The Perfect Gift (2 page)

Judith blinked rapidly and her somber expression cleared.

“Ah well, if you wish not to be my tutor?” She shrugged her shoulders and he saw her breasts move under the silk of her gown. “Well, then I may need to find one who does.” With one last caress she left him. Her long strides, so unlike the dainty genteel lady of the ton she portrayed, carried her away from him posthaste, before he had time to give voice to his thoughts of denial.

Over my dead body!

Aroused, aching, he was unable to return to the ballroom until he had sought a quiet, unoccupied corner of the garden, and taken matters in hand. Now he groaned at the thought. Having to relieve an aching cock at a ball was not the way to conduct oneself in polite society. Nevertheless, she had reduced him to behaving so. He would like to show her just how it felt to ache, to want and need release, only to have that release denied. But, he told himself once more, that was not on his agenda. Judith could not be for him. He must not,
would
not subject such an innocent to his dark desires and demands.

Now she was to be housed next to him for the best part of three weeks. Stephen shuddered at the idea. For twenty long days—and nights—he was to have temptation at close hand, and his fuck-amour as far away as it was possible to imagine. Stephen wondered not for the first time what long-lost misdemeanor of his had decreed he be bestowed with such a mischief-maker for a sister. How Harry kept her in check he had no idea, indeed he shuddered to think. Unless, well no…he changed his train of thought. That was his
sister
he was wondering about.

Gloomily, he wondered about Judith, what her modus operandi would be this time. How the hell would he be able to withstand her? Nevertheless resist her he must. Eleven years difference in age was too much. He would not introduce such a sweet young thing to his somewhat individual appetites. She needed someone younger, less jaded, and more amenable to the delights of town.

Stephen’s visits to town were infrequent, usually to win at cards and scratch an itch. The first was indulged—to their disgust—by various cronies in his clubs. The second at certain very discreet addresses where his presence was neither mentioned, nor acknowledged. Or, to their mutual pleasure, by Lady Mallins, whose husband was, in general, conspicuous by his absence from her side. Stephen knew he should get no pleasure from screwing the former senseless betting-wise, and the latter senseless sex-wise, but shamelessly he did. Mallins was an old fool, caring little for his wife, and much more it was rumored for his cattle and his tiger! Stephen had no doubt that Mallins would accompany his wife to the Christmas house party, but he would be found in one of two places for most of the hours in a day. The games room or the stables.

None of which helped Stephen in his avoidance of Judith. The damned rooms Amanda had allotted her even shared a common lounge with his quarters if required, for goodness sake. A lounge with secrets. He made a mental note to seek out the key to that room and his bedchamber and keep it firmly turned within the lock. That would be a first; he wondered if there even was a key after so many years.

Stephen’s heart sank. He would not be able to banish Judith from the lounge. It would be an insult to deny her the comforts of her own sitting room.

This is going to be the most uncomfortable few weeks of my life
. His one relief was that neither the chambers he used, nor the crimson suite next door, was designated as a master suite. Those were situated on the north side of the house and were so gloomy Stephen had refused point-blank to use them. He chose instead to house himself on the warmer southern side, overlooking the formal gardens and the woods beyond. The secret stair played no small part in his decision.

The stair. How can I cope knowing she is but a few steps from there?

However, the crimson suite was better than the master suite. To have Judith ensconced in the accommodation allocated to his Viscount’s lady and know she would never be such, would be beyond cruel. For once he could give thanks to the fates that had decided his bedchamber for him.

He made his way up to his apartments, passing his sister’s letter from hand to hand. As he reached the top stair, he saw something slip from within its leaves. Puzzled, he picked it up from where it had landed on the floor, and studied the outer sheet. It was inscribed in a hand he didn’t know.

My lord.

His curiosity aroused, he slit the seal. He noted it did not have a crest to denote its origins.

There was one page, sparsely covered with elegant script. Unlike Amanda’s missive, he had no problems reading it.

My lord. Let the battle commence.

You wish to play games? So do I. But be warned, you may be the overall winner of the battle, but I my lord, well, I will win the skirmishes. Are you ready?

He thought at first there was no signature, but then he saw inscribed in tiny letters at the foot of the page:

I am
not
my lord, your obedient servant, I am however your willing partner. In
all
manner.

Judith.

‘All’ was underscored in heavy black ink.

It seemed battle lines had been drawn. In spite of his worries, Stephen threw back his head and laughed.

C
HAPTER
T
WO

Judith stared at her companion and sighed. It was true, machinations were so much effort and angst she wondered if it was all worth it.

“Are you sure this will work?” she asked, not for the first time. “What if he suspects we have plotted? ‘Tis a long way to travel to be told no room at the inn. The stable, I fear would not be welcoming. I am allergic to horses for a start.”

Amanda laughed. “Oh you of little faith,” she said and mocked Judith for her worries. “He has
no
idea, and is too much a gentleman to turn you away. And once he realizes how we have plotted, you will be ensconced anyway. He would no more turn you out and cause a scandal than strip you naked and have his way with you on the billiard table.” She colored and giggled, making Judith wonder just what thoughts made her friend blush so. The picture Amanda’s words had created made Judith’s clit clench and her cunt damp.

“Then, my dear,” Amanda continued hurriedly, “it is up to you. If you cannot seduce him whilst the coast is clear, then I wash my hands of you, my love. Truly, you are more than capable.”

Judith shook her head in mock despair. “How I ever allowed you to inveigle me into agreeing to his madcap idea I do not know. You’re supposed to be married and settled down. I thought all your devilment was used up with La Bella Isabella and her dancing girls, and that now you are a sober matron.”

“Oh no.” Amanda’s eyes twinkled. “Not
all
my devilment, for how dull that would be. I may be married, but I swear I will never be a matron. I am thankful that nor would Harry wish me to. He would find that very dull sport. But this is about you, my love, so, are you sure
you
know what you are doing?”

What a leading question, Judith thought. “Sure, not at all. Understand? Even less. Determined, oh yes.” How to explain what was driving her? “For this is what could be termed as a last-ditch attempt. If after this he continues to deny what we both know is between us, I move on. Three years of beating my head, being shunned by the ton for my eccentricities, is enough. He looks, takes, and enjoys, or he rues the day. Forever.” She kissed her friend on the cheek and drew her cloak around her. “Now if I wish to do all this, I must go. I have much to do and little enough time. Please, Amanda, wish me well.”

Fighting words, Judith thought a few days later, as she sat in her well-sprung carriage, a hot brick at her feet. Her hands were snug in her muff, and a plaid blanket kept the damp December chill off her. She watched the countryside roll by as she thought of the many unpleasant scenarios she might soon be facing. With the mist rolling in, the December day was gloomy, and it matched her thoughts. Judith shivered; she was glad of her fur-lined pelisse and elegant but practical hat.

Across the carriage, her abigail and maid sat side by side chattering quietly to each other, excited at the unexpected visit to a house described as a stately pile in many a guide book. Judith could but hope their stay was long enough for them all to enjoy it. She had worries that once Stephen knew of her deception she would be ejected and sent to make the long trek southward, Christmas or not. How ignominious that would be.

The journey to Yorkshire had taken several days. One reason, Amanda had told her, she had ensured Stephen would not receive his missive informing him of the change of venue in time to stop them.

Judith had planned her journey well. Meticulous in her attention to detail, each luncheon stop, every bedchamber and private parlor, all had been booked and her presence acknowledged. Judith believed in leaving nothing to chance. So far all had gone to plan. Now, as her journey almost reached its end she could but pray it would continue to do so. Once there, she had four days to convince him of her sincerity, and hope he accepted it and her. She had long decided that only Stephen could introduce her to the delights of the flesh. If he declined, it gave her four days to seduce him before Amanda arrived. Quite how she would do so, Judith had not yet decided.

The rest of the guests were due to reach Carrland Hall a day later, and then, if she still remained untouched and alone, Amanda knew she would have failed. The thought was untenable.

As far as Stephen knew, all his guests would arrive then, including her. She had the uncomfortable and worrying thought that he might not be in residence. Amanda had assured her he would be nowhere else with guests expected so soon, but now with their meeting almost upon her, Judith worried. Little frissons of heat danced over her skin, and her fingers tingled.

A milestone on the side of the road showed her they had reached the coaching village of Boroughbridge. It was but a few miles from there to Carrland Hall, Stephen’s Yorkshire estate. On discussing her route with Amanda it had been suggested a brief stop for something to eat, and to refresh herself before they reached the Hall, would be appropriate, for she did not want to appear before Stephen looking anything but her best. Once more she marveled at Amanda’s cleverness. Or she hoped, her cleverness.

“Sarah, Cissy, I have bespoke a parlor for luncheon, and a bedchamber to freshen up,” she said to her maids. “My friends speak high of the landlord here, so we should be sure of something to warm us for the last part of our journey. If we do not tarry, we will reach our destination well before nightfall. It is but two hours drive away.”

Sarah, the senior of the two, nodded. “Then my lady, let us go inside, and seek some warmth for you, and I will also enquire after another hot brick to warm you when we continue our journey. I can think of nothing better.”

Judith nodded and allowed her coachman to hand her down. She could think of several much more interesting things to warm her, but felt it was neither the right time, place, nor person, to impart such news.

Once inside, her pelisse was taken from her and hung close to the roaring fire, to ward off any chill to the lining. Judith allowed herself to be seated near to the welcoming blaze, with a steaming cup of chocolate in her hands. Behind her, the table was prepared for her luncheon. Idly listening to the sounds of crockery moved and places set for their repast, she pondered what might happen on her arrival at Stephen’s home. Would he be very angry? Could she use that emotion to her favor? Not for the first time, Judith wondered if she had made a grave mistake in listening to Amanda. She should have remembered some of the previous scrapes they had gotten into at Amanda’s instigation. Across the room her maids giggled, oblivious to their mistress’s wayward thoughts.

“I wonder if there will be any handsome young footmen. I fancy someone tall and handsome to cuddle up to,” Cissy whispered, one eye checking to see if Judith was listening.

Judith chose to pretend she wasn’t.

“If Lord Morrisey is there, his valet Griffin is such a one,” Sarah replied. “I wonder why my lady has not told us of her fellow guests? Surely she must know, as ‘twas to have been at the Duke’s before the plans were changed? Which I might say would have been much less of a journey.”

“Ah well,” Judith heard Cissy answer in her warm comfortable burr. “It means we have the pickings for longer, if you get my meaning. No one comes so far for a few days.”

Judith felt guilty; her journey had taken a considerable amount of planning and re-planning. Her horses had been sent ahead and her luggage packed, all within a few days. Her staff had worked feverishly to do her bidding and she had dragged her two loyal servants away from all the festivities they could have enjoyed. And for what?

All she could hope was that the ‘what’ was worth it.

“Come ladies.” She left the dregs of her chocolate. “Let us eat and be on our way. We should be there well before nightfall.”

***

Oh how to wish for the moon and get the opposite. The snow began almost as they left the final few straggling houses of Boroughbridge behind. The last urchin had waved and no longer followed the coach waiting for alms. The road was deserted, no other traffic venturing out. At first, small gentle flakes fluttered down and melted before they had scarce landed. However, as Judith gazed out of the carriage window, they soon became larger. Fast and furious, they settled on the ground, the carriage roof, and Judith saw to her dismay, the face of her coachman, with no concession.