“Could be he feels the same way about you.”
“He never looks at me if he can help it,” Delilah said, gripping the folds of her dress to hide her shaking hands.
“I know,” Mrs. Stebbens said, “and it ain’t natural for a healthy young man not to be looking at a pretty gal. Ought to be fair drooling every time you walk in the room. Instead he spends his time looking at his plate like he’s never seen food before. Fair runs out of the room the rest of the time if you ask me. He didn’t do that before you came.”
If it hadn’t been so ridiculous to think a man would hide in his own house, Delilah would have said Nathan was doing everything in his power to keep out of her sight. “He’s got too much on his mind to be wasting time on a serving girl,” she said as she picked up the plate of food.
“You’re no serving girl.”
“I am,” Delilah said. “And it’s best if none of us forgets it.”
“How much money do you have tied up in outstanding debts?” Eli Beck asked Nathan.
“I can’t say,” Nathan replied, again surprised by the impertinence of these colonials. In spite of his efforts to be more genial, their intrusive prying had the effect of making him more distant. “I haven’t had time to become fully conversant with my uncle’s affairs.”
“They’re your affairs now, aren’t they?”
“I guess they are.”
“Then you’d better get conversant, or you may find yourself unable to go on living in this house.”
The undertone of contempt in Eli’s voice surprised Nathan more than his question had. Could it be Beck hoped that Nathan would lose Maple Hill? Did he mean to buy it in that case?
“What is your trade?” Eli asked. “I can’t recall your uncle ever said.”
Nathan didn’t know what devil got into him. Maybe it was Eli’s insistence on rooting out every bit of information he could. Maybe it was his antagonism toward men whose greed and insensitivity appalled him. Whatever the cause, the moment the words were out of his mourn he wished he hadn’t said them.
“I was a painter.”
Eli Beck looked at him as if he didn’t understand the word, then hurried away to spread the news.
“It’s bad enough you have to be an Englishman, but why did you tell him you were a painter?” hissed Serena. “In ten minutes there won’t be one man in the room who’ll respect you.”
“They don’t have to. I certainly don’t respect most of them.”
“Do you want to hold on to what you have?” Serena demanded furiously.
“Of course.”
“Then you’d better stop acting so superior and listen. These men know what those farmers are up to.”
“Why don’t you open the doors to the dining room,” Nathan suggested. “Maybe that will take their minds off my disgraceful profession.”
Serena made a noise indicating supreme disgust with her nephew’s attitude, then pinned a forced smile on her face and sailed away to preside over the refreshments.
But it wasn’t the food that made them forget Nathan’s background. Like a magnet, Delilah drew the gaze of every man in the room.
All week Nathan had been trying to keep his distance from her. He couldn’t keep her out of his thoughts, but by staying away from the house most of the day and occupying his mind with business when he came home, he had gotten himself under some kind of control.
The sight of Delilah in that blue dress, wreathed in candlelight, destroyed all the progress he’d made. He still lusted after her, and if he wasn’t careful, his state of mind would be plain to all.
Despite himself, he drew closer. She had been lovely, even in the drab, faded dress she always wore, but the blue satin gown transformed her. Her eyes danced with excitement; her whole body glowed with youthful vitality.
Nathan had never been so aware of her eyes. They were a deep blue, like dark lapis. The gown seemed to bring them alive. It was a simple muslin gown trimmed with ivory-colored lace at the sleeves and bodice. The neckline exposed her shoulders and the deep cleft between her bosom, while the cut of the gown emphasized her small waist and rounded hips.
Her lips, always full and inviting, parted in a smile to reveal a row of even, white teeth. Her hair was garnered at the back of her neck and topped by a cap which was at once too small and too pretty to be suitable for a serving wench.
Delilah had never looked like a serving wench, but tonight she looked like something out of one of his dreams. Considering the way some of the men were looking at her, he wished he could have kept her in them.
“How dare you dress like this in my house?” Serena demanded in a harsh whisper, struggling to keep the superficial smile on her face.
“Mr. Trent asked me to do so,” Delilah hissed back.
“Why don’t you bring me some of that ale?” one of the guests called out. “These greedy beggars won’t let me pass.”
“I want a look just as much as you,” a second man replied.
“You should be thinking of your wife instead of this piece,” another said.
“You think of her,” came the reply. “I prefer to ogle this filly”
“Stop craning your neck, Silas. If I tell your missus, you won’t be allowed out for a month.” Raucous laughter greeted the little man’s scowl of anger.
Delilah looked about her in dismay. She had been so concerned about making a good impression on Nathan, she had forgotten she might impress his guests even more.
Retreat was cut off. Several men stood between her and the door, all determined to hold their position. Instinctively she looked to Nathan.
He couldn’t help but feel pleased when she did that. Unconsciously he stood a little taller, walked toward her a little more eagerly, approached her with a faint swagger.
“If you gentlemen will form a line to one side, not only will each of you be able to reach the table, Miss Stowbridge will be able to serve you in turn.”
The men didn’t move very fast, even when Serena seconded Nathan’s suggestion. A second look at Nathan, however, made them reconsider. He seemed ready to move them himself if necessary.
“Where’d you find that gal?” Noah Hubbard asked him. “She one of your English lasses you brought along to keep you warm at night?”
Nathan’s hands tightened into fists, and he had to resist an impulse to knock Noah’s buck teeth down his scrawny throat.
“Her name is Delilah Stowbridge. Her brother owns a farm not far from here.”
“Now I understand why you decided to let her work off his debt. Maybe she could work at my place after she’s done here.”
Nathan’s hand snaked out, grabbed Noah by his shirt front, and pinned him against the wall. “Miss Stowbridge is in my aunt’s charge while she’s in this house,” he said, his face a mask of contempt.
Noah’s eyes gleamed with pleasure at having penetrated Nathan’s air of cool detachment. “Is that why she’s decked out in a dress her brother couldn’t afford without selling half his farm?”
Nathan had to admit the little viper had guts even if he did have the sensibilities of a swine. “My aunt makes provision for our servants,” he said in a voice frozen with disdain. “You should direct any questions about Miss Stowbridge’s wardrobe to her.”
But Delilah was magnificent, and Nathan’s body responded to her. He released Noah and turned away, forcing himself to concentrate on the implications of Noah’s words rather man on Delilah’s breasts, which seemed to be struggling to free themselves from the too-tight bodice. As much as he would have liked to smash Noah’s leering face, neither a fight nor his aroused state would convince anyone of his honorable intentions.
And his intentions were honorable. No matter how much he lusted after Delilah, he would not do anything to stain her reputation while she was at Maple Hill.
“I had no idea she would cause such a commotion,” Nathan said to his aunt in a soft voice when he was able to attract her attention.
“She wouldn’t have if she hadn’t
worn that indecent dress,” his aunt hissed. “Where did she get it? Did you give it to her?”
“Where would I get a dress? Here she comes. I’ll speak to her.” Nathan waited until Delilah reached him. “I think you’d better go back to the kitchen.”
“Did I do something wrong?” She looked upset.
“You wore that dress,” Serena hissed.
Nathan placed himself between his aunt and Delilah. “The men appear to be having a little trouble keeping their minds on business.”
A faint smile curved Delilah’s lips. “Shall I return later to clear the table?”
“I think you should leave that to Lester.”
“He’ll be fit to be tied.”
“Possibly, but I’d rather have one irate butler than a riot on my hands.”
Delilah looked self-conscious, but she couldn’t hide a tiny smile of pleasure. “I’ll help Mrs. Stebbens.”
“fine. And Delilah,” he said as she turned away.
She turned back.
The men are right. You look magnificent tonight.”
Delilah hurried out of the room before the heat which began to flood her cheeks gave the men the wrong idea about what Nathan had said.
Outside in the cool, dark hall, she leaned against the closed doors. Nathan had looked at her; he had said she looked magnificent. She needed only her body’s reaction to know that was what she had been waiting for all evening.
Her muscles had gone weak, but there was a bone-cracking tension in her limbs. Nerve endings all through her body arced and sparked until she thought she was being pricked by hundreds of tiny pins. And her breasts felt tender. She had been aware of them all evening. Priscilla might be bigger and taller, but her bosom was not so ample. Now the gown seemed intolerably confining.
Too hot and disturbed to go back to the kitchen, too confused to answer Mrs. Stebbens’s questions, Delilah needed a few minutes to calm herself. Nathan’s voice carried from the parlor, and heat rose in her neck and face all over again.
Tonight he wore a black swallow-tailed coat and white satin breeches. If every man in London dressed like that, she didn’t know how anybody mere managed to sleep at night. His left profile had been visible to her when the doors had opened. In the few seconds before the men closed in on her, her brain had registered a picture of his body from ankle to powerful shoulder. But it was the recollection of his powerful thighs which would invade her sleep for several nights to come. She had been concerned that her dress fitted too tightly that her bosoms might be drought to be too boldly displayed, but the effect could not compare to what those breeches did to Nathan’s body.
The more Delilah thought about it, the hotter she got. She couldn’t go to the kitchen, but she was too restless to go to her room, her muscles too taut, her body too warm. She decided to go outside for a short walk, knowing if she stayed within, she would melt from her own heat.
When she moved, her body was dead weight. She could hardly lift her feet. She had reached the end of the hall when the door to the parlor opened and she heard Serena’s voice.
Delilah threw open the outer door and fled into the night.
Nathan caught a glimpse of Delilah’s gown before the door closed behind her. Why had she gone outside? Had the men’s behavior upset her? Should he check on her?
“Find out what’s become of Priscilla,” Serena called to him from the drawing room. “She should have come down before now.”
Serena always tried to make sure her daughter was present when Nathan was home. He wasn’t sure how Priscilla felt about her mother’s plan for them to marry. His cousin’s response to him followed one of two patterns. She was either simpering and suggestive or unaware of his presence. He had no idea which approach represented her true feelings, and he wasn’t interested enough to find out.
But Priscilla’s arrival spared him from having to look for her. She descended the stairs, dressed in a rose-colored silk gown which became her admirably. Her hair was bound up under a cap that seemed to be composed entirely of ribbons and flowers. It wasn’t to Nathan’s taste, but he imagined the men inside would like it well enough.
Maybe Priscilla would take their minds off Delilah.
He was still angry over the way they had bunched around her as if she were a tavern wench in heat. Because Delilah’s family was not as well off as they were, was she fair game for their lusts? And by what stretch of the code governing decent behavior did they have the effrontery to tell him he must be sleeping with her or planning to do so?
That inference made him feel guilty for the thoughts he had harbored the last several days. True, he wanted Delilah more than any woman he’d ever met, but he hadn’t insulted her by assuming that because he wanted her she would yield. In fact, from the little bit he knew of Delilah, she would do just the opposite.
Priscilla sidled up to Nathan, a simpering grin detracting from her prettiness.
“Your mother’s been asking for you,” he said. “She’s trying to turn this into a social occasion, and I think she wants your help.”
“Are you running away? Do you want me to come with you?” She gave him a provocative look.
Nathan didn’t voice the reply which came to mind. Instead he said, “And have your mother looking for both of us?”
“She wouldn’t bother if she knew I was with you.”
There was that witless I’ll-do-anything-you-want look. It made Nathan feel like the quarry in a fox hunt. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Where’re you going?”
Nosy female. “There are some things a man has to do in private.”
Priscilla giggled, but no answering smile found its way to Nathan’s lips. The minute she entered the parlor, he slipped out the front door.
To the east of the house lay the stables and the home farm, to the west lay the garden and the river.
Nathan went west.
He hadn’t gone very far before he stopped. He had never been in the garden, he had only looked at it from his room, and he suddenly felt out of place. The soft murmuring of the river formed a backdrop for the sounds of tree frogs and the crunching of Nathan’s boots on the gravel of the carriage drive. It was dark under the trees. He had to wait until he could see where to step. Tripping over the stones that lined the path and finding himself in the rose bed or the fish pond didn’t appeal to him at all.
The river was closer now, the gurgling its waters made while swirling around rocks, limbs, and tree roots louder. He became aware of the soft whisper of rustling leaves, On silent wings, a bat floated by his head, causing Nathan to start.
This was nothing like London at night.
Then he saw her, leaning against a picket fence, staring out at the reflection of the moon on the river. She had never looked more lovely, like a goddess, all pale and beautiful, almost too perfect. The only touch of color was the deep red of her generous mouth. Nathan longed to kiss those lips, to taste their sweetness, to feel them respond to his touch and part in invitation.
He had to stop dunking of them, or he wouldn’t be in a decent state to approach her.
Should he go to her now? They weren’t on very good terms, and he had no idea what had made her leave the house. He might say something that would make her run from him.
He didn’t want to do that.
The sound of boots on the coarse, river-bottom sand of the garden pathway warned Delilah that she wasn’t alone. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Nathan approaching. In the moonlight, he looked quite astonishing. His coat and boots faded into the night while his breeches and waistcoat shone ghostly white. He looked like a beautiful statue, perfect in every way.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked as he drew near.
Delilah wanted to shout out that his presence kept her silent, his nearness upset her calm, and the sight of his slim body caused her heart to beat painfully in her chest. She tried to speak, but no sound passed her throat. Uncomfortable, she wanted him to leave, but she was glad he had come.<
br />
“I hope you didn’t let their remarks upset you,” Nathan said when she didn’t reply.
He’d think her an idiot if she told him she hardly remembered a word, that she had barely been aware of anyone else form the minute she’d seen him.
She lied. “A little bit.”
“You don’t have to go back.”
It’s all right. My uncle has a tavern. I know what men are like when they drink.”
“Nevertheless, you don’t have to see them again.”
“I must. I mean, I will.” She couldn’t tell him she had fled because he’d driven her out of control any more than she could tell him she had to go back because she had to spy on him. “You didn’t hire me to run away every time you have guests. It’s partly my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have worn this dress.”
“I’m glad you did. You look particularly lovely.” He wanted to tell her that her eyes were full of starlight, that her lips tempted him almost beyond bearing, but he could see she was poised to run away. He didn’t dare touch her, though his whole body ached with wanting to.
“Servants aren’t supposed to look lovely.”
Nathan started to tell her that she could never be a servant, but he stopped short. She had asked to be a servant, and only by being one could she eradicate the black cloud—Reuben’s debt—which always seemed to hang between them.
“Why did you wear that dress? You said you wouldn’t.”
Delilah sidestepped his question. “Shouldn’t you get back? They might start wondering where you’ve gotten to.”
Nathan experienced a pang of disappointment. She wanted him to go. Was she afraid of him, or did she merely dislike him? He couldn’t blame her in either case. He had given her little reason to think he was different from his uncle.
“I can’t leave you here. I’ll wait and walk with you.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Can you imagine what those men would say?”
“I don’t care,” Nathan said, realizing with a bit of surprise that he really didn’t.
“I do. What they think now is pure conjecture, but if they were to see us walk into the house together, they would announce it as fact.”
Rebel Enchantress Page 8