The Love Affair of an English Lord (30 page)

Chapter 28

Chloe had dozed off fully dressed across the four-poster bed. She had been too restless to sleep the night before, too hopeful that Dominic would stage a last-minute rescue from the fate of returning to face her family.

When she had finally gotten out of bed at dawn, she had curled up in her chaise and listened to the sounds of London stirring. Carts and hackneys rattling over cobbles, cows being led to market, the chatter of street vendors setting up their wares, merchants calling to one another. The wonderful chaos of the city, her city, and yet . . . well, who would have thought she could miss her dreary village this much?

She had dressed and fallen into an exhausted sleep after the maid brought up her tea and a mountain of letters from old friends and admirers. An hour or so later she opened her eyes to find Heath, Drake, Devon, and Grayson seated around the four-poster, waiting patiently for her to awaken.

She slid up against the pillows and stared up at each of their handsome faces in turn. So similar and yet distinctly different. She sighed. “There are four corners to my bed. There are four devils at my head.”

Heath laughed. “Devils who care about you, I might add.”

“And this devil does not like being excluded from your confidence,” Devon added gently.

She turned her face into the pillow. “Devils or angels, does it matter? There should have been five of you.”

Brandon, she meant. The adventure-seeking sibling they had lost and only now could properly be mourned. There was healing in the truth, no matter how painful it had been to face. The family could take pride in Brandon's bravery. The missing pieces of his young life could be put into place and contemplated. His death had been unfair, but at least they understood why it had happened, who to blame. Together last night they had discussed Brandon's coded letter, his dedication, and had vowed he would not be forgotten.

“I want to go back,” she said, glancing at each of her brothers again.

Drake shook his head. “Chistlebury will never be the same. The papers are already talking about it.”

“I'll never be the same either,” Chloe said. “Has Dominic arrived yet?”

“I think,” Grayson said carefully, “that it might be a good idea if you did not see him for a month or”—he stopped cold at the look of panic in Chloe's eyes—“or not. I had no idea you felt this strongly about him.”

“Isn't passion a family trait?” she asked, challenging him.

Grayson shook his head. “I cannot deny that, but Chloe, do you not think that you should at least follow our advice for once in regard to your admirers?”

“You have made a few poor choices in the past,” Drake added, his blue eyes more mirthful than admonishing.

“Her very first-time love was our old butler,” Devon said in amusement. “The poor fellow could hardly polish the silver without Chloe hanging on his legs.”

“Emma wants you to meet one of your most ardent admirers in the garden,” Grayson said in a gentle voice. “He's—”

Chloe sat up straighter. “No. Absolutely not. No admirers.”

“He's an old family friend,” Grayson finished. “Yes, we know you prefer your darling Stratfield Ghost, but this man—”

“He's old,” Chloe said. “You want me to marry a relic. He's really old.”

Drake grinned. “Ancient.”

“Practically one of them Egyptian mummies,” Devon said with a sly grin. “He's brought all his vital organs along in jars.”

Chloe scowled at their four grinning faces. “What color are his eyes?”

Heath shrugged his broad shoulders. “It was hard to tell behind those thick spectacles.”

“At least he has all his teeth,” Grayson said.

Drake nodded. “Indeed. He was complaining about how much it cost to have them made.”

“Is Chloe ready to come downstairs yet?” Jane called from the doorway, apparently unaware of the conversation inside the room.

Chloe slid her feet to the floor. “Would you help me pack, Jane? I'm running away. I shall send you my address when I know it. If Dominic can be bothered to find me, I shall wait a reasonable time for him to fetch me.”

Jane swept into the room, appearing not at all intimidated by the four handsome men grinning at her, one of whom was her husband. “What is she talking about? Have I missed something?”

“The elderly suitor in the garden,” Drake replied, struggling to appear serious.

“What elderly suitor?” Jane asked, looking baffled.

“The one I helped to the garden bench.” Grayson winked at her. “The one whose hand shook when he signed the marriage contract.”

Jane stared at him. “The one—oh, Grayson, do grow up.” She took Chloe's hand. “Do you remember what happened in Brighton?”

“When my hideously evil brother Grayson tricked you into thinking he wanted to make you his mistress? Yes, I remember. I daresay it was an experience I shall never forget.”

“And I had only one true friend at the time, a woman with the courage to risk her family's anger by telling me the truth.”

Chloe sighed.

“Yes,” Jane continued, “it was
you,
and now I shall repay the favor—there is no elderly suitor waiting for you in the garden. It is your Dominic.”

“Dominic, in the garden?” Chloe ran to the window and pushed aside the heavy damask curtains. “I don't see him anywhere. Is he in one piece?” She turned to her brothers in panic. “What did you do to him?”

Heath rose from his chair. “Let us just say he won't be giving the family any trouble again.”

“You've given us all we can handle,” Grayson said bluntly.

Chloe broke into a jubilant grin. Her Dominic was here, downstairs. She felt weepy and joyful. “Oh, look at the pot calling the kettle black.” She glanced at herself in the mirror, then bent to slip on her shoes. She was too happy to care about what they thought, too intent on finding Dominic to stay angry at their silly prank. They would not have been her brothers if they hadn't teased her. Poor Dominic. Now he'd had a taste of the torture she had endured—and inflicted—for years.

She stopped at the door, giving Jane an impulsive hug. “Wait a minute. Did one of you mention a marriage contract?”

“I don't know,” Heath said. “Did we?”

“Just go,” Jane urged her.

Devon called after Chloe as she left the room. “At least we did not frighten him off. That's a good sign, I'd say.”

Chloe burst into peals of laughter, lifting the overskirt of her peach silk gown to race down the stairs.

Emma met her halfway up. “Good heavens, Chloe. Decorum, please. That handsome man in the garden does not wish to be mown down by the woman he intends to marry.”

Chloe laughed again, her heart lighter than it had been in ages. “Decorum? I shall give the lot of you decorum.”

Chapter 29

The sight of Dominic standing alone in the garden stole her breath away. England being England, it had started to sprinkle, and raindrops spangled his crisp black hair and the shoulders of his charcoal single-breasted tail coat. He turned when he heard her footsteps on the gravel. He looked relieved, his gaze holding hers.

For a moment neither of them moved. Chloe was struck by how compelling he was in his tight gray pantaloons and black Hessian boots. Every inch the gentleman? Well, not quite. There was a very ungentlemanly side to this man, several inches of barbarian if the truth be told, and Chloe was not entirely sure he had laid all his demons to rest.

But he reminded her of the man she had fallen in love with on that first rainy day. He was real, and she was more convinced than ever that no one like him existed in the entire world.

She tried to slow her pace as she approached him. She really did try to show some decorum. But the problem was—her fatal flaw had always been—her inability to be demure, and in the end she ran into his outstretched arms and laughed with sheer abandon as he swept her effortlessly into the air.

He kissed her face, her neck, his fingers brushing through her short dark curls. “Chloe, for a few minutes, I was afraid you wouldn't come. I thought you'd changed your mind.”

She stared up at his masculine face. He had put back on the weight he'd lost, but he still looked a little dangerous and intense . . . until he smiled, his gray eyes both mocking and tender. “I was waiting for you to drop into my closet.”

“Don't tell me you're disappointed.”

She arched her neck for him to kiss her again. The burning warmth of his breath against her skin made her melt inside. “Perhaps a little.”

He drew back slightly to smile at her. “Ah. The lady is not averse to having an intruder in her bed?”

Chloe sighed and brushed a raindrop from the lapel of his coat. “I thought it was all rather terrifying and exciting.”

“Exciting? Finding a half-dead man in your French drawers?”

“Not just any man, Dominic. I'm rather particular as to whom I invite into my closet.”

“I should hope so.”

It took her a moment to realize that he was fighting to control himself. He had lifted his face to the sky as if he welcomed the cool sting of rain. She felt her eyes fill with tears. This was only the second time she had seen him outside in the daylight. It would require patience for him to forget his endless days in darkness.

“Chloe.” He glanced down at her face, in control again, more at peace with himself than she could ever remember. “Do you think you can bear to raise our children in a house that is haunted by a ghost?”

“As long as it's not your ghost who's doing the haunting,” she teased him. “Has the scandal died down yet in Chistlebury?”

“Hardly,” Dominic replied, “although Sir Edgar's death has been announced by the authorities to have been an accident. It seems he was crushed to death by a load of mortar while exploring the hidden recesses of Stratfield Hall.”

“And Chistlebury's notorious ghost?”

“Ah, yes. My resurrection is still the talk of the village. However, after the promise of a generous donation to the church, even the parson has chosen to overlook certain inconsistencies in the explanation of my apparent demise.”

“Is it safe to say that scandal is behind us?”

He gave a devilish laugh. “Scandal will follow us forever, I'm afraid. In later years the legend of the Stratfield Ghost will grow.”

“Are you telling me that his wicked behavior will become worse?”

“Not exactly. But people will swear that Stratfield's spirit was seen carrying his own skeleton through the gallery.”

Chloe smiled. “I saw him myself at the annual
bal masqué
dressed as a highwayman. He's quite a virile ghost.”

Dominic drew her against him. “The dates and details will become blurred. Our story might be exaggerated. But one fact will remain undisputed: Viscount Stratfield, whether mortal man or ghost, fell in love with a very wonderful young woman from London.”

 

He returned to his town house a few hours later, his heart considerably lighter than when he'd left. A hundred duties awaited him. The evening passed before he knew it.

He swiveled around in his chair as the bedchamber door of his town house creaked open behind him. Hard to believe it was almost midnight. There was a gun on his desk amid the clutter of papers—official inquiries about Samuel, a letter from the company's board of directors, fresh notes of condolences as the news of his death plot spread around town. By now the report of Edgar's treachery had undoubtedly reached those secret contacts who had betrayed England alongside him if they had not long since scattered to hide.

The sounds within his London town house were harder to identify than those of his country estate, but there was something in the cautious tread behind him that alerted all his senses . . .

In anticipation of pleasure.

The spicy scent of Chloe's soap drifted enticingly across the room, awakening the sensual aggressor inside him. He would know her fragrance anywhere, would respond to it. He heard her silk-lined cloak slither to the floor. A chill of raw desire chased down his spine. What a delicious surprise this was.

He leaned back, enjoying the moment. “I hope to God you did not come out at night alone, Chloe.”

“Jane brought me in the carriage.”

He rose and looked out the window. Jane gave him a jaunty wave from the carriage, and, before he could react, the crested vehicle took off into the London streets.

He pivoted, his laugh incredulous. “How do you intend to go back home tonight without my escorting you?”

“I don't.”

“And—you're planning to spend the night here?”

She was advancing on him, her blue eyes brimming with wicked fun. “What's the matter, Stratfield? Are you the only one allowed to be an uninvited guest?”

Dominic's heart began to pound. By the look on her face, he decided that even if he had to explain the situation to her brothers, an evening alone with Chloe in this seductive mood would be well worth it. He couldn't resist her, would never be able to refuse her anything for the rest of their lives. “Won't your family be frantic if they find you gone?”

“Umm.” She began to unbutton his crisp white linen shirt, her fingers deft and quick. Sexual heat rose to the surface of his skin. “Jane promised to take care of them for me.”

His senses swam with the subtle scent of her. How he loved her touch. “Quite a brave woman, this Jane.”

Chloe smiled up at him, her voice catching with emotion. “You have to be brave to marry a Boscastle.”

“I think I knew that.”

“It's too late if you didn't. I love you, Dominic.”

He put his hands around her waist, gathering her soft body to his. It
was
too late. Dominic had lost his heart to Chloe the day he had rescued her from a mud puddle. He had known then and there that he wanted her, that he would pursue her if he ever managed to sort out his life. But he hadn't guessed that his fantasies would be fulfilled in such an incredible way, that he would fall so deeply in love with her.

“I see the darker side of Dominic again,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Don't go into hiding on me again.”

He ran his hands down her strong back, lingering over the rounded rise of her bottom, drawing her into the heat of his body. He moaned softly at the perfect fit of her curves molding to his hard torso. “Not bloody likely. Chloe—” He shuddered as she pulled back to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

“Stop worrying, Dominic. Jane is very clever.”

“So is Heath.”

“And what will he make us do? Get married in the morning? Oh, good. Then perhaps I won't have to listen to Emma lecture me on wedding decorum and guest lists and— What are
you
doing?”

“I've taken your advice and stopped worrying.” He unhooked her gown and pushed it to her waist, cupping her ivory-white breasts through her chemise. By the time he had backed her against his bed and kissed her, Chloe did not seem to remember what they had been discussing.

Nor did Dominic for that matter. Chloe had truly become a temptress, with her ripe body and bold curiosity. His chest muscles tightened in pleasure as she traced her fingertips tenderly over his hideous scar. Her touch had always aroused him, but her aggressive pursuit of him set him on fire. He would never be able to deny her. His attraction to her had been both his weakness and his strength from the start.

She kissed his chest, licked and bit gently, and he began to shake. She looked incredibly desirable with her soft pink mouth wet and swollen and her gown shoved down to her waist. Her lips felt moist and warm on his skin, and his heartbeat quickened. He lowered her to the bed and captured her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, leaning over her languid body.

“Chloe, my love,” he said as he casually untied her chemise and garters. “I'm so glad you decided to drop by.”

He had her naked in seconds.

The sensuality of her smile unleashed something edgy and powerful inside him. She shifted her shoulders deeper into the pillow in a pose that was as challenging as it was submissive. “Take off your clothes, Stratfield.”

“Did you have something particular in mind?”

“I have everything in mind.”

“I see.”

He pulled off his shirt and pantaloons, allowing her gaze to travel over his nude body. He felt himself grow hard under her scrutiny, the unfettered desire in her eyes. When she arched off the bed and began to kiss his belly, he was so consumed with lust that he couldn't move, could only submit and enjoy himself.

Her mouth drifted lower. At first he could only groan in pleasure. When her soft lips closed over his thickening shaft, he shuddered and gripped her shoulders, his hips bucking against her. Her tongue circled the knob of his sex. His spine curled in reaction. The sensation rocked him to the core.

If he had hoped to reduce her to tears of delight, it seemed to be turning out to be the other way around. He caught her chin in his hands. “Who taught you that anyway?” he demanded.

“Audrey Watson,” she whispered, her blue eyes provocative.

“Audrey—
the
Audrey Watson?”

“So you've heard of courtesans in Chistlebury, have you?”

Dominic grinned. “I've heard of
that
courtesan. Why on earth did she tutor you? I've heard she selects only one or two students a year.”

“She didn't.” Chloe looked sheepish. “I eavesdropped in Brighton when she was giving my sister-in-law lessons on seduction.”

“Your sister-in-law?” he asked incredulously. “Jane, the elegant marchioness who stood up to her husband and who brought you here?”

“Yes. One and the same. Jane, my dear ally.”

Dominic shook his head in wonder. He could feel the fierce beat of his heart throughout his whole body. Chloe was his world, the flame that had given him hope in darkness. She was also a strong, earthy woman with a passionate nature, and the thought of spending forever with her left him breathless.

He nudged her onto her back. He was shaking again, his need for her intensifying, growing more urgent with every moment. His hands moved over her body, her heavy breasts and swollen nipples, then lower to force her legs apart. He stroked her intimately, taking shameless advantage of having her in his bed for the first time ever. He felt virile, capable of having sex until sunrise, his body hot and hard.

Just touching Chloe's warm smooth skin and ripe curves infused him with lust. Her sexual instincts heightened his own hunger until the blood in his veins pounded with it. He wanted her vulnerable, open and helpless like this. He wanted to do everything imaginable to her. The pleasure of her mouth on his shaft had sharpened his desire to a degree he had never before known.

He spread open the inner folds of her sex and eased his finger inside her sensitive passage. Her tender muscles tightened at the friction. He felt the tremor that shook her, teasing her until she was writhing against his hand. She was surrendering to him completely, being her most sensual self.

“Chloe,” he said in a hoarse voice, “I love you so.” He bent his head to suckle gently on her breasts. She responded with a low-throated moan that tightened every muscle in his body in anticipation.

The cream of her arousal had soaked his fingers. He had to be inside her or he'd go up in flames. He needed her, and she was begging him to take her. Still, he wouldn't hurry. He wanted to drive her as wild as she could be. He wanted her to ache for sex with him until she would do anything he asked.

A woman like Chloe could never be taken for granted. She had to be pleased, pampered, seduced in body and soul.

“Dominic, I think— I'm going—”

It excited him to see her lose control, the way she moved her body, her voice becoming deep and breathless. He clenched his jaw when she climaxed against his hand, shivering with desire, with a need that matched his own. He studied her face, his fingers quickening, not releasing her even then. Twice more he brought her to a climax.