The Dangerous Lord Darrington (13 page)

You wanted to know how his arms would feel,
she reminded herself as she stepped closer, eyes lowered, breast rising and falling quickly as he untied her belt and pushed the wrap from her shoulders, revealing her thin nightgown. It had formed part of her original trousseau, but had never been worn. Light as gossamer, it hid none of her charms. The strings at the neck were loose and the gown had already slipped from one shoulder. He reached up and ran his fingers lightly over the curve of her neck between shoulder and jaw. She could see the pulse jumping at his throat. He wanted her. The thought excited and frightened her. He slid his thumb under her chin and tilted her face up. She kept her eyes modestly lowered, the dark lashes sweeping her pale cheeks. She forced herself to stand passively while he cupped her face with his hands and began to cover her face with light gentle kisses. When he slid his mouth over her lips they parted invitingly and she was immediately aware of a change. The earl’s mouth instantly became more insistent; he wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hands over her buttocks and pressing her against him. There was only a fine layer of muslin between her flesh and his roving fingers. Her muscles tightened, she was pressed against his groin and there was no mistaking his arousal. Instantly her body responded, hips tilting, breasts almost painfully taut. He explored her mouth with his tongue and she gave up trying to resist and kissed him back until she was quite heady with desire.

She almost groaned when he broke away and scooped her up to lay her on the bed. She reached for him, eager for him to take her, but he evaded her hands and stood looking down at her. The bed-hangings were tied back and she lay in the golden glow of candlelight, her hair spread over the coverlet and her body tantalisingly visible through the fine muslin of her nightgown. She watched as his gaze ran over her. No man had ever studied her thus before. Her husband had insisted their couplings took place in the dark, hinting that only a wanton would display herself to a man. Now, as Darrington turned away to toss his waistcoat over the chair she was shaken by doubt.

What are you doing, surely you do not think you can seduce a man as experienced as Lord Darrington?

He turned back to her at that moment and she dragged up a smile, but not quick enough. He had seen the uncertainty in her eyes and stood looking down at her.

‘Why are you doing this, Beth?’

‘Does there have to be a reason?’

He had positioned himself so that he did not prevent the candlelight from falling on her face, but his own countenance was in shadow. She knew he was watching her and she suddenly felt very vulnerable. At last he spoke.

‘You think that you can seduce me, so that I will not betray your brother.’

‘No! I—’

He put a finger on her lips. ‘Do not lie to me, Beth.’

She sat up, pulling up the neck of her nightgown. ‘I th-thought I might persuade you…’

She heard the anger in his voice as he ground out, ‘I am not so cheaply bought!’

The words cut her like a whip and she flinched. She wrapped her arms over her breasts as shame and embarrassment burned her up.

‘Here.’ He picked up her wrap. ‘Put that on.’

She almost snatched it from his hand, struggling into it while he stepped across to the fire and threw on more logs. His movements were quick and angry. Taking advantage of his distraction, Beth eased herself off the covers and fled.

Guy heard the soft click as the door closed and swung round. She had gone. With a muttered oath he threw himself into one of the chairs, trying to make sense of the welter of emotions that were raging through him. Anger and disappointment made a bitter mixture! What in hell’s name did she think she was playing at? She was as good as married to Radworth. Guy did not think her the sort to enter into such an agreement lightly, but it might be a business arrangement, a marriage of convenience. He could not deny he was attracted to the lady and if she had come to satisfy a mutual lust he could have accepted that, but to offer herself to him, like some sort of sacrifice, and an unwilling one at that—did she think so little of him?

Sighing, he walked across to the washstand and plunged his face into the cold water. The chill sobered him, dousing any lingering desire and cooling his anger. She had come to him in an attempt to protect her brother, yet Guy remembered the way she had responded to his kiss—she was not indifferent to him, he would swear it!

And if he had taken her, if they had spent the night in passionate love-making, what then? Would she have walked away once she had extracted from him the promise not to betray her brother? No. Beth Forrester might be a widow, but she was an innocent. He would stake his life that she was far too honourable to sleep with one man and marry another.

‘So you are well out of it,’ he told himself as he climbed into bed. ‘You have saved the woman—and yourself—a great deal of trouble!’

Back in her room, Beth locked the door and leaned against it, shaking. What had she done? How could she have been foolish enough to think that she could seduce a man? She had no experience, save for the quick, clumsy coupling she had shared with her husband years ago. When the earl had taken her into his arms and kissed her she had experienced a thrill of excitement, a pleasurable anticipation of what might follow.

If only he had not stopped then and questioned her. If only he had taken her in his arms and made love to her as she wanted him to do—perhaps she would not have had the courage to ask for his silence, but at least she would not have felt this wrenching, gnawing hunger for his touch. Even now her body was aroused, tingling at the very thought of him.

Without pausing to snuff out the candles burning on the mantelshelf, Beth threw herself on her bed and curled into a ball while scalding tears spilled over her cheeks. Her actions had done nothing but make the situation worse—she might even have made Darrington think Simon was guilty. After all, what woman would stoop to such tactics if she had nothing to hide?

‘Oh, what have I done?’ Beth groaned and buried her face in her pillow, but she could not forget the earl’s look of angry contempt.

‘I am not so cheaply bought!’

His words flayed her, but beneath her own misery was the fear that Simon might now be in more danger. A glance at the clock told her it wanted an hour or so until dawn. There was nothing she could do now until the morning. She would rise as soon as it was light, and if Darrington rode out himself, or sent a messenger for the magistrate, then she would move Simon. He was not quite so ill now, the fever had abated and there were many hiding places amongst the old ruins. It would not be very comfortable, but she would not allow her brother to be imprisoned.

She sat up with a start when she heard the boards creak outside her room. A small square of paper appeared under the door. She froze, hardly daring to breathe while she strained her ears to listen. There was no noise from the corridor and she imagined whoever was out there was standing very still. There was another faint creak. She could not be sure if she heard or imagined the soft pad of feet moving away.

Silently she slipped out of bed and picked up the paper. It was quite small and folded only once. With trembling fingers she opened it and turned it towards the light. There was only one line, written in a bold, sloping hand.

‘Do not be afraid. Your secret is safe.’

Beth scanned the line again, just to make sure she was reading it correctly. She closed her eyes and uttered up a small prayer of thanks before kneeling before the hearth and offering the scrap of paper to the dying fire. It blackened in the glowing embers, flamed briefly and crumbled away to nothing under Beth’s watchful gaze.

So Darrington would not betray them. For the first time since entering the earl’s bedroom some hours earlier she felt a faint warmth within her. She did not doubt that she could trust him and the fear for Simon’s safety eased. But her own misery did not lessen; if anything, it grew even more intense—she had misjudged the earl and what he thought of her now she could not bear to imagine.

Snuffing out the candles, Beth climbed back into her bed. With a heart as heavy as lead she pulled the covers over herself and settled down to wait for the dawn.

By the time the travelling chariot drove around to the front of the house to take Mr Davies and the Earl of Darrington back to Highridge, Beth’s nerves were at breaking point. She did not join the others for an early breakfast and put in an appearance only when the servants were ready to carry Mr Davies out to the carriage. She joined Lady Arabella and Sophie on the drive, painfully aware of the earl standing beside the carriage. At any other time she would have been amused by Sophie’s attempts to help; she fluttered about as Mr Davies was brought down the stairs and laid gently in the carriage, then she herself packed the extra cushions and pillows around his injured limb and tenderly placed a blanket over his legs.

‘I have asked my sister to come to Highridge to look after me.’ Davey addressed Lady Arabella, but Beth was not fooled, his words were meant for Sophie. ‘I will have her write to you, to let you know how I go on. Perhaps you will all come and visit me,’ he added. ‘We would be glad of a little company, eh, Darrington?’

Beth did not listen to his reply. Instead she gave her attention to the earl’s groom, riding up at that moment leading Mr Davies’s bay mare and his master’s hunter.

Not long now and he will be gone,
she told herself.
A few more minutes and this will be over.

The earl was taking his leave of Sophie and Lady Arabella. Beth swallowed and prepared herself. She could not avoid one last meeting.

‘Mrs Forrester.’

He reached for her hand. Beth could not prevent her fingers trembling as he raised her fingers to his lips. She forced herself to speak.

‘Goodbye, my lord. And…and thank you.’

Her words were so quiet she thought at first he would not hear them, but he gave her fingers a slight squeeze and when he looked at her his eyes held nothing but kindness.

‘Goodbye,’ he murmured. ‘And good luck.’

Guy rode away from Malpass Priory determined to put everything that had happened there out of his mind and for a while he succeeded. Escorting Davey back to Highridge and settling him in, placating his valet, who was inclined to take umbrage at not being summoned to join his master and arranging for Davey’s married sister Julia to come and look after him took up all Guy’s time for the next couple of days, but it was clear that once Julia was installed at Highridge, Davey was intent upon inviting Lady Arabella and her granddaughters to call. Guy immediately decided to bring his own visit to an end. He had no wish to see Beth Forrester again; he had given her his word that he would tell no one she was harbouring a fugitive, but it went against his better judgement. For the past ten years he had lived quietly, trying to forget the very public disgrace of his betrothal to a woman denounced as a spy. It would not do to allow himself to become embroiled in another woman’s dubious plans.

‘But you can’t leave me now!’ declared Davey, when Guy informed him of his decision.

‘Why not? You have enough servants here to wait upon you, your sister will be here tomorrow, determined to cosset you to death, and I have no doubt that Miss Sophie Wakeford will call upon you at the earliest possible opportunity. What do you need with me?’

‘Your company,’ came the prompt reply. ‘Julia’s letter came express this morning and it says Bletchworth is not coming with her. You would not leave me to face her alone, would you?’

‘Since you and your brother-in-law can never meet without arguing I think it is a good thing he is staying in Knaresborough,’ laughed Guy. ‘You will go on very well with Julia and you know it. Seriously, Davey, I have been away from Wylderbeck for far too long.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Davey, sighing. ‘When do you propose to leave?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Will you not stay one more day? Julia writes that she is taking the mail to Thirsk and I would be obliged if you would meet her there and escort her to Highridge. Besides,’ added Davey when Guy hesitated, ‘it would look very odd for you to run off the very day before Julia arrives.’

Guy laughed. ‘Very well, I shall collect Julia tomorrow and you will have the pleasure of my company for one more evening.’

Thus the following morning Guy drove to Thirsk in his own travelling chariot to await Mrs Bletchworth’s arrival. Davey had asked him to make a few purchases for him while he was in the town, so Guy left his coachman to keep a watch for Mrs Bletchworth while he went off to fulfil his commission.

It was as he was returning to the inn that he saw Beth Forrester. She was some way ahead of him, an elegant figure in a dark-grey walking dress with a tightly fitting pierrot jacket, the low neckline filled with a snowy kerchief. At first Guy wondered if he had conjured her up, because she was constantly in his thoughts, but there could be no mistaking the flame-red ringlets peeping out beneath her round muslin hat. She was followed by her maid, who was carrying a cloak over one arm and a large bag. They stepped into the inn and were lost from sight.

Guy’s own steps slowed. There was no reason in the world why she should not be at the same inn—after all, did she not say that she would be going to stay with her friend to buy her wedding clothes? For an instant he considered walking around the road to reach the stable yard, then he changed his mind. To go out of his way to avoid the widow smacked of cowardice.