Only an Earl Will Do (15 page)

Elizabeth grinned and, once alone, turned to face Henry. “Thank you for coming, but it wasn’t necessary. As you can see I’m fine.” She gestured to herself.

“I was in Whites; they’ve reinstated my membership.” He grinned. “Laird McCalter informed me of ye predicament.” Henry swallowed, a small frown marring his otherwise perfect brow. “May I speak candidly, Elizabeth?”

“Of course.”

Henry seemed to gather himself before he said, “I’ve never known such fear as I had when I heard what happened to ye. It consumed me, and I had to see ye. To make sure you were well.”

“I’m more than well, but thank you for caring so much. That’s very sweet.”

His gaze smoldered and the longing near overrode all decorum in her. “I’ve always cared, lass.”

Forgetting or no longer caring where they were, the open library door, the servants, everything, Elizabeth watched as Henry dipped his head and captured her lips with his, a light feathery touch that made her toes curl in her slippers. His hands settled on her hips, and she wrapped her arms about his neck, closing the small space that separated them.

He broke the kiss, his gaze ferocious with serious intent. “I cannot live my life without ye.”

She shuffled even closer. Such actions were wicked and not at all responsible, but she no longer cared. “Then don’t.”

His eyes widened, and she didn’t give him a chance to respond before she kissed him again, this time with just as much need and hunger as he. Henry required no urging and deepened the embrace. Elizabeth gasped as a multitude of emotions coiled through her. With relentlessness he urged her on, teased and taunted her with the slide of his tongue, a nip against her lip. It was beyond wonderful, and only reinforced the thought that making love to a man could be more than she’d ever known.

Leaning into him, her nipples pebbled against her soft cotton shift and, with each movement, heat pooled at her core. Henry’s clasp against her hip slid toward her breast, and the slow glide of his touch maddened her. Too slow, too little when she wanted everything now, to be as they once were, two souls that created a whole.

Her breath hitched as the slightest touch skimmed her breast and, needing more, Elizabeth tried to move, to make his hand clasp hers as she wanted, needed. “Henry,” she sighed, biting her bottom lip and loving the fact his attention was fixed on her mouth.

“I’ve missed you and me,” he said, taking possession of her mouth once more. Elizabeth whimpered through the onslaught of emotions he’d always been able to bring forth. How she’d missed him and the feelings he’d always evoked. He brought her to life with a touch, a look, a smile… Somehow he’d always managed to intoxicate her soul with his love.

“Henry…” Elizabeth met his gaze. “Don’t stop.”

…

Henry pulled back and watched as Elizabeth’s emerald green eyes darkened and swirled with longing. For months he’d wanted to see such a look in her eyes, and it was an elixir to his soul to finally have it aimed at him.

“We’re in the parlor, lass,” he said, playing with the buttons along the back of her gown, wishing he could pry each one open, slide the garment off her, and ravish her, here and now.

She chuckled, playing with his cravat. “I’m fully aware of where we are.”

Henry gathered his wits, resting his forehead lightly against hers. Elizabeth’s words were logical but not heartfelt. Should he wish it—and he did, very much so—he’d only have to lay her down on the settee, lift up her silk skirts, and seduce her a second time. Make love to her a second time.

His heart beat frantically in his chest. Never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted Elizabeth right at this moment. With willpower he’d not thought he possessed, Henry set her back and placed some distance between them. “I promise ye we’ll discuss you and me in more detail. But first,” he said, a serious edge to his words. “Did ye read my note?”

She nodded. “I did, and I will meet you there tonight.”

His finger stroked her bottom lip before he let his hand drop to his side. “Good, now, tell me everything you can remember from earlier today. Anything you think may help us in finding out who did this to you and Lady Victoria.”

Elizabeth nodded; her brow furrowed as she recounted the tale in full, even including the burly man she’d noted. They spoke for some time, her memory becoming more vivid with each line of questioning. It was only when she wilted a little, tiredness taking its toll, did Henry stop.

“It will be difficult to charge Riddledale with such a crime, and I’m loathsome to think a man would stoop to such a level all because he could not get what he wants.” He paused. “You look in need of more tea and rest. I will wait here until your brother returns. I wish to discuss this further, in any case, and get his thoughts on the matter.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I think I shall take your advice and have a little lie-down. It’s been quite an eventful day.”

The butler knocked on the open door. “Lord Muir, his grace wishes to see you in the library if you please.”

“Of course. I will be there forthwith.”

Henry turned back to Elizabeth and his mind was torn at the delectable sight she made. Her lips, swollen and well kissed, made him ache to do it again, made him want to forget someone was trying to threaten her and keep them apart. But then to ensure the future he envisioned, he must stop Riddledale and his maddening schemes. “I will see ye tonight then?”

“You will,” she said, straightening her gown. “I look forward to it.”

Henry ran a hand through his hair as he watched Elizabeth walk from the room. He soon followed and made his way toward the library. The door was ajar and, knocking once, he entered, noting a man he’d never seen before sitting before the duke’s desk.

His grace looked displeased, but Henry wasn’t sure if it was due to his presence or what had happened earlier. Probably a combination of the two. “Lord Muir, this is Mr. Gribbles. He’s the Bow Street runner I’ve hired to look into the incident today.”

Henry shook the wiry-framed man’s hand, then sat. His grace rattled off the day’s events, as the runner noted the information down on his small piece of parchment.

He listened to the numerous gifts Elizabeth had received over the past months, the sly comments and outings, the threats Lord Riddledale had bestowed. Henry shuddered at how close Elizabeth had come to death. That right at this moment, had that bullet strayed a little lower on the vehicle, the life he wished for, the future he’d so carefully planned with Elizabeth, would be nothing but a lost dream.

Anger coursed through him at the thought of losing her, of her being the victim of some fool’s obsession and jealousy. He’d be damned if some pompous English bastard like Lord Riddledale would take her away from him, ruin his life and one that, deep down, he knew Elizabeth wished for as well.

“The gentleman you mention, if indeed the culprit, may try some other nefarious way in which to gain her hand,” the runner said, tapping his pencil against his notebook.

Henry pulled himself from his thoughts. “And what do you intend to do about it?”

The runner took a deep breath, his lips pursing with the action. “He seems, to me, to be a coward by nature, if his actions over the last months are anything to go by. It first involved benign courtship. Flowers and love notes. His ability to gain her heart has failed, and so he has turned more devious by using threats and demands toward the lady involved. And now we see he has changed his tack once more to remove the young woman altogether, so no one can ever have her,” the runner said, pausing.

“None of Lord Riddledale’s plans have worked to secure Lady Newland to be his wife. To me, the marquis is not of sound mind and may try another way of seeking his revenge against your sister, your grace. I will place an associate of mine to keep watch on Lord Riddledale and his daily routine. I do believe the henchman your sister spied is who’s carrying out these latest attacks.”

Henry nodded in agreement, the man’s summary of Lord Riddledale’s character ringing only too true and what they had come to surmise as well. Riddledale had always been a jealous fop and a coward to boot. From the first, Henry had never liked the marquis, had not liked his slyness, which was as slippery as an eel; his mannerisms and temperament ran as hot and cold as an English summer. He would have his revenge if it were the last thing he did on this earth. How dare the bastard have a lady’s carriage shot at? Henry didn’t believe for a moment it was anyone else but Riddledale who’d orchestrated the attack.

“This will, of course, come at a cost…”

The duke sat back in his chair and raised his brow. “Hire anyone and as many as you need for the task. I’ll not have my sister or family threatened in such a way again. Money is no concern.”

The runner stood and bent into a deep yet awkward bow. “Thank you, your grace.” The runner strode out the door, closing it behind him with a formidable click.

Henry stood and walked over to the desk. He leaned over the inlaid mahogany and met the duke’s disdainful glare. “I wish for Elizabeth to be my wife. And today, right here and now, I’m formally asking ye for her hand. I care not how ye answer, but she will marry me and only me.”

The duke glared, standing and placing them at equal height. “What makes you so sure Elizabeth will even have you? You may be what some would deem friends, but I’ve heard whispers of your close association with Miss Andrews. And I do not care to see my sister hurt a second time, Lord Muir. She deserves much better than you.”

Henry’s jaw clenched. “I suppose ye deem her more suitable for ye pretty English friend, Lord Dean. She’ll not marry him or anyone ye believe fit. She’s mine, has always been mine.”

“Thomas!” the duke called out, ignoring his words.

Henry turned as the old retainer walked into the room a moment later. Henry eyed him with humor. If the duke thought the old codger was strong enough to throw him out on his ass, he would soon find out otherwise.

Henry chuckled. “I’ll be back tomorrow to call on Elizabeth. And I will give ye until then to come to terms with my proposal. I wish your sister to be my wife, and should she agree, she will be by season’s end. Good day to ye, your grace.”

The duke looked past him, and Henry strove not to react to the cold, aristocratic bastard. He reminded himself the duke loved his sisters, would protect them and see them happy over anything else. And he would eventually come to accept Elizabeth’s happiness as his wife.

“Please show Lord Muir to the door, Thomas. He is leaving.”

Henry smiled, knowing the gesture was more like a snarl. “Your grace.” He left without causing a scene and let out a frustrated breath when he stepped onto the footpath. He glanced toward the second floor windows where Elizabeth hopefully slept and then headed back to Whites to collect his horse. In his haste to make the Worthingham’s London home, he’d left his mount behind.

His hastened strides ate the short distance to the gentleman’s club and it wasn’t long before the bow window in St. James came into view. Thoughts of how to keep Elizabeth safe tumbled about in his mind. The unhinged marquis would not get away with such a folly. He would pay for his callous acts. And he’d also place his own man on the case, to ensure the runner did carry out all he’d promised the duke, and to keep Lord Riddledale under careful scrutiny.

Henry was so close to winning Elizabeth’s heart once more, he wouldn’t lose her to anything or anyone. Their future would be a happy one. Nothing else was an option.

Chapter Fourteen

The sound of the carriage wheels on the gravel road went some way in lulling Elizabeth’s nerves, before they rocked to a halt before Theatre Royal on Drury Lane, and her calm demeanor vanished. Elizabeth sat patiently while her family—except Isolde, who had decided not to attend—alighted from the carriage and awaited her on the cobbled footpath. The front of the theater was ablaze with light, the sound of voices spilling out onto the sidewalk. The street sconces, with their smoky hue, gave the night an air of mystery and clandestine pleasures.

It had been so long since they’d been out in the capital. Their father had been a jovial man who’d not wanted his children to go into full mourning, and even though they missed him every day, they would honor his wishes and continue on as best they could.

They made their way through the front entrance of the building, past the tall circular pillars and into the buzzing throng of the saloon. Elizabeth nodded to friends she hadn’t seen in some weeks as they made their way to the ducal booth on the second floor, ushered to their seats by a footman dressed in red and black livery.

Victoria, Alice, and their mama sat in the front row, Josh and herself behind them.

Elizabeth pulled a spyglass out of her reticule and looked about. She spotted an actor peeking from behind the stage curtains as the orchestra made final adjustments to their instruments. Her mama turned and commented on the abundance of theatergoers and Elizabeth agreed, there were certainly many here tonight. Why, the gallery before them was almost full to capacity, conversations and laughter deafening and making speech challenging as they waited for the play to begin.

Elizabeth looked along the boxed seats and wondered if Henry had arrived. She spied Lord Dean and smiled in welcome when he bowed from across the multitude of boxes separating them. She supposed he was nice, a well-known, likeable, and trusted friend to her brother, and handsome, too, but he was not for her. Maybe Alice or Victoria could perhaps gain his heart.

Her attention moved past Lord Dean’s box, and her excitement vanished in an instant. She stifled an unladylike retort at seeing Henry seated beside Miss Andrews, the lady’s brother notably absent. Elizabeth focused her spyglass and watched them as best she could without being obvious, which she hated to admit, was probably quite obvious. They conversed, their enjoyment in each other’s company apparent to any who noted their presence.

Nausea pooled in her stomach when Miss Andrews laid her hand on Henry’s arm in a beguiling way, her eyes merry and full of admiration. She looked away when Henry sat back, looking about the theater himself. She masked her features to indifference and watched the stage, refusing to look back in Henry’s direction. She bit her lip to stop the sting of tears. Why had he come with Miss Andrews when he’d wanted to meet her here?

Thankfully, the play began, and darkness covered the overwhelming emotions seeing him closeted with the miss was doing to her composure. What was Henry about? Of course, they were his cousins, but that didn’t explain Mr. Andrews’s absence. Did Henry not understand what his being in a box alone with a woman of equal birth meant to society? What he was silently declaring to the ton? Elizabeth sighed in relief when the theater curtains drew back.

By the time the first act was complete, Elizabeth’s neck was stiff from her refusal to look anywhere other than the stage. A footman came in and lit the sconce on the wall as the actors prepared themselves for the second half. Elizabeth turned and smiled as a string of guests came to make their addresses.

All declared how happy they were to see the Worthinghams back in London. Elizabeth tried not to react every time the curtain pulled open, but her heart refused to listen and jumped with the hope that Henry would appear. Lord Dean, always the gentleman, called and, irked by Henry’s slight, Elizabeth played up to his pretty compliments and smiles, and even allowed him to kiss her hand. She was starting to wonder if she, too, had bats in her head like Lord Riddledale.

When the bell sounded for everyone to take their seats, Elizabeth sat and fixed her skirts. She cast a look at Henry’s box, and relief poured through her like a balm when she noted him sitting behind Miss Andrews and her now very present brother beside her.

Perhaps she’d been too hasty in judging him. Again…she mused, feeling a little guilty. Looking past Henry’s cousins, she started when her gaze locked with his. His eyes burned with something that resembled longing and definitely anger sparking behind his level stare.

Unable to tear her gaze away, she took in his finely cut suit, the starched white shirt overlaid by a silver embroidered waistcoat, and a perfectly tied cravat. Her hand clenched into a fist, her fingers ached to untie the knot about his neck, to run her hands through his hair, pull him to her lips and kiss him as they had only days ago in the seclusion of her family’s home. To make him hers and no one else’s.

No Miss Andrews. No one’s.

He nodded his head toward the exit before getting up and leaving the box. Elizabeth looked at Josh, relieved to see him so engrossed in the play, he’d have no idea what she was about to do.

“I’m feeling a little warm. I think I’ll go and use the retiring room for a moment. I’ll be back shortly,” Elizabeth said, going to stand.

Josh frowned, studying her quickly. “Should I come with you? I don’t think it’s safe for you to go on your own.”

She waved away his concerns. “That’s not necessary. No one will attempt anything foolish at the theater where anyone could see them. I’ll be back soon. I want to sit and have some fresh air. There will be servants there. I’ll be secure enough, I promise.” And with Henry beside her, she’d never feel in danger.

Her brother didn’t look convinced, but the laughing crowd soon pulled his attention back to the play. “Very well, but be as quick as you can.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth stood and left the box quickly, walking behind the stalls that were filled with the upper ten thousand who owned London. As she made her way to the stairs that led to the foyer below an arm shot out from a small room between the boxes and dragged her into the darkened space.

She stifled a gasp, for a moment thinking her brother’s fears that the assailant would strike her here had come true, before the whispered voice she knew as well as her own breathed against her ear. “Are ye trying to make me jealous tonight, Lady Newland?”

Elizabeth pushed him away so as to see him a little better and liked the fact she’d made him as crazed as he’d made her. It certainly wasn’t fair if she was the one forever wondering what he was doing, thinking, who he was with.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He looked at her incredulously, and she knew he didn’t believe her. “I think ye do.” He pulled her close, the thin material of her dress hardly a barrier between their bodies. Her breasts pushed hard against his chest, and she felt her blood warm at the contact. Again, she ached in places she wanted him to touch, willing herself to have some decorum, restraint. But when his hand idly rubbed up along her spine, then down to clasp her bottom, her resolve fractured.

“What are you up to, Henry?” her words but a whisper.

He grinned. “I want to kiss ye sweet lips and seduce ye to sin with me.”

Heat rushed through her body at his words. Henry tempted her, more than she liked to admit, more than she thought ever possible between a man and a woman, but her mind urged caution. They were at the theater in a room surrounded by the ton who thrived on scandalous on-dits. Not to mention they’d been down this road before, and it had ended in disaster. Well, not completely, she mused. She did have a son who was everything to her.

“We shouldn’t, Henry. Not here.”

He allowed no other words as he kissed her with such passion, such longing, she was soon swept up into the firestorm of need and belonging. His kiss was hard, demanding, all too consuming, and she knew deep down she ought to pull away, to make him stop and see sense, but instead of pushing him away, her hands clasped the lapels of his jacket and held him close.

The palms of his hands slid across her cheeks, holding her as his lips supped at hers as if giving him life, taking what they sought for sustenance and longing for more, to be more with him. The man in her arms consumed what little self-control she possessed, and she gave up the fight to see sense, to remain guarded, and succumbed to the passion.

Even after all their time apart, Henry knew how to kiss her. His teasing, beckoning lips seemed so right, his hands over her body, holding her tight against him made her long for his touch elsewhere, everywhere. She wanted to feel what he showed her the other day, to forget all the pain that had been between them for so long, and just enjoy.

He walked her backward until her legs hit something solid. She gasped through their kiss when he lifted her, his hands clasping her skirts and sliding them up her legs to pool about her hips. Henry stepped between her legs and need seized her.

The words
make love to me
flittered through her mind and with them a tremble of fear. What they were doing was wrong, against the rules. Against her rules, but she couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to, if she were being brutally honest.

Henry broke the kiss as he boldly removed a slipper; his large, warm hand left her skin burning as he wrapped it about her ankle, the touch tempting her to sin. He lifted her leg to sit against his hip, and she used it to pull him toward her. He stared at her a moment, understanding dawning in his eyes of what her action meant. His gaze was ferocious with need and layered with emotions she herself was only now coming to understand, to admit to herself.

“I want ye so much, Elizabeth.”

The lightest touch of his hand feathered across the skin on her hip. Elizabeth bit her lip, waiting for him to touch her where she ached most. He took her lips in a searing kiss as his hand
finally
ran over the thatch of curls at her core. His fingers ran across her sex, delving into her body with rhythmic strokes. She gasped, clutching at him as if he were the only thing keeping her on earth.

Wanting to make him as crazed for her as she was for him, Elizabeth slid her hand down his chest and felt along the hardness in his pants. He groaned, not shying away from her touch, but pushing against her clasp. Without heed, she touched him, enjoyed that she was able to make her highland earl as excited as she.

“What are you doing to me?” she gasped against his lips, never wanting him to stop the delicious sensations he was bestowing on her.

“Making love to ye in an unconventional way.”

The words, whispered against her neck, made her shiver. He shifted and pushed her further along this wonderful road of desire. Toward a pinnacle Elizabeth could not yet reach, but was maddened to climb.

“But I thought… Should you not…” She moaned when his thumb skimmed her sensitive bud, tipping the axis of her world.

He chuckled and nibbled the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Not tonight, lass. Not here. But for now this will have to do.”

Yes. For now,
her mind screamed. Having now sampled what the touch of a man could do, her life would never be the same. And nor did she want it to be. Their one time together in their youth was nothing like this kaleidoscope of sensations she struggled to comprehend and endure without screaming out his name in pleasure. The first time between them was fast and awkward. Nothing like this. This feeling that he evoked in her, made her wish to climb against him and demand more.

No longer was Henry the awkward youth on the cusp of adulthood. Now he knew how to touch a woman, how to please and bring pleasure to the female form, and she reveled in it.

“Henry,” she gasped, as relentlessly he stroked, kissed, marked her as his, and then it happened. A release, the pinnacle that was only moments ago so out of reach bloomed through her, and she cried out as shivers of delight stole throughout her body. Spasm upon spasm brought forth pleasure unlike any she’d ever known, and she shattered in his arms.

The sensations were exquisite, left her breathless, and wanting more of the same.

Henry muffled her cries with a kiss, taking her lips and allowing her pleasure to subdue, ebb and flow away just as his kiss softened, comforted, and eventually stopped.

“I had no idea.” Even Elizabeth could hear the wonder in her voice.

They stared at each for a moment before he stepped back, righting her gown and helping her to stand. “How pleasurable it can be between us every time I touch ye.” His answer was matter-of-fact, straight to the point, and without guile.

Elizabeth felt heat steal up her neck, an absurd reaction after what he’d just done to her. “And every time we’re alone, will you promise it will end in such a way?”

Henry chuckled, kissing her softly. The scent of sandalwood and something else she could not name intoxicated her senses. Elizabeth breathed deeply, wishing they never had to leave the small room that held nothing but
very
fond memories now.

“I certainly hope so.” He grinned. “I would do anything for ye, lass. I will always want to please and make ye happy. Your pleasure is mine.” He stole a look over her gown, stepping back seemingly pleased with what he saw. “How do ye feel?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Boneless. Like my legs have turned to jelly and my mind wishes to sleep.”

Henry laughed. “Then my work here is done. Now come, I must get you back to ye family before ye’re missed. We’ve been gone too long as it is.”

Elizabeth nodded and walked to the door. What they’d done she shouldn’t have allowed, but Henry had only to touch her and her resolve vanished like a breath of air. “When will I see you again?”

He lifted her hand and kissed it quickly. “I’ll be in the park after dawn if you’re up for a ride.” He opened the door and looked along the corridor.

Elizabeth nodded; the thought of being alone with Henry, even if only at Hyde Park, was what she wished. “I’ll be there.” She stepped into the corridor and started toward her family box. “Good night, Henry.”

“Good night, lass.” His whispered words floated up behind her, and she smiled.