Castonbury Park 01 - The Wicked Lord Montague

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘I doubt there is any real danger of that ever happening, Lily,’ he finally drawled, ‘when I am just as likely to insult you—either intentionally or unintentionally—with my very next breath!’

  She looked up at him from beneath long, dark lashes. ‘Something you might perhaps avoid doing for more than two minutes at a time if you were to accept that my feelings for Edward were only ever that of a sister?’

  Giles scowled darkly. ‘And are your feelings towards Judah Lovell as innocent?’

  ‘You were right, it was almost with your next breath!’ Lily acknowledged with a snort as she purposefully removed her hand from beneath his, her face flushed as she continued to look up at him. ‘As I have informed you, I only met that young man for the first time yesterday. I can honestly claim not to have any feelings whatsoever towards him beyond the politeness of acknowledging him as Mrs Lovell’s nephew.’

  Giles gave a disbelieving snort. ‘And what of Sir Nathan?’

  ‘Can you possibly be talking of Sir Nathan Samuelson?’ She looked up at him with obvious puzzlement.

  Giles nodded haughtily. ‘He is a single and eligible gentleman.’

  ‘And I barely know him!’ Lily did not know whether she should laugh or feel angry at the unlikely introduction of Sir Nathan Samuelson into their conversation.

  Not only was Sir Nathan old enough to be her father, but he was also portly, red-faced and bewhiskered—and pompous and bad-tempered to boot. Lily had certainly never looked at that gentleman as being anything other than one of her father’s less pleasant parishioners—

  She stilled as an unpleasant idea occurred to her. ‘My father dined with Sir Nathan at Grantby Manor yesterday evening.’

  ‘So he informed me.’ Giles’s teeth were now so tightly clenched he could feel the throb of his own pulse in the tautness of his jaw.

  ‘Can it be possible that he—? Could he have—? No, surely even Sir Nathan cannot have—’ She broke off with a shudder. ‘He cannot!’

  Her distaste for even the idea of Sir Nathan as anything more than one of her father’s parishioners was so obvious that Giles felt discomforted at having allowed his own feelings of distaste for the man to have prompted him to usurp Mr Seagrove’s role as Lily’s father. To such a degree that he had sounded like a jealous suitor himself!

  Which was utterly preposterous. Admittedly, their conversations yesterday evening and again today had made Giles question his summation of Lily’s character a year ago, but that did not imply he felt any romantic interest in her himself.

  ‘Perhaps, if Mr Seagrove has not yet found opportunity to discuss the matter with you, I should not have spoken on the subject either.’

  ‘Mr Seagrove seems to have found opportunity to discuss the subject with you—no doubt while the two of you indulged in an excess of brandy last evening!’ Her eyes flashed a deep warning.

  Hers was now a glittering and angry gaze which Giles found he no longer had any wish to meet. ‘Perhaps we should return to discussing how Genghis suffered his injuries—’

  ‘It can wait until you have fully explained what you meant by your remarks regarding Sir Nathan,’ Lily insisted firmly.

  Giles winced as he heard the anger in her voice. Even if that anger did give a sparkle to Lily’s fine green eyes, and add becoming colour to the ivory perfection of her cheeks! ‘I really cannot—’

  ‘Oh, but you really can, Giles!’ she assured with controlled determination.

  He grimaced, finding it did not please him at all to hear Lily say his name in that angry tone. ‘Mr Seagrove merely mentioned yesterday evening that Sir Nathan had talked in a…complimentary fashion about you, over dinner.’

  ‘And in what manner did I even enter into their conversation, let alone have Sir Nathan talk about me in a “complimentary fashion”?’ she repeated with dangerous softness.

  Giles shifted restlessly, wishing he had never begun this particular conversation. ‘I am sure Mr Seagrove will happily explain all when next you see him.’

  ‘But you are with me now, Giles, and so may save me the bother of the wait,’ Lily reasoned sweetly.

  What Lily suspected could not possibly be true, could it? That Sir Nathan Samuelson, a man of plain if not unattractive looks, of an unpleasantness of manner which Lily knew had already caused at least one lady in the county to refuse his offer of marriage, had now turned his lecherous gaze in her direction?

  Lily would rather remain an old maid for the rest of her life than marry a man she could not even bring herself to like, let alone love! Indeed, given her circumstances, she had long ago decided that in all probability an old maid was exactly what she would one day become….

  She breathed out shallowly. ‘When you and Mr Seagrove spoke on the subject yesterday evening, did he also say whether or not he would approve of such an offer?’

  Giles shifted uncomfortably. ‘He…implied it would be your own decision, not his.’

  ‘That would appear to settle the matter, then.’ Lily felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders, having been aware that if Mr Seagrove had approved of the match, then she would at least have had to appear to give the matter some thought before refusing. Indeed, she would much prefer it if Sir Nathan could somehow be persuaded into not asking at all!

  ‘It does?’ Giles eyed her questioningly.

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ she dismissed briskly. ‘When—if my father asks, I will simply state that I would not be willing to accept Sir Nathan as my husband if he were the very last gentleman upon this earth!’ She repressed a delicate shudder of distaste.

  ‘Poor Sir Nathan!’ Giles felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But it was quickly followed by a frown appearing on his brow at his acknowledgement of those feelings of relief to be even more ridiculous than the ones he had earlier attributed to jealousy.

  Lily eyed him critically. ‘You do not sound very sympathetic.’

  Possibly because Giles did not feel in the least sympathetic towards the gentleman who had caused him to spend the past twelve hours gnashing and grinding his teeth in frustration at the very thought of that gentleman sharing Lily’s bed and body.

  ‘Nor,’ Lily continued tartly, ‘do I appreciate my father having discussed this matter with you before it has even been mentioned to me!’

  Giles winced at what he knew to be her perfectly justified feelings of resentment. ‘Mr Seagrove did not so much discuss it with me as mention it to me casually as we enjoyed a glass of brandy together—’ He broke off to catch Lily’s disbelieving snort. ‘A glass or six of brandy together,’ he allowed drily.

  She gave him a reproving glance. ‘You are obviously a bad influence upon each other and should be kept apart in future!’

  In truth Giles had very much enjoyed his conversation and brandy with Mr Seagrove the night before, had found that gentleman to be both learned and well informed, and he now perfectly understood his father’s long and warm friendship with the man. Being a duke had long set his father apart from all but his peers, in the same way Giles would also find himself set apart were he to one day inherit the title from his father.

  If he inherited the title from his father, Giles reminded himself grimly, the manner of Jamie’s death, and the lack of a body as proof of that death, meaning that as a family they still had to find physical evidence before the succession could be secured, along with Jamie’s considerable inheritance from their mother. It was—

  ‘I was only jesting, Giles.’

  He blinked, realising that he had allowed his thoughts to wander to the other problem which had begun to plague him day and night since his return to Castonbury.

  The other problem?

  Lily had become something of a problem to him, Giles now acknowledged, as just looking down into the exotic beauty of her face once again reminded him that she was not Mr Seagrove’s daughter at all.

  As such, an offer from someone of Sir Nathan’s ilk was far more than Lily could ever, or should ever, have hoped fo
r. Moreover, it was an offer Giles should be encouraging her to accept in his role as the future Duke of Rothermere.

  Instead he found himself raising a hand to cup the warmth of one of Lily’s ivory cheeks as he continued to gaze down into that lovely face; those green, slightly uptilted eyes, and the full and berry-red of her lips were an enticement Giles was finding more

  and more difficult to resist. ‘You are so very beautiful, Lily.’

  She looked slightly alarmed. ‘Perhaps we should, after all, resume our walk whilst you continue to talk of Genghis?’

  Yes, that is exactly what they should do.

  Should?

  Must!

  And yet just the feel of Lily’s silken skin beneath Giles’s fingertips, her warmth, made it impossible for Giles to think of anything else but the need he felt to make love to her again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lily’s heart began to beat wildly in her chest as she saw the intensity of Giles’s silver gaze fixed firmly, hungrily even, upon her slightly parted lips, instantly making her aware of how very alone the two of them were out here in the meadow together amongst the scented wildflowers, the only sounds their own soft and husky breathing and the twittering of the birds.

  A pleasurable lethargy descended over Lily’s body, an aching heaviness in her breasts, and heat between her thighs. A heat and aching heaviness that she acknowledged were becoming all too familiar when she was anywhere in the vicinity of Giles Montague!

  ‘We really should continue our walk, Giles,’ she prompted with a sharpness she was far from feeling.

  He blinked as if waking from a dream, or perhaps the same sensual spell under which Lily had felt herself falling. His hand dropped away from her cheek as he straightened abruptly. ‘Yes, of course.’ His expression became remote as he indicated she should precede him.

  Even Lily’s legs felt unwieldy as she turned to walk down to where the river tripped and gurgled over rocks smoothed by years of the water’s caress, at the same time completely aware of Giles as he matched his much longer strides to her own. A glance from beneath lowered lashes revealed that he now looked every inch the grimly forbidding Giles Montague, rather than the man who had made love to Lily so passionately four days ago, and touched her again so gently only moments ago whilst his eyes had sought to bore into her very soul.

  She could not forget the look, no matter how hard she tried.

  ‘I remember playing here as a child,’ she remarked abruptly, having reached the riverside, in an attempt to try to ease the tension between them.

  Giles nodded. ‘Before we went away to school Jamie and I would often hide from our tutor beneath that willow.’ He looked at the magnificent tree as its branches draped down even heavier and thicker than he remembered, creating what he remembered to be a cool and shadowed den beneath.

  Lily looked up at him. ‘As did Edward and I….’

  His smile was tinged with sadness. ‘And now there is only the two of us left to remember those happy times.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You really did not love or wish to marry Edward, did you.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

  Lily turned back to look at the river. ‘I loved him as my very best friend in all the world. I always will.’ She had realised, as she lay unable to sleep the night before, that her friendship with Edward was not spoilt, after all, and that Edward had gone to his death with hope still alive in his heart that she might return his love. There was some comfort in knowing that.

  ‘But never as your lover.’

  She continued to stare down at the flowing water. ‘No, never as a lover.’

  Giles drew in a sharp breath. ‘I needed to talk to you today, Lily, because I—I have realised that I owe you an apology.’

  Her face remained averted. ‘Just one?’ She couldn’t resist the taunt.

  ‘I— You were so insistent yesterday concerning your feelings for Edward, and your father also spoke last night of your sisterly regard for Edward.’

  Her profile showed the sadness of her smile. ‘And you have chosen to believe my father when you did not believe me.’

  ‘I— It was—’ Giles shook his head. ‘Please understand, Edward was so firm in his declaration of love for you that I felt sure you must be aware of those feelings.’

  ‘I was not.’ Her eyes were wet with tears as she turned to look at him. ‘Could you not—? Please—please do not break my heart again, by talking of a love I could never have returned!’

  Giles straightened, cut to the quick by sight of those tears. Tears for which he knew he was responsible. ‘Perhaps, for now, we could continue our conversation of Genghis?’

  ‘If you please,’ Lily encouraged softly.

  If Giles pleased…!

  His shoulders ached almost as much as that old wound to his thigh as he fought to keep his hands from once again reaching out and taking Lily into his arms before kissing her. Except Giles knew he did not want to stop at taking her in his arms and kissing her; he wanted so very much more.

  Lily’s fierce denial the evening before, of loving Edward as anything more than a brother, and Mr Seagrove’s fond memories of his daughter and Edward’s friendship since childhood, had caused Giles to think long and hard on the subject once he returned to Castonbury Park. It was hard for him to acknowledge the possibility that, no matter what Edward may have told him a year ago of his feelings for Lily, she may not have returned those feelings. Nor would she have accepted his offer of marriage if he had ever made one.

  As she had today rejected the suggestion that she might ever accept such an offer from Sir Nathan Samuelson—

  ‘Giles?’

  It was now his turn to stare blindly at the river as he forced his memories back to the day two years ago rather than give in to the urge to take Lily in his arms. ‘Genghis had fallen across my lower body when he was cut down, and so gave me the mistaken impression that I had lost the use of my legs. Once I realised that the blood over me was not mine but his, I was able to crawl out, inch by inch, from beneath his weight. And, as I did so, I realised that Genghis still lived.’

  Giles had forgotten his own discomfort completely that day as he was instead filled with elation at seeing that slight rise and fall of Genghis’s heavy barrel chest, something he would not have believed possible once he saw the extent of the stallion’s injuries. A French sabre had sliced him open from ear to wither, and the blood still seeped from the wound.

  ‘It was—’ Giles shook his head, knowing that his behaviour towards Lily this past year dictated he could not be less than honest with her now concerning his own feelings and emotions in regard to the events of two years ago. ‘The extent of Genghis’s injuries dictated it would have been a kindness on my part to shoot him then and there. But I—I could not bring myself to do it. Jamie was gone. My fellow officers and most of my men were also slain. To allow this magnificent creature to suffer that same fate seemed beyond bearing.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Lily prompted huskily.

  He sighed. ‘I tried to get help for him, but the medics were far too busy dealing with the injuries of the men to bother with a mere horse.’

  ‘You tended him yourself?’

  Giles nodded abruptly. ‘I did what I could for him—cleaned the wound, sewed it up as best I could with the supplies I had—and then sat down beside him and simply willed him to live.’ He frowned grimly as he recalled those hours—days—during which he had sat at Genghis’s side, ignoring his own wound as he ensured that the horse’s wounds remained clean and free of the flies that swarmed constantly over the battleground soaked with blood.

  Hours and days when Giles had not left the horse’s side except to collect water from a nearby stream, occasionally dribbling some of that water into his own mouth once he had seen to Genghis’s needs, but taking no other food or sustenance as he concentrated all of his attention on willing the fallen horse to recover.

  The same hours and days when Giles had also come to accept
the loss of his elder brother, and to the knowledge that there was nothing he could do or say which could ever bring Jamie back to them.

  They had been the bleakest and loneliest hours and days of Giles’s life, his only companion the seriously wounded horse whom he had refused to allow to die. Lonely hours and days, when the loss of Jamie and his fellow soldiers had left scars inside him which had healed but would never be forgotten….

  * * *

  Lily could only imagine the scene Giles described to her, but even that was horrific enough; to have lived through it was beyond her comprehension. ‘You obviously succeeded.’

  He smiled grimly. ‘Something Genghis did not at all thank me for once he began to regain his strength, I assure you. His suffering then was immense.’ The bleakness in those silver-grey eyes revealed that Giles’s own suffering had been almost as severe. ‘He several times tried to show his displeasure by attempting to bite me.’

  Having seen the affection which now existed between this man and that fierce warrior of a horse, Lily had no doubt that Genghis had long ago forgiven Giles for the pain he had suffered because of this man’s stubborn determination that he should live.

  Giles grimaced. ‘I think— I have come to believe since, that Genghis had somehow come to represent the whole of those bloody years of war to me, and that if he were allowed to die, then all of it—Jamie’s death, the deaths of all those other brothers and sons and fathers and husbands—would be rendered utterly meaningless.’

  ‘And yet I can tell that you now miss your life in the army.’

  Lily knew with a certainty that this was so.

  His jaw firmed. ‘It is what I was brought up to be. What I have always known I was meant to do.’

  And if not for the unexpected death of his older brother, no doubt what he would still be doing. ‘And is that the reason you found it so…so difficult to come back here nine months ago after you had resigned your commission?’ Lily prompted huskily.

  He drew in a harsh breath. ‘No. That was due to something else entirely.’