His Lady Fair. Margo Maguire
pride.”
“Mmm,” he said, setting the lamp on a low table near the bed. “Your pride is likely to be sporting a few new bruises on the morrow.”
Ria bristled at the unmistakable sound of humor in his voice. After all, it was at her expense, and she did not appreciate bearing the brunt of his ridicule.
“Let me help you.”
Before she could react, he lifted her in his muscular arms and carried her away from the hearth.
Kirkham’s scent pervaded her senses. He did not smell of strong drink. Nay, his scent was warm and masculine, and altogether too appealing. Alluring, somehow. Ria had never before experienced the kind of longing he aroused with a mere touch, and she remembered thinking him a dangerous man.
This was the danger.
The candle in the lamp flickered, and shadows played over Kirkham’s face. Ria could not read the expressions crossing his visage, but his eyes held a dark intensity as he carried her to the bed.
Instead of placing her on the mattress, he let her feet slide to the floor, her body slipping down the length of his own, like a caress. The heat of his chest burned through the thin silk of her chemise, and she knew he felt it, too, when he glanced down.
Ria’s eyes followed Lord Kirkham’s, and she saw that they were skin to skin. Somehow, between falling and being rescued, the neck of the overlarge chemise had become askew. Steeling herself to keep from reacting like a naive bumpkin, Ria raised her chin and blinked.
Nicholas felt he might burst. Surely the woman knew what she was doing to him. She had only to feel the evidence of his arousal to know how this contact of her body against his affected him.
The naked tips of her breasts brushed against his chest, setting his skin on fire. Her breath caught, sending a tremor of fierce desire through him. She wanted him as wildly as he wanted her.
His lips touched the madly beating pulse in her neck as she tipped her head back to give him better access. Her skin tasted faintly of flowers, soft and feminine. He kept one hand on her back to keep her clamped to him, while his other hand cupped her shoulder, then touched the delicate bones of her throat. Softly, seductively, he moved it to the fullness of her breast, where he caressed her and made her whimper with need.
He found her mouth then, and absorbed the small noises she made, sounds that only inflamed him further. He soothed her trembling with his kisses, and slid one hand down to her buttocks. Pulling her ever closer, he moved against her in a rhythm that clearly demonstrated his intent.
His tongue boldly sought hers, and their mouths engaged in an intimate match that set his senses reeling.
Her responses to him gave an impression of shyness and innocence, yet he remembered the seductive expression in her eyes, the calculated shrug of her shoulders…the enticing gown that barely cloaked her lush attributes.
No one who looked like Lady Maria could still be chaste.
As soon as her ankle healed—
God’s teeth, what was he doing? The woman was injured due to his lack of caution, and now he was making love to her before her injury healed. She likely had new bruises from her most recent fall, as well.
“Maria…” he whispered, breaking off the kiss.
She looked up at him, those amazing amber eyes glazed with arousal. He could have her now; he knew that without a doubt. But he wanted her full participation. And that was not likely to happen until her body was intact, without bumps or bruises.
There would be another night. A full night, hours and hours together, when her stamina would be reduced neither by pain nor by an inconvenient draught of valerian to ease it.
He wanted her fully awake when she succumbed to him.
Morning dawned, bright and sunny.
Maria lay quietly in her bed and listened to the bird-song outside her window. All else was quiet at Kirkham.
Except for the thundering of her heart. She did not know what had come over her during the night when she had nearly allowed Lord Kirkham to bed her. Nor did she understand why he had stopped his seduction.
She was grateful that Nicholas’s advances had not progressed too far while she was under the influence of the drug she’d drunk earlier in the evening. Yet his departure from her chamber had caused a terrible longing that persisted through her dreams and even upon awakening this morning.
She’d never experienced anything like what he’d shown her last night. Never an inkling of what a man’s touch could do.
But not just any man, Ria suspected. Only the hands and lips of Nicholas Hawken would ever have the power to excite her that way.
She shivered with the chill of morning and glanced about her room. This was how it would be to arise in her own chamber at Rockbury, she thought, in a deliberate attempt to remove Lord Nicholas Hawken from her mind.
With sunlight bursting through the windows, a soft bed with adequate quilts—mayhap even a curtain—to ensure ample warmth, and fresh rushes on the floor, she would have more than she’d ever known in her life. Peace. Comfort. Contentment. A place—a home—where she belonged.
She drew her knees to her chest, pulled the soft quilts up around her shoulders and thought about leaving Castle Kirkham. She was torn between her need to get to Rockbury and her desire to stay and explore the possibilities with Lord Kirkham.
What were his intentions toward her? Surely they were honorable, for he believed her to be a noblewoman. No man in Nicholas Hawken’s position would seduce a woman of gentle birth. And Lord Kirkham believed she was “Lady Maria.”
Ria told herself she truly was Lady Maria. She did not know if she would ever become accustomed to hearing herself addressed as Maria, or Lady Maria. ’Twas doubtful.
She considered telling Lord Kirkham of her quest for Rockbury, then decided against it. She was not sure of anything regarding her inheritance, and did not want to be embarrassed if it turned out she was wrong. She could not tell Nicholas she was the daughter of a duchess and heir to Rockbury until she verified the truth of the matter. Better to remain quiet until then.
Still, there was the matter of this attraction that blazed between them. How would a noblewoman act in these circumstances?
Ria thought about the many times young men had visited Alderton, and how her cousin Cecilia had behaved in their presence. Cecilia had spent several seasons at court in London, and was quite adept at managing all her young suitors.
Ria wondered if she could be as brazen and flirtatious, yet modest and demure as Cecilia was. Surely Cecilia would have known how to deal with Lord Kirkham when he’d arrived in her room last night.
“Oh! My lady!” a pert young voice said quietly. “’Tis early…I didn’t expect you to be awake yet!”
’Twas one of the young maids from the previous night. She turned and picked up a basin of steaming water she’d set behind her, then entered the room, closing the door behind her.
The prospect of hot water was appealing, and Ria slipped her legs out from the warmth of the quilts. She had decided nothing about her actions today, but much depended on the condition of her ankle. If it was well enough to travel, she would go.
If not, then another day or so at Kirkham would not harm her.
All was quiet in Kirkham’s stables. None of the grooms were about as yet, and Nicholas enjoyed the serenity of the morning. All too soon his guests would be up and about, searching for new and ever more wicked diversions, even as they suffered the effects of the previous night’s festivities.
Nick paced the length of the low building until he reached the last stall, where Lady Maria’s mount had been stabled for the night. Unlatching the gate, he stepped in with the aging mare and looked her over, though his attention was not fully on the horse.
Instead,