To Tempt an Earl (12 page)

Bethanny tried not to hold her breath—

But failed.

"You cannot say such things and expect for me
to be patient." He shook his head and tugged her hand till she
followed him. He glanced down the hall and pulled her into a room,
one she knew wasn't used as often. The pale yellow parlor was
small, and therefore remained unoccupied most of the time, making
it the perfect place for a bit of privacy.

"I choose to keep my diverting tales till a
later time," Bethanny teased. "And I fear there is nothing you can
do, Lord Graham, that will change my mind. Consider this fair
warning." She raised a daring eyebrow.

"A challenge? I accept." Lord Graham released
her hand and bowed. "I've uncovered a fair share of secrets, Miss
Lamont. Consider this
my
warning." He reached down and
grasped her hand once more and pulled her in toward him. "Some
secrets are worth more than others. Just how much should I risk in
trying to uncover yours?" he whispered, his eyes roaming her face,
sending shivers of anticipation through her.

"I don't know many secrets, I hate to waste
your valuable time," Bethanny responded, thankful her tone wasn't
as breathless as she felt.

"Hmm… tell me about Neville," he murmured,
and reached up and traced the lines of her neck with his gloved
hand. The smooth texture of his glove felt like silk against her
skin, cool yet leaving her feverish.

"What about him?" Bethanny asked, curling her
hands into fists till her nails bit into her flesh, hoping it would
help keep her wits about her.

"Did he rescue you? That's what I've been
told."

"Perhaps. I do believe you've also been told
that you'll learn the full story later. Are you so impatient?" she
asked, then felt a daring grin tug at her lips. Slowly she reached
up and ran her palms across his shoulder and down his arm, tracing
his form.

Lord Graham's teeth clenched.

Bethanny grinned wider.

"Two can play, Miss Lamont."

"Undoubtedly." She shrugged and bit her lip,
glancing down at her own boldness.

"I never expected you'd grow into someone so
stubborn," he spoke after a moment, his caramel-colored eyes
searching hers as she raised her gaze to meet his.

"We all change."

"Indeed."

"Some more than others," she added with a
grin.

"Yes… well." Lord Graham appeared
uncomfortable and took a step back, clearing his throat.

"Lord Graham, I do believe you're blushing,"
she teased.

"I am not." He looked offended.

Bethanny didn't believe him. "You must know
that I do not hold the fact that you did not recognize me against
you. Don't you? I'm quite aware that I don't look very similar to
the young girl you left behind."

Lord Graham cleared his throat." Dear Lord,
what am I doing?" he murmured softly and turned.

"Wait," Bethanny called out as he started for
the door.

He paused but didn't turn, his head hanging
as if berating himself.

Bethanny strode forward and placed a hand at
his back, encouraging him to turn. He obeyed, his eyes
tormented.

"Yes?" he asked hesitantly.

"Don't," Bethanny commanded softly.

"Pardon?" His golden brows furrowed, giving
him the expression of a confused Greek god.

"Just… don't. Because all the things you're
berating yourself for are the very things I'll be dreaming about
tonight," she whispered, praying her confession of bold truths
wouldn't leave her brokenhearted.

"You don't know me." He shook his head.

She reached up and cradled his face in her
hands. "Yes, Lord Graham, I do. I know you, I know your family, I
know your friends, and, more so, I know you deeper because of how
I've come to know you
through
them." Softly she reached up
and kissed his cheek. "And for me, that is enough."

Lord Graham was still as she whispered her
final words. She backed away a step and waited.

He regarded her softly, as if unsure yet
hoping, wanting to believe her. Then, just as she was afraid he'd
leave without another word, he reached out and grasped her
hand.

"Until later," he murmured. Tugging on each
individual finger of her glove, he slowly removed the soft leather
from her hand, never once breaking eye contact.

The soft halo of light gold in the middle of
his amber gaze was illuminated with a delicious seduction that held
her captive. She gasped softly, remembering the life-giving breath
she was so desperately in need of, and struggled to continue her
rhythmic intake. Slowly, feeding the already swirling anticipation,
he raised her hand and kissed her wrist, allowing his soft lips to
graze along the sensitive flesh before pressing another warm and
alluring kiss. His nose drew a lazy circle as his warm breath
tickled her skin.

Straightening his posture, he gently handed
her back the removed glove and winked then walked away.

Bethanny's gaze greedily took in the strong
shape of his shoulders and how they tapered to a trim waist. The
soft thump of his boots on the floor helped slow the rapid cadence
of her heartbeat.

Later couldn't arrive soon enough.

Graham tapped his boot on the wooden floor.
Though the sound was of his own making, it annoyed him all the
same. So he stood and paced.

Bloody hell.

It had been two days since he had last seen
Bethanny, and he was acting like a caged tiger, so desperate was he
for the sight of her. He had fought back and forth, a civil war
within himself, over the reasons he should or shouldn't pursue the
consuming attraction toward the girl.

Because she was a
girl,
young,
untainted, pure.

Honestly, his antithesis. She deserved far
better than he, yet he found that he wanted her all the same.

Which was only proof of the depravity of his
soul.

Oh, he hadn't been too bad…

Or perhaps he had, but regardless, he never
thought a deb would ever wield such power over him. It was…
unsettling.

Yet he was powerless to stop it.

He needed to clear his head. But so far
nothing had worked — not brandy, not cards at White's, nor riding
breakneck speed through Hyde Park. He desired no woman save the one
he shouldn't want. And he wasn't a fool enough to think a quick
tumble with another would solve anything; rather, he was quite
certain it would make matters worse.

Graham paused in front of the low-burning
fire, inhaling the faint scent of smoke.

He could visit the duke again.

But he didn't truly have a reason to visit…
and he wasn't of the habit of dropping by anyone's residence simply
to… chat.

He wasn't a woman.

He glanced at the clock and noticed the hour.
It would be quite fashionable to take ride through the park.
Perhaps if Bethanny…

Before he could finish the thought or
consider the repercussions, he was striding toward the door.

"Please have the curricle readied," he asked
of his aged butler.

"Of course, my lord." He bowed with practiced
ease.

Graham turned and bounded up the stairs.
After changing into a finer coat, he made his way to the curricle.
Snapping the whip, the bays charged forward, pulling the stylish
carriage into the street. Graham refused to think about his
actions, rather focusing on the slight breeze that alleviated the
air of some of the London stench. The trees were green, and the air
warmer than yesterday. The sun hung in the lower western sky, and
the clouds seemed friendly, rather than threatening rain.

Truly London was beautiful when the weather
allowed.

He guided his bays to the duke's residence
and pulled them up just before the house. The stately stone
structure boasted several floors and impeccably manicured boxwoods.
Graham knocked and withdrew a card, waiting.

"Yes, Lord Graham?" Murray answered, his face
the usual unreadable mask.

"I'm here to see…" he cleared his throat,
"I'm here to see Miss Lamont."

"I see." The butler accepted the card and
disappeared into the house.

He was impatient and anxious, curious as to
what was taking Murray so long. Had the duke rejected his request?
Was Bethanny out already?

Was she with another gentleman?

Graham began to clench his fist.

"Right this way, my lord." Murray appeared
and guided him to the usual receiving parlor. "Miss Lamont will be
down directly."

Graham nodded.

"And His Grace will also be here shortly,"
Murray added.

Graham nodded tersely.
What's done is
done,
he thought,
but how to—

"Graham! I saw your curricle, and Murray said
you're here to speak with Bethanny? No doubt you'll wish to take
her out for a ride — a brilliant idea. Wish I would have thought of
it myself. She can get her practice in with you rather than I."

"Practice?" Graham asked, his elation at the
duke neatly taking care of his predicament taking a nosedive as he
considered the reason.

"Why yes! She's been invited by several
gentlemen for turns about the park, but she declined. I'm assuming
it's nerves. I imagine it would be quite tedious the first time.
You're a good egg to consider her. Surely she'll feel quite relaxed
with you. Take the pressure off, so to say." The duke rocked on his
heels, a very self-satisfied smile on his face.

One that Graham wanted to remove with bodily
force.

"Indeed," Graham replied, because what else
could he say?
Actually I'm here as one of those lovesick swains
hoping to steal a few precious moments of her undivided
attention…

"Ah, here she is." The duke held out his hand
to Bethanny as she entered.

Graham was thankful Clairmont was
preoccupied, for surely he would have seen the truth written
clearly across his face in that moment. Like a man starved, he
feasted upon the sight of her in the neat green dress as it darted
in at her hips and rounded her curves in the most delicious fashion
possible. It was as if the dressmaker had designed the dress to
tempt a man, to lure his thoughts into forbidden territory, all
with the guise of modesty, as it covered all the areas it also
deliciously highlighted.

Fashion be damned.

"Miss Lamont." Graham bowed and forced his
thoughts into submission. Taking a deep breath, he flashed her one
of his most charming grins.

Her color deepened with an innocent blush,
causing his blood to simmer with unfulfilled desire.

Forbidden desire.

"Lord Graham." Bethanny nodded, her eyes
sparkling with secrets that Graham shared.

And heaven only knew how many
more
secrets he wanted to share.

"Isn't this grand?" the duke commented.

"Indeed," Graham murmured, his gaze trained
on Bethanny. "Shall we, Miss Lamont?" He offered his arm.

Softly, she placed her hand on him. The
comfort of her touch was as peaceful as it was alarming. Who was
this woman who could provoke such strong sentiment and emotion?
What was it about her that caused him to react so? Graham prided
himself in his self-control. He made women swoon.

Not
the other way around.

Graham led her to the curricle and glanced to
the sky. Puffy clouds were swept across the late spring horizon,
outlined in silver and far too lightly colored for rain. Sending up
a prayer of thanks, he helped Bethanny in and then entered as well.
The carriage was well-sprung, and Graham couldn't help but feel the
elation of pride as he took in hand the reins.

"So, I find myself curious as to why you are
here. Not that I object, mind you," Bethanny asked in her honest
manner, her brown eyes clear.

"Can I not enjoy a turn about the park with a
lovely lady for company?" Graham asked back smoothly. He resisted
the urge to clear his throat as Bethanny's gaze sharpened as if
trying to lift the reason from his mind.

"You are indeed free to do so, as I am free
to be flattered by your compliment. However, we both know that you
do not wish to draw the attention of my guardian. So my curiosity
isn't exactly satisfied, Lord Graham." She grinned lightly, leaned
over, and bumped his shoulder playfully.

"Minx. Must you always be so curious?" he
grumbled, though a grin broke through.

"Indeed. It's why you like me so," she
replied cheekily.

"Is that so? And here I was simply taking you
out so you'd not be nervous for the other more… suitable… gentlemen
who wish to bask in the glow of your company," Graham replied, then
watched as her brow furrowed. He hadn't meant to hurt her tender
feelings, yet she had a way of putting him on the defensive, as if
he needed to take extra measure to protect himself.

To protect his heart.

A grin tipped her lips. "Lord Neville
did
mention an outing. How kind of you to take me out so
that I may rid myself of all anxiety." She hitched a shoulder.