There's Something About Lady Mary (11 page)

Ryan didn’t need a second telling. Unwilling to give her the chance to reconsider the implications of what she’d just agreed to, he leaned toward her and brushed his lips ever so slightly against hers. It was a feathery soft kiss that lasted no more than a few seconds, gentle and tender in every way. Even so, he could have sworn that his heart stopped beating, while glowing embers ignited in the pit of his belly, a slow blaze that grew in strength until it became a roaring fire.

When he pulled away to gauge her reaction, he saw that same fire reflected in her eyes, her yearning written plainly upon her face, and just like that, he lost what little restraint he’d had. Taking her firmly by the waist, he pulled her onto his lap in one easy sweep. A swift pull on the bow beneath her chin sent her bonnet toppling backward onto the carriage floor only seconds before he crushed his lips against hers.

She quivered against him when he traced his tongue along her lower lip, her posture stiff, as if she might protest at any moment. And though she surely must have considered doing so, she made no attempt to push him away. But Ryan sensed her uncertainty and knew that he must force himself to proceed at a slower pace. Pulling back a little, he placed soft kisses upon her eyelids, and then her cheeks, while his fingers worked their way through her hair, toying with the pins until her dark brown locks tumbled over her shoulders.

He kissed her chin and then her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her lilac perfume while his hand moved up her side to rest beside her breast. He paused there, inhaling her, then exhaling her, while her pulse drummed beneath his lips, her breathing low and ragged. But then she shifted. It was ever so slight, and quite subtle, so subtle, in fact, that a less experienced man might not have noticed. But Ryan was no fledgling, and he certainly had no intention of denying either one of them when an invitation had just been offered.

With slow deliberation, his fingers crept over one breast and then over the other in soft strokes. Again she stiffened, her breath caught in her throat until a small groan of pleasure squeezed its way between her lips. So exquisite was the sound that it almost had him spending himself right then and there like a callow youth who’d never lain with a woman before. Taking courage in her response, he took one breast in his hand, squeezing it gently and testing the feel of it. She bowed her head against his, kissing his brow, then his temple, his cheek, until her lips finally found his in a deep and scorching kiss.

Once again, he ran his tongue against her lips, but this time it lasted only a moment. On a soft sigh, she parted her lips and pressed herself closer against his embrace. A low growl rose from Ryan’s throat as this first hurdle was overcome. Tightening his grip to keep her steady as the carriage lurched sideways, he eased his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her warmth before coaxing her to follow his lead.

It didn’t take long to discover that she was a nimble student, her passion matching his own as she raked her fingers through his hair and tugged him closer in obvious desperation. Nothing could have pleased him more, yet it wasn’t enough; he wanted more. With trembling fingers, he eased her sleeves from her shoulders and lowered his head to place soft kisses against the dip of her shoulder blade. Emboldened by her quiet murmur, he allowed himself to go a step further. Hooking his thumbs on the neckline of her bodice, he ran them slowly against her smooth flesh, brushing her gently aroused nipples. Her back arched on a loud groan, and he tugged the fine fabric away, baring her to his greedy gaze. He eased back a little so he could take a better look at her lovely delights: each breast so plump and full, and with a dark, perky nipple at its crest. It was impossible for him to look away. Instead, a devilish grin drew its way across his face. “So beautiful,” he whispered as he slid his fingers across them. She responded with a sharp intake of breath. He looked her straight in the eye as he took one tender nipple between his fingers and gently squeezed. She gasped and closed her eyes. “Do you like that?” he asked, knowing full well that she did.

Still, he waited for her response: a small nod, followed by a soft “yes.”

“Then I am quite certain that you will like this too.” He leaned forward and licked the hardened flesh with a slowness that would have driven any warm-blooded woman half mad. “Oh God,” she whimpered, pulling him against her with a fierceness that caught him completely unaware. It excited him to no end. There was a passion within her that he’d just unleashed, an urgent need as desperate as his own. Yes, Lady Steepleton would make an ardent lover; of that he was now completely certain.

He wanted her. There was no longer any inkling of doubt in his mind.
Not now,
he reminded himself, forcing back the desire that threatened to overwhelm him. He’d made a vow, not only to her, but to himself, that he would not take her innocence—not now, at least—not in a lurching carriage. No, he would have to wait for his own release, even if it meant that he’d have to wait for the wedding night. One thing was now quite clear in his mind, however: he
would
marry her.

Easing away from her, he gently lifted her bodice, returning her to some measure of decency as he did his best to avoid the look of disappointment that shone in her eyes. Moving her off his lap, he bent to pick up her bonnet, then helped her arrange her hair in an orderly fashion. “Thank you,” he muttered, taking her hand in his and pressing a tender kiss against her knuckles, “for allowing me such liberties.”

She blushed deeply in response, then favored him with a dazzling smile. “It was a pleasure.”

Tapping the roof of the carriage to signal the driver that it was time to take her ladyship home, he placed his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close to him, and took courage from the intimacy of the moment. “As I said before, I know that we have scarcely known one another for more than a week, but I do hope that I have just made my intentions quite clear. I plan to marry you, my lady, if you will have me, that is.” Mary couldn’t get a single word out of her mouth; it seemed as if they were all jammed together in her throat all at once. So she just sat there as the idea of marrying Mr. Summersby manifested itself in her mind. He was right, of course; they didn’t know each other well at all, and she still had to tell him about. . .heavens, she’d meant to do it before, but he’d completely led her off track. She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, more horrified now by his potential response than ever before, because the truth of the matter was that becoming his wife didn’t trouble her in the least. In fact, it felt incredibly right.

“And if you will let me,” Mr. Summersby continued, stopping her short once more, “hell, even if you will not, I promise to do whatever I can to keep you safe. Nobody is going to hurt you, not as long as I have anything to say about it.”

Mary stiffened in her seat as the world around her came to a screeching halt. “What do you mean?” she asked numbly as she eased herself away from him.

He let out a heavy sigh and squeezed her hand as if he meant to reassure her. Instead, a slow dread swept over her as she waited to hear what he wished to tell her. “I saw the look on your face the other day when you opened that letter,” he said, turning to her with deep concern in his light blue eyes. “For whatever reason, you were terrified of its contents.”

“That is hardly enough for you to assume that I might be in danger,” she told him cautiously. “You have no idea of what that letter said.” She looked at him imploringly, hoping that he’d merely been jumping to conclusions.

“No,” he agreed, “it is not. But before you and I met, I was approached by a good friend of my family’s, a man whom, it appears, was also a close friend of your father’s. His name is Sir Percy Foxstone.” He was silent for a moment, as if waiting for her to confirm her knowledge of this gentleman, but she’d never heard of this Foxstone fellow, so she just sat there, offering Mr. Summersby a blank stare, her every nerve on sensitized alert. “He asked, on behalf of your father, that I keep an eye on you. Apparently, your father was under the impression that you would be in grave danger if anything were to happen to him; he asked Percy to ensure your protection, as a personal favor to him.”

Mary gazed back at Mr. Summersby, while tears began to prickle behind her eyes. How could she have been such a fool? He hadn’t sought her company because of how attractive he found her, or because he liked her company more than the next woman’s. As it turned out, she was nothing more than an assignment to him—possibly a nuisance even. With startling clarity, she saw that he’d begun calling on her for no other reason than to keep a watchful eye on her at all times and perhaps even to gain access to whatever information he might need.

She should have known that a man like Mr. Summersby would never be drawn to a woman like her. Circumstance had thrown them together, and they’d allowed themselves to get carried away by it. The worst of it was that he was no innocent and that he would very likely have carried on in much the same way with a Covent Garden nun if his need had been great enough. But now, because she was a lady of the
ton,
he was planning to sacrifice himself on the wedding altar in order to save her reputation. There was no other explanation for it—unless, of course, he was after her money and had just laid a very neat trap. Her heart sank at the very thought of such a possibility.

“Why you?” she asked in a tight voice that conveyed the extent of her growing anger. “Why would this man. . .Sir Percy was it? Why would he ask this of you?”

Mr. Summersby hesitated for only a moment. “Because,” he said simply, “I used to work for him as an agent for the Foreign Office. But after my last mission, I chose to return to Oxford instead, in order to finish my studies and get a degree. The fact of it is, Sir Percy wanted this matter to be kept private and confidential, so he enlisted me rather than an agent already employed by the Home Office.”

Mary gaped at him. She simply did not know what to say. Clearly, they had rushed when it came to considering something as permanent as marriage; they really didn’t know each other at all, yet she’d practically been prepared to toss away her innocence only five minutes earlier. It didn’t even bear thinking about.

“I know you must be shocked by all of this,” he told her apologetically. “I hope it does not change anything between us too drastically.”

“Ryan, I. . .Mr. Summersby,” she amended. “How can you possibly think that this will not change anything between us? This changes
everything
. Your only interest in me was based entirely on your assignment. You do not really want me, sir, but you appear to be stuck with me all the same, and somehow that has clouded your better judgment. So, in answer to your previous question, no, I will not marry you. I want someone who truly cares for me, not someone who is prepared to go blindly to the altar because society dictates that he must.”

Mr. Summersby stared back at her in bewilderment. A slow frown had begun to mar his handsome features. “I am sorry if you see it that way, my lady,” he told her in a clipped tone. “I assure you that I meant no offense. In fact, I genuinely like you and—”

“If such a bland word is the best you can think of to describe the way you feel about me,” she shot back with growing agitation, “then we truly are ill-suited for one another.”

“Well, you are entitled to your own opinion, of course.” He crossed his arms in a highly annoyed fashion. “However, there is still the matter of your safety to discuss. As it is, I have already encountered a stranger prowling about outside your house on two separate occasions. He asked that you stop meddling with matters that do not concern you.”

Mary’s eyes narrowed into two angry slits. “You’ve been watching my house at night?”

“My lady, I cannot help but find it rather vexing that the point which seems to have you most aggrieved is not the presence of a dubious stranger outside your home, but rather the fact that I have been trying to keep you safe from harm.”

Mary grimaced. She couldn’t deny that he had a point. “What did he look like?” she asked.

“I do not know. It was dark, and he was using a scarf to conceal his face.”

Mary clenched her jaw. “In short, you have nothing useful to tell me, other than admitting that you’ve been spying on me.”

“I was not spying on you, my lady. I was merely trying to determine why somebody might wish to harm you,” he told her defensively.

“Well, your answer is as good as mine,” she snapped as the carriage rolled to a sudden halt. Not bothering to wait for a footman, she reached for the handle and opened the door to get out.

“Then at least tell me who the young man is that I have seen leaving your house on two separate occasions. Is he a messenger of some sort?”

Mary gave him a frosty glare. “That, Mr. Summersby, is absolutely none of your concern.”

He grabbed hold of her wrist before she managed to alight, forcing her to stay and listen. “I only want to help you, Mary. That is all.”

Mary paused in the doorway of the carriage. She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and against her will, they spilled over and poured down her cheeks. “Is that so? Because only a moment ago, you were telling me that you wanted to do a whole lot more.” She snatched her arm away. “And in the future, you will please refrain from using my Christian name. I am Lady Steepleton to you. I suggest you try to remember that. Good day, Mr. Summersby.”

Unwilling to be detained by him a moment longer, she quickly snatched her arm away, stepped down onto the pavement, and ran inside her house, fleeing from the ridiculous hope she’d allowed her mind to foster: that a man like him might genuinely care for a woman like her.

M
ary raced up the stairs to her bedroom, locking the door firmly behind her. She didn’t care that Thornton had gawked at her or that Emma had made a heroic attempt to follow. No, she needed to be alone for a while; she needed to think. Her heart raced as she contemplated her time alone with Mr. Summersby in the carriage. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d behaved in the most deplorable manner, but God help her, she’d liked it. But then to discover that he’d sought her companionship, not out of choice, but because it had been his job to do so left her heart close to the point of breaking.