Isabel was overwhelmed with sensation, with the stroke of his tongue, the press of his body, the scent of him. She met his caresses with her own, returning the kiss with an innocent passion that only encouraged him. She tangled her fingers in the damp hair at his neck and stood up on her toes to gain better access to his mouth. He let her explore, increasing the intensity of the kiss, then pulling back to allow her to take the lead. She ran the tip of her tongue over his full bottom lip tentatively, and his groan gave her a sense of satisfaction like nothing she’d ever felt.
He broke off the kiss then, regaining control, trailing his lips down the column of her throat and inhaling deeply at the place where her neck and shoulder met before he nipped lightly at the skin there, sending another ripple of pleasure through her. She gasped at the sensation and felt the curve of his lips against her skin in a smile that she did not have to see to know was filled with wicked promise.
He lifted his head, his blue eyes dark with heat. His mouth opened slightly and she was transfixed by it, waiting for his next move.
“Isabel?”
The sound of her name was foreign to her, and for a fleeting moment, she was not certain from where it had come. She was too focused on the fact that Nick had released her and stepped back, away from her, putting as much distance between them as he could. She felt cold all of a sudden, the missing heat of him an intense loss. One hand flew to her lips as if to confirm that they had, in fact, been in an embrace mere seconds earlier.
“Isabel!”
The second time James called her name, realization came crashing down around her. She became acutely aware of their location, their situation, their actions, and she was overcome with an intense desire to escape back out the window to the roof. And to live there. For some time.
At least until Lord Nicholas left.
Instead, she looked to him, wide-eyed, and whispered, “It’s my brother!”
“I gathered as much,” he said dryly. “Don’t you think you should answer?”
“I …” He was right, of course. “James!” she called, hurrying to the top of the stairs. “I am up here!”
“Izzy! Kate is looking for you!”
The mention of the stable master—who was entirely the wrong gender for a stable master—set Isabel on edge. She looked back at Nick, keenly aware of everything that had just transpired between them, and of the secrets that she had no choice but to keep from him.
Everything had just become infinitely more complicated.
Uncertain of what to say, of how one ended such an assignation, she said the first thing that came to her mind … the only thing that would make their situation easier. “You must leave.”
“And how do you suggest I do that? Over the edge of the roof?”
She took a deep breath, desperate to regain some of the calm that she so prided herself upon. “Of course not. You may use the front door.”
“How very magnanimous of you,” he said, and she ignored his teasing, starting down the stairs. She had not even reached the second step when his words stopped her. “You cannot go down there looking as you do.”
She waved off his words. “They’ve all seen me in men’s clothing. It shall be fine.”
“It is not your clothing to which I refer, Isabel.”
She looked back at the words, meeting the glittering blue gaze that seemed to see so much. Too much. “What, then?”
“It is the look of you.”
She raised one hand to her hair in a nervous gesture. “What do you mean? How do I look?”
“Like someone who has been thoroughly kissed.”
She blushed then, the heat coming high and fast. She pressed a hand to her face, willing it away before she straightened and in her very coolest tone said, “You must leave. Immediately.”
And, with that, she hurried down the stairs to deal with whatever new challenge was to be thrust in her direction.
“What do you mean, ‘They cannot leave'?!”
Kate made a show of wringing out her long wet hair and leaned against the stall door of one of the two remaining horses in the Townsend Park stables. “Just what I’ve said. They cannot leave. The rain has flooded the post road. There is no route into town.”
“They haven’t a choice! They’ve got to leave!”
Kate’s brow furrowed at Isabel’s high-pitched squeak. “Isabel. I’m not sure what you would like me to do about it. I cannot direct the weather.”
“We shall just have to keep the girls hidden,” Jane, ever practical, said from her place just inside the stables. “We’ve done it before.”
Isabel turned away in a fit of frustration, placing her fisted hands against her forehead and taking several deep breaths.
Turning back, she leveled the women with a stern look. “Lord Nicholas is no fool. He shall know immediately that something about Townsend Park is not what it seems. His friend shall do the same. They shall notice the lack of men.”
“Not if they are too busy noticing the lack of servants,” Gwen pointed out, running one finger along the curve of a saddle that had been slung over an unused stable door. “They’ve not seen many of us … we could just hide the girls and … well, hope for the best!” She punctuated the sentence with a grin that did nothing to comfort Isabel.
“Seven years of protecting you girls and the existence of Minerva House, and your solution is to hope for the best? “ Gwen nodded happily, and Isabel’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What has you so pleased?”
Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, Kate let out a mighty—and obviously false—cough, and Gwen’s mouth closed. She shook her head and looked away. Jane moved to stroke the long muzzle of the horse nearest to her. Lara seemed transfixed by the edge of one of her kidskin gloves. Kate considered the ceiling of the stables.
Something was amiss.
Isabel looked from one woman to the next. “What is it? ”
When no one answered, she tried again. “The four of you have never been able to keep something from me in your lives. What is it? ”
Gwen could not keep the words in any longer. “Only that the universe appears to support our plan.”
“Gwen …” Jane said, warning in her tone.
“Your plan? ”
“Quite. You see,” the cook said, looking to Lara for support, “Pearls and Pelisses—”
“Of course,” Isabel said. “I should have known this would have something to do with that ridiculous magazine.”
“Pearls and Pelisses,” Gwen repeated emphatically, “tells us that the very best way to secure the interest of a lord is to keep him near! And what better way to keep him near than a rainstorm that does not look as though it is letting up any time soon? Why, we do not even have to fabricate a reason to keep you in his thoughts! Nature has done it for us!”
Isabel’s brows shot up. “You assume that I have a desire to secure the man’s interest! The only thing I want him taking an interest in is the statuary!” Returning her attention to Kate, she said, “There really is no way to get them back to Dunscroft?”
Kate shook her head. “None whatsoever. I expect the road will be passable in the morning, assuming the rain stops sometime during the night, but I would not send horses into this weather—nor strangers to the area.”
“I assume that you are telling me the truth and not fabricating some issue to aid in Gwen’s lunacy?”
Kate looked at Isabel as though she’d grown a second head. “Do you really think I would support anything related to that magazine?”
Isabel threw her hands up and looked to Lara. “What am I to do?”
“We shall have to soldier on and consider this cloud’s silver lining.” Lara paused, entertained by her pun.
“There is no silver lining in this cloud, Lara. Only a flooded road and a man who is far too observant for his own good.”
“Nonsense!” Lara said. “This means he will have additional time to work in the statuary! Perhaps this turn of events
will speed his process!”
Isabel doubted it.
“And you forget the most important part,” Jane added.
“Which is?”
“As long as the road is flooded, we are free of Viscount Densmore.”
Isabel considered the words. Jane wasn’t incorrect. There were not many worse things than Lord Nicholas being trapped at Townsend Park … but Densmore’s arrival was one of them.
“Perhaps Lord Nicholas can provide us with information on the viscount?” Gwen’s whisper echoed through the stables.
“I would rather Lord Nicholas not have any further insight into our troubles,” Isabel said. “It is bad enough that we are stuck with him for the evening.”
Particularly bad for her.
“They seem to be good men,” Lara said, drawing the attention of the rest of the group.
Gwen said, “Do they? ”
“Well, I have not spent any length of time with Lord Nicholas …” Lara hedged, “but Mr. Durukhan … seems charming.”
“Charming,” Kate repeated.
“Yes. Charming. Well, nice. Nice enough, at least.”
They all studied Lara for a long moment, until she turned away to give her attention to one of the large horses that had arrived with the objects of their discussion. The movement betrayed her, and the women looked to one another, each confirming the others’ suspicions.
“Lara,” Isabel teased, happy for the distraction from her own troubles, “has the giant captured your attention? ”
Lara looked back at them, wide-eyed. “I did not say that!”
“You did not have to,” Kate said. “It’s clear from the rose in your cheeks.”
And it was. Isabel watched as Lara opened her mouth then closed it, and immediately understood her cousin’s struggle. She knew precisely what it was to be so turned around by a man she had met merely a day earlier.
“I heard Lord Nicholas call him Rock yesterday,” Kate said. “It seems an apt name for such a massive creature.”
Lara thought for a while before responding, simply, “He has kind eyes.”
Isabel grinned at the description of the enormous Turk, wondering how long it would be before her guests had ensorcelled every woman in the house. After all, these were not the same kind of men that the residents of Minerva House were accustomed to—they were charming and handsome and intelligent…
And superior at kissing.
No. She would not consider the positive aspects of the man. In order to retain any semblance of sanity while he was in her house, risking everything for which she had worked, she must remember his overpowering arrogance, his flippant challenges, his absolutely unacceptable behavior in the attic.
Of course, she’d had no trouble accepting it at the time.
Her experiences with men were spare; aside from the shopkeepers in town and the vicar, there was little reason for her to interact with the opposite sex—particularly unmarried, eligible Londoners with wide shoulders and arms like steel and eyes bluer than any should be.
No.
She had spent her life eschewing wealthy, charming men-about-town who captured the eye of every female in the vicinity with their perfectly tied cravats and quick, easy smiles. Men who delighted in robbing others of their happiness.
Men like her father.
Men who ultimately ruined everything. Who made mockeries of their marriages, who turned starry-eyed women who had once loved them into desperate, self-loathing females who would do anything to find a reason for the loss of their husbands.
And then Lord Nicholas St. John had arrived, all handsome face and imperious arrogance, and she had expected him to be one of them. And, instead, he had agreed to help her, he had put himself in harm’s way to ensure her safety, had assured her that her problems could be overcome—all in the span of a few hours.
No wonder he made her so nervous. There was nothing about this man that was normal. Nothing that even came close to what normal meant to Isabel.
Now he was stuck in her house. A guest. Among two dozen women, hiding from any number of evils that might come down around them.
And, to make matters worse, he’d kissed her.
Not that she had stopped him from kissing her. Or even considered doing so.
For years, she had dreamed of what her first kiss would be like. She had considered it in countless places, with any number of faceless, nameless men, each one a hero in his own right, as part of professions of love, proposals of marriage, and other fantasies that plagued young, innocent girls.
And all the while, she’d known there was no point in the dreams. Because heroes did not exist. And there was no truth to the idea that love completed women. Indeed, in her experience, love only lessened women—made them pained and desolate and weak.
She did not want that.
And yet, in Lord Nicholas’s arms, she had glimpsed that ephemeral promise—that temptation—that came with being the focus of all his attention. And in that moment, she had been a girl again, dreaming of her first kiss.
She had never imagined, however, that her first kiss would be with a virtual stranger, in the musty attic of her ancestral home, after nearly toppling off a roof.
To be fair, she also hadn’t imagined her first kiss would be quite so very wonderful.
And she was certain that in all her fantasies, no matter how secret, she’d never imagined her first kiss would be with a man who was so … well … male.
She gave a little sigh, drawing the attention of the other women. Jane’s eyes narrowed on her. “Isabel? Is there something you would like to share?”
Isabel looked down, making a show of adjusting the cuffs of her breeches, drenched in rain. “No, why should there be?”
“What happened after I left you on the roof with Lord Nicholas? ”
“You were alone with him? How wonderful! Pearls and Pelisses tells us that you must remain in his mind … and in his eye!” Gwen was thrilled.
One side of Isabel’s mouth kicked up. “Yes, well, since we’ve trapped the poor man here, I think he’s about to have more than enough of me in his mind and in his eye. Whatever that is supposed to mean.”
“Well, either way, leaving them alone on the roof was a capital idea, Jane! Well done!”
Jane rolled her eyes. “It was not entirely my idea. Had I stayed, I think he might well have noticed that I am not a man. I was saved by the fact that he could barely tear his gaze from Isabel.”
Isabel snapped her head up to meet Jane’s gaze. “That is not true!”
Was it?
“Really?” Kate said. “That would explain his strange reaction to you on the roof yesterday.”
“It was not a strange reaction!” Isabel protested. “It isn’t every day that a lady is on the roof of her home, Kate.”
“I noticed it, too,” Lara chimed in, apparently past her discomfort with the women’s earlier line of questioning. “In the statuary yesterday. He is intrigued by her.”
“He is not!”
She was not at all intriguing. Was she?
“What happened after I left the roof?” Jane asked, her tone deceptively casual.
“Nothing happened. It started to rain and we came in.” Isabel bit her tongue. Perhaps the others had not noticed the nervousness in her words, which had come too fast.
They noticed. Four sets of eyes were upon her, so intent that she had to remind herself that kisses did not leave a mark. “We were wet.”
Kate’s gaze narrowed. “Were you?”
“And then what? “ Gwen’s words were breathless with excitement.
Their rapt attention was disconcerting. She looked up and spoke to the ceiling, frustration in her words, her voice an octave higher than usual. “And then nothing! Then James called and said Kate needed me, and I rushed out of the room because I was terrified he would reference the stables or something else that would give away the fact that the entire house is populated with a motley crew of nearly-servants who only appear to be men! �
�
A heavy silence fell, and Isabel looked back to the other women, registering their identical, wide-eyed looks, focused on a point beyond her left shoulder. An immediate sense of dread came over her as she turned to look in the direction of their singular gaze.
Of course.
Standing in the doorway of the stables was Mr. Durukhan, mouth slightly ajar, looking from Jane to Kate, taking in their masculine attire, the tightly fitted cap that hid Kate’s hair from view, the stark, old-fashioned queue that Jane preferred. His gaze took in every little feature that they could not hide: unstubbled chins; Kate’s high, arching brow and long neck; Jane’s stunning cheekbones and wide mouth.
They were caught.
He cleared his throat and gave a little mock bow in their general direction. “Lady Isabel, Miss Lara,” he said, ignoring Isabel’s breeches quite well, “I had come to speak with your … stable master to discuss our departure.”
There was a beat of silence, punctuated only by Rock’s horse, stomping in his stall at the sound of his master’s voice. The women had been rendered mute. If she were not so horrified, Isabel would have been amused.
None of them was willing to be the first to speak—to acknowledge what he had so obviously overheard.
Isabel swallowed nervously. She was the mistress of the house. It was her responsibility to speak. To manage this. To do what she could to protect their secrets … the ones that she had not carelessly revealed. “Mr. Durukhan—”
“Please,” he interrupted, a half smile slicing across his bronzed skin, “Rock will do.”
“Oh … I … we couldn’t.”
The smile became a full-blown grin then. “Prior to this particular moment, my lady, I would have agreed. However, it appears that we all have a much more … familiar … relationship now, do you not agree? ”
Gwen snickered and received one of Kate’s elbows in the ribs for her trouble. Isabel ignored the cry of pain and the furious whisper that came from their direction, instead watching with a looming panic as the enormous man’s dark, knowing gaze returned to Kate and Jane, tracing first one, then the other’s body from cap to boot—as if again confirming the information he had overheard.
Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord Page 11