Bayou Bad Boys (29 page)

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Authors: Nancy Warren

BOOK: Bayou Bad Boys
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And don't miss Susan Johnson's
sensationally romantic new novel,
WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE,
available in January 2006 from Brava.
Julius and Amanda dismounted before the house and were escorted to Lady Grafton.
As the footman opened the drawing room door and announced their names, Lady Grafton looked up from penning a letter and went pale.
Taking note of their hostess's stunned look, Amanda quickly said, “I thought I'd take the opportunity to call on you, Lady Grafton.” Advancing into the drawing room with a warm smile, she added, “My family has a race box in Newmarket. I believe you know the marquis.” She glanced at Julius who had followed her in. “I hope we're not intruding.”
“No, that is . . . my husband is at the stables. I'll have him summoned.” Elspeth turned to her maid as she rose to meet her guests, high color having replaced her pallor. “Sophie, have Lord Grafton called in.”
“No need to interrupt his lordship,” Amanda smoothly interposed. “We won't stay long. We were out for a ride and found ourselves near your house.”
“I'm sure Lord Grafton would like to see you,” Elspeth countered, signaling her maid to fetch the earl. She couldn't chance he'd find out later that she'd had guests without his permission. “Would you like tea?” It was impossible not to observe the social graces, although she found herself hoping her visitors might refuse.
“That would be lovely,” Amanda replied with a smile.
“Sophie, tea as well,” Elspeth ordered, trying to avoid eye contact with the marquis. She could feel her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Or excitement. Or something else entirely.
“What a lovely view,” Amanda exclaimed, walking over to the row of windows overlooking a bucolic vista of green fields and grazing horses. “Do you have a favorite mount you like to ride?”
Whether intentionally or unwittingly, Amanda's words incited an outrageously lewd image. Struggling to displace her wholly inappropriate thoughts, Elspeth found herself at a loss for words.
Aware of Lady Grafton's overlong silence, Julius smoothly interposed, “I've been trying to persuade Lady Grafton to take Skylark out for a ride.”
Amanda spun around. “Skylark? You'll absolutely adore him! He's powerful and swift, yet gentle as a lamb. Tell her, Julius, how he took me over ten miles at top speed without even breathing hard.”
“He has enormous staying power. It's characteristic of the Atlas Barb breed. You'd enjoy trying him out, Lady Grafton.”
Elspeth tried not to misinterpret the marquis's comments. Get a grip, she told herself. Everyone was simply discussing horses and she was reacting like an agitated adolescent to the most benign remarks. “If it were possible, I'm sure I'd enjoy riding Skylark, my lord. However, we lead a quiet life since my husband's illness. But thank you for the offer. Won't you sit down?” she politely offered when she would have preferred pushing her guests out the door and avoiding any further complications. From her husband and otherwise.
“Oh, look!” Amanda exclaimed, gazing out the window. “The most precious basket of violets! I adore violets!” Contriving a moment alone for Julius, she opened the terrace door and stepped outside to inspect the willow basket on the balustrade.
“Why did you
come
?” Elspeth hissed the second Amanda closed the door behind her. “I'm sorry, how rude . . . please forgive me,” she stammered, blushing furiously at her graceless behavior. “I shouldn't have said, I mean . . . I don't know what came—”
“I couldn't stay away.” Uncharacteristically blunt words for the marquis who only played at love. And if Grafton wasn't about to appear at any moment, Julius would have taken her in his arms and kissed away her trepidation.
“You
shouldn't
have come. He might, that is . . . you don't understand my . . . situation.” Nervously surveying the door to the hallway, Elspeth visibly trembled. “My husband”—she took a sustaining breath—“is very difficult.”
“I'm sorry.” She was so obviously alarmed he felt a twinge of conscience-a rarity for him. This frightened child was clearly not equipped to undertake any amorous games. He shouldn't have come. “I'll fetch Amanda and we'll be on our way,” he offered, moving toward the terrace door.
“No.”
It was the merest whisper. His pulse quickened despite his newfound conscience and he turned back.
“God help me for not having more restraint,” she breathed, her hands clasped tightly to still their tremors. “I shouldn't be talking to you or even thinking what I'm thinking or—”
“Will your husband be here soon?”
She nodded, a jerky, skittish movement.
“We'll talk later, then,” he calmly said when he wasn't feeling calm in the least. When he was contemplating taking the lovely Lady Grafton to bed and keeping her there until he'd had his fill or couldn't move or both. “Please, sit down.” Offering her a chair with a wave of his hand, he swiftly walked to the windows, knocked on a pane and beckoned Amanda in. Turning back, he smiled. “Don't be nervous,” he gently said. “Relax. We're just here on a friendly visit. Tell me something about your father's parish. I understand he was a vicar.”
The marquis's voice was incredibly soothing, as though they were indeed friends. She felt an instant lessening of her anxiety. “I suppose you do this all the time,” she murmured, taking a seat. “Rumor has it, you're—”
“I never do this,” he said. In fact, the mindless craving he was experiencing was so outre, he thought he might still be feeling the after-effects of last night's drink. Taking a seat a respectable distance away, he added with almost an unbecoming brusqueness, “You affect me in a most unusual way.”
Here's a look at MaryJanice Davidson's
hilarious new novella,
“Cuffs and Coffee Breaks” from
VALENTINE'S DAY IS KILLING ME,
available in January 2006 from Brava.
“Well, this is it.” Julie Kay tossed her keys on the kitchen counter. “Home sweet hell.”
“It's nice,” he commented, glancing around the small house she rented from her brother-in-law. “I used to live in Inver, back when I was a student at the U.”
“Yeah, what, six weeks ago?”
“Oh, you're hilarious.”
“I hate apartments. I always feel like a bee in a hive. So when my brother-in-law moved into a bigger place, he let me rent this one. It's worked out for everyone.”
“Mmm.” Scott was prowling around the living room and dining area like a big brunette panther. “I have an apartment, and I know what you mean. But I'm almost never there.”
“Where are you?”
“Work, usually. That's why I was really glad when you decided to go out with me. I mean, I have
no
social life.”
“But you're so . . .” Gorgeous. Delicious. Fabulous. Tall. “. . . smart.”
He shrugged. “I was always the tallest kid in my class,
and
the skinniest. But I was bad at sports. So who'd want to go out with a big gork like me?”
Oh, I dunno, anyone with half a brain?
“Uh, let me see if I can find something better than my old cardigan.” She turned to go into her bedroom, but he came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her around.
“It's fine,” he said. “It's the least of my problems, believe me. What the hell am I going to do about that poor guy at the restaurant?”
“Uh . . . well, I . . . uh . . .” Blue eyes were filling her world, her universe. They were getting closer and closer. There was nothing else: no house, no living room, no cardigan, no dead guy.
She felt his lips touch hers and she put her arms around him—she could hardly reach, his shoulders were so broad. Her mouth opened beneath his and his tongue touched hers, tentatively and then with more assurance, licking her teeth and nibbling her lower lip. She pulled, and the cardigan was on the floor, and her hands were running across his fine chest, and—
(
Dead guy, dead guy!
)
She yanked herself away. “Stop that! This is totally inappropriate!”
“Hey,
you
kissed
me
.”
“I did not!” Oh, wait. Maybe she did. “Well, it doesn't matter. This isn't the time or place.”
“I
know
. That's why I didn't kiss you. Although, I have to say,” he added cheerfully, “I've been dying to all night. But you're right, this isn't the right time. Bad sweetie.”
“Oh, like you were really fighting it!”
“It seemed rude to give you the brush off,” he said, sounding wounded. “You know, me being a guest in your home and all.”
“Well, never mind that. Let's stay focused. Put your sweater back on.”
“I didn't take it off,” he grumbled, but did as she asked.
“Let's figure this out. We have to be back there in fourteen hours. So, if you didn't kill the guy—”
“Charley Ferrin.”
She gasped. “You know him?”
“No, no.” He held his hands up, palm out. “Calm down, don't have a coronary.”
“I'll have one if I damned well please!”
“It's not like that. Detective Hobbes told me his name. I swear, I have no idea who he is. The name meant nothing to me.”
“Okay, okay.” She forced herself to calm down. He was right, this was no time to burst a blood vessel. “So, if you didn't do it, who did? Who had a motive and could do it quickly, and avoid the cops, and stick you with a murder charge?”
“Honey, I got nothin'. I've been trying to figure it out all night. I was minding my own business, waiting for you, and the next thing I know, I'm wearing handcuffs. And not in a good way.”
She felt the blood rush to her face as she pictured him cuffed to her headboard. “All right. Did you overhear any arguments? See anybody fighting? Anything weird at all?”
“No.”
“Come on. There must be something.”
He shook his head. “No. And no, and no. I told the cops all this already.”
“Well, now tell
me
,” she snapped.
“Don't boss me!”
“I'll boss you if I like! If it wasn't for me you'd still be rotting in jail!”
“The hell. My lawyer would have vouched for me.”
“Yeah, I could tell what a great job he did by the way it took him
hours
and
hours
to
not
show up.”
“Listen-mmph!”
She had kissed him again. What was wrong with her?
“Not that I mind,” he gasped, extricating himself from her grip, “but, again, don't you think this is a little inappropriate? Given the circumstances?”
She got up to pace. “Of course it's inappropriate, it's nine kinds of inappropriate! What the hell is wrong with me?”
He opened his mouth, but she beat him to the punch. “I'll tell you, it's this fucking holiday! It's killing me! It's making me act in ways I would never normally act! God, I hate it, I hate it,
I hate Valentine's Day!
”
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Copyright © 2005 by Kensington Publishing Corp.
“Cajun Heat” copyright © 2005 by JoAnn Ross
“You Give Me Fever” copyright © 2005 by Nancy Warren
“In Good Hands” copyright © 2005 by E.C. Sheedy
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
 
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-9124-0
 

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