Her Lord and Protector (formerly titled On Silent Wings) (15 page)

She detested the
betrayal of her body, hated that she reacted so strongly to him. But even with
the knowledge that he would soon give her to another, the urge to lower herself
to him and let him resume his lovemaking made her tremble.

Finally Alex
stood, but did not approach. His throat moved as he swallowed. Several times he
seemed about to speak, and then finally declared, “I was only being flippant
with my suggestion to leave by the ledge. You seemed fool enough to try.”

She was more of
a fool for allowing him to seduce her. She looked around for her slate to write
a terse message concerning her intention to never again let him near her.

“Gone,” he said,
shrugging. “Fallen over the ledge, as you almost did.”

Realization
dawned on her, and with it confusion. He had held and kissed her like a lover.
She needed to know, right now, his feelings.

Carefully, she
edged to a spot on the ledge that still held a bit of stone balustrade, and
peered down. Somewhere far below her slate lay, most likely in pieces among the
crumbled gray stones.

She felt him at
her shoulder, and the urge to lean back into his arms was disconcerting. She
hastened back toward the winding stone staircase, feeling the wind lift her
loosened hair and toss it about her shoulders.

“Since you do
not find my presence pleasing, I will be sure to remain distant from you
whenever I can,” he said from behind her. “I would not want you to suffer more
than necessary until you leave here.”

She stopped and
wheeled toward him, greatly wishing she could give him the quarrel of his life,
to tell him exactly what she thought of him, how she wanted him—no,
didn
’
t
want him—and demand an explanation of the past.

Unexpectedly, he
was very near. His white cravat had come loosened, and blonde curls peeked from
the open neck of his shirt. If she leaned forward and stood on her toes, her
lips would meet the beckoning hollow of his throat.

Then, she looked
up into his eyes and saw the desperate need beneath the mockery. Flustered, she
dropped her gaze to the stone floor.

Alex—Lord
Drayton—placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face so that she would
look into his eyes. His touch lit another warm flush inside her, and as his
eyes dropped to her lips and lingered there, she thought for a dazed second
that he would kiss her again.

To her
mortification, she knew she would welcome him.

But he took a
deep, ragged breath, and seemed once again to battle for his words. “Listen to
me,” he finally said in a voice gruff with emotion. “If your suitor refuses
you, nothing will happen between us. You will make no requests of me or think
of me as anything but your guardian. You may eat at my table and sleep in my
house. Beyond that, my deepest wish is to find you a husband and get you out of
my life.”

Oh, such vile
words, and from lips that had kissed her so fervently only moments ago.

Katherine jerked
away before he could see her tears.

****

Alex took
Katherine back to the main house by a different route to avoid the narrow labyrinth
they’d traveled before. With Millie following—she evidently knew something had
happened between them because she looked from him to Katherine with curious,
cautious eyes—they picked their way through treacherous stones to reach the
massive jagged opening where once a mighty door had stood. Four times Katherine
almost stumbled. Although touching her would dissolve his determination like
rain on salt, Alex held her close to keep her steady.

He gritted his
teeth at the delicate firmness of her body, her lavender scent, the remembered
sweetness of her mouth. As he helped her over a piece of the fallen archway, he
glanced at her beautiful face and knew he wanted her.

Dear God, he
wanted her.

No, damnation.
Mute baggage she was, nothing more. Keeping her would only fuel reminders of
Cromwell’s spies, like her traitorous father, who’d destroyed his life. Caring
for her only generated emotion that he wanted left dead. He must crush the hope
and happiness that bloomed within him—useless feelings that would only lead to
more sorrow.

The sooner
Thomas Bliss carted her off, the better.

“’Tis just a
walk down this path now,” he said gruffly as he led her past tangled vines and
tall weeds.

She didn’t
acknowledge his words. He waited for a gesture of her hands, the charming tilt
of her head or the raising of her brow, something—anything—that would give him an
idea what she was thinking. But her body and expression revealed nothing, save
for the set line of her mouth. She stared straight ahead when they reached the
weed-choked pebbled path, and quickened her stride.

He almost wished
she’d just clout him.

As they reached
the front of the house, a carriage rolled up the drive and stopped. “Agnes,” he
muttered in irritation. “Has she no other friends?”

Katherine
slanted a glance toward him.

“Good day,
Agnes,” Alex said with an obligatory smile. “I believe Elizabeth should have
returned from the market by now.” He glanced over at his stable, and yes, his
carriage sat empty in front of it.

“Good day to
you, Lord Drayton,” Agnes said. “And how are you, Lady Katherine? My, you are
out of breath. And your cheeks are bright with color.”

Katherine nodded
awkwardly and then stared at the door as if willing it to open by itself.

“I have just
shown Lady Katherine the keep,” Alex explained. “We went up to one of the battlements.”

“Ah. Do you
remember when you took me up there?” Agnes asked. “I
so
enjoyed myself.”
She smiled and cocked her head, which made her springy curls bounce.

Katherine turned
to him. Her eyes, had they been daggers, would have cut him to bloody bits. He
knew what she was thinking—that he’d taken Agnes up there and shared such a
kiss of passion with her as to forget that everything existed but the taste and
feel of her—but said simply, “Indeed, I have taken many guests up there.”

Katherine
misconstrued his meaning. Her eyes widened, then narrowed in fury. She turned
once more to the door and gestured sharply for Millie to open it.

Agnes’ gaze
swung from Alex to Katherine with a suspicious glint, but she said nothing.

“I will show you
to the parlor and inform Elizabeth that you are here to visit,” he said to
Agnes as they entered. “Perhaps you can meet Lady Katherine’s suitor before you
return home.”

Agnes
brightened. “Suitor? How nice, Lady Katherine! Oh, I do wish you the best of
luck. Who is he, my lord?”

As if she didn’t
know. Alex had informed Robert, who had surely told his inquisitive wife and
daughter. “Thomas Bliss, Lord Wiltshire, from London. He recently settled into
his summer home nearby. Mayhap you’ve met him.”

Agnes wrinkled
her nose. “I have. He is positively ancient, and smells of onions.”

Ahead of them,
Alex saw Katherine’s shoulders droop.

“But he dresses
nicely,” Agnes added. “And he is
quite
rich.”

Sam stood
quietly near the parlor door. With quick eyes he took in Alex and Katherine’s
disheveled appearance, cleared his throat, and bowed deeply.

Alex stiffened
at the slight smirk Sam attempted to mask. Stepping closer, he hissed, “If
you’ve nothing better to do than guard the door, go scrape up shit in the
barn.”

“Yes, my lord,”
Sam said, casting his gaze to the floor in seeming repentance. “Whatever you
wish.”

Alex swore under
his breath. “Well, out with it. Why are you standing there?”

“Lord Wiltshire
has been here for the past half hour, my lord,” Sam whispered.

Alex stifled
unreasonable anger. “He is not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

“Oh, may I join
him, Lord Drayton?” Agnes asked, her eyes sparkling.

Alex glanced at
Katherine. Face pinched, she stood with arms crossed and foot tapping the
floor.

“I am sure you’d
be welcomed, Agnes. We shall join you all shortly. I imagine Lady Katherine
would like to change into a finer dress to meet her suitor.” Alex gestured
Katherine to walk ahead of him, then turned to Sam. “Come upstairs with me.”

As Katherine
slowly ascended the stairs, Alex noted the stiff set of her back.

In his bedchamber,
Sam handed him a towel to dry his face and hands after he washed them. “I am
sorry,” Sam said. “This must be difficult for you.”

“No. She wishes
to leave. ’Tis best.”

“For whom?” Sam
asked. “You or her?”

Alex tossed the
towel onto the washstand and ran a hand through his hair. “We had...an event on
the battlement. She almost fell off the edge of the walkway, and I caught her.
I lost my self-control.”

“Wait,” Sam
said, looking confused. “She almost fell, and you caught her. How did you lose
control?”

“I kissed her.
Touched her.” His calloused fingers tingled at the memory of her nipple
hardening under them.

“Ah.” Sam busied
himself with retrieving a fresh shirt from the cabinet.

“If she had
fallen...” Alex’s voice hitched, and he swallowed to bring it under control.
Roughly he took the shirt, pulled it over his head, and thrust his hands
through the sleeves.

“Do you want her
to go?”

“I want her to
be happy.”

“Do you want her
to go, Alex?”

“Do not test me,
Sam.” Alex spoke more harshly than he’d intended.

Clearly
unimpressed, Sam turned his back and tidied up the washstand.

“I have been
thinking of a way to bring back her voice.” The words left Alex’s lips before
he could stop them.

Sam paused in
the act of drying the bowl. “A woman that spirited must find her condition so
very frustrating.”

“It doesn’t
frustrate Wiltshire. He doesn’t seem to care. But he doesn’t know what a contrary
woman Katherine is.”

Sam sighed. “If
she ever regains her voice, Lord Wiltshire will find her an unusually assertive
mate.”

Alex stilled as
he tied his cravat, one hand fingering a length of snowy cloth. “Likely, Wiltshire
would take a stiff rod to her back.” And after a few months, Katherine would
become a submissive, empty shell—as good as dead.

Sudden, unbidden
tears blurred his vision. He coughed, placed his hand on the back of the
armchair, and lowered his head, taking deep, gulping breaths. It seemed that a
dozen powerful fingers had taken hold of his throat.

Sam dropped the
bowl with a thud and rushed to Alex, laying a bony hand on his shoulder. “Are
you all right, lad?”

“Leave, please.
I can finish dressing alone.” Alex passed a hand over his eyes.

“Alex?”

“Go.”

Sam left
quietly.

Alex snatched up
his boots, flung himself into his chair, and pulled the boots on with swift,
jerky movements. Then, he sat back, staring into the fire.

This would not
do, this strange sorrow. There was no reason for it. Katherine would be treated
as any woman who displeased her husband. All men had a right to discipline
their wives.

Even though Alex
secretly welcomed her strength of mind, he was satisfied with being alone. He
wanted no mate with whom to share the rest of his days. Nothing would cause him
grief as long as he kept his emotions intact.

Nothing at all.

Crimson skirts
beribboned with satin bows rustled about Katherine as she trudged down the
steps. She nervously smoothed the rich scarlet and gold embroidery worked
through her waistcoat. No one could complain that she hadn’t dressed well, but
this was all happening so quickly. Why hadn’t her suitor waited until tomorrow
to arrive? Would it have made much difference in her readiness?

Her aching
spirit and tormented body were forever stamped with the sensual feel of Lord
Drayton—she would never, ever refer to him as Alex—kissing her with such
intense desire. But just as quickly, the image flashed to him telling her that
he wanted her gone from his life.

She was in no
mood to meet her suitor and wished to God she’d never gone to the keep.

Would she retch
when she looked upon the ancient baron? Did he really smell like onions?

No matter what
kind of person Lord Wiltshire was, she knew that no man would ever make her
feel the way Lord Drayton had at the top of the sun-soaked battlement.

Millie shot her
a sympathetic glance and led her to Lord Drayton’s withdrawing room off his
study to await his escort to the parlor. Katherine paced the room for a few
minutes before dropping onto a carved oak bench, her voluminous skirts settling
about her. Her hands felt empty without her slate, and she folded them in her
lap, then unfolded them and removed her perfumed, gold-bordered crimson gloves.
She brought her fingers close to the light of the candle on a nearby table to
study them.