Silk and Scandal Page 7

  “Damn and blast, woman! Do not speak. Have you injured your brain?”

  She’d spoken ridiculous nonsense out loud.

  Embarrassing.

  She’d run from him and landed on her backside in the dirt.

  At least the handsome cad didn’t seem to find her situation humorous. “Help me to stand. I am quite all right,” she finally breathed, gratified when he put an arm around her. A flash of scarlet caught her eye. “My hat. My pretty little hat. I hope it’s not ruined.”

  “Never mind the hat.”

  “No, no please get my hat.” Eliza hadn’t a notion why she felt like crying. She blinked. Her eyes burned.

  Nicholas put his hands on her arms and peered into her eyes. Obviously he believed the fall had made her crazed. Perhaps it had. “Rest easy, my dear. I will fetch it. Can you stand alone? Just for a moment?”

  “Of course, I can.”

  He lifted a hand. “Stay.”

  “Where would I go?” But he’d already stepped away to retrieve the silly little hat. It was then a loud crack rent the air and she swore she heard the sound of something whiz just past her head.

  Several things happened at once and for a certainty, it was nearly a blur.

  Her horse standing nearby whinnied and reared, hooves slashing as Nicholas Delaford turned to slam her back to the ground. The shouts of men reached her ears but, in truth, she could not think about that. At some point, the Duke lost his hand and his long hair had become unbound, falling like a curtain on either side of his face. He stared into her eyes.

  Such a beautiful man.

  Eliza could do nothing but blink up at him.

  “Are you hurt? Damn it! Answer me, woman, are you injured?”

  “Was that a gunshot?”

  “Yes,” he answered, his mouth set in grim lines. He shifted his hard body and she was instantly relieved of the heavy weight.

  “Precisely who was there target? You or I?”

  “I will learn the truth of it, I promise you. He slowly stroked her hair as if to comfort. “We are quite the pair, are we not?”

  Gentlemen hurried here and there, shouting as they searched for the unseen gunman but she paid them no heed. Closing her eyes against that magnificent, mysterious gray stare she fought to control her wildly careening emotions. Tears seeped from the edges of her eyes. “This has all been too much.”

  “I know, sweeting,” he whispered, the unexpected endearment falling like a song on her face. “Let me take you home.”

  Chapter Five

  “I am quite fine, I assure you. Please, Nicholas, this is very embarrassing.”

  The dratted man would not listen to reason and he would not put her down. Now that the initial shock of being shot at was passed, Eliza wanted nothing more than to put distance between herself and Nicholas Delaford. He was dangerous to her sensibilities. After the incident in Hyde Park, he’d taken charge of the situation in an impressive manner. Though she hadn’t wanted to admire him for it, she simply couldn’t help herself.

  Masterful!

  What woman would fail to be exhilarated by such a thing?

  He’d called upon her groom to take charge of the horses while a kind acquaintance who’d happened to be in Hyde Park had driven the two of them to the Grayson townhouse post haste. Now she found herself being carried in his arms like a babe.

  “Nicholas, now, is it? How very forward of you. And no, I will not release you until I know you aren’t hurt. Hush now.” Firming his lips, he gripped her tighter and, with some assistance from staff, carried her through the foyer. Striding into the parlor, he laid her upon a floral brocade sofa and glanced at the butler. “Send for a doctor.”

  “No, James, please do not.” Eliza struggled upright. “He would only frighten my mother, and I shan’t have it.”

  “But, m’lady! The countess is out for at least several hours. Surely you need medical care?” James’ gray brows drew together in concern.

  “Send for the doctor.” Nicholas’s voice left no room for argument, and the man hurried off.

  Propped on one elbow, she narrowed her gaze upon the impudent man. One might think he was master of this home. “How dare you, sir. This is not your home or your business!”

  Nicholas was in a fine temper and she wasn’t sure whether it was due to her near miss or whether her snappish manner was to blame. Flags of color tinted his sharp cheekbones and his jaw worked. Dare she push him further? Dare she tell him that her own fear had turned her into a harridan?

  “I have made it my business, Eliza,” he said coolly. “It is my opinion that you’ve brought about much of this fiasco by taunting Edward Huntley. So quit your protests and let me care for you.” Gently but firmly, he pushed her back down and placed a decorative pillow beneath her head. Immediately, she winced.

  “Here now. Let me see.” Despite the sharp tone, his hands were gentle as he lightly felt the back of her head. “You have a bump. No bleeding, but it must hurt like the very devil. You shall have an aching head for a day or two, I should imagine.”

  “I refuse to let it stop me,” she whispered, reaching up to touch her temples. “Edward will not have the satisfaction of knowing he has slowed me down. My social obligations stand, and if I am unlucky enough to see him again, I will spit in his eye!”

  “Enough! You are a willful young woman who begs for trouble. Your cavalier attitude will be your undoing if you continue unchecked. No, Eliza. You’ll go nowhere tonight and that is my final word. Furthermore, you will stay away from Lord Stanhope if I have to tie you up and cart you away into the country where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “The devil, you say.”

  He smiled slightly. “You may call me the devil if you wish, but I shall have my way in this matter. You need a keeper, and I am fully prepared to take on the task.” Standing, he quickly left the room leaving her to seethe.

  When he returned moments later, he carried a crystal brandy snifter. Obviously, he’d made himself at home in her father’s study. Whirling the amber drink slowly, he took a slow sip and gazed at her stoically.

  She felt heat rise to her cheeks and though she wanted to rail at his presumptive behavior, her head pounded too sharply to allow her to vent her anger. Instead, she struggled to stand.

  “Lie down.”

  “I am not a child.”

  “You are behaving as one who needs a switch across the rump.”

  Lying supine like an insect under an enlarging glass was unacceptable. She refused to bow to the dictates of this man who presumed too much. Despite his arrogant directive, she stood and gave him her meanest stare and pointed toward the doorway. “How dare you! Out! Now! I appreciate your assistance, but that appreciation extends only so far.”

  He set the snifter onto a small table, the crack of crystal meeting marble heavy in the sudden silence. It was clear from the fury in his gaze that she’d pushed too far and Eliza caught her breath when he stood and stalked toward her. He took her shoulders and leaned close. “Someone shot at you, you silly corkbrain, and we both know it was Lord Stanhope. You are like a naughty child teasing at a poisonous snake with a stick. Do not, pray, open your mouth.”

  Eliza obeyed. The dangerous glint in his eyes prompted her to caution. She’s always been unruly but this was a man who would not be pushed. “I know you hate the man,” he continued in a low voice. “But spewing your venom has made him desperate. Desperate men can be dangerous men. You will keep your mouth shut in future and allow me to deal with him.”

  She pulled away from him. “I can manage Stanhope with no help from you.”

  “As you managed him today?”

  “He does not frighten me.”

  “He should frighten you. Had the villain who pulled that trigger had better aim, your parents might be planning your burial. Do you want to end up like your sister? What would that do to the people who care about you? This vendetta must stop before he succeeds in killing you, or is that it? Do you want to die needlessly, a m
artyr? For what? A ghost?”

  Eliza lifted her head to stare for a long moment into his eyes and, to her mortification, hers began to fill and a fine trembling set up in her limbs. Events of the day crashed over her with shocking fury.

  “You know nothing of me if you believe that,” she whispered. “I love my parents as I loved Charlotte.” Shamed by the emotion that tore through her, she lowered her head as fat tears rained down her face. Terror and anger faded in the face of his rebuke. Memories resurfaced, a bitter reminder of what she’d lost. “My dearest Charlotte was goodness, light, and my very best friend. How do you propose I forget her? How can I simply ignore how he hurt her, killed her, and took her sweetness and honest joy from my life?”

  Nicholas captured her tears upon his fingers, and the regret written upon his face was her undoing. With a soft moan, she sank against him, weeping. Melting in his arms, she clung, trembling and drawing in great gasps of air, as if needing that sustenance to bring her empty heart back to life.

  How long had it been since she’d been brought so low by emotion?

  With a low voice, he spoke softly to her, comforting her as if she were a child. Had anyone ever made her feel so safe? As he ran his hands over the curve of her back, he held her close against him.

  “More than hate motivates you, does it not?” he whispered against her hair. “Love for your sister’s memory compels you to risk everything.” His softly spoken words made her go quiet against him. “How would it feel to have the affection of such a woman?”

  The musing question seemed more introspective than directed to her, she realized. It made her want to know more about this complex man. “Have you been loved by a woman, sir?”

  Nicholas laughed softly. “My mother showered her love upon me until the day of her death.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “She was a beauty, as I recall, with the saddest eyes.” He reached down to stroke her hair absently. “My father, the bounder, put that look there. His philandering tore her apart, bit by bit. He did not want her love so she gave it all to me. My father, quite simply and callously, broke her heart.”

  “How very tragic.”

  “Perhaps that is why I feel driven to help females in need.”

  What a revelation. Eliza lifted her head from his chest, shocked to realize her tears still fell. Was it today’s trauma that provoked her tears now or the thought of his beautiful but lonely mother and the sad child she had left behind?

  “Come now,” he murmured. “You’ll make yourself sick, and this has been a very upsetting day without further tears. Please. You are breaking my heart.”

  Seeing the very real depth of feeling stamped upon his face, Eliza felt her throat constrict. When was the last time she’d had someone to lean on? Since Charlotte’s death and even before, she’d been like a lioness protecting her cubs when it came to members of her family. She had been the one to offer comfort and aid if warranted. This was so new, different, and alarmingly welcome.

  “I was afraid today. Feeling that way could be my undoing. I am not a woman who wears her emotions upon her sleeve.”

  “Yet you do with me. I’m touched and encouraged. I want you to know that you can lean on me. I would defend you to the death.” He studied her face as if memorizing it then surprised her, by drawing closer. He bent to her lips, his breath sweeping over them. “So sweet you are.”

  Softly his lips brushed hers. Over and over, he skimmed them with light touches that became a degree hotter, faster. Expertly, he nibbled at her lips sending hot shivers of pleasure over her skin. Just as she thought herself wanton, he deepened the devastating kiss and swept his tongue deep to taste her as if she were a delectable treat that he intended to devour bite by bite.

  For Eliza, it was a first kiss. She knew it was a mistake because she’d vowed never to succumb to a man, not while there was work yet to do. But at the moment, he was a charming, safe harbor, a rock upon which to cling. Surely, she had lost her wits!

  Delicious.

  The kiss took her on a perilous journey into the unknown realm and she was fascinated despite her knowing this was wrong. Still, she was helpless to push him away.

  His lips moved from hers then traced the curve of her jaw to settle near her ear. “What a dangerous lady you are. You are perfect, so perfectly beautiful you make me ache.”

  At last, she gathered her courage, and though it would suit her perfectly to drown in forbidden kisses, she pulled away from him. “I cannot do this,” she whispered raggedly. A fine tremor shook her to the core. Her thighs trembled, her lips were swollen. She could not let this happen. The work ahead of her was too real, too necessary. There was no time for love, men, and babies in her life. There was no time to dally with things that could never be. Not until every memory of Charlotte’s abuse had burned from her heart. “This is wrong. I have no time for kisses. Especially yours. With your touch you could own me, and I do not wish to be a woman owned by a man. Any man.”

  Several emotions—anger, regret, and yes, desire—flashed across his face as he looked at her. Had she hurt him? Eliza wanted to reach out, touch him once more. She wanted to run her hands through that beautiful, long hair, trail teasing fingers over his broad shoulders and down the long, heavy muscles of his back.

  Impossible! Blast him for whetting her curiosity so! Damn and blast him for showing her the meaning of passion! What was she thinking by allowing things to rush headlong beyond the pale?

  Relenting, he stepped back a pace to give her a one-sided smile. “’Tis unfortunate since you have been thoroughly compromised.”

  She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Would I not? That was no simple kiss upon the back of your hand. You well know there was nothing proper about it. Eliza, you will soon learn that I am not a man to be denied. Already, I have said that I wish to marry you and I plan to, my dear. However, I would prefer that you come to me of your own free will and not under coercion. I want a willing woman.”

  She wanted to be harsh with him, act the complete shrew, yet when she finally spoke, her voice trembled with strain. “You shall never have me, willing or otherwise.”

  He grinned, sending a little thrill through her. “It is the otherwise that captivates me. I want you willing but yet, I want you wild.”

  “You speak in riddles, sir. I swear you live to torment me and I shall not abide it!”

  Turning, she neatly escaped from the room and hurried upstairs to await the doctor.

  Nicholas watched her flight with a slight smile on his face. Considering the events of the afternoon, he could afford to take his time, plan his moves. Eliza’s parents, despite her protests, would see to it that she remained housebound for the rest of the week. This should give him ample time to approach Lord Henry with his intensions.

  Though Eliza probably did not realize it, he knew Lord Henry quite well through business dealings. It shouldn’t be difficult to corner him in his club and make his proposal. Nicholas had the perfect card to play to ensure that the vixen was never far from his controlling hand. And control was what Eliza needed. Before long, she would be his problem to manage, and there would not be a thing his prey could do about it.

  Satisfied at his progress, he settled himself to wait for the doctor’s arrival.

  * * * * * * *

  Beatrice, Lady Fitzgerald, narrowed her eyes and paced the length of her elegant drawing room as she awaited the arrival of her guest. The boudoir upstairs, sensual and exotic to match her taste, would perhaps be more apropos a meeting place as seduction was uppermost in her mind.

  Spotting a small table of inlaid wood, she lifted a crystal decanter and poured a small dram of whiskey. Sipping slowly, she moved to a large, gabled window and watched carriages pass on the street below. Lifting her glass in salute, she smiled.

  “Here is to you, my darling Park,” she whispered. “Handsome, biddable, and most importantly, dumb as a post. What fun we shall have bringing doom upon Nicholas’s head. As
long as you let me do the thinking, we shall win in the end.”

  Park Mansfield, cousin to Duke Weston, was a delectable, though slightly stupid, young man who possessed golden hair and a long, lean body. Several years ago, she’d been his lover until he left for the Peninsular War. Park had wanted to make his fortune, but it was not to be. Still, he loved women: wealthy, sophisticated women. It was the extent of his affairs with rich widows that gave him entrée to the best society had to offer.

  Controlling Park would be simple, she thought. Fantastic lovemaking was a tool any intelligent woman could use to advantage, and she used her tools well.

  “Sex will come later,” she murmured, licking her lips in anticipation. “We have other, more important matters to discuss, do we not? Primarily money and the best means to attain it.”

  Park and Duke Weston were bitter enemies and should Nicholas fail to marry soon, Park would inherit. He might be slightly one spoke short of a wheel, but wealth was something he understood quite well. Yes, he would be easily controlled.

  Pausing at a gilt-framed mirror, she admired her appearance, as she had done numerous times over the hour past. Re-arranging a black curl atop her head, she made a moue at her reflection. “I must look my very best today,” she said as she fiddled with her coiffure. “At my age one can never be too sure.”

  Oh yes, Beatrice knew that her beauty was unquestionable. What gray hair she possessed was discreetly colored and her lush figure had remained almost as firm as when she was twenty.

  It had been that very face and figure that had kept her late husband a slave to her beauty. It had also been those same attributes that had lured the senior Duke Weston, Nicholas’s father, to her bed.

  A magnificent lover, Harold, the late Duke, was the father of her only son, Stephen. Sadly, her own husband, Lord Fitzgerald, had failed to sire an heir. Of course, when she’d given birth to Stephen, the fool had thought the child to be of his own true heir.