Ellie laughed at something that blackguard Peasemore said and Griff nearly ground his teeth together in frustration. The damned Englishman. He’d love to pound his fist right through the man’s skull.
“Lady Elspeth is quite beautiful,” Lady Astwick remarked, interrupting Griff’s murderous thoughts.
He pulled his attention back to the Astwicks and frowned, embarrassed to have been caught staring at Ellie. “I apologize. Just a bit distracted this evening.”
The warm smile the marchioness wore put him a bit at ease. “There’s no reason to apologize, Captain. She’s a lovely lass and I don’t blame ye a bit. If ye need any advice where the lady is concerned, her mother is an acquaintance of mine.”
Advice where Ellie was concerned? Griff nearly snorted. Could Lady Astwick make sense of what Ellie saw in that damned Peasemore? Could she enlighten him as to why Ellie was so maddening? That would certainly be good to know. Could she explain the lass’ ability to jumble Griff’s thoughts until he wasn’t sure what they were? “I grew up beside the MacLarens, my lady. I am quite familiar with Lady Ericht myself, but I do thank ye for the offer.” And for perhaps an idea… The Countess of Ericht hadn’t been born a MacLaren. The lady had to possess more honest bones in her body than the whole of the family she married into.
“How very nice to see you twice in one day, my lady.” Lord Peasemore’s hazel eyes bored into Ellie’s and she thought she might drift right up to the chandeliers as he led her into a turn. “A fellow could get used to that.”
And a lady could get used to the look he was giving her now. Ellie had him exactly where she wanted him. Now just to draw him a bit closer. “Ye could pay me a call tomorrow, my lord. And perhaps the day after that, if ye like seeing me so often.”
A rakish grin spread across his face. “I would be spoiled completely rotten, seeing such beauty on so regular a basis.”
“Ye’ve always struck me as the sort of gentleman who enjoys the finer things in life. Don’t ye enjoy being spoiled, my lord?”
“Indeed.” He laughed slightly. “It is one of my most favorite things.”
Meaning he would come tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Ellie could hardly believe her good fortune. Miss Throssell had been spot on. Tomorrow every girl in Town would be green with jealousy.
“How might you go about spoiling me, Lady Elspeth? I would love to know every last detail.”
How would she spoil him? Ellie had no idea. Shouldn’t he just enjoy basking in her company? Shouldn’t he be the one spoiling her? Wasn’t that the way it was supposed to work? “Well, ye shall have to call on me to find that out, Lord Peasemore,” she returned coyly, hoping to buy herself a bit of time. Perhaps Ian could be persuaded to tell her how to spoil a man. Then again, perhaps not. He hadn’t been terribly helpful of late. Perhaps Griff…
“What a little minx you are.” The earl nodded in appreciation, and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief.
She smiled in return, hoping she’d done so somewhat enigmatically. It would be best to keep the earl guessing, after all. At least until she knew how to best spoil him.
After he led her into the next turn, the music came to an end, and Lord Peasemore bowed low before her. “Shall I return you to your brother?”
She had no desire to see Ian, so Ellie shook her head. “And here I thought ye liked me a little.”
Lord Peasemore laughed heartily. “In that case, it is a lovely night. Don’t you agree?”
Was it lovely? Ellie hadn’t paid the weather any attention. All she could say for a certainty was that it wasn’t raining. “I suppose.”
“Well, I find I need a breath of fresh air. Best found out of doors,” he said, his hazel eyes twinkling just a bit. “Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”
“I hope so too,” Ellie replied.
“Well, until then.” He dipped his head in farewell and then strode directly for the double doors at the back of the ballroom. A moment later, he was gone.
Ellie stared at the doors he’d just disappeared through, her mind awhirl. Had he been asking her to join him outside? For a tête-à-tête in Lady Ridgemont’s garden? He’d said it was a lovely night and he hoped he’d see her soon. Did he truly want her to follow him? Was that what he meant?
Her pulse pounded in her ears. This was the moment she’d been waiting for, the moment she’d been hoping for. She might very well be just a few hours away from a betrothal to a wealthy and handsome English peer. All she had to do was follow Lord Peasemore out onto the balustrade. Fate would take care of the rest.
Griff could hardly believe his eyes. Had Ellie truly just disappeared out through the double doors at the far end of the ballroom? Had she truly just followed that blackguard Peasemore out of doors? He glanced towards his right to find Ian MacLaren some feet away, involved in conversation with some gentlemen Griff wasn’t familiar with. Whatever else he was doing, Ian wasn’t keeping an eye on his sister. Her inept brother and guardian couldn’t be counted on to do a damn thing.
Griff’s heart lodged in his throat. He couldn’t let Peasemore have Ellie. Not like this, not so damned easily. He hadn’t even begun to fight for Ellie, and fighting was something he knew well, fighting was something he was extraordinarily good at. He doubted the pampered and entitled Peasemore knew how to fight for blasted thing! The man wouldn’t know what hit him.
Lady Astwick said something to his left, but Griff couldn’t be compelled to repeat whatever it was the lady had said, as her words had fallen completely on deaf ears. “Excuse me,” he muttered, before turning his back on the Marquess and Marchioness of Astwick and made a direct path towards the doors Ellie had disappeared through.
The cool night air hit him as soon as he stepped out onto the balustrade, but he couldn’t see Ellie in the darkness as the light from the ballroom behind him obfuscated his vision. He couldn’t see anyone. Damn it all. She couldn’t have gone far, but where was she?
Ellie thought she heard something around the next hedgerow. A... moan, perhaps. A moan? It didn’t sound as though someone was in pain, but why else would someone moan? She hastened her pace a bit, rounded the hedgerow, and stopped in her tracks!
Good heavens! Who was Lord Peasemore kissing? Though devouring might be a better word than kissing. And had he bared the woman’s breasts?
Ellie’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Luckily, no sound escaped her, which was most definitely a blessing. She wouldn’t want to be discovered like this. Though it was dark, the moon above provided enough light for her to plainly see that her hopes for the future had just evaporated into the night air.
It was as though the whole world suddenly moved achingly slow. Perhaps that was what happened when one’s world crashed around about one’s feet.
She could barely breathe, she could hardly think. But she couldn’t stay there, watching Lord Peasemore – her Lord Peasemore – seduce another woman atop the Ridgemonts’ garden bench.
Her stomach twisted into a knot and she thought she might be sick. All her plans to become the Countess of Peasemore had crumbled to ash along one path in the Ridgemonts’ garden. An emptiness settled around her heart, and more than one tear began to stream down her cheeks.
Silently, at least Ellie hoped it was silently, she backed around the aforementioned hedgerow and slammed right into something large, something most definitely hard. Someone, rather, who let out a whoosh of air as her elbow met his middle.
Startled, Ellie spun around and blinked up into Griffin Reid’s furious face.
“Where the devil is he?” Griff ground out before realizing tears trickled down Ellie’s cheeks. Dear God. Had the villain hurt her? Griff would tear the damned Englishman limb from limb. “What did he do to ye?”
Ellie’s face paled. She shook her head, but no sound came out. It was almost as though she was in shock, something he’d seen more than once over his time spent on one battlefield or another.
Damn it all. Whatever Peasemore had done…But when Ell
ie’s lip trembled, Griff’s only thought was of her, of consoling her. He tugged her into his arms and held her against him.
Ellie’s lithe form trembled against Griff, and he tightened his hold on her. The softness of her curves molded against his chest and legs, which made it impossible for his body to remain neutral. As his cock strained towards her, Ellie pushed slightly back from him.
Her lips quivered and she didn’t seem able to catch her breath. “Take me away,” she managed to whisper.
Griff grasped her hand in his and tugged her back towards the shadows of the house. Once they were quite alone, he drew her to a stop. Ellie looked up at him, and the tear stains on her cheeks tugged at Griff’s heart.
“What happened?” he demanded, though he was fairly certain he knew. That blackguard must have attempted liberties. She was crying. She must have put up a fight. What had that damned English dog done? Kissed Ellie? Touched her somehow? Whatever it was—
“I—I—I,” she stuttered, her lip trembling more than a bit. “I thought he meant to court me.”
But he’d done what instead? Assaulted her? Hurt her in some way? Griff would tear the damned earl apart with his bare hands.
“I don’t even know who she was. A—an—and he had her dress off and…”
He had whose dress off? Clearly, not Ellie’s, but…Griff shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. “What happened, Ellie?”
She took a staggering breath. “I…Well, I thought Lord Peasemore meant for me to follow him, but…Well, apparently he was meeting someone else, and…”
And Ellie had seen something she wished she hadn’t. The tear stains on her cheeks made all the sense in the world now. Griff couldn’t even feel self-righteous about the situation, not when she clearly felt so miserable.
He slid his arms back around her waist and pulled her to him once more. “The man is a fool,” he said softly, smoothing a hand down her back.
Ellie held him tight and cried against his chest, her small frame shaking as she sobbed. The poor girl must have been deeply in love with the damned earl. Griff probably should have told her about his character before now, warned her about Peasemore’s attachment to Lady Ridgemont. He could have saved her quite the shock; he might have kept her heart from breaking if he’d told her the truth.
Griff tipped Ellie’s chin upwards so she had to meet his eyes. Damn it all, he’d never seen a prettier sight. Before he knew what he was doing, he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers.
Ellie’s heart pounded in her chest and all thoughts vanished from her mind. Griff’s lips moved over hers, and delicious tingles raced across her skin. She’d never felt anything so delightful, so heavenly, so…wanton. And she wanted more.
Though his hand at the small of her back pressed her flush against him, she wanted to be closer. She wanted to snuggle against him and never stop.
“Dear God, Ellie.” He nipped at her lips and when she opened for him, his warm tongue delved inside her mouth. He tasted of whisky, familiar Scottish air, and unbridled desire.
Griffin Reid. She was kissing Griffin Reid, of all people, and it felt the most natural, most honest thing in all the world.
Ellie clutched at Griff’s jacket and lifted up on her tiptoes to be closer to him, to breathe him in, kissing him back as though her very life depended upon it. Being in his arms was almost surreal, it was almost as though she was dreaming. But if she was dreaming, she didn’t want to wake up, not ever. If he’d just keep kissing her like this, touching her like that…
He growled low in his throat and the sound reverberated through her. Desire she’d never felt before pooled low in her belly. And all Ellie wanted was more.
After what felt like a lifetime, or perhaps just a moment or so, Griff lifted his head and stared down at her with those silvery grey eyes of his, an expression she’d never before seen on his face. “Ye’d better get back in there before ye’re missed.”
“But,” Ellie protested, wishing only that he’d kiss her again, that this moment between them wouldn’t ever end.
Griff shook his head, most stubbornly, though he did caress her cheek with a tenderness she hadn’t known he possessed. “Ye’ve been gone too long, Ellie. Ye wouldn’t want Ian to go in search of ye.”
Ellie gulped. Who knew what Ian would do if he found them like this? She nodded quickly, knowing he was right. And then she bolted towards the stone steps that led back to the Ridgemonts’ balustrade, wondering what in the world had just happened and what she’d done.
Griffin watched Ellie disappear back inside the ballroom and he shook his head. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, he just had. And if he hadn’t stopped himself when he had, he’d have tossed up her skirts and been just as depraved as Peasemore. Ellie deserved better treatment than that. She was going to be his wife.
But she had kissed him back, and that kiss had nearly undone him. Of course, he should have suspected that passion rested just beneath her skin. No matter that she dressed like a prim English lady, Ellie was a Scot, born on the shores of Loch Ericht just as he had been. Their life together would be far from dull and full of passion. Thank God for that. So much for Ian’s estimation that Griff wasn’t the sort of man Ellie wanted. She wanted him. He’d never been more certain of anything his whole life. Courting her, winning her heart was a foregone conclusion. All he had to do now was make it official.
Griff glanced back towards the stone steps that lead to Ridgemont House and grumbled a curse under his breath. It would take a little while for his damned body to return to an acceptable enough state for him to re-enter the ballroom. But when he did, he wouldn’t take no for an answer this time. Ellie would waltz with him in front of her damned brother and all the rest of London. By the end of that waltz, there wouldn’t be any doubt in anyone’s mind that she was his.
He waited in the darkness until he was decent enough to rejoin London’s finest ladies and gentlemen. Instantly, he scanned the ballroom but couldn’t spot Ellie. He glanced to where he’d last seen Ian MacLaren, but his one-time friend was no longer there either. Perhaps Ellie had gone to the retiring room to inspect her dress. Perhaps Ian had made his way to the card room. Perhaps he just couldn’t spot them among the crush. Griff did notice Nate not far away, a pained expression on his friend’s face.
So he made his way through the crowd and clapped a hand to his friend’s back. “Ye look like ye lost yer dearest friend.”
Nate snorted. “I think I lost my bloody mind. I agreed to meet Throsssell in the morning to sign the contract.”
Which didn’t surprise Griff in the least. Throssell wanted Nate for a son-in-law, and Throssell always got his way. “Should I congratulate ye or give ye my condolences?”
“I probably should accept both. The girl is strange, Griff. The strangest girl I’ve ever met.”
Which only made Griff feel better about his own circumstances with Ellie. She was stubborn with an independent streak, but Ellie wasn’t strange. She was engaging and lively and magnificent. There wasn’t a more beautiful, more spirited girl in all of Britain. And she was his. He smiled at the thought, something he wouldn’t have imagined possible as he was trekking across the continent, “Did ye by chance see where Lady Elspeth disappeared to?” he asked.
Nate nodded and gestured to the entranceway. “She left with her brother not long ago. Did they not say their farewells?”
No. They hadn’t said anything, and Griff couldn’t help but feel a bit empty at Ellie’s sudden departure. Perhaps she thought he’d already left and didn’t care to stay without him. Perhaps she’d somehow stained her dress in the garden and had to leave. Or perhaps Ian wanted to keep Ellie from Griff when it became apparent she wasn’t opposed to his suit. Griff’s blood began to boil once more, quite certain that Ian MacLaren was doing his best to thwart him. After all, Ian could keep hold of his ill-gotten Reid land if he managed to keep Ellie from Griff. How many times did Griff have to remind himself that trusting a MacLaren was foolish thing to d
o?
Foolscap and quill in hand, Ellie looked at the list before her. All of the gentlemen’s names ran together, however. It was hard to focus on just one when she couldn’t escape the memory of Griffin Reid’s kiss. Even now, her cheeks heated whenever his face flashed in her mind. She’d never felt so safe, so desired, so…loved as she had in his arms the night before. Which was ridiculous. Griff didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her. He’d even frowned at her when he broke their kiss. Who wanted to be frowned at the rest of her life? Not Ellie. And, truly, all of that was for the best.
Falling for Griffin Reid was the worst possible thing she could do. They might both be Scottish, but the Highlands were in his blood not hers. She liked England. She loved London. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in a freezing manor beside icy Loch Ericht. Ellie shivered at just the thought. She wanted soirees, musicales, jaunts to the theatre or museum. She wanted one of the English lords on the list before her. She just needed to decide which one would best suit her purposes.
She’d had to quickly craft the list after the debacle with Lord Peasemore the night before. Ellie wasn’t certain which fellow would make her the perfect husband, but the Earl of Peasemore was most definitely not in the running any longer. Any man who could go from dancing in her arms to stripping another woman naked in a garden just a few moments later was not the sort for her. Fidelity was non-negotiable. Papa, rest his soul, had been faithful to Mama all the years of their marriage, and Ellie wouldn’t consider a man that couldn’t be just as true to his marriage vows, even if it wasn’t terribly fashionable these days.
“So,” Ian began from the threshold, breaking Ellie’s reverie. “Howard tells me ye sent Peasemore away this morning.”
She hadn’t sent him away. She’d just refused to see him was all. There was a difference, not that she wanted to get into the particulars with her brother. “I don’t feel like entertaining today.”
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