by Lauren Smith
“Perhaps you can help me?” It had been on her mind to ask, and she was going to suggest it when they next met. Now was as good a time as any, and he had come to her first.
“How may I be of service?”
“Help me find my husband.”
He choked. “Excuse me?”
Moira turned suddenly to assure herself of his health. In her momentum, her knee banged the table and sent her falling forward. Ainsely reached out and grabbed her bare forearms to keep her from toppling onto him. Her skin sizzled at the touch of his ungloved hands. The contact warmed her from the tip of his fingertips to the ends of her toes. Their skin had never touched before and it was quite, well, not exactly disturbing, but her heart raced and her pulse pounded. “Goodness!”
Chapter 13
Goodness indeed! Gideon gently gripped Lady Moira’s forearms to keep her from falling on the table. His fingers burned at the touch of her skin, and his pulse hummed, bringing to life sensations that had lain dormant until last night. Their eyes locked, their faces merely inches apart. Her lips parted in surprise, eyes wide with shock. She had to be feeling what he was. If he moved just a few inches, their lips would touch and they’d be kissing as they had the evening before.
Her tongue darted out, moistening the lower lip of her full, rosy bud of a mouth. The rest of his anatomy came alive. Just one taste. He leaned forward, a breath away. She bent toward him.
“Moira Kirkwood, what are you doing accosting that gentleman?”
Gideon pulled back and stood, supporting Lady Moira until she had her balance, and turned toward the woman who had just shrieked at them.
“Mother, this is Lord Ainsely—” she focused on Gideon and gestured to her mother “—my lord, the Dowager Countless Hearne.”
They really needed no introduction, as Gideon had made the woman’s acquaintance at the Davenports’ ball.
“I apologize for my daughter’s behavior.” The woman rushed toward him.
“There is nothing to apologize for,” Gideon responded slowly. How much had the woman seen from her angle at the door, which had been to the left of his back? “Your daughter tripped, and I simply caught her.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “It looked as if she were...”
“Yes?” Gideon raised an eyebrow.
“Never mind.” The woman threw up her hands. “I am certain I was mistaken.” She slid a glance at her daughter. “At least I hope I was mistaken, but my daughter’s behavior has recently been called into question, so I must wonder.”
No wonder Lady Moira wished to escape this woman. Never should she have even made reference to the bet. Most especially not in the presence of a bachelor who had called on her daughter.
“You were mistaken, my lady,” the maid piped up from the back corner. “I saw Lady Moira trip and she would have ended up right in the tea service had Lord Ainsely not caught her.”
The dowager countess whipped around. “I will ask if I want your input.”
Gideon cringed at the dowager’s tone while he noted Lady Moira silently mouth thank you to the maid.
“Moira, why aren’t you wearing a hat?”
A befuddled look came across the young woman’s face. “Because I’m in the parlor.”
“Yes, but you must cover that head until I can find another remedy. Nobody should see you in this state, most certainly not Lord Ainsely.” She smiled up at him.
Lady Moira’s hand went to her scalp and she grimaced. Gideon hoped the woman ran out of remedies before Lady Moira was left bald.
“Madam, I stopped by to see if Lady Moira would like to accompany me on a drive in the park.”
Both ladies perked up. The mother had a calculating gleam in her eye while she studied him, whereas Lady Moira brightened with what he interpreted as relief at the possibility of escape.
“As long as she takes Beatrice with her.”
“I am afraid that’s not possible. I am driving my phaeton today and there’s only enough room for two.”
The dowager pursed her lips in thought, and Lady Moira twisted her hands together, waiting patiently. The young woman wanted out of this house probably more than he did.
“It is open?”
What an odd question. “Of course. It is right outside if you would like to see for yourself.”
“And where do you plan to ride?”
Had the woman been part of the Inquisition in an earlier life? “Hyde Park.”
The maid stood and moved toward the door. “I’ll get your hat and parasol, Lady Moira.”
“Thank you, Beatrice.” Lady Moira smiled after her.
“As long as you don’t do anything that could ruin my daughter’s reputation,” the dowager countess warned. “We are still trying to recover from that scandalous bet.”
Did she not know of the subsequent two? And what a thing to say to a stranger in her daughter’s presence. “Of course. I would not dare risk harm to your daughter.”
Moments later they were outside with Lady Moira seated beside him as he edged the phaeton into traffic. Her leg pressed against his did nothing for the desire that had been building steadily since they first met and came to full bloom moments before their near kiss.
Moira took in her surroundings. She’d only walked in the park before, never ridden and the view from Ainsely’s phaeton was much better. Drat her mother for showing up right before Moira was certain that Ainsely was going to kiss her again. Oh, why couldn’t he live in Scotland?
She sneaked a glance at him from beneath her lashes. Would he attempt to kiss her again, or had the moment passed? Well, not here in the park, of course. That would ruin her, far more than her name appearing in the betting book. Well, unless Ainsely married her, something which she was positive he did not want to do. Besides, he lived in Yorkshire.
Disappointment stabbed at her heart a second time. Why did he have to live there, of all places?
Ainsely pulled upon the reins as traffic slowed. It was rather crowded today. Of course it was a beautiful day and anyone in their right mind would be out and about. A rider drew alongside the phaeton.
“Good day, Ainsely.” The man tipped his hat.
“Struthers,” Ainsely bit out.
So, this was the gentleman from the bet. While Moira leaned forward to look around Ainsely to the gentleman, Ainsely pulled the carriage over to a stop. “Lady Moira, might I present Lord Struthers.”
The man smiled and tipped his head while his eyes scanned her person from her eyes to her toes and back again, lingering a bit too long on her breasts. Moira fought the urge to lift a hand and cover herself. Not that any skin was exposed, but his leer made her feel unclothed.
Moira had never been so insulted by such disrespect. “I think it is only fair to tell you that I cannot consider you.” She wanted to be done with this nonsense now. Having her name in that book had become more an aggravation than anything.
Well, with the exception of Ainsely. His involvement had been nothing but enjoyable.
“Is it because my estate is in such poor repair?” the blond gentleman asked.
At least he was now focused on her face and not trying to find her breasts. “I couldn’t care less whether your home is a poorly thatched cottage surrounded by thistle and weeds or a grand castle. The location simply won’t do.”
Struthers straightened and frowned. “What exactly is wrong with Shropshire?”
“I don’t wish to live there.” Moira shrugged. Now that she had dealt with the situation, she simply wished he would go away.
“Good day, Struthers.” Ainsely clicked on the reins and moved the phaeton back into traffic. “I believe you.”
“Pardon?”
“You would rather live in a damp cave in Scotland than a prospering estate in England.”
“Yes.” While that had been the truth a few days ago, Moira was beginning to fret her dreams of Scotland would not come to pass. “Will you help me?”
He looked over at her and narrowed her eyes.
“Help?”
“Find my Scottish husband.”
His jaw tightened as if angered. For the life of her, she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if he wished to marry her. Well, he had kissed her, but that was simply because of the moment, and their faces being so close, and they had been in the shadows of Vauxhall…Besides, Lord Ainsely had already known her desire to live in Scotland and her reasons before he’d kissed her, so he shouldn’t be surprised that she still wished the same. It wasn’t as if he were interested in her. If he were, he wouldn’t have been so concerned that she might have compromised him last night.
“Very well,” he finally ground out. “I’ll see what I can learn of Scottish bachelors who are currently in London.”
“Thank you,” Moira sighed with relief and a bit of disappointment. If he were interested in making her his wife, he would not help her find the man who would take her away. Worse, he no longer seemed interested in kissing her either.
Blast! What did she want? Ainsely in Yorkshire or an unknown gentleman in Scotland?
What wanted Ainsely in Scotland, but as that was no possible, Moira had to consider for the first time if she perhaps she was being shortsighted in her desires to live in a country simply because it was one her mother would never enter.
No! She must stick with her convictions, otherwise she’d never have peace.
Straightening, she scanned the crowd. “If you would point out the eligible bachelors and the locations of their estates, it would be greatly appreciated.”
The park was filled with bachelors, she soon learned. The phaeton didn’t move five feet without Ainsely rattling off a title or mister and location. None of them were Scottish. Though, two were Irish, so if necessary she would give them some consideration. But how did her mother feel about Ireland? She would have to ask. Of course, one must cross the sea to get there, which may be deterrent enough for her.
Ainsely clicked the reins and maneuvered the phaeton around and away from the crowd.
Of all the gentlemen they had passed, not one would make a good candidate and, the longer she sat next to Ainsely, the more she compared everyone to him. It was enough to make a young woman want to cry. Why was it so difficult to find the perfect husband?
When she glanced about again, they were deep in the park and Ainsely pulled the phaeton to a stop beneath the shade of a copse of trees. There wasn’t another soul around.
Ainsely turned to look at Moira, and she met his eyes. Was something on his mind?
Instead of saying a word, his hand came up, cupped the back of her head, and he brought his lips to hers.
Moira melted on contact. His lips were strong, warm and firm, and she attempted to kiss him in the same manner as he kissed her. His other hand wound around her back, and he pulled her closer as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. Moira now knew what to expect and allowed him access. Her insides heated, and she had to clutch his shoulders to remain upright.
Her body tingled, and the binding around her chest became tighter than when Beatrice had tied it around her this morning, as delicious warmth flowed through her veins and into areas much too private to consider.
The hand behind her head skimmed down her back to her waist, leaving a trail of heat in its path, and up to her breast.
“Bloody hell.” Ainsely pulled back and looked at her. “You have bound your breasts.”
Her face heated from embarrassment, and not the more pleasant warmth pooling inside. “Mother said they were a hindrance and a distraction.”
“The same woman who has tried to change your hair and remove your freckles?”
Moira bit her lip and nodded.
“That woman knows nothing about men.”
Moira pulled back, shocked at his harsh tone.
Ainsely smiled at her and kissed her gently one more time. “Trust me in this, Moira. Your breasts are your fourth best physical feature.”
“Fourth?” What was he talking about?
A slow smile came to his lips, causing his warm brown eyes to crinkle at the corners.
“The first is your face, when you haven’t applied concoctions causing what must have been an uncomfortable rash.”
Her face heated further.
“The second is your hair. Do not ever change the color you were blessed with. It reminds me of the morning sunrise.”
Oh goodness, she was becoming overheated and they weren’t even in the sun.
“Third, your freckles. I’ve always had a weakness for lasses with freckles.”
She was in love. If she hadn’t been before--she may have been and just now realized it--she certainly was now.
“And the fourth are your glorious breasts. While they may be a distraction, I find them a very pleasant one.”
Goodness, was living in Scotland really so important?
“Despite what your beliefs of marriage may be, do not marry any Scot unless he feels exactly the way I do.”
Chapter 14
Lord Alston bets Mr. Fiske fifty pounds that Lady Moira Kirkwood
will be compromised by Lord Ainsely within the week
and find herself in Scotland before the end of the Season ~ April 25, 1813
“Damn and blast.” Gideon threw the empty glass against the fireplace. He gave her the perfect opportunity to give up her dream of marrying a Scot today. After the words he spoke, the closest he had ever come to a declaration of love in his life, she had said nothing. Nothing!
She should have confessed that she no longer wanted a Scot, but would follow him.
Well, maybe not that dramatic, but something along those lines. But she said nothing!
He wanted Moira. Hell, he was in love with her, and it had happened in just a matter of days. Had anyone told him it was possible, he would have scoffed and laughed at them. He now well understood how some of his acquaintances had walked into a castle as bachelors one day and out as married men a few days later. It only took a moment to fall completely.
Good lord, he sounded like a sappy poet now.
Gideon strode to the sideboard and poured another glass of whisky, with the intent of becoming good and drunk. And he wasn’t setting foot in White’s again for a good long time. He didn’t want to know what was now in that damn book. Half the ton had heard Moira reject Struthers, and he didn’t want to know what poor soul Alston and Fiske named next.
He fell into the deep leather chair beside the fireplace, swirling the liquid around in his glass. “I could have her.”
He could approach Hearne, explain his feelings, and if necessary, confess the liberties he had taken at Vauxhall and in the park…or he could tell Moira where his estate was located.
Neither was a choice. He tossed back a gulp of the whisky. He didn’t want her on those terms. He wanted her to marry him because she wanted to and not because his home was in Scotland.
He could court her, woo her and kiss her senseless until she forgot Scotland even existed.
A smile pulled to his lips. It wasn’t a bad plan, and one that might definitely work and be quite enjoyable in the process.
However tonight, he was staying in and getting good and bloody drunk. It was the only way he was going to get any sleep until Lady Moira became Moira Baxter, Lady Ainsely.
“So this is where you have been all evening.” Jordan Trent sauntered into the room and went straight to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of whisky. “Missed you at Henderson’s ball and White’s.”
Gideon glanced at the clock by the door. “Neither must have been entertaining. It is barely midnight.”
Jordan shrugged and flopped down into the matching chair across from Gideon.
“Why are you here?”
Jordan took a drink and studied Gideon. “Another bet has been made with regard to Lady Moira.”
“Bloody hell. Do Alston and Fiske have nothing better to do?”
His friend laughed. “Apparently not. They bet the same fifty pounds over and over, as it has been for the past five years, and so
far I believe they’ve broken even.”
He didn’t want to know, but he would learn the name eventually. “Who is it this time?”
“You.”
Moira pulled the counterpane up over her head at the knock at her door. “Go away.”
“Moira, it’s me,” Alvina called. “May I come in?”
She glanced at the clock. It was past one, and she should have risen long before now. But she hadn’t slept a wink last night. Why did Ainsely have to be so wonderful and make her want things she couldn’t have, such as more kisses and caresses?
He lived in Yorkshire. But, with Ainsely it was possible to have an affectionate, loving and an unusual marriage, like Nyle and Alvina’s, instead of one like her parents and sisters.
Did she dare risk it? But what if Ainsely didn’t love her? She knew nothing of his financial status. He could be as desperate for her funds as the other gentlemen, and by the time she realized the truth, it would be too late. She would be living only four days from her mother with a man who had seduced her for her dowry.
Or, maybe he did like her, and enjoyed kissing her, but viewed her as safe since she’d only settle on Scotland. If Ainsely knew she might consider another location, would he disappear?
He had last night. While she waited at the Henderson ball, enduring a number of stares from Society, he’d not been there to rescue her or point out potential Scottish bachelors. She was not certain if others gossiped behind fans because of her atrocious hair or if it was because of the third bet that had been placed.
Had the kisses really meant so little to Ainsely? Was she only a dalliance?
“Moira?” Alvina called out and pounded on the door.
“Come in,” Moira grumbled and rolled over.
Alvina stepped into the room, radiant as ever. No wonder Nyle had fallen in love with her after just one glance.
“Your mother and brother are worried.”
Moira sat up and snorted. “I just wish to remain in bed all day.”