Restoration Series - A Scoundrel's Kiss Part 20

"We only gave you a small sum to start. All the rest you won, and we insist you take it," the king said, and there was a look in his eye that told her she would not be wise to contradict him.

"Very well, Your Majesty," she acquiesced, deciding she would give it to charity. "Shall we play another hand?"In the gallery, court musicians began to play.

The king shook his head, then rose. "We think not, for the music for dancing is begun. We have promised a dance to Frances Stewart."

Arabella half rose as the king strolled away, then sat again, contemplating how she would carry away her winnings and wondering why Neville was not at Whitehall tonight.

A shadow suddenly loomed over the table, sending a chill down her spine. In the next instant, the Duke of Buckingham insinuated himself into the king's vacated chair. "Good evening, Lady Arabella. How lovely you look this evening. That shade of blue is very becoming on you."

"If you will excuse me, Your Grace," she said, standing, "I should join the earl."

"Not yet," the duke said softly, laying his cool, damp hand over hers. "I wish to speak with you."

"I-".

"It is very important to you and to Neville Farrington, too, I should think."

Arabella sat down.

"I am delighted to know you can be reasonable," the duke said, mercifully taking his hand from hers to shuffle the cards. "We shall play a hand or two, shall we?" He gave her a leering smile. "Winner take all."

"I would rather not play with you, Your Grace. I am too new to these courtly games."

"We shall have to change that, won't we?"

"Your Grace-" she began with a hint of her annoyance.

"Lady Arabella," he interrupted, his cold, reptilian eyes narrowing, "you would be wise to listen To what I have to say. Surely you cannot be so naive that you do not appreciate the compliment a man's attention implies. And you have caught the attention of a very important man."

Arabella knew the duke was vain, but to hear him speak of himself with such arrogant pride was really too much. "If the man is married, he should keep his attention on his wife."

"How provincial," the duke retorted. "We are at court, not some little country village."

"Should not the court provide the example of morality? Or," she said, frowning, "do the courtiers mean to lead by providing examples of how not to behave? If so, Your Grace, I fear your lessons are quite lost on simple folk like myself."

The duke scowled. "You have no idea what is being offered to you."

"Perhaps I have too good an idea-and so must reject it," she retorted. Then she looked past the duke.

"Oh, Your Grace-here is Mrs. Hankerton."

With a low curse, Villiers turned to look over his shoulder. That wh.o.r.e had no business coming here!

He surveyed the crowd of card players but couldn't see Mrs. Hankerton.

When he turned back, Arabella Martin was nowhere to be seen.Some time later, as she made her weary way upstairs in the earl's townhouse behind Jarvis, Arabella sighed deeply.

It had been a very trying evening, looking for Neville without being obvious, listening to the earl mutter complaints and disparaging remarks about the court and everybody in it, her growing awareness that Lord Cheddersby seemed to be the husbandly choice of the moment and avoiding the Duke of Buckingham. Now, safely home, she was utterly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep. With that in mind, she had dismissed the yawning maid who had awaited her return.

At the threshold of her bedchamber, Jarvis handed her the rushlight, bowed and departed. With another sigh, Arabella entered, set down the light and removed her cloak. She laid it on the chair. As she reached for the laces at the back of her bodice, she saw her bed curtains make a sudden, unexpected movement.

The window was not open; there was no draft.

"Who's there?" she demanded in a whisper.

Then she saw him.

Neville stood in the shadows of the bed curtains. His hair and clothing were disheveled, and he held a bottle in his right hand. He was not so much in the dark that she could not see his devilishly sinful grin.

Her heart, already racing, seemed to beat even faster. She felt a trickle of perspiration run down her side.

"What are you doing here?"

Neville put his finger to his lips.

"Hush, hush, Arabella," he said in a singsong voice. "No need to be so upset. My father forgot to send some of my belongings, so I came for them tonight. If you make a hubbub, Jarvis will suffer for allowing me in the house. You wouldn't want Jarvis to suffer, would you?"

She went to the opposite side of the bed. "That does not explain what you are doing in my bedchamber."

"I made a mistake, and then I saw the light. I didn't want to have yet another tedious argument with my father, so I sought refuge here."

"Now your father is safely in his room, so you must leave!" she ordered in a stern whisper, pointing at the door.

"Leave, she orders me," he muttered. "In my own house, too."

"It is not your house. It is your father's. Please get out, or... or..."

"Or what?" he inquired. "Or you'll call my father?" He gestured widely with the bottle in the direction of the other bedchambers. "Go ahead. Let him toss me into the street. He'll need Jarvis to help him, though.

Or you."

He dropped the bottle, which hit the floor with a dull thud, then splayee his hands on the bed and leaned toward her. "Would you do that, dear, sweet Arabella? Are you so hardhearted a wench you would throw me out into the streets like the contents of a chamber pot?"

"I will if you do not go, and quickly," she declared firmly.

He climbed on the bed, and she moved back from it as he lay on his side, holding his head in one hand while he smiled at her. "I don't want to leave.""Why do you not visit your friends? They may find your antics amusing."

Neville rolled onto his back and stared upward. "I don't have any friends. Not anymore."

"I find it hard to believe that a man of your many attributes is left completely friendless," she said, sidling toward the door.

He turned his head and grinned. "Do you like my attributes?"

"You are not unattractive, my lord, but I dare say you know that well enough without hearing it from me."

He sat up. "I could never tire of hearing my praises sung from your lovely lips. I'faith, I could never tire of anything from your lovely lips. I think I would find curses delightful if they fell from your lovely lips."

He must be in his cups to spout such nonsense.

She was nearly at the door. "Surely there are ladies who would be your friend."

He was off the bed and at the door before she quite knew what was happening. "As you would be the king's friend?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I'm only a little drunk and not at all stupid," he said, leaning against the door. "The whole court is buzzing with the news of your conquest, although I think the king an easy continent to claim."

"The whole court is wrong," she retorted, eyeing him warily. "Please go!"

"Where? Where would you have me go? You have taken my place here."

"Surely Sir Richard-"

"Would probably offer to meet me in a duel if I showed my face at the theater tonight."

She moved away from him, across the room. "Why?"

"We have quarreled."

"What about?"

"You."

"Me?" she cried softly, putting her hand to her breast in surprise.

Not taking his gaze from her, Neville nodded slowly. "He's going to try to seduce you. It's quite obvious, really. Even a countrified miss should be able to tell."

She frowned, but continued to regard him just as steadily. "Then it would seem he is very like every other man in London."

"Not every man."

"No," she agreed. "Lord Cheddersby is the soul of propriety."

"That puppy!""Ah!"

"There you are again with that e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. Why "ah" now, Lady?"

"Because I think you have quarreled with Lord Cheddersby as well. Why?"

Unexpectedly, his gaze faltered. "Perhaps because he would presume to marry you."

Of all the explanations he might have given, she had not expected this one.

Then, just as suddenly and unexpectedly, he lunged for her and pulled her against his hard chest so that the breath was nearly knocked from her. He captured her mouth in a fiery, pa.s.sionate kiss that again unleashed an incredible burning, fierce desire within her.

This was not weakness. This was a strength she didn't know she possessed, a yearning so potent, it must and would dominate her.

"You want me as much as I want you," he murmured, pressing heated kisses upon her temples, her cheeks.

As he gently nibbled on her earlobe, her arms encircled him, seemingly of their own volition. His arm tightened about her, holding her like a band of iron, leaving his other hand free to stroke and caress her.

She moaned softly as he cupped her breast and his thumb brushed across her nipple. It was so tempting to give herself over to the pa.s.sionate excitement sweeping through her body, to yield completely until she knew the fulfillment of release from this thrilling tension building within her.

To surrender, even though she knew it was wrong.

If they did not stop immediately, she would do what every l.u.s.tful particle of her body was urging her to do. She would weaken and go up in the flame of pa.s.sion like so much tinder-and risk her soul for sin.

She summoned all that remained of her righteous resolution and placed her hands against his broad chest to push him away. "Stop," she murmured.

"That is your Puritan father speaking," he muttered as his lips trailed across her collarbone.

He ground his hips against hers in a primitive, lascivious action that had nothing to do with love or affection but only l.u.s.t.

"No, it is Arabella."

He stopped and stepped back, his gaze hardening. "I perceive I have underestimated you, Arabella."

"I... I don't know what you mean."

"You are very clever, my coy and teasing lady. You spur me on one moment only to withdraw the next, knowing that to do so only whets my appet.i.te. Is this the strategy you would use upon the king?"

"I am not being clever! You surprised me!"

"It amazes me that you can always be caught so unaware. But I forget-it is time for the virtuous virgin to appear upon the stage," he said scornfully. "This wench who kisses with such blatant desire is all righteous indignation now.""I am not a wanton!"

"You enjoy my kisses."

"No doubt that is how you think every woman reacts to your embraces," she replied defensively.

"If they do, they do not dissemble. What is it you hope to gain by this?"

"Gain?"

"My devotion? You had that, for tonight at least."

"I do not want anything from you!"

A smirk twisted his face. "Apparently not. Or at least, not for the moment. I have to wonder if this is but a feint that I am supposed to parry." He sighed dramatically. "To think I was beginning to believe you were the innocent you seemed! You belong upon the stage. You would be a great success-in many ways."

"I think you would be better, for you feign sincerity so well."

"I feign sincerity?" he scoffed with a laugh. "What about you? I see full well how you manage my father and poor dim Foz. I wonder what they would have thought had they ventured into this room a few moments ago. Their countenances would surely have been amusing."

"There would have been nothing amusing about it."

"Really? Then you do not have the sense of humor I credited you with. I'faith, I more than half believed that is what led you to entertain thoughts of marrying Foz. Either that or greed. Tell me, does my father know of your propensity for entertaining visitors in your bedchamber like my lady Castlemaine and others of her sort?"

"You invade my privacy and then think to criticize me?"