An Earl to Enchant (14 page)

Short, choppy breaths merged with long, whispered sighs as his lips roamed hungrily over hers. He kissed across her cheek to softly nuzzle the area behind her ear. Arianna kissed his cheek and felt the light stubble of beard. He pulled the lobe of her ear into his mouth and gently nibbled at it. Her skin pebbled deliciously at the touch of his moist breath and warm lips.

Shivers of desire and excitement shuddered through her. She wore little clothing, but she had never felt hotter. It amazed her that just his touch could make her feel as if she were on fire. His lower body strained to get closer to hers. She felt his hardness beneath his riding breeches. She longed to lift his shirt and feel his firm skin beneath her hands.

As they kissed passionately, his hands ran up her back, over her shoulders, and down the front of her tunic. His palms lay against her breasts. He lifted their weight into his hands and gently, firmly, caressed them. Arianna moaned softly and allowed herself to enjoy the heady sensations he stirred inside her.

“I know poets have written about hearing bells, but I swear this is the first time I’ve ever kissed anyone and heard bells.”

Arianna laughed and then kissed him deep, long, and hard. “You are really hearing bells, my lord.”

“I am?” he asked with a grin, his hands slowly caressing their way to her bare waist. His thumb found her navel and played with the tiny indentation.

“It’s the custom for bells to be sewn onto the hem of the skirt.”

“What?”

“See? Look.” She turned him loose and lifted the hem of her skirt and shook it.

He looked at her and grinned. “Arianna, I fear you are a wicked angel sent to torment me.”

She placed her lips on his and kissed him passionately with all the love she was feeling.

Love?

Is that what she was feeling for the earl?

No, it couldn’t be.

It must be.

But he was a handsome, arrogant rogue. Nothing like her father.

But what else could be as glorious as her feelings for Morgan but love?

Morgan’s lips left hers, and he kissed his way over her chin, down the slender column of her neck, past the hollow of her throat, to the swell of her breasts. He kissed down the center of her tunic to her midriff and suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her.

His hands circled her bare waist, his fingers splayed down her hips, and he thrust his tongue in the center of her stomach and teased her navel. Arianna gasped from pleasure, and her knees went weak with desire. She wound her arms around his head and pressed him closer. His hands slipped around to her back and lower to cup her buttocks and press her body into his face.

Arianna held her breath for fear if she breathed, the magic of the moment would break and disappear. His every touch thrilled her to new heights, and her fear was that he would stop.

She knew what she was allowing him to do was beyond the pale in Polite Society, but with Morgan, she simply had no inclination to stop him and no inhibitions where he was concerned. She had already flagrantly disobeyed so many rules, and simply disregarded others, that there seemed to be little reason to worry now.

Slowly, his hands, his tongue, and his mouth stilled. He raised his head and looked up at her. She saw in his eyes that his desire for her was great, and she would not deny him.

“Tell me you have been with a man like this before, Arianna. Please tell me so that I can take you to that bed and give us both what we want.”

Arianna was conflicted. “Should I lie to you?” she asked.

He scowled. “No. Never.”

“Then I can’t tell you that, Morgan. It’s not true. I’ve never known a man in that way. I have never wanted to before you.”

Morgan shook his head, took a deep breath, and laid his forehead on her stomach. “That is not what I wanted to hear, Arianna, but I knew it to be true before I even asked. As much as it pains me, I must stop.”

He rose quickly and groaned as if he was hurt.

Worried, she grabbed his shoulders. “Morgan, what’s wrong? You are in agony.”

“No, I’m all right,” he said, adjusting his stance and wincing again.

“I did not lie to you just now, so please don’t lie to me.”

“All right.” He winced. “If you must know, I have a pain in my hip from a fall, but I’m sure I will be fine in the morning.”

She reached out and laid an open palm on his hip to offer comfort. “When did you fall?”

“When Master Brute decided he didn’t want me on his back,” he said and gently took hold of her wrist and removed her hand from his side.

“You should have told me sooner. I can help you. I have an herbal mixture that will make you feel better by morning.”

“I have taken many falls in my time, Arianna. I do not require anything but rest.”

“Nonsense.”

Arianna went over to the bed and reached down and pulled out a small satchel from underneath it. She lifted it onto the coverlet, opened it, and began pulling out little bottles and reading the labels.

“What is all that?” Morgan asked.

“These bottles contain rare and useful plants, herbs, and spices that are used by apothecaries, herbalists, and physicians all over the world to help people with aches and illnesses.”

“And you just happened to have these with you?”

When she found the one she wanted, she looked up at him and smiled. “They were my father’s, and they have been very useful in helping me heal from the fever.”

Arianna walked over to her dresser and poured a portion of the mixture into a glass and then added water from a pitcher. As she walked back to Morgan, she swirled it in the glass.

Handing him the potion, she said, “Take this and drink all of it.”

He smelled it. A wrinkle formed in his brow. “What is it?”

“It’s a potion that my father made from herbs and plants. As he got older, he often had pain in his joints, and he said it helped him.” She paused and let her gaze sweep down his face. “Trust me, Morgan, and take it, please. I promise it will take away the pain, and you will feel better by morning.”

He extended it back toward her. “If this has laudanum in it, no thank you. That puts me to sleep and leaves me with a headache the next day.”

“It doesn’t and it won’t. Please try it.”

He took the glass from her and drank it all. He winced and coughed as he brought the glass down from his lips.

“Was that supposed to taste like ground leaves in dirty rainwater?”

“Yes.” She smiled and dropped the little bottle into his coat pocket. “It’s made from several different plants. Take another spoonful the same way, in water, before you go to bed, and one tomorrow morning. Your hip will be feeling much better.”

He nodded and handed her the empty glass. “I will take your word for it, but I fear my other pain will still be with me.”

He turned and walked out the door without looking back.

Eleven

My Dear Grandson Lucas,

When I read things like this from my dear friend Lord Chesterfield, I do wish that I had met him before the winter of his life. “A wise man, without being a Stoic, considers, in all misfortunes that befall him, their best as well as their worst side; and everything has a better and a worse side.”

Your loving Grandmother,

Lady Elder

Morgan leaned heavily against Arianna’s door and composed himself, forcing his rigid body to relax, trying to swallow the foul taste of the tonic she had him drink. It amazed him how quickly he was completely focused on Arianna and all the wonderful things he wanted to do to her that he forgot all about his cousins below stairs, waiting for him. He chuckled mirthlessly, took a deep breath, and sighed softly. He had wanted to take Arianna so badly his body trembled and ached all over.

But he had to stop thinking about that. He had to stop thinking about her. She confirmed what he suspected. She was an innocent. An innocent who had a very healthy and eager yearning to taste desire, but he could not oblige her.

Making love to her would bind her to him in a way he wasn’t ready for. He would stay with women like Miss Goodbody. He chuckled softly to himself as once again he questioned his sanity in sending the courtesan away before he thought things through. That was so unlike him. But everything he’d done since Arianna had arrived was so unlike him.

He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. What had happened to the quiet country life he had had just a few days ago? Ah, but then he remembered thinking not too long ago that coming to Valleydale had not been one of his brighter ideas, and that hadn’t changed. Morgan always took the time to develop a thorough plan, and he didn’t like anyone or anything upsetting his plan.

Recently, nothing was going according to the way he wanted it, from designing every detail of Miss Goodbody’s visit to wanting to invite Arianna to have dinner with him tonight. His cousins’ surprising him with a visit had spoiled that. Now he had to go to the drawing room, face his cousins, and somehow explain Arianna to them.

As Morgan hobbled down the stairs, he straightened his shirt, pulled on the tail of his coat, and combed through his hair. He didn’t know what Arianna had made him drink, but his hip wasn’t feeling better yet.

There was only one way to handle his cousins, and that was with all the confidence he could muster. When he made it to the bottom of the stairs, he started whistling and continued all the way down the corridor and into his drawing room, limping as little as possible. His cousins were sitting in the two upholstered wingback chairs, each drinking a glass of wine. They were chatting but fell silent as soon as he rounded the doorway.

“Ah, I see you two made yourselves at home, as I suggested,” he said in a convincingly jovial tone, considering the weight he still carried between his legs. “Good.”

Morgan walked over to where the decanter sat on the marble-topped table and looked down at the claret in the crystal decanter. His thoughts went immediately to Arianna. He kept seeing her fair skin, the slight indention of her waist, the gentle flare of her hips. He remembered the soft yet firm feel of her body. He remembered the taste of her lips, her skin, and the hauntingly exotic scent of her that still filled him night and day and drove him to distraction.

There was no doubt that if he had ever needed the false courage that Lord Chesterfield said came from a bottle, he needed it now. He had to force himself to get his desire for Arianna under control and off his mind. If he didn’t, his cousins would know, and they would make mincemeat out of him in no time.

With his glass full, he walked over and sat down on the settee that stood opposite the two chairs where his cousins were seated.

They looked at him curiously, but neither man had said a word since he entered the room. That made Morgan more uncomfortable than if both had been badgering him with questions at once.

“Now, where were we?” he said and took a much-needed drink of his wine.

His cousins remained silent, looking at him as if he might actually have taken leave of his senses.

So Morgan added, “Tell me exactly what day you will be leaving London, and I’ll plan to arrive the day before so that there will be no chance Gibby will be left with none of us in Town.”

Blake guffawed. “Do you think we are going to let you get by with not telling us who that woman is that we saw dancing in your window?”

Suddenly feeling devilish, Morgan said calmly, “What woman?”

“What woman indeed?” Race asked incredulously, moving to the edge of his seat. “The woman you ran upstairs to see the second we walked in the door! The woman you just spent a quarter of an hour with.”

“Who is she?” Blake demanded, taking up the argument. “And what the bloody hell is she doing in your home dressed that way?”

Morgan smiled. “Curious, are you?”

“Yes,” they both chimed in.

Race leaned back in his chair again and crossed one leg over the other. “You’re damned right we are, and by the way, where the devil are all your servants? We asked Post to have someone retrieve our satchels from our horses, and he said he would have to do it, as you’ve given everyone except him and his wife a holiday.”

“Forget the absent servants, Race,” Blake said.

“How can I?”

“Because that’s the least of our concerns. What the devil is going on here, Morgan?”

“I think it’s already quite apparent why the woman is here,” Race interjected.

As Race and Blake argued among themselves, Morgan chuckled. It felt damn good to know something the two of them didn’t, and he would absolutely love to leave them in the dark about her, but he couldn’t. As Arianna would be going to London and establishing a life there, so he had to advise them about her. The trick would be to do it with as little fanfare as possible. Though how he could do that after her dance he had no idea.

“Calm down, both of you,” Morgan finally said. “It’s not what either of you are thinking.”

Morgan once had hopes of Arianna’s arriving in London without anyone, other than Constance, knowing she’d been to Valleydale, but Arianna had obliterated that possibility. Now he had to try to make them see she wasn’t what she appeared to be from what they had seen in the window.

“It’s a long story,” Morgan began.

“We’re staying the night, and dinner hasn’t been served, so I think we have time to hear everything you have to say.”

“And if we haven’t heard a sensible story by sunrise, we’re not leaving,” Race grumbled.

Morgan took another sip of his wine to keep from smiling. “All right. I suppose I have made you wait long enough for answers. The story is not as risqué or even as interesting as it seems from appearances.”

“And we are to believe that?” Race snapped irritably.

“It’s true. Her name is Miss Arianna Sweet. She came from India, and she was very ill when she arrived here a few nights ago.”

“That does not pass the sensible test, Morgan,” Blake said with a huff.

“Perhaps you should try telling us the truth,” Race grumbled.

“I am,” Morgan interjected.

“Really? She didn’t look Indian.”

“And she certainly didn’t look ill to me,” Race added combatively.

“She’s not. Indian, that is. She’s as British as we are, but believe me, she was quite ill when she arrived here what must have been about a week ago.”

“All right, I’m not saying I believe you or that I don’t, but why did she come to Valleydale?” Blake asked, finishing off the wine in his glass and then getting up and walking over to the decanter.

“Yes, this estate isn’t exactly on the way from India to London,” Race complained as Blake held up the wine to see if either Race or Morgan wanted a refill, and both shook their heads.

Morgan waited for Blake to sit down and then proceeded to tell them about the night Arianna arrived, minus the part about Miss Goodbody. They listened with few interruptions, and he ended the story with: “I’ve seen her less than a handful of times since she arrived, and not at all for the first couple of days, as she was too ill to leave her room.”

“If she arrived at your door dressed in any way similarly to the way we saw her just a few minutes ago, I can certainly well understand why you felt the need to insist she recuperate here.”

Suddenly the tables had turned, and now Morgan was the exasperated one and they the ones having the fun. “I can assure you she was not dressed like that, nor did she look anything like she looked in that window tonight.”

“We believe you,” Race said and tried to hide his smile behind the rim of his glass as he took a drink.

“Yes, I’m quite certain I would have demanded she recuperate here, too.”

Suddenly, the wine tasted foul in Morgan’s mouth, and he scowled. He didn’t want them thinking the worst about Arianna.

“She was wearing a very proper dress and cape,” he defended irritably. “But she’s been in India for ten years; her clothing is bound to be a little different from what we’re used to.”

“A little?” Blake said with a grin. “How far can you stretch credulity, Morgan?”

“You blasted devils. She was in the privacy of her room and had no reason to believe anyone would be in a position to look into her window. Now, I have no idea what her clothing looks like, but if needed, Constance can help her in that area when she gets to London.”

“Constance?” Blake asked, his tone changing from humorous to inquisitive.

“Yes, since Grandmother is no longer with us, I wrote to Constance and asked if she would come to Valleydale and escort Miss Sweet to London. She needs help finding a place to live and a suitable companion. The things her father expected our grandmother to help her with. And things I know nothing about.”

Morgan drained his glass. “What are you two scoundrels laughing about?”

“You,” they said in unison.

“Why?” he said, feeling more defensive than he wanted to. “I had to allow her to stay here. She was very ill when she arrived. You both know our grandmother would have turned over in her grave if I had not taken her in and helped her. You bloody blackguards. Have some respect.”

“We do,” Race said.

“You’re not acting like it. She’s Sir Walter’s niece, you drunken devils.”

“We aren’t drunk. And I agree, you had to help her,” Blake said.

“Me too.”

Morgan hated the feeling that he had to defend Arianna and his choice to help her. “Damnation, she came here hoping our grandmother could assist her. I did the next best thing and asked someone who could.”

“You don’t have to convince us, Morgan,” Blake said, trying his best to hide a smile but not succeeding. “You did the right thing.”

“I agree,” Race added.

“And so you sent the servants away so they wouldn’t know she was in the house with you and start gossip that would be difficult to stop?” Blake asked.

“Yes,” Race answered for Morgan. “Can you imagine the gossip there would be if a servant had seen her dancing as we did? It’s all very believable, Morgan. Everything you did was completely appropriate, and we would have done the very same thing.”

“Hell yes, we would have,” Blake added.

Race laughed again and said, “Morgan, it’s a damn good thing you left London to avoid being snared by a beautiful young lady.”

“You know what,” Morgan said, rising and walking over to pour himself another glass of wine, “you two can go to hell.”

“We probably will,” Race said, “but not tonight.”

“Right,” Blake added with a grin, “tonight we go only as far as India.”

Race and Blake howled with laughter.