Tempting His Mistress (4 page)

He didn’t mention that she was not wifely material but he didn’t need to. The words were there, drifting in the wind like poisonous gas. They soured the air and even his admission of finding her attractive could not diminish the effect.

Lilly turned up her nose and eyed him as coolly as she could muster. “Lord Hawksley, allow me to assure you I feel nothing of the sort. You are an arrogant, cold-hearted man and whatever you may think of me, I am not the sort of woman to fall into bed with anyone, even if he were the prince himself, and I would certainly never fall for your limited charms. I thank you for your jacket, my lord, and I bid you goodnight.”

Not waiting to see his reaction, Lilly spun on her heel and raced to her room. She slammed the door shut, pressed her back to it and flattened a hand across her pounding heart. What had she done? She had insulted a rich and powerful man—a guest in her friend’s house. Lilly put a hand to her mouth. She had angered a murderer and ruined her plans. The impertinent man would likely never talk to her again, and she would be no closer to finding out all that had occurred between him and her father.

She let her head rest back against the door. Lord, what had she done?

Evan took great pride in the fact he had spoken not more than ten words to Miss Claremont all morning. He scrubbed a hand across his face in a bid to rid himself of his fatigue as the hounds were made ready for the hunt.

In a dark green riding habit, Miss Claremont still managed to draw his attention. He had thought of nothing but her all night. Damn the woman. Even with her declaration that she would never deign to fall for him, he couldn’t rid himself of thinking of her. His jacket had smelled of flowers and the scent tormented him while he tried to sleep as it seemed to take up every inch of space in his room.

She fussed with her hair, a habit not very becoming in a woman, yet he found himself watching her hands with interest as they toyed with the curls underneath her hat. They would feel silky, and the urge to tear off the jaunty little hat and bury his hands in those curls struck.

Evan gripped the reins of his mount until they bit into his hands. Hopefully a good hunt might rid him of such desires. With Mrs Willis and Lady Stanley remaining at the house, they were only a small party but hunting seldom failed to energise him. If he could just ignore Miss Claremont, all would return to normal. A shame the brandy hadn’t worked. He had woken with a dry tongue and a slight headache—a steep price to pay when it had failed to remove the woman from his mind.

Miss Claremont leaned in to speak with Lady Richdale and he noticed the barely disguised contempt in his sister-in-law’s expression. She had kept her feelings about an illegitimate woman in their midst to herself so far—no doubt aware Lady Stanley would be greatly offended at any slight to her friend—but Evan knew it was only a matter of time. He did not envy Miss Claremont. Harriet had a wicked tongue when she unleashed it and though he had the ability to ignore the woman, Miss Claremont would likely take offence and feel the hurt deeply if last night was anything to go by.

Last night! Damn and blast, why could he not forget the indignation in her eyes that made them bright and all the more beautiful? The sight of her tucked into his jacket, so small and fragile-looking, had twisted something deep inside him. To think he had almost kissed her. And she had almost allowed him to. No matter what she said, she had wanted to kiss him just as badly.

He smirked to himself. At least his words last night had put paid to that. He was not so crass as to mention her circumstances, but she knew perfectly well they were the main cause of any problems between them.

Had she been a woman of good breeding and wealth, he might have even thought of using her to solve his issue of being wifeless, but with her father dead, she was penniless and nothing would solve the problem of her being a bastard.

She caught his eye as they readied themselves to set off. Chin lifted, she quickly glanced away. What a damned shame. She really was quite beautiful. When she had gone from being merely attractive to beautiful he could not be sure. Perhaps during their walk when she had been slightly dishevelled or outside his room when her cheeks had been flushed and her breasts rose and fell with every deep breath against her bodice.

The sound of the horn jolted him from his thoughts—thank the Lord. He was in danger of making a fool of himself if he didn’t force that woman from his mind. They headed across the fields towards the woods to the north of Oakholm Hall. The dogs ran alongside, the occasional howl breeching the hammering of horse hooves. Behind the tips of the trees, the sun attempted to break through the clouds. Though it didn’t look likely to rain, the breeze on his face remained cool and refreshing. Cold enough, he would wager, to remove any of his ridiculous heated thoughts.

For several hours they hunted. They had become split from the women towards the end—not unusual in the chaos of a hunt—but it made his palms clammy. He took great pains to pause and peer through the trees for them but the woods outside of Oakholm were vast. Ancient tracks laced through the trees and would lead the ladies out of the woods one way or the other but misgiving wove into his body, making his muscles tense and aching.

Lord Brexley announced his need to return home, and Evan nodded. “But first we should make attempts to find the women,” he added. But eyeing the panting, red-faced earl, he conceded, “Perhaps you could let Lady Stanley know we shall be returning home shortly. It does not take three of us to search.”

“Indeed. Happy hunting, Hawksley,” Brexley said jovially with only a hint of relief before turning and following the muddy track back to the hall.

“Harriet shall find her way home,” his brother declared. “She has a way of surviving any situation.”

“Thomas, you make it sound as if you have tried very hard to test that fact.”

Thomas laughed. “You think me capable of such things?”

“No, but then Harriet could drive a man to do many things.”

Just as Miss Claremont could. Not because he wished to escape her as his brother often likely wanted space from his wife, but because from the time they had been split from the women, he hungered for her presence.

A foolish notion of riding up behind her, snatching her from her horse and stealing her away to one of the lodges on the outskirts of the estate played in his mind. There he would strip her down without fear of interruption and take all she had to give to be rid of her once and for all. Except, in spite of her birth and her words the previous night, he did not think her a whore, and, no matter what she thought of him, he made no habit of taking innocents.

“Come then, let us find these women before the heavens open upon us.”

Evan peered between the leafy canopy and saw that his brother was correct. The clouds had darkened and rain appeared imminent. The thought of Miss Claremont wet did two things—made his stomach churn for fear of her being struck down by a malady and forced images of wet curls and shimmering porcelain skin into his mind.

“Let us find them and with haste, Thomas. I have no wish to get wet.”

They took the main path up through the woods until they came out of the other side, but there was still no sign of them.

“Where the devil are they?” Evan snapped.

Thomas laughed. “You know what women are like. They probably stopped to gossip and wandered onto one of the lesser used paths.”

Evan huffed. Unlikely. Harriet would not take the time to gossip with someone of Miss Claremont’s ilk if she could help it.  They turned the horses around as a strong breeze kicked up, stirring fallen leaves from the ground.

“Looks to be heavy rain coming in,” Thomas observed. “Come on, Brother, first one to find the women wins.”

Thomas set off at a reckless pace and Evan cursed. Being the younger brother, Thomas had never had the same feeling of responsibility he had. He cared little for his welfare and more about gaming and sports. Even his marriage had been a game to him—something to get one up on Evan. Of course, with a five year age gap, his brother had also never shouldered the burden of their parents’ marriage. There were some experiences that came with being the eldest that Evan wished he’d never had to suffer.

Flicking the reins, Evan sought to catch up with Thomas. The trees grew close together on the lesser used paths and hawthorns threatened to tear at him. Surely the women would not have been foolish enough to come down this track?

Thomas pushed along as if he barely felt the protruding branches. Evan shouted at him to slow down, but he doubted his brother heard him. As the forest floor took a sharp dip down, Evan’s heart jumped into his throat and he slowed his mount to a trot. But Thomas barrelled forwards, either unaware or uncaring that the sharp slope could send him tumbling. He made it down but a large branch protruded and before Evan could shout a warning, Thomas’s face collided with it and he went tumbling from him horse.

“Damnation!” Evan pulled his horse to a stop and jumped off. His horse made no move, but Thomas’s had already righted itself and dashed deeper into the woods.

He came to his brother’s crumpled body and turned him over. Blood seeped from a gash across his head and though his eyes were open, he appeared dazed.

“What the devil were you thinking?” Evan demanded as he tried to urge his brother to sit.

Thomas didn’t respond and when Evan shifted him, blood spilled down his face. Using the sleeve of his jacket, Evan dabbed the wound. It was deep and would likely leave a scar—
if
he got him back to the hall before he lost any more blood.

“Is everything well?”

Evan snapped his head around to see Miss Claremont atop her horse. Her eyes rounded when she spotted Thomas on the floor and she dismounted to come to his side.

“What happened?”

“We were looking for you and Harriet,” he barked. “Where the devil were you?”

Miss Claremont knelt and pushed Evan’s hands aside to look at his wound. She paled but seemed to recover herself before meeting his gaze head on. “Lady Richdale feared it would rain so we decided to turn back some time ago. However, she dropped her hat so I went in search of it.”

“Miss Claremont, I didn’t take you for a fool. Is Harriet at the hall?”

“I assume so. She took the main path back. And I am no fool. Searching for her hat was preferable to...” Her cheeks coloured. “Well, it does not matter. Let us see to your brother.”

A sense of begrudging admiration warmed Evan’s chest. Miss Claremont, it seemed, already had the measure of his sister-in-law and chose to gallivant about the woods rather than spend time with her. There was something in her independent spirit that was to be admired. Evan had never been fond of women who preferred to cling to a man’s arm and await their every decision.

Miss Claremont lifted Thomas’s head into her lap and drew a handkerchief out from her riding habit to press against the gash. “There now, Lord Richdale,” she soothed as his brother grumbled. She brushed a gloved hand over his brother’s cheek, and Evan clenched his teeth.

Thomas still appeared unaware of what was happening. His eyes drooped shut and Evan thought it a little like when he had seen men punched out in the boxing halls. His brother must have taken a hard hit indeed.

A drip of water trailing down his neck made him glance up and another splattered on his face. “Miss Claremont, it’s going to rain. You should head back to the hall and send for help.”

“We cannot leave your brother out here in the rain and anyway, I’m not entirely sure I know my way back from here.”

“I wasn’t intending to leave him alone,” he muttered.

“I know that, my lord.” She put a hand to his arm and he swore his heart stopped for a moment. “Don’t fear for him. It’s just a gash and he must have hit his head hard. Let us get him on the horse.”

Together they lifted Thomas up, and with a grunt Evan put him over the saddle. His brother had been indulging in a few too many pastries he concluded with a scowl. Miss Claremont eyed Thomas.

“What is it?” he snapped, keen to get moving as the
pitter patter
on the trees signalled the rain had started to fall with relish. The trees offered a little protection but there was still a way to travel before they reached the hall. They would all be soaked by the time they returned.

“He shall lose more blood like that.” She nodded to him. “Why do you not lead the horses and I shall keep pressure on the wound?”

Evan opened his mouth to protest—he didn’t like the notion of her walking the rest of the way—but closed it when he realised she was right. With the way Thomas was slumped across the saddle, blood would drip freely from the wound.

He snatched the reins of her horse and brought it over to his own, then took the other set. With a huff, he urged the horses on at a slow pace while Miss Claremont kept her handkerchief to his brother’s head.

Damn Thomas. If Miss Claremont fell sick, there would be hell to pay. Already water dripped from the brim of his hat and he doubted her riding habit offered as much protection as his Norfolk jacket.

“Not far now,” he announced when the trees widened out and the main track became apparent. He glanced over his shoulder and noted her damp curls. That silly little hat offered little protection. Indeed her skin did shimmer with damp but her pale skin had a ghoulish look to it and her lips were tightly pursed as if she was fighting a bout of tremors. “Perhaps you should ride on?” he suggested.

“I cannot get any wetter, Lord Hawksley,” she declared. “Besides, you cannot direct the horse and tend to your brother’s wounds. We shall have to continue our journey together.”

“Stubborn chit,” he muttered.

“My lord?”

“Nothing, Miss Claremont. I just hope you don’t ail after getting so wet. Lady Stanley would have my head.”

“Yes, she probably would, but I never get sick, my lord.”

“Never? I don’t think that is possible. Even I get sick.”

“And I suppose illness should only favour women and poor people, is that it?”

“You know full well that is not what I meant.” He eyed her over his shoulder and noted her teasing smile. “But you are a slight thing and I am a...”

“Strapping, virile man?” she finished.

His muscles tightened at her words. He longed to prove to her just how virile he could be. “I would boast nothing of the sort, Miss Claremont.”

“But others would?”