A Perfect Groom (15 page)

“No,” he said hoarsely. For the life of him, it was all he could say.

“Good. Will you stay until I sleep?”

He nodded, watching as she weaved her fingers through his, closed her eyes, and brought their joined hands to rest on her belly.

He stared until his eyes grew dry and the moon was high in the sky. And all the while, a hundred different feelings crashed around in his chest.

Something was changing between them.
Everything
was changing. He didn’t know what it was. And he didn’t like not knowing, not one damn bit.

But he couldn’t stop it.

And that terrified him. It terrified him, as nothing or no one else had ever frightened him before.

Eleven

It was late when Arabella woke the next morning. Sunlight poured through the draperies. With a groan she heaved to her side, seeking to evade the light. Even through her closed eyelids, it seemed to burn. Her mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with muslin. Her throat was dry as the sands of the
Sahara
. Her head was pounding as if a blacksmith had taken up permanent residence in her brain. She wanted to drag her pillow over her head and go back to sleep. But something naggingly insistent wouldn’t allow it.

Snatches of memory sifted back. McElroy. Justin’s appearance in the study. The rest was vague. She recalled sitting at the window, a finely cut crystal glass in her hand…

Oh, Lord,
that’s
why she felt so horrid. Never again, Arabella vowed, would she indulge in spirits so strong. Indeed, never again would she indulge in
any
kind of spirits.

Just then there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” The words came out a hoarse croak.

It was Aunt Grace, bright-eyed and chirpy. “Good morning, Arabella,” she sang out. “I brought a pot of chocolate and some pastries for breakfast.” Grace deposited a tray on the bedside table, then sat on the bed. “How are you this morning?”

Arabella rolled over and pushed herself up, dredging up a wan smile. “Fine,” she murmured.

“You don’t look fine. You look quite dreadful.” Grace handed her a delicate china cup. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so poorly, love. Perhaps it was something you ate.”

Oh, if she only knew…

“Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one to take sick. Patrick McElroy had to depart quite suddenly, too. Perhaps it was the same malady.”

McElroy! Just the thought of him made her sizzle again. Aloud she said, “I’m sorry to have missed the festivities.”

Aunt Grace patted her hand. “Well, the important thing is for you to get better. Just rest, dear, and perhaps by this evening you’ll be well enough to join us for dinner.”

Arabella smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Aunt. Will you make my apologies to the marquess and his wife? I do hope I haven’t spoiled any of their plans.”

“Not at all, dear. Why, I spoke to
Devon
just now, and she asked me to pass on her concern.”

“That’s very kind of her,” Arabella murmured. “Would you mind closing the draperies just a bit on your way out? I confess, the light is quite glaring.”

“Consider it done, my dear.” At the window, Grace tugged at the drapes, glancing back. “It rained dreadfully last night. Did you hear it?”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t hear much of anything.” Mercy, but wasn’t that the truth?

“You’d never know, looking outside now.” Her aunt was practically chirping. “It’s gloriously warm and sunny.” Grace stopped at the bedside and dropped a kiss on her brow. “I hope you feel better soon, dear.” Suddenly Aunt Grace frowned. “Did Annie forget to pack your nightdress?”

Arabella glanced down, then froze. Not until then did she realize she was clad in her shift. Memories assailed her anew. Memories of lean, male hands skidding down the bare skin of her back…
Justin’s
hands. She recalled the brisk efficiency with which he’d dispatched her gown. Which made perfect sense, of course — obviously he’d undressed many a woman in his lifetime.

But Aunt Grace was still waiting for a reply. “Oh, no, Aunt. It’s just that…I fear I didn’t feel up to bothering with it.” She winced. What a lame excuse!

But Aunt Grace merely nodded and left. Alone, Arabella sank back into the covers, mortified beyond measure. This time she
did
drag the pillow over her head. She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Justin had put her to bed.
Justin
. Would there ever come a day she didn’t dread seeing him again?

She was patently convinced there would not.

She had no intention of lying in bed all day, though. Despite Aunt Grace’s reassurance otherwise, she considered it dreadfully rude, particularly in light of the fact that she was a guest in someone else’s home. Yet, miraculously, before she knew it, she was dozing.

When she woke, it was early afternoon. Cautiously she lifted her head from the pillow. The throbbing in her head was gone, thank heaven. After eating the pastries Aunt Grace had left, she felt much better than she had earlier. Washing quickly, she brushed her hair and dressed in a blue-sprigged muslin gown.

The house seemed empty. Quizzing a passing maid, she discovered most of the others were out riding. Tea, she was informed, was to be served outdoors near the rose gardens.

A bit of exploring was in order, Arabella decided quickly. The thought of negotiating all those steps again was tiresome, but if Aunt Grace saw her without a bonnet and gloves, she’d never hear the end of it. Retracing her steps, she retrieved a bonnet from her trunk, disdained the gloves, and ventured outside.

Aunt Grace was right. It was a lovely day, far warmer than it had been for quite some time. The grounds around Thurston Hall were lovelier still. She wandered at will, letting her steps take her where they would, up the side of a hill and down the other. The sun beat down. She hadn’t expected it to be quite so hot. Trudging down the hillside, she came to a place where a small brook dashed madly through the trees before disappearing around the bend.

Hazy spears of sunlight twirled through the treetops, spinning a golden web all around. Arabella paused. Tiny beads of sweat collected on her forehead, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

Biting her lip, she cast a hasty glance around. She was quite some distance away from the house. There was no one about. Temptation beckoned — the lure was irresistible. With nary a second thought, she dragged her bonnet from her head and dropped it on the grass. Her slippers, stockings, and garters came next. Reaching down, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and tucked it into her bodice, baring her legs to just above her knees.

Without hesitation she waded into the stream. The water was cold, but deliciously so. She stopped, watching in almost riveted fascination as the water rushed around the middle of her calves. Ah, but she was supposed to be a proper young Society miss. No doubt it was decidedly improper to be traipsing through a stream in such a fashion…

The thought kindled another. A mischievous smile rimmed her lips. She recalled one of the summers she’d spent in
Africa
with Mama and Papa. She’d been perhaps fifteen or so at the time, and the heat had been unbearable. One night she’d crept from their hut to the shores of the river. And with no one to see, no one to care, she had shed her clothing…

And swam naked.

What would Society think if they knew that she, Arabella Templeton, the vicar’s daughter, had splashed and swam
naked to
her heart’s content…and that but the first of many times? Poor Aunt Grace, she was certain, would have been most scandalized. Why, Aunt Grace would be scandalized if she saw her now, baring her legs! Throwing back her head, she laughed aloud, a ringing, robust sound she couldn’t withhold.

And it was then, at that precise moment, that she knew…

She wasn’t alone.

It was Justin, of course.
Of course
, her mind echoed. Why, who else would it be? Oh, if she could only pretend she did not see him! Alas, he stood at the bank where she’d left her bonnet, shoes, and stockings. Her heart leaped. He was dressed informally — a loose white flowing shirt, tight buff breeches, and boots. She had to consciously slow the beat of her heart.

Damnation! He was smiling as his gaze traveled from her face to the slim curve of her exposed legs. Several things ran through her brain in that instant. Modesty commanded that she drop her skirts immediately and bolt. Yet if she did, they’d be instantly soaked. And once she returned to the house, which was inevitable unless she stayed out till after dark, how the devil was she to explain it?

And he knew it. Oh, yes, he was keenly aware of her predicament, for a maddening smile lurked about his mouth. He shook his head. “Ah, Arabella, I can almost reach out and catch hold of your thoughts, you know.”

“Indeed,” she retorted pertly. “And what am I thinking?”

“You’re wondering if you should run. Or if you should drop your skirts and hide yourself from me.”

“I fear, sir, that I can do neither.”

His maddening smile widened further. “This is true.”

Arabella’s cheeks burned with the heat of a blush. “It occurs to me, sir, that you have a most decided predilection of coming upon me at the most inconvenient of times.”

Her prim tone made Justin want to laugh aloud. Lord, she was sweet!

“Odd that you should see it that way,” he mused lightly. “I’d begun to fancy myself your rescuer. Do I not always appear in your hour of need?”

“You?” She was clearly aghast.

He cocked a brow. “A misconception, then?”

“Indeed! I do believe you’ve decided your sole purpose in life is to torment me.”

“Now, why would you say that?” He allowed his gaze to slide slowly over her form.

Her mouth turned down. “Stop staring at me like that!”

“Like what?” She regarded him with eyes both pleading and distressed. She was right, he decided vaguely. He
was
tormenting her. But…sweet Christ, he couldn’t resist teasing her just a little.

“My dear Arabella, you cannot stay there forever. However, if you so choose, then I am compelled to inform you that I am ever so willing to continue to avail myself of a view that is most pleasing to the eye.”

“Oh!” Her cheeks were flaming, almost the color of her hair.

He took pity on her. “Here, now. Come out before you catch your death.”

He was right. She couldn’t stay there forever. Her feet were beginning to go numb.

“Turn your back,” she pleaded.

To her utter surprise, no argument was forthcoming. He turned to the side.

Biting her lip, Arabella began to wade toward him. But the rocks beneath her feet were slippery. Concentrating on her feet, she carefully made her way toward him, unaware that Justin had glanced back over his shoulder. Avid green eyes tracked her progress. She was almost there when she slipped precariously.