Jordan Summers - Gothic Passions (Ellora's Cave).htm

by Gothic Passions (Ellora's Cave) (lit)

  Lily threw the coverlet back and swung her feet to the floor. The maid assisted with her toilet and then helped her dress in a fresh muslin sprig. After securing her curls against the back of her head, Lily crossed her room and opened the door. Her father stood in the hall, pale with bloodshot eyes, reeking of brandy, staring at her with great sadness in his blue depths.

  “What has happened?” Lily rushed forward, taking her father’s hands in her own.

  Archibald let out a ragged breath, then dropped his gaze.

  “Father, please. Are you well?” Lily searched his face, but could find no immediate malady, other than an over-abundance of spirits.

  “No, no I’m not.” Archibald shook his head. “I tried, just—no luck,” he whispered under his breath.

  Lily frowned. “What are you sorry about?” She clutched his hands, attempting to shake him out of his melancholy. “Father, I don’t understand.”

  “You will, my dear. Damn Lyon’s black soul to hell,” he choked out.

  “Father?”

  “Remember, our future happiness and that of the entire household rests on your shoulders. You are to do what’s expected to uphold the family name, when Lyon calls. But remember you’re not to fall for his wicked words, because you will not be marrying the rake. I’ve already seen to your future.” With that he released her and turned away, stumbling toward his apartments at the other end of the hall.

  Lily felt ill. Her stomach twisted into a thousand tiny knots. He’d seen to her future… what did that mean? Had the family’s finances slipped to such a low point that she’d be forced to marry? Was Richard some kind of creditor? Tildy helped her back into her sleep gown. Lily closed the door to her room after seeing the maid out and returned to bed. Her head pounded loud enough to mute all other sounds. She wasn’t sure what had happened last night, but something had disturbed her father beyond reason. He was a shattered shell of his former self—not that he’d been himself since her mother had died, but this seemed far worse. And according to her father, it was all Lord Lyon’s fault.

  *

  Morning faded to afternoon and still nothing untoward had occurred. Sitting back against her feather pillows Lily recalled what her father had said and began to question his warning, or at least that’s what she thought it had been, considering how ominously he’d delivered the message.

  But why warn her about Richard? She’d made it perfectly clear she had no interest in Lord Lyon last night—at least not for more than a few hours of distraction during galas. And her father had concurred heatedly. Yet he seemed fixated on Lord Lyon and Lord Martins. Lily shuddered at the thought of having Lord Martins’s clammy fingers upon her skin.

  Lady Waverly’s ball was to be held this evening, but Lily felt so out of sorts, that she decided to send her regrets in her stead. Feigning illness would keep up the charade she’d decided on last night and give the gossipmongers pause. Besides, she was in no mood to thwart unwanted attention from the young bucks prancing about town.

  And there was a very good chance she’d encounter Lord Lyon, which would not do at all. That event would only worsen her father’s present condition, not to mention her own. She knew in her heart she was not entirely immune to Lord Lyon’s charm and that troubled her greatly. Lily was no closer to the answers than she’d been at the start of the day.

  Tildy entered her room carrying lunch and insisting that she eat. Lily forced herself to take in some fresh meat and soup, then pushed the food away in frustration. She sent the tray back to the kitchen, deciding to start again anew on the morrow. Perhaps then her next move would be clear.

  *

  Lily awoke with a start, at the quiet rap sounding on her door. She took a ragged breath and glanced out the window. The last gasps of light faded to a shade of muted gray. Her eyes strayed back to the door. She’d obviously fallen asleep. The sound came again. Lily didn’t think she’d make it through another one of her father’s tirades.

  “Father, I fear, I’m unwell,” she called out to the person on the other side of the door.

  “My lady, ‘tis me, Tildy,” Lily’s maid whispered against the wood. “May I enter?”

  “Of course, Tildy, do come in.” Lily expected her maid was here to help her with her evening ablutions.

  The door opened and Tildy appeared, her uniform impeccable and her flaxen-colored hair swept back in a severe bun.

  “There is a gentleman downstairs, who says he’s here to take you for a ride in his carriage.”

  Lily glanced out the window. “But it’s almost dark.”

  “I mentioned that to him, my lady. He seemed… undeterred.” Tildy’s lips thinned.

  Lily shifted uncomfortably. “Who is this gentleman?” She knew without asking, but wanted her suspicions confirmed.

  “He says his name is Lyon.”

  Despite her efforts to control her reaction, Lily could feel the blood rush to her face. The temperature in her room increased tenfold. How could the mere mention of the man’s name wreak havoc on her sensibilities? Her stomach did a flip-flop when she recalled the kiss.

  “We’ve got to get him out of here, Tildy. Father cannot see him. He’s already troubled by something. I fear seeing Lord Lyon will only make it worse.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but the gentleman says he’s not leaving until he speaks with you.” The maid bit her lip. “He was quite insistent.”

  Lily’s chest squeezed as panic set in. She had to think. Where could she stuff Lyon without her father finding him? She scrambled from her bed, helping Tildy dress her in the same muslin sprig she’d put on this morning. Luckily she hadn’t taken down her hair. Tildy quickly straightened it, with a few tugs on her tresses.

  “Take Lord Lyon into the conservatory. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” She bobbed and turned to walk to the door.

  “And Tildy… “

  The maid stopped, her hand resting on the door handle. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Please hurry.”

  Tildy nodded and slipped out the door. Lily stood in the middle of her room, trying to calm her racing heart. Thoughts of the kiss she’d shared with Richard raced through her mind, sending her senses aflutter. She had to pull herself together. It wouldn’t do for a lady to appear flustered, especially from the attentions of a rake. It was time to clear the air.

  A few moments and several deep breaths later Lily descended the stairs. Her gaze darted, searching for her father. She prayed he’d retired for the night, listening for any sound that could spell his impending arrival.

  Her slippers were silent as Lily made her way to the conservatory. Tension ratcheted her spine, along with… anticipation. She dismissed the latter as foolishness. But Lily could not reject the throbbing of her breasts, the tightness of her nipples, and the inability to catch her breath as she neared her destination.

  Upon reaching the door, the smell of roses wafted, perfuming the warm air. She entered quickly, closing the door behind her, but didn’t immediately spot Richard. Lily wandered deeper into the room her eyes wide, searching for any sign of movement.

  Shadows danced along the glass, as the candlelight flickered, illuminating very little other than her muted reflection. Lily frowned, turning to circle back around to the other side of the room. She slammed into what felt like a wall, knocking the air from her lungs.

  Strong hands reached out to steady her. Despite the coolness of his fingertips, she felt the heat from the touch through her clothing, burning over her skin as if she’d been set aflame. Her gaze bulleted to the ivory shirt before her, that draped over top of a very masculine chest. Lily trembled as he released her and stepped back.

  “W-what are you doing here?” she whispered.

  In the dim lighting, she couldn’t quite make out his features, so it was impossible to read his expression clearly.

  An arrogant brow arched, impervious to the shadows. “Your maid told me to wait in the conservatory.”

&n
bsp; Her jaw clenched. “You know what I mean.”

  A smile flitted across his mouth. “I’ve come to take you for a turn about the park.”

  “But it is late… and Father’s… not well. I cannot possibly leave.”

  Richard tugged at his cuffs. “I think you’ll find that if you ask your father for his consent, he’ll be more than willing to give it.” His voice held a hint of hardness, giving her the distinct impression his words held a deeper meaning.

  Lily swallowed. “I believe, my lord, you are mistaken.” She could feel heat suffuse her cheeks.

  “I have made no mistake.” Richard reached out and ran a finger along her jaw line.

  Her chest squeezed and her heart thudded against her ribs. The air around them seemed to spark and crackle. Her attention riveted to him, moreover, to his mouth. How could a touch cause such a reaction? Why did this arrogant rakehell affect her so? This wasn’t her first season, she was no mere fledgling. Yet here she stood completely flustered.

  Lily composed herself, drawing strength from deep inside to push his hand away. “I’d like to speak to you about my father’s condition, since it somehow involves you.” She kept her tone purposely light. “Father’s words this morning were unclear, compared to last evening.”

  The muscles in his body tensed, despite his languid casualness. He paused a moment, averting his gaze, before returning to hers. “I know not what transpired earlier in the evening.” His voice cracked. “But I have spoken with your father at… length. He has granted me permission to offer for you after a suitable time of courtship.”

  She gasped. “Wha—when?”

  “If that’s acceptable,” he continued on, ignoring her question. “I shall post the banns shortly, once we are better acquainted.” The look he gave her was shockingly carnal. His gaze shifted over her body, lingering at her breasts before continuing down to rest casually on her mons, then returning to her face.

  Lily felt tingly as if his gaze alone stroked her, feathering across her skin like the warm exhalation of a long held breath. Her nipples tightened to hard thimbles, beneath her chemise.

  Forcing her mind away from her body’s reaction to him, Lily focused on what he’d said. She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d struck her. There was no chance her father had done a turnabout, much less on the same night. He’d been adamant about her staying far away from Lord Lyon before he’d left for Josephine’s. Lily’s stomach soured the second the name flitted through her mind. That sinful place had been nothing but trouble for her family since it opened.

  The courtship had been what her father had tried to tell her about when he came to her door earlier. If he hadn’t been so intoxicated and despondent she’d have taken him seriously. As it was she hadn’t been able to make sense of his ramblings. Had she not made herself clear last night? She knew that in society her opinion counted for little, but she’d thought her father would at least take it into consideration.

  The devilish voice in the back of her mind piped up. Why would allowing Lord Lyon to court you be such a bad thing? After all he’s far better than Lord Martins. Lily tapped her slippered foot and frowned, wrapping her arms around her waist. The situation made no sense. She wanted to rebel, protest, and demand to be listened to. She bit back a very unladylike curse.

  But even as she stumbled through the twists and turns of the events unfolding before her, a traitorous part of Lily rejoiced—that stubborn, childish part inside who believed in fairytales and true love. But as she gave it a moment’s pause, the reality of the situation began to sink in. He was no prince, here to sweep her off her feet, and save her from a life of loneliness. Richard was an unrepentant rake. She would be marrying a man who she could not trust, much less give her heart to. He could not possibly love her, for in truth, he did not know her. Was she doomed to repeat her mother’s mistakes?

  Last night her father had forbid their involvement and yet here Richard stood before her, unconcerned with her father’s wishes. Would he be the same where she was concerned? Lily didn’t like the answer her heart gave her. She had to put an end to these imaginings now.

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but I must insist you leave at once,” her voice quivered, despite her resolve. “I have no desire for you to make an offer for me. I’m quite happy with my life the way things are currently.”

  For a moment, Richard stood before her looking dumbfounded. Then with a swiftness, Lily hadn’t known was possible, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. He captured her mouth in a stunning embrace. His palms slid to her face, tilting her jaw enough to compliment his greater height. His lips were soft at first, coaxing, teasing, drawing out her response in minute increments. Lily found herself relaxing against him, surrendering to his tender touch.

  Richard deepened the kiss, taking over her senses, guiding her along a new path they’d yet to explore. His lips firmed against hers and he dipped his tongue into her mouth.

  Lily moaned. She was on fire. Her breasts ached and she felt moisture gathering at her feminine core. A steady throb had started inside her with no relief in sight. She pressed closer, trying to understand the need pulling at her body. Richard nipped her bottom lip.

  It stung for but a moment, before he swiped his tongue over the tender spot and gently sucked. He growled deep in his chest, then pulled back from the kiss. His nostrils flared as his lungs heaved in air. Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes for a second, then was gone before Lily could discover what it had been.

  His hand stroked the side of her face. “You have no idea what you do to me. How intoxicated I am in your presence. I’m drunk from your enchanting fragrance.”

  Lily couldn’t seem to catch her breath. His words seared her soul. Her body pulsed in a completely unfamiliar way. Never in her years had she experienced anything remotely as moving as Lord Lyon’s kisses. It was as if with one touch he turned her inside out, made her want to be a different woman than she was. She had to put a stop to this before she completely lost herself in him.

  As if reading her thoughts, he spoke. “Before you say a word, agree to ride with me,” he rasped. “We’ll discuss anything you like.”

  Lily considered for a moment, then opened her mouth to decline, but was as shocked as Richard if not more so, given his expression, when the word, “yes,” slipped from her lips.

  Without giving her a chance to recover, Richard moved her to the door of the conservatory and out into the hall. “I’ll be waiting at the entrance, while you fetch your pelisse.”

  “B-but—”

  He kissed her again, silencing her last protest.

  *

  The cool night air felt refreshing against Lily’s heated skin. She’d told herself before leaving that she had no intention of enjoying the ride, but here she sat, breeze in her hair, happy as a lark. She’d gone to her father’s room before rejoining Richard, to assure herself there’d been no mistake.

  Her father had paled at her words, clutching the brandy snifter tight enough to shatter it, but he hadn’t protested. Instead, he insisted she do her duty. Lily blanched at the thought of being forced to give herself to a man she barely knew and who her father clearly hated, even out of some strange sense of honor and family. She knew it was quite common for alliances to be achieved on far less.

  Why was she being called to duty now after her father had given her the names of the gentlemen he found acceptable for an alliance? This was too fast of a turnaround and made absolutely no sense…unless Richard truly was a creditor.

  Then she remembered the rest of her father’s warning. He’d said to not fall for any of Lord Lyon’s wicked words. He wanted her to act cordial, and then eventually turn Richard away. Her future had already been determined.

  With newfound dread, she readied herself and returned to the entry hall where Lord Lyon awaited her arrival. A shiver of unfettered excitement raced down Lily’s spine as her eyes roamed over his lean muscled form, before meeting his gaze. He had dressed in formal blac
k with gray breeches hugging his thick thighs. His Hessians sparkled in the dim lighting, along with the mahogany of his queued hair. Long lashes framed his obsidian-colored eyes, while sharp planes shaped a face that would make an archangel weep. Lily swallowed hard as he bowed over her hand and escorted her to the carriage parked out front of her home.

  Two handsome pairs pawed at the ground anxiously, waiting to be put through their paces. A footman held the team in place. Richard handed Lily into the unmarked carriage. “Draw the curtains tight until we reach the park. I want no mention of impropriety associated with your good name.”

  Lily nodded and did as he bid, closing and tying the curtains, so that no one could by chance peer in. The carriage shifted as he climbed up next to the footman. She found it quite strange to be taking a ride in Richard’s carriage at night, but also intriguing, as if they were getting away with something society would surely disapprove of. Lily had never been rebellious in any external fashion, so this tiny bit of danger thrilled her.

  Lily smiled and peeked out the window. She still had no intention of marrying any rake and she would explain her position the first chance she got. But that fact would not stop her from enjoying his company this evening.

  Lord Lyon was different from her other potential suitors. He had a steadfast confidence that was not feigned, yet there was an air of power and danger that clung to him like a second skin. His chiseled features were so strikingly pale against his mahogany-colored hair. And those obsidian eyes, seemed cold, yet hauntingly sad. The dichotomy intrigued her. Lily had the distinct impression that at any moment the mask would slip to reveal his true nature.

  Richard had carefully avoided all the crowded areas of town, swinging the chestnuts toward the park where they could glide unobserved. Upon reaching the park, he ordered the footman to stroll and then helped Lily out of the cab, up into the seat beside him. He slowed the team to a steady walk and set them upon the trail.