Engaging the Earl (10 page)

“No harm done,” he said in a mild tone.

No harm done?
She began to tremble with a combination of distress and fury. “No harm done?”

“Eduardo.” The Spanish woman spoke his name in a warning tone. “
Basta
.”

His courteous gaze remained on Kat. “Although I must apologize you were subjected to this unseemly display.”

“You’re sorry that I saw you?” Not sorry that he had done it. He only regretted that she had witnessed his betrayal.

“Of course, you are a maiden with tender sensibilities.”

She found it hard to comprehend what she was hearing. None of it made sense. Darting a glance at the Amazon, she said, “May I speak with Edward alone?”

“There is nothing we have to say that Elena cannot hear.” He gave the woman a fond look. “She is very dear to me.”

Kat couldn’t believe her ears. She began to shake. “You want your mistress to remain for our private discourse?”

Compassion flitted across the Amazon’s face. “I shall leave you,” she said in an almost gentle tone. Elena walked out of the room, leaving them alone.

“How could you do it?”

An expression of courteous inquiry came over his face. “Do what?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Her voice shook. “Don’t insult me by pretending you don’t.”

“Oh, you mean Elena. Isn’t it obvious? I enjoy her charms. Very much so.”

“How can you love me and do…that…with her?”

He smiled in the indulgent manner of a father explaining a simple concept to a naïve child. “The intimacies you and I have shared are also very pleasant. Men are simple creatures. Most willing women will drive us mad with lust.”

She sucked in a breath. “How dare you compare me…what we share…to the unspeakable things you engage in with that strumpet.”

“Come now, it is really not so different. I am drawn to Elena, as I am to you, and would be to any beautiful woman, especially ones with whom I can slake my desires.”

His words slammed into her like a runaway carriage. His kisses, his touches, weren’t anything special. He felt the same physical need and excitement with all women. “Even if we marry, you will still pursue other females?”

He shrugged. “It is the nature of men. We are a rather base lot.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re lying,” she said heatedly. “The Edward I know would never behave as you have.”

His expression hardened, the skin stretching tight over his high cheekbones. “You are quite correct. I am not the same man. Your Edward died a thousand deaths on battlefields across the Continent.”

Her eyes filled. “So what is left of him?”

“Nothing.”

The impact of his words hit her like a blow to the stomach and she winced at the pain. “This cannot be happening.”

“Shall I escort you back?” he asked in a solicitous tone. “I do hope we shall always be friends.”

Friends. As if she and Edward could ever be friends. “Have you no feeling?” she whispered.

“No.” Darkness clouded his face. “I’ve none.”

Unable to bear the sight of him for another moment, she spun away and stumbled out of the room with sorrow throbbing in her chest. She bolted down the corridor and tried desperately to recall the route back to her bedchamber. She couldn’t possibly face the other guests.

“There you are, darling. I wondered where you’d got to.” The familiar warm voice cut through the fog of despair and misery.

The sight of Laurie standing at the end of the corridor prompted relief to flood her body. “I’m here.” She went to him and took his arm, grateful for the solid strength he offered. “Oh Laurie, I’m so fortunate to have you.”

His eyes widened slightly, perhaps because he sensed her remark was genuine rather than motivated by the flirtatious banter she usually employed with him. “I hope you shall always be so pleased to see me.” The palpable affection in his voice soothed her jumbled nerves. “Even after I’ve lost my hair and my teeth.”

She squeezed his arm under her hand. Dear Laurie. Honest and loyal. So good when she was so faithless. “Especially when you are old and toothless,” she said fervently. “I swear it.”

Chapter Seven

Edward stood motionless in the darkness of the solarium long after Kat left him, replaying her stricken expression over and over again in his mind.

“Your plan, it appears to have worked,
querido
.”

“Astoundingly well.” He blinked in the direction of the familiar voice. Elena stood in the doorway. “Although that’s hardly surprising. Strategy is supposed to be my strong suit.” It had, after all, won him an earldom.

“She was most distressed.” Elena moved closer, her eyes fixed on him. “It is as you wished, no?”

“Absolutely.” He swallowed against the ache in his lungs. Erasing any lingering doubts Kitty had about wedding the viscount was his final gift to her. Sinclair would give her what she deserved: a devoted, honorable husband who wasn’t mad.

“And how about you, my friend?” she asked gently. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Despite outward appearances, I’m quite dead inside. Surely, you of all people know that.”

Her expression softened. “I know nothing of the sort,
mi corazon
.”

…

“Excellent round.” Laurie bowed to Peter Fawson after a turn of fencing. “Will you have another go?”

“Not I.” Fawson headed for the door. “Breakfast is calling my name. I’m hoping to catch the Spanish strumpet there.”

Laurie frowned. “Rand’s gel?”

“The very same. She’s one hot senorita. Have you seen the dairy on her?”

“They’re hard to miss.”

“I’d like to squeeze my Thomas between those diddeys and grind her good and hard.” Lawson chuckled. “Think she’s one to take it into her mouth?”

“I’m sure I cannot say.” Laurie had no fondness for Rand’s mistress, yet Lawson referred to her as one would a common whore and the crude references didn’t sit well with him. “She seems devoted to Randolph.”

Lawson shrugged. “Word is she does as she pleases. I’d like to think she’d be pleased to entertain all sorts of possibilities with me,” he said with a wink before walking out the door.

Glad to see the back of Lawson—whose company he generally enjoyed—Laurie experienced a sense of restlessness. He continued to practice his moves, thrusting and parrying with an imaginary opponent. Kat had been in a strange mood last night, clinging to him as if he were some sort of lifeline. He often felt humored and appeased by her, but last evening he’d felt needed, indispensable even.

A Spanish-accented lilt cut into his thoughts. “Do you desire a partner?”

Turning to face the Maid of Malagon, Laurie gaped momentarily before catching himself. Randolph’s mistress wore tight-fitting breeches that hugged her lanky curves in all sorts of indecent ways. The gentleman’s apparel lingered over her hips, caressing firm, lithe thighs before the calfskin fabric disappeared into gleaming black boots at her knees.

She gave one of those smoky laughs of hers, which made his body tense in response. “I have shocked you again.”

How had this jade ever come to be accepted in polite company? She certainly defied all rules of decorum. “Most English ladies do not wear gentleman’s breeches.”

Those dark lush eyes sparkled with obvious amusement. “Nor do Spanish ladies with breeding. We are not so different from you English.”

She
was certainly unlike any other female of his acquaintance. Elena moved with a confident gait and bent over to pick up the foil Lawson had left on the ground. The movement strained the breeches over her bottom, giving him an astoundingly sensual view of her nicely rounded backside.

He averted his eyes. “And yet you wear breeches?”

She straightened to her full height. “It is rather difficult to man a cannon in a skirt.” She whipped the foil around as though testing its weight. “Will you have a go with me?”

To his dismay, his prick swelled in reaction to her invitation, even though she surely wasn’t offering to shuck those breeches and give him a go at her. “You not only man a cannon, but you fence as well? I suppose I should not be surprised.”

She lifted her chin. “Perhaps you are afraid to take on a woman.”

He sighed at her obvious attempt to goad him. “Very well.” Laurie saluted her with his foil and bowed.

“The
vizconde
is always so polite.”

“I do try.”

They began to thrust and parry, light movements to warm up. He changed his rhythm to throw her off, but she caught on and followed seamlessly. He clearly had strength and height as an advantage, but the Maid proved to be quick on her feet. “You fence well.”

“For a woman you mean
, vizconde
?”

“I will not dissemble with you, ma’am.” He executed an advance lunge, but she was ready for him and danced out of danger. “I do believe ladies have no business on the battlefield…or in the fencing arena.”

She thrust, her large breasts quivering under the billowing white folds of her shirt. “And why is that,
patron
?”

He easily warded off her attack. “Because of their inherent physical weakness. The Lord, in his wisdom, made females the weaker sex.”

Her foil passed around the tip of his. “You have discounted our strengths.”

“Women undoubtedly have their own strengths, primarily related to intellect. However, I don’t see their use on the field of battle.”

“Oh!” She lost her footing and stumbled, handily proving his point that women had no business fencing. Throwing down his foil, he leaped to catch her before she fell.

She felt surprisingly soft and supple as he held her tight against him, momentarily distracted by the feel of her fleshy orbs against his chest. She blinked up at him with luminous, almost innocent eyes before a look of triumph gleamed in them and he felt the blunt tip of her covered foil under his chin.

She grinned, slow and feline, prompting the temperature of his blood to soar. “Now do you see,
vizconde
,” she asked, pressing the tip of her blade a little harder into his vulnerable skin, “how our female strengths assist us in our battles?”

With an inward curse, he eyed his foil, which he’d tossed away in an effort to save her. “Not all your opponents will be gentlemen who leap to save you from danger,” he said with grudging admiration.

She laughed, the throaty sound reverberating all the way down to his vitals. “But they are still men,
patron
, and can be trusted to react to certain womanly charms.”

With his arm still tight around her waist, he became aware of the sensual feel of her lushness pressed against him. The scent of exertion mingled with notes of cinnamon and jasmine filled his nostrils. What a cunning, lusty piece of baggage. He envied the earl his place in this woman’s bed. Then he thought of Kat and shame flushed through him. He released Elena more abruptly than he intended.

She didn’t appear to notice. “Friends?” she asked, drawing the tip of her foil away from his chin.

“Of course.”

She replaced her foil, seeming unaffected by what had just passed between them. But when she turned around, he glimpsed—through that white shirt of hers—that the tips of her bountiful breasts had hardened.

Following his gaze, she looked down and then shrugged. “I am still a woman after all, and you are a most attractive gentleman.”

Laurie inhaled sharply and his prick roared to attention. But she just smiled and sauntered out of the room with those hips swinging, once again treating him to a spectacular view of her backside.

This time, he did not avert his eyes.

…

“God in heaven, Kat.” Toby stared at her. “Where is your hair?”

Kat fingered the short golden curls framing her face, feeling lighter than she had in years now that Fanny had chopped off the thick mane the others girls in her set had long envied. Which Edward had so admired. Only she thought of him as Rand now. Edward,
her Edward
, was dead.

“I needed a fresh start,” she said, determined to put Rand out of her mind. “What do you think?”

Toby’s forehead shifted upward. “Has Sin seen it yet?”

“Seen what?” Laurie asked coming around the corner, his eyes widening when he caught sight of Kat. “Oh my.”

For the first time, she experienced second thoughts about her impulsive decision to chop off her hair. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do.” Laurie wiped away his expression of surprise. “It’s enchanting.”

Relief flowed through her. “I’m relieved you approve.”

“I like everything about you, you know that,” he said.

Bea, Lexie, and Peter Lawson, who’d walked up behind Laurie, came to an abrupt halt.

Bea’s eyes went round. “Your hair!”

“I think it is divine.” Laurie brought Kat’s hand to his lips. Warmth filled her at his gallant defense of her.

Lexie gave her an assessing look. “Only Kat would be so daring to stay in the first stare of fashion.”

“Wait until your mother sees it,” Bea said.

Kat tightened her hold on Laurie’s hand. “As long as Lord Sinclair is pleased, that is all that matters.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “The two of you are aware that love in marriage is just not done.”

Laurie placed Kat’s hand on his arm, keeping his own hand over it. “Then I suppose Kat and I will have to resign ourselves to being unfashionable. Shall we?” They made their way into the parlor for the afternoon tea and games arranged by Aunt Winifred. A cool relentless rain would keep them from outdoor pursuits.

“Steel yourself, darling,” Laurie said as a footman drew open the door for them to enter. She did, but against Rand, not against reactions to her new hairstyle. She hadn’t seen him since the debacle in the solarium two nights ago.

Not that she’d hidden from him. It was Rand who had not appeared at all yesterday. Despite the misery wracking her body and the heavy headache throbbing at her temples, she was determined to continue with the normal activities. She refused to give Rand the satisfaction of knowing how much damage he’d done. He’d almost destroyed her once, but never again. This time, she wouldn’t allow despair to consume her. Edward and the dream of him were long dead. What she’d witnessed in the solarium proved that beyond any doubt.

She’d wasted far too much time pining over Edward Stanhope. Now, she meant to move forward with her life, giving Laurie the full attention he deserved. Few men were as decent as her betrothed. Breaking with him would have been the biggest mistake of her life. Thank goodness she’d learned the truth about Rand before it was too late.

Exclamations of surprise met their appearance in the parlor. With her shoulders back and chin up, Kat played her incomparable role to the hilt, easily accepting compliments about her hair, laughing and smiling, flirting and tossing about witticisms with her set.

All the while, she pretended not to feel the wrenching ache of loss deep in her belly, or to notice the dark eyes following her. Rand had finally reappeared, standing in a corner against the wall with Elena and Peter Fawson. Peter seemed intent on charming the Spanish woman, who gave the appearance of being amused by his efforts. Nursing a drink, Rand appeared to pay little attention to either of them.

Thunder clapped outside, drawing gasps from those closest to the windows. People took turns at the pianoforte, some partnering together, while others in the chamber gathered around to join the singing.

Another thunderclap boomed, so loud it seemed to shake the room. Some of the guests murmured a little nervously. Then Kat noticed Toby, standing by the window, looking even whiter than usual. Something about his posture, his complete stillness, alarmed her.

She approached him and laid a hand on his arm. “Toby?” He ignored her, standing frozen in place, his eyes unseeing. “Toby?”

“I’ll see to him.” Rand’s voice was curt. She looked up into his face, but his gaze remained intent on Toby. “Hobart, it’s Rand.” He placed an arm around Toby and guided him away from the window.

She followed. “What is wrong with him?”

“For God’s sake,” Rand hissed as they made for the door. “Don’t make a scene.”

Kat broke from them and went to the center of the room. Diverting an audience was something she did quite well. “Who’s for charades?” she called gaily to others in the room. “Laurie, dear, won’t you come and partner with me?”

After a lively game that lasted well over an hour, Kat slipped away and headed for her guest chamber. As Bea and Toby’s cousin, she’d been assigned a bed in the family corridor, which was in a separate wing from the other guests. Approaching her chamber, sounds of distress emanated from farther down the hall.

“Don’t touch them,” Toby cried in an agonized voice. “Leave them alone, you vultures!”

Her heart accelerating, she hurried toward the sound, intent on offering her help. The door to Toby’s chamber stood slightly ajar. When she looked inside, she saw Rand kneeling beside Toby, who sat with his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

“Hobart, it’s Rand. Look at me.”

Toby shook his head, rocking faster. “Tell them to get away. Get away!”

“I will, Tobias. Rest assured. I will make them go away.” Rand spoke in a gentle tone tinged with weariness, deep grooves lined his forehead.

Another man she didn’t recognize stepped forward. “Here it is, my lord.”

Rand took a cup from the man. “Thank you, Burgess.” From the look of his attire, the man was a valet.

Rand offered the glass up to Toby’s lips. “You must drink this now, Hobart. It will allow you to rest.”

Toby stopped rocking in an abrupt motion. “Is that an order, sir?”

“That is a command, soldier,” Rand said in an uncompromising voice she supposed he used with his troops. Toby allowed Rand to bring the cup to his lips and he drank fully. Rand helped him to his feet and assisted him to his bed. “There now, you rest. You’ll be right as rain in the morning.” Rand pulled the counterpane over Toby, who seemed to be falling asleep.

Feeling as though she’d intruded on something intimate, Kat backed away from the open door, just as Rand stepped out into the corridor.