Her Secret Fantasy (26 page)

The dining room, red salon, library, and music room all were clear. The ballroom, too, was empty. She even went to glance in the great glass conservatory just to be certain. There was no sign of him until she passed the private lounge for the gentlemen and heard splashing water.

Aha, she thought, realizing he must have come inside to freshen up and tidy himself a bit after the rigors of the cricket match. When the splashing stopped, Lily realized he would emerge at any moment and rushed to hide.

Ducking into the salon across the hall, she whirled behind the white painted door and peered through the sliver-thin gap between its brass hinges. A brief melodic whistle heralded his approach a second before the door to the gentlemen’s lounge swung open.

Derek strode out with a jaunty step, smoothing his jacket, which he had donned again, and straightening his cuffs. His long black hair was neatly bound once more in its queue, and so far, he was alone.

Holding her breath, Lily peered through the seam of the door and watched him pass.

He headed down the center hallway with a blithe air of unconcern. She waited until he was a safe distance ahead before slipping out of her hiding place and silently gliding after him.

Having made himself presentable once more, he marched toward the dining room—and it was then that the first glimmer of his true nefarious intentions surfaced.

Hiding behind a column, Lily furrowed her brow as Derek took a furtive look around, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was unseen. Then he stole silently into the dining room, crossing it in the blink of an eye, and slipped out the other side.

Standing there, Lily couldn’t believe her eyes.
Where is he going?
Could Edward have been right?

It certainly
looked
like Derek was up to no good.

Lily went after him without a sound, as instructed by her suitor.

At the far end of the dining hall, she peeked around the corner and spotted him doubling back deeper into the house. She narrowed her eyes and followed him surreptitiously. She hadn’t the foggiest notion what the rogue thought he was doing, but his incursion into the private regions of the house was extraordinarily rude—and suspect.

When a footman appeared strolling down the corridor, the major took evasive action, disappearing into one of the side rooms ahead. Lily had no chance to escape detection and instead pretended to be engrossed in studying the nearest painting on the wall.

As the footman neared, he recognized her as the future lady of the house and offered a respectful nod. She smiled absently at him, but since she made no claim on his attendance, he moved on, going about his duties.

The moment his back was turned, she rushed out of sight before Derek chanced to see her. Whatever the major was doing, now more than ever, she did not want him to know that she was spying on him. Heart pounding, she pressed her back against the wall of the hallway’s little alcove, waiting for him to go on about his sneaky business.

She had to admit, though, she was dashed relieved that so far there was no sign of any woman coming to meet him.

Some yards ahead, Derek glided out of his hiding place, emerging from the nearby library. He glanced around, then moved on.

I didn’t know he could move like that.
He swept through the house like a phantom, a ghost.

Lily trailed him down the hallway at a wary distance, watching, mystified, as he disappeared around another corner ahead.

She crept up to the corner, cocking her head to listen closely, trying to detect any sound that would betray his current whereabouts. Hearing nothing, she stepped around the corner.

At that precise moment, Derek whirled around the corner and ambushed her, pinning her against the wall, stifling her small shriek of fright with one hand clapped across her mouth; in a flash he used his other hand to manacle both of her wrists above her head.

It happened too fast for her to fight back, though feeling his iron strength, she doubted it would have done her any good.

She lifted her gaze to his in pure shock, but when Derek lowered his head, his eyes gleamed, fierce and pale.

“Something I can do for you, Miss Balfour?”

CHAPTER

         
THIRTEEN
         

S
he was the most damned inconvenient woman.

He was sure Lundy’s office was right around here somewhere, but leave it to Lily to jeopardize his one chance to get at the information he required.

Just get rid of her and get on with the task.

He hadn’t seen any other servants wandering by, but just in case, he tugged her out of sight into a nearby curtained alcove off the hallway.

Turning to her once more, he barely knew how to begin.

He was still furious over the house, that in fact she
had
the means to provide for herself without marrying Lundy if she chose. For whatever devious reason, she had never volunteered that information.

There was so much he wanted to say to her—and it appeared the feeling was mutual. Wrathful sparks flew from her blue eyes while muffled protests sought to escape from under his hand. Derek could feel her plump, silky lips moving angrily beneath his palm, but as he held her pinned against the alcove wall, every inch of her luscious body pressed against his, all the angry words in his brain fell away until all that remained was desire.

Raw, hot, burning need.

God, he wanted her. Well, he’d be damned if he let her know that.
Think, you idiot,
he ordered himself.

It was hard to focus when his pretty captive inspired in him such lust, but he refused to do anything that might let her guess his true intentions here.

He did not want her involved in his investigation in any way, and besides, after their falling-out last week, he had no certainty that if she realized what he was really up to, she would not turn around and tell her precious Edward that he had been snooping. His course was plain. Any progress on his mission would have to wait until he got rid of the vexing female.

Only, he so craved this rare chance to be alone with her at last.

He did not
want
to chase her away after she had obsessed his mind all week. Her mere presence was delicious. “I thought we weren’t going to do this anymore,” he murmured in a husky tone.

When two furious syllables sounded from under his hand in response, a rueful smile twisted his lips. He believed she had just called his parentage into question, but her buzzing, gnatlike fury amused him, wickedly, as she fought against his gentle but unyielding hold.

“Do
not
bite me,” he warned when he felt the edge of her teeth start to nip at the flesh of his finger.

She stopped, probably realizing that ladies did not bite people. At least not in anger.

“That’s better,” he whispered. Relishing this fleeting departure into the joys of bondage probably more than he ought, he adjusted his grip on her wrists and held her in place. “Now, are we going to chat like civilized persons or would you rather wrestle about on the floor? I vote the latter.”

She narrowed her eyes at him like a woman plotting murder. Death by her hands, he mused. It would be a good way to go. Gazing at her in deepening hunger, he was immensely annoyed that once again, he could not seem to tamp down his libido with this girl, even after she had hurt him. If anything, her rejection had only made him want her more.
Hmm, what to do.
He had Lily Balfour at his mercy, and he began to throb as he considered the prospect of covering her lips with his mouth instead of his palm. Of course, if he tried it, the little hellcat was likely to bite his tongue. And then he would have to spank her…

He quivered, but she still looked fighting mad over the way he had restrained her.

Carefully, Derek relented—gentleman that he was.

“Indecent creature!” she sputtered, plucking his hand off her mouth. “Don’t flatter yourself! Whatever you’re thinking—that is not what I came for!”

“Oh, really? Then why
are
you following me?”

“Why are you sneaking around Edward’s house?” she retorted in a hurried whisper.

“I don’t know,” he said with an idle shrug, well versed in the art of talking his way out of scrapes with the fair sex. “Just thought I’d have a look ’round at your future cage, I suppose. Lily Lundy—it has rather an ill-sounding ring, don’t you think? But I guess that’s the least of your worries. Hard to imagine you living here in conjugal bliss with dear old Edward. You’re really going to be the lady of this monstrosity, eh?”

She eyed him uneasily, but rose to the bait and seemed to accept his excuse. “It’s not so bad.”

“I for one think you’d be better off at home with the bats.”

“Well, nobody asked your opinion.”

Her impertinence drew him up short. Derek shook his head. “You know, you’re really something else.”

“What?”

“You’re just too vexing! You and your
house.
”

“Balfour Manor?”

“Oh, excuse me—a
manor,
not a mere house. How convenient that you never mentioned it to me. I wonder why!”

“What is the matter with you?”

“You own a Tudor mansion that’s so large it has whole separate
wings
and half an acre of roofing, and yet you claim your family’s in such dire straits that you ‘have to’ marry Lundy.”

“Both happen to be true.”

“Lily!” He tapped two fingertips irreverently on her cranium. “Think, girl! Use your head.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Sell the damned place rather than sacrifice yourself for Lundy’s gold.”

“I can’t do that,” she answered wearily.

“Of course you can.”

“I am not going to be remembered as the Balfour who lost the ancestral estate. Besides—” She heaved a sigh. “The whole place is in such a state of disrepair, the truth is, I don’t think anyone would even want to buy it.”

“You don’t know that. Someone might—and if they don’t, then you can sell it to an architectural firm who’ll dismantle it and use the materials in new buildings. The proceeds could set you and your family up very nicely.”

“How’s that?”

“There are companies that tear down old buildings to harvest the parts,” he explained with a hurried glance past the gaudy red curtain veiling the alcove to make sure no one was coming. “They can re-use the brick or stone, tear out the chimneypieces to be installed in newer houses. They’ll take the paneling, wood beams, the old glass from the windows. It can all be re-used, and they’ll pay you quite handsomely for it—”

“Oh, how perfectly ghastly! Stop, please! No more.” She waved his words away like objectionable flies. “Balfour Manor is my home! It’s been in my family for three hundred years. I’d as soon hand over Grandfather’s corpse to the medical college for a dissection lecture than hand over my poor old house to be dismembered.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I can see your point,” he muttered with a frown, folding his arms across his chest. “But we’re talking about your survival here. The hell with your dead ancestors. The past is dead and gone—you’re the one who’s alive now. You’re what matters. It’s absurd to willfully ruin your life for the sake of mere ghosts.”

She was shaking her head in exasperation. “Spoken like a true colonial. Burn the past. On with the future.”

“Better to burn the past than try to live in it!”

“Oh, you’re a fine one, aren’t you? You expect me to turn my back on my family? Yet you’re not exactly willing to walk away from what you hold dear. Maybe you should take your own advice. Let’s see you turn your back on your troops.”

“My men are human beings. Your house is an inanimate object. People are what matters, Lily. You’re what matters. God, why must you be so stubborn? Did it never occur to you, anyway, that once you’ve married Lundy, your possessions revert to your husband by law?” he pursued. “What’s to stop him from selling Balfour Manor out from under you once you’re wed? What if he doesn’t care to fund those roof repairs you mentioned? Did you ever think of that?”

“Of course I thought of that. Edward won’t sell Balfour Manor because he knows full well that all his gold can’t buy the prestige of an ancient family history like ours. What do you think he’s marrying me for?”

Derek let his stare travel down, meaningfully, over her too-tempting curves. “I can hardly guess,” he murmured.

“He’s desperate to better his station in life,” she explained, ignoring his lascivious perusal. “Besides, he has no reason to sell Balfour Manor. It’s not as though he needs the money—and anyway, I shall have a solicitor draw up the papers to make sure Edward won’t be able to sell my house even if he wanted to. Just in case.”

“Aha! You see?” Derek pointed out at once, moving closer and seizing on her words. “You don’t really trust him any more than I do! That is the heart of the problem, Lily. I don’t trust this man. There—I’ve said it. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I don’t trust him with you, and it’s driving me mad. I need to know that you’ll be safe!”

“Oh, Derek.” His low-toned outburst appeared to have surprised her. With a tender wince, she reached up and gently tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I could think of a few things,” he murmured, loving her touch. He captured her hand and pressed a light kiss to her wrist. “Has he asked you yet? Are you engaged?”

“No,” she admitted with a look of chagrin. “What about you—any word from your commander?”

“No.” He sighed and released her hand from his light hold. “It would seem that both our boats are becalmed,” he said dryly, then gave her an ironic half-smile. “Perhaps the only way we shall ever escape our doldrums will be to chart a new course. Change the set of our sails.”

“To what new port?” she murmured, smiling faintly as she played along.

“Lord only knows where the wind could take us.” An idea suddenly dawned. “A storm of scandal might be just the thing! A good wild gale of gossip ought to blow us out of here.” He lifted his eyebrow and sent her a devilish glance. “How many hundred guests are here today?”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, backing up a bit.

“Oh, but it would be so easy, so efficient.” He moved closer, caressing her arms. “I could ruin you right now, you know. Save you from yourself. I should do it, too, to stop you from this madness.”

“Oh, yes, a capital idea,” she replied, matching his sardonic tone with a wary gleam in her eyes. “Sorry, Major, but having met your brother and especially your sire, I’m very sure that if you stooped to ruin, they would force you to marry me—and then the joke would be on you.”

“Maybe it isn’t a joke.” He looked at her suddenly. “Shall I do it? Shall I force you into marrying me?”

She lifted her eyebrows in astonishment. “Derek! You
didn’t
just ask me to marry you—?”

“Well, no! Not like that. I mean—”
What do I mean?
He faltered, taken off guard by this sudden impulse. “I’m-I’m only trying to be helpful.”

She tilted her head, studying him with a dubious look.

His heart was pounding. He glanced away with a one-shouldered shrug, trying to play it off. “It would get us what we both desire,” he pointed out.

“Right,” she murmured, eyeing him in suspicion, as if she was onto his tricks. “If you married me, then you’d
have
to go back to India, and plunge yourself into all the gory joys of warfare until your soul was gone. Meanwhile, you’d be sending all the gold you had won back home to me, so that I could keep my estate intact, and maybe, just maybe, one day, finally win my mother’s approbation.”

He went very still and slid her a wary look. “So, that’s what this is all about.”

It was the first he’d heard about her mother, but the moment she said it, so many unexplained details about her suddenly fell into place.

He was glad for the change of topic, relieved that it was her turn to be embarrassed. She had turned away, looking sheepish after having blurted out her careless admission; her creamy cheeks were turning red.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she mumbled. “It wasn’t respectful.”

“Don’t worry. Your mother’s not here, and I promise I won’t tell on you. Besides,” he confided in a low tone, leaning closer to whisper in her ear, “I had one of
those
kinds of mothers, too.”