Sweetest Little Sin (17 page)

Authors: Christine Wells

BOOK: Sweetest Little Sin

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She sucked in a breath. “Well, Duncan . . . I am impatient, also, but my mother would be inconsolable to miss my wedding. She will not be back from her own bride tour for two months, at least. I hate to, ah, prolong your suffering, but we must wait until she returns so she can celebrate the, er, happy day with us.”

She forced her lips to smile. “I’m sure you understand.”

That look of chagrin on his face couldn’t possibly be from any personal yearning he felt for her, could it? He stepped closer, air shooting from his nostrils like a blown horse. Despite her resolve to appear accepting of any advances he might make, she shrank back.

Radleigh’s entire aspect changed. His expression lightened and his body relaxed. “Are you afraid, my little dove?” He chuckled, prepared to be indulgent. “I won’t hurt you.”

She lifted her chin. “Not at all, but it would be more fitting to save
that
sort of thing for after we’re married, don’t you agree?”

She’d explained to him that she didn’t seek intimacy. She hoped he’d take her reluctance as maidenly modesty rather than the fear and revulsion it was.

He stared at her for some time, as if watching for an outward sign that would permit him to disregard her verbal denial. She tried not to hold her breath. Instinctively, she knew she must not show him fear.

All at once, her vulnerability struck home. They were alone, more than a mile from the house. He could throw her down and rape her, and no one would be the wiser.

And why she should think that way, she couldn’t fathom. He unsettled her greatly.

She made herself break the connection of their gazes and walk over to her horse. The mare snorted and pawed the ground, still restless.

She stroked the mare’s flank.
Sorry, old girl, no gallop for you today.

“Let me help you.”

His voice startled her so much that she jumped. She hadn’t heard him approach so close.

She wanted to refuse but that would sound churlish. “Thank you, sir.” She lifted her foot for him to give her a boost up, but he disconcerted her further by gripping her waist and lifting her clear off the ground.

The sensation of utter helplessness made her give a choke of distress. Her eyes met his, and she couldn’t hide her momentary panic. His smile broadening, he deposited her carefully in the saddle as if she weighed no more than a little girl.

She fussed with her skirts in an effort to regain composure. The only means she had of keeping him at bay was to affect an aristocratic hauteur. “Thank you.” She gave him the kind of dismissive nod that she’d give a groom. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

In an ironic gesture of farewell, Radleigh touched his hat, hard eyes glittering beneath its brim.

AFTER a light nuncheon, Louisa escaped for another exploratory foray. The day was brisk with breeze and sunshine. The ribbons of her chip straw hat fluttered and her walking gown flirted around her kid half boots as she made her way down the terrace steps.

This time, she knew which direction to take, having carefully and, she hoped, subtly elicited the information from Beth.

Mercy, but the house party would be even more intolerable if Beth sought to commandeer every minute of her guests’ time. A hostess made available any number of activities for her guests’ enjoyment, then left them to their own devices. It was the height of gaucheness to schedule and choreograph their movements as if it were a military exercise.

The girl would soon be worn to the bone, at this rate, or else her guests would soon recall sudden pressing engagements elsewhere.

A pity that companion of hers didn’t drop a word in her ear, but perhaps bumptious Beth wouldn’t have listened anyway.

Cool, water-spritzed air met Louisa as she passed a fountain surrounded by lily pads in an interesting geometrical design. The rush of water was such a soothing sound, she could have stopped there, but she had a mission to accomplish.

“Halloo there!” A voice rose above the cascade of water.
Oh no
. Louisa’s shoulders tensed. She stopped and turned around.

Beth hurried toward her, waving her handkerchief madly and puffing a little. “Oh! I’m so glad I caught up with you, Lady Louisa.” Without asking permission, she linked arms with Louisa and walked with her in the direction Louisa had been heading.

No hope for it, then. Louisa plastered a smile on her face. “Beth! How kind of you to join me.”

She heartily wished she could extract herself, but she couldn’t think how to manage it without giving offense. Repressing a sigh, Louisa slowed her steps to match Beth’s.

“I saw you walking all alone and thought you might need company.”

Beth smiled engagingly up at her. She was a full head shorter, which made Louisa feel like a gangling giraffe.

Oh dear. Not more confidences about Jardine. She couldn’t bear it.

“What a pretty day,” she said quickly, glancing about her as if only noticing the weather for the first time. “The men took their guns out this morning, I believe.”

Louisa would have gone with them, if not for the need to find this temple. At least on the moor she’d have been free of her garrulous hostess.

Beth’s dawdling pace was getting on her nerves. “I have an ambition to see if I can walk to the top of that rise over there.”

She couldn’t afford to take too much interest in the temple while Beth accompanied her, but she could at least judge how far it was from the house and any escape routes in case of trouble.

Always look for the exit,
Harriet had told her.
Map out in your mind how you’d get away.

Amazing how many small pieces of wisdom Harriet had imparted over the course of their time together. Had she guessed this situation might come to pass?

Beth was rambling on about meeting Louisa’s family. Thankfully, she excelled at making a lot of suppositions that required no response from Louisa. Thank heaven Louisa would be at liberty within the next day or so, if she chose. She’d never have to meet Beth again.

Loathsome to have to play the jilt, of course, even to such a character as Radleigh. He’d pinned his hopes of advancement on this marriage. She felt a twinge of remorse, but suppressed it. If Radleigh was caught committing treason, a broken engagement would be the least of his worries.

Beth rattled on. “I suppose your people are very grand. I should be quite terrified to meet them.”

Louisa smiled and shook her head. “Oh, not at all. Quite the contrary. My father is no longer with us, but my mother is like a pretty butterfly, even tempered and sweet. She recently remarried, you know, and my new stepfather is all that is amiable.”

Louisa stopped, searching inwardly for that stab of regret and envy that had been with her throughout her mother’s courtship.

Nothing.

Strange.

“What about your brother, the duke?” Beth asked, as they wound through a shady wooded stretch.

“My brother never expected to come into the title, so he was not bred to the role. He is the best of men. Straight to the point. No nonsense or flummery about him, no puffed-up conceit. He is, perhaps, the least likely duke you might come across, but also the very best kind.”

“Oh.” Beth seemed a little disappointed not to hear tales of pomp and ceremony. “And his wife?”

“Ah, Kate is pure delight and she leads him a merry dance, which is wonderful to see.” Louisa grinned, thinking of her friend. “There is nothing better than a strong man felled by love, is there?”

And wouldn’t Kate have relished the adventure into which Louisa had stumbled? There’d be no question in Kate’s mind about whether to stay or go. She’d pursue this mystery and fight anyone who tried to stop her.

If only Kate were here . . . But no, much as she loved her sister-in-law, she didn’t want Kate’s or anyone else’s help.

Suddenly, Louisa felt alone as she’d never felt before.

No, not alone.
Independent
.

As they rounded a bend, the wood fell away and the infamous temple came into view.

Louisa started toward it, barely conscious of shaking off Beth’s hold.

“Oh, pray, Lady Louisa. Do not go up there.” Beth panted as she struggled to keep up, muttering, “Oh, how unfortunate!”

“Fascinating!” Louisa called back, her heart suddenly light. “What do you call it?”

“Oh no. Oh
dear
! This is most indelicate. Indeed, I don’t call it anything. It is not a subject that one should mention in polite company.”

And yet, Beth had mentioned it obliquely, hadn’t she? Louisa couldn’t help teasing a little.

“Well, let us pretend we are not polite and satisfy our curiosity, shall we? The carvings look marvelous at this distance. Goodness, it’s like one of those dripping castles one made as a child out of wet sand.”

As they neared the temple, she saw the cause of Beth’s consternation.

Louisa’s lips trembled in shocked enjoyment. Oh, what she’d give to have shown this temple to prudish Kate!

Tier upon tier of figures in all kinds of improbable nakedness filled her vision. She glanced at Beth, who was blushing furiously and averting her own gaze.

“Oh, don’t be such a ninny,” said Louisa, though heat had risen to her own cheeks, she was sure. “Come on.”

She went inside, where it was degrees cooler and the decoration was slightly less detailed but even more outrageously wicked than outside.

The people depicting every kind of sexual act were obviously Indian, and remarkably flexible, if their antics were any indication. The women’s bodies were rounded and lush, making Louisa acutely aware of her own lack of endowments.

Speaking of endowments . . . Louisa’s eyes widened a little. Surely, those figures weren’t carved in accurate proportion.

“Oh, Lady Louisa, do come out of there! I am so mortified, I . . .” Louisa shut out Beth’s wailing and stifled her own prurient curiosity to glance about her.

The interior of the temple was roughly the same size as a parlor, with cushioned benches lining the walls and a table in the center. Obviously, the structure was used for some kind of entertainment, rather than worship. She’d prefer not to guess the nature of that entertainment, but she had a fair idea.

Louisa mulled over what Harriet had told her. A blue ribbon to request a meeting, white for all is well but nothing discovered. Pink was the distress signal, the one that meant she wanted to get out.

There were any number of places she might leave the signal for Faulkner to find. But she needed somewhere he would think to look, yet would not be immediately obvious to a casual observer.

The fringed Oriental rug that covered the central table seemed like a good choice. She might tie a ribbon around one of the tassels at the corner. To a casual observer, it would look as if it were meant to be there, yet someone searching for a ribbon would not miss it.

She left the temple feeling rather smug and slipped her arm through her gibbering companion’s. “Please stop that, Beth, or I shall be obliged to slap you,” she said pleasantly, turning and drawing Beth back down the hill.

Beth gulped and sniffed and shuddered, her eyes very wide and fawnlike. She looked as if no one had ever spoken to her in such a way before.

Louisa fished out her handkerchief and handed it to Beth. “There you are. Truly, there is no need to cry. I won’t tell anyone where we’ve been.”

Beth nodded and gulped and blew her small nose with an inelegant snuffle. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red. Goodness, how could Jardine even contemplate making up to such a wet fish?

But she’d calmed down enough to fold Louisa’s handkerchief into a neat square and offer it back.

“No, er, you keep it, dear.”

Beth raised her watery gaze to Louisa’s face and gave a tremulous smile.

Louisa nodded as she stepped out at a brisker pace. “That’s the barber. Now, do tell me. How far is it to the village? I have ribbons to buy.”

Twelve