Sweet Enemy (6 page)

Miss Claremont’s voice snagged as she asked, “A-and this is not compromising, my lord?”

“Ah,” he drawled, “that is the rub.” He brought one hand up to her nape, using his thumb to caress her cheek and jaw, steeling himself against the jolt of pleasure he received just from touching her. She would be the one learning a lesson here tonight, not him. “To be well and truly compromised in society’s eyes, my dear, one has to have a witness.”

Her eyes flew to his, uncertainty lightening them a shade to the most alluring lilac.

“As there is no one here but you and I,” he whispered, “I could taste you.” He brushed his lips against hers in a light caress. She trembled but did not jerk away. “Touch you,” he murmured, trailing a finger down her neck to nearly graze the swell of her bosom before detouring to her delicate collarbone. Her chest hitched beneath his touch. “Anywhere,” he purred as he took her lips in a kiss meant to scandalize.

Geoffrey swallowed her surprised gasp, coaxing her lips open with little effort. Apples and lemons enveloped him. Christ, he’d never get the scent of her out of his memory.

She accepted his tongue with a hesitation that told him she’d never been kissed. His instincts whispered to hold back, but then she returned the kiss with a fervor that fired his blood.

He couldn’t stop his hand from sliding into her silken hair, tugging it from its pins as he luxuriated in the feel of her tresses. His other hand held her still so he could explore her mouth fully. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get…

Only when he heard his own moan did Geoffrey recall where he was, and with whom. He sucked a deep breath through his nose and gentled the kiss.

He wasn’t a cad, after all. He just wanted to teach her a lesson in managing men, particularly him:
Don’t even try it.
He indulged himself with one last lingering taste, then stepped back from Miss Claremont, shaken at how ragged his breathing still was. He couldn’t let her see how she affected him. He waited until she opened her dazed eyes and smiled grimly.

“I can do all that and still not have to marry you in the morning,” he stated flatly.

Her gasp felt like a slap, so much so that Geoffrey grimaced.

She raised a trembling hand to her lips, her eyes accusing. The confusion and hurt Geoffrey saw in her expression stilled him, taking the edge off of his righteous
anger. Damn, but she looked so innocent. Could he have been wrong about her intentions?

She lowered her arm, eyes narrowing as her hands fisted at her sides. “You scoundrel,” she uttered, low.

Geoffrey stood up straighter and gave her a curt nod. An apology formed on his lips just as a sharp spasm clinched his back, turning his words into an involuntary grunt of pain.

Miss Claremont’s eyes widened and her head tilted slightly to the side. Her gaze took on an assessing look he didn’t care for.

Now that his mind had once again seized upon the pain from his war injury, it sharpened. Geoffrey gritted his teeth, struggling to give no other outward sign of his discomfort. He needed to get off of his feet. He needed a drink. He needed Miss Claremont to leave.

“Just so,” he clipped. “Now, I suggest you return to your room. Un—” Another spasm seized him, stealing his breath. “Uncompromised.”

The euphoria that had coursed through Geoffrey while he’d kissed her quickly lost its hold as pain overrode his senses. He tried to relax the knotted muscles around his lower back, praying she quit the room before he disgraced himself by groaning aloud.

But she didn’t. Rather, she opened her mouth, seemed to think better of it and closed it again. Did she plan to give him a much deserved set down? Well, he bloody well wished she would get on with it and leave.

Instead, she uttered a disgusted sigh. “I hurt you when I fell from the ladder, didn’t I?”

Surprise lanced through him as surely as the burn speared through angry muscle. Whatever he’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that. Still, the last thing he needed was a rush of female pity right now. “I assure you, I am well—,” he said, only to be cut off as she stepped near and raised her hand to his brow. Her cool fingers barely skimmed his skin, bringing gooseflesh followed by a rush of heat.

“I recognize the signs of pain,” she murmured, her eyes on his briefly before sweeping him. “Your pupils are dilated more than the dim light accounts for and your skin is slightly clammy and cool to the touch despite your proximity to the fire.”

Her hand trailed down his neck, where she pressed gently. He swallowed, hard.

“Your heartbeat is still accelerated. Intoxication would cause such symptoms,” she said, removing her hand from him. “Yet judging from your reflexes as you caught me and the fact that I—” Her face turned nearly crimson in the firelight. “I…tasted no liquor on your lips, you aren’t the least bit intoxicated.”

He glanced at the decanter of brandy on the mantel, relief so tantalizingly close, yet so far away. “Not yet,” he grumbled.

Miss Claremont cleared her throat. “Well, while you don’t deserve it after behaving like such a…such a…
bounder
,” she said, finally settling on an insult, “I can’t, in good conscience, let you continue to suffer when you injured yourself catching me. Not when I can help.”

Geoffrey snorted. Why wouldn’t the woman just leave, so he
could
get intoxicated? It was the only thing he knew that would dull the agony. “
You
can help? What are you? Some kind of debutante doctor?”

Miss Claremont’s violet eyes flashed and her lips pursed. “Something like that.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it is nothing that won’t be fine by morning. Now, go back to your room.”

She stared at him a long moment, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. And yet she also looked vaguely…relieved. “If you insist, my lord.”

Geoffrey relaxed his stance as he watched her walk away, grateful he’d soon be alone.

Miss Claremont paused beside the bookcase nearest the passageway opening and bent to retrieve something.

His gaze followed her movement. He saw a book, lying open, cover up, on the floor. Oh yes. He’d thought
he’d heard a thud right before she’d landed in his arms. As she picked it up, he squinted his eyes to see which volume had so interested Miss Claremont that she’d risked climbing a rolling ladder in the dark to reach it.

He blanched when he realized what she’d chosen. Had she known what she was pulling from the shelf? Alarm clenched his gut. Had she looked inside it yet? God, he hoped not. He should have removed that book years ago. “Miss Claremont,” he barked.

She ignored him, quickening her step.

His lower back throbbed as he limped after her. She reached out to unlock the double doors as if she hadn’t heard him. “Miss Claremont,” he bellowed. “Halt!”

She jerked to a stop, her shoulders stiff. Geoffrey grimaced, regretting his authoritative tone. He stopped beside her. Moonlight washed her face pale and she kept her expression blank and controlled. He
was
a cad, an ogre even, not to let her escape the library with what dignity she had left after he’d trapped her, kissed her and then so harshly rebuffed her offer of help, but he couldn’t allow her to take his brother’s private volume. She had no business seeing anything it contained.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he held out his hand. Miss Claremont surrendered the book easily, much to Geoffrey’s relief. She wouldn’t look at him, but her hand trembled minutely as she withdrew it. His remaining anger deflated. “Might I assist you in choosing another book?”

She turned her head to him then. Her face was as cool as the sea off Cornwall, yet her eyes blazed purple fire. “No, thank you, my lord,” she said bitingly. “I find I no longer care for your
library
, or anything in it.” She took a deep breath and swung open the doors. “You shan’t find me here again.” She marched off in the direction of the central hallway.

Geoffrey scowled at her retreating form for a moment, then pulled the doors closed. He limped back to the fireplace, stopping at the tray that held the brandy.
He laid his brother’s book on the mantel, grasped the decanter and poured.

He knew from experience that he’d need more than a couple of drinks to dull the pain before he could stretch out his gnarled muscles enough to sleep. He threw back another glass and settled into the wingback chair near the crackling fire.

“You ass,” he said aloud, shaking his head. His behavior had been deplorable. This damned house party had him on edge. Yet he couldn’t deny the thrill he’d felt with her in his arms and at the awareness he’d seen form in her eyes. He breathed in her scent, which still clung to him. What a pleasure it would be to awaken Liliana Claremont’s passion.

Geoffrey caught himself. “Watch out, old boy,” he said, taking another swallow of brandy.
That
was the pleasure of a husband.

He pictured his mother’s smug face earlier this afternoon when she’d sprung this ordeal upon him, and his fingers tightened around his glass.

What the hell had he been thinking, taking such a chance with Miss Claremont? The countess would have invited women cut from the same cloth as herself. Miss Claremont might have shown compassion because she thought she’d caused his injury, but no doubt on the morrow she would find a way to use his foolish actions to her advantage. Damn.

After several drinks, his pain and guilt receded on a brandied cloud and his mind returned to her. He’d have to apologize, of course. And then he’d determine what the delectable chit’s real intentions were toward him and nip them if he must.

Because he’d hang before he married
anyone
attending his mother’s bloody little house party.

L

She’d spent most of her morning looking for another way into Stratford’s study while maids had tidied the family suites and the private parlors. Now she intended to try her luck searching them.

She stifled a yawn.
Curse Stratford,
she thought for the umpteenth time this morning. Her fatigue could be laid squarely at his arrogant, self-righteous feet. After their little encounter, she’d hardly slept a wink. She tried the first door handle but found it locked.

What a blasted fool she was. How could she blurt her true feelings about not wanting a husband? Stratford had given her the perfect excuse for her presence, both in his library and at Somerton Park, when he’d accused her of setting out to trap him. Why hadn’t she leapt on it?

Liliana released a tight breath as she tried the next door handle to no avail.
Because I don’t think well on my feet.
She preferred things to go as planned, and when they did not, she needed time to process.

And then she’d gone and drawn more attention to herself because she couldn’t bear to see the man suffering
on her account. Yet an entire sleepless night spent evaluating her actions—and his—left her more troubled than resolved. He’d seemed awfully sincere in his belief that she was just one of the many females out to land him. Perhaps he hadn’t connected her to her father. Perhaps he didn’t suspect her true motives at all.

Liliana groaned. If he hadn’t before, he very well might now. Considering their disastrous encounter it had become imperative to avoid him at all costs.

A scuffling sound drew Liliana’s attention. Her muscles tensed and she held her breath, listening. A rhythmic scraping, like slippers on wood, raced up the stairs at a hurried pace. A loud creak sounded from one of the upper steps. Drat—if she were caught again, she’d certainly be exposed!

Liliana shot down the hall, hoping to make it around the corner before a maid or housekeeper emerged. She jerked left into a tiny nook and jiggled the door handles on either side, but neither would give.

Blast. But she wasn’t caught yet. She tucked herself as tightly into the corner as she could manage, praying the servant had no reason to venture this far.

The footsteps persisted, getting closer, and Liliana stopped breathing.

“Psssst.” The harsh whisper sounded familiar. “Lily, are you up here?”

Relief poured through Liliana. “Penelope?” The stricture in her throat eased. She stepped around the corner to see her cousin looking quite out of sorts. A blond ringlet had slipped from Penelope’s normally perfect coiffure, and she struggled to catch her breath from the quick upward flight.

“There you are!” Penelope gasped. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” She rushed forward, grasped Liliana’s hand and started tugging her back toward the stairs.

“Why?” Liliana asked, allowing herself to be pulled along. “And where are we going in such a hurry?”

“Back to our room,” Penelope answered over her shoulder. “I just hope we’re not too late. I know I promised to cover for you should you be missed, but even I can’t help you now.”

Had Stratford told Aunt Eliza about last night? That was the only reason for Penelope to be so upset.