Good Earls Don't Lie

by Michelle Willingham

  She could never go swimming with a man watching her. Or worse, swimming with her maid or sister. It was an impossible idea—completely outrageous. And yet . . . she could see his reasoning. It would give her a means of strengthening her useless legs in a way that might hasten her progress. She knew how to float, and kicking her legs would help rebuild her lost muscles.

  She couldn’t believe she was even considering such an idea, even as warm as it was outside. No. It simply wasn’t done.

  “I couldn’t possibly do such a thing.” She shook her head. “My grandmother and mother would never condone it.”

  “If they learned about it, aye. They wouldn’t allow it at all.” He shrugged. “But if we went out riding, there’s no reason why they would need to know.”

  “Everyone would know. I would come back completely wet,” she pointed out. “My hair would be soaked.” She couldn’t even imagine a way to conceal that.

  “You needn’t go with me,” he said quietly. “You could take Hattie and your sister. Tell them what it is you’re wanting to do.”

  In his voice, she heard the calm tone of a man who had no intention of impropriety or bringing harm to her good name. She shielded her eyes against the sun and studied him closely. Over the past week and a half, Lord Ashton had become a friend, and someone who was genuinely interested in helping her walk again.

  “They don’t really believe I’ll walk again,” she admitted. “If I told them of your idea, they would accuse me of trying to drown myself.”

  He extended his forearms, and helped her to stand again. “If you want my help, that I will give. I swear that I’ll do nothing that would bring shame to you. I could help you into the water until you can swim on your own.”

  She didn’t know what to say, except to shake her head. Everything she’d ever been raised to believe told her this was wrong. She had to remain covered from throat to ankle, buried under layers of petticoats and corsets.

  Yet, the thought of spending an afternoon floating on the lake, hidden within a grove of trees, was a delicious temptation.

  Lord Ashton helped her back to the bench once more. “I would hope, by now, you would realize that I’ve no intention of accosting you, Lady Rose. I made a bargain to help you walk again, and our time is running short. By the end of this month, I will need to go to London to find my bride.”

  She knew that. And it was likely that all his efforts would be for naught. How could she possibly think walking again in a month would be feasible? She’d been trapped for so long.

  “I will think about it,” she agreed. “But I cannot go with you to London. I am not at all ready to walk.”

  He bowed in understanding, and then eyed her again. “There is something else you could try.”

  She listened, waiting for him to speak. He reached down for her hands again, and she stood. Each time, it got a little easier. But this time, he commanded, “Step on my feet.”

  “What? Why?” It would bring her closer to him, and she was uncertain about it.

  “Trust me, a chara. Now trample my toes, if you don’t mind.”

  A smile twitched at her mouth, but she hid it. Gently, she used all her effort to step on his right foot. Then his left. It was awkward, and she could feel her balance tipping. He sensed it, too, for he caught her waist and held her there. “Walk with me,” he said, and began to tread backward.

  She kept her feet upon his, and he moved them both toward the garden wall. Rose couldn’t help but laugh at the incongruity of him trying to move her across the garden. “What are you doing, Lord Ashton?”

  “There, now. You’ve walked.” He sent her a roguish grin, and added, “Shall we go to London, Saturday next?”

  His green eyes held mischief, and she shook her head in exasperation. “You are a foolish man. I didn’t walk at all.”

  “Aye, but you did. I may have moved you there, but you most definitely walked.”

  “Not on my own.” She eyed him in the manner of a scolding governess. “I only managed it because you had your arm locked around my waist.”

  She kept her voice chiding but didn’t tell him how his embrace had unnerved her. Though it meant nothing and they were only friends, she was fully conscious of his strong arms and the planes of his body. Every time his palms were upon her, her skin prickled with awareness. Even now, she detected a hint of the soap he had used for washing.

  “Hold on to my shoulders,” Lord Ashton advised her. He moved her sideways, spinning lightly, in a mock dance. He held out one of her hands while the other rested at her waist. “Here you are, cailín. You’ve even danced. I believe I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

  “No, you have not, Lord Ashton.” Yet she couldn’t help but smile at his teasing.

  He helped her back to the stone bench and regarded her. “Have you chosen possible brides for me? I should like to hear about them.”

  He spoke as if he were selecting a bottle of wine, and she wanted him to be more serious about the matter. “Marriage is quite a decision to make. You will need to meet the ladies to determine whether one will suit.”

  “It doesn’t matter at all what I’m wanting, a chara. Only what the lady wants.”

  She expected his words to be lighthearted, but this time, there was only seriousness in his eyes. “Exactly how bad is it in Ireland?”

  He sobered and rested his hands on his knees. “If you’ll forgive my language, it’s hell on earth, Lady Rose. Imagine an estate the size of Penford with no crops, no animals, and no servants. If you want food, the price is very dear, and most cannot afford it. Many of our tenants have gone to America, for they cannot survive here. I’ve received no rents from the people, and with no income, I cannot pay our staff. I’ve stripped our expenses down to almost nothing, and the rest of my family is gone.” His green eyes held a bleakness that troubled her. “Marriage was a last resort, Lady Rose. Believe me, I tried to bring in income through investments and selling off whatever I could. But I am out of time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I would sell my soul for an heiress, if it meant restoring Ashton.”

  She eyed him for a long moment. Somehow, this didn’t seem to be for the sake of his tenants and his sisters. “That’s a high price to pay for land.” Tilting her head to the side, she regarded him. “This is about proving yourself, isn’t it?”

  A hard edge came over his face. “It’s about helping those in need. It’s my responsibility.”

  Rose let out a slow breath. “Then I will do what I can to help. But you must give me some guidance about what you want in a bride.”

  His anger seemed to diminish, and he reached for her hand. “Someone kind. Someone who can look past my pirate ways.”

  A ripple of nerves washed over her, for she sensed he was talking about her. His fingers tightened over her palm, and she felt the heat wash over her. His green eyes held warmth, but she wasn’t certain whether he was teasing or not.

  “Don’t flirt with me, Lord Ashton. You must be serious about this.” She sent him a friendly smile, as if his words meant nothing.

  “I am serious. That’s what I’m wanting in a bride.”

  She stood again, but lost her balance. He caught her waist and steadied her. “You know I intend to wed Lord Burkham if he asks for my hand.” Surely when he saw her walk—even stand—he would offer for her.

  “How many letters has he written to you?”

  The question surprised her, for she didn’t see how it mattered. “Why do you ask?”

  “How many?” he repeated.

  “Six. And the most recent one came last week.” That ought to satisfy his curiosity. She couldn’t see why he cared.

  His palm warmed her spine, and he kept his grip around her waist while she remained standing. “Six letters in six months?”

  Oh. She didn’t miss his raised eyebrow or the implication. “Yes. He writes to me often.”

  “One letter a month is not often.”

  The pointed look h
e sent was irritating. “But he does write to me. He wished me well in his last letter and told me that he missed me greatly.”

  Lord Ashton said nothing, but she could tell that he thought little of the viscount. It wasn’t his concern, was it? Without knowing why, she jumped to his defense. “He has duties in Parliament and responsibilities toward his estate. I am grateful for each of his letters.”

  “All six of them,” he noted. “In half a year’s time.”

  “Don’t cast aspersions on the man I love,” she reminded him. “He does the best that he can.”

  But Lord Ashton surprised her when he leaned in. “If the woman I loved fell sick, I would be at her side, day and night. And even if my duties took me from her, I would write every day.” The roughness in his voice took her aback, and for a moment, she found herself caught up in his stare. She couldn’t read his emotions, for his anger was blended with an intensity that stole her breath.

  “I cannot understand why any man wouldn’t do the same for you.” His mouth rested above hers, and she felt the heat of his breath upon her lips. Against her will, her body responded to his nearness, making her soften to his touch. Though he crossed no boundaries, she trembled at the hushed sense of the forbidden.

  “You’re too good for him, a chara. If he truly loved you, he would not have left you when you were ill. And I think you know that.”

  Her face flooded with color, for he was the first one to openly say this. “Then why would Lord Burkham bother writing to me?”

  He hesitated at that. “I cannot say. Except that perhaps he feels guilty for not treating you as he should.”

  She didn’t want to believe it. Not when Thomas represented her hopes and dreams for the future. No, she would take comfort in the fact that he had continued to write letters, and she was glad of it. She let out a sigh. “I am tired, Lord Ashton. I think we are finished for today.”

  He regarded her with solemnity. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt your feelings, a chara.”

  “I know.” But she couldn’t bring herself to smile. His observations had planted the seeds of doubt within her mind. And yet, there was no way to know what Lord Burkham’s feelings were until she saw him again for herself.

  Without asking permission, Lord Ashton reached for her hands once more. Slowly, he placed them on his shoulders while he rested his own hands at her waist. She wanted to pull back, but his green eyes held her captive. “I hope you know that I am your friend. I want to help you.”

  She nodded, fully conscious of his arm around her waist. He held her a little longer, and she wondered what it was he wanted. The expression on his face was kindly, but there was something more within his gaze. She didn’t understand it but couldn’t bring herself to turn away.

  Instead, she studied him in return. His dark hair was slightly long, but his face was clean shaven. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she took off her glove, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You shaved.”

  “So I did.”

  She traced the planes of his face, fully aware that she shouldn’t be doing this. And yet, he didn’t seem to mind her touch. He allowed it, and when she touched his opposite cheek, he warned, “Careful, Lady Rose.” His voice held a gruff quality that made her stop. But when she tried to pull her hand away, he covered it with his own, bringing it to his mouth.

  Against her palm, his mouth was warm. The heat of his lips made gooseflesh rise upon her skin. Her imagination conjured up the image of his breath upon her body, and her breasts tightened inside her corset. She didn’t understand these sensations or why she should feel anything at all. Dozens of men had kissed her hand, though never like this.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured and tried to pull back.

  “I’m not.” The wicked smile returned, and he kept her palm firmly in his own. “But it only seems fair that I should be allowed to do the same.”

  She was frozen in place when his palm cupped her cheek. His thumb traced the outline of her jaw, moving lower to her chin. Her heartbeat quickened, blood rushing to her face. She told herself that this meant nothing, that they were only friends.

  But he was overstepping the boundaries of friendship, reaching for something he couldn’t have. The look in his eyes seemed to reach beneath her defenses. This man was taking apart her good sense, tempting her in a way she didn’t understand.

  “I am going to stay and teach you to walk, Rose.” He lifted her hand and stole another kiss that left her reeling. “That promise I’ve made, and that promise I’ll keep. But if ever you change your mind about Burkham, know that you are worth more than one letter a month.”

  Chapter Eight

  Iain rode across the open land, following the curve of the lake. The May sunlight warmed him until he was sweating from exertion and heat. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Rose since yesterday. It bothered him that she wanted a man who had abandoned her during her illness. How could she love such a person? Burkham deserved to lose her.

  And yet, his own fate remained out of his hands. He knew he needed an heiress—but he was not at all prepared for London. Devil take it all, he dreaded entering such an unfamiliar world. Men and women would judge him by his Irish way of speaking, and he had no idea how to behave. He wished it were possible to avoid London entirely.

  They will know you aren’t worthy of being the earl. Lady Rose might think he had the difficult task of teaching her how to walk, but hers was the greater challenge.

  Iain cursed beneath his breath and urged his horse faster until he reached the secluded part of the lake. He led Darcy over for a drink and then walked along the edge of the water. He wanted to swim, to churn his arms across the surface and release his frustration against the frigid water.

  He wished Michael were alive so he could ask his brother for advice. Even though Iain had been the black sheep, the unwanted younger son, his brother had been his best friend. And God help him, he still felt the loss, even now.

  No one was nearby, so he discarded his clothing on the shore and walked naked into the lake. The water stole his breath as soon as he stepped into it, but this was what he wanted right now—the punishing cold. He forced himself to begin swimming long strokes across the water, and the longer he swam, the more his body adjusted to the temperature.

  He knew his obligations to Ashton and had made up his mind to marry. But he wanted to marry a woman he liked, especially since he would be expected to sire children with her.

  The image of Lady Rose’s face appeared in his thoughts, haunting him. Here was a woman with determination and courage. A woman who wouldn’t turn her back on adversity, but who would meet her challenges without retreating. Although she wasn’t tremendously wealthy, she had a respectable dowry.

  Rose doesn’t want you. She wants Burkham. Try as he might, he couldn’t silence the voice of logic. But he didn’t believe that the viscount would come up to scratch. And he’d written only six letters in half a year? Mary, Mother of God, the viscount was leading her on. Even if Rose did return to London, there was no guarantee that Burkham would ask her to wed.

  Irritation rose up within him, and he told himself it was none of his affair. It didn’t matter that Lady Rose’s touch lingered within his memory. She didn’t know how close she’d come to being kissed. The softness of her fingers upon his cheek had made him want to taste those lips, to show her the danger of one simple caress.

  He kept swimming hard, back and forth, until his muscles burned from the exercise. It helped him to clear his mind and think of what to do. He would need a great deal of time to find the right woman to marry, and the longer he stayed here, the more his chances of finding the right woman diminished. Yet, if he stayed another fortnight, he could not only help Rose make progress on learning how to walk again, but he could also use that time to learn more about behaving like an earl.

  The sound of an approaching horse made him remain in the water, but when he saw Rose riding closer, he paused. To his surprise, she had come alone this time and was riding
along the edge of the lake. Usually she brought Hattie or Calvert with her, but not today. He wondered why.

  Her pace was slow, and after a moment, she glimpsed him. Iain straightened in the water, unable to stop his smile. Well, now. Wasn’t this an interesting dilemma?

  “You have me at a disadvantage, a chara.” He took a few steps closer, unable to resist teasing her. Now the water was at his waistline, and Rose put up her hands.

  “Stop,” she commanded. “I didn’t realize you were here. There’s no need to . . . leave the water.” Her face held a lovely blush, and he rather wanted to see what she would do now. “I’ll just go now.”

  Oh, no. He wasn’t about to let this opportunity escape. “I had just finished swimming,” he said. “If you’d like to take your turn, the water is all yours. Though, I must say, it’s a bit cold now.”

  “I wasn’t planning to swim.”

  He took another step closer, and this time, the water grazed his hip bones. Rose scrunched her eyes shut. “No, you needn’t come any farther.”

  He rather wondered if she would sneak a glimpse if he were to leave the lake. He took another step forward, baring a bit more of himself.

  When she didn’t respond, he guessed that she was indeed hiding her eyes. “I do need my clothes,” he pointed out. “And they are on the shore at the moment. I’ll go and fetch them.”

  This time, he strode out of the water, fully bared. God almighty, it was cold. He watched Rose closely as he continued toward his clothes, but she kept both hands covering her eyes.

  He couldn’t be certain, but it almost looked as if there was a slight space between her fingers. Was is possible that she was staring at him?

  “Are you enjoying the view, a chara?” he asked as he reached for his smallclothes and trousers.

  “I am not looking at you.”

  “So you say.” He smiled to himself as he dressed. When he was half-clothed, he returned toward her horse. Aye, he could have finished putting on his shirt and the remainder of his clothing, but he wanted to see her reaction, to tease her a little more. “You can look now.”