Kathryn Caskie (12 page)

She did not want to be left alone with him, even in such a public place as the Garden.

As several couples of the Quality passed them, curious glances riding astride their greetings, Magnus caught up Eliza’s hand and placed it atop his arm. He smiled, as if expecting to be congratulated for good behavior.

“You know, you really do not need to play the ever-attentive suitor, my lord,” Eliza said. “It is not as though you are truly courting me.”

“I do nothing by half,” he replied evenly.

At his touch, Eliza’s body trembled. She looked up at him, at his mouth, and remembered the depth of his kiss. Her knees begin to wobble with the potent memory. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” she managed.

Noticing that Grace was now moving slowly toward them, Magnus coaxed Eliza into an easy stroll once more. “Ye’ve already assessed my character, have ye, Miss Merriweather?”

“Miss Merriweather is it? My, my. Until this moment, I do believe I was Eliza.”

“Yes, and I was Magnus. Is there something troubling ye?”

Eliza lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. She could never admit what was truly wrong—that her body quaked and logic seemed to fly out her ears whenever he was near. Or, that she feared she was developing feelings for him— feelings that would ruin everything.

She took a deep breath and feigned a smile. “Naught is wrong. Truly.”

She longed for a more believable answer to his question. Finally, something, inane as it was, came to mind. “I just feel that while you have maintained your end of our bargain, playing my suitor, I have not taken my promise to you seriously.”

Magnus studied her. “Ye’re painting my portrait.”

“Yes, but, I have barely begun to investigate possible brides for you. I’ve not even quizzed Miss Peacock— though I have my doubts she is the one for you.” Eliza focused her gaze on Grace, who strolled leisurely a short distance behind them.

Magnus turned and began walking again. “I see.”

“Then you will not mind if I ask you a few questions.”

“What sort of questions?”

“The sort which will help me determine your preferences in a bride.” Eliza quickened her step, and then turned to block his path, halting him. “For instance, is intelligence important to you?”

“Intelligence. Aye.”

Eliza exhaled. “Do not be so forthcoming, my lord. I am having difficulty taking in so much detail.”

Even silhouetted against the bright lanterns lining the Walk, she could see his grin.

“All right. Intelligence is verra important to me. More so than other attributes. I should like my bride to be well read, and current on events and politics. Quick-witted. Clever. She should be fair of face, with a pleasing form.”

“Much better.”

“And rich.” Magnus stared blankly at her with eyes that could only be described as startled.

“What is it? Do I have something in my teeth—a leaf of parsley, perhaps?” she said, trying to make light of whatever was bothering Magnus.

“Other than the last qualification,” he admitted in a rather surprised tone, “I could be describing ye.”

At his words, a warm tingle raced through Eliza’s body, making her highly aware of his proximity and the fact that they were, for all intent and purposes, alone.

Needing to do something other than stand and stare, Eliza began to walk. Magnus remained at her side, but no words came to either of them for an uneasy handful of minutes. The tension between them deepened until Eliza felt compelled to break it.

“Where do you suppose Grace has wandered off to?”

As if in answer, she saw Grace hurrying toward them, a lanky, silver-haired man and a roving band of musicians in pursuit. Eliza opened her eyes wide. “What is Edgar doing here?”

Magnus pivoted and stared down the Grand Walk. “Yer aunts’ manservant?”

“The very same.”

Scanning the trees along the Grand Walk, Eliza quickly spotted her aunts hiding in a leafy stand of elms.

Grace ran to Eliza and clutched her arm, steadying herself while she caught her breath. “It appears … our aunts mean to provide us with … some entertainment,” she said between shallow gasps for air.

“Yes, I see.” Eliza glanced about looking for an escape route. “But I intend to enjoy this evening. And, being serenaded by tin-eared street musicians is not what I deem entertainment.” Eliza turned to Grace. “If you care to join me, I plan to leave this very instant. If not, I will see you soon enough at the house.”

“I am not racing off anywhere,” Grace whined. “My new boots are squeezing my feet. I will ride home with our aunts. Lord Somerton will escort you back.”

Magnus seemed quite pleased with the prospect, which made Eliza more than a little nervous. “Logical solution, really.” A grin slid across his lips.

“Very well, then.” With a quick glance toward her aunts, Eliza snatched up her walking skirt in her hand, readying herself to leave. “Shall we?”

At that very moment, Aunt Letitia burst from the trees, waving her cane in the air and pointing a pudgy finger in their direction. Immediately, Edgar whistled for the hired musicians, who picked up their instruments and scurried down the Grand Walk toward them.

“Aye, let’s go.” With that, Magnus grabbed Eliza’s arm and yanked her down a narrow pathway like a Viking with his prize.

Gravel popped from beneath their boots as they raced far from the reach of light from Vauxhall’s busy center. They turned down a narrow walk closely lined with trees and ran down its length.

Eliza was fast becoming disoriented. Lud, how would they ever find their way back? Her eyes searched for landmarks, but in the growing darkness there were none. Then, almost too late, she saw a ragged painted sign. Throwing a glance back over her shoulder to read it, she immediately wished she hadn’t. Lord above! They were headed down the scandalous Dark Walk.

Magnus caught her waist and pulled her into a tangle of bushes along the trail. He cupped his hand over her mouth to quiet her heavy breathing from the run.

She should not allow this to happen. She knew this, but her blood surged with the excitement of the chase and the way he held her just now.

He lifted his hand from her mouth and she turned her eyes upward to look at him. In the blue light of the three-quarter moon, she saw a mischievous grin slip over Magnus’s lips as he peered through the profusion of beech leaves bracketing the walk. On the other side of the branches, the band of confused musicians paused, then set off in another direction, passing them by.

Eliza laughed softly, surprised they had managed to lose the band so quickly. “Once they reach the Walk’s end, they will realize where we’ve gone.”

“Well, we canna have that. Come with me, lassie. This way.”

Without batting a lash, Eliza looped her arm through Magnus’s and allowed him to lead her farther down the pathway to decadence.

The Dark Walk certainly stood up to its lewd reputation this night, Magnus mused. He’d thought it was supposed to be closed off to the public, but they passed one impassioned couple after another, all in various states of undress. He could certainly understand why it should be closed. Still, Eliza appeared both shocked and fascinated and could not seem to look away from the couples. Nor did she release his arm.

At last, they came upon an unoccupied marble bench and sank down upon it. “I doubt very much that they will find us now,” Eliza said.

“I should think not.” Magnus’s grin faded from his lips as he became uncomfortably aware of the woman sitting so close to him, her bosom still heaving from their escape. Damn, she was beautiful. He felt his gentleman’s control slip, then fall, and there he let it lay.

Without further thought to what could and could not exist between them, he gently cupped Eliza’s chin in his hand and turned her face until it was lit by a single wand of moonlight breaking through the trees.

She looked up at him, blinking rapidly. His touch had surprised her, but she didn’t pull away.

“We appear to be quite alone.” He stroked the side of her cheek with his forefinger.

“Yes.” Eliza closed her eyes and drew a small breath through her moist lips.

Magnus leaned toward her, intent on pressing his mouth to hers. Business arrangement be damned. His arms encircled her and with one hand pressed into the small of her back, he drew her deeper into his embrace. His lips touched hers softly.

With an angel’s sigh, she eased her arms around him and pulled him closer. The soft contours of her breasts pressed against the muscles of his chest. He could feel her heart pounding through her gown. It was nearly his undoing.

He knew he should restrain himself. She was a lady after all. But oh God, he wanted her so much.

Crushing her against him, he claimed her mouth, hungrily parting her lips with his thrusting tongue. He heard her gasp, but he was past all thought. All he knew was his need for her.

Shivers swept across Eliza’s skin.

Maybe it was the wine she’d sipped at dinner, or the run down the Dark Walk, but the touch of his lips seemed to drug her senses, making her want more. Making her quiver from within.

She was shocked at her all-too-eager response to Magnus, but she could not pull herself away.

His warm mouth trailed down the column of cool skin at her throat with unbearable tenderness. She threw her head back as he planted a searing kiss in the hollow of her throat and held him against her, weaving her fingers through his thick hair.

He moved his kisses lower still, until she felt the wetness of his mouth in the valley between her breasts. The air was cool on the sweet trail of his making. She sucked in her breath as he brought his hands round her shoulders and down her arms.

With a tug, her bodice was pulled aside, and in an instant, Magnus dragged the peak of one breast into his mouth.

Her eyelids flew open. Like a burst of icy wind, this revived her senses.

“No, no … we cannot—” she gasped. “No!”

Eliza freed her fingers from his thick dark hair and lurched back. Leaping from the bench, Eliza readjusted her bodice then stood back staring at him. She panted to reclaim her breath as the blood pounded in her temples and her face grew hot.

His breath still heavy, Magnus stared back at her before resting his elbow on his knee and lowering his head into his open palm. “I… apologize. I overstepped.”

“Yes, you did.” Eliza paced before the bench, fanning herself with her mesh reticule that dangled at her wrist. “But you did not venture there alone.”

It was as if her composure was under attack. She drew in a deep gulp of cool air and exhaled it, before looking at him again. “You understand, this must never happen again.”

“I know.” Magnus looked up at her. “But lass, ye drove me near out of my mind with yer touch, yer kisses. And I’d be lying if I didna tell ye I enjoyed it verra much. And I believe ye did as well.”

“Precisely.” Eliza glanced into the dark trees around them to ensure they were completely alone before uttering her next words. “The experience was … quite pleasurable, but it is a fruitless endeavor. You know as well as I—we can never have more than a … business relationship. Never!”

Magnus came to his feet. “Tell me why.”

“Why?”
Eliza staggered back a pace. “I should think the answer quite evident. For one reason, you must marry an endowed woman to save Somerton. I am not that woman.”

His dark brows arced mischievously. “Forgive me, Miss Merriweather, but I find ye most graciously endowed.” He glanced at her breasts and smiled wickedly.

Eliza folded her arms over her chest and cast a hot glare at him. “You know very well what I mean.”

“Indeed, I do. But I have every faith that my financial crisis may be resolved soon—without the need to marry for money. So ye see, a relationship between us may be possible after all.”

Eliza lowered her arms then set her hands on her hips. “Do you think my reluctance is all about you and your needs? Mightn’t I have reason to avoid a relationship as well?”

He shrugged.

She felt a shriek of frustration well up inside her. “I have every intention of leaving for Italy at the conclusion of the season. I—I cannot allow some romantic notions to muck up my plans.”

Coming to his feet, Magnus closed the space between them and slid his warm hands over her shoulders. “If yer so-called plan was the least bit logical, I would agree with ye.”

Eliza shoved her hands against his chest and pushed him away. “You—you think me illogical?”

“Nay, I think yer plan illogical. What sort of life do ye envision for yerself in the future?”

She was incensed. “I am not without some skill, my lord.”

"I do not doubt your talent, but ye are a woman.”

Indignation almost choked her. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Ye know, as well as I, that Society is not kind to women who choose to live outside its bounds.” Magnus returned to the bench, sat down, and eyed her. “If ye leave for Italy to become an artist, ye can never return to yer life as it is now.”

“And what sort of existence have I now? All I want is a life of my own. A life where I make the choices for my future.”

“Ye have that now.”

“Do I? What choices can I make for myself? Which gown to wear? Which party to attend?”

“Is that so terrible?”

Eliza stood before Magnus wanting to shake him. Why did it matter so much that he understand?

“Don’t you see? I’ve lived for someone else my entire life. I was nursemaid to my mother and grandmother until they died, then I cared for my father. I lived completely for others.
That
was my life.”

“And now?”

“Now I have no true responsibility. My sisters are older now. I have a chance. A chance to fulfill my dreams, my goals.”

“But at what cost, Eliza? Will ye sacrifice yer sisters to pursue yer dream?”

She blinked at that. “I would never harm my sisters.”

“Nay, not purposely. But the moment ye leave for Italy, yer sisters’ chances of marrying into good families will be ruined. No gentleman of Society will wish his family name to be connected with a scandal. And that is precisely what yer jaunt to Italy will become—a scandal.”