Courting the Countess (31 page)

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Authors: Barbara Pierce

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance

BOOK: Courting the Countess
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Loughwydde had changed little during her absence. The air was warmer and the smell of the sea called to her. Brook had missed walking her cliffs and listening to waves rushing over the rocky beach. This was home. The A’Courts might try to take it away from her, but she would fight them. She was a Lanston. The land had been in her family for generations. No one valued it more than her.
Mrs. Gordy had fussed over Brook the night of her arrival, cooking all of her favorite dishes. After the confusion of London, the silence in the house was disquieting. She had taken her meal in the kitchen with the staff because she was not quite ready to be alone. She had plenty of remaining years to live out for that.
When she had climbed into her bed, she did not question why she chose to sleep in the pearls Mallory had given her. Although she thought parting from him was best, wearing his jewelry comforted her.
Upon awakening, the wetness on her cheeks revealed that she had been weeping in her sleep. She simply wiped the evidence of her grief away. Mallory’s pearls were returned to their leather case.
“Up already, madam,” Mrs. Gordy said, noting the dark shadows under her mistress’s eyes. “I’ll tell Cook that you are ready for your breakfast.”
Instead of heading for the morning room, Brook moved toward the front door. “I will eat later. It has been ages since I have visited the tidal bathing pools. The tide and weather seem right for it.”
One of her ancestors had had a wife who suffered from a deteriorating spine. The physicians had claimed that cold sea bathing would cure her, so her husband had cut three bathing pools at different levels in the rock to capture the tide. The shallow water warmed quickly under the sun and the pools had been a delight for Brook as a child. Regrettably, the pools had not cured the lady for whom they had been hewn.
“Afore you hurry off, you’ll be needing some towels. I will not be having you catch your death just ’cause you have an itch to dip your toes in salt water.”
Brook smiled at the no-nonsense tone of her housekeeper. “Yes, mum.” She hugged the older woman. “It is good to be home again.”
 
Brook slid into the pool and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. She might have been hasty when she had declared the weather warm enough for sea bathing. Cold seawater had not deterred her as a child and she did not let it stop her from enjoying the water. Besides, the water was supposed to be restorative.
Tilting her head back, Brook closed her eyes feeling the tingle of salt and sunshine on her face. Mrs. Gordy would be upset with her if she put freckles on her nose, so she planned on limiting her time in the water. Otherwise, the fretful servant would be slathering freckle cream all over her face and arms.
“You present an inspiring picture, Countess.”
Her eyes snapped open. Shielding them with her hand, she glanced at him. With his hands arrogantly resting on his hips he leered at her.
“Is this the Temple of the Sun?” Mallory walked around
the edge so that Brook was not blinded by the sunlight. Crouching down, he looked at her submersed body. The shallow depths and her wet chemise left nothing to the imagination. “I thought four white horses were sacrificed to Helios, not delectable innocents.”
What was he talking about? She could not fathom that he was here. “I—I do not know.”
Mallory dipped his hand into the water and cupped her breast. “Or maybe you are Circe,” he mused aloud. “Should I gag you before you utter one of your incantations and turn me into a beast?”
“When have you been anything other?” she quipped, and he tossed his head back and laughed. “Mallory, why have you come?”
Brook covered her breasts. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the glaring sunlight, she glimpsed the anger Mallory had kept from his voice.
“Is it not obvious? I have come for my farewell kiss.”
 
Mallory could not have anticipated a better spot for his ambush. Brook sat in the water and glared at him. He could see that the cold seawater had hardened her nipples. She might as well have been naked, for her chemise was sheer under the sun and the water. It did not matter to him if she chose to remain in the water or climb out. Either choice would prove entertaining.
“I have been waiting two days for you.” He had almost killed himself and the horse to arrive before the post chaise.
Brook sputtered in indignation. “I left before you!”
“I had an incentive,” he said, bemused that she had never considered that he might pursue her once she left. “My kiss.”
Mallory discarded his coat and sat down on the warm rock to pull off his boots. These were his favorite pair and he did not want to get them wet. He had given her the night to recover from her journey. Now she was going to have
to face the consequences of running away from him.
“No one travels this far for a mere kiss.”
He gave her a roguish grin. “Fine. You can give me more.” Without warning he crawled into the pool and positioned himself so that he straddled her legs. Christ, the water was cold!
“Miss me?”
“No—umph!”
Mallory muffled her false denial with a swift kiss. What it lacked in passion it made up for in frustration. Between the countess leaving him and Edda Henning’s devastating confession, he had a bellyful. Blindly he pulled the pins out of Brook’s hair. He ended the kiss and surveyed the results. Her long blond hair was an improvement over her chemise for concealing her body. He had bruised her mouth with his hard kiss. Her lips were red and slightly swollen. Arousal had softened the anger his arrival had incited in her blue cat eyes.
“I had planned on behaving and paying you a proper visit at Loughwydde. I like your idea much better.” Mallory stood and unbuttoned the falls on his breeches.
Brook found her voice when he shoved them down and plopped them next to his coat. “Put those back on!” His burgeoning arousal poking out beneath his shirt left no doubt to his outrageous intentions.
“I cannot love you properly with them on, Countess.” She lunged away from him, but he was quicker. Wrapping her in his arms, he rolled so that she was on top. He preferred taking the brunt of the rock that risked bruising her tender flesh. “Say that you missed me.” Touching her between her legs, he was not amazed by her readiness. The passion was always there for them, just under the surface. He pulled her closer, nudging the head of his cock against her cleft. There was a brief resistance and then he slid deep into her warmth. He groaned at the rightness of their joining.
“Tell me.”
Mallory rocked her against him and she shuddered. “I
missed you,” Brook whispered into his shoulder. “I slept in the pearls you gave me because it was the closest thing to having you.”
His chest rumbled with laughter at her admission. She had slept in the jewelry he had given her while he had spent the night drinking brandy and mooning over the picture he had painted of her lying in bluebells. Their stubbornness bordered on stupidity.
“You have me now.” He quickened his movements, forcing her to hold on to him. “And I have you. Let me show you.”
“I need … I need—” she chanted in his ear, too befuddled to finish her thought.
This was not a leisurely mating. Mallory been separated from her too long and the fear he had felt when she had departed London without a word had been his constant companion until he saw reclining nearly naked in her bathing pool. As he slammed her down on him, the sun blinded him, and he threw back his head and roared while his release gushed into her. The countess responded and her high-pitched cries of bliss blended with his. She rested her forehead on his shoulder. They were both panting.
Mallory lifted his head and kissed her on the temple. “I had heard of the restorative powers of cold seawater but have never tried them until now.”
 
He had not allowed her to return to Loughwydde.
Gently Mallory had pulled her dress over her head and slipped her shoes on. Using the towels that her housekeeper had supplied, he had bundled Brook up. Once he was satisfied that she was warm, he had dressed. The ascent was too hazardous for romantic demonstrations, so he had waited until they reached the summit before he lifted her into his arms. No amount of begging had gained her freedom.
The crazy man had carried her into his cottage, passed a very astonished Mrs. Whitby, who had been polishing the
hall floor, and went up the stairs. Calling down to the woman to alert Loughwydde of Brook’s whereabouts, Mallory had kicked the door shut. Shedding their wet clothing, they had climbed into bed and promptly fallen asleep.
It was almost dark when Brook awakened. She had not slept well for days. How odd that she found the solace she craved in this man’s arms. With his breath in her ear, he held her tightly against his chest as if he feared that she would escape him even in sleep. His arm was slung over her breasts and his right knee rested high between her legs. She impulsively kissed his forearm and felt his manhood stir against her buttocks. Brook smiled at his response.
“Did you sleep?” Mallory murmured sleepily, his embrace tightening instead of easing.
“Yes. I just awoke,” she confessed. “Sleep has been elusive.”
He burrowed his face into her neck and bit her shoulder lightly. “You just needed someone to tire you out properly.”
“I just need you,” she said, not censoring her words. His nibbling on her shoulder stopped.
“Do you mean it?”
She could hear his uncertainty and she was puzzled by it. The Mallory Claeg she knew was nauseatingly confident around women; he was usually telling
her
how she felt.
“There had been times I wished it were a lie,” she slowly admitted.
He rolled her onto her back so he could see her face. His light blue eyes gleamed with intensity in the fading light. “This is about my past. There have been too many women. You doubt my sincerity.”
“No. It is not that. I have never encountered a man like you. You feel passionate about everything! Each woman was not an idle conquest. I believe you loved each one of them, however fleetingly.”
“You think you are like them. That I am devoted until my heart sends me into another woman’s arms.”
Brook remained silent.
“Little fool!” Mallory leaned over her earnestly. “Have you not considered that with each woman, I was striving to recapture what I had with Mirabella? Lust, it fades with the dawn. No one has meant anything to me, until you.”
Brook’s heart knocked against her ribs. “What about Carissa Le Maye?”
She flinched when he pounded his fist into the pillow. “This is about what Miss Hamblin saw in my painting room, is it not?” He sighed wearily.
“Your mistress confirmed it.”
“She lied. What Miss Hamblin witnessed was a pathetic attempt of a former lover to rekindle an affair that ended weeks after the first time I met you on the cliffs.”
His anger gave her hope. “That was more than—”
“A year—yes, I know,” he said, finishing her sentence. Mallory caressed the side of her face and then suddenly gripped her hair and gave her a little shake. “You touched something in me that day. I could not stop thinking about you, but I did not know how to approach you without frightening you away, so I started slowly. A few trips for my art, I told my friends and family. In truth, I was coming to see you. Courting you.”
“I rejected Ham’s offer for marriage.”
“Good. It saves me from having to challenge him. For all our differences, I happen to like A’Court. But I would have shot him without reservation if he had pressured you into accepting his proposal.”
The fierce adamancy in his tone had Brook soothingly stroking his back. “Mother A’Court is encouraging Ham to take Loughwydde away for my defiance.”
“He is a decent gentleman. I believe he will not bow to the dowager’s wishes. If he does, then we will fight them.
You will not lose your home, Countess,” Mallory vowed, echoing her earlier sentiment.
He lowered his head and she lifted hers to meet his kiss. Brook boldly slipped her tongue into his, tasting and claiming him. Keeping his lips molded to hers, he moved and settled between her legs. Anticipating all the delightful sensations he wrung from her body with each coupling, she widened her legs, giving him access. Mallory teasingly rubbed his firm, turgid manhood against her moist cleft. “I am no longer satisfied with you being my mistress.”
“Oh really,” Brook said, raising her hips so there was a subtle shift in their position. He slipped smoothly into her. She grinned impishly up at him. “I disagree.”
Embedded to the hilt, Mallory held himself still, refusing to be distracted. “Being my mistress is too limited, too temporary. I want you in my bed every night. I want you sitting at my table each morning. There are other pictures I envision you posing for, so many they will take the rest of my life to complete. I want you to marry me.”
Brook swallowed the panic she always felt when she thought of marrying again. “Mallory.”

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