A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) (8 page)

"We had better go inside. They will be looking for us soon." Voice rough with unfulfilled passion, he dared not look in her direction, lest he forget himself and continue his pursuit. He knew that she was inexperienced and had never before been kissed. Her own rapid breathing filled his senses, her delicate scent filled his nostrils and the combination was more than he could withstand.

"Is something wrong, Griffin? Have I offended?" Her plea pierced his heart and he turned again, grasped her in his arms.

 "Allie, pray open your sweet mouth and allow me to kiss you as a man kisses a woman."

"Griffin? Allie? Where are you?" The sound of Lord Rothburn's sonorous voice filled the dark garden. "Best be getting inside. Guests are leaving and it is very late."

Griffin instantly released Allie, moving away. The slight amusement in Rothburn's tone allowed no room for Griffin to misinterpret the other man's intent. He knew what they were about and interrupting deliberately.

"Coming cousin. Just give us a moment." Griffin needed time before he rose from the bench, lest he embarrass himself and the girl as well, with the evidence of his need.

With a sense of urgency in his tone he clasped her hands and looked solemnly into her eyes. "I will call on you tomorrow. Perhaps we can persuade Rothburn to make up a foursome with your aunt and go for a ride in the park. It is the best I can do."

Seeing Allie's disappointed look, he said with exasperation, "You surely do not expect me to engage in the intrigues you have suggested? Not only are they childish, but dangerous and possibly harmful as well."

"Oh how can you say so? I am no child to be treated in such a manner!" Allie, her sensibilities clearly injured by his disregard for her plans, stood quickly and ran inside, leaving Griffin sitting very still upon the bench. He stayed that way for some time and was startled when his cousin came to sit beside him.

"Having some difficulty with the lady?" Rothburn, likely well aware why Griffin could not rise from his perch, turned a knowing look upon the youth. "You know, it has been my experience that when in the company of gently born young ladies, one does not indulge in activities of a passionate nature. Can get a man in real trouble, if you will."

"I only kissed her. And a very simple kiss it was. Girl would hardly open her mouth." Disgruntled by the entire episode and feeling foolish, Griffin was in no mood for
his cousin's patronizing attitude.

"I am only suggesting—"

 "I'm not in the habit of seducing gently bred young ladies," he interrupted with pique. "While she is beautiful, she is also very young."

"I believe you and I'm sure Sir Gordon will believe you—as long as you don't make a habit of secreting the girl off into dark corners. Only luck that someone else didn't stumble upon the pair of you in such an intimate embrace. Shouldn't have been out here unescorted in the first place. Pendleton's a crack shot—wouldn't want you dead before you're wed."

With that, Rothburn gave a hearty laugh and slapped him on the back, then rose from the bench and offered a hand up. "I'm sure you can go inside now. All the ladies have retired to the sitting room. Time for a spot of brandy, eh? Nothing like it for curing what ails you."

"A dram of whisky would be more to my liking," Griffin mumbled, following his noble cousin through the French doors. Rothburn's laughter did not sit well. He frowned at the other man's back, pride smarting and body aching in places he dared not think of.

"Dead before you are wed," he muttered under his breath. Those words alarmed him. When Griffin had been invited to dinner at the Pendleton home, he'd been elated to find himself able to spend more time with the young lady who was the object of his desire. But desire was all Griffin had in mind. Knowing he had another year at Cambridge and then be sent abroad to complete his education, he had no thought of marriage.

Warned in the past not to dally with gently bred ladies, he'd heeded that warning—until now. There was something so sweet and so intriguing about Allie Pendleton, he could not help being drawn to her. He wanted her, but he wanted his freedom as well.

 Deluding himself that he could have both was a dangerous game and his cousin's warning had been like dashing cold water in his face. He would have to give her up, for he could not, in good conscience, seduce the girl and then leave her ruined. It would not serve.

As though he could read Griffin's thoughts, Rothburn stopped and turned, placing a fatherly hand on the younger man's arm. "Women are the bane of a man's existence, cousin of mine. Can't have 'em unless we pay the piper. Whether 'tis a Piccadilly doxy or a drawing room miss, a man must pay in one way or another. If you find the one you want, be willing to wait, or pay the piper now."

"I've a long way to go before I think of paying the piper—at least five years. Can't expect a jewel like Allie to wait. Wouldn't be fair. Guess I'll be leaving early tomorrow, so I'll forgo the brandy if you don't mind." Griffin, feeling oddly bereft,  patted the earls hand where it rested on his arm. "Give my excuses if you will—and say goodbye to Allie for me."

"Surely you can do that yourself. She would expect it, Griffin. Not good form to disappear. Come take your leave properly," Rothburn urged.

 "Can't." His voice terse, a mere whisper of sound, caused the earl to lean closer to hear him. "Just tell her for me. Know I'm a coward. No help for it. Goodnight Rothburn. I'll be in touch after finals."

Rothburn stood in the dark for a long moment as his young cousin's footsteps faded into the distance. Sighing with something akin to regret, he turned back into the house, only instead of seeking Allie, he went straight to Lady Alana.

Rothburn knew he was not up to the task of confronting the girl.

Chapter Seven

~~

Alana looked up at his approach. It seemed she had become so attuned to his every nuance, she could sense his advance from across the room. She smiled and to her chagrin, noted the heat in her face that portended a blush. Blushing was
not
something she did. Raising a hand to her cheek, she tilted her head in acknowledgement of his arrival.

 "Milady, a moment of your time?" Rothburn's eyes were serious, a hint of sadness lurking in their liquid brown depths. His mouth, normally so sensuous and relaxed, was pursed in a tight line, the corners drawn downward, pulling his face into a grimace that was nothing if not regretful.

He glanced at Allie, sitting near her aunt, and turned away, his gaze reflecting the tormented look in the young woman's eyes.

"Rothburn?" Lady Alana, feeling some alarm at the dismayed look upon his face, urged him to speak. "What is amiss? You look dreadful."

"I thought perhaps you would join me in the garden for a moment." At her raised eyebrows Rothburn hurried to explain. "It's a matter that requires some privacy." He glanced meaningfully at Allie and back again to Alana. "We should be gone only a few moments."

Without another word she rose and placed her hand on Rothburn's arm, allowing him to escort her to the terrace. As soon as they were outside, she turned toward him, tightening her grip on his arm in such a way that her agitation was evident.

"What is it?" She hissed urgently.

 "Griffin has gone. Wanted you—ah, me, to tell the girl goodbye for him. Couldn't do it. Too sad."

His speech was jerky, so uncomfortable was he with the situation.

"Gone? Why, that's absurd. After dinner he spoke of a picnic tomorrow and attending Mrs. Beasely's soirée. I cannot believe he is just gone. Pray tell me, what has happened?"

Rothburn pulled her along to the bench and gently sat her there, continuing to stand, as he looked down upon her. "You are lovely in the moonlight," he said in a distressed voice. "I believe I have never hated a task as I dislike the one before me now."

"Whatever do you mean?" She sat straighter, dread tight in her throat.

 "As you know... " he began in a faltering tone, then clearing his throat, tried once more, "Griffin... as you know, has developed quite deep feelings for Miss Pendleton. Evidently they were in the garden for an inappropriately long period of time and as you can guess—"

Alana turned to peer through the French doors and espied her niece's unhappy posture and downcast eyes. Leaping to conclusions, she stood, her mouth opened to exclaim. He urged her to sit with gentle hands upon her creamy white shoulders, feeling a current of electricity shoot through her at the contact of hands on bare skin.

The contact affected him as well, touching her softness driving that current straight to his loins. Determined not to be distracted by her charms, he spoke again, this time getting to the point. "They were just kissing but—well, Griffin has expressed to me that he had no idea that his feelings would be so instantly engaged and he has five more years before he can expect to offer marriage. Thought it best to disappear."

 Holding up a staying hand as he saw Alana once more open her mouth to speak, he continued, "Cowardly, I know. But it is really better this way. Thought you'd tell her for me. Can't bring myself to look her in the eye. My cousin, you know."

"You mean, he's just going to go off and not tell her himself? How—how cowardly, indeed." Lady Alana drew herself up in fury, her eyes sparking anger as she leveled Rothburn with a chilly stare, the same chilliness invading her tone. "If your cousin is such a disgraceful character, I would not want my niece to be longer in his company at any rate."

Spewing her disappointment, she turned her full anger upon the luckless earl. "I will tell her myself as I can see that you have no talent for such things, but I will tell
you
something as well. If he should ever try to see her again I will have him run out of town! Mayhap I will have him dragged to the nearest tree and—"

Her voice stopped abruptly and her gaze softened as she looked up at him. A rather glazed look came into her eyes and her hand lifted to the flutter in her throat.

Rothburn raised an eyebrow in question, studying her bemused face. She appeared to have forgotten speech. Her lips parted slightly and she ran the tip of her tongue over them in a nervous gesture as he stared at her, his eyes roaming over her person and coming to rest on her mouth.

"Why do you look at me thus?" He was not displeased with her reaction, or the look in her eyes, a look that spoke a silent promise. Then she rose from her seat as though in a trance, and every nerve ending in his body burned with rampant desire.

Lady Alana lifted her hand, fingertips tracing delicately over his bottom lip, then onward to caress his rigid jaw line. A small moan escaped her as he drew her into his arms and she trembled against him, making him ache for her in ways he'd never imagined he could ache for a woman.

His heart pounding out of his chest, dizzy with the unexpected rush of blood from his brain, he could barely contain a primitive desire to throw the lady over his shoulder and run off into the darkness.

"Rothburn," she whispered, her voice a caress as she drew his name softly through her pouting lips. He watched those lips as she parted them, breathing his name yet again.

Rothburn dipped his head and drew her into an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue darting and withdrawing, at first playfully, then aggressively as she swayed against him. As she gave herself up completely to his embrace, their bodies melded together, straining to be closer even as their mouths caressed one another hotly.

His head came up and he looked down at her, whispering, "You are lovely when you are angry, makes me want to devour you." Then he dipped his head once more and caught her lips with his own, nibbling and caressing, the heat of her breath mingling with his.

She whimpered his name again, deep in her throat and accepted his plundering tongue once more, arching into his body as he pulled her closer. "Please, My Lord ."

"Please what?" He murmured against her mouth, running his tongue lightly over her lips.

"I—you—we—" Alana seemed confused, unable to bring her thoughts together enough to say what she wished.

"Tell me," he commanded, resisting the urge to crush her closer. Reminding himself to go easy—aware she was completely  vulnerable.

"I am not certain what I mean," she whispered. "Would that I could tell you, but it seems I cannot."

He stopped her murmur with another gentle kiss, deepening the contact as his body spoke to hers, hips thrust forward to move against her.

At the sound of footfalls, he stepped back quickly, guiltily. Lady Alana busied herself straightening her hair while he—somewhat in the same fix his cousin had been in earlier—sat abruptly upon the bench. He tugged at her hand, drawing her down beside him, but at a respectable distance. Clearing his throat, he whispered, "Just act as though we are discussing the constellations."

To reinforce that idea, he pointed his hand skyward.

"Yes, the constellations. An excellent suggestion." Alana sounded breathless.

"Ridiculous, I know," he whispered.

"Not at all," she whispered back, smiling dreamily.

He thought she looked a bit dizzy, with her lips swollen by his kisses, eyes unfocused. He hoped to distract their unwanted host until she could regain her normal poise. He shifted to face Sir Gordon, effectively shielding her for the moment.

"There you are Rothburn! Been looking for you for a game of billiards." Sir Gordon peered closely at both of them, his speculative gaze apparently missing nothing. Lady Alana's reddened mouth, Rothburn's slightly dazed appearance, the pair of them virtually quivering with the distress of unsatisfied passion.

Sir Gordon executed a small bow, laughter brimming in his voice. "I can see that you two are engaged in discussing something of high import so I will find someone else to challenge."

He looked at the sky, his eyes following the pointing arm of The Earl of Rothburn, and looked back at the pair, a rueful grin upon his face. "Do put your arm down old fellow, you'll get a cramp in your shoulder."

His heels clicked decisively on the cobbles as he strode away.

Rothburn dropped his hand. Returning to the original purpose of their tryst, he looked at Alana, who stared back with something akin to regret. The moment spun out until Rothburn could stand it no longer. Taking her hands, he kissed her fingertips, lingering to inhale the essence of her scent. Roses and lilac water, he thought—and something more.

Finally Alana spoke in a husky voice. "Rothburn, we cannot be alone together again. It simply will not serve. I am as lacking in control as you are and I would not have my reputation ruined—nor my life turned upside down. I shall explain to Allie and let her get on with the healing process."

She rose abruptly from the bench and turned back to the house, Rothburn's low voice beseeching, though he dared not follow her. "I am sorry, Alana. Should never have brought you out here. Should have told the girl myself."

Rothburn was comforted by the thought that he could depend upon her to aid him, even in so small a thing as this. Although he didn't really think it a small thing at all. Young love was slow to heal, as he remembered well. He truly liked both young persons and regretted their loss, felt their pain.

What he felt as well was his own deep burning pain. He wanted Lady Alana. Wanted her with every quivering fiber of his being. How then, could he extract himself from his mother's choice of bride? It was time for a straightforward talk with Sir Gordon. Past time.