by Claudy Conn
“Thank you,” the viscount returned. “You are a diplomatic and very considerate host.” He swept a hand towards the grounds. “Your parkland is magnificent. Each time I ride this driveway, I find myself seeing something I missed before.”
“Yes, and I noticed the stables as we came up. They look wonderful,” Bess said.
“Stables? We aren’t on that again? We can do the stables after I am fed. I haven’t eaten since noon!” Robby complained.
“Stop it—you won’t wither,” rebuked his wife.
“John, have pity on a friend. This mad crew won’t let me eat …”
“Don’t fret it, Rob. There is a buffet awaiting you in the dining room, where we shall repair to immediately.”
Robby beamed and declared, “Good man—a true friend.”
Dunkirk had moved to Lady Bess as he spoke, noting that her father had not yet dismounted. He reached for and found her trim waist and was shocked by the shiver that traveled through him when he took that waist into his hands.
He slowly deposited her on firm ground and, blocked by her horse from the others, allowed himself to draw her closer than was necessary. His voice was low and huskier than he had intended as he said, “Lady Bess, enchanting as always.”
She made no sign that she heard this, but he saw the twinkle in her bright eyes and was conscious of the fact that she was more up to snuff than he realized. She had only one season to her name, but she was certainly no fool.
Continuing to ignore the compliment, she changed the subject and said, “We made excellent time, my lord. Our driver left with the coach an hour before us, but we managed to catch him up and escort him here. All in all, no more than a bit more than an hour’s trip, I think.”
“Ye mean ye rode the open road at neck or nothing speed,” he said and chuckled. “I expect that of ye, but not of yer father.”
She peeped, “Ha, where do you think I get my wildness from? Papa likes a good run now and then. He doesn’t see the harm and says it is good for the soul.” She turned and smiled at her father, who had stepped up to them at this juncture.
“Ah, the emphasis being on more then than now.” Lord Saunders grinned.
“Aye, but I took a solid knock on the head for the effort,” put in Robby, who had just lowered his wife to the ground and turned to grin ruefully.
“Did you suffer a fall?” Dunkirk asked, surprised.
“No, we took a shortcut through the woods, and my good wife held a branch for me, but then her blasted stupid animal took off with her, and the branch whipped back at me, nearly sent me reeling, I can tell you.”
Bess giggled at this, and Donna snorted with laughter before she linked her arm through her husband’s. “Well then, John of Dunkirk, what is the plan?”
As they walked towards the stables, two livery boys came rushing out to take their horses. Dunkirk told them to remove the tack from the steeds and put them to graze in the pasture before stalling them for the night.
“Well, to m’way of thinking, we need to feed that husband of yers. I wouldn’t want him to faint away from starvation.”
“Hmm, for my part, I would dearly love a cup of tea,” agreed Donna.
“Certes then, woman! Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Robby glowered at her and then laughed heartily as he fell in step beside the earl and Bess’s father. As they walked up the drive to the house, he said, “John, they tell me that Randall means to put up his gray against Trimble’s big red.”
“Oh, cock fighting!” stuck in Bess. “I do so hate it—how can you watch the poor animals go after one another?”
“Well, some allow their cocks to fight to the death,” Robby answered. “I don’t hold with that. But a little fight that scarcely draws blood … just good fun.”
“Horrid, completely horrid.” Bess shook her head.
“I agree,” the earl said quietly. “I don’t much care for it m’self.”
Bess looked into his blue eyes and felt a rush of warmth.
~ Five ~
“A ZANY!” DECLARED LORD Saunders, speaking of his daughter. “You have always been a zany.” He chuckled and regarded his daughter fondly as he shook his head and made a face at her. He went on to recount a tale from her youth, saying, “She was twelve and full of herself. Had an opinion on everything.” He chuckled. “Warned her but took her horse flying against my specific instructions and landed herself hard in the bushes. Broke her arm, and what must she do but clamber right back onto that pony, declaring that she didn’t want him to think he had out-smarted her.”
Dunkirk grinned. “Now why would your pony think any such thing?”
“Oh, as to that, you don’t think I went flying off because I didn’t have an excellent seat do you?” She shook her head with a laugh. “My pony gave me a ‘dirty stop’. Took me right up to the fence as though he meant to take it and then changed his mind. I took it without him that first time—but not the second!”
“With a broken arm?”
“Indeed,” she answered and looked to her father. “I only needed one hand and my legs to lead him over that fence—is that not so, Papa?”
He nodded proudly. “And you did it in fine form, but we both paid the price when we returned to the house and your mother got a hold of us.”
Bess laughed. “Oh, but I can still see her eyes when she wagged that finger at you.” When she saw the sadness descend over her father’s face, she sighed, bent nearer to him, and touched his arm. He patted her hand and smiled up at Donna and Robby, who had just returned to the library from a short evening stroll outdoors.
Bess looked around at them and smiled. “You two look frozen—how far did you go?”
“Just down the drive and back, and, Lord, yes, the temperature has dropped. It is frigid this evening,” Robby said, rubbing his hands together near the fire.
“Brrr,” agreed Donna, who stood beside her husband and allowed him to take her hands and rub them for her. She looked up at him, and Bess noted the special look they exchanged. Pleased, she returned her attention to the earl.
He had taken a glass of port and handed it to her father, and she quietly thought, How considerate. He didn’t seem like the ‘libertine’ he was reputed to be. She had always thought a rogue and libertine was someone who was concerned only with his own needs.
Bess got to her feet, smoothed her pale green velvet gown, and went to contemplate some of the books on the shelves. She fingered them and turned to find Dunkirk close at her back.
His voice was low, and she could feel his breath in her ear; it was completely titillating as he said, “Ah, do you like that fellow, Lord Byron? Here is one of his latest.”
When he started to reach for it, she stopped him with a movement of her hand. “I admit I am a Byron addict. I have it home and have read and re-read it.” She gazed at him gratefully and felt breathless as she told him, “I can’t thank you enough for talking Papa into allowing us all to go and visit Stonehenge tomorrow. I have always wanted to visit the Sarsen Monoliths.”
Her father evidently overheard this and called out jovially, “I feel sorry for you, Dunkirk and remind you that you must consider yourself forewarned. She is a wild little bird, my girl, and you would do well to deny her this projected outing of hers tomorrow.”
“Papa!” Bess objected, hands on hips.
“I feel as though I am foisting this entire outing on you and deserting you to your fate,” Lord Saunders said with a sigh, ignoring his only child, “but I have business in town that will occupy most of my morning.”
“And me,” stuck in Robby. “Foisting it on me as well. I have no wish to go muck about some old stones.”
Lord Saunders grinned mischievously as he reached for and sipped his port, and then he chuckled with a shake of his head.
Donna stroked her husband’s hand. “Oh Robby, please, do not be such a boor. We will have such fun.”
He grumbled a bit more about the proposed expedition, and Bess laughed and turned to see that the earl
wore a half smile. It was interesting that someone of his sophistication would not mind escorting them to see something he probably had no interest in.
“Rocks and stones,” Robby said on a whine as his wife pleaded with her eyes for him to accept with good grace. “What do you want with them? We have rocks all over the countryside.”
“Not like these,” Bess said. “These rocks, Robby, these rocks are more, so much more. If you stop your grumbling, perhaps I will tell you what I know of Stonehenge. It is quite full of mystery, and many men of science have very strong theories, but one very intriguing theory is that the Fae used the monoliths as portals until they perfected another mode of transportation.” Bess knew Robby very well and over the years had seen that he had a very healthy respect for all supernatural tales.
“Eh?” His eyes opened wide. “How do you know that? Portals, eh?”
Dunkirk interrupted by laughing right out loud and then said, “Robby, the ladies are determined that we visit the monoliths. I think we should go and have a look at these mysterious rocks, eh?” He moved closer to Bess and whispered in her ear, “Ye do that very well, lass.”
His soft Scottish burr in her ear sent a shiver through her. She turned halfway to meet his gaze, and his blue eyes locked with hers. She swallowed and whispered in response, “Do …? Do what very well?”
“Intrigue, lass, intrigue and captivate,” he answered easily. He touched her arm, and once again, shivers. He turned to her father and said, “Aye then, m’lord, I mean to abduct yer daughter for a moment, as I wish to show her another, er, zany, much like herself.”
“I object!” Bess said at once. “Zany, indeed!”
“Ye object? But to what, m’lass? Going with me?” His eyes twinkled at her, and she knew she would in that moment go almost anywhere with him.
She felt the blush in her cheeks. “No, no, of course not, but we have not established that I am a zany. Calling me that doesn’t make me one.”
“Ah, but then, t’was yer own da who said it was so. I canna argue with that, now can I?”
Bess’s father laughed and waved them off. “Bess love, a zany you are, but a delightful one.”
She pulled a face at her father and allowed Dunkirk to lead her out of the library and down the dimly lit hall to a sitting room whose walls were covered with paintings of men and women Bess assumed to be his lordship’s ancestors.
“Aye then, here she is, Mary Margaret Searington. M’grandmother on m’mum’s side. I was lucky enough to have her for the first ten years of m’life, and every moment we spent together was filled with joy.”
“She cannot be the zany you want me to meet?” Bess laughed.
He grinned broadly. “Well, and she was, and that was part of what I loved about her. One never knew what Mary Margaret would be up to, and she was up to every rig in town.” He gave her a speculative glance. “There is something in the way ye laugh, in the way yer very green eyes gleam with pleasure when ye find something amusing, that reminds me of her.”
How horrible, she thought immediately. I remind him of his grandmother. Nothing very romantic in that. It was almost depressing. She said amiably though, “That seems a very odd thing to tell a woman. I think you are trifling with me.”
He put a hand to his heart. “Certes, but I doona know how ye can think such a thing. ’Tis the truth, believe me, lass …”
“Oh, do stop. I don’t know which is worse, trifling with me or comparing me to your grandmother!”
He evidently saw the humor in this, for he barked a laugh. Then he chucked her under the chin and said, “I have not told ye the story yet, so reserve yer judgment till then.”
“Story? What story? I love stories,” Bess said, giving him an arched look.
“She had many, a list of them, long and outrageous,” he started to say but frowned as she hugged herself, realizing she was cold. “Och, lass, ye are cold? Let me take ye back to the library and the warm fire.”
Bess shook her head. “No, no, tell me the story, for I see you have one in mind that looms above the rest.”
* * *
Lady Bess was more than he had bargained for when he set out to just have a bit of entertainment. He meant only to play a bit with the bonny lass. However, he knew he was beginning to like her far too much and that he was too soon going to have to extricate himself.
She was a woman of sense and heart, and it showed through in everything she said and did. In spite of her youth, he saw in her a sensual woman, and she seemed to glow. In fact, she was almost too much, certainly too much for his libido to ignore, he thought as he looked at her in that moment.
And yet, at other times it seemed a child looked back at him out of those green eyes, an innocent, full of mischief. Och, but he liked her.
She was obviously shivering from the cold in the sitting room, which had not had its fire lit by the servants, as this room was rarely used. He frowned and said, “I tell ye what then—have a good look at m’Mary Margaret, and we’ll duck into the study, just across here …” He took her hand and led her out of the cold, dampish room and across the hall. He opened the door to his left, displayed a cozy room with a fire still blazing in the grate, and smiled at her. “M’people always keep this room warm and ready for me, as I am often found here.”
“Oh, how lovely,” she said as she stepped inside and looked around. “This room looks like a man’s room, cozy and masculine,” she said as she moved inside and swept her hand over a large leather chair.
He left the door wide open, to ensure the proprieties were followed, and took her hand again. He wanted to touch her all the time. What was wrong with him? He usually had more control. He led her to the fire and there took up her other hand as well. He rubbed them between his own as he smiled at her and answered her, “Aye, I like to come here to read or look over the estate paperwork.” He held her hands still but had stopped rubbing to arch a look at her. “There … better?”
“Oh yes, much,” she said and withdrew her hands. He saw the hot pink make two attractive circles on her cheeks and smiled to himself. He had never trifled with a virgin. He had never wanted to do such a thing, but this one, this fine bonny lass, made him want to break that rule.
“The story!” she immediately demanded.
Her eyes of green pools twinkled at him, and he felt his entire being lean in closer as he answered, “In good time …” Would it hurt to steal a kiss? Just a kiss, one kiss?
She clapped her hands together. “Now, if you please.”
He let the burning need to taste her go as he chuckled and shook his head. “Do ye always get yer own way?”
Her happy expression vanished and was replaced with one of dismay. “Oh, my lord. I am sorry, I did not mean to plague you, but after all, ’twas you who wanted me to know the story and—”
His laugh cut her short, and he took her shoulders. “Enough! Absurd lass, ye have no plagued me. Right then, Mary Margaret. Her story then. ’Tis the one where she began her career as the Searington matriarch.”
Bess giggled and said, “Well, you make her sound formidable.”
“Och, but she was in her own gentle way.”
“Then this is the story of how she met your grandfather?”
“In a manner of speaking, aye, so it is. However, she was not supposed to marry m’grandfather. Her sister Carmen was promised to him. It had all been arranged, ye see.”
“Oh. Oh? Arrangements.” Lady Bess clucked her tongue and shook her head, and he could see she did not approve of ‘marriages of convenience’.
He had the most absurd and sudden urge to throw caution to the wind, take her into his arms, and kiss her lush, full lips. Why shouldn’t he? It was only a kiss. She had a London Season, so surely she had been kissed?
He did, in fact, allow himself to stare at her mouth a moment too long and heard her intake of breadth with a great deal of pleasure. She was, of course, untried, and it was going to be a difficult task to keep his hands off her once he kissed her. D
id he want to suffer any more than he already was? No.
With an effort, he shook himself free of these thoughts and decided to re-start the story.
“Mary Margaret had two sisters—one, Carmen, a year older than she and as I just mentioned was promised to m’grandfather, and the other one five years younger than herself. Both sets of parents wanted the union, but Carmen didna, nor did he. There didn’t seem to be anything they could do about it. Such was life back in the day when one couldna go against their parent’s wishes.”
“So what did they do?” Bess urged him to proceed.
“Mary Margaret took charge. She hatched a plot to save Carmen from the marriage. Ye see, an additional complication was in the mix.”
“What? What …?”
He smiled at her anxious interest and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Carmen was madly in love with the young minister of their parish. However, he was an honorable man and couldna be prevailed upon to accept an elopement, as that didna mesh with his rules and principles.”
“Dashed annoying,” said Bess, shaking her head.
He laughed and said, “Aye, lass. So it was Mary Margaret went to m’grandfather and asked if he would abduct the minister and Carmen and keep them overnight somewhere. To hush up the scandal, she reasoned, her parents and his would allow Carmen to marry the man she loved.”
“Brilliant! Zounds, but Mary Margaret was brilliant,” Bess said in approval.
He chuckled and continued, “Aye then, plans are just that—plans. Life will ever intrude on ’em. The minister havin’ no idea what was afoot, and no knowin’ he was bein’ taken to his ladylove, escaped his bondage.” The earl paused and then said with a wicked grin, “I’ve always wondered if indeed Carmen’s minister knew what was afoot and pretended otherwise to preserve his façade of dignity.” He chuckled over this and then shook his head. “At any rate, it all went awry when the mask m’grandfather was wearing came off in a struggle that ensued, and the minister faced him hard to ask what he was a-doing. It all fell apart then, ye see.” The earl shrugged and said, “M’grandmother told me he was made of stern and sturdy stuff, Carmen’s minister. He told m’grandfather that as much as he wanted and loved Carmen, he could not fall in with such a scandalous scheme.”