Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

  Inside the house, he handed his gloves to the butler before removing his hat and coat. “Have my guests been properly settled in?”

  “Indeed, my lord.”

  “Where might they be found?” Hunter glanced down the hall before turning his attention back to his servant. Wolfe’s statements rang in his mind. He tamped down the urgency tugging at him to find Miss Woodcourt and get answers from her.

  “The parlor, my lord.”

  Hunter nodded as he headed in the indicated direction. He rounded the corner, but halted at the sight of his sister perched near the marble hearth.

  “Jewels, I was not expecting you.”

  She tipped her head. “Imagine my surprise when I dropped by and found my seamstress along with her grandmother in residence.” A bright grin lit her face. “I simply had to wait for your return.”

  “And where, pray tell, has Miss Woodcourt gone?” He lowered himself onto the chair opposite her.

  “Have you no care for Mrs. Oaklawn’s whereabouts?” Her voice carried a teasing lilt.

  Jewels seemed to be having entirely too much fun at his expense. Hunter cleared his throat. “Of course I have a care for both women, but it is with Miss Woodcourt I hoped to speak.”

  “I fear you tarried too long. Both of your house guests have retired for the evening.” She picked up her fan and flicked it open. “Do tell me what you have planned?”

  The spark in her eyes told him she knew perfectly well how they had come to be at his residence. He moved to the sideboard to pour a brandy. The idea of sharing his plan with her did not sit well. He would rather protect her from the darker side of life.

  “Is it your intention to make me wait the entire evening for an answer?”

  He poured three fingers worth of the dark liquor and took a sip. For all he knew, the women had already told Jewels all about their troubles. If that were the case, she already knew about the danger Wolfe presented.

  He glanced at her, his lips in a tight line. Of course the minx already knew. Otherwise, she would not have asked him about his plan. “If you must know, I plan take them to Roselawn Manor and set them up in the empty cottage behind the estate gardens.”

  “I forbid it.” Jewels slapped her fan down on the table next to her. “That cottage has been vacant for generations. It is in ill repair. Not even fit for vermin.”

  “You are mistaken on the second count. I had the cottage repaired this spring.” He studied her as he strolled back to his chair and settled onto it. The way she drew her brows together indicated she would not allow the subject to rest. “I would not have them live in the cottage if it were not properly maintained.”

  “You will set them up in the main estate. They may not be of the aristocracy, but they are still proper ladies.” She pinned him beneath her gaze.

  “Must you be so stubborn, Jewels?”

  “Please, Hunter.” Her voice softened.

  Damn and blast, he never could deny her wishes. “Very well. You shall have your way.” He rubbed one hand across his jaw. If he were being honest with himself, he would have to admit he liked the idea of having Miss Woodcourt so close, as dangerous as the thought was.

  “Splendid. I will join you there as well.” She smirked as she moved toward the door. “It will make completing my new wardrobe much simpler.”

  Having Jewels along could prove to be an advantage. It would certainly keep Miss Woodcourt busy. He nodded. “I intend to leave immediately after breaking our morning fast.”

  “Good to know. I will arrive early and prepared for the journey.” Grinning, she took her leave.

  Hunter leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. Perhaps he would get the opportunity to chat with Miss Woodcourt before they departed on the morrow.

  He let his head fall back, closed his eyes, and replayed the earlier events in his mind. She and her grandmother denied the betrothal. However, Wolfe seemed quite confident. No matter. A betrothal was not legally binding. She had the right to beg off.

  He would go mad if he continued to guess at it. Tomorrow would come soon enough. He strolled to the sideboard with his glass in hand. Just as he picked up the decanter, the shuffle of slippers in the hall drew his attention. He set the brandy down and went to the door.

  Miss Woodcourt stood near the staircase in an indigo wrapper. His pulse accelerated as he studied her. She had one hand on her trim waist and her head turned back and forth, revealing a stunning profile as she glanced up and down the hall.

  He took a step out of the parlor, clearing his throat.

  She jumped and twirled to face him. Her hand gripped to her chest.

  “Forgive me. I did not intend to startle you.” He strolled closer.

  “I could not sleep and hoped to find my way below stairs for some warm milk.” She met his gaze.

  Below stairs? “I have servants for such things. You could have rung for assistance.”

  She grinned. “I suppose so, but I am not accustomed to such things. It seemed easier to seek it out on my own accord. I did not want to disturb anyone at such a late hour.”

  He gazed into her green eyes. The kindness reflected in them warmed his soul. “Very well, follow me.” He started toward the servant’s entrance. If she wished to retrieve her own milk, he would aid her in the endeavor.

  The shuffle of her slippers ceased and he glanced back at her. She stood still, studying a portrait of his parents hanging in a gilded frame.

  “You bear a striking resemblance to the gentleman. Is he your father?”

  Hunter moved to stand beside her. “Yes.”

  She nodded at the woman. “Your mother is beautiful.”

  “Indeed, she was.”

  A blush climbed up Miss Woodcourt’s cheeks. “Of course they have passed on? Your father at any rate, how else would you…I am sorry.”

  He reached up, brushed an auburn curl away from her eye. “It is quite all right. I have made peace with their passing. How about we get you that milk now?”

  The corner of her pink lips turned up. “Might you have something a bit stronger?”

  “Right this way.” He led her into his office and poured two glasses of brandy before handing one to her.

  She graced him with a smile, taking the glass he offered.

  “Might we discuss this betrothal business?” He indicated a chaise near his desk.

  Something flashed in her eyes before she moved to take the offered seat. Was it fear? Panic? Clearly it was not a topic she relished discussing. Still, he needed to know. He would not be able to help her if he did not understand the situation.

  She raised her glass and took a delicate sip. Her hand trembled enough to cause the brandy to quake in the crystal glass. He swallowed hard when she looked at him, then moved to sit across from her.

  “Please explain what Wolfe meant.” He smiled in a way he hoped looked encouraging.

  “What are you referring to?” She glanced at the floor and picked imaginary lint from her wrapper.

  “He said you were betrothed.”

  “I will not marry him.” She looked up, finally meeting his gaze.

  Fear radiated from her as moisture collected in her eyes. His heart hurt for her.

  “I would rather die.” Her voice shook.

  Hunter shifted to sit next to her. He could not stop himself from wrapping an arm around her. “I need to know the truth of it if I am to help you.”

  She nibbled at her lower lip.

  “Miss--might I call you by your given name? Leastwise when in private.” She nodded. “Rose, I will do everything in my power to keep you from a marriage with Wolfe, but I must know what I am up against.”

  He would do everything in his power short of marrying her himself. He could not subject Jewels or his family name to the scorn such an arrangement would cause. He would not.

  She lifted the glass, drinking the remaining brandy in one swallow. When she ran her tongue across her lips, his muscles tightened. He fought the urge to
lean in and taste her sweetness.

  She sighed. “Lord Aubry--”

  “You have leave to use my given name.”

  She blinked at him. “Before my parents died, there was a betrothal arrangement. Mr. Wolfe’s copy was destroyed when his family home burned. His parents were also lost in the fire. Shortly thereafter, I begged off, breaking the arrangement.”

  Hunter took her hand in his and gave an encouraging squeeze. He held her gaze as she recounted the entire tale. Only after she had finished did he allow himself to speak. “Know that he cannot force the suit. I will find a way to make him leave you in peace.”

  A tear escaped, trickling down her cheek. “Do you not see he will stop at nothing short of marriage?”

  Her shoulders shook as he pulled her closer. He stroked her cheek, before plunging his fingers into her hair. The locks were so soft, so feminine. “I will never let him have you.” He dipped his head, brushed his lips against hers. “You are safe here. With me.”

  “Safe.” The word left her mouth a mere whisper.

  He brought their mouths back together. A primal need to protect her filled him as she parted her soft lips, angling her head for him. He deepened the kiss, the sweetness of her driving him.

  She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. Her curves fit against him like their bodies were two pieces of the same puzzle. He trailed his lips down her neck. A tiny whimper drifted from her.

  She tipped her head, allowing him better access to her creamy skin.

  The shattering of his glass broke their connection. He pulled back, his heart hammering as he glanced around the room. When he returned his gaze to her, she nibbled at her lip. A light flush crept across her chest toward her face.

  “I should go.” She averted her gaze, standing a little too swiftly.

  He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back.

  “This cannot happen again.”

  Hunter stood, but before he could stop her, she rushed from the room.

  She was correct. He had to get himself under control before he ruined her. She would never belong to him.

  Chapter 10

  Rose gazed out the window at the countryside as the carriage bounced and jostled along the road. She bumped against Gran, but it hardly registered amongst her tangled thoughts. She was grateful to Hunter for giving them shelter and helping her with Mr. Wolfe, but she would never be as comfortable at his estate as she was in her own home.

  Pray, let me return home soon.

  The kisses she shared with him kept flashing in her mind, causing heat to flair in her cheeks. She snuck a glance at Hunter sitting next to Lady Julia. She would not deny she enjoyed his caresses.

  There was a spark between them that was too easily ignited. He felt it, too. His attraction showed in his sky blue gaze whenever he looked at her, and revealed itself in the gentle way he touched her.

  She needed to return to her normal life before she lost her virtue--or worse, her heart. Because, whenever she was in his arms, she found herself powerless to resist. He could lead her down any path he chose.

  “It is not far now.”

  Her toes curled at the pleasing sound of Hunter’s deep timbre. What would it be like to hear him whisper affectionate words in her ear?

  “You will adore Roselawn. Hunter has agreed to set you up in the main house.” Lady Julia smiled from behind her fan.

  Rose’s heart fluttered. She snapped her gaze to Lady Julia, who only turned her smile on her brother.

  “Indeed.” Lord Aubry’ eyes held warmth for her before he looked at Gran. “Julia feels you will both be more comfortable in the manor, and I quite agree.”

  “How very kind of you, my lord.” Gran pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, a genuine smile pulling at her lips.

  Hunter met Rose’s gaze, the heat in his stare sent warmth rushing through her. She studied the bow of his full, seductive lips. They were firm and demanding, but gentle at the same time. She wanted to feel them pressed to hers again. A sigh escaped her and one corner of his mouth turned up. Could he know her thoughts?

  Her face burned with a fierce blush. She glanced out the window, waving her fan furiously in an attempt to cool her scorching cheeks. The danger to her heart was real. Living under the same roof would prove to be torturous. How could it be anything else when she already longed to be pressed against him?

  What a bird-witted fool she was becoming, lusting after a lord when she knew nothing good could come of it. This needed to stop. She needed to guard her heart. He already claimed a fraction of it with his gallant deeds, gentle caresses, and caring words. She could not afford to allow him further access.

  The carriage halted. A moment later, a footman opened the door and unfolded the metal steps. Hunter climbed out before he handed down Lady Julia. Gran followed.

  Rose moved to the door and accepted the hand he offered. His long fingers closed around hers, sending a jolt of longing straight to her core. Heavens. The moment her slippers touched the cobblestones, he released her as if her touch had branded him. She moved to stand beside Gran.

  Hunter strolled through the door with all three women following behind. He nodded as his butler collected his gloves and hat. “I trust Miss Woodcourt and Mrs. Oaklawn’s things have arrived?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Very well. Have them moved from the cottage to the west wing. The women will reside here for the duration of their stay.”

  Rose’s pulse raced. A mixture of fear and longing warred within her. She would be staying in his manor--with him. She lived in a lord’s manor, his countryseat. But she was merely the seamstress to his sister. She had no business being here.

  When the butler nodded, Lady Julia handed her cloak to him with a smile. Rose could not help but take note of how comfortable and confident the lady appeared. Could she ever belong in their world?

  “Welcome back, Lady Julia.”

  “Thank you, Berkley.” She turned to Miss Woodcourt, who stood near Mrs. Oaklawn. “Do give him your cloaks.”

  After handing over her outerwear, Rose looked to Hunter for direction. Since her clients always came to the cottage, she had never been inside such a grand home. She had no idea what to do or how to behave.

  Lady Julia moved to her side and patted her arm.

  Had the lady sensed her unease? A flush of embarrassment crept across Rose’s cheeks. She offered Lady Julia a shaky smile.

  Part of her relished the idea of staying here, and being privy to the life of the peerage, if only for a short while. The other part knew she belonged below stairs. There would be a price to pay if she allowed herself to put on airs. The servants in Hunter’s employ would see right through her façade. They would not let her forget her proper place in society.

  A lump formed in her throat. What a fine mess her life was shaping up to be. She had become a homeless impostor, fancy that.

  “Lady Julia, might you take the women into the drawing room until their rooms are ready? I have some estate matters to see to that require my immediate attention.” Hunter tugged at his cravat, pulling it away from his throat.

  “Of course, I would be happy to.”

  He cast a half grin in Rose’s direction before he sauntered down the corridor.

  She watched the way his legs moved as he walked away. His were strong, powerful strides, full of confident masculinity. It made her wish she had not rushed away from his embrace the previous night. He had been powerful then, too, but also sensitive and clearly concerned with her plight.

  The memory warmed her heart. She gave herself a mental shake. Yes, Hunter cared for her, but he saw her only as someone in need of aid. He would see her safe from Wolfe and returned to her home, but nothing more.

  * * * *

  Hunter tossed back a glass of port. It sufficiently warmed his insides, but did nothing to ease his mind. He had acted a complete cad the previous night by pulling Rose into his arms, ravishing her when she was so distraught.

&nbs
p; No gentleman would behave in such a way. And bloody hell if he did not long for more of her. The desire to feel her silky skin against his and run his tongue over her most sensitive parts almost overwhelmed him. His erection strained against his breeches at the merest thought of her. Blast the chit for driving him to the edge of madness. For making him care.

  He filled his glass once more before dropping onto the chair behind his mahogany desk. As if his behavior of the previous night was not bad enough, he had flirted with her in the carriage this morning. The blush darkening her cheeks made him long to kiss her again. Had they been alone, he would have gathered her into his arms and kissed her senseless.

  He swallowed another drink. If she were any other woman, he would take her into his bed for a good tumble so he could get her out of his system.

  Oh, bloody hell. Who was he trying to fool? Bedding her once would never be enough. Denying he felt more for her than lust did him no good at all. But he could not have her. Not in the way she deserved. Rose needed a man who could provide a family and stable home. She deserved a happily ever after. The station of mistress would never suit her and he could not offer more. His first duty belonged to his title and family.

  He glanced at the stack of correspondences on his desk. The top letter caught his attention. He snapped it up and studied it. Wolfe. Without bothering to retrieve his letter opener, he broke the seal and scanned the contents. Rubbish. Did the scoundrel honestly think he would hand Rose over on a silver platter merely because they had been betrothed?

  Hunter crumbled the parchment and threw it across the room. It smacked into the bookshelves before dropping to the floor. Rose had been clear in her desire not to wed the man, and he believed she had good reason for breaking the betrothal.

  His stomach roiled. Wolfe would not give up his pursuit of her. Hunter could not begrudge the man on that particular score. If he were free to marry her, he would pursue a courtship straight away. She was beautiful, brave, and compassionate. Smart, too. What more could a man ask for in his wife?

  He swallowed hard. If the Bow Street Runners did not find the evidence to send Wolfe to Newgate… His heart squeezed. As much as it pained him, he would find Rose a suitable match and provide a handsome dowry to keep her safe from the reprobate. Pray, let it not come to such an end.