The Training of a Marquess (28 page)

They sat in companionable silence as the dancers twirled over the floor. Claire’s eyes strayed to Chase. What would Mrs. Fisherman say if Claire told her she had seen his manly part? Laughter bubbled up at the thought of how badly she wanted to say, “Yes, his manly part is magnificent. If you think wearing lavender too soon is scandalous, my dear Mrs. Fisherman, what do you think of that? Oh, and by the way, it’s mine and Rhonda can’t have it.” She grinned, imagining Mrs. Fisherman’s reaction.

“What has you so amused? You’re staring at Kensington as if you know a thrilling secret.”

Horrified, Claire wished the floor would open and swallow her. Did Lady Anne suspect her thoughts? Claire feared her cheeks were blushing bright red. Bells in hells, she really was a wanton, and there was no hope of ever again being a proper woman now that she understood the pleasure he could give her. Would his mother still like her if she knew Claire coveted his manly part? Claire stared hard at the seam between two wood planks of the floor, willing it to open and swallow her.

Lady Anne chuckled and patted Claire’s hand. “I was young once, my dear. Whatever it is you’re thinking of Kensington, I can only imagine, but being his mother, would prefer not to know. The dance is ending so you and I must now place ourselves in Mrs. Fisherman’s company and keep her occupied.”

“She’s headed our way now,” Claire said. “She has a satisfied look on her face and most certainly wants to gloat. We must keep reminding ourselves that we are doing this for Bobby and Rhonda.”

“Quite right. That will be our battle cry. For Bobby and Rhonda.”

“For Bobby and Rhonda,” Claire repeated. When Mrs. Fisherman arrived, Claire stood. “Take my chair, Mrs. Fisherman. I have been sitting all night and need to stand a little.”

Claire stood in front of Mrs. Fisherman, blocking her view of the room. It wouldn’t do for her to notice Chase leaving with Mr. Fisherman.

“Oh, did you see, Lady Kensington?” Mrs. Fisherman gave a satisfied sigh. “Lord Derebourne and my dear Rhonda made such a lovely couple on the dance floor.”

Claire refrained from rolling her eyes. “For Bobby and Rhonda,” she muttered as Chase escorted Mr. Fisherman out of the room.

****

Chase ushered Mr. Fisherman onto the terrace. He had mentioned to the vicar that he needed some fresh air and the man had made it easy by agreeing that he, too, would like to step out of the hot assembly room for a few minutes. Chase took his cheroot case out of his pocket, offering one to Mr. Fisherman.

The man’s eyes lit up. “The wife doesn’t allow me these, my lord.” He hastily took one. “But I won’t tell her if you won’t.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” Chase struck his flint and lighted their cheroots. “There’s not much time, so I’ll get right to the point. Your wife is set on my marrying your daughter. I’m sorry to disappoint Mrs. Fisherman and possibly you, but it’s not going to happen. Please don’t be offended. Miss Fisherman is a lovely girl, but I would make her miserable. Also, she doesn’t want to marry me.”

Mr. Fisherman lifted his cheroot and stared at the glowing tip. “I have no reason to be offended, my lord. I told the wife she was reaching too high.”

“It’s not that, sir. If I loved your daughter, I would marry her. Miss Fisherman loves someone else, however, and I am beginning to believe there is someone I want.”

“Lady Derebourne,” the vicar said.

Apparently, his surprise showed on his face because the man chuckled.

“You would be amazed what one learns when everyone thinks one is taking a snooze. The day I accompanied my wife to your home, I saw how you looked at Lady Derebourne and knew then Mrs. Fisherman was reaching for the moon. What is a man to do, I ask you, when he only wants peace in his home, but married to someone as determined as Mrs. Fisherman? Take a good snooze and hope someone else shows her the error of her thinking, eh?”

“What of your daughter’s happiness? You know she’s in love with the blacksmith’s son?”

“Yes, and as soon as you do me the favor of dashing Mrs. Fisherman’s notions, my daughter will be free to marry Bobby.”

Chase was beginning to like this crafty man. “No, that won’t do. Miss Fisherman is leaving tonight for Gretna Green with Bobby.”

Mr. Fisherman’s brows shot up. “Is she?”

“Yes, Papa, we are.” Miss Fisherman and Bobby stepped out of the shadows.

Mr. Fisherman’s eyes lifted to the moon his wife had been reaching for. Chase could see that a debate was going on in the man’s mind.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I imagine it would be for the best, daughter.”

Miss Fisherman launched herself into her father’s arms and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Papa. Bobby will be a good husband, you’ll see.”

He placed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “I know that, child.”

Bobby came forward and held out his hand to the vicar. “Thank you, sir. I promise I will always take care of her.”

The two shook hands before Bobby led his bride-to-be away. Mr. Fisherman had tears in his eyes, and Chase busied himself with his cheroot. Relieved this had been easier than expected, he glanced at the vicar to see he had regained his composure.

“Let’s give them an hour before we go dashing your wife’s notions, Mr. Fisherman.”

“Then you are going to have to stay out of sight, my lord. If Mrs. Fisherman thinks Rhonda is with you, she won’t go looking her.”

“Send my mother out and tell your wife Miss Fisherman is sitting on the terrace with me and Lady Kensington. Do not fail to mention that my mother is with us.”

The vicar nodded, his eyes devoid of guilt. So, Mr. Fisherman wasn’t aware of the compromising position in which his wife hoped to catch a marquess. Chase liked the man even better.

“Sounds like a plan, my lord. I haven’t danced with Mrs. Fisherman in years, but I suppose it would help if I did so tonight. Won’t hurt to keep her occupied, you see,” he said with resignation.

****

Traveling back to Hillcrest, melancholy settled over Claire. Likely due to the excitement of Rhonda’s elopement being over, she supposed. Tomorrow she would begin packing for her trip to London. Chase had dimmed the lamps putting his face in the shadows. Even so, she sensed his attention on her. What was he thinking? Did he really mean to go through with his idiotic plan?

A strange tension seemed to shimmer in the air between them. She wanted to crawl onto his lap and hear him whisper in her ear that he was putting an end to his mad scheme. His foot came to rest alongside hers. When he pressed against her shoe, she knew it was no accident.

“You should have seen Mrs. Fisherman’s face, Claire, when Kensington told her that her daughter had eloped,” Lady Anne said, breaking the silence. “She was livid with the poor vicar for allowing it to happen when Lord Derebourne had clearly taken an interest in the girl. Kensington told her there was not a chance of a marriage between him and Miss Fisherman when the girl was clearly in love with another.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Chase muttered.

“Your language, Kensington. Anyhow, when she finally calmed down enough to listen to reason, Kensington suggested she and the vicar put it about that the couple eloped with the blessings of both sets of parents.

“She may be an annoying woman, but she’s not a stupid one. By the time we left them, she was concocting a story of love and romance. Even now, I’m sure she’s busy spreading her story to those still at the assembly. It didn’t hurt that Kensington promised a generous donation to the vicarage to compensate for their troubles.”

“This elopement was deuced expensive.”

By his grin, Claire knew he enjoyed teasing Lady Anne.

“Your language, Kensington. You should have seen Mrs. Fisherman’s eyes light up when he said that. I believe they are honest people, but I would not be surprised if in a week or so, she turns up wearing a new gown and bonnet. She will feel Kensington owes her something for not seeing the brilliance of a match with her daughter.”

“The devil. It would have been worth a hundred dresses to extract myself from her clutches.”

Lady Anne gave a theatrical sigh. “Your language, Kensington. So, as they say, whoever they are, all’s well that ends well.”

“That would be Shakespeare, Mama.”

“Well, he always was clever with words, if you ask me. Have you seen Romeo and Juliet on stage, Claire?”

“No, but I would love to. I have read the story.”

Even though she’d just said she had read the story, Lady Anne decided Claire should hear it again. Chase had apparently slipped his shoe off as his stocking-clad foot slid up her leg. She didn’t hear a word his mother said.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chase followed his mother and Claire up the steps to the house. He leaned forward and whispered in Claire’s ear. “Meet me in the courtyard in one hour.”

She didn’t respond, so he placed his palm against her back and gave her a warning. “One hour, Claire, or I will come to your room.”

Chase paced along the wall in the courtyard. There wasn’t a clock to see the time, but he estimated more than an hour had passed. The woman was making him daft. He walked to the table where he had placed a bottle of wine and two glasses. Filling one of the glasses, he drained the wine in one swallow.

He had been aware of her all night at the assembly, had wanted to tuck her next to him and keep her there—hideous black gown and all. Let the bloody gossips gossip. He refilled the glass, then filled the second one. If she didn’t show, he would drink it all. Could one get drunk on wine? He had never tried, but had a mind to find out. At least, that would be one question he would get the answer to.

Just as he brought one of the glasses to his lips, the back of his neck prickled. She was here. Setting the glass back on the table, he slowly turned.

Christ in heaven, she took his breath away. Her pale hair flowed straight down her back and over her shoulders. He let his gaze roam down her, taking in the white silk, then down to her bare feet. She said nothing, only stood still under his perusal.

Raw aching need went straight to his gut, but there was also anger. Anger at seeing her in the black gown, anger at being ignored for the past week, anger at the thought of the weeks to come and having to stand aside while men surrounded her, vying for her attention. He was up to his eyes in anger.

With a primitive snarl, he advanced on her, his strides long and furious. On reaching her, he pulled her against him, covered her mouth with his and unleashed the raging beast inside him.

Let him see her ignore this. The kiss was wild and demanding. A small piece of his mind tried to warn him to be gentle and not hurt her. He attempted to ease the kiss, but she wasn’t having it. She dug her fingers into the back of his neck and pulled his bottom lip between her teeth.

She didn’t want tender? So be it.

His hands sought her breasts, entangling in the silk gown. He ripped it, then pushed it over her shoulders and down past her hips. This seemed to excite her and she tried to tear his shirt off. When she couldn’t, he did it for her. He pulled the shirt from his arms and flung it away. Never before had he lost control like this, but the woman drove him to madness. He grabbed her bottom in both hands and pulled her up. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, he grunted his approval.

He strode to the lounge. Prying her legs from his waist, he set her on the floor. “Don’t move,” he ordered. He tried to unbutton his breeches, but his hand fumbled with the first button.

“To the devil,” he muttered and pulled, scattering buttons over the floor. When he had his breeches off, she took a flying leap, landing in his arms and wrapping her legs around him again.

“I thought I said, don’t move.”

“Are you going to punish me?” she retorted and bit his shoulder.

“Severely.”

He pulled her legs from his waist him and fell back onto the lounge, cushioning her body with his. The anger he’d lived with the past week seeped away with her touch. Before the night ended, he’d find out the reason she’d ignored him, but first…this. Her mouth tasted like spiced wine and honey as his tongue stroked over and around hers.

Soft hands roamed over his chest, his sides, and every place she touched burned with need for more. He could spend eternity lost in the feel of her wrapped around him.

It seemed she had other ideas. Claire pushed to her knees, bracing her hands on his chest. Her hair curtained them, making it seem as if they existed in a world of their own. He bore her scrutiny as her eyes searched his. What was she hoping to see?

“I know you’re used to experienced women, but I want to please you. Will you teach me how?”

Was she serious? “Christ, Claire, all you have to do is touch me and I forget my name. Trust me, love, you please me.”

“You please me, too.” She traced his lips with her finger, then leaned down and licked them. Chase sucked her tongue into his mouth and gripped her hips with his hands. Their mouths melded together, each fighting for dominance.

Lust raged through him, but he forced himself to break away before he lost all control. He’d waited a bloody long week for this. If he didn’t slow down, it would be over in five minutes.

Her breasts were in front of his face, tempting him. He cupped them with his hands. “You’re so beautiful. These are beautiful.”

A mischievous smile appeared. “I’m glad you think so. You’re the only man to tell me that.”

Jealousy streaked through him. “Just how many men have seen them?”

She tilted her head as if considering her answer. “Let me see. There would be…one. You.”

“You mean two. You forgot your husband.”

“No, he never removed my night dress.”

Although the information delighted him, he couldn’t help thinking Derebourne had been the biggest fool to walk the earth.

Chase gently pinched a nipple. She gave a little shudder. “Like that, do you?” At her nod, he latched onto the nipple with his mouth.

“I like that even better,” she murmured, and slid back until her bottom touched his cock.

Already as hard as a steel blade, he throbbed with aching need. He slid a finger through her curls and into her sheath, testing her readiness. She was dripping wet and hot. Her moan almost undid him.