Authors: Claudy Conn
Her leather waistcoat was wide open and her full breasts pressed against a shirt that was obviously her brothers. Her nipples poked at the thin material as though begging for attention—so very pert and inviting. He felt his shaft get uncomfortably large and hard and reminded himself that he was her guardian.
He cleared his throat and the sound got her attention.
She opened those big brown eyes and looked up at him and suddenly he was bereft of speech. When had that ever happened to him? Speechless?
Never.
Last night, so much had happened, so much had been thrown at him. He had never had to deal with such a muddle and this wasn’t going to be easy. Explanations had been thrown at him, but none of them had served to help.
She scrambled to her feet and there in the sunlight, her lively eyes bright with concern and her body in boys clothing so much more alluring than he had ever thought possible, this imp of a woman stood grabbing all his attention to the exclusion of all else.
He felt the frown bend his brows as he looked her over. Even in dirty breeches, even with dusty boots and a smudge across her cheek, the Sherborne creature was utterly devastatingly beautiful.
The duke was a man who adored women, their foibles, their mysterious ways, and their many faces. He loved the way they laughed and giggled. He loved their softness, their hearts, and their ability to deal with a world that set them as the ‘lesser gender’ when he had always known otherwise. Indeed, though he knew it was the male’s job, his duty, his pleasure to protect a woman from harm; in no way were they the lesser gender. His mother had taught him that because he had adored and observed her and his feelings for her had left him with a deep affection for womankind.
Thus, the duke became a man with a fondness for all women, all sizes, and all ages. They were an intriguing lot, full of charms and had a way of seeing the world that opened that same world for a man.
He had always thought perhaps that he loved women too much and that was why he had never wanted to get attached to just one. There were so many choices.
This woman standing before him had been loyal to her brother to the point of absurdity and he admired that in her. However, she had to be taught that this could not continue, if only to keep her safe.
He found himself fighting a mental war. He wanted in all sincerity, to protect her, even from herself and yet…he could not stop the sure desire rushing through his blood when he looked at her. What the bloody hell was that? He never bothered with innocent maids. His flirtations were always with women married for convenience and looking for diversion and the occasional widow.
His mind was lost in cogitation as they saw to their horses, but in spite of his mental resolve to keep her at arm’s length, he found himself breathing in the fresh soapy scent of her. She must have washed with freezing cold water, poor girl, he thought.
He stepped closer without knowing that he did so. She went very still, but she resisted when he tried to take the saddle and the end result sent her flying backward.
He hurried and with great concern, reached for and found her waist as he helped her up and she put out a hand to his chest.
It was with every ounce of strength that he set her aside and did not kiss her, for at that moment, it was the only thing he wanted to do, but he wouldn’t. How could he take advantage of her like that? He couldn’t…could he?
* * *
She moved toward him, and didn’t have far to go with only an inch between them. She put her hand to his chest and while on her toes, she closed her eyes.
She knew, absolutely knew he was going to kiss her.
His voice was near her ear as he said, “Is there something I can do for you, Mandy? Something no one else can do?”
She heard the tease in his voice and realized what she was doing and feeling like a childish fool, she landed back on her heels, as her eyes snapped open. What must he think? How could she have been so wrong?
“No,” she answered, turning away from him. “Why would you think so?”
“Why? You looked as though you were in need of er…attention,” he said softly. “Indeed, you seemed to be reaching for it.”
She felt the vibes in the air. It was as though something inside of him broke free as he spoke.
She turned back to him. She should run. Instead, she found herself in his arms, his touch impassioned, his head bent to hers as his mouth devoured hers and his tongue searched hers for a response.
She gave herself to that kiss. Her body melted into his, her tongue moved hesitantly at first and then as he took over, she instinctively gave herself to his lead and the moment of erotic and primal sensation swept through her.
He was a rogue and a libertine and would forget her as soon as he walked away, but she didn’t care. She wanted his kisses. She wanted this feeling. She wanted the hunger he aroused in her.
She wanted.
Why him? He was dominant and controlling and she was an independent young woman who liked to make her own way. She didn’t want or need a man forever taking control, yet she wanted
this man
and she wanted him to be the one to make love to her.
She would be one and twenty soon and had never been in love to the point of wanting a man to bed her, but she wanted this one to do just that. What was wrong with her? But it wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t be, because it felt right—so right.
Rules—men’s rules, never made sense to her. She had always felt men made rules to benefit men. Why shouldn’t she enjoy passion with a man?
She was entitled to this.
So many of her friends were already married and most of them had done a great deal more than kissing before they entered the blissful state of matrimony. It was time she lived a bit, wasn’t it? There was no saying that she would ever marry—not with the course she had taken. Her reputation now would be ruined because she broke her brother out of prison. No one would want her as a wife.
And then all these cogitations were for naught as once again, he set her aside and said, “I am a cad to take advantage of your unstable emotions.”
Her lashes fluttered before she repeated the words in her mind and finally said, “My unstable emotions?”
“Yes…here…lonely, worried…upset…I…”
“And what of your emotions? Are you lonely, worried or upset? Is that why you kissed me, for I tell you frankly, those emotions are not what prompted me to kiss you.”
He eyed her strangely for a moment and asked, “No? What then did?”
She was flushed and embarrassed, so instead of answering him, she wagged a finger at him and said, “
Right,
as though I am stable enough to know?”
Suddenly he was reaching for her, and he murmured, “May I rot in hell for this.”
Once again she was in his arms, but this time, it was a crushing embrace. It was as though he had been at war with himself and lost.
He lifted her off the ground as his mouth devoured hers and then as he set her feet back down, his hand traveled to cup her breast over her shirt.
He nibbled at her ear and then did the same down the length of her neck and she heard him whisper hoarsely and as though he said it against his will, “Delicious woman, I am lost in you.”
He was a duke. He was a London rogue who had been with countless women, she was sure and he thought her delicious? She was spelled by his touch, by his voice, by his words and she bent to his love-making, matching his desire with her own.
In his arms, she felt as though she was floating into a world of sensation. She wanted this to go on. She liked the feel of his body against hers, felt his manhood through his breeches as it pressed against his clothing and hers and knew a sure excitement, curiosity and a need for more.
And then all at once as though he could wait no longer, his mouth went once again to hers and parted her lips with his own.
Sir Owen’s kisses were nothing like these.
She felt the heat from her toes shoot straight to her brain and fry all logic with one fell swoop.
His tongue gently danced with hers, teased her response and seemed to move with intensity as though emboldened by her return of his passion.
She was hungry for more of this, more of him.
More.
She thought of her friend Lucy telling her, that she would know when she was really kissed. Lucy had been right.
He tasted so good and her entire body was on fire. She knew that this was probably what it meant to be a wanton woman and did not care. His kiss was the kind that dreams were made of.
Everything all around them vanished.
All she knew was that they were alone, in each other’s arms. It was as though they were wrapped in a velvet sky and shooting stars exploded all around. Even with her eyes closed, she could see it all. There was only the two of them.
Her blood was bubbling in a way that made her want more kissing, more, more, more.
Then all at once, as though she had done something wrong, he set her away again and stepped back as though she were a red hot poker.
He stared at her as though she was something dangerous, something that had ensnared him, something he had to escape and he nearly stumbled as he stepped backward and hit the wall.
He put out a hand as though to ward her off and said, “
Bloody hell
, I don’t know what just happened, but I do beg your forgiveness. I have most certainly overstepped and…I apologize.”
She was unable to respond. She was embarrassed and hurt at his rejection. She turned away from him and said quietly, “Indeed, I would appreciate it, if you would just forget that this ever happened. I
know I
shall.”
His voice when it came sounded dry, stilted, “I have matters in town that require my attention.” He moved to his horse and set about tightening the girth.
She didn’t want him to go and felt a fool as she asked, “Oh, but don’t you want to wait for Ned and Chauncey?”
“I came only to bring you your horse,” he said and inclined his head as he led his outside and kept his eyes averted.
She stood at the makeshift barn door and sighed sadly as she watched him mount, and shift in his saddle.
“When will I…
we
see you again?” she asked trying to sound idle about it.
“Soon little one, soon,” he said and moved off a few paces. He didn’t look back as he suddenly rode off, and he rode off like the devil was after him.
She clasped her hands and told herself out loud, “You are a fool, Amanda Sherborne.
A fool
! He is sophisticated, he is experienced and has probably had the most beautiful women in all of London…and look at
you
. Just look at you, all dirty with hair and clothes a complete mess. Why would he ever want
you
? Kissing you must have been just awful for him to jump away like he did!” She gazed down at her brother’s clothes covering her body and wanted to cry.
Chapter Seven
MANDY COULD NOT sit still after her encounter with the duke.
She picked herself up, went to her abbey chamber and collected a linen cloth, a bar of soap, a change of clothing, her hair brush and headed outdoors. The stream was sure to be cold, but she needed a bath and she needed to wash her hair. At least the sun was warm.
She headed for the woods, basking in the warmth of the day and followed the stream to a spot she and her brother had used when they were children.
A moment later saw her naked and plunging into the deepest part. She soaped down her hair and body and hurried out of the water to wrap the linen around herself and brush out the tangles in her hair.
She sighed and was pleased to feel clean and refreshed as she pulled on her undergarments. She gazed at her brother’s clothes and wished she had instead one of her pretty gowns.
A moment later, dressed, her boots pulled back on, and feeling clean, she headed down the trail when a sound of her name made her come to a complete stop.
She closed her eyes, for she knew the voice well and he repeated, “Amanda!”
There was nothing for it. She knew this day would come. She turned to meet her fate head on. She might have been able to outrun him, but that would only lead him to their hiding place. She had no choice but to stand her ground.
She put on a smile she did not at all feel and said as nonchalantly as she could muster and as though she were meeting him in a drawing room, “Sir Owen,
how nice.”
He stood only twenty feet away from her, a fishing rod in his hand, his rugged face enigmatic. She noted that he looked thinner than usual, but perhaps it was because he wore only his shirtsleeves and buckskin waistcoat. His topboots were muddied and his hair windblown. He strode hard, putting the distance between them away and set down the basket containing the fish he’d caught with some force, his expression one of astonishment.
“How am I? My God!” he answered as he reached and tried to embrace her.
She stood apart from him and he dropped his hands to his sides, but made a show of looking her from the top of her head to her boots and exclaimed in shocked terms, “Devil a bit! What are you wearing? Ned’s clothes?”
“I am in disguise,” she said and put a hand to his chest to separate herself from him as he had taken another step closer. She eyed him calculatingly. Would he turn her in? She didn’t think so and she said carefully, “Sir Owen, I must go. You know that, don’t you? Or is it your intention to betray our friendship and turn me over to the authorities, as you did my brother, not so long ago.”
He took hold of her arm then and his hold was a tight grip as he regarded her grimly. She had a moment’s fear of him.
His voice when he spoke was laced with disbelief. “Is that what you think? Amanda, how did you get such a notion? It wasn’t what I told your uncle that sent him hotfoot after your brother.
Dash it
girl! How would that serve my purpose? I tell you frankly, it would not. I have been trying to win favor in your eyes…you must know that. Would handing your brother in so callously achieve my goal?”
Mandy frowned as she puzzled over this, “Yes, but you did go with Alfred to my uncle…and then my uncle decided to hand Ned over to the magistrate.”
“I accompanied Alfred only to make certain he did not embellish the facts, which he did try to do. Amanda, my only love, don’t you know, haven’t you guessed that all I want is to make you my bride? How would sullying your brother’s reputation…or getting him charged with murder serve my goals? At the risk of sounding selfish, I must point out to you that it would not.”
Mandy frowned at him, “No, it would not. Yet, I have learned that not all things are perfectly discernible at first.” She shrugged, “And telling me now that you mean to make me your bride sounds absurd to me. You made no such push before this trouble…”
“Did I not? You are perhaps too young to have realized, that everything I did, every move I made, was only to win your favor and your hand.” His fingers slid down her arm and took her own, “Amanda, promise me, that you will not scurry off and I will release my hold on you.”
“I do not scurry!” she snapped.
“Promise me, none the less,” he reiterated.
“No, I can not promise you. I don’t trust you,” she answered, her chin up.
“Amanda, listen to me. I have been searching for this Elly Bonner, this maid of Celia’s. I believe she holds the diary we are looking for. I am certain it will clear your brother.”
Suddenly excited, Mandy clutched at his sleeve, “Oh, Sir Owen, have you been doing that? If only you
could
find it,” Mandy cried hopefully. “We haven’t had any luck at all.”
“If I could free Ned, would you accept to be my wife?” Sir Owen said on a low note.
“I…but, I don’t love you,” she answered stepping away once more.
“That doesn’t matter. You would in time. I would see to it. Answer me, Mandy, is that your price?”
“My price?” She was shocked. “Of course, I want my brother cleared, but no, I don’t have a price and you shouldn’t want a woman with one.”
Sir Owen’s hazel eyes narrowed and she was taken aback by the glint in their depths. He said, “Is it Skippendon? I know you trust him. I know it was he you went running to for help, but Amanda, you shouldn’t trust him. Not at all.”
“Do not be absurd. We have known Skip nearly all our lives…”
“Sit beside me and when you have heard me out…I will let you go and I won’t try and follow. How is that?”
As an answer, she sat on a large fallen log and indicated with a slight movement of her hand for him to be seated, before saying, “Very well then, Sir Owen, I am sitting.”
He chuckled, “You are a handful and I can see you will not be a biddable wife. I wonder if I know what I am getting myself into?”
This made her laugh, “Excellent, I may yet pound some sense into you. Now, what is it you must tell me about Skippy?”
“As I said, it is my belief that the viscount is not to be trusted,” he said gravely.
“Don’t be absurd. Indeed, you must be jesting. Why would you say such a thing?”
“Unfortunately, I am not jesting. My valet has a friendship of sorts with the viscount’s man and although I ordinarily discourage gossip, this instance was different. You see, I have every reason to believe that the viscount was in an intimate relationship with Miss Celia and one that he terminated because he had picked up with yet another woman.”
Mandy found she could not speak. Her mouth opened wide and she gulped a breath of air before she managed to gasp out, “I don’t believe it. Not…Skip and Celia?” She then burst out with a harsh laugh and shook her head, “Upon my word, my cousin did make the rounds, did she not? Almost anyone could have killed her…” She eyed Sir Owen and said softly, “Even you, sir.”
* * *
The duke rode back to his friend’s manor home with a troubled mind. He couldn’t get the gamine Mandy out of his head. Her kiss had sent a collection of slamming shockwaves through his body. No woman had ever tasted so good. No woman had ever felt so right.
She was his ward. She was an innocent and he never, absolutely never, seduced an innocent and yet when he thought about her, it was all he wanted to do.
He wanted to lay her down and make never-ending wild love to her. He wanted to explore her body. He wanted to feel her hands on his. He wanted to…
Blister it
! He was a cad and he was lusting over a young and innocent woman he had no right even thinking about in such a manner.
Besides that, he had to set his mind to other matters. For one, Skippy and his involvement in all of this was nagging at him.
It took him no time at all to send his horse off to the stables and stride purposely into the house. It took less time to discover that once again, Skip was no where on the premises. This was troubling. Where did he go off to all the time?
He inquired but the butler having no notion, suggested that perhaps the viscount had gone fishing at his favorite spot and described just where that was, as on occasion, he had gone with the viscount to set up a picnic there.
It wasn’t far. Better than waiting about for him all day, when he wanted to speak with him at once.
The duke sighed and made the short trip to the stables, saddled one of the viscount’s steeds while his was being watered and rested in the back paddock and once again, rode the pike road to the dirt turn off the butler had described to him.
He had just come upon the rivulet he was seeking, turned down the dirt path, the butler had described and immediately stopped short.
What met his gaze confounded him, for there sat Mandy sitting on a log with Sir Owen, whom he recognized at once. Sir Owen, a rake, a libertine, and inveterate gambler, near enough to touch his Mandy, for he had already begun to think of her as his…with those lips he had just kissed.
Damn the blackguard’s soul, what was he doing here with her?
Had Mandy not returned…hell, encouraged his kisses only a short time ago? Why then was she sitting in close quarters with Owen when no one was supposed to know where she was hiding?
Shock rushed through his mind as he led his horse to a nearby tree, tethered him and crept closer as quietly as he could. What was she doing? How could she be meeting this rogue clandestinely? Wasn’t she afraid she would give away her location…put her brother in danger?
He arrived within listening distance just in time to hear Sir Owen expostulate, saying something about something being preposterous and then all at once the villain pulled Mandy into his arms.
He stepped forward, all his anger ready to burst out of him as his hands fisted. He was going to plant the fellow in the ground. However, he managed to find some control and stopped himself. Was showing himself the right move?
Clearly a decision must now be made. Should he go forward and confront them?
She pulled out of Sir Owen’s arms…but she remained seated with him. Damn it all to hell! He turned on his heel and returned to his horse.
A few moments later, he had worked his way down the wooded deer-path that would lead back to the abbey. He settled in and awaited Mandy’s return.
* * *
Mandy shoved Sir Owen away as soon as his lips touched hers. The thought of him kissing her after she had just kissed the duke, actually repulsed her.
He didn’t fight to hold on to her, but immediately dropped his hands. He sighed and shook his head, before saying “I assure you, Amanda, Celia and I…were no more than friends at best. No one has held my heart since I first met you,
but you.”
“I didn’t say she held your heart and I am not such a green girl as to think a man can be involved with a woman while his heart stays detached from her. You mistake, if you think I was not aware of your interest in Celia. I may be inexperienced sir, but not blind.” She got to her feet, “Now, if you will excuse me?” She hadn’t known for sure that he was involved with Celia until just then. His entire reaction to the suggestion had given him away.
“Did you walk here…” he frowned.
She supposed he was now trying to change the subject and discover how far she had to go. She was not a simpleton, but managed not to appear suspicious as she led him astray and said, “I did. My horse is with my friends. I came for a walk, while they attended to matters they did not wish to expose me to. But I must get back to our meeting spot as we have a long ride back.” There, that should throw him off nicely. He would think that friends of theirs were hiding them, safe and sound.
He called out to her as she hurriedly gave him her back and started off in the opposite direction of the abbey, “Amanda, please remember that I will do whatever you need to help your brother. Trust me because you can.”
“Trust you? I shall when I have reason,” she said over her shoulder. “You can move about more freely than we, so if you want my trust, help us find Elly Bonner.”
She hurried into the woods, found a tree she could climb and immediately did so. There she remained until she caught sight of Sir Owen heading in another direction. She smiled to herself, clamored down and headed toward the abbey.
Breathless, her shirt askew, her curls tumbling about her face, her braid undone down her back and in wild disarray, Mandy rushed to the forest’s edge.
She stopped to lean against the large trunk of an evergreen to catch her breath and just as she caught it, she lost it again.
Only a short distance away and how had she not seen him sooner, stood the duke. His blue eyes ablaze with an unreadable expression, and his lips, those sensuous lips were curled with disapproval as he regarded her.
“Well, well, my rough and tumble ward, where have you been?” he said slowly.
“’Tis not for
you
to question my activities,” she returned not knowing why she sounded so curt.
“Oh but you mistake. As your guardian, I have every right to question your activities,” he returned his voice edged with anger.
“Really, do you think so? I do not. After all, you haven’t cared what we did, or where we went, for almost a year, why should you now?” returned the lady with her chin well up.