How to Capture a Countess (Duchess Diaries 1) (22 page)

Still, it would all be worth it in the end. God, she was a tasty armful. When he’d kissed her in the trees, she’d reacted just as he’d wished.
She is weakening. It won’t be long until she’s—

“My lord, you are smiling. I fail to see the humor in your situation.”

“That’s because you don’t know what’s at stake.”

Dunn’s gaze narrowed. “My lord, are you
certain
you’re keeping your gaze firmly locked upon the real prize—to best Miss Balfour in this contest? It seems to me that you have your eyes locked upon Miss Balfour herself.”

“My attention is focused exactly where it needs to be. When you’re finished giving me useless advice, can you find my sapphire cravat pin? I will wear it tonight.”

The valet fetched the pin and watched as Sin deftly affixed it. “Shall I wait up for you to return after dinner?”

“There’s no need. I can put myself to bed.” It was possible that he was rushing things, but by God, he and Rose had unfinished business and he refused to allow another moment to pass without seeing it finished.

At one time, he’d thought three weeks a luxurious stretch of time in which to conduct a seduction. Now it seemed far too little. In a few days, one whole week would be gone and he was determined to make the most of what time he had. “Dunn, if you’ll just put out my robe before you leave, I’ll be fine.”

“Very good, my lord. If you change your mind, ring for me. I shall be in my room, rolling bandages and making poultices for your future encounters with Miss Balfour.”

“Thank you, Dunn. I appreciate your confidence.” Sin limped to the door, his blood quickening.
The time has come for a reckoning, my little Rose.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
Sin somehow lured Rose Balfour into a copse of woods and then proceeded to rescue her from an errant arrow. I’m glad he wasn’t injured badly, but I could have killed the two of them for being alone. Had it not been for Lady Charlotte’s quick wit—she vowed up and down that she could see them the entire time and even came up with a fascinating description of the arrow strike—I don’t know what we’d have done. As it was, she has prevented any ugly rumors and all is safe.

For now.

Sin owes me for this. I do not like to tell tales unless, of course, it is in pursuit of a goal of my own. Those ends justify the means. His pursuit, however, is far less noble.

Leaving her bedchamber, Rose took out the note Sin had sent through a maid. Her heart thundered, and she hoped her elegant gown made her look calm and
self-possessed. Made of celestial blue Spitalfields silk over a white sarcenet slip, ornamented around the bottom and on the sleeves with a band of tulle, it was lovely, one of Lily’s favorites.

Pausing in the hallway outside of her room, Rose read the note one more time.

Meet me in the small salon at seven—if you dare. We’ve unfinished business. Don’t be late.

He’d signed it with a flourish that she would have known was his even if she had to pick it out of a hundred signatures.

If she dared? Ha! She’d show him who dared!

She made her way through the hallways, pausing here and there to make certain no one lingered around a corner. Finally, she reached the staircase. The foyer proved more difficult, for two footmen stood by the front door, arguing over which of them was to serve at dinner. After a few moments, MacDougal walked through and sent them scurrying off to their duties.

She listened to their footsteps fade away, and waited a bit longer to make certain no one else was nearby, then lightly ran down the stairs. The door to the small salon was open and, with a final look around, she slipped inside and closed it behind her.

The room was unlit except for the rapidly fading sunset that spilled in from the windows. “Sin?” she asked softly.

No answer met her.

She must be early. She crossed to the window and watched the wind ripple over the lake and up the lawn.

A moment later, Sin entered and locked the door. Her heart, which was already thudding madly, beat even harder.

He was dressed for dinner in a dark blue coat, a maroon waistcoat, and breeches, and he walked with a faint limp. Her gaze flickered to his thigh and her heart sank when she saw the bandage outlined by his trousers. “Does your leg hurt dreadfully?”

“It hurts like the devil.” He came forward and there was something determined about his jaw.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t get the chance to thank you for saving me. Had you not pulled me out of the way—” She shook her head.

His eyes gleamed. “Oh yes, I saved you. For this.”

She half expected a kiss, but he walked past her to the window. He threw open the sash, then he climbed through.

Rose blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing our wager.” He leaned in and held out his hand. “Are you coming?”

She looked at his hand. The whole thing was highly improper. Yet when he smiled at her that way, his eyes alight with mischief, she found that she not only couldn’t say no, but she couldn’t say yes fast enough.

She put her hand in his, gathered her skirts, and
looked at the sill. “I hope this doesn’t mar my gown. It’s my sister’s favorite and—”

He bent through the window, scooped her up, and had deposited her on the ground outside before she could even guess what he was about. “Blast it, Sin! You just injured yourself! You shouldn’t be—”

He kissed her hard and fast, silencing her. Sending her a satisfied look, he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her across the lawn to the archery course.

Once there, he selected two bows and handed her one, then he selected three arrows. “Choose your arrows.”

The smell of damp grass, the cooling night air, and the mischief in his eyes made the evening feel like a childhood escapade. Though the castle stared down at them and anyone who looked out of a window could see them, she felt deliciously alone with him.

She grinned and selected her arrows, looking down the shafts to make certain they were straight. “I’ll take these.”

“You first.”

She strung her bow with her first arrow, took careful aim, and then let it fly. It hit the inner circle beside the bull’s-eye.

She frowned. “There’s a little wind.”

“I’ll remember that.”

She strung the second arrow and took aim. The feather fletching tickled her cheek as she released the arrow, which flew straight to the bull’s-eye.

“Impressive.”

She had one more arrow. She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, drew the bow, took slow and deliberate aim, and—
thunk—
the arrow buried itself in the bull’s-eye again.

She laughed. “Well, Sinclair? Can you beat that?”

He picked up his arrow, aimed, and shot. He did the other two in equally quick succession, and every one hit the bull’s-eye. One arrow was so close to another that it actually splintered it.

Rose could only stare. “You’ve won.” She could barely believe it, even seeing the arrow split herself. She thought of their wager and her heart stuttered. Things were moving so quickly . . . too quickly? She should slow things down, ask Sin for some time to answer the promise of their challenge.

And yet, some wild part of her wished to push forward. She wanted more of this, more of him. In a few short weeks, when things were back to normal and she was once again dealing with the mundane life at Caith Manor, she’d have these memories of her and Sin to make her smile. It wasn’t a lot, but it was far more than she’d ever had before.

Sin replaced their bows on the stand. Then he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her back to their window. After he climbed through, he reached out for her.

“Oh, no. I don’t want your leg harmed anymore. Step back and I’ll climb through myself.”

Rose collected her skirts, lifted them, and stepped
over the windowsill into the salon. It was much darker now, the room cast in shade.

Sin took her hand and led her to the settee before the fireplace. “So I have won. Now it’s time to collect my winnings.”

Her mouth went dry, but she nodded. He sat down and pulled her into his lap. His warm eyes were ablaze with promise.

Rose suddenly found it difficult to swallow. Oh, how she wanted this man. She knew it was a bad idea, but when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t help but yearn for the excitement of his touch.

She was twenty-two years old, and upon the shelf by society standards. Why couldn’t she enjoy this pleasure? It couldn’t hurt, could it?

Though right now, she didn’t even care.

Sin looked into Rose’s eyes and wondered if she felt the same yearning ache that he did.

Six years ago, had anyone told Sin that he and Rose had far more in common than anyone else he’d ever met, he would have mocked the idea. But the more time he spent with her, the more he recognized her independent spirit and appreciated her strength. Neither of them enjoyed being told what to do, and neither liked to lose.

She was so different from what he’d assumed all those years ago. He’d expected a hothouse bloom. Instead, he found a much more ragged, and far more interesting, wild Scottish rose.

She shifted against him, nervously biting her lip. The sight of her even white teeth pressing into her full, bottom lip made his cock harden even more. He bent and captured her lips with his. His gentleness disappeared in the onslaught of passion that poured through him, and he kissed her over and over, hot and possessive, his hands resting on her hips.

He didn’t just kiss, he demanded, took . . . and everything he asked for, she gave with a willingness that delighted him. She wrapped her fingers around his lapel and pulled him closer.

Sin’s arms tightened and he pulled her forward, his tongue slipping through her lips to touch hers. She jerked at the unexpected touch and her breasts, already peaking against her gown, ached for his touch.

He moaned her name softly, and moved his kisses from her lips to her jaw and then to feather down her neck.

The weight of his warm hand on her ankle sent a shiver through her. He slowly slid it beneath her skirts, from her ankle . . . to her calf . . . and then to her knee.

She caught her breath when his warm fingers slid under her chemise to her thigh. She felt so vulnerable being in his arms while he was free to explore her as he wished. It also excited her, though, and she found herself parting her knees for him.

He gently stroked her inner thigh, never breaking the demanding kiss, and she strained toward him, yearning for him.

His fingers slipped up farther, just brushing her most secret spot. She jerked, gasping, and broke their kiss.

He cupped her warmly, his palm moving against her. She closed her eyes and rocked against him, completely captive to the amazing sensations. God, whatever he was doing, she didn’t want him to stop. If he tried, she’d grab his wrist and hold him there.

He slid his hand up and drew his fingers feather-soft over her. She arched against him, agonizingly aware of his every move, of the buttons of his waistcoat pressing against her side, of his tongue as he teased her and tempted her lips yet again, of his overwhelmingly masculine scent—but more than anything, of the magic he was performing with his hand.

She couldn’t stop moving against him, feeling the urgent new sensations grow stronger and stronger. It was like a fire building even higher, and she didn’t know what to—

Suddenly a flicker of fire captured her in its grip and she arched against him as mad waves of passion convulsed through her. He never stopped moving his hand, holding her tightly until she collapsed against him. It took several long moments before she could even think.

Good God, what was that?
She wanted it to happen again and again.
Is this why so many people throw their lives away on love?

The thought captured her attention as her breathing slowed to normal.
Love? Not with Sin.
He was exciting, handsome, and amusing, but he wasn’t the sort of
man a woman could give her heart to. He would be the first one to admit that, too. She’d already been down that path and she wasn’t about to let it happen again.

Her heart sank. What was she doing, playing with the same fire that had burned her years ago? It was madness.

Outside the salon, footsteps could be heard coming and going as the dining room was readied for dinner. Rose pushed herself upright, out of Sin’s embrace.

Sin let her go. “That, my little wild Rose, was quite a wager.”

“And it was—” She couldn’t think of a word big enough to describe her feelings as she turned from him so that he couldn’t see her trembling lips. “Quite worthwhile.”

He laughed softly. “You are an intriguing woman, Miss Rose Balfour. I never know what you’re going to say or—”

“Where is she, then?” It sounded like the duchess was right outside the salon door. “Someone should fetch her. If she’s not in the dining room, then look in the library. Like Roxburghe, she can’t go without a book in her hand.”

Rose stood, moved past him, and glanced at her hair in the mirror. “Oh no!” She moved pins from here and there to reaffix several strands that had come loose. “I’ll need Annie to redo this, but at least I can walk to my room now.”

She shook out her gown and adjusted the sash at her waist, each moment making her feel more and
more ill at ease. Even as she prepared to leave him, she yearned for him, wished with all of her heart that she could return to the circle of his arms. A wave of loneliness washed over her. It was oddly painful, to be lonely for someone who was standing right there with her. She swallowed a sudden lump that had grown in her throat.

Sin seemed wholly unaffected. He leaned against the mantel and watched her with a faint smile. “I’ll take you to your maid. But first, we should set another wager. One with even more . . . worthwhile consequences.”

And then what?
she wondered.
There will be another one? And another one? And each one will draw me closer to you, and yet further away from—
From what? What did she have to lose?

She wasn’t certain. Her thoughts were in too much of a jumble for her to figure anything out right now. “We’ll discuss that another time,” she said quickly. “How do I get back to my room unseen?”