Artful Deceptions (27 page)

Rhys was ignoring Melanie with some difficulty and blindly accepted the hand of Ross Richards before that of the earl. In the confusion, no one seemed to notice. The men made appropriate exclamations, pounded each other on the back, and poured drinks. Arianne joined Galen in congratulating him. The countess sent for refreshments. Anne Richards smiled from her invalid’s chair and beamed with delight when Rhys came forward to bow over her hand as a friend of his mother’s. The room quickly filled with the noise of congratulations and questions. Only Melanie abstained from the general confusion.

Arianne watched with concern as her cousin slipped from the room. She turned to Galen, who managed to stay by her side throughout the celebration, but he only nodded his head to a far corner. Rhys was already making his excuses and hurriedly pushing through the crowd.

Abruptly Galen deserted Arianne to corner Gordon, who seemed prepared to follow the fleeing couple. He launched into a witty and prolonged story he had heard at his club, ignoring Melanie’s brother’s impatience. A maid was called to show the now sagging Owen Llewellyn to his room. Anne and Ross Richards made their excuses shortly after. Arianne conversed nervously with the earl and countess, and still Galen rambled on, following one story with a related one, all well told and charmingly done.

Gordon was obsessively polite, but even his patience had its limits. When Galen’s monologue threatened to continue into still another anecdote, he caught his friend by the lapels and steered him to the right, not an easy task, since Galen’s size outmatched him by several stone and inches.

“They’ve been gone long enough, Locke. I’m going to find them.” With that simple statement Gordon proceeded around Galen and stalked from the room.

Hastily making her excuses, Arianne ran after her cousin. Perhaps she had no right to interfere, but if Melanie needed her, she meant to be there. The question was, where might “there” be? She nearly bumped into Gordon when he stopped to contemplate this same puzzle.

Galen came up behind them, simplifying the problem with a wave of his hand. “You check the library, Griffin. Arianne will check her chamber, and I’ll go this way. One of us is bound to discover at least one of them.”

Without a better plan of action, Gordon nodded and set out for the distant library. Instead of sending Arianne off down the hall to the chamber she shared with Melanie, Galen caught her arm and led her downstairs in the direction of the conservatory.

“If they had any sense at all, this is where they would be. Have you seen the orchids blooming yet? It’s the most romantic place in the house. If I know Melanie, this is where she would lead him.”

That seemed reasonable, certainly more so than expecting her cousin to have retired to bed. Arianne raced after Galen’s long strides as they hurried down dark corridors devoid of servants. She was just beginning to realize how late it was when they entered the moist warmth of the darkened conservatory.

The lamp in Galen’s hand merely flickered against the leaves of budding trees, enclosing them in shadowy walls of vegetation. Arianne had not realized the room was so overgrown with plants as Galen guided her down a narrow walkway arched over in brilliant blooms and heavy greens. She heard no sound that might be Melanie and Rhys, but she was uncertain whether that was good or bad.

At last they came to a low divan surrounded by pots of normal-size plants, although their heady blooms gave off perfumes that scented the night. The flickering light of the lamp revealed no sign of the truants, but Galen didn’t seem much concerned. He set the lamp on a low stone wall and turned to reach for Arianne.

“Well, if Melanie didn’t have enough sense to come here, I am not so foolish. I believe we were interrupted before we could conclude our earlier conversation, my love.” Without any other warning than that, Galen bent to capture her lips.

Chapter Twenty-two

“Go away, you beast. I never wish to speak with you again. Never!”

Swift, small footsteps hurried down the terrace stairs to the unlit gardens, but the brief flash of a white gown revealed the direction, and the man in the doorway never hesitated. His halting stride carried him down the stairs and onto the graveled walks with assurance.

His soft calls after the fleeing figure went unheeded, however, and he began to curse under his breath as his artificial limb stumbled over a misplaced flowerpot and he was brought to his knees. Within seconds he was barreled over by a furry body leaping at him from the side, and a raspy tongue proceeded to wash his face despite his vehement protests.

“I’ve got him, Lucy!” a small voice cried from the shrubbery before branches began crashing outward, creating an access to the walk that shouldn’t be there.

“But I have him over here!” A feminine voice carried across the length of the garden, followed by a loud “Ouch!” and a mild epithet as further struggling in the shrubbery ensued.

“Lucy! Davie! What are you two scamps doing out here?” the ephemeral white figure retraced her steps, only to give a small scream and fall to her knees before the newly acclaimed baron. “Rhys! Oh, Rhys, are you all right? Whatever happened? Here, let me ...”

Rhys removed the furry body from his face and held it up to the disheveled tyke in his nightshirt hovering over him. “I believe I found Puddles. I suspect the gardens are a popular trysting place hereabouts. Hands off, Melanie, I can do it myself.” Coming to a sitting position, Rhys ruefully dusted off his new coat while gazing around at his attackers, trying not to look too closely into the lovely face nearest him. “I suppose that is Lucy destroying the rest of the shrubbery with Locke’s wretched animal.” He nodded toward the other white-shrouded figure coming through the access Davie had created.

As Rhys maneuvered his leg into a working position, Melanie stood and with hands on hips regarded her contrite young cousins. “I don’t want to hear what the two of you are doing out here at this hour. Let me have those dogs, and I want the both of you to go straight up to your beds before I tell Uncle Ross about this.”

Regardless of the fact that Lucy already stood several inches taller than her older cousin, both young people nodded and began to hand over the wriggling animals. A muffled groan from behind them caused the cousins to hesitate, but not soon enough.

“Not the dogs! For pity’s sake, Melanie...”

Before Rhys could finish, the dogs had taken advantage of the moment and leapt from the loose grips of their young masters, scrambling off into the darkness with triumphant barks as they resumed their pursuit. The children ran screeching after them, leaving Rhys to pull himself to a stance in front of a bewildered Melanie, who wasn’t certain whether to run after the children or stay to help the injured Rhys.

“I think you and your cousin Arianne were mixed up at birth and placed with the wrong families,” Rhys remonstrated as he caught Melanie’s arm and made the decision for her. “You have more in common with yon heathens than their sister.”

“Well, if you are so fond of Arianne, why don’t you go propose to her? I am certain she will agree that you suit.” Melanie attempted to shake off his imprisoning hand, but his grip was firm.

“Yes, we agreed that we suit, but that doesn’t seem to be the basis for these things, now, does it? Hold still, Melanie, or I shall be forced to do something quite desperate. My leg is still wobbling.”

Startled, Melanie looked up into his dark, handsome face and gulped. The intensity of his gaze was quite unsettling, and the gentle smile he usually reserved for her was gone, replaced by an extremely obstinate-looking grimace. But his complaint caused instant concern, and she forgot her fears in the face of it.

“There is a bench, just there. Sit down and rest and determine the extent of the damage. The little imps ought to be locked up until they are old enough to behave with decorum.”

“Then you would still be in a cage, my dear.” Rhys took her advice and the bench, pulling Melanie down with him. “And the rest of the world would be a dull place. We cannot all be alike. For some of us, the differences are enchanting.”

Melanie gave him a swift glance to determine his meaning, but looked away again in confusion at the emotion she detected in his usually impassive face. “You have grown staid and stodgy, Rhys Llewellyn. I can remember a time when you were not so.”

“We all change with time, some more than others. I’m sorry if I have disappointed you, but I have only behaved for your own good. There has never been a time when I haven’t acted in your behalf. Do you think you can ever understand that?”

“No.” Sulkily Melanie plaited her fingers together. “How can you know what is for my own good without consulting me? I am not an empty-headed child, you know.”

“Never empty-headed, but until recently still a child. You’re not a child any longer, however; you’re a lovely young woman with a mind of your own. I was wrong to pretend otherwise.”

Melanie’s head came up with a jerk and she turned to face him. “Do you mean that? You will admit that you were wrong? Everyone still treats me as a child.”

“You have a child’s effervescence and charm, and we’ve all watched you grow up for so long, we hate to admit that you’re no longer a little girl. But if it weren’t for those little scoundrels running about in the bushes right now, I’d be tempted to show you that I mean what I say. With your permission, I’d like to court you as a proper suitor should. I know I cannot offer all that your other—”

Melanie’s cry put an end to his usual argument, and her arms thrown about his neck prevented any turning back. With nowhere else to put his hands, Rhys wrapped them around her slender waist, and in a moment he was doing what he had promised himself he would not do.

Lucy and Davie halted in the shrubbery, shook their heads in disgust, and returned to chasing their straying charges.

* * * *

“Galen, we cannot—” Arianne’s breathless words broke when her suitor proved that they could. Pressed backward against the rolled arm of the divan, she surrendered to his ardent caresses, pulling Galen’s head closer to better learn the heady passion of his kiss.

When his hand began to stray, she struggled, but it was only a moment’s work to learn there were some things she could not resist. The new sensations to which Galen introduced her were among them, and she gave a small cry of loss when his lips moved from hers to stray across her cheek and downward.

“Say yes, Arianne,” he murmured as his mouth moved seductively closer to her ear.

“Yes, Arianne,” she whispered wickedly, welcoming this momentary respite, returning her hands to press at his waistcoat instead of entangling in his hair, although she knew she could not win against him.

“So agreeable. Now say, ‘Yes, Galen.’” His fingers located the frail edge of her low-cut bodice and lingered there.

“I’ve granted you your one wish for the night. It’s too late to ask for another.” Arianne’s attempt to push him away was weak even in her own eyes. She wanted to feel his kiss again. It was as simple as that.

“If I’m allowed one wish a night, then I know the one to ask tomorrow. I would suggest you have your bags packed before I ask it, though, for once it is granted, I’ll not stop for anything.”

“Galen, we cannot—” This protest ended where the earlier one had. Arianne’s fingers curled in his already disheveled cravat as Galen’s lips sought and conquered hers without a fight. The sensation sent her head spinning. How did one think at times like these?

“If you do not like Scotland, I’ll buy a special license. I’m quite determined, Arianne. I’ve been going about only half-alive until now. Now that I have found the missing part of me, I will not do without any longer.”

“You just desire Papa’s Titian as a wedding gift,” Arianne teased when he drew back once more. She was fully aware that he could press his ardent attentions further and she would not be able to stop him, would not wish to stop him. But Locke held himself to a limit that he had set in his own mind, certainly not society’s limit, but one that he seemed in grave danger of exceeding at any second. He made her feel small and fragile lying here, something no man had ever done. She would not surrender the feeling for propriety.

“It will look splendid in the library,” Galen agreed unmercifully. “But then, your father will feel right at home with it. If he means to clean and catalog every oil in this mausoleum, he will be with us a very long time.”

Arianne laughed lightly and traced the strong lineaments of Galen’s face with the tips of her fingers. “What you propose is impossible. If my father moves in here, so will the rest of my family. Your father will undoubtedly go into a severe decline, and there will be no room for us. It won’t do at all.”

“My father is having the time of his life arguing with your father, because he wins them all by default. And I don’t mean for there to be room for us. Not just yet. I want you to myself. I mean to make you the toast of London first. Then, perhaps when there is a family to think about, we can consider returning here. We could have the whole east wing to ourselves and never see anyone else if we don’t wish to.”

Such solemn talk shattered the light banter of earlier, and Arianne instantly sobered, gazing up into the crystal gray of Galen’s eyes with uncertainty. “How will it ever work, Galen? Please don’t say these things because you think you have to. I don’t wish to marry because you feel obligated. It would hurt me above all else. But you keep me so confused ...”

He stroked her hair from her brow and whispered kisses down the line of her nose before replying. “I want to keep you confused. I want to keep you in such a swirl that you cannot think. I’m terrified that if I allow you to consider, you will find me unsuitable. I know I will make you a good husband, and I think I can teach you to love me as I love you, but I cannot bear to let you escape in the meantime. I’m being selfish, aren’t I?” His last words were sorrowful as he pushed himself upright.

Arianne became aware of her wanton position with his movement, but she did not immediately move to right it. She had never been the recipient of a man’s hungry gaze before, and she would be less than womanly if she did not appreciate the desire in Galen’s eyes now as he looked on her. The power he had instilled in her with his look was almost as great as the one given by his confession. She wasn’t entirely certain what to do with it, but her heart seemed to be beating excessively at the thought.