A Scoundrel by Moonlight (16 page)

L
owering clouds brought early dusk to the isolated cottage tucked into Derbyshire’s Peaks. For two days, Nell had waited here. Leath had promised to arrive today, but the evening drew in without him. A dizzying mixture of longing and nerves kept her at the parlor window overlooking the graveled drive. A drive that remained empty, despite all her dedicated watching.

The day after Nell had agreed to become his mistress, Leath left Alloway Chase for a week, ostensibly to visit another estate. While away, he’d sent her a letter bristling with daunting practicalities, softened only by a “yours, James” at the end. Sentimental fool she was, she’d slept ever since with that letter under her pillow. She’d hoped that tonight she’d have more than his words to keep her warm.

Disconsolately she turned away from the rain outside.

He’d come. She knew he would. But the delay was excruciating. Nearly two weeks ago, she’d vowed herself to a man in a rush of passion, and all she had to show for it was a few kisses.

She dropped onto the brocade couch before the roaring fire. Derbyshire seemed even colder than Yorkshire. There was snow on the surrounding hills and when she’d ventured out to explore the garden, she lasted minutes before hurrying inside to the warmth.

She’d left the marchioness’s employment with a story about caring for an ill aunt. Since then, she’d crossed another wilderness and settled into this exquisite bower.

Nell appreciated Leath’s discretion in his choice of love nest. This thatched house with its snug parlor and cozy bedroom upstairs under the eaves held a touch of the fairy tale. The larder was stocked with all manner of delicacies, enough to last the week. Leath had arranged every luxury except servants. She was desperately glad that she wouldn’t have to face knowing eyes.

She hadn’t yet heard his lordship’s long-term plans. Somewhere she’d need to accustom herself to life as a fallen woman. She and her lover couldn’t hide in this sanctuary forever, making do for themselves.

How she wished Leath would come. Avoiding grim reality became more onerous every moment. A woman who gave everything up for love shouldn’t sit alone on a cold night, contemplating the lonely years ahead.

Sighing, Nell rose and lit the candles. She wandered into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. The wind whipped the trees outside so violently that she found it in herself to be glad that Leath wasn’t on the road.

Sipping the rich claret, she stared out the kitchen window. Then she trudged back to the parlor. She wasn’t hungry, but it was too early for bed.

“Eleanor?”

She raised her head and stared at the towering figure dripping onto the flagstones in the hallway. “My lord?”

The shock of seeing him when she’d reconciled herself to another night alone was too much. To her utter mortification, tears flooded her eyes.

“Oh, my darling.” Flinging away his greatcoat and dropping his bags, he rushed forward and caught her wine before she spilled it. Curling one arm around her waist, he slid the glass onto a table before enveloping her in his heat, his power, his sheer presence.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, struggling not to weep into his chest. The scents of leather, sandalwood, and Leath flooded her senses. “You gave me such a surprise.”

His embrace tightened. “I didn’t mean to be so late. The damned horse went lame outside Matlock and the weather’s been horrid.”

“You should have waited until tomorrow.” The battle against tears wasn’t going well.

“And spend another day without you? I’d rather cut off my arm.” He swung her around until he collapsed onto the chaise with her lying against him. “Eleanor, Eleanor, don’t cry. I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I am,” she wailed into his shirtfront. “You’ll think you’ve taken on a complete lunatic.”

His laugh held a fondness that went a long way to soothing her distress. “It’s the wait. It’s enough to drive the sanest person—among whom, dear Miss Trim, I count you—mad.”

“You won’t believe this, but I rarely cry.”

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?”

She burrowed more deeply against him. “I trust you.”

“I’m glad.” A note in his beautiful voice had her lifting her head.

“I truly am happy to see you,” she said, not sure whether he’d believe her. With a shaking hand, she brushed her tears away.

“I know you are,” he said with a twitch of his lips. He caught her face between his hands and studied her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. “And I’m overjoyed to see you. It’s been a long ten days.”

“Oh, yes,” she said fervently. She sniffed and a choked giggle escaped. “I must look a fright.”

“You do rather,” he said with a smile. “A delightful fright.”

“What a welcome I’ve given you.”

Briefly he pressed his lips to hers. “Thank you for waiting.”

Nell had a bleak premonition that his mistress would devote many hours to waiting. She shoved the thought to the back of her mind where all her other misgivings lurked.

James Fairbrother was a good man. Nell knew that to her bones. The rules of their world made it impossible for them to be together without shame and secrecy. So she must accept shame and secrecy. Other women lived with that. She could learn to. Dear Lord, let her learn to.

Right now, the man she loved was inches away, whereas the future seemed so distant. “After ten days, is that the best you can do, my lord?”

His lips curved. He wasn’t a man who smiled easily, except with her. The thought melted her last doubts. “I feel rather awkward kissing a woman who addresses me so formally.”

“Perhaps you need more practice.”

“Do you mock me, Miss Trim?”

“It would do you no harm.” She’d seen how people respected and admired him. He seemed poignantly short of people who treated him as an equal. Even Sir Garth Burton’s attitude had verged on hero worship.

His expression turned serious. “Please, Eleanor, call me James.”

She rose on her knees and pressed provocative little
kisses across the cool, damp skin of his face. His striking features had lured her since that first alarming encounter outside his library. She could stare at him for days and only become more fascinated.

A glance of her lips across the wide forehead concealing his miracle of a mind. Another to where his pulse beat at his temples. A row of kisses along his hairline, tasting rain. Three deliberate kisses down that intimidating nose.

“I’m sure… James… wouldn’t leave me… stuck on a… precipice of… uncertainty for nearly… a fortnight,” she said between kisses.

More kisses along hard, slanted cheekbones and along his jaw. His skin was rough with stubble. This tangible proof of his masculinity thrilled her.

“Eleanor—” He caught her waist between his big, powerful hands.

“Only wicked Lord Leath would… leave me so long,” she said, her voice muffled against his neck. He smelled so wonderful. Fresh air. Horses. Male musk as his desire stirred.

“If wicked Lord Leath tells you that he left Alloway Chase before dawn to reach you, would you relent, sweet Miss Trim?”

She nipped him sharply, then drew back. “Truly?”

“Truly.” He tipped her back onto the chaise and loomed over her. “I won’t have scandal darkening your name. If I left too soon after you, questions would be asked. My mother is no fool.”

Troubled, Nell met his silvery eyes, seeing evidence of his arduous day in the weariness under his excitement. Because he was excited. Even before she’d kissed him, she’d known he was in a lather to have her. “Did she say anything?”

“No. When I told her I had business in the south, she merely…
looked
.”

Nell raised her chin with false bravado, as the thought of the marchioness knowing what they did made her cringe. “I’ll get used to this.”

Tenderness lengthened his mouth, softer and fuller than the mouth of the man who ran Alloway Chase. Just as his gaze was softer as it rested upon her. Whatever this recklessness cost her, she knew that the James Fairbrother she held now was hers and hers alone.

This time when he kissed her, he lingered, sucking on her lower lip until she parted for a luxuriant exploration. Every bone in Nell’s body melted. “That was lovely,” she sighed.

“You’re lovely.”

“If you’ve been traveling all day, you’ll be hungry. Shall I find you something to eat?”

His eyes focused on her and she squirmed at the heat in those silvery depths. “I don’t want food. I want you.” He laughed at her nervous squeak. “Have I shocked you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

His smile broadened. He stood, extending his hand. “I will before I’m done. Will you come with me, Eleanor?”

Feeling like her heart expanded to the size of a mountain, she rose on her elbows. It was silly to be uncertain. After all, they weren’t in this cottage to play piquet. But she suddenly felt very small and defenseless. She swallowed to dislodge the lump in her throat.

“Yes,” she wavered and took his hand. His touch restored faltering courage and she met his eyes with something approaching confidence.

He kissed her. She awaited passion, but there was only more of that aching tenderness. Sweeping her up into his arms, he sipped from her lips as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Leath!” she gasped, clinging to his neck. “You can’t carry me upstairs.”

His laugh rang with triumphant happiness. “Right now, I think I could carry you to London.”

She tugged the wet black hair at his nape. “I don’t want to go quite that far.”

“In that case, Miss Trim, let me take you above and ravish you.”

She loved the way he said “Eleanor.” She loved the way he said “Miss Trim.” Dear God, she was in such a bad way, she just loved him.

“I’ve wanted you to do this ever since you first kissed me,” she admitted shyly, leaning her cheek against his chest as he mounted the narrow staircase.

“Ah, that powerful infatuation.” She heard the smile in his voice, although she was too bashful to meet his eyes. While she wasn’t a timid woman, she’d never before had a handsome man carrying her away for his pleasure. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since that first night in my library.”

She couldn’t resist glancing up. “Surely you believe that I’m smitten.”

It seemed safe to admit that much. Something told her that he wouldn’t welcome hearing of the depth and power of her love. His conscience already pricked him. If he knew the extent of her emotional vulnerability, she had a horrible feeling that he might send her away.

He shouldered his way into the bedroom where she’d lain alone, missing him, the last two nights. Earlier she’d drawn the curtains and lit the fire. In the flickering flames, the four-poster bed loomed like a challenge.

He kissed her and she strained after him, seeking more heat. When he kissed her, she couldn’t think. Now, she desperately didn’t want to think.

“I’m rather smitten myself,” he admitted. “You have magic, Miss Trim.”

Juggling her in his arms, he flung back the covers before gently setting her down. She sank into the bed and stared up at the man who would soon possess her. In his gray eyes, she caught an echo of her troubled thoughts. They’d battled their better selves to reach this point.

She rose against the pillows. “Whatever happens, I’ll never regret this.”

“I pray not.” He stroked her cheek as he sat beside her. “I’ve dreamed of seeing your hair loose. May I take it down?”

Although her presence gave him permission to do much more than unpin her hair, she inched forward. “Yes.”

She knew he’d had lovers. She knew that she wouldn’t be the last woman he enticed to his bed. He wasn’t a rake, but he was an attractive man in his prime who led an active life. Whatever her heart might wish, she didn’t even believe that she meant anything special to him. She invited complete devastation if she placed a romantic gloss on this affair.

Every sensible reminder faded to naught when she saw the care and need in his face. Any illusion that he entered this liaison lightly vanished. He looked as though tonight his world changed forever.

With breathtaking slowness, he drew the first pin from her hair and the significance of the action made her want to weep again.

She sat motionless as he slid another pin free, then another. One heavy blond tress tumbled over her shoulder. She closed her eyes to hide her tumult. This unbinding of her hair, hair that she’d never let down for a man, marked her transition from virginal Nell Trim to Eleanor, captive of sensuality.

More would come. He’d undress her. She’d see his nakedness. His body would slide into hers. Yet this moment seemed the beginning of true intimacy.

By the time her hair flowed around her, Leath breathed in gusts. His hands touched her delicately, as if the slightest fumble might shatter her.

Then nothing.

Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Leath stared at her as though she was a star fallen from heaven to light his way.

“It’s glorious.” Her heart expanded at the awe in his voice. “You’re glorious.”

He caught her hair up against her cheeks so it slipped like silk against her skin. “Kiss me, Eleanor. Kiss me before I die of wanting you.”