To Tempt an Earl (26 page)

"This is the best news! You must answer
Bethanny's question! When? How long must we wait till we can hold
the little dear?" Beatrix asked, her face lit up with
enchantment.

"I believe very late winter. February,"
Carlotta answered.

"How long till your confinement?" Berty
asked.

"I have a couple months left. So…" Carlotta
shifted her gaze to Bethanny, "
when
this engagement happens
between you and Lord Graham, it must be a short one." Carlotta
smiled.

"I do not think that will be an issue."
Beatrix cut a grin to Bethanny. "He already tried to block my
departure from the library, so desperate was he to find her."

"Truly? How wonderful! The duke did indeed
have a good plan in keeping you away, dear. He's likely going mad!"
Carlotta clapped her hands.

"Bloodthirsty lot. Poor man." Berty shook her
head. When Bethanny glared at her, she amended. "I didn't say he
didn't deserve it. I quite like the torture he's enduring. It's
about time!"

"There's still hours left till evening. What
lengths do you think he'll go to in his determination to find
Bethanny?" Beatrix asked, a wicked grin teasing her lips.

"One thing is for certain. Whatever lengths
he attempts will not be nearly enough. We've ensured that. Supper
should prove to be quite entertaining. Don't you agree?" Carlotta
grinned.

"Indeed," Bethanny agreed. Though the wait
might kill her in the process.

Truly, he felt as if a year had passed in
only one day. His impatient nature was making him overly
dramatic.

Bloody hell.

When he saw the damnable woman, he was going
to snatch her away in front of God and everyone. To hell with the
consequences! After all, the consequences were exactly what he was
trying to create! Marriage!

A half-mad bark of
laughter escaped. To think that no more than few months ago,
marriage was the last thing on his mind. Then, as the idea had
become more of a necessity, he'd looked upon the blessed union as
more of a chore. To think he had come to the point of contemplating
compromising the girl in front of her guardian to simply ensure
that she'd be his. It was madness. Not to mention suicidal. The
duke had made it clear that it was to be Bethanny's choice. So
regardless of his impatience or his desire, his love, he couldn't
do a damn thing unless the girl wanted him.

Please, Lord, let her want him.

Beatrix had made it clear that Bethanny
wouldn't be found till supper, so Graham had gone out to the
grounds of Greenford Waters, removing himself from scaring the
servants and starting fisticuffs with the other guests. He surely
wasn't good company at the moment.

But at least he realized this; surely that
must redeem him somewhat.

He paused in his walk and glanced at the
regal wood that edged the property. The tall, majestic trees
pointed upward, and he followed their direction till his gaze
settled on the pale blue sky, dotted with creamy clouds. With a
deep breath, he felt his tension recede. Forcing Bethanny's hand,
or anyone's hand, for that matter, wouldn't work. And truth be
told, he didn't want Bethanny because he'd made sure she didn't
have choice; he wanted her to want him, to need him like air.

Like he needed her.

He considered their past and felt ashamed.
Either he had taken brazen liberties with her, when his
self-control was lacking and his desire had overcome his sane
judgment, or he'd pushed her away.

She deserved more.

Hadn't he always said as much. But what she
deserved was more
from him.

She deserved to be pursued, chased, shown
that he would ride to the end of the world to save her, to have her
belong to him and him alone.

Or simply ride at breakneck speed from
Scotland to Bath.

She needed to see that his desire was far
more than simply attraction; it was attachment, a weaving of the
fabric of his very soul intertwined with hers. It was knowing that
her breath was as vital to him as it was to her, each heartbeat the
same. It was telling her that she was beautiful, but not just on
the surface, but the deep beauty of a rare woman who has the purity
and splendor of a lovely heart. It was the way her smile lit up a
room, the way her laugh haunted him, even when she wasn't
around.

It was the hope of having daughters who
looked exactly like their mother, with decadent brown eyes and
silky, coffee-colored hair.

All calling
him
father.

Now,
if only there was some way to
communicate that in a few hours, in a few conversations that had to
take place in the company of a proper chaperone.

Not likely.

Graham sighed.

There was only one way.

Carlotta.

With a determined stride, Graham made his way
back to the house. It was now or never.

Supper had finally arrived. And, of course,
Bethanny had spent the past two hours preparing for it. With the
utmost care, she had selected her soft yellow dress with the pale
blue belt. Molly had gone to great lengths in styling her hair for
the evening. The decadent locks were pinned gently around the crown
of her head, the candlelight causing a shimmering golden hue to
highlight the rich color. Bethanny sighed as she tilted her head
slightly in studying her reflection. Indeed, she looked beautiful,
but more importantly, she
felt
beautiful, from the
anticipation glowing in her dark brown eyes, to the sky blue
slippers she wore. Biting her lip in nervous anxiety for the last
few moments to hurry on their way so that she could leave the
prison of her room and face her future, she closed her eyes and
willed her heart to slow its excited cadence.

Glancing to the door, she debated whether she
should arrive early or late. There were other guests in the house,
not that she had seen much of them, but surely they would be
milling about conversing. That decided, she stood and strode to the
door. With a final glance at the mirror, she saw her reflection
gazing back at her, a light dancing in her eyes that was born of
anticipation and wonder.

Tonight would define her future.

With a fortifying breath, Bethanny strode
into the hall. The candlelight danced off the walls, frolicking
with the shadows it created. Glancing to Beatrix's door, she paused
to listen, curious if her sister was already downstairs or still
preparing.

Through the heavy wooden door, she could hear
her sister's maid answering her question, and so she continued
on.

Would Lord Graham be there already? Waiting
for her? Her heart leapt with hope. Hurrying her steps, she took
the stairs quicker than usual and was practically running once she
hit the marbled floor of the main level hall. Her slippers skidded
slightly, and a grin teased her lips. How many times had she and
her sisters skated across the highly polished floor in just their
stockings? It was tempting, but now was not the time.

"Miss Lamont." A rich voice caressed her
name.

Spinning to her left, she watched as Lord
Graham strode toward her with the lithe strength that had haunted
her memories and invaded her dreams.

"Lord Graham." She forced her voice to be
calm, level, unaffected. Her heart was an entirely different
matter. It pounded wildly, racing.

His tawny eyes roamed her features, settling
on her lips for a fraction of a second longer than the rest of her
face. A pained expression lurked in his eyes. "Beautiful as always.
You are quite a difficult lady to locate," he added lightly, though
his expression was one of deep emotion.

Good.

Let him linger in the unknown as she had for
the past weeks. Yet another quiet voice reminded her that he'd had
his own demons to fight during that time, as well.

"I would think that I should be exceedingly
easy to locate, my lord." She raised a daring eyebrow. "This
is
my guardian's estate, and it is a house party. And before
that, I hadn't strayed further than the occasional ballroom in
London."

Lord Graham paused as if weighing his words,
his eyebrows darting upward in recognition of her jab. "Indeed.
Rather I was referring to locating you
this
day."

"And I believe that my guardian explained to
you that I was… indisposed till supper." It went against her nature
to be crisp and coolly polite, yet she needed, with a desperation
she couldn't put into words, for him to pursue her. From day one,
she had made her affection known, pursued
him.
Now the
tables were turned. For as much as she wanted him, she wanted him
to need her just as desperately. If he did, then a little cool
aloofness wouldn't hinder him.

"That is true." He nodded. "Since we have a
few moments till supper is served, would you do the honor of
accompanying me on a short walk?"

More than anything, she wanted to agree, to
throw her arms around him and pull him into a kiss that would melt
any restraint he might possess, but she remembered the duke's terms
and Carlotta's words.

"I'm afraid I cannot, at least not
without—"

"Right on time," Lord Graham interrupted, his
face lighting up a wide grin that caused his dimples to
surface.

Bethanny swallowed hard. As much as his smile
had haunted her, nothing was more potent than gazing upon it face
to face. He was beautiful, a picture of masculine glory that took
her breath away. She startled as Carlotta placed a gentle hand on
her shoulder.

"Lord Graham asked for permission to take a
walk with you. I went by your room just a moment ago, and upon
discovering you had already left, I assumed you'd be here." She
smiled encouragingly.

"Yes, thank you," Bethanny murmured to
Carlotta.

Lord Graham held out his arm, and Bethanny
placed her gloved hand over it, immediately warmed by the simple
fact that she was touching him.

"A turn in the back garden would be ideal for
such a short walk. Dinner should be served in less than a half
hour," Carlotta added helpfully.

"Delightful. Don't you agree, Miss Lamont?"
Lord Graham turned to her, his smile soft.

"Indeed." Bethanny nodded, her heart still
hammering. The whole situation felt… awkward. Not necessarily in a
bad way, simply because she knew that they needed to talk, and
nothing could be said, aside from idle chatter about the weather
and nonsense, until they had worked through what had happened.

And what the future held.

And
that
conversation was surely not
going to take place in the small back garden with Carlotta at their
heels.

So she remained in purgatory, heaven only a
breath away but utterly out of reach. "Are you enjoying your time
here at Greenford Waters, Lord Graham?" Bethanny asked, hating the
bland topic, but needing desperately for something to speak about,
even if to only hear his voice.

"Each moment continues to be better than the
last," Lord Graham spoke softly, as if whispering a secret.

Gooseflesh prickled across her skin as she
delighted in the soft caress of his voice.

"That is good. What did you do this
afternoon?" she asked, her voice slightly higher in pitch,
revealing her tension.

"Waited," he answered succinctly.

Bethanny turned her head toward him. "For?"
she asked, though she suspected the answer.

"You," he replied quickly, as if any other
answer would be utterly ridiculous.

"I see," she replied, not sure how to
continue on that topic without going into other things… that
shouldn't be said with a chaperone.

"Tell me, Miss Lamont, what did you do this
afternoon?" Lord Graham asked after a few moments of silence.

Bethanny glanced about at the small hedge of
boxwoods that created a small garden inside of the larger one. "I
read, spent time with my sisters. Nothing too terribly exciting."
She shrugged.