The Runaway Heiress

by Brenda Hiatt

  Thor guided her past the buffet table, now laden with more substantial fare for supper. "You already apologized," he reminded her.

  "For throwing your supposed mistresses in your face, but not for believing you still kept them," she clarified. "You have given me no cause to . . . to complain."

  That wasn't exactly what she meant, but how could she tell him that the better she came to know him, the more she felt certain that her future, her happiness, was safe in his keeping, whether he ever grew to desire her or not?

  "And I will endeavor never to give you such cause," he said seriously.

  Striving to lighten the mood between them, for fear she might reveal more than was wise, she forced a smile.

  "As you are only human, I will try not to hold you to such an impossible standard. I've no doubt I will give you reasons to complain upon occasion, as well, for we are neither of us perfect." She had to admit that he was as close to perfect as any man she'd ever met, however.

  As she'd hoped, he responded with a chuckle. "Fair enough. But enough of apologies and regrets. Are you enjoying the ball thus far?"

  Enjoying? Her emotions had been in too much turmoil for true enjoyment, but Dina did feel happier than she had for a fortnight —since Thor had disappeared to the Shires after their last kiss. She devoutly hoped he wouldn't do so again.

  "It has been a most . . . stimulating evening," she was able to respond truthfully.

  "It certainly has." Something in his tone made her glance up and the intensity in his blue eyes, the suggestiveness of his smile, suddenly convinced her that she was not the only one who had been affected by that kiss.

  Hesitantly, she smiled back, but could think of nothing to say that would not take them into dangerous territory. Thankfully, before the silence between them could become awkward again, the music ended and supper was announced.

  "I declare, I could watch the two of you waltz forever, you are so well matched," Lady Rumble exclaimed, hurrying over to them as they headed toward the supper tables. "I was just telling Lord Rumble so, wasn't I dear?"

  The baron inclined his head, his eyes twinkling. "You were indeed, though I was so entranced by your dancing, my dear, that I scarcely noticed."

  "Flatterer." She gave her husband a playful tap with her fan. "But come, you two, you must sit at our table for supper and tell me what you think of my little party."

  There was no question of refusing, though Dina worried that she would not be able to conceal her preoccupation —no, obsession —with Thor and worried what her enterprising mother-in-law might say if she noticed. Her trepidation only increased when Lady Rumble waved Violet and Silas over to join them.

  "Now, this is a nice family party, is it not?" Their hostess beamed about the small table at her companions. "Do tell me that you are having a nice time this evening."

  They all assured her that they were, and Violet added, "Mother, you must know that this will be the most talked-of ball in the district for months— perhaps years —to come. Everyone is saying so. Your kissing boughs, in particular, have attracted quite a lot of attention."

  "Yes, that was a happy inspiration of mine, was it not? Lady Vaile tells me there may be at least one betrothal in the neighborhood as a result." Lady Rumble tittered. "Not to mention a few married couples who have taken advantage of them." She winked at Dina and Thor.

  Dina felt heat rushing to her face and had no idea where to look. Her darting eyes fell upon Silas for a moment, to find him glowering at her— which, paradoxically, lightened her mood enough to mitigate her embarrassment somewhat. Clearly he had witnessed Thor kissing her and that, she decided, was no bad thing.

  "I only hope, my dear, that no scandals will arise that can be attributed to your decor," Lord Rumble said blandly before applying himself to his roast beef.

  But his wife seemed unconcerned. "Scandals, pfft. A few little kisses are scarcely like to lead to scandal. Though you, missie," she added to Violet, "will keep well away from the things, as I told you this afternoon."

  "Of course, Mother." Though Violet's voice was meekness itself, there was an amusement in her eyes that made Dina glance at Silas. To her relief, however, he appeared more petulant than smug.

  "You need not worry about Miss Turpin, Lady Rumble," he said then. "Between her brother and his friends, I can't imagine that she will have the least opportunity to get into any sort of trouble tonight."

  "Yes, they've all been most attentive," Violet agreed with a sigh. "Despite their efforts, however, I can't claim the evening has been dull."

  Dina had to agree with that sentiment. Beside her, Thor began to eat and she was almost painfully aware of every bite he took. The way his hand held his fork, the motion of lifting it to his lips, the way he opened and closed his mouth, all struck her as unbearably erotic. How could the others not notice?

  Belatedly turning her attention to her own plate, she realized that she was indeed hungry after hours of dancing. Still, remembering Thor's comment about her appetite that afternoon, she was careful not to eat too quickly. Besides, the longer she could occupy herself with her food, the longer she could distract herself from Thor's most distracting nearness.

  His thigh was separated from hers by several inches, but she could still feel the warmth of him radiating toward her. Her thoughts went back to that morning in the gymnasium and the way those thighs had flexed and straightened as he worked on the rings. The way the muscles of his arms had rippled and swelled. She set down her fork and took a long draught of lemonade.

  "Dancing is hot work, is it not?" Violet asked brightly from across the table. "I vow, it makes me thirsty as well."

  But Dina was fairly certain it was not the dancing alone that had made her hot. Surely, in that case, she would be feeling cooler by now, rather than the reverse?

  "You two seem unusually quiet," Silas remarked a few moments later. "I hope nothing is wrong?"

  Dina met his falsely solicitous gaze with a deliberate smile. "Of course not, Silas. Why should you think so?"

  "Indeed," Lady Rumble commented, "from what I observed, I should say things are finally coming right. In fact, the two of you can consider your social obligation fulfilled, if you should wish to retire early. I will be glad to make your excuses and will take not the tiniest bit of offense, I assure you."

  This was unforeseen, though Dina realized it should not have been, given Lady Rumbles prior machinations. If she or Thor now made excuses to stay, it would only give Silas further evidence that their marriage was not as it should be. But if they went upstairs together . . .

  A delightful, fearful shiver went through her, though she strove to conceal it.

  Beside her, Thor cleared his throat. "That is very kind of you, Mother, but—"

  "—but we hesitated to suggest it, for fear it would put too great a burden upon you and Violet for the remainder of the evening," Dina broke in, conscious of her brother's eye upon her. "If you are certain that will not be the case, however . . .?"

  "No, no, not in the least," Lady Rumble protested. "Now supper is served, I've nothing left to do but make certain our guests get into their proper carriages and accept their compliments for the evening. That, I assure you, I can well manage without your help."

  "And if she does need help, I will be here," Violet added, not bothering to hide her delight at this development.

  Thor opened his mouth, no doubt to form another protest, but Dina caught his eye and gave a quick shake of her head. She would explain her reasons as soon as they were alone. Meanwhile, he looked distinctly alarmed —though not as alarmed as Silas did.

  "My lady, are you certain—" Silas began, only to have Violet punch him in the side.

  "If you say anything to keep them here, I'll never speak to you again," she whispered, but so audibly that Dina had no doubt that everyone at the table —and perhaps the nearby ones as well— could hear her.

  Embarrassed but determined, Dina rose. "I believe we will take advantage of your generous offer,
Lady Rumble, and bid you all a good night."

  She had told Silas outright that she and Thor had consummated their marriage and would not give him even the slightest indication that she had lied. Indeed, if Thor had the least spark of desire for her, she was determined that by morning her falsehood would be truth.

  Mechanically, wondering whether he had gone mad—or if Dina had— Thor accompanied her from the ballroom. The past hour of waltzing and then dining with Dina had been sweet torture. Already his resolve was weakening, here among his mother's guests. Alone with Dina, his tenuous control might well snap completely.

  Or not. Surely her intent was simply to escape the crowd and go early to bed? That would free him from her maddening presence, from fantasies he could never allow to become reality, for her sake. For tonight. Tomorrow, the torture would begin again.

  "I'm not surprised you are tired," he said as soon as they had left the crowded ballroom behind, the musicians already tuning their instruments for the resumption of dancing. "You have had a long and exhausting —but productive —day."

  "Tired?" she echoed, slanting a glance up at him. "I am not tired. Did you really think that was why I seized upon your mother's suggestion?"

  He was suddenly aware of her hand on his arm, of how isolated they were as they traversed the passageway, all of the servants busy with the ball. "Er, wasn't it?"

  Dina shook her head, the little curls about her face swaying in an impossibly fetching manner. "It . . . it was Silas," she said, "or, at least, partly Silas. He taunted me earlier, saying that ours was not . . . not a proper marriage. I, ah, told him he was wrong."

  They had reached the stairs leading up to the next floor —to their bedchambers. Thor paused at their foot, forcing Dina to do the same. Her averted face was pink— understandably so, for he shared her embarrassment.

  "You told your brother that I . . . that we . . ."

  "That we had consummated our marriage." Her voice was so faint that he had to stoop slightly to catch it.

  Thor wasn't sure whether to laugh or curse. What a blow that news must have been to Moore's plan to regain Dina's fortune. But would he now fulfill his threat to ruin Violet's —and Dina's— reputations? Perhaps not.

  "I, ah, may have implied the opposite when I spoke with him," he felt obliged to confess.

  Dina looked up at him, clearly startled, her face now paling. After a long moment of silence, however, a sickly laugh escaped her. "No wonder he seemed so stunned by my assertion. I thought it was only Violet who had— That is—"

  Belatedly, Thor realized that this was hardly the place for such a conversation. "Come, let's go upstairs." Not until she sent him a questioning glance did it occur to him that his suggestion might be misconstrued.

  With every step, he was more and more aware of her nearness, her allure, his every fiber straining toward her though he continued implacably forward, their only point of contact her light touch on his arm. As they turned down the west wing, he forced himself to speak again.

  "I did not actually tell your brother anything, but it was clear he considered my lack of response to his impertinent questions a sort of admission."

  "So you did not precisely make me out a liar? I suppose I must be glad of that, at least." He thought he detected a shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.

  He tried to think of some way to reassure her, but when they reached the door of her chamber she spoke again.

  "Pray do not think that I was trying to force you to do anything you do not wish to do. I was merely goaded beyond prudence by Silas's taunts. It was wrong of me, for I know that you do not— That is—"

  Thor could not help himself. She looked so sorrowful, so beautiful . . . He grasped her shoulders and pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his own.

  As before, the connection was instant, searing, robbing him of the ability to think. Gathering her slight frame against him, he intensified the kiss, striving to prove to her how very desirable she was— how very much he desired her.

  As she had beneath the kissing bough, Dina responded at once, submitting herself wholeheartedly to his kiss. Parting her lips, she invited him to plunder her sweetness, even as her hands stroked his shoulders, then pulled him yet closer.

  After a long, ecstatic moment out of time, he reluctantly released her, dimly aware that if he waited any longer he would be unable to do so.

  "As you can see, it is by no means a question of my not wanting a 'proper marriage' as you called it," he said, his voice rough with passion barely held in check. "Quite the reverse."

  She gazed up at him, her rosy, swollen lips erotically parted, her eyes shining. "Truly, Thor?"

  It was the first time she'd called him by that nickname. On her lips it took on a new meaning, one he longed to fulfill. She made him feel more powerful than he ever had before. A heady feeling—and a frightening one.

  "I can't deny that I want you, Dina, more than I've ever wanted a woman. You . . . you intoxicate me. But—I promised."

  "I release you from your promise," she responded promptly, her eyes still shining. "I want this too." She reached behind her and opened her chamber door so that he could see her bed, the counterpane turned down invitingly. There was no sign of her maid.

  A shudder went through him, so strong was the urge to carry her to that bed, to release his overwhelming need into her. She reached up and touched his cheek with one small, smooth hand, inflaming him further.

  "Thor?" Her use of his nickname was incredibly erotic, making him feel like the Norse god himself, capable of anything.

  To include injuring her.

  "I . . . I can't, Dina. I could so easily hurt you. Perhaps your brother is right and an annulment would be best after all, for your sake. I'd never forgive myself if—"

  She silenced him by pulling his mouth down to hers for another long, scorching kiss. "You won't hurt me," she whispered against his lips. "Don't you know by now that I am no fragile flower?"

  He swallowed, his heart pounding with the rhythm of his desire, his erection straining powerfully against his tight, formal knee-breeches. He allowed her to lead him into her chamber and close the door, too preoccupied with fighting the strongest temptation of his life to protest. Not until she began to unbutton his coat did reason reassert itself.

  "What— What are you doing?" he asked hoarsely.

  "What we both want." Her voice was as breathless as his. The knowledge that she desired him, too, nearly put him over the edge again.

  "Wants are not always safe," he forced himself to say. "The risks—"

  "I promise to be gentle with you," she teased, kissing him again. His buttons undone, she now pushed his coat off of his shoulders and went to work on his cravat.

  With a groan, he caught her to him and returned her kiss, losing himself in her sweetness once again. He wanted this. She wanted this. They were man and wife. Perhaps if he supported his weight—

  His weight. That was the problem. But— "I have an idea," he said, suddenly smiling. "Come."

  Pulling his cravat the rest of the way off, he tossed it over the foot of her bed and opened her chamber door. A quick glance showed the hallway still deserted —as was every part of the house, no doubt, excepting the ballroom and the kitchens.

  "Where are we going?" There was a trace of frustration in her voice, but if his plan worked, it would not be there for long.

  "You'll see." With an arm about her slender shoulders, he picked up a candle and led her down the back stairs, all the way to the ground floor, then turned left.

  "You're taking me to the gymnasium?" she asked incredulously.

  "Not exactly."

  His heart pounding with anticipation, hoping desperately that his idea would work, he led her through the gymnasium and down the stairs to the long room housing the swimming pool. He then pulled closed the double doors— doors that had never been closed in his memory —and locked them.

  "We're, ah, not exactly dressed for swimming," Dina said, looking down at her
lovely emerald ballgown.

  Thor smiled. "Not yet."

  Setting the candle on a small table, he pulled his shirt over his head and draped it over one of the wooden chairs near the wall. He turned back to Dina, whose eyes were wide —but not frightened.

  "Now, why don't you let me help you out of your things," he suggested.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dina swallowed, her eyes tracing the broad lines of Thor's bare chest in the flickering light of the single candle. She'd been right. It—he —was a most impressive sight, indeed. The muscles she'd only been able to guess at that morning were now revealed in all their sleek, rippling glory. She swallowed again.

  "Dina?" His voice was soft, smooth —as smooth as the golden flesh that riveted her gaze.

  Blinking, she glanced up. "I, ah, yes. Yes, of course. My clothes." She felt her skin heating with anticipation, now that she knew what he had in mind. The moment she'd known for certain that he desired her, in the hallway upstairs, her insecurities, her hesitation, had vanished. She would not draw back now.

  "If you can just unfasten these hooks down the back—?"

  "Of course."

  She held her breath as he moved behind her, tensing slightly for the first touch of his hands. When it came, his fingers brushing the nape of her neck, tiny shivers ran down her spine, her arms, the backs of her legs. Was it possible for every nerve in one's body to feel at once?

  As he undid hook after hook, the heat where he touched her was followed by coolness as the gown parted down the back. Delicious coolness, she thought, a taste of what the water would feel like when they entered it. Warmth suddenly rushed to her cheeks, making her glad he could not see her face just at that moment.

  "I don't want to sully your gown," he murmured when he reached the last hook, just below her waist. "Can you—?"

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Carefully stepping out of the dress, she turned —not quite facing him—to drape it next to his shirt.

  "I see your corset laces down the back, as well."