Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord (27 page)

If he did not touch her soon, she was going to perish.

Isabel opened her eyes at the question. Utterly distracted by the path of his hands, caressing her thighs in the most maddening of ways. “Yes. Let’s.” He made quick work of the tapes on her pantaloons and slid one hand inside, widening her legs and brushing his fingers over the heated core of her.

“Good. I do not think that I can wait much longer to have you here.”

“No—” The word was exhaled on a breath as he slid one finger into her.

“I am so glad you feel the same way.” The words, so innocuous, coursed through her like liquid fire on the heels of a long, stroking caress that robbed her of intelligent thought. She let go of the statue and clung to him, and, without removing his hand, he lifted her in his arms and moved her to the bay window where he had shown her such pleasure the day before. This time, he did not sit, instead settling her into the seat and kneeling before her on the floor.

She was on fire. She craved his touch.

This was the emotion that marked the end of women. This was what ruined them.

She must resist it. Him.

She opened her eyes, meeting his molten gaze. “Wait.”

His fingers stroked slowly inside her. “Yes?”

She flexed against the remarkable movement, taking a deep breath and willing herself to remember what she had been about to say. “I just … you should know … I cannot love you.”

“No?” His thumb rubbed a wicked circle around the spot that she had only discovered yesterday.

She gasped. “I think I could grow very fond of you, though.”

He laughed then, low and dark, his free hand sliding her skirts up her legs. “I think I could do the same.”

“But really … I shan’t …” He spread her legs wide then, baring her flesh to the air and the room and his gaze. “Wait … what are you … you cannot!” She struggled to close her thighs, capturing his hand between them, and clasped her skirts, trying to push them down to hide herself from him. He could not possibly want to
look
at her there.

“Isabel.” He drawled her name in a lovely, rich caress.

She stopped. “Yes? ”

He leaned forward then, capturing her lips in a deep promise of a kiss. When she grew weak in his arms once more, he pulled back, placing a soft final kiss at the corner of her mouth before whispering, “Trust me, darling. You’re going to like me very much after this.”

He gently parted her thighs again, running his strong, knowing hands along the soft skin there. When he dipped his head and placed a soft, wet kiss at the inside of her knee, and traced a path up the smooth, pale skin of her inner thigh, Isabel covered her eyes in embarrassment that he would be so close to such a private, secret place. His fingers played at the auburn curls covering the center of her sex, sending wave after wave of temptation through her with the merest hint of a touch.

Finally, she uncovered her eyes, and met the sensual promise in his heated gaze. “That’s what I was waiting for. Never hide from me, beauty.”

He parted the slick folds of her sex then, stroking one finger down the center of her, her pulse racing from the feel of him against her.

He leaned closer, and when he spoke, the words were a wicked lash against her heated, wanting flesh. “You are so beautiful here. I want to know every inch of you. I want to feel every bit of your heat.” His finger circled the straining center of her, the perfect pressure of the caress wringing a cry from her.

“Do you know how much I want to taste you?”

Her eyes widened at the words. Surely he couldn’t mean … surely he wouldn’t…

And then he did.

His mouth was on her and her body was no longer her own, but entirely his. She gasped at the sensation, plunging her fingers into his soft sable hair, not moving, not wanting to push him away, not willing to pull him closer.

But he knew what she wanted. His mouth loved her in every possible way, his tongue stroking through the moist heat of her, licking at the very heart of her, teasing at her core in lush, brilliant circles that she was not sure she could bear. He pushed her higher and higher, opening wider, feasting upon her until she thought she might die from the pleasure of it. She lifted her hips toward him and he accepted the movement, bearing her weight as his tongue found the swollen, aching center of her pleasure in a series of firm strokes that stole her breath entirely.

She did pull him to her then, unwilling to give up this impossible, extraordinary sensation and the man who was sending it coursing through her body. The movements increased, the speed threatening her sanity as she cried his name.

He stopped then, for a long, unbearable moment, and she could not bear it. She squirmed, but his firm grip held her still, his mouth and tongue against her in excruciating stillness. He was killing her.

“Nick—” she whispered, “please … please don’t stop!”

He rewarded her begging with blessed movement, closing his lips around the tight, swollen nub of her and sucking, robbing her of thought and breath and leaving her only with sensation.

The feeling was too much to bear. “No … Nick … stop …”

But his wicked, knowing mouth spared her no quarter, instead licking faster, stroking deeper, and, finally, he thrust one, then two fingers deep into her, coaxing her closer and closer to the unknown precipice that she was hurtling toward—the one that she both feared and desired.

And then she was there, at the edge, and his mouth and hands and the satisfied growl deep in his throat were everywhere—and she tumbled over the edge on a wave of pleasure like nothing she had ever known. She cried his name as the room spun around them, clenching her fingers in his hair, clinging to the one stable thing in the maelstrom of sensation.

She collapsed against her seat, and after a long, lingering moment, Nick lifted his head, meeting her eyes. She registered the pleasure and the passion there, and she took a deep, shaking breath, attempting to compose herself as he lowered her skirts and moved to sit beside her. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, pulling her against him to recover.

She set one hand absently against him, and he hissed at the movement, capturing her hand in one of his. Her eyes widened. “Did I … Are you hurt?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Not at all. Merely desperate for more of you.”

Understanding dawned, and Isabel said, “Would you like for me to … do something? ”

He laughed then, squeezing her hand in his. “More than anything on this earth, I want that.” He kissed her hand. “But now is neither the place, nor the time. I am, however, very happy that you have agreed to marry me. Because I fully intend to accept that request very soon.”

She blushed at that, immediately embarrassed by the way that they had discussed marriage.

He had the grace to look chagrined. “I did not propose properly.”

She shook her head. “We need not stand on ceremony. There is no one here who will have expected formalities.”

“Nevertheless, I shall make it up to you.”

She looked away from him, considering her hands in her lap. “I rather like the way you did it.”

He put one hand to her chin, turning her to look at him. He searched her eyes, as though looking for something. Something cleared in his gaze, and he kissed her, a soft, generous kiss that made her more than satisfied that she had agreed to marry this man who seemed so very easy to like.

If only she could be certain that he was not easy to love.

She was spared from having to consider the thought when a knock sounded on the door. Isabel leapt from her seat, her heart in her throat. If they had been interrupted just minutes beforehand…

The door opened, and Lara stepped into the room. “Isabel?”

For a moment, she had trouble finding them, well hidden at the far end of the room behind a collection of tall statues, but Isabel took the moment to say, more loudly than necessary, “I do believe this is a statue of Apollo, Lord Nicholas.”

Nick stood, slowly, and came around the back of Isabel to consider the marble to which she was referring. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, Lady Isabel.”

Isabel was not paying much attention—instead watching as Lara hurried through the maze of statues toward them. “Why would you say that?”

“Well,” he said dryly, “in the first place, this statue is female.”

Isabel snapped her head up to look at the marble for the first time. “Well. Obviously I don’t mean
this
statue. But that one over there.”

“Of course, my mistake.” He gave her a small, knowing smile. “Which one? ”

“That one over there.” She waved a hand absently, distracted by Lara. “Lara? Is all well?”

Lara came closer.

All was not well. “Isabel.”

Isabel knew at once what had happened. “Who is it? ”

Lara stopped, catching her breath; she had clearly rushed the entire way. “Georgiana.”

Isabel felt Nick stiffen beside her. She turned to him and was surprised to see the seriousness in him. Gone was the teasing charmer from earlier, replaced by a stone-faced man. “What about her?”

“She has gone missing.”

He met her gaze. “What do we do? ”

If she had had the time to consider his words, Isabel would have been happy with his use of the word
we,
yet more proof that they would make a sound team. But she was already heading for the exit, Lara on her heels.

“We find her.”

There is nothing a lord likes better than to be reminded of his superior strength, intelligence, and power. Feign ignorance and allow your lord the right in all things, and he is yours. Give him little opportunities to support you: should you singe your fingers playing Snap Dragon, allow him to tend your wounds; encourage his superior skills in cards and other parlor games; and, when possible, laud his vast knowledge and particular might.

Isabel’s question was short and efficient as she entered the kitchens of Minerva House, taking a large, rolled sheet of paper from Gwen and moving straight to the table at the center of the room.

Nick noticed Rock enter from the opposite end of the room, back from his excursion to town. He met his friend’s eyes and read the urgency in them before looking away, immediately distracted by the rest of the inhabitants of the kitchen. And slightly overwhelmed by them.

Here was Minerva House.

There were two dozen women there, each dressed in men’s clothing, breeches, linen shirts, Hessian boots, hair tucked inside caps. They stood when Isabel entered, as though she were Wellington himself. And in that moment, she could have been. With the calm and ease of a lifelong general, Isabel unrolled the paper on the center table, holding it down with a large kitchen block, a saltcellar, and two wooden bowls. Nick took a step forward, recognizing it as a map of the manor, spread before her like a battle plan.

This was not the first time that something like this had happened.

“I saw her last,” Jane said, facing Isabel across the table. “She was headed for the laundry with some of James’s clothes.”

Nick met Rock’s gaze across the room. The Turk indicated the door to the outside, a question in his eyes. Nick shook his head.

He wanted to see her work.

“When?”

“A half an hour ago? Maybe forty minutes?

“And?”

“Meg found the clothes in a heap on the path,” Jane said, indicating a woman nearby.

“When?” Nick stepped forward and spoke, unable to keep quiet, drawing the attention of the entire room. He might not be able to convince Isabel to trust him, but by God, he could help her find the girl.

Who had very likely been abducted because of him.

Damned if the woman called Meg didn’t look to Isabel for approval before answering his question. When Isabel nodded her agreement, Meg said, “Not twenty minutes ago, milord.”

“Where are the clothes now?” Nick asked.

Meg pointed to them in a heap on a stool nearby. “I hope I did right by bringing them in, Isabel.”

“You did very well, Meg.” Isabel moved to take them in her hands, checking each item quickly and carefully. She looked to Nick. “They’re barely wet.”

Admiration flared. She had understood the underlying direction of his questions. With the amount of rain that had fallen over the last two days, the fabric would have soaked water from the ground quickly. “She’s not far.”

Isabel turned back to the map, speaking quickly. “I would guess she’s been gone twenty-five minutes, thirty at most. They must have come on foot, or Kate would have seen the horses.” She looked to her stable master, who shook her head.

“They will not travel far with her by daylight,” Nick interjected. “Not if they do not want to be caught.”

Isabel looked up at him, considering his words. She nodded once. “Which means she’s likely hidden on the estate.”

Nick let out a slow breath. She was placing her trust in him.

A mistake.

He shoved the voice to the back of his mind as Isabel continued.

“Our knowledge of the Park puts us in a good position to find her. Kate, Meg, Regina, check the copse of trees in the east pasture. Jane, Caroline, Frannie, you take the west gate, through to the Marbury land … be certain to check the lean-tos where Marbury will have left his hay to dry.”

She assigned the rest of the women to groups efficiently, marking the areas they were to search on the map as she went. Nick watched as the cook opened a small cupboard and passed hunting horns to each of the groups. “Take the horns. If you see anything that looks strange, sound the alarm. Don’t do anything without the rest of us. I want you all back here right as rain. As ever, Gwen stays here. If you need anything, you tell her.”

When she finished explaining the plan to the rest of the women, she stood, and Nick marveled at the way the other residents of the house straightened in her presence, shoulders back and spines as straight as any soldier hoping to impress his commander. Nick understood immediately that, like an army, they would follow her orders without question.

And he found himself willing to do the same.

“Lara and I shall search the area between the house and the main road. Any questions? ”

He was not going to allow her to go searching for the girl without him. “Lady Isabel. I should like to see the place where Georgiana was taken.”

She shook her head. “We haven’t time.”

He knew the risk of questioning her in front of her girls; he also knew that he could speed their process. He would have to prove it to her, and open himself to questions in the process. It was not a question. “I’m trained as a tracker.”

From over her shoulder, he noticed Rock raise his brows in surprise. Nick ignored him. She met his eyes, and there was a long beat as she considered his words. She nodded once. “I shall take you there. Mr. Durukhan, would you be willing to partner with Lara to search the front grounds? ”

Rock dipped his head. “Of course.”

“Very well.” She turned to the rest of the room. “Be quick. Be safe. Be back before nightfall.”

Orders in hand, the women left the room like a well-trained battalion. Isabel gave last-minute orders to Gwen while Nick and Rock spoke quietly.

“There’s no way they’re headed for the road,” the Turk said, pulling a pistol from his waistband and handing it to Nick.

“No.”

Rock’s gaze darkened. “Will you tell her why we are here? ”

Nick shook his head, slipping the pistol inside his waistcoat. “Not if I can avoid it.”

Rock nodded once. “I shan’t be far behind.”

They shook hands, and Nick turned back to Isabel. “Let’s go then.”

She opened the door, and they left the house.

The spot where Georgiana was taken was mere steps from the house, marked by a dirty vest that Meg had left behind in her haste to sound the alarm. Nick crouched low there, taking in the footprints on the muddy path.

Isabel watched for a moment, then looked out over the land. “Do you see anything? ”

“Two men. It looks like she struggled.” He turned away and swore under his breath, then pointed south toward a faraway cluster of trees. “That way. Is there shelter there? ”

“There’s an abandoned woodcutter’s cottage. James likes to play there.”

“That’s where they will have headed. They will be waiting for cover of night to travel with an unwilling third.” He paused. “Is there any chance I could convince you to wait here with Gwen? ”

She was already walking, her long legs carrying her briskly across the land. “None whatsoever. How did you learn to track? ”

He allowed her to change the subject, training his eyes on the trees in the distance. “When I was on the Continent, there was a war on.”

They walked for a few long moments before she realized he was not going to say more. “That’s it? There was a war on? ”

“What more would there be? ”

“Who taught you? ”

“A very intelligent member of the British War Office.”

“But you were not a soldier? ”

“No.” He changed the subject. That way lay danger. “How many times have you planned a search and rescue?

“ She shrugged, walking faster. “Several.”

“How many is several? “

“I don’t remember.”

“Try. One time? Fifty?”

“More than one. Less than fifty.”

The woman reveled in trying his patience. “How often are they successful? ”

She shrugged again. “More often than not.”

“Even now, we are to be married, I am helping to get this girl back, and you don’t trust me.”

Clever girl.
He willed the voice in his head quiet.

“It’s not that.”

It wasn’t?
“What is it then?”

She did not answer.

“Who is Georgiana that she has been abducted?”

Tell me, Isabel.

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Isabel, I do grow weary of that answer.”

“It is not my information to share.”

“What can you tell me?”

She looked at him for a long moment, not breaking her stride. Turning her attention back to the trees in the distance, she said, “I can tell you that she is more than a governess, but you knew that already. I can tell you that she is worth a great deal to a great family. And I can tell you that when I took her in, I knew that it was only a matter of time until this day came.”

“Then why take her in?”

Her answer was soft and serious. “I’ve never turned a girl away. I was not about to begin with her.”

He let her walk several paces ahead of him then, watching her long, willowy frame move across the grounds toward the trees ahead. She had changed into men’s clothing earlier, on her way to the kitchens, claiming that breeches allowed her a greater freedom of movement. He could not contain the appreciative smile that flashed as he watched her. She looked more beautiful this afternoon than she ever had before.

He considered the fact for a long moment before realizing why it was true. There was nothing tentative about her movement—nothing to indicate that she was nervous or hesitant about what was to come. Instead, she moved with a quiet, sure grace, ready for anything.

He had never known a woman like her.

And he realized, in that moment, that he was entirely drawn to her powerful combination of strength and vulnerability, this madwoman who spent entirely too much time on rooftops and traipsing across the Yorkshire countryside in pursuit of kidnappers … and still found time to doubt her actions and question her worth.

No wonder he was going to marry her.

She was remarkable.

Yes, he could keep her safe, protect Minerva House, send James to school … all of it. He had the money, the family, the history to do it.

And he found that he rather liked the idea.

It was going to be impossible to convince her that
she
liked the idea, however, if the reason for his being in Yorkshire was revealed.

They had reached the trees, and he glimpsed a small building several yards away. He reached for Isabel, capturing her arm and staying her movement. “I’d like you to stay here, and let me go in by myself.” She shook her head and opened her mouth to protest. He held up one hand. “If they have weapons, Isabel … what then? ”

“I’ve faced weapons before.”

The words made him angrier than he had expected. “Of all the damned fool—Do you have a way to defend yourself? “ She paused. “No.”

He made a mental note to teach her to use a pistol. “So? What do you plan on doing? Exasperating them until they turn her over? That might work on me … but I imagine this lot is professional.”

She cut him an irritated look. “Usually all it takes is a few mentions of the earl, and they scatter.”

“You jest.”

She looked away. “No.”

“Isabel. From what little you’ve told me about Georgiana, do you think that the people chasing after her will be afraid of your brother? ”

She did not answer.

“Precisely.” He set her back against a tree. “You will stay here. Do not move until I come to fetch you.”

“What if something happens to you?”

He sighed. Did the woman have no faith in him whatsoever? “If I’m not back in ten minutes, sound the damned horn. And bring in your Amazons.”

A little smile flashed. “They are rather like Amazons, aren’t they?”

One side of his mouth cocked up at her amusement. “I’m happy I am able to amuse you.” He removed the pistol from his waistcoat and checked its load.

“Nick!” He had turned away, but her whisper called him back.

“Yes?”

“I—” She stopped, transfixed by the gun. “Be careful.”

In two long strides, he was next to her again, cupping her neck in one strong, warm hand and pulling her to him. He kissed her, quick and thorough, stroking deep and reminding them both of the pleasure they had found in each other’s arms. Stepping back from the caress, he said, “There is absolutely no chance of my not returning. After this afternoon, we have unfinished business.”

She blushed and looked away. “Go.”

He pushed through the trees and approached the cottage. It did not take long to confirm his suspicions that there were two men holding Georgiana inside the shelter. The girl struggled against the ropes they had used to tie her up, and he could hear her angry, muffled cries through the linen rag that was supposed to silence her. One thing was true, the girl had well learned the first rule of surviving a kidnapping—remain loud and irritating. She was worth the most unharmed—and she knew it. Nick watched through the window, nearly amused, as one of her captors rubbed his temples at the noise.

“Gel,” said the other in a thick cockney accent, “Ye’ll only hurt yerself. We aren’ takin’ ye back. We’re takin’ ye
home.”