As an Earl Desires (18 page)

And she was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was
as well.

A
rch
hated it. Hated the way the young available ladies were being put
on show this evening following dinner.

Some played the piano. Some recited poetry with
exaggerated drama.

Presently Lady Alice was singing, while her father
stood behind the chair in which Camilla sat, his hands resting on
her shoulders as though to stake his claim and say,
She is mine
.

Arch hated that even more.

When the song came to an end, everyone applauded.
Camilla most enthusiastically. “That was marvelous, Lady
Alice. You have the voice of a nightingale.” Camilla looked
over at Arch, an ex
pression in her eyes that
seemed to say: What do you think? Do you agree? The voice of a
nightingale? Is she the one? Will she do?

Had singing been one of his requirements?

He looked away because he didn't want to
provide an answer, didn't want to see the duke bending down
to whisper something in Camilla's ear. But even without
looking, he could hear her laughter. Every woman in this room could
be laughing hysterically, and still he would be able to home in on
hers. He knew its sound by heart. The way it tinkled softly, then
deepened as her joy increased.

He'd enjoyed his morning ride with Lady Alice
the way one enjoyed a pleasant cup of tea in the afternoon. A
respite from the grind of responsibilities, but not anticipated
before it was placed before him, nor missed once taken away. His
assessment seemed cruel. She was a delightful woman, pleasant
enough…but there was nothing about her that intrigued him,
that made him want to dig more deeply, discover all the aspects to
her.

He was aware of movements, murmurings. He turned
his attention back to the gathering.

Beside him the Duke of Harrington said quietly,
“People are going for a nightly stroll before bed.
Kingsbridge and Camilla have already gone out to lead the
way.”

“I suppose I shall be expected to select a
lady to accompany me.”

“I will offer you my wife, if you
like.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Her company
would be more than welcome.”

He'd not noticed that Lydia was standing
beside the duke. He extended his arm toward her, and she took her
place beside him.

It wasn't until they were outside in the lit
gardens that she said, “I am amazed by all that must be done
to keep people entertained.”

“You'll do a splendid job once you
decide to have company.”

“Kingsbridge seems rather taken with Lady
Sachse.”

“Indeed he does.”

“As do you.”

“But she is not for me, Duchess.”

“Who is?”

“I don't know.”

And that was the truth of it. No one stirred him as
Camilla did. Even the lovely lady walking beside him hadn't
drawn as much interest from him. And he couldn't deny that
she was a delight. Although he also suspected that she didn't
find him as intriguing as she found Harrington.

“Have you considered courting an American
lady?” she asked.

“I need someone well versed in the ways of
the
aristocracy, as it is too foreign to me. I
would forever be putting a step wrong without a lady beside me to
keep my feet on the right path.”

“Lady Sachse has always struck me as being
rather ambitious.”

“She has the drive and determination to be
so.”

“You admire her?”

“Very much so. There are aspects to her that
are contradictory, and yet they somehow belong to her in a way that
is refreshing.” He chuckled. “I am speaking in circles
that make no sense. I will be glad when our company departs.”
He patted her arm. “Present company excluded.”

“I've not known you long, but I do
think you'll make some woman very happy.”

Ah, yes, he thought he could manage that. The
question was: Would she do the same for him?

 

As Frannie guided the brush through her hair time
and again, Camilla studied her reflection in the mirror and tried
to determine exactly what was different about her, because surely
something had to have changed on the outside for her to have gained
the attention of the Duke of Kingsbridge. She thought that perhaps
she looked a bit younger—no doubt from the skating she and
Archie did. Her mouth didn't seem as hard, nor did her
eyes.

“Is something amiss, my lady?” Frannie
asked.

“Do I seem different to you?”

“You seem…happier.”

“Happier? Yes, I suppose I am.”

She had to credit Archie with a good deal of that
happiness. He took her mind off her struggles, made learning fun.
She enjoyed spending time with him. What a shame he wasn't a
duke. What a shame she was barren.

The Duke of Kingsbridge was a nice gentleman, and
she enjoyed spending time in his company. He made her smile, on
occasion he'd even made her laugh a time or two. But she knew
he'd never make her heart flutter or her skin tingle or her
soul sing.

What a lot of romantic rubbish. She'd
definitely spent too much time with Archie. He had her believing in
impossibilities.

As though summoned by her thoughts of him, he was
suddenly standing in her room. She'd not heard the door open,
but apparently Frannie had because she'd ceased brushing and
was staring at Archie as though he were a demon raised out of
hell.

Considering the uncustomary way his features were
arranged in harsh lines, Camilla could hardly blame Frannie for her
surprise.

“Leave us,” he ordered, in a voice that
would brook no arguments.

Frannie hurried from the room, and Archie
closed the door in her wake. Camilla rose.
“Archie—”

Before she could properly chastise him for barging
into her bedchamber unannounced and with a servant still present,
he'd closed the distance between them, taken her into his
arms, and planted his mouth against hers. He displayed none of his
usual tenderness, but seemed to be a man in desperation of
possessing her.

Beneath her fingers, his body was tense with need.
A time existed when she would have been terrified, but now all she
wanted was the fulfillment that he could provide. She'd spent
the majority of her day flirting with another man while Archie had
never been far from her mind. She'd seen him walking with
another woman and been sorely tempted to scratch out her eyes.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt to know that he'd
so easily found interest in another. And yet here he was, his mouth
hot against hers, his hands running over her body as though
he'd forgotten what every dip and curve felt like and was
anxious to renew the acquaintance.

She heard material rip and didn't care. Time
for caring would come later. All she wanted was his flesh against
hers. He lifted her into his arms, crossed the room, and
unceremoniously dumped her onto the bed.

So unlike his usual behavior. And when she
looked into his face, she did know a moment's
hesitation, a spark of fear. She'd never seen such a feral
expression on his handsome countenance. His eyes were heated, his
breathing harsh, his mouth set in the firm line of a warrior. He
tore off his clothes as though they were the enemy intent on
strangling him.

Then he blanketed her body with his and buried
himself within her with a long, sure thrust that had her crying
out—not because she wasn't ready, but because
she'd wanted him inside her as desperately as he'd
wanted to be there. He pumped hard, fast, and furious. She kept
pace, digging her fingers into his buttocks, holding him tightly as
the blood roared through her as she knew it had to be roaring
through him.

It was madness, insanity, and yet she was powerless
not to give in to this animalistic mating that was so
uncharacteristic of what she'd come to expect from him. And
yet, she found it exciting, when she thought she should have found
it frightening.

But this was Archie, her dear, dear Archie, who
would never harm her, never think less of her no matter what
secrets she shared.

The pleasure mounted more quickly and with more
intensity than she'd ever experienced. They cried out in
unison, arching, gasping, shuddering, clinging.

She fought back the tears as she lay beneath him
with tiny tremors cascading through her, while the weight of his
body pressed down on her, his harsh breathing filled her ear, his
face nestled at the curve of her neck.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“No,” he growled, and came off her as
though he'd been shot from a cannon.

Drawing a blanket over her, she watched as he
prowled beside the bed, repeatedly dragging his hands through his
hair, his breathing still harsh, his eyes feral.

“Archie, whatever is wrong?”

He came to an abrupt halt and glared at her.
“I don't like seeing you with Kingsbridge.”

“So you thought you could come into my
bedchamber and possess me like some barbarian?”

He flinched. “Did I hurt you?”

His voice was rough-edged, and she thought nothing
he ever did would hurt her as much as she knew she would have to
hurt him. Slowly she shook her head. “No.”

He wrapped a hand around the bedpost and leaned
against it as though he needed the support to keep himself upright.
“I love you, Camilla. You cannot imagine how I feel when I
see you laughing with another man, looking at him as though he
could hand you the world.”

“I like the Duke of Kingsbridge.”

“So I could see. I felt as though a sword had
been run through my heart.”

Tears stung her eyes. She rose up onto her knees.
“I love you, Archie.”

“Then marry me.”

The heartfelt plea was nearly her undoing, but she
forced herself to remain steadfast and strong for both of them.
“I can't give you an heir.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and tenderly cradled
her face with his palm. “Then I won't have an
heir.”

“So you'll shove the responsibility
that comes with your title onto Winston?”

“I never asked for this damned title. Why
must I sacrifice my happiness for something I never
wanted?”

“Because it has fallen to you—whether
you want it or not.” She brushed his hair off his brow.
“I don't believe you are a man who would turn aside
from his duties.”

With a deep sigh, he lay down beside her and drew
her against his side, holding her in place while his hand idly
stroked her arm. “I would if you would let me.”

“No you wouldn't.”

“What if you weren't barren?” he
asked. “Would you give up your duke for an earl?”

“No,” she said quietly, and felt the
disappointment travel through his body. She lifted herself
slightly so she could gaze into his eyes. “I
would give him up for you.”

With a low growl, he slammed his eyes closed and
held her more tightly. “Is there any chance that you're
not?”

“I don't see how there could be. The
old Sachse had a son. He frequented my bed often and never got me
with child.”

“But he got the first countess pregnant only
once. Perhaps something happened to his seed.”

She hesitated but forced herself to admit, “I
don't think so. Besides, as much as you and I have been
together, I would think that if the possibility existed, I would be
with child now.”

“So all we will ever have is this? Sneaking
into your room in the dead of night—”

“You hardly sneaked tonight.”

“I was in torment, seeing you with
Kingsbridge.”

“You seem to get along well with his
daughter.”

“I was simply being a good host.”

“She's rather pretty and nice. She
would make a good wife.”

“The last thing I want is to marry into the
same family as you, so our paths would cross constantly. It would
be pure torture.”

“It would give us an opportunity to be
together. I know some ladies of the aristocracy who openly travel
with their lovers, while their husbands do
the
same. I consider them very enlightened and modern
couples.”

The silence eased between them, and she wondered if
he was pondering the possibilities that might exist if he were
married to the daughter of her husband.

“I won't be unfaithful to my wife,
Camilla,” he finally said quietly.

Disappointment rammed into her, even as gladness
swept through her. She'd known he'd feel that way. She
rose up and looked down into his eyes. “Then, yes, all
we'll ever have is this time before one of us
marries.”

“Then we'd best make the most of it,
hadn't we?”

And he proceeded to do exactly that.

“F
ather seems rather enamored of Lady
Sachse.”

Forcing his attention away from where Camilla sat
on a bench beside the Duke of Kingsbridge, who was reading from a
book of poetry he'd borrowed from the library earlier, Arch
smiled at Lady Alice. “I can hardly blame him.”

She tapped the croquet ball lightly and looked over
her shoulder at him. “Because you are equally intrigued with
her?”

“Are my affections so apparent?”

She nodded. She was a lovely girl, and he
couldn't for the life of him determine why he wasn't
more interested in her. “I assure you that Lady Sachse has no
interest in me.”

“She may have no interest in marrying you,
but I assure you that she has an interest in you.”

“Well, that interest will cease once she is
secure in another man's keeping, so you need have no fear
that I would infringe upon your father's territory should his
interest in spending time with Lady Sachse go beyond the reading of
poetry.”

“I know it's not polite to speak ill of
the dead, but my father didn't much care for the old
Sachse.”

“I don't think many thought much of the
old earl.”

“Do you like being earl?”

“Not particularly. Although it does have the
advantage of bringing you into my life.”

He despised the words the moment they were uttered.
They sounded so incredibly insincere. Lady Alice's laughter
echoed around him, like tinkling bells rung at Christmas.

“You're catching on to the flirtatious
ways of the aristocracy,” she said, warmth in her voice and
her smile.

“You'd best take care not to encourage
me overmuch. I thought my sentiment sounded rather
silly.”

“Because you're a man. I daresay any
lady would be flattered with your attentions.”

“You are kind to think so.”

“Perhaps it is none of my affair, but why is
Lady Sachse not more interested in you?”

“Because I need an heir, and she believes
herself to be barren.”

Lady Alice blushed, and Arch swore beneath his
breath. She was all of nineteen, hardly knowledgeable in the ways
of the world. She probably thought babies were found in cabbage
patches. “My apologies—”

“Oh, no.” She held up a hand. “I
am well aware of the importance of an heir. Father has already seen
to that duty. I think it a shame that it is considered as such, but
that is the way of things, is it not?”

“I seek more than that from a
wife.”

“Then your wife will be most
fortunate.”

She peered up at him, and he almost could convince
himself that he saw hope within her eyes.

He held up his mallet. “I have no skill with
this game. Perhaps you would find a walk through the gardens more
to your liking.”

Her smile blossomed. “I would
indeed.”

And perhaps if they walked far enough, he could
forget that Camilla existed.

 

Camilla watched as Archie and Lady Alice walked arm
in arm toward the elaborate water gardens that her husband had
taken a fancy to
and had his gardeners build.
There were ponds stocked with large fish with golden scales that
made them quite visible. At places, water cascaded over stones,
imitating small waterfalls. The greenery was lush, the vegetation
thick, and she could well imagine that a gentleman might manage to
sneak a kiss or two without being spotted.

“You've lost interest in the poetry, my
lady.”

She snapped her attention back to the duke.
“Oh, no, Your Grace. I was simply admiring”—she
swallowed hard to force the words out—“how splendid a
couple your daughter and Lord Sachse appeared to be.”

“I was just noticing that myself. As they are
both young, perhaps we should take a stroll ourselves.”

She'd never felt as old as she did at that
moment. “Lord Sachse would never take advantage of a
guest.”

“What young men intend and what happens are
not always the same. Come.” He stood and extended a hand.
“Let's make sure they're not up to a bit of
tomfoolery.”

She could hardly refuse when the request came from
a duke. At least that was the reasoning she used to convince
herself that her actions weren't mitigated by a deep desire
to make certain that Archie wasn't kissing the lovely Lady
Alice.

She placed her hand on his arm and allowed
him to escort her toward the water gardens. While she
thought she'd been an exemplary hostess, giving attention to
everyone, she also thought it was quite evident with whom her
interests truly lay. She and the duke had managed to spend quite a
bit of time together.

And she was fairly certain that when he returned to
his estate, he would be leaving behind the woman who was to become
his wife.

 

She'd outdone herself.

Arch couldn't help but be amazed. Camilla had
somehow managed to get a full orchestra there. The mirrored
ballroom was filled with flowers. Chandeliers sparkled. Everyone
was dressed as elaborately as though they were in London.

He wanted to dance with her, of course, and
she'd reserved a place for him on her dance card near the end
of the evening. It was torment to wait, torment to watch her swirl
around the dance floor with partner after partner.

There was no doubt that tonight was her night to
shine. Compliments were lavishly given, and he had to admit they
were deserved. Every one of them.

Every guest had nothing but praise to offer, each
one had enjoyed himself or herself. Every meal had been perfect,
every entertainment enjoyable.

He was fairly certain that any disappointment she
would have felt because he didn't believe he could embrace
any woman presented to him as a potential wife would be
overshadowed by her joy that she might have effectively snagged the
attention of Kingsbridge.

He wanted her to be happy, he truly did. But damn
it all, he wanted her happiness to be with him.

He stood off to the side, watching her dance with
Harrington. She looked lovely beyond compare in a ball gown of the
palest green. It shimmered beneath the chandeliers.

“Sachse.”

He turned to Kingsbridge. “Duke.”

“I was wondering if I might have a word with
you…in private.”

“In another few dances, I will partner with
Camilla. I would so hate to miss that dance.” He knew he
shouldn't have said it, knew he should have pretended that
none of this mattered.

“It won't take us long, and what I have
to say concerns her.”

“Will my library suffice?”

“Very nicely…if it has a liquor cabinet
in it.”

As a matter of fact it did, and once they were
safely ensconced inside with the door closed, Arch poured them each
a generous glass of bourbon. After handing Kingsbridge his glass,
Arch
moved to stand beside the fireplace. He
knew he was being an ungracious host but had a feeling he
wasn't going to welcome what it was that Kingsbridge wished
to discuss.

Kingsbridge cleared his throat several times. Took
a sip. Cleared it again, and Arch realized the man was nervous. He
took pity on him.

“Would you care to sit, Your
Grace?”

“Yes, I would.” He sat in one chair
near the fireplace, and Arch sat in the other.

The duke released a long sigh. “I feel too
old for this. Still it must be done. You strike me as an
intelligent man, Sachse, so I daresay, it's not missed your
notice that my attention has been on Lady Sachse since we
arrived.”

“I had indeed noticed, Your Grace.”

“Splendid. Then it should come as no surprise
to you that I wish to marry her.”

No surprise at all. Still Arch felt as though the
duke had picked up a poker, stuck it in the fire until it burned
red-hot, and thrust it through Arch's heart. He got up and
returned to the place he'd originally taken beside the
fireplace and stared at the flames rather than the duke because he
was no good at the games the aristocrats played, and he knew he
couldn't hide his true feelings on the matter. For
Camilla's sake he didn't want the duke to know what
they were.

“Have you asked her?” he asked
quietly.

“Indeed I did. This afternoon in the garden.
She's quite agreeable to the idea. As you are the closest
thing she has to a male relation, I thought I should seek your
permission as well.”

He turned to face the duke because this he could
say in all honesty. “If marriage to you is what she wants,
then you have my permission and my blessings.”

The duke came to his feet, suddenly looking much
younger. “Splendid. Yes, indeed. Splendid. You'd think
a man of my age and standing wouldn't be so nervous about so
simple a matter.”

“I appreciate that you were. It lets me know
that you care for her. My predecessor left nothing to her. She was
too young and naive when she married him and had no one to look
after her welfare. I will insist that we come to terms on an
agreeable settlement, so she'll have no reason to regret her
marriage to you.”

“I'll notify my solicitors in London to
immediately get together with yours. I daresay, it shan't
take much work as I, too, wish to see that she is provided for.
I'm not as young as I once was, and I wouldn't want her
left with nothing.”

“Then we're in agreement that her
welfare and happiness comes first.”

“Indeed we are.”

Arch lifted his glass in a salute. “Then I
wish you the best.”

 

Dressed only in her nightclothes, Camilla walked
into the library, relief mingled with annoyance going through her
at the sight of Archie sprawled in a chair before the fireplace.
She didn't know when he left the ballroom, but he
hadn't been there for her dance. She'd been looking
forward to it so much. He'd not been around when the guests
had been drifting back to their rooms.

But Kingsbridge had been. He'd danced with
her over and over, even though it wasn't proper, and
he'd been in the jolliest of moods.

“There you are. I've been looking all
over for you.”

He lifted his gaze and squinted as though he
couldn't quite make out who she was. “Have
you?”

His words were slurred, a glass dangling from his
hand threatening to spill the last drops of its contents onto the
rug. She snatched it away and set it on a nearby table.

“You're foxed.”

“Quite so. An inordinate amount of drink
dulls the pain.” He shook his head. “Or at least
it's supposed to. It's not working. Pour me some more,
will you, darling?”

Her heart squeezed at the endearment. She knelt
before him. “I thought you would come see me tonight. In my
bedchamber. I've been waiting.”

Reaching out, he tiptoed his fingers around her
face. “Kingsbridge and I had a duke to
earl talk earlier. Seems he wishes to make you his wife. He asked
for my blessing.”

“Did you give it?”

“How could I not when I want nothing more
than to see you happy?”

Tears stung her eyes, and her chest ached as she
rested her head on his knees. This moment should have been the
happiest of her life, but as he threaded his fingers through her
hair, she thought she'd never known such misery. What must it
have cost him to bless her union with another man?

She lifted her face to his, wishing she
hadn't, wishing she couldn't see the tears in his eyes.
“I will be happy with him,” she assured him.

He gave her a sad smile as he touched the corner of
her mouth, where her own tears pooled. “He seems to be a good
man. I could have chosen no better for you.”

Unless it was himself, and that was impossible.
When the duke had asked her in the garden if she would marry him,
she'd not hesitated to give a resounding yes, not because she
truly wanted to marry the duke, but because she had to take
measures to ensure that she was no longer available to Archie. He
had to take a wife. He had to have an heir.

They were both becoming too comfortable with
the arrangement. They would forever find excuses to
put off the inevitable. He continually found fault with every
woman, and she was beginning to suspect it was because he held out
hope that by some miracle his seed would indeed take root within
her. But she knew that he'd poured enough into her that if it
hadn't taken root by now, it never would.

She had no hope of ever giving him a child, much
less an heir. Her womb was as barren as her heart had once been.
He'd filled her heart, and his love had taken root there. For
her, that was a miracle, that in spite of all her imperfections and
flaws, he'd still come to love her.

“Give me one more night, Archie.”

“One more,” he whispered, “but
not tonight. I've almost drunk myself into oblivion. I want a
last night with you that I will remember.”

She laid her cheek on his lap, turned her head to
stare into the fire. His hand came to rest on her hair. She thought
of all the stories he'd read to her. So few had happy
endings…most were bittersweet or sad.

But at least with him, she'd had happiness.
For a short while, but it was enough to carry her through the
remainder of her life.

 

Once all their guests had taken their leave that
morning, Archie had advised Camilla to dress as
though they were going to a ball put on by royalty.
And she'd spent most of the late afternoon doing exactly
that. She based each selection on what she thought he would find
most pleasing. She'd never before dedicated every aspect of
her appearance to a man's pleasure, yet she found herself
doing exactly that.