Promise Me Forever (21 page)

He was working deliciously wonderful wicked magic with his fingers.

“You’re so wet, so hot,” he rasped. “So ready. Keep your eyes open.”

She released a tiny moan that she hoped he understood was acceptance of his order. Feeling his thrust, she gripped the edges of the window, when she really wanted to reach back and grab him. Hold him close, as close as he was holding her. Touch him as he was touching her. Ride him as he was riding her.

She felt the pressure, the plea sure mounting…saw the star streaking…

“Oh, there! There! Oh, God!”

He closed his mouth over her shoulder as he bucked against her, she bucked against him, as plea sure shot through her. His final thrust came hard and deep, then he was clutching her close, panting near her ear, and she wasn’t certain how they both remained standing.

“There were stars in the sky, stars in my body,” she whispered breathlessly. “That wish has got to come true.”

He chuckled low. “Hope it was a good one.”

“It was,” she assured him, wondering why before that night she’d never seen a star fall on that side of the world. What other things hadn’t she seen?

S
he awoke to the sound of an irritating
tick, tick, tick
. It had still been dark when Tom had returned her to her bedchamber, and she’d fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Peering out from beneath her pillow, she could see a sliver of sunlight spilling in through the parted draperies. The ticking noise seemed to be coming from there. Throwing back the covers, she scrambled out of bed and padded to the window. She peeked through the window…

And there was Tom, waiting, with two horses saddled. He looked quite dashing in his riding attire. She waved at him, then hurried to the bed and yanked on the bellpull. She didn’t think it
was necessary to be dressed and out of the house before Lydia was up and about. She thought she’d made her position perfectly clear the evening before, but why risk that Lydia hadn’t realized she was incredibly serious?

Molly arrived and helped Lauren dress in her favorite riding habit.

“Do you know if the duke and duchess are awake yet?” Lauren asked as she settled her hat into place.

“They haven’t yet sent for their maid or valet, so I suspect they are still abed.”

Lauren couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Good.”

In the hallway, she found only a maid who was already quietly placing fresh flower arrangements on the various tables that lined the hallway. The girl curtsied, Lauren nodded, then proceeded to tiptoe on the thick rug that covered a good bit of the floor. Reaching the stairs, she grimaced at the first audible click of her riding boots hitting the marble. Why carpet the hallway if one wasn’t going to carpet the stairs?

As lightly and silently as she could, she made her way down the stairs and was out the door, apparently without disturbing Lydia at all. Tom had brought the horses around from the back of the house. He grinned, and this morning it was barely evident that he’d massacred his mustache the night before.

“Morning, darlin’. How’d you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you very much.” Tugging on her gloves, she marched over to the smaller of the horses. “Help me up, Tom, before my chaperone catches us.”

His grin broadened as though he anticipated the day having very pleasant consequences. “And what if she does catch us?”

He delivered a kiss that said he didn’t care if they were caught. Pushing him back slightly, she said, “If we’re caught, then she’ll start sleeping in my bed and how will I ever get back to yours?”

“Are you planning to come back to mine?”

“Most definitely.”

She’d expected him to provide her with cupped hands into which she could place her foot. Instead he placed those magnificently strong hands at her waist and lifted her onto the saddle. She adjusted her seating while he adjusted her skirt. “Where are we going?”

“To look over my kingdom.”

“You don’t really consider this a kingdom do you?” She watched the ease with which he mounted his own horse, appreciating his fluid movements, the subtle ripple of his muscles as he swung his leg over the saddle, controlling his horse with his thighs as easily as she did with the reins.

“What do you call it when everyone turns to you for the answers?”

She tapped her riding crop against the horse’s rump, effectively getting it to move forward. “Are there people who need answers today?”

His laughter seemed harsh as it broke through the hush of early morning. “Someone always needs an answer. This morning, we’re just going to ride the land, let the tenants know I’m back in residence”—the last spoken with the slightest of British accents—“just in case anyone needs a word or has some troubles.”

“Do you have many tenants?” she asked, as he guided them along the elm-lined dirt path that would lead to the road.

“Not as many as previous lords had, based on the books they all kept. They used to have a thriving enterprise going, but farming here isn’t what it once was. Only ten families remain.”

“Have you met them all?”

He swung his gaze over to her, and because he wasn’t wearing a hat, no shadows hid his heated gaze from her. “I’ve met them all.”

He’d done more than meet them, Lauren quickly discovered as they visited one farm after the other. He remembered their names, the particulars about their crops, any troubles they might have had in the past. He spoke to them not as though he were the lord of the manor, the man who controlled their fate, but as though they were partners trying to make the most of their destiny. He always dismounted, talked with them eye to eye, walked
along beside them, listening intently as they complained about the weather as though he could do something about it, informing them that he would pay for the fixing of broken wagons, leaking roofs, and sick livestock.

And because she wanted to be with Tom, Lauren walked as close to him as his shadow, hearing not only the conversation but the respect the farmers held for their new lord, the respect he held for them, their experience, their opinions, their knowledge. “I’m here if you need me, but I don’t expect you’ll be needing me,” he seemed to be telling them, and she thought she could actually see the farmers’ backs straightening a bit as Tom gave them the confidence to carry their own burdens.

She thought she’d known the path he’d traveled to arrive at the man he’d become, but she was beginning to think that she hadn’t a clue.

At one farm, a white-haired woman with rosy cheeks bustled out of the house, smiling brightly. “We had a letter from our boys, my lord,” she said, before Tom had even had a chance to dismount. “They’re liking the work you’ve got them doing.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Whipple,” Tom said, as the woman’s lanky husband wandered out from the barn. “I thought they would.”

“Said they might have an opportunity to buy some land. Landowners.” She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes that she reached up to wipe away with the corner of her apron. “Never
thought I’d see the day that my boys would be landowners.”

“They’re not landowners yet, Maude, and his lordship don’t need to see you blubbering. He’ll regret sending them, if he has to listen to you carrying on.”

“Better than listening to you not being appreciative of what he done.”

“I’m appreciative, and I thank the man by tending his land good and proper.”

“It don’t hurt to say you’re thankful.” She sniffed, huffed. “My lord, would you like some scones? They’re warm, just out of the oven.”

Tom grinned. “Can we take them with us? I have a schedule to keep.”

“Of course.” She turned to Lauren. “And you, my lady?”

Lauren smiled. “I’m not a
lady
. I’m simply a lady.” It was confusing when the same word carried two different connotations. “I’m Miss Fairfield. And yes, I’d love some scones.”

“If you’ll come inside the house, I’ll wrap them up for you.”

Lauren followed her inside while Tom went off with her surly husband. The house was simple, neat, and clean, and had an air of warmth and contentment ringing through it. The woman laid a cloth napkin on the table in the kitchen and began placing scones on it.

“You mentioned something his lordship did for
your sons?” Her curiosity was getting the better of her, and she had a feeling getting the information here would be much easier than getting it from Tom later.

The woman bobbed her head. “Sent my two boys to his land in Texas, he did. Paid for everything himself. Said he was short on strong men to work his ranch. My boys are plenty strong, I’ll tell you.” She brought the ends of the napkin up and tied them together, then handed the bundle to Lauren. “I swear we were blessed the day his lordship arrived. The other lord, the one who took care of things before this one arrived, he was a good man. We had no complaints, but this one”—she nodded knowingly—“he was born to this.”

Those words stayed with Lauren as she sat on a crumbling stone wall—the remnants of some ancient fortification—beside a brook, the water leaping over stones near the shore, making a frenzied yet soothing sort of noise. Tom had obviously planned for this morning to include more than visiting his tenants, because he’d brought biscuits filled with strawberry jam and a canteen of coffee. Plus they had the scones.

Sitting beside her, he looked like a man without a care in the world.

“Mrs. Whipple mentioned that you sent her sons to your land in Texas,” Lauren said, biting into the cool biscuit, chewing slowly.

Tom turned his attention from the stream to
her. “Most of the young men are heading out to work in factories in the cities. Can’t see that it’s much of a life.”

Licking the jam from her fingers, she smiled. “Because the work takes place indoors?”

“No sun, no cooling breeze, no ground beneath your feet—”

“As though you know anything about the ground. You ride every chance you get.”

“All right. No sun, no breeze, no smell of cattle—”

“I never considered the odor of cows desirable.”

“Better than the smell of machinery.”

“Do you ever think about how different your life would be if you’d been raised here?”

“Every day.”

“You’d appreciate different things.”

“Sleeping late instead of getting up with the sun, sitting behind a desk all day instead of riding across the land”—he shook his head—“I can’t imagine it, Lauren.”

“And yet you can’t deny that you bring something to your position that many lack: a true understanding of the workingman.”

She’d removed her gloves in order to eat, and now he trailed his finger over her hand where it rested on the wall, her arm supporting her.

“You think that’s an advantage?”

“I think it makes you unique.”

He gave her one of his slow, sensual grins. “I would be anyway. You can’t tell me that you’ve ever met anyone quite like me before.”

“No, I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

Wrapping his hand around her neck, he brought her closer until she could smell the strawberry that laced his breath mingling with hers.

“No chaperone, Lauren, and I’m behaving, but you know what I’m thinking?”

She didn’t know how it was possible for eyes as dark as his to seem to darken further, how his touch at her neck seemed to reach down to her toes, how the deep timbre of his voice could cause her nerves to tingle with anticipation, how she could suddenly have an intense desire to nibble on his lips the way she’d just nibbled a scone. She was so distracted by the confusion that his nearness was causing her body that she could barely hold on to the words he’d spoken. What was he thinking? She hadn’t a clue, but she seemed to be robbed of speech and could do little more than shake her head.

“I think that behaving is boring,” he said.

“I quite agree,” she somehow managed to rasp. “Why do you think I instructed Lydia to stop watching me so closely?”

His eyes somehow managed to darken further, his smile to grow even more sensual and provocative, both issuing the invitation before he spoke.
“If you want it, darlin’, you’re going to have to come and get it.”

Want
what
? she almost whispered. But she knew exactly what he was referring to, what he was tempting her with, what he was withholding to prove his point that a lady had it within her to misbehave as easily as a gentleman did. He’d always corrupted her. She could resist the cigars, the swearing, the whiskey…but resist the lure of his kiss?

Why in heaven’s name would she want to?

His satisfied groan was echoing around her before she’d finished melding her mouth against his. And apparently his will to resist wasn’t as strong as he’d indicated. His fingers tightened their hold on her neck, as his tongue swept through her mouth, before darting back to allow her entry into his. In spite of his best efforts, his words, he could be no more passive than a tiger in the jungle when it sighted its prey. The tense quivering of his muscles told her how much he wanted her. That he was taking no more than the offered kiss was a testament to the strength of his upbringing, regardless of how much he questioned every aspect of it. Evidence of his innate goodness that he was always so quick to deny.

He kissed the way that he lived life: with purpose, with determination, with exactitude.

And his holding himself at bay made her more
daring. She swept her hand up into his hair, wondering why he’d chosen not to wear a hat. She felt the heat of passion sluice through her, swirling, stirring to life desire, want, yearning. She thought she might melt through the wall to be absorbed into the earth, might need to run naked into the brook in order not to burst into flames as ardor consumed her.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he blazed a trail along her throat beneath her chin to just below her ear, the path scalding. She could hear his harsh breathing. “You know I can hardly look at you without wanting you.”

She opened her eyes to see the leaves dancing overhead. “We could be discovered here at any moment.”

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

And if she didn’t issue that order, how far would he go? Would he remove her clothes and his? Would he take her there with the sun beating down on them? Turning her head slightly, she could read in his eyes the disappointment because she would stop this from going further. It was a heady sensation to have so much power, to know her opinion, her wants, her desires mattered to him. That he would give what she was willing to take and that he would hold back what she wasn’t yet ready to receive.

Reaching out, cupping his chin in her palm, she brushed her thumb over his mustache. “I’m sorry
I’m not as wild as you’d like me to be.” She flung her hand out. “But I just can’t…outdoors.”

“You’re as wild as I need you to be, Lauren.”

The days that followed gave her an appreciation of him as a lord, managing his tenants. One of the houses had suffered damage during the storm, the roof collapsing. Tom and Rhys had gone to work, helping to nail a new roof into place while Lauren and Lydia had helped to prepare food for the workers. Tom knew livestock like he knew the back of his hand, hard work like he knew the calluses on his palms.

The nights were heaven. Tom was an attentive lover, generous and giving. She actually began to dread the passage of the days, because it would mean that her time with him would soon be over. Oh, he made promises. He would return to Texas, he would seek her out when he did, but she knew the only promises he could possibly keep were those that could be kept immediately. She thought she had missed him when she left Texas, but the feelings she’d held for him then were paltry compared with what she felt toward him now.