“My lord …”
“Ian,” he reminded her huskily, leaning in until Hero was pressed back against the trunk of the tree. Ian inhaled the scent of her, warm and musky from the heat with just a hint of lemon. She smelled as much like summertime as she looked. He ran a finger along the edge of her neckline, up until his fingers brushed against the length of her neck. Her skin was damp and warm, her pulse fluttering as wildly as he had thought. “Have you not thought on it at all since last night?” he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear. He felt her intake of breath stir against his cheek but when she remained silent, he persisted. “Do you deny it, Hero, when you did little more than torture me all night?”
Hero exhaled shakily, and Ian felt her fingers skim lightly over his cheek. “Did I? Oh, Ian,” she sighed, prompting Ian to draw back enough to meet her gaze. Hearing his name slip so easily from her lips ignited a flare of heat in Ian’s heart. She looked softly inviting, her lips parted and waiting for his kiss.
“Tell me,” he whispered, his brogue thick with desire.
“I want …”
“Daughter! Daughter! Look at me!”
Diverted by her father’s urgent calls, Hero turned away only to squawk in a most unladylike manner and cover her eyes with a gloved hand. “Good Lord, Papa!”
Ian, too, turned in time to see the Duke of Beaumont running across the short dock then jumping into the pond with a shout of pure glee … stark naked.
Chapter Twelve
“I can’t believe you can keep this all straight.”
“It just takes practice and familiarity, both of which you will gain in time.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Ian chided. “You are an amazing woman.”
Hero blushed with pleasure at Ian’s praise but bowed her head, and he couldn’t help but smile at her modesty. It seemed she had been in a constant flush all day, and he had enjoyed every moment of it. Despite her father’s interruption, their picnic and walk home had been enchanting. She hadn’t been able to stop looking at him beneath her lashes. He knew this, of course, because he had been much the same. His slow seduction had continued even while studying the ledgers all afternoon, though Hero had seemed determined to remain as businesslike as possible. He assumed she was wanting to make certain he’d didn’t regret accepting her help.
What he did regret was that in the last several hours, she hadn’t looked at him at all.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “I worked very hard to learn all there was to know about running this estate.”
“Well, I thank you for showing me so much already,” Ian went on, flipping idly through the pages of the ledgers he and Hero had been poring over. Though there was so much more to learn, Hero had shown remarkable intelligence and considerably more patience than Jennings in walking him through the workings of the property. The scope of his new responsibilities was still intimidating but at least he was beginning to believe that he would eventually have it all within his grasp. “If Jennings had explained the operation of the gas house as concisely as you have, I might have gotten a handle on the entire situation long ago.”
“Jennings is one who thinks that one should just know how things should be or politely stand aside and allow him to take over,” she explained. “He has little tolerance for me, I assure you. Robert let him have his own way with the estate for too many years, and Jennings likes to do things his own way. I’m sure he was hoping you’d be the same way.”
“More likely he was hoping I’d never turn up at all.”
“Never that,” Hero laughed. “Jennings would have liked the alternative even less, I’m sure.”
Hero’s eyes finally met his and though a gentle blush blossomed on her cheeks, she held his gaze. She truly had the most unusual eyes he had ever seen. Such a remarkable blend of blue and green, each color defined until they met and blended. He could stare into them forever, Ian thought, before an even more profound realization struck him. It wasn’t that he could. He wanted to.
It was a disturbing and unexpected realization.
Enthralled by the intense look in Ian’s eyes, Hero couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he recalling that sweet interlude under the willow tree? Regretting his actions as thoughtless and rash? It was difficult to let her heart assure her of the former when logic told her that her own feelings seemed impulsive and rash. That more time should pass before her emotions could be so firmly engaged.
This was the time for gentle words like admire and esteem, not like. Not love.
She needed to remember that. To not rush herself or Ian. Her mother had told her long ago that the swiftest way to disengage the attentions of a gentleman was to declare one’s feelings too quickly, and Hero didn’t want that at all.
“I’d like to apologize once again for my father’s behavior this afternoon,” she said finally, rising and taking a step away, breaking the intimate bubble that had cocooned them. “It was most unbecoming a duke of England.”
“Think nothing of it,” he responded, his brogue low and husky as he rose as well. He towered over her so Hero had to tilt her head back to look at him.
“And thank you once again for offering your aid in retrieving him. I don’t know how I would have gotten him out otherwise.”
Ian’s eyes were dark with something Hero couldn’t define, but she soldiered on, “You’re very good with him.”
“He’s a good man, Hero, if a tad impetuous.” Ian paused and reached out to take her hand. “Though I do not cater to the duke to gain your favor, it gratifies me that in doing so I please you.”
Hero blushed once again and looked down at their entwined hands. Oh, he did please her ever so much! “He is a good man, and no one shows him the kind of patience and even camaraderie that you have today. Not my brother or sisters or even myself.”
“Perhaps I get on so well with him because I am a child at heart myself,” Ian said with a nonchalant shrug. “But before you think too highly of me you should know that I so envied him the pleasure of jumping into those cool waters, I appreciated an excuse to follow him in. With the weather being so unusually hot, I would have been hard put not to encourage him to give it a go if he hadn’t leapt in on his own.”
Hero just shook her head and, rising to her toes, pressed a tender kiss to Ian’s cheek. “You are a good man, my lord Ayr. Thank you.”
Ian slanted his brows, offering a decidedly roguish grin. “If going about my normal business gains me your sweet kisses, I shall have to try to be a better man and see what more happens.”
Hero raised a brow at his suggestive words, trying to gauge his intent. “Are you toying with me, Lord Ayr? Now that I am not a sister, do you believe that a lonely widow in your home might be an easy conquest for you?”
The words might normally have offended Ian, impugning as they did his honor and integrity, but he couldn’t take offense. Her words were nothing more than an honest inquiry, he could tell. If Hero were curious for his intentions, he was no less. This entire situation, this unusual yet undeniable magnetism, was quite beyond anything he’d ever experienced. It had been so instantaneous that he couldn’t recall a single moment of detachment.
And he wasn’t alone in being rather mystified by the intense desire between them. Ian would wager his life on it. Hero felt the compelling attraction between them as irresistibly as he did, whether she had admitted as much or not. Her long looks over the tedious carriage ride the previous day and those in the gardens that morning had proven it, and he didn’t believe it was merely gratitude for him allowing Hero her home. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
All of it was a portent of things to come and, for a woman of questionable experience, perhaps a source of indecision. He could do little but say what was in his heart to calm her fears. Stepping closer, Ian reached out to cup her cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip as he pulled her closer. “Do you truly believe I toy with you, Hero? That I see you as nothing but a body to warm my bed?”
Her cheeks flushed scarlet but she didn’t look away. Nor did she answer.
A tender smile curled the corner of Ian’s mouth as he moved even closer, his other hand rising until he cradled her face in his hands. Hero tilted her head back to look up at him, her hands as if by their own will rising to his chest. He gazed down at her, her face partially cast in shadows in the waning light of the hall. “You are a beautiful woman, Lady Ayr, but not the only one in the world. Beauty only begins an attraction such as this. I believe there is much more awaiting us.”
“Much more?” she asked breathlessly as he stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “How much more?”
How much more indeed, Ian thought. He wanted her as his own. That much he had already acknowledged, but Ian didn’t want her for only a brief affair. He wanted her forever at his side. Good God, he was truly going insane to be thinking such nonsense after only a few days’ acquaintance. Especially when Ian had never considered sincerely courting a woman in all his thirty years.
But he was the marquis, some rational part of him argued in justification. He would need an heir someday, and for that he would need a wife. The idea of possessing this incredible woman, having her for his own, roused some raw, primal urge in Ian. He could have her.
Ian brushed his lips across her cheek before whispering in her ear, “So much more.”
He felt her shiver at the words as he trailed his lips lightly across her jaw until they hovered over hers. Ian felt her sigh, felt her hands clench against his shirt, inviting his lips to take hers.
“Daughter!” Beaumont bellowed, and Hero jumped away from Ian with a flush of embarrassment. She swallowed deeply, her tongue darting out to wet her suddenly dry lips. Ian’s eyes followed the motion and darkened with a desire even Hero could recognize.
“I believe your father has finally fallen into disfavor with me,” Ian said drily.
“Daughter, where are you?” her father yelled again. Suddenly the whole situation sent a shaft of humor and joy spearing through her and Hero bit her lip to stifle the grin that sprang to her lips. Ian’s touching words had whisked away the lingering uncertainty she’d had regarding his motives and left her with a bubble of elation that welled up inside of her until it spilled over in a burst of laughter.
“You think this is amusing?” Ian asked, though his lips were twitching now as well.
Hero laughed again, covering it with her hand to hide it as she leaned weakly against one of the nearby columns, losing her breath to her tightened corset. “Yes!”
Ian leaned in and took her lips in a brief but fierce kiss. Hero’s heart soared and pounded with excitement as he pulled away with a promise. “Be warned, fair Hero, one of these days, I’m going to seize the opportunity to kiss you properly.”
“Hero!”
“In here, Papa!” Hero called, dashing to the door before turning back and dipping a saucy curtsey to Ian. “I will look forward to it, my lord.”
Ian grinned back at her and Hero turned away, unable to stop the smile that stretched her cheeks.
“What is it, Papa?”
Her father bore the expression of a child who had lost his favorite toy. His cravat was skewed to the side and the rest of his clothing was equally rumpled. “I cannot find my rooms.”
“Oh, Papa,” Hero sighed, reaching up to straighten his cravat.
The duke’s day nurse, Simms, appeared breathlessly in the hall. “I’m sorry, m’lady. He got away from me.”
“No matter, Simms,” Hero said, looking back to find Ian lingering in the door of the study. A part of her wanted to remind Simms of the importance of his duties so that she might return to Ian. To see if he would hold on to his promise to kiss her properly right away.
“Who is that?” Beaumont asked, pointing at Ian.
“That’s the marquis, Papa, remember?” Sympathy wiped away the last of the humor in Ian’s expression and Hero knew the moment for flirtation and romance was past.
“Your husband?”
With a disappointed sigh she turned away. “Come, Papa, I’ll show you the way.”
“Do you think I could get a pudding before dinner?”
“Perhaps.”
“And with dinner as well?”
“Papa, really!”
Chapter Thirteen
Hero sucked in a gasp as Mandy tugged at her corset strings, retightening them after the “naptime” her doctor had suggested she indulge in to speed her recovery. Normally Hero might have welcomed a nap after the active morning and afternoon she had had but today she had merely laid on top of her bed linens clad in only a thin chemise that was little compensation to the heat of the day or to the heat mere thoughts of Ian Conagham fired in her.
Just a flash of that lopsided smile was enough to send her heart racing, but when it was accompanied by the brush of his knuckles across her cheek or the touch of his lips against the sensitive skin of her wrist, Hero felt as if she might truly swoon for the first time in her life. In such moments her head swam deliciously, her breath grew shallow, and her extremities—even her lips—would tingle.
It was desire. Want.
And so very euphoric. Never had she experienced such fascination before.
“My lady?”
Hero started with a blush. “Yes, Mandy?”
Her maid raised a curious brow. “I was wondering which gown you would like for dinner tonight?”
“The pink organdy, I think.”
“Oh,” Mandy said with a frown that pulled Hero away from her own thoughts. “You don’t think so?”
“It’s a lovely gown, my lady.”
Hero matched Mandy’s frown with one of her own, wondering what had prompted such a response. The gown was beautiful. The starched organdy had a gathered bodice and loose bell sleeves that were perfect for a hot summer night. “But? I thought we agreed that in coming to Cuilean and given the heat of the summer, putting off my mourning would be acceptable as long as I wasn’t out in Society.”
“It’s not that, my lady. I was just thinking that perhaps the trio of ruffles at the bottom are a wee bit girlish?” the maid offered haltingly.
“Too girlish for what?” Hero smiled teasingly. “Am I getting too old for a flounce or two?”
“Oh, no, my lady!” Mandy rushed to assure her, then bit back a smile when she saw the amusement on her mistress’s face. It must have emboldened her because she added more confidently, “Perhaps the red silk?”
Hero’s eyes widened. “The red? Isn’t that a bit sophisticated for a simple dinner at Cuilean?”
“I thought that perhaps Lord Ayr might appreciate the …” Mandy pointed with one finger to a spot low on her bosom and Hero felt a blush rush to warm her cheeks once again. Turning away to hide what it might reveal, Hero sat at her dressing table so that Mandy could go to work on her hair.
Mandy brushed her long hair silently for a few moments until Hero found herself asking,
“What makes you think I’m trying to impress the marquis?”
“Aren’t you, my lady?”
“You’re being impertinent, Mandy,” Hero said sternly, but she knew the reprimand wouldn’t stop the maid from voicing her thoughts. After ten years, Mandy often felt she had earned the right to her opinion. Hero wasn’t wrong there.
“Look at him, my lady,” Mandy said as she twisted a lock of hair and expertly jabbed in a hairpin to secure it before moving on to another. “He’s what the maids in the scullery call a braw, bonny lad. It’s plain he’s taken a shine to you as well.”
“Is it?” Hero’s heart raced at the thought.
“Mmm,” Mandy hummed in the affirmative as she braided a long narrow strand and looped it around the twisted curls. “Just as it’s obvious that you are attracted to him.”
Hero cringed at that. “Is it?”
The maid only patted her shoulder. “I’ve been with you a long time, my lady. The others don’t see what I can. But why not take a chance with the marquis? You could do wors
e.”
“I’ve hardly been widowed a year.”
“To a man old enough to be your father,” Mandy replied promptly. “Think what it would be like with a man like Lord Ayr.”
Since that was all Hero had been able to think about, it took but a moment for her cheeks to bloom brightly once again. She thought of his all too brief but tantalizing kisses and his promise to kiss her properly. What exactly did properly entail?
How could it possibly be more exhilarating?
Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try something that would be more inviting to him.
“So the red?” Mandy said with a smile when she saw the light in Hero’s eyes.
“No, no, but perhaps the ivory silk?”
Mandy thought on that, then nodded before turning to the wardrobe to pull out the gown. She eyed it critically but seeming satisfied, helped her mistress dress. Hoops and petticoats went on and then the two-tiered skirt. The overskirt was ivory silk that was almost the same shade as her hair. It hung over the apple green silk underskirt in a swooping scalloped hem that was trimmed in a long ivory fringe. The hem of the green was edged in smaller scallops finished with a wide green and ivory striped ribbon. The same green was also appliqued in long scalloped cutouts on the ivory overskirt. The bodice’s shoulder-baring neckline mirrored the scalloped hem of the skirt and was trimmed by a shorter ivory fringe that tickled against her bare arms. A green and ivory striped belt emphasized her tiny waist.
By comparison to the wide skirts, the bodice seemed minimal. A jade cameo set at the low V between her breasts drew attention to the swell of her breasts. It was far more subtle than the red, but elegant and alluring nonetheless.
“Lord Ayr will be agog, my lady,” Mandy said with a smile as she set the latch on the matching necklace. “You are perfect.”
Perfectly attired?
Perfectly excited was more like it.
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