A Summer Seduction (32 page)

Damaris gazed up at him, entranced by the story and his voice, by the passion that imbued both.

“I think he did just what I’ve done,” Alec went on. “He draped them over her bare flesh.” He bore her backward on the bed. “And he looked at her, thinking she outshone all the jewels.”

He bent and kissed one pert nipple peeking out just below the chain, and the touch of his mouth sent a spear of lust straight down through her. Damaris dug her fingers into his hair. The strands of his hair were like silk against her skin, and the feel of it aroused her just as his mouth did on her breast.

Alec made his way down her body, worshipping her with his mouth and hands, opening her to him in the most intimate way. His tongue teased her into desire as bright and hard as the most glittering jewel, bringing her to the peak again and again, until she was almost sobbing with need, and only then did he send her over the edge.

And even as she relaxed, the ripples of passion fading away, he thrust deep and hard inside her. Damaris gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he cast her once more into that delicious swell of pure need. They moved together,
their bodies joined in a timeless ritual, and as he shuddered against her, his seed spilling into her, Damaris clutched him to her, lost in hot, dark pleasure.

Damaris awoke the next morning
, reaching instinctively across the bed for Alec. When her hand found only empty space, she opened her eyes and looked around, blinking. She was back in her own bed. Alec must have carried her here sometime during the night to ensure that the maid would not enter Damaris’s room to find her bed empty.

She sat up, memories of the night before rushing in—the thrill of sneaking down the narrow hidden staircase, Alec’s hands and mouth on her, loving her, the exquisite pleasure so intense it had pierced her like pain.

The vague suspicion she had held for days hardened into certainty: she loved Alec.

It was impossible, of course. He would never marry her. A Stafford could not be allied to a woman like her. Her father’s lineage, even her wealth, could not make the tint of scandal she carried acceptable. A bastard child—one, moreover, who had eloped, forcing a marriage to a fortune hunter? No, those were not the makings of a Countess of Rawdon.

Her heart, though, had made the decision she had sworn she never would. She loved Alec, and she could not live without him. The only solution, she knew, was to be his mistress. Little as she had wanted that life, it was one she would accept in order to be with Alec.

And, oddly enough, now that she had come to that decision,
she felt no regret. There was no room for anything but happiness in her heart.

That happiness lasted only until the following evening, when she and Alec were leaving the dining room with Aunt Willa. Alec, heedless of his aunt’s presence, took Damaris’s hand as they strolled down the hall. They stopped abruptly at the sound of the heavy front door closing, followed by the raised voices of a man and woman bickering as they walked across the marble floor.

“Well, it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t insisted on coming along,” the woman said tartly.

Alec let out a soft curse and exclaimed under his breath, “Genevieve!”

A
lec barely refrained from cursing
. Of all the ill-timed moments for his sister to come back to the castle! He looked over at Damaris. She was gazing back at him with an expression of alarm.

The man in the entryway answered sharply, “I could hardly let you travel all this way alone, now, could I? A fine sort of gentleman I should be then.”

And Myles was with Genevieve. It only grew worse. Alec sighed as Damaris untangled her fingers from his and took a step apart. Only Aunt Willa was smiling with pleasure. Alec was truly fond of both his sister and his friend, but at this moment he wished them at the devil—or, at least, in London.

Myles and Genevieve had stepped into their view now in the center of the hallway. Myles had removed his hat, and he ran a hand back through his hair, causing it to stand up comically. He was as neatly and fashionably dressed as always, but he looked in some disarray, his cravat rumpled, his coat wrinkled, and his watch hanging on its chain from his waistcoat,
fobs dangling. His expression was that of a man pushed to the brink.

Genevieve, on the other hand, trim in a russet-colored traveling gown, a matching hat on her head, had not a hair out of place. It did not surprise Alec; his sister often seemed to be refreshed, rather than wearied, by a sharp exchange of words. Genevieve held her cat in her arms, and the fluffy white animal was watching Sir Myles with an expression that could only be termed smug.

“You would not have even known I was coming here if you hadn’t happened to visit that afternoon,” Genevieve reminded Myles. “I told you there was no need to put yourself out.”

“As if I could allow Rawdon’s sister go all this way without any protection,” Myles retorted.

“Allow me?” Genevieve asked in a dangerously smooth tone, one eyebrow arching.

Myles, obviously realizing his misstep, quickly changed tack, saying, “Some ladies would be grateful to have an escort on the road, you know. Especially when she learned her brother had been attacked on the toll road.”

“I don’t know what Rawdon’s attack has to do with me. It was an entirely different time and place, not to mention a different person. In any case, I had the driver and his under coachman to protect me. They always carry pistols and a blunderbuss. And the groom was riding Alec’s horse as well.”

“Yes, I know, the Staffords travel armed to the teeth. It’s enough to make one wonder what you lot expect to encounter. But your servants aren’t in the inns with you along the
way. Not every lout hanging about knows that you are a Stafford and it’s more than his life’s worth to accost you.”

“Alec taught me to shoot, and I am an excellent marks-woman. I always carry the little pistol he gave me when we travel. And Xerxes keeps an excellent watch.”

“Of course he does,” Myles agreed sourly, eyeing the cat with disfavor. “Only you would have a watch cat.”

“Yes,” Genevieve agreed pleasantly, “and he’s an excellent mouser. I never have to worry about vermin in my chamber.”

“I had better step in before Myles explodes,” Alec murmured to Damaris, and he strode forward. “Genevieve. Myles. What an unexpected pleasure to see you.”

“Alec!” Myles swung toward his friend, looking relieved. “The pleasure is mine. Believe me.”

Alec chuckled. “It sounds as though you two must have had, um, quite a trip.”

“Myles is just fussing because Xerxes had a little accident as we came up the hill.” Genevieve gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“I don’t see why the animal had to choose to cast up his accounts right on my new boots.” Myles peered down at one foot. “Just got them the other day.”

“Hoby?” Alec inquired mildly.

Myles nodded. “Of course. Leather’s soft as butter, has a perfect sheen. Or at least it did.” Myles cast a baleful glance at the cat in Genevieve’s arms.

“Xerxes cannot help it. I told you that the motion of the carriage sometimes makes him ill.”

“Perhaps if he had not insisted on springing at my watch fobs all the way, the ride would not have been so turbulent.”

Genevieve struggled to suppress a smile. “Cats are attracted to shiny objects.”

Myles lifted his watch chain and examined it with a sigh. “Lost one of the fobs. No doubt it’s in his stomach.”

“Then ’tis no wonder he was ill.”

Myles rolled his eyes at Genevieve, but his lips twitched, and he had to chuckle. “Damme, Genny, but you are a brat.”

“Hardly a surprise to you,” she tossed back, “as you have known me since I was ten.”

“Perhaps Myles thinks that one day you will grow up,” Alec offered. He took the cat from Genevieve’s arm and set him on the floor. “I am sure Xerxes would like to reacquaint himself with the castle while the rest of us visit.”

The white cat gave them all a disdainful look and pranced off, tail raised like a flag. At his departure, their aunt, who had borne a healthy fear of Xerxes since the time he sprang from a cabinet top onto her back, came forward to hug Genevieve.

“Genny, darling. I am so glad you have come home. Is the Season over already?”

“’Tis winding down. Perhaps it’s a bit early.”

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Aunt Willa beamed and turned toward Myles. “And you’ve brought Sir Myles with you. How lovely.”

Myles, never one to ignore the social niceties, swept Aunt Willa an elegant bow. “Mrs. Hawthorne, you are looking
splendid, as always. I hope you have not given your heart to another while I’ve been gone.”

“Oh, you.” Willa patted his arm, a pleased flush rising in her cheeks. “You are an utter flatterer.”

“You know Mrs. Howard, of course,” Alec said, bringing Damaris into the greetings.

“Indeed.” Lady Genevieve turned her coolly assessing gaze on Damaris. “I trust that you have had a pleasant stay here, Mrs. Howard.”

“Yes, thank you. Pray forgive me for making free with some of your frocks.” Damaris touched the ice-blue gown she wore. “I hated to be so bold, but Lord Rawdon was certain you would not care.”

“No, of course not. ’Tis far better suited to you. But no doubt you have sorely missed your own clothes. When I received my brother’s letter, I realized at once that you were up here in the wilds without any of your things. Just like a man not to notice such mundane details, isn’t it? I went straight to your house. Luckily, I caught your abigail before she left the city, and she gave me a trunk of your clothes.”

“Oh, my lady!” Damaris smiled with real pleasure. Whatever trepidation she felt about Alec’s aristocratic sister joining them, it was momentarily smothered by happiness at once again having her own gowns, her own brushes. “Thank you. Indeed. You are most kind.”

Alec studied his sister as the others exchanged polite chitchat about Genevieve and Myles’s journey and the state of London and the
ton
. It was unlike Genevieve to leave London
early. Though she could never be considered a convivial person, she did not love Castle Cleyre as Alec did, finding it boring to spend long, cold winters in what she termed “that great old pile of stones.” He had assumed that she would stay in London until he returned to escort her home, or perhaps that she would have gone with their grandmother to Bath. He could not help but wonder what had prompted her to come dashing all the way up to Northumberland. He did not for a moment believe it was from some altruistic impulse to bring Damaris her clothes or to see that his horse was returned to him forthwith.

Genevieve glanced over and met Alec’s eyes. There was something in her face that told him he was right: Genevieve had come here for some particular purpose and, unsurprisingly, it had to do with him.

“Have you eaten?” he asked casually. “I’ll ring for some supper for you. I am sure Cook will be able to have something ready quickly. We’ve only just finished.”

“But no doubt you’d like to freshen up a bit first,” Aunt Willa added, and linked her arm through her niece’s. “Come, I’ll walk you upstairs to your room and you can tell me all the gossip from London.”

“Of course.” Genevieve smiled fondly at the short woman.

As they strolled off together for the stairs, Aunt Willa’s voice floated back to them as she said, in tones of dread, “Your grandmother is not coming also, is she?”

Damaris turned to the men. “I am sure the two of you are eager to talk to each other. And I am growing a trifle tired. If you will excuse me, I believe I will retire now.”

Alec hated to see the touch of constraint in Damaris’s polite smile, and normally he would have tried to cajole her into staying with them, just to prove to her that she had no need to feel uneasy around his sister. However, he suspected that whatever reason lay behind Genevieve’s visit, his sister would be unlikely to reveal it in front of someone she scarcely knew. So he did not press Damaris, just bowed over her hand, giving her fingers the slightest squeeze, and watched as she walked away.

He turned to find Myles regarding him. Alec smiled. “Care for a restorative brandy?”

“Lord, yes,” Myles replied with heartfelt relief. “London to Northumberland with that maniacal cat is enough to send one straight to Bedlam.”

Alec chuckled. “I have often felt the same myself.”

The two men strolled back into the dining room, where Alec sent one of the footmen for food and brandy. Alec studied his friend as they seated themselves at one end of the massive table. “What brings Genevieve up here in such haste?”

“I haven’t the least idea,” Myles confessed. “I went to call on her and the countess the other day, and she had everyone dashing about, making ready for an immediate trip home. When I found out she was planning to set out alone, of course I offered to escort her. She refused, but fortunately the countess was present and she overruled Genevieve. As a result, Genevieve scarcely talked to me the whole way up.”

“My sister dislikes being crossed.” The servant brought in
the brandy and Alec poured it himself, sending the footman on his way.