For the Love of Lynette

by Jillian Eaton

  Unlike the moth, however, Lynette knew full well what would happen if she danced too close to the fire. But before she could decide whether she was willing to risk the burn for a chance at touching the heat, Nathaniel dipped his head and claimed her mouth with his own.

  This time the kiss was not slow or patient or even very kind. This time instead of asking, Nathaniel took what he wanted… and after only a moment’s hesitation, Lynette willingly gave all she had to offer.

  Clutching his shirt, she lifted herself up on her toes as the hands around her waist tightened before slipping behind to cup and knead her derriere. It was the first time any man had groped her in such a fashion and while some part of her knew she should have reacted with indignation, the other part demanded she let Nathaniel do with her what he willed.

  And what he willed was marvelous.

  Coaxing her lips apart, he thrusted his tongue between them and explored the inside of her mouth with tiny, teasing strokes that left her aching for more. All of her life, she’d never experienced anything close to the need he invoked deep inside of her. Until he kissed her in the parlor, she hadn’t even known such a need existed and now it was the only thing she could think about.

  As he followed the curve of her jaw with his mouth and suckled her earlobe, Lynette’s knees trembled and threatened to buckle. Nathaniel pressed her back against the table, cupping the nape of her neck as he lowered her down, down, down, until she found herself flat on her back.

  Heavens, she thought, I am going to be ravished between jam and toast.

  With a low growl he stepped between her thighs and hiked up the hem of her skirt, twisting it to the side as his hands slipped over the shapely curves of her calves. Her toes curled and her head shot up, but any protest she might have made died on her lips the instant he lowered his mouth to one of her breasts and suckled her hard, pointed nipple through the thin layers of fabric that comprised her dress and chemise.

  “You taste so sweet,” he groaned.

  Lynette, unsure whether a response was required, hesitantly replied, “Thank you?”

  She caught a glimpse of his mouth curved in a smile before he settled his lavish attentions on her other breast, teasing her aroused flesh with tiny licks of his tongue until she was squirming on the table, mindlessly knocking silverware and plates to the floor.

  Sensation after sensation flooded over her, like waves crashing up on the shore, each one stronger than the last, building to something she couldn’t name but desperately, desperately wanted. It wasn’t until she felt his hand begin a slow, sensuous ascent up the inside of her leg that she tensed and instinctively clamped her thighs together, blocking the most intimate part of her body from his probing touch.

  “Enough,” Nathaniel muttered under his breath, although whether the command was directed at her or himself Lynette couldn’t be sure. Standing up, he played the part of gentleman in helping her to her feet, although he refused to look the other way as, blushing, she yanked down her skirts and pulled up her bodice.

  Only when everything was in its proper place - more or less - was she able to muster the courage to meet his gaze. “That - that was quite unexpected.”

  “Was it?” he asked with an amused glance at her flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. “I rather thought it went exactly as planned.”

  She glanced at the door. “I - I really should go. My sisters will be wondering where I am.”

  “You’re right,” Nathaniel said, much to her surprise. “If you wait here, I will have a maid bring in you your belongings and a carriage will be waiting for you out front to take you wherever you would like to go.”

  How calm he is, she marveled. As if we were just discussing the weather instead of nearly making love on the dining room table. Goodness. I hope we didn’t stain the rug.

  Deciding to take a page out of his book and pretend as though his mouth hadn’t been on her nipple a moment ago, Lynette gathered what remained of her composure and feigned a bright, cheerful smile. “Thank you, Lord Town-”

  “Nathaniel.”

  Her smile wobbled. Being kissed by a man on his dining room table was one thing. Using his Christian name was quite another. If this was a normal courtship, she wouldn’t even dream of calling him anything but Lord Townsend until well after wedding bells had sounded. Although given that they’d only just met last night and were engaged this morning, what could be the harm? Their courtship - if she even dared classify it as such - may have been many things, but normal wasn’t one of them.

  “Thank you… Nathaniel.”

  Green eyes never leaving hers, he inclined his head. “You are quite welcome. I have business to attend to and must take my leave, but if you require any assistance in readying your belongings for travel please let me know. Once I have procured a special license we can be wed with all haste. In the meantime, I will contact your creditors. Do you wish to keep your home, or put it on the market?”

  Now he wanted her to sell her parent’s home? The home where she’d been born and raised?

  Everything was moving so fast. Too fast.

  “Put it on the market?” she echoed faintly.

  “Yes. I assume you will not have any use for it once we are married.” Misinterpreting her dazed expression for one of dislike, Nathaniel frowned. “If you do not think this townhouse will suit for you and your sisters, I have another in Grosvenor Square and a country estate only a two days ride from town as well as a hunting lodge in Scotland. We can tour all of them if you would like, and you can select which one you think would be best as I have no personal preference.”

  “You have four houses?”

  “Seven, if you count the properties I will inherit. Or is it eight?” Looking vaguely bemused, he shook his head. “I cannot remember.” At Lynette’s strangled laugh, concern creased his brow. “Are you feeling alright? You look a bit pale. Is it your head? Here, sit down.”

  “I do not want to sit down,” she said, waving him off when he pulled out a chair. “I want to go home and catch my breath and have a cup of tea and - and think for a little while.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she muttered under her breath, “I simply need to think.”

  “If you have changed your mind-”

  “I haven’t,” she assured him. “And I won’t. It is just that...well, when I saw you in the street yesterday I must admit this was the last thing I ever thought would happen.”

  “I see.”

  Do you? She wanted to ask. Do you really?

  While Lynette felt as though she were on the brink of falling apart at the seams, Nathaniel looked calm and composed and completely unruffled, almost as if rescuing perfect strangers and asking for their hand in marriage was an everyday occurrence for him.

  “A maid will be down shortly with your hat and shoes. I took the liberty of having them cleaned while you slept.”

  Her lips parted. “You did not have to do that.”

  “You are going to be my wife,” he said, as though that explained everything.

  “But if you had them cleaned while I slept, how did you know?”

  He ran a hand over his jaw. “How did I know what?”

  “That I would agree to marry you?”

  “I didn’t.” With one last long, lingering glance at her face, as though he were committing her countenance to memory, Nathaniel turned and walked out of the dining room.

  “Did you feel that?” Delilah asked, shading her brow with the flat of her hand as she glanced up at the sky.

  “Feel what?” Temperance replied absently.

  They were still walking in Hyde Park beneath a canopy of leafy green trees, cozily ensconced in a comfortable silence. They’d passed a few people on the meandering path, but for the most part it remained largely empty, although the jingle of bells and the stomping of hooves had begun to sound with more frequency through the wooded tree line, indicating the park was beginning to fill with its daily assortment of buggies and other wheeled conveyances.

  “Water.” De
lilah dropped her chin and wrinkled her nose. “Tempy, I think it is going to start raining any moment.”

  “Nonsense,” Temperance scoffed with a wayward glance at her sister. “It is the nicest it has been in two weeks.” Unfortunately, no sooner had she gotten the words out than a big, fat, cold raindrop landed square on her nose. Swiping at it with the cuff of her sleeve, she raised her fist to the sky and shook it. “One day!” she cried in exasperation. “Is one day of sun too much to ask for?”

  “I do not think it’s going to answer you back,” Delilah said seriously.

  Temperance rolled her eyes. “I know that. I was simply venting my frustrations.”

  “Do you think you might vent them somewhere inside? It is starting to pick up.”

  And it was. What had begun as a spattering of raindrops had picked up to a drizzle and was well on its way to a downpour. Yanking up the hood of her pelisse, Temperance grabbed Delilah’s hand and with a shriek they sprinted down the path, heedlessly splashing through the puddles they’d been taking such great care to avoid.

  Unfortunately the rain proved most persistent, and within seconds the two sisters were splattered in mud and soaked through to the skin. As if that weren’t bad enough, they’d somehow taken a wrong turn in their haste to find shelter and were now hopelessly lost in the labyrinth of trails and walkways that dissected the three hundred and fifty acre park.

  “Tempy, I am freezing,” Delilah said in a pitifully small voice as they huddled together beneath the thick limb of an oak tree.

  Untying her pelisse, Temperance shook off the excess moisture before she wrapped it around her sister’s trembling shoulders. “Do not worry,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “The rain will stop soon.”

  I hope.

  While the rain had slowed, the skies were dark and gray as far as the eye could see. There was no telling when the sun would come out again. It could be a few minutes, a few hours, or even – especially given the way the weather had been as of late – a few days.

  “Look,” Delilah said suddenly. Raising her hand, she pointed down the path. “Someone is coming!”

  Craning her neck, Temperance saw a lone carriage making its way towards them. Pulled by a single horse who had its ears pinned against the rain, it was an old-fashioned black chaise with large rear wheels that churned up mud and water as it rolled slowly forward. The top had been closed, obscuring the driver from view, but that didn’t stop Temperance from running into the middle of the path.

  “Here!” she shouted, waving her arms up and down. “We are over here!”

  “Tempy, what are you doing?” Delilah gasped from behind her.

  “Saving us from pneumonia,” Temperance replied grimly. Continuing to wave her arms as though she were a bird attempting to take flight, she began to jump up and down as the approaching carriage showed no signs of stopping.

  “Look out!” Delilah shrieked.

  Realizing too late the driver of the chaise either couldn’t see her or wasn’t paying attention, Temperance leaped to the side. Unable to keep her balance on the slippery footing, she fell face first into a giant mud puddle. Sputtering and spitting out slimy wet dirt, she scrambled to her feet, slid to the side, and promptly fell again, albeit this time right onto her derriere.

  Wonderful, she thought in disgust as she lifted her hands out of the muck and lost both gloves in the process. Absolutely wonderful. Yanking her soiled gloves free from the mud, she slapped them against her skirts as she struggled to her feet. Delilah rushed forward to help her, but when she saw the wet slime coating Temperance’s body she stepped nimbly out of reach and wrinkled her nose.

  “Yuck. Why would you do that? You could have gotten yourself killed!”

  Temperance wiped her sleeve across her face. “I was trying to save us.”

  “By getting yourself run over? Lynette is going to-”

  “I say, are you alright?” This came from the driver of the carriage who had stopped his horse a few yards away and jogged up to them. Wearing a leather hat slung low over his brow and a black greatcoat that enveloped most of his tall, broad frame, he looked to be in his early thirties with light blue eyes that stood out against a swarthy complexion. If Temperance weren’t so furious she might have noted he was quite handsome, but as it stood she couldn’t see his strong, square jaw, shapely mouth, and chiseled nose past the red haze of fury clouding her vision.

  “I am fine, no thanks to you!” she retorted. “Are you blind? You nearly ran me over!”

  Instead of apologizing as one might expect of a gentleman, the driver narrowed his eyes. “What were you doing in the middle of the carriage path? The way I see it, you put yourself at risk.”

  “Put myself at risk?” Temperance sputtered. “Put myself at risk?” Ignoring Delilah’s restraining grip on her arm, she stepped up until she and the driver were toe to toe. Given that she was rather tall for a woman, she half expected to look down on him, but he was tall for a man and instead of being able to peer down her nose in a condescending manner she found herself forced to look up. It wasn’t a position Temperance was accustomed to being in, but she wasn’t about to back down. Pinning her hands to her hips, she blinked water out of her eyes and spat, “You could have killed me! Haven’t you anything to say for yourself? If you were looking where you should have been looking you would have seen me clear as day. Of all the irresponsible, reckless–”

  “Oh ho,” said the driver, cutting her off with an incredulous laugh that set Temperance’s teeth on edge. “Who was the one standing in the rain in front of a moving carriage, I’d like to know?”

  “Tempy was only trying to get your attention.” Stepping up beside her sister, Delilah peered beseechingly up at the driver beneath the brim of her soaked bonnet. “We took a wrong turn, you see, and we have been stuck out in the rain since it began. She was only trying to rescue us.”

  Temperance bit back a grin. In all her life, she’d never met a single person – man or woman – who could look at Delilah’s sweet, innocent face and not grant her whatever it was she wanted. Judging by the driver’s softened expression, he was no exception to her sister’s considerable charms.

  If Lynette was the reasonable one and Temperance the hot-headed one, then Delilah was certainly the empathetic one (whether she realized it or not).

  “I see.” Blue eyes flicking from Delilah to Temperance and back again, the driver pushed back his hat, revealing thick hair the color of the earth after a long, soaking rain. Scratching his temple, he said, “I can take you home, if you would like.”

  For the first time, Temperance noted the flatness of his vowels. An American, she realized with a start. He’s an American. Having never met anyone from across the Atlantic, she was instantly intrigued despite her initial dislike. “I believe that would be the least you could do.”

  “Come on then,” he said curtly. “I haven’t got all day.” His eyebrows, several shades darker than his hair, pulled together over the bridge of his nose. “There’s room in the back if you squeeze together. Make sure you don’t touch anything.”

  Exchanging a quick glance, Temperance and Delilah followed him to his carriage. He held open the door and motioned for them to get in with a quick jerk of his arm. Bracing her hands on the frame, Temperance took a step up only to stop short as her gaze settled on the enormous pile of…stuff…that had been crammed into every available nook and cranny save the spot where the driver sat. There were an assortment of trunks, all in different sizes. Bolts of mismatched fabric. Three sterling silver mirrors. Half a dozen vases. And – though she had to look twice to make sure – a full sized writing desk tipped up on its side.

  “What is all this?” Temperance asked as she gingerly stepped inside and miraculously managed to find a tiny sliver of empty space. Leaning against the window in order to make room for Delilah, she sucked in a breath as her sister plopped down beside her. Temperance wasn’t claustrophobic by nature, but it was nearly impossible not to feel closed i
n when she had a trunk all but sitting on her lap and another beside her head just waiting to fall.

  Looking completely nonplussed by the clutter, the driver hoisted himself up into his seat, yanked the door closed, and twisted around to look pointedly at Temperance. “Don’t touch anything,” he repeated before he picked up the reins and gave them a commanding snap. The carriage jolted forward with a groan, and Temperance bit back a muffled shriek of alarm as one of the mirrors shifted precariously to the left.

  “Tempy,” whispered Delilah, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into Temperance’s shoulder, “I do not think I like this.”

  You and me both, Temperance thought grimly.

  Who in their right mind traveled with so many possessions? And in a chaise, no less. These type of carriages were built for passengers, not a household’s worth of belongings! What was the driver thinking, carrying around so much stuff? Better yet, what was he doing with it all?

  Studying the back of his head, she wondered if he wasn’t a bit crazed. It would certainly explain why he’d nearly run her over. What it didn’t explain was why they’d willingly gotten in the carriage of a lunatic. Or perhaps it did.

  After all, the Swan sisters weren’t exactly known for making very good decisions.

  “Did you just move here?” she ventured as they wound their way through the park, passing a few other carriages that had gotten caught out in the rain.

  “Yes.”

  “From America?” Temperance waited with bated breath to hear what the driver’s response would be. He was a man of few words, which of course only made her want to know more about it. That was the funny thing about curiosity. It didn’t care if a person was gruff or generally unlikable; it only cared how much it knew and how much it didn’t.

  “Was it my accent?” he asked.

  Temperance nodded, realized the driver couldn’t possibly see her through through the hodgepodge of odds and ends that separated them, and said, “Yes. Your vowels are very flat.”