And tried to think of a way to keep his preoccupation with Lady Maria at bay.
Chapter Eight
Aggie placed the last bone hairpin in Maria’s coif and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “I doubt Lord Kirkham has ever seen one as lovely as yourself, my lady,” she said. “’Tis no wonder he wishes to sup with you alone.”
Maria blushed in dismay. “I have no intention of joining Lord Kirkham in the solar, Aggie,” she said. He stirred her too deeply for comfort. ’Twas best she keep away from him for the duration of her stay at Kirkham, which she hoped would not be more than another day.
“But Lady Maria,” Aggie protested, “his lordship specifically requested that—”
“He has important guests here,” Maria interrupted. “There is no need for Lord Kirkham to cater to me….”
Aggie remained silent for once, and Maria appreciated it. She needed to think more about getting to Rock-bury, and less about Nicholas Hawken.
The marquis had deftly turned her over to Sir Roger and Tessa Malloy, Kirkham’s steward and his wife. Maria thought he’d done it to keep her out of the way of his other guests. In truth, she did not mind. Tessa Malloy was a friendly, talkative soul, so much so that Maria did not have to explain herself or her reasons for being at Kirkham. She’d passed the afternoon pleasantly with the older couple, learning about Kirkham and the villages in the district.
She’d also discovered the location of Rockbury.
Her mother’s estate had been mentioned only in passing, but Maria’s casual questioning gained her the information she needed. Rockbury was merely a day’s ride from Kirkham. She should be able to hobble out to the stable and get her horse. And she knew she could ride.
The only question was whether she could mount and dismount. Maria hoped that by morning her ankle would support her.
“I’ll just have Cook prepare a tray for you here in your room, my lady,” Aggie finally said, “if that’s what you prefer.”
“Thank you,” Maria replied. “I do.”
She stood and, supported by her crutch, made her way to the window that overlooked the garden where she and Nicholas had walked that morning. He’d left her soon after their morning meal, and Maria had been grateful for the reprieve. The man never let up with his seductive overtures.
She had nearly succumbed.
“Tell me about Staffordshire, Aggie,” Maria said now. She knew she needed to take the east road from Kirkham to get to Rockbury, but more information about the district would be welcome. She did not ask specifically about Rockbury, preferring to keep her interest in the estate to herself. Since she did not know how her situation would work out there, she was hesitant to mention any of her plans…or hopes.
Eventually, Aggie left Maria alone.
Dusk began to fall, and Maria lit the lamps in her room to ward off the gloom. She was unaccustomed to so much inactivity and found herself growing restless. With her ankle still so tender, she was a virtual prisoner, since she could not walk very far, even with the help of the crutch.
Music began to play in the great hall, and Maria assumed Lord Kirkham would be occupied again, drinking and feasting with his guests. She did not know what pastime they’d enjoyed all afternoon, but most of the guests had been away from the castle while she had visited with the steward and his wife.
Voices drew Maria to her chamber window, and she hobbled over to look. A couple of men and a woman wandered out into the garden. The lady’s laughter filled the air, though the men’s voices remained low and in-discernible. Then one of the men laughed and the three strolled away, out of Maria’s sight.
Leaning on her crutch, she went back to her chair by the fire and sat down. It was going to be a long, dull night.
The games were afoot. Lord Lofton and Viscount Sheffield played drunkenly at swords on the upper landing of the hall. Music played while several men danced with the loose women who’d been hired for the purpose. Men gambled with dice at one end of the large room, and raucous laughter broke out in the other.
In one quiet alcove, the wench on Nicholas’s lap wiggled suggestively and batted her lashes at him. She reached across him, brushing her breasts against his arm, and picked up her mug from the table next to them. She took a long draught of ale, then touched her tongue to her lips, implying all the wicked things she would be willing to do for him…for a price.
He wasn’t interested.
Awareness of his disinterest appalled him. The wench was as willing as any woman could be, and he was a fool not to take advantage of her enthusiasm.
Nick tried to tell himself his distraction was due to the lack of news about Sterlyng. He had pursued all avenues of information available to him at Kirkham. He’d subtly questioned all his guests about the Duke of Sterlyng and his friend Carrington, who’d supposedly gone off to Italy just as England’s most pleasant season was upon them. Nicholas had subtly questioned his guests about every nobleman who was known to have financial or other dealings with the Orléanist faction.
But he had learned nothing, beyond the rumors that had been rife about the duke’s missing heir.
Perhaps that was the connection. Nicholas would have to determine who the mother of this supposed heir was…a Frenchwoman, perhaps? If that were the case, and heaven knew Sterlyng had spent sufficient time in France with Bedford, was it not possible that he’d taken a French mistress and sired a bastard on her? The dauphin himself was rumored to be illegitimate….
Since Sterlyng left no other heir, he might be strongly tied to this offspring.
’Twas worth investigating, though by no means would the duke be exonerated if this theory turned out not to be true. The letter to the Duke of Aleno¸n, affixed with Sterlyng’s official seal, was incriminating in and of itself.
One thing was certain—there was no more Nicholas could do tonight. He could pass the time as he would, with no thought to England or the men serving the king’s cause in France.
Which brought his attention back to the lusty harlot in his arms. Her eyes were a deep, liquid brown and oh, so seductive. Her gown was cut low, all the better to display her ample charms. ’Twould take very little to coax the lass up to his chamber in the south tower.
Right next to the one occupied by Lady Maria.
Nicholas stood, easing the woman off his lap. “My lord?” she asked.
Nick frowned as he found himself without an explanation for what he would do now, or why.
After he’d returned from the hunt, Maria had told him—through her maid—that she was resting and did not care to be disturbed. Then she’d declined his invitation to dine with him in the solar, making her aversion to him clear.
He had no good reason to allow the woman to preoccupy his every waking thought.
He grinned wickedly at the woman before him. She possessed a coarse beauty that would serve him well enough. One long night with this one in his bed would give him respite from his political speculations, and mayhap even dispel his fixation on Lady Maria. He took the wench’s shoulders in his hands and dragged her to him, planting his lips on hers.
She speared his mouth with her tongue and grabbed his buttocks, grinding her pelvis against him. She pivoted, dragging him with her, and pushed him onto the chair he’d just vacated. Then she sat on him again, only this time she straddled his hips with her legs.
“Lord Nicky…” she whined. She wriggled against him, pressing her hips to his loins. She took one of his hands and placed it on her breast, startling him when he realized he hadn’t put it there himself.
He doubled his effort to seduce her, though she clearly required no wooing. Unaccountably irritated with himself, and with her, Nicholas rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled her gown down in order to have better access to her bountiful flesh.
But he was pitifully unaffected by the wanton, willing female sprawled across what were usually his most sensitive parts.
Nicholas felt smothered by her. She smelled of onions and…of someth
ing else he couldn’t quite determine. ’Twas not the pleasantest of aromas, though.
She moaned into his mouth and detached herself enough to whisper a suggestion that they find a private place where she could show him a few tricks she knew with her tongue.
Again Nicholas was remarkably unmoved by her proposition. In truth, he thought that if she wriggled against him once more, or tried to shove her tongue any farther down his throat, he would be compelled to dump her off his lap without ceremony.
A loud crash brought him abruptly to his feet, and he carelessly set the woman away from him as he headed toward the disturbance.
Sheffield had managed to lose his footing while engaged in his game of swordplay with Lofton, and had pitched down the steps. He lay at the bottom, unmoving, but at least he was not dead, judging by the moans emanating from him.
Nicholas shoved through the drunken crowd around Sheffield and knelt next to the injured man. He did not want to appear too competently sober, yet he needed to see that Sheffield got the care and attention he needed.
Fortunately, Henric Tournay arrived and began issuing orders. Hardly any time elapsed before footmen came and carried Sheffield to the chamber where he was lodged. Henric ran his hands all over the man, checking for fractures, for internal bleeding. Finding nothing more than a cracked rib and a few nasty bumps and bruises, Tournay bade the man swallow a sleeping draught, and assigned a footman to sit with the nobleman whilst he slept.
Nicholas felt the need for sleep, as well, so he avoided the crowd in the hall and made his way up a back staircase and through a cold, dim passage that led to the south tower. Mayhap he was not so much in need of sleep as of escape, he thought, approaching his chamber.
These evenings of drunken debauchery were wearing on him. For the first time he began to wonder if he would ever finish his mission, if the wars in France would ever be concluded.
He thanked God for Tournay, for all the times his secretary had acted swiftly, with good sense and competence. The man, young as he was, had become indispensable these last few months.
As Nicholas entered the gallery near his bedchamber, he stopped short. Ahead of him an awkward figure was hobbling away, toward the main staircase. ’Twas a woman’s form, clad in a voluminous white gown, using a crutch to support herself as she walked.
Intrigued, Nicholas followed quietly behind, inhaling the fresh, elusive scent left in her wake.
She followed the curve of the tower until she reached the top of the stairs. There she remained in the shadows, gazing down on the scene below.
Nicholas looked his fill at the delicate figure before him. She wore a much more modest gown than last eve. But for all its bulk, it did not hide the sumptuous figure beneath. Its sleeves were full and reached the lady’s wrists. The skirt touched the floor and then some, swirling around ankles that were sure to entice him. The neck was high and virginal.
The fabric of the gown was some diaphanous concoction that allowed the light of the chandelier at the top of the stairs to pass through it, giving Nicholas a tempting view of the soft curves hidden beneath.
His reaction to the view was sharp and sweet. And quite reassuring after his recent debacle with the harlot belowstairs.
“Lady Maria,” he said quietly.
Though he tried to avoid sneaking up on her, she was startled by his voice. She whirled around and nearly lost her balance. He caught her and righted her just in time.
“My lord!”
He did not respond verbally, but raked his eyes over her appreciatively, from her gloriously golden curls to her suspicious eyes. He dwelled on her shoulders and the perfect hollow of her throat. His eyes wandered to the enticing abundance of her breasts and shuddered as he noted the way the gown floated softly down from their taut peaks.
His fingers fairly burned with the need to touch her.
“There was a noise…”
“True enough,” Nicholas said when he finally found his voice. “One of my guests fell.”
She composed herself visibly before speaking. Again she was transformed from the naive maiden to a woman of experience. Nick could not say which of the two fascinated him more.
“Poor man, I hope he was not too severely injured.”
“Nay,” Nicholas said, taking the crutch from her and leaning it against the wall. “He was not. At least not according to my secretary.”
“Please, my lord,” Maria said, “let us not vie for my crutch again.”
“You do recall who won our battle this morn?”
“Of course I do, but you mustn’t—”
“Ah, but I must,” he said, picking her up in his arms. He snagged up her crutch, then carried her with ease, stopping only after they’d stepped into her chamber.
Maria knew she could not allow him to repeat his actions of the night before. That was why she’d avoided him all afternoon, knowing full well he was bent on seducing her. And Maria was determined to avoid it.
What would Cecilia do?
It occurred to Maria that her cousin would likely coerce Lord Kirkham into leaving her by promising more…later.
Forcing a flirtatious smile to her lips, Maria touched Kirkham’s chin with one finger, than turned her hand and ran the back of it down his chest. She kept her eyes on his, but felt a shudder rock through him.
Her smile wavered for an instant, and she was afraid she’d taken the wrong tack. But she quickly squirmed out of his arms, took her crutch from his hand and gently pushed him out of her room. “Until tomorrow, my lord,” she said in a quiet, seductive voice.
Then she closed the door.
Chapter Nine
The following morning, Nicholas was still shaking his head over the way Lady Maria had managed to maneuver him out of her chamber, but he wasn’t about to let her escape him today.
His guests had all gone on the hunt—all except Sheffield, who remained abed. The man was merely bruised and sore, not badly injured, so Nicholas had no qualms about leaving him in the care of Kirkham’s servants.
After considering the possibilities with Maria, Nick sent a footman and maids out to his hunting lodge, a rustic cottage located deep in the forest at the farthest reaches of the estate. ’Twas also the scene of many a successful seduction in the past.
The servants had orders to air out the lodge and make it habitable, then return to the castle. In the meantime, Nick planned to invite Maria on a tour of the estate. During the course of their tour, they would happen upon the building in the forest.
Nick grinned wickedly to himself. The romantic little lodge had never failed him yet.
He instructed a groom to have two horses saddled, then headed for the south tower.
Maria tested the strength of her ankle as she walked back and forth across the length of her chamber. ’Twas still sore, but she could walk on it.
She had to leave. Soon.
Nicholas Hawken was too much a threat to all she had striven to attain. She would not jeopardize her inheritance by dallying too long at Kirkham, no matter how compelling the interlude might be.
Lord Kirkham was a difficult man to judge. At times he seemed wholly intemperate and irresponsible, an outrageous flirt. Yet at other times he was kind and gentle, considerate to a fault. She had yet to see him act harshly with the castle servants, even when mistakes were made, and he was solicitous of Tessa Malloy, the steward’s elderly wife.
Maria did not know what to make of him.
In any case, it did not matter. It could not matter. She was going home.
She’d gotten information about Rockbury from Tessa Malloy, as well as from Aggie and one of the footmen. Putting it all together, she knew the estate’s approximate location. She knew how many hours’ travel it was from Kirkham, and what road she would have to take to get there. Now all she needed was for her ankle to be sound enough for her to complete her journey.
Once Maria arrived at Rockbury and discovered whether she truly was the heiress, all the pieces of her life would fall into pl
ace. She desperately hoped Rock-bury would be the place where she belonged.
Mayhap in time she would find a husband, and have a family of her own. What more could she ask? She might be old for marriage at two and twenty, but she knew it was not an impossible dream.
’Twas what was expected of the noble class. To wed and beget heirs. Hadn’t Tessa Malloy just told her that the people of Kirkham anxiously awaited the day their master would bring a bride to the estate?
An odd question crossed Maria’s mind. Was it possible that the marquis considered her a likely choice? What would she say if he asked her?
Maria gave a little shake of her head and let out a derisive sigh, dismissing such foolish notions. Kirkham ’s designs on her had been clear from the beginning. His intentions were no different than those of that abominable friend of her cousin, the fellow she’d narrowly escaped at Alderton only a few days before.
Testing the ankle once more, she took another awkward stroll across the room and was startled by a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called.
The Marquis of Kirkham entered. “You’re off your crutch,” he said as he pushed the chamber door open. To Maria, he seemed the consummate scoundrel with his sinful gaze and irreverent smiles. A wayward lock of hair dipped low over his forehead, and in spite of herself, Maria’s fingers itched to smooth it back for him.
She nodded. “’Tis much better today,” she said, catching a fleeting expression in his eyes. He was pleased with her improvement.
“I’ve planned a trip around the estate this afternoon, and I’d be honored to have your company.”
Surprised by his invitation, Maria took a few careful steps to the window, giving herself a moment to consider Nicholas’s request. She could not see anything untoward about Kirkham’s invitation, no indication of anything improper, however unexpected it was. Maria had thought Nicholas Hawken simply bent on seduction. Clearly, she would have to give more thought to Tessa Malloy’s words.
Even as Maria lamented her inexperience in these matters, she was determined not to display her ignorance openly. Thinking of her earlier conversation with Lady Malloy, Maria had to believe it might just be possible that Lord Kirkham’s invitation was an honorable one.
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