The Bride's Necklace Part 5

"I heard people talking about you, too." He looked up into her face. "Why doesn't anyone like you?"

Tory's smile slid away. "The earl was talking about me?"

He shook his head. "A lady named Mrs. Rathbone and the cook. They said you were Lord Brant's doxy. That's why he hired you. What's a doxy? I thought it was some kind of dog."

Her face must have been seven shades of scarlet. How dare they say such a thing! Thoughts of firing the woman resurfaced, but Tory tamped them down.

"Well...a doxy is...is someone who does things she shouldn't. But that is not at all the truth. And it is the very reason you must never listen to gossip." She reached down and took hold of his hand. "You mentioned dogs," she said, desperate for a change of subject. "Do you like puppies?"

He vigorously nodded.

"Well, then, you are in luck. There is a new litter just birthed out in the mews."

Teddy grinned and a dimple appeared in his cheek. "I love puppies. 'Specially little black fuzzy ones."

Tory smiled. "Come on, then." Still holding on to his hand, she started leading him through the garden. "Why don't we have a look?"

They were just walking into the shadowy interior of the carriage house, Teddy clinging to her hand, when she spotted Lord Brant on his way out.

He paused just in front of them. "Well, I see you two have become acquainted."

Mrs. Rathbone's words came rus.h.i.+ng back, sending hot color into her cheeks. She wanted to shout at him, tell him the gossip was entirely his fault, but in truth it was her fault as much as his, since she never should have accepted the housekeeping job in the first place.

She kept her features bland. "Yes, we met out in the garden." The words came out a bit sharply. She wished she had the nerve to quit. She couldn't possibly do that. She had to think of Claire and what would happen to them if she did. "Teddy and I have come to look at the puppies. If you will excuse us, my lord."

But he made no effort to move, just stood exactly where he was, tall and broad-shouldered enough to easily block their way.

"I heard the coachman's mongrel had a litter. If you don't mind the company, I would enjoy seeing them myself."

Oh, she minded. She minded a very great deal. The servants were already gossiping about them. Seeing them together would only fuel the wagging tongues.

Still, she could scarcely order him out of his own carriage house. She and Teddy started forward and the earl fell in beside her. She stiffened at the feel of his warm hand settling at her waist, guiding her through the shadowy interior, past a s.h.i.+ny black carriage parked at the far end of the building.

She could hear the faint rustle of her skirt against his leg and her heart kicked up. When his arm lightly brushed her breast as he helped her through the doorway into another, smaller room filled with harnesses and hay, a rush of heat slid into her stomach.

They reached the enclosure where the puppies lay sleeping next to their mother, a thin, black-and-white-spotted hound, but the earl didn't move away. She tried to widen the distance between them, but there simply wasn't room.

"They're only a few days old," he said softly, his warm breath fanning her cheek. Embarra.s.singly, she trembled.

"Could I hold one?" Teddy asked, staring down at the mongrel pups as if they were purebred.

"They're too little yet," Brant said, reaching down to affectionately ruffle the little boy's dark hair. "Perhaps the next time you visit."

"Do you think I could have one?"

The earl chuckled softly, and Tory felt an odd lift in her stomach. "If your mother says it's all right. Why don't you go in and ask her?"

Teddy grinned up at him, turned and tore out of the carriage house, running pell-mell back inside and leaving her alone in the shadows with the earl.

"I-it is time I went back in. I have a great deal of work yet to do."

"You're looking a little flushed," he said, his golden eyes fixed on her face. "Are you feeling all right, Mrs. Temple?"

He was standing so near she could measure the beats of his heart, study the sensual curve of his bottom lip, see the way his mouth faintly lifted in one corner.

"It's...it's a bit close in here. I believe I could use a breath of air."

His lips curved even more. "Of course." He stepped away from her so quickly she nearly lost her balance. The earl's hand shot out to steady her. "You seem a little faint. Here, let me help you."

"No! I mean...I'm fine. Really I am."

"At least let me help you outside."

Sweet Lord, Brant's help was the last thing she needed. Mostly, she just wanted to get as far away from him as she possibly could. Why did that seem such a difficult task?

She tried to ignore his nearness, the strength of the hand at her waist, guiding her out of the mews, into the sunlight behind the fountain in the garden, but she couldn't dismiss the flush in her cheeks or the soft heat in her stomach.

She felt a little better outside, a little more in control. The earl very politely stepped away.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, much, thank you."

"Then I shall leave you to your work. Good afternoon, Mrs. Temple."

Tory watched him walk away, her heart still pounding, her knees weak beneath her skirt. The man had played the perfect gentleman and yet she could barely catch her breath. Dear G.o.d, if he did, indeed, have intentions toward Claire- Tory walked back to the house, more worried about her sister than she had ever been before.

A summer storm rolled over the city, thick black clouds blocking the thin slice of moon. Thunder rumbled outside the mullioned windows as Tory made her way through the shadowy darkness to the earl's study. The grandfather clock in the entry began the twelve chimes of midnight.

It was the Season in London. Lady Aimes was attending a house party with friends and, as was his custom, the earl had gone out for the evening.

Earlier, most of the servants had retired to their rooms, Tory among them. As she had lain in bed, she told herself to stay exactly where she was, to ignore the earl's latest chess move. But the challenge was simply too great.

As soon as the house fell silent, she pulled her quilted wrapper over her night rail, picked up the whale-oil lamp in her sitting room and headed for the stairs.

Now as she entered the study, she could see the chessboard, the glow of her lamp casting the tall ebony and ivory pieces into shadow. She ignored the cold wooden floor beneath her bare feet, quietly made her way to the board and seated herself in one of the high-backed chairs.

Setting the lamp down on the table, Tory studied the board, barely aware of the rustle of branches against the brick walls outside, the glimpse of moonlight between pa.s.sing clouds. Gazing at the pieces, she knew a moment of satisfaction. The earl had taken the bait. The trap she had laid had won her his castle.

She picked up a p.a.w.n to capture the piece, then realized that in doing so she was leaving an opening that could net him her queen. Tory grinned. The man was no fool. She would have to be more careful. She was deep in thought, planning the strategy that would win her the game, when a husky voice rumbled into her awareness.

"Perhaps you should take the castle after all. There is always the chance your opponent will fail to see the danger in which you've left your queen."

Tory's hand froze above the chessboard. Turning very slowly in her seat, she looked up into the face of the earl. "I don't...I don't think that he will. I think that he-you-are a very good player."

"Do you? Then that is the reason you ignored my wishes and continued to play after I specifically told you not to?"

Tory eased up out of her chair, hoping to feel less at a disadvantage. She realized her mistake the instant she was on her feet, for only a few inches separated her from the earl. He didn't back away, just kept her pinned there between the chair and the solid wall of his chest.

"Well, Mrs. Temple? Is that the reason you disobeyed my orders? Because I am such a very good player?"

She swallowed. He was a tall, well-built man and she knew firsthand how very volatile his temper. She had learned from her stepfather the consequences of angering such a man. Still, for some strange reason, she wasn't afraid.

"I-I can't exactly say why I did it. Chess is a game I enjoy. I was challenged in a way. Then you came to my room that night and I...I thought that playing again might be good for you."

Some of the tension seeped from his shoulders. "Perhaps it has been. Why don't you sit down, Mrs. Temple? You are prepared, are you not, to make your next move?"

Her own tension eased, replaced by a different sort of nervousness. Unconsciously, she moistened her lips, running the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth. In the lamplight, the gold of his eyes seemed to darken. He watched her with such sensual awareness that a little frisson of heat sparked in her belly.

"Yes, my lord. I'm ready." It was insane. She was barefoot and dressed in her nightclothes. It would be no small scandal if someone chanced upon them.

Unable to stop herself, knowing the risk she was taking, she sank back down in her chair, hoping her hand didn't tremble as she reached out and picked up her bishop. She angled it along an open row of beautiful inlaid squares, and captured one of his knights.

The earl chuckled as he seated himself on the opposite side of the chessboard. "You're certain taking the castle wouldn't have been the smarter move?"

Her confidence returned. "Quite certain, my lord."

The earl studied the chessboard, then moved his queen, neatly capturing one of her p.a.w.ns.

The play went on. The wind howled and wrenched the leaves from the branches of the trees, but in the small circle of light in the earl of Brant's study, Tory felt oddly protected.

She moved her castle. "I'm afraid that is check, my lord."

Brant scowled. "Yes, so it is."

The play continued, p.a.w.ns and pieces falling as if in a savage battle. It was well past two when the final move was made.

"Checkmate, my lord."

Instead of being angry, as she somewhat feared he might be, the earl merely laughed. He shook his head as he looked over to where she sat on the opposite side of the board.

"You continue to surprise me, Mrs. Temple."

"I hope that means I also continue to retain my position as your housekeeper."

One of his dark brown eyebrows went up. "Perhaps you should lose to me once in a while, simply to ensure you keep your position."

She smiled. "I don't think you would like that in the least."

The earl smiled, too. "No, not in the least. I shall expect a rematch, Mrs. Temple, in the very near future."

"I would be delighted, my lord."

The earl rose and helped Tory to her feet. She found herself in exactly the position that she had been in before, so close she could see the deep gold of his eyes. They seemed to hold her where she stood, to fix her feet to the carpet beneath the table. She felt his hand on her cheek, tilting her face up, then his mouth settled gently over hers.

Tory's eyes slid closed as soft heat enveloped her. He didn't reach for her, just continued to kiss her, his lips moving slowly over hers. He sampled and tasted, coaxed her to open for him, then slid his tongue inside. She started to tremble. Unconsciously, she reached her hand out and clutched the front of his evening coat. He made a deep sound in his throat and his arm came around her, pressing her more fully against him.

It was in that moment, as she felt the hard length of his arousal, that Tory's senses returned, slamming into her with the force of the wind outside the window.

Breaking away, she stumbled backward, desperate to be free of him, to regain her self-control. "My lord! I- I know what you must be thinking, but you are...you are sorely mistaken if you believe that...that I...If you think for an instant that I would...would..."

"It was only a kiss, Mrs. Temple."

Only a kiss? It felt as if her world had just turned upside down. "A kiss that shouldn't have happened. An indiscretion that will not...not occur again."

"I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it. I a.s.sure you I did."

Heat rushed into her cheeks. She had enjoyed it-far too much. "It isn't proper. You are my employer and I am your housekeeper."

"That is true. Perhaps there is something we could do to remedy that."

What on earth was he saying? The word doxy popped into her head. "You aren't...you aren't suggesting...? You can't possibly mean that I should...?"

Knees wobbling, she squared her shoulders and picked up the lamp. "I'm afraid I must bid you goodnight, my lord." Turning away, she marched past him. As she crossed the study, she could feel his eyes on her, burning like fire into her nightclothes.

"Good night, Mrs. Temple," he said as she walked out of the room.

Chapter Five.

Standing in the darkness of his study, Cord struck flint to tender, lighting another lamp now that Victoria had carried hers away. He smiled to think how the evening had progressed. Having returned early to the house on purpose, he had been hoping to catch out his chessboard culprit. Secretly hoping it might be Victoria Temple.

She had surprised him with her skill. And pleased him. He liked intelligent women. His cousin Sarah was bright and interesting. As had been his mother, dead now seventeen years. He could imagine pa.s.sing enjoyable hours with Victoria at the chessboard-after he had spent even more enjoyable hours in the lovely lady's bed.

Getting there, however, might not be as easy as he had imagined.

Cord walked over to the carved wooden sideboard against the wall and poured himself a brandy. He had hinted at the notion of an arrangement tonight. Surely the girl was not so naive she didn't understand that as his mistress her situation would be immensely improved for both her and her sister.

Next time he would explain the advantages in practical, no-nonsense terms, but he had a niggling suspicion it wouldn't do any good. Victoria Temple had principles. She was an unmarried woman, regardless of the Mrs. he had placed in front of her name. Sleeping with a man not her husband wasn't something she intended to do.

Oh, she was attracted to him. He knew women well enough to know when a woman returned his interest- which he most definitely had. His interest yet remained hard and throbbing inside his breeches, reminding him of the soft warmth of her lips, the way they had perfectly melded with his, the way they had trembled.

His arousal strengthened, making him harder still. He wanted Victoria Temple. He couldn't remember a time when a woman had appealed to him quite so much.

Unless, of course, it was all merely an act.

Cord liked women, but he also knew how devious some women could be. No matter her uppercla.s.s manners and speech, he had found Victoria on the street. Was she playing a game, or was she truly the innocent she seemed?

For now, he would trust his instincts in that regard, follow the plan that would solve both of their problems, and begin a subtle campaign of seduction. It was, after all, in Victoria's best interest. She had obviously been gently reared, no matter her current unfortunate circ.u.mstances. She belonged in stylish gowns, riding in a smart black carriage. And with the money he gave her, she could also provide those things for Claire.

The thought gave him pause. Just exactly who were Claire and Victoria Temple? Cord made it a policy to know the strengths and foibles of the people around him. Perhaps he should hire a runner, see what he might find out. He would give the matter some thought.

He glanced down at the chessboard. Seduction was not so different from a game of chess, he thought, the man making a move, the woman responding, the play going back and forth until one of them was victorious. He saw himself clearly in that role, but it wouldn't be easy. If he wanted to win the prize, he would have to plan carefully.