Wildblossom (40 page)

"I demand that you take me home. Where is your carriage?"

"Actually, I didn't come by carriage." He signaled to one of the doormen, who went into an alleyway and emerged leading Charlie. Geoff slipped the man a pound note, then swung into the saddle.

Shelby was nearly overcome by the sheer lovestruck madness of the moment. Finally, starry-eyed, she allowed herself to look Geoff over, and discovered that he was wearing riding boots with a familiar pair of chinos, a chambray shirt, and a tweed jacket. He still had his clothing from Wyoming! And Charlie was wearing his western saddle!

"Come on." Geoff leaned down and swept her up in front of him, sidesaddle, his arm like steel around her midriff, while he held Charlie's reins in his other hand. The hotel's doormen gawked as if they were witnessing a vision from another age, of a knight carrying off a fair damsel.

"Did y'see the look on 'er face?" said one as the buckskin stallion walked out among the vehicles on Pall Mall.

"Right-o," replied his partner. "For all 'er protests, she fancies His Grace!"

It was a beautiful March evening, redolent of spring.

With only the streetlights to mark their way, they cantered down side streets to the Mall, a wide, triumphal way from Buckingham Palace to Trafalgar Square. Geoff waved in a cavalier fashion to startled motorists and coachmen. Charlie, meanwhile, was completely at ease, as if he were used to London, with all its people and assorted vehicles.

"How I had missed my faithful steed," Geoff said happily against Shelby's hair.

Her mind was a-tumble with memories of the last time they'd ridden together on Charlie's back, halfway across the world. They'd been returning home from rustling their own cattle on Bart Croll's ranch. What an incredible night that had been! Shelby leaned back against him now, and his arm tightened around her. More than ever, she realized how perfectly suited they were, for only Geoff could have guessed that this impetuous escapade was the surest way of all to win her heart, forever.

Charlie left the pavement and trotted into St. James Park. In the distance, Buckingham Palace was ablaze with light; Their Majesties were in residence. Clouds broke away from the moon, and its silvery iridescence filtered through the branches, giving a magical luster to the scene. Charlie meandered between the newly budding trees, heading toward the slender lake. Along the glimmery water's edge, Shelby discerned the first narcissus opening their star-shaped petals, bobbing gently in the moonlight, and there were thousands more rising above the grass. Soon the park would be carpeted with drifts of yellow blooms.

"I'll bring you back in daytime, a fortnight from now," Geoff promised in hushed tones. "The daffodils are spectacular, and the lake has every breed of water bird imaginable, many of which you'll be able to hand-feed." He paused, musing for a moment, then added, "Odd... I often think of coming for an afternoon, but never do. For years, my only view of St. James Park in spring has been from a passing vehicle...."

She didn't need to say it; life's simple pleasures were abruptly sweetened when shared with a lover.

"I think Charlie's thirsty," she said.

"Do you promise not to push me in the lake if we dismount for a bit?"

"That's a very naughty notion, Your Grace, and tempting! However, since you have removed the element of surprise, I will promise." Shelby watched as Geoff lightly swung down, then reached up to catch her. She went to him gladly, wrapping her arms around his neck, suddenly yearning to fit her body to his.

Ever discreet, Charlie ambled down to the lake's edge for a drink. Meanwhile, Geoff enfolded Shelby in his embrace, and they held on as a warm tide of need swept over them both.

"I thought I was going mad today," he said hoarsely. "The thought of that bloody Castle hovering around you—plying you with champagne and teaching you to eat cursed escargots—all the while plotting evil ways to take advantage—"

"As
you
are wont to do, Your Grace?"

"If you call me that again, I really
will
take advantage of you." It was hard to sound angry when laughter was so close at hand, so Geoff bent her backward and covered her mouth with his. Firmly, burningly, deeply, he kissed Shelby and she kissed him right back, her tongue invading his mouth, her heart racing.

"Shelby." At last, when they were both panting, Geoff drew back, his hands framing her face. In the moonlight her face was arrestingly beautiful. "My darling."

She was shivering. Tears threatened. "I can't go on this way, Geoff."

"I love you."

"I believe you—but that's not enough. You cannot lay claim to me, to my time, my body, and even my choice of friends, unless you—"

"I am. I've already made the appointments."

"You make it sound as if you're meeting with Prime Minister Balfour!" She couldn't suppress shaky laughter.

"I can assure you that the Dowager Duchess of Aylesbury is infinitely more intimidating."

"What about Lady Clementine?"

He stole the chance to caress her satiny cheek and throat, and then to press his lips to the leaping pulse at the base of her throat. "She hasn't been in all day. I'm not certain she ever came home from her riding lesson with your randy uncle!"

Shelby was thunderstruck, then began to giggle. "Before we imagine too much, I ought to mention that Viv persuaded Uncle Ben to help us by keeping Lady Clementine busy. Gosh, do you suppose he's actually enjoying himself?"

He paused, considering. "Anything's possible. I've always maintained that there's more to Ben than meets the eye, particularly when it comes to loving his dear niece. Perhaps he's found a way to help that suits his temperament. Deeds not words, and all that."

"It may not be anything more complicated than his love of
horses
." Shelby laughed as euphoria enveloped her. It was difficult not to throw off her slippers and begin cavorting through the daffodils. "Let's talk about something important, like the moonlight..."

"Mmm." His cheek grazed the silken shell of her bodice. Gently, Geoff moved the edge of the fabric down just enough so that he could kiss the high curve of Shelby's breast. Ambrosia. But then the remnants of his day-long fit of jealousy pricked at him. "I hope Castle didn't give you this gown."

"Of course not!" Shocked by such an insinuation, even if in jest, she was also reminded of the disparity in their stations. "Do you imagine that I am so provincial that I own no proper clothing?"

"Forget it," Geoff soothed. "It was a poor joke."

"Indeed!"

"Let's not argue over nonsense. I was jealous; completely to blame." He kissed her. "Forgive me. Come home with me tonight."

"I suppose we have both been rather edgy...." Her voice trailed off as Geoff's feather-soft lips aroused her beyond reason. Shelby trembled with yearning to feel his hand cupping all of her breast, his mouth hot on her nipple, his body crushing hers, his knee parting her thighs. The straining hardness in his trousers was ample proof that Geoff shared her desires, and yet Shelby suddenly felt overwhelmed, as if he held the reins and she had no control whatever.

"Wait!" Weakly, she attempted to break free. "This isn't right—not yet."

Ever the gentleman, Geoff released her, but his smoldering eyes taunted her with the knowledge that he could have easily persuaded her to yield. "You have chosen an odd moment to begin guarding your virtue."

"You use sarcasm like a knife!" Tears threatened as she marched away to the waiting Charlie. When he reached her side, Shelby murmured, "I'm just confused. I know you're going to do the right thing, but it still hurts to be pushed into the shadows, while all of London believes you're devoted to Lady Clementine."

"Never mind." His groin ached. "You're right. We are both ruled by impatience of one sort or another."

"Perhaps it seems
common
for a woman to betray such feelings, but I am still the finest woman you'll ever have the honor to know. Now, take me home." Shelby hitched up her silken skirts and petticoat, put her foot in the stirrup and easily mounted the buckskin.

Geoff was behind her in an instant, taking the reins in hard, aristocratic hands. "I love you, Shelby. You needn't worry about the future—or about being common." He chuckled. "If anything, you are
uncommon."

Surrendering, she sighed and leaned back against his chest. "Every day brings so much new uncertainty...."

"Trust me. Can you manage that?"

Blinking back tears, Shelby nodded, her heart full once again.

* * *

"I can't stay this morning," Lady Clementine Beech lamented as she slowed her magnificent gray to a walk. She was looking especially fine herself, clad in a sapphire velvet riding habit with a high white collar, her dark hair hidden under a neat, plumed hat. It was late enough that most of the fashionable set had finished their turns in Hyde Park, and Clementine and Ben had a measure of privacy. "I have an appointment."

He rode closer to read her expression. "Well, I'll admit that I shouldn't be here at all. My niece was madder than a hornet when she came into my tent late last night. I guess the performance didn't go so well without me."

"I still find it deplorable that you could have 'forgotten' to tell me you were Shelby Matthews's uncle until yesterday afternoon!" Her scolding was playful. "Did you tell her that you and I rode to Windsor and had supper in a romantic pub?"

He blushed a little under his tan. "No, not exactly. I said I was giving you a riding lesson and we decided to go a bit farther afield."

"That's quite
true,
after all." Lady Clem gave the American a smile that was unquestionably coquettish. "In any event, she can't expect you to spend all your time attending to her needs with that horrid circus, Benjamin."

"It's not a circus—"

"Whatever." She waved a hand, smiling at him all the while, thinking that it would be heavenly if Geoff were more like Benjamin: brawny, obsessed with horses, uncomplicated, and easily manipulated. She'd always known noblewomen who had amused themselves with affairs of this sort, but her own underlying insecurity had held her back. Now that Clemmie felt attractive and desirable in the company of Benjamin Avery, it occurred to her that marriage to the enigmatic Geoffrey might not be so bad after all. There were all sorts of lovers she could take.... "I do wish I could stay longer this morning, but unfortunately I have an appointment at Aylesbury House in half an hour."

"Are you really getting married?" He watched her closely, wondering what else he could do to help free Geoff. Recklessly, Ben pressed, "You don't love him, do you?"

"Oh, my dear, you can't possibly understand such arrangements! In the class to which His Grace and I belong, marriages are
rarely
made for love. Mummy always told me that love is for children and duty is for adults." Clementine gave Ben an arch smile. "It's more a business decision that Geoffrey and I have made—or one that was made for us when we were still in our prams. We'll rub along tolerably well, probably not seeing each other very often, and each of us will be free to take... our pleasures elsewhere."

"That's crazy!" He stared, clearly shocked. "Why bother getting married at all?"

"It sounds crass," Clemmie continued in a whisper, "but I'm afraid it all comes down to money, and social standing."

"That's the most cold-blooded thing I ever heard!"

"Have I horrified you, darling Benjamin? I assure you, I am not cold-blooded in the least. How would you like to meet me later this afternoon?" Reaching for his big hand, she came close enough for their horses to touch as well. "I've taken Room 517 at the Savoy Hotel. Would you care to visit...?"

He thought about her long, athletic legs, and the heat he'd already felt in her kiss. Besides, it'd probably help Geoff and Shelby if he slept with Clementine. Blushing slightly, he gave her a crooked grin. "Sure. I'll meet you there—but I gotta work with Shel first."

"Shall we say nine o'clock?" Her breasts tingled, and she daringly offered her mouth to him. There was no one else near this secluded portion of pathway, and Lady Clem threw caution to the wind. "Kiss me, my darling!"

Ben obeyed, and almost immediately they heard the crunch of wheels on the gravel. Looking up, they saw Consuelo, Duchess of Marlborough, driving a curricle that also contained the imposing, elderly Louise, Duchess of Devonshire.

Clementine froze, terrified. "I—I'll see you later," she hissed. "Go now!"

When Ben had ridden away, she walked her elegant gray to the curricle, her heart pounding. "I do hope you two won't scold me!"

The Duchess of Devonshire peered at the girl through her nose glasses. "
Scold
you?" she repeated in icy tones. "I would rather counsel you to consider your decision to marry Aylesbury before it is too late. I can assure you that one is married for a very long time."

Consuelo, the Vanderbilt heiress from America, watched with beautiful, sad eyes, but said nothing. She would always be haunted by the memory of her own tearful wedding, into which she'd been literally forced—some said sold—by her mother. If she'd dared speak her mind openly, she might have told Clementine that no amount of money or position or lofty titles could fill the needs of a woman's heart.