Reckless (21 page)

“I'm not part of your parish, and my concerns are my own.” He was standing too close to her, and she ought to move away, but for some reason she was more tempted to move closer. As a result, she stood her ground.

He looked down at her. He was somewhat above
middle height, though not nearly as tall as Adrian Rohan, but she was small and he seemed to tower over her. “I could tell you that a trouble shared is a trouble halved, but I doubt you'd believe me.”

“I don't believe you'd even quote such a hoary old line at me. Next you'll be telling me that confessing my sins to you would get me into heaven sooner.”

“No,” he said, looking oddly troubled. “I don't think I want to hear your sins.”

“That's right, you're getting quite elderly. I doubt you have enough time left to hear everything I've done,” she said brightly.

For a moment he frowned, and she knew she'd pricked his vanity. And then he laughed. “You're very good at being annoying, Lady Whitmore. I've already told you I'm thirty-five—I expect to live many decades longer, and I doubt your sins can encompass that much.”

“You'd be surprised.” She tried to sound merry, carefree. Instead her voice came out with a hollow note.

He said nothing, watching her with a contemplative expression on his handsome face. And it was a handsome face, she thought ruefully. His premature lines only made him more interesting looking—he was probably far too pretty when he was younger. It was a good thing they hadn't met then…

A sudden horrifying thought hit her. To her knowledge she had never entered the bed of anyone without
having a considerable amount to drink, enough to shut out the clamor of fear and darkness, and it was possible she didn't always remember them. And he must have been very pretty.

“I didn't meet you before, did I?” she asked in a sharp voice. “When was your blinding encounter on the road to Damascus?”

He laughed, having read her mind. “No, Lady Whitmore, I can safely assure you that I never bedded you in my wild years. You would have been far too young. And if I'd run into you later I promise you, you wouldn't have forgotten.”

She flushed, at a disadvantage, but she rallied. “I've forgotten any number of them,” she said airily. In fact, a lie. She'd only forgotten one, and been aghast that she had, until the shame-faced young man admitted that he hadn't been able to consummate the evening. “In fact, if I tried to count them all I should fail sadly.” Another lie. While she would have loved to have a lengthy list of her amatory triumphs, she still had a strong regard for her own health, and finding men who were both careful and game was difficult.

“Of course you should,” he said in a soothing voice, clearly doubting her. Which would have made her determined to find the next man she could and bed him, but for some reason she'd lost interest in it. She was having a great deal more fun arguing with Simon Pagett.

“I must compliment you on your new taste in clothing, Lady Whitmore. The subdued colors bring out your beauty far more than the garish ones you chose before.”

“I have no interest in your sartorial advice, Vicar,” she said, ignoring the rush of pleasure. “You gave me no warning—my maid packed whatever was clean.”

“Of course,” he said in an infuriatingly calm voice, and she was determined to go upstairs and see if ham-handed Meggie was capable of immediately cutting down the necklines of her demure dresses. She glared up at him.

And then she found she had to laugh. “You really are the most annoying man in the world, aren't you?”

He smiled at her then, and the world seemed to shatter and split. “So I've been told.”

She stared at him for a moment, unable to come up with a single word, as something inside her began to melt.

She panicked, though she wasn't quite sure why. “I wonder, though…” she said in the drawling voice she used to such good effect.

He looked at her warily. “Wonder what?”

“Are all men the same? Even those who've found God?” she mused.

He was very still. Like a fox, she thought, afraid a
bitch had caught his scent. She laughed at the thought, mirthlessly.

“How do you mean? I can assure you I sleep better at nights. I'm happier.”

“You don't strike me as particularly happy. As for nighttime sleeping situations, my thoughts were running more along those lines.”

“Of course they were,” he said, and there was no sting in his wry voice. “If this is your tactful way of asking me about pleasures of the flesh, I can assure you that becoming a vicar didn't castrate me.”

“I'm
soooo
glad to hear it,” she cooed. “Monty told me you'd taken a vow of celibacy, and I didn't know if that was out of necessity or inclination.”

“Montague has been way too free with his tongue,” Simon said, clearly annoyed. “If you're so interested, Lady Whitmore, I can tell you that I haven't taken a vow of celibacy. I've simply decided that I've fornicated enough outside of the marriage vows.”

“You have plans to marry then?” she asked brightly, ignoring her inner pang.

“Not at this point.” He looked at her for a long, hard moment. “I may change my mind.”

She breathed an unobtrusive sigh of relief, emboldened. “Be certain to invite me to the wedding. I give wonderful presents.”

“If I marry, Lady Whitmore, you'll definitely be there.” There was an odd note in his voice, one she couldn't decipher.

She was feeling restless, edgy, and it was a shame Charlotte wasn't there to stop her. “So, has your vow of celibacy…I beg your pardon, I mean your informed decision…affected other things?” She moved closer, so close that her hooped skirts swayed against his dark-clad legs.

He stood his ground. “What other things?”

She wasn't actually touching him, but she was acutely aware of him. His lean, wiry body, his narrowed eyes, his mouth. He really had the loveliest mouth she'd ever seen on a man.

“Like kissing,” she said. And she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his.

S
he expected him to freeze. To stand there awkwardly while she kissed him, to shy back in horror as she teased him with her tongue, to lecture her on her impropriety while she laughed at him.

He was just inches away from her body, and his lips were motionless against hers. He reached up behind his neck and caught her wrists, pulling them down, and she knew a moment's melancholy triumph.

And then a moment later he pulled them around his waist, yanking her up against him, and he was the one who used his tongue, deepening the kiss, pushing her mouth open.

She was so astonished she could do nothing but cling to him, reveling in the feel of his hard, warm body up against hers. And hard it was. Most of the men in society were soft, pampered. He wasn't. He was strong, and determined, and she closed her
eyes, her head falling back against his deliberate onslaught.

There was nothing hurried, nothing rough about his kiss. Once he took charge he took his time, slow and steady, kissing her with a thoroughness that left her weak in the knees. She never thought she particularly liked tongues, but she liked his. No, she loved his. Any doubt as to his checkered past was now thoroughly dispelled. No one could kiss like this without a very great deal of practice.

She moaned, swaying against him. Who would have thought a kiss could be like this? It was heavenly, distracting, almost…arousing. She could feel a strange flutter in her belly, an odd sort of ache in her heart, and she let her hands slide up his strong back, pressing herself closer against him as the kiss went on. And on.

“Mr. Pag—” Dodson's voice broke off in embarrassment as the butler realized what he'd walked in on.

He was in the midst of trying a hasty retreat, but it was already too late. Simon had released her, setting her away from him with calm deliberation before turning to the butler. “Yes, Dodson?” His voice was completely calm. One might have thought he was totally unmoved by the deep kiss he'd just shared with her, but Lina wasn't fooled. His breathing was almost imperceptibly quickened, and she thought she'd felt a burgeoning arousal against her stomach.

Yes, most definitely, since he turned his back to both her and Dodson and seemed suddenly fascinated with the wide expanse of well-manicured lawn. She should feel smug, triumphant. Instead she wanted to curse Dodson.

“I beg pardon, sir. I didn't meant to interrupt. Lord Rohan has arrived.”

“What?”
Lina shrieked as Simon was dismissing the butler.

Simon turned his head to look at her. “Viscount Rohan,” he said. “Thomas's dear friend. I went to see him after I visited with you, to request his presence at Montague's bedside. Thomas had asked for him as well as you.”

“And when were you going to tell me?” she demanded, her discomfort over the truncated kiss making her testy.

Except in fact it hadn't been truncated. He'd had time to kiss her quite thoroughly, and his hands had just slid down to her narrow waist. If they'd covered her breasts she had no idea how she'd react. No truncation, it was a promise, rather.

“I didn't realize I needed to present a list of Thomas's guests for your approval.”

“I don't give a bloody hell who comes and goes here. It's
Rohan
who's the problem. He…” Her voice trailed off as Rohan came out onto the terrace. He wasn't his usual graceful self. He had a decided limp, a black eye and bruising on his face.

“Good morning, Lord Rohan,” Simon said. “I'm happy you were able to come so quickly. You're feeling quite recovered from your ordeal?”

Adrian made a bow. “It was trifling,” he murmured. “Lady Whitmore, you are looking as beautiful as ever. I'm delighted to see you.”

“Your servant, my lord,” she said, giving him a brief curtsy. She couldn't tell whether he was surprised to see her or not. It seemed highly unlikely that he would have come here if he'd known Charlotte would be in residence, but Adrian Rohan had always been an enigma.

“Are you here alone this time?” he asked.

She was saved from having to answer by Dodson's reappearance. “My lord Montague is awake.”

“You've timed your arrival perfectly,” Simon said in an easy voice, annoying Lina even more. Personally she thought his timing was execrable, but there was nothing she could do about it. They all filed into Monty's bedroom, and Lina took a moment to appreciate it's outrageousness.

Monty had always had a flair for the dramatic, and his bedroom was a fitting backdrop. The bed was huge, a rival to the Great Bed of Ware, though the rich brocade hangings seemed better suited to a sultan's palace. There were cupids and seraphim and sea monsters carved into the bedposts, and enough pillows tucked behind Monty to outfit half of London. The French doors were open to the wide terrace and
the spring air, but a fire was blazing in the huge stone fireplace as well.

Monty was sitting up, and if his thin body was even more wasted, his eyes were alight with mischief. He didn't look quite at death's door, thank God, though Lina couldn't help but wonder what games he was up to now. “How delightful to see you all!” he said in a strong voice. “I'm so sorry I was asleep when you arrived—that damned doctor keeps giving me laudanum and it makes me sleep too much. Lina, you're looking exquisite as usual. I'd say the same for you, Adrian, except you look as if an angry husband caught up with you. Whose wife did you make the mistake of seducing?”

Adrian laughed, leaning against the bedpost as Lina took the seat beside Monty and held his thin hand. “No wives recently. They all wanted to leave their husbands for me, and you know how boring that is.”

“Dear boy, send their husbands to me and we'd
all
be happy,” Monty said, the immediate strength of his voice fading somewhat. “But we're missing someone, are we not? Where is your so-charming cousin, Lina?”

Lina kept her face averted from Rohan's. She didn't want to see his expression. Pleasure or discomfort would be equally bad. Charlotte needed to keep her distance from Rohan, at least until they knew…

She refused to consider the possibility. “She's taking a nap, Monty,” she replied. “We drove all night to get to you, darling. Some people aren't as resilient as I am.” She did her best to keep her shoulder between Monty and Pagett. She was going to have to escape, to get upstairs and warn Charlotte before she blundered in on Adrian's presence. With ample warning she could spend the time in bed until Adrian left. The stomach grippe was a totally reasonable complaint. In fact, she ought to start embellishing, to set things up for Charlotte's sake so that her disappearance didn't seem odd.

Too late. The opposite door to Monty's ceremonial bedchamber opened, and Charlotte popped her head in, looking human again.

“Come in, dear girl!” Monty said in a fair approximation of his most florid voice. “So kind of you to visit this poor invalid.”

Charlotte had known Monty for years, and she moved into the room with the smile on her face masking the concern in her eyes. “You're looking well, my lord.”

“I look like death and you know it,” Monty said charmingly. “Have a seat and tell me all about what you've been doing. Rohan, get the girl a seat.”

It would have been comical if Lina weren't so worried. Adrian Rohan had been hidden by the lavish bed hangings. Charlotte took one look and blanched, and
for a moment Lina wondered if her stalwart Charlotte was going to faint for the first time in her life.

But Charlotte was made of sterner stuff. A moment later she had dropped a curtsy, murmured a polite greeting and taken the chair that Simon, in the first act she approved of, had been quick to provide.

“So here we all are,” Monty said cheerfully, his voice weak, his eyes alight with a curious mischief. One might almost think he knew what had gone on between Charlotte and Adrian, but that was impossible. One might almost think he'd been privy to that absurdly ill-advised kiss she'd given his straitlaced vicar. Or he'd given her, in fact, when he'd turned things upside down.

But he couldn't know any of these things. Lina wanted to reach out with her other hand, clasp Charlotte's in support, but Monty was clinging tightly, and Charlotte was doing a magnificent job of looking impervious.

“Here we all are,” Rohan said in his lazy voice. “So what have you got planned for our entertainment, Monty? Surely you're not going to wither away in front of us? We need a full recovery.”

“Wish I could oblige you, dear boy,” Monty said faintly. “I used to lead you all a merry dance, did I not? But I'm afraid my dancing days are over.”

“You don't need to dance, Monty,” Lina said soothingly. “You just need to stay with us.”

“For as long as I can. In the meantime, Lina, I'm
delighted you brought your cousin. And Rohan, I'm delighted you
didn't
bring yours. Etienne is far from my favorite person in this world.”

Rohan looked startled. “I hadn't realized that. Is there a reason?”

“I knew him in Paris years ago. You were just a child then, but I never trusted him.”

“You never said anything about it before,” Rohan pointed out.

“I'm dying,” Monty said flatly. “I can say what I want and no one can object. People have to do my bidding.”

“Hardly,” Lina said with a laugh.

“You're all here, aren't you? I have things I want to say to all of you, and I'll need privacy to do it. I'm certain you can manage to amuse yourselves while I meet with each one of you.”

“Of course we can, Monty,” Lina said. “Charlotte and I could use a walk after being cramped up in a carriage for so long.”

“Ah, but I wish to talk to you first, precious,” Monty said.

Lina opened her mouth to object, but Charlotte had already risen briskly. The color was good in her pale face, and she seemed perfectly recovered from her early-morning bout of illness. Clearly she'd been worried for naught, and the Charlotte she knew was perfectly capable of making short work of Adrian Rohan should he offer any kind of insult. Besides, he
was far more likely to run in the opposite direction. The viscount went through women like water and a repeat engagement would be unheard of.

“And Simon, dear fellow,” Monty added. “I gather there's a leak in the church roof and your sexton is somewhat fond of the bottle. In fact, he's a total inebriate.”

“He is, indeed.” Simon had a wry look on his face. “However, he's been an inebriate for the past ten years, and the roof has had a hole in it for at least three. Is there any particular reason you wish me to deal with it today?”

“No time like the present,” Monty said innocently.

Rohan pushed away from the bedpost and moved to Charlotte's side. “I believe we have our orders, Miss Spenser.” He held out his arm, and Lina wondered if Charlotte would refuse. But in another minute they were gone, out onto the terrace, with Simon Pagett disappearing in the opposite direction.

“You're a very bad man, Monty,” she said evenly. “I never would have thought you capable of matchmaking. You always had too much respect for human individuality.”

“I always had too much respect for the trouble I could cause. Nowadays it doesn't matter—–I won't be around to worry about it. So tell me the truth, my precious. Do you like him?”

Lina considered it for a long moment. “I don't
actively dislike him,” she said carefully. “But I don't think he has any intention of offering for Charlotte, or for anyone, and it would take more than subtle threats to bring him up to scratch.”

He stared at her for a long moment, seemingly mystified. “My dear, there are times when you astound me.” He hesitated, as if he would say something else, then shook his head. “Never mind, my dear. There's none so blind as will not see.”

She stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

Monty's smile was a ghost of his usual insouciance. “I'll tell you later, precious. When you're ready to hear it.”

 

The moment they stepped outside onto the wide terrace Charlotte yanked her hand away from Adrian's arm. “What in God's name are you doing here?” she demanded.

His slow, lazy smile was as devastating as it was infuriating. “You left me high and dry, my dear Miss Spenser. We have unfinished business.”

“No, we don't.” She hid her hands in her skirts so he wouldn't see she was trembling. Her common sense, which had fled the moment she caught sight of him, was slowly returning. She could only hope her equanimity would return as well. “I'm sorry, I'm being absurd. There is no way you could know we'd be here. I'm sure if you did, this would have been the very last place you would have appeared.”

“As you say.” His voice was enigmatic. “But in truth Montague is my dearest friend. I would have been here no matter what monsters I had to face.”

Her smile was brittle. “Only one monster, Lord Rohan,” she said. She allowed herself a moment to survey his battered countenance. “What happened to you? Did fate finally deliver you the comeuppance you so richly deserve?”

“Why would I deserve a beating? What great crime have I committed? You willingly put yourself in my hands. I would have released you any time you requested it.” His expression was limpid, innocent, but Charlotte was unmoved.

“I didn't willingly get in your carriage yesterday. At least, I didn't know it was yours,” she corrected, scrupulously honest. “As for several weeks ago, tell me truthfully. Would you have been able to unlock the door when I first requested you do so? Or several times thereafter?”

“No,” he said, and she believed him. For a moment.

“And could you have had someone come to unlock the door if you requested it?” she persisted.

This time his smile was slow and rueful. “Yes.”

She stared at him. She should have raged, stormed, she should have stomped away, she should have accused him of every crime imaginable. And yet all she wanted to do was cry in relief. He'd wanted her.
He could have had anyone, he wasn't trapped in that room with her. He'd chosen her. He'd kept her.