Miss Frazer's Adventure

by Alexandra Ivy

  Unfortunately, she feared her body was already revealing the unmistakable truth. He could not fail to notice the thunder of her heart or the faint tremors of pleasure she could not hide.

  “You know I do not, but . . . it is not proper.”

  He gave a soft chuckle at her ridiculous words. “I thought that you had left behind being proper in Kent? Are you not the maiden who is determined to seek all sorts of adventures? To taste of life and all it might offer?”

  He was right, blast his arrogance. This was precisely what she had dreamed of when she had fled Kent. A glorious flirtation with a handsome rake.

  When she had been in Kent, however, passion and need had been no more than the stuff of romantic poets. It not had been a tangible, sharp-edged ache that threatened her very senses.

  “It grows late,” she muttered in uneven tones. “We should return soon.”

  A sigh rushed through his lips as he placed his forehead against hers. “Someday you will trust me, Kate. Someday soon.”

  She stiffened at the implication that she would concede defeat. As if she would be swayed by the pleasure of his touch.

  “You are very confident in your skills, my lord.”

  “No, not confident. Just accepting of a fate you insist upon fighting,” he corrected, shifting to brush his lips over her brow. “Now, as you said, it grows late.”

  Her heart halted at the soft caress, before galloping back into motion as if to make up for lost time.

  “Yes,” she murmured, awkwardly stepping backward.

  Gads, she felt as if she had been tossed into a stormy sea with no idea if she would sink or swim.

  * * *

  Luce watched the stone he had tossed sink into the sea.

  It was a wretched morning for a stroll. A chilled fog thickened the air, reminding the unwary that winter was indeed here. Still, it was preferable to pacing the cramped rooms at the inn.

  As was becoming all too familiar, he had awoken well before dawn after a near sleepless night. A damnable predicament for a gentleman who had managed to rest even when sailing upon the stormiest waters.

  Gads, not even the past two days of escorting his seemingly inexhaustible companion from one entertainment to another had managed to mute the restless impatience that coursed through his blood.

  A wry smile abruptly touched his lips. Bloody hell. Of course, being with Miss Kate Frazer had not eased his restlessness. This burning in his blood was entirely due to the frustrating minx.

  He had been a fool.

  He had known before bringing her to Brighton that he desired her. No, that he increasingly ached for her sweetness. And that being in her constant company was bound to be a form of masculine torture.

  But while he had prepared himself for the pangs of physical need, and battling temptation, he had somehow failed to consider the power of simply having her near.

  Reaching down, Luce collected another hapless pebble and jerkily tossed it into the waves.

  How could he not be enchanted by her vibrant spirit and startling wit? Or by her unexpected displays of kindness toward all those about her?

  She was a rare woman, made all the more rare by the sheer courage that had allowed her to maintain even a measure of herself beneath her father’s grim rule.

  With every passing moment, he became more certain that she was created to be his wife.

  And yet, for all his certainty, she remained determinedly elusive. Oh, he sensed that she was attracted to him. And that she enjoyed his companionship. There were even moments when he would swear that she felt the relentless bond between them as fiercely as he did.

  But for every step he took toward her, she managed to slip two back. A frustrating waltz that threatened to drive him batty.

  Luce shivered as another gust of wind tugged at his caped greatcoat, then slowly he stilled in awareness. Although the enticing scent was faint he would know it in his sleep.

  Turning about, he discovered Kate standing a few paces away, her slender form enveloped in a cherry red cloak with black fur about the hood. His chest seemed to tighten even as he carefully smoothed his features to a casual expression.

  “Good morning, my sweet,” he murmured, moving to face her. “You are up and about earlier than usual on this rather dismal day.”

  She wrinkled her slender nose as she glanced at the fog-shrouded sky. “Remaining beneath my warm covers was certainly a temptation, but then I realized that I mustn’t allow myself to waste a moment in Brighton. We will, after all, have to return to London quite soon.”

  Luce allowed his gaze to sweep over the purity of her alabaster features. She appeared unexpectedly fragile wrapped in the heavy velvet, her cheeks flushed with cold.

  “There is no hurry,” he murmured, not at all anxious to return Kate to London and the endless distractions it provided. “We are at liberty to remain as long as you desire.”

  Her eyes briefly darkened as she gave a shake of her head. “No, we cannot remain. My father no doubt has already returned to Kent. It would be best to leave on the morrow.”

  “There is something, or perhaps someone, awaiting you in London?” he demanded, regretting the unmistakably possessive words as soon as they tumbled from his lips.

  As expected, she swiftly took a defensive step back, her expression guarded. “I believe I shall take a short stroll before breakfast. Perhaps I will see you when I return.”

  Silently cursing his stupidity, he firmly took her arm and entwined it with his own. “Oh no. You are not getting rid of me so easily. Where shall we stroll? The Steyne? Or would you prefer to view the Pavilion?”

  Standing so close, he could feel her slightly stiffen at his insistence, but thankfully, she did not pull away.

  “Actually, the chamber maid was telling me this morning of an ancient legend I hoped to investigate.”

  “Ancient legend?” He lifted his golden brows as he tilted his head to one side. “What sort of legend?”

  “The legend of the Mad Monk and his hidden treasure.”

  Luce gave a sudden laugh at her startling childish desire to hunt for hidden treasure.

  “Odd. I would hardly think that a monk would have much of a treasure.”

  She offered a small smile. “Well, it is rumored that he was traveling to a monastery in France, but that along the way to London, he fell violently in love with a village maiden,” she explained in soft tones. “Unfortunately, her parents refused to countenance a match with an impoverished wanderer. Especially after they had already received a large promise of wealth from a prosperous merchant who desired her. In the end, he left to make his fortune upon the seas as a pirate.”

  His lids lowered slightly as he audaciously reached out to brush a stray curl away from her cheek.

  “Please do not disappoint me and say that while he was gone, she treacherously gave into the wiles of the merchant, and the poor distraught monk tossed himself and his treasure into the sea.”

  “No, indeed. His beloved remained true, but the day before he arrived, she died while giving birth to his child. In his grief, the monk decided to punish the greedy parents in the most devious manner. He buried his massive treasure somewhere near their home and then simply disappeared.”

  “Ah, quite a cruel revenge, indeed.” He smiled gently as his fingers brushed down to the line of her jaw. He could understand how the romantic tale had caught her fancy. “It must have driven them mad to know that there was a fortune within their grasp and yet be unable to discover its location.”

  “It is said that their ghosts still roam the cliffs in search of the treasure.”

  “Of course. What is a good treasure hunt without ghosts?” He paused a moment, regarding her fragile beauty. “Are you certain you shall be warm enough? The breeze is quite chill.”

  She gave a small shrug. “I am rarely affected by the weather. But I would not have you suffer for my folly. I will quite understand if you prefer to remain at the inn.”

  Luce felt a sharp pang.
When he first met Kate, he had presumed that he could read her like an open book. There was no artifice, no cunning that he too often found in others. Now he discovered that he had not the faintest notion what she was thinking.

  If she desired his companionship or wished him in the netherworld.

  It was not at all a comfortable sensation.

  “I will come,” he said firmly. “I cannot allow you to wander off in the fog with dangerous ghosts and mad monks on the loose.”

  “You need have no fear, Luce. I have it on excellent authority that they only make their appearance during a full moon.”

  He smiled wryly. “And what of other unscrupulous rascals that might be lurking just out of sight?”

  Her brows pulled together. “Good heavens, Luce, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I have no need for a guardian at my age.”

  A startling flare of anger shuddered through him before Luce forced himself to take a calming breath.

  Blast, there were moments when this woman could test the patience of a saint.

  Why did she continue to thrust him away? Why would she not admit that they could possess something wondrous? Something that could endure for the rest of their lives.

  Why? Why? Why?

  Thoroughly disgruntled, Luce realized that Kate was regarding him with an expectant gaze. With an effort, he managed a stiff smile.

  “No. Where you go, I go, Kate.”

  “But . . .”

  His hands reached out to frame her face. “You are not going anywhere without me. We are in this together.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Not allowing herself the opportunity for second thoughts, Kate turned away from the disturbing gentleman at her side to walk toward the narrow path leading to the distant cliffs.

  Perhaps she should have been more insistent that she be allowed to enjoy her adventure alone, she acknowledged ruefully. No, not perhaps. Definitely, she should have been more insistent.

  She had been well aware of the danger Luce posed since the moment he had arrived in London. A danger that had become even more perilous over the past few days.

  How often since arriving in Brighton had she allowed herself to forget that Luce was only with her for her dowry? How often had she caught herself covertly studying his handsome countenance and magnificent form? How often had they laughed together as if they were truly friends?

  How often had she longed to lean forward and press her lips to his?

  He was not the man she had thought him to be. Certainly he could be arrogant and commanding, but he was also kind and thoughtful and startlingly tender.

  Precisely the sort of gentleman any maiden would be in danger of tumbling irrevocably in love with.

  It was that realization that had belatedly prompted her determination to return to London. She had to put an end to her time with Luce, she had warned herself when she awoke this morning. And she had to put an end to it today.

  But even as the decision was being made, she had felt her resolve faltering.

  They had one day and one night left until they returned to London. One day and one night they were virtually trapped with each other.

  What could possibly be the harm in waiting one more day to bring an end to their tenuous camaraderie? a renegade voice had whispered.

  Just a handful of hours before she informed Luce she was moving on to a new adventure.

  And so, perhaps cowardly, she kept her thoughts to herself as they slowly forged their way through the fog and up the steep path leading to the bluff.

  She was uncertain why she had been attracted to the chilling tale the chambermaid had revealed this morning. Surely every village and town in England possessed a ghost story? Perhaps it was the excitement of a buried treasure. Or of briefly reliving the past.

  Or, more likely, she merely felt a measure of connection with the poor maiden being crushed under the relentless will of her parents and unable to seek the happiness she desired.

  Whatever the cause, she knew that she wanted to walk the bluff at least once before leaving for London.

  Glancing to the side, she silently studied Luce’s proud, elegant profile. He had spoken very little and she knew that he had been annoyed by her insistence upon returning to London. Perhaps he was even considering the wisdom of turning his attentions to a less stubborn heiress.

  The thought brought an unexpected pang, and she hurriedly sought to distract her unwelcome broodings.

  “I suppose that within an estate as old as Calfield Park you must possess a ghost or two,” she murmured.

  He turned to regard her with a smoldering gaze before his features slowly softened with a rueful smile.

  “Most certainly not,” he retorted as he carefully skirted her past a fallen log. “We may harbor rakes, scoundrels, and on occasion, dastards, but the Cal-fields have never been troubled by bothersome ghosts.”

  She lifted her brows at his deliberately arrogant manner. “You believe your family above a good haunting?”

  “Above? No. Well, at least not precisely. It is more a matter of possessing the proper ancestors.”

  “You mean ancestors who are gracious enough to remain politely in their graves?”

  The breeze ruffled his golden hair as he bent his head toward her. “No, I mean ancestors who were not entirely human.”

  “What?”

  He gave a chuckle at her shocked expression. “You have not heard of the very first Calfield, who fell in love with a mermaid?”

  In spite of her turbulent emotions, Kate discovered herself intrigued. The Frazers had always been a prodigiously dull lot throughout the centuries without so much as a highwayman or daring rascal, let alone an enchanted creature.

  Now she slowed her pace to regard him with unmistakable curiosity. “Do you mean to say that you possess the blood of a mermaid?”

  “So the story goes,” he confessed with a smile. “My distant grandfather was foolish enough to become entrapped in the mermaid’s bewitchment, and he refused to leave his watery paradise until she had given him a child to take as a memento.”

  “A most sentimental gentleman,” she murmured.

  “Thank goodness the mermaid was of the same opinion,” he teased. “Rather than cursing him to some horrid fate, which is the usual case with such capricious creatures, she blessed him with a son and a beautiful glade to raise him in. If you visit Calfield Park, you will discover mermaids gracing the conservatory as well as painted on several ceilings, in her honor.” His smile widened. “Even my bed is engraved with mermaids, if you desire a private viewing.”

  Her heart performed its familiar leap as she regarded his utterly male countenance. In the misty fog there was something different about him. He appeared more the pirate she had claimed him rather than a proper gentleman, and a tingle of renegade excitement flared through her body at the indecently bold shimmer within the dark blue eyes and the reckless, dangerous beauty about him.

  “A most charming invitation, but I fear I must decline,” she forced herself to murmur.

  “A pity.”

  It was a pity, she thought. She did not doubt that he would prove to be a most glorious seducer. One who would ensure a woman was well-pleased in his arms. A shiver raced through her before she was firmly scrubbing such treacherous emotions away.

  “You still have not revealed why Calfield Park has no ghosts.”

  His gaze swept over her flushed countenance in a slow, lingering manner. “Because it is enchanted, of course. No spirits or monsters or evil demons are allowed in the glade. It was the mermaid’s spell to protect her lover and son. Supposedly we are even protected from fire, although we have always been wise enough not to place our trust in a fading legend and take all the necessary precautions as other estates.”

  She smiled faintly. “Perhaps it is your mermaid blood that makes you so fond of the sea.”

  “Certainly,” he readily agreed, a wicked amusement entering his eyes. “And, of course, it also accounts for my astonishing
charm and beauty.”

  “Fah. Now I know you are only jesting. I—” Kate’s words came to an abrupt end as she glanced toward the nearby bluff.

  Swiftly on alert, Luce regarded her with a frown. “What is it, Kate?”

  “I thought I heard a noise. Almost a . . . cry.”

  “No doubt a seagull, but I should make sure.” He sent her a stern glance. “I want you to wait here.”

  “But . . .”

  “I will be only a moment.” Waiting for her to give a reluctant nod, Luce brushed his lips casually over her forehead before striding through the fog toward the edge of the bluff.

  For a moment he merely stood there, and Kate ruefully cursed herself for allowing thoughts of ghosts and mermaids to have set her nerves on edge. Then, turning about, Luce waved her toward him with an odd expression.

  Crossing the short distance, she halted at his side. “What is it?”

  “It appears we have a small companion to assist us in enjoying the fine view.”

  She frowned in puzzlement at his smooth words. “A companion?”

  Covertly, his hand moved to point over the edge of the cliff. “Yes, indeed. A most charming chap named Billie, although he is somewhat occupied at the moment with studying the beauty of nature.”

  Warily, Kate peeked over the edge. What she saw made her heart jump to her throat.

  “Dear heavens,” she breathed in horror, regarding the tiny, freckle-faced boy who was grimly clinging to a small ledge. At the same moment, she felt a touch upon her arm, and she glanced up to discover Luce giving a faint shake of his head. Abruptly, she realized that he was warning her not to frighten the child into making any sudden moves. With an effort, she swallowed her fear and offered the boy a small smile. “What a very peculiar spot to choose to linger. Are you pretending to be a seagull?”

  “No, Miss.” The lad bravely blinked back the tears that threatened. “I . . . I was thinking to search for the pirate treasure.”

  Kate bit her lip, belatedly realizing that foolishly romantic maidens would not be the only ones lured to seeking the Mad Monk’s fortune.