The Untouchable Earl

by Amy Sandas

  Lily smiled back. “More scandal, Sister?”

  “Emma may need the excitement as much as you do.”

  Lily narrowed her eyes dangerously, but a moment later the sisters added in unison, “More,” then broke into the kind of laughter they hadn’t shared since they were young.

  Twenty-one

  The theater was stifling and noisy as everyone crowded to their seats in preparation for the performance to begin.

  The Chadwicks had been offered the use of a box by one of Angelique’s old acquaintances, and they were taking full advantage. Attending the theater was not a luxury they would otherwise have an opportunity to indulge in, and the ladies were quite looking forward to it.

  Angelique took her seat and lifted her trusty opera glasses to watch the crowds below. Portia sat next to her, and the two of them took turns trading commentary over the inevitable social dramas playing out in the audience.

  As the lights dimmed, indicating the performance was about to commence, a hush fell over the theater, and the excess noise faded away.

  Lily was swept up in the drama playing out on the stage. For at least a little while, she allowed herself to be carried away. Her anxiety over being gone for days in the country, and her disappointment in arriving home yesterday to find not a single message had been left for her, faded to the back of her mind. She was so entranced by the performance that she did not once take her eyes from the stage until the curtains closed and the lights came up to indicate intermission.

  “La! What a lovely bit of drama,” Angelique exclaimed as she turned in her seat. The lady delicately dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  Lily thought she saw Portia lift the back of her hand to her eyes as well. Even Emma, who was always so much in control of her emotions, had to blink back the suspicious glistening of tears.

  All four ladies looked at one another. Portia was the first to issue a snort of laughter.

  “Well, aren’t we all a bunch of silly sops?”

  Lily smiled.

  “We are not the only ones,” Emma said as she gestured out to the theater.

  Looking down from their box, Lily could see dozens of ladies dabbing at their eyes.

  “There is nothing so cleansing as a good cry, no?”

  Portia linked her arm through Angelique’s. “Shall we stretch our legs and seek some refreshment?”

  “Yes, darling, my joints are creaking from sitting so long.”

  “We shall all go,” Emma suggested.

  As Angelique stood to lead the way, she glanced down at Lily with a smile. “Lily, darling, I believe the strap on your shoe has come loose.”

  “Oh, thank you.” While the others continued on from the box, Lily sat to check her shoes. By the time she remembered her shoes did not have straps, the curtain had dropped into place, leaving Lily alone in the shadows. A small frown tensed her brow. What had Angelique been thinking? The dowager was eccentric to be sure, and was often rather flighty, but Lily had never known her to see things that did not exist.

  With a shake of her head, Lily stood and glanced out over the rapidly emptying theater. Some internal instinct encouraged her to lift her gaze, and a gasp slid from her lips.

  In a grand box overlooking the stage stood the solitary and striking figure of Lord Harte. And he was staring straight at her.

  It was too far to truly see the look in his eyes, but Lily felt it.

  Across every nerve, deep in the marrow of her bones—from the tingling along her scalp to the curling of her toes—she experienced the intensity of his focus. She was suddenly reminded that she wore his stockings beneath her skirts. The thought made her feel deliciously wanton as she considered the possibility that she was a better mistress than she realized. It was far easier to be wicked than she had ever expected.

  Her heart fell headlong into a frantic rhythm. All her worry and fear over being unable to advise him of her absence from town coalesced into a dense point in her center. It was all she could do not to fly to him.

  Instead, she remained in place, willingly trapped by his gaze.

  Time slowed. It may have been a moment or forever when, without any gesture or shift in his expression, he turned and left his box.

  Lily gasped for breath, lifting her hand to her chest as she filled her lungs. During those moments when she had been caught in his gaze, he had literally stolen her breath. She fought to reclaim it, along with her scattered thoughts.

  Goodness. She had been worrying for days about what he might have thought when she was unable to meet him. She should have been more concerned with what he had felt. In that brief, distant connection, despite his rigid presentation and harsh stare, she had sensed a tumultuous mixture of emotions.

  Before she fully had herself under control, Portia stuck her head back through the curtain.

  “Are you coming, Lily? There is quite a crowd out here. You wouldn’t want to become separated.”

  “Yes, I am sorry. I will be right behind you.”

  Portia had not been exaggerating. The crowd thickened the closer they got to the main hall, where the doors had been opened to allow the night air to cool overheated bodies. Emma and Angelique led the way through the crowd toward the refreshment room, with Portia close behind and Lily trailing after.

  A few times, Lily lost sight of them and had to hurry to catch up. She couldn’t help it that she kept scanning the crowd, desperate for another glimpse of the earl, even though she knew he would not acknowledge her with more than a passing glance in such a public venue.

  In her distraction, it was only a matter of time before she tripped over someone’s foot and found herself plunging toward the floor. Panic raced through her at the thought of falling beneath the crush of people. She would be trampled.

  She flung her hands out to grasp hold of anything that would keep her upright, but it was unnecessary. Suddenly the earl was there, grasping her upper arms in a firm grip as he drew her in against his chest.

  “I have you.”

  Lily’s body hummed in reaction to the vibration of Lord Harte’s voice, and her skin warmed to the feel of his body pressing along hers. His fingers tensed then relaxed before he smoothed them slowly around her upper back to further protect her from the jostling crowd, which did not seem to notice at all the couple embracing in their midst.

  All sound fell away—the world fell away—as Lily tipped her head back to meet his glowering gaze. She had so many things she wanted to say to him, but as she stared into the deep blue of his eyes, all that escaped from her parted lips was her rapid breath.

  She realized in a quiet corner of her awareness that the moment could not last. Time did not actually slow for them alone. The world still existed. At any moment, their intimate encounter could be noticed. But Lily didn’t care just then. More than anything, she needed his closeness, craved it with everything in her.

  “You did not meet me,” he accused in a thick murmur.

  “There was a party in Warwickshire,” she whispered hastily, fearing their opportunity for conversation may not last long. “I could not beg off, and I did not know how to get a message to you.”

  She saw the muscles of his jaw tense; she wasn’t sure if it was in response to her answer or something else, but the movement drew her eyes down to his lips. Her stomach swirled as she wondered what it would feel like to have his firm and sensual mouth on hers. Without thinking, she pressed the tip of her tongue to the center of her bottom lip.

  His arms tightened around her, and the muscles in his jaw bunched just before he looked up to scan the area around them.

  “Can you meet me tonight?” he asked, still glancing about the crowd.

  “I think so. It may be quite late.”

  He looked down at her again, his stare hard and fathomless. “The carriage will be waiting.”

  He slowly eased his arms from
around her. Lily didn’t realize she had been clutching his coat in her hands until she was forced to release her grip. Something in his eyes spoke clearly of his intention to make up for the time they had lost. Then he stepped back and melted into the crowd.

  She stood where he had left her. As the full faculty of her senses returned, she realized the crowd was thinning rapidly. A moment later, Emma came up beside her and linked an arm through hers.

  “There you are,” Emma said with obvious relief. “I thought we had lost you. We must make our way back to our seats. The show is about to recommence.”

  Lily blinked. She did her best to behave as though nothing untoward had happened, though her heart still raced beneath her breast. She looked around as they started toward the stairs leading back up to their box. “Where are Portia and Angelique?”

  “They should be quite a ways ahead of us.” Emma smiled. “Angelique has a special talent for parting crowds.”

  Lily lifted her brows. “What did she do?”

  Emma’s lips quivered suspiciously. “She quite loudly declared that the heat was making her woozy, and she thought she might be ill.”

  Lily resisted her own laughter. It would not be ladylike to find humor in something so crude. “Yes, I can see how such an announcement would do the trick.”

  They reached the stairs, and just before losing sight of the hall below, Lily glanced over her shoulder. The earl was nowhere to be seen.

  Nor did he return to his box for the second half. It seemed he had left the theater altogether. Her disappointment at not catching at least one more fleeting glimpse of him was tempered by the knowledge that she would be with him later that night. A deep thrill sped through her blood at the thought.

  As it was, she did not manage to get away for several more hours. After the theater, they attended a dinner party, which went quite late. By the time they returned to Angelique’s town house, it was well into the morning hours.

  Another hour slipped away as Lily waited for the household to quiet down before making her way out. Even so, she had to hide for several minutes in a kitchen cupboard when she heard someone else moving about—most likely a servant who had forgotten to complete some task before retiring.

  When she finally stepped through the garden gate into the mews beyond, Lily held her breath in fear that the earl might not have waited so long for her to appear. But the carriage was there in its usual spot. She rushed toward it eagerly, anticipation giving her wings. It had been five days since their last private encounter, several hours since their brief run-in at the theater, and a lifetime of yearning had built within her.

  * * *

  Their private suite was cast in darkness. No romantic candlelight awaited their arrival. No opened bottle of wine or champagne on the sideboard. Only the glow of the fireplace lit the room.

  Lily stopped when she heard the door close behind her. Her heart raced. She sensed the earl a second before he came up behind her. Without a word, he reached around her shoulders to release the ties of her cloak and sweep the heavy garment away from her body.

  His aloof detachment and rigid manner were more pronounced tonight. There had been very little said on the drive from Angelique’s.

  She was coming to understand his need to do things in his own time, at his own pace. She could wait for him to speak, to instruct her on what he wanted. She took a moment to smooth her hair back and took a few steadying breaths before she turned in place to face him.

  He had retreated to stand before the fire. He said nothing and did not move from where he stood to close the distance between them. He just stared at her with a heavy gaze. He was hard and forbidding. So still he appeared to be made of stone.

  There was longing in him as well.

  She felt a desperate desire to press her fingertip to the center of his lower lip. She wanted to feel the sensuality and softness possessed in that generous curve. She wanted to taste it with her tongue. Her stomach erupted in a series of breath-stealing flutters at the thought, and she realized with no small measure of surprise that he had never kissed her on the mouth.

  The ache in her chest expanded, and she smiled as she started toward him.

  “Lily.”

  The harshness in his voice, suddenly breaking through the silence, brought her to an abrupt halt.

  Her smile wavered.

  “There is something I must tell you,” he added roughly.

  Lily tensed at the gravitas in his words. When he did not go on, she clasped her hands together in front of her and waited. Her emotions wavered between compassion for his obvious distress and fear over what he might say.

  She focused on her calming breath to keep her apprehension from showing.

  “You amaze me.” He spoke the words on a low, shuddering breath. Lily was certain she misunderstood. “Even now I can sense the peace within you—your quiet acceptance of whatever may come. Does nothing disturb you, Lily?”

  “Only the thought that you might send me away.”

  Her answer drew a ragged sigh from his chest, and he bowed his head for a moment. “I could no more do that than I could stop my own breath. But you may wish otherwise after I have told you what you must know.”

  The fear spread farther through her, but Lily refused to allow it to take over.

  “Trust me, my lord,” she whispered.

  His gaze met hers through the uncertain glow of the room. He stared at her, as though he sought an answer in her eyes to a question he hadn’t asked.

  “I have never lain with a woman.”

  The phrase confused her.

  Then sent a jolt of shock to the base of her brain as she considered the meaning in his words.

  How could that be?

  Words tumbled from her lips unheeded. “But you frequent a brothel…the way you touch me…I do not understand.”

  As she spoke, she noticed his hands at his sides, fisting and extending, over and over.

  She took a breath and spoke again, lifting her hands in supplication. “Please, my lord, I wish to understand.”

  “As you know, I struggle with being touched. I came to Pendragon’s years ago for assistance in learning how to tolerate the types of casual and unexpected physical exchanges I would expect to encounter while out in society. I could not have the ton speculating as to the nature and depth of my…affliction.” His tone was strictly modulated as he explained. “You have witnessed my unguarded reactions to the touch of another person. I have never been able to retain control around you.”

  He paused. His entire body was rigid with tension.

  Lily wished in the depths of her soul that she could go to him, soothe him somehow.

  She remained where she was.

  “Yet I have felt your hands on me,” Lily said. “How is it that you can touch, but not be touched in return?”

  He sighed. It was a rough sound that came from deep in his center. “It is not an easy thing to explain. My affliction primarily affects the areas of my upper body and my arms.” He looked down at his hands, holding the palms up as he extended his fingers then curled them into tight fists before he continued. “When I touch you, I am in control. I am able to anticipate the sensation and can manage it.”

  Lily considered that for a moment. It made sense when she thought of the few times she had reached for him without thinking. His reaction to her unexpected touch had been swift and involuntary.

  “Madam Pendragon has helped you with this?” she asked.

  “Yes.” His eyes lifted, and Lily felt as though he looked for something within her that she wasn’t sure she possessed but desperately hoped she did. “I also wished to understand the notion of pleasure,” he continued matter-of-factly. “It was not a concept with which I had any familiarity. In that, Pendragon’s girls were very accommodating.”

  Jealousy burned acidic in Lily’s stomach, but she ign
ored it. “You learned how to give pleasure, but not to receive it?”

  His features hardened even more, like a warrior preparing for battle. He cleared his throat, and Lily could see how difficult it was for him to reveal so much to her. It pained Lily to think he might see her as someone he needed to protect himself against.

  “I learned about lust and how to pleasure myself. But I never…” He stopped with a low sound before he pinned her with a stare so intense that she felt it down to the marrow of her bones. “I never wanted that kind of intimacy with any other woman. I want it with you, Lily.”

  Her heart broke at the vulnerability threaded deep in his voice even as her body lit up in response to the need he could not hide.

  “And I want it with you. More than anything,” she replied.

  His reply was a ragged breath. She could still see the tautness of his frame, the unrelenting uncertainty that had him in its clutches. She wanted so badly to dispel it, to finally have the opportunity to give him what he had given her—liberation, passion, and truth.

  She took a step toward him, but before she could take another, he glanced to the side, breaking the connection of their gazes. His broad shoulders curved inward, and his chin dropped as he held up his hand to halt her progress.

  “Lily, I cannot… I am…”

  The tone of his voice was broken and harsh. Lily ached deep inside for what she saw in him—the emotional strain of his confession…and the fear.

  He was not ready.

  Her stomach clenched, and she took a long breath to steady her inner turmoil. She could be patient. If she wanted him—and she did, quite desperately—she would have to be patient and allow him his terms. But that did not mean she would not try to show him she was worthy of his trust.

  Taking it slow, she started toward him again.

  He did not move this time to stop her, but stood rigid and silent.

  Coming to a halt in front of him, close but not touching, Lily tipped her head back and looked into his shuttered gaze.

  “Kiss me,” she said.

  * * *