Wild Heart (7 page)

Her body floated as if she danced on clouds and only Leo’s solid presence anchored her to earth. She closed her eyes and allowed him to sweep her across the floor. He pulled her closer, yet she didn’t protest, didn’t even bother to open her eyes, but merely took in the feel of his form.

“No, no!” Jean-Pierre’s voice broke into her muddled mind. Ella faltered, her lashes lifting. With a sigh, Leo stopped.

Jean-Pierre made his way toward them, his shoes tapping against the floor. Reaching out, he dug his fingers into Ella’s shoulders. She couldn’t prevent the yelp that escaped her lips at his painful grip.

Leo’s arm shot over her shoulder and grabbed Jean-Pierre by the collar. Suddenly, Ella was squeezed between the two men.

“Unhand her,” Leo growled. The vibration in his voice sent a cold chill over her skin.

Jean-Pierre immediately released his grip, and Ella fell into Leo’s tense body.

“Touch her again, and you’ll find your fingers broken,” Leo said softly.

Too softly.

Ella gently touched his arm. “Leo.”

Without looking at her, Leo released his hold on Jean-Pierre. The dance instructor stumbled back, gasping for air.

“How…dare…you,” Jean-Pierre got out, straightening his waistcoat. “How dare you touch me? I teach the royal family!”

With a rustle of paper, the woman behind the pianoforte gathered her sheet music and raced toward the door.

Jean-Pierre tilted his chin. “I’d heard the rumors and should have known teaching a savage like you would prove to be impossible.”

Before Ella could come to Leo’s defense, the dance instructor swept from the room.

Doors slammed in the distance, and then there was silence.

Truly, she should reprimand Leo. So why did gratitude sweep through her body, bringing on the sudden sting of tears? He’d come to her defense and been called a savage for the effort. “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond and she had the feeling he hadn’t often been thanked.

“Well,” she said, averting her gaze and stepping back from him. “No reason why we can’t practice on our own. Although, I fear you will teach me more than I will teach you. Still, your grandfather will be pleased to know how well you dance.”

“You won’t tell him.” Leo pulled her close and swirled her around the room.

Ella clung to the man. “Why not?”

“Let him think he is helping me,” Leo replied, spinning her in a particularly dizzying twirl. There was something he wasn’t telling her…something more to his reasoning.

“But, Leo—”

“Shh,” he said, pulling her closer and whispering against her ear. “Just listen to the music.”

“There is no mus—”

“Shh,” he said again.

With a sigh, Ella fell silent and closed her eyes, letting the man do as he wished. But as she began to relax, he slowed his steps and her lashes fluttered up.

He brushed his thumb across her jaw and cradled the nap of her neck. “Why do you close your eyes?”

Her face heated, and she dropped her gaze to the opening of his collar where a peek of tanned skin shone through. “It makes me feel free.”

They stopped in the middle of the room. Ella clung to the man, feeling as if she still spun. Slowly, her gaze traveled up his chest and clashed with those eerie amber eyes. What was he thinking?

“You are very different from what I expected,” he said.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good or not. “Yes, well, I suppose most people are.”

His gaze grew hard, serious. “No, sadly, most people are exactly as they portray themselves. Remember that, Ella: If you have a bad feeling about someone, it’s generally true.”

“What about you? I feared you at first, but you proved me wrong. I do not fear you now,” she said.

His eyes seemed to darken, and she could feel every muscle in his body tighten. “You should.”

Before she could respond, his lips captured hers. She wanted to pull back, truly she did. Yet, she couldn’t seem to push him away. Instead, Ella sank into Leo, and his lips softened. Heat raced through her body, pooling in the pit of her stomach. She had the sudden urge to groan, to cuddle up closer to him and had no idea why. He tasted of tea…of mint…and something unidentifiable that could only be him. Without thought, without any regard to her reputation, she moaned.

As if understanding her need, Leo tightened his hold and slipped his tongue across her lips. Shock made her gasp. The deep ache that flooded her body made her part her lips for more. Accepting her unspoken invitation, his tongue swept into her mouth, rubbing against her own.

Pleasurable need settled deep in the pit of her belly. She knew men and women kissed this way—she’d heard the stories—but she had no idea she would actually like the act. He seemed to fill her—his scent, his heat—and there was nothing she could do to prevent him from branding her with his mouth.

“Ahem.”

Someone cleared his throat. The sound raked across Ella’s consciousness, scattering her heated desire. She tore her mouth from Leo’s, her breath coming out in harsh gasps. A tall, thin man stood in the doorway with a grin on his dark face. She didn’t know who he was, but it didn’t matter.

Humiliation made her flee. Without a word, without thinking, she rushed through the open doors and into the garden. A cool breeze brushed across the skies and cooled her fevered skin. She stopped only when she reached the middle of the rose garden, her hands pressed to her flushed cheeks.

Leo had kissed her!

She’d kissed Leo!

“Ella? Is everything all right?”

She spun around. Lord Roberts stood there, his bushy gray brows drawn together. Ella felt the burn of tears and turned her head, humiliated. Not now, she couldn’t cry now. How would she explain her tears?
I’m sorry, sir, but I kissed the very grandchild you hired me to teach?
It was…wrong…perverted in some way, and she highly doubted Lord Roberts would accept her apology.

“Oh Ella, come sit here, my dear.” He took her arm and led her toward a marble bench. With no other alternative, she sat beside him.

“What troubles you? Has my grandson been difficult?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, he hasn’t. Not really.” And he hadn’t been difficult. Certainly not as difficult as Lady Buckley’s children had first been. But what
was
difficult were the feelings he stirred within.

Lord Roberts pushed a handkerchief into her hand. “Do you regret your decision?”

She toyed with the square cloth. How could she answer that question? The sensible part of her warned she should regret her choice and the way she felt around Leo. But the insensible part…that deep, aching part that throbbed in the pit of her belly begged for more time with the man.

“Ella, I do not know what happened, but you must realize how much you’ve changed my grandson in the few days you’ve been here.”

She gave the man a sidelong glance. “He…he’s changed?”

“Oh, yes.” There was only honesty in his gaze. “I’ve never seen him interested in anyone before. Not like he is fascinated with you.”

She blushed, even as the thought, for some reason, warmed her.

“Leo’s been so silent. I don’t know what he remembers of his past, how he feels about what has happened, what he’s been through. I haven’t the slightest idea. And he won’t talk to me. But maybe…” He turned to face her. “Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

Ella shifted. She shouldn’t talk to Leo. She should teach him and move on. Talking was too intimate, too friendly. And perhaps part of her didn’t really want to know or understand the horror he’d experienced.

“Will you stay, Ella? He has so few who truly accept him.”

Ella’s heart squeezed and she looked into the old man’s faded blue eyes. Would Leo truly share his past with her? And why did she care if he did? Because honestly, she did care.

“Yes, Lord Roberts. I’ll stay. But no more dancing lessons.”

“Are you going to explain what that was about?” Akshay leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

His face was serious, but the gleam in his eyes made Leo want to slam his fist in his friend’s face. Damn him for interrupting. He slipped his fingers through his hair, his hands trembling. Yet, if Akshay hadn’t interrupted, Leo had no doubt he would have taken Ella right there in the middle of the floor. She didn’t deserve that.

“It was nothing.” Leo stomped to the windows. Outside, Ella sat with his grandfather on a bench surrounded by roses. She belonged there, in the midst of beautiful blooms. She did not belong in the arms of a man who couldn’t even protect his own family.

“Didn’t look like nothing to me. In fact, it looked like far more than nothing.” His friend sauntered to the pianoforte and slumped onto the seat.

Leo didn’t bother to answer but paced the floor, feeling like a caged cat. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide amongst the woods and vegetation where there was no one to judge him.

A few tinkling notes rang through the air as Akshay waved his fingers over the keys. “In fact, were you not the one who said,
we are here to do a job, no mucking about?
That, my man, was definitely mucking about. Although, I can’t say I blame you.”

“Bastardo.”
Leo clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to slam his fist into the plastered wall, releasing the wild emotions that boiled inside.

“So, Leo, my friend, were you attempting to gather information by seducing the chit? Do you think she is in league with your cousin?”

“Do not be ridiculous.” Leo spun around to face him; just the thought of his cousin almost sent him over the edge, yet his cousin was a safer topic of conversation than Ella, sweet and innocent Ella.

“Well then, what could possess you?”

Leo stared unblinkingly at the walls. What had possessed him? “She is lovely to look at, and I was merely having a bit of fun,” he mumbled, the words feeling sour in his mouth.

“Well then, since you don’t care, mind if I have a go at her?”

Leo’s gaze jumped to Akshay, his anger flaring. “What?”

“Well, you can’t have all the fun. A man gets lonely and needs something to release his stress.”

Leo was on him in three strides. His fingers tightened around his friend’s collar, and he jerked him forward, only inches from his face.

“We are going back to the Continent. We are not staying here. We do not have time to dally with the staff.”

Akshay nodded slowly, his large brown eyes serious. “Well then, I see.”

He dreamt of her.

Throughout the night, she invaded his thoughts. Ella smiling. Ella dancing. Ella wet and glistening at the waterfall. Her presence had pushed the familiar nightmares from his mind, but she embodied an entirely new torment.

He couldn’t help but think of himself as an animal, the way he lusted after her…If she only knew, she’d be mortified. And more, she’d leave immediately, run away like the innocent virgin she was.

With a sigh, Leo raked his hand through his hair. She waited for him there, on the other side of those doors. Would she be his salvation or his demise?

He pushed the doors wide and stepped into the dining room. Even now, the elegance of a house he vaguely remembered shocked him. Maroon drapes flanked tall, narrow windows. Plush carpet of the likes he’d seen in India, and a large marble fireplace. Everything spoke of elegance, of money. He’d played in this room once, so why did it feel so foreign now?

A slight movement caught his attention. Ella sat at the far side of the massive mahogany table. She looked small and innocent amongst the thick, ornate furniture. “You’re here.”

“You invited me, did you not?”

She tilted her chin in that stubborn way of hers and gazed down her pert nose. “Of course. A person must know how to use the right utensils. There are many rules that accompany dining.”

She was so sure of herself, so blasted sure she knew more than he, just like everyone else.
Cazzarola
, if she thought him uncultured and uncouth, then he’d prove her right. He snatched a roll from the silver bowl in the middle of the table and made his way around the room. Halfway there, he picked up a knife and swiped a glob of jam onto the roll, then took a healthy bite.

Ella frowned. Focusing on her plate, she gingerly picked up her knife and spread a fine layer of jam on her roll. Ignoring his stare, she took a dainty nibble.

He’d wanted to teach her a lesson, yet found himself wanting to laugh instead. Resisting the urge to grin, he tossed his roll to the tabletop. It landed with a splat, jam side down on the pristine cloth.

Ella narrowed her eyes. “Do you realize how much work it takes to get stains out of white tablecloths?”

Well, now he just felt guilty.

“Of course you don’t care,” she muttered. “Because you won’t have to do the work.”

Her hand went to the collar of her bodice, playing with the stiff lace. Her plain, brown dress was pressed neatly, her wavy locks pulled into a bun that sat low on the back of her head. She looked as if she were trying desperately to be proper and hide that lusty side he’d seen when he’d kissed her. Could he bring that side to the surface here in the dining room?

His entire body seemed to soften like the gooey jam sitting on the table. Was this the same woman he kissed early this morning? The same woman who had moaned into his mouth and made his blood boil?

“I think it best we begin with basic silverware,” she explained.

He wanted to brush aside that damn silverware, toss her on the table. and bring that heated woman back. He should have sat at the head of the table, or the very least, across from her; instead he started toward her.

“You see, there is a variety…” She looked up and her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting.” He purposefully brushed his body against hers.

She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

After a few moments of silence, she cleared her throat and picked up a fork. “This piece—”

“I’m famished,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Hungry. Looking at these empty plates is making me hungry.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I suppose we can practice with food.” She rang a bell. “I’ve ordered a dinner, with smaller courses.”

“Wonderful.” He tugged his napkin from the tabletop, stuffing the material into his shirt.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “You mustn’t do that.”

He picked up a fork in one hand and a knife in another. “Why’s that?”

“It’s just not proper.” She reached up and yanked the material from his neckline.

She shook her head as if disgusted with him, and he swallowed his laughter. Really, he hadn’t been this amused in years. A footman entered with a steaming bowl of soup. With a nod from Ella, he began to serve. The liquid was rich and heady, tempting his body, much like the woman beside him. The footman left, and they were alone once more, just as he preferred.

“So, where then, does my napkin go?” Leo asked, watching her from the corner of his eye as he picked up a spoon.

“On your…” She waved a hand toward him and looked away. “Lap.”

Did she actually blush at the word? “Do you mind showing me?”

She jerked her head toward him and narrowed her eyes.

“Are you not paid to assist me?” he asked.

“I am not paid to wait on you,” she snapped back.

He could see her anger flaring there, in her brilliant blue eyes. How badly he wanted to bring the tigress out to play, to tempt and tease her until she was no longer a prim miss.

A soft shuffle drew his attention toward the doors. His grandfather stepped into the room, and Ella flushed, looking away.

“I see you two are getting on beautifully,” Grandfather said with a smile.

“Beautifully,” Leo repeated wryly.

Ella smiled tightly. “Yes, merely showing Leo here the proper utensils.”

Lord Roberts nodded. “Wonderful.”

He didn’t like this side of her, the meek girl who tended to stare at the floor when her supposed betters were in attendance. Could he bring out the real Ella? “Where did you say I place the napkin?” Leo asked.

His grandfather’s bushy brows rose, and his gaze slid to Ella.

“Your lap,” she said through clenched teeth, as if the word were sinful.

He leaned back, knowing he was about to push her over the edge, and frankly, he was enjoying the festivities. “Show me, please. I do so want to get it right.”

She hesitated for a brief moment. Leo raised a brow, taunting her.

“Yes, well, I’ll leave you two,” Grandfather murmured from the door, a slight frown on his face. With a quick glance back, he left.

Ella snatched the napkin from the table and dropped it on Leo’s lap.

“Can you move it up a little?” Leo asked, batting his lashes as he’d seen women do in London.

Her nostrils flared slightly. Oh, it was all worth it. Completely worth it. She reached out and slowly drew the napkin up, her fingers brushing lightly against his thighs. Heat pooled into his groin. Bordering on arousal, he practically jumped from the seat. His amusement faded.

“I am not here to act on your every demand,” she snapped.

“Of course,” he replied innocently. “Ready to learn.”

Her brows drew together, but after a moment’s pause she gave him a slow nod. “Good. First of all, you must remember to skim your spoon away from you body.”

He laughed and the sound echoed through the room, loud and improper.

She sighed. “What now?”

“What will happen if I don’t skim away?”

“It’s just not done,” she said, shaking her head. “Now—”

“How do you know all this?”

“What?”

He waved his hand through the air. “All of these rules. I thought you grew up in an orphanage. I hardly see the reason for using so many utensils in an orphanage.”

She shook her head. “Please, lower your voice. The orphanage is not something I speak of. Lady Buckley forbade me to tell anyone that is where she found me.”

“She sounds lovely.”

Ella’s lips twitched for the first time since he’d entered the room, and he found he wanted to see her smile.
He
wanted to be the reason for her pleasurable mood. “Lady Buckley made sure I knew about manners, and it was my duty to teach her younger girls. We would have guests who would come to dinner, and we had to be on our best behavior.”

“I see.” What a bizarre childhood she must have had. “How did she find you?”

She sighed. “We are here for you to learn about proper dining, not for you to learn about my past.”

She rang a bell and a footman appeared, sweeping away their soup.

“I barely had time to eat,” Leo protested.

“We do not have all day,
my lord
. We must move on to the next course.”

“Very well.” He leaned back, resting his arm along the back of her chair. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “What? Not proper?”

“Not in the least.”

“You are very concerned with propriety.”

She stiffened. “Well, of course. As should you be.”

“I find it tedious. Do you not?”

Pink flushed her cheeks. Dear Lord, it amused him to bait the woman, yet at the same time he was truly curious to hear her answer. He knew there was more to her than this prim and proper act she portrayed. He needed a comrade in this mad society of rules; he needed the real Ella. How far did he need to push before she would break free? It hadn’t taken much the other day at the waterfall. It had taken even less effort this morn in the ballroom. His gaze slid to her lips. She’d tasted so sweet…like fresh air and innocence. He wanted nothing more than to taste her again.

He looked away. “
Merda.
”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s best if you don’t know.”

She tilted her chin again. “Now that is not proper at the table or anywhere else.”

Leo laughed, and Ella smiled.

His heart warmed. Disconcerted, he focused on his plate, picking apart his roll with a fork, merely to keep his hands busy so he wouldn’t touch her.

“Do not play with your food. ’Tis not good manners,” she said.

He dropped his fork with a clatter.

“Now.” She straightened as a footman arrived with a new plate. “Pick up your fork. No…no, not that one.” She reached out and picked up another. “This one.”

He sighed in frustration and tossed the fork aside. A plate of roast beef was set before them, the scent succulent. He took up the correct fork and knife in his fists.

“A bit more gently. Like this.” She showed him how the silverware set softly on her hands.

He tightened his fists like a child learning to eat. “Like this?” He goaded her, feeling ridiculous, yet amused.

“No, no.” She stood and moved behind him, doing exactly what he’d hoped.

With her arms around his shoulders, she slipped her hands over his and helped him grip the fork and knife properly. Her scent swirled through the air…sweet roses, the salt of the sea. He’d meant to tease her. Instead, she taunted him with her presence. Her soft breasts pressed into his back, and he gritted his teeth. He had the sudden and insane desire to grab her and pull her onto his lap for a kiss that would leave her shaking.

“Right.” Her warm breath tickled the side of his neck.

Lightning shot through his body, and his fingers tightened on the utensils. He’d never had to control himself around a woman. In India and Italy they’d eagerly come to his bed. But England was different, much different. He swallowed hard and ignored the deep throb of his groin.

Ella stepped back. “Well then, I guess you have it.” Releasing a breath, she sat stiffly on the edge of her chair. “While at dinner, we should engage in polite conversation.”

“Polite conversation?”

“Yes, think you can manage?” she drawled out. Her eyes widened and she flushed. “Sorry.”

He grinned, pleased with her reaction, and his hope returned. She tried so desperately to be proper. It was endearing, really. “Well then, what shall we talk about?”

“The weather?” she asked.

“How utterly exciting.”

“Fine. Something more interesting? Who was that man?”

Leo took a sip of wine. “What man?”

“The one in the ballroom, who interrupted our…lesson.” She flushed bright red.

“A friend.”

“From India?”

She had silver in her eyes. Flecks of silver that sparkled in the sunlight coming in through the windows. How had he not noticed that before? And her hair, was it golden, or brown? Perhaps a mixture of the two depending on the way the light hit the strands.

“Leo?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I asked if your friend is from India.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, using a fork to toy with her food. “’Tis just that…well…my uncle…”

Her uncle. Hadn’t she mentioned the man had disappeared in India?

“Akshay would be much too young to know your uncle, and India is a very large country.”

“Of course, I know that.” She lifted her chin. “Well then, we can discuss…artists?”

He leaned back and watched her, his amusement growing. “Of course.”

“Did you have formal training?”

He sipped his wine. “A little in Italy.”

“From what I’ve seen, your work is very…interesting.”

He knew most people did not understand nor appreciate the angry splashes of color that consumed him in heated moments. He didn’t understand, only knew he needed to release the torment. She was obviously less than impressed with his ability. It didn’t matter; he’d never cared before how people responded to his art.

“How do you find it?” The words slipped out before he could contain them, and he mentally cursed himself for asking.

She looked directly at him. “Angry.”

He averted his gaze, feeling the sudden urge to tug at his collar. He’d never expected a real answer out of her. No one else spoke the truth in this blasted house, why should she? He forced a laugh past his lips. “Angry?”

“Yes. The slashes of bold colors. The way you paint. It’s always when you are upset, isn’t it?”

“Not always.”

“When I’ve seen you. That first day, throwing your paintings into the garden. Is it on purpose? Do you purposefully act so…determined?”

Cazzarola
, why was she asking these questions? Not even Akshay spoke to him of his need to create. Painting was his truth, his reality, a reality that frightened most; yet here she was, determined to know more about his feelings and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to explain. “And this constitutes polite dinner conversation?” He locked his gaze on her, determined to frighten her into silence.

She had the good sense to look away. “Fine then, who is your favorite artist?”

“Me.”