Before she could question him further or ask him why her and not beautiful, ladylike Rose, their lips crashed together. In all her imaginings—and there had been an embarrassing number of hours spent on this very subject—Diana had pictured her first kiss as being chaste. The soft, simple press of lips to lips.
How wrong she was. There was nothing simple nor chaste about Cole’s kiss.
Her mama had been useless with regard to passing on information of the physical manifestation of love, despite having birthed so many children. Her brothers had certainly never broached such an indelicate subject with her. And now it was clear her novels had left her woefully uneducated as well.
Diana skimmed one hand up his shirt to clasp the warm skin of his nape and grabbed the lapel of his jacket with her other. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her from the tree to his body. She clung to the only stable force in her world.
His tongue darted out to touch her bottom lip, and she gasped. He didn’t allow her shock to take root, pressing inside her mouth and coaxing her to play with him. Diana had never considered the risks before leaping headlong into adventure when they were children. Nothing had changed even though an alarm clanged distantly. This was more dangerous than following her brothers across the river on a fallen tree.
Cole toyed with her lips and tongue in the way of a cat and mouse. While she wasn’t confused about who the mouse was in their dynamic, she became aware of his labored breathing and the way his hand ran into her hair with a desperation she understood deep in her soul. Perhaps this kiss wasn’t a lark to him.
Her entire body tingled with awareness, and she squirmed closer to him. He tightened his hold and lifted her to her toes, fitting them together like two puzzle pieces. Her breasts pressed into his taut chest, and a peculiar hardness nestled against her belly. A feeling of satisfaction and impatience took hold as an insistent ache throbbed between her legs. Her hips moved against him, seeking relief but finding none.
A small cry of frustration escaped, and she nipped his bottom lip in an unspoken plea to help her.
Chapter 2
The tang of pine needles underfoot and the loamy scent of fallen leaves colored the air. Would Cole ever be able to walk the woods again without thinking of Diana with her soft lips and needy hands? Never.
It had been wrong of him to start kissing her. He acknowledged it even as he couldn’t stop himself from tasting her. The first man to do so. The roar of satisfaction was primal and like nothing he’d ever felt before.
Diana was sister to his best friends—practically a sister to him. The truth was murkier. Cole had been painfully aware she was not his sister since the summer she’d turned seventeen. He’d happened across her wading in the brook, her skirts pulled to her thighs, her bodice wet and clinging to curves he’d never noticed before but had been etched into his dreams that night.
Her dark red hair had been loose around her shoulders like tendrils of flame. And her smile had been brighter than the sun. While she was as beautiful and wild as the cliffs, it had been her laughter and life that had held him in thrall.
As a third son, he’d been allowed more freedom than his brothers, unburdened by the stifling expectations that fell on an heir’s or a spare’s shoulders. He’d even entertained thoughts of offering for Diana when she reached age, battling doubts she’d ever see him as anything except a boy who’d dunked her under water or tickled her more than once as a child.
Knowing taking the cloth was not his calling, he’d studied at Cambridge, then bought a commission and joined the fight, serving under Wellington. He’d planned to prove himself before coming home to woo her. Fate had intervened.
First his eldest brother, sister-in-law, and nephew had died over the course of one horrific week. Then, just when their family had started to come out of the dark pit of their grief, John had died, followed by their father.
Except for his uncle and a handful of servants, Cole was alone in the world. Lonely. And expectations had changed. His uncle had been pestering him since his father’s funeral to choose a suitable lady. Even Rose, as beautiful as she was, wouldn’t pass muster with most of the ton.
With wild, reckless Diana in his arms, he wasn’t sure he cared what anyone else thought. He fisted a hand in the fabric of her skirts, wanting to lift them and smooth a hand over her buttocks and thighs and the soft, sweet places in between.
Her hips moved restlessly against him, and a mewl of need rose from her throat. He canted away from her slightly so his hardened cock wouldn’t frighten her. His lips curled into a smile even as their tongues sparred. He suspected curiosity would trump whatever fear she harbored over the intimacy between man and woman. What did she know? What could he teach her?
Nothing.
The word resonated in his head like a gong, and he raised his head, his breathing ragged. He could teach her nothing unless he wanted to leave her ruined, and he cared too much about her to be so selfish. If he didn’t step away from her within the next thirty seconds, he would have her on her back and her skirts around her waist. She deserved better than a rutting on the forest floor.
He took a step away from her, forcing his hands to drop to his sides. Diana swayed like cut timber ready to topple, still clutching him. Her lips were red and puffy from their kisses, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dazed, her hair mussed.
He swallowed hard. How could she think for one minute she came second to Rose? Yes, Rose was pretty in the same way of a dozen other young ladies. She was composed and demure and would make a charming hostess and wife for some gentleman.
Diana was energy and light and possessed a sensual curiosity. Life in bed and out with her would be a delight. In short, she set him ablaze. Imagining her as the wife of the Linley vicar was horrifying, but what could he do about the situation?
“I’m sorry,” he croaked out. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
She blinked at him a few times as if coming out of a dream. “Is this where I run off screaming about my besmirched virtue? Because I fear my knees are too weak to carry me very far.”
Of course Diana would surprise him with her reaction. He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and allowed himself to caress her neck with the back of his hand. “If it’s any consolation, my knees are rather unsteady too.”
“Are they?” She tilted her head and regarded him. “That kiss wasn’t a jest to you then?”
“No!” The denial echoed back to them, and he modulated his voice. “How could you think so poorly of me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think of you or the kiss.” Her slight smile was fraught with bemusement.
“Perhaps we should forget it ever happened?” He wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to agree or argue.
For a moment she said nothing, but her smile disappeared. With brisk movements, she gathered her cloak where it had fallen at their feet. “Yes. That would be best. Already it feels like a dream.”
Disappointment bubbled up, yet he nodded and gave her a tight smile. At least she hadn’t deemed his kiss a nightmare. He turned around and gathered her basket, searching for an innocuous conversational thread to ease the awkwardness.
“Your family will be coming to the Christmastide fete, of course.” Christmas Day would begin with a church service at the family chapel with Hamish Hambridge presiding and the bishop in attendance. Afterward, Cole’s tenants and villagers from Ottery Saint Mary would gather on the Linley grounds for warm wassail, mince pies, and sweets and games for the children. It had become a beloved tradition.
“We weren’t certain if the celebration would go forward considering…” She made a vague hand gesture before smoothing her hair.
“I would be inclined to cancel and hole up in the library, but my tenants— Goodness, it feels strange to say that. Anyway, they look forward to the celebration. Lettie tells me canceling would be selfish and unbecoming for the Earl of Linley.” Bless his former nursemaid and current housekeeper’s no-nonsense nature. She wasn’t
allowing him to wallow in his grief.
“But understandable for a brother and son,” Diana said softly.
Cole raised his face to the interminable gray sky and blinked away a sudden rush of emotion. Two children rushed out of the door of Grambling Manor and ran toward them on long, spindly legs. Peter and Paul Grambling were ten-year-old twins.
“Diana!” one of them yelled. Cole had never been able to tell them apart and, in fact, suspected no one in the family could either.
“Hello, scamps. Make your bow to the earl, if you please.” Diana ruffled one of the twin’s hair.
The two boys bowed slightly at the waist and spoke in an eerie unison. “How do you do, my lord.”
Before Cole could answer, the boys were off like a pair of hares toward the sea, and Diana led him to the front of Grambling Manor. The door opened, and Mrs. Grambling popped out with her hands on her hips. “Where did those boys get off to, pray tell?”
“They’re headed toward the cliffs, Mother. Shall I send one of the bigger boys after them?”
Worry creased Mrs. Grambling’s brow, but she bestowed a warm smile on Cole, and he felt his lips turning in answer. She held out her hands, and he took them both, finally feeling as if he’d come home.
“Good to see you, Cole. I mean my lord.” Mrs. Grambling dropped his hands and clutched her skirts. While she didn’t dip into a curtsy, he could sense a wall being hastily cobbled between them that had never been present before.
“Please, let’s not stand on ceremony.” So much had changed; he couldn’t bear if he lost this too.
“Come on, Cole,” Diana said. “Liam and Piers haven’t been home a fortnight and are already bored. They’ll be pleased to see you.”
He followed Diana down a dim hallway, not needing an escort but happy to remain in her company as long as possible. He caught her wrist before she could knock with her raised hand. She shifted toward him, her face tilted up to his.
If he wasn’t in the heart of her house with her parents and many siblings milling around, he might have kissed her again. Foolishness.
“Diana,” he managed to choke out in a desperate-sounding whisper. He wanted to beg her not to marry Hamish—wanted to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep—but stringing coherent words together was beyond him.
He let go of her wrist. She remained frozen, her hand suspended for a moment. Finally she took a deep breath and knocked. The door opened, and Cole was enveloped in the boozy-smelling warmth of hard cider and two old friends.
Diana disappeared, and Cole took a swig of the drink Piers pressed into his hand. Both Piers and Liam lived in London now. Piers was earning a reputation as a respected solicitor while Liam worked at the East India Trading Company. It was rare their social circles intersected. In fact, the only time Cole had seen them at a social function was at the ball his father had held in honor of Cole’s brother.
Still, Cole made a point to meet his two oldest friends at Manton’s for shooting practice or Gentleman Jack’s for a rousing bout of pugilism or at a drinking house that catered to the rising class of merchants. Over the autumn, however, Cole had seen less and less of the Grambling brothers as his responsibilities increased tenfold.
Cole had taken his seat in Parliament and joined White’s like his brothers and father before him. His skin had gotten uncomfortable to live in lately. Nothing seemed to fit. He didn’t seem to fit in a life he’d never anticipated inheriting. He took a deep breath, a deep drink, and let the familiar banter of the brothers wash over him.
“You’ll stay and sup with us, won’t you, Cole? Mother will be honored to have an earl sit at her table.”
Although Liam was only teasing, Cole’s answer reflected a measure of tension. “Damn and blast, I’m the same man I was a year ago. Don’t you two start treating me any different.”
“But things are different, Cole.” Piers wore a slight smile, but his face was otherwise pensive. The older he got, the more he resembled his father in looks and temperament.
Mr. Grambling had inherited the house and a yearly income from his grandfather, a baron long passed away. The larger estate and wealth had passed to distant cousins. The Grambling blood was blue enough even if their current connections were more provincial. Mr. Grambling spent most days lost in his books and writings and possessed a sharp intelligence that he’d passed along to all his children.
“Don’t remind me.” Cole sank deeper into the armchair and ran a hand down his face.
“I’m to marry,” Piers said, a light coming into his eyes.
Cole straightened. “What? When? Who?”
Piers laughed. “Miss Esther Lancaster. She’s the daughter of the head of my firm. The banns will be read as soon as I return to London.”
“A good connection for you then.”
“Very, but that’s not why I’m marrying her. I love her.” The simple statement rocked Cole back in his chair. It wasn’t often he heard of anyone marrying for love. Among the ton, marriage was merely a machination for greater wealth and influence.
“I’m happy for you, Piers.” Cole meant it. Piers was a good friend and a good man and would make an excellent husband.
“Thank you.” Piers smiled and cast a leading glance toward his brother. “Are you going to share your news, Liam?”
“Don’t tell me you’re to wed as well?” Cole shifted to face Liam.
“Hardly.” Liam’s voice held a trace of bitterness even as he raised his glass of warm cider in a toast. “The company is sending me to India.”
Cole clinked his glass to Liam’s. “Congratulations. When do you sail?”
“A month. Maybe less.” Liam’s excitement mingled with darker emotions Cole couldn’t name.
“How did your parents take the news?” Cole asked. The Gramblings were a close-knit family. The boys had studied in the village of Ottery Saint Mary instead of being sent away to Eton like Cole.
“Mother cried while Father wished me well. I’ll miss this old pile of stones and the family and—” Liam abruptly finished his drink in one shot. “You know how I’ve longed to travel.”
“That leaves me to ferry Rose and Diana around London in the spring,” Piers said with not a small amount of dread. “I had hoped Rose might meet someone suitable by now.”
“She’s a lovely girl,” Cole said absently. His thoughts lingered on Diana and how soft her lips had been and how her hips had moved against him in a primal rhythm. Passion ready to be unleashed coiled in her. Liam and Piers exchanged a look that had Cole worried they’d somehow read his mind. He squirmed and asked defensively, “What?”
“We thought at one time you might take Rose as your wife.” Piers displayed no rancor, only curiosity. When Cole stumbled over an excuse, Piers held up his hand. “I realize your sights are set higher.”
“Higher?” Cole fought outrage that rightly should belong to Piers. “I hold your family in the highest regard. I hope you know that. Just because I unexpectedly ascended to the title doesn’t make me a different—or better—man.”
Mrs. Grambling popped her head around the door. “Supper’s on the table, lads.” Her gaze fell on Cole, and she added with an odd formality, “You’re welcome to stay, my lord.”
Changes had come to the one place Cole had hoped would remain his bedrock. Piers would marry. Liam would sail for India. And what of him?
He followed Piers and Liam into the dining room. Everyone stood at his entrance as if he were royalty. Diana wasn’t there. If she had been, she would have no doubt teased him and her family mercilessly about their behavior. Rose aimed a coquettish smile in his direction. He looked anywhere but at her.
“Where’s Diana?” Cole asked.
Mrs. Grambling clucked her tongue. “Out collecting the twins. I’m going to have their heads if they get lost and fall off the cliff.”
The mists were rising, and Diana was on the cliffs. He didn’t want to stay and make stilted conversation. He didn’t want to stay if Diana wasn’t there.
After issuing the invitation to the Christmastide fete to the family, Cole retreated and resigned himself to a tray taken in front of the fire in his small study.
He flipped up the collar of his jacket against the mist and made his way toward the cliff path. It was a longer way around to Linley House, but he needed to clap eyes on Diana to reassure himself of her safety before he’d be able to rest.
The full gloaming was upon the land, and he had to keep his gaze on his footing along the rocky path. Pounding feet brought his head up. Peter and Paul flew up the path toward home, their steps as assured as billy goats. They were more likely to get a scolding than supper now.
He snagged one of the boy’s jackets, and they both stopped. “Where’s your sister?”
“Back thataway a bit. She told us to scamper home.”
He let go and watched them disappear toward Grambling Manor, then quickened his pace down the path. As he approached the edge of the Linley House gardens, he spotted her lying on the ground at the cliff’s edge, a smudge in the darkness.
His first instinct was to rush forward and assure himself she hadn’t fallen and injured herself, but he stopped. She was propped up on her elbows, looking out over the keyhole bay, a tension holding her still and taut.
He approached softly, dropping to his haunches as he got closer, finally joining her on his belly. The damp cold seeped through his clothes. She jerked and gasped before huffing out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, it’s you.”
None of the distance or deference the rest of her family had afforded him was present, and he relaxed. “May I ask what the devil you’re up to?”
“Wrong question. You should be asking what the devil they’re up to.” She pointed toward the water. “The twins spotted them first.”
Cole squinted. The mists were thicker on the water, but he could make out at least three bobbing lanterns drawing near the shore. “I don’t suppose it could be locals out fishing.”
“Not likely in this fog. Too dangerous. My guess is a band of smugglers.” Although she said it with no fear in her voice, she wouldn’t be hiding if she didn’t understand the danger.
A WICKED WEDDING Page 2