Three Weddings And A Kiss (34 page)

Eric closed his eyes, fighting for self-control. Being alone with her in this small, private space was a dangerous proposition. He put his hands on her waist, intending to ease her away. All at once the overcoat fell to the floor with a heavy thud, and her slim, silk-clad body was in his arms. The sight of her bare shoulders and throat was his undoing. His breath caught, and his blood began to thunder in his ears.

“I love you,” Lidian repeated, her arms sliding around his neck. “I’ll make you believe me…Eric…” Something wild and pagan rose inside her: the need to possess him and match his will with her own. As if in a dream, she found herself pushing the hat from his head until it dropped to the floor. She kissed his forehead, the bridge of his nose, the lean surface of his cheek, until he made a smothered sound and turned to seize her mouth with his own. He kissed her feverishly, his mouth hard and demanding, his large body tense beneath hers.

His lips slid to her neck, savoring the downy, tender skin and the swift flutter of her pulse. His fingers delved beneath the neckline of her bodice, cupping the round, naked weight of her breast until her soft nipple rose tightly into his palm. He seemed to relish the small cry that came from her throat, and he brought his mouth back to hers, his tongue meeting hers in a hot slide of sensation.

Lidian gasped as he adjusted her against his hard loins, until the masculine pressure fitted intimately to her body. The piercing pleasure climbed rapidly, and she shivered and molded herself tightly against him, until Eric groaned and tore his mouth from hers. “Lidian,” he said with an effort, even as his hands moved over her back and hips, “I can’t take any more of this.”

Gazing up at him, she dared to brush back a few locks of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. His face was taut, his eyes dark and bright with desire. “You must believe me now,” she said, her voice sounding a shade deeper than normal.

His mouth twisted wryly. “I’m beginning to,” he admitted.

She rested her head on his chest, listening to the heavy, regular thump of his heart. “Are you planning to propose to me, my lord?”

“Not this evening.”

“I would accept, if you did.”

Eric laughed suddenly and kissed the soft hollow beneath beneath her ear.
“Impatient wench.
You can’t accept before I propose.”

“When?” she persisted.

He lifted her chin and stared into her flushed face, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “When I’m convinced that you’re certain of what you want.”

“I told you—”

He silenced her with a brief kiss and reached down to pull the coat back over her body. “You have to return to the ball,” he murmured. “With any luck, they won’t have noticed that you’re missing.”

Elizabeth Acland was filled with pleasant speculation as she, Lidian, and the De Grays returned home after the Blasedales’ ball. When Elizabeth had first noticed the odious presence of Chance Spencer at the gathering, she had been sick with dread, expecting that he would attach himself to Lidian and monopolize her attention for the entire evening. But Lidian had seemed completely disinterested in him, and they hadn’t shared even one dance together. Perhaps Lidian was finally through with Chance and had matured enough not to be deceived by his oily charm. And if that was the case, then perhaps Lidian would view Eric De Gray in a new light.

Too excited and restless to sleep, Elizabeth went downstairs after everyone else had retired. She decided to have a sherry by herself and reflect privately on the changes she had seen in her daughter. It was her greatest wish that Lidian would find a good man to marry and have her own family someday. Cautiously she went into the library and was pleased to discover that a few coals were burning brightly on the grate.

Approaching the sideboard, she poured a small glass of sherry and went to warm herself at the fireplace. Sighing with pleasure and loneliness, she looked upward and raised her glass in a toast. “I have a feeling that everything will be all right, John,” she said quietly. “Lidian is maturing into a beautiful and sensible young woman. You would be proud, my dear.”

“He would indeed.” A voice from the darkness startled her out of her wits. Elizabeth turned quickly, the sherry sloshing from the glass onto the carpet. She saw the figure of Garrett De Gray seated in the high-backed armchair. He held a brandy snifter in his hand and was sipping from it slowly.

Elizabeth turned hot with embarrassment. “How dare you spy on
me!
”

“As any member of the family can tell you, I come here every evening to finish the day with a brandy.”

“You drink far too much.”

“Yes, I do,” he said evenly, and rose from his chair to take the glass from her nerveless fingers. “Allow me to replenish your drink, Lady Acland. Sherry, is it?”

“There’s no need.”

He ignored her, going to the sideboard and pouring sherry from a crystal decanter. “Now that we’re to be part of the same family,” he remarked, “it seems a truce is in order. Please sit with me and enjoy the fire.”

“I have no wish to disrupt your private ritual. Lord De Gray.”

“It would please me to share your company, madam. In spite of your sharp tongue, you do enliven the scenery somewhat.”

“How can I resist such flattery?” Elizabeth asked dryly, and accepted the sherry from him. She occupied the chair next to his, primly arranging every fold of her dress until it was perfect.

Garrett sat watching her, his expression unreadable. “Do you often talk to your late husband, madam?”

“No, not often.”
She shot him a defiant glance. “However, I sometimes find it comforting.”

“Perhaps I should try talking to my wife, Audrey.” He smiled slightly.
“Although if she’s been observing me from heaven for the past two years, I suspect she’d like to give me a good scolding.”

“She died of a fever, I understand?”

Garrett nodded and drank deeply of his brandy.
“And your husband?”

“His heart.”
She paused and added hesitantly, “I had thought to grow old with him. I never expected to lose him at such an early age.”

“Yes.” For the first time they shared a glance of understanding, and Elizabeth realized that Garrett De Gray had remarkable eyes, the rich, dark shade of coffee. “Now that your daughter will be taken care of,” he said slowly, “what do you envision for your future, madam?”

“To spend the rest of my life in peace, in the country.”

“Exciting,” he commented dryly, swirling the brandy in his snifter.

“And what do
you
intend, my lord?
To reside in your brother’s house for the rest of your days?”

He looked both amused and annoyed.
“No, my wasp-tongued little friend.
I’ll take a house when I’m ready. For now I desire the company of Edgar’s family.”

Immediately Elizabeth was sorry for her sharp comment. “I don’t blame you,” she said. “I’m sure it is very difficult to live alone—and they are wonderful people, each in his or her own way.”

He smiled at her conciliatory statement. “I would like to offer you an invitation, madam.”

Elizabeth tensed, wondering if his invitation would resemble the insulting proposition he had made when she had first arrived at De Gray House.

“Any time you please,” he continued, “you may join me here for a nightcap.”

Elizabeth inclined her head in acknowledgment and stared at him demurely over the edge of her crystal glass. “Perhaps I will some evening…if you endeavor to be agreeable.”

“I can do that,” he said, and smiled at her—not in the insolent way he usually did but with a friendly twinkle in his eyes.

Elizabeth surprised herself by accepting Garrett De Gray’e offer, not once but several times, until it became a habit to join him every evening. The rest of the family knew nothing about their clandestine meetings, and by tacit agreement they kept their budding friendship a secret. Somehow their conversations turned from reminiscences about their marriages to Audrey and John, into far more intimate discussions about their childhoods, their personal feelings, their likes and dislikes.

In the quiet darkness, lit only by the small fire on the grate, it had become easy for Elizabeth to reveal things about herself that she never would have confessed in the daytime. Garrett was similarly forthcoming, allowing her to know the private side of himself that few were privileged to see. He was very different from her husband. John had been a gentleman at all times, quiet and refined, with the gentlest of natures. Garrett, by comparison, told her stories of his past that were colorful and occasionally ribald. He possessed a quality of earthy masculinity that intrigued her as much as it shocked her.

Elizabeth found herself enjoying these private interludes far too much. Two nights ago, however, she had decided that their intimacy had progressed too far. She had become so enthused by his description of Paris, a city she had always dreamed of visiting, that she had exclaimed without thinking, “Oh, how I would love to see it!”

“Someday I’ll show it to you,” he had replied, as nonchalantly as if it were a place to be found at the end of the street, instead of in a foreign country. All night after they had parted, Elizabeth had wondered what he had meant. Had he been implying that they would journey there together? Could he possibly be assuming that she was in the same category as one of his lightskirted female friends?
A love-starved widow—that was probably what he thought of her.
Well, she couldn’t allow such a misapprehension to continue. Last evening she had stayed in her room instead of joining him for their nightly conversation, and for hours she had waited miserably to fall asleep.

In the morning she happened to meet Garrett as they were both heading toward the grand staircase at breakfast-time. She stopped as soon as she saw him, feeling terribly awkward.

“Lady Acland,” he said with an unfathomable expression. “You didn’t join me downstairs last night.”

Elizabeth stood in the middle of the hallway and replied uncomfortably. “Yes, I…I feel our conversations of late have become entirely too personal. I have decided to put a stop to our evenings alone.”

He frowned and stared at her for a long moment. “I see.”

Elizabeth felt the need to explain further. “I do enjoy our discussions, my lord. In fact, I look forward to them every night, however…” She paused, wondering how to explain.

He stepped closer, startling her by reaching for her hand. His large, warm fingers enfolded hers in a strangely thrilling clasp. “Lady Acland,” he said quietly, “please tell me if I have offended you in some way.”

“No, indeed,” Elizabeth replied, suddenly short of breath. Now that he was next to her, his scent drifted to her nostrils, the subtle mix of sandalwood and cigars that had become pleasantly familiar to her.

He stared down at her hand, her skin pale against the darker tone of his. His voice was unusually gentle, and he seemed to choose his words with great care. “Let me assure you, madam, that I hold you in the highest regard. I value all your confidences, as I hope you value mine.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth managed to say, lifting her gaze to his.

The depths of his eyes were dark and warm. “Don’t deprive me of your company, madam. I would sorely miss the sight of your face at the end of each day.”

Elizabeth blushed like a girl just out of the schoolroom. She gave him a small nod of assent and took his arm as he offered to escort her to breakfast. A thought flashed through her mind— would John have objected to her associating with such a man? No, she decided, glancing up at Garrett De Gray’s strong profile. John might even have liked him. Garrett was a good man, if a trifle blunt and outspoken. Inside he was kind and honorable: it was loneliness that had made him so abrasive.

Soon after the Blasedales’ ball, Lidian, Dollie, and the rest of the De Grays attended a day of boating and picnicking on the Thames, hosted by friends of the family. It was a clear spring day, the cool breeze blowing over the water and causing the bright flags on the boats to snap merrily. The women dined on thinly sliced roasts and an array of salads while many of the men filled the various boats on the water.

“Where are Eric, Uncle Garrett, and Papa?” Dollie asked idly, wandering with Lidian past a line of festively colored tents. “Are they on one of the boats yet?”

Lidian shook her head. “I believe they’re still on shore, in the midst of that large group conducting a political discussion.”

Dollie made a scoffing sound. “Eric once told me that when men are pretending to have political discussions, they are usually talking about women.”

Lidian smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” She caught sight of an archery range beyond the tents, and watched as some of the women expertly shot arrows into the hay-stuffed targets.

“Would you like to try?” Dollie asked, noticing her interest. “It isn’t as difficult as it appears.”

For the next half hour or so, Dollie tried to teach Lidian the skill of archery while both of them couldn’t help laughing at her wildly flying arrows. After missing the target as many times as she had hit it, Lidian handed the bow to Dollie with a wry smile. “I’d better stop now, before I accidentally skewer someone.” She lifted a hand to the painted tin whistle she had decided to wear around her neck that day. “I wore this for luck, but I’m afraid it hasn’t worked very well. Thank heaven archery isn’t a skill one needs in everyday life.”