A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (17 page)

“First blood drawn?” Was he joking? That
essentially made the duel not even worth fighting. Moore had every
right to be furious. Kelfield had stolen the man’s fiancée and the
worst he could do was a little nick? “Why would you agree to such a
thing?”

The captain’s eyes widened in surprise. “I
don’t know really. It seemed the thing to do. We’ve just returned
from France. I’d hate to see my friend exiled. But I couldn’t
imagine it would be the first thing out of the marquess’ mouth, and
before I could think clearly, I’d already agreed.”

“It was the first thing out of Haversham’s
mouth?” That didn’t seem right at all. Kelfield wouldn’t be happy
with this turn of events either. No man would willingly agree to
first blood drawn, especially when one’s wife was the prize. The
duke would want the major dead.

“I was a bit surprised.”

That little sneak. What had Cordelia done to
arrange this outcome? “Tell me, did your sister have anything to do
with this?”

The captain blanched.

Dear God, she was trouble. He just hadn’t
realized how much until this moment.

Cordie crossed the floor to Philip’s side.
In all the years she’d known him, he’d never seemed this
distraught. She smiled. “How are you holding up, Philip?”

His frown deepened. “Have you seen her?”

Livvie
. Cordie shook her head. “I’ve
not been allowed. Did you see her?”

He nodded, pain marred his face. Cordie
linked her arm with his. Poor man. She wished she could wave a
magic wand and take away all his misery.

“She was there when I challenged him,
begging him not to accept, then begging me to withdraw.”

How awful for Livvie. She couldn’t imagine
what she would feel if she’d witnessed such a scene with Clayworth.
She closed her eyes. It wasn’t the same thing at all. Philip had
been Livvie’s fiancé and Kelfield was her husband. Clayworth would
never be either to Cordie, and she really shouldn’t think of him in
such a way—it was already too hard to see him.

“I just can’t believe she loves him,” Philip
muttered.

“Did she say that?”

Philip nodded. “I saw her face in my mind
every night I was away. I only got through the war, knowing I was
coming home to her.”

“Oh, Philip,” Cordie said softly, “you got
through the war because you’re a soldier and you were trained to do
so.”

“Many trained soldiers didn’t make it home,
Cordie. And I hate war. Only now I wish I was still there. I wish
there was an enemy I could tear apart with my hands.”

That was a bit gruesome. Cordie sucked in a
breath. Before she could find words to respond to Philip, the Earl
of Clayworth stood before her, wearing his usual frown. Though she
couldn’t imagine what he had to frown about this time. He was the
one who burst through her dining room doors uninvited, acting like
she couldn’t be trusted more than a few hours in her own care. “My
lord,” she muttered.

“Major, do you mind?” Clayworth asked,
offering his arm to Cordie at the same time.

“No, of course not,” Philip replied.

Cordie glared at Clayworth before accepting
his arm. What was he about?

“Miss Avery,” he began smoothly, “I’m afraid
something has come up, and we’ll have to postpone our ride.”

Something came up? What could possibly have
come up since dinner? Cordie shrugged. She should probably keep her
distance from him anyway.

“My dear, would now be a good time for you
to show me those books on Scandinavia?”

A blush crept up her neck at the memory
those words brought. The last time they were in a library together,
the way he’d kissed her. She couldn’t be alone with him again, not
like that. It was already too hard to be in his presence. Besides,
she was quite annoyed with him at the moment.

“No need, sir. Tristan lived there for a
year. I’m certain he’d be happy to tell you whatever you’d like to
know.”

He squeezed her fingers meaningfully. “But
your brother seems otherwise engaged at the moment, and I am very
interested now.”

Cordie narrowed her eyes on him. Irritating
man. “I’m sure I can convince him to share his memories with
you.”

“Cordelia,” her mother barked, “why are you
being difficult? Show Lord Clayworth to the library.”

She’d like to show him right out the front
door. “My lord,” she almost growled.

When he calmly raised his brow, she wanted
to jump out of her skin. She allowed him to lead her to the
corridor, but once they were alone, she dropped his arm and stalked
down the hallway. Clayworth said nothing, but he was right behind
her the entire time. She turned one corner, then another, finally
stopping at the library door.

“There you are, my lord. I believe Tris’
books are all on the top of the first shelf. Do help yourself.”

She turned to leave, but he grasped her arm,
forcing her into the library and sending jolts of awareness through
her. Blast him for making her heart race when she was so angry with
him. Cordie tipped her head back and looked up into his twilight
eyes.

“What did you promise Haversham to garner
his support for your little plan?” Clayworth asked evenly.

Her mouth fell open. How could he possibly
know what transpired between herself and the marquess? Was he
spying on her? “How dare you?”

“How dare
you
?” he countered,
towering over her. “Did you
not
promise me this very
afternoon you’d be careful?”

She blanched. “It was for a good cause.”

“A good cause?” he echoed menacingly. “There
is
no
cause that is worth your safety, Cordelia. For God’s
sake, the haphazard way in which you go through life is enough to
put me in an early grave.”

“I take offense to that. I do not go through
life in a haphazard way. I think things through logically and make
sound decisions.”

“Indeed?” Clayworth asked, arching one
golden eyebrow. “What did you promise Haversham?”

Cordie wrenched her arm out of his grasp and
stalked further into the library, putting distance between them. “I
don’t owe you any answers, sir.”

In the blink of an eye, he was before her.
“Tell me, Cordelia, or I swear I’ll call Haversham out myself.”

Her heart seized at the image of Clayworth
facing the marquess on a field of
honor
over her. What a
horrible thought, especially after all she’d done to make sure
Philip and Kelfield didn’t kill each other. She didn’t want to
contemplate such an event. His dark eyes remained fixed on her and
Cordie shook her head. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” he echoed. At her nod, his jaw
clenched. “You let
him
kiss you?”

Cordie nodded. He had kissed her that
evening. She decided it was best, however, not to mention that the
terms of her agreement with the marquess had yet to be filled. With
the blue fire in his eyes, it seemed the logical thing.

Despite his fierce look, Clayworth gently
touched her cheek, and Cordie swallowed nervously.  He closed
the small gap between then and lowered his head. “Did he make your
heart beat faster? Did his touch make your knees weak? Did the feel
of his lips make you forget everything?”

No. “It was a very nice kiss,” she
whispered. If she’d never have been kissed before, it would have
been a magnificent kiss. If she’d only been kissed by Gabriel
Seaton, it would have been a magnificent kiss. The marquess was
quite talented, but his lips, his hands, his presence only made her
yearn for Clayworth, which made no sense at all.
He
was the
exact wrong sort of man for her.

“My kiss is not nice,” his gravelly voice
rolled over her. His hands moved to her waist and he quickly pulled
her against him. Clayworth kissed her neck and jaw, searing heat
wherever he touched her. “
Ma minouche
dangereuse
” he
whispered across her lips, staring at her with such intensity,
Cordie lost her breath.

Before she could speak, his demanding lips
claimed hers. Cordie’s mind spun. She’d longed for this for weeks,
needed it, craved it. His tongue touched her lips, searching for
entry. Cordie opened for him, and she relished the taste of port
when his tongue touched hers. Shaking, she ran her hands up his
muscled chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his
weight against her.

Clayworth moaned and backed her into a wall
lined with books. His lips, his tongue never stopped moving on her,
and a welcome heat pooled deep in her belly. Cordie kissed him
back, nipping at his lips and mingling her tongue with his. She’d
never felt so wanton in all her days.

If he’d just touch her breast or her bottom,
she was certain she could assuage the desire that was raging
through her. But his hands remained securely at her waist. 
She shimmied against him. “Please.”

His lips left hers and trailed along her jaw
to her ear. “I can’t,
ma minouche
, or I’ll never stop.”

She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him
to touch her everywhere, to hold her forever.

Clayworth’s tongue touched her ear lobe,
sending new waves of desire washing over her. No one had ever done
such a thing. She was barely breathing. “I want you, Cordelia.” His
raspy voice tickled her ear.

Oh, she wanted him too. “Then touch me,” she
begged.

“Marry me,” he countered.

***

He’d somehow said the wrong thing. Cordelia
pulled out of his arms and took a staggering breath. He wanted her
right back where she was, and took a step towards her. She raised a
hand to stop his advance.

“I-I can’t,” she finally said.

Fury built inside Brendan. “Why the devil
not?” Never in his life had he felt such need, such fire for a
woman. He knew she felt it too. Whenever he held her, she nearly
melted into him.

“You’re not right for me,” she
whispered.

“I beg to differ,” he couldn’t help but
growl.

Her pretty brow furrowed as she fumbled for
an answer. “You, well, you’re
you
, and—well, you couldn’t
possibly understand.”

True. He
couldn’t
understand a word
she was saying. “You’re not making any sense, Cordelia.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Do your affections lay elsewhere?” he
asked, echoing her words to Brookfield.

She turned away from him and her shoulders
sagged forward. “Please don’t ask me that.”

It was the first ray of hope he’d felt. She
couldn’t answer him, because her affections lay with him. He knew
they did. So whatever was keeping her from him, whatever Haversham
held over her, Brendan would have to find out. Holding Cordelia
Avery in his arms was the first real joy he’d known in forever.
“I’m not giving up on you,” he vowed.

She looked over her shoulder at him and
frowned. “I wish you would. You’re making this very difficult for
me.”

“Good,” he answered. If she was intent on
pushing him away, he wanted it to be difficult. He wanted it to be
damn near impossible.

All of Avery House was silent. Philip and
Russell were already gone and the sun was barely on the horizon.
Though the outcome of the contest, one way or the other, didn’t
matter to Cordie, she still paced a path around her room. She
wished she could be at Kelfield House with Livvie. Hopefully, Lady
Staveley was with her. Hopefully, she’d shared the contents of
Cordie’s letter with Livvie, informing them of the first blood
drawn stipulation. Hopefully, her friend was experiencing some
peace, knowing that neither man would perish because of her.

A soft knock sounded on her door, startling
her.  Quickly, Cordie threw on her wrapper, then rushed to
door. Tristan stood before her, two cups of tea in his hands.

“I knew you were awake. Here,” he said,
offering her one of the cups.

She opened her door wide and her brother
strode inside, collapsing in one of her chintz chairs. “What a
night.”

That was an understatement. She couldn’t
sleep at all with thoughts of Clayworth popping up in her mind just
as she was about to doze off. Why was he making things so
difficult?  Why couldn’t he just be the cold, heartless man
she’d always thought him to be? If she wasn’t distracted by him,
she’d have already found a way to bring Haversham up to
scratch.

“They’re gone?” she asked, knowing the
answer and sinking into a chair opposite him.

Tristan nodded. “So, will you still not
discuss Haversham with me?”

“I’d rather not. You’ll tell me I’m making a
huge mistake, and I’d prefer not to hear that if you don’t
mind.”

He raised his brow and quirked a grin at
her. “Is that what I’ll say? Have you had the entire conversation
in your head?”

She sipped her tea, avoiding his
question.

“And what about Clayworth? Is he off limits
as well?”

“Most definitely.”

“What a shame.” Tristan tried to hide a
smirk behind his cup. “I was dying to know what you did to get him
so…excited.”

“Excited?” she echoed. What was he talking
about, for heaven’s sake? “I don’t think he gets excited about
anything. Angry, irritated, yes. Excited, no. He’s far too serious
and intense for that.”

Her brother choked on his tea. “The man I
saw last night was excited, and you’ll have to take my word for
it.” Then he laughed to himself, obviously at her expense.

Cordie rolled her eyes. Brothers could be
the most aggravating of all creatures.

“I think mother’s right, by the by. I think
he will offer for you. He appears quite the besotted man.”

She winced at his words. All night she’d
thought of Clayworth’s passionate proposal, how her heart ached to
accept it. She needed a plan to bring Haversham up to scratch.
“Tris, I know I said I didn’t want to talk about the marquess…”