Seductive as Flame (16 page)

He smothered a grunt as she hurtled into his body. Then he closed his arms around her and felt like he had almost from the first with her . . . joyful. “You’re damned good, darling.” His smile was teasing. “I live to see another day.”

“I was in . . . a hurry,” she breathlessly said, returning his smile. “I haven’t seen you—it seemed like . . .
forever!
”

“It
was
forever.” He raised his wrist enough to see his watch over her shoulder. “Almost two hours. What took so long?”

“This and that.” She dragged air into her lungs. “Packing—the usual.”

Something in her voice, perhaps the sudden tension in her body contradicted the casualness of her words. “Jesus,” he said, half under his breath. “What did Violetta do now?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She lightly brushed the graceful curve of his bottom lip with the pad of her index finger. “Don’t give it a thought. I’m here now.”

“God, I’m sorry.” His nostrils flared. “Again,” he added on a soft exhalation. He glanced up. “Thank you, John.” The groom was leading away the horses. As his gaze returned to Zelda, he grimaced, wondering how many more times he’d have to apologize for his damned wife. “She ordinarily never gets up before noon. Still, I should have waited for you. Protected you.”

“I’m fine—really,” Zelda replied. “She doesn’t frighten me. And we have more pleasant things to consider,” she added, her smile sunshine bright. “You”—she tapped his chest—“and me alone for an
entire
weekend.”

My God, she was understanding.
“In terms of full disclosure, darling—no, no,” he quickly interjected as her eyes flared wide. “Don’t be alarmed. I have no skeletons in my closet.”
Or none to concern you.
“It’s only that we don’t have the weekend
completely
to ourselves. In fact,” he noted with a nod in the direction of the house, “I believe the small impediment to our privacy has arrived.”

Chris had broken away from Creiggy and was running toward them, screaming and waving his arms.

Dipping his head, Alec put his mouth to her ear. “I have to share you today,” he murmured. “But tonight you’re mine.”

His warm breath on her skin triggered hot, graphic memory, and she shivered as vaulting desire streaked through her senses. “I may not last that long,” she whispered.

He groaned. “Don’t say that. You have to,
we
have to. Chris will be underfoot all day.”

“I know. I knew that. It’s just that you in close proximity compromises my good intentions. Does he take a nap?” Her gaze was playfully beseeching. “Give me hope.”

“He doesn’t, but perhaps I could bribe him.” With Zelda close, his restraint was questionable.

“Or perhaps Creiggy could be bribed.”

Sooner expect virtue be corrupted.
“I’ll think of something,” he said with a reassuring smile.

“You’re incredibly sweet.” Rising on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek.

His libido took note of the upward ascent of her soft, shapely body, of the scent and feel of her, of the interminable hours before nightfall. “I don’t know about sweet, but I should be able to outsmart a six-year-old. Fingers crossed,” he added with a grin. “He argues about everything.”

“Creiggy might be easier to persuade.”

“True. She likes that I’m happy. “

Zelda fluttered her eyelashes in coquettish play. “I could make you happier.”

He laughed. “Now there’s potent spur to improvisation. Consider a nap time in the offing. Ours. My word on it.”

“You’re so-o-o loveable,” she purred. “And I mean it in the most benign way, so you needn’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking.” But his shuttered gaze cleared, his sudden smile dazzled. “You’re extremely loveable as well—in the same benign way,” he said with exquisite grace and charm. “Now brace yourself. Here comes your smallest admirer.”

But Dalgliesh scooped up Chris before he barreled into them, and holding him, gently directed, “Now mind your manners and greet Miss MacKenzie properly.”

“Good morning, Miss MacKenzie,” the little boy dutifully pronounced in his high, piping voice. “I’m pleased you could come for a visit.” He glanced at his father, who gave him an approving smile and set him on his feet.

“Now you may ask what you’re dying to ask,” the earl kindly said.

“Might we, I mean if you don’t mind,” Chris exuberantly exclaimed, “would you and Papa show me how to jump Petunia”—another quick glance up at his father, who nodded—“after breakfast?”

“Of course, I’d be happy to help. And I’m a very fast eater,” Zelda added with a wink.

“Yahoo! I mean, thank you so much, Miss MacKenzie,” he amended under the watchful eye of Creiggy, who’d arrived after a more sedate progress down the drive.

“Welcome to Crosstrees, Miss MacKenzie,” Creiggy said, with a lilt in her voice. “I just won five shillings from the footman. He didn’t think you’d stop that brute of a horse in time.”

Zelda smiled. “Blue minds well. I trained him myself.”

Creiggy shot an amused glance at her employer. “There’s a warning, my boy. Not that most men couldn’t use a bit of training. Some more than others,” she added with a lift of her brows.

“You mean to say there were deficiencies in your tutelage ?” Dalgliesh drawled.

“Let’s just say some pupils are more mule headed than others.”

“I’m sure Miss MacKenzie can correct whatever faults I may have.”

Zelda smiled. “Naturally, I’d be delighted to try.”

“And I’d be delighted to let you try,” the earl replied, all suave grace and roguish charm.

“Now, now,” Creiggy drily said with a glance at her youngest charge and a warning glance for his father. “We have a busy day before us.”

“As you see, Miss MacKenzie,” Alec sardonically said, “I pay to have my conscience constantly on duty.”

“If you had a conscience of your own, my lord,” Creiggy said with equal sarcasm, “my diligence would be unnecessary.”

“You’re an idealist, Creiggy. I’m a nobleman. I don’t need a conscience.”

“Humph. Do unto others, my boy.”

“Don’t tempt me, Creiggy,” he softly said.

She only lifted her brows. Understanding. He put up with a great deal from his wife. Even took care of—she never knew what to call the poor wee thing.

“Papa, Papa!” Chris tugged on his father’s hand. Clearly the adult conversation had nothing to do with his jumping lessons. “Let’s go in for breakfast! We don’t want to keep Petunia waiting.”

“Ah—of course,” Alec said with feigned gravity. “We mustn’t keep your pony waiting. May I interest you in breakfast, Miss MacKenzie?” Without waiting for a reply, he took Zelda’s hand and said to his impatient son, “Run ahead and tell Rowan we’re on our way.”

As Chris raced off, the Earl of Dalgliesh turned to Creiggy, his thoughts focused once again on more pleasant things. “I might be willing to send that favorite nephew of yours to Eaton if you’d entertain Chris for an hour or so this afternoon.”

“You’re sending Ian there anyway.”

“Ah—that’s right.” He smiled. “Do you have other nephews perhaps who could use my patronage?”

“Several, all of whom you’re already supporting. But Master Chris will be ready enough to take a walk to the village and see what’s new at the toy shop, if that suits your lordship.” Her voice was without inflection, her expression bland, only a hint of good humor in her eyes as she met the earl’s gaze evidence of her fondness for the man she’d raised from infancy.

“Understanding as ever, Creiggy,” Alec murmured. “Would you like an increase in your wages?”

“If I needed one, I might.”

“A Scot who turns down money. Let me mark the day.”

“It’s a right fine day if you ask me, money or not,” Creiggy crisply said. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.”

“I believe we’re all famished one way or the other,” Alec murmured. And as Zelda blushed, Alec politely extended his elbow to Creiggy, tightened his grip on Zelda’s hand, and escorted the two ladies toward the imposing entrance of his hunting lodge.

CHAPTER 13

C
ROSSTREES PAVILION HAD been built as a hunting box for the tenth Earl of Dalgliesh in the reign of George III. The Palladian structure had been much enlarged over the years and recently refurbished. The size was impressive, the luxury impressive, the furnishings a combination of old and new—all costly. The earls of Dalgliesh had always been men of wealth, apparently, Zelda decided, taking in the tasteful opulence as they made their way through a number of rooms and corridors to a sunny breakfast room with enough servants on hand for a royal levee.

Dalgliesh seemed not to notice the oversupply of servants or the opulence, nor did his son or Creiggy, for that matter. While Zelda’s family had considerable land and bankable assets and a good deal of money on the exchange, this was clearly the household of a very rich man.

She didn’t wonder that Dalgliesh, his handsome looks aside, had scores of women in pursuit. Not only had he inherited the family fortune, but he’d augmented it with a new fortune in diamonds. And as everyone knew, rich, handsome peers with ready access to diamonds were viewed with favor by the ladies.

However, in contrast to the plutocratic magnificence of Dalgliesh’s establishment, breakfast was en famille and cozy—the staff very much part of the warm intimacy. Gossip and banter were unrestrained, as were the various discussions concerning events in the neighborhood, and it was some time before Alec turned to Zelda. “Forgive me. I haven’t been to Crosstrees for several weeks. Everyone’s filling me in on the local gossip. Are you getting enough to eat?”

“More than enough, thank you.”

“Have you tried Chris’s favorite—caviar and mashed bananas?”

Zelda nodded. “I liked it.”

“Creiggy’s sister is governess to the Tsar’s children. She sends us more caviar than we need. The staff has taken a liking to it as well.” He glanced at his majordomo presiding over the table service. “Haven’t they, Rowan?”

“They have indeed, my lord.” Alec’s elderly butler, conscious of his position, was slightly more constrained than the rest of the staff, but his smile was genuine, his affection for the earl obvious. “Including the mashed bananas, sir.”

“The Tsar’s children like caviar and mashed bananas for breakfast,” Alec explained. “So we’ve become equally cultivated,” he added with a grin. “Although I’m more than content with a good steak and a mug of ale as well.”

Which he’d been consuming with obvious enjoyment, Zelda noted, his appetite for food similar to his other appetites. The thought didn’t bear contemplation, however, with hours yet to go before her sexual desires would be fulfilled.

As if reading her mind, the earl reached out, gently touched her hand, and quietly said, “We’ll have lunch early. That should help.”

Zelda forced a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“Right about what?” Chris piped up from his seat on his father’s other side. “About going? Are we
finally
going?”

“Hush, Master Chris,” Creiggy admonished. Seated across the table, she’d witnessed the hushed exchange between Alec and Zelda and recognized it hadn’t been about jumping lessons. “Let your father and Miss MacKenzie enjoy their breakfast.”

“But
I’m
done. I was finished a
long, long
time ago!”

Alec gave his son a stern look. “Then you may go and wait at the stables if you prefer, but let Miss MacKenzie finish her meal in peace.”

“I’d rather wait
here
,” the young boy countered with a wide smile, unabashed by his father’s censure.

Dalgliesh must be a lenient parent,
Zelda thought and obliged her restless student by catching his eye and saying, “I’ll be ready as soon as I finish my coffee.”

“Yipee!”

The boy’s high-pitched cry startled the maid pouring more ale for Alec, the liquid slopped over the rim of the glass, and a puddle began spreading over the tablecloth.

The earl tossed his napkin on the spill and shot a critical look at his son, then at Creiggy. “We need some better table manners.”

Creiggy shrugged. “He’s just like you were at six.”

“Is that explanation or defense?” Alec sardonically inquired, helping the maid sop up the mess.

“Neither. It’s simple fact. And as far as I can see,” Creiggy said, reaching for a piece of toast, “a little screaming here and there didn’t adversely affect you. As to what may have adversely affected you, I’d say—”

“No you may not,” Alec softly interposed. “I prefer a pleasant breakfast.”

The old nanny said, “Aye,” and began buttering her toast.

Not just a lenient parent but an indulgent employer, Zelda thought, liking Dalgliesh for it. Too many men unnecessarily exerted their authority. Not that she was personally vulnerable, but she’d seen women enough who were. “There, I’m done.” She set down her empty cup. “Everything was delicious.”

Alec waved away the maid. “Don’t let Chris hurry you.”

“No, really, I’ve eaten a great deal. Although I wouldn’t mind a quick washup before we begin the lessons.” She wished to discard the long, trailing skirt of her riding habit, the yards of black serge unwieldy.

Chris groaned; Alec ignored him and nodded at his butler. “Rowan will have someone show you to your room.” He didn’t dare escort her himself. The temptation to lock the bedroom door behind them and stay there until he couldn’t fuck anymore was too great. “We’ll meet you in the stable yard.”

Zelda was shown to a large bedchamber by a nervous maidservant who immediately disappeared. It must be Alec’s room, she decided, surveying the masculine decor. Clearly he was defiant of propriety to so openly house her in his suite. Which meant he either trusted his servants or cared nothing for gossip. Not that his degree of wealth couldn’t buy privacy.

And a good deal more, she reflected, like the legions of women in his life. Although she happened to be the current female of choice—lucky her. And as soon as she changed, she’d be once again in the company of the disarmingly seductive man who thoroughly bewitched her.