Ethan: Lord of Scandals ll-3

by Grace Burrowes

  “My heart.” Nick wrapped the woman in a careful, if enthusiastic hug. “The day just grew more fair as I gaze upon the visage of my dearest little countess.”

  The countess extricated herself from his embrace with an exasperated smile. “Save that balderdash for your horse, Nicholas, who probably takes it even less seriously than I. Introduce us, please.”

  Nick made a proper job of it, introducing first Alice then Ethan, then presenting the boys. If introducing the governess to such august company was unusual, no one remarked it.

  Greymoor, dark-haired, blue-eyed, and of a height with Ethan, bowed over Alice’s hand. “I do not ride a mare upon whom I might practice my flummery. You’ll have to do with a simple ‘Lovely to see you again.’”

  Lady Greymoor met Alice’s gaze. “Humor my husband, please. Nick started it, but don’t encourage him. Mr. Grey, we expect you to be a good influence. They are in short supply at this gathering. Now, Miss Portman, you must accompany me inside, where we will get you into something more comfortable than that habit, while the men start snitching from the desserts. Greymoor, our guests need libation, and somebody ought to find James, William, Pen, Joyce, and Rose so the children might get acquainted.”

  She swept Alice toward the house by the simple expedient of linking their arms. Alice knew with a certainty the men were admiring the view of their retreat.

  “You are no governess,” Lady Greymoor remarked as she led Alice into the house.

  “I beg your pardon, your ladyship?” Alice almost stopped walking, but such was Lady Greymoor’s forward momentum that Alice was tugged along anyway.

  “At least you’re not a tart, like Mr. Grey’s late wife,” she went on. “Not that a tart is necessarily a bad choice. Greymoor was something of a tart when we wed. His brother was a very bad example, and there were extenuating circumstances. Your clothing was sent up to a guest room.”

  “You need not accompany me,” Alice protested. The woman was a countess, for all her youth, and the hostess of the gathering.

  Lady Greymoor turned a charming and alarmingly determined smile on her. “I very much do, and I am to let you know Lady Warne will join Mr. Grey for dinner at Heathgate’s on Saturday. You’re to let Mr. Grey know, as fair is fair, and the men won’t see it done. What lovely hair you have—I’ve often wished I weren’t so infernally blond, but Greymoor claims we make a stunning couple.”

  Lady Greymoor took down a green silk summer dress Alice had sent over with the coach. “We can’t tarry up here, since the menfolk are unsupervised and Mr. Grey a stranger among them.”

  It took several minutes for Alice to change, and Lady Greymoor insisted on redressing Alice’s hair. All the while, Alice was subjected to a gentle inquisition.

  “So how fares our Mr. Grey?”

  “Are the boys going to public school? The oldest must be almost seven.”

  “They never seem to ride out as a family, do they?”

  Alice was soon in her green silk, her hair repinned, and her meager store of knowledge regarding Mr. Grey plundered. She did not tell her hostess his kisses were sumptuous and his smile worth waiting days to behold.

  “Do not let my brother-by-marriage put you off with his consequence,” Lady Greymoor suggested, taking Alice’s arm to escort her through the house. “Heathgate is a man with eloquent eyebrows, but he can be intimidating, unless you’re family. Any questions?”

  “I think not.” In truth, she had too many to choose one.

  “Good.” Lady Greymoor grinned as they emerged onto a side patio. She took a look at the expression on Alice’s face and frowned. “You haven’t moved about much in Society, have you?”

  “I’m just a governess, my lady.”

  “Hah.” Her tone was firm and very uncountess-like. “Steady on, and I’ll find you safe passage, but the menfolk need to be dealt with. My lord?”

  Lord Greymoor turned an amused smile on his little countess. “My love? I see Miss Portman is sporting that dazed, uncomprehending look so common to your new acquaintances. Let me take her around, and you can turn your wiles on Mr. Grey.”

  “You’re a dear.” She rose on her toes and kissed her husband’s cheek. “I thought I was going to have to prevaricate.”

  “Perish the thought.” Greymoor winged his elbow. “Miss Portman, you’ve yet to meet my cousins.” Alice was drawn away as she saw the countess marching off in the direction of Ethan and his sons.

  “I really think I should see to the boys, my lord.”

  “I see a braw young footman hovering with their kite, Miss Portman. Resistance will get you nowhere. My lady claims you are not a governess, and she will have her curiosity satisfied.”

  “What are you implying, my lord?” Alice allowed a little starch in her tone, because coming from a man, the accusation might have a prurient connotation.

  Lord Greymoor shrugged muscular shoulders. “We will have to ask the countess what she implied. You are certainly prettier than any governess I ever had.”

  * * *

  “They won’t wake up until tomorrow,” Ethan said as he regarded his sons, sprawled on blankets on the floor of the coach. “Davey will see them to their beds, and Clara will get them undressed.”

  “They played and played and played.” Alice brushed a lock of hair from Joshua’s closed eyes. “You’d think they never knew people their own age existed.”

  Ethan turned to his brother, who was hovering near the wheelers. “Will you ride back with us or join John on the box?”

  “I’ll keep John company. I had rather a deal of that whiskey, and the night air will clear my head.”

  “Then I am your escort, Alice,” Ethan said. “Our mounts should be ready by now. Nick, don’t wait up. I know you’ve an early start.”

  “Until morning.” Nick saluted his brother then bent to kiss Alice’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, lamby-pie. Remind me never to oppose you at pall-mall again.”

  “Grey?” The Marquis of Heathgate emerged from shadows near the stables. “A word before you go?”

  “Excuse me.” Ethan nodded to Nick and Alice, and joined his host’s brother.

  She waited by the horses in the gathering darkness until Ethan rejoined her, content to let the men talk business or breeding stock or whatever was too unrefined for her delicate, tired ears. The marquis—who did indeed have eloquent, dark eyebrows—took a polite leave of her, and Ethan boosted her onto Waltzer’s back.

  Though whatever passed between the two men, it hadn’t been about imports or commerce. The rising moon revealed Ethan’s features to be cast in granite, as remote and cool as a statue’s. The horses were back on Tydings land before Ethan bestirred himself to speak, and while Alice was concerned for him, she also had to marvel that she was happy—happy, content, and relaxed—to be on a horse’s back.

  “Tell me you at least had a pleasant time, Alice.”

  “Pleasant enough. The ladies are nice, if a bit fierce.”

  “I’m to join them again on Saturday,” Ethan said, “for dinner. I wish I could take you along. I found them a rather intimidating lot myself.”

  He was being honest. Perhaps it was the spirits consumed in some quantity earlier in the day, but Alice found that honesty touching. “And yet they’re friendly, and their regard for Nick sincere.”

  “I cannot decide if Nick and the countess were lovers. Greymoor is extraordinarily tolerant, if that’s the case.”

  “Not tolerant,” Alice said. “The earl and the countess are close and devoted, and she’s quite young. I doubt Nick would have dallied with her, but I doubt even more strongly she would have permitted it.”

  “I cannot picture it,” Ethan said. “She’s barely five feet tall, while he’s six and a half feet plus. I can’t think it would be a comfortable union.”

  “Do all men think in such blunt terms?”

  “Yes, we absolutely do, about four hundred times a day. And I am not a particularly lusty fellow.”

  This too was honesty, which
Alice found… appalling. “I disagree, sir. I’ve kissed you, and I pronounce you very, very lusty, but also very discriminating.”

  By the light of the rising moon, he turned in the saddle to regard her. “That is one of the nicest things anybody has said to me.”

  “So it must ring true.” And she must not belabor the point and spoil the moment. “This isn’t the way we came.”

  “It’s another path.” He drew rein as they gained a little clearing with a gazebo in it. “Let’s enjoy the night for a moment, shall we?”

  Men. Their stratagems never ceased, and they called women calculating. “You’ll behave?”

  “Get off your horse, Alice.” Ethan put his hands around her waist and lifted her easily to the ground. He didn’t let her go, but held her against him until her arms stole around his waist. “Let’s get something clear between us: I will not ever press my advances on you without your willingness. I could not, in fact.”

  In contrast to his stern tones, his hands on her back were gentle.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Kiss me,” Ethan whispered, sealing his lips over hers. He took his time, but it wasn’t a cheerful little good-night indulgence. He brought her body close against his and angled her head with one large hand so she could not have avoided his kiss. His tongue was in her mouth, coaxing and teasing and implying a carnal rhythm that set up a low hum of need beneath the pit of Alice’s belly.

  “Touch me, Alice,” Ethan whispered. “Put your hands on me.”

  God above, it was a timely invitation. Alice wanted to burrow into him but settled for running her hands over his shoulders and arms. She swept her fingers through his hair, cradled his jaw in her palm, and rubbed her body along the length of his.

  “Feel this.” Ethan took her hand and brought it to the evidence of his arousal. “This is proof I want you, and badly. But, Alice?”

  She looked up at him in the moonlight, knowing if he took his hand away, she’d indulge the dangerous desire to shape and stroke him through his clothes.

  “If you show me you don’t want me,” Ethan said, letting his hands fall to his sides, “I can’t sustain this. My flesh softens. I cannot consummate the deed. I am incapable of joining with you without your consent.”

  “You’re capable now,” Alice said, trying to make sense of his words as she explored his length. “And other men don’t require consent.”

  “I’m not other men. I have to know you’re not just willing, Alice, but enthusiastic about becoming intimate with me.”

  Alice gave up the fascinating feel of him and stepped back. This topic was awkward and one he apparently needed to belabor. “I think we need to talk.”

  “Come.” Ethan held out a hand and led her up the steps to the bench inside the gazebo. “We’ll talk.”

  Something about him was off, not quite distracted, but not at ease. “Are you angry?”

  “I’m… upset. Heathgate imparted some disturbing news, and I’m aroused, as proximity to you does that for me. But my ears function, and Nick understood my admonition to seek his bed.”

  Men did not lightly admit to being upset. “Will I get another lecture from Nick in the morning about the need to tread lightly with his dear brother?”

  That earned her a smile, bashful and a little exasperated. Alice catalogued it with the other smiles she’d hoarded up. “He lectured you? I would have liked to have seen that.”

  “I’ll summon you next time. Greymoor preached at me too.”

  The smile turned a trifle irritated. “I hardly know the man. What sermon could he possibly deliver when he’s hardly been a saint himself?”

  “Your late wife was a trial,” Alice explained gently. “I am not to put you through that again. He was very oblique, all ‘one would be disappointed’ and ‘one observes,’ but I was given to understand that dealing with you dishonorably would be frowned upon. Your neighbors are protective of you.”

  And the man’s eyebrows were every bit as fierce as his brother’s, despite his tendency to smile often when in company with his countess.

  “You couldn’t deal dishonorably, not if you sprouted horns and a tail, you couldn’t. Still, I’m surprised Greymoor said anything.”

  “He assumed the rights of a protective brother.” Alice reached a hand toward Ethan’s thigh then dropped it. “Your wife must have been quite something.”

  She wanted to touch him, not simply sit beside him in the moonlight, and yet, she wanted to hear what he had to say, too.

  “I chose very, very poorly, as did she. I like where your hands were, Alice Portman, so why don’t you touch me while you talk to me?”

  He took her hand again, but only set it over his groin, then let his own hands fall away. Alice traced the considerable length of him, the breadth, trying to visualize what her hand stroked.

  “I want to see you,” Alice said. “Really see you.”

  He said nothing. Just unbuttoned his falls and then let his hands return to his sides. How long had he been waiting for her to ask?

  “Look your fill. Some women find the sight alarming.”

  “I’m not some women,” Alice said, regarding his lap dubiously. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Though why she’d bring up the topic now was a puzzle.

  “You told me you’re not without experience, Alice.” Ethan stroked his knuckles over her cheek. “I couldn’t consider joining with you, otherwise.”

  “I have more experience than I wanted,” Alice said on a sigh. “Or the wrong experience.” Her hand shaped him again, but still only through the loosened fabric of his breeches. “That scandal we haven’t talked about? I need to let you know the particulars.”

  “If you need to. Only if you need to.”

  The words caused her heart to lurch painfully but sweetly too. She could love a man who placed entire authority over such a topic in her hands, one who cared not one whit how wicked and sorry her past had been.

  “You really don’t want to know, do you?” Alice drew her hand away, only to find Ethan’s fingers closing around her own and bringing it back.

  “I have suffered some scandal,” he replied, closing his eyes as if to savor her touch. “And once somebody knows those things about you, it can become a burden between you. Heathgate…” He paused while Alice slowly drew down the flap of his falls then eased him out of his smalls. “Heathgate has that kind of knowledge of me. I’d relieve him of it if I could.”

  “You’ll tell me.” Alice stroked a finger over the velvet head of his member. God in heaven, he was magnificent. “Someday?”

  “If you want to hear.” He kept his eyes closed as Alice’s finger—just her finger—circled the soft, soft skin of his crown. Gently, Alice’s hand closed over his shaft.

  “Tell me how to please you, Ethan,” Alice whispered. “I want to know how to please you.”

  Thirteen

  This was not what Ethan had planned when he’d brought Alice here, though it was what his body had planned the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Ethan closed his hand over Alice’s and taught her the easy, loose stroke that pleased and aroused in equal measures.

  “But not faster or tighter, or I’ll spend.” He was going to spend, but he’d rather not lose control until he had the privacy of his rooms. Alice was a lady, not some doxy, and while not a virgin, she apparently lacked experience.

  “This feels good to you?” she asked, shifting her grip slightly.

  “Divine, but slow down, Alexandra. It can be too good.”

  A considering silence, while Ethan’s arousal strained at the leash of his self-discipline.

  “There is no such thing as too good. Let me pleasure you, Ethan. I want to.”

  “Shouldn’t,” he muttered, letting his head fall back and his hips move in counterpoint to Alice’s strokes. “Kiss… Please, kiss—” He opened his eyes, searching for her. Thank all the gods of the night, she knelt up beside him and gave him her mouth. More roughly than he intended, he palmed the b
ack of her neck and opened his mouth beneath hers, devouring her as his free hand cupped her breast.

  She returned his kiss fiercely, growling at him as she knelt above.

  That growl sang like an angel chorus through Ethan’s body.

  A man gave up hope sometimes, because it was the only way to preserve his sanity. Ethan Grey had long since given up hope that desire might ever again be driven by not just his body, but also his heart.

  When he kissed Alice, when he gloried to feel her hands upon him, he kissed hope itself. She was not simply a woman to him; she was Alice. She was all manner of pleasures and possibilities long since forsworn, and her touch said he could be that for her too.

  “Holy…” His hand fell away, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Perishing… Almighty… Alexandra…” His hips shoved hard against Alice’s grip, and his fingers closed over hers, forcing her to hold him snugly. His last coherent thought was that he should have tried harder to make this moment last.

  “Oh, God… love.” His hips went still, but he kept his hand wrapped around hers, while his forehead fell to Alice’s shoulder. “Forgive me.”

  “Hush.” He felt her lips against his hair. “Just hush.” She used her free hand to locate his handkerchief. Male passion was not a tidy business, and it took her handkerchief as well as his to deal with the aftermath.

  “Was that comfortable, to be held so tightly at the end?”

  Ethan gave her a weak smile. “Pray God you hold me that tightly often and soon.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Do you forgive me?”

  Her expression shuttered as she folded up the handkerchiefs. She wasn’t overly fastidious—one more thing to treasure about her. “Forgive you? I do not comprehend the transgression.”

  “I was selfish and vulgar and grossly… ungentlemanly,” Ethan began. “I did not plan this, Alice.” His hand traced her jaw. “I want it to be perfect for you. I want to be perfect for you.” That was a troubling realization, for he was doomed in every attempt at the goal.

  “Perfect would be boring. This wasn’t boring.” She slipped her hand over his cock where it lay meek and receding against his groin. “I coupled with Mr. Durbeyfield once,” she said, her voice detached. “It did not stir me. He hiked my skirts and pushed around a bit while breathing leeks on my person. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was awkward, and hardly worth marrying for.”