A Lady at Last (28 page)

“Would ye care to stroll in the gardens? I ha' never been to Harmon House, but the Countess de Warenne is famous fer her gardens. An' I can tell ye about my country. Scotland makes London seem tropical,” he laughed.

He did like her, she thought, amazed. She had been told that when a gentleman invited a lady to stroll outside, his intentions were serious—if he was not a cad. Amanda glanced quickly at Lizzie. Lizzie was beaming and she said, “Go, dear, enjoy yourself. Garret is a gentleman and he has many interesting anecdotes.”

Garret offered her his arm, his unusual green eyes warm. Amanda hesitated. Cliff's handsome image had come to mind and strangely, she felt as if in taking Garret's arm she was betraying Cliff somehow. But that was impossible, as he only wished to stroll and converse. And Cliff had made himself very clear—he was looking for a husband for her. Perhaps he would be pleased if she mentioned Garret MacLachlan as a possible suitor.

She had just placed her hand in the crook of his arm, as Monsieur Michelle had taught her to do, when she heard her guardian stride into the room, his spurs jangling behind them.

“I beg your pardon?” Cliff said in a dangerous tone she instantly recognized.

Amanda's heart leaped uncontrollably. She and Garret turned.

Cliff's face was dark as he strode forward, his eyes flashing. “And you are?” he demanded coldly.

Lizzie hurried between them. “Cliff, this is Garrett MacLachlan, the Earl of Bain's son.”

Cliff's face darkened even more, telling Amanda that he was very displeased. His gaze swept Garret from head to toe, and it was terribly condescending.

Amanda tensed as Garret released her hand, his own eyes turning the dark black-green of wet, sea-swept rocks. “And you are?” he asked as coolly.

“I am Miss Carre's guardian,” Cliff snapped. “And I do not recall giving you permission to stroll alone with her outside.”

Amanda winced. “Cliff,” she began in protest, surprised by his manner.

But neither man seemed to hear her. To his credit, Garret did not seem in the least bit shaken by being confronted in such a hostile manner. His smile was cold and dangerous. “So ye be Miss Carre's guardian?” he asked. He looked Cliff up and down from head to toe. “I am a gentleman, sir, an' I ha' asked yer ward to show me the gardens in the light o' day. I hardly realized I needed yer permission fer a proper stroll.”

Cliff was flushed. He glanced at Amanda and she knew he was going to deny her. She was disbelieving. “Now you know that you do,” he said to Garret.

But Rory rushed between both men to save the day. He clasped Cliff on the shoulder. “Cliff! I vouch for Garret's integrity. You have nothing to fear, especially as Georgie and Lizzie have decided to take some air, as well.” He smiled at everyone present.

Cliff looked ready to draw his dagger from his belt. He gave Amanda an odd look, then gave Garret a threatening one. Abruptly, he turned and strode out.

It was a moment before Garret tore his gaze from his departing back. He looked at Amanda, and she finally saw his expression soften. “Is he always so protective?” he asked her. “I have nay dishonorable intentions!”

Amanda tensed, instantly defending Cliff. “He is very protective,” she said firmly. “I don't mind. If it weren't for Cliff, I wouldn't even be here.”

He started, his gaze searching hers.

She managed a smile. “He escorted me to London at his own expense, sir. I am very grateful for that, and more. I don't know why he is in such a temper, but I do know it will pass.” Then the added shyly, “I would like to show you the countess's gardens, if you still wish to walk outside. I have never been to Scotland, and I am interested in learning all about your country.”

His green eyes softened. “I hope ye ha' the entire day,” he murmured.

 

C
LIFF STOOD
at the windows in the smaller salon, the velvet draperies pushed aside, staring at Amanda and MacLachlan. He despised the other man, and he refused to consider why. Amanda seemed to like her caller—but then, why shouldn't she? He knew a rival when he saw one, and MacLachlan would make a worthy adversary. He wasn't just a pretty face, he was a man who had fought his share of battles with his fists, his wits and his sword. MacLachlan had strength of character, power, a title and arrogance, and Cliff had known it the moment he laid eyes on him.

The Scot and Amanda had been strolling about for over an hour, arm in arm the entire time, and he was ready to go outside and tear them away from one another. Enough was enough. He told himself he was not jealous. But just as he prepared to leave the house and end this absurd flirtation, they separated and stood facing one another, all conversation having ceased.

Cliff was shocked, instantly recognizing the impending kiss. He strode for the terrace doors, reaching for his dagger.

“Whoa, my good friend, whoa,” Sean O'Neill said, entering the room with Rex. “Whose throat are you about to slit?”

Cliff paused but did not tear his gaze from the couple, who had not yet embraced. “Who the hell is Garret MacLachlan, other than a Scot?”

Rex chuckled. “He is the son of an earl, Cliff.” He swung on his crutch to stand beside him, Sean joining them.

Sean drawled, “Ah, I begin to understand. He is pursuing the beautiful Miss Carre?”

Cliff whirled on them both. “He is impoverished—his clothes are threadbare.”

“He is the son of an
earl
,” Rex repeated, laughing.

Cliff said tightly, “He undoubtedly steals cattle from his neighbors.”

Sean laughed. “He is a Scot, Cliff, not a cattle thief.”

“It is one and the same,” Cliff growled. “Now, excuse me.”

“What's wrong?” Sean taunted. “Afraid there will be a wedding at gunpoint? Perhaps MacLachlan is looking for a wife. Elle tells me you are looking for a husband for Miss Carre, as well. This seems to be a stroke of good fortune.”

“She is not marrying the Scot,” Cliff ground out, leaving the salon. He descended the stairs three at a time.

Amanda and MacLachlin turned to face him as he approached. He set his face into an expressionless mask. “Amanda, the countess wishes a word with you,” he lied.

Amanda's gaze riveted on his and he was fiercely pleased to have her entire attention again. “Of course.” She faced MacLachlan, smiling far too prettily, causing Cliff's temper to soar. “Thank you for the lovely stroll, and the information,” she exclaimed. “The Highlands sounds like a beautiful place.”

“There be nay place on this earth quite like it,” MacLachlan returned. “I be sorry our stroll has to end, Miss Carre.” He bowed. “I ha' enjoyed the gardens immensely—an' yer company.”

She continued smiling. “So have I.” She curtsied and hurried away toward the house, not looking back once.

Cliff noticed and was savagely pleased, but he was as displeased that Garret stared after her, clearly lusting for her. “State your intentions, MacLachlan,” he said softly, throwing down a verbal gauntlet.

MacLachlan faced him. “It be Lord MacLachlan to ye. An' by the by, yer reputation precedes ye. 'Tis shocking that ye be the lass's guardian.”

“I do not care if you are shocked, MacLachlan. I have asked you a question and I demand a response.”

Garret made a sound of disgust. “'Tis fortunate fer ye that I admire yer father, Adare, as well as I do.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“Ye need a lesson in manners,” Garret said.

Cliff laughed, enjoying the impending battle. “How old are you, my boy? Because you do not wish to test your strength against me—or anything else, for that matter.”

“I be twenty-four,” he shot. “I ken ye rule the main. But be warned, I ha' seen my share of battles on land and sea, an' I am not afraid of ye.”

“You should be. You are not welcome here.”

Garret started. “I wish to call on yer ward again. She is delightful—a breath of fresh air in this town.”

“I suggest you take your fresh air in Scotland,” Cliff said coldly.

Garret's hand went to the hilt of the dagger he wore. “My father is Alexander the Ironheart, Earl of Bain, an' I am unwed. Ye canna refuse my suit.”

“I can and I am. Amanda is not going to be tossed off to a heathen Scot. Besides, you are clearly a fortune hunter.”

He flushed with anger. “I ken that Miss Carre's dowry is a modest one. If I were t' seek a fortune, I wouldna be askin' permission to court yer ward.”

“Ah, so now we speak of a courtship? My answer stands,” Cliff said harshly. “And I will not be moved.”

Garret stared, flushed with rage. He finally said, “Ye be Irish. Damn it, we are brothers.”

“My brothers are in that house,” Cliff said, gesturing at the mansion behind them. “My word is final. Good day.”

Garret turned and strode across the lawns, his every stride filled with heat and anger.

Satisfied, Cliff watched him go.

D
ULCEA
B
ELFORD ARRANGED
her face into a pleasant smile as she paused before the front door of Harmon House. She tugged her immodest bodice lower, then lifted the knocker.

Her daughter had been in town for well over a week, but she had not had a single glimpse of her. She had, however, run into Blanche Harrington last night at a soiree and had learned that Amanda had called on her, with the Countess of Adare, upon first arriving in London. Dulcea wasn't really surprised. Everyone knew that the Countess of Adare remained on good terms with the woman who had almost become her daughter-in-law, and if Amanda was as unpolished as Cliff had suggested, of course her first call would be prearranged. How clever of de Warenne.

Thinking of him now infuriated her when previously his mere appearance in the same salon had been enough to make her tingle with delicious lust. She had tried to seduce him last year, but he had politely rejected her overtures. Dulcea had not been able to believe it then and she really couldn't believe his callous behavior toward her now—she had never been denied before, or so abused. How dare he scorn her, as if she owed Amanda Carre something. Carre had raised her and if her current plight was not satisfactory, the blame belonged on her father, not on her!

De Warenne's reputation as a masterly and insatiable lover was well-known, and now he had taken up with her daughter. Dulcea had become wet and hot between her thighs but she remained furious. She had quite a few doubts about the liaison. He was a conscienceless rake and he could not possibly be a fit guardian for any young woman, much less a beautiful one. Blanche had confirmed that Amanda was a great beauty. She had refused to confirm that she was at all rough about the edges, however.

Dulcea had sensed that, for some reason, Blanche Harrington was protecting Amanda. But why on earth would she do that?

Dulcea intended to discover what was truly transpiring. But even if Cliff was in bed with his ward, and even if Blanche had some kind of interest in her, the real and shocking news was that Amanda had a dowry. Apparently Carre had left her a small but lucrative estate near the village of Ashton.

How small was the estate, Dulcea wondered. Were there any tenants and if so, how many? If it was lucrative, just how lucrative was it? What if there was a mine?

Dulcea wet her lips, her pulse pounding. She had carefully reconsidered her position toward Amanda since learning of her dowry. Living on credit was horrid. Dulcea did not know how they would launch her own daughter in a few years. Worse, if Belford passed, as he surely would, as he was so much older than she, how would she ever pay off his debts? Of course, she would have to remarry a fortune. But now, there might be a solution for the moment, and that solution was her bastard daughter.

She did not dare acknowledge Amanda openly. She had debated claiming her as a cousin, but if Belford ever learned the truth, he would boot her at once. But she was Amanda's natural mother. As such, shouldn't she be involved in Amanda's prospects? Dulcea hated the notion of groveling before Cliff de Warenne, but she must convince him of her right to participate in the decisions affecting her daughter's future. Surely, she must be the one to control the estate.

She thought her plan was infallible. If he was in her daughter's bed, she could blackmail him into handing over control of the estate.

A doorman escorted her into a salon, taking her calling card and placing it on a silver tray. Dulcea was calling very early—unfashionably so—in the hopes of catching de Warenne before he went out for the day.

She heard his footfall approaching and fought her anger toward him, rearranging her expression into one that was demure and seductive. Seduction would be her first course of action; blackmail the last.

Cliff strode into the salon, his face set in harsh lines, closing the two doors behind him. He faced her, not bothering with a proper or pleasant greeting. “I will not mince words, Lady Belford. You are not welcome here.”

Her smile vanished, as did her pleasure at the sight of such a magnificent man. She controlled her temper. “My lord, good morning to you, as well,” she murmured softly.

“Do I have to repeat myself? You are not welcome in this house.”

She drew herself up straighter. He was despicable! “My daughter lives in this house, Cliff. I am so sorry about our previous encounter. I have come to apologize to you and to inquire after her welfare.”

His beautiful blue eyes flashed. “Really? The daughter you have no wish to acknowledge in any fashion whatsoever?” He was scathing.

“I have reconsidered. I wish to meet her. I have actually considered claiming her as my cousin, but I am afraid of Belford.” She laid her ungloved hand on his strong forearm. He flinched and she felt a moment of satisfaction, thinking that he was not immune to her charms. “Cliff, I have so much regret!” she cried. “She is my daughter and I wish to help you launch her. Discreetly, of course.” She smiled at him, fluttering her lashes.”

He pulled away, scowling. “You broke Amanda's heart. Now you wish to toy with it? I wonder at
your
change of heart, madam.”

Dulcea realized that seducing Cliff would not be easy, as he seemed to truly despise her. She wanted to attack, but smiled again, instead. “Come, Cliff. How could I have broken her heart? I don't know her and she doesn't know me.”

“Carre made certain she loved you, madam. Your rejection aggrieved her to no end,” he said harshly.

He is very protective of her
, Dulcea suddenly thought with real suspicion and a stabbing jealousy. Was he fucking her? “She must be like her father, then. I broke his heart, but I did not mean to. Carre was weak.”

Cliff was disgusted. “Amanda is the strongest woman I have ever met. Let us cut to the chase. What do you really want?”

She widened her eyes, thinking of the estate Carre had left her and praying a few pounds could be squeezed out of it. “I told you, I wish to help you with Amanda. How rough is she?” she asked, not caring at all. “Can she be presented in real society? Otherwise, we will not be able to find her a suitor.”

Cliff shook his head. “I do not want you anywhere near Amanda, Lady Belford. There is no
we
. I trust you as much as I do a viper. No, I trust you even less.”

She stared at him, hating him, thinking about fucking him until he wept in pleasure and then coldly rejecting him while he begged for her attentions again.

“You are only here because you have heard Amanda has some small fortune. Do you think I am a fool?” He laughed coldly, without mirth.

Dulcea made one final attempt, knowing she would soon unsheathe her claws and wanting to do nothing more than scratch his handsome face. “I have every right to help you launch her, sir. I have every right to make the decisions that affect her future.”

“You have no rights!” Cliff exclaimed, his cheeks flushed with anger.

She curled her long nails into her palms. “How long have you been in her bed, de Warenne?”

His eyes widened.

She laughed with savage pleasure. “I know you are bedding her. I have heard she is beautiful and young. You used to prefer women like myself, but suddenly, it is the innocent you pursue. And I am the despicable one?” she purred, her pulse pounding, for she saw that she had fueled his anger and it was explosive.

He raised his hands as if he meant to push her into the wall. “Yes, she is young, very young—all of eighteen. She is my ward, Lady Belford! I am trying to find her a husband!”

Dulcea was surprised, because he seemed truly affronted, but she stepped so close to him that her breasts brushed his chest. He jerked. “If I let it be known that you are having a torrid affair with Miss Carre, she'll be ruined, Cliff.”

He seized her arm, causing her to gasp with pain, pushing her against the wall. “Like hell! I am not sharing Amanda's bed.”

Dulcea laughed, thrilling now. “Even if you aren't, who will believe
you?
”

“You dare to blackmail me?” he gasped, his gaze glittering with fury. Dulcea was certain there was lust there, too. His grip eased slightly. He smiled coldly. “What do you want, Dulcea?”

She hesitated, then moved her hip against his loins. To her shock, they were not full.

His mirthless smile increased. “You could be the last woman in the land and I would not touch you.”

She cried out in rage. “I am her mother!” she spat. “I should control her prospects and her estate.”

Cliff laughed, releasing her. “I was right. You are heartless, conniving…and I am too much of a gentleman to continue. You will not spread your nasty lies, Dulcea, because if you do, I will make certain Belford knows the truth about you—all of it.”

She froze, suddenly afraid.

“That's right. He will know of every single affair, your affair with Carre—and Amanda. Now get out.”

“You bastard,” she breathed. “You are no gentleman.”

“Get out,” he said softly, dangerously, “before I throw you out myself.”

She shook with rage, but she believed him, because his eyes were dark with fury. She hurried out of Harmon House, climbing into the carriage.

“Lady Belford?” her driver asked pleasantly.

“Shut up,” she cried.

She had to think. She wasn't in Cliff's arms, his huge manhood filling her. He wasn't on his knees, burying his face in her sex. And he did not seem to be in Amanda's bed—but something was going on, she could smell it. It was as if he cared about her damned bastard, while he despised her! Most importantly, he was keeping Amanda's dowry securely under lock and key.

“I will have revenge,” she spat, trembling. “Harris! Take me to Lady Ferris,” she cried.

The baroness of Lidden-Way was the biggest gossip in town. She didn't dare spread any lies, but after all, the truth had a way of revealing itself and no one would be able to prove that she had revealed it.

The baroness was going to love the fact that de Warenne was launching a pirate's daughter.

Dulcea finally breathed and she finally smiled.

 

A
MANDA WAS LIGHT
on her feet, but because she had been told to stretch her body to an impossible height, to keep her spine stiff, and to somehow keep a book on her head while waltzing, she couldn't follow the dance master now.

“One two three, one two three,” he kept saying, but before he ever reached the second “three,” the book fell from her head to the floor.

He released her. “Miss Carre! The waltz is terribly simple. All you have to do is master three steps and stay erect! How difficult can it be?”

Amanda flushed, retrieving the book. She knew the steps, she just couldn't comprehend how to move her feet and not move her back or her head while doing so. It seemed impossible and she was discouraged, but she would not give up. Ladies had to dance, and they had to dance well. Sooner or later, she was going to master the waltz. However, she knew everyone in Cliff's family was hoping she would be ready to attend the Carrington ball, and that was only weeks away.

Mr. Burns sighed. “Shall we?”

Amanda put the book oh so carefully on her head and placed one hand on his shoulder, the other in his palm. He smiled briefly, his expression strained, and chanted, “One two three.”

The book fell, clattering on the floor.

“I am sorry!” Amanda cried, flushing with humiliation again. She had never felt clumsier until she straightened. Clutching the book to her chest, her heart stopped. Dismayed, she saw that Cliff stood on the ballroom's threshold, apparently watching her.

She felt her cheeks flame, but there were so many other reactions, as well. She always thrilled to glimpse him, and her heart told her that now, speeding as their eyes met. “How long have you been standing there?” she managed.

He sent her the most beautiful smile she had ever received. “A few minutes,” he said, slowly crossing the room, his gaze never wandering from hers.

Amanda became still. There was something powerful and magnetic about his approach, his long, lazy strides, and the intent way he was looking at her.
She couldn't help wishing he had agreed to become her husband.
The moment the terrible and unbidden thought occurred, she shoved it far away. He was her guardian, her protector and her champion. He was her friend. Nothing more, and she must always remember that.

But he seemed entranced as he approached, and she somehow knew he was coming to take her into his arms. His gaze remaining on hers, he said, “I will show Miss Carre the waltz, Mr. Burns. You may leave us.”

Burns nodded, swiftly leaving but hiding a smile Amanda did not comprehend.

Cliff paused before her, reaching toward her. Before she knew it, he had taken the book from her hands. Another heart-wrenching smile came her way. “It is a beautiful dance, an elegant dance,” he murmured, walking away. He placed the book on one of the many velvet chairs lining the huge room.