Time After Time (114 page)

Mari gave her a knowing smile. “Where’s your bonnet?”

Penelope’s hand flew to her unbound hair, which was now hanging down her shoulders and back thanks to Lucas’s rapacious fingers.
She probably looked exactly like the newly revealed strumpet that she was.

Blushing furiously, she followed Mari’s amused gaze and saw Lucas once again staring into the fireplace, his back to them.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Mari said in a respectful tone and curtsied.

Lucas looked over his shoulder, inclined his head in a mocking bow and smiled. “Good afternoon Miss Mari, er … ”

“Smythe,” Penelope put in helpfully. “Marian Smythe.”

Lucas shifted his gaze to her, his smile turning warm and full of promises, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Smythe,” he said huskily, without taking his eyes away from Penelope.

Mari loudly cleared her throat, turning everyone’s attention to her as she walked into the room and handed a letter to Lucas. “This note is from Penelope’s stepfather, my lord. I am to tell you that Dr. Walker respectfully requests your presence at Highfield Manor this evening.”

Lucas finally turned away from the fireplace and reached for the note, putting it in his pocket. “Thank you, Miss Smythe. I am looking forward to meeting Penelope’s family. Although I regret it means I’ll have to do without the excellent meals from this fine establishment tonight.”

“Oh, you are too kind, my lord.” Mari blushed with pleasure at the compliment to her cooking. “May I be of any further assistance?”

“You can help me with my hair,” Penelope answered. “You’re much quicker at it than I, and if I don’t hurry, Papa will have my hide.” She bent down to pick up her bonnet and hairpins from the floor.

“Very well,” Mari said with an air of efficiency. “Sit down on the settee and we’ll have you ready in no time. I’ll just close the door … “ She gave Penelope a wry look. “I’d hate for Mama to find you like this. You know she’s the biggest gossip in Bouth.”

Five minutes later, Penelope had her bonnet back on and was following Mari out the door when Lucas grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him.

“I’ll escort you home.”

The notion was so ridiculous she burst out laughing. “Lord Ravenstone, Rusland Valley is but a five-minute horse ride away, I know everyone who lives here, and I have Nelson. I hardly think I’d need an escort.”

“Nevertheless, I am providing you with one.” He offered his arm to her, forcing her to accept.

She hesitated, but she knew she could hardly refuse without making a scene. “Very well, if you insist.” She put her hand on his arm and let him lead her out of the room.

He’d been physically in her life for less than two hours and already he was taking over. He had only to say her name in that dark, possessive way and she fell into his arms.

She’d actually kissed the man! Worse, if Mari hadn’t interrupted Penelope probably would have offered all she had to give just to have another taste of being wanted. The minute he’d held her in his arms, she’d reverted to being that naive girl who dreamed of her fiancé, writing letters and wanting him to show her what passion was like. When he held her, she almost believed she really was his cherished betrothed.

But she knew better. He asked her if she knew his birthday. Of course she did. Because of her silly, girlhood dreams and his notoriety, there was little about him she didn’t know. She reminded herself that entitled gentlemen only cared about someone if the person were useful to them.

But what possible use could she be to the earl? She had no money or connections to speak of. What did he expect to gain? Men didn’t become interested in her unless there was something in it for them.

As they stepped out of the inn, she realized it had stopped raining. It was still muddy, but at least she wouldn’t get wet on the short journey home.

“Let me know everything that happens,” Mari whispered beside her.

“If I survive it,” Penelope whispered back.

There wasn’t time to say anything more as Lord Ravenstone held her waist and helped her mount her aging gray gelding. He then mounted the biggest horse she’d ever seen, and as they silently rode off with Nelson trotting behind them, she felt not unlike a convict being led to execution.

It certainly seemed as if her life as she knew it was about to end.

Chapter Three

Lucas ground his teeth in frustration as he watched Penelope ride up the valley with him seated atop her ancient horse.

Lucky horse.

The thought almost made him groan. She had been humiliated after her friend burst into the room. With his plan foiled, he’d had no choice but to stand with his back to them, hiding his erection to avoid making a spectacle of himself. A vision of Penelope bending over to retrieve her bonnet from the floor flashed through his mind, and he had to shake his head to clear it of the tantalizing image.

He’d mishandled their first meeting.

What the devil had come over him?
Penelope deserved better than to be forced to engage in outrageous behavior in a damned coaching inn by a lout like him.

She was his fiancée, for Christ’s sake, not some tavern whore
.

He would do well to remember that fact next time. The clock was ticking, and he couldn’t risk scaring her off by acting like some aging lecher.

Lucas sighed as he looked over the place where Penelope grew up, letting the fresh, grass-scented breeze cool his face. He could easily imagine her as a young girl, running through these sun-kissed fields, climbing over the dry stone walls and getting into trouble for feeding scraps from the dinner table to flea-ridden dogs.

Somehow, he couldn’t imagine his little forest nymph spending her childhood cooped up indoors like the haughty debutantes he’d seen out in Society.

She had a clever mind and a natural curiosity about the world that would’ve made her eagerly want to explore it firsthand. Like the way she’d been naturally curious and eager to explore the rudiments of kissing, twisting him into knots in the process. He felt his breeches tighten uncomfortably as memories of her innocent response to his advances assailed him.

Damn and blast
.
Maybe he was better off finding another bride. Although Lucas understood his father wanted him to marry Maitland’s daughter, his will didn’t actually specify Penelope’s name.

He could even buy himself another bride — if the gossip about him being “damaged” made it difficult to secure a member of the
ton
,
then perhaps some practical merchant’s daughter would be willing to marry him for his title. Someone who didn’t pose such a threat to his equilibrium or want to get too close.

He knew the dangers that resulted from letting someone too close — the madness of his parents’ marriage was proof of that. Lucas had no wish to repeat his father’s mistakes. He was still paying for them now, and his father had been dead for fifteen years. A prim, timid Society miss would pose no risk and suit his purposes better.

He wanted a staid marriage with a dutiful wife who’d bear him an heir and let him get on with his life as she went on with hers. No passionate kisses to threaten his self-control. No eager embraces and no tender caresses, no soft, hazel eyes and —

Christ.
He raked a hand through his hair and looked at Penelope once more. She glanced at him and smiled, silently reminding him of something vital he’d found out at the inn.

She’d waited for him.

He felt like a bastard for the satisfaction that flowed through his veins at the thought. Her outrage at his late entrance into her life had been real. Only skilled actresses would have been able to fake the pain behind her accusation at his tardiness.

Apparently, she knew nothing of her father’s defection. Lucas was certain the current baron knew about it, however. He intended to deal with that man as soon as possible.

He was debating how best to proceed with his plans when she waved her arm in a sweeping gesture toward a charming, two-story Palladian manor of decent proportions with ivy-covered walls. Part of the west wing of the house was used as an apothecary shop, which was now closed for the day.

“Here we are,” she remarked.

He dismounted in the front courtyard, which overlooked the open park they’d just ridden through, and held Penelope by the waist to help her off her gray gelding. As they stood facing each other, his hands seemed to develop a will of their own and roamed the lush curve, drawing her nearer to him.

“Thank you for escorting me home, Lucas.”

Her eyes shone at the mention of “home,” and he automatically bent his head to have another taste of her lips before he remembered where they were and pressed a perfunctory kiss to her forehead instead.

“It was no trouble at all, my dear.” He let her go, gave her a gentlemanly bow and mounted his black mare, which was already restlessly pawing the ground. “I’ll see you at supper. Tell your stepfather to expect me this evening.”

He left her and her dog at the courtyard, his mind working out a stratagem on how to bring about the result he wanted from this affair. He needed more information, and he was likely to get it at the inn.

• • •

Penelope headed straight for the barn after the earl left, with Nelson trailing behind her. The basic principle in caring for animals was the creatures had no concept of late nights, holidays or fiancés suddenly turning up demanding a marriage.

The animals needed her to be there for them — to feed them or groom them — rain or shine, at exactly the same time every day. Their inflexibility to deviation from the schedule was exactly what she needed right then.

Penelope put on an apron and let the chickens out of the barn so they could scratch the ground while she fed them. She watched as they clucked and flapped their wings at each other, utterly oblivious to the fact her world had just been turned upside down.

Her forgetful fiancé had finally remembered to claim her, and she didn’t know how to handle him. He’d agreed to her bargain and asked her for a kiss.

Her first real kiss.

How different a real kiss was from a fantasy one. The kiss hadn’t conjured thoughts of flower meadows, puffy clouds and castles. No, her fiancé kissed in an earthy way that dominated and possessed. His seeking mouth robbed her of any thought but kissing him back and joyfully tasting more of the sweet abandonment he offered. The kiss had been thorough, intimate and unforgettable. It made her feel needed as a woman for the first time in her life.

Until he’d come, she’d been content with her lot. She’d learned to accept she wasn’t the type of woman who roused a man’s passions. She was a puzzle piece that had all the wrong sides, unable to truly fit anywhere: somewhat engaged, somewhat connected to a baron, somewhat a country physician’s daughter.

She’d learned to stop dreaming someone would see past her less than pretty exterior and appreciate the woman beneath, and Lucas was reminding her of things she’d once been foolish enough to hope for.

He made her wish for something better when she knew it was impossible. He dangled the dream before her, making her think she could be seen as something other than merely useful. But it wasn’t real. To him, she was nothing but a name in a contract.

“You understand exactly how I feel, don’t you, boy?” she asked Nelson, who sat next to her, watching the chickens.

Nelson nudged her hand for some bread, which she obligingly gave.

“You were born to be a sheepdog, but you literally couldn’t herd a thing to save your life.” A sad laugh escaped her. “I was born to be the belle of the ball in London. And look at me now, surrounded by chickens scratching the ground at my feet and a failure of a sheepdog by my side.”

Nelson whined.

“Oh, stop that,” she admonished, patting the dog’s head to lessen the sting of the rebuke. “You have nothing to complain about. I give you a good living here, don’t I? Your previous owners would have had none of this whining. It doesn’t become you.”

She sighed and dusted the remainder of the chicken feed off her apron. “What am I to do now, boy?”

A familiar voice answered. “You could tell me what happened.”

Penelope turned and found her little sister, Sarah, approaching the barn with a bright smile on her face, looking like a ray of sunshine in her lemon yellow walking dress against the backdrop of the woods surrounding Highfield Manor.

“So?” Sarah asked when she neared the barn, her brown eyes alight with excitement. “Papa says the earl has arrived! How exciting. It’s like one of those novels we read. All we need is a villain so the earl can prove his heroic qualities.”

Penelope watched a gust of wind blow Sarah’s golden hair free of her bonnet. “This isn’t a Minerva Press novel, Sarah. We should approach with caution.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Did he want to be free of the betrothal?”

“No.”

“Perfect!” Sarah clapped her hands. “So we are rich!”

“No,” Penelope corrected, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to steer the chickens back to the coop. “We’re not rich. He did, however, agree to help us convince the creditors to give us more time.”

“Did he ask for a kiss as payment for the favor? That’s what happened in
The Prince’s Castle
.”

“I’m afraid the meeting took place at The Mucky Duck, not a castle.”

“So he kissed you!” Sarah chortled. “Oh, my goodness me! That was fast, don’t you think?”

Penelope made sure the chickens were safely inside their coop before turning to Sarah. “I do not appreciate being called ‘fast,’ sister.”

Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Polly, I didn’t mean to say you were fast.” She started twirling her blonde curls around her finger. “I mean, considering you’ve been engaged for more than two decades and he has only now got ‘round to kissing you, well … that’s actually very slow, isn’t it?”

Penelope snorted. “Fine, I’ll forgive you this time. But you have to carry that bucket of feed back into the barn.”

Sarah grimaced. “I don’t understand why you insist we keep these chickens.” She picked up the bucket and headed for the barn door. “The horses, I understand. They were old and no one else would have them. Especially poor Jingles; he hasn’t had a good life at all.”