The Wayward One (The De Montforte Brothers Book 5) (3 page)

Perry.
She wondered what he was doing right now. If he was back in the country, or here in London. If he ever thought of her, as she did him. If he missed her, as she did him. If he had ever loved her….

As she had him.

He could never be hers and probably, in the truest sense of the word, never had been. But there were no others for her. Even in this room full of smartly dressed officers and the highest ranking men in the Navy there was nobody to catch her eye and she realized, with a bitter, sinking truth, that she was probably going to die an old maid.

“…So therefore, I took the best properties of sulfur and saltpeter, added a chemical that would boost the accelerant, and began testing the mixture on the grounds of Rosebriar Park, my residence….”

Yes, Andrew was doing just fine, as she knew he would be.

But Nerissa was not.

She cast a surreptitious glance over at Mrs. Lord, who was listening with fascination to her brother’s words. How lucky the woman was to have found someone with whom she could share her life, who worshipped the ground she walked on, who had given her a strong and handsome child with more, surely, to come. Wasn’t it what every woman wanted? Someone who loved them without end?

“…. The first attempts were unstable and to be frank, quite dangerous. But then, that is the natural course for any experiment of this nature….”

The minutes crept by, and Andrew made some notations on the easel behind him, turned it so that the audience could see, and began to take questions. Nerissa realized she’d had little idea what he’d even said, but that didn’t matter—he had not had an attack, he looked confident and secure, and he was well on his way to selling his innovative explosive to a very interested and eager Royal Navy.

Suddenly, applause shook Nerissa from her reverie, and she realized Captain Lord was back at the podium and Andrew had stepped aside.

“And now, let us all file outside into the garden for a demonstration of this new explosive,” announced Captain Lord and around them, chairs began to scrape, the buzz of conversation grew loud, and a sea of starched and powdered naval officers moved eagerly towards the back door of the room.

“Well, tha’ ’twas most interesting!” said Deirdre Lord, rising from her chair as her husband rejoined them. “I can’t wait t’ see it in action!”

“London will never know what hit it,” Nerissa returned, smiling as she watched Andrew, happy and finally at ease, delaying his own departure as he took questions from two admirals who had trapped him back on the stage.

“’Tis what I’m afraid of. We have neighbors who retire early… I hope this doesn’t startle them out of a sound sleep! I’d better go get my little Colin so the sound of the explosion doesn’t frighten him.”

She hurried off. Captain Lord gallantly offered Nerissa his arm. They all moved toward the door and suddenly Nerissa’s gaze, as though drawn by an invisible magnet, went to a man who was leaning negligently, arms crossed, against a spinet near the exit. Tall and lean, he was a good inch or so over six feet and while the simple lace at his throat was clean and presentable, his bottle-green velvet coat was a bit worn at the elbows and straining at the seams to contain his broad, powerful shoulders. Glossy black hair, thick and heavy with curl, was drawn back from a face of hard angles and planes and caught in an unruly queue at his nape; he had a bold nose, black and arching brows, a gleam in his eye and a mouth that was both ruthless and smiling. Not classically handsome, but there was something intensely attractive about him, something that demanded one’s attention and kept the eyes on him. She stood frozen, unable to move, unable to look away.

He was the most virile man Nerissa had ever seen. And he was staring insolently, brazenly, straight at her.

She felt Captain Lord’s arm stiffen beneath her fingers.

“I thought you were going out for the evening,” the captain said tightly.

The man lifted a brow. “New explosive, eh?” His voice was deep and melodic. Irish. And, judging by the fumes issuing from him, he was quite soused. “’Twill make Guy Fawkes Day all the more interestin’, I wager. Boom!” He hiccupped and laughed and looked pointedly at Nerissa through absurdly long, jet-black lashes, until she felt roses blooming on her cheeks and her heart did a funny little skip somewhere beneath her breastbone. “And who’s this lovely lass on yer arm, eh, Christian?”

“This is a private
military
gathering. You need to leave.
Now
.”

“I’d really rather not. Besides, as yer houseguest and brother-in-law ’tis rude to deny me curiosity, it is.” He was not looking at Captain Lord, but at Nerissa in a way that made her want to blush—or slap him soundly on the cheek for daring to stare so at her, a lady. And staring, he was. He cocked his head, one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as he studied her face, the pale column of her neck, the gentle swell of her bosom before Deirdre, just returning with a tow-headed toddler in her arms, intervened.

“Roddy, ye heard Christian—ye can’t be here. This is a—”

“I don’t go by ‘Roddy’ anymore,
mo deirfiúr daor
. ’Tis a boy’s name and I’ve left boyhood far behind me, I have. My real name, please. Ruaidri.”

“Whatever ye’re calling y’rself these days, ye’ve got to leave. Now.”

“Come now, Sis.” He pushed back from the spinet, swayed drunkenly, and grabbed desperately at the door to hold himself upright. “What harm am I to whatever big secret was unveiled here tonight? I’m just a lonely landlubber now.”
Hic.
“I’ve got the old cottage back home. I raise sheep and eke out a meager livin’ from a cheap and stingy land owned by a cheap and stingy English landlord, I do. I’ve no mind t’ leave. Not yet. Besides—” he was still looking down at Nerissa and swaying a bit, his eyes twinkling roguishly as he noted her discomfort and saw that he was the reason for it. “I’m still waitin’ for an introduction.”

“It’ll be a donkey’s age before you get one,” Captain Lord bit out through gritted teeth. “You are drunk and embarrassing yourself, Roddy—”

“
Ruaidri
.”

“—and this is your last warning.”

The Irishman was still perusing Nerissa, his lips twitching with merriment as he gazed pointedly at her lips. “With that mouth I’m bettin’ ye’re a good kisser, aren’t ye, lass?”

Nerissa gasped and this time Captain Lord, his gray eyes going frosty, relinquished both women into the care of Andrew who, flushed with success over the reception his explosive had received, was just joining them.

“Outside,” Captain Lord snapped.

“What, fisticuffs in the garden?” the Irishman asked, raising one brow and flashing an amused grin at Nerissa. “Saints above, Christian, ’tis beneath ye, don’t ye think?”

Sir Elliott, who’d lingered at the stage looking at Andrew’s notes, was frowning as he joined them. “What is this?”

“My brother was just leaving,” Deirdre said hurriedly, seizing the tall stranger’s arm. “Aren’t you, Ro— I mean, Ruaidri?”

“Actually, I was rather lookin’ forward to watchin’ things go boom in the night.”

“What?”
the admiral demanded.

“Fireworks.” He cocked his head and again, Nerissa felt the heat of his bold gaze as it moved over her lips, her throat, the swell of her breasts, and a strange and not unpleasant sensation centered itself between her legs and spread upwards into her belly, outwards into her blood. “With the pretty lass here, of course.”

Andrew came alive. “Now see here! How dare you speak to my sister like—”

“Enough! All of you!” Deirdre was losing her patience. “Ruaidri, you told us ye were goin’ out for the evenin’ and ’tis time ye left. Christian and Elliott, ye’re drawin’ the attention of our guests and I won’t let this evenin’ be spoiled by such nonsense. Lord Andrew, I have this situation well under control. Go on out to the garden with our guests and we’ll join ye shortly.” She transferred the sleepy toddler to her other hip. “Lady Nerissa, I apologize for me brother—he’s a rogue and at the moment, a drunken fool. Don’t take him seriously.”

The man straightened up, adding another inch or two to his already commanding height, and letting his gaze rake over Nerissa’s bosom in a blatantly carnal way, reeled drunkenly towards the door and yanked it open. He staggered off into the night, his form melting into the darkness.

It was all she could do not to flick open her fan and drive cool air into her suddenly hot face. Dear Lord, he might’ve been foxed, but there’d been a gleam in his eye, something compelling and sharp that didn’t look at all drunk, and the paradox left her unnerved. Thrown off balance.

Confused.

And that hot, raking gaze….

Roo-ah-ree
?
Roor-rie
?
Rurr-ee
? Nerissa’s tongue struggled to make the sound of the strange name.

It wasn’t until after he had gone that she realized he never did get his introduction.

Chapter 2

“What an odious man!” Nerissa whispered to Andrew as she slid her gloved fingers into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to escort her out of the room. Her hand was trembling, and she was glad of her brother’s anchoring strength because her knees had gone suddenly quite weak. He had rattled her, that brash and ill-bred drunk, and her heart was still banging a bit too hard in her chest for comfort. “For a moment there, I thought Captain Lord was going to challenge him to a duel at dawn.”

“If he didn’t, I was about to. Maybe I still will.”

The evening was warm, with a light breeze blowing through the chestnut trees overhead. A string of lanterns had been set up in the back garden, and gentle light glowed against the faces of the two dozen or so naval officers who had gathered to watch what was sure to be an entertaining, if not exciting spectacle.

“Lord Andrew?” It was Sir Elliott, resplendent in his blue and white gold-laced uniform. “If you’re ready, I think we’re all eager to see the demonstration.”

Andrew frowned as he looked at the people all gathered around in a circle. “They will have to stand back. Much farther back than that.”

Sir Elliott nodded. “Gentlemen, if you could retreat a few more feet, just to be on the safe side, it would be to your benefit.”

Andrew watched the group murmuring, exchanging jokes and glances, and laughing as they widened the circle a few more feet. He shook his head, concerned.

“This won’t do.”

“Just use less of the explosive,” Nerissa said. “It will make a smaller impact, will it not?”

Andrew though, being what Nerissa knew was a typical male, was not interested in making a smaller impact. He shook his head. “This garden is not big enough to keep everyone safe. Perhaps we should ask people to remove to the house.” He voiced his concerns to Sir Elliott and Captain Lord, but upon making that suggestion to the guests who all stood around waiting to see what promised to be a hole blown into the ground all the way to Australia, only laughter and bravado greeted his remark.

“We’re naval officers, and most of us are used to ship-to-ship action at close quarters. I’ll be damned if I’m going inside!”

“Aye, you won’t catch me hiding behind brick walls!”

Laughter rang out and Andrew’s mouth grew mulish with impatience.

Nerissa touched his arm. “Really, Andrew, it can’t be
that
potent.”

He just slanted her a look that told her it very well was.

“Maybe
you
should go into the house,” he said, his concern growing. “It will be loud. It could be dangerous.”

“I am not going into the house. You may need me.”

“What I
need
is for you to go into the house. It will be safer there.”

She took a deep, steadying breath and felt the ire building. When she had been younger, much younger, her brothers’ over-protectiveness had made her feel safe and secure. Eventually, it had become amusing. Now, as a woman who’d recently turned one and twenty, it was no longer amusing. It was restrictive.

Stifling.

And increasingly infuriating.

“And now you are coddling me, Andrew. Just like Lucien and Charles and to a smaller extent, Gareth… I may be the baby sister, but I can assure you that I am not fragile. I get tired of the coddling, Andrew. I am not an egg.”

He just looked at her. “Egg?”

“Coddled? Egg?”

He stared at her blankly, too distracted by the impending demonstration to match wits with her. “Oh, never mind,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “I’ll go inside and watch from an upstairs window if that will make you feel better.”

“It would make me feel a lot better.”

She turned and headed back toward the door that they had all just exited, hating herself for giving up so easily—but it was Andrew’s night, and she would not spoil it for him. Still. All her life, her four brothers had sheltered her. Protected her. Guarded her so zealously there had been times she’d felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She wondered if she would ever be treated as anything other than a fine bit of china by those who loved her most. A porcelain doll. Would Captain Lord ask that his wife also watch from the “safety” of the house?

Unbidden, an image of Mrs. Lord’s rude and loutish brother flashed into her mind, and she credited her shortness with Andrew to her own troubling response to him. Odious man, indeed. She was glad that he had gone.