The Bridegroom (2 page)

His grip tightened painfully at her waist. “Is that what he told you?”

She forced herself to meet Carlisle’s gaze and flinched at the contempt she saw. “Papa has never mentioned your name to me,” she admitted, lifting her chin. “But in the year since you returned to London, I have heard tales—”

He made a disdainful, dismissive sound deep in his throat. “Banbury tales,” he muttered.

“Then you were not a pirate?” she asked.

He lifted a dark brow in mocking amusement. “I was. But, as you can see, the
ton
has forgiven that indiscretion.”

“That seems a great deal to dismiss,” she said bluntly.

He shrugged. “ ’Twas your own father made me respectable again.”

“How?”

“He advised the House of Lords he was mistaken in his accusations against me. Within the past year my title and estates have been restored. All is as it was before.”

Carlisle said the words, but it was clear from the turmoil in his fierce gaze, from the way his gloved hand crushed her own, that nothing was as it had been twelve years ago. How could it be? He had become a pirate. His wife and child were dead. And there was that other shocking rumor to be confronted.

“There is one thing more I would like to know,” she said.

“You have asked enough,” he replied curtly. “And been answered.”

But Reggie would not be denied. “Did you kill a man with your bare hands?”

His eyes narrowed. The creases around his mouth deepened in displeasure.

An instant later Reggie found herself being waltzed through the open French doors and out onto the balcony. There was no time to gather her wits before she was being ushered down the steps and hurried along one of the moonlit pathways in Viscount Raleigh’s rose garden.

Reggie tried digging in her heels, but they skidded on the gravel path. She wished she had not asked that last question. It seemed to have spurred the earl to some dire action. “Stop. Stop this instant, or I shall scream!”

The rogue dragged her inexorably into the dark.

Reggie realized Carlisle had deduced she could not very well scream without bringing ruin on herself. If she had been a true lady, that is to say, if she had been genuinely helpless and demure, there was no telling how Carlisle’s kidnapping might have ended. But Reggie’s docile outward manner was a thin facade, which Carlisle’s boorish—and frightening—behavior tore asunder.

Kicking him would have been satisfying, but dancing slippers would not have caused much damage. She waited for him to stop and turn to her before she acted.

“Now, my lady, we will—”

She hit him in the stomach as hard as she could with her balled fist. An instant later, she grabbed her hand and bit back a yell, as agonizing pain shot all the way to her
elbow. Hitting his belly was like hitting one of the gray stone walls at Blackthorne Abbey.

Carlisle shook his head, his lips tilted in what was undeniably a smile. “You’re a feisty little thing.”

It was humiliating to be reduced to an object of amusement. She struck back with words, since her fist had done little good. “You scoundrel! Libertine! Turk! You—”

“That is quite enough, Lady Regina,” he said in a cutting voice. “I have taken your point.”

She drew herself up, shoulders back, chin high. But her chin began to quiver, and tears welled in her eyes. She blinked hard, determined he should not see her routed. Lady Regina Wharton
never
cried!

“I do not know what it is you hope to gain by humbling me,” she said. “I concede your superior strength. Where do we go from here? Will you ravish me? My father will kill you for it. Or would, if I were to tell him of your incivility.”

“And you would not?”

She shook her head. “The battle is between us, my lord. I will win or lose on my own.”

He nodded. “Very well, my dear. I accept your terms.”

She tried to hold herself still as his thumb gently brushed away the damnable tear on her cheek, but her body quivered at his touch. She felt his dark eyes on her again, felt the heat again, but this time in her very marrow. She looked up and met his gaze. She had wanted relief from boredom, but she had discovered something a
great deal more perilous than the mere entertainment she had sought.

“What do you want from me?” she whispered.

“Perhaps the same thing you want from me,” he murmured in return.

Her eyes sought his. “A diversion?”

“A distraction from life’s sorrows.”

“My life is happy enough.”

“Is it?” he said. “I would have sworn you looked disconsolate when I observed you with your sister.”

“You were watching me?” she asked, intrigued by the thought he had noticed her.

“How could I not?” he said. “You were like a particularly succulent flower surrounded by buzzing bees. I wanted to be the one to sip your nectar.”

It sounded too much like the flummery offered by the innumerable suitors she had rejected. “That is the first false coin you have offered me,” she said, pursing her lips and shaking her head. “I expected better of you, my lord.”

He laughed. “Do you think it impossible I should desire you?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I am well aware of my superior attributes.”

He laughed again. “No false modesty, I see. And I must agree. You are lovely beyond compare. Eyes that sparkle like—”

“Sapphires,” she said, filling in the usual simile.

“A brook coursing over stones,” he surprised her by saying. “Lips as dewy as—”

“Rosebuds,” she interjected.

He smiled. “Grass in the early morning sun,” he countered. “A complexion like—”

“Peaches and cream,” she could not help interrupting.

“Cream,” he countered, “without the peaches. Hair as dark and shiny as—”

She hesitated, then guessed, “A raven’s wing?”

He shook his head. “Actually, the thing it most reminds me of is my horse, Balthazar. I imagine your hair must be as soft as his silky black nose.”

Reggie laughed delightedly. “You are original, my lord, I will grant you that. I cannot quite believe it, but I am not even insulted. For if your Balthazar is as beautiful a black beast as my Beelzebub, then you have paid me a great compliment indeed.”

“What is more,” the earl continued, “there is substance to go with the beauty. You are every bit as fascinating as the tales I have heard of you.”

“What tales?” she asked suspiciously.

“That you are an ice princess, beautiful but untouchable, desirable but unapproachable.”

“How do you explain all those buzzing bees?” she asked archly.

“Have any sipped your nectar?”

She blushed hotly. “That is none of your concern.”

“Then you are untouched?”

“I find this conversation tedious,” she said, turning to march back toward the house.

He caught her arm and whirled her around to face him. “Stay.”

“I see no purpose—”

“I want you for myself.”

Her gaze shot to his face, and she found his intense dark eyes staring back at her. An odd sensation curled in her belly. Her heart began to pound. Whatever he had done in the past, her own father had made him respectable again. And yet, he still had not answered that last question. Had the earl killed a man with his bare hands? “What makes you think I would consider marriage to a rakeshame like you?”

“I do not remember offering marriage.”

It took her a moment to take his meaning. “You are offering me
carte blanche
?”

“Why not?”

“I am a lady, an innocent—”

“Your innocence is a bit of a problem.” He brushed a knuckle across her cheek. “But that can be remedied.”

Reggie jerked away, unable to speak, she was so incredulous.

He laughed. Again. “You are much too naive, my dear. And predictable. I am afraid we would never suit.”

“What if I said I accept? What would you say then?” she demanded, incensed at his dismissal of her as unworthy of his regard.

His eyes narrowed. “I wish I were as true a blackguard as you have painted me. But even such miscreants as I have scruples.”

“Are you refusing me?” she asked in disbelief.

“I will take a kiss,” he said. “As the price of your foolishness in playing such games.”

“I will never—”

His lips were firm and damp on hers, eliciting a moan
of pleasure before she could squelch it. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, but she kept her teeth tightly clenched, determined not to give more than he had already taken.

He let her go and stepped back, his eyes gleaming in the moonlit darkness. “You are a tempting morsel, my sweet. But it is time we returned to the ballroom. Our absence will no doubt have been noticed.”

Reggie’s eyes went wide. It was odd enough that she had danced with Carlisle. Their exit onto the balcony most certainly would have been remarked upon. Her continued absence with such a notorious figure would already have been the cause of speculation. “Was scandal your purpose all along?”

“You elicited the invitation to dance, my dear.”

Reggie knew he spoke nothing but the truth. Her behavior over the years had crossed the line beyond propriety on occasion, but being a great heiress—and the Duke of Blackthorne’s daughter—had given her a great deal of latitude and smoothed a great many important ruffled feathers. This time she might have gone too far.

“Reggie? Are you out there?”

“Is that you, Becky?” Reggie replied in response to the whispery voice.

“Where are you?”

Reggie walked along the gravel path, trailed by Carlisle, until she met her sister coming from the opposite direction. “What are you doing out here?” Reggie asked.

“Looking for you,” Becky said in exasperation. “I
followed you out onto the balcony almost as soon as you left, hoping to prevent gossip.”

“That was cleverly done, Lady Penrith,” Carlisle said. He turned to Reggie and said, “Thanks to your sister’s quick thinking, you may escape with your reputation. All we three need do is return to the ballroom together.”

“I would not accompany you—” Reggie began.

“For my sake,” Becky said. “Please do as Lord Carlisle asks.”

Reggie remained silent and did as she was told. Her sister would bear the brunt of the blame if she were found to have been compromised. There was no telling what penalty Penrith would exact from his wife if he heard of Reggie’s unchaperoned escapade. “Very well,” she conceded. “We will return to the ballroom together.”

“Smile,” Becky hissed as they moved from the dark balcony into the candlelit ballroom, where the waltz was just ending.

To Reggie’s surprise, Carlisle was the soul of propriety, bowing over her hand and thanking her and her sister, in words loud enough to be heard by those assembled, for the pleasure of their company during the dance. “I will look forward to calling on both of you tomorrow,” he said.

Reggie was appalled by Carlisle’s obvious intention of furthering the acquaintance, considering how outrageously he had behaved during their
tête-à-tête
, but with so many gossips about, there was no way she could voice her objections.

“We will look forward to your visit, my lord,” Becky replied with a smile.

She and Becky were left standing arm in arm as Carlisle made his way back across the ballroom. Reggie snapped open her fan and used it to cool her face. “I want to go home.”

“I am afraid that is not possible just yet,” Becky said.

“Why not?”

“You must play the game a little longer.”

At Reggie’s inquiring look, her sister explained, “To prove nothing untoward happened during your absence from the ballroom.”

Reggie’s chin jutted. “I don’t give a fig what anyone thinks.”

“A scandal will do none of us any good,” Becky said.

Reggie saw the plea in her sister’s eyes and relented. “Very well. I shall be a flower and let the bees buzz around me for another half hour at least. Will that suit you?”

“Yes, it will. Afterwards, I shall be glad to escape along with you.”

Over the next half hour, Reggie laughed and smiled until her jaws ached. She was aware, the entire time, of Carlisle’s heavy-lidded gaze watching her from the other side of the ballroom. He spoke to no one. He danced with no one. Until at last the moment came when she looked for him, and he was gone.

“Please, Becky, may we leave now?” she said.

Becky squeezed her hand. “I think we have done as much as we can tonight. I will send a footman to find
Penrith in the card room and tell him we are ready to retire.”

On the ride home in the carriage, the thoroughly foxed viscount raged incessantly at his wife. “I feel certain my luck was turning when you sent for me,” he ranted, the words slurring together. “As it is, I left at least a monkey on the table.”

“You could have stayed, my lord,” Becky said meekly. “We would have been happy to return home without you.”

“What? And have it said I let ladies under my protection go about unescorted?” Penrith snorted. “I know where my duty lies. Even if it costs me dearly at times.”

There was no winning the argument, as Becky well knew, yet Reggie watched her sister attempt to soothe her cupshot husband.

“Regina met an acquaintance of yours this evening,” Becky said.

“What? Who’s that?”

“Lord Carlisle,” Becky said.

“Good man to know,” Penrith mumbled.

“Why is that?” Reggie inquired.

“Rich as Croesus. Been advising me which funds are best in the ’Change.”

Reggie frowned in confusion. “Did I understand correctly? You are taking
investment
advice from Lord Carlisle?”

“Why not? Man has a fortune. Must know what he’s about, don’t you think?”

“I think he made his fortune as a pirate,” Reggie said dryly.

Penrith shook his head. “Shows what you know, missy. He earned a bit from shipping, but he doubled that in the funds.”

“Why is he so willing to share his knowledge with you?” she asked.

“Likes me,” Penrith said. “Said so himself.”

“One scoundrel recognizes another,” Reggie muttered under her breath.

“What’s that?” Penrith asked.

“Lord Carlisle is coming to call on Regina tomorrow,” Becky said, stepping into the breach.