When Harry Met Molly

Chapter 26

“You tell me why you think she has straw in her hair and stuck to the back of her gown, Traemore,” Sir Richard said as if Harry were a dunce. “A woman lying in bed all day! I walked behind her from the dining room, and the straw fell out as we went. She’s been tumbling someone in the stable. She wasn’t ill at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Lumley said stoutly. “Joan has been resting.”

“Unfortunately, she was sequestered in a seldom-used room.” Harry was amazed how easily he fell into playing along with the mistresses’ ruse, but whatever it was, it had done Joan a world of good. “The bed is often used by two of our sneakiest hounds. They traipse in with straw all the time. Mud, too.”

Sir Richard looked temporarily appeased. But something else occurred to him. “Did anyone check on her today?”

“I did,” said Athena. “And she was most certainly prone in that bed.”

“Which was where?” Sir Richard asked.

“Under the eaves,” said Athena.

“I thought someone said it was near the kitchens.” Sir Richard turned to Harry. “Do you have a bed in either place?”

“I don’t see why it should matter to you,” Harry said. “In fact, I would go so far as to say it’s none of your business. Even if Joan weren’t in her room all day, she has broken no rules of the game.”

Sir Richard’s face reddened even more. “Who’s in charge here—we or they? Show me this room of yours, Traemore, under the eaves. Or is it by the kitchens?” he added nastily.

“No,” Joan said boldly. “Stop badgering Lord Harry. You’re right. I wasn’t in bed all day.”

“See?” Sir Richard’s face registered a mix of triumph and glee.

Joan’s expression was cool yet defiant. “I went to a neighboring village. And I was fortunate to get a ride in a haywagon on part of the way back.”

“Why did you go?” Sir Richard asked. “To lie with some farmer?

“Shut up, Bell,” said Lumley, his fists clenched.

Joan shook her head. “I went to see my sister. And her—her baby.”

“I didn’t know you had family here,” said Lumley. “I would’ve taken you.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” Joan gave him a sad smile. “I thought you’d be angry.”

“Why would I be angry?” Lumley’s brow was puckered.

“Because we mistresses aren’t supposed to have a life apart from our protectors,” she replied in a low, bitter tone.

“That’s right,” said Sir Richard. “The other mistresses lied so you could shirk your duties.”

“Yes,” Joan said. “And I thank them for my few hours of freedom. They knew I wanted to see my family.”

Sir Richard swiveled to Bunny. “You knew about this.” It was a statement.

Bunny’s face seemed almost pressed flat, as if she were anticipating being hurt. “Yes,” she said in a soft voice.

Sir Richard raised his hand as if to strike her.

And before he could think, Harry grabbed Sir Richard’s arm, right below the wrist. “Don’t you ever lift a hand against Bunny in my house.”

Sir Richard’s face twisted in a satisfying grimace. “Let go of my arm.”

“Not until I have your promise,” Harry ground out. “Only cowards strike women.”

Sir Richard narrowed his eyes. “All right.”

Harry dropped his arm.

“Spineless fool.” Sir Richard rubbed his arm, and his eyes glittered. “You’ve made a very bad mistake, Traemore. She’s my property.”

“I am not your property,” said Bunny softly.

“What did you say?” Sir Richard was practically purple at this point.

“I am not yours,” she said. “You pay me for my services, and I can leave whenever I choose.”

“You whore,” said Sir Richard.

Right, Harry thought. That’s it.

He grabbed Sir Richard by the collar and almost lifted him off the floor. “Enough! Do you understand me?” He shoved him against a wall.

Sir Richard nodded, his eyes fearful—but full of hate.

Harry knew there was no turning back now. He dropped him with a thud. “If you ever strike Bunny again, or hurt her in any way, not only in this house but anywhere, I shall see to it that you will never do so again, if it means I have to call you out and put a bullet through your heart. Have I made myself clear?”

Sir Richard’s mouth became a thin line. “Perfectly.”

Captain Arrow came forward. “Are you still in the game, Bell? Or have you quit? Because if you do, you are by forfeit the next bachelor to marry.”

“I’m in,” Sir Richard said through gritted teeth.

“You’re too riled to enter the kissing closet,” said Harry, raking him with a scornful glance. “Joan, as well, is exhausted. I suggest we suspend that game for the remainder of the week.”

It would be the cruelest joke to insist any woman here ever have to kiss Sir Richard.

Everyone appeared to understand Harry’s meaning.

“As one half of the arbitration committee, I make a motion we suspend the kissing closet activity indefinitely,” said Captain Arrow.

“As the other half of the committee, I second Arrow’s motion,” said Lumley. “Let’s allow the ladies to have an early night, shall we? They need their beauty sleep.”

“Excellent idea,” said Harry. He took a breath, tried to calm down. “We’ve still the daily vote to do, gentlemen. Cheroots and brandy in the library in ten minutes.”

There were awkward murmurs of agreement from all except Sir Richard, and then Harry’s guests began filing out of the drawing room.

But there was Molly, still standing with her hand on the doorknob of the closet. Her eyes held a sheen of tears, and she smiled at Harry, a trembly, little…happy smile.

A smile he had no desire to resist.

Molly practically broke off the doorknob of the closet when Harry threw Sir Richard against the wall. Her knees were like water. But Harry was coming toward her now, striding with such purpose she felt a great joy surge through her. It propped up her knees and dried her eyes.

He’d done something heroic. And she was so very proud of him. He didn’t say a word, just backed her into the closet and shut the door.

They were in total darkness.

“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“You have nothing to thank me for. I should have done that long before now.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her.

She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. He was like a beast, after all, pent up and fierce after the episode with Sir Richard. She sensed he needed solace, a refuge. So she roped her hands around his neck, smoothed his hair back from his face, and kissed him back for all she was worth.

“I want you, Molly,” he murmured deep in his throat, and kneaded her hips as he plundered her mouth.

Inch by inch, he moved his hands higher, up to her waist, and then higher, until he was massaging one breast with one hand and pulling her backside as close to him as possible with the other, against his hardness.

But it wasn’t enough.

It simply wasn’t enough.

With a groan of frustration, he pulled apart from her, but she instantly molded herself back to his body.

“I want you, too, Harry,” she said. “I know you only have a short time before the vote. But please. Show me