Tempting a Devil (21 page)

He glanced over his shoulder and Harry looked back at him with the same gleam of excitement she’d had that morning when they’d crouched behind a tree and watched the fawn walk to the stream right in front of them.

He tugged her to a stop in front of another set of doors. A single lamp, turned down low, lighted the empty room inside. “Where are we?” Harry whispered.

“Throckton’s study,” Roger said with a conspiratorial grin. “Shall we go in?”

Harry’s eyes were wide. “We shouldn’t,” she said, but her voice was indecisive.

“He’ll never know,” Roger told her. He pointed at the room beyond the windows set in the doors. “There’s no one in there,” he said, trying to convince her. “We can be alone. No one will find us.”

Harry’s eyes cut from him to the doors and back again as she nibbled her lip. Roger couldn’t resist the invitation and leaned in for a kiss. Harry didn’t disappoint. The kiss they shared had none of the innocence of those children at the stream. It was full of the desires of two adults who hungered for the same things. She tasted better every time Roger kissed her. He loved it, the almost too-sweet flavor of mint and tea. The flower scent of her perfume settled on his tongue, too, a heady mixture. Her lips were so soft that Roger feared bruising them with his ardor, and eased back. “Inside?” he whispered.

Harry nodded. Roger wasted no time opening the door and pulling her through. As soon as she was inside, he closed the door, checking both ways outside to make sure no one saw them go in.

Without words, he pulled Harry back into his arms and they spun around until her
back rested on the wall to the left of a large desk dominating the room opposite a door that led into the hallway.

Roger fell into Harry’s desire for him. She had never learned the art of pretense, it would seem. Most women assumed an air of reluctance, forcing Roger into a chase he knew he’d win and he resented. Harry bared her soul to him, showing him with each touch and sigh and kiss how much she wanted him. It was intoxicating. He felt as if he’d drunk a bottle of the best scotch, light-headed and pleasantly muffled from the cares of the world.

Finally he broke the kiss, a little desperate to separate himself from Harry long enough to keep his wits about him. Harry protested with a low, purring mewl that made the hair on his nape rise as his need for her grew. Her hands reached for his hips, pulling him close. As much as Roger wanted to lose himself completely with her, he knew he couldn’t disguise a ruined pair of pants tonight. He rested his forehead on Harry’s. “Lift your leg,” he told her softly, his voice coming out gruffer than he’d intended.

“What?” she asked, clearly confused. “Lift it where?”

Roger laughed under his breath. “Good point. I suppose we don’t have to do this against the wall, either.” He started to pull away, but Harry wouldn’t let him.

“I like the wall,” she whispered. “I’ve grown rather fond of walls recently.” She nuzzled his neck.

“Keep your leg wherever you damn well please,” Roger said roughly. “I can work with that.” It was Harry’s turn to chuckle, the sound vibrating against his throat where she was kissing him.

He took a handful of her skirt and gently began to pull it up. He didn’t know
much about women’s dresses, other than how to get them out of them, but the material looked rather delicate to him. He had it all the way up to her thigh in a matter of moments and Harry’s leg wrapped around his. He felt the tap of her heel against his calf through his hose.

He wrapped his hand around her thigh, her warm, soft skin radiating through his palm. He’d removed his gloves when they’d walked out on the porch earlier, anticipating the opportunity to touch her like this, and he had never been so glad to have planned ahead. He ran his hand over and around her thigh before taking it firmly in his palm and lifting it higher against his hip. “Right there,” he whispered.

He kissed her then, craving the taste of her and the moist heat of her mouth. He’d never enjoyed kissing a woman as much as he enjoyed kissing Harry. There was nothing delicate about the way she took what she wanted. She was a handful in every way. As the kiss deepened, Roger slid his hand from her thigh to her bare derriere under the back of her dress. She gasped.

“Hmm,” Roger hummed appreciatively against her lips. “I love the way you feel.”

Harry relaxed in his arms. “Do you?” she murmured. “I love the feel of you loving the way I feel.”

He laughed again. Even like this she was still Harry, cheeky and funny. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly down the furrow between her plump buttocks and barely skimmed her sex, making her shiver in his arms. “Do you?” he asked, placing kisses along her jaw. “What about this? Do you like the way this feels, too?” He drummed his fingertips against that sensitive area and she tensed in his arms. “Yes?” he asked quietly. This was actually further than he’d meant to go when he’d snuck off with her. He’d
thought just a few stolen kisses.

“Yes,” she said with a breathy sigh.

Roger moved his fingers more deliberately, dipping them nearer to her entrance, loving everything about the way she felt there, too.

Suddenly the door across from them flew open and a woman said, “In here, my dear. You can rest a moment right here.”

Harry cried out at the sudden interruption as Roger tried to shield her with his body. He realized too late that her leg was still wrapped around him and visible to those behind them, although her face was buried in his chest.

“Oh, good Lord,” Lady Anne said in flustered tones. The door slammed and the room fell into semidarkness once again. On the other side of the door, Roger could hear voices raised in alarmed inquiry. The voices faded and Roger’s heartbeat slowed down enough to let him think clearly.

“We have to go,” he told Harry urgently. “I don’t think they saw who it was, at least not enough to say with any certainty.” He pried Harry’s hands from his lapel as her leg fell away from him, her foot hitting the carpet with an ominous thud.

“I am ruined,” she said in a defeated voice.

“Well, I’m not exactly overjoyed, either,” Roger said wryly, refusing to acknowledge the hurt her words caused him. It was what he’d been worried about all along, wasn’t it? But he wasn’t going to let his indiscretion and poor judgment ruin her life. From now on he’d be very careful not to let scandal touch her. “Come on, we’re not ruined yet.” He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Now, hurry and right yourself. We haven’t much time.”

Harry quickly shook out her skirts and they moved toward the balcony doors just as the study door flew open and Throckton was thrust inside to be followed by his sister.

“Hurry and light another lamp,” Lady Anne hissed. “And, Throckton, you’ve been here for at least a quarter hour showing them your paintings.”

“My what?” the earl said in an aggrieved tone. “What the devil is going on?”

“Never mind,” Lady Anne said. She looked over at Roger. “Fix your hair.” Roger immediately ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it. Lady Anne turned to Harry. “You probably always look that way,” she said, dismissing Harry’s just-kissed look and tumbling locks. “Now get ready.”

“Ready for what?” the earl said, this time a little more forcefully. “Templeton, what have you done?”

“Throckton, old man, help us out,” Roger pleaded. “Please? The lady’s reputation is at stake.”

The earl looked at Harry and after a moment sighed in capitulation. “Get over here and look at my painting,” he said grudgingly. “I have no idea what is so special about it.”

Roger grabbed Harry’s hand and went to stand next to the earl in front of a small painting of a farm. There were voices in the hallway again, and one voice in particular demanded that someone open the door.

Lady Anne had just reached Roger’s side, shoving Harry over so she stood on the end of their odd little row, putting Lady Anne between the two of them, when the door was opened abruptly and a woman said, “There!” in a loud, breathless voice. All four of them turned to look at the crowd by the door.

“Yes?” the earl inquired calmly, as if a mob accosted him in his study every evening. “Is there something amiss?”

The leader of the pack was Lady Crosby, who loved nothing more than a good
on-dit
to share over tea in the drawing rooms of society. “Lady Anne and I interrupted an amorous adventure here moments ago,” she declared.

“We did?” Lady Anne asked in complete confusion.

Lady Crosby sniffed in indignation. “My dear, do not dissemble. You opened the door to let poor Miss Threadle rest for a moment to overcome her nerves, and before we could enter, you exclaimed and slammed the door shut and rushed us off.”

“Is that what that was about?” the earl asked, glaring at Lady Anne. “Anne, you know I do not allow my study to be used as a fainting room for ill young ladies.”

Lady Anne looked thoroughly chastised. “I know, my lord, and I am sorry. When I saw you in here with Mr. Templeton and Lady Mercer, I panicked and slammed the door rather than risk your wrath.”

It was all Roger could do to contain his burst of laughter. Throckton’s wrath was about as substantial as sea foam. He simply didn’t have a good row in him, poor sod. But he’d certainly come through for him and Harry tonight. Roger wouldn’t forget that.

“I would hardly call admiring this pastoral scene an amorous adventure,” he risked commenting, “but I do like it.”

“You”—Lady Crosby pointed—“I am quite sure you are the gentleman I saw.”

“Well, yes, I was here, as both the earl and Lady Anne have pointed out,” Roger admitted ruefully. “I had no idea retreating with the earl to his study would cause a furor.”

“Neither did I,” Harry said, flustered. “Is it improper to have come with the earl to see his paintings?” she asked shyly of Lady Anne. “I didn’t think it would be construed as indiscreet.” She looked as if she wanted to cry, and Roger wasn’t sure it was an act.

“Look what you’ve done,” Roger accused Lady Crosby with a glare, taking a page from Hil’s book. “You’ve upset Lady Mercer.”

“Indeed,” a wry voice said from the crowd, though Roger couldn’t discern who it was.

The earl sighed and placated his guests with a smile. “I simply brought my old friend Templeton and Lady Mercer to my study for a short respite from the excitement of the evening. I was planning on rejoining my guests shortly. But I am relieved to see my absence was noted by so many and you came in search of me. A host certainly enjoys the approbation of his guests.” He moved toward the door. “Where is Miss Threadle? Is she quite all right?” He looked over his shoulder. “Anne, you’ll see to Templeton and Lady Mercer for me, won’t you? I must see to my other guests. Templeton, it was good to see you again. Lady Mercer.” He left them with a small bow as he ushered the others from the room, placating a protesting Lady Crosby with some made-up story of a painting by an undiscovered artist that would someday be recognized as a master.

When the door finally closed behind them, Harry sagged beside Lady Anne and then turned and fell into the nearest chair. “I cannot believe how close that was to disaster,” she declared dramatically.

Lady Anne sighed and closed her eyes briefly. “I cannot either,” she said. She opened her eyes to glare at Roger. “You should know better!”

“Me?” he asked, placing a hand on his chest while adopting his most innocent
look, which really wasn’t very good.

“Yes, you,” Lady Anne said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You devil. Don’t pretend this isn’t your fault.”

“It is,” Harry agreed emphatically. “He lured me in here.”

“Lured?” Roger said incredulously. “You followed me without protest.”

“A lamb to the slaughter,” Harry said sternly. Then she grinned and burst into giggles. “Oh, Roger, why do I let you talk me into these things?”

“Oh, don’t blame yourself, dear,” Lady Anne said with a comforting pat on Harry’s shoulder. “These Devils can talk a saint into sinning.”

“It wasn’t as if the task was that difficult,” Roger said, holding out a hand to help Harry get up from her chair. “I may be a Devil, but Harry is no saint.”

Chapter Nineteen

Harry had so much fun with Roger the week following their near escape at the Earl of Throckton’s that she almost forgot why she was carrying on with him in the first place. She’d never felt so wooed and wanted. It was the most exhilarating thing she’d ever experienced.

Roger took her out every night. They went to dinner parties, assemblies, a musicale that neither enjoyed, the opera, and even Vauxhall. Harry had never had so much fun in her life. Roger made sure they did all the things she’d been longing to do, but had been unable to when married to Mercer, and too frightened to do on her own when she got to London.

During the day, he even called several times when she had guests visiting. He made it quite obvious they were involved, and she loved the speculative and jealous looks she received. On one special occasion he’d gone to the park with her and Mercy. The little boy had been frightened of Roger at first. Charlotte said it was because he wasn’t used to being around men, which in her household was probably true. But after a half hour or so, Mercy had been laughing and chasing the ball as Roger rolled it across the green. With Roger there, and a footman, Harry had felt safe. It gave her a warm feeling to have Roger protecting her. She knew she ought to be stronger, knew that Roger wasn’t going to stay and be there for them always, but she ignored the danger to her heart and pretended he would.

It was foolish in so many ways. But their near miss at Throckton’s soiree had
made Harry realize two very important things. The first was that she didn’t want to be ruined. Well, she very much wanted Roger to actually do the deed, but she no longer wanted all of society to know about it. Quite frankly, she didn’t really wish to be known as a loose woman. She was at her wit’s end already with this charade. She really couldn’t see having to actually live the life of a fallen woman. How utterly exhausting it would be. A little scandal was fine for a widow of means; but a terrible scandal would be awful. And they had just barely avoided a terrible scandal, thanks to Lady Anne and the earl. Her ruination had seemed like the perfect plan when Faircloth wouldn’t leave her alone and she’d been so desperate that she was willing to try anything. But now … now she’d had time to think about it. She still hoped Roger’s attentions would deter Faircloth, and to that end she would continue to publicly flirt outrageously with Roger. But anything more would have to wait for the privacy of home. A scandal now would ruin her forever. The ton never forgot. And she mustn’t either.