Captured by a Gentleman (Regency Unlaced 6) (5 page)

Unfortunately, leaving Darcy still standing on this side of it!

“How dare you?” Ranulf demanded through gritted teeth.

She turned, eyebrows raised at his obvious aggression. “Is something amiss, Ranulf?”

“You— I— Do you ever listen to a word that is spoken to you?” he finally managed to grind out.

“But of course.” She busied herself by bringing the towels over from the stand to drape them on the chair beside the fire, presumably warming them for when Ranulf stepped out of his bath.

Which he was certainly not going to do while Darcy remained in the bedchamber. “Then yesterday evening you will have heard me say, quite distinctly, that you were not to organize my morning bath for me!”

Well, of course Darcy had heard him. Not as loudly as he was speaking this morning, granted, but his meaning yesterday evening had been perfectly clear. “When I went downstairs, the landlord informed me you had not yet sent for your bath or your breakfast.” She shrugged. “It seemed only logical I should organize the former be brought to you.”

“It is not logical to me!”

“I do not believe there is any reason to shout, Ranulf.”

“There is every reason for me to shout!” He sat up in the bed, the bedcovers falling down to reveal his completely bare chest.

This allowed Darcy to question if perhaps the rest of him was equally as naked.

Which would certainly be reason enough for him to feel the need to raise his voice after his bedchamber was suddenly invaded by not just Darcy but also an army of servants.

She had never seen a man’s bare chest before. Ranulf’s chest was… Well, it was…

Breathtaking.

Wide and very muscular, with a dark smattering of hair veeing down and disappearing below the bedclothes. The muscles in his arms were also clearly defined. As indication his life in Scotland was not spent posing in fashionable drawing rooms?

He appeared younger with his dark hair disheveled from sleep and that deliciously bared chest. His eyes had also turned a darker shade of green, his cheeks flushed, and sculpted lips slightly curved above a jaw darkened with a roguish stubble—

“Do you like what you see, Darcy?”

Her gaze moved quickly back up to meet Ranulf’s as he now relaxed back against the pillows. A warmth entered her cheeks that had nothing to do with the now-blazing fire. She licked her lips before speaking. “And if I were to say yes…?”

His lids narrowed so that only a glint of green remained visible. There was a flushed edge of color along his cheekbones. His lips parted to reveal white and even teeth as he answered her. “Then I would invite you to come over here and take a closer look.”

Darcy’s quickly beating heart leapt into her throat, preventing her from speaking. The blood pulsed hotly in her veins. Her hands—those same hands she had assured him yesterday were as steady as a rock—now trembled.

She thrust those shaking hands behind her back. “I am not sure that would be acceptable behavior.”

He gave a hard laugh as he threw back the bedcovers before moving to sit on the side of the bed. “I think acceptable behavior,
all
attempt at propriety, was thrown out the window when you marched in here a few minutes ago—uninvited—with your entourage in tow!”

Darcy’s cheeks burned as Ranulf made no effort to hide or disguise the fact that his—his—
Oh dear Lord
…

His abdomen was as defined as his chest, hips slender, his legs long and muscular. But Darcy’s gaze was not fixed on any of those things.

The cock between his thighs was in evidence, and very long and thick and reaching almost to his navel as it jutted up from its nest of dark curls.

Ranulf’s rampant and aroused cock.

Darcy had never seen one of those before either, but she was sure she would have noticed if Society gentlemen habitually walked around with that visible bulge in their pantaloons.

Nor did she feel revulsion, as she had when Lord Sugdon had become aroused, by this evidence of Ranulf’s arousal.

Her heated gaze moved back up to his face. She blinked as she saw a single questioning eyebrow raised above those dark green eyes. “I do not… Perhaps I should leave you to bathe alone, after all.”

“And where would be the fun in that?” Ranulf stood up, his long and jutting cock even more visible.

Darcy’s mouth went dry. So much so that her tongue felt as if it were stuck to the roof of her mouth. The single word she managed to squeak sounded as if it came from her very depths. “Fun?”

“Yes, fun.” Ranulf strolled unconcernedly—and naked—across the bedchamber before bending to test the temperature of the bathwater. “Perfect.”

Darcy’s gaze was now firmly fixed on his tautly muscled back and bottom. Primarily the latter.

Could a man’s bottom be called beautiful? Because if it could, then Ranulf’s certainly was. Like the sculptures Darcy had seen on a trip to the Continent with her parents a year ago. Ranulf was a flesh-and-bone work of art.

“Would you care to undress and join me?”

Darcy’s courage—already hanging by a thread in the face of Ranulf’s nakedness—now completely deserted her, and she gave a squeak as she turned on her heel and hurried across the bedchamber. She threw open the door and left, much more hastily and with less dignity than she had arrived.

Her departure was followed by the unmistakably mocking sound of Ranulf’s laughter.

Chapter 4

“That was really not very nice of you earlier.” Darcy had taken her time, while seated in the parlor, to drink several cups of calming tea as she waited for Ranulf to join her.

She had decided Ranulf had deliberately set out to embarrass and discomfort her, because in his opinion, she had done the complete opposite of what he had instructed.

He had succeeded, if that was his intention. To such a degree Darcy had almost run screaming from his bedchamber.

The triumphant smile now curving his lips as he sat opposite her at the small dining table in front of the parlor window, eating his breakfast, would seem to confirm her suspicion. “I have never claimed to be a
nice
person. And little girls should do as they are told,” he added without sympathy.

She placed her teacup carefully back in its saucer before glaring at him. “I am far from being a little girl, nor do I appreciate being treated as one.”

Ranulf eyed her mockingly. “I do not believe inviting you to share my bath could be mistaken for my having treated you as a little girl.”

“You did not mean it!” she accused.

“No?”

Darcy’s expression grew wary at his challenge. “Did you?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “We will never know, will we?”

In truth, Ranulf was not sure himself whether or not he had been in earnest earlier.

This woman had an immediate—and unwanted—effect on him. Arousing him. Piquing his interest to know more about her. Not just the body beneath those black mourning gowns she wore, but also the woman inside that beautiful head. Despite being young, she was feisty and intelligent. Nor had she spoken even once of gowns and fashions, as so many other Society women did.

Of course that was probably due to the graveness of her situation and still being in mourning for her parents. Nevertheless, Ranulf found it a refreshing change after spending a month listening to the utter banality of conversation which seemed to amuse Society.

Would he have allowed it if Darcy had accepted his invitation to join him in the bath?

Ranulf had no idea. The fact of the matter was she had instead exited his bedchamber as if the devil himself were snapping at her heels. Or a very naked Ranulf.

He was not usually an exhibitionist, but at the time, he had just been rudely intruded upon by a disobedient Darcy, accompanied by several of the servants who worked at the inn. The last thing he had been feeling was
kind
.

Half an hour later, he did feel clean and refreshed, however, courtesy of Darcy. He was also freshly shaved, his own unshaking hand having deftly wielded the razor.

In comparison, Darcy seemed slightly flustered. Her red-gold hair was loosely secured at her crown, several wispy curls at her temple and nape. The black gown she wore today was a little creased, no doubt from having been packed into that small traveling bag, which was all she appeared to have brought with her when she fled Cecil Sugdon’s home.

Ranulf was still undecided as to what to do for the best regarding that situation. The logical thing would be to turn the carriages around and return to London. To ascertain the truth, to learn if Sugdon’s intentions toward Darcy were, as she claimed, less than honorable.

There were two things against taking that course of action.

One, Ranulf had no desire to return to London, having only just left.

Two, he was half inclined to believe Sugdon was guilty of everything Darcy accused him of. Part of that was due, Ranulf knew, to the fact he disliked his former father-in-law intensely. But also because returning Darcy to London and Sugdon’s questionable intentions could place her in a very precarious position. One Ranulf would feel wholly responsible for if—

“I am sorry to interrupt your breakfast, Mr. Montgomery, but I thought you should know straight away.” A slightly harassed-looking Graves appeared in the parlor’s open doorway.

“What is it, Graves?” Ranulf was instantly alerted by the urgency of the older man’s tone.

“It’s the town carriage, sir.” The other man shook his head. “There was nothing wrong with it when we arrived last night, and now it’s… Several spokes have been badly damaged in one of the wheels.”

Ranulf assessed the situation quickly, drawing his conclusions based on the fact that Graves appeared so agitated. “A deliberate act, you think?”

The older man nodded. “I can’t think of any other explanation.”

“No one saw or heard anything during the night?”

“We slept inside the stable. I was more concerned with ensuring the horses came to no harm, and the inn is busy, so there was not enough room for the carriages inside too. No.” Graves heavily conceded his error. “We neither saw nor heard anything. I am so sorry, Mr. Montgomery. I should have prevented this from happening.”

“It is not your fault,” Ranulf dismissed.

“Ranulf…?” Darcy prompted curiously.

“Can it be fixed, Graves?” Ranulf ignored her in favor of dealing with the more urgent matter of the damage done to his carriage.

“In a day or two, yes. The landlord here says as how there’s a carpenter and a blacksmith in the village who should be able to put it to rights.”

Ranulf thought quickly. “Put whatever luggage you think necessary into the landau. I will drive myself. You and Wilkins will remain behind and follow once the other carriage has been fixed. We will all meet up at the inn in Derbyshire.”

Graves looked uncertain. “Take Wilkins with you. It doesn’t need two of us to watch a wheel being mended, and I’m not sure as it’s safe for you to proceed on your own, Mr. Montgomery.”

“I am more than capable of driving my own carriage.”

“I wasn’t referring to that sort of safety, sir.”

“I seriously doubt I will be ambushed along the road.”

“But—”

“Enough, Graves.” Ranulf threw down his napkin before standing, in no mood to finish his breakfast. “Instruct the landlord to pack a picnic luncheon so that I can eat as I travel. I will depart from here as soon as the horses are harnessed and the carriage is packed and ready to go. I wish to complete my journey to Scotland as soon as possible.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Er, Graves?” Darcy spoke hesitantly.

“Yes, miss?”

She grimaced. “I believe I owe you an apology for kicking you rather painfully in the shin yesterday evening, and for calling you several unpleasant names.”

“No matter, miss.” The coach driver half smiled. “I probably deserved the name-calling, and I’ve received worse kicks from the horses. Sir.” He nodded to Ranulf before leaving, the sound of his raised voice heard outside seconds later.

“That was gracious of you,” Ranulf drawled.

“But deserved.” Darcy also rose to her feet. “What is happening, Ranulf?”

His eyes narrowed as he continued to study this young woman. Could she somehow be involved in the “accidents” that had occurred this past week? She was here at the inn with him, and the damage to the carriage had occurred during the night, so it was possible.

He took in Darcy’s appearance. The smooth brow. Clear—innocent?—brown eyes. Creamy cheeks. Full and sensual lips. Small and stubbornly determined chin.

Was there more than intelligence beneath that smooth brow? Was it possible there was also subterfuge and guile?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She shifted uncomfortably under the intensity of his gaze.

“I am trying to decide whether or not you are an innocent or a viper.”

Darcy gasped softly. “I am most certainly not a viper!”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I do not tell lies!”

He snorted. “Which is exactly what a liar would say.”

“What am I supposed to have lied about? And why would someone have deliberately inflicted damage on one of your carriages?” she added curiously.

Ranulf’s mouth twisted. “The two have one and the same answer. Someone, for reasons I do not yet understand, has recently been causing accidents to occur to both myself and my property.”

“What sort of accidents?”

He shrugged. “A physical attack on myself as I was leaving a club late one evening. A fire in the kitchen of my cousin’s London home, in which I was staying. Thank God he and his wife are currently in Scotland. Lastly a burr placed under the saddle of my horse, with the intention of unseating, possibly killing, me.”

Her eyes were wide. “And you believe I am somehow involved in trying to harm you?”

“You are here after hiding yourself away in my town coach, and the damage to that carriage occurred during the night.”

“That does not mean I was the one who inflicted it.”

“It does not mean you did not either.”

“You are being ridiculous. Well, you are.” She stood up, color flooding into her cheeks as Ranulf raised arrogant brows. “I did not leave my bedchamber last night. I was exhausted and fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. And the only reason I am here is because I need to get as far away from London as possible.” Her expression brightened. “That being the case, why would I deliberately sabotage my means of escape?”