Kathryn Caskie (11 page)

Blood pounded in her temples as he fed on her, as she consumed him. Oh, God. She never thought it could be like this. And she wanted more. She wanted to hold him, to feel him against her.

And he answered her silent call. His hands fell away from her cheeks and he pulled her tightly into his embrace. He clutched her to him and her hips slammed against his as a sense of urgency overtook her body.

At once, she felt his rigid hardness against her pelvis and she pressed herself intimately against it.
This is wrong. Wrong.
But she could not stop herself. This new, forbidden sensation excited her as never before and she became aware of a growing dampness between her legs.

Somewhere in the recesses of Eliza’s mind, she registered a knock at the library door, but she was powerless to acknowledge it. She was listing in a sea of pure sensation.

Then she heard the door open.

“Eliza, my dear,” came Aunt Viola’s soft voice.

Magnus pulled away from her and swung aside, clearing Eliza’s view of her aunt. Eliza ran four fingers through her hair, securing her loosened curls beneath a hair pin.

“Oh my! I had no idea… you’d been gone for some minutes and I, well, thought perhaps you might need some hel—.” Aunt Viola swooned. “Oh heavens.
Spell
—”

Magnus lurched forward and caught Viola as her body plummeted toward the gleaming floor. He looked up at Eliza, concern flashing in his eyes as he carried her aunt to a plump chair beside the hearth. “Call for a doctor,” he ordered. “Hurry now!”

Eliza crossed to her aunt, and, seeing she was in no danger of falling from the chair, settled the old woman’s shriveled hands in her lap. “No need. She’ll be fine. Just having one of her spells, that’s all.”

Magnus came to his feet. “What sort of spell?”

Eliza took Magnus’s hand and drew him away. “Sleeping spells. She succumbs to them two or three times a week. High emotion or surprise usually brings them on.”

“Ye mean, like the shock of seeing ye in my arms,” he whispered.

Eliza looked away from him then, and suddenly became extraordinarily interested in her fingernails. “Err … yes, that might do it.” She glanced at her aunt then. “No need to whisper though. We shan’t rouse her. She will wake in a minute or a few hours. Nothing we do will change that.”

A slight smile brushed Magnus’s lips, making Eliza wish she hadn’t as good as told him they were alone.

She turned to finish the task of returning the easel to its earlier position. Magnus moved to help her, jumbling her senses all over again.

Reaching out to steady the painting, his hand accidentally brushed her own. Worried eyes greeted her. “Eliza, I—”

“I do not wish to talk about what happened, if you don’t mind,” she said, averting her gaze and focusing on the task at hand.

“I just wanted to say I am sorry. I should not have—”

Eliza steadied herself and quietly implored him.
“Please.”
The worst thing that could have possibly happened,
had happened.
She had wanted him to kiss her and he had. And it was tender, passionate and wonderful… but over. And it would not happen again. The moment had served its purpose.

She’d gotten him out of her system. That was a good thing. Perhaps now she could stop thinking about him and start making plans for Italy.

“Verra well, then.” He glanced up at her, twice, but respected her wishes and did not press the matter again. Silently, Magnus turned to leave the library, but caught notice of her canvases leaning against the far wall.

He crossed to them and thumbed through the paintings one at a time, resting those he’d already viewed on his upper thigh. Eliza peered at the shadowed space beneath his waistcoat where the paintings now rested. Every curve of his musculature was visible through the tight doeskin breeches men favored these days.

One curve in particular. One overlarge curve.
Jupiter!
She stifled a gasp and looked quickly away.

“These are stellar, Eliza,” he said, unaware of her embarrassment. “I had no idea. No idea at all.”

“Y-you act surprised.”
Do not look down. Focus on what he is saying.

“Surprised, to say the least. I thought that yer painting was simply a female fancy—that yer talent was, perhaps, above average, which is why ye sought to study in Italy.”

Eliza rounded the library table, temporarily forgetting her discomfort, and stood before him. She folded her arms and dared him to overstep his bounds.

He eased the paintings back against the wall and moved before her. “But Eliza, yer work. .. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

She looked away to avoid the strength of his gaze and saw
Rules of Engagement
lying on the table. What was it doing out and in plain sight no less? Only a day had passed since she’d climbed the library ladder and replaced the book on the highest shelf, hidden away from Grace and the two matchmaking strategists.

But here it lay again. A quizzing glass lay poised on the open pages magnifying the chapter heading.

Rule Six

Advance troops ensure the tactical plan is carried out.

She squeezed her eyes tight for a moment. She daren’t even consider how her aunts were planning to enact that strategy. But she had no doubt Rule Six would unfold that very eve.

Stretching out her fingers, she quickly brushed the magnifier to the table and slapped the heavy manual shut before Magnus could see it.

“I am so glad you hold my talent in such high opinion,” Eliza said as she opened the table drawer and quickly hid the book inside. She nudged the drawer shut with her hip and looked up again just as Magnus came to stand before her.

He lifted her chin with the pad of his index finger. “Yer talent is not a matter of opinion. Yer paintings are brilliant— that, my dear, is a fact. Anyone who would say otherwise would have to be blind.”

That voice of his. Its deep timbre hummed through the most inappropriate place. Just then, from the corner of her eye, Eliza saw her Aunt Viola’s head move. She turned, expecting to catch her aunt watching them, but by the time she did so, her auntie’s head was resting on her chest, and her eyes were clearly shut. Had she imagined it? No, Eliza knew better. Her aunt was spying on them.

Blood coursed into her cheeks and she pulled away from Magnus.

“Thank you, my lord,” she muttered, so distracted by the proximity of his body that she busied herself by straightening the handle of the quizzing glass so it lined up with the angles of the table. Lud, she was acting quite the goose!

“W-we should rejoin my aunt and sister. I’ll call Jenny to sit with Viola,” she stammered as she breathed in the almost woody scent of him.

Heaven help her. She wasn’t over him! She should raise her hands in the air and surrender to her aunts this very moment. Her
arrangement
with Lord Somerton was putting her heart in much more jeopardy than her aunts’ maneuvers ever could.

“Lead the way, lass,” Magnus said in a burr that made her breath catch.

Flustered though she was, Eliza folded her arms across her chest and hoisted a pleasant smile. It was important that she appear calm when they rejoined her aunt and sister, as if nothing of consequence had occurred.

And from the feel of her gently upturned lips, Eliza was sure she had achieved the essential serene countenance she sought. That is, until she caught her reflection in the passageway mirror and the term
constipated
flashed in her mind.

“Now, what say ye to a trip to Vauxhall?” Magnus asked Eliza the moment they entered the parlor. He was quite sure Eliza’s aunt Letitia would accept his invitation for her, if she did not.

Why he was so intent on escorting Eliza to the Gardens, he did not know. All he knew, since he saw her at the Hogarts’ party, was that he wanted to be alone with her—Eliza Merriweather, the Society misfit who had not a penny to her name.

“Vauxhall?” Eliza’s eyes widened almost fearfully.

He wanted to tell her she needn’t worry. That he’d made a mistake by kissing her, but that he was in full control of his faculties now. That he would not allow his passions to rule his mind and body again.

Still, one small taste of her plump lips was not enough to satiate his need. And, if there was even a small chance of stealing her kiss again, he knew in his wicked heart, he would take it.

Suddenly, Eliza’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Why don’t we make a party of it?” She turned to her aunt Letitia. “You will join us, of course. It
is
a lovely evening.”

Magnus teetered, unprepared for Eliza’s clever turn of the situation. A group outing was
not
what he had planned.

But thankfully, her aunt Letitia waved her linen napkin in the air, dismissing the thought. “Bless you, Lizzy, but I am much too old to stroll anywhere but through my own parlor.”

Lady Viola suddenly appeared in the doorway, apparently no worse for her supposed spell. She released a regretful sigh and nodded in agreement. “And I am much too weary. But
you
may join them, dear.” She gestured to Grace. “Though pray, do not be too awfully rigid in your chaperoning.”

Magnus could see the tension in Eliza’s shoulders disperse as she quickly took to the idea.

“Yes,
do
join us, Sister.”

Grace grimaced. “Chaperone? But I am unmarried.”

Lady Letitia pulled a playful scowl. “Pish posh, child. Do you wish to go to Vauxhall or don’t you?”

Magnus felt his plan to be alone with Eliza slipping from his grasp.

Grace smiled up at Eliza and then flashed her teeth at Magnus as well. “I should be most pleased to join you.”

“Wonderful,” Magnus droned.

With a little giggle rolling from her lips, Grace leapt to her feet and charged into the hallway. Then, she paused and gave first her gown, then Eliza’s, appraising glances before concluding with a relieved smile. “Our gowns are perfectly appropriate for the Gardens, do you not agree, Aunt Letitia?”

“Quite,” Aunt Letitia replied. “Might as well leave now.”

“May we, Lord Somerton?” Grace asked.

Magnus exhaled slowly. “Of course. My carriage awaits.”

Taking her proffered bonnet from Edgar, Grace whirled around, her face positively alight. “Who knows whom we might meet along the way?”

“That’s our Grace,” Eliza whispered to Magnus. “Never missing an opportunity to hunt for a husband.”

As the three turned to leave the house, Lady Letitia called out. “We do hope you will join us for a refreshment when you return, Lord Somerton.”

“Yes, you must return this evening,” Lady Viola added.

Magnus smiled brilliantly at the two aunts. “I would consider it an honor, ladies.”

The two aunts giggled like milkmaids as he, Eliza, and Grace walked out the door and headed for his waiting carriage.

“Now, will ye tell me why yer aunts were giggling so?”

“Lord Somerton, with my aunts, one can never be too sure,” Eliza said. “Suffice it to say, they are up to something
grand.”

Rule Seven

When birds startle and flee, you are about to be taken unaware.

From the moment they passed through the Kennington entrance of the pleasure garden, Eliza was dazzled by the spectacle of Vauxhall. Thousands of dappled glass lanterns glittered through the profusion of trees, flickering like huge colorful fireflies in the coming night. Honeyed music hummed through the throngs of London’s elegantly garbed elite as they strolled down the well-lit Grand Walk, seeing and being seen.

Still, Eliza wished with all her heart that she could be anywhere else.
With
anyone else but Magnus.

Absorbed in the sights, Eliza and Grace blindly followed Lord Somerton through the tree runs, past the domed rotunda and dazzling piazza of five arches, to one of many supper boxes near the center of the pleasure garden. There, they dined on sweetmeats, paper-thin ham, dark cherries, wine of prime vintage, and delicate cakes while enjoying the lively music of a full orchestra.

Grace sighed. “Have you ever seen a place so grand?”

"Indeed, I have not,” Eliza admitted.

“I own, I could stay here forever, Sister.”

Forever?
Eliza had already been here an hour too long. After the way Magnus had boldly pressed his lips to hers, making her smolder inside—even now, how could she possibly endure an evening with his body so close to her own? She flipped open her fan and waved it madly before her hot cheeks.

Suddenly, from the far side of the shrubbery, there came a burst of familiar voices.

“Oh, my foot! You’ve stabbed it with your cane, Viola!”

“My apologies, Sister. Shan’t happen again. But you mustn’t shout, else we’ll be discovered.”

Magnus blinked outward into the night and slowly rose from the table. “I daresay, are those yer aunts on the other side of the hedgerow?”

Eliza turned in time to see two elderly women, disguised in black dominos, ducking behind a hedge of boxwood. She lowered her head and sighed, for the masks did not conceal the identities of the two snowy-haired women.

“I should have guessed they would appear,” Eliza said.

Grace nodded her head. “Yes, they were protesting joining us much too strongly.”

“Shall we ask them to join us?” Magnus asked.

Eliza rose and glanced over at the wavering bushes. “I… think not.”

Magnus stared back at her, perplexed. “Are ye sure?”

“Oh, quite.” Eliza sat down again and lifted a bit of ham with her fork. “After all, they seem quite content to creep through the hedgerows just now, and I should hate to spoil their fun.”

Eliza breathed in the refreshing night air as they strolled along the Grand Walk a short while after their meal. She hadn’t seen her aunts in well over twenty minutes, and had almost convinced herself they had gone home, when she realized Grace was no longer nearby either.

She glanced around and saw that her sister had fallen behind to watch a band of jugglers. “We should wait for Grace,” Eliza told Magnus, as she reached out her gloved fingers to catch a white moth flittering past her nose.