Engaging the Earl (11 page)

He came to an abrupt halt, and his stern expression hardened when he saw her. “What are you doing here?”

Kat’s cheeks heated. “I heard my cousin call out. Is he all right?”

Rand’s uncompromising dark eyes bored into her. “He will be fine as long as you forget what you saw here.”

Nodding, she hurried back to her chamber with a tight throat. Once inside, she fell back against the closed door and exhaled. Tears welled in her eyes. Bea had never been specific about how the war had ruined Toby. She swiped a tear from her cheek. After what she’d witnessed today, she now had a pretty good idea.

…

Passing the open library door, Laurie heard a throaty laugh he would recognize anywhere.

“What do you say?” a man’s voice said in an inviting tone. Peter Fawson. “You won’t be sorry.” He knew he should keep on walking and leave them to their business, but he halted at the door and peered in.

Elena stood by the book stacks with an open volume in her hand. Peter stood next to her, with one hand propped up against the bookshelf over her shoulder. “I am not interested in boys,” she said in a tone that seemed equal parts boredom and amusement.

Peter edged closer to her. “I’m all man, I assure you.”

Elena appeared nonplussed. “Thank you, but no.”

He placed a hand on Elena’s bosom and she closed the book in her hands with a snap. “If you know what is good for you,
senor
, you will remove your hand now.”

Instead he placed the other hand on her bosom as well. “I want to see how your gorgeous dugs bounce when you ride me.”

Clenching his teeth, Laurie pushed the door open. “Am I interrupting?”

Peter, the lout, didn’t bother to turn around or to remove his hands. “This is a private matter, Sin.”

“I think not, Lawson.” Something heated in Laurie’s gut. “The lady is unwilling. Remove your hands from her person or I will remove them for you.”

Peter turned to face him with an incredulous expression. “You would fight me over this strumpet?”

“Insult her again and I will call you out.”

Elena’s brow shot up in amusement. “He’s a boy.” She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “He should be sent to bed without supper, not called out on a field of honor.”

Laurie’s hard stare didn’t waver from the other man. “Apologize, Lawson, and then make your farewell.”

Lawson flushed. “Very well. My most profound apologies, ma’am.”

“Now leave,” Laurie said.

Lawson flashed him a disbelieving look that slowly twisted into comprehension. “I see how it is. You want her for yourself.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

Peter sauntered to the door and paused. “I wonder what Lady Kat would have to say about that, Sin.”

Once Peter was gone, Elena asked, “Is that true?”

“Is what true?”

“That you want me for yourself.”

Laurie cheek’s burned. “Pay him no mind. He is a rude lout with no manners.”

“At least he is not afraid to go after what he wants.”

Laurie’s chest heated. “The man mauled you. Are you suggesting that you wanted it?”

Her eyes glittered in a way that made his temperature soar. “No, I don’t want that boy.”

“What do you want?” he asked sharply.

“I suspect the same as you,
vizconde
.” Her somnolent gaze held his. “Only I am not afraid to admit it.”

He walked over to her in quick strides. “What is it that you think I want?”

“They call you Laurie,” she said in that husky voice of hers. “That is a woman’s name, no?”

He shocked himself by shoving her up against the book stack with his body, pressing himself against her. The woman made him crazy. He desired her. He wanted to do unspeakable things with her. To her. Acts he would never even contemplate with Kat. “They also call me Sin.”

She chuckled low and throaty, and shocked him by wedging her hand between their bodies, brushing cunning fingers against his sex. His prick leaped at her touch, hard and full, throbbing with need. She cupped him fully, her ebony eyes intent on his. “Tell me,
vizconde
, what do you know of sin?”

“You really are a shameless hussy.” He breathed hard, fighting the urge to touch her while praying her fingers would not stop their brazen exploration.

She stroked the length of him. “Perhaps you should teach me a lesson, no?”

He finally forced himself to grab hold of her hand to halt her indecent exploration. “Stop,” he ground out, his breath coming in short, hard spurts, his body raging with lust.

Her dark eyes taunted him. “Tell me,
vizconde
, will you punish me for my bad behavior?”

Raw lust, hot and uncontrolled, swamped him. He grabbed her hands in one of his and forced them above her head. Fire sparked in her gaze so he jerked her hands higher. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, a shudder going through her. He lost any last bits of gentlemanly restraint. “Perhaps I know just what you want, madam.”

He grabbed her around the waist with his free hand, abruptly turning her toward the shelves, her hands still hiked above her head. He gyrated into her, shocked at how good her softness felt against him. Dropping her hands, he lifted her skirts in a frenzy, baring a smooth caramel bottom. All he could think of now was being inside of her. Still clutching her bottom to his hips he pulled her back away from the book stack to bend her over. She went willingly, planting her hands against the shelves for leverage.

“
Sí
vizconde
,
sí,
” she cried softly.

He couldn’t see or hear anything beyond the pounding in his ears and groin. He unfastened his breeches and freed himself, driving into her from behind with a single strong stroke. She was wet and moaned her pleasure when he entered her. He pounded into her as hard as he could. She felt damned good, slick and tight, her femininity caressing him as he shoved himself in and out of her, banging her like she was the lowest of whores.

“Is this how you want it?” he gasped, stroking into her with an urgency he had never known before. His hands clutched her bare, rounded bottom, a smooth bronze that rocked as he drove into her. The sight of it drove him even madder.

He slid his fingers around to touch her where she was hot and wet. Beneath him, he heard her crying with pleasure. She shuddered and convulsed, her peak coming hard and fast. He quickened his pace, exploding into her with a release that left him shaken and spent. His body curved over hers while he caught his breath and regained his senses, their labored breathing the only sound in the room. The warmth of her body and her spicy woman’s scent, intermixed with the earthy smell of recent coupling, engulfed him.

Good lord! What had just happened? He forced himself to withdraw from her, and something akin to regret sluiced through him at the loss of her womanly softness and heat.

“
Dios mio
,” she whispered, standing up to lean against the bookshelves as though she had no strength left.

“I apologize.” He stepped away from her, fastening his breeches. Remorse, shame, and guilt slammed into him all at once. “That should not have happened.”

Her dark eyes fixed on him. “You do not owe me an apology,
vizconde
. We didn’t do anything I didn’t desire.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“That is a pity.” She shook out her skirts. “We could enjoy each other a great deal, I think.”

He had to get away from her and this abomination he had just allowed to happen. He was betrothed to Kat and had just betrayed her in the worst possible way. But as he hurried down the corridor it wasn’t Kat he thought of. But rather of Elena’s soft, warm bottom moving back against him, of her ready response and slick heat. He’d never experienced anything like it—the passion, the desperation, the unparalleled physical pleasure.

God help him, but he already wanted more.

Chapter Eight

The following morning when Rand went to check on Toby, he found him with his mother and a gentleman of middle years with untamed salt-and-pepper side whiskers, who Mrs. Hobart introduced as Doctor Drummond. Rand didn’t recognize the doctor, yet the name struck him as familiar.

He turned to Toby, who sat on the edge of his bed, still in the rumpled clothing he’d worn to sleep last evening. “How do you fare this morning?”

“Rand.” Toby regarded him with bleary eyes. “Come to join the cavalry?”

“Beg pardon?”

“The doctor here wants to dissect my brain in hopes of locating the faulty valve.”

“Nonsense. Doctor Drummond is my cousin.” Mrs. Hobart’s mouth firmed. “He is showing familial concern for Tobias.”

“And I assure you, I only dissect the dead,” Drummond said with some humor.

Drummond. The reason the name sounded familiar clicked. “You’re Will’s Doctor Drummond. He attends your dissections to gain a better understanding of the human form.”

The doctor blinked at him. “You are acquainted with the artist?”

“Very much so. He is my brother.”

Drummond regarded him with some confusion. “Yet you are not the Marquess of Camryn.”

“No, the marquess is my elder brother.”

“He is the Earl of Randolph,” Mrs. Hobart interjected, “and was recently awarded a peerage on account of his brilliant service in the war.”

“Indeed, we have all heard of Randolph, the great war hero.” Drummond’s eyes were watchful. “You served with Tobias?”

“He was my commanding officer,” Toby said. “Have a care, Rand, the sawbones will want to start dissecting your brain as well as mine.”

“Tobias!” his mother exclaimed. “You forget your manners. Doctor Drummond is family and can be relied upon to be discreet about your…discomfort.”

Hobart lifted an amused brow in Rand’s direction. “My discomfort.”

“Nostalgia is a common reaction to the traumas of war,” Drummond said. “The purpose of my research is to determine why that is.”

Toby pushed up from the bed. “Well, go experiment on someone else. I need to see to my toilet.”

Satisfied that Toby seemed sufficiently recovered from last evening’s incident, Rand followed Mrs. Hobart and the doctor out of the chamber. Toby’s mother excused herself and Rand accompanied the doctor to the dining room for breakfast.

“Did you see many instances of nostalgia, my lord?” Drummond inquired.

“I’ve seen my men in various degrees of upset.” The muscles across the back of Rand’s shoulders clenched. “I cannot say whether it qualifies as nostalgia.”

“The condition seems to affect some more than others. I’m interested to know why that is.”

Rand stiffened. “If you are suggesting Hobart is a coward, you could not be more wrong. He served with all distinction in the battle arena.”

Drummond put his hand to his chest. “You misunderstand me, my lord. I do not believe lack of courage is the cause of nostalgia.”

His interest piqued. “Then to what do you attribute it?”

“It is entirely possible battlefield trauma causes lasting changes to the brain.”

“If that is so,” he said, keeping his tone purposely neutral, “is this change to the brain irreversible?”

“Ah, that is the big question, is it not? Whether these men are permanently marked or whether their affliction can be reversed over time.”

“How would one reverse it, do you suppose?”

“By social healing. Exercise helps manage some symptoms. As does keeping oneself occupied.” He regarded Rand with a thoughtful air. “You seem most interested in the affliction, my lord.”

“Some of my men were so affected.” He forced an easy tone despite the tightness in his chest. “Naturally I am interested in seeing to their welfare.”

The doctor paused and Rand could see his mind working. “If you should ever have need of my services, you have only to ask.”

“For my men?”

“For your men, of course,” Drummond said. “Men who are so afflicted often find sharing their difficulties with a medical expert can provide some relief.”

They reached the breakfast room, where several guests were already seated. “I shall take that under advisement.”

Drummond followed Rand in and they headed to the sideboard where breakfast was laid out. “Perhaps you might care to call upon me when you return to Town to further discuss the matter.”

“We shall see.” Rand’s cravat felt tight around his neck, impeding his flow of breath. “Eggs, doctor?”

…

“I think we should move up the wedding,” Laurie said between bites of kidney pie.

Kat nibbled on her toast and pretended not to notice when Rand seated himself at the long breakfast table, choosing an available chair across the table as far away as possible from her. His mistress hadn’t appeared. She was no doubt sleeping late after a long night.

“Kat?”

She swung her attention to Laurie. “Hmmm?”

“What do you think about us marrying earlier than we planned?”

“I think it is an excellent idea.” The sooner they married, the further behind she could put the catastrophe she’d almost made of her life. She slid another glance at Rand, who appeared to be concentrating on his breakfast. Yet his plate remained full. “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

“Excellent. I’ll speak with your father as soon as we return to Town.”

Cradling her chin in her hand, she gave Laurie her full attention. He seemed on edge. His handsome face was drawn and deep lines creased the areas around his eyes and mouth. “Did you not sleep well?”

He darted a look at her. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem out of sorts.”

He exhaled. “I’m anxious to marry you so we can put all of this behind us.”

She held her breath. Did Laurie suspect something was amiss? “All of what?”

He stilled. “The anticipation, of course. This endless waiting can drive the sanest man to bedlam.”

“Is that all?” She smiled with relief. “What shall we do today?”

“The rain has let up,” Laurie said, recovering some of his usual easy manner. “Perhaps we can arrange an excursion into the village. Mrs. Hobart mentioned it is market day.”

After breakfast, a small group—including Lexie, Bea, and Peter Lawson—went along with them to the village. They started out together checking out the wares, and Kat couldn’t help noting a subtle tension between the two men. Eventually, she and Laurie drifted away from the others. “What is going on between you and Peter?”

Laurie paid for two sweetmeats and handed her one. “What do you mean?”

She took his arm as they resumed walking amid the stalls and vendors who’d laid their wares out on blankets on the ground. “You’ve been very short with him today. I thought the two of you were friends.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It must be something,” she insisted. “I’ve never known the two of you to be at odds.”

He finished chewing his sweetmeat before answering. “I discovered him insulting a lady.”

“Peter? Truly? Perhaps you were mistaken. He has always been a perfect gentleman.”

“It was no mistake.”

“Who did he insult?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He pulled her behind the church, where they were out of sight, and pushed her up against the wall.

“What are you doing?” she asked, knowing perfectly well he intended to steal a kiss.

His eyes blazed as he looked into her face. “I have a fierce hunger for you, Kat.” His lips pressed against hers in a demanding kiss.

She opened to him and kissed him back, fully participating with concentrated eagerness, desperate to experience the same urgent need with Laurie that she had with Rand. Once Laurie bedded her, she’d forget all about Rand. She just knew it. “Why don’t we anticipate our wedding night?” she murmured against his lips.

He pulled back, his shock apparent. “You can’t mean that.”

She planted another kiss on his lips. “I do mean it. We both want to and we are going to marry anyway. Where’s the harm in it?”

Warring emotions flashed in his face. He kissed her again, pulling her body tight against his. “Are you certain, Kat? Once we do it, there will be no turning back.”

“I don’t want to turn back. I want to belong to you fully. You are the most decent person I know, Laurie. So good and honorable.”

He paled. “I want to do right by you, Kat.” He pulled back from her and released a shuddering breath. “It would be wrong to anticipate our wedding night. But I will speak to your father about moving the wedding up the moment we return to Town. I want this done as much as you do.”

Walking back among the vendors on Laurie’s arm, a lingering uneasiness followed her. Laurie had always been anxious to marry her, yet something had changed. Not only did he seem distracted and on edge, but there’d been a note of grim desperation in the way he’d kissed her. She shoved the concerns out of her mind. Marriage would cure whatever was wrong with Laurie. As it would for her. It had to.

…

“Come on, girl, we’ll slip out the library doors.” Vera jumped a happy circle around Rand as they made their way through the darkness, moving quietly so as not to wake the sleeping guests. He walked along the corridor to the library with Vera following. Pushing the door open, he saw the fire still blazed, and its flickering light cast dim dancing shadows about the room. It was most unusual for a fire to be burning in the middle of the night.

He made for the doors that led to the gardens, but the dog veered away from him toward the hearth. “Come, Vera. Let’s go for a walk.”

The animal yelped a short, happy bark, nuzzling into a high leather chair that faced the fireplace. He gave a low whistle to call the dog back to him.

Wagging her tail vigorously, Vera gave the chair her full attention. Frowning, Rand stepped toward the dog. Someone must have left food on the chair. As he neared, he caught sight of delicate pale feet first, folded under feminine legs and dangling a bit off the chair. The scent of violets reached him next, leaving little doubt as to who occupied the chair. His heart pounded.

“I see I haven’t completely won Vera over from her mistress,” he said, forcing an even tone.

She leaned forward in the chair to look around it and back at him, color high on her cheeks, the firelight dancing in her short curls, making them glisten like specks of gold around the glittering sapphire of her eyes. “
Now
she comes to me,” she said in a wry voice, her eyes following him as he stepped in front of the hearth. “When I would prefer to stay concealed.”

His chest contracted at the thought of Kat hiding from him. Regret slammed into him anew for having hurt her, even though he had done it to ensure her future happiness. “She is a stubborn-minded female. I’ve learned Vera does as she pleases.”

She ran her hands over the dog’s head and wiggling body, allowing Vera to lick her chin with great enthusiasm. “Hello girl. I’ve missed you, yes I have.”

He wondered why she’d cut her hair. He’d loved those long silken tresses. Even now, he could almost smell the delicate floral scent her bathing soap left in the gleaming mass of strands, which he’d buried his face in not so long ago. “Why did you cut your hair?”

She paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on the motions of her hands moving up and down the dog’s soft fur. “I needed a change.”

Surprisingly, he found he did not regret the loss of her hair. Even though he’d always thought the gleaming strands contributed to her considerable beauty. Now Rand saw they’d actually distracted from her delicate allure. These short curls framed her face in a way that showcased her fine-drawn features, highlighting enormous blue eyes in a fragile, heart-shaped face; the adorable upturned point of her slender nose, and the slight upper lip resting atop a lush lower one. “It suits you.”

This time she did look at him, her eyes rounding and flickering with obvious surprise. He realized then that she’d done it because of him, as if chopping off her hair would shed their shared past, cutting him out of her life or her heart. If only it could be that easily accomplished.

He suppressed the wild urge to tell her she was even more beautiful to him now, a mix of sensual earth goddess and ethereal nymph. For him to have believed, even for a moment, that this radiant creature could ever be his, was laughable. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. We were just going for a walk.”

Holding Vera’s jowls gently in her slim, tapered fingers, Kat regarded the animal with mock reproach. “Have you awakened the earl in the middle of the night to tend to your needs?”

That she referred to him as
the earl
was not lost on Rand. No longer was he her Edward. The reference to his title emphasized the new chasm between them. He pushed away the crushing regret, reminding himself that he had intended for things to fall this way. His planning here, as on the battlefield, had been to perfection.

He did not correct Kat’s mistaken assumption that Vera’s needs had pulled him out of bed to wander in the night shadows. No need for her to know this sleeplessness occurred often, or how glad he was to have the animal’s companionship when it did. “Has sleep eluded you as well?”

Sitting back in the chair, she looked into the fire, the flames flickering in the vibrant shade of her eyes. “So it would seem.”

“Would you care to walk with me?” The invitation breached the uneasy lull between them before he’d even realized his mind had formed it.

She blinked away from the fire to look up at him, inquiry evident in her gaze.

“I comprehend I’ve proven something of a disappointment to you,” he said in gentle answer to her unspoken question. “I understand if you wish to decline.”

She pushed up from the chair. “There is no harm in taking Vera for a walk.”

A spurt of gladness flowered in him at the thought of spending a little more time with her, even though the thinking part of him knew it to be a grave mistake. But he pushed it out of his head. Soon she would be Sinclair’s and quite safe from him. He tamped down the howling protest deep in him at the thought of another man taking possession of her. Stepping aside, he allowed her to pass by him toward the library doors.