against him, and hardened in response. He moved his lips to Betsy’s ear, nuzzling her as she purred against him. When she instinctively cuddled his arousal with her hips, his desire flared. He opened the door to her chamber and urged her inside.

  Betsy tilted her face as he brought his lips to hers. She touched her tongue to his, moaning softly in the back of her throat. He ran his lips over her cheek, the side of her neck.

  “God, how I want you, Betsy,” he murmured.

  “Take me, Michael.”

  He turned and pinned her against the wall, running his hands lovingly over her curves. Despite the fact that their passion in the stables was still fresh in his mind, he tried valiantly to distance himself from her charms. He lifted his head to gaze at her regretfully.

  “Ah, love,” he rasped. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Her eyes, darkened to violet, pierced him to his soul.

  “Love me again, Michael,” she argued softly. “Please.”

  At her whispered plea, his resolution dissolved. He grabbed her to him and lifted her skirts. When he began to unbutton his breeches, he realized the absurdity of their situation and froze. Her bed was merely a few feet from them, she was soft and pliant in his arms, and yet he was moments away from taking her roughly again, there against the wall. The brief flash of sanity brought reality crashing down upon him. He cursed softly and set her from him.

  “Michael?” Betsy asked breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

  “We can’t do this again, Betsy.”

  “But, why not?”

  He had no real answer for her. He wouldn’t hurt her again. He couldn’t tell her the true reason he wished to separate from her. He didn’t feel worthy.

  “I shouldn’t have taken you this afternoon,” he said. “It was a mistake.”

  She shook her head. “How could you change so quickly?”

  “Betsy.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes as she blinked rapidly. Michael turned from her and looked about the room. He spied the necklace on the vanity then, the onyx she had worn around her neck a few evenings past. He crossed to the vanity and reached out to touch the stone.

  “This is quite beautiful,” he said.

  “Yes it is.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I regret I must return it to Lord Templeton.”

  Michael turned sharply toward her. “Are jewels so important to you, then?”

  Betsy’s eyes widened. “No.”

  He snorted in disbelief.

  “I merely favor the stone because it reminds me of your eyes,” she said.

  His mouth dropped open. She lifted her chin and opened her door for him.

  He stepped toward her. “Betsy, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Good night, Michael,” she said, her voice low.

  He winced at the pain visible on her features.

  “You don’t understand, love. My situation, my fortune.”

  “And you don’t understand me,” she whispered. “Good night.”

  Michael raked his fingers through his hair and stepped past her and into the hallway. He turned to face her again. “If you would let me explain.”

  “More fool me,” she said from behind the panel.

  Michael stared long and hard at her door. He still wanted her even as he told himself he never should have taken her. He was pleased she wouldn’t marry the earl, but he couldn’t make any promise of a future to her. What on earth could he offer her?

  “Forgive me, love,” he whispered, turning away once more.

  ***

  When Betsy awoke the next morning, she was quickly reminded of the events of the previous day. She felt a soreness between her legs as she stood beside her bed and groaned softly. How could such pleasure cause such pain? The pain in her heart was far sharper, however. Michael’s dismissal of their intimate connection plagued on her mind. Had she imagined his regard for her? No. He’d told her he wished to make her his, after all. That she would belong to none other than himself. Had he been merely reciting the sweet words to take her virtue?

  No doubt the Earl of Templeton would be arriving shortly. That thought further darkened her mood. She walked somewhat stiffly into her dressing room and saw to her morning toilette. She rang for her maid and soon donned a pretty day dress of lilac. Ann dressed Betsy’s hair in a simple coil at the back of her head, framing her face with fetching curls.

  After Ann left, Betsy’s eyes fell upon the onyx necklace. Her stomach to clench painfully. She opened the jeweler’s box and gingerly placed the necklace inside. After Michael’s unreasonable actions of the previous evening, the thought of returning the stone to Lord Templeton no longer caused the slightest regret. Sighing once more, she arose and left her chamber, bound for the breakfast room.

  Before she’d finished her breakfast, Lord Templeton called her name from the doorway. He grinned slyly at her, which she found strange, but soon wore an expression of benevolence.

  “My dear.” He came to sit beside her. “I could not dally another moment in London, knowing you awaited me here at Bridgewater Park.”

  “Good morning, Lord Templeton,” she said softly.

  Templeton studied her for a long moment. Betsy shifted uncomfortably under his slow perusal, her cheeks growing hot.

  He sat down beside her and leaned toward her. “You look incredibly lovely this day, Elizabeth.” He touched her flushed cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  After glancing quickly toward the doorway and seeing no one about, Templeton crushed his mouth to hers. Betsy whimpered as he forced his tongue into her mouth. He withdrew just as quickly, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

  “Ah, you taste sweet.”

  Betsy couldn’t keep the disgust from wrinkling her brow. Templeton wrongly interpreted her expression as modesty, apparently. He chuckled deeply.

  She held her hands in fists in her lap beneath the table. “I would ask you to refrain from such actions in the future, Lord Templeton.”

  Templeton pulled back, his hand on his chest.

  “You are soon to be mine in every way. Surely you must accustom yourself to such displays of affection. Why, I was most fortunate last evening to find an outlet for the passion the mere thought of you provoked within me. You must not deny me the pleasure of the smallest kiss now that you are once more before me.”

  He’d taken another woman last evening? His admission caused relief rather than any jealousy. Surely he held no great affection for her, then. She would speak to her father at the next available opportunity.

  “I believe I’ll see about the fine horses Balsam is training,” he said. “Would you care to join me for a ride, my dear?”

  Betsy weighed his words carefully. While she longed to see Michael that morning, his actions of last evening caused her to give a quick shake of her head.

  “No thank you, Lord Templeton,” she answered. “I promised Mary I would assist her in watching the younger children this morning.”

  It wasn’t a lie in her mind at that moment, for suddenly she took great solace in the notion of hiding in the nursery for as long as possible that day. Templeton took her at her word and left her with a jaunty bow.

  “Ridiculous man,” she muttered the moment she was again alone.

  She left the breakfast room then, bound for the nursery abovestairs.

  ***

  Michael had finished his breakfast and was well away from the breakfast room at a very early hour. Betsy had come immediately to his mind upon waking, causing guilt to slash through him afresh. He wouldn’t blame her if she kept her betrothal intact. He’d given her nothing
but pain over the last twenty-four hours, no doubt causing her to welcome the return of the gallant Earl of Templeton. He cursed loud and long over that thought.

  He turned his attentions once more to his troubling finances. Although his horse-breeding venture with Philip would no doubt prove highly profitable in the future, it afforded him no solace this day. He was unable to make an offer for her at present, even if she were to become free. But what of their passion?

  What if a child was the result? How the devil would she ever be able to withstand such a scandal? His heart suddenly soared at the thought of a child of theirs. Of a tiny being that would forever tie him to her. He wished for a moment there would be such a consequence from their union, for she would then be his. No. He would never want to force their connection in such a manner. There was nothing else for it. He would never take her again.

  “Ah, Betsy,” he murmured, shaking his head in regret.

  That evening after dinner, Michael was befuddled. It was obvious Betsy hadn’t broken her engagement to the odious Lord Templeton, for the man was fairly puffed with pride as he kept his hand on her arm in a show of possession. She, however, looked anything but happy.

  Her dejection was obvious to all but Templeton and Lady Bridgewater. Betsy’s mother fawned over Templeton as if every word dropped from the man’s lips was a pearl of wisdom to be savored. Lord, how he wished to take Betsy in his arms. To declare her as his to all assembled.

  He turned his gaze from Betsy’s beloved form to find the Earl of Templeton giving him a look of dark speculation. He straightened and scowled at the man, long-tired of hiding his disdain. To his dismay, the earl smiled at him and crossed the room to join him.

  “I wished to thank you, Balsam,” Templeton said loudly, drawing Betsy’s attention as well as that of the others in attendance.

  Michael arched a brow. “Thank me, Templeton?” he countered. “Whatever for?”

  “I hear you took great care of my Elizabeth in my absence.”

  Betsy’s eyes grew round at the man’s words, her hands twisting the skirt of her lovely satin gown. She paled and lowered her eyes to her lap. Michael saw her distress and felt alarm trill in the back of his mind. What was the pompous fool about? Had one of the grooms seen or heard something he shouldn’t have yesterday?