The Fortune Hunter (13 page)

He offered his arm, and she put her hand on it. Again she could picture leaning her cheek against his shoulder, savoring his strength, but she guessed he would find such behavior discomfiting.

“There is nothing to forgive you for, although it is clear you are not yourself today.” He hesitated, then asked, “Is there something I can do to help?”

Hamilton saw amazement in Nerissa's blue eyes as she faced him. He hid his own. Had he gone queer in the attic? He had no interest in involving himself in Miss Dufresne's difficulties. He had enough of his own. He hoped the evenings with her and Miss Ehrlich and today's outing would persuade his brother to give up his ridiculous plan to buy that blasted commission. Once his brother was settled with a wife and the blackguard who had stolen his father's money was found, Hamilton intended to put the boring life of Bath far behind him.

Yet … he could not wrench his gaze from the warm pools of her eyes. His fingers yearned to caress the soft skin of her cheek, which he had first touched so briefly when he woke her from her stupor.

Sapskull!
he thought viciously. That was what he was if he let himself be lured into the sweet web of another woman's wiles.

“I have been thinking of how things change,” she said quietly.

“Just things? Not people?”

A smile swept the darkness from her eyes to leave them as blue as a rain-washed sky. “No, of the changes of time.” She stretched to reach a thin branch.

With a laugh, he easily pulled it down, but behind her. Grabbing the other end, he imprisoned her in the small space. She grasped the branch, her fingers brushing his, and the sultry pulse erupted inside him. Her eyes widened, but she did not pull away. That pleased him. He was bored with the coy tricks of the other women he had met since his return from America. She might be very different from Elinor, after all, for Elinor had never tired of coquettish games.

When she turned slightly, the sweet aroma of her perfume taunted him. His hands tightened on the branch as he fought the craving to slide his arms around her supple body and give freedom to the thoughts that taunted him when he was trying to sleep. So close, her soft contours urged him to let his hands explore what his gaze touched with such hunger as it slipped along the bare skin above her modest
décolletage
and over her bosom that was so perfectly edged by the ribbons of her gown. She was a lovely package, wrapped and waiting for the man who dared the fiery emotions in her blue eyes to discover what waited within her. By all that's blue, she was the most alluring woman he had ever seen!

“Look,” she whispered, drawing his eyes unwillingly from the rise and fall of her breasts to a leaf that she held. “This once was no more than a seed. Now it is part of this massive tree.” Her head tilted back as she looked up through the branches. “And it all happened when no one was watching but the sunshine and the north wind.”

“Many things happen when eyes are too busy elsewhere to notice,” he said as softly, his voice rough with the longing he could not govern.

Nerissa closed her eyes as his fingers glided from the branch to her arm. She relished the power and the danger of his touch, but knew she must not surrender to it. Too much she had heard of Lord Windham's determination to play booty with the heart of any woman who did not shield it carefully. Releasing the branch, she let it snap up into the air. He leapt back as the leaves flew past his face.

“You are a minx!” he said with a laugh.

“And you quite the rogue.”

“I try.” He drew her hand within his arm and led her farther along the twisting path. “When one is encumbered with the reputation of a
roué
, one is expected to act so.”

“I doubt that you have ever done as another has wished.”

“Philip is right. You see through me too facilely, Miss Dufresne. I shall endeavor to be on my guard against your intuition.”

Nerissa lifted the hem of her skirt as he drew her up a small hill toward a copse. Whether it was her hand tightening in his or the soft gasp she had hoped he would not hear, something betrayed her.

He paused and asked, “You don't wish to go in this direction?”

“This direction is fine.” She could not tell him of the day when she and Mama first had explored this very thicket. She had been very young, for the outing had been only a week before Mama had married Albert Pilcher.

“If you would as lief return to the others …”

“No, I truly want to see what awaits among the trees.” Mayhap nothing had changed.

As Lord Windham assisted her up the steep hill, she realized everything had changed. Mama was dead, Hill's End on the block, and she was here with this enigmatic man who intrigued her with such a chaste caress.

Nerissa was glad she had left her parasol by the rug, for the trees had grown even closer than she remembered. As Lord Windham walked ahead of her and held the branches aside for her, she let the shadows suck her into the cool mystery within the copse.

He stopped before a pile of stone that was covered with moss. Beyond the low wall, a hole suggested a dark mystery, save for something which glittered feebly in its depths. She wondered how deep the pool of water might be.

Jabbing at the wall with the toe of his boot, Lord Windham said, “I suspect that this was once a building belonging to a monastery, mayhap to one that was destroyed to raise the house we passed on our way here. You can see what three hundred years of neglect has left.” He touched another stone with his boot. It came loose and clattered down the side until it landed with a splash in the water at the bottom. “How easy it is to forget the past when it has been destroyed, even when it surrounds us.”

“We must make room for the future, my lord. Perhaps this building was not razed by King Hal's men, but it simply fell into disuse. Who knows? This may be the foundation for nothing more grand than a byre.”

“Have you no romance within you? Do you prefer to imagine the lowing of cows to the chants of monks?”

Nerissa laughed and walked with him toward a stone wall. Beyond it, cows nibbled on the grass. “As you know, I enjoy the country, my lord. I would live here always.”

“Odd, for I cannot imagine you as a bumpkin.” He tapped the feather in the band of her hat. “The cobbles of the city appear more comfortable beneath your feet than this soft sod.”

“You are mistaken.” Laughing, she whirled away from him, her weightless skirts swirling about her. She held out her arms to embrace the field. “
This
, my lord, is the world I love best.”

“Then why do you live in Bath?”

“That is where Cole lives.”

“And he needs you?”

Her crystalline laugh rang lightly, soaring within his head with the joy of matins. “Cole would, I fear, be lost without me to oversee his household, but I sneak away to the countryside whenever I can. To feel the tickling of the grass against my stockings and to smell the fresh fodder of a farmer's cuttings may be the most glorious thing I know. Do take a deep breath of it!”

She followed her own command. When two broad hands grasped her at the waist, she released the breath in a sharp gasp. She looked up into the viscount's face, which was not marked by his usual, cool smile. The mockery had vanished to be replaced by a naked longing. As her gaze locked with his, the warmth of his palms swept along her sides and drew her closer.

“Lord—”

“Nerissa—for what else can I call you when I hold you in my arms—do you recall that my name is Hamilton? I would take great pleasure in hearing it spoken by your dulcet lips.”

Softly she said, “Hamilton, this is not right.”

“Why?”

“Why do you ask me that when you know the answer as well as I?” she retorted, but her voice was softened by the delight spreading through her with his hands moving along her back.

He laughed as his finger teased the curve of her cheekbone. “Because I know you will never say ‘yes' and ‘amen' to everything I say as others do when I ask them such a question. Do you know how unendurable it becomes when Philip agrees with me day after day? I enjoy our dagger-drawing, Nerissa, as much as our times at the card table.” His words trailed away as he guided her lips toward his.

Gasping, she turned her face away, but she realized, as he slowly released her, how much she wanted him to kiss her. Not moving away, she met his eyes without compromise. She was astounded to see sorrow in their silvery depths, then asked herself why she was surprised. So easily she understood the remorse of being unable to savor what she longed for with every bit of her being.

He whispered her name. Before she could stop them, her hands slid along his arms to learn the strength hidden beneath his wool coat. When her fingers curved behind his high collar, he drew her back into his arms. She sighed in sweet surrender when she was surrounded by the hard line of his body.

His lips over hers were as demanding as everything else about him, but she answered with her own yearnings for the satisfaction she had dared to dream she could find in his arms. Tearing her breath from her, his kiss sought to strip away every pretense she had devised to hide behind. Her fingers splayed across his back as his hungry mouth feasted on the curve of her cheek, the tip of her nose, even tickling the soft skin of her eyelids. When she laughed softly, he drew away.

She opened her eyes, fearing her honest reaction to his teasing had offended him. When she saw his softened smile, she wondered how she ever had considered this man heartless. She could feel his fervid pulse matching the throbbing of her breathless heart.

Her bonnet fell to the ground as his fingers combed upward through her hair as he claimed her lips anew. Astounded by the gentleness that could not mask his desire, she answered him by leaning closer to him. She wanted more than to feel his hands against her face and her legs brushing his through her skirt. As her breasts grazed his unyielding chest, his arms enveloped her in their strength. She vanished into the sensations of his lips upon her and his fingers exploring her with tender eagerness.

“Damn,” he growled under his breath, lifting his lips so little that they skimmed hers as he spoke.

“What is wrong?” She could not imagine what could be amiss when everything was so perfect in his arms.

The soft call of her name in Frye's anxious voice was her answer.

Hamilton smiled. “Your comb-brush is a most vigilant watchdog. We shall have to make a greater effort to evade her in the future.”

His swift kiss seared away her answer, but she guessed he sensed the elation in her heart as she imagined another time—soon—when she could be in his arms again.

Chapter Eight

Hamilton put down the sheet of paper and stared at the fire burning on the hearth in his sitting room. The spacious room was silent, save for the crackle of the flames and the ticking of the mantel clock set above them. No noise came from the street, for the room was set at the back of the house. Hunching deeper into the red leather chair, he scowled.

What a shuttlehead his brother had become! This long letter from their aunt in York was aglow with her excitement that Philip had decided to join his cousin in the army. With the money Frank garnered from his sale of the captaincy to Philip, he planned to buy himself the rank of colonel. Together they could battle the French scourge on the Continent.

“Blast!” He crumpled the pages and threw them into the fireplace. Somehow he was going to have to convince Philip to see sense. If Miss Ehrlich was not the one to do so.…

The door crashed against the wall. He looked up astonished to see Philip charge into the room. His brother's jaw was set at a fierce angle, and his hands jammed into the pockets of his black pantaloons.

“And good afternoon to you,” Hamilton said as his brother stamped past him.

Philip snapped, “The Old Tough has made it clear that she wishes me to have nothing more to do with her daughter.”

“I assume you are speaking of Mrs. Ehrlich?”

“Who else?”

He stood and went to pour his brother a generous serving of brandy. Handing it to Philip, he watched his brother gulp it as if it was no more potent than water. “Who else indeed?” Hamilton asked as he sat on the arm of the settee. “I trust this means that your visit to the Pump Room with Miss Ehrlich was terminated by her mother's insistence.”

“She would not let me so much as speak with Annis!” He pounded his fist on a table, threatening to send it crashing to the floor. “I had all I could do not to push past her and search every room of that house for Annis.” With a curse, he started for the door.

“Where are you going?”

Philip pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and tossed it to his brother. Hamilton had only time to read the salutation before Philip snatched it back. It was their aunt's handwriting. The busybody must have written to Philip at the same time as she had to Hamilton. “It's time I replied to this letter. If I cannot have my dear Annis, I shall not sit here and pine for her. There is a battle I
can
win on the Continent.”

Hamilton shouted after him, but Philip did not slow as he left the room.

Nerissa frowned as a shadow crossed the book she had been reading. She had been so immersed in the story, she had not heard footfalls. Without looking up, she asked, “What is it, Mrs. Carroll?”

“Nerissa, may I be so rude as to interrupt you?” asked a voice much deeper than the housekeeper's.

“Hamilton!” She slowly set herself on her feet as she saw the set of his mouth. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

“Forgive me for speeding past your housekeeper …”

Looking past him, Nerissa saw an out-of-breath Mrs. Carroll in the doorway. She was twisting her apron nervously.

“… I could not wait to speak with you. I need your help.”

Nerissa was astonished, knowing that, for a proud man like Hamilton, it was difficult to speak those words. “What can I do?”