The Notorious Lord

Rachel was thinking that she ached for him and wanted no more than to be back in his arms. She did not need to speak. He read the truth quite easily in her face. She saw his gaze go to her parted lips and his eyes darken, and she turned her face full up to his under the caress of his hand. Her invitation was unmistakable to both of them. His head swooped down and she closed her eyes. She felt his lips against her throat and the line of her jaw, pressing little kisses on her skin that felt as though they burned her very soul. When he finally guided her mouth to his, Rachel gave a gasp of pleasure and opened for him in wanton delight. Her mouth moved beneath his, responsive to the onslaught of his relentless tongue, eager to satisfy the clamour of her senses. She had no idea of how long they clung together, but then she felt Cory ease away from her and she almost cried out in frustration.

He was looking at her with a mixture of desire and disbelief and the old amusement.

‘And after all that you want us to be friends?’ he said. His voice was husky and he shook his head slightly as though he was finding it as difficult as she to believe what had happened. He picked up the reins. ‘All the same, I must take you back, sweetheart, or I will pick you up and carry you into that barn and make love to you here and now.’

Rachel pressed her fingers to her lips to repress the gasp that his words provoked. The image burned in her mind, excluding all other thoughts. She struggled with herself and after a few moments was able to regain a little composure. Cory was deliberately avoiding looking at her now and she understood why. The air was so tense between them that it would take a minute spark to set off the entire conflagration. Instead he concentrated on turning the carriage with inch-perfect precision and set off back up the track to the Woodbridge road. For Rachel the scenery passed in a complete blur. The only thought in her mind was that she had enjoyed Cory’s caresses beyond reason. She felt shocked and vulnerable and passionately excited. It was an utterly new experience for her and it held her silent all the way home.

Chapter Seventeen

‘I have to ask you your intentions, old fellow,’ Richard Kestrel said to Cory Newlyn that night at the Regatta Ball.

‘My intentions?’ Cory dragged his gaze from the sight of Rachel dancing with Caspar Lang and fixed his old friend with a look of enquiry. ‘My intentions about what?’

‘Don’t be dense, old chap,’ Richard said. ‘Your intentions towards Miss Odell, of course. I would not like to think that you were cherishing any dishonourable aspirations in that direction.’

Cory gave him a hard stare. ‘I fear I do not quite understand you, Richard. Are you quizzing me? You have heard the phrase concerning the pot and the kettle, I take it?’

Richard drove his hands into the pockets of his evening suit, thereby spoiling the elegant line. ‘You may be as indignant as you wish, Cory, but my concerns are with Miss Odell. With no brother to protect her-’

‘I have acted the role of Miss Odell’s brother for the past seventeen years-’ Cory began, only to break off as Richard laughed.

‘Yes, and forgive me, but recently you have exchanged that role for the one of Miss Odell’s protector,’ Richard said, ‘in a completely unfraternal sense.’

Cory stiffened and then, seeing there was no mockery in Richard’s face, relaxed slightly. ‘Devil take it, Richard,’ he said, ‘has everyone noticed?’

‘Pretty much everyone,’ Richard confirmed gently. ‘Which is why I have to ask the question. You are in danger of damaging Miss Odell’s reputation if you continue.’

‘Surely you cannot believe that I would have dishonourable intentions towards a lady I hold in such high esteem, the daughter of a colleague I respect?’ Cory said incredulously.

Richard shrugged. ‘I do not doubt you, old chap. But then I am not a gossiping old tabby who likes to make trouble for others. Nor,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘am I as bored and spiteful as, say, Lady Benedict, and looking for a target for my malice.’

‘Damnation!’ Cory expelled his breath sharply. He had not foreseen this. He knew that he could not, with honour, allow Rachel’s reputation to be questioned. He could not even bear the thought of it. He rubbed a hand across his forehead.

‘I am trying to give Miss Odell a little time to become accustomed to my suit,’ he said.

‘Time?’ Richard placed his empty wine glass gently on the table. ‘You have had seventeen years, old fellow. Thought you generally worked quicker than that.’

Cory smiled faintly. ‘I suppose I asked for that. Once again I suggest that you look to your own situation before you criticise mine.’

Richard laughed. ‘Touche, Cory.’ He drew a step closer. ‘Did Justin tell you that he had found a witness to the attack on you, by the way? A poacher, name of Simm, saw a figure running away from the scene that night. Naturally he did not reveal himself since he had a brace of Justin’s pheasant under his arm at the time.’

Cory laughed. ‘So I could have perished for all he cared! Did he get a good look at my assailant?’

Richard shook his head. ‘Did not even know if it was a man or a woman. But he saw two people-and saw them take the road towards Benton Hall.’

Cory’s lips pursed in a soundless whistle. ‘Benton? Then it does centre around Lady Benedict?’

‘It would appear so.’ Richard shook his head ruefully. ‘But what we need-and have not got-is hard evidence in place of supposition. And until we have it-’ he clapped Cory on the shoulder ‘-you should watch your step, old chap.’ He laughed. ‘Enough business for one night. Since you are not yet betrothed to the lovely Miss Odell, I shall take this opportunity to dance with her…’

He pressed a full glass of wine into Cory’s hand and strolled away. Cory watched him approach Rachel, saw the tilt of her head as she smiled up at him, felt the now-familiar physical wrench of jealousy, and smiled wryly to himself. He had never thought of himself as a possessive man. He had never been possessive until there had been something as precious as Rachel that he wanted to possess. All the other things that he had ever pursued in his entire life were as nothing in comparison.

Cory watched Rachel take Richard’s hand and they walked over to the set of country-dances that was forming. He admired the gentle sway of her pale blue gown. Tonight Rachel was pin neat again, and he was willing to bet any money that it was in part a reaction to the violent disorder in which she had found herself that afternoon. Her hair was arranged in a complicated series of knots and curls, her gown was demure and fastened up to the neck with a row of tiny pearl buttons. But this afternoon he had loosened that hair and felt it wrapped around his hand in all its provocative glory, he had seen beneath the layers with which Rachel so tidily covered herself. He had touched that soft skin that no one else had ever touched. He knew… His body tightened unbearably at the memory.

Cory turned away and concentrated on Rachel’s predicament rather than his own. He loved her. He would not expose her to scandal. He would give himself a week more to woo her, but then he would have to make his declaration before the entire world, whether she was ready or not.

He drained the glass of wine. He felt as green and uncertain as a youth in the throes of his first love affair and it was completely disconcerting. He had no certainty that she would accept him.

It was the strangest thing to find herself courted by the man she had been accustomed to think of as her dearest friend; stranger still to feel her resistance dissolving into something warm and exciting and intimate, that melted her heart and set her concerns at naught. Rachel was under siege and the seduction was so subtle, so gentle, that she was already halfway lost before she even noticed it.

Cory brought her flowers, wild roses snatched from the bushes that ran rampant beside the Winter Race, and sprigs of yellow gorse that she grumbled pierced her fingers. He took her driving and persuaded her to go boating on the river. He escorted her to the Woodbridge assembly and danced with her three times. He made her laugh. He sat talking with her whilst the sun went down and the ducks whistled and called on the river and the shadows merged into dark.

He did not kiss her once.