'Twas the Night Before Mischief (6 page)

Penelope stared at his beautiful mouth, remembering the way it had fit so perfectly against hers. She wanted to feel it again, wanted that thrill of excitement dancing through her veins.

But despite the way she had reacted when Darius had kissed her at the soiree, her pleasure had been tainted by the fact that she'd been plotting to run away with another man. She'd convinced herself she loved Simon. She'd agreed to spend her life with him. But never had she melted at his touch. Never had he made her feel as if she were floating toward something brilliant and sparkling. Something that might change her life forever and in ways she'd never imagined, if she allowed it to.

“
Attraction
,” she whispered.

“When a body pulls to itself, by some force, another to which it is not materially attached,” Darius murmured. He reached out to touch a damp lock of her hair that had escaped from beneath her cap. “As you have done with me for quite some time.”

Penelope's breath caught when he lowered his head, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss that spread light through her entire being. Her body softened and arched toward his with a natural suppleness, like a flower stem bending to the wind.

Darius slipped his hand beneath her chin, drawing her closer. Their mouths opened together, tongues touching with a spark, heat blooming. He captured her legs between his as he moved closer, his big hand spreading across her back. Awareness shot through her as her breasts brushed against his solid chest. This close to him, wrapped in the comfort of his arms, Penelope was no longer cold, no longer scared, no longer dreading what lay ahead.

Instead she knew with utter certainty that in this instant, she belonged right here. She felt comforted. Safe. For all his impassivity, Penelope knew Darius would never let anything happen to her. He wouldn't shame her for her mistakes or criticize her reckless desires. He would just
be
there, secure and unyielding as a rock.

For a woman who felt as if she were hardly keeping herself afloat, it was like reaching the shore after a long journey. She pressed herself closer to him, sinking into the pleasure of his kiss. She felt his heart beating against hers, a heavy thumping that echoed the rhythm of her own pulse.

Then his fingers tightened around her arms as he broke away from her. They stared at each other, breathing hard. Penelope pressed her gloved hand to her lips as if she could keep the warm pressure of his mouth there.

“I…I'm sorry.” Darius sank back onto the seat, dragging a hand through his hair. “When I told your father I'd bring you home, I did so with the soundest of intentions. I would not risk your virtue to…”

A flush swept Penelope from head to toe. She clenched her hands together to stop them from shaking.

“My virtue,” she said, only just suppressing the quaver in her voice, “is not yours to
protect
.”

“I meant that I—”

“No. Please don't. Don't treat me the way everyone else does, as if
you
know what is best for me. I returned your kiss because I wanted to. If you blame yourself, you insult us both.”

Part of her wished she could stalk in indignation from the chaise, but a distant crack of thunder warned that the storm would not be over soon. She sat back on her bench across from Darius and pulled the blanket around her shivering body.

Silence descended, broken only by the sound of the rain and their breathing. Penelope watched Darius through the darkness, every so often catching sight of a shadow moving across his features. Desire seized her—not only for his kisses that made her feel such a riotous mixture of colors but to know that he
understood
.

“I never loved him,” she whispered into the cold.

“I know.”

He shifted, reaching for his valise. He rummaged inside and produced a cylindrical tube wrapped in bright green paper, holding it out to her.

“More pleasing than the one you gave me at the church all those years ago,” Penelope remarked.

“Open it.”

She tore the paper off and broke open the present. A sudden
pop
burst from the tube. Penelope gave a little shriek. Bits of colored paper and toys spilled onto her lap. “What on earth…”

“I'd been wanting to show it to you since arriving back in London,” Darius said. “It was your idea, that the package should have noise, like an explosion. I've been working on a way to do that for the past four years.”

Penelope stared at him, stunned by the fact that he'd not only listened to her but he had…“You wanted to make my idea
real
?”

“I tried a number of things but finally had success with a strip of chemical paper. I've not had an opportunity to show your father yet, but I'm certain he'll find a way to successfully market it for the holiday season.”

Penelope sifted through the paper, the small wooden train, the cocoa nibs and sugared almonds. “It's delightful.”

“Like you.”

Oh, she'd been wrong about him, hadn't she? Darius Hall was more like her than she'd ever wanted to admit before—he also had all sorts of surprises hidden inside him. He also needed to be…unfastened. Unlocked. And Penelope wanted to be the one to open him.

A
ll right, then.” Darius threw the extra saddle across the horse's back, then turned to take the orange Penelope had peeled for him. “We'll go ahead. If Sam returns, we'll meet him on the road anyway. But we can't waste more time.”

They had waited two hours past dawn, and when Sam still hadn't returned, Darius determined that they would leave for Inverness on horseback with the hopes of reaching the city by midday.

After finishing their breakfast of oranges and bread, they readied quickly, packing their remaining food and leaving their valises behind.

Any fanciful or ridiculous thoughts Penelope might have harbored about the pleasure of riding so close to Darius disappeared within fifteen minutes of getting under way. She sat in front, his arms close on either side, and her bottom nestled rather tightly against his strong thighs. On a warm, spring day in Devon, it might have been secretly delightful.

But on a winter's morning in northern Scotland with the air still cold from the storm and the frigid sea air gusting in waves…it was nothing short of miserable. Painfully miserable.

Penelope mustered her fortitude and reminded herself that neither she nor Darius would be in this situation if she hadn't fallen for Simon's charms.

Or if Darius hadn't come to rescue…er, to
find
her.

The horse plodded on, the sun barely peering through the curtain of fog, and Penelope gave up all hope of trying to stay warm. She tucked her arms against her body and tried not to wish that she could press herself back against Darius's chest. He felt as immovable as a board behind her, aside from the flexing of his thighs as he guided the horse. After over an hour of riding, she didn't think he'd shifted once, whereas she kept fidgeting to try to maintain a modicum of comfort.

When she wiggled again to ease the ache in her spine, she felt Darius's hand clamp around her hip.

“Stop moving,” he hissed, his warm breath tickling her ear.

“I'm sorry, but—”

“If you continue to writhe about like that, I'm afraid we'll both be far more uncomfortable than we are now.”

“Oh, I…”
Oh!

Penelope blushed hotly and tried to remain still. Though she was still a virgin, she had surrendered to curiosity once or twice in recent years. While no man, not even Simon, had tainted her virtue, Penelope had nonetheless learned a bit about male anatomy. Enough, at least, to understand to what Darius Hall referred.

She gripped the horse's mane and forced herself not to move. Even so, she could almost feel the heat of his thighs through the material of both his trousers and her skirts. She could certainly feel the clasp of his hand on her hip, which he did not release even when she stilled. His arms were on either side of her as he controlled the reins, and she became acutely aware of the sensation of his breath on the back of her neck.

The cold lingering in the air slid away, and Penelope found herself rather warm. She pushed back the hood of her cloak, grateful now for the rush of cold air. Experimentally, she shifted again.

“Miss Darlington.” His voice was tense.

“Terribly sorry.” She sighed and fidgeted backward, brushing her skirts against him. “It's just that this saddle is clearly not meant for two, and I'm not at all accustomed to riding in this fashion.”

“I suggest you become accustomed, and quickly.”

She couldn't help wondering if this is what it would take for Serious Darius to loosen his inexorable control. At the very least, she suspected he wasn't thinking about definitions at the moment. For her part, with his muscular body pressed so close to her back, she was beginning to have trouble thinking of
words
.

Was that his nose brushing against her ear?

His whiskers scraped her skin, sending a shower of delicious tingles raining down her spine. She wiggled again. Yes, that was most definitely his nose close to her ear again, and moving now to the back of her neck…was he
smelling
her?

Penelope's pulse quickened. His fingers flexed on her hip. She lowered her head just a bit, as if to provide him with better access to her nape. A few tendrils of hair had escaped her chignon, and they moved with the rhythm of Darius's breath, tickling her skin. Her heart thumped against her ribs, the heavy beat echoing in her blood.

And then his lips touched the back of her neck, right at the curve where it sloped toward her shoulder. Penelope gasped. Arousal sparked from the caress of his lips down her spine, spreading throughout her lower body.

I am filled with passion.

Though his tone had been wry, Penelope now knew the statement for the truth it was. When he'd kissed her, she had sensed passion, vitality, burning behind Darius's reserve. She'd
felt
it.

His lips skimmed to the middle of her neck. Penelope drew in a breath.

“I told you not to move.” His voice was a murmur now.

“But what…what are you doing?”

“Pressing my lips, at the same time compressing and releasing them, upon your nape in an act of affection or reverence,” Darius said. “The definition of
to kiss
.”

“I…I thought…”
God in heaven
.

She couldn't think. Tingles cascaded through her blood, and she just wanted to sit in the tight, uncomfortable saddle forever with Darius Hall compressing and releasing his lips all over her neck and even lower to her shoulders, her back…and what if he were to slide her dress off and follow the expanse of skin over the arch of her spine, even around to her breasts…

Penelope closed her eyes on a gasp. Her nipples pressed against the fabric of her corset, and she was seized by a sudden longing to release her entire body from the confines of her clothes so that she could feel Darius's mouth seeking and exploring…

“Ho, there!”

Darius jerked upright, his body tensing. A short distance ahead, a carriage rattled along the road toward them, the driver waving his hat in the air. Sam.

Disappointment speared through Penelope, which was most odd since she was supposed to be cold and terribly uncomfortable. Darius brought the horse to a stop and vaulted off the saddle, leaving Penelope bereft without the warmth of his body behind her. He grabbed the reins and led the horse to where the vehicle was slowing down.

“Sorry it took me awhile,” Sam called, hopping off the bench. “Had ta find a gig for the lass, an' a fresh horse as well. I'll take ole Bess there, if ye want to drive yerself.”

“Excellent. We're much obliged to you, Sam.”

How Darius managed to regain his composure so quickly, Penelope had no idea. She allowed him to help her from the horse and into the gig, where she collapsed against the seat with a sigh.

After exchanging plans and such, Sam took care of the horse while Darius started the vehicle toward Inverness. Without the threat of rain, they were able to travel quickly and reached the outskirts of the town within a few hours.

The gig rolled to a halt in front of the Caledonian Hotel just as twilight was beginning to paint the sky a murky gray.

“Before we go inside, I'm sure you're in need of fresh clothing,” Darius said, gesturing to the principal street where shop windows displayed their various wares.

Penelope felt as if she were back in civilization after weeks in the wilds. Inverness was a lovely town with graveled roads bordering the River Ness and tidy, gray stone shops displaying clothing, toys, and wooden boxes painted in tartan. She purchased two dresses and a night rail, and Darius bought a new shirt and trousers before they returned to the hotel.

Darius registered them as a married couple but procured two rooms. Somehow, he also managed to ensure that there was a fire burning in the hearth and a hot bath waiting in Penelope's room.

Once he'd gone to his own room, she indulged in a very long bath, soaping the grime from her skin and washing her hair twice. She put on one of the new dresses and met Darius down in the dining room.

Her heart gave that now-familiar jolt when she saw him standing at the door, his tall, handsome figure made all the more imposing by his air of control. His dark hair was damp and combed back from his forehead. He'd also shaved, and the lack of stubble revealed the sharp angles and planes of his face, offset by his wide, sensual mouth and thick-lashed eyes.

Beautiful.
The word came to Penelope's mind without thought. She wouldn't have considered the adjective could be applied to a man, but with Darius Hall, there was no doubt.

He was full of beauty. She tried to think of how Darius would define such a word.
Excelling in qualities which delight the eye and bring forth admiration.
Beautiful.

A thousand other words appeared in her mind, like lily pads scattered over the surface of a pond.
Intelligent. Kind. Determined. Thoughtful. Tender.

Because one word was not enough to define Darius Hall. Penelope was beginning to think all the dictionaries of the world would not be enough.

“You look lovely.” His gaze was warm with appreciation. “And I was given to understand there is a delicious specialty of herring soup on tonight's menu.”

“Then I hope you enjoy it,” she replied.

Darius laughed. He had a marvelous laugh, deep and rich. Exactly the way she'd imagined it would sound.

Tingling with sheer pleasure, she sat in the chair he held out for her. Several other people were also taking their supper, but Penelope felt as if she and Darius were the only two people in the room.

“Would you tell me about your family?” she asked, as their meals were served. She'd known the Halls for years, but had never really known Darius's brothers and sister. She'd never really known
him
until now.

Though she half expected him to decline, instead he told her with forthright affection about his three brothers and younger sister. Despite the scandal that had cracked the family's reputation, the Hall children remained close and fiercely loyal.

“And your twin?” Penelope asked, remembering Nicholas Hall as a high-spirited, reckless boy not unlike her own younger brothers. And the opposite of Darius.

“Last I heard, he was in Canada,” Darius said. A faint shadow crossed his features as he sliced a potato in half. “Travels a great deal. I haven't seen him in some time.”

A palpable tension radiated from him, one that inexplicably made Penelope's heart constrict.

“And your brothers?” Darius asked. “Rambunctious lot, aren't they?”

She nodded. At ages six, five, and two, her three half brothers kept both her stepmother and the nursemaid busy all hours of the day.

She felt Darius's gaze on her face.

“Has it been as difficult as you expected?” he asked gently.

Unexpected tears stung her eyes. Penelope shook her head.

“No. You were right. Esther is a gracious, kind woman. My brothers are healthy little rascals. My father is happy. He and Esther have a good marriage. I suppose we should all hope for the same.”

Penelope wished she could be content with that one hope. That it would be enough to sustain her when she returned to her father's house and tried to make amends for what she'd done. That she could suppress all her longing and be happy with her role as Penelope the Paragon.

She tried to push that thought away. Tried not to acknowledge the wish that she could stay right here with Darius Hall…forever.

“It doesn't feel like your family, does it?” he asked.

Penelope's breath caught. She lifted her head.

“I beg your pardon?”

“After your father remarried and had three boys of his own. It felt as if he'd created a new family without you. That you were on the outside looking in.”

Never before had Penelope thought that could be the reason for her urgency to break free. To be noticed. Even to…to start a family that truly did belong to her.

She met Darius's gaze. Had that been it? Had she believed Simon's lies because she so desperately wanted something of her own?

“I'm…” She swallowed past the constriction of her throat. “I'm terribly selfish.”

“
Selfish
is defined as having no concern for others,” Darius said. “Yet you've spent your life living as others expected you to. That indicates a deep loyalty to your father. I would venture to suggest that he should be more aware of your devotion.”

He set his napkin aside and pushed back his chair. “And perhaps your running away will make him realize how fortunate he is to have a daughter like you. It might even make him appreciate you more than he has.”

Penelope could only stare at him. Was Serious Darius telling her he approved of her having run away? Not to elope with Simon Wilkie, of course, but because she'd finally surrendered to her longing? Because she'd finally done something so drastically opposed to what had always been expected of her?

If so, why had he volunteered to return her to her father?

Penelope pushed away from the table. There were four days left until her father's Christmas feast. Four days left during which she would be alone with Darius. After that, she would be right back where she started.

She felt Darius behind her as she strode from the dining room and back up the stairs.

“Penelope…”

“Good night. I assume we must leave at first light again, if we are to reach Aberdeen in time.”

Darius grasped her arm, spinning her around to look at him. His dark eyes flashed.

“Why are you upset?” he demanded.

“Why do you think? You implied that my running away might be a good thing, and yet you're here to bring me back! You told my father you would come and
fetch
me like a runaway dog. If you really believed I'd done something daring and worthwhile, then why did you follow me? Why did you want to stop me?”

“Because I couldn't bear the idea of you anywhere near that bloody Wilkie, much less married to him,” Darius snapped, shoving open the door to her room.