The Wedding Trap (18 page)

Must be this damnable afternoon,
he supposed. That bloody boy who’d started all this to-do had a great deal for which to answer.

“Yes, all right,” Kit agreed, striding across to Mars to jump smoothly into the saddle. Brevard quickly did the same, sitting his horse with a natural grace, almost centaurlike, as if he and his animal had merged into a single being. Kit assumed a flanking position at Eliza’s side, Brevard opposite. Walking three abreast, they urged their respective mounts into motion.

By the time they arrived at Raeburn House, Eliza was relaxed and smiling, laughing at one of Brevard’s stories. Kit laughed too, the tale far too amusing to resist despite his initial efforts to hold on to his irritation. Brevard had a knack at telling tales just as he seemed to have a knack with everything else in his life.

“Well, Miss Hammond, it would seem we have arrived without mishap,” Brevard declared.

Before Kit had time to dismount, Brevard was off his horse, busily assisting Eliza from hers.

Eliza smiled up at the other man. “Thank you again, my lord. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your help today.”

“It was my pleasure. Believe me, Miss Hammond. And perhaps we shall meet again soon at one entertainment or another? I can regale you with another story, tell you of my time in India.”

Surprised pleasure turned Eliza’s eyes a deeper shade of gray. “India? How very interesting. Is it as exotic as they say?”

Ordinarily Kit would have wanted to hear more about India too, but not today. “Good to see you again, Brevard,” he interrupted, coming around to stand next to Eliza. “I am sure we will see each other at one of the clubs. We must make plans to have a drink, play a hand or two of cards.”

Brevard shifted his blue gaze to meet Kit’s. “Yes, let’s. In fact, Crowe and I were just discussing getting up a group for a race meeting. Care to join us?”

“Yes, of course. Send round the particulars, won’t you?”

On a nod, Brevard turned back to Eliza. “Miss Hammond, after your ordeal in the park, you must surely be wanting to rest, so I will bid you adieu. For now.” He executed an elegant bow, then swung up onto his horse. “Winter.” Touching the brim of his hat, he rode away.

A pair of grooms came forward to lead the horses away.

Without a word, Eliza turned and walked up the townhouse steps, March already in attendance to hold the front door wide. She gave the majordomo a murmured greeting as she passed into the house.

Kit came in after her. “Eliza, is anything wrong?”

“I am fine.”

She didn’t seem fine. She seemed annoyed, even angry. Maybe she was still upset that he had made her ride home on Andromeda. “Sorry if I pushed you back there in the park, but I thought it necessary. For your confidence, you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” Her expression did not brighten.

“And I’m sorry Andromeda spooked so badly. She took you on a wild ride, and you had every right to be frightened. I am only relieved you weren’t hurt.” He frowned. “You weren’t, were you?”

“No.”

“Then what is amiss?”

“Nothing, I am merely tired. I believe I’ll go to my room now.” Holding up her long skirt, she crossed the foyer and started up the main staircase.

Kit hesitated for a moment, then came after her, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. “Eliza.”

She kept walking, her skirts swaying in a sibilant whisper, boots silent against the hall carpeting.

“Eliza, wait.” He reached for her elbow, drew her to a halt. “What is it? You seem distressed.”

Slowly she turned and met his gaze. “You were rude.”

His jaw loosened in surprise. “Was I? When?”

“When I was speaking to Lord Brevard. You…you interrupted, and I had the impression that…” Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“That what?” He bent his head and tried to get her to look at him again. “Go on. Tell me,” he encouraged.

“That you really rathered I had not continued speaking to him. Was I saying or doing something wrong? Did I make some error?”

He gave an emphatic shake of his head. “No, you made no errors, no errors at all today. Actually, you were quite splendid, both during our promenade and later as well.”

Her dark brows furrowed, her soft eyes confused. “Then what is the difficulty? Unless you were trying to warn me off him? Is there something about Lord Brevard that I should know? He isn’t a fortune hunter, is he?”

“Nothing of the sort. Quite the opposite, in fact. Brevard is the very best of fellows—educated, well traveled, well spoken and rich. Even richer now, I understand, since his time in India. No, there is nothing wrong with Brevard. He is a model gentleman, honorable to the core.”

“Is it me, then? My connections, perhaps—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There is nothing wrong with your connections,” he said, outraged on her behalf. “Who ever put that maggot in your head?”

“My aunt, she…” Eliza paused, tugged at the fingers of one dun leather riding glove and pulled it off. “She always said my father was nothing but a lowly, insignificant tutor who had dragged down the family name. That my mother was a disgrace for running off with him. I have never cared before because they were my parents and I loved them, but perhaps it is not only my shyness that has kept the suitors away all these years.”

“And do you think I feel this way? That I believe your connections lacking?”

“No, but others may.” She pulled the second glove free, gripped the pair in one hand. “I just wondered if you were cautioning me. Again, for my own good.” She looked up at him.

“I have nothing about which to caution you, not in that regard. You are worthy of any man in Society, never think otherwise. As for your shyness, it is resolving nicely with the help of our lessons. Only a couple more, you know, and we shall be finished.”

A peculiar sense of loss crept through Kit at the realization. He ought to be thrilled to have his days made once more his own, free to sleep in or racket around with his friends or do anything else he wished to do. So why wasn’t he filled with happy anticipation? He
would be,
he assured himself, once the day actually arrived.

“Next Tuesday is your first ball,” he said, shaking off his unfathomable emotions.

“I know,” she agreed. “I hope I am ready.”

“You will be. Actually, you are ready now, though a little more brushing up cannot hurt.” He gave her a smile. “Is all well again? Am I forgiven for being rude? A lapse for which you have my most profound apology.”

“Yes, of course. You know I cannot stay angry for long, and certainly never with you.” She returned his smile.

“Well, that is a relief.” He waggled his brows. “I don’t like turning you cross.”

She laughed, her entire face lighting up, dove-colored eyes sparkling and alive with amusement. His chest tightened at the sight, his gaze drawn down to her lips, so pale pink and pretty. They looked soft as velvet and sweet as a dish of summer strawberries. Ripe enough to pick. Delectable enough to taste. He leaned closer and caught the faintest hint of honeysuckle on her skin.

“Oh, good, you two are back.”

Kit snapped straight and spun on his heel to watch Violet stroll down the corridor toward them, Horatio loping obediently in her wake.

Reaching them, she stopped, looked first at him, then at Eliza. “I hope I am not interrupting.”

“No, not at all,” Kit said. “Eliza and I were only discussing our outing.”

“Oh, good, since it is what I came to hear. How did it go?” Violet demanded, slipping a hand around Eliza’s elbow. “Any difficulties?”

“Ladies, if you’ll excuse me…”

Violet gave him a smile and an absent nod, then turned Eliza to lead her back down the hallway in the direction from which Violet had just come. The big Great Dane trailed behind. “Did you meet anyone particularly interesting?” he heard Violet ask.

“One person. Viscount Lancelot Brevard. He rescued me just like a knight of old…”

Walking in the opposite direction, he headed for his rooms.

Andromeda reared and yanked the reins from Eliza’s hands, the horse’s cry of terror shrill in her ears. Thrashing hooves struck the ground with a jarring
thud,
equine
muscles rippling as the mare surged forward, leaping into an all-out gallop that pushed for every ounce of speed at the animal’s command.

Eliza clung with sick terror, her heart drumming so hard her rib cage ached. She dug her fingers deep into the horse’s thick, resilient mane and fought for purchase, fought not to be hurled to the ground that raced by so quickly she could see it only as an indistinct blur of greens and browns.

She closed her eyes and prayed.

A hard, male arm suddenly curved around her waist. In a deft move, he lifted her free of the saddle and set her sideways before him on his own charging steed. She clung again, this time to the man, wrapping her arms around his strong back, laying her head against the firm warmth of his chest.

Safe. So safe.

He slowed his mount, bringing the horse to an easy walk before stopping altogether.

She tipped back her head, caught a glint of fine golden hair and a face that was almost too handsome to be real. His teeth gleamed white and straight as he smiled down upon her. She stared into his eyes, blue and pure as a Scandinavian lake.

He blinked, and when his lids lifted his eyes had changed, green now, dark and vital as summer leaves after a soaking afternoon rain. Around each pupil lay an encircling ring of gold, a few flecks of the same scattered outward to float inside his irises like pinches of gold dust.

He grinned in that boyish way she knew so well, making her pulse points flutter wildly. She smiled back, gentle and slow, and watched his eyes change yet again, growing lambent and intent in a way she had never
known before as his gaze lowered to caress her parted lips.

She drew in his scent, thrilling to the sensation of it swimming in giddy delight inside her head. Allowing it to linger, she breathed in again and again until the fragrance seemed to seep into her pores and bones and become almost her own. Lifting a hand, she threaded her fingers into the thick silk of his dark hair, reveling in its texture.

He bent closer, then closer still, pulling her nearer inside his embrace. With barely a breath separating them, she whispered his name.

Kit.

And then his lips touched her own.

Her body tingled from head to toe, awash in the most intense sensation. Sweet bliss lighted her up from within and left her floating on a cloud of decadent pleasure. Stretching her arms upward, she locked them around his neck and pressed tighter. But it wasn’t tight enough, close enough. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

Nor was it enough for him.

He reached down and caught hold of her leg, shifting her to face him in the saddle. She gasped as he draped her spread legs over his powerful thighs, tugging her so she fit against him, pelvis to pelvis.

Then they were kissing again, wild and wanton and hungry.

At length, he drew away. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I know all about that naughty little book you were reading.”

Her eyes flashed open, a whimper of dismay escaping her lips as she awakened. Faint dawn light skimmed along the edges of her bedchamber’s window curtains. The shapes of the room’s furnishings were only just starting to become visible, still shrouded in pools of night shadow. Shifting against the fine linen sheets, she pressed a hand between her breasts and listened to the sound of her own ragged breathing.

Stars above,
she thought,
what a dream.
Even now she could feel the sensation of Kit’s lips on hers, the strength of his long, firm body pressed snuggly against her own, his delicious masculine scent invigorating her senses.

And every bit of it was false. A fancy spun like some intricate tapestry that was all dazzle and shape without a bit of real substance. Her body had thought it real, though, she realized, becoming aware of the faint, damp ache that lingered between her thighs. Warmth crept across her skin as she remembered how she had straddled Kit in her dream. How she had clasped her thighs around his hips with a brazen abandon worthy of one of the women depicted inside
Albanino’s Postures.

At least they hadn’t been naked.

Her nipples tightened at the idea, the ache twinging anew between her legs. She rolled over, mildly ashamed of responses she scarcely understood. Ashamed as well of how her mind had jumbled together the events of the day—Andromeda’s wild ride, her feelings of terror and panic, Lord Brevard coming to her rescue.

Dashing, gentlemanly Lord Brevard. She had liked him, liked him very much. His attentive demeanor and kind voice. She had liked as well the way he made her laugh and smile. He was a man any woman could desire.

But it hadn’t been Lord Brevard she had dream-kissed, no matter how undeniably handsome he might be.

It was Kit.

She thought of his eyes in the dream, then thought of his gaze when he had been talking to her yesterday in the hallway. He had been Kit. Normal, regular Kit who never looked at her with anything other than patient friendliness and a sort of brotherly affection. But then, there at the last, something had changed, his gaze altering for a split second as it roved across her mouth. In that instant, it appeared to her that he had leaned closer, ever so slightly. For a moment, it looked almost as if he had been thinking about kissing her.

Or had she only imagined it, the event no more substantial than her dream?

What would it be like to kiss Kit for real? she mused.

For that matter, what would it be like to be kissed at all?

In her entire three-and-twenty years, no man had ever so much as attempted to take advantage of her innocence. Young, unmarried ladies were not supposed to kiss or touch young gentlemen prior to marriage, but, of course, she knew such intimacies occurred. And though no one would ever speak of such a thing aloud, many would be surprised to find a woman of her advanced years wholly untried, without even the experience of a single kiss.