To Romance a Charming Rogue

Tess frowned at his continued silence. “Your marriage was not a love match, I take it, judging from the haste of the ceremony and the distance you and Eleanor have maintained from each other these past few days.”

Her prodding comment about love made him uneasy. “No, it was not a love match,” Damon responded in a bland tone. “Not that it is any of your concern, darling.”

“Of course it is my concern,” she retorted sweetly. “You are my nearest family. You are the closest thing I have to a brother. I had the Loring sisters to help me through my worst days, but you have no one.”

She paused. “I do know how you feel, Damon. The thought of intimacy, of making yourself vulnerable to pain again, frightens the devil out of you. So you build a protective shell around you. You shun all emotion. You hold your feelings close to yourself. But you pay a price for such isolation. For the past two years, I have felt only half alive while the world moved on around me.”

So had he, Damon had to admit.

“It is a dreadfully lonely way to exist,” Tess added wistfully. “True, you experience less sorrow, but you also never feel joy, never know love. And love is what makes us whole, Damon.”

He mentally shrank from her observation, instinctively resisting her advice. Eschewing love and intimacy was indeed a lonely existence, yet if he needed a reminder of the danger in loving, Tess was it. He intended to spare himself the pain and grief she'd endured upon losing her betrothed.

He and Eleanor were lovers now, but he didn't want any further closeness than that-did he? He certainly didn't want to lead her on and then hurt her when he failed to reciprocate her feelings, as he'd done during their betrothal.

Tess seemed to sense that she had pressed him too intently, however, for her tone lightened and she changed to focus to herself.

“I hope to love again someday. In the meantime, I plan to live my life more fully. I am done worrying about appearances, fretting over what is proper and what is not. I mean to let down my hair a little. You have been wicked all your life, Damon. Now it is my turn.”

Damon's gaze narrowed on her as he buttoned his coat. “Should I be worried about you, Tess?”

She flashed him a smile that accented her astonishing beauty. “No, you needn't worry. I don't mean to become too wicked, merely a dash. No matter the temptation, I cannot turn into a Jezebel since I have my charities to consider. But I have swathed myself in widow's weeds long enough, especially since I never actually was a widow.”

Crossing to her, Damon took her hand. “If I promise to throw off my widow's weeds for now, will you leave me in peace?”

Tess dimpled up at him. “Possibly. What did you have in mind?”

“You will be glad to know I intend to take my wife riding this morning, just the two of us.”

Tess's smile was beautiful to behold. “Excellent,” she exclaimed as she withdrew her hand and slid down from the bed. “Then you don't need any more prodding from me. I will leave it to Eleanor to try and dissolve that wall you have built around your heart.”

With that, Tess exited his room, leaving Damon to grapple with the totally discomfiting thoughts both she and Eleanor had kindled in him.

Eleanor was far from certain that Damon would accept her invitation to ride, but her hopes soared when a servant brought her word from Lord Wrex-ham, asking her to meet him in the stables at eleven o'clock.

She eagerly went upstairs to change into a stylish, dark blue riding habit and matching shako hat, and was fairly pleased with the image reflected in her mirror.

Their horses were waiting when she arrived at the stables, as was Damon. He looked supremely handsome, Eleanor thought, searching his face, although his enigmatic expression was no more revealing than it had been last night.

Apparently he preferred to forget that experience altogether, for after a brief greeting, Damon was silent as he lifted her into her sidesaddle and then swung up on his own horse.

Together they guided their mounts along the long sweeping drive flanked by chestnut trees and banks of rhododendrons, and then left the formal grounds of Rosemont behind to ride out into the countryside.

Admittedly, Eleanor felt a little fatigued, since she had stayed awake long into the night watching Damon sleep, and yet her spirits were higher than at any time since before her aunt's house party began.

It was a splendid day, fresh and clean after the rain, and golden with sunshine, with a sweet hint of autumn in the air. She could see for miles over the grassy hills and green valleys of the downs, which stretched off toward the horizon and the English Channel.

After a time, Eleanor began searching her mind for something to say. She was keenly aware of Damon and wanted very much to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling. But she decided she would be wise to stick to mundane topics.

“So, was Marcus's tonic effective in soothing your aching head?” she asked. “I have never had need to use it myself, fortunately.”

The wry curve of his mouth raised her spirits even further. “Yes, it was effective. I am in your debt.”

“I am glad. I am also glad that you wanted to ride with me. It has been frustrating, being cooped up in the house for so many days.”

“Yes,” Damon agreed. “I thought it best that we spend some time together. Our distance is beginning to be noticed by the guests.”

Eleanor winced inwardly at his casual comment, a little hurt that the only reason Damon gave for accepting her invitation was for appearances’ sake.

She couldn't say the same about him. She relished being with him, relished the pleasure of simply sharing his company. She always had.

Indeed, this moment brought back memories of two years ago when their courtship was brand new- the excitement, the anticipation, the feverish delight of having his attention all to herself, the thrill of his kisses… They had spent a good deal of time riding over these same lands together.

It had been a special time in her life, Eleanor remembered, and she would give a great deal to recapture that magic-which was in part why she had proposed this outing with Damon.

He did not seem particularly willing to cooperate, but she set her jaw, determined to persevere and prod him out of his dour mood.

“Did I mention that I was reading a Gothic novel penned by a friend?” Eleanor remarked. “She will be pleased to know that I enjoyed it immensely. I promised that I would give her a critique of the story and characters, so I must write her a letter this afternoon. That is how I have been spending my early morning hours, immersed in a good book… if you care to know, that is.”

Damon sent her an intent glance. “Shall we ride, Elle? It isn't like you to prefer idle chatter to a good gallop.”

Eleanor regarded him somberly, wondering if Damon was attempting to push her away once more, or if he was still dwelling on his dark memories, or merely recovering from his overindulgence of spirits. Probably all three, she suspected.

She decided to not to press him at the moment, and instead, opted for a response that at least might help shake him out of his dark thoughts and clear his throbbing head.

“Very well, Lord Wrexham, you want to ride? Then let us ride!”

Without waiting for him to reply, Eleanor spurred her horse into a canter, leaving him to follow if he chose.

Damon took up her challenge, as she'd hoped he would. In barely a heartbeat, she heard him riding after her in hot pursuit.

The competition she initiated was invigorating. He gained on her rather easily, and when he caught up to her and started to pass, she urged her horse into a gallop. Soon they were racing neck-or- nothing over hill and dale.

When Damon threatened to inch ahead, Eleanor bent lower over her sidesaddle and urged her mount even faster, her pulse hammering in rhythm with the thud of hoofbeats.

By the time they pulled up, her heart was pounding with exhilaration and she was two lengths ahead, although she suspected Damon might have let her win.