The Proud Viscount (14 page)

There was a candle burning upstairs in the back room. Rossmere went directly to the rear door and tapped softly on its wooden panel. A warm breeze wafted earthy smells from the kitchen garden and ruffled the viscount’s hair. It was only a minute before the door was opened cautiously, and the maid he’d met before craned her head around to inspect him. Her eyes widened when she recognized him.

“Coo, and what do you be wantin’, sir?”

“I very much need a word with your mistress. Do you think she would have a moment to grant me?”

“Can’t say as how she might. I’d best ask. You wait here and don’t go making no noise, hear?”

Rossmere assured her that he would be silent as the grave. He leaned against the door frame while he waited, deciding on what approach would most likely earn him the best information. It wouldn’t do to simply ask Madeline outright; she would simply deny any connection with Parnham. He mustn’t give any indication at all that he knew what was going on. She was a clever woman and her secrets wouldn’t easily be uncovered.

Suddenly she was there before him. Her bright hair cascaded down over her shoulders, and what she wore was elegantly flowing and just barely opaque. Rossmere didn’t think it was an article of clothing in which she would receive, say, a neighbor coming to tea. The outline of her breasts was very distinct, and very provocative. She smiled up at Rossmere, mischief tugging the corners of her mouth.

“Now, what would you be doing here at this hour of the night, my lord?” she wondered. “Lost your way, have you? Out riding that magnificent beast of yours and became confused in the dark, I’ll warrant. You decided to call at the first cottage that showed a candle.”

“Exactly so.” He had almost forgotten her skill at weaving fantasies, fantasies that were just right for the person she addressed. And quite different for different men. He recalled someone telling him...

“You’re in need of succor,” she suggested, laying her hand on his arm and gazing up into his eyes. “Some refreshment, some rest, some... diversion. And I’m a familiar face, someone who has come to your aid on other occasions. You remember my generosity, my openness, my attention to your needs.”

Rossmere did remember their encounters and the ease with which she’d ensnared both his body and his mind. She moved close to him now, until her body was touching his, lightly. And he remembered her body naked, inviting. His gaze shifted from her body to her eyes. There was a sultriness to the green, a sleepy, alluring glaze that suggested she was already aroused. Her hand slid from his forearm up to his shoulder and her head tilted backward, her lips softly pouted for his kiss.

He wasn’t going to get any information from her if he rejected this initial advance. So he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. How yielding they were! How readily they parted, waiting for his tongue to enter her mouth, to take possession of her. The sensation of her taste, her texture, swept him back to that time years ago when she had been his mistress. He had come to her whenever he chose, and she had given herself to him with such astonishing abandon. He had thought no other woman could possibly be so stimulating.

They were still standing in the rear doorway of the cottage and Rossmere broke off the kiss, saying, “What will your neighbors think?” with a mocking light in his eyes.

“Fortunately my neighbors aren’t abroad at this time of night.” She tugged at his sleeve, drawing him into the room. “I thought you would come, especially after you won that race at the fair. You were magnificent. But then, you always were magnificent.”

It was the kind of flattery that had flamed him to desire in his days with her. Now he concentrated on her reference to the race. He could but assume that she was referring to the prize money. Madeline did not come without price. There were no treats “for the sake of old times.” Not with Madeline. What interested him was her apparent willingness to consider a supposed bid from him, when Parnham surely wouldn’t like it one bit if he found out about it.

Madeline led him through the kitchen and down the corridor to the front of the cottage. There was a lamp burning in the parlor, where a book lay deserted on the floor and a half-full wineglass rested on an end table. Obviously she had been pleasantly wiling away her evening when he arrived. She motioned to the wine decanter and another glass nearby. “Please help yourself,” she said as she lowered herself onto the sofa in a lounging position.

“I don’t think you were expecting me,” he chided. “Surely this glass was for someone else.”

“Merely an efficiency on Mary’s part. It saves her the bother of going to fetch another glass if someone calls.”

It was possible. Mary struck him as a fairly bright child. Rossmere helped himself to a glass of wine, a very passable Madeira, and approached the sofa where Madeline awaited him, her own glass now in her hands. She patted the spot that would place him in contact with her, since her reclining position occupied the whole of the piece of furniture.

Rossmere looked skeptical. “I wouldn’t want to be discovered in an awkward position if a particular friend of yours should arrive.” When she started to protest, he waved aside her words. “No, no, you’ll never convince me you haven’t found some upstart merchant in this area to protect you, my dear. Otherwise you’d never have left London. He must be both wealthy and handsome to entice you to the wilds.”

With a little shrug she patted the spot again. “Never mind my current arrangement, Stephen. He won’t appear to challenge you to a duel, if that’s what concerns you. He never comes this late, and if he should... Well, Mary has barred the back door by this time and it would take her an appropriate amount of time to open it, and rouse me, and show him up to my room. Far longer than you would need to disappear out the side window.”

In the moderate light of the lamp, he could see that the satin of her gown was a rich gold color. It clung to her hips and lay open somewhat on her legs, just enough to give him a view up to her knees. Rossmere seated himself on a level with her midsection and lifted his glass in a toast. “To a most remarkably beautiful woman.” As he sipped, he held her eyes with his, managing, without much difficulty, to look enchanted.

Madeline murmured her pleasure at the compliment, shifting so that one breast swelled above the draped effect of her lounging gown. “And you,” she said, raising her glass to him, “are still the most manly devil I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

He shook his head in amusement. “Doing it too brown, Madeline. You’ve forgotten that pretty phrases pay no toll with me.”

“How true! You were always much more interested in other kinds of contact than words. A man of action.” She smiled and ran a hand along the satin fabric of her gown from her shoulder to the top of her breast. “You did a lot of talking with your hands, I remember. And they weren’t the usual dandy’s hands.” Reaching across, she picked up one of his hands and traced over it with a slim finger. “Look at that. It’s even more rugged than in the old days. Strong, rough, capable, exciting, but unaccustomed to the softness of a female body these days, I’d warrant. I can feel the tautness of it.”

“Can you? And is that bad?”

“Only if it’s never relieved.” Her coquettish smile accompanied a provocative kneading of his fingers. “Why, men’s hands have been known to fall off from the continual strain of never being relieved.”

“Dear me, what an awful fate. I suppose you could suggest a remedy.”

Madeline nodded solemnly. “It’s essential that the roughness come in contact with something infinitely soft and remain in contact until there is a total relaxation of the body... um, hand. This can’t be managed by just touching one spot, though. The hand must be run over a wide area of softness and continually moved about. It has to touch satiny areas, and silky areas, and velvety areas. And it’s best if it seeks out warm, moist areas as well. These are all very healing to the hand.”

Even her voice was seductive. There was a hoarse edge to the sonorous recitation. Her fingers played coyly with his, her hips pressed forward against his buttocks. Definitely they were moving into dangerous territory. He had thought she would tease him as she had originally, make him wait for full access to her person.

“My hands are more used to reins than to flesh,” he admitted. “They would feel rough on your skin. That’s not what you’re used to.”

“I like hands that are firm on the reins, that are firm on my skin. Do you think I’m some kind of pampered doll, Stephen? Have you forgotten that I like to live a stimulating life? That I ride wild horses and enjoy the company of dangerous men? That I take risks other women would blanch at? And you taunt me with your rough hands,” she chided him. “I’m not afraid of anything, and I go after what I want. You used to admire that in me. Have you changed your mind?”

“Penury is daunting, my dear. It’s easier to live an exciting life if one doesn’t have to worry about where one's next meal is coming from.”

Madeline regarded him with shrewd eyes. “Hardly one’s next meal in your case, Rossmere. But it’s true that the prospect of a future lack of funds is unsettling. You should find yourself a wife with a fortune.”

“So my godmother tells me. I might offer the same advice to you with regard to a husband. You’re no more likely to take it than I am,” he insisted, and watched the flicker in her eyes.

Her immediate intention of denying it was quickly overcome by prudence. She lowered her eyes. “There’s no future for me in marriage,” she said. “Men are so insistent on the exclusive use of their wives. I can’t tell you how dull that sounds to me.” She laughed, but it had the false ring of being forced. “I can’t imagine any man I’d wish to be leg-shackled to.”

“No? Well, it’s the same with me, Madeline. I’d rather starve than be tied to a woman and her fortune. My very nature rebels against it.”

She placed his hand on the satin above her breast. “You would find ways to circumvent the ties, my dear Rossmere. Men always do.”

Because she expected it of him, he allowed his hand to cup her breast and slid his fingers over the cool satin where the bump of her nipple invited his touch. He kept his thoughts firmly on what he believed to be her motivations. Probably the very prospect of marriage, despite her recognition that it was the wisest course for a woman of her age and reputation, drove her to recklessness and an attempt to get away with as much as she could. Which explained her willingness to dally with him.

Did she understand that Parnham was actually planning to murder his wife?

Madeline shifted so that the satin robe was pulled back from over her breast. Rossmere’s bare hand touched her silky skin. It had been a very, very long time since he’d had this kind of contact with a woman. He was deluged with desire and the memory of heady satisfaction this particular woman had provided in the past. He needed to keep his mind clear, though, and use this occasion to learn what he could. His physical needs were of lesser importance, though they raged through him now with the force of a summer storm.

He continued to fondle Madeline’s breasts. With her cooperation he even brushed back the satin from her other breast and cupped it firmly. He rubbed the nipple between thumb and forefinger, feeling it become erect. Then he lowered his head and took the nipple between his lips, toying, teasing, licking, sucking on it. Her body arched toward him. He shifted so that his hand could move further down her body.

Moaning with arousal, she clung to him. He pushed back the satin gown still further, exposing the thatch of hair between her legs. “You drive me to distraction,” he muttered hoarsely. “You’re a Circe who drives men into danger, aren’t you? A temptress who can’t be denied.”

“Mmmmm.”

She was too caught up in the arousal of her body to pay attention to his words. He pulled back from her, teasing. “Do you miss my touch?” he demanded.

“Oh, yes. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Once again he took her nipple between his lips, sucking the elongated flesh into his mouth. Then he let it slip out. She groaned in protest. His hands were no longer touching her. “I remember how you held me in thrall, years ago. My blood was always at a fever pitch. My need for you was stronger than anything else in the world. You still have that power.”

A faint smile curved her lips, her eyes opened languidly. “Yes, I still have that power, Rossmere. But you have the power to satisfy me now. I’m as much under your spell as you are under mine. My body craves to be filled by yours. Don’t make me wait,” she begged, but with the tone of one who knows her wish will be granted.

He pressed his hand down against the thatch of hair between her legs and lifted it away. “Is this power you have only over me?” he whispered. “I have to know. Are other men bewitched by you? Is your merchant enslaved by his love of you?”

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, a knowing smile twisting her lips. “Don’t think about him, Stephen. Here, let me help you with your pantaloons.”

Rossmere grabbed her hands and pressed them, too tightly for her comfort. “No, no. I can’t bear to think of it. He can afford you and I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair of me.”

‘‘But you have the prize money."

He shook his head. “There was some emergency at Longborough. My temporary manager had to have money immediately. So I sent the prize money to him.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “You don’t have to pay bills like some cit, Rossmere.” As she spoke, she wrapped the satin gown once more tightly around her. “Really, I lose all patience with you. In the old days you were a great deal more lively.”

“In the old days I was a great deal richer,” he retorted with bitterness.

Madeline erased the frown from her brow. “Of course you were. It’s a great pity, but...“ She shrugged her slender shoulders and rose from the sofa. “It’s very late. I’m sorry we couldn’t manage a real reunion, Rossmere. Perhaps your fortunes will change one of these days.”

“Most unlikely.” He sighed and kissed her firmly on the lips. “It’s not easy to get you off my mind,” he said as he picked up the gauntlets he’d left on the table. “Fortunately for me, I’ll be returning to Longborough in a while. I trust you’ll be happy with your merchant.”