Hint of Desire (4 page)

“I knew a Lady Julia Wentworth once
. She was quite well-known in her day.” His voice trailed off. “I believe she even stayed here once, as a guest of my mother. Are you a relation?”

Her breath caught in her throat
. Oh, God. It was true, not a fantasy or a dream. She had returned to Blythemoor and he was . . . . He turned back to her, and the light that glinted through the glass shadowed the faint scar that ran along his cheek. Lily fought to inhale. Memories rushed back. He must be the long cherished prince of her childhood dreams.

As he again waited for her to answer, the silence was overwhelming
. Her throat caught and she searched for words. “My father died when I was an infant. I know little of his family.”

His immense presence filled her senses as he walked closer to the bed and loomed over her, his eyes locked on her face
. All her worries lay forgotten as she tried to dodge the shrapnel she had loosed. She felt small and powerless as he stared down at her, obviously mulling over her simple words. It was all she could do not to draw back further.

He ran one hand through his hair, ruffling it
. For a moment she thought he would pursue the subject, but when he spoke, it was again with the stiff air of command and expectation, his voice cool and indifferent. “It’s really of no consequence. What is important is how you came to be wandering about my estate in such an obvious state of distress.”

Lily stared back up at him
. If only the lush pillows would swallow her. He had asked the one question that she couldn’t answer. She bit at her lips. She didn’t believe he would ever purposefully harm her – not after saving her - but what would he do if he learned he was sheltering a murderer? She could not keep herself from eyeing those long, strong fingers. A man’s hands could be so cruel.

“That was a question, even if it wasn’t phrased as such,” he said
. “Do I have to pry every word from you?” She could feel the ice that marked the end of his patience.

He had treated her so well, offered her comfort she hadn’t known in years, gone out of his way to aid her
. Why did she feel like a hooded falcon, at the mercy of her handler? Blinking rapidly to hold off tears, she tried to focus on him.

“You probably do.
” Lily tried to inject a note of levity, but knew she had failed miserably as he continued to stare down at her. Again he raised that single brow and remained silent. His silence was more powerful than Worthington’s screaming temper. His very being demanded her answer.

Attempting to turn the conversation, she began to ramble
. “I don’t know if there’s any way I can repay you for your help yesterday, but if you’d let me know, I’ll try. Do you want payment? I don’t know what’s proper . . . .”

If possible
, the brow rose higher.

“Do I look like I need to be paid?
” His voice grew colder. “A distraught woman wanders through my woods, refuses to let me ride for help, gives birth into my lap, and then she asks if I want to be paid. I am a damned duke, sent home in my shirtsleeves, covered in substances I don’t want to think of, and you want to know if I want to be paid? All I want is to know who you are and how you got here.” Each word was uttered with absolute precision.

“I’ve already told you who I am, and I really don’t know how I got here.
” She stuttered the partial truth. She had no idea how she had traveled from those high bleak cliffs to the duke’s land. Her last clear memory was of standing at the edge, looking down at Worthington, and even then, she couldn’t have given coherent structure to the thought. She knew where she was now, and it seemed nigh impossible that she had traveled all that distance on foot.

She met the duke’s piercing stare
. She drew her shoulders back in an effort to portray strength, only to rapidly release them as she caught the focus of his eyes shift lower to the lace that edged her neckline. Moving her hand to cover any peeking flesh, she felt her pulse quicken. Breathless, she fought for courage.

“I really don’t know
. One minute, I . . . .” Lily searched desperately for something to say.

The duke walked closer
. He stood over the bed, towering above her. He examined her closely, missing no detail as he considered.

“You are too . . . overwrought to remember?
” He lifted his quizzing glass to his eye, and then let it drop.

“Yes.
” She made her voice firm. His penetrating look seemed to read every thought. She could not let him see her fear. “I only recall the pain.”

Finally he turned, lifting his hand to rub his chin
. “That’s inconvenient.”

“Actually,” she said, tilting up her chin, “it is.”

“So you don’t remember anything before I found you? You know your name. What is the last thing you do recall clearly?”

Just as she was sure the truth would spill from her lips, an angry cry sliced through the quiet
. Lily was shocked by the magnitude of the sound and how it physically caught at her chest. She turned anxiously towards her baby, all else forgotten in the need to comfort him.

Nanny deftly swept the child from his blankets
. “Hush, little one,” she crooned softly. “Are you hungry? Come along and we’ll find you something nice to fill that aching belly.”

The baby continued to wail as Nanny headed for the door
. With each cry Lily felt a tightening across her chest and felt her breast swell. As Nanny reached the door, Lily could no longer contain her fear and dismay.

“Please, don’t take him away
. I need him with me.” She struggled to rise from the bed.

Nanny turned to the duke, a question burning in her eyes
.

“Do not worry, Lady Elizabeth
. Nanny was with the household for years. She is more than qualified to care for the child. I had her brought back just for this purpose.” The duke’s tone remained impassive, leaving no room for argument. Nanny bustled towards the door again. Lily, however, did not find his words persuasive.

“No, please.
” Her voice broke. “I need him with me. Please let him stay.”

The baby’s scream grew shriller and Lily wrapped her arms hard about her chest as the strange tightening sensation grew
.

Nanny paused, and looked at Lily with new consideration
. “The little lad needs to be cleaned again and fed. I’ll bring him back as soon as it’s taken care of and you can give him a good cuddle, my lady.”

Lily still hesitated
. She glanced back and forth between the duke, who displayed a practiced disinterest, and the much softer Nanny. Lily knew where the real power lay, but couldn’t decide the best strategy.

“Couldn’t I feed him?
” The question had passed her lips before she could even consider. Worthington would never have allowed her to do something as inelegant as nurse her own baby, but she knew that other highborn ladies had done it. It would also make escape easier.

“I want to nurse him myself,” she added, attempting to sound more forceful.

The duke still appeared unconcerned, but Lily could tell her words had flustered him. He looked back and forth between her and Nanny, trying to find the proper reply to a suggestion so far outside his experience.

“
Surely you can, my lady,” Nanny replied, casting a quick glance at the duke to see if he would disagree. “Most ladies don’t want to, but his grace’s mother did.”

The duke straightened at this, looking surprised, and then glanced away
. Nanny moved back towards Lily, and placed the bawling boy in her arms.

Lily looked with bewilderment at the baby
. She wasn’t sure quite how to begin. Her fingers fidgeted with the top button of her gown as she watched her son. He had cried himself red, and his tiny chest pumped hard. As if he sensed what was coming he turned his head towards her and his rosebud mouth started to open and close as he burrowed his face against her chest. The tightness within her grew even more pronounced and more uncomfortable with his movement.

“Pardon me, your grace, but it might be best if you withdrew, until later.
” Nanny’s voice wavered at the end, but held firm.

Looking up from the baby, Lily found the duke’s eyes fixed upon the slim fingers that still worried at her button
. He drew himself up at Nanny’s words. Lily imagined she saw a hint of both consternation and relief.

“Of course, Nanny
. I’ll take my leave of you and Lady Elizabeth for the moment.” He turned to go, but then shot a look back at Lily. “And return later.”

Lily grasped the intimation
. Yet she bridled at the unspoken command.

“Forgive me, your grace, but in our discussion earlier, you forgot to tell me which duke you are.
”

Nanny shifted uncomfortably
. The duke paused in the doorway, and a small muscle throbbed in his cheek.

“I am
Westlake.”

After he had left the room, Lily allowed herself to swallow. His answer was exactly what she had expected – and feared. Until he had finally announced himself, she’d tried to deny his identity. Yet she had known him the moment she saw those chill blue eyes and that scarred cheek. He was as far as possible from the awkward young marquess on the edge of manhood whom she had idealized a lifetime ago, but she had recognized him from the beginning.

In less than a moment the memories passed though her
.
She’d been hiding under the piano the first time she saw him. He came in smiling, with a hound at his heels. He was glorious, with the shining sun setting his hair agleam and the snug trousers displaying well muscled legs. Lily’s seven year old heart thumped. In that instant he became her prince, her Arthur of Cornwall.

The old duke was sitting stiffly on the settee, listening to her mother play
. Arthur strode up to his father, his arms swinging carefree by his sides. Without so much as glancing at his son, the duke said coldly, “You’ve tracked mud in. Get your boots cleaned and put that mongrel out of my house. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Arthur’s grin faded at the dismissive words, and with a brief greeting to Lady Julia, he left
. For the first time Lily wanted to follow someone besides her mother. She slunk from under the piano and crept into the hall. As if by magic, a footman appeared, and kneeling before Arthur, started to brush the mud from his boots. Arthur paid him no heed. His eyes focused over Lily’s shoulder at the door he had just come through. He glanced down at her for a moment, and a wide smile spread across his lean face.

“You’re a pretty thing.
” He patted her head once.

He shifted impatiently from foot to foot
. He wanted to go back. He patted her head again as he took a step forward, almost kicking the footman over, before he tramped back out the front door with a stomp and a whistle, the dog still at his heels.

Lily smiled at the kneeling footman before scurrying over to peer out the window on tiptoes
. As she watched Arthur disappear around the house, she sighed deeply and headed back to the nursery. All of seven, she knew she had found her true love.

Nanny moved beside Lily and Lily schooled her face carefully, refusing to let the sudden flow of emotion show
. Nanny undid the buttons of Lily’s gown for her, and angled the baby towards Lily’s swollen breast.

“You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” Nanny ventured
. “You’ll need to be a little more subtle if you want to get along with his grace. I imagine you’ll keep him on his toes, though.” A thoughtful smile drifted across Nanny’s face.

But, Lily no longer paid attention, as the delicate mouth nuzzled towards her
. Her entire being focused on her son. She let Nanny guide her arms and place the baby at her breast.

She gasped as the infant locked on and began to suck
. She looked up at Nanny in shock at the force of the small mouth. The baby’s cheeks moved powerfully.

Nanny met her glance with a wide smile.

“It always takes you by surprise the first time, not at all what you’d expect from such a gentle, helpless creature.”

“No,” was Lily’s only reply, as she gazed in awe at the nursing baby
. The tightness in her breasts had changed to a prickling sensation as the infant fed. Lily submitted herself to the direction of Nanny – and child – as she learned more of the secrets of motherhood.

Arthur stood staring at the low burning fire. What should he do about the woman . . . Lady Elizabeth? Things were not as he expected – and things always went as he expected.

When he’d first
entered her room after she’d been cleaned, and he’d seen her asleep in the immense bed, he been taken aback. She looked so small and delicate, surrounded by pillows, her chestnut hair spread about in velvet waves, so young and innocent – childlike, with dark lashes shadowing her cheeks and her sweet rosebud mouth slightly parted, the plump, pink lips quivering with each sleepy sigh. Maybe, it was her mouth that had begun to shake him. He’d expected to find a tired-looking matron, and instead had found a seraph –- at least, until she woke up.