The Danger in Tempting an Earl (8 page)

He laughed, a low rumble that sent frissons scurrying across her skin. “I daresay I’ll never understand the workings of a woman’s mind, not even yours. I imagine it’s quite a muddle in there.”

Crossing her arms, she tilted her chin in defiance. “And yet we do excel at keeping all our thoughts in order.”

He leaned toward her and frowned, as if attempting to look inside her head. “Tell me, for I’ve always wondered, is there a specific part of your brain that you devote to gossip?”

Keeping a straight face was becoming exceedingly difficult, but at least the humor was distracting her from other things, like the curve of his mouth as he smiled and the same spicy scent she’d smelled on him as they’d waltzed. Her stomach began to tighten, so she redoubled her efforts to concentrate on the conversation. “Of course,” she said. “How else am I to recall which lady caused a scandal by falling into the arms of a scoundrel?”

“How indeed?”

His eyes darkened for a moment, and as much as Katherine wished to look away, she could not. It was almost as if he was somehow testing her.

“There is also a special compartment allotted to gowns, bonnets and”—she waved her hand—“shoes.”

Lucien’s lips began to pucker, then he suddenly burst out laughing. Katherine smiled. This was what she’d missed—this easy camaraderie between them. She watched as he wiped his hand across his eyes and straightened himself. When he’d gone to join the army, she’d been nineteen years of age and had inappropriately flung her arms around him in a tight embrace when she’d told him good-bye. She longed to do so again now, for it would be bliss to be held by him. Fearful of the reaction he’d stirred in her since yesterday, however, and recalling how startled he’d been by her forwardness four years ago, she decided that doing so would likely be a very bad idea.

Instead, she smiled at him politely and gestured toward the door. “If you’d still like to meet Sophia before we leave, I can take you through to her right now.”

S
itting next to Katherine, Lucien whipped the reins, pushing his horses into a canter, their hooves thudding against the graveled driveway. Eyes straight ahead, he did his best to quell his pounding heart.

Follow your plan and you shall have her. Do not rush this
.

When she’d entered the parlor and he’d turned to look at her, it had taken every ounce of restraint not to stride across the floor and pull her against him. Gone was the silk and lace she’d worn to the ball, replaced instead by a modest morning gown that ought to have dampened his desire. Instead, it had only made him more eager to rip away the plain muslin with which she was garbed in hopes of revealing that extra bit of skin she’d displayed last night.

A wave of heat crashed over him. No, this pursuit of his would require finesse, for although she was responding to him in a most delightful way, he also sensed a great deal of resistance. She’d said she’d never again marry and that she had no plans of ever taking a lover—that she was content to remain alone. And yet, whenever he touched her, it was almost as if a flame sparked to life in her eyes. Oh, the lady might insist she had no needs, but Lucien knew better, and in time, he had every intention of showing her how skillful he could be at fulfilling them.

An ache settled in his loins and he found himself clenching his jaw, his fingers gripping the reins as he urged the horses onward. “Your daughter is absolutely charming,” he said, settling on a topic that he knew would appeal to her and that he hoped would distract him from his wayward thoughts. “She looks a lot like you.”

Katherine chuckled. “I think it’s too early to say so, but thank you.” Even though his eyes remained on the road, Lucien could sense that Katherine was looking at him. “You know,” she finally said, “I always suspected that you would be good with children, but I must admit that you are better than I ever imagined. Seeing you hold her as you did, tickling her belly and making her chortle, was very touching indeed. I daresay you’ll make an excellent uncle for her.”

The compliment warmed his insides, even though he hoped his position as uncle would be a fleeting one and that he would soon become the babe’s papa through marriage. He felt the edge of his mouth curve upward. Today would mark their first day of courtship, even if he was the only one who knew it. It was all part of the plan he’d forged to heighten her awareness of him as a man—a man in need of not just a wife, but a lover as well—and little by little he meant for his every touch and whispered word to melt her insides until she could no longer recall a time when she did not want him.

Ah, if only it worked, for the alternative was not a pleasant one.

Arriving at a cluster of trees, Lucien parked the curricle, jumped down onto the springy grass below and secured the horses. He then helped Katherine alight, his hands resting firmly upon her waist as he lifted her down. Her cheeks appeared rosier now than they had earlier, he noted, and rather than release her immediately as he ought, he held her in place with one hand while the other rose to her cheek, his fingertips brushing gently across it. “Just a bit of dust,” he said. “There . . . all gone.”

Stepping away from her, he handed her the fishing poles, then grabbed the picnic basket and a blanket and gestured for her to lead the way along the path that would take them through the trees and down to the lake. He was not the least bit oblivious to the dazed expression on her face. His efforts, it would seem, were already having a remarkable effect. He tried not to smile too much.

“Do you prefer a spot in the sun or in the shade?” he asked once they reached the edge of the water. The weather was beautiful—bright and sunny, with a clear blue sky. It was warmer than it usually was this time of year.

“I think the shade might be too chilly, don’t you? I would personally welcome the sun’s heat. If we lay the blanket out over there,” she said as she pointed to a flat, grassy spot next to the lakebed, “we’ll even be able to anchor our fishing poles using those rocks.”

Agreeing with her reasoning, Lucien spread out the blanket, placed the picnic basket at one end of it and asked Katherine to take a seat, which she promptly did, folding her legs neatly beneath her as she carefully placed the fishing poles to one side.

“Have you been fishing since the last time we came here together?” Lucien asked. He was trying to envision what her life had been like in his absence.

“When I made a cake of myself by falling into the water? Your sister has never allowed me to forget it, you know.”

He hadn’t wanted to mention the incident again, as he’d hoped to avoid embarrassing her, but when he met her gaze, he couldn’t help but notice how bright her eyes were. Her lips twitched and she laughed. He smiled in return. “I trust you’ll avoid stepping out onto a slippery rock today.”

“You can count on it, and in answer to your question, no, I have not.”

“Well, it’s all very simple, if you recall.” He removed a small jar from his pocket and took off the lid. “Just pick a worm and place it on the hook.”

With a stiff nod, Katherine quickly removed her gloves, just as he’d known she would, and reached inside the jar to retrieve her prize. It was one of the things he’d always loved about her—how grounded she was, the sort of woman who never fussed over getting her hands dirty. She could be prim and proper when necessary, but in her element, which had always been outdoors, she never worried about spoiling her clothes or whether a spider might be crawling up her arm. Indeed, she was more likely to take a closer look at said spider and remark on its beauty.

Picking a worm for himself, Lucien slipped it onto his hook and looked at Katherine. She appeared to be struggling with hers. “Do you need some help with that?” he asked, his eyes riveted upon her fingers.

“If only it would stop wriggling so much, it would make the task so much easier.”

Lucien suppressed a bark of laughter. “Yes, because that is precisely what any other creature would do—wait limply to be impaled.”

She looked at him with a frown. “Are you trying to put me off?” She appeared to make another attempt, but once again the worm maneuvered itself away from the hook.

Deciding to take advantage of the situation, Lucien leaned over and placed his hand on Katherine’s. “Like this,” he said as he adjusted her hold on the worm. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he then showed her how to hold the hook properly in place while he helped her bait it. He didn’t linger once the job was done but removed himself immediately from her person and rose to his feet, taking his fishing pole with him. “Now all you have to do is toss the line in the water. I can help you with that as well if you wish.”

“Err . . . no thank you . . . I mean, I’d like to attempt it on my own.”

She moved hesitantly, he noticed, and with less determination than when she’d selected the worm. In fact, she looked adorably unsettled, for which Lucien had to applaud himself. If he wasn’t mistaken, his closeness and touch had had the desired effect. Casting his own line into the water, he watched as Katherine did the same. Unlike her previous attempt eight years earlier, she remained on solid ground this time and did not slip or fall as her line flew neatly out over the water, the hook landing with a satisfying plop. “Ha!” she shouted, her eyes bright and her smile unwavering as she turned toward Lucien. “I did it!”

“So you did,” he grinned. She was mesmerizing in her victory, her face glowing with more happiness than he’d seen in her yet since his return, as if some heavy burden weighing her down had been momentarily dismissed. He eyed her quietly as she secured her fishing pole between the rocks and returned to the blanket.

Following her, he could not help but notice the gentle sway of her hips as she walked or the grace with which she took her seat. The memory of her wet gown hugging her every curve flashed before him so powerfully that he forgot himself, emitting a groan at the sudden discomfort it wrought.

“Are you all right?” she asked, all wide-eyed concern.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien sank down onto the blanket and crossed his legs. “Yes. Quite. Shall we see what your cook has prepared?”

With a nod, Katherine reached for the picnic basket and flung open the lid, revealing a bountiful feast of mincemeat pie, smoked herring, some cheese and a bottle of wine. To their unfettered delight, there were crêpes with strawberry jam for dessert.

“Are you still an avid gardener?” Lucien asked as he bit into a slice of pie.

“Yes,” she said. “I love watching my plants flourish, which I suppose explains why spring is my favorite time of year.”

“Your daffodils do look lovely lining the driveway—don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Katherine beamed at him. “They do brighten things up, don’t they?” She gave him no chance to respond before saying, “I allocated part of the back garden to herbs and vegetables last year. Can you believe that Cresthaven did not have a vegetable garden? You must come and see it during the summer, for I have every confidence that the tomatoes I have recently planted will be among the juiciest in the county.”

“I do not doubt it for a second,” Lucien remarked, though he could well enough imagine other juicy things he’d like to sink his teeth into, like Katherine’s plump lower lip, for example.

“And what about you?” Katherine asked. “Was all as you expected it to be at Roxberry Hall when you returned? You must forgive me, but I quite forgot to ask last night. How terribly thoughtless of me.”

Lucien grinned. She was prattling on as if she was nervous. Her hand reached for her glass, and, raising it to her lips, she took a hasty sip of her wine. “Not at all,” he said. “In fact, everything was mostly as it was when I left, though I do believe my absence and my father’s death have forced Mama and Grandmamma to see more of each other than either of them would have wished.”

“I always thought they got along rather well, or at least that’s how it appeared.”

Arching an eyebrow, Lucien selected a piece of cheese. “Their opinions differ greatly on most issues, as does their method of conveying them.” He took a bite of his cheese.

“I suppose your grandmother does have a tendency to be more forward than your mother, whom I’ve always considered quite reserved.”

“Precisely.”

There was a pause, then Katherine quietly said, “I believe they agree on at least one thing, though, and that is that you must marry.”

Meeting her gaze, Lucien felt his pulse quicken. “True,” he said.

She looked away and reached for one of the pancakes. “And . . . as promised, I have considered some . . . possible candidates.”

Lucien felt his eyes narrow. Was it just him, or was she deliberately trying to busy herself with something—anything at all—that would not require her to look at him as she spoke? How very interesting. “And?” he asked, feeling suddenly cheeky, “is Lady Julie on your list?”

Katherine’s eyes flew toward his, her lips parting ever so slightly while her chest began to rise and fall in a flurry. “Yes,” she told him pertly as she smoothed the skirt of her gown. “You seemed quite taken with her, so I thought you’d be pleased to have her included.”

“Oh, I am,” Lucien murmured, for it could not be more obvious than if Katherine had actually told him so herself that she did not care to contemplate his marrying Lady Julie. “I’m very pleased indeed.”

“But she is not the only one on the list, of course. I’ve also included the Earl of Mayhaven’s eldest, Lady Theodora, the Earl of Thisdale’s daughter, Lady Annette, and the Duke of Sylverton’s daughter, Lady Charlotte.”

“Fine ladies, I’m sure,” Lucien murmured. He studied her for a moment before saying, “How exactly did you end up married to Crossby? I never had the impression that you were particularly fond of him.”

Her posture grew rigid. “I admit that I always found him a bit self-obsessed when we were younger, but then he went to war and . . . when he returned he was entirely different. He was attentive and kind.” She plucked at her gown. “The first time he called, he brought me wildflowers, which I considered surprisingly sweet, as I would have expected a man like him to bring roses.”