Oh, Cherry Ripe

by Claudy Conn

  However, pretending to be asleep was not getting him anywhere. He sat up, which got her attention, and he inquired in a husky voice, “Well, then, a name, please … I must have a name.”

  “Oh!” She gasped. “I thought you were asleep.”

  He moved to her side of the coach and pressed closer. “Now, how could I sleep with you so near?”

  “Hmmm,” she answered agreeably. “I had been thinking the same about you.”

  He laughed and looked at her face before he took her now ungloved fingers, found her wrist, and put it to his lips. It was, he knew, audacious, and he was surprised that she did not object. “Now then, my beauty, what is your name?”

  “Sarah … Parker,” she said easily but fidgeted and did not meet his eye; however, before he could continue to question her, she took over and asked, “And yours, sir?”

  “Ah.” His voice was low as he bent his head and nibbled at her neck and then her ear, again surprised that she allowed it. “Shall I tell you now or later?”

  His efforts he knew had excited her. He was an experienced man and understood her reactions at once. But she seemed in control and pulled away from him.

  “Now, if you please,” she answered. “And do stop that, sir.”

  It irritated him that she called him sir. It was not what he wanted to hear on her lips. However, wariness got past the drink, and he thought he would give her his middle name, “Justin,” he said.

  “And is it not followed by another?”

  He was reluctant to tell her he was Lord Westbrooke. It might put her to caution, it might make her feel uncomfortable, and it could also get him into trouble. “All you need to know is that it is Justin.”

  “Is that so? And will you heed me if Justin is all I have to go by?”

  “If your lips speak, I must always take heed,” he answered gallantly.

  She giggled. “Then do release me, sir, for you have me in quite a tight grip.”

  Indeed, he had her pressed to himself so he could feel her beautiful, well-shaped, full breasts up against him. He smiled at her, only loosening his hold a mite. “You still have not called me by my name.” He bent and dropped a soft kiss on her lips, noting with pleasure how full and ripe they were.

  “Justin, then, please … I trusted you not to take unfair advantage of me,” she said softly.

  Her words nearly sobered him, and he sat up straight, saying lightly, “Advantage is not something I meant to take of you, child. You have naught to fear from me.”

  She smiled. “Do you see any fear in my eyes?”

  He looked into them and said, his voice low and hungry once more, “No … I see a contradiction to your words. I see an invitation. Do they lie?”

  “No, for you were very kind to take me all the way to Lymington—a five-hour journey at best—and the truth is I was loath to do it by myself in the dead of night.”

  “Zounds, woman, I don’t know what can have driven you to it,” he exclaimed with some feeling. She had a vixen-like quality that was most appealing if not downright seductive.

  “I have my reasons, believe me,” she answered simply and smiled softly at him.

  “How old are you?” he demanded suddenly.

  “One and twenty,” she answered proudly.

  “Lord, then why aren’t you safely married?” he asked with genuine surprise.

  “Haven’t fallen in love yet.”

  He laughed caustically. “Love is a notion. It doesn’t really exist. Settle for comfort, child.”

  She sighed. “You are so unfeeling … unromantic. I am afraid that I would not be comfortable without love in my marriage.”

  “You don’t know what you are talking about. Love is a deuced nuisance. Settle for friendship. Love mucks up a person’s mind, be sure of it,” he grumbled and sat back against the thick squabs to contemplate his remark with more anger than sadness.

  He turned when he felt her eyes bore through him and frowned. “What?”

  “I see what it is. Some awful woman has hurt you very desperately.”

  He made a motion with his hand, and his expression scoffed the idea, but his mind felt a rush of surprise. How could she know that? “Makes a nice tale, but I have never let a woman close enough to hurt me.”

  “How sad,” she said with a long sigh.

  He eyed her with a mischievous grin. “Why is that sad? Ah, for the women who have missed their chance?”

  She laughed. “Nooo—that is not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “I meant that you have a very cynical attitude about women, about love, and that is what is sad.”

  “Is it? I rather think it is wise. Love often spoils what a man and woman could have together.”

  “And what can they have without love?” she was surprised into asking.

  He answered her in his fashion—with action. Once more she was drawn into his embrace, once more she heard his low murmur, and once more she felt her blood begin to make a hot, rushing target of her heart as he murmured, “Here, beauty, let me show you …”

  His lips parted hers, nibbled at her lower lip, and seduced her mouth to open wide for his sensuous tongue until it was making love to hers. His hand moved from her waist and found her full breast. In shock, she pushed at him and sat away as she eyed him warily. She rebuked him quietly. “Please, Justin … do not.”

  “No? Don’t you want me to kiss you?” he teased, flicking her nose with his forefinger in an easy, affectionate manner. “Because your body tells me otherwise.”

  “Well, as to that, you do it so well and you are so very handsome that it would be very odd for me not to want you to kiss me. However, my body does not rule my head.”

  He laughed out loud. He had never before encountered such a forthright-speaking chit. He took her chin between his fingers and told her, “I like you, Sarah Parker.” He then sighed. “But you are certainly a brat and one that is on the run … so very odd … this is all so very odd.”

  She pulled away from his touch. “I am too old to be called a brat, and it is not odd. If men would only stop thinking women do not know what they want … things might improve.”

  He laughed again. “A brat and yet too old to be single,” he retorted tauntingly.

  A tease lit her face. “Is this a proposal, Justin? You know just because you kissed me doesn’t mean I expect you to marry me.”

  He laughed at that and pulled her back into his arms. “Aye then, so I may safely kiss you again …” And he proceeded to do just that.

  What was she doing? She asked herself that over and over again, but she knew. She was kissing a perfect stranger. She was embarking on a wild adventure … much like Lady Caroline, only she did not approve of Lady Caroline, and that made her frown. She sighed and pushed him away.

  “Enough, sir.”

  He sighed, but the drink had taken over and made him sleepy. He smiled, touched her cheek, and proceeded to fall asleep with his head in the corner.

  ~ Five ~

  THE MORNING CAME blasting before Lady Elton’s hazel eyes. It was not the brightness of the day that sent her bolt upright in her bed. It was not the hot cocoa that burnt her tongue that sent her into a thither. It was the answer to the casual question she had put to her maid, “Is Cherry dear still in bed?”

  “No, m’lady …” ventured Lady Elton’s maid, avoiding eye contact. She had not found Cheryl Elton in the house and had already, in fact, sent a lackey to the stables to inquire after her.

  “No? Where is she then?” Lady Elton asked, feeling a twinge of something she could not then explain to herself.

  “I am not certain, m’lady,” the maid returned, setting out her ladyship’s clothing for the morning.

  “Are you not?” Lady Elton’s brow was up. She was aware that her dear Maria was overly fond of Cheryl and would ‘cover up’ for her if she could. “Indeed. Have Miss Cheryl attend me at once.”

  “That I would, m’lady, if I could,” Maria primly answered,
her hands folding into themselves against her midriff.

  “But you can’t, can you?” Lady Elton was near to shrieking. “Why not? Where has that dreadful girl of mine gone?”

  A soft knock sounded at the closed door, and Maria went to open it a crack, stepping out into the hall when she saw who it was. Her ladyship heard the exchange of whispers with full misgiving as she got up, slipped on her robe, and padded over to pull the door wide. There stood two guilty-looking employees, and she demanded, “Where has she gone off to? No fabrications, if you please.”

  “It would appear Miss Cheryl ’as … run away,” the lackey said and lowered his gaze.

  Lady Elton’s hand went to her heart. Families had been ruined for lesser scandals than this would cause should it be discovered. “Run away …?”

  Maria began to cry and turned to shout at the lackey. “You will not speak of this to anyone … do you hear me?”

  He nodded and began backing up as he answered, “Never … never would oi do so … loike working ’ere and mean no ’arm to Miss Cheryl, who ’as always treated me foine …”

  The boy was allowed to vanish, and Maria went to hug her ladyship and cry, “The poor wee darlin’. Ye can’t go bring a lass like she be to her knees. It won’t fadge, m’lady, and so I warned ye, I did.”

  “Run away … but … why?”

  “Why? Did ye not tell her she would have to marry a total stranger?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “A man she had never clapped eyes on?”

  “Yes, but … oh …” Her ladyship suddenly realized that very man was due later that morning. “Maria, what shall I tell him?”

  “Miss Cheryl will not be seeing anyone as she is in bed with a quinsy.”

  “Yes, that will work.” Lady Elton grabbed her trusted maid’s shoulder. “That will work, and a quinsy will give us time to find her and bring her home.”

  Lady Elton felt a wave of nausea shake her inner being. “My girl has always been so capable, so clever … but, Maria … she left all by herself.” A tear formed and rolled down her plump cheek. “Did she not realize … in the end, if she did not care for him, I would not have forced her to marry … oh, Maria, what she must think of me!”

  “Miss is not a biddable girl. Ye set her against him just by telling her she hadn’t a choice. I told ye what it would be, I said let them meet first … see if he suits her, but, no, ye wouldn’t listen to Maria—”

  “Stop it, you dreadful woman! Can’t you see I am upset enough? Where can she be?”

  “She is a good-hearted girl. As soon as she can, she will send ye word, she will.”

  “What if she is in trouble, Maria? What—”

  “Now, now, my lady … ye know as well as I that Miss is more likely to be causing trouble than to be in it. She can take care of herself.”

  * * *

  Sky Westbrooke held his head, closed his eyes, and held up his hand to block the morning’s bright rays of sunshine. He had to steady himself, which he attempted to do.

  He reopened his eyes and found his reflection in the long looking glass before him. Seeing his dark blue eyes lined with red, he exclaimed, “Egad!”

  Another groan escaped him, and as he stared at himself, he thought the devil himself couldn’t look worse. His black hair was ruffled in wild disorder, and he looked older than his twenty-eight years. Last night had become something of a blur. Where he was, precisely, he hadn’t a clue, and how he had got there was a total mystery.

  What he did recall, vividly, was a pair of sparkling aqua-blue eyes and a lilting, musical bubble of laughter. Little vixen. Somehow she had dragged him to the New Forest itself, or had he offered to escort her there?

  No matter; they had taken a drive that seemed to have flit by but he knew was at least four or five hours. He had found himself rousing a plump and sweet-faced elderly woman who clucked her tongue at him and ushered them within her small salon. There seemed something unreal about the entire memory.

  Somehow the pretty … Sarah Parker, he remembered her name, had told him he could sleep on the small sofa, but he had removed himself and his driver to the local inn. That’s where he was … at an inn!

  Bloody hell! He had an appointment to meet with Lady Elton and finish up the details of his betrothal in an hour. He sighed and supposed he wouldn’t be making that appointment anytime soon.

  The best thing he could do was bathe, dress, and return home, where he would send a letter of apology and a request to meet his intended on the following morning.

  He sighed as he thought about leaving without visiting Sarah Parker, for she was a delectable piece of fluff he was sure he could bed with a little effort. She was a mystery, though, and he wished he could remain and uncover her secrets. She was a gently bred miss, yet wild to a fault, running about in the dead of night. She had the air of quality, and yet she was remarkably independent—and he had found himself totally drawn to her. However, life was taking him in another direction, and it would be best if he put the little vixen out of his mind …

  * * *

  The new morning’s rays of sun seemed brighter in the New Forest as Cheryl blinked, moved lazily in her soft bed, and then, with sudden recall, sat bolt upright. “Faith!” she exclaimed out loud as the events of the night came pouring into her mind.

  She had slept deeply and without incident—couldn’t even remember dreaming—and now in the newness of the late morning she realized just what she had done and just what the consequences would be. “Oh … oh …”

  Her eyes rose heavenward. “What have I done?”

  Her outrage with her stepmother’s announcement that she had ‘picked out a husband’ for her had led her astray and into uncharted seas. Now she was a bit in the suds, but she told herself she didn’t have a choice—she had to see it through.

  She recalled how unbending her stepmama had been and clucked over the memory. What was done was completely done. In fact, if she had remained, she would soon be greeting a total stranger and hearing her mother call him her fiancé! No—oh no.

  Her anger came to her rescue and advised that she was very right to have run away. Her stepmama had meant business and left her no choice in the matter. Cherry would not be tied to a man she didn’t even know!

  A knock sounded at her bedroom door, and a plump, pink, sweet face appeared. “Ah, so my little widgeon is finally awake?” Polly Corbett clucked her way into the room and moved to the nightstand to set down her tray.

  “Oh, Polly … please don’t be angry with me.” Cherry jumped to her feet and threw her arms around the plump woman.

  “Whist with you, silly goose. Of course I am not angry.” Polly sat down and sighed as her hand slid back and forth over the armrest of the maroon brocade upholstered ladies’ chair. She indicated the cup of hot cocoa with her chin. “Sip your cocoa, and you and I will have a nice long chat.”

  Cherry took up the warm brew, plopped on the bed, and pulled the covers round her underclothes. “I don’t know where to begin, and don’t tell me at the beginning, for then this might take forever.”

  “Straight and to the point—no bends. Start at where you think this particular beginning might be, and if I think there is more that I need to know, I will tell you.” Polly was no fool, and she knew her girl very well.

  “First, and to be fair to Mama, I should tell you that I have been kicking up quite a lark after lark in London.”

  “So I gathered from your letters.” Polly nodded.

  “Yes, well, my last little adventure seemed to cause more than a stir …” Cheryl bit her bottom lip. “Oh, Polly, Mama said an Almack’s patroness had actually indicated to her I would be refused a season’s voucher.” She frowned. “Not that I care a fig for such things … but Mama does, and I must admit I did find myself snubbed by some of the dowagers at the last function.” Sighing, she looked at her former governess/nanny and admitted, “You would not have approved.”

  “No, child,” Polly said gently, “but tell me b
efore you tell me anything else. What prompted you to create such a fuss?

  “Polly—rules for women are outrageous. They suffocate what a woman can be, what she can do … women like myself need to break out and change things …”

  “Yes, dear, but that isn’t what all this is about, is it?”

  “No, it is London … I wish I were back at Elton running about the country as I was wont to do … I don’t want to look for a husband. I think it will just happen when it is meant.”

  “Ah, in London you must sit properly, dance properly, never ride astride …” Polly smiled sweetly. “I understand that all went against the grain, and the longer you had to endure, the worse your behavior became. Just like my girl.”

  “I have been so heartily bored … and then one of the young men who is forever courting me challenged me in Hyde Park.”

  “So you took up this rascal’s challenge … and did what?”

  “I galloped through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour—not just galloped, Nanny, but I raced this outrageous London beau …” Cherry let the remaining words trail off as she pulled a face and recalled vividly what she had done. The expression on her dear nanny’s face made her realize just how brazen she had been.

  “Dear God, dearest child, there is little worse than that!” Nanny returned in shocked accents.

  “I suppose, and Mama was so very enraged. I have never seen her like that before.”

  “Never say you ran away because your mama was angry with you?”

  “No … not exactly …”

  “And don’t bamboozle me with a tale about being shy about the gossip that must have ensued. You have never given a fig for such things.”

  “No … not exactly …” Cherry repeated before she squared her shoulders and allowed her aqua-blue eyes to meet with her nanny’s clear gray.

  “Well, then—why did you run away, dear, and in the dead of night?”

  “Nanny … dearest Polly, you … I know you will agree that I had no choice. Mama was about to marry me off to a man I have never met!” A wave of indignation swept over her even as she spoke. “I told her I wouldn’t, and she said she would see to it that I would.” Her shoulders dropped, and she added, “Nanny … I always thought that if I ever married, it would be for love …”