Lady Be Good: Lord Love a Lady Series, Book 5

by Annabelle Anders

  The urge to cry warred with all of her senses. For the first time in her life, in nearly eight and twenty years, she wondered if what she felt might be love.

  But this was goodbye, was it not?

  One of his hands had made its way inside of her coat, trailing cold and hot sensations as it slid to just below her breast.

  She was safe, was she not? They were only a short distance from where the guests had been frolicking. And yet most of them must have gone inside the house. She no longer heard their distant laughter.

  All she could hear at that moment was the beating of her heart, the rasping of his breath.

  Making a decision that perhaps this day, this moment, was presenting her with the opportunity to embrace some of that ‘more’ that she desired, she hitched her dress to her thighs and turned to straddle him. Settled in his lap now, she’d not change her mind.

  Never had he pressured her.

  Never had he taken advantage of her position.

  Never had he made her any false promises.

  She rotated her core so that his need pressed against her center and shivered in anticipation as the low moan he released vibrated through her.

  Her hands were inside of his coat, need overcoming the cold, the snow, the discomfort of her wet boots.

  “My Lord.” She’d pushed away his greatcoat and managed to find the skin of his neck with her mouth.

  “Rose.” His mouth searched her skin frantically. Her ears, her cheek, her mouth, and then her neck. He thrust himself upward, matching her enthusiasm. And then his hands had unfastened his falls and she felt him.

  His manhood at her center.

  She didn’t recoil but assisted him to her opening.

  “Rose,” he uttered, over and over again.

  Then he was inside of her, and lost to all reason, she moved with him.

  Nothing in the world had ever felt so wonderful. He lifted her and then pulled her down, his hands gripping her tight, his mouth loving every inch of skin that he could find.

  How was it possible this was happening? This dream? The world as she knew it no longer existed. Only he existed. Only they existed. Together. Giving pleasure so much as taking it.

  She opened her eyes and discovered him watching her, his eyes almost completely black now. His gaze held hers as if memorizing her features.

  Not wanting to miss one second of their joining, she forced her own eyes to stay open as he thrust deeper inside. Somehow, her legs had become wrapped around his waist and she tightened them and loosened, an equal participant in this dance.

  “My Lord,” she gasped.

  “Rose.” His penetration seemed complete, and yet he would bury himself deeper. And even deeper. Until her eyes closed in ecstasy and she cried out. A second later, he jerked himself out of her and made a guttural sound.

  He would not spend inside of her.

  When she opened her eyes, panting, one thought screamed in her head.

  I will always want more.

  Chapter 14

  Not a servant today

  Rose shifted, moving to pull away, but Rome stilled her. Rational thought had struck him just before his completion, barely giving him the presence of mind to withdraw before releasing his seed inside of her.

  In doing so, he’d had to push her away.

  She had not been a virgin, he did not think. He could not be certain.

  “I’m sorry.” She stared down, where they had been joined. Where he’d made quite the mess upon his breeches and her gown and now lay limply between them.

  “Why ever would you be sorry?” An odd tenderness settled in his chest.

  “I have a handkerchief.” She removed one of her hands from his shoulder and pulled a delicate white piece of cloth from her bodice.

  He stilled her again.

  “Rose.” And then he remembered what she’d said. I am still Miss Waring. I am still… me…When you call me Miss Waring, not Rosie, and not girl, you call her out again.

  “Miss Waring.” Somehow, a smile crept across his lips at her name. And she must have heard it, for she finally stopped fussing and looked up to meet his eyes. “It is I who am sorry. I took advantage of you. I pulled you on top of me.”

  “I went to you willingly.”

  “But you are glorious. Beautiful. And I only wish…” All of the realities of his responsibilities tumbled into his thoughts. He’d as good as committed to Danbury that he’d court the man’s sister. Not, most unfortunately, the man’s wife’s lady’s maid.

  “I am a wanton.” She was fussing again and so this time, he took hold of her hand. Bark from the tree branch they’d chosen to sit upon was cutting into his buttocks and the freezing air bit at his skin, but he needed to make something perfectly clear to her.

  “I cherish your wantonness.” Later, he’d allow the guilt of what he’d done to torment him. He’d punish himself for being one of those horrid titled gentlemen who swived vulnerable servants.

  Only she was not a vulnerable servant. She was a woman who knew her own mind, or so he’d tell himself at this moment. She’d wiped away most of the white translucent fluid he’d gotten on both of them and then he had no choice but to assist her to stand and tuck himself away.

  He wanted to say the right thing here, wanted to offer her some sort of reassurance, some comfort, but his mind failed him.

  He’d promised her he’d not make his offer again. Did this change everything? Did his promise mean nothing? He was going to have to marry, and he simply could not imagine himself carrying on with Rose at the same time he courted Lady Asherton.

  Her family struggled; he knew that. But if he were to offer her some sort of financial gift, or annuity even, would she be insulted?

  In addition, the blood had barely traveled back from his cock up to his brain. He’d just experienced one of the most explosive sexual experiences of his life, outside, beneath the sky, and he didn’t really want to replace the satisfied feeling with rational thought quite yet.

  “It sounds as though everyone has returned indoors.” She brushed at her skirts, standing a few feet away from him, looking everywhere but into his eyes.

  “They will assume I’ve gone off on my own. Lady Danbury is not expecting you, is she?” He wanted to prolong his time with her, but it was too cold to remain out of doors for much longer. If they were to return inside together, it would, of course, be remarked upon. If none of the other guests witnessed their return, it was still likely that a servant would.

  “She is not.” Rose bit her bottom lip.

  He could not leave her this way.

  “Come with me.” He remembered Cortland mentioning an unused gamekeepers’ cottage a short distance into the forest. If his memory served correctly, it was not far from their present location. He hoped anyhow. Rome did not give her a choice but took her hand and led them toward the path.

  She did not protest. Something in the way she trusted him implicitly filled his chest with warmth. His hands remained bare, but she’d not removed her gloves. Imagining that he’d been inside of her and yet she’d been wearing the gloves he’d purchased for her was an image that sent new flares of arousal shooting to his groin.

  The path became narrow, but he did not release her hand.

  In a few days, they would go their separate ways. He’d never see her again, and even if he did, he would not have the freedom to touch her.

  She stumbled, and but for his hand, might have fallen. Rome had been striding quickly, with purpose and she had yet to ask where he was taking her. Shortening his pace, he reassured her by rubbing his thumb along her wrist.

  After walking for another ten or so minutes, he drew in a sigh of relief when a structure came into view. Wood had been stacked beneath the covered porch, but it appeared uninhabited. The unlocked door opened easily and, not giving her a chance to protest, he swung her into his arms and carried her across the threshold. She shivered in his arms upon stepping inside. It seemed colder in here than it had outside.
<
br />   It would not for long.

  “I’ll start a fire.” But he didn’t set her down right away. The last time he had held her like this they’d both been soaking wet and he’d feared for her life. “We will take this time.”

  It was not a question. She nodded and touched her gloved fingertips to his jaw, her eyes filled with emotions that neither of them would acknowledge.

  Swallowing hard, he lowered her to the floor and turned to examine the room. While he collected a few logs and located a flint, Rome was vaguely aware of her lifting various objects to inspect them, opening drawers, and peeking into cupboards, almost as though she was taking inventory.

  “I will make us tea, if you’d like.” Her words broke the silence that had fallen between them. The silence hadn’t been awkward, but it had been thick with a combination of anticipation and uncertainty. “I noticed a well on the side of the cottage.”

  She had located a pot and looked as though she’d fetch the water herself.

  “No.” Rome burst from his haunches where he’d been stoking the fire. “Warm yourself by the fire.” He took the pot out of her hands, allowing her no opportunity to protest. This woman would not be his servant in any way today. She would be Miss Waring. It was the least that he could do.

  Rose had expected him to dismiss her right after. And if he hadn’t, she would have bolted. anyway. She’d intended to rush back to the house to wash up and gather her bearings before facing Penelope again.

  She’d had no comprehension of his intentions when he’d taken her by the hand.

  And now, he was fetching water for tea.

  As though in a dream, Rose tentatively moved closer to the fire he’d started and allowed the flames to mesmerize her. All of this had become quite unreal.

  He’d not asked her again to be his mistress. He’d said that he would not. He’d promised.

  He would not.

  Even if he did, although it would have seemed hypocritical for her to turn him down, she knew that she could not accept.

  The fire flickered brighter as he returned, and she stepped back so he could settle the pot over the flames to heat the water. “You are quite adept at this.” Of course, he’d had plenty of experience with such mundane tasks as a young boy. She wondered how many other people in the world knew this about him. His brothers and sisters, perhaps, his parents, of course.

  He rubbed his hands together and flashed her a smile. “Something very satisfying about it, I’ll admit.”

  “Do you miss it? The life you lived before your father inherited?”

  He removed his jacket and drew a chair closer to the fire. “Take off your coat so the fire can warm you.” And then he seemed to contemplate her question. “At Harlow Point, it’s not uncommon for me to sleep under the stars. The property stretches forever. At times, a man needs to feel the earth beneath him. He needs to remember how vast the universe is compared to his own problems.” And then he was assisting her with her coat and pressing her into the chair. He stared at her hands for a moment before tugging off her gloves.

  “I can do that,” she protested half-heartedly. He unwound her scarf but when it came free, did not move his hand away. Instead, he trailed his fingers along the length of her jaw.

  “You are a precious human being, you know.” Looking slightly embarrassed, he then turned away to draw the only other chair in the room up to the fire as well. He did not set it so that it faced her, rather beside her, so that they were almost touching.

  “I am not sorry.” He stared at the flames as they curled around the black pot. “I know that I ought to be, but I am not.”

  “You have not done this before?” Rose watched his profile. She was suddenly even more curious about him than she’d been before. Knowing him intimately, she now craved his thoughts, memories, regrets, and dreams.

  He answered on a deep inhale. “Only once.”

  Rose watched the water. It would take some time to boil. “And now you have Wesley.” And then, because they were not keeping secrets from one another, she asked, “Did you love her?”

  “It might not have been such a despicable act on my part if I had.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “It was the first year I traveled to Harlow Point without my father. I was not yet twenty and one of the tenant’s daughters…” He shook his head. “I thought nothing of it, foolish, irresponsible pup. But I was not so much pup that I couldn’t sire a child.”

  Rose had so many questions but held her peace. He would tell her what he wanted to.

  A barely perceptible steam began to rise off the water before he spoke again. “We carried on, as titled rogues do, you know, and I thought nothing of leaving when my father ordered me back to Raven’s Park.” He clenched his jaw. “Laura died in childbirth that winter. I knew nothing of my son until the following spring.”

  “She did not send word of her condition?”

  He shook his head. “Crazy thing is, Laura’s parents held no ill will for me. Blamed it all on her. They were more than willing to care for her child––my son. I did not put up much resistance. I visited occasionally. He knew who I was and yet I was, I am, a stranger to him. It became easier to simply watch him grow up from afar.” Rose watched his throat move, as though he would swallow any unsettling emotion. “After Mr. Creighton’s passing, Mrs. Creighton had no reason to remain at Harlow Point.”

  “Was not Wesley’s father reason enough?” Rose couldn’t help but point out something so obvious.

  Lord Darlington frowned. “She had family there. She is family to him. I am not.” He seemed tied up in knots over something that ought to be simple. He was the boy’s father, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t unheard of for a titled man to take part in the upbringing of a bastard child.

  Unless he didn’t want the boy… And yet, before the thought developed in her mind, she knew it wasn’t the case. His son’s grandparents may have loved their grandson, but they had taken advantage of Lord Darlington’s uncertainty. Their daughter’s son would grow up to become a man. A man could provide additional labor. It seemed the viscount was blind to all but his own failings where his son was concerned.

  “She died before you had any choices. You did not marry her and so you have married this guilt, instead. But you did not know. What would you have done if you had?”

  “That’s the question that haunts me. I’d like to think that I would have acted honorably, and on the other hand, I know how much trouble that would have caused. Laura was not simple, by any means, but she was…”

  “Raised for service.” Rose provided.

  He nodded.

  “And your son? Tell me about him?”

  Her question drew a frown. “He is leery of me. Sees me as an interloper––a threat. We spoke of regrets yesterday. I cannot help but wonder if I made the right decision in regard to his upbringing. At the time, the Creightons convinced me the boy would be better off with them, asking only for additional funds to meet his needs. I remember seeing this tiny little creature, squirming and crying.” He shook his head. “I believed them and, in all honesty, a part of me was relieved. I didn’t tell my father about him until later that year, when I realized the necessity of setting up a trust. He was my son.

  “My father told me there were other ways, but by then, I could not take him away from his family. And I’d given my word. His grandparents loved him. They raised him as their own.” He tore his gaze away from the fire and her heart squeezed to see his pain. “He knows me, but I see resentment in his eyes. I did not want him to go with his grandmother to Wales, but it was what he wanted.

  “I ought to have been stronger. And yet, in asserting my rights, I could never give him the rights he deserves to have as my son.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  “But you can give him other things. Share your knowledge of the land, your knowledge about life, about being a man.” Nothing she could tell him could take away his doubts. Rose pushed herself off the chair, the water readied for tea now. She’d located tea ba
gs earlier and since it was easiest, ladled the water into the cups. She added sugar to both. “We cannot change the past, we can only do better for the future.”

  His explanation revealed a great deal about his character. About his caution, his sober outlook on life. “You will do what is right. I have no doubt. You will make matters right.”

  She wanted to ask him if he’d been in love since then. Sixteen years was a very long time. At the very least, he must have sought feminine companionship. On second thought, she did not want to know.

  But the consideration brought to mind her experience with Elias. “Did you tell Wesley’s mother that you loved her? Did you make promises you had no intention of keeping?”

  His head jerked over to stare at her at this question. “Of course not.”

  She nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “Did she love you?”

  “It was a long time ago, but I do not remember her saying that she did.” But then he shook his head. “No, I don’t think she loved me. I was likely more infatuated with her. If anything, she was enamored with my title.”

  Rose had thought she’d loved Elias. How foolish she’d been not to know the difference between infatuation and love. The worst was that she’d scoffed when she’d seen other maids succumb to it. She’d assumed herself beyond falling for false charm and compliments.

  “Men, specifically titled men, enjoy an inherent power, especially over women. These men make decisions. They possess great wealth and are educated at England’s finest institutions. Most women will believe anything these men tell them, even to the point of abandoning their own long held opinions, convictions they’d considered to be strong. For such a man, a woman will compromise herself in ways she’d never imagine otherwise.” She wasn’t saying this to chastise him. She wanted him to understand why she had not been a virgin.

  “It was a damnable thing for me to do.” But he was staring at her. “I hope you do not feel vulnerable with me. Please, don’t.”

  But she was already shaking her head when he spoke. His title, rather than cause her to be even more attracted to him, did quite the opposite. Although, obviously not by a great deal.