A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) (20 page)

"Not just yet, but yes, eventually I'll have to return to school." He allowed her to release her hands from his gentle grip and watched her face as she thought over his words. He took one wispy amber curl between his fingers and rubbed the silky stuff, feeling the soft texture and releasing more of the orange blossom scent.

Once again, he ignored the harrumphing sound from the far end of the room, knowing Lady Alana would not allow his aunt to interfere with them as long as he did not actually try to kiss Allie. As though to prove him right, once again the shushing noise followed.

"Allie, know that I am here of my own free will. I spoke with your brother. He gave me a choice that, for me, can have but one answer."

Unable to keep his hands entirely to himself, Griffin began to stroke her smooth cheek once more, his knuckles grazing against the silky skin. He leaned closer and whispered, "What he and Rothburn have suggested is that we marry right away. We could find a small cottage in Cambridge. There are plenty of married students and we have been offered a substantial allowance upon which to live until I finish my studies."

"Yes," Allie's voice was breathless, but her eyes had become rather insightful as she posed a question. "But what about after you finish school? Don't you need time to establish yourself, as your letter states?" She tapped the dilapidated missive for emphasis.

"While that is true, I'm sure the family plans to assist us." He drew breath and spoke the words that he knew would hurt her, but he had to be honest. Too much unspoken between them had already caused one rift. "I would prefer to do this on my own, however.

"It is unseemly for a man to depend upon his brother-in-law for his sustenance. But Allie, were I to ask you to wait all that long time—and I'm
not
asking, you understand—it would be too hard on you. You are so young and vibrant. You deserve more than mooning about waiting for a penniless fellow to come up to scratch with the blunt. And what if I do not succeed? What then? You'd be left on the shelf."

"Would I, Griffin?" The young woman had placed her hands beneath her chin and rested her elbows upon the table, her eyes boring into his as she showed that dimple in a small grin. "Would you not find a way, just for me? Am I not worth every ounce of effort you can dredge up?"

She held her breath as she looked upon his handsome face, the far away firelight putting tiny lights in his somber eyes.

"You can rest assured I will do everything within my power to  provide you with a suitable life. And come for you as soon as I may."

"But you won't accept my family's help?" She queried him with sincerity, her sweet mouth turned down.

"I will of course, should you insist we take the choice offered. I would that you could know how desperately I want to provide for you myself. To show you how much I can do. To make you proud of me—and me alone—for our blessings and comfort. Can you understand?"

"I can, of course. I am not without a modicum of intellect." The phrase sounded so much like her aunt that Allie was compelled to grin once more, and her eyes danced merrily. "But Griffin, I do not think I could bear to be apart from you again. If you will not allow my brother to aid us, then I shall pine away. I shall go into a decline that will eventually waste me away and I will simply drift off—perhaps die."

"That is blackmail of the most horrid sort!"  Griffin, answering her with a grin of his own, twisted her words about. "If you are going into a decline, I suggest you do it promptly, for I will not be persuaded by such nonsense and you will not lead me. I shall do the leading. Do you understand, my little termagant?

"Well, then, oh great exalted one, where shall you lead? I must know how to dress, you see, and if I should take a warm woolen shawl or one less substantial."

She leaned forward, her pert nose nearly touching his own, drawing forth another harrumphing noise from the Countess, which they ignored. "Can you tell me where we shall go—what we shall do?" Her words had a double meaning and Griffin, whose blood was up, knew it well.

"You attempt to seduce me which is something I am unable to withstand," he whispered in a dramatic thespian style—very much like Rothburn would do. "I am but a mortal, my dear, and would that I could take you into the garden at this moment, carry you off into the night."

He pinned her with a hot gaze and Allie dropped all pretence of teasing him, her eyes clouding over with a passion that both startled and pleased Griffin very much.

"Minx!" he whispered, his mouth inches from hers. "Your brother is going to horse whip me for this."

Griffin reached out and drew her close, his mouth open and his tongue darting against her lips, slipping into her warm mouth.

Therein he plundered her flesh, dancing with her willing tongue, withdrawing and returning until they were both breathless. The harrumphing on the other end of the room was so loud that they could not help laughing, their mouths still close, their breath mingling. Finally, and reluctantly, they drew apart.

Allie, certain she would burst with longing moved out of his reach, for prudence sake. "What then shall we do Griffin? I am willing to wait for you—forever, if necessary. Yet I am afraid I truly would pine away in the process. You see, I am not strong enough to withstand the longings of my heart—and my body."

Her last words were whispered so low he barely heard them. Eyes cast downward, she blushed at such bold speech.

"We don't have to make these decisions now, Allie. We'll be together all week and we will find a way that pleases us both." He leaned forward to whisper. "Mayhap we will find a way to slip off by ourselves and I can teach you more about those things of which you are so curious."

Her laughter tinkled across the room, causing their chaperones to smile in delight, and some relief. As long as she was laughing, Griffin was not kissing her and the ladies were content.

"There is one thing, though. We will make this decision together and it will be
our
choice—no one else's. I promise if you are forced to wait for me, I will succeed, no matter what."

His face was close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips, and she parted hers in invitation. Griffin groaned softly, and whispered, his eyes darting to their keepers at the other end of the room. "Would you stop that? I have no defense against your wantonness. If I continue to kiss you, I'll be in your brother's black book. Of course, if they don't tell him—" 

Griffin leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to hers, the passion held in check as he mouthed her parted lips and moved his own with gentle nips, withholding his tongue.

A hand upon his shoulder made Griffin jump up so quickly that his chair tipped over backwards with a crash. Heart in his throat, he turned his head, somewhat relieved when Lady Alana smiled at him.

At least
, he thought,
it is not Sir Gordon
. He could not speak, his face  flushed with heat. He straightened his posture and looked her in the eye, his granite jaw clenching with the effort of keeping himself still.

"It grows late and I think you should join your cousin in the billiards room now, Griffin."

Lady Alana, who had witnessed their passion, had a very good idea of what that might lead to if they were not parted immediately. Not unsympathetic, she patted the Griffin's face with a gentle tap.

Smiling, she motioned to Allie with a turn of her head, indicating the girl should accompany her to where the Countess awaited them.

Chapter Sixteen

~~

"Well Griffin, how does it go? Are you a bridegroom or a gloomy fellow with a broken heart?" Sir Gordon, knowing full well his sister and Griffin had been spooning all this while, thought the question a safe bet.

Griffin gave him a serious look and went to lean against the wall, thrusting his hands into his pockets and crossing his legs at the ankle, a favorite position of his cousin that he unconsciously mimicked.

"I am not yet a bridegroom, but neither am I brokenhearted, Sir Gordon. Allie and I need time to discuss the issues and make our decisions—regarding the immediate future. There is no debate about the long term outcome, of course. We will wed—it is just a question of when."

His voice—deep with maturity—did not go unnoticed by his elders, who looked a question at one another.

"And what sort of decisions are there to be made, if I may make so bold as to ask?" Rothburn felt a certain responsibility in this matter. Being the head of the family, at any rate, he made free with his position in order to draw the reluctant and close-mouthed Griffin into the open.

"I am not willing to be financed like a poor relation that I may wed before I have made my mark in this world." Griffin almost glared at his cousin, then turned the same defiant gaze on Sir Gordon.

"Well, Griffin, I can completely understand your position. After all, a man must feel that he has done his best on his own, else there would be nothing for him to be proud of, eh?" Sir Gordon, not unaware of Griffin's financial position, refused to injure the young man's pride by repeating this morning's offer. "It would be good, however, if you would at least allow us to give you some hope of a position, say with one of  my firms, when you have done with school."

"What sort of position?" Griffin asked with a modicum of suspicion, quelling the tenuous hope that burgeoned at the older man's words. "Were it not a useful position, I could not in good conscience, accept it."

Laughing heartily, Sir Gordon went on to explain to the young man that there was no such thing in any of his various business holdings that could be called
useless
. "All things have a purpose, and we would have to determine to what use your particular talents could be lent, once you have finished university, of course."

"Am I to believe that you will not force us wed before then, should we choose to wait?" Griffin, still wary, hoped he and Allie would be free to choose one another without the interference of her family.

"Yes, you may believe just that," Sir Gordon answered.

Griffin understood it would make all the difference in the world as time passed and passion dwindled, were the match to be of their choosing. "We will, of course, be wed—I have already said so. We are of a mind to chose the time ourselves, however and think it only fair, since I have not dishonored her and she deserves much more than a hovel of a cottage in Cambridge.

"My studies alone keep me occupied a deal of the time and she would grow weary of waiting for me to pay her some attention, and were I to neglect my studies to do so I would not graduate with honors and could therefore not hope to be as successful. And of course—" Griffin flushed crimson as he spoke his next words, "There is always the possibility of children. Wouldn't do to have one before I can support it."

Griffin's argument—well thought-out and logical—amazed Rothburn no end and rather surprised Sir Gordon as well.

Coming away from the wall, Griffin went to stand before Sir Gordon, tall, strong and proud, his demeanor that of a young warrior going off for his first battle and waiting for the blessings of his superiors. "Can you see it our way, Sir?"

Sir Gordon, who was in total agreement with everything Griffin had said, nodded solemnly and put out his hand, giving the younger man's hand a strong shake with a grip that was firm.

Rothburn, reaching into his pocket for his pipe, felt the crinkle of paper and pulled forth the missive he had dashed off to Lady Alana that very morning, intending to deliver it.

Now would be as good a time as any, he decided and excused himself, handing Griffin his billiards stick. "Finish for me, will you, old fellow? Have something to take care of. Can't wait."

Approaching March, who stood ready in the foyer, he handed him the note and requested he deliver it immediately to the lady, along with a request that she give him an audience in the small chamber room across the hall. He stepped into the shadow of a large statute by the open door of the drawing room to watch and wait.

"Milady, if you please, Lord Rothburn asked me to give you this. He would also like to speak with you, if you would step across the hall for a moment." March handed over the note and stood impassively while Lady Alana read the few hastily scrawled lines.

Sweeting, Please give me another chance. I can assure you my intentions, though misplaced, were honorable, as I have the greatest regard for Lady Eleanor. Allow me the privilege of begging your pardon in person. I await you in the small salon. Yours Always, Rothburn

"What is that son of mine up to now?" Lady Susan was tired and wished for her bed. However, she could not leave until Rothburn took her, as he had escorted her here in the first place.

A tryst between the lovers would mean another delay. She sighed in resignation, however, as Lady Alana arose from her chair as though in a trance, the forgotten letter fluttering from her hand. The Countess snagged it, consigning it to the fire without a glance.

Lady Alana went down the hall to the small salon, opened the door and quietly slipped inside.

"Rothburn?" Her voice, pitched a bit higher than was normal, conveyed her tension. "Where the deuce have you gotten to?"

She stepped further into the room and gasped as he came up behind her and his hot mouth nuzzled at the nape of her neck, while his arms encircled her, drawing her back to meet the hard length of his body. She relaxed against him as his hands began to roam over her person in a most intimate manner.

When his palms cupped her breasts, her nipples went rigid beneath the gentle circles he made, fingers grazing the tips. Alana moaned softly, unable to restrain her reaction.

Rothburn, lifting his head from the delicate indenture of her neck, moved his mouth along her shoulder then upward, reaching her ear before he whispered, "I have long wanted to touch you like this. Your response tells me you want me as well."

He then turned her in his arms and pulled her up tight against him, reaching for her mouth with a driving hunger.

Lady Alana trembled with need, heat licking her body in every intimate place as she melded against him, the evidence of his desire pressing against her. She withdrew slightly, unwilling to be completely abandoned, despite her desperate longing.

"No, do not leave me, My Love. I would that we could be alone for an hour or forever." Protesting the lady's attempt to put distance between them, Rothburn ran a hand down her back and cupped her hip, drawing her closer.  His strength left her in no doubt as to who was in control as his mouth plundered hers with fervor.

Gasping, Lady Alana pulled back and pushed hard against his chest, the muscles there tensing at her touch. Her eyes were troubled, her kiss-swollen mouth trembled and she looked at him with pleading. Voice uncertain, she whispered, "We cannot do this, Rothburn. Would you shame me in my own home?"

Rothburn, in the grip of a blazing passion, tried to pull himself together as her words penetrated his fuddled senses. "Shame you?  How can you say so. I only wish to marry you. Will you then be my wife, sweet lady and allow me to love you for the rest of my life?"

"What? Marry you?" Alana asked softly. "Rothburn, are you certain?"

"Quite so, my love. Quite so." He looked down at the exquisite planes of her face, the eloquent brow, the depth of her eyes, the fine drawn line of her jaw and the small mole that rested near the corner of her mouth. Unable to resist, he planted a soft kiss there and then trailed his lips over hers, not quite touching.

Alana, eyes closed in ecstasy, fully expected to be kissed again. She shivered deliciously when he whispered, "Shall I kiss you once more, or go away?"

"Do not go away, Rothburn. I shall kill you if you do—" Her words ceased as he bussed her lips once more, taking them once more into a world of scorching heat and utter bliss, his body pressing hers with urgency. A light tap upon the door caused them to draw apart with some reluctance.

Rothburn sounded angry, voice rumbling in his chest. "Who is it and what do you want?"

"I say, old fellow, how can you ask a man a question like that in his own house?" Sir Gordon stood on the other side of the door, hands clasped behind his back, sporting a wide grin as he rocked gently on his heels. "Can you spare me a moment, then?"

"Very well, if you insist—but it had best be important." Rothburn scowled though he realized Gordon's intrusion was to protect Alana's virtue.
Damn the man's audacity
.

"We had best join the others my love, lest your nephew challenge me to a duel,"  he quipped.

He grasped Lady Alana's arm and drew her back when she would have gone to the door. "Wait. You have not answered yet. I would have your answer now."

"Why Rothburn, I had thought my answer was perfectly clear." She smiled mysteriously at him and removed his hand from her arm, stepping away once more. "If you can prove to me that I shall be the only woman in your life, I shall be more than eager to wed you."

"Prove it?  I should think my word would be enough!"

"Well then give me your word dearest Rothburn."

"My word of honor, Dearest Alana. My word of honor." He drew her close again and bussed her mouth gently, before sighing and turning her toward the door, where an urgent tapping had begun again.

"Do leave off, Gordon. We're coming!"  He looked down at her, his eyes sparkling. "Worse than an old nanny, that nephew of yours."

Rothburn placed his hand at his lady love's back in a possessive manner and exited the room, scowling in mock ferocity at his friend, who would soon be his nephew. He sniggered as he dreamt of calling Gordon that and could not wait to see the look on the other man's face when he did.

"Actually, I've only come to fetch you because your mother asked me. She is very fatigued and wishes to go home." Sir Gordon spoke over his shoulder as he led the couple back into the drawing room.

The three of them looked at one another in amusement as a resounding snore emitted from the vicinity of the armchair where Countess Rothburn was seated. "Guess she wasn't joking."

"Well, since she is already asleep, let us take a moment to talk." Turning to Alana, he smiled and spoke ever so gently, "Sit here with my mother, lest she awaken and think we have abandoned her."

Rothburn, wanting to do everything just so, now that he was unofficially betrothed, gestured to Sir Gordon and the pair of them went down the room to sit where Allie and Griffin had done earlier.

Once seated, he spoke in a very serious, almost pompous manner. "I would that you could arrange for me to meet with Lord Champlay for I desire to ask his daughter's hand in marriage."

Clearing his throat, he adopted the same manner as Rothburn, for he could see that this was very important to him. "Said as much the other day, didn't you? I shall arrange to send him a missive first thing tomorrow. Will that be soon enough?"

"Rothburn looking and sounding dazed, answered, "Yes, it will do. I want to be wed with all possible speed though. Don't leave it too long."

"All possible speed, hmmm," Gordon contemplated a moment. "Why don't you run off to Gretna? Quite a drive, I'm sure, but the quickest way and from the look of you man, you would benefit nicely from it."

Grinning, he slapped the scowling Rothburn on the back, none too gently, earning a dark look from his friend. Sir Gordon then stood and yawned in an obvious manner. "Can we call it a night then?  Been a long day and I would not want to leave Allie and Griffin in the garden much longer. They are not in such a hurry as you to be wed but that could change in a moment, if you get my meaning."