by Meara Platt
There was something exhilarating about the country air, something natural and eternal. The earth, trees, plants, and animals. As a girl, she’d loved the summers spent at Gosling Hall, the flowers in bloom, deer in the meadow, and all the vibrant life that surrounded her. Gosling Hall was likely a ruin by now. The possibility saddened her. But she was determined to walk over there to inspect it before the week was out and they all returned to London.
Another scent caught her attention. Sandalwood. Beast’s scent. She opened her eyes and saw a shadow move out from behind one of the oak trees. She recognized the muscled outline of Beast.
Had he seen her?
“Beast, is that you?”
He said nothing at first, merely prowling closer and looking like a lion about to pounce on its prey. An angry lion if his stance and suddenly fearsome scowl were any indication. “Where is your robe? Why aren’t you wearing it?”
She looked down at herself, staring at her nightgown that now seemed impossibly thin. Could he see through it? “Why are you out here?”
“Why are you?” He turned the question back on her. “Damn it. Get inside. Go to bed, Goose. Now.”
Her heart raced, beating as fast as the flap of a hummingbird’s wings. There was something gruff and barely restrained in the tone of his voice. She retreated indoors and leaped under her covers.
Only then did she realize she’d left the balcony doors open.
She was afraid to climb out of bed. What if he had climbed onto her balcony? What if he entered her bedchamber? No. Beast would never do that. And she did not want to close those doors. Her room was hot and needed to cool.
“Silly goose.” Perhaps it was her body that needed cooling.
She had been jesting with her friends about the temptation of a woman’s body upon the male brain, but women were also in danger of succumbing. And Beast was raw temptation. Although females did not respond in the same way as males, there was no doubt he was having an effect on her.
She shook her head and huddled beneath the crisp linens. She’d read the book and knew what to watch out for. Beast was only meant to be her test subject.
But her body felt an unexpected ache of longing.
In testing him, she was also making herself vulnerable to love.
This was a problem.
She had no intention of falling in love with Beast, but her own sense receptacles were stirring and in danger of being aroused. It couldn’t be helped. Beast was big and strong. He was a wealthy duke. He was touchingly protective, just the sort of man who would keep her and their offspring from being eaten by wolves.
She wrapped her arms around her pillow, squeezing it tightly, as though it would also squeeze all thoughts of Beast out of her dreams.
But she couldn’t be sure it would work.
She’d have to take extra care not to fall in love with her own test subject.
Chapter Five
Was there anywhere he could hide without Goose turning up and sending his body careening out of kilter? He was Alexander Beastling, Duke of Hartford, and he did not have to hide from anyone. Yet, this girl had him experiencing sensations he’d never felt before, ones that alarmed him. Perhaps frightened him. However, he would never admit his fear to anyone when he could hardly believe it himself.
He’d faced bayonets and cannonballs.
He’d faced death without so much as a quiver.
So why would the mere possibility of facing Goose send him into panic?
There was no denying the girl was having an effect on him and he did not care for it at all. He’d left his friends to their game of billiards, intending to take an innocent stroll in the garden to clear away those very thoughts of her.
And there she was again, a vision on her balcony, surrounded by candlelight and moonlight, her hair unbound and freely blowing in the wind, her thin nightgown hugging the curves of her body. Lord, her nightgown was thin.
To say she looked spectacular was an understatement.
She looked like an angel.
No longer his Little Goose.
The realization that he would lose her, that she would give her heart to someone else by the end of the Season, unsettled him. She was a young woman with a desire to marry, and despite her lack of dowry, she would receive several offers from gentlemen of good reputation. After all, bounders and cads would be sniffing after someone wealthy. Those who offered for Goose would want her for herself.
Why did he suddenly hate those men?
She would accept one of them in order to escape Lord Gosling’s grim grasp. That’s what worried him most, for she had compelling reason to marry. What if she forced herself to be with someone she could never love? It would be so easy to convince herself that love would grow in time. “Bah!”
It wasn’t his place to meddle in her affairs.
He’d already done all he could. An offer of employment with Matilda and keeping a careful watch on that toad, Gosling, to make certain he did not mistreat her. If she married, his responsibility would be over. If she worked for Matilda, she’d be in safe surroundings and he needn’t do anything more.
Thad and Nathaniel joined him outdoors.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Nathaniel said.
He nodded. “Just needed a moment to myself. Prinny’s luncheon is more than a mere meal to welcome back a few dukes who commended themselves well on the field of battle.”
Thad grunted. “Of course, that Austrian princess.”
Beast nodded. “He’s made no secret of his wishes. And I’ve made no secret of mine. But he’s Prinny, and I’m a mere duke. I’m bound to lose something no matter what I do. I need to figure out what I’m willing to give up and how to negotiate toward that end, assuming the need arises.”
Nathaniel patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”
They chatted a little while longer and then retired, each to their own quarters. Beast stripped off his clothes, tossed them over a chair for Nathaniel’s valet to attend to in the morning, and fell into bed. But even though the windows had been open throughout the day and only shut as night fell, the room still felt stifling. He rose and strode to the window to open it, staring out as he did.
The wind caressed his skin as it swirled around his naked body.
The moon shone down across the open meadow.
His chamber was on the opposite side of the house from Goose’s. She had a view of the garden at the rear of the manor. His room overlooked the front drive and distant pond and meadow. It had always been his assigned quarters whenever he stayed here.
He shook his head and grinned, suddenly remembering those long ago summer mornings, the sun shining against a bright blue sky and the skinny figure of his Little Goose running across the meadow between Gosling Hall and Sherbourne Manor in time to join Penelope and Lavinia for breakfast.
Blast! He was thinking of her again.
What was wrong with him?
He returned to bed, blaming his restlessness on Prinny’s upcoming luncheon and not the heat stirred by the sight of a very grown up Goose standing on her balcony in nearly nothing but her lovely skin.
He was out of sorts by morning.
He growled when Nathaniel’s valet knocked lightly at his door, seeking permission to take his clothes and polish his boots. “Enter at your own risk.”
He then apologized to the poor man whose face had turned as white as the tufts of his thinning hair. “I’m not fit company this morning, Greville. You’ve done nothing wrong. Leave my boots. I’ll have those polished by my own man when I reach London.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He quickly washed and shaved, then dressed casually for the ride to London. He wasn’t in any particular hurry to leave Sherbourne Manor. It was only a three-hour carriage ride from town. He would be traveling on horseback, his trusted gelding Albion easily able to make it at a steady lope. The luncheon was at two o’clock in the afternoon.
He glanced at his pocket watch and noted i
t was barely seven in the morning.
He’d leave in an hour, arrive in London by late morning. Enough time to wash up again, take care of some Hartford business, and ride to St. James’s Palace to mingle with the elite of England’s elite. Indeed, the air would be quite rarified at this luncheon.
But he was hungry now.
Country living had a way of stirring one’s appetite.
He strode downstairs and followed the scent of eggs, sausages, and fresh-brewed coffee to the dining room. To his surprise, Pip and Goose were already there, seated side by side at the table and engrossed in conversation.
He stifled a smile.
The pair were making plans for their butterfly hunt, no doubt. Two nets were leaning against the wall behind them. “Good morning,” he said, striding directly to the buffet to fill his plate.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Pip said, sounding ever so sweet, but the boy was up to mischief. He’d once been a little boy himself and did not like that impish twinkle in Pip’s eyes.
Goose cast him a gentle smile.
She looked quite pretty this morning, the ginger of her hair complimented by the blue of her gown. But there was something subtly different about her. He couldn’t figure out what it was. No matter. It wasn’t important.
But he could not resist another glance.
She looked good.
Really good.
He set his plate beside her and had no sooner turned to grab a cup to pour his own coffee, although it was usually the butler’s duty to perform that chore, when Goose shrieked and jumped up from her chair, toppling it onto his boot and then tripping over it herself as she tried to push away from the table.
“Goose!” He reached out to catch her, his open palm closing around something soft and round as she fell awkwardly into his arms.
Mother in heaven.
He’d caught her breast.
He released her as though he’d just touched fire and she tumbled to the floor. “Bollocks! Goose, I’m sorry. Are you all right?”
She shot Pip a murderous glance and then reached out her hand for Beast to assist her to her feet. “I’m fine. But that little devil put a spider in my eggs. He knows I’m afraid of them.”
Beast took her hands in his and carefully helped her to her feet. He then turned toward the boy. “Pip,” was all he managed in an angry grumble before the boy muttered “uh oh” and fled the dining room.
Beast was now left alone with Goose and four silent footmen who stood like statues, pretending they hadn’t seen him fully cup her lush breast.
Or seen his body spasm in response, as though lightning had just shot through his fingers.
Or notice he now had his arm around Goose’s waist, holding her body up against his while he tried to ignore that her breasts were madly heaving against his chest. “Beast, where is the spider? Did it crawl off my plate?”
She huddled closer to him, practically crawling up him in her desire to escape the eight-legged fiend.
He nodded to the footmen to clear her plate away and start hunting for the spider, and then returned to the task of calming her down. But he wasn’t doing a good job of it, for he hadn’t recovered from his own jolt of heat that still had his body shamelessly thrumming.
All because of that accidental touch.
He was definitely addled, because now he couldn’t seem to look beyond the swell of her breasts.
She couldn’t seem to stop heaving them at him.
Look at her face, you arse. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t stop trembling or gulping magnificent breasts. I mean breaths. Gulping magnificent breaths.
“Goose, the spider’s gone. Do you think you can calm down?”
She groaned and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “Of course. Give me a moment, Beast. My heart is still in my throat.”
He wanted to point out that her heart was most definitely not in her throat. It was pumping wildly between her breasts, making it appear as though she’d increased three sizes there before his very eyes.
It seemed a tormenting eternity before she drew away and placed her hand lightly over her heart. “There. I think I’m all better now.”
But he wasn’t.
He’d just realized something devastating.
Something horrific.
Something unimaginable.
Goose had breasts.
And he liked them.
*
Pip approached Olivia cautiously as she stood on the front stairs of Sherbourne Manor watching Beast ride off. She turned to him and smiled. “You were perfect, Pip. And so was that spider. Wherever did you find it? Hopefully not in the house.”
“I’m raising my price. I want a full shilling. Did you see the dark look on His Grace’s face? He’s going to take me to the woodshed and thrash me soundly the moment he returns.”
“No, he won’t. I’ll make certain he doesn’t. Come on, let’s fetch the butterfly nets and go to the meadow.” She glanced up at the sky. “We had better leave now. I think we’ll have rain before long.”
She thought of Beast, sparing him another glance and hoping he would reach London before the downpour came. She’d taken inexcusable advantage of his trust this morning and did not wish any more misery imposed on him. In truth, a few raindrops would be nothing to her deception. She truly felt badly about that.
But it had worked.
Quite spectacularly.
It was as though her bosom had suddenly become magnetic, for his hand had been drawn there and so had his gaze.
He forgot to look at her face.
At times, he forgot to breathe.
The Book of Love was powerful, indeed.
However, she was not going to let this surprising victory go to her head. It was merely the first step toward falling in love. She’d passed the low-brain function test, an important test necessary to crumble that wall he’d kept between them. But there was a lot more work to be done, for his Austrian princess would also pass this test.
She and Pip spent an hour in the meadow, but had to run back to the house when storm clouds suddenly gathered overhead and the wind picked up. The first drops fell as they were about to race indoors. “Just made it!” she said with a laugh and turned to Pip. “I’m still hungry. I hardly ate a bite before you dropped that spider in my eggs.”
“I’m hungry, too.” Pip nodded enthusiastically. “I’m always hungry. Penelope says it’s because I’m growing. She thinks I’ll be taller than Nathaniel.”
“Yes, Pip. I think it’s quite possible.”
Both still breathless from their run, they joined the others in the dining room. Matilda and Lavinia were now awake and holding court around the table. Thad and Nathaniel were dressed casually, having just returned from their morning ride. Penelope and Poppy were about to serve themselves eggs from one of the silver salvers on the buffet.
She cast Pip a warning glance.
Although she’d put him up to the spider incident earlier, she had no idea where that spider was now and did not want Pip getting ideas about dropping it into Penelope’s plate. She needn’t have worried. Pip hurriedly ate two scones, then was ready to return to his playroom and work his mischief on his ever-patient governess, a fortyish Scottish woman by the name of Addie who was just the right mix of strict and tender.
Olivia hadn’t changed out of her gown since the spider incident, but had added a fichu to cover her chest for the sake of modesty. The Book of Love was obviously potent, and she could not risk Nathaniel and Thad being caught in her womanly spell.
Nathaniel nursed his coffee, seeming to be in no hurry to leave the table. Indeed, no one appeared to be in a hurry this morning. “Goose, I thought I heard a commotion down here earlier. Did anything happen?”
“Not that I’m aware.” She picked up her cup of hot cocoa and took a sip. Had the footmen tattled? She tried not to look guilty, but it was hard to remain unaffected when everyone was staring at her.
Penelope kicked her under the table.
<
br /> She kicked her back twice. It was a childhood signal. Once for no. Twice for yes.
Penelope gasped. “Olivia, Poppy. I need your assistance. Aunt Lavinia, may we be excused?”
“I’m the earl here,” Nathaniel grumbled. “You ought to be asking me.”
Penelope rolled her eyes. “Fine. Lord Welles, we humbly ask to be excused. May we go?”
He cast Olivia a suspicious glance. “Very well. I suppose we’ll figure out what you girls are up to soon enough.”
Poppy stood up. “What makes you think we’re up to something?”
Thad laughed. “You and Olivia are blushing. Loopy has that look again.”
“What look?” Olivia asked.
“That duck-beak-stuck-up-her-arse look,” Thad replied. “Now she’s shooting daggers at me. It’s no good, Loopy. I know ye too well. Ye get indignant when ye’ve been caught doing something ye shouldn’t be doing. We will find out eventually. Have no doubt.”
Penelope stuck her chin up in the air.
Thad made a quacking sound.
Penelope inhaled sharply. “Come along girls. I’ll not stand here and be insulted by this Scottish lout.”
The three of them hurried out of the dining room and raced upstairs to Olivia’s bedchamber where The Book of Love was safely tucked away in her fruitwood chest of drawers. “What were those two kicks about, Olivia? Does it mean you’ve had success with Beast?”
She nodded. “He…”
No. She couldn’t tell them he’d accidentally closed his hand around her breast while trying to save her from falling. Nor did she mention he’d promptly dropped her thereafter. “He responded. I think I’ve overcome his resistance. But it’s just the first step. Now, we must see what happens when he returns this evening. My success may only be temporary, not only because he might be attracted to the Austrian princess. It is also possible he’ll revert to thinking of me as the little girl he knew all those years ago.”
“I’m sure the book would say something about that if it were a possibility,” Poppy remarked. “I think we should move on to step two.”
“I agree,” Penelope said. “What is it?”
“Well, assuming Beast has accepted me as a viable vessel to produce his offspring, then we must have him actually choose me. So now we have to move beyond the low-brain function and appeal to his more complex desires. When he sees me, he has to associate me with feelings of pleasure beyond his basic sexual urge.” She tossed the book onto her bed and began to pace across her bedchamber. “Although that urge still remains important. He must continue to regard me as a potential vessel for his seed, but he must also learn to connect me with feelings of happiness and contentment.”