Lord Suitor (8 page)

"Guv,
you're arse naked." Cubby said. He breathed heavily as they ran. "As
the day you were born."

A
door opened, and a feminine scream echoed along the corridor. Nat glanced
downward at his staff, which was bobbing along in time to his steps.

"No, I have my boots
on."

"But
your bits are bobbing."

"True.
But, boots apart, we all were all arse naked at one point in our lives," Nat
said as they took the stairs two at a time. His words were choppy as he panted
with the exertion. "They'll have to deal with it."

Cubby
had pulled the door to the stable yard to. Nat opened it with a kick of one
booted foot and erupted into the yard. There was no point in silence. He'd
heard the swearing and the ring of horseshoes on cobbles even before he'd got
to the door.

Thunderer
sensed him and whinnied. The man holding his bridle and leading him out of the
yard jumped as the horse tried to tug himself loose. He'd probably expected a
carriage horse, not one who also loved to be ridden, fast and furiously, and
obeyed so few people.

Nat
whistled. The horse reared and unseated the man who perched precariously on his
back. The other man let go of the bridle, sprinted across the cobbles to where
the unseated rider sat rubbing his head, and dragged him to his feet, before
they ran off out of the yard and into the village street.

"Attend
to the horse." Nat shouted the words as he sprinted after the men. "Get
Judd and have him bring me some breeches." The air was colder than he
expected, and he shivered. Well, at least his cock wouldn't be so proud of
itself on his return, and any ladies present not so shocked.

Maybe it will be a
disappointment?

He
turned out of the arch that led to the street and looked both ways. The street
was deserted except for a fox slinking between two houses. Nat swore and spun
around to bump into Stomburn. The landlord carried a blanket and handed it to
Nat.

"M'Lord,
it's the best I could come up with in a hurry."

"Thank
you." Nat wrapped the coarse wool around him, Grecian style. "Has Cubby
settled my horse?"

"Oh
yes, a natural, that one. And Mr. Judd says he's on his way." They turned
back into the stable yard, where Cubby was walking Thunderer and crooning to
him in a low voice.

Judd
hurried up with a pair of breeches and a shirt, and helped Nat out of his boots
to facilitate his dressing.

"Thunderer?"
Nat couldn't keep the anxiety out of his voice. He'd been there at his birth
and nurtured him as foal and adult.

"He's
all good. Nuffin wrong, 'cept the bu...blighters ascared him, I reckon."
Cubby had lost all his learned politeness. "They should 'ang."

Nat
couldn't but agree with him. However. "Bloodthirsty young blighter." He
put his boots back on and went to his horse. Thunderer nuzzled his pocket.
"Sorry, old son, I didn't come prepared."

Cubby
whipped a carrot out of his pocket and fed it to the horse. Nat ran his hands
over the horse's hocks and withers to reassure himself all was fine.

He
turned to Stomburn. "Where's the night ostlers?" The yard was
suspiciously empty. One would have thought the commotion would have brought the
ostlers running.

The
landlord looked worried. "Are they not around?"

"Nah."
Cubby shook his head. "No one, which is why I came down. I saw 'em going
off."

"I
believe there is a cock fight inside Farmer Buddle's barn," Judd said.

"I'll
cock fight them." Stomburn looked like thunder. "Now then, lad, what
made you come and keep watch?"

Cubby
looked imploringly at Nat, who squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"Tell
him,” Nat said. "He will understand."

"I
had a feeling. Not a bellyache, but an ache in my belly. When I's gets it, I
knows sommat is going on." Cubby dug his toes in between the cobbles.
"I just knew it was Thunderer. Not Silver, Thunderer." He shrugged. "It's
just well..." He stared up at Nat with entreaty in his eyes.

Nat
smiled at him reassuringly. "You did well," Nat said. "I am in
your debt."

Cubby
blushed. "Nah, it’s me job to watch ower 'em."

"You've
a gift, lad. And one Lord Fenniston can be pleased about." The landlord
clapped him on the back. "Do you want a job?"

Cubby
looked alarmed. "I's got one with m'lord." He tugged Nat's shirt.
"I do, don't I?"

"You
do, lad. Now go and sleep."

"But
Thunderer?" Cubby looked and sounded worried. "P'raps I best..."

"Sleep.
Stomburn and I will look after him. I need you wide awake tomorrow, not yawning
over the reins."

Cubby's
eyes widened. "Ohh er, yes M'lord."

“You've
got a good un there," Stomburn said as Cubby dashed off.

"I
know," Nat said somberly. "Now I need to make sure he stays a good
un."

Chapter Eight

Tessa
threw her tambour frame at the wall and her slipper at the door. She was bored,
tired, out of sorts, and sick of the capital and its inhabitants.

I want to go home. It has
nothing
to do with the fact that a certain gentleman is there.
However,
deep down she was uneasily aware it could be. And not just one gentleman. Tessa
didn't think she'd ever been so mixed up in her life.

Nat
intrigued her, it was true. But how could she even entertain the idea of marrying
him when her body, and more than half her mind, belonged to someone else? Someone
she hardly knew, except she pondered, in the biblical sense. Life was so
complicated.

The
door of her sitting room opened, and Tessa looked up in surprise. Her room was
sacrosanct.

Sybille
popped her head around the door. As ever, her shiny, blonde hair was perfectly
coiffed, and she looked composed and elegant. Tessa often compared her own less-than-immaculate
self with her sister and came off worse. But she was who and what she was and had
no intention of changing. Indeed she suspected it would be impossible.

"Tell
me if I intrude," Sybille said as she shut the door behind her. "But
who were you swearing at before I heard a thump? And do I need to help you bury
the body?"

Tessa
laughed reluctantly. "Well, I believe my tambour frame is past redemption,
so a decent burial might be a good idea. However, I'm blue-devilled, that's
all."

Sybille
picked up the maligned item and twisted it this way and that. "I agree,
and your embroidery is in the same state. Why do you bother?" She dropped
the frame and its contents onto a ladder back chair and flopped down onto the chaise.
"You will never be an accomplished needlewoman." She tugged on
Tessa's hand. "Tessa, what's wrong?" Her blue eyes were cloudy with
worry. "You have lost all your eagerness, your zest for life. Is it Lord
Fenniston? Do you miss him so much?"

Tessa
sank down next to her sister. Did she? She sighed. "I don't know, but I'm
going crazed in the capital. The balls have never appealed, the so-called gentlemen
even less. I crave fresh air, not smoke and grime, and I worry over the affairs
of the continent." She shook her head. "What if Dare decides to go
and fight?"

"He
won't. Papa is arranging for him to go to the sugar plantation in Barbados, you
know that. Dare is ecstatic."

Tessa
did know, but had forgotten. "I hope he's safe there. Didn't Papa say
there had been unrest within the slaves on some of the estates?"

"Yes,
and that is one reason Dare needs to go. Papa is very forward thinking, and he
will not have our workers mistreated."

"I
know. Oh, ignore me, Bella, I'm blue-devilled." Tessa grimaced. "I
hate feeling like this."

Bella
patted her hand. "Why not ask maman if you can go to cousin Emily in
Bath?"

Tessa
shuddered. "I can think of nothing worse. I would be more than blue-devilled
there. I'd probably go into a decline. She has Pekes. They hate me."

"I
thought they loved you. Last time we were there, they became very
attached." Sybille giggled. "Oh my, were they ever."

In
spite of herself, Tess smiled. "If you think to be groped by a dog is my
idea of fun, you are addlepated. Nasty little things, they snarled when I
attempted to remove them from my leg."

"And
all cousin Emily said was, 'Ah, how sweet, they have really become attached to
you.'" Tessa saw the funny side of it and sniggered. "Attached was
the word." She wiped her eyes. "Ah, I needed that giggle. No, I think
not, cousin Emily. I'll suffer here. After all I promised..." She stopped
and bit her lip, but there was no point in prevarication. Sybille would wheedle
it out of her sooner or later. "I promised I'd think over his wants and
requests, and wait until his lordship returns and in his words, woos me."
Try as she might, she couldn't infuse her tone with enthusiasm
or
stop the frisson of arousal that
coursed through her body to pool at the apex of her thighs.
What a mix of contradictions I am.

"Woo
you?" Sybille sounded somewhat bewildered as well she might, Tessa
decided.

"Then
what pray, has he been doing these past months?" Sybille inquired.

"I
have no idea," Tessa said gloomily. "Pre-wooing?"

"Is
there such a thing?"

"Heaven
knows, but if there is the Earl of Fenniston will know all about it, I'll be
bound." Tessa looked out of the window, at a clear, blue sky.
"Enough, let's ask Maman if we can go for a walk. It's dry and sunny, and
we have no appointments for once."

Mijo
was happy to see them go, escorted by their maids and a footman, and half an
hour later, they were strolling arm in arm in the park.

"This
is much better," Sybille said, and then she gasped and went pale. "Or
it was. There is that odious Lord Bankfoot. He gives me the shivers."

Tessa
glanced at her sister closely. She was ghostly white, and her lips trembled.
"Sybille, has he intimidated you? Compromised you in any way?"

"No...no,
but he looks at me in such a way. As if I was a butterfly pinned out and he was
debating whether to pull its wings off. I just do not want to be near
him."

"Then
you won't. Come on, we will ignore him. As Maman says, gentlemen need to earn
our attention." Tessa clasped Sybille's hand tightly and angled them along
a wider path, which should lead them away from Cornelius Bankfoot. "He
hadn't, and it seems by what you say, he never will. Funnily I know little of
him personally, only by hearsay. Where did you meet him?"

"At
Lady Kenna's. The afternoon you went riding to Primrose Hill. He is so sure no
woman can resist him his attentions to me were unpalatable. Maman gave short
shrift, and I fear it angered him intensely."

"Then
we must make sure he has no more chances to engage your attention." It was
a pity that the man couldn't be cataloged as a fortune hunter—even if they
didn't have one—but Lord Bankfoot was very plump in the pocket.

To
her annoyance he cut across the grass to stand in front of them. Tessa twisted
her parasol, wondering if she'd get away with stabbing his foot with the
ferrule.

"Ladies."
His voice was slimy, his attitude ingratiating, and Tessa wanted no more than
to wipe the smile from his face. If it could be called a smile, for it didn't
reach his eyes. She couldn't help but compare it to the last smile Nat had given
her.
That
was a proper smile.

She
stared at him until he reddened and gave him the barest nod of her head. "Excuse
us, my lord, you are in our path."

He
sneered. "But you are alone, ladies. I would be failing in my duty if I
didn't escort you."

"Rubbish."
Tessa was conscious of Sybille's trembling as she stood as close to Tessa as
she could. "We have our maids and a footman." She turned her head to
see that Doris had disappeared, and Jenny, Sybille's maid, and Plummer the
footman both looked concerned at the goings-on.

"I
don’t think that's enough." His voice was hard. "I insist."

Tessa
discovered how short her temper could be and tapped her parasol on the path.
"Insist away, it matters not. We need no more protection, I thank
you."

"Of
course you don't." The new voice made Bankfoot take a step back. "For
I promised your maman I would escort you both. My carriage is over there."
Mitcham pointed toward the Row. "Your service, Bankfoot." He walked
in between Sybille and Tessa and held his arms out.

Tessa
was never so glad to see him as at that moment. She took his arm gladly,
pleased to see Sybille do the same, as they walked past Bankfoot and toward a
waiting carriage. She risked a quick glance from hooded eyes, at the red,
choleric countenance of Bankfoot. He was not best pleased, it seemed.

"Did
Maman ask you?" Tessa queried once they were out of earshot.

"No,
but I promised Nat I'd watch out for you all. Your maman told me where you were.
I called at the house to ask if anyone would like some fresh air. I'm so glad I
did, for that man is a menace. He..." Mitcham coughed. "Ahem, let me
just say he is not thought to be honorable, though of course there is no evidence
to show such a thing." Mitcham's voice indicated he needed no such
evidence.

"He
gives me the vapors," Sybille said vehemently. "He looks at me like a
snake about to strike. Thank goodness you were around." She smiled at
Arthur, who had become a fast favorite of them all.

"Indeed,"
Tessa agreed. "Not that I think my lord Fenniston has any right to ask you
to intervene in our lives."

"Oh,
but..." Arthur took one look at her face and stuttered into silence.

Tessa
took pity on him. "But on behalf of Maman, I say thank you."

Arthur
looked from Tessa to Sybille and essayed half a smile. "Ah, good." He
seemed, Tessa thought, glad to have reached their home, and able to leave them
with a bow and a gracious word.

She
was of the same mind, especially when Sybille disappeared into her room and
Doris informed her that her maman would see her before they went to the
Countess of Basingstoke's soiree. That was something Tessa looked on akin to
the toothache. Could she use that as an excuse to cry off?

Sadly
she was too honorable to ply such a lie and after reassuring Mijo that she had
heard nothing from Nat, and would not be rude if and when she did, suffered
several hours of boredom before she was free to leave and return home.

"I
swear Daisy Basingstoke is beginning to lose her wits," Mijo said as their
carriage rattled over the cobbled streets. "Why on earth would she think
we'd be happy with her dogs, her parrot, and her monkey mingling among
us?"

"She's
trying to set herself up as an original," Tessa said.

"She's
succeeding, but not, I imagine, in the way she intended," Mijo said tartly
as Marielle and Sybille giggled. "I think a lot of people will be having
previous engagements from now on when she issues an invitation, myself
included."

"Thank
goodness for that," Tessa said. "It would be more enjoyable to watch
the road sweeper than endure another evening such as this. How was it that Cicely
and Amalia were spared to go elsewhere and we were not?"

"They
went where they were invited." Mijo didn't add, "Casting our nets far
and wide," but the inference was there. "As did we. Ah, we're home. Madeira
before bed?"

The
Madeira was welcoming after the severely watered wine and stale cakes served at
the soiree. The glassful Tessa filched and took to bed with her was equally as
good as the one she drank downstairs.

By
the time she shut her eyes, she was bosky as well as tired, and her emotions
were all over the place. If only she could know her mind. Nat or the smuggler?
The smuggler or Nat? Neither? Tessa tossed and turned and worried over what to
do.

The
vision of the man who stroked her skin, demanded entrance to her channel, and
nipped her nipples and nub was welcome and needed.

Tessa
groaned her appreciation and let herself be drawn into a dream so erotic she
sobbed her pleasure as her climax filled her and gave her a release so violent
she shook.

He
smiled and spoke softly. "Let me in, my sweet. Open your legs and let me
in. That's it so, so sweet. Oh, my Tessa, do you know how we need this?"

She
did, but how to say so? Tessa did as he demanded and welcomed his hard length inside
her channel. The pressure and the sense of fullness was perfect. He began to
move, and she matched his rhythm. He shuddered and thrust hard. Heat filled her,
and she flew with him.

"Oh,
such a sweet little death. Can you do it again?" He withdrew, and she
moaned.

"More."

Tessa
grabbed his arms and held him tightly. He let her pull him close, and she increased
her grip until her fingers showed stark on the skin over his arms.

"We
need it?" Tessa sobbed the words. "I need it. I have to know you want
me. I want you. Show me, oh, sweet life, show me." She looked up into his
dark, dark eyes.

Who
was it?

Tessa
moaned and writhed on her bed. The face of her mystery partner was in shadow;
all she could see was his dark eyes, glittering in the moonlight that filtered
around the shutters. He bent his head, put his lips to the soft skin on her
neck, and nipped and sucked. At first gently, and then with more power behind
the actions until Tessa gasped and sobbed at the sweet pain.

"Oh
yes, you will scream for me." He moved so swiftly she had no idea what he
was going to do until he felt him nuzzle her muff, open her legs wide, and
stroke his tongue over her nub.

She
screamed. He covered the noise with his hand and continued his ministrations
until her breathing slowed and she gasped. "No more, for the love of God,
I need to rest."

He
lifted his head and moved over her to kiss her lips. He tasted of her
and
him, and it was nectar.