To Sin With A Scoundrel (31 page)

“But—”

“Perry.”

The single word of warning from Lucas silenced any further protest. “Yes, sir.”

A cuff to his backside sent her son scampering for the terrace doors.

“Sorry.” Lucas looked up with an apologetic shrug. “I did not actually make any promises, I merely said perhaps.”

“Boys that age do not always grasp the nuances of language,” she replied carefully.

“Ah.” He flung the stick into the murky twilight and watched as the dog bounded off in pursuit. “Nor, would it seem, do grown
men. Somehow, despite my best intentions, I have offended you.” His tone was equally reserved. “Allow me to apologize again.”

“I don’t wish for you to think me ungrateful, sir.” Yet even to her own ears, she sounded distant. Detached. “However, my
life is very… complicated at the moment,” she continued. “Please don’t make it any more difficult.”

“Oh, I am a very simple fellow,” he answered with a shade of cynicism. “I tend to concentrate on the basics, madam. It makes
things easier all around.” Whistling for the dog, he strolled off into the lengthening shadows.

She sighed.
Was he being deliberately obtuse?

However, the arrival of her son left her little time for stewing. Masking her misgivings, Ciara listened with a smile to his
chattering about the stables and the kennels. Whatever her own feelings, she must not cast a cloud over Peregrine’s enjoyment
of their stay in the country.

It had taken some persuading for her to agree that Peregrine could occupy the earl’s old childhood rooms, high in the manor’s
central tower. She and Ariel were quartered in the east wing, while the baronet and his nephew shared the west wing. But Hadley
had assured her that Perry was perfectly safe. The main staircase was the only way up and down, and the entrance hall would
be guarded by a footman throughout the night. As an added precaution, he had assigned a maid to sleep in the adjoining schoolroom.

Seeing as her son was taking the country sojourn as a grand adventure, Ciara hadn’t had the heart to say no.

“Hadley says when his groom arrives with his horses, he will teach me and Isa how to do a somersault in the saddle,” said
Peregrine with a sleepy smile. “Just like the acrobats at Astley’s.”

“How nice.” She helped him on with his nightshirt. “Do you wish for me to stay and read you a story for a bit?”

He rolled his eyes. “Have you seen the troop of lead soldiers atop the bookcases? Hadley says I may play with them whenever
I wish to. There’s a regiment of mounted Hussars and a battery of brass artillery.”

“Well, I see that a book can’t hold a candle to such excitement.” Ciara pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You may have half
an hour to command your army, and then Alice has orders to extinguish your lights.”

Peregrine scrunched his face.

“Good night, lambkin. Sweet dreams.”

“Good night, Mama.”

Ciara shut the door before expelling a sigh. In addition to polishing their skills at cricket, Hadley had volunteered to teach
her son and Isabella how to ride? The man really was marvelous with children. He ought to set up a nursery of his own…

The thought of dark-haired little imps with his devilish smile sent a stab of longing through her core.

No, don’t think of Hadley’s babies
. Her insides clenched.
Or what it would take to make them
.

Past regrets had no place in the present or the future. She had long ago accepted the fact that Peregrine would be her only
child.

Ciara hurried down the last few steps and turned to latch the door. Her only thought now was to keep him safe, whatever the
cost.

The dog gave a
whoof
and then a whine.

“Sorry.” Lucas stepped over the stick at his feet. “I know it’s fun to cavort all night long, but it’s time to return to the
kennel.”

The golden eyes fixed him with a baleful stare.

“Don’t look at me that way. I am probably feeling far more frustrated than you are.”

Mephisto pricked up his ears and wagged his tail, clearly hoping the words were a signal that the game was not over.

“Come along.” Crossing the front lawn, Lucas headed for the stables. “You, at least, can gnaw on a bone for distraction.”

After locking the pen and checking that the barn doors were bolted shut, he made a last inspection of the estate drive before
doubling back for the manor house. The familiar scent of pine, fresh-cut grass, and sea salt wafted through the breeze, stirring
up memories of his childhood. Despite the isolation, he had enjoyed his visits here. There was much for a small boy to explore.
He must remember to show Peregrine the badger’s burrow, and the smuggler’s cave beneath the sea cliffs.

He realized with a jolt just how fond he had become of the lad. As for the lady herself…

Lucas stopped and looked up at the sky. The twilight clouds had blown over, allowing a clear view of the myriad stars and
a full moon. No wonder he felt like howling at its shimmering, silvery circle of light. There was, he knew, a scientific explanation
for its powerful effect on the natural world. Spin, rotation, gravity—perhaps that was what had his emotions ebbing and flowing
like the ocean tides.

He hadn’t meant to take Ciara seriously. For Mad, Bad Had-ley, life was best lived for naught but rakish pleasures. Yet somehow
he had been caught in a strange current, a vortex that pulled him far from familiar waters. He had come to care deeply about
her and her son.

Was he a fool to imagine there could be any future between a scholar and a scoundrel?
She had suffered enough selfish men in her life. He didn’t want to cause her pain. Already she was angry with him for ordering
her out of London. His concern had been interpreted as bullying.
So much for speaking the same language.
He might as well have been mumbling in Mandarin when he tried to explain himself.

There were unspoken tensions, as well. Lucas was well aware that women did not consider sexual dalliances quite as dispassionately
as men. She had implied that he had meant to use their afternoon interlude as a means of manipulating her. His jaw hardened.
Hell, nothing could be further from the truth, but she had refused to listen.

A part of him said he should steer clear of any emotional involvement with Ciara.

And a part of him wanted to buck the tide of conventional wisdom and risk venturing into uncharted waters.

Throw caution to the wind
. That certainly sounded like Mad, Bad Had-ley speaking.

Turning his gaze seaward, Lucas listened for a moment to the distant rumble of the surf washing up against the cliffs.

Or dare he hope that the better half of his nature was finally finding its voice?

He stood there a little longer, undecided on whether to seek his bed or make one more round of the grounds. Walking finally
won out over tossing and turning between the sheets. Either way, he wasn’t likely to get much sleep.

C
iara sat up suddenly in bed, roused from a fitful sleep by…

By God knows what,
she admitted. Perhaps Sir Henry’s country home was plagued by a ghost. Some specter seemed intent on haunting her dreams.

Looking around, she saw a twinkling of light dance across the ancient oak dresser. It was coming in through the leaded windows,
and as she watched, a gust rattled the glass and the draperies twitched.

She threw off the covers, feeling a curl of apprehension inside her chest. It was just her nerves stretched taut, she chided
herself. As Hadley had said, she must learn to relax. Cracking the casement, Ciara inhaled deeply, letting the calming scent
of cedar and salt fill her lungs. It was silly to imagine that trouble was stalking close by. A peek outside showed only the
leafy silhouettes of the garden plantings and the copse of oaks at the far end of the lawns…

Was there a movement stirring the shadows?

Ignoring her wrapper, Ciara unlatched the side door and stepped out to the terrace.

The rough slate tiles were cold against her bare feet. Another survey of the surroundings showed no cause for alarm. Feeling
a little foolish, she was about to turn around when Lucas emerged from behind the hedge.

She held her breath as he crossed the stones. “Is something amiss?” she asked softly.

He shook his head, the dark fringe of his lashes shadowing his eyes. “Just making the rounds to check that all is in order.
I’ve taken the precaution of having several men with dogs patrol the property. Have no fear, Lady Sheffield, I may be a bumbling
bully, but I won’t allow any harm to come to you or your son.”

Her name sounded so formal.

She shivered, suddenly aware there was nothing between her and the night air but a thin scrim of silk.

“You are cold.” Lucas moved to shield her from the night breeze. “Go back inside.”

She meant to move, but the play of moonlight on his hair was like quicksilver, dancing and darting over the dark, curling
strands.

“Ciara.”

Oh, no—God help her if he touched her body.

The devil must have sensed her weakness. Her wanting.

His arms came around her. “You look breathtakingly beautiful with your golden hair spilling over your shoulders.” A breeze
spun the night mists in a soft, shimmering circle around their bodies. “Like some mystical, magical sea sprite in a fairy
tale.”

“This is no storybook fantasy,” she replied, feeling the thud of his heart through his coat. “This is real life—”

“Aye, all too real. We are flesh-and-blood people, not characters formed from a dribble of ink.” His lips, warm and pulsing,
touched her brow. “We have feelings, passions.”

“Feeling and passions are dangerous.”

“Yes, but they can also be good and glorious. They are what make us alive, Ciara.”

She fisted her hands in his collar, unwilling to let go of the moment. He was right—she had kept herself dead to desire for
too long. Longing welled up in her throat, escaping in a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, Lucas,” she whispered.
“Whatever are we going to do about this inexplicable force that seems to draw us together?”

His response was swift and silent. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her through the half-open door. A nudge of his boot
and it shut with a soft
snick
.

The sound should have brought her to her senses.

Instead, it seemed to trigger the opposite reaction. She kissed him full on the mouth.

“God help me, I’ve tried to fight it,” he murmured. “But as you know by now, I’m not very good at denying myself what I want.”

“Oh, I am weak, as well,” she said haltingly. “So weak.”

“No, you are so strong.” Lucas set her down and framed her face with his hands. “I’ve never met anyone with half your courage
and resolve.”

“I—I am not really very brave. When I am alone, there are so many moments when I feel afraid and uncertain.”

“You are not alone now.”

And she was glad of it. “No.” Her mouth crooked. “The gossips must be right—at heart, I am a wicked, wicked woman. I’ve taken
advantage of your feelings for Henry and have drawn you into my troubles.”

“Taken advantage of me, sweetheart?” A low laugh rumbled in his throat. “Most people would say it’s the other way around.”

“But—”

The touch of his fingertips on her lips silenced her reply. “Let’s not argue the fine points of morality tonight,” he said.

Oh, what a wise suggestion.
She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to feel anything but
HIM
.

Her tongue licked out, tasting the salty-sweet flesh of his palm. His hand was both hard and soft. The contrast was enticing.
Erotic.

Grasping his wrist, she moved it down to cup her breast.

Flame-gold light glinted off the curl of his raven-dark lashes. The fringed shadows hid his expression. “Are you sure this
is what you want?”

Ciara nodded, not trusting her voice.

Lucas hesitated. “I know you have been hurt before, but as long as we are honest with each other, there is no need for shame
or guilt. Why deny ourselves this moment? It is an interlude for us to lose our cares in the heat of physical passion. It
doesn’t have to mean anything else.”

“It’s that simple?”

He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Yes. The women I take to my bed have no illusions about what I offer. You know
your own strengths, Ciara. And I know mine. I am very good at giving pleasure.” Leaning closer, he kissed her full on the
mouth. “Here, and on your breasts… and on your quim.”

She felt a lick of heat tease between her legs.

“I can help you see that your life does not have to be shrouded in one unremitting shade of black.”

A hint of the starlit heavens was visible in the windows behind his head. “Rather like the night sky?” she said softly. “A
vast darkness made bearable by the tiny points of fire?”

“I am not nearly so poetic,” murmured Lucas. “But yes, that is the idea, stripped to its essence.”

Bare essentials.
There was no denying his rampant masculinity. It pulsed from every pore. She traced the line of his jaw, acutely aware of
the stubbling of dark whiskers roughening the wind-kissed skin.