Desire n-3

by Nicole Jordan

  The day of the garden party dawned bright with sunshine. At the appointed hour of two, she found Lucian awaiting her in the entrance hall.

  His eyes followed her as she descended the grand staircase. There was nothing in her costume to earn his disapproval, Brynn knew; her high-waisted gown of pale jade jaconet, with a floral-patterned shawl draping her arms, was almost modest. Her hair was sedately tamed in a chignon, except for a few errant curls wisping at her temples, and mostly hidden by a jaunty, close-fitting hat adorned with knots of jade ribbon.

  Brynn endured his inspection silently, mentally daring him to comment, but he merely offered her his arm in silence and escorted her to the waiting carriage.

  Only when they were settled did she really notice Lucian’s appearance. He was dressed with his usual damn-your-eyes elegance in a blue coat and buff breeches, and his striking features were so handsome that she found it hard to catch her breath in such close quarters with him.

  There was little conversation between them at first, until Lucian bestirred himself to tell her about the guests she was likely to meet, particularly his many relatives. He had more than a dozen cousins in London alone.

  Brynn found her curiosity aroused, despite her resolve to keep their relationship impersonal. “Raven says your favorite cousin isn’t even English.”

  Lucian’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “No, Nicholas Sabine is American. He was here in England this past summer, in disguise.”

  “Why in disguise? ”

  “Because he was accused of piracy. Nick is an adventurer who ran afoul of the British navy and wound up marrying an Englishwoman.”

  “Raven told me of his marriage, but nothing about why.”

  “It is an interesting story, but I was out of the country during most of Nick’s visit, so I’m not privy to the details. I expect you should ask Raven. The two of you seem to be growing close.”

  Brynn fell silent at Lucian’s suggestion, remembering her vow to have no intimate interaction with him other than what was strictly necessary to maintain civility.

  She gave a cool, curt reply, and turned her attention to the passing landscape outside the carriage window. If she saw the way his lips tightened, she ignored it.

  The Edgecomb estate was on the outskirts of London, near Richmond, and along the bank of the Thames River. Brynn felt her nervousness rise as they drew closer, wondering how she would endure the scrutiny of Lucian’s scornful relatives and disdainful acquaintances.

  By the time they arrived, a goodly number of guests were milling about the grounds to the rear of the estate. The elegant gardens bore a formal design, with stately rows of yew trees and myrtles lining the smooth gravel paths, interspersed with occasional statuary and giant urns. Beyond, an immaculate lawn led down to the river. Brynn could see rowboats on the water and an archery range that had been set up to provide entertainment.

  Lady Edgecomb received Brynn with the same frosty stare as before, yet unlike during their last meeting, the lady seemed prepared to bite her tongue. She extended a stiffly courteous welcome, even though her mouth puckered as if she were sucking lemons.

  After a moment of polite conversation, Lucian took Brynn’s arm to stroll the garden avenues and meet the various guests. Several of his cousins were present-both genders and of varying ages. If he disliked any of them, Brynn couldn’t tell, for he exchanged pleasantries with every evidence of his usual charm and appeared to overlook their obvious fawning.

  Much to Brynn’s surprise, Lucian seemed almost proud to proclaim her his wife. Even more surprising, he was oddly protective of her. She felt the heat of his body as he stood close beside her, the strength of his hand that rested so casually at the small of her back, but for once she accepted his possessive touch with gratitude rather than dismay. Despite the cold reserve that existed in their marriage, he apparently had decided to shield her from the sniping and criticism of his relatives.

  Brynn was quite aware that they were the center of attention-not just herself, but Lucian as well. Other women followed him with their eyes, hunger evident in their expressions, a hunger Lucian appeared not to notice.

  The first half hour passed without incident, even when they encountered Lady Agatha again. The dowager’s chill seemed to thaw marginally, but when Lucian ushered Brynn toward another group, she audibly let out her breath.

  “Relieved?” he murmured, as if understanding.

  “Yes. That wasn’t as bad as I feared. At least your aunt didn’t swallow me alive.”

  Lucian’s mouth curved in a wry half smile. “I never expected her to. I’m certain you can hold your own with Lady Agatha or anyone else.”

  His praise unaccountably warmed Brynn, but just then she caught the reflection of sunlight off the river. The pastoral scene could have been an oil painting, with willows growing along the bank and fleecy clouds scudding overhead.

  “How lovely. May we walk that way?”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  When Lucian offered his arm, she took it and strolled with him down toward the river.

  “This is nothing like the ocean,” she said wistfully, pausing to view the scene. “But I miss having a view of the water. I miss being able to swim whenever I wish.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. A sea siren should be allowed to cavort in her kingdom.”

  She heard the amusement in his tone and glanced up at Lucian to find him regarding her with an intimate warmth in his eyes.

  “I’m afraid you cannot swim just now,” he added, “but if you like, we can return here at another time so you can indulge your secret vice.”

  Brynn felt herself tense at the unwanted tender moment between them. Her pleasure faded, as did Lucian’s smile.

  “Come,” he said evenly, “there are more guests to meet.”

  He had just turned her back toward the house when a fair-haired gentleman crossed the lawn to intercept them. Lucian’s features showed genuine affection as the two men greeted each another.

  “My dear, let me make known one of my closest friends, Dare North, Earl of Clune-and now the Marquess of Wolverton. Dare came into the title recently when his grandfather passed away.”

  Wolverton flashed a wickedly charming smile as he bowed over her hand. “A pleasure, my lady. I heard Lucian hung himself in the parson’s noose, but after seeing what a lovely lady he chose, I can almost understand why. The rumors of your beauty don’t do you justice.”

  Brynn kept her own answering smile curt. She had no intention of arousing male attention, certainly not that of a rake like Lord Clune-or Wolverton, she amended. He was a rogue of the first order and one of the founders of the Hellfire League. News of his outrageous exploits had penetrated even to Cornwall.

  “I have heard of you as well, my lord. Your reputation precedes you.”

  His grin was slow and lazy and in its own way as powerfully magnetic as her husband’s. “I am not nearly as wicked as the gossips make me out to be.”

  Lucian’s laugh held amusement. “Don’t believe it for a minute, my dear. Dare has half the ladies in England swooning over him, and the other half quaking in outrage at his scandals.”

  Wolverton actually winked at her, which made Brynn struggle to swallow a smile. She could well understand his dangerous appeal to the ladies.

  “I don’t suppose you have any sisters?” Wolverton asked in a leading tone.

  “I have five brothers, my lord.”

  “A pity-”

  Just then Raven came up to them. “Clune!” she exclaimed after pressing cheeks with Brynn in greeting. “Or I should say Wolverton…When did you get back from inspecting your new family seat?”

  Surprisingly, he bussed her cheek with a kiss that held more brotherly affection than ardor. “I returned just this morning, vixen. I trust you have missed me.”

  “Most certainly. No one but you appreciates a good gallop in the park. I’ll wager half the female population has found London impossibly dull without you.”

 
“I should hope so. Where is Halford?”

  Raven waved in the direction of the house. “Speaking with some of his friends. He has no skills in archery, and I am dying to learn.” Her betrothed, the Duke of Halford, was some twenty years her senior, Brynn knew, and had no interest in most of Raven’s activities. “Do come with me, Brynn. Pickering has offered to teach me to shoot, and I don’t wish to be the only novice.”

  After glancing at Lucian, Brynn nodded and excused herself.

  Both noblemen followed her progress as she and Raven joined a group of gentlemen at the archery butts. Lucian didn’t much like seeing Brynn consorting with the same young bucks who had written poetry to her last week, but he could hardly forbid her participation in an innocuous sport, held in public and in broad daylight. Especially when she could claim so few acquaintances in her new life.

  He felt a measure of guilt over that. He hadn’t made the transition easy for Brynn, leaving her alone so much of the time. But he’d thought it best to avoid her, for her sake as well as his own. Being in her company made his own dilemma that much more difficult. His fierce need to visit her bed each night was growing out of control. He was becoming obsessed- and that knowledge disturbed him deeply.

  When he heard a throat being politely cleared, he realized Dare was watching him with an unusually somber expression.

  “You always did have exquisite taste in women, Luce, but marriage?”

  Lucian shrugged. He could hide his thoughts from most people, but not his closest friend, so he didn’t even try. “I want a son.”

  “I thought you went to Cornwall to sniff out traitors.”

  “I did.”

  “But you were seduced into marriage, as rumor says?”

  “Quite the contrary. I was the one who insisted we wed.”

  “Well…” Dare returned his gaze to Brynn. “I can certainly understand why you would wish to claim her. There is something about her… A quality beyond beauty. It’s quite bewitching.”

  It was a rare statement coming from a true connoisseur of women, Lucian knew. “She is unlike anyone I’ve ever known,” he said in a low voice. “Since meeting her, all I’ve done is think with my loins.”

  “I would never have guessed it from the gossip. Word is you’ve been avoiding her, spending all your evenings at your club. This is the first time you’ve even been seen together in public. Rumor has it that yours is not a happy union.”

  “That much is true. I essentially had to coerce Brynn to the altar, and she hasn’t forgiven me for it yet.” He felt his friend’s penetrating gaze. “But I can at least put the rumors to rest about my not wanting her.”

  The marquess grimaced. “I hope you don’t mean to curtail your activities with the League? When Sin wed, he forgot all about his Hellfire companions, claiming he was stricken by the hopeless malady called love.”

  Lucian nodded at the memory. Damien Sinclair, known as Lord Sin to the ton, had been one of their leading members before he fell hard for a beautiful widow who had acted as companion to his invalid sister.

  “I’m afraid I’ve already begun to curtail my activities,” Lucian said.

  “In the name of respectability?”

  “Primarily. I owe it to my name and title to put my wilder days behind me.”

  Dare gave a deep sigh that was only slightly exaggerated. “This is a dark day for libertines. We will miss you, Luce.”

  Trying to shake off his somber mood, Lucian glanced pointedly at the other nobleman. “I needn’t warn you to keep away from my wife, do I, Dare?”

  “Certainly not.” He flashed an amiable grin. “I would never poach on a friend’s private preserve. I have that much honor.”

  Lucian nodded. Dare’s devil-may-care charm hid a surprising depth of intellect and feeling, though he seldom revealed it. And while he might not flinch at cuckolding an adversary, he would never betray a friend-Lucian would have wagered his life on it.

  “Your wife seems to be quite the center of attention at the moment,” Dare mused aloud.

  Lucian followed his gaze to find a knot of gentlemen gathered around Brynn. From the looks of it, they were publicly vying for her favors.

  He felt himself stiffen. He couldn’t blame them for being entranced by her vibrant beauty, but it incensed him all the same. As did his inability to control his jealousy.

  Just then the crowd suddenly parted, and Lucian realized an altercation had sprung up between two of the archers. Even from a distance, he could see Brynn was in the thick of it.

  Frozen by incredulity, Lucian watched as the fight showed no signs of abating. One gentleman struck the other, then was felled to the ground with a reciprocal blow. When Brynn stepped between them, she was nearly bowled over-

  Lucian felt a surge of fear that shook him from his stupor. Lunging into action, he sprinted across the lawn, intent on protecting her. When he reached the two combatants, he grasped the first one by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to his feet.

  Hard on Lucian’s heels, his friend Dare took hold of the second brawler, while Raven began chiding both fighters in a fierce undertone.

  “Stop this nonsense at once, both of you! You should be ashamed of yourselves, causing such a spectacle.”

  “But I wanted to be the one to teach Lady Wycliff,” Lord Hogarth said plaintively, wincing in pain as Lucian’s choking hold tightened on his collar.

  “She said I could have the honor,” Pickering muttered.

  Brynn stood to one side now, looking shaken. When Lucian eyed her narrowly, her cheeks flushed with guilt and she turned away, refusing to meet his gaze.

  Lucian felt a swell of anger. His first instinct was to pummel both young bucks with his fists for fighting over his wife. His second was outrage at Brynn herself for being the cause of their brawl.

  When Hogarth began to cough, however, Lucian forced himself to release his grip.

  Raven was still venting her fury on the hapless miscreants. Both gentlemen appeared chastened now, and both sported wounds: one a bloody lip, the other an eye that would doubtless turn black and blue.

  When she fell silent, Dare spoke up, making light of the situation in an evident attempt to ease the tension. “Perhaps this might be the ideal time to return to the house for refreshment.”

  “Yes,” Raven agreed, still fuming. “We have had quite enough entertainment for one afternoon.”

  The crowd dispersed then, one of the gentlemen limping, the other carrying himself rigidly as if nursing a grudge.

  Brynn would have followed, but Lucian caught her arm and said in a dangerous voice, “I thought I warned you about the need for propriety.”

  She stiffened at his touch. “I was simply learning to shoot,” she replied, her chin lifting with a measure of defiance.

  Lucian had to clamp down on his own anger. “If you care to shoot, I will be the one to teach you.”

  “How curious. I suddenly find I have lost my appetite for archery.”

  Pulling her arm from his grasp, Brynn turned and walked away.

  Lucian swore under his breath, struggling against the urge to follow her and drag her back to him. He wasn’t normally given to fits of jealous rage, but his possessiveness where Brynn was concerned was utterly savage. Bloody hell, he had to get control of himself.

  Bending, he snatched up a bow and notched an arrow, then drew it back and let the missile fly with a whooshing thud. It struck the target dead center.

  When he turned, however, he realized he wasn’t alone. Dare was regarding him with something akin to sympathy.

  “I must say, I don’t envy you,” his friend said softly. “If this is what marriage leads to, I believe I shall pass.”

  Only when Lucian was alone with Brynn in the carriage, driving home, did he have the chance to mention the fray on the archery range that had caused a minor scandal among the company. “Would you care to explain how you managed to create a sensation less than an hour into the party after you agreed to behave with circumspection?�
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  Brynn gave him a wounded look that was edged with indignation. “You cannot believe I deliberately encouraged that dispute?”

  Lucian found himself gritting back a reply. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely to blame. Perhaps she hadn’t purposefully orchestrated a public fight over her attentions. But she could certainly have prevented a spectacle by simply keeping away from those two young hotheads and not giving them cause to drool over her. “Can’t I? I think you deliberately encouraged those pups to make fools of themselves over you.”

  “You are quite wrong. I’ve told you before. The curse makes men do foolish things when they are around me.”

  “Then I suggest you not allow them to be around you.”

  “Are you saying I must shun their company?”

  “I am saying I would like you to avoid scandal. I don’t enjoy seeing my countess become a public spectacle.”

  “Then you should never have wed me,” Brynn said stiffly. “I warned you how it would be.”

  Annoyed, Lucian frowned. “What are you about, Brynn? Is this your means of revenge for having to wed me-to disgrace me and our marriage before the ton?”

  “No, of course not. It is merely the curse at work.”

  “I don’t believe in such things as curses.”

  “Perhaps you should.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I have been tolerant until now,” he said finally, “but my patience can be stretched only so far.”

  She gave him an arch look. “And what will you do when it breaks, Lucian? Beat me? Lock me away with nothing but bread and water? ”

  “I can think of far more pleasant ways to control a recalcitrant wife.”

  Brynn flushed but lifted her chin. “I may be your wife, but you do not rule me,” she retorted before lapsing into chill silence.

  Lucian set his jaw as he surveyed his beautiful wife sitting rigidly in her corner of the carriage seat. How had their relationship deteriorated to this? This icy contention wasn’t what he had planned when he had taken her in marriage.