Romancing the Earl (17 page)

“Why?”

“Suffice it to say that none of my prayers were ever answered. After a time, you have no choice but to stop believing.” The frigidity and conviction in his tone chilled her. She wanted to ask about his prayers, but doubted he’d tell her. They’d already veered into an uncomfortable topic and she was all but certain he’d said more than he’d intended.

She wanted to banish some of the ice from his eyes. “It sounds as if you lost faith in something—or someone—a long time ago. But as you say, you have faith in Wade. I should feel privileged if you would also have faith in me.” She lifted her wineglass and studied him over the edge.

He said nothing, but his gaze seemed to warm. “We’ve lost track of our subject, I’m afraid.” His attention reverted to his plate. “I should like to visit Stratton Hall after we attain our objective. Are you able to secure an invitation?”

She exhaled, unaware that she’d held her breath. Like him, she returned her focus to her meal and took a sip of wine. “Certainly. Stratton is always delighted to entertain male guests. It gives him an excuse to have a libidinous party, not that he needs one. I do believe he keeps at least two or three women on staff whose sole purpose is to pleasure him.”

Norris, who’d also taken a drink of wine, now coughed and sputtered. “Good God, Miss Bowen, have you no guile whatsoever?”

She grinned. “Why would I have need of that?”

He swiped the napkin over his mouth again, but not before she glimpsed his smile. “I begin to wonder what manner of woman you actually are. You are aware of . . .
things
I would think you ought not be aware of, and you kiss as though you’ve done it before—and not just once or twice. Has behavior changed so much since I left England?”

Hearing him mention the kiss caused heat to pool in her belly and rush to her face. She prayed her cheeks weren’t flaming scarlet—not from embarrassment, but from the completely inconvenient desire she felt for him. “They have not. However, I believe I’ve explained to you that I am no ordinary female. I have no interest in Society or making a match on the Marriage Mart. I do care about my reputation in that I don’t wish to bring shame to my family. Beyond that, I don’t care what people think of me—you included.” She gave him a saucy look. It seemed she couldn’t help but provoke him.

His eyes had widened briefly as she’d spoken. Now he looked at her with something akin to curiosity, as if she were a conundrum, and she supposed she was. “You are the most unusual female I’ve ever met.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.”

“Please do.”

She froze for a moment, wondering if she’d heard him right. He
had
just complimented her. The warmth suffusing her intensified.

After several minutes, he set his utensils down and took another drink of wine. “I should like to know how you came to kiss like that.”

The air crackled with their mutual attraction. At least she thought it was mutual. He’d responded to the kiss, hadn’t he? And he was currently looking at her as if he wanted to do it again.

A tremor went through her, and she set her own silverware down. Unlike him, she wasn’t opposed to sharing revelatory details. “I was . . . in a courtship.”

“And what happened to this despicable fellow?”

She bit back a laugh. Iscove
was
despicable, but Norris couldn’t know that. “Why do you characterize him like that?”

“Because he kissed you and didn’t marry you.”

“You’ve kissed me.”

His eyes narrowed. “On the contrary,
you
kissed
me
. If you recall, I prevented you from kissing me a second time.”

His words stung, which was foolish. He was behaving like a consummate gentleman, the absolute opposite of Iscove. She should feel relieved and happy.

“It doesn’t matter, because I didn’t wish to marry him.” She might’ve. Once. For a very short time. But she didn’t admit that to anyone, even to herself.

“Yet you kissed him.”

If she were a man, this would be an altogether different conversation. “Why not? Just because I prefer to remain independent shouldn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself. A lifetime without romantic entanglement sounds horribly dull, does it not? I enjoyed kissing you, and I don’t regret it.”

His eyes seemed to smolder before he looked away. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t be asking you such personal questions. I quite forgot myself.”

“It’s all right,” she said softly, not wanting him to feel awkward. She liked talking to him, sharing with him. “For some reason I am rather comfortable in your presence.”

“For the sake of propriety, we should stick to our mission.”

Yes, they should, but she’d never been terribly interested in propriety. “May I ask you a question?”

His eyes narrowed again. “You may, but I don’t promise to answer it.”

“When do you plan to take a countess?”

His answer came surprisingly fast. “I don’t.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

Fascinated, she leaned forward. “Why not?”

His lips lifted in a half-smile, and his eyes gleamed enigmatically. “I beg you to forgive me for not answering.”

She was more curious than ever, but now wasn’t the time to pester him.

When they finished dinner, he stood and held her chair while she got to her feet. “What is the name of that loathsome reprobate?”

“Why?”

“I should like to know in case I encounter him in the future.”

She doubted that would be possible. Iscove had cheated several gentlemen in a card game and had disappeared. He wouldn’t likely show his face in Society anytime soon, if ever.

She didn’t mean to tell him, but the icy promise in his gaze was too magnetic to ignore. “David Iscove.”

“Mr. Iscove had better hope he doesn’t cross my path. In the military we dealt with reprehensible men in ruthless fashion.”

Cate shivered. Not from the threat he offered, but because of what it meant. She had somehow become important enough to him that he would guard her honor. There was no way he could be Iscove all over again. He could be something far worse—someone who could steal her heart.

Elijah should have been exhausted after rising early the day before and traveling, but he’d awakened several times in the night. Every time, he’d had some dream involving Miss Bowen. In one, she’d read to him from the Bible and he’d hung on her every word. In another, he’d challenged the faceless knave Iscove to a duel and shot him in the chest. And in the last, he’d taken control and been the one to kiss her. Only he hadn’t stopped there.

He watched her mount the borrowed horse with the aid of a block in the yard, and had to avert his gaze from the enticing swell of her hip encased in a riding habit that allowed her to ride astride.

“Rough night?” Wade asked quietly as he checked the bridle on Elijah’s animal.

Elijah gave him a perturbed look, which earned a smile from the valet. They took to their mounts in the yard of the inn.

“Ready?” Miss Bowen asked from atop her horse, standing next to Grey and her beast, who danced uncertainly. Judging from her seat and hold on the reins, Elijah suspected riding might be the one vulnerability in Grey’s armor.

Elijah looked to Wade and inclined his head toward Grey.

Wade nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Satisfied that all would be well, Elijah rode from the yard. Miss Bowen kept good pace with him as they traveled out of town along a slender road in the direction of his childhood home. They wouldn’t go that far—their destination was before that—and Elijah felt a pang of regret. He was surprised to find he wanted to see the old place, to recall the happy times he’d shared there with his father and with Matthew.
 

There had been no happy occasions with his mother. She preferred to stay with friends in Bath, but during the infrequent times she spent at home, she’d been irritable and demanding, practically impossible to satisfy. She’d always left in a huff, causing Elijah to wonder what he’d done wrong. His father, ever the calming element in the household, had eventually convinced him that it wasn’t his fault, that his mother was simply a frigid woman. The damage, however, had been done. She’d ensured Elijah wouldn’t trust a woman to treat him with generosity, respect, and definitely not love.

Lost in memories for the duration of the ride, Elijah was surprised when Miss Bowen rode up beside him and asked if they were nearly there.

“Yes.” He led them toward a copse and slowed, guiding them around the trees. As the outcropping of rock from the hillside came into view, Elijah could practically hear his brother’s laugh as they played chase and scaled the rock, taunting each other about who could climb faster.

Miss Bowen walked her horse up beside him. “You’re smiling. Why?”

He gestured toward the hill rising past the trees. “I spent a lot of time climbing that as a lad.”

“It looks a bit dangerous with all of that exposed rock.”

“Perhaps, but children don’t think of such hazards.” He looked at her riding astride, heedless of propriety. “But then, you aren’t a child and I’m not certain you think of such hazards either.”

She glanced down. “This isn’t dangerous, just unacceptable.”

“You and Grey traveling around Britain on your own isn’t dangerous?” He looked behind them to see how far back Grey and Wade were. She was having difficulty with her horse, but Wade looked to have the situation in hand.

“We’re quite careful. I do appreciate your concern.” She said the last a little too sweetly, maybe with a touch of sarcasm.

As they fully rounded the copse, Miss Bowen let out a surprised gasp. “There’s a folly!”

The structure, built by their eccentric neighbor, Mr. McConley, to mimic a Roman temple, was the largest of four different follies his property boasted. For a time, McConley had even allowed a hermit to inhabit one of them, but he’d moved on after a year.

This folly, however, had been Elijah and Matthew’s favorite. It was the first McConley built and as such had been a good fifteen or twenty years old back then, giving it a wild, natural quality they’d loved. Now it was even more overgrown, with vines climbing the walls and shrubbery combatting for space inside the open-air structure.

He brought his horse to a halt outside the building and tethered the beast before helping Miss Bowen to dismount. He touched her as little as necessary, preferring that they keep their distance after the lurid images that had filled his dreams.

She looked at him as she brushed at her skirt. “This is a rather good hiding place. I can’t imagine anyone looking for it here.”

“Yes, it’s not surprising when I think about it. Matthew enjoyed hiding objects when we were children, and he hid any number of my toys in this exact spot.” Elijah pictured him laughing and rubbing his hands together with glee, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Miss Bowen’s gentle touch on his arm startled him. “I can see how much he meant to you. I’m so sorry he’s gone.”

Elijah strode forward into the folly.

Miss Bowen followed him and tugged on his elbow when she caught up. “Why do you do that?”

He moved away. “What?” He was being purposefully obtuse, and he didn’t care.

She exhaled. “Never mind. Where is this special spot?”

“This way.” He went out through the back and stalked toward the hill, to the rock exposed at the base.

The morning sun beat on his back, reminding him of summer days with Matthew. Shoving the memories away, he reached the rocky area and pushed through the shrubbery.

He saw the opening in the rock and knelt. Could he still fit inside?

No. The opening was too narrow. He turned his head and looked up at Miss Bowen, blinking at the bright sky behind her. Wade and Grey approached from the folly.

“Is it in there, do you think?” Miss Bowen indicated the small cave. “I can fit through the hole.”

“It’ll be pitch black inside.”

She shrugged, appearing fearless. “It can’t be very large.”

“No, just big enough for two boys to escape a torrential downpour.”
 

“You and your brother?” she asked.

He nodded as the specific memory filled his mind. Mother had been at home and had become furious when they’d returned soaked and filthy. Matthew, who’d affected a sneezing fit to garner sympathy, had been ushered directly into a warm bath. She’d blamed Elijah for the entire event, heaping admonishments and scorn upon him until he’d cried, which had only further provoked her anger. She’d dunked him in a cold bath and sent him to bed without supper. Long-buried hurt scalded his insides and he couldn’t speak any further.