- Book info
- Sample
- Media
- Author updates
- Lists
Synopsis
Your most scorching desires come blissfully true at Madame Helene's Pleasure House--an elite brothel in Regency England where passion has no limits. . . Nothing's More Satisfying Than. . . With an unconventional upbringing and a reputation as a shameless flirt, Lisette Delornay-Ross is not your typical young lady of the ton. Unlike her peers, she is not afraid to follow her desires. And what she desires is Major Lord Gabriel Swanfield. . . Fulfilling Forbidden Passions. . . Returned to England after his harrowing ordeal as a war prisoner, Gabriel has shunned society. When Lisette brazenly confronts him, he feels an overwhelming stirring of lust. He's sure she would never entertain the illicit desires he indulges at Madame Helene's. But when he kisses her, he discovers her thirst for pleasure--and adventure--matches his. . . Praise for Kate Pearce's Simply Sexual "This book has something for everyone: hot sex scenes, a sexy hero with a tragic past, a smart and compassionate heroine, intrigue, danger and Regency London at its most decadent!" – Romantic Times "Can you say HOT? Well it doesn't get much hotter than Simply Sexual." – Simply Romance Reviews
Release date: February 1, 2011
Publisher: Aphrodisia
Print pages: 337
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
Reader buzz
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
Author updates
Close
Simply Forbidden
Kate Pearce
Knowles Hall, England, 1822
“Why on earth did you invite him, Christian?” Lisette Delornay-Ross nudged her twin’s arm and nodded at the corner of the sunny breakfast room where Major Lord Gabriel Swanfield read the newspaper and continued to ignore everyone around him.
“I didn’t invite him.” Christian poured himself more coffee. “Philip did.”
Lisette leaned her elbows on the table and contemplated her brother. “But he’s nowhere near Father’s age, so how do they know each other?”
“I’ve no idea. Why don’t you stop bothering me and go and ask Lord Swanfield himself?”
“Because he’ll stare at me as if I’m a worm and then give me a one-word answer that tells me nothing.”
“I take it you’ve already met him then?” Christian smiled. “Is he really that unforthcoming?”
“When I was introduced to him the other night he barely bothered to say a word to me.” Lisette stood up. “Perhaps I’ll go and ask Father. He’ll probably tell me the truth.”
Christian leaned back in his chair to study her, his blond hair catching the light, his long, elegant body shown to advantage in his brown coat and black breeches. “The real question is, why are you so interested in Lord Swanfield?”
“Because I hate being ignored?”
“That’s certainly true, but there are plenty of other gentlemen here this week eager to flirt with you. Why not go and bother one of them?”
Lisette frowned. “Are you warning me off?”
“As if you would pay any attention to me if I did.” Christian shrugged. “As far as I know, he doesn’t mix much in society.”
“But what you do know of him, you don’t like?”
“Don’t start, Lis.” He sighed. “As I said, if you really want to pry, go and talk to the poor man.”
“Perhaps I will.”
Determined not to be shown up by her brother, Lisette marched across to where Lord Swanfield sat hidden behind his newspaper and cleared her throat. He lowered the paper the merest inch and studied her over the top of it.
“Yes?”
Lisette gave him her sweetest smile. “I just wanted to wish you good morning, my lord. We’ve scarcely had a chance to speak since your arrival.”
The paper came down another three inches, allowing her to look into his eyes. Up close, they were a very dark blue and fringed with long lashes.
“And you are?”
Good Lord, the man didn’t even remember being introduced to her! Lisette kept smiling. “I’m Miss Ross, Lord Knowles’s eldest daughter. I’m acting as my father’s hostess this weekend.”
“Ah. A pleasure, ma’am.” His fingers twitched on the newspaper as if he intended to flip it back up and dismiss her, but Lisette was quicker. If he intended to be so dismissive of her, she could definitely be a little forward.
“I was wondering what brought you here to Knowles Hall during this particular week. I don’t remember your name being on the guest list.” She smiled graciously. “Not that you aren’t welcome, of course.”
His dark brows drew together. “I’m looking for some horses. Your father told me to come down anytime I liked. I didn’t realize all this nonsense would be going on.”
“Or else you wouldn’t have come.”
He met her gaze properly for the first time, a hint of wary surprise in his. “Exactly.”
Beneath the careful upper-class cadences of his voice there was a slight northern burr, which deepened his tone and made it rougher and far more interesting.
“Well, I’m sorry that we are spoiling your quiet week in the countryside.”
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t decide whether he was incapable of detecting her sarcasm or really quite rude. She suspected the latter. “You think us frivolous and unworthy of your interest then, my lord?”
He started to fold the paper and she caught sight of the deep parallel scars on his left cheek that disappeared below his high collar. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you obviously think so. I don’t believe you’ve spoken a single word to anyone since you walked into this room.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve spoken to you.”
She stared at him for a long moment as she struggled to control her tongue. “Are you going out with the shooting party this morning?”
A shudder of something that looked like revulsion passed over his face. “No, Miss Ross, I’m not.”
“Then would you like to join me and some of the other ladies for a walk around the estate?” She wasn’t quite sure why she made the offer when he was being so objectionable, but she refused to be defeated by any man.
“Unfortunately, I’m already engaged. Your father has found someone to show me around the stables.”
“Which is why you came here in the first place.”
“Indeed.”
He stood up and dropped the newspaper onto the table. She found she had to look up at him, which was unnerving. She’d only viewed him from above last night when her father had brought him into the great hall. At five foot eight, she was tall for a woman, but he topped her by at least five inches. He was as lean and elegant as a greyhound, his shoulders accentuated by the confines of his black coat and his long thighs encased in clinging buckskin. He inclined his head the barest inch.
“Good morning, Miss Ross.”
She dropped him a quick curtsey. “Good morning, my lord.”
He nodded and strolled away, stopped to talk to one of the footmen positioned by the door, and was directed on his way.
“Well,” Lisette huffed as her half sister, Emily, and her friends came up beside her. “What an incredibly rude man.”
“What did he say to you?” Emily inquired, her face flushed and her blue eyes eager.
“He said that he didn’t want to be here, and that he’d only come to look at a horse.”
“He didn’t!”
Lisette smiled at her younger sister’s indignant expression. “He most certainly did. I suspect he wishes us all to the devil.”
Emily’s two friends giggled and whispered at Lisette’s language and she reminded herself to be more careful. At eighteen, Emily’s prospects for an excellent marriage were much on her mind. Lisette didn’t want to spoil anything for Emily by drawing the ton’s attention to her less than reputable half sister.
“I wonder if he will attend the ball on Friday.”
Lisette sighed at the hopeful gleam in Emily’s eyes. What was it about dark-haired brooding men that sent all young girls into a flutter? In her experience, good-looking men did not make good husbands or lovers, being far too concerned with their own appearance to care about a woman’s feelings.
“I’m not sure if he’ll be staying the full week, Emily. Once he’s decided on a horse, he’ll probably be off.”
“Oh.” There was a wealth of regret in Emily’s response that Lisette tried to ignore. She was very fond of her sister, but frequently amazed at the differences between them. Emily had been protected by their father all her life, whereas Lisette had only met him three years ago. Emily’s safe, romantic view of the world had never been Lisette’s and never would.
“If he does stay, I’m sure he’ll dance with you.” Lisette patted Emily’s shoulder. “He can hardly say no.” She paused to consider her words. “Well, he probably could, but I’m sure Papa can persuade him to change his mind.”
Emily pouted. “But I don’t want him to ask me out of duty. I want him to ask me because he can’t bear not to dance with me. He is an earl, Lisette!”
Lisette struggled not to smile. “Then make yourself pleasant to him over the next few days, and I’m sure he’ll come around and ask you to dance. Why wouldn’t he?”
“He’d probably rather ask you. What man wouldn’t?” Emily looked glum.
Lisette chuckled, remembering the complete lack of interest in Lord Swanfield’s rather fine eyes. “After the way he just spoke to me, I doubt that.”
Emily grabbed her hand. “Oh, shall we have a wager to see who can get him to ask us to dance first? Wouldn’t that be fun, Lisette?”
“But I don’t want him to dance with me.”
“Then you’ll let me win, won’t you?” Emily smiled at her companions and the three of them disappeared in the direction of the gardens, still whispering and giggling.
Lisette smiled lovingly at Emily and went to talk to the other guests. The house party wasn’t large and was mainly for Emily’s benefit as she was going up to London for the Season later in the month. Philip had decided to introduce Emily to some of the other girls who were making their curtsey to the Polite World so that she would feel more comfortable during her debut.
“Well?”
Lisette stopped at the table to look at Christian who was grinning up at her. “Well, what?”
“Did Lord Swanfield tell you why he was here?” Christian asked.
“He did, thank you.” She made as to go past him and he caught her hand.
“Don’t tell me: he’s looking for a wife.”
“How amusing, Christian. However did you guess?”
His hazel eyes narrowed. “He’s not after Emily, is he?”
Lisette disengaged herself from his grasp. “Of course not, although she seems to have developed quite a tendre for him.”
“But he’s only been here for a few hours!”
“That’s all it takes, brother mine—think of Romeo and Juliet.”
Christian laughed and rose to his feet. “And think how happily that ended.” He reclaimed Lisette’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. They walked to the door and into the shadowed hallway beyond. “You weren’t as silly as Emily when you were eighteen.”
“Thank goodness. But there was scarcely an opportunity for me to be silly in a convent-run orphanage, was there?”
“That’s true, but since we moved to live with Maman you’ve certainly made up for it.”
There was an edge to Christian’s words that made Lisette pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve gained a reputation, sister mine, a reputation that won’t help Emily at all.”
Lisette stopped walking completely. “Are you suggesting I’m too ‘fast’ to associate with my own half sister?”
He regarded her steadily, his long body aligned with hers as he leaned in close. “Yes, I think I am.”
“And since when did Emily’s well-being and comfort become more important to you than my own?” Lisette was surprised at how much Christian’s defection hurt. They’d always had each other. Were things about to change?
Christian sighed. “Lis, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. I’ll always put you first.”
“Obviously not, and, for what it’s worth, your reputation is far worse than mine.”
He shrugged. “And I’m a man, so it doesn’t matter as much. You might not like it, but that’s the way of the world.”
Lisette realized she was a breath away from losing her temper. Dealing with obstinate males one after the other was extremely trying. “What do you think I should do? Find a husband and make myself respectable enough to please everyone?”
His smile was wicked. “You could always start with Lord Swanfield. I believe I said he was looking for a wife.”
Before Lisette could retaliate, Christian was gone, his laughter echoing down the long hallway to the back of the house. She stared after him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. How dare he suggest that she was somehow at fault? She’d been more than polite to Lord Swanfield, endlessly kind to Emily, and was being the perfect hostess for her father. What more could she do to ensure the house party went off well? Remove herself from it?
But Christian had implied she should do just that and distance herself from Emily. Lisette set off to the kitchens to meet with the cook, her thoughts in turmoil. Perhaps she shouldn’t have volunteered to help out this week and should’ve stayed in London with her mother. Philip had already found an elderly relative to chaperone Emily through her first London Season. Helene, Lisette’s mother, was hardly a suitable candidate for the job, being the proprietor of a pleasure house.
Lisette sighed as she fixed a smile on her face. It was too late to change anything now. She would make sure Emily was protected from any hint of scandal, even if it meant staying in the background for once and behaving herself. Perhaps she should simply sit beside Lord Swanfield and be ignored. She could scarcely get into any trouble with him.
Gabriel Swanfield admired the twenty-stall stables and the large barn beside them and wished he had something half as grand at his property in Cheshire. Not that he ever went there, not that he cared whether the place thrived or rotted to the ground …
“My lord?”
He turned to attend to the head coachman who had been assigned to be his guide. “I do apologize, Mr. Green, what were you saying?”
“I was just mentioning that the current Lord Knowles has spent the last few years improving the stables, the facilities, and the breeding stock, sir. We have several very promising colts to show you.”
“Excellent. I’m also looking for at least one four-year-old to ride now, and a couple of youngsters to bring on.”
“Well, we’ll be happy to help you, sir. Would you care to walk down to the main paddock?”
Gabriel followed behind the older man and admired the greenness of the fields, the wilderness areas, and the maze spreading out around the mellow Elizabethan manor house. In the near-distance he could just see the colorful skirts of the young ladies on the terrace, no doubt getting ready to go for their walk.
He imagined Miss Ross taking charge of them and knew that like a good sergeant at arms, she would have no trouble controlling her troops. She’d startled him that morning with her directness, the way she’d taken him on and left him in the dust. Despite himself, he’d also admired her hazel eyes and light brown hair, the high arch of her eyebrows, and the determined angle of her chin.
For a chit not long out of the schoolroom, she was indeed a formidable opponent. She seemed more assured than most of her contemporaries and far more aware of her effect on a man. It had been difficult not to stare at her as she flitted back and forth between all the gentlemen, her smile bright, her eyes far too knowing.
He glanced back at the huddle of ladies and realized they were meandering down toward the stables. He quickened his step and caught up with Mr. Green and enjoyed the sight of the young foals kicking up their heels in the pasture. He pointed at a young black horse.
“That’s the one I’d pick.”
“You have a good eye, sir. That’s Thunderbolt, his lordship’s pride and joy.”
“Then I doubt he’ll be selling him.” Gabriel searched the other horses. “What about the gray?”
“That’s Shadow. He’s a three-year-old and also very promising. I’m sure his lordship would be more than happy to tell you all about him.”
“Good.” With one eye on the rapidly approaching ladies, Gabriel gestured back at the stables. “Shall we go and look at the older horses?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gabriel managed to avoid the chattering women and took his time peering into all the stalls as Mr. Green told him about each horse. At the end of the second row, he found a horse he liked, a big chestnut-colored gelding. He nodded his approval at Mr. Green.
“Is it all right if I go into his stall and take a good look at him?”
“Of course, sir. That’s Wellington. He’s got a nice temperament, that one; he’s not scared of much.” Mr. Green unlocked the door. “Take your time, sir, and if you want me to get him saddled up for you, just give me a shout.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I need to go and be civil to the ladies and stop them scaring my horses with all that squeaking they like to do.”
Gabriel went into the small stall and put one hand on Wellington’s rump so that the horse knew he was there and hopefully wouldn’t kick out. He walked around the flank of the horse, noticed the way its ears flicked toward him with interest but without fear. He ran his hand along the horse’s withers and up his long neck until he reached his face.
“You’re a nice lad, Wellington, aren’t you?” The horse whickered back and appeared to nod his head. Gabriel scratched under the horse’s chin, produced a carrot top Mr. Green had given him, and held it out on his palm. “Here you go, boy.”
Nice manners, a soft mouth, and an intelligent face. Gabriel slid his hand down the horse’s front leg and checked his tendons, and finally his hoof. Then he repeated the process on the three other legs. As he crouched down in the straw, he heard girlish laughter and stayed where he was. Hopefully the ladies would pass by without noticing him.
To his dismay, they seemed to stop right outside the stall door.
“I’m sure Mr. Green said Lord Swanfield was around here somewhere. I wonder where he has gotten to?”
“If he has any sense, he’s probably running back to the house as fast as he can. No man wishes to encounter a large group of ladies while he’s talking horseflesh.”
Ah, Gabriel recognized that second voice, the slight hint of a French accent, the sharp intelligence behind every word. It was Miss Ross, but who was she talking to?
“Well, I’m disappointed. I wanted to begin my campaign to get him to ask me to dance at the ball.”
“As I said, he probably won’t still be here by then. He doesn’t strike me as a particularly sociable man.”
“But I want to dance with him. He is an earl and he is so tall and handsome.” Emily sighed. “I wish I’d gotten to see him in his uniform.”
Gabriel grimaced as the unknown voice described him. She epitomized exactly what he disliked about the women of the ton. All she cared about was his title and his looks. And God knows, he had no illusions about his scarred appearance, and his title was a sham.
“Lord Swanfield is also far too old for you.”
“He’s not. Father says he’s only just turned thirty.”
“And you are only eighteen, Emily.” Miss Ross laughed, but there was no malice in it. “Think how old he’ll be when you are twenty-five, positively ancient!”
There was a slight pause. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“And five years after that, you’ll have to push him around in a bath chair and take him to Tunbridge Wells for the waters.”
Despite himself, Gabriel grinned. How clever of Miss Ross to point out all his potential failings as a husband rather than outright forbid the younger girl to think of him.
The girl named Emily sighed. “Well, I suppose we should go back. The others will be waiting for us.”
“Yes, indeed, we should. Maybe you can capture Lord Swanfield’s interest at the dinner table with your sparkling wit and conversation.”
“What an excellent idea. I’m sure I can win our wager and get him to promise to dance with me before you can.”
“Perhaps you will.”
Gabriel’s smile disappeared as the two women made their way back along the row of stalls to the exit. Miss Ross had entered into a wager, had she? He discounted the younger girl, knew he would have no problem disappointing her in short order. But Miss Ross? Watching her try to exert herself to win his favor might be amusing.
Gabriel stood up and brushed the hay from his breeches. Perhaps he would stay on until the Hunt Ball after all.
So far Miss Ross had disappointed him. She had made no effort to ingratiate herself with him at dinner at all. In truth, she’d sat as far away from him as possible, and allowed the gushingly youthful and chatty Miss Emily to claim all his attention. He reckoned she had hardly spared him a glance but to laugh at his efforts to deflect the younger girl’s incessant questions about his life in the military.
He drank one obligatory glass of brandy, discussed horses with his host, which was no hardship at all, and excused himself from joining the ladies. He had no desire to sit between the debutantes and listen to them giggle all night. After his incarceration in Spain, he hated being shut in and hated the thought that he had to do anything to please anyone else at all. He’d rather be with the horses and breathe the clean, quiet air of the English countryside.
As he walked away from the house, he turned his face upward and inhaled. His cravat seemed too tight and he pulled at the carefully arranged folds until it came loose. The evening light was golden, the sky tipped with pink-edged clouds, and the horizon a hazy blurring of light and impending darkness. Gabriel lit one of his narrow Spanish cigarillos and headed down to the stables. The smell of warm oat mash and manure didn’t bother him half as much as the overperfumed and often underwashed bodies of his fellow guests.
“Now, please be a good horse and stand still.”
He halted by the stable, drawn to the sound of a now familiar French accent. What the devil was Miss Ross doing back here? He walked as quietly as he could up to the stall and peered over the door. She stood with her back against the wall, one hand reaching out toward the horse’s neck. She’d discarded the low-necked gown she’d worn to dinner, in favor of a simple blue dress and stout boots. Her hair was drawn back from her arresting face in a single long braid.
“May I help you, Miss Ross?”
She jumped so violently that the horse followed suit and almost knocked her over. Instantly, Gabriel joined her in the stall and used his voice to calm the frightened animal, his hands to soothe and placate.
“You frightened me.”
He glanced over at her, but kept his hand on the horse’s rope halter, his attention on the high-spirited mare. “You frightened the horse. Don’t you know any better?”
“The horse was perfectly fine until you came along.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He wanted to smile at the indignity of her tone, but kept his expression bland. “You could’ve been trampled or kicked.”
“I know.” She swallowed hard, and he noticed the pallor on her face, the terrified look in her hazel eyes.
“Miss Ross, if you are afraid of horses, why are you here?”
She looked directly at him then, as if trying to convince him that her fear meant nothing. “Because I am determined not to be.”
“So you wander into any stall and scare the living daylights out of the poor animal?”
“I didn’t scare her! You did.”
Gabriel gave the mare one last reassuring pat. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion outside.” He opened the stall door and waited for Miss Ross to move past him before checking the latch was secure. She lingered in the narrow cobbled passageway between the stalls, her arms folded across her chest and her cheeks flushed. She looked far younger in her plain clothes than in her dinner finery, and far more vulnerable. He found himself intrigued by the contrast.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, what?” She glared at him and he was reminded anew of her ability to disconcert him. “I do not have to explain myself to you.”
He closed in on her and deliberately blocked her exit. “That is true.”
She sighed. “But you will not let me pass until I do.”
He nodded and settled his shoulder more comfortably against the cold stones behind him. Eventually she looked at him.
“My father loves horses.”
“Aye, he does.”
“And I’m afraid of them.”
Gabriel frowned. “Did you have a fall recently? Have you lost your nerve?”
“Lost my nerve? I’ve never had it.” Her smile was derisive. “I’m simply an appalling rider.”
He studied her from the tips of her boots to the top of her head. “I find it hard to believe your father would have allowed that. He must have set you on a horse as soon as you were able to stand.”
“I’ve only been riding for three years.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t grow up here with my father. I grew up in France.”
It was none of his business where she had grown up or how she had been raised, but Gabriel found himself wanting to ask anyway. It seemed they had more in common than he had imagined: both displaced as children, both trying to overcome unusual circumstances in their lives. He curbed the unusual impulse and concentrated on the problem at hand.
“I could teach you.”
“Why would you do that?”
He shrugged. “Because the idea that anyone is too scared to ride appalls me. And it will give me something to do with my time rather than hiding in my room avoiding the other guests.” He motioned back at the stalls. “Is that the horse you normally ride?”
“Yes, that’s Sugarplum. I was trying to reacquaint myself with her before the hunt at the weekend.”
“Then meet me here tomorrow morning at five, and we’ll begin.”
She stared at him for a long moment and he stared right back, felt his body tighten and respond to the surprise in her hazel eyes.
She nodded. “All right, I will.”
He bowed and started to turn away and then remembered something important. “Borrow some breeches. I’ll teach you how to ride astride first.” He didn’t wait to see if she protested. If he was to teach her properly, he needed to see her legs. He smiled into the darkness and imagined those legs wrapped around his hips as he fucked her.
It was a long time since he’d been inspired to fantasize about sex, and his cock responded far too enthusiastically. Miss Ross was an unusual woman. Beneath her charm and ability to appear as empty-headed as all society women obviously lurked a keen mind and a sharp tongue. He found himself excited by the contradictions she presented and far too ready to take her on. Unfortunately, as a protected upper-class virgin, Miss Ross was unlikely to share his lusty enthusiasm for a quick roll in the hay. He sighed as his shaft started to throb. Tonight he’d simply have to make do with his imagination and his hand.
Lisette glared after Lord Swanfield’s retreating figure. Why on earth had she agreed to meet him on the morrow or believe that he would help her? Something about the way he had calmed the horse and his softly spoken words had lulled her into a state of security. He seemed far more at ease with Sugarplum than he was with her, or with any of the other guests.
She sighed and started back up the slight slope to the house after him. He could at least have waited and escorted her inside, but that might have caused comment, and he avoided notice like the plague. She’d watched him surreptitiously over dinner, how he’d flinched at every loud noise and every slight brush of Emily’s hand.
Had he suffered dur. . .
“Why on earth did you invite him, Christian?” Lisette Delornay-Ross nudged her twin’s arm and nodded at the corner of the sunny breakfast room where Major Lord Gabriel Swanfield read the newspaper and continued to ignore everyone around him.
“I didn’t invite him.” Christian poured himself more coffee. “Philip did.”
Lisette leaned her elbows on the table and contemplated her brother. “But he’s nowhere near Father’s age, so how do they know each other?”
“I’ve no idea. Why don’t you stop bothering me and go and ask Lord Swanfield himself?”
“Because he’ll stare at me as if I’m a worm and then give me a one-word answer that tells me nothing.”
“I take it you’ve already met him then?” Christian smiled. “Is he really that unforthcoming?”
“When I was introduced to him the other night he barely bothered to say a word to me.” Lisette stood up. “Perhaps I’ll go and ask Father. He’ll probably tell me the truth.”
Christian leaned back in his chair to study her, his blond hair catching the light, his long, elegant body shown to advantage in his brown coat and black breeches. “The real question is, why are you so interested in Lord Swanfield?”
“Because I hate being ignored?”
“That’s certainly true, but there are plenty of other gentlemen here this week eager to flirt with you. Why not go and bother one of them?”
Lisette frowned. “Are you warning me off?”
“As if you would pay any attention to me if I did.” Christian shrugged. “As far as I know, he doesn’t mix much in society.”
“But what you do know of him, you don’t like?”
“Don’t start, Lis.” He sighed. “As I said, if you really want to pry, go and talk to the poor man.”
“Perhaps I will.”
Determined not to be shown up by her brother, Lisette marched across to where Lord Swanfield sat hidden behind his newspaper and cleared her throat. He lowered the paper the merest inch and studied her over the top of it.
“Yes?”
Lisette gave him her sweetest smile. “I just wanted to wish you good morning, my lord. We’ve scarcely had a chance to speak since your arrival.”
The paper came down another three inches, allowing her to look into his eyes. Up close, they were a very dark blue and fringed with long lashes.
“And you are?”
Good Lord, the man didn’t even remember being introduced to her! Lisette kept smiling. “I’m Miss Ross, Lord Knowles’s eldest daughter. I’m acting as my father’s hostess this weekend.”
“Ah. A pleasure, ma’am.” His fingers twitched on the newspaper as if he intended to flip it back up and dismiss her, but Lisette was quicker. If he intended to be so dismissive of her, she could definitely be a little forward.
“I was wondering what brought you here to Knowles Hall during this particular week. I don’t remember your name being on the guest list.” She smiled graciously. “Not that you aren’t welcome, of course.”
His dark brows drew together. “I’m looking for some horses. Your father told me to come down anytime I liked. I didn’t realize all this nonsense would be going on.”
“Or else you wouldn’t have come.”
He met her gaze properly for the first time, a hint of wary surprise in his. “Exactly.”
Beneath the careful upper-class cadences of his voice there was a slight northern burr, which deepened his tone and made it rougher and far more interesting.
“Well, I’m sorry that we are spoiling your quiet week in the countryside.”
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t decide whether he was incapable of detecting her sarcasm or really quite rude. She suspected the latter. “You think us frivolous and unworthy of your interest then, my lord?”
He started to fold the paper and she caught sight of the deep parallel scars on his left cheek that disappeared below his high collar. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you obviously think so. I don’t believe you’ve spoken a single word to anyone since you walked into this room.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve spoken to you.”
She stared at him for a long moment as she struggled to control her tongue. “Are you going out with the shooting party this morning?”
A shudder of something that looked like revulsion passed over his face. “No, Miss Ross, I’m not.”
“Then would you like to join me and some of the other ladies for a walk around the estate?” She wasn’t quite sure why she made the offer when he was being so objectionable, but she refused to be defeated by any man.
“Unfortunately, I’m already engaged. Your father has found someone to show me around the stables.”
“Which is why you came here in the first place.”
“Indeed.”
He stood up and dropped the newspaper onto the table. She found she had to look up at him, which was unnerving. She’d only viewed him from above last night when her father had brought him into the great hall. At five foot eight, she was tall for a woman, but he topped her by at least five inches. He was as lean and elegant as a greyhound, his shoulders accentuated by the confines of his black coat and his long thighs encased in clinging buckskin. He inclined his head the barest inch.
“Good morning, Miss Ross.”
She dropped him a quick curtsey. “Good morning, my lord.”
He nodded and strolled away, stopped to talk to one of the footmen positioned by the door, and was directed on his way.
“Well,” Lisette huffed as her half sister, Emily, and her friends came up beside her. “What an incredibly rude man.”
“What did he say to you?” Emily inquired, her face flushed and her blue eyes eager.
“He said that he didn’t want to be here, and that he’d only come to look at a horse.”
“He didn’t!”
Lisette smiled at her younger sister’s indignant expression. “He most certainly did. I suspect he wishes us all to the devil.”
Emily’s two friends giggled and whispered at Lisette’s language and she reminded herself to be more careful. At eighteen, Emily’s prospects for an excellent marriage were much on her mind. Lisette didn’t want to spoil anything for Emily by drawing the ton’s attention to her less than reputable half sister.
“I wonder if he will attend the ball on Friday.”
Lisette sighed at the hopeful gleam in Emily’s eyes. What was it about dark-haired brooding men that sent all young girls into a flutter? In her experience, good-looking men did not make good husbands or lovers, being far too concerned with their own appearance to care about a woman’s feelings.
“I’m not sure if he’ll be staying the full week, Emily. Once he’s decided on a horse, he’ll probably be off.”
“Oh.” There was a wealth of regret in Emily’s response that Lisette tried to ignore. She was very fond of her sister, but frequently amazed at the differences between them. Emily had been protected by their father all her life, whereas Lisette had only met him three years ago. Emily’s safe, romantic view of the world had never been Lisette’s and never would.
“If he does stay, I’m sure he’ll dance with you.” Lisette patted Emily’s shoulder. “He can hardly say no.” She paused to consider her words. “Well, he probably could, but I’m sure Papa can persuade him to change his mind.”
Emily pouted. “But I don’t want him to ask me out of duty. I want him to ask me because he can’t bear not to dance with me. He is an earl, Lisette!”
Lisette struggled not to smile. “Then make yourself pleasant to him over the next few days, and I’m sure he’ll come around and ask you to dance. Why wouldn’t he?”
“He’d probably rather ask you. What man wouldn’t?” Emily looked glum.
Lisette chuckled, remembering the complete lack of interest in Lord Swanfield’s rather fine eyes. “After the way he just spoke to me, I doubt that.”
Emily grabbed her hand. “Oh, shall we have a wager to see who can get him to ask us to dance first? Wouldn’t that be fun, Lisette?”
“But I don’t want him to dance with me.”
“Then you’ll let me win, won’t you?” Emily smiled at her companions and the three of them disappeared in the direction of the gardens, still whispering and giggling.
Lisette smiled lovingly at Emily and went to talk to the other guests. The house party wasn’t large and was mainly for Emily’s benefit as she was going up to London for the Season later in the month. Philip had decided to introduce Emily to some of the other girls who were making their curtsey to the Polite World so that she would feel more comfortable during her debut.
“Well?”
Lisette stopped at the table to look at Christian who was grinning up at her. “Well, what?”
“Did Lord Swanfield tell you why he was here?” Christian asked.
“He did, thank you.” She made as to go past him and he caught her hand.
“Don’t tell me: he’s looking for a wife.”
“How amusing, Christian. However did you guess?”
His hazel eyes narrowed. “He’s not after Emily, is he?”
Lisette disengaged herself from his grasp. “Of course not, although she seems to have developed quite a tendre for him.”
“But he’s only been here for a few hours!”
“That’s all it takes, brother mine—think of Romeo and Juliet.”
Christian laughed and rose to his feet. “And think how happily that ended.” He reclaimed Lisette’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. They walked to the door and into the shadowed hallway beyond. “You weren’t as silly as Emily when you were eighteen.”
“Thank goodness. But there was scarcely an opportunity for me to be silly in a convent-run orphanage, was there?”
“That’s true, but since we moved to live with Maman you’ve certainly made up for it.”
There was an edge to Christian’s words that made Lisette pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve gained a reputation, sister mine, a reputation that won’t help Emily at all.”
Lisette stopped walking completely. “Are you suggesting I’m too ‘fast’ to associate with my own half sister?”
He regarded her steadily, his long body aligned with hers as he leaned in close. “Yes, I think I am.”
“And since when did Emily’s well-being and comfort become more important to you than my own?” Lisette was surprised at how much Christian’s defection hurt. They’d always had each other. Were things about to change?
Christian sighed. “Lis, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. I’ll always put you first.”
“Obviously not, and, for what it’s worth, your reputation is far worse than mine.”
He shrugged. “And I’m a man, so it doesn’t matter as much. You might not like it, but that’s the way of the world.”
Lisette realized she was a breath away from losing her temper. Dealing with obstinate males one after the other was extremely trying. “What do you think I should do? Find a husband and make myself respectable enough to please everyone?”
His smile was wicked. “You could always start with Lord Swanfield. I believe I said he was looking for a wife.”
Before Lisette could retaliate, Christian was gone, his laughter echoing down the long hallway to the back of the house. She stared after him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. How dare he suggest that she was somehow at fault? She’d been more than polite to Lord Swanfield, endlessly kind to Emily, and was being the perfect hostess for her father. What more could she do to ensure the house party went off well? Remove herself from it?
But Christian had implied she should do just that and distance herself from Emily. Lisette set off to the kitchens to meet with the cook, her thoughts in turmoil. Perhaps she shouldn’t have volunteered to help out this week and should’ve stayed in London with her mother. Philip had already found an elderly relative to chaperone Emily through her first London Season. Helene, Lisette’s mother, was hardly a suitable candidate for the job, being the proprietor of a pleasure house.
Lisette sighed as she fixed a smile on her face. It was too late to change anything now. She would make sure Emily was protected from any hint of scandal, even if it meant staying in the background for once and behaving herself. Perhaps she should simply sit beside Lord Swanfield and be ignored. She could scarcely get into any trouble with him.
Gabriel Swanfield admired the twenty-stall stables and the large barn beside them and wished he had something half as grand at his property in Cheshire. Not that he ever went there, not that he cared whether the place thrived or rotted to the ground …
“My lord?”
He turned to attend to the head coachman who had been assigned to be his guide. “I do apologize, Mr. Green, what were you saying?”
“I was just mentioning that the current Lord Knowles has spent the last few years improving the stables, the facilities, and the breeding stock, sir. We have several very promising colts to show you.”
“Excellent. I’m also looking for at least one four-year-old to ride now, and a couple of youngsters to bring on.”
“Well, we’ll be happy to help you, sir. Would you care to walk down to the main paddock?”
Gabriel followed behind the older man and admired the greenness of the fields, the wilderness areas, and the maze spreading out around the mellow Elizabethan manor house. In the near-distance he could just see the colorful skirts of the young ladies on the terrace, no doubt getting ready to go for their walk.
He imagined Miss Ross taking charge of them and knew that like a good sergeant at arms, she would have no trouble controlling her troops. She’d startled him that morning with her directness, the way she’d taken him on and left him in the dust. Despite himself, he’d also admired her hazel eyes and light brown hair, the high arch of her eyebrows, and the determined angle of her chin.
For a chit not long out of the schoolroom, she was indeed a formidable opponent. She seemed more assured than most of her contemporaries and far more aware of her effect on a man. It had been difficult not to stare at her as she flitted back and forth between all the gentlemen, her smile bright, her eyes far too knowing.
He glanced back at the huddle of ladies and realized they were meandering down toward the stables. He quickened his step and caught up with Mr. Green and enjoyed the sight of the young foals kicking up their heels in the pasture. He pointed at a young black horse.
“That’s the one I’d pick.”
“You have a good eye, sir. That’s Thunderbolt, his lordship’s pride and joy.”
“Then I doubt he’ll be selling him.” Gabriel searched the other horses. “What about the gray?”
“That’s Shadow. He’s a three-year-old and also very promising. I’m sure his lordship would be more than happy to tell you all about him.”
“Good.” With one eye on the rapidly approaching ladies, Gabriel gestured back at the stables. “Shall we go and look at the older horses?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gabriel managed to avoid the chattering women and took his time peering into all the stalls as Mr. Green told him about each horse. At the end of the second row, he found a horse he liked, a big chestnut-colored gelding. He nodded his approval at Mr. Green.
“Is it all right if I go into his stall and take a good look at him?”
“Of course, sir. That’s Wellington. He’s got a nice temperament, that one; he’s not scared of much.” Mr. Green unlocked the door. “Take your time, sir, and if you want me to get him saddled up for you, just give me a shout.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I need to go and be civil to the ladies and stop them scaring my horses with all that squeaking they like to do.”
Gabriel went into the small stall and put one hand on Wellington’s rump so that the horse knew he was there and hopefully wouldn’t kick out. He walked around the flank of the horse, noticed the way its ears flicked toward him with interest but without fear. He ran his hand along the horse’s withers and up his long neck until he reached his face.
“You’re a nice lad, Wellington, aren’t you?” The horse whickered back and appeared to nod his head. Gabriel scratched under the horse’s chin, produced a carrot top Mr. Green had given him, and held it out on his palm. “Here you go, boy.”
Nice manners, a soft mouth, and an intelligent face. Gabriel slid his hand down the horse’s front leg and checked his tendons, and finally his hoof. Then he repeated the process on the three other legs. As he crouched down in the straw, he heard girlish laughter and stayed where he was. Hopefully the ladies would pass by without noticing him.
To his dismay, they seemed to stop right outside the stall door.
“I’m sure Mr. Green said Lord Swanfield was around here somewhere. I wonder where he has gotten to?”
“If he has any sense, he’s probably running back to the house as fast as he can. No man wishes to encounter a large group of ladies while he’s talking horseflesh.”
Ah, Gabriel recognized that second voice, the slight hint of a French accent, the sharp intelligence behind every word. It was Miss Ross, but who was she talking to?
“Well, I’m disappointed. I wanted to begin my campaign to get him to ask me to dance at the ball.”
“As I said, he probably won’t still be here by then. He doesn’t strike me as a particularly sociable man.”
“But I want to dance with him. He is an earl and he is so tall and handsome.” Emily sighed. “I wish I’d gotten to see him in his uniform.”
Gabriel grimaced as the unknown voice described him. She epitomized exactly what he disliked about the women of the ton. All she cared about was his title and his looks. And God knows, he had no illusions about his scarred appearance, and his title was a sham.
“Lord Swanfield is also far too old for you.”
“He’s not. Father says he’s only just turned thirty.”
“And you are only eighteen, Emily.” Miss Ross laughed, but there was no malice in it. “Think how old he’ll be when you are twenty-five, positively ancient!”
There was a slight pause. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“And five years after that, you’ll have to push him around in a bath chair and take him to Tunbridge Wells for the waters.”
Despite himself, Gabriel grinned. How clever of Miss Ross to point out all his potential failings as a husband rather than outright forbid the younger girl to think of him.
The girl named Emily sighed. “Well, I suppose we should go back. The others will be waiting for us.”
“Yes, indeed, we should. Maybe you can capture Lord Swanfield’s interest at the dinner table with your sparkling wit and conversation.”
“What an excellent idea. I’m sure I can win our wager and get him to promise to dance with me before you can.”
“Perhaps you will.”
Gabriel’s smile disappeared as the two women made their way back along the row of stalls to the exit. Miss Ross had entered into a wager, had she? He discounted the younger girl, knew he would have no problem disappointing her in short order. But Miss Ross? Watching her try to exert herself to win his favor might be amusing.
Gabriel stood up and brushed the hay from his breeches. Perhaps he would stay on until the Hunt Ball after all.
So far Miss Ross had disappointed him. She had made no effort to ingratiate herself with him at dinner at all. In truth, she’d sat as far away from him as possible, and allowed the gushingly youthful and chatty Miss Emily to claim all his attention. He reckoned she had hardly spared him a glance but to laugh at his efforts to deflect the younger girl’s incessant questions about his life in the military.
He drank one obligatory glass of brandy, discussed horses with his host, which was no hardship at all, and excused himself from joining the ladies. He had no desire to sit between the debutantes and listen to them giggle all night. After his incarceration in Spain, he hated being shut in and hated the thought that he had to do anything to please anyone else at all. He’d rather be with the horses and breathe the clean, quiet air of the English countryside.
As he walked away from the house, he turned his face upward and inhaled. His cravat seemed too tight and he pulled at the carefully arranged folds until it came loose. The evening light was golden, the sky tipped with pink-edged clouds, and the horizon a hazy blurring of light and impending darkness. Gabriel lit one of his narrow Spanish cigarillos and headed down to the stables. The smell of warm oat mash and manure didn’t bother him half as much as the overperfumed and often underwashed bodies of his fellow guests.
“Now, please be a good horse and stand still.”
He halted by the stable, drawn to the sound of a now familiar French accent. What the devil was Miss Ross doing back here? He walked as quietly as he could up to the stall and peered over the door. She stood with her back against the wall, one hand reaching out toward the horse’s neck. She’d discarded the low-necked gown she’d worn to dinner, in favor of a simple blue dress and stout boots. Her hair was drawn back from her arresting face in a single long braid.
“May I help you, Miss Ross?”
She jumped so violently that the horse followed suit and almost knocked her over. Instantly, Gabriel joined her in the stall and used his voice to calm the frightened animal, his hands to soothe and placate.
“You frightened me.”
He glanced over at her, but kept his hand on the horse’s rope halter, his attention on the high-spirited mare. “You frightened the horse. Don’t you know any better?”
“The horse was perfectly fine until you came along.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He wanted to smile at the indignity of her tone, but kept his expression bland. “You could’ve been trampled or kicked.”
“I know.” She swallowed hard, and he noticed the pallor on her face, the terrified look in her hazel eyes.
“Miss Ross, if you are afraid of horses, why are you here?”
She looked directly at him then, as if trying to convince him that her fear meant nothing. “Because I am determined not to be.”
“So you wander into any stall and scare the living daylights out of the poor animal?”
“I didn’t scare her! You did.”
Gabriel gave the mare one last reassuring pat. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion outside.” He opened the stall door and waited for Miss Ross to move past him before checking the latch was secure. She lingered in the narrow cobbled passageway between the stalls, her arms folded across her chest and her cheeks flushed. She looked far younger in her plain clothes than in her dinner finery, and far more vulnerable. He found himself intrigued by the contrast.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, what?” She glared at him and he was reminded anew of her ability to disconcert him. “I do not have to explain myself to you.”
He closed in on her and deliberately blocked her exit. “That is true.”
She sighed. “But you will not let me pass until I do.”
He nodded and settled his shoulder more comfortably against the cold stones behind him. Eventually she looked at him.
“My father loves horses.”
“Aye, he does.”
“And I’m afraid of them.”
Gabriel frowned. “Did you have a fall recently? Have you lost your nerve?”
“Lost my nerve? I’ve never had it.” Her smile was derisive. “I’m simply an appalling rider.”
He studied her from the tips of her boots to the top of her head. “I find it hard to believe your father would have allowed that. He must have set you on a horse as soon as you were able to stand.”
“I’ve only been riding for three years.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t grow up here with my father. I grew up in France.”
It was none of his business where she had grown up or how she had been raised, but Gabriel found himself wanting to ask anyway. It seemed they had more in common than he had imagined: both displaced as children, both trying to overcome unusual circumstances in their lives. He curbed the unusual impulse and concentrated on the problem at hand.
“I could teach you.”
“Why would you do that?”
He shrugged. “Because the idea that anyone is too scared to ride appalls me. And it will give me something to do with my time rather than hiding in my room avoiding the other guests.” He motioned back at the stalls. “Is that the horse you normally ride?”
“Yes, that’s Sugarplum. I was trying to reacquaint myself with her before the hunt at the weekend.”
“Then meet me here tomorrow morning at five, and we’ll begin.”
She stared at him for a long moment and he stared right back, felt his body tighten and respond to the surprise in her hazel eyes.
She nodded. “All right, I will.”
He bowed and started to turn away and then remembered something important. “Borrow some breeches. I’ll teach you how to ride astride first.” He didn’t wait to see if she protested. If he was to teach her properly, he needed to see her legs. He smiled into the darkness and imagined those legs wrapped around his hips as he fucked her.
It was a long time since he’d been inspired to fantasize about sex, and his cock responded far too enthusiastically. Miss Ross was an unusual woman. Beneath her charm and ability to appear as empty-headed as all society women obviously lurked a keen mind and a sharp tongue. He found himself excited by the contradictions she presented and far too ready to take her on. Unfortunately, as a protected upper-class virgin, Miss Ross was unlikely to share his lusty enthusiasm for a quick roll in the hay. He sighed as his shaft started to throb. Tonight he’d simply have to make do with his imagination and his hand.
Lisette glared after Lord Swanfield’s retreating figure. Why on earth had she agreed to meet him on the morrow or believe that he would help her? Something about the way he had calmed the horse and his softly spoken words had lulled her into a state of security. He seemed far more at ease with Sugarplum than he was with her, or with any of the other guests.
She sighed and started back up the slight slope to the house after him. He could at least have waited and escorted her inside, but that might have caused comment, and he avoided notice like the plague. She’d watched him surreptitiously over dinner, how he’d flinched at every loud noise and every slight brush of Emily’s hand.
Had he suffered dur. . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
