Lily had a certain reluctance to know what was in store for her—she would much rather have had foreknowledge of Giles arriving at Mrs Lovell’s fireside today than anything that may or may not be about to happen in her distant future!
A surreptitious glance at Giles beneath lowered lashes revealed that he did not seem in the least put out that he was not sipping tea from his usual fine china. Instead that silver-grey gaze rested on her broodingly, and in doing so made Lily even more aware of how her old blue serge gown had become a little tight about the breasts from constant washing, and how the shortness of the hem revealed her ankles in scuffed and muddied brown boots.
Her less than fashionable appearance prompted her into hurried speech. ‘Your father has suffered no ill effects from his late evening?’ It had been almost midnight when she heard her father arrive back at the vicarage.
Giles frowned darkly as the question forced him to recall the visit to his father’s rooms this morning. The duke was indeed suffering from exhaustion after his carriage ride yesterday afternoon and the burst of social largesse in the evening, resulting in the overattentive Smithins treating Giles with more than his usual coolness. The valet was merely an irritant Giles had no trouble ignoring, but he could not dismiss his father’s obvious lack of physical stamina with the same disinterest.
‘If he did I am sure he will be fully recovered by tomorrow,’ he assured her.
‘I have a sarsaparilla tonic you might take for your father when you leave. Very good for cleansing the blood.’ Mrs Lovell nodded sagely.
‘Thank you.’ Giles accepted gracefully, already knowing that Rosa Lovell’s tonic would suffer the same fate as the doctor’s appeared to have done—placed on the shelf beside his father’s bedside before being completely ignored.
Mrs Lovell seemed satisfied with his answer, however, as she turned briskly to Lily. ‘Time to remove yer glove and let me take a look at yer palm.’
‘Perhaps His Lordship might like to be first…?’ she prompted with a cool glance in Giles’s direction.
His gaze narrowed as he easily guessed that Lily believed he would refuse to be a part of such nonsense as fortune-telling. ‘By all means…’ He held out his left hand for Mrs Lovell’s inspection.
‘The other’s yer dominant hand.’ The elderly lady chuckled dismissively and waited while Giles replaced his left hand with his right. ‘And I don’t really need to look too closely to know as your square fingertips indicate an orderly and methodical nature. That the length of your index finger says ye are a leader and maker of decisions.’ She turned his hand over. ‘Or that these—’ she chuckled again as she touched the dark hair on the back of his hand ‘—show ye to have a passionate nature, for all ye would rather not.’ She bent over his palm once again. ‘Your love line is strong and true—’
‘Perhaps you should take a look at Miss Seagrove’s hand now,’ he suggested lightly as he firmly removed his hand from further perusal.
His parents’ marriage had, as far as Giles was aware, been one of mutual respect and liking, and as content as any of the arranged marriages of the ton. But even so, he did not believe that contentment to have prevented his father from occasionally enjoying the company of other women, and so giving Giles the rather jaundiced view that a wife was taken in order to provide the necessary heirs, a mistress for physical enjoyment, and the two were never to be found with the same woman.
Mrs Lovell gave him one of those piercing looks that saw far too much before turning to look at Lily. ‘Let me take a look,’ she prompted eagerly.
Giles could not remember having seen Lily’s hands bare since she had reached adulthood, and now found himself looking on interestedly as she slowly removed her glove to reveal long and slender fingers, the nails kept short, no doubt in deference to the work she did about the parish. Nevertheless, her skin appeared pale and delicate in contrast to Rosa Lovell’s brown and work-roughened hands as the old lady gazed down at Lily’s palm.
‘A long and uninterrupted lifeline, which is good,’ Mrs Lovell said softly. ‘A determination of nature. A yearning for travel…’ She looked up as Lily’s breath caught in her throat. ‘A well-hidden yearning for travel,’ she amended lightly. ‘Again, a passionate nature,’ she murmured distractedly as she touched the mound at the base of Lily’s thumb. ‘No man is going to be left wanting in your bed, that’s for su—’
‘I believe I really must be going now!’ Lily’s cheeks burned as she snatched her hand from the elderly lady’s grasp before standing up abruptly, only to give a grimace of dismay as she realised she had accidentally knocked her booted foot against the metal mug she had previously placed upon the ground, and succeeding in tipping out the last of the tea.
The ever-watchful Mrs Lovell instantly scooped up the mug to look at the contents. ‘What do we have here…?’ she murmured softly.
‘I thought the Romany considered the reading of tea leaves to be beneath them?’ Giles Montague prompted drily.
‘Not at all, there’s just no money to be had from it!’ the old lady dismissed scornfully. ‘No one’s going to part with their silver, let alone gold, to have the tea leaves read! There is something here, though….’ Her frowning attention returned to the contents of the mug.
Lily gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I really do not think—’
‘I see a darkness in your future,’ the elderly Romany said slowly.
‘A man of darkness. One who means to do you harm—’ Mrs Lovell broke off her dire predictions as Lily lightly lifted the mug from her fingers. ‘I was nowhere near finished.’ She scowled her disapproval as Lily emptied the last of the tea dregs into the grass.
‘I am sure it is better if we do not know too much about what the future may bring, Mrs Lovell, else we should all go mad with worrying about it,’ Lily dismissed lightly as she set down the mug before replacing her glove, sure that she already knew which gentleman that ‘darkness’ referred to! ‘I may rely on your presence at the well-dressing celebrations next week, Mrs Lovell?’ she added briskly.
‘I have said ye may….’ The elderly lady still looked troubled as she rose less spryly to her feet. ‘Ye will take care, Lily—’
‘You must not worry about me, my dear Mrs Lovell.’ She laughed dismissively as she bent instinctively to kiss one leathered brown cheek. ‘I am perfectly capable of ensuring that no harm comes to me. From any gentleman,’ she added firmly.
‘I do not recall saying as it would be a gentleman—’
‘Gentleman or otherwise, there is no one in Castonbury who wishes me harm, I do assure you,’ Lily repeated before turning coolly to Giles Montague. ‘My lord.’ She nodded dismissively before turning quickly on her booted heel and hurrying away.
Nevertheless she felt the weight of that gentleman’s gaze following her with the same heaviness as she might feel a rain cloud over her head.
* * *
‘Well, laddie…?’
Giles had stood up the moment Lily fled. Now he turned to look down enquiringly at the much shorter Rosa Lovell. ‘“Well,” Mrs Lovell…?’
Hazel-coloured eyes glittered up at him mockingly. ‘I trust you have sense enough to chase a pretty lass ye desire when the opportunity arises?’
He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘I assure you I have no wish to chase Lily Seagrove, or any other “pretty lass”!’ Mrs Lovell raised sceptical brows. ‘You really are an outrageous rogue, Mrs Lovell!’
She gave a wry chuckle. ‘I’m not so old yet as I can’t see when a handsome man desires a pretty woman. Go after her, laddie. If only to see that she comes to no harm,’ she added worriedly. ‘The tea leaves are never wrong, my lord. Someone means to do Lily harm. And soon, if I’m not mistaken.’ A frown darkened her furrowed brow.
‘And what if Lily believes that “someone” to be me?’ Giles prompted drily.
Shrewd dark eyes gazed searchingly up into his before Mrs Lovell gave a slow shake of her head. ‘Then she would be wrong.’
H
e gave a mocking acknowledgement of his head. ‘I doubt Miss Seagrove would agree with you!’
‘She’s too young as yet to realise that a man’s passion all too often leads him to behave like a fool,’ the old Romany dismissed bluntly.
Giles gave a rueful burst of laughter. ‘I have no idea why it is I continue to like you, Mrs Lovell!’
She eyed him teasingly. ‘No?’
‘No,’ he confirmed drily. ‘But I will do as you ask, and follow Lily. If only to set your mind at rest concerning her safe arrival back at the vicarage.’
‘You tell yourself that’s the reason, by all means, laddie.’ Mrs Lovell gave him a condescending pat on the arm.
Giles gave another self-derisive laugh before setting out to follow Lily through the woods.
‘Lily? Lily, wait!’
* * *
Lily’s instinct was to increase her pace rather than reduce it as she heard Giles calling after her. She had no desire to engage in further conversation with him.
‘Lily, I asked you to wait, damn it!’
Hearing that customary arrogance in Giles Montague’s voice only succeeded in making Lily all the more determined that he should not catch her, as she all but ran through the dense woodland. But she was aware of the increasingly loud crackle of the dry undergrowth as indication that Giles’s much longer strides meant he was gaining on her with every step.
Giles’s gaze was narrowed on his quarry as he hurried after Lily’s lithe form flitting between the trees with a familiarity which spoke of her having done so many times before. As indeed she no doubt had, when she and Edward were children.
The haste needed to catch his quarry gave him sharp cause to remember the injuries he had sustained in battle as his thigh began to ache from a deep sabre wound he had received at Talavera, the scars upon his chest from Salamanca unsightly, but no longer as painful. ‘Lily!’ His fingers finally curled about her arm as he pulled her to a halt, glowering down at her as he swung her about to face him. ‘Running away will not—’
‘I am not “running away”!’ She glared her indignation. ‘I have merely tarried too long at Mrs Lovell’s fireside and now must hurry if I am to return to the vicarage in time for lunch.’ She gave a pained wince. ‘You are hurting me—’
‘And you were running away,’ Giles repeated grimly even as he relaxed his grip on her arm.
Those green eyes flashed her displeasure as she gazed up at him challengingly. ‘That would seem to imply that there is something I feel the need to run away from.’
He shrugged. ‘Is there not?’
A frown appeared between those magnificent eyes. ‘You think far too much of yourself, sir.’
‘Perhaps that is because you choose to think far too little of me!’ Giles bit out harshly.
Lily did not want to think of this gentleman at all. In any way. At any time. Ever again. She had spent far too many hours the previous night doing exactly that as she lay awake in her bed. And had succeeded in finding very few answers to the unsettling questions such thoughts had posed.
She tilted her chin. ‘What is it you want from me, my lord?’
What did Giles want from Lily Seagrove?
All and everything that the astute and blunt Mrs Lovell had minutes ago stated that he did!
Chapter Seven
Giles’s total awareness of Lily the evening before, and again today, now told—warned!—him that he desired nothing more at this moment than to lay her down on the soft green moss on the forest floor, an exact match in colour to her eyes, before slowly removing every article of her clothing until she lay pale and naked before him. After which he wished to remove all the pins from her hair before releasing that long cascade of ebony silk down onto her shoulders and draping it across her breasts, leaving those rosy-red tips peaking temptingly through that darkness as he lowered his head—
Oh, good heavens!
Giles’s hands began to shake as he desperately tried to resist that temptation, but it was a battle he lost, as rather than releasing her and moving away, he instead began to pull Lily towards him with a determination which far surpassed any and all warnings of inner caution.
Lily’s eyes widened in alarm as Giles Montague pulled her ever closer. ‘What are you about…?’ she managed to gasp breathlessly even as his heat once again enveloped and drew her closer.
He gave a grim smile. ‘Madness,’ he bit out harshly. ‘Complete and utter madness!’
‘Giles—’
‘Say it again!’ Those silver-grey eyes burned down at her with an intensity that was frightening.
‘What…?’ Lily could no longer think as she was pulled against the hard heat of Giles’s muscled chest and the flatness of his stomach, before his arms moved about her with the implacability of steel bands.
‘Say my name again, Lily!’ he encouraged gruffly. ‘Say it!’ he repeated fiercely, his eyes now glowing with that same fervour of emotion.
This was indeed madness. But of a kind Lily had never encountered before. A madness which robbed her of all will, as she knew she could no more resist the allure of Giles Montague than he seemed to be able to resist her.
The stiffness drained from her as her body softened intimately into and against his much harder one. ‘Giles,’ she murmured softly.
‘Again!’
‘Giles,’ she repeated breathlessly.
‘Oh, dear God…!’ Giles groaned achingly even as he lowered his head towards hers.
Her lips were soft, and she tasted of the honey she had taken in her tea, Giles very quickly discovered. He kissed her fiercely, urgently, his lips and tongue exploring the moist heat of her mouth, even as he revelled in the softness of her curves arched against him, her hands clasped onto the lapels of his jacket, as if she feared she might fall if they did not.
Giles was hungry for her. Hungry for the taste of her. The feel of her. And it was a hunger that he knew had begun that first day they had met here in the woods, and it had only grown deeper with each subsequent meeting, until Giles knew he could no longer deny that aching hunger.
He held her tightly against him, groaning low in his throat as he moved his hands down to cup the firmness of her bottom before pulling her up and into him, her lush and slightly parted thighs becoming a tortuous friction against him.
The blood began to pump hotly, feverishly, through Giles’s body, and he dragged his mouth from hers to bury his face against her throat, tasting her there even as one of his hands moved up to cup the lushness of her breast, the material of her cotton gown thin enough that he could feel the tight nipple pressing into his palm. He tasted the lobe of her ear, her cheek, before his mouth was once again on Lily’s to claim her soft gasps of pleasure as the soft pad of his thumb laid siege to her breast.
Lily became lost in that same madness as Giles kissed her deeply, feverishly. Burning, consuming heat. And pleasure. An aching, pulling pleasure as Giles grasped the tip of her breast between finger and thumb, the heat building between her thighs as his lips and tongue explored the deep recesses of her mouth, evoking feelings, sensations, unlike anything she had ever known or experienced before. An aching burning heat that consumed even as it begged, pleaded, for—
For she knew not what!
Lily only knew that this pleasure was so intense, so all-consuming, that she wanted…something more. Needed…something more.
She felt she might truly go mad if she did not find relief from the pressures building ever higher inside her hot and aching body.
She gasped as she felt Giles’s fingers against her flesh as he deftly unfastened the buttons at the front of her gown to pull the chemise aside and bare her breasts to his ministrations, her nipple captured between thumb and finger as he began to tug gently, rhythmically, causing a hot pool of moisture to flood between Lily’s thighs.
She drew in a ragged breath as Giles wrenched his mouth from hers to once again bury the heat of his lips against her throat before moving slowly downwards, his lips and tongue a fi
ery caress against the slope of her other breast before she felt that heat close over the aching tip to suck deeply, the drawing, pulling sensation on her breast causing Lily’s knees to buckle.
Giles followed as Lily sank to the forest floor, laying his long length down beside her on the soft moss as he continued to taste the fullness of her nipple even as his other hand moved down the slope of her slender waist, across the full curve of her hips and lower still as he gently pulled up her gown to discover she wore stockings held up with ribbons, and soft cotton drawers.
‘Giles…?’ She gave a strangled gasp as his hand nudged her legs apart to allow him to cup her there, that gasp turning to a groan—of pleasure, Giles hoped—as he pulled fiercely on her nipple with his lips even as he sought her silken folds amongst the fabric of her drawers.
Those silken folds parted to the caress of his fingers, a deep well of moisture dampening him as he began to stroke her, lingering as he felt her pulse and swell to his ministrations, and heard Lily’s panting breaths as her pleasure deepened and grew, her hips now moving up to meet those caresses.
Giles parted those wet folds to plunge one moist finger inside her opening even as his thumb continued to stroke the bud above. He drew hungrily on her nipple, thrusting his finger, and then two, deep into her as he felt the inner walls quiver in a way which he knew signalled she was hurtling towards climax.
‘Giles…!’ Lily gazed up at him in alarm as she felt herself overwhelmed by unimaginable pleasure.
‘Let go, damn it!’ he demanded fiercely. ‘Now, Lily!’
As if the encouragement was all she had needed, Lily felt as if a dam suddenly burst inside her, pulsing inward and then outward, her breath coming in aching sobs as wave after wave of that pleasure engulfed her before ripping her apart and then slowly putting her back together again.
She buried her face against Giles’s chest as those waves slowly, oh-so-slowly, subsided. She felt overwhelmed and her body shook as those tremors continued to quiver through her body.
Castonbury Park 01 - The Wicked Lord Montague Page 8