The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (80 page)

Olivia, Elsbeth saw, would be no help. She had attached herself to the illustrious “Beau” Brummel, certainly a coup of enormous proportions.

Elsbeth squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to take care of her cousin. As chaperone, Lauretta’s welfare was her duty and no one else’s.

“Mr. Waver,” she said and swallowed deeply. There was no hope for it. She’d have to feed herself to the lion in order to keep Lauretta from being stranded and brokenhearted in the middle of the drawing room. “I hope you’ll forgive me for crushing your spirit,” she said, “but, you see—” she cleared her throat “—I did not realize Charlie would be here. And since he was a dear friend of my late husband’s, I feel compelled to accept his company.” That didn’t quite come out as graciously as she’d intended. “Lady Lauretta is without a companion, sir.”

George followed her pleading glance and nodded, understanding her purpose. “Yes, of course. I see Lady Lauretta is waiting for me.”

Edgeware, unfortunately, didn’t seem to follow the byplay occurring between Lauretta and Donald or notice the young lady’s budding tears. His brows darkened as he stared daggers at Elsbeth. “Forgive me for presuming, Lady Mercer,” he said tightly and stormed over to where Lady Waver was waiting.

Halfway through the meal, food Elsbeth scarcely touched, Charlie leaned over and spoke in a low voice just loud enough for her ears. “I don’t know how you tricked your way into this house party. I’m truly surprised to find you under my cousin’s roof. I’d have thought that glorious nude painting would have transformed you into a social pariah.” He took a bite of the roast pheasant on his plate. “No matter, Elly. I don’t even care that you’ve attracted my cousin’s attentions. You’re still the most beautiful woman in all of England.”

He chewed and swallowed. “And I would dearly like to renew our acquaintance and take it to a deeper, more intimate level. Before this house party is over, Elly, I will have you in my bed.”

Chapter Nine

No!
She had told him emphatically, no! And he’d laughed.

That night, Elsbeth tossed in her bed, unable to sleep. Charlie had made himself only too clear. He wanted her. He’d tried time and again to convince her husband to share her. For the most part, Hubert had resisted. And she had
always
resisted. She wanted nothing to do with Charlie. Ever.

She stared into the darkness while listening to the light snores of her two cousins in the adjoining room, and worried.

Though Charlie had been one of her husband’s closest friends, almost always accompanying Hubert when he’d return from London after the Season, he certainly wasn’t her friend. Charlie used to sip his brandy and smile as he watched Hubert take his angers and frustrations out on her. It was as if he enjoyed seeing her cower, as if he enjoyed seeing her humiliated and suffering.

Elsbeth winced as the dark memories swirled through her head. They pricked like tiny infected wounds. She fought to push them away, crying softly into her pillow.

Charlie was back in her life, again. Why? What could he possibly gain from tormenting her?

With nothing at all resolved and an ocean of unease thrashing through her body, she finally slipped into a troubled slumber just as dawn sparked on the horizon. Morning sunlight streamed down tinting a wide field of wildflowers an eerie purple shade. She rubbed her eyes, wondering just how she came to be in this place. And still dressed in her nightrail.

She couldn’t remember leaving her bed. She turned around, searching for Purbeck Manor or, for that matter, any sign of civilization. The field of wildflowers stretched out for as far as she could see.

“
Elsbeth
,” a voice called out to her.

“I am here!” she called back, feeling a trifle unsettled since she had no idea where “here” was.

A warm hand closed around hers. “I’ve been dying, waiting for you.” The soft voice caressed the back of her neck.

Dionysus
? Her heart tripped at the thought of meeting him at long last. He would explain himself, would explain how he loved her and had never meant to cause her pain. She simply knew he would.

Spinning around, anxious to meet the only man she had ever let into her heart, she stepped into Lord Edgeware’s embrace. His dark, brooding gaze sought hers as he dragged a finger seductively across her lower lip.

A deep longing—one that surely matched the hunger in the dark lord’s eyes—contracted in her chest.

“
You
?” she whispered.

He kissed her then, his lips brushing lightly over hers, demanding nothing.

She breathed in his scent, an unforgettable mix of almonds and sage. Embracing it, she pressed her face into his chest.

“Trust your broken heart, little dove.”

His hands traveled down the length of her body, tracing the gentle curve of her hips. This was what she wanted. What she longed for. She was comfortable with him, here, among Dionysus’s wildflowers…until a sharp cackle of laughter broke the spell.

She peered over Edgeware’s shoulder to see Charlie leaning back, laughing his pretty blond-haired head off.

“You can’t have him, Elly.” Charlie raised the pistol clutched in his hand.
“No one can.”

The pistol popped.

Elsbeth bolted upright in bed. Sucking in air, barely able to catch her own breath, she peered around the darkened room. Olivia and Lauretta were both still in the other room sleeping soundly.

Good gracious
, Elsbeth thought,
whatever could that dream mean
? Had she really imaged herself losing herself so completely within Lord Edgeware’s arms? Never had her nerves been so overset to produce such a dream. Never had she felt so…

How did she feel?

Her jangling nerves and leaping pulse made her think of fear. But no, fear had never warmed her like an oven. Fear was a cold emotion with the power to freeze her from the inside out until she was sure death would come. Whatever she was feeling wasn’t fear.

She tossed aside the heavy blankets and swung her feet to the floor. The first light of dawn was streaming across the horizon. There was no possible way she would be sinking back to sleep any time soon, so she might as well start the day. Better be up and moving than worrying over an emotion she had no time to be feeling. She had things to do, and a long morning walk was just what she needed to clear her head. She needed to plan.

And Dionysus needed to be found.

Curse him! Curse his heartrending paintings!

They’d made her feel as hot as an oven…once…a long, long time ago.

* * * *

Nigel stood on a rise of the Purbeck Cliff that wasn’t more than several hundred yards from his estate’s manor house. He gazed out over the ocean. It was early. The morning light was still dim and lightly dusted with fog. Reds and pinks streaked across the sky, as the first signs of dawn broke through the darkness overhead.

His thoughts weren’t on the brilliant brushstrokes of colors, or on the way the waves crashed on the beach below him. There was no room in his head for such thoughts when it was tightly latched to figuring out how to seduce Elsbeth.

She was so unlike the beautiful woman portrayed in Dionysus’s painting. There was a stubbornness, a fire in her, that he ached to understand. What in blazes made her so different from every eligible miss in England? Why had she spurned his attentions last night and yet accepted Charlie’s? But even with Charlie, she’d shied away from even the most innocent of touches. Her behavior reminded him of his stallion. Zeus had been like that once, wincing away from the slightest touch as if expecting a blow. She acted as if she were protecting herself from the abuse she feared she might suffer at the whim of any man.

His insides churned at the thought. No, he had to be mistaken. She was overly proud. Pride did terrible things to one’s behavior. He’d witnessed the truth of that firsthand.

It had to be pride, not abuse.

Still, he shivered.

“I was hoping you would wander this way,” Nigel said, when he heard the crunch of leaves scattered in the field behind him.

“You were?” George asked as he strode up from behind. He sounded surprised.

“I saw you crossing the lawn earlier. I suppose you were on the lookout for intruders?”

George’s gaze tripped nervously across the landscape. “Yes, yes, I was searching.”

“And?”

George shook his head. “And nothing. All has been quiet.”

“I don’t believe so. Follow me.” Nigel led George down a narrow, hazardous trail that brought them down to the beach far below the cliff’s ledge. They stood side-by-side in the sand for a moment before Nigel kicked a charred log, stirring the ashes of a recently doused fire. “I’d say whoever used my beach last night unloaded a ship’s cargo.”

“Cargo, Edgeware? You don’t actually believe smugglers came onto your property, do you?” There was a shiver in George’s voice. “To flaunt such a crime beneath your nose would be beyond bold.”

“True. But take a look at these footprints and where they’re leading.”

Rumors of smugglers were common in the region. Many families bolstered their incomes on the illegal trade. Even so, Nigel was outraged that someone in the village might commit such a crime on
his
property.

“Damn it. I had several footmen on watch last night. Why didn’t they see a blasted thing?”

“There was no moon, Edgeware. And with a fog rolling in, we have no way of knowing what happened on the beach last night. Smuggling is only one explanation, and not even the most likely. I’d rather guess that a band of gypsies was passing through.”

“I pray that is the answer,” he said, unconvinced. He scanned the white cliffs searching for more clues. After the weather cleared, he’d send men to scour the area. The chalky cliffs were peppered with caves, both natural and from the quarrying of the purbeck marble. Those caves would serve as excellent hiding places and storage areas.

In the distance, he spotted a shadow moving along the cliff’s ridge. He cupped his hands over his brow and watched the figure crouch down out of view.

“I say, what’s that about?” George asked. But George was pointing toward the trail, not the top of the cliff.

Nigel followed his friend’s extended arm.

“It couldn’t be—”
But it was
.

“What in blazes is she doing?” George asked. He must have recognized her too.

Elsbeth was waving her arms and running down the hazardous trail to the beach much too fast. If she tripped she’d fall to her death. Rocks skittered off the steep edge as she lost her footing and slid several feet before catching herself. Nigel’s heart stilled in his chest as he breathlessly watched.

He was too far away and unable to do anything but watch.

“Look out!” her voice carried over the roar of the waves.

Look out?
He was about to shout those same words to her.

She stumbled again. Her arms flailed as she slid over more rocks. The dark cape she wore flapped in the foggy ocean breeze.

This time both Nigel and George charged forward. She was halfway down the trail, and there was no way either man could hope to get close enough in time to catch her if she were to fall, but that didn’t seem to matter. They had to do something. Running toward her, Nigel sprinted ahead of George.

Before either of them could reach her, the sand beneath their feet jumped and the air exploded with a loud crash from behind that whomped the breath from Nigel’s lungs.

Sand and rock shards rained down the side of the cliff. He raised his arms over his head to protect himself from the falling rocks. He turned back toward the place on the beach where he had come from.

He was shocked at what he saw. A three-foot tall boulder that hadn’t been on the beach a moment before sat half-buried in the sand. Nigel and George had been standing in that very spot a few moments earlier. If Elsbeth’s reckless charge down to the beach hadn’t compelled the two men to rush toward her, one or both of them would have been crushed. Nigel turned back toward the trail. He froze where he stood, stunned.

Elsbeth, still running toward them, stumbled into his outstretched arms.

“Are you injured?” she asked, out of breath. She ran her hands up and down his chest and arms as if searching for injuries.

“Am I?” He stood utterly still while she continued to caress his chest, his arms, his legs. The front of her body was pressed against him. She didn’t seem to notice. A wicked smile captured his lips. She could touch him however she wished. He wouldn’t complain. “I should ask you the very same question. Are you injured, my dove?”

“Of course she isn’t injured and neither are we,” George said irritably.

Nigel mentally shook himself. He took Elsbeth’s hands in his own and stepped a proper distance away.

“What were you thinking blazing down the trail like that? You’re lucky you didn’t break that lovely neck of yours,” he scolded.

Elsbeth straightened her shoulders. He watched as her soft, vulnerable expression hardened into that damnable stiff shell he was beginning to know too well. She drew back, breaking away from his touch.

“A boulder crashed down onto the beach, my lord. Or perhaps you didn’t notice. The wretched thing nearly smashed you and Mr. Waver into the ground.”

“You were trying to warn us?” Nigel gazed up at the spot high on the cliff where the boulder must have sat just moments before. It was very near the spot where he’d seen a shadowy figure moving around.

“I saw the boulder rocking. And then I spotted the two of you. I thought you might be in danger.” She drew a sharp breath, her sapphire blue eyes sparkled in the morning light. “Obviously my instincts were correct. That boulder would have killed you.”

Nigel nodded. Over time, rocks shifted, boulders tumbled from the cliffs. But in this instance, with the past attempt on his life, he found it impossible to believe the boulder’s fall was anything but natural.

“There must be a connection,” he said to George.

He turned to Elsbeth. She did appear to be fit and safe, despite that harrowing charge down the trail. She could have fallen to her death! But, thankfully, she’d managed to keep her feet underneath her.