VIscount Besieged (31 page)

‘
I
have been telling Titus,’ said the lady herself, breaking into
Isadora’s thoughts, ‘that he must, at all costs, make sure he
marries you to someone both sensible and kind.’

Oh, had she?
Sensible and kind? Mentally, Isadora wondered what in the world the
viscount might have had to say to that.

Aloud, she said
acidly, ‘As far as I know, he is not planning to marry me to anyone
at all. What is more, I do not require his assistance in the
matter.’

Lady Ursula went
into her peal of laughter. ‘He told me you would say
so.’

‘
Did
he indeed?’ Just what else had the wretch been saying about
her—discussing her freely, no doubt, with his ‘love’?

‘
Yes,
for I asked him all about you,’ said Lady Ursula with artless
candour. ‘Is it really true that you are as good an actress as Mrs
Siddons?’

‘
Better,’ Isadora said before she could stop her tongue. Then,
ashamed of herself, she added, ‘At least, I am told that my knack
with tragedy rivals hers.’

‘
I
can’t wait to see you perform, then,’ declared Lady Ursula. ‘But it
is doubly important for Titus to discover the right husband for
you. It must, of course, be someone who appreciates your talent.
Now, can you think of anyone you know who fits this
description?’

‘
Lady
Ursula,’ Isadora said, an edge to her voice, ‘I cannot think that
the subject of my possible marriage can be of interest to anyone
other than myself.’

To her intense
astonishment, far from being properly snubbed, Lady Ursula’s eyes
began to dance.

‘
Can
you not? Dear me, I rather thought I detected a great deal of
interest from someone other than yourself.’

Isadora frowned.
What in the world was the woman at now? ‘I do not take your
meaning.’

The lady
laughed. ‘Never mind. I dare say it will astonish you to hear that
even I—a comparative stranger—take an interest in your prospective
husband, Isadora.’

It did. In fact
it astonished Isadora so much that she refused to believe it. What
game the woman was playing she was unable to imagine. The only
possible interest she might have had—if she had been able to see
into Isadora’s heart—would have been in the knowledge that she
coveted Lady Ursula’s own prospective marriage partner. If indeed
she did plan on marrying Roborough. And that titbit she could not
know, for Isadora flattered herself that she hid the state of her
emotions very well.

It cost her an
effort of will to do so, but she discovered the very next
morning—after another of those painfully sleepless nights with
rather more shedding of useless tears than she thought either
acceptable or deserved by the unnamed subject of them—that her will
had barely been tested in the presence of the Ursula female. The
sensations that attacked her when she realised that Roborough meant
to ride with her— despite Lady Ursula’s more urgent claims to his
attention—were far less susceptible of control.

Great heavens,
why was he waiting for her? She had come to the stables with no
such expectation. Indeed, she had refused to contemplate it,
determining in the long night hours to ask one of the grooms to
escort her. She knew she ought not to ride after such a night, but
had convinced herself that if she did not get away from the mansion
she would go mad. The very last thing she had expected was to be
obliged to get away from the mansion with Roborough.

What was she to
say to him? How was she to conduct herself? She could not—who could
expect it of her?—behave towards him in her normal fashion. Already
her betraying pulses were leaping in her veins, making speech
well-nigh impossible.

As a result, she
greeted him with a good deal of cool reserve—a shield hastily
raised to guard her lacerated emotions—and watched, in dismay, the
frown descend upon his brow. Now he would demand an explanation.
And she did not have one, heaven help her.

Her instincts
proved true. No sooner had they ridden the pair of horses out of
earshot of the stables than the viscount immediately referred to
her mood.

‘
What
is the matter with you, Isadora? Don’t you wish to ride…with
me?’

The little
addition drew her head round with a jerk.

‘
Oh
yes,’ she cried involuntarily. Then she quickly drew the shutter
down again, for she must not reveal her feelings.

His frown
deepened and she looked away.

‘
I
slept badly,’ she offered stiffly. ‘A headache.’

‘
Again?’

‘
What
do you mean?’

‘
My
dear Isadora, you must not expect me to be completely gullible. On
each occasion that you have complained of a headache you have
looked as if you tossed on your pillows all night. Every such
occasion has, by some extraordinary coincidence, been followed by
your picking a quarrel with me. Am I supposed to believe that this
is an exception?’

Isadora bit her
lip. She could not look at him, for the teasing quality in his
voice was productive of a strong desire to burst into tears. She
must not. That would be fatal
.
She tried for a light note,
unaware of the husky quality in her own voice.

‘
You
are imagining things, Roborough. There is no reason in the world
for me to pick a quarrel with you today.’

The viscount
brought his mount up close and leaned across to catch her bridle.
The two horses came to a halt. Isadora turned frowning eyes upon
him, the desire to weep receding as surprise took its
place.

‘
What
are you doing?’

He eyed her.
‘You, my girl, are a lying little devil.’

‘
I am
no such thing,’ she flashed, firing up.

‘
Don’t argue with me,’ he snapped. ‘If you think I am going to
endure another stupid misunderstanding only because you will not
tell me what is troubling you, you are very much
mistaken.’

Isadora pulled
at her rein. ‘Let go of my bridle! I don’t know what you’re talking
about.’

‘
Oh
yes, you do. We are going back up to that little clearing by the
fallen trees and you are going to tell me what is in your mind. Do
you understand?’

‘
How
dare you?’ raged Isadora. ‘By what right do you take this tone with
me?’

His features
broke into an abrupt grin. ‘That’s the Isadora I know. I had rather
have you on your high ropes any day than moping in that
uncharacteristic fashion.’

Isadora fought
for control. ‘Do you—?’ She stopped, drew a firmer breath, and
started again. ‘Do you mean to tell me that you deliberately
provoked me? You—you—and don’t dare to put words in my mouth merely
because I cannot think of anything at the moment!’

‘
Certainly not,’ agreed Roborough cheerfully. ‘I shall wait
until you have searched your mind for the exact adjective—failing,
of course, your favourite one.’

‘
You
abominable man!’

‘
Oh
yes, that one. How could I have forgotten?’

Isadora’s fury
faded rapidly and she erupted into giggles.

‘
I
hate you!’

‘
Thank God for that! I had begun to fear that you were
altogether indifferent towards me, and that would never
do.’

He released her
bridle as he spoke and urged his mount onward, knowing that she
would automatically follow suit. There was something troubling her.
He might have distracted her for the moment, but he could read her
countenance so well now that he simply knew. She was unhappy. He
could feel it. He could no more stand by and let it alone than he
could purposely give her cause for unhappiness.

Leading the way
to the fallen tree-trunk, he reined in again. Looking around, he
found that although Isadora had readily accompanied him to the spot
she was looking extremely apprehensive. No matter. She might not
wish to confide in him but he was determined that she should. He
swung out of the saddle and tethered his horse.

Then he came up
to her and held up his arms. ‘Come.’

Isadora looked
down at him. Was there any way out of this? God knew she would give
anything to enjoy his company thus alone. But it was not
safe
.
In his presence, she did not know if she could
conceal anything.

‘
Come, Isadora,’ he repeated, a command in his
voice.

She was in no
condition to resist him. Making ready, she allowed him to help her
down, pushing instantly away in a manner that he found highly
suggestive.

‘
It
is to do with me, isn’t it?’ he asked, unable to help a harsh note
from creeping into his voice.

Oddly, Isadora
derived strength from it. An ungentle Roborough she could deal
with. She rushed into speech.

‘
It
is nothing of the sort. If you must know, it has nothing whatsoever
to do with anyone except myself. I am—I am bored. Yes—bored.’ She
had hit upon a theme she might with advantage use. She pursued it
ruthlessly. ‘I have nothing to do, you see.’

The viscount
frowned. She was fluent enough with this excuse, but he thought it
was just that. An excuse. Still, he supposed there might be
something in it.

‘
What
were you used to do at Pusay?’

‘
Oh,
practise my speeches.’

‘
There is nothing to stop you doing so here. In fact, it would
be an excellent plan if you were to get up a play for Ursula’s
benefit. She has been expressing a wish that you would
perform.’

Get up a play
for Lady Ursula’s benefit? That was to add insult to injury. Only
he naturally would not realise that. She saw him frown again and
knew that her face was giving her away.

‘
I
see that the idea does not find favour with you.’

Thinking fast,
she turned this instantly to her advantage. ‘Of course it does not
find favour with me. I do not wish to perform here, but on the
stage. The real stage.’

Roborough’s
frown deepened and his voice was dry. ‘You hold by that scheme, do
you?’

‘
I
have never wavered from it,’ Isadora lied in a defiant tone,
tossing her head. ‘Why should you suppose I have changed my mind?
I am still determined on becoming an actress, and you will find
that you can do nothing to stop me.’

‘
Perhaps you are right,’ he said slowly. His gaze raked her
from her head to her heels and back again. In a voice of soft
menace, he said, ‘But if you do I am afraid there will be nothing
for it but for me to follow you and set up as your
protector.’

Shock held
Isadora silent. She gazed at him blankly. That could mean only one
thing. Was he mad?

‘
My—my protector? You mean—you mean you would make me your
mistress
?’

Roborough held
her eyes. ‘In the circumstances, no other liaison would be
possible.’

‘
No
other liaison?’

He
glanced about in a puzzled way. ‘There seems to be an echo
hereabouts.’

Unheeding, Isadora burst out, ‘That is utterly absurd. I
could not possibly become your mistress.’

‘
Why
not?’ he demanded, his gaze coming back to hers. ‘Would you dislike
it?’

Isadora’s pulse
began to thrum in her veins. Dislike it? No, indeed. Quite
otherwise. Only she could not say so. All thought of any other
mistress had gone quite out of her head. The only thing she was
aware of was the disturbing sensation of her blood pumping
passionately in areas of which she had never previously been
aware.

‘
That
is a—a stupid question,’ she managed to say, though her lips
quivered on the words.

Roborough’s gaze
became riveted on her mouth. He could not fathom what had possessed
him to get into such a conversation. He had spoken out of the
ardour that he had been damping down for so long. She protested
that it was a stupid question, but he would give his life for the
answer. No, that was ridiculous. But this was ridiculous. He must
stop at once.

But his gaze
came up a little, and Isadora’s brown eyes were regarding him with
something in their depths that he intuitively recognised. Acting on
the knowledge, without intention, without thought, he kissed
her.

Isadora, taken
completely by surprise, responded instinctively. She kissed him
back.

His arms crept
round her, pulling her close. Driven by the movement of her lips
under his, he pressed more firmly.

A wash of heat
engulfed Isadora, and her mouth opened, allowing a velvet touch of
softness to meet a welcome within. Fire rushed to the seat of
desire and her body shrank involuntarily into the hardness of his
limbs.

Roborough
dragged her roughly against him and Isadora moaned softly as his
mouth left hers, tracing a path of burning flame into the hollows
of her neck. Isadora arched back in response, and, without will
reached up her hands to his head, tugging him down that she might
seek his mouth again.

As she did so,
her eyes fluttered open, letting in a sliver of sky and trees and
daylight, incongruous against the dark passion she was
experiencing. It flung her back to reality.