“A confession?” Lord Halthorn said, a frown marring his handsome features as he sensed her growing agitation. “Are you in trouble?”
“No.” Meredith whirled away from him, attempting to hold on to the courage that she had possessed hours earlier. “I lured you here under false pretenses, my lord. I did not invite you here because I was so worried about my brother and Miss Winlow that I feared being alone.”
His frown softened into bemusement. “You summoned me because you feared the violence of the storm, did you not?”
Meredith was tempted to seize the excuse he was innocently offering her, but she shook her head. “No. At the moment, all I fear is your rejection.”
“My lady, I do not understand.”
“I know,” Meredith said, already regretting the heart-rending path she had chosen. “And your confusion makes me wonder if I have misunderstood your interest. Perhaps you should leave.”
She started for the door, but the viscount’s hand on her arm halted her hasty retreat. “Why would I want to leave when we are in the middle of a fascinating game called Confessions? Come now, Lady Meredith, this is not the moment to be cowardly. What was the true reason you summoned me?”
Meredith’s tongue felt dry as she swallowed. She had spent a lovely evening with Lord Halthorn. What had compelled her to ruin it with the awkward truth? “Turn around,” she commanded, unable to look at him directly.
“This is utter nonsense,” he muttered in exasperation, yet he crossed his arms over his chest and complied.
Meredith also turned away so they stood back-to-back. Their bodies were so close, she could feel the heat of his body through her dress. Her body swayed and lightly brushed against his. Meredith trembled.
“Lord Halthorn, I requested your presence this evening because I had every intention of seducing you.” At his soft intelligible oath, she closed her eyes and winced.
“It was a foolish notion. I see that now.” Meredith clasped both hands and brought them to her chin. “If you are truly the kind gentleman I believe you to be, I pray you will forget I ever uttered such a ridiculous confession. I will never mention—”
“Lady Meredith,” Lord Halthorn softly said her name, silencing the rest of her apology.
Meredith felt him turn around and his hands on her shoulders confirmed it. Slowly, she let him guide her until she faced him. As she stiffly stood in his embrace, she braced for his rejection.
When she was brave enough to look at him, she noted his expression was enigmatic. “So your plan this evening was to seduce me?”
Her eyes flooded with tears, mercifully blurring his face.
Disconcerted by her reaction, Lord Halthorn tenderly caged Meredith’s face in his hands. “Oh no, my lady, do not cry.” Leaning down, he kissed each tear as it rolled down her face.
Meredith flinched when his lips brushed against her scarred cheek. “Do not.” She attempted to pull away but his hands held her in place. There was no possible reason why he should want to kiss her ruined cheek. Angrily she turned her face aside. “Please, my lord, stop.”
“Why?” He did not sound angry at her; just curious.
Why?
“The scars are ugly and coarse. No man can find pleasure in touching them,” she said sadly, her lower lip quivered at the confession.
Lord Halthorn gave her a lopsided smile. “Meredith, you are too beautiful to be fretting over minor imperfections.” He tried to resume his slow, sensual exploration of her cheek with his lips.
Meredith placed her fingers over his mouth. “There are scars, elsewhere. The fire—”
The viscount kissed her fingertips and moved her hand to his waist. “No longer matters. When I first met you, I sensed that you would resist any gentleman who tried to get too close. I had planned to court you slowly. Imagine my surprise, sweet beautiful Meredith, when you confessed that you hoped to seduce me this evening.”
“You are not angry?”
Instead of replying, Lord Halthorn lowered his head and kissed Meredith. His light caress felt like a soothing whisper against her lips. She felt the impact of his kiss all the way down to her toes.
Pulling back, the viscount seemed equally dazed by the kiss. “Hmmm … I will be sorely disappointed if you abandon your plans to seduce me this evening.”
Meredith tightened her grip on his frock coat. “I have never tried to seduce a gentleman before,” she shyly admitted.
Lord Halthorn pressed his lips to her scarred cheek. This time Meredith did not flinch. “Really? I suspect you will be remarkably adept at it,” he murmured as he moved on to her neck.
Three hours later, Patience realized she had fallen asleep. Yawning, she pushed the stray blond hairs sticking to her face. If Ramscar’s intent had been to make love to her until she was too weary to leave the bed, he had succeeded admirably. Parts of her body ached, but she was not complaining. The earl was a very thorough lover.
With a smile on her lips, she rolled toward him on the mattress. She half-expected him to be asleep. Instead, he lazily watched her with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Did you sleep?”
“I might have dozed for a few minutes,” he murmured throatily. “Your snoring kept rousing me.”
Patience sat up and punched him on the shoulder. He laughed at her indignant ire. “How incredibly rude! I do not snore!” she said, punctuating the last four words with a quick jab.
“Cease! I am defenseless against those sharp, boney knuckles,” he said, his laughter belying his protest. “A pitiful lover you are. Instead of kissing me senseless like a dutiful lover should, here you are poking holes in me.”
“Dutiful?” She straddled him and pinned his wrists over his head. “Ha! Never. ‘Dutiful’ is a word a man reserves for his wife, not his mistress, Lord Ramscar.”
He stilled. “Then marry me.”
The walls closed in on her with those three calmly uttered words. Patience released his wrists and straightened. “Surely you jest?”
Ramscar captured her by the hips and prevented her from climbing off him. “Are you saying that I bungled my first marriage proposal? Now who is being rude?” he teased, though his hazel green eyes revealed his earnestness.
She blew at an annoying strand of hair tickling her nose. “You do not want to marry me,” she said, the exasperation evident in her voice.
He lifted his brow in a lofty fashion. “You have the ability to peer into a man’s soul, eh? Forget the stage or being a lady’s hired companion, Patience. Any king would grant you your heart’s desire to exclusively gain access to your unusual skills.”
Patience stuck out her tongue. “Very witty. Such comments make your earlier proposal seem, oh, shall we say, shallow.” She tried to slip away from him.
Ramscar grabbed her wrists and pulled her back on top of him. “Oh no. I’ll grant you that you have a useful knack for twisting a man’s meaning to your own purposes. You are as slippery as an eel when it suits you; however, I am on to you, Patience Farnaly.”
Her mouth dried at the name she had vowed never to use again. “Pray, do not call me by that name. The lady no longer exists, even if you wish it.”
She suddenly noticed the coolness of the room. Pouting slightly, she tried to tug the blankets around her. The way the earl was holding her made the task impossible, and he was not feeling indulgent.
“Ah,” he drawled, ignoring her halfhearted attempts to climb off him. He gave her a considering look. “I believe I have figured out why you are hesitating to consent to my offer.”
Her fingers itched to scratch the smirk from his handsome face. “Hesitating? Your arrogance is immeasurable, my lord. If I hesitate, I only do so to not injure your pride. If a swift answer is what you require, then you shall have it. I must reject your kind offer.”
Patience blinked furiously, fighting the need for tears.
Ramscar had lost his indulgent expression when faced with her defiance. “Kindness has no part in this accord. Do you think I offer marriage out of pity?
”
His grip bordered on pain. “No!” she exclaimed, feeling hunted. “I do not want you offering marriage at all.”
He sighed, relaxing his hold but not his guard. “Then you must be the first woman born of Eve who has not wanted to bind a man to her, heart and soul.”
Patience was not fooled by his demeanor. If she tried to lunge away from him, he would immediately cover her body with his. She pushed her hair back and gestured upward. “Why should we marry? You have been content with our arrangement.”
He crossed his arms. “And what exactly is our arrangement?”
Heat burned her cheeks. It was awkward discussing these matters with him. “We are lovers. More specifically, I suppose I am your mistress.” He grimaced at her indelicate word choice. “Oh, do not be coy, Ramscar. I know you have kept mistresses, or have you so quickly forgotten Angeline Grassi?”
Ramscar scrubbed his face in agitation. He did not like the unpleasant reminder that Patience was painfully aware that she had not been his first choice for a lover this season. “There is a distinct difference between you and Angeline Grassi. I have asked you to be my bride.”
Patience closed her eyes and tried to envision herself as his countess. All she saw was her mother staring back at her with an ambitious gleam in her eyes. How could she think of marrying him with the lies that had been told? What of her unsavory past with Julian Phoenix? “Marriage would muddle things. Besides, I would not make you a good wife.”
“Perhaps.” He chuckled when her eyes narrowed at his quick agreement. “Then again, I may not make you a good husband, Patience. It is a risk all people take when they pledge themselves to another person. Come now, you are not one to behave cowardly.”
He knew the appropriate thing to set fire to her temper. Ramscar chose to see only the benefits of their union and not the problems. “I have been on my own since I was fourteen. I have done things that shame me when I reflect on them. Your title and personal honor require a lady who—”
“Is a paragon?” he interrupted her; a challenge lit his eyes. “Can increase my wealth? A milk-skinned virgin with the pedigree worthy of my noble seed?”
He was poking fun at her fears. “No,” she said tightly. “I highly doubt anyone in the ton would view les sauvages nobles as virtuous. I have heard some of the tales whispered about you and your friends.”
“Exaggerations, I am certain.”
It was ridiculous to be jealous of a past she had no part of, but it was disconcerting when she thought of him pursuing other women. “They call the four of you wicked, pleasure-seeking scoundrels—”
Instead of denying it, he had the audacity to grin. “Why is pleasure-seeking a sin? I, personally, would recommend all and sundry to engage in the practice daily.” He slid his hand up her and gave her buttock a playful squeeze.
Patience shook her head. “You and your friends have family, titles, and wealth to protect you. The rest of us cannot afford your recklessness.”
He frowned at her. “You, my dear love, happen to be one of us.”
She glared back at him. He was being deliberately obtuse. Her ties to the Farnalys did not pardon her from the life she had led since she left the protection of her family.
“That is what I have been trying to tell you. I am not one of you,” she said, sneering at the absurd suggestion. “Patience Winlow is rebellious, opinionated, and known to lie when the occasion warranted. She is a struggling actress and a former thief. Go ahead and ask your friends. I would wager they would tell you that my sterling qualities would make me a fascinating mistress but a terrible countess.”
Ramscar wearily sighed, not disguising his disappointment. “So, you not only speak for me but my friends as well?”
He was not being fair. She was trying to save him from an ill-fated decision. “Be practical, Ram,” she pleaded with him. “Given time, you would come to your senses and regret your impulsive decision.”
“I disagree,” he said curtly. Ramscar wiggled up and braced his head with his arm. “For you see, I have fallen in love with you.”
Her lips parted at his declaration. Speechless, she gaped at him. Gentlemen had whispered that feverish vow into her ear while they pressed wet kisses onto her mouth and attempted to fumble for her breasts. Their intent had been to seduce her into bed with sweet flattery. Ramscar had already claimed her body on numerous occasions. Patience had remained in his bed of her own free will. He gained nothing by wedding her, except trouble.
The tempo of her heart increased at the realization that there was one detail she could not disregard. She laid her hand over her chest, almost afraid to speak the words aloud.
Ramscar was in love with her.
Her stunned silence pricked his pride. He scratched the back of his head and glowered at her. “I can see my honorable declaration has cudgeled you senseless. The next time I want to silence you, all I have to do is tell you that I—”
Patience lunged forward and cut off his tirade with a hard kiss. When he parted his lips, she smiled against his mouth, knowing that she had his complete attention.
On a growled oath Ramscar seized her by the arms and pushed her back. “What game are you playing, Patience?” He gave her a little shake.
“None, my lord,” she said, fighting back the urge to giggle. “I was just rewarding you for having the astuteness to love me.”
Wariness and anger simmered just beneath the surface of his calm façade. “When a man declares his feelings for his lover, mocking him is a dangerous business.”
Patience hugged him. She pressed a reassuring kiss against his temple. “Oh, Ram, I am not ridiculing you. Your sincerity has always unsettled me.”
Ramscar stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “Be truthful. Are you telling me that you cannot love me in return, Patience?”
She shook her head and rested her forehead against his. “No, you misunderstood me. In the past four years, there have been other gentlemen who have claimed to have loved me.” She pulled back and stared into his beautiful hazel green eyes. “Not one of them meant it. Until you.”
Grasping her by the back of the neck, he pulled her closer and leisurely kissed her. “Give me the words I hunger for, Patience,” he said, nibbling her lower lip. “I need to hear them.”
If she revealed her true feelings to him, her protests would fall on deaf ears. Ramscar would view her declaration of love as binding as if she had spoken the words in front of a vicar. He was not considering the trouble her past or her parents might bring him. If she allowed herself to be vulnerable and he cast her aside later, she was not certain she could survive the loss. Patience leaned closer until her lips brushed his ear. “Your feelings are wholly returned,” she whispered into his ear. She grinned as his aroused manhood bumped her buttock.
His eyes reflected his frustration. “Patience—”
She lightly bit his earlobe. “Hush.” Moving down his body, Patience sat back on her heels. “When words seem inadequate, an affectionate demonstration is required.”
She lowered her face and slowly curled her tongue around the swollen head of his arousal. Ramscar’s entire body jolted at the moist caress. Phoenix had schooled her in the arts of pleasuring a man in this fashion. Years earlier, it had seemed like a demeaning, unpleasant task. However, she had preferred using her mouth on Phoenix instead of having him violate her body.
Patience swirled her tongue against Ramscar’s smooth heated flesh and deepened her teasing strokes.
“Christ, you have a wicked tongue, lady!” Ramscar’s breath came out like a hiss between his teeth. He lifted his hips, encouraging her to take more of him.
Her nipples hardened in response to his low moan. She was slowly becoming aroused, and she was amazed by the discovery. In the past, she had never taken pleasure in touching a man thusly. Ramscar was different. There was little that she did not like about him. To prove it, she cupped his testicles, and the earl was at her mercy. She used the flat side of her tongue to measure him fro
m his salty tip down to the soft sac in her hand.
“Patience!” His fingers threaded through her blond hair, urging her to take him back into her mouth again.
Patience heeded his silent demand. He was close to his release. She could sense it, could taste the subtle change in the dewy moisture that collected at the tip. Holding on to his hips, she glided up and down.
His fingers in her hair tightened almost painfully as his manhood convulsed against his powerful release. An almost inaudible gasp erupted from Ramscar. She did not pull away. Rather, she continued stroking and milking the swollen head of his arousal until he went limp on the bed.
Patience lifted her head, wondering if he had passed out from the pleasure.
Sated, he gave her a heavy-lidded glance. “You were right,” he said huskily. “There are times when words are not adequate. You have convinced me. We shall marry as soon I can arrange it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Meredith said, smiling as she greeted them in the front hall. Adorned in a white muslin dress that was edged with pale blue bows, she looked freshly scrubbed and slightly out of breath.
Ramscar could not quite decide what had changed in his sister’s demeanor since he had said farewell to her. As he watched Patience and Meredith embrace, he noted that she exuded a quiet confidence and radiant joy that he had never glimpsed in the past.
“How did you know?” Patience asked, dazed by her friend’s enthusiastic greeting. Patience glanced at him and frowned. “Good grief, did you have the banns posted in my absence?”
Patience was chafing against his possessive claim. If he pondered the life she had led, he assumed her reaction was not surprising. First, she had been bullied by an abusive lover, and after he had died, she had been mistress of her own fate. In time, she would calm down and settle into the life she and Ramscar would build together.
“If you hadn’t run off, I might have accomplished the task,” he mildly retorted. “Though, I confess, I was admirably compensated for your defiance.”
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