But what if she wasn’t?
Chapter Five
The following morning, Lucien woke up at daybreak and went for a long ride. He’d been riding for hours across his park and meadows, trying to shake off his sudden and inexplicable fascination with Mallory, only to find himself near the pond situated at the far end of the Goodell estate. Despite the earliness of the hour, a lone figure was sitting on a log beside the edge of the pond, playing with the ducks who seemed to have befriended her.
Mallory.
Blast. How was he to get her out of his thoughts when she kept popping up in front of him?
The ducks were climbing onto her lap and then jumping off to waddle back to the water, only to climb back onto her lap moments later. Roarke’s wife, Gennalyn had found solace with these creatures when she’d first arrived here from India. She and Mallory had become fast friends, and obviously, Mallory had adopted a few of Gennalyn’s quirks. To the displeasure of her parents, no doubt.
He smiled as he watched her gentle manner with the littlest ducklings.
Blast again.
He needed to forget her, not gape at her like a moonstruck dolt.
“Don’t approach her,” he muttered to himself, knowing he ought to turn away and ride home fast, but he couldn’t. He’d gone for a gallop purposely to rid himself of unwanted thoughts of the girl. Who knew she would suddenly turn into a magnificent young woman?
He certainly hadn’t expected it.
Her transformation had struck him like a cannonball between the eyes.
He continued to study her from a distance, his feelings as turbulent as today’s blustery and foreboding weather. If pressed, he’d deny that he felt any attraction. He’d deny it to her and to anyone else who grew suspicious.
Unfortunately, he could not deny it to himself.
He glanced up at the sky, knowing he ought to be heading back before the downpour started and his guests began to wonder where he was. Particularly Heloise. She had the honed senses of a bat, her sensitive ears able to pick up signals that not even his dogs could hear.
Charlemagne was already growing skittish, sensing the brewing storm and eager to return to his stall. But Lucien did not like the thought of Mallory out here on her own.
This would be no gentle summer rain.
He glanced up again, noting that the clouds were swiftly growing darker, turning from gray to black and now moving at a furious pace across the sky.
No, he couldn’t leave Mallory to fend for herself against the elements. The right thing to do was to return her return her safely home. He spurred Charlemagne toward the pond.
She glanced up as he approached, then hastily turned away and rubbed her eyes. Had she been crying?
“What’s wrong? Has something happened?” He quickly hopped off his mount and strode to her side. But he thought better of taking her into his arms, much as he wanted to. He hadn’t completely lost control of his good sense. Not yet, anyway.
Do not touch Mallory, he warned himself.
That path will lead to disaster.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, refusing to look at him. “What are you doing here?”
He ignored the question and walked around the log to stand in front of her. “Obviously, you are not fine. Tell me which duckling has upset you and I’ll roast him for supper.”
She shook her head and laughed. “No, I’m the culprit. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I’ve turned into a watering pot and spout tears at the slightest prompting. Sometimes, I don’t need any provocation.”
“Did your parents give you a hard time over breakfast this morning?”
She gave a reluctant nod. “Ah, they didn’t mean to overset me. But they droned on and on about all the things I did wrong yesterday. I wasn’t at my best, but was I that inept and ungainly?”
He placed his booted foot on the log and leaned closer to Mallory. “No, of course not.” Then he edged away slightly. Her mouth was pursed in that vulnerable pout and his body was responding vigorously. He had a damn fireworks display going off inside him.
Fine turn of events this was.
She’d always had a little girl infatuation over him, and now he seemed to have developed one over her. Except he was no little boy, and the fiery heat of lust now burning a trail through his body was not remotely innocent.
He did not like this turnabout at all, for it was upsetting his plans. He’d be in deep trouble if that not so innocent infatuation matured into something deeper and far more dangerous. Something forbidden. Not that he would ever act upon these unexpected urges both of them might now be feeling.
He’d never behave badly toward Mallory.
Unaware of his thoughts, she turned away to stare across the pond. “I think I’m doomed to remain a spinster till the end of my days.”
“That is utter nonsense.” He plucked the ducklings off her lap and drew her to her feet, forcing her attention back on him. She wore a simple gown of green and gold muslin that draped becomingly over her spectacular body and, as he forced his gaze upward to study her face, he noticed the matching flecks of gold in her sparkling, green eyes. “I shall tease you about that statement on your wedding day. You will invite me, won’t you?”
She eased her hands out of his grasp and turned away. “Of course, you and your wife will certainly be invited.”
He sighed and ran a hand across the nape of his neck in consternation. “Mallory, I know you don’t like Heloise.”
Her chin shot up in obvious indignation. “You have it the other way around. I tried to make polite conversation, but she wanted nothing to do with me. She despised me at first sight. I don’t know what I ever did to her to make her feel that way.”
Lucien knew, but he wasn’t going to tell her the reason. “It wasn’t your fault. Heloise had just arrived after a long journey and her fatigue must have left her a little ill-tempered.”
“A little?” She shook her head and sighed. “I wish she wasn’t a beautiful, wealthy heiress. I wish you didn’t–” She sighed again. “Sorry, I’ve overstepped outrageously. You know I wish you every happiness, Your Grace.”
“I know. And stop calling me that. I’m Lucien to you. Simply Lucien.”
He’d endured Heloise’s mocking description of Mallory when they’d returned to Hawthorn Hall yesterday evening after the party had ended. In that moment, he’d known his marriage to Heloise would not be a happy one. She was no sweet wren who would be content to rusticate beside him in the countryside while he worked to rebuild his estate.
No, she had London sensibilities and a streak of London snobbery that he could not abide. When they’d returned from Mallory’s party last evening, she’d rushed straight into the parlor where their Society friends were gathered and began to gossip to any of them who would listen. They all did, for they were already bored and restless, and eager to stretch their claws. Who better to sink them into but a defenseless innocent?
“You have a good and generous heart,” he found himself telling Mallory. “And not everyone understands that these are assets to be admired. But men of quality will see the quality in you. You’ll find the right gentleman and have a happy marriage.”
She cast him a wry smile. “I’ll hold out for love, although I’m not certain I shall ever find it. The man would have to be special indeed to notice my attributes. I have very few, if my parents are to be believed. But you’ve switched the topic back to me when my concern was for you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said with a frown that revealed his own concern for the path he was taking. His so-called Society friends had found Mallory’s awkwardness endlessly amusing. To his shame, he hadn’t stopped their snide comments, believing they’d grow tired of the topic and move on. Finally, he’d slammed his fist down on one of the delicate side tables and cracked it in half, he was so furious. That brought the meanspirited ridicule to an abrupt stop.
It had worked to still Heloise’s tongue, but he knew there would be more trouble in
the offing. The pampered duke’s daughter was not merely a bat with sensitive ears able to pick up secrets from across a crowded hall, but a bloodhound as well, able to sniff out those secrets no matter how deeply they were buried. His dark secret was that he liked Mallory. His potential future betrothed knew it and was making it clear to him that she would not tolerate Mallory in his life.
A few drops of rain struck his head, distracting his thoughts and causing him to glance up.
“Oh, perfect,” Mallory said, wiping off a droplet that had landed on her forehead. She started toward a nearby willow tree to hide under its canopy. “I’ll hear no end of it if I ruin another gown because I was caught in the rain.”
Lucien followed her to the tree, but quickly saw that hiding under it was a recipe for disaster. There was a violent storm approaching that could snap a sturdy tree trunk in half as though it were no more than a twig. “Come on, let me get you back home. We can’t stay under here. This willow is the tallest tree in the area. We’ll be killed if lightning strikes it or the strong winds send its branches flying.”
The rain was falling lightly at the moment, but Lucien felt the wind picking up, its low whistle as it whipped around them soon to be a howl. The sky was eerily dark, no patch of blue or sunlight visible, which meant they had little time to find shelter before the tempest unleashed in all its fury.
Mallory followed his gaze. “I’ve never seen such an ink-black sky in daytime.”
“Nor have I. This is going to be bad.” As though fulfilling his predictions, the skies suddenly opened up and dumped a torrent of rain on them. Within seconds, they were both soaked to the skin. Lucien felt as though someone had taken buckets of water and tipped them over their heads. An unending supply of buckets, all filled with water, being tossed at them.
He wrapped an arm around Mallory and drew her close as they ran toward Charlemagne. But his horse was frightened and would not calm. When Charlemagne reared up on his hind legs for the third time, Lucien pulled Mallory out of the way and then released the beast to make its way back to the Hawthorn stable. “We’ll have to make a run for your barn,” he shouted to be heard above the rain and wind.
Mallory glanced at her gown that was not only wet, but soiled. She put her hands to her hair which was a hopelessly unruly mass of curls. The pins had fallen out and the thick, wet tresses now tumbled down her back.
Lord help me, she’s so beautiful.
“Take my hand, Mallory. The grass is slippery and your shoes aren’t meant for running. They will have you sliding all over the place.”
The wind was now blowing with gale force. A violent gust almost knocked Mallory off her feet. He drew her closer, knowing she was having trouble keeping up, for her wet gown was whipping and flailing about her legs, and when it wasn’t tripping her up, it was billowing like a ship’s mainsail.
As she continued to struggle, he drew her hard up against him and finally just lifted her into his arms and ran with her toward shelter. “Wait,” she shouted in his ear and pointed back toward the pond. “We can’t leave the ducklings.”
“Forget the damn ducks. They’ll be safe. They know how to take care of themselves.” Those creatures had an innate sense of danger and of preservation. A glance back confirmed they were already waddling in haste out of the pond to seek refuge among the reeds. Ducks understood the workings of nature. If they were running for cover, then he had better get Mallory safely to the Goodell barn as fast as possible.
The large structure had just come into sight at the same time as the skies lit up in a frightening display of lightning. The blinding light split the air with a sharp crack, the bolts shaking the ground beneath his feet. “Nature unleashing its full fury,” he muttered.
Lucien hauled her inside the barn just as another lightning strike sent a charge through the air and shot a tingle up his boots into his body. Hell in a handbasket. Any closer and it would have cleaved him in half. Had Mallory felt it too?
The cattle began to low in their pens, and several horses kicked the wooden slats of their stalls and neighed. The rafters groaned above them. Lucien glanced up and was relieved to find no leaks in the obviously sturdy roof, so he turned his attention back to Mallory. “Are you…” He paused to catch his breath for he was breathing heavily. “Are you all right?”
He made the mistake of looking at her. Why do this to me, Lord? Her breasts were heaving as she busily squeezed the water out of her hair and wrung out her soggy gown that was pasted to her sinfully exquisite body. “I am. We ought to check on the cattle.”
“They’re secure in their pens, scared but unharmed. This barn is well built. Let’s take care of you first.”
“I’m merely a little out of breath, but otherwise fine. Truly.” She gazed up at him and cast him a soft smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He arched an eyebrow and ran splayed fingers through his own soaked hair.
“For understanding the danger and rescuing me, of course. I would have run under the willow and been burnt to a crisp when lightning struck it.” She shook her head, still smiling at him. “You rescued me yesterday as well.”
“Don’t let Heloise’s rudeness get to you.”
“I can’t help it.”
He sighed. “I know. I’ve known you all your life, Mallory. I probably know you better than anyone outside of your own family. You’re a wonderful mix of strong and caring. Sometimes, I think you care too much what others think of you. I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. I know your feelings were badly hurt.”
“I was partly to blame. After all, I did tip over that tray of champagne.” She continued to wring out the last droplets of rain from her glorious mass of hair.
“Most of us have done worse.” He laughed softly. “We all know I have.”
She nodded and laughed along with him. But the wonderful thing about Mallory was that there was no malice in her. She never laughed at anyone or made them feel lesser. “You were a mere boy of fourteen.”
“Behaving very badly. All you did was turn the wrong way at the wrong moment. You did not deserve the set down you received. But one can’t always control the pettiness of others.”
“I suppose.” She swallowed hard. “How long do you think this storm will last?”
He removed his riding jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was wet, but she was already shivering and he dared not take her up against him to warm her body with his, much as he ached to do it. “I have no idea.”
“Fast, I hope.” Her eyes grew wide as emerald saucers when she suddenly realized he hadn’t taken his gaze off her and his hands were still on her shoulders. She licked her lips, suddenly uncertain. “Why are you staring at me? I know I must look like a drowned rabbit. Every hair out of place.”
He nodded and reached out his hand to brush the long, loose strands that were sticking to her brow. Her gown was still pasted to her body and every magnificent curve was on display. He tugged his jacket closed around her. “Just making certain you meant it when you said you were fine.”
She swallowed hard. “Lucien, do you think you can be happy with Lady Heloise?”
No, of course not.
But he dared not admit it to Mallory. She would make too much of it, for she had watched Gennalyn and Roarke fall in love and now believed in happily ever after wishes coming true.
“I’m going into the bargain with my eyes wide open,” he said, trying to dispel the suddenly charged atmosphere between them.
He released her and took a step away.
“But can you be happy?” Despite her slight frown, she teasingly flicked a little water into his face when he did not immediately respond.
He gave a short burst of laughter as he roughly wiped off the droplets with the back of his hand. “That is not part of the equation.”
Her frown deepened. “And that is not an answer. We are speaking of hearts, not mathematics.”
He returned her frown with a light one of his own and once more rubbed his hand ac
ross the nape of his neck. “It is all the answer you’ll get from me, my girl.” My girl. Damn, that sounded good.
She flicked a few more droplets at him. “How can you be so casual about it? Marriage is a forever proposition. A wrong choice will haunt you for the rest of your days. Your life will be a torment. You’ll be shut away in a tomb of your own making and your heart will wither and die.”
He leaned his large frame against the rough-hewn wood slats of one of the horse stalls, trying hard to keep his gaze on her face and not wandering over her outrageously beautiful body. His heart shot into his throat every time his jacket slipped open... as it was doing now. “That’s an awfully dramatic statement. I’ve never known you to be so theatrical.”
When she raised her hand again, he caught it in his. Grinning, he flicked a little water at her instead. She laughed and tried to turn her head, but that only caused the water to stream down her forehead onto her nose.
Another young woman might not have enjoyed his teasing or been wailing about her ruined gown and flattened hair, but Mallory was never conscious about her good looks. As she brushed back her hair, his jacket fell open again and began to slip off her shoulders.
She turned her shoulders and arched her back to catch it.
Lord, have mercy.
Her gown was not only molded to her sensual curves, but tugged tight around her bodice so that he saw more than any man ought to see outside of marriage. She was cold and her bosom showed it.
“Mallory,” he said with a groan that tore from the depths of his soul.
Her eyes opened wide and her pouty lips trembled as he took her into his arms. “Are you going to kiss me, Lucien?”
Hell, yes. He wanted to with a fierce, aching need. “No.”
“Why not? One kiss, that’s all I’ve ever hoped for. I’ll never ask more of you.”
He’d be lost if he kissed her and liked it, as he knew that he would. To taste her lips would be like tasting heaven. “You can ask anything of me, Mallory. But not this.”
She nodded, trying to shrug off his rebuke, but she was crestfallen. Lord, couldn’t she hide any of her feelings? “Of course, you don’t want me. Why would you when–”
Forbidden Kisses Page 50