On a Wicked Dawn

have you, I plan on taking at least an hour, and we'll have to gag you, because I promise you'll scream.'

Drawing away, he studied her face. She simply stared back at him, thoughts whizzing behind her eyes.

He smiled — wolfishly. Then he lifted from her and left the bed.

Amelia couldn't remember a single thing about the first night's dinner.

After Luc left her bedchamber, first checking that no one was about to see him flit down the stairs, she'd bestirred herself. Discovering a number of unexpected aches and twinges in muscles she hadn't known she possessed, she'd decided on a bath — a nice long soak during which she could dwell on what her twin had once confirmed as a magical moment.

Magical indeed — she'd fallen asleep in the tub. Luckily, Dillys had roused her and bundled her into her gown, dressing her hair high before directing her to the drawing room; if left to herself…

A curious, delightfully pleasant aura had suffused her, making thought, or indeed any exertion seem unnecessary. She'd had to fight to keep a silly, far too-revealing smile from her face. Up until, joining the assembled guests in the drawing room, she'd set eyes on her soon-to-be betrothed.

Rising from curtsying to their hostess, she'd moved to join Emily, speaking earnestly with Lord Kirkpatrick, and immediately felt Luc's gaze. She'd followed it to its source; he was standing chatting with a lady and three gentlemen on the other side of the room.

He met her gaze; despite the distance, she sensed the frown in his. Knew for a fact that he wasn't attending to the comments bandied before him. Then he seemed to recollect himself, hesitated, then addressed himself to the conversation about him.

That glimpse of uncharacteristic uncertainty left her wondering — raised questions in her mind, very quickly left her uncertain, too.

'We're planning on walking to the edge of the Downs tomorrow morning.' Lord Kirkpatrick looked at her hopefully. 'It's not all that far, and the views are said to be magnificent. Perhaps you'd like to join us?'

'Tomorrow?' She glanced at Emily, and saw a similar hope in her eyes. 'I hadn't really thought…' Another glance confirmed that his lordship and Emily both wanted her, a supporter of their blossoming romance, to accompany them so they could spend the time together without a bevy of others looking on. 'That is… yes, I would like to get out, weather permitting.'

'Of course — weather permitting.'

Both his lordship and Emily beamed with gratitude.

Amelia inwardly sighed, resigning herself to a morning of bucolic pleasures tramping through fields and meadows. There were other pleasures she would have preferred, but… she had no idea what Luc was thinking, much less what he was planning for tomorrow.

She felt the touch of his gaze and turned, only once again to sense his brooding frown. Not that such an expression was permitted to mar his Byronic beauty, but she could feel its leaden weight. Again, once their gazes had touched for a moment, he looked away — supposedly distracted by those he was standing with, in reality…

What was he thinking? Emily and Lord Kirkpatrick didn't need her assistance, so she could safely stand beside them and try to work it out. Reviewing all that had occurred through the lazy afternoon, and trying to see it through Luc's eyes, she was assailed by a sinking feeling.

Should she have screamed? Or was the boot on the other foot and, on reflection, had he not liked her forwardness? Had she been too accommodating? Was that even possible with a man — a rake — like him?

Had she, through sheer inexperience, done something he hadn't appreciated?

Was that why he'd left, surely earlier than necessary? He'd been adamant — immovably so — over not indulging with her again, yet he'd been perfectly capable. That wasn't the sort of behavior she'd expected, not from a man of his reputation. She was well aware that since his late teens, he'd had his pick of women, and had never been averse to taking his choice.

Her stomach had tightened, not pleasantly; an even more horrible thought flitted through her mind. Was his dark brooding an indication that he regretted coming to her — regretted all that had occurred that afternoon?

The thought caught, took root, blossomed, blocking out all else. She tried to catch Luc's eye, but he didn't again glance her way. Indeed, he kept his distance. The gong sounded, and the company transferred to the dining room. As one of the more senior peers present, Luc had to escort one of the grandes dames in; she found herself half a table away from him.

She had to laugh, converse, and put on a gay face — everyone, especially her sharp-eyed mama, expected her to be happy and carefree. She hoped she made a good job of it, but in truth had little idea — all through the meal, her heart was steadily sinking, her mind engrossed with the questions of where they were now, and if he would come to her room that night so she could rid herself of her uncertainties.

Small wonder she remembered not one bite, not one word.

The ladies rose and repaired to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen — a goodly company — to pass the port. Smiling, she joined the younger girls, Anne, Fiona, and three others, letting their chatter wash over her as she waited for the gentlemen to return, waited for Luc to come to her — to speak, to make arrangements to meet again, privately or otherwise.

The gentlemen returned; Luc did not.

She forced herself to behave normally, to take tea and continue to chat, while inwardly considering and discarding all thoughts of seeking him out. Hightham Hall was huge and rambling; she had no idea where he might be, nor yet where his room was situated. Impossible for her to find him.

He, of course, could find her.

When the youthful crew were encouraged to retire, she stifled a yawn and, citing the drive down as the cause of her tiredness, seized the chance to retreat to her room.

Once there, she changed into a long, lawn nightgown. After shooing Dillys off to her own rest, she blew out her candle and went to the window. Drawing the curtains wide, she waited, watching the wash of moonlight move slowly across the floor.

It finally occurred to her that no matter how early she retired, he wouldn't risk coming to her room until much later — until all the grandes dames along the corridor retired, too, and fell asleep. Muttering a curse, she marched to the bed and climbed in. Pulling the covers up over her shoulders, she wriggled and fussed with the pillows, then settled her head on them.

If she fell asleep, Luc would just have to wake her — she was quite sure he would.

Closing her eyes, she sighed, and settled down to wait.

Chapter 9

The morning sun slanting through the uncurtained windows woke her. She had plenty of time to join Emily and Lord Kirkpatrick on their excursion to the Downs.

They were returning to the house, the sun high in the sky, hot and somewhat exhausted from what had proved an adventurous ramble, when she saw Luc — on the back terrace, hands on his hips, clearly waiting for them.

More precisely, waiting for her; when Emily and his lordship went up the steps, Luc merely nodded distantly. With a wide-eyed glance back at her, now trailing in the rear, the younger couple escaped. Leaving her to cope with a hardened rake who was giving a very good imitation of an aggravated Zeus.

With a jaunty, positively saucy smile, she climbed the steps, swinging her hat by its ribbons. His lips thinned, his expression grew grimmer as he took in her disheveled appearance, the flush in her cheeks, the curls clinging to her brow and throat. She had a fairly good idea of the picture she presented, but was in no mood to pander to his thoughts, whatever they might be.

'Where the devil have you been?'

The inquiry was growled through gritted teeth. She waved with her hat. 'Up on the Downs. The views are quite breathtaking. You should go and take a look.'

'Thank you, but no — I'll take your word for it. It might have been wise to mention your little expedition —