Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance (18 page)

Nathan smiled. “Precisely. And I wasn’t falling into that trap. My parents had an amicable relationship as long as they weren’t in the same room. I decided that since I wasn’t interested in marriage, I might as well do something that interested me, and owning a gaming club was the answer.”

From the fine cut of his clothes, she determined that he had done well indeed. Rumor had it that Nathan Ferguson was one of, if not the, richest man in England.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

She cleared her throat and lowered her hand. “Like what?”

“Like I could hang the moon for you. I’m still the degenerate gambler and drunkard you’ve accused me of.”

“I’m s—”

He held up his hand. “Don’t even say it.”

“But—”

“But nothing, Claire. I’m still the same man who accosted you on the ship and who took your money. Just because you know my past doesn’t change anything.”

In a way it did. At least for her it did. Most men would have cracked upon learning of their financial situation. But not Nathan. He’d squared his shoulders and decided his best course of action even if it meant society shunned and ridiculed him.

His scowl deepened and she schooled her features because she feared he was reading something in them that she didn’t want him to see. To keep from revealing more she grabbed her glass and took a healthy swallow. Immediately it went to her head and the room spun.

“Did you kill a man in a duel?”

A bark of laughter burst from him. “You’re foxed.”

“Am not. So, did you?”

“Yes.”

His blunt answer shocked her. She supposed, somewhere inside her, she’d held out hope that the rumors had been false.

“I despised myself for it but it needed to be done. The man owed me money. Quite a bit of it. He refused to pay. It was early on, soon after my father died, and if I allowed him to get away without paying, then others would do the same. I couldn’t afford that. So I called him out. He accepted, probably thinking I would never do it. I did.”

The words were said with no feeling, yet Claire had a suspicion that his feelings were there, but buried.

“Did you almost run away with a reprobate?”

She started, her gaze flying to his so fast that she had to clutch the edge of the table to keep from falling off her chair. “Pardon?”

“Did you almost run away with a reprobate?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Why? Well, wasn’t that the question of the century. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol strumming through her or the intimate atmosphere of just the two of them in a small, private room or the fact that he’d been brutally honest with her when she asked such a bald question, but she found herself answering honestly.

“Because I thought I loved him. Turns out he loved my dowry more than he loved me.” Sebastian had told her in no uncertain terms that her intended had been wanted by most of the aristocracy for swindling them out of their money. He’d meant to use her dowry to pay everyone. Later she suspected he’d had plans to use her dowry to purchase passage on a ship to the American colonies. Without her.

“You were better off without him,” Nathan said.

“Was I? Seems to me Richard was no better.” She changed the subject, not wanting to discuss such morbidly tiring examples of her stupidity. “S’why are you traveling to Italy?”

Nathan pushed away from the table and stood. “I think we’ve conversed enough for one night. It’s time to retire and I believe you’ve had enough wine.”

She waved her hand in the air, knocking the half-full wineglass, but Nathan’s quick reflexes kept it from spilling all over the table and herself.

“Come, Claire. Let’s get you settled in your room.”

She stood. The room tilted and she flung her arms out, hitting Nathan squarely in the jaw. With a grunt he stumbled back.

“Oh no. I’m so—”

“Sorry. I know.”

“I hit you!” She touched his chin where a red mark was beginning to form.

He grabbed her hand, holding her fingers still while he looked into her eyes. The room tilted, causing her to sway into him. She lifted her head, her gaze going to his lips against her will. All right, maybe not really against her will. She stared at those lips that had ravished hers just hours before. She clearly remembered the feel of them, the way they incited strange sensations inside her. And she wanted to feel all of that again. And more. Much, much more.

With a muttered curse that sounded more like a groan, Nathan stepped away, holding her at arm’s length because she certainly would have toppled forward without his assistance.

“We definitely need to get you settled into your room.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and scooped up her shawl and reticule with the other hand.

She leaned on his solid strength all the way through the main room that was nearly empty except for a card game in the corner and a few men staring into their tankards of ale. No one paid them any mind.

She intercepted his quick glance at the card game. “Are you going to join them?”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t prevaricate with me, my lord. I saw that look. You want to play cards. You may have refreshed your coffers, but card playing is in your blood.”

“This is not an appropriate discussion, Claire.”

“Kissing me senseless is appropriate, but discussing card games is not? I don’t
understand your rules.”

“My kiss made you senseless?” There was male pride in his tone and a satisfied glint in his eye.

They reached her bedchamber door and she turned to him. Her gaze was directly aligned with his lips and she stared at them, wanting them on hers again. Hers and no one else’s.

Really, Claire. This is beyond absurd.

“You know it did.”

“I know nothing of the sort, my lady.”

She put her hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath the waistcoat, and the flex of those muscles when she touched him. His eyes darkened then narrowed in suspicion. He moved away and she leaned heavily on the door, her feet numb, her hands trembling from touching him and her lips eager for another of his kisses. Yet she saw the look of longing he’d given that card game and knew that he would go down there after he deposited her in her room. She knew what happened during those games. Women were present. More drink. More women. Did he kiss them as he kissed her? Were they rendered senseless after his kisses as she was?

She didn’t want him making other women senseless. Hot anger stirred inside her, fueled by the wine rushing through her blood. She stepped forward, her hands going to his chest again for support and because she needed to feel the solid thump of his heart. A heart that was thumping a little more energetically than it had been before.

“You asked me what I’m going to do when I get to Italy. Do you really want to know?” In the distant part of her brain, the sober Claire yelled to keep quiet, but the inebriated Claire ignored her.

“I’m not sure anymore.” His voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating through her hands.

She leaned closer until her lips could easily brush against his if she chose to do so. Or if he chose.

“I’m going to find an Italian lover,” she whispered.

Nathan stomped down the steps. An Italian lover, indeed. What the hell did she mean by that? It had to be the wine talking. Sweet Claire Hartford who barely knew how to kiss was not going to Venice to find herself an Italian lover. That was preposterous.

With a nod at the participants, Nathan fell into a chair at the gaming table and scooped up the cards they tossed to him. He really hadn’t been thinking of joining the game. Well, mayhap he had. But he’d told himself he wouldn’t, until Claire whispered, oh so sweetly in his ear, that she was in pursuit of an Italian lover.

His hands shook and he cursed himself while signaling for another whiskey. His hands shouldn’t shake. He shouldn’t care why Claire was going to Italy. What he should do was concentrate on his own reason for traveling to Italy. The letters. The questions he needed answered.

He played his last card and lost. Resigned, he watched the winner scoop up the money. When the dealer raised his brow in a silent question, Nathan nodded to deal him in again. He rubbed his chest where her hands had rested and his heart still thumped wildly. It’d taken every bit of self-control not to lean down and kiss her. She’d certainly looked at him like she wanted him to kiss her, with those wide, green eyes and her pink lips parted just so.

He groaned and organized his cards, trying to concentrate on the game, but no matter how hard he tried to think about the cards, he thought about Claire harder.

He’d practically shoved her into her room and slammed the door after her for fear he’d follow and give her what those jade green eyes were begging him to give her. However, for all his nefarious ways, Nathan wasn’t about to take advantage of a woman who had too much to drink.

His gaze wandered to the stairs. Was she undressing right now? Quickly he looked back at his cards, plucked one from his hand and tossed it on the table. He lost that round as well. And the next.

He ordered another drink and nodded that he was in for another game. The dealer smirked. Nathan ignored him. His leg bounced restlessly while his mind went back to that
moment in the carriage when he’d kissed her so thoroughly. What had she said? Ah, yes. She’d told him he’d kissed her senseless. Pride welled within him but that only increased the restlessness, for there were other ways he wanted to render her senseless than with a mere kiss.

He gathered his cards but didn’t really see them as he tossed out another. He won that hand, but just barely. Gathering his money, he glanced around the common room. It was late, not many were about. Just the diehard card players and a few serious drinkers. Everyone else had gone to bed for the night, leaving the lone proprietor wiping the bar with a dingy rag as he yawned widely.

Nathan’s gaze stopped on one individual slumped over his tankard of ale, a cap pulled low over his brow as he stared at the rough wooden plank of the bar. Something about the man appeared to be familiar. The cap. The slumped shoulders. The ragged great coat of indeterminate coloring.

“Your play, guv.”

Nathan randomly picked a card from his hand and tossed it on the pile. The man at the bar took another sip, keeping his face in profile. Upon closer examination it appeared he wasn’t a man at all but rather a lad close to manhood yet not quite there. Nathan turned back to the game.

He lost again. He really should quit for the night. He was already down one hundred pounds. Long ago he’d learned to walk away when the cards weren’t in his favor, and tonight was definitely one of those nights. He shook his head at the dealer, gathered what was left of his blunt and stood.

His muscles ached from the long carriage ride and from sitting at the gaming table for so long. He glanced at the steps leading to the sleeping chambers. Claire should have been asleep hours ago. The restlessness that had plagued him all evening had him turning away from the steps for fear he’d lose his head and enter her chamber instead of his. Thoughts of sleeping with her in his arms, as he’d done the night before, were almost too tempting to resist.

He turned back to study the lad at the bar, but he was gone.

With determined strides Nathan made his way to the door and out into the bracing spring night. There he was, leaning against the building and looking up at the clouds obscuring the moon.

Nathan stayed to the shadows, observing, his heart beating a bit harder than usual. The lad definitely looked familiar but why would he show himself in plain sight at the same inn that
Nathan and Claire were staying? That didn’t make sense.

The cramped muscles in Nathan’s shoulders began to relax as the lad moved around the corner. Something inside Nathan told him to follow. He kept to the shadows, watching each step. When he rounded the corner, he found his query staring up at the second floor of the inn. When Nathan’s gaze followed, his blood turned cold, for the lad was staring at Claire’s window. It could be coincidence. Or it couldn’t be. Nathan wasn’t taking any chances. He stepped from the shadows.

The lad spun around, looked at Nathan in alarm and froze. Nathan approached but the lad was suddenly released from his paralysis and took off running toward the line of trees just to the east of the inn.

Nathan ran after him but the darkness and the uneven terrain kept him from pursuing. He could hear the lad’s booted feet hit the packed dirt, but Nathan was unable to follow. He stopped, looked deep into the shadows, then back at the quiet, darkened inn. With a curse, he made his way back to it and entered.

The card game was still going strong. A lone man sat at the bar but didn’t look up when Nathan entered. Nathan took the steps to the upper rooms two at a time, his breathing ragged from running and the unexpected fear that suddenly overtook him. He’d hoped they’d shaken the reprobate in Paris, but that had been a foolish hope. Now, more than ever, he was convinced the boy had something to do with the letters sent to Nathan.

He reached for the door handle of Claire’s bedchamber but stopped before he touched it. What was he going to do? Barge in and tell her someone was following them? He didn’t want to frighten her.

So what? Did he plan on sitting in her room all night, watching her sleep? He snorted in derision knowing that he couldn’t walk in there and simply sit while she slept. No, he’d be in that bed with her.

He hadn’t been this randy since he discovered the joys that women could bring to his body. But the thought of relieving his rampant desire with a local whore didn’t appeal to him, so instead he leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting with his knees bent. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his body clenching in a vicious need that he felt sure wasn’t going to abate anytime soon.