To Love a Scoundrel (Zebra Historical Romance) (5 page)

"Oh!" she cried out, one hand rising to cover her
mouth. Mortification coursed through her, making her
cheeks burn and her breath come fast. She was far too horrified to do anything but gape at him, her eyes blinking rapidly as she attempted to regain her equilibrium.

Wearing a long, gray overcoat and leaning indolently
against the tree's trunk, Frederick stood there watching
her with an amused gleam in his eye. "Do not stop on
my account, Lady Eleanor. I was quite enjoying the performance. Though I do apologize for startling you twice
in one day."

At last she found her voice, however tremulous. "I
believed myself to be alone, Mister Stoneham. You
might have made your presence known"

"And deprived myself of such a delightful sight as
this? No, never."

"A gentleman would have done so"

"And yet I've already conceded that I am no gentleman."

"There is certainly no doubt of that. What are you
doing here in Lord Henley's park? Besides skulking
about like a panther, spying on those unaware"

"As much as I hate to dispel your illusions, I'm afraid
the truth is far more pedestrian than that. I have an appointment with Lord Henley, and, as the day seemed
fine, I chose to walk. A panther? Hmmm, I rather like
that image."

"I did not mean it as a compliment."

"No, of course you would not. Still, I'll take it as one.
But you"-his dark eyes skimmed over her figure"look like a pagan priestess, performing some sort of ancient rites. Though I hoped in such a circumstance one
might remove more than just one's boots and bonnet."

Frederick watched as the color in Eleanor's cheeks
deepened to crimson. He longed to gather her trembling
body in his arms and kiss her, just for sport-but she
did not follow the same set of rules as the women with
whom he normally associated. No, she would never allow such an impropriety as a meaningless kiss. It was
too bad, really, as she was quite lovely.

Then again, she had allowed his kiss before-almost
eagerly, if he remembered correctly. He studied her
face, still unable to believe this was the same girl. A
woman now, and not one with whom he should trifle.
"Perhaps you should retrieve your things and allow me
to escort you to Lord Henley's house. I suppose that is
your destination?"

"Indeed it is" She reached for her boots and leaned
against the trunk of the tree while she pulled them on.
His eyes were involuntarily drawn to the curve of her
ankle as she laced the boots, her long, elegant fingers
efficiently accomplishing the task. "I came to pay a call
on Lady Henley," she said, smoothing down her skirts.

"Lady Henley?" Dear God, he hadn't even realized
that Henley had taken a wife.

"Did you not realize that my friend Selina Snowden
is now the Viscountess Henley?"

Selina? The little blond slip of a girl who always
trailed about in Eleanor's shadow? "No, I did not realize that was so"

"Yes, they only just wed in the spring. Anyway," she
said with a shake of the head, "I can find my way without your escort. Pray, go on ahead" She tilted her head
toward the house, the sun-weathered beige stones looming just beyond the treetops.

"After you," he retorted with the sweep of one hand.

Her eyes met his briefly, her gaze steady and sure,
before she nodded. "Very well. Good day, Mister Stoneham."

With the bearing of a queen, she swept off, trailing
the sweet scent of honeysuckle and lemon verbena
behind. Her bonnet, a wide straw contraption trimmed in a pale green silk that matched her frock, lay forgotten on the grass beside him.

Smiling broadly, he bent down to retrieve it. Her clean
scent wafted from the straw, sending his pulse into a full
gallop. Deuce it, what was the woman doing to him?
He'd never before been attracted to someone like hera lady by all accounts, and an innocent at that. Yet here
he stood, grinning like a schoolboy as he watched her
retreating form.

A challenge, perhaps? Indeed, nothing more.

"Lady Eleanor," he called out after her. "Haven't you
forgotten something?"

She froze, her shoulders rising and falling with two
deep breaths before she turned to face him. He could
sense her wariness, her distrust, charging the air around
her. Smart girl.

He held the bonnet aloft, dangling it from its wide,
silk ribbons. The forbidden apple. Would she take it?

She said nothing in reply, not moving an inch in his
direction. Was she so desirous of removing herself from
his company that she was actually considering abandoning her bonnet and continuing on without it? Leaving
him standing there holding it, like a fool?

Not bloody likely. In several long strides, he closed the
distance between them. "Here," he said gruffly, "I can't
very well allow you to compromise your complexion
simply to spite me" He plucked the honeysuckle from
behind her ear, tucking it into his lapel instead.

She stood as still as a statue, as if she were carved
from marble, watching him, transfixed. One ebony lock
had escaped her hair arrangement and fallen across her
flushed cheek, and he reached down and pushed it back
from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

There was something hypnotic about the way she
silently stared at him-looking right at him, yet some how past him. With precise movements, he planted the
bonnet firmly on her head. Not yet willing to end the
physical contact, he trailed one fingertip down her neck,
eliciting a shiver in response.

"Do not touch me, sir," she said at last, her voice a
near whisper.

"No? Perhaps I should kiss you, then. To refresh my
memory. It's been so very long, hasn't it?"

"Don't you dare!" she cried, her eyes widening with
alarm.

"Don't fret, love. I can accomplish it without touching you, if that's what you desire. Here, my hands shall
remain firmly by my sides the entire time" He leaned
in toward her, her rapid breaths warming his cheek as
his mouth slanted over hers.

For no other reason save to torment himself, he allowed his lips to brush against her firm, unwilling
ones-coaxing them into softening, into opening for
him. He heard her whimper, the quietest of sounds yet
still discernible over the din of his pounding heart.

He kissed her gently, tenderly, his hands balled into
fists by his sides with an enormous effort of restraint. The
kiss was near-chaste and yet flames of desire coursed
through his blood, urging him to crush her to him, to possess her with his mouth. Instead, he commanded himself
to retreat. He took a step back and watched curiously as
her eyelids fluttered open, her eyes seemingly unfocused
and dazed.

And then her hand flew out and struck him firmly
across one cheek. "How dare you kiss me so without my
permission?" She glared at him, her entire body quivering.

Frederick smirked as he rubbed his smarting cheek.
"Soon, my lady, you'll be begging me to kiss you like
that"

"Not as long as I live." She shook her head so hard
that he feared her bonnet would become disengaged.

"Shall we strike a wager on it? One hundred
pounds that you beg for my kiss before the year is out.
Are you game?"

"Oooh," she cried, stomping one foot with a huff.
"You are a rogue. I didn't want to believe it, but everything they say about you is true, isn't it?"

"I haven't any idea. Perhaps you should tell me just
what it is they say about me, and I'll answer each
charge. Might as well get it all out in the open. `Air my
dirty laundry,' as they say."

"Very well." She folded her arms across her breasts,
meeting his gaze with her own. "They say that you are
a defiler of innocents"

"Innocents? Do they really say that? You may rest
easy, as that that one is indeed false. I do not trifle with
innocents. Ever. What else?"

"That you keep a half-dozen mistresses"

"The current count is a mere one, unless you count a
recent though regrettably brief interlude with a widow in
Shropshire. Do you honestly think I should pay to keep
half the demimonde in style? I've not that much blunt.
No, I think one kept mistress is sufficient, even for a
man with my, er, appetites. Have you anything else?"

Her eyes narrowed perceptibly as her color rose once
more. "That you've fought two duels of honor these past
six months alone, called out by angry husbands for dallying with their wives."

"Ali, that one is true. Partially. I have fought two
duels and-"

"And wounded an innocent man who sought only to
avenge his wife's honor after you coldly and calculatedly
seduced her," she interrupted, her blue eyes blazing.

"In the hand. I shot the fool in the hand, only to keep
him from killing me without just cause."

"So you deny seducing two married women?"

He nodded. "I seduced only one married woman, and
I hadn't any idea she was married at the time. In fact,
she told me quite plainly that she was not. Is that all?"

"Isn't it enough? You're lucky you haven't gotten
yourself killed."

"I must say, your concern for my reputation is touching. But why should you care if I do get myself killed?"

"In case you have forgotten, our fathers have signed
a betrothal agreement on our behalf They expect us to
wed by Christmastide"

"Ali, yes. That. And yet you told me just this morning
that you would not have me, and I was in full agreement. So, you see, you needn't worry."

"No, a man like yourself could not bear to associate
with a woman like me, could you?"

Had she any idea how close to the truth this statement
was? No, he could not bear it-to taint her so. He might
not be a gentleman, but he did possess some scruples.

"Good day, Mister Stoneham," she said, interrupting
his thoughts. With a tip of her head in his direction, she
turned and walked away from him, leaving him there
alone beside the honeysuckle hedge, thinking that perhaps the world would be a better place if he hadn't shot
the dueling pistol from that fool's hand.

"Dearest Eleanor, it cannot be true" Selina set down
her teacup so abruptly that it clattered against the
saucer, sloshing the caramel-colored liquid onto the
fabric that covered the table. Her blue eyes were full of
concern, her mouth drawn into a frown. "Why ever
would your papa do such a dreadful thing to you?"

Eleanor traced the blue design on the fabric with one
finger, unable to meet her friend's sympathetic gaze. "I
can barely credit it, but I think he believes he is doing
me a favor."

"A favor?" Selina's voice rose shrilly. "Marriage to
Frederick Stoneham a favor?"

"Apparently Mama told him that all the young ladies
are swooning over him. I suppose my father thought
him ... desirable." Eleanor almost choked on the word.
Dear lord, he'd kissed her. Was he now having a chuckle
about it out in the stables with Lord Henley? Saying
how easy it was to bend her to his will?

Selina shook her head. "No one of our acquaintance
has swooned over him since we were girls. Why, I
haven't so much as laid eyes on him in years. Why ever
would your mother suggest such a thing?"

"I've no idea, Selina. It's driving me mad, wondering
if somehow she knows"

"How could she know? Have you told anyoneHenry, perhaps?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Of course not, and even if
I had, Henry would never speak of such things to our
mother."

"True" Selina nibbled on her bottom lip, looking as
if she might cry. "Oh, Eleanor, I so wanted you to find
happiness in the married state, as I have with Henley.
This ... this will never do"

"I plan to tell Papa that I will not honor the agreement. It's just as well; Frederick says he won't have me,
after all."

Selina inhaled sharply. "How dare he refuse you?
He's not fit to wipe your boots"

"I don't understand why he ever agreed to the betrothal
in the first place" Eleanor shrugged, her attention drawn
to the sound of voices in the front hall-male voices.
Moving closer.

She leaned forward in her seat. "Why ever is he
here?" she whispered.

Selina's eyes narrowed. "Imagine my surprise at
learning that Henley considers Mister Stoneham a
friend. A friend, Eleanor-can you believe it?"

"I cannot," Eleanor answered. "Henley is nearly ten
years his senior. How have they come to know one
another?"

"It would appear that Henley was well-acquainted
with Mister Stoneham's elder brother, Charles. Poor
Henley was hunting with Charles Stoneham the day the
man was killed, and I'm afraid Henley feels somewhat
responsible, though it was an accident, of course," she
added hastily. "Henley says that, with Charles's dying
breath, he begged him to watch over Frederick, and so Henley has endeavored to do so. It hasn't been easy, of
course, not with Frederick's character as it is"

"Surely not," Eleanor murmured, fiddling with the
hem of her sleeve.

The men's voices continued past the closed door of
Selina's sitting room, toward the viscount's study.
Eleanor met her friend's questioning gaze but a moment
before averting her own to the marble-topped mantel
crowded with decorative cherubs of all shapes and sizes.

Selina's eyes narrowed a fraction. "There's something
you're not telling me, Eleanor. I can sense it."

Her friend knew her far too well. Almost as well as
Henry did. Of course, Selina was privy to the one secret
that Eleanor dared not share with her brother, close as
they were. Heaven forbid that Henry know what had
happened between Eleanor and Frederick so many years
ago-he'd likely call the man out and get himself shot
in the process. No, he must never know.

"Eleanor?" Selina asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"You're woolgathering. You must tell me what it is
you're keeping from me. I cannot bear not to know."

Eleanor sighed, dropping her hands to her lap. Very
well, she might as well confess it all. Selina would eventually root it out of her, anyway. "Just now, out in the
park. Frederick, he ... he kissed me"