‘Hot springs first,’ he whispered teasingly. ‘Then, we’ll make love in the grass.’
The hot springs were a revelation. The pleasant warmth of the water lulled her into relaxation. The feel of Sutton’s fingers at her neck, at her shoulders, kneading away the stress of the day, was exquisite. Had anything felt as good? She was happy enough to simply be held against him, his arms wrapped about her. She wanted to savour every moment of this. It was hard to argue she and her father should never have come here. How could she regret meeting Sutton when he’d given her such a treasure? She only regretted the hurt they would both pay for it. Later. Only later was approaching much sooner than she liked.
* * *
When they finished bathing, Sutton scooped her up and carried her to the grass. ‘All I want to do is make love to you, right here. Lovemaking out of doors is different than making love anywhere else.’ He was playful and hungry, and oblivious to the thoughts in her head. She wrapped her body around him and held him close. She would protect him with all she possessed.
He was right. Lovemaking out of doors was full of sensations: the tickle of summer grass at her back, the occasional breeze on her skin, the warmth of Sutton’s body over hers, the smell of him, all clean male mingled with the scents of summer, all intoxicating. He made love to her with a certain languor, lingering over her with each kiss, each touch, each glance until he took her in a long, slow thrust, as if they had all the time they needed, as if the foals weren’t waiting for their dinner, as if she wasn’t going to creep away at midnight and disappear for ever. But that was hours away.
Elidh gave herself over to the fantasy; all that mattered was this moment when they could set aside their cares; that Sutton Keynes loved her. Those words today had been a stake to her heart. Because of those words, her betrayal would hurt even more. She would find comfort in knowing the betrayal of leaving would be far less than the betrayal that came with discovery of her lie. Perhaps someday he’d understand she’d chosen to leave in order to protect him.
Chapter Twenty
They lay in the grass, wrapped in each other long after pleasure had had its way with them and the moon began to rise. She smoothed his hair back from his face. ‘You’re so handsome, every time I look at you, you take my breath away.’ She didn’t think there was a finer man in the world than the one lying naked beside her right now.
‘As do you.’ He grinned and levered himself up on one arm, facing her as he ran a hand over the slight curve of her hip. ‘Do you feel better now, Chiara? Are you convinced Bax is no cause for alarm between us? That we can decide to marry without any pressure from external sources?’ he murmured, leaning close, his mouth at her ear.
They’d come full circle. This time, however, she felt no sense of panic, only the impending weight of the inevitable. There was nothing to argue against because arguments would not sway Sutton; they would only fire him to fight back. Sometimes the only way to win an argument was to leave the room—in this case, to leave the house party. To leave the man who made the arguments.
‘You never did tell me how you managed him,’ she whispered as she kissed his jawline.
‘I have a friend, Viscount Taunton. He is married to an Englishwoman who lived in Italy. Her story is complicated. She’s divorced now, but her former husband was the Marchese di Cremona.’
Her kisses stilled. Cremona. Her father’s map of northern Italy flashed through her mind, a web of cities connected by rocky roads through foothills and valleys. Asti, Milan, Turin the capital, Genoa, Pavia, Fossano, and Cremona, only a few days apart on horseback. A cold fist of fear took up residence in her stomach as Sutton continued. ‘I don’t think you would have known her. It was a difficult marriage, her husband didn’t allow her to socialise much, and she’s older than you, old enough that you would still have been in the schoolroom when she was there. But she would have known of you. She and her husband most certainly would have known of your father. Prince Lorenzo and Il Marchese would have met in the capital or at court, if not at regional gatherings.’
The fist in her stomach was a sharp-tipped icicle now, stabbing her hard. Her father had designed this ruse precisely to avoid the relevance of anyone possibly knowing them. But their luck had run out. She’d fallen in love with the only camel dairy owner in England whose friend had married nobility from the Piedmont. What were the chances of that? But Sutton wasn’t done. ‘I’ve written to her, asking her to provide validation in case Bax makes good on his threat. I sent the letter out this morning. It will reach Taunton in two days and I can have a response in my hand in four, with plenty of time to satisfy the will and to satisfy anyone here who might protest. Peers can’t question the word of other peers without demeaning their own standing. If a peer can’t take the word of another peer, what does their honour mean?’ Sutton’s smile was wide and relaxed. ‘You see, there’s nothing to worry about. Bax can protest all he wants, but he can’t touch us. I’ve thought of everything.’
And she hadn’t. Her father hadn’t. Never in her father’s wildest imaginings would he have accounted for Sutton Keynes having a friend from Cremona. Not that it mattered to her decision. She’d already decided to leave. But it mattered in a different way.
The comfort she’d reasoned on earlier in knowing that leaving was the less painful betrayal compared to discovery was gone now. In just a few days, he’d know the awful truth of her deception in full. He would be crushed. He wouldn’t understand that she’d not meant for it to happen, that she’d not come to trap him. The Viscountess would write back that she’d never heard of Prince Lorenzo Balare di Fossano. Then, Sutton would know just how thoroughly he’d been duped. Nothing about her was real: not her name, not her history, not her title.
It was probably for the best he knew nothing real about her. If he did, he’d be able to find her and he’d be furious when he came after her. Maybe he wouldn’t care enough to come after her. Maybe his devastation would be so complete he wouldn’t bother. He’d have other things on his mind, then, like who to pick next and how best to protect his fortune. She should hope for that, as much as it hurt to want such an outcome.
Goodbye was imminent. She played it out in her mind: they would make love here, one last time, they would feed the foals, and she would have him take her back to the house. She would kiss him one last time and hope that some day he’d understand. But above all, she couldn’t cry. Not until she was alone in her room, her trunks packed and her getaway assured.
Elidh reached for him, her hand curling around his rising shaft. She stroked him, relishing the contrasting hardness of his length and the tenderness of his tip. His body was a fascinating maze of mysteries she’d only begun to discover. He gave a groan of delight and she kissed him with a laugh. ‘Let me pleasure you. This time, I will be on top.’ She straddled him and he chuckled, his hands at her hips to steady her, his blue eyes laughing up at her.
This was what it felt like to fall in love. Elidh took him deep inside her, knowing in her heart that despite the risks and the worries, she would do it all over again just for these moments even though they had never been meant to last. She bent forward, her mouth finding his with a whisper. ‘Remember this, Sutton. I love you.’ As for herself, she wanted to remember him, them, like this—perfection for a moment.
* * *
Something was wrong. The moment Sutton entered the breakfast room the next morning, he could feel it the way one can sense an oncoming storm in the air. The room was crowded, far more people eating an early breakfast than the norm. Usually, he had the place to himself with the exception of a few other early male risers who also preferred to eat in quiet. Not so today. This morning, young ladies and their mothers made up a considerable amount of the population and as such the chatter seemed abnormally loud, a veritable cacophony of conversations going on in little clusters about the room and on the terrace where the French doors had been thrown open to accommodate the overflow.
‘Good morning, Wharton. Lovely weather. I thought the men and I might get some fishing in while the ladies shop this morning.’ A bark of male laughter rose briefly over the conversations. Sutton scanned the room for its source and found it. Bax. He was up suspiciously early for him and sitting with Eliza Fenworth. Where was young Fenworth? Louie ought to put a stop to it right away. Miss Fenworth was no match for Bax. At the very least, she ought not be sitting alone with him. That was a recipe for disaster. Having Bax here at all was the very embodiment of letting the fox into the henhouse. Fenworth was nowhere to be found and neither was Chiara. They were the only two not present, it seemed. ‘If you would excuse me, Lord Wharton? I think I see a damsel in need of rescuing.’
Sutton made his way to the table in the corner where Bax sat, entertaining Eliza. ‘Everyone is up early.’ He pasted on a smile for Eliza’s benefit. ‘Even you, Cousin. A rare occurrence, I hear,’ he said pointedly, wanting to imply to Eliza that Bax was not appropriate company. ‘Where is your brother, Miss Fenworth?’
Eliza looked down at her plate with a blush. ‘He is still asleep. He was up very late last night.’
Bax broke in with a good-natured mea culpa that didn’t fool Sutton. ‘It is entirely my fault. We got into some intense card playing.’ Bax dug in his pocket, coming up with a gold filigreed brooch. ‘I won this off young Fenworth, a pretty piece of jewellery, or so I thought, and I have to believe he thought so, too, when he accepted it as a stake last week.’ Bax gave Sutton a veiled look. ‘Fenworth won it off Prince Lorenzo. The Prince told him it was gold. Fenworth told me it was gold.’ Bax rubbed at it, revealing a leaden surface beneath. ‘It’s not, as you can see. It’s a fake. Makes one wonder what else might be fake.’
Sutton didn’t care for the implication at all. His cousin was being less than oblique about his insinuations—insinuations, Sutton might add, that would fuel a mutiny of sorts against Chiara. He could only imagine how Bax’s private accusations gone public would inflame the nobles if he didn’t choose one of their daughters. ‘I hope all ended well?’ he asked with a benign coolness.
‘Oh, it did for me.’ Bax smiled at Eliza. ‘Thanks to the fake brooch, I’ve made the acquaintance of a lovely young woman, whom I find far more entertaining than a piece of jewellery. How was your evening, Cuz? You were missed.’
Apparently so. Bax had taken the opportunity of his absence to clean out Louie Fenworth’s pockets the moment his back had been turned, and now Eliza Fenworth’s virtue seemed very much in danger. Sutton knew it would fall to him to clean up this particular mess since Louie was incapable of doing so. There was no chance to scold Bax. Yet. Isabelle Bradley and her father approached the table, taking the other two seats. Sutton would have preferred the chairs be taken by any other two people. Of all the girls, he liked Isabelle the least. She’d been spiteful to Chiara and she had a tendency to cling to his arm, to his every word. But he was in no position to decline. The room was full, the terrace crowded.
‘I am surprised to see everyone up so early.’ Sutton searched for neutral conversation after pleasantries had been exchanged.
‘I think all the girls are looking forward to shopping before it gets too warm this afternoon. With the ball fast approaching in a few days, the excitement over your choice is mounting.’ Isabelle leaned forward, gushing. ‘You’ve made a fantasy come to life for all of us these past two weeks, Mr. Keynes. We’ve been treated to this lovely estate, waited on hand and foot by an impeccable staff and you’ve given of yourself so generously. I don’t think there’s a girl in this room who hasn’t fallen in love you, me included,’ she dissembled. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m too forward in saying so.’ No, but she was a liar. He hadn’t given generously of himself.
‘Not at all, Miss Bradley. I appreciate the compliment.’ Sutton took a forkful of eggs, unable to think of anything more to say. He scanned the room again, looking for Chiara.
‘We’re all so excited to see you who might choose. It’s like a fairy tale—a prince holds a ball and chooses his wife at the stroke of midnight.’ Miss Bradley was colouring it a bit too brown now.
Sutton coughed. ‘I’m no prince, Miss Bradley. Just a man.’ A man without a title, too. Funny how these peers forgot that when there was an obscene amount of money at stake.
‘Well, it’s still a fairy tale,’ Isabelle insisted. ‘It could be any one of us who’s chosen now that the Principessa has forgone the festivities.’ Isabelle’s eyes sparkled dangerously with gossipy mischief.
‘Has forgone the festivities? I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Miss Bradley?’ Sutton tried for calm as his insides began to roil. Remember, Sutton, I love you. At the time, he’d not questioned those words. Now, the phrasing of them struck him as odd.
Isabelle feigned wide-eyed shock. Sutton was conscious of her hand overlaying his in a too-familiar gesture. ‘Don’t you know? She left. In the night, apparently. No one saw her go, but my maid said her maid was gone this morning and her room is empty.’
Gone. Chiara was gone? That wasn’t possible. Just last night they’d made love beneath the sky, they’d bathed in the hot springs. She’d made love to him as the stars came out. He’d resolved Bax’s threat and she knew it. Viscountess Taunton would put his preposterous claims to rest. Was there something more that he’d missed? What could it be? Was there a reason beyond Eliza Fenworth’s company that Bax was so chipper this morning? His gaze landed on his cousin.
‘May I speak with you alone, Cousin?’ Sutton didn’t even bother to make polite apologies for abandoning the table. He strode into the hall, taking the first quiet corner he came to, confident Bax was behind him.
He wheeled on Bax, grabbing him by the shirtfront and hauling him up against the wall. ‘What have you done? And for the first time ever, tell me the truth. I know you threatened her yesterday. What else did you do?’ Had Chiara not told him the full extent of Bax’s threats? If he discovered Bax was at the bottom of this, he would kill him. A duel would suffice. Anger raged through him. ‘This feud is ours and ours alone. Innocents are to be left out of it.’
Bax had the audacity to laugh. ‘Your princess was no innocent, Sutton, as I warned you yesterday. I could see you didn’t take me seriously so I went to the source. You should be thanking me. I have saved you from a terrible mistake and from public embarrassment. If anything, I’ve kept your hopes of claiming the fortune alive, come to think of it. Choose one of those girls in there and there’s nothing I can do.’
Sutton shook Bax hard. ‘You would never do anything so selfless. You knew I loved her and you forced her away. We had nothing to fear from your threats. Viscountess Taunton will vouch for her. I’ve already written.’ Rage was riding him hard. Chiara, gone! Fled into the night without so much as a goodbye or a reason. But there had been a goodbye. His brain slowed. That last time, there’d been a delicious edge to it, something different. He should have known, should have been suspicious. He released Bax, remembering everything they’d said, everything they’d done. He’d told her about Viscountess Taunton.
She’d fled because of him... Something broke open inside him, darkness swallowing him up like ink spilt from a bottle. He did not want Bax to be right, but his cousin was relentless. ‘Think about it, Cuz. A principessa who leaves in the middle of the night? What kind of sense does that make? She has no need to slink away. She can leave whenever she pleases. In fact, daytime would be so much easier. She didn’t arrive in a carriage of her own and the trains don’t run much before morning. It’s not like she had a timetable to make. Unless, of course, she did have a schedule to keep, one that involved being gone from here before Viscountess Taunton’s l
etter arrived. There’s something else. No one in London had heard of her before she showed up here. She appeared out of thin air, Sutton. I hired runners. They couldn’t find her. Face it—the Principessa is a fraud, just like her father’s brooch.’
This was wrong, all wrong. Chiara was not a fraud. The frauds had been thrown out of the party. Frauds were selfish charlatans preying on innocent victims, duping them, taking their money. ‘I can’t believe it,’ Sutton said resolutely. ‘She is like me.’ Chiara was kind. She loved animals.
‘Of course she is. Don’t be naive. Good lord, Cousin, you’ve been on the farm too long,’ Bax barked. ‘She’s the only one who figured out how to play the game. She knew it wasn’t about her, that it was about you, and she set about knowing you better than anyone else here. She figured out what you wanted and she gave it to you.’
No, that could not be true. It simply couldn’t be. He would not accept that. Bax was evil. Bax wanted to hurt him, wanted to ruin something that was all goodness and light. Of course he would say these things. ‘I have to find her.’ Sutton’s mind was racing. He didn’t want to hear any more of Bax’s revelations. If he could find Chiara, she alone could set everything straight. This was all just a big misunderstanding. It had to be.
‘Why?’ Bax gave a cruel laugh. ‘She left. She doesn’t want to play any more. She chose to end it. You should be thankful she cared enough to protect you at the end. She left before you could choose her and look like a fool, before you could lose the fortune over her. Can you just imagine the headlines? “Heir to thousands gives up fortune to pursue fraudulent princess!” Take comfort in knowing she set you free. It was quite generous of her. No damage done.’ Bax was wrong there. There was damage aplenty, starting with his heart, his poor, logical, scientist’s heart.
Tempted By His Secret Cinderella (Allied At The Altar Book 3) Page 18