Lady Falls (Black Rose Trilogy) (10 page)

“Yes, but that hardly—“

“Then all is well.”  Geoffrey straightened his coat.  “I will naturally address Raven about her unladylike display and remind her that my generosity and substantial provisions for her future will not stand for another lapse in her judgment. As for you, Mr. Warrick, I know that you will refrain from all unseemly contact with my ward during your stay.”

“Raven is innocent, Lord Trent!  There is no need to reprimand her since I had every intention of approaching you to—“

“Mr. Warrick.  Slow and steady wins the race.”

Phillip’s jaw dropped and before he could compose a response to the earl’s cryptic words, the man turned on his heels and left Phillip standing alone in the storm of his thoughts.  “What the hell was that?”

Did he mean to say that I should persist in my courtship but at a more respectful pace?  Did he mean to forbid me?  “She is not for you” does not exactly fit with “there is no harm in a kiss”!    

Phillip made his way to an oversized chair by a potted palm and sat down as his legs numbed. 
I should at least celebrate that I’m not packing my bags but I’ll be damned if I know what I’m supposed to do next…

One thing was clear.

Until her guardian physically threw him from the house, he wasn’t going to give up an inch of ground.  The mention of that “ambitious match” had carved his plans into stone and he’d be damned if he would lose her to another man without a fight.

**

The knock on her door was firm but not too frightening.  “Come in.”

Geoffrey entered and then closed the door behind him.  “Where is your maid?”

“Downstairs.”

“Good.  Then we can speak with some assurance of privacy.”  He took another three steps in the room and stopped, suddenly staring around him.  “Odd!  I’ve never been in this room, have I?  It is not unpleasant, is it?”

Raven blinked a few times, familiar with her guardian’s propensity for diversion.  “It is a lovely bedroom and I can’t recall a reason that would have brought you over its threshold until now.”  She took a deep breath to let it out slowly.  “I am mortified of what you must think of me—of Mr. Warrick—of us!”

“Pphht!” He waved her words away.  “Who am I to judge these things?”

“What?”  She kept her distance.  “You…are my guardian and I assumed that judgment in these things would be precisely what your duties would include.”

“Yes, of course.”  He sighed.  “As you wish.  Then I must tell you that London is full of men with greater wealth, loftier titles and estates that make Oakwell Manor look like a tradesman’s shack.”

“I don’t care.”

“Raven,” he said with a smile.  “I know I asked you to be kind to Mr. Warrick but I certainly hope you haven’t felt compelled to snog the man on my behalf!”

She gasped in outrage at the suggestion.  “I have done nothing on your behalf!  What a terrible thing to say!”

“Not all that terrible, my dear.  Snogging is not an unenjoyable task.  But here, let me be clear.  I have given Phillip fair warning that you have wonderful prospects awaiting you this Season and that he would be wiser to choose a dull woman who thinks embroidery the pinnacle of feminine achievements.”

Raven pressed her lips into a thin line to keep from answering too quickly.  “I am grateful, Lord Trent, for the hopes you harbor for me this Season but I truly believe that no greater happiness awaits me.  Mr. Warrick is all I want in this world.”

“Perhaps.”  Geoffrey crossed his arms.  “But indulge me, Raven.  Let us test his resolve, shall we?  After all, if your man is cut from truly honorable cloth, then he will pursue you despite my hints that if he takes you from this house, then that is all he will take from me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I fear he desires you only for whatever dowry you possess, Raven.”

“Oh!” Her throat closed at the unexpected idea, fear gripping her.  “Did he…say as much?”

“No.  But you’ll never know for certain if you start bleating otherwise!  Say nothing of money to him.  Ever.” Geoffrey’s gaze narrowed.  “I cannot forbid you to do as you want.  I am old enough to know that doing so is the quickest way to ruin.  However I want you to hear what I am saying, girl.”

She nodded, waiting like an accused prisoner for her sentence.

“When it comes to love, there is no direct path.  Stand your ground.  If Mr. Warrick is the man you want, then all should fall into place.  If he desires you without mention of your dowry, then when the moment comes, you’ll know what to do.  Trust your instincts.  However, if Phillip starts questioning you about your allowance, you’ll know the true cause and you will have your first lesson in just what a fortune hunter looks like.”  He shrugged his shoulders as if either choice were equally weighted.  “All the better to arm yourself for Town, don’t you think?”

Phillip has never mentioned money to me!  I think that there is nothing in our way and I shall tell him as much!

“Thank you, Lord Trent!” She rushed forward to embrace him.  “You are the soul of generosity and I don’t know how I will ever thank you for this chance!”

He kept his arms stiffly at his side, awkwardly submitting to her emotional display.  “Raven!  You are crushing my cravat.”

She shyly freed him, regretting the impulse when such gestures tended to darken her guardian’s mood.  But this time, he only smiled. 

“You never disappoint, duchess.”

She had to grip her hands behind her back to keep from seizing him again.  He was the closest thing she had to family, his approval a fleeting and elusive prize.  “I never want to.”

Chapter Ten

Phillip left the house, stalking out to find a path that led toward a small decorative lake on the property, created no doubt by some designer decades before to provide a great vantage point of the estate.  Like every structure and area of Oakwell Manor, nothing seemed unplanned or without purpose.

The solarium had sealed his heart’s fate.  What had him flummoxed was that the next natural step eluded him.  Nothing in his experience had prepared him for the strange turns of the Earl of Trent waving him off with odd speeches about time to be had and the advantages of boring women.  He’d been ready to ask for Raven’s hand then and there before Geoffrey had urged him to choose a better time.

He’s testing me.  Instead of demanding I marry her, he’s dangling about and giving me advice on courtship.  But why?

How do I not measure up? 

His position was secure enough, his fortunes on the rise; certainly he had money enough to afford a wife and Raven would be Lady Warrick, her children provided an inheritance and legacy any woman would be proud to claim.  So where was the hindrance?

“Slow and steady wins the race.”  Phillip repeated the words and stood to look back across to the manor house.  “God, why does that sound so hard?”

The answer to his question came racing up the gravel path with a smile, her gait as easy and carefree as a colt’s.  “I was hoping to catch you, sir.”

“Raven.”  Phillip took a deep breath to steady himself, determined to say his piece before her touch unraveled him.  “We cannot keep meeting alone like this, but we must talk.”

She slowed, some of her joy muted.  “Oh.  As you wish.”

“Lord Trent is…” he began and then decided that this conversation required a more comfortable distance between them and any watchful eyes in the house.  “Here, come.”  He took her hand and spotted a makeshift haven for their retreat.  He drew her toward a large log that was set into the shade of several willow trees.  The ground was covered with thick moss and a canopy of hanging willow leaves punctured with sunlight that dappled the place with fleeting laces of light added to a fairy-like aura.  They were completely cut off from view from the manor and the path around the lake.  He sat her down and then knelt in front of her, keeping both of her hands cradled like wild birds inside the gentle cage of his fingers.  “Raven, of all the ways I might have wished to approach your guardian...”

She smiled.  “It was horrible, wasn’t it?”

“Then why are you grinning?”

She laughed.  “Because I’m relieved that it is the means by which we were discovered that troubles you and not some fault with my kisses.”

“I have no complaints with your kisses outside of their addictive nature.  They must cease and I must cease seeking them or we are both ruined.” He forced himself to release her hands and shifted to sit next to her.  “I need to prove to Lord Trent that I am not a villain and not the kind of man to take advantage of one so young.”

Her brow furrowed.  “I am not
so
young.”

“You are three weeks away from eighteen and not yet out in society, Miss Wells.”

Eyebrows lifted to betray her skepticism.  “And by comparison this makes you at ten years my senior, what exactly?  A jaded Methuselah?”

“I have experience enough to understand that if I mean to win you, I cannot allow my passion to overrule my sensibilities.  The earl made it clear he doesn’t think I have the discipline or character to see things through or to adhere to a slower and honorable pace.”

“He said that?” she asked.

“He may have but,” Phillip said. “I won’t give you up, Raven”

“Then don’t.”

“Nothing is that simple.”

Raven sighed.  “What are your intentions, Phillip Warrick?  Are you going to seduce me and…spoil me….only to throw me aside?  Am I to be one of those foolish girls in those novels who is lost to passion?”

“Lost to passion?”  He shook his head.  “Who talks like that?”

“Is that your answer?” she began to pout and a ricochet of heat blazed through him.

“No.  My answer is no.  You are not going to
be one of those foolish girls because my intention is to marry you.  I want to ask Trent for your hand in marriage.  How does that sound?”

“Like heaven,” she said softly.  “Except…”

“Yes?” Phillip smiled.  “Did I omit something?”

“If your intentions are honorable, can you not seduce me along the way?  I mean, does one choice necessarily forbid the other?”  She gave him a shy hopeful look.  “I have nothing to fear of you, Sir Warrick.”

His breath caught in his throat, his spine stiffening as he stood to step back from her.  “Damn it.  You can’t look at me like that and—we’re not children playing a game of dare, Raven.”

Raven blinked.  It was her turn to catch her breath and accept that she was in fact, pushing him very hard.  Driving him toward giving her what she desired, even if she wasn’t sure where the aching need for him would take her.  “No, not a game.”  She stood to face him, standing close enough to hold him captive as he looked up at her.   “Oh, Methuselah, I need your guidance.”

“Raven.”

“I am caught in a riddle, O’ Ancient One.  My guardian has not forbidden me to fall in love, sir.  And if he had, what attention would I pay?   Trent is my guardian and I owe him all obedience but after kissing you in the gazebo, I am somewhat off my tether, sir.  It is as if you alone are the voice I would hear or heed.  Can you imagine such a thing?”

“Raven.” He said her name again, but instead of a reproach his tone conveyed an ache and longing that matched hers.

“Furthermore, Great Sage of Experience, I do not think I will be able to agree to any plan that forbids kissing.  I find that I want you to kiss me again very much.”

“The risk…”

“I am an optimist and a dreamer, Mr. Warrick.”  She reached out a hand to rearrange a curl from his cheek, her breath quickening at the phantom tingle of raw power at the move.  She was standing between his thighs, above him and something uncoiled inside of her at the sweet supplication in his eyes.  “Nothing in the glittering fantasy of London holds a candle to you, Mr. Warrick.”

He shook his head.  “You mustn’t…”

She smiled and slowly began to lean down until her lips hovered a scant inch above his.  “It is Spring and I care nothing for the Fall.  Kiss me, Phillip.”

It was a woman’s logic and he was an enrapt captive. 

If I intend to marry her, with or without Trent’s permission—is it really so wrong? If an honorable end is assured, what matters the path…

It was a cad’s logic, a rogue and a rake’s reasoning but as her breath fanned out to tease and torment his lips, so close it was as if he could already taste her kisses, Phillip no longer cared.  He had found her.  The woman of his dreams: clever beyond reckoning, a creature of light and laughter, Raven was pure joy and in his arms, his angel became a shameless siren that trembled in his arms.

It is Spring and I care nothing for the Fall.

She kissed him, melting into him in a slow, glorious cascade of sensation.

Raven savored it, the slow surge as her confidence grew, for Phillip yielded control to her, guiding her only by responding to her touch and demonstrating his pleasure.  Power added a dimension to her desire, to the potency of it.  She loved the sensation that he was struggling to maintain a line in the sand; that the pleasure she inflicted could sweep him into her arms.

In the solarium, she’d reveled in the firm lines of his body, marveling at the heat of his frame through his coat and shirt.  But now, in this private glade and with caution lost to the winds, she wanted more.  A restless, anxious frustration nibbled at her, a hot unfamiliar tension begging her to solve the mystery of a mechanism that screamed for release.

Raven unbuttoned his shirt and dispensed with the layers that kept him from her.  Coarse silken curls a dark tawny brown that echoed his coloring made for a delightful discovery.  It was a light mat across his frame with a wicked trail of hair that disappeared into his pants.  She gasped at the sight of his chest—a muscled wall that was so firm and at the same time, his skin was velvet under that dusting of hair.  She leaned in to kiss him again, wrapping her legs around him to settle in to the business of pushing his coat and shirt from his shoulders.

For a second or two, he was helpless with his arms tangled in the cloth and he moaned in frustration.  For she alone could touch him, while he was her willing prisoner.  It was too tempting a conundrum for Raven to waste. 

“Raven.”

“Shh.  Be very still.  I am learning you.”

If kissing Phillip’s throat was even a pale echo of the effect of his mouth against her neck, several new theories came to life that demanded exploration.  She shyly began on the familiar lines of his throat, this time deliberately trying to evoke his groans.  His skin smelled faintly of cinnamon and sandalwood, and she reveled in the taste of him. Raven was able to determine that a playful combination of her tongue and her teeth was best.  As if pain and pleasure were somehow one and the same for a man…

She kissed his collar bone and lightly raked his upper shoulders with her fingernails.  Then boldly moved downward to kiss one of the tight peaks so like her own.  She knew how sensitive her breasts were and within the space of heartbeat as she latched onto his coral ruddy skin, she knew his body was the masculine echo to hers.

“Raven!  Get this coat off me!”

She leaned back, mischief and fire warring in her eyes.  After all, freeing him meant yielding her newfound power but it also freed Phillip to touch her as she desperately needed him to.

“Will you behave if I free you?”

He shook his head.  “Not a chance of it, Raven Wells.”

“Thank god!” Raven pushed the bulk of the cloth downward, past his elbows, and he was able to pull his arms free.

Phillip smiled.  He was so far past a useless grab at good behavior it was comical. 

He dropped his coat and shirt on the mossy ground as an improvised blanket beneath them, and lowered her onto it.  The buttons of her bodice yielded to his touch and he kissed every inch he bared until Raven’s hands were just as eager to aid him in his quest.   She giggled as the barriers fell, sighing with relief as he dispensed with her corset with an efficient maneuver that popped the front fastenings without wasting time on the back laces.

Within seconds, the bounty that was Raven Wells was laid out for him.  Naked to the waist, her breasts were firm and high, as ample as autumn apples, twin orbs with dark pink tips jutting out to the sky.  She was soft curves and gentle lines, her skin unmarred, the color of cream.  She was slender but not rail-thin or frail and it was impossible not to admire the alluring health of a goddess turned woman.  Raven began to cover herself with her hands but when his expression betrayed his disappointment, she stopped and then won him over for all time by stretching her arms over her head with a shy smile.

“It pleases you to look?” she asked softly.

“God, yes,” he said lowering himself to take her into his arms.  “You are pure sorcery, woman.”

He began touching her in a playful dance that aroused but barely teased her skin, his fingertips lightly trailing around the swell of her breasts, the tender underside of each mound, each concentric circle daring to come a tiny bit closer to the small tips, her flesh puckered and tight, dark rose peaks with thick pert nipples that demanded his touch.  She arched her back, her eyes fluttering closed and he kissed her and then covered her breasts with his hands, gently pressing the warm wells of his palms across her, a whisper of contact, before he lowered his head to suckle first one and then the other.

She was bucking and writhing beneath him, her hands restlessly stroking and clawing at his back and shoulders.  And everything began to accelerate in a sizzling race to satisfy themselves. 

He captured one of her hands and guided it down to press her palm against his rock hard arousal, the barrier of his pants hiding nothing of the shape and mass of his cock.  He stopped kissing her to lift his head, taking in the widening of her eyes, the flutter of her lashes in shock and the slow shift as a new heated possibility came to her.

He did not expect her to push him off but even in the heat of the moment, a portion of his soul demanded that he offer her the chance to retreat.

“I will be bold where others are cautious,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Phillip asked, surprised at the phrase on her lips.

“I am not afraid.”  She lifted up to kiss him and the moment of reversal passed forever.

Her fingers moved of their own accord and Phillip moaned as his world narrowed to the span of her small hands as they worked up and over his taut flesh.  The buttons were dispensed with and he shuddered as his cock sprang free to land in her waiting hands. 

Tentative strokes from trembling fingers gave way as his arousal stiffened even more, bobbing up as if to seek the hot soft pads of her hands.  She covered the swollen tip of him, sending a shiver of sweet fire up his spine.  The flow of blood to his cock felt like hot sand trickling through him to pool there, the power of his sex gathering in a delicious storm that she alone summoned.