Bedding Lord Ned (20 page)

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Authors: Sally MacKenzie

BOOK: Bedding Lord Ned
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She bumped into Ned.
“Thank God,”
he said and threw his arms around her, crushing her against him so she could barely breathe.
She buried her face in his coat and hugged him back. She didn't care that they were both cold and damp and sprawled on the ice; she didn't even care any longer that her legs were exposed to the world. She was safe; she was alive; and, best of all, she was in Ned's arms.
He jerked back. Was he going to kiss her?
No, of course not. He was going to read her a thundering scold.
He pushed himself to a sitting position and then hauled her up beside him, grasping her shoulders.
“What the
hell
did you think you were doing, Ellie? Did you consider for even one moment before you rushed headlong into hare-brained, beef-witted, idiotic action?” His grip was hard; his fingers would have left bruises if it weren't for her thick cloak.
“I was trying to save Miss Wharton.”
It was doubtful Ned heard her; he continued his tirade without the slightest pause.
“Oh, no, you didn't think at all. Ash was right there beside you, for God's sake. He should have been the one to do something, not you. And I was on my way to intercept Miss Wharton as well. But it's all of a piece, isn't it? You think nothing of decorum, let alone safety.”
“B-but—” She wanted to be angry, but she knew she was going to cry. She bit her lip, willing the tears not to fall.
“I don't know what the hell has got into you, Ellie. You didn't use to be this way.” He started to shake her—not hard, but she could tell he was holding back. “And now I suppose you'll risk your damn life again and go barreling down the hill on Jack's sledge and end up on the blasted pond and this time you'll fall through and die.”
“N-no. I won't.”
“You won't? You
will
. If you'd landed with more force or directly on the thin ice this time, you'd have broken through at once.”
“I-I meant I won't sled.”
“Well, thank God for that. If—”
“Ned.” Ash had skated out to them. “You just saved the girl's life; don't kill her.”
Ned glared up at Ash. “I'm not going to kill her.” He got to his feet and then pulled Ellie up.
Ash held up his hands. “And don't kill me, either.”
“Bloody hell, Ash. You saw what she did.”
“Yes.” Ash smiled at Ellie, which made her feel a little less like crying. “She thought quickly, acted valiantly, and I believe saved Miss Wharton's life—or at least saved her from a very uncomfortable dunk in ice water.” He smiled. “And I know whereof I speak.”
“There is nothing amusing about this.” The vein in Ned's temple was throbbing. “Ellie could have died.”
Ellie didn't particularly like being discussed while she was standing there, but at the moment being ignored was good. She was still struggling to curb her tears.
“But she didn't die. She's safe, Ned. You saved her. It's over. You can relax. Look, everyone is cheering.”
It was true. Now that she was safe—and her skirts were safely where they belonged—the duchess had let everyone come back to stand on the bank at the near end of the pond. They were all—even Percy—shouting and clapping.
“Idiots. Bloody idiots.” Ned pushed Ellie toward Ash; she stumbled a little, and Ash's arm came round her to steady her.
“They're clapping for you, too, Ned,” Ash said. “Come have some cider and put this behind you.”
“No.” Ned shook his head. “I can't. Not yet. I'm too ...” He shuddered.
“Ned.” Ellie had finally wrestled her tears down. “I'm sorry.”
He shook his head again and stepped back.
“And I won't sled. I promise.”
He nodded. “Thank you.” His nostrils flared as if he were still struggling to control his spleen. “And I'm sorry for losing my temper just now. I worry—” His mouth tightened.
“I know.” She put a hand on his arm. “Thank you for worrying. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there to take charge when I fell.”
“Come on, Ned,” Ash said. “Let's get off the ice.”
Ned shook his head once more. “No.” He looked at the people on the bank and backed up another step, slipping free of Ellie's hold. “I need to be alone for a while.” He turned and skated off across the pond.
Ellie watched him go, her heart tight. She hated to see him this way. “Ned's right. I shouldn't have done what I did.”
“Nonsense.” Ash took her arm and started back toward the rest of the party. “I'm quite sure Miss Wharton does not agree.” He looked down at her. “I will tell you, though, that you likely took ten years off my life. And I'm more than a little chagrined. Ned was right—I should have been the one going to Miss Wharton's assistance, not you.”
“No, Ash. I was facing her; I saw the danger first.”
“Well, I'm not going to argue with you; I will save my wits for when I have to face Ned.”
Ellie frowned. “You mustn't let Ned browbeat you.”
“Oh, Ellie, I'm not afraid of my younger brother,” Ash said, laughing. His expression turned serious. “But in this instance, I will have to agree with him.”
“But—”
“No, I refuse to brangle with you. Come along now and greet your adoring public.”
 
 
Ned wanted to rush over the ice as if all the demons of hell were after him, but he'd already created enough of a spectacle for one day. He forced his legs to move smoothly and hold at least a momentary glide.
If only he'd been a little quicker—if only Mama hadn't insisted on talking to him—he would have reached Miss Wharton, caught her, and turned her away from danger before Ellie had even got close. The entire drama would have been avoided.
He closed his eyes briefly. Zeus, he hoped never to live through anything like that again. Just the memory made him feel lightheaded. It had been almost as bad as when Cicely died. His heart had literally stopped when he'd seen Ellie trip and slide under the warning ropes. And when he'd heard the ice crack ...
He took a couple deep breaths.
When he'd heard that sound, all the blood had drained from his head and then surged back to try to pound its way out through the space between his brows.
Somehow—he'd no idea how—he'd found a way to remain calm. He'd known he had to move slowly and deliberately, but those minutes pulling Ellie to safety had seemed like hours. No, years.
And then he'd ripped up at her. Damn it, she'd deserved every harsh word, but he could see she'd been close to tears.
He felt like a beast.
He reached the bank and sat on a rock to pull off his skates. Everyone on the other side of the pond was gathered around Ellie, probably telling her what a brave, wonderful thing she'd done.
It
had
been brave—but it had also been incredibly stupid.
Mama was the only one looking his way. He could tell she was worried about him—he could see her tense expression even at this distance. He should walk over, join the group, reassure her.
He could no more do that than he could sprout wings and fly back to Linden Hall.
He stood and brushed snow off his coat. He wished he could fly away, back to the quiet and peace of his estate. His life was so much calmer there. No one bothered him. His servants were all well trained; his tenants happy. He saw that everything ran smoothly so there was never anything to worry about. He anticipated issues and attended to them before they became problems.
Back at Linden Hall, he knew exactly what his day would be like. He knew when and where he had to be at every moment. And when his work was done, he could read quietly in his study, a glass of brandy at his elbow. He could stroll his gardens or ride over his grounds without his heart ever once trying to slam its way out of his chest. There was no thieving cat; no matchmaking mother; no scheming brother-in-law; and, most importantly, no headstrong, misguided, maddening woman.
He liked it that way: calm and quiet and orderly and predictable. He was done with heartache and upheaval. He would marry a nice, well-behaved woman like Lady Juliet and begin filling his nursery.
He started back up the path to the house. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack make a move to follow him, but Ash, thankfully, stopped him. That would earn Ash an ounce of forgiveness, but his elder brother had a lot to atone for. What the hell had he been thinking, letting Ellie go bolting after Miss Wharton like that? Ned flexed his right hand. Perhaps their “discussion” would take place outside. He'd quite like to draw Ash's cork and see his blood decorate the snowdrifts.
His feet crunched over the path. The servants had spread cinders, but already the ground was turning icy. They should put down more so no one slipped when the rest of the party returned later.
He reached the spot where he'd had his unpleasant conversation with Percy and smiled grimly. It looked like he had a busy time ahead of him; he'd use his encounter with Ash as a warm up for his meeting with his brother-in-law. He would keenly enjoy mashing Percy's face with his fist.
It would be better, though, if he could manage to steal back the damn drawers first. Without them, Percy had nothing to hold over Ellie's head. His tale of salacious behavior would be greeted with shocked disbelief and righteous anger—against him, not Ellie, especially after Ellie's recent act of heroism, no matter how stupidly misguided it was.
Hmm. Perhaps he would pay a visit to Percy's room while everyone was still at the pond.
He handed the footman his skates as he came in the house. “The path is getting a bit slippery, Thomas. You might want to spread some more cinders.”
“Yes, my lord. I'll see to it straightaway.”
Ned nodded and took the stairs up to the bedroom floor, slowing when he reached Percy's door. He glanced carefully in both directions—no one else was in the corridor—and then slipped inside.
Zeus, the place was a pigsty. It was painfully clear Percy had let his man go. Shirts were flung over chair-backs; pantaloons lay like cloth puddles on the carpet; soiled cravats festooned the bedposts; and balled-up stockings lurked everywhere just waiting to be trod upon. How the hell was he going to find something as small as a pair of silk drawers in this mess? At least they were red.
He checked his pocket watch. He would allow himself half an hour. If he hadn't uncovered the garment by then, he would simply get it from Percy after he'd beaten him to a pulp. Now, where to begin?
He opened the cabinet closest to him. Faugh! There was a wadded up condom in the middle of one shelf. Thank God Reggie had had better sense than to pilfer that.
He went through the room as thoroughly as he could. He pulled out drawers, peered into the clothes press, even gingerly picked up the dirty clothes. Nothing. Finally, his allotted time was over; he had to admit defeat. He retreated to his own room, closed the door, and collapsed back against it.
And then images of Ellie—Ellie in those drawers and only those drawers—flooded his imagination.
Bloody hell.
It was all Percy's fault. Percy had made him wonder about Ellie's legs and breasts and body. And then at the pond ...
It had been bad enough wrapping his hands around her delicate ankles, but he'd been able to focus on his effort to save her life. And, truthfully, lying prone on the ice had also helped control his body's inappropriate reaction. But watching her skirts inch up her legs, seeing bit by tantalizing bit the outline of her calves and thighs and sweet rump ...
He bent over. His damn cock had gone mad.
He squeezed his eyes closed. How could he have been so terrified and so bloody aroused at the same time? One emotion must feed the other—it was the only explanation for such a ridiculous situation. After all, this was
Ellie
. Good, old Ellie. His childhood friend. His almost sister.
His stomach protested.
Well, perhaps not quite that last. But still—Ellie. Not Lady Juliet, the woman he was supposed to be wooing.
He straightened. It was all very confusing, and his emotions had been twisted enough today. He could feel one of his headaches coming on. He'd just go splash some water on his face, take some of his headache powders, and lie down before dinner. He would have to thrash Ash and Percy later.
Reggie was waiting for him, lounging on his pillow, looking damned pleased with himself.
“Confound it, Reggie, can't you at least confine yourself to the foot of the bed? I don't want to be breathing in bits of your fur all night.”

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