Zachary stiffened as the duke’s narrowed gaze settled on him once the two men were alone in the parlor.
Could the duke tell just by looking at him that the other man’s daughter had just brought Zachary to completion with her mouth and hands?
Lord, Zachary hoped not. For his Angel’s sake, not his own. Rissa might be angry with all of them at the moment for not having told her the truth of the situation, but she obviously adored her father, and his good opinion was very important to her.
“Is the door mechanism faulty, or is there something you wish to discuss with me, Harrogate?” the older man enquired with a mildness belied by those hard and glittering gray eyes.
Zachary raised his chin. “I should have the door checked by a locksmith, if I were you, Your Grace.”
Dark brows rose. “Indeed?”
Zachary nodded stiffly, then deliberately changed the subject. “My congratulations on the birth of your son and heir.”
The duke’s expression softened. “Thank you. Sophia is obviously exhausted after such a quick and early birth, but she has said she would welcome a visit from you later today so that she might introduce you to our son.”
Zachary gave another nod. “I would be honored to meet the new Marquis of Stourport.”
Weston continued to look at him through narrowed lids for several moments before nodding abruptly. “I will pass along your good wishes to Sophia.” He paused in the doorway before turning. “And Harrogate… Whether this door has a faulty lock or otherwise, you should know I keep a loaded pistol in my study, which I sincerely hope it will not be necessary for me to use.”
Zachary winced. “Let us both hope it does not come to that.”
The older man gave him one last narrow-eyed and assessing glare before leaving.
At which time, Zachary let out a deep breath before sinking into one of the armchairs, the older man’s warning in regard to Zachary’s future behavior toward his daughter more than clear.
If Weston ever learned Zachary had touched his daughter inappropriately, he would find himself in the sights of Weston’s loaded pistol. Either standing beside Rissa at the altar or preparing to die.
Chapter 10
“You decided against going riding again this morning?”
“I am too excited by the birth of my brother yesterday to be able to think of anything else,” Rissa admitted ruefully.
Only the earl and Rissa were seated at the table and being served a late breakfast by the family butler. Her father and Sophia had sent word they intended to remain in their bedchamber today with their newborn son. They invited Rissa to join them whenever she wished to do so.
She now gave Zachary a sideways glance. “I trust you did not rise early this morning in anticipation of the two of us going riding together as we did yesterday morning?”
“I rose early with the intention of preventing you from leaving the house and risking another meeting with Royston,” he answered harshly.
Rissa frowned. She knew there should be some awkwardness between herself and Zachary today after their intimacy in the parlor the day before. But the birth of her brother, David Magnus Joshua Spencer, the Marquis of Stourport, had completely occupied her thoughts and time since then. Indeed, she had spent most of the previous day in Sophia’s bedchamber, along with her father, ensuring Sophia rested. Besides, Rissa adored cuddling her brother. David was very tiny but absolutely perfect in form and beauty, and Rissa was already totally besotted with him.
Not that she had forgotten for a moment the intimacy between herself and Zachary. It made her blush even now just to think of her own impetuous behavior having resulted in that intimacy.
But she did not care for his highhanded attitude toward her this morning. “I am not so reckless as to deliberately put myself in danger.”
“No?”
Her cheeks warmed as she turned to the butler. “Could you provide us with a fresh pot of tea, please, Hunter?” She waited until the elderly man had left the breakfast room before turning back to Zachary. “If you have something you wish to say to me, then I would prefer you do so in private and not in the presence of my father’s butler.”
Zachary, having seen very little of Rissa after she had hurried to her stepmother’s bedchamber the day before, was feeling more than a little disgruntled this morning. Admittedly, the birth of the Marquis of Stourport was a momentous event in the lives of all the Spencer family. But he had thought he and Rissa might be able to talk together again yesterday evening, at least. He meant only to talk after their time together had come to such an abrupt end with the interruption of her father.
Zachary’s jaw tightened. “As I stated yesterday, we need to discuss our…intimacy.”
Her brows rose. “Do we?”
“Of course we do.” He rose restlessly to his booted feet to stare down at her. “What we did was—”
“Let us be completely honest—it is what I did yesterday that you wish to talk about.” The blush had deepened in her cheeks.
“And you do not?”
She met his gaze steadily. “I do not see there is anything to be gained by the two of us discussing it.”
Nothing to be gained—
“Does that mean you go around sucking the cock of every man you meet? You are certainly adept enough at it for that to be— Dear God, I am sorry!” he burst out as the color now leeched from Rissa’s cheeks. “I am frustrated and unsettled this morning and taking those emotions out on you.”
She rose to her feet. “I fail to see why you should be the one feeling frustrated,” she taunted.
To remind him of the fact she had not found her own release yesterday?
“Nor,” she continued firmly as Zachary would have spoken, “do I…enter into such intimacy with every man I meet. In fact, that was the first time, and if I am adept at it, then it is because Sophia teaches such things at her school, with the hope none of ‘her girls’ shall ever suffer sexual dissatisfaction in her marriage.” The coldness of her gaze swept over him in scathing dismissal. “I shall take care to choose more wisely the next time I consider behaving in that way with any gentleman.”
Zachary’s eyes widened. “You will not behave in that manner with any gentleman but me!”
“No?” she challenged. “I am sorry to disappoint you, my lord”—her scathing tone implied the opposite—“but you do not have the authority to tell me what I can or cannot do, now or in the future.”
“And if I should like to do so?”
She eyed him haughtily. “You will have to explain yourself more fully than that, I am afraid.”
Zachary had thought long and hard on this subject after the shared intimacy with his Angel yesterday and Weston’s comment of the suspicions he harbored regarding their behavior.
Yes, despite his immediate and visceral reaction to his Angel, Zachary had initially dismissed the idea of a serious relationship between himself and the Duke of Weston’s daughter. And annoyed his Angel intensely by having done so. But his only reason for doing so was because Zachary feared for her reputation, not his own. That had been lost long ago.
But if Rissa and her father had both indicated, at separate times, they did not see the past as a barrier between the two of them being together, then perhaps Zachary should not either.
Lord knows the thought of that bastard Royston ever getting his hands on his Angel threw Zachary into a rage of such proportions, he feared what the outcome might be. Possibly that wrenching apart of Royston limb from limb that Rissa had predicted might be the case.
Zachary had also now accepted that the idea of leaving his Angel, of never seeing her again or at some time in the future watching her marry another man, caused him such agony of heart and mind that he could not bear to think about it.
He stepped forward to take one of her hands in his. “Rissa—Angel, I—” He released her hand as the door opened and the butler once again entered the room with the requested pot of tea.
The older man lifted the hot
pot from the tray and placed it on the table before straightening. If he had noticed the Earl of Harrogate was holding his young mistress’s hand when he entered the room, his stoic expression did not show it. “A letter has been delivered for you, Miss Clarissa.” He held the tray out so she could take the missive.
“Thank you, Hunter. I believe it is from Miss Catchpole, informing me of when she will be coming to visit,” she stated after glancing at the address on the back of the letter. “You may leave us now,” she dismissed the butler.
Hunter bowed stiffly before doing as she instructed.
Zachary instantly stepped forward again with the intention of renewing their earlier conversation.
“How odd,” Rissa murmured as she looked more closely at the letter. “The address on the back is certainly Banford Manor, the home of Clara’s aunt, but this is not Clara’s handwriting. I do hope she has not suffered any belated repercussions from the fire.” She broke the seal.
Zachary could barely contain his impatience. “Whoever it is from, it can surely wait to be read until after we have concluded our own conversation.”
Rissa looked at him blankly. “What conversation?”
Zachary glared his frustration. He had been about to pour his heart out, and now Rissa was too distracted by the arrival of her letter to even remember their discussion. “Never mind,” he snapped tersely. “I am sure your letter is of more importance than anything I might have to say.”
Rissa had intended to deliberately annoy Zachary by her lack of attention, but now she realized perhaps she had taken the teasing too far. “No, please do go ahead and finish what you wished to say.” She placed the unread letter on the tabletop to look at him attentively.
He shook his head. “It is of no importance.”
She frowned. “It sounded important.”
His mouth twisted. “You are mistaken.”
Now it was Rissa’s turn to feel frustrated. “I was only teasing you just now, Zachary. I meant no harm by it,” she added with a wince as he looked down his arrogant nose at her.
“Oh, by all means, let me be a source of amusement for you,” he snapped.
Rissa’s lips twitched, and she tried to stop herself from outright smiling but knew she had failed when she gave a burst of laughter. “I am sorry, but you are so very endearing when you pout.”
He glowered. “I do not pout.”
She nodded as she stood up to move to his side. “Almost as endearingly as David.”
His disgusted gaze rose toward the ceiling. “So now I am being compared to a day-old drooling baby!”
“A day-old drooling baby I absolutely adore,” she reminded.
Zachary stilled, his gaze intent on her face. “Do you adore me too?”
She reached up to run the pad of her thumb across the softness of his bottom lip. The lip she had said was pouting. It was not, of course. Zachary was certainly disgruntled by her dismissive attitude, but he had not pouted. “Should I adore you when you can be so very annoying?”
“Angel—”
She placed her fingertips across both of his lips. “Shh,” she murmured as she once again reached up on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. “We always resort to arguing when we talk.”
His expression softened, the tension easing from his body as his arms moved about her waist. “Whose fault is that, do you suppose?”
She gazed at him with innocent eyes. “Obviously, it is yours.”
He chuckled softly. “Oh, obviously.” His arms tightened, and he ceased smiling. “As we are to be left to our own devices today, will you accompany me up to my bedchamber?”
Rissa’s heart skipped several beats at the implications of that invitation. Every time she and Zachary were alone together, they indulged in yet another indiscretion, each one more intimate than the last.
“I have thought of nothing else but making love to you since we parted yesterday, Angel,” Zachary spoke huskily. “Of giving you the same pleasure you gave me and which I did not have opportunity to reciprocate.”
A thrill of excitement ran the length of Rissa’s spine. Again, she knew from Sophia’s teachings at the school the mechanics of a man making love to a woman with his hands and mouth. But she had never experienced that pleasure for herself. Which did not mean she had not imagined it. Many times.
She released a shaky breath. “I believe my father already has his suspicions about the two of us.”
It was not a refusal, Zachary recognized. “You may leave your father to me,” he assured gruffly, having every intention of talking to the duke at the other man’s earliest convenience and advising Weston no pistol would be necessary to force him to stand at the altar beside Rissa. “Allow me to make love to you, Angel.” His lips ghosted lightly along the creamy length of her throat. “To give you pleasure.” He felt her quiver against him as he bit gently on her earlobe.
“And how shall you do that?” she encouraged huskily.
“First, I will carry you upstairs and remove your gown and chemise before placing you on my bed. Then I shall remove your drawers before parting your thighs and feasting on your—”
“Stop,” she instructed shakily, her breasts a creamy swell above the low neckline of her gown. “What if we are seen going upstairs together?”
“I will say you are feeling unwell,” Zachary dismissed as he swung her up into his arms, Rissa’s slender arms instinctively moving about his neck. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Try to look suitably ill and in need of my attention.”
Rissa buried her face against his chest to hide her giggle as he carried her from the room and up the stairs. All without seeing or being seen by anyone, thank goodness. “I have never behaved in so lily-livered a fashion as that.”
Zachary already knew his Angel was entirely courageous. First, during the fire at Catchpole Manor, and again when she faced Royston yesterday. Zachary admired her as well as lov—
“What is it?” Rissa prompted as Zachary came to an abrupt halt halfway up the wide staircase. “Did someone see us?” She glanced about them anxiously.
Was Zachary in love with his Angel?
That he did not wish to be parted from her had told him he could fall in love with her, with very little encouragement. As had his desire for her, to be with her, to make love to her. But he had not realized he was already in love with her.
It was now so obvious to him.
His feeling of possessiveness in regard to his Angel.
His jealousy of other men.
The need he felt to kiss her or touch her every time they were alone together.
The utter desolation inside him merely thinking of ever being apart from her or watching her marry another man.
Rissa was his, damn it.
“No,” he assured as he resumed climbing the stairs before striding purposefully along the hallway to his bedchamber.
Words, Zachary knew from the desertion of friends and lovers in his past, could ultimately mean nothing. He intended to show his Angel how much he loved and worshipped her.
Chapter 11
Rissa was familiar with the blue guest bedchamber given to Zachary for his stay, but it appeared different with Zachary’s belongings about the room. There were several collar studs and jeweled pins for his neckcloth in a tray on the dressing table, along with a hairbrush. A jacket was draped across the bedroom chair with a pair of polished boots on the floor beneath.
“You did not bring your valet with you.” She only now realized the omission.
He smiled as he gently lowered her feet to the carpeted floor before moving to turn the key in the lock of the door. “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself.”
“I believed all gentlemen had a valet.”
“I left mine in London to join up with me later,” he dismissed. “He and my clothes had not yet arrived in the carriage from London to Harrogate Park before I had to leave again. No doubt he will catch up with me at some time in the future.”
Rissa was aware she wa
s talking merely for the sake of it. Because now they were alone in Zachary’s bedchamber, the door closed and locked behind them, she realized the enormity of what she about to do.
It was one thing to know how much she desired Zachary, quite another to give in to that desire. And in the family home now also occupied by her father, stepmother, and baby brother.
“Zachary…” She gave a pained frown, unable to look up and meet his gaze.
“Have you changed your mind?” he prompted huskily.
Had she? The two of them had been embroiled in one dangerous situation or another since the moment they first met. Was her impulsive behavior now a result of that?
Rissa raised her head to look at Zachary, immediately aware of the deepening reserve in his green-gold eyes. As if he feared he already knew what her answer would be.
Her gaze moved lower, to the chiseled fullness of his mouth. She trembled slightly as she easily imagined those lips against her breasts and between her thighs.
Heat suffused her body. “No, I have not changed my mind.” Remembering all that Zachary had said downstairs, she turned her back toward him so that he might unfasten the buttons of her gown.
His breath was warm against her nape as he slowly unbuttoned the small pearls all the way down to the base of her spine before slowly pushing the material down her arms and allowing it to fall at her feet.
She slipped the ribbon straps of her chemise down her arms and allowed it to fall with her gown. “I believe I should remove my slippers and take down my hair if I am to be entirely comfortable.” She kept her back toward him as she stepped out of her slippers and out of the tangle of her gown and chemise before lifting her arms to remove the half-dozen pins securing her hair.
Naked from the waist down, with her hair falling silkily about her bare shoulders and down her spine, Rissa turned to face the man who was about to become her lover. Perhaps not in the full sense of the word, but her lover nonetheless.
Zachary drew his breath in sharply. He had never seen anyone or anything as beautiful as his Angel.
Her hair was a dark cloud as it cascaded down to her waist.
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