Fortune's Folly - The Confessions Of A Duchess Part 17

"I...Yes, of course." Alice gave up the unequal struggle to free herself and waited as he let himself through the gate and joined her under the trees.

"I wanted to make sure that you were safe," Miles said slowly.

Alice opened her eyes wide. No one had ever cared as to whether she was safe or not in all her two and twenty years and it was seductive to think that Miles might genuinely mean it. She was so charmed that she almost believed him.

"Did you?" she croaked. "I a.s.sure you that it is perfectly safe to walk home alone in Fortune's Folly."

Miles smiled. It deepened the lines about his eyes and Alice felt the warmth curl in her stomach again. She blinked and told herself not to be a henwit. She knew his real intention and that his professions of concern were only a ruse.

"Perhaps," she said, "you were also anxious to ensure that I would not repeat anything I heard tonight concerning your cousin?"

Miles did not deny it. She could feel his gaze on her face like a touch and her skin warmed beneath it.

"I a.s.sure you," she said steadfastly, "that I will tell no one. Laura is my friend and I respect her."

"But you must have been shocked to know that she and Mr. Anstruther were lovers," Miles said.

Alice hesitated. It was true that she had been both shocked and strangely intrigued by the frankness of the discussion between Laura and Miles and Dexter. She knew of course that Laura had been married and was no doubt vastly more experienced than she was herself, but Alice had seldom felt so naive, or so disturbed. That was when her imagination had started to somersault and present her with a rather fascinating and wayward set of images involving herself and Miles Vickery, of all people...Which, she thought a little wildly, was no doubt why she had run away in the first place when she had seen Miles following her. She made a concerted effort to exercise some common sense and banish all these wayward thoughts.

"You may have heard that I was once a servant girl, Lord Vickery," she said. "It takes a great deal to shock me. I have seen and heard things that might even shock you."

"Which makes it all the more surprising," Miles said, "that you have retained such an air of innocence."

"I do not believe that you would recognize innocence if you tumbled over it," Alice retorted with spirit. "I know for a fact that you are a most accomplished rake."

Miles laughed. "I recognize innocence in you," he said, "and I want it. I want to teach you all manner of things, Miss Lister."

He put a hand up and raised her chin so that she was forced to meet his gaze. His fingers felt cold against her cheek. Alice's eyelashes fluttered. She wondered if he could read in her eyes all the wanton excitement that was making her pulse race. And evidently he could, for he gave a low-voiced exclamation and the expression in his own eyes darkened and he lowered his mouth to hers. Alice gave a stifled squeak. She had never been kissed and suddenly realized that she did not know what to do or how to go about it. Miles's lips were cool and firm against her own, the kiss gentle and yet terrifying for its irresistible undertone of wicked danger. Alice understood instinctively that here was a man who knew exactly what he was doing, a ruthless rake who was treating her gently not because he was kind but because he was calculating the best way to seduce her.

Miles gently parted her lips and she felt his tongue touch the corner of her mouth with the most featherlight and temptingly soft touch. She opened her lips beneath his after only the slightest hesitation, and kissed him back. She thought that she should perhaps push him away but she was honest enough to admit to herself that she did not want to. It was very pleasant to be kissed in the moonlight by a man who was an absolute expert. Or perhaps pleasant did not quite cover the situation. It was utterly delightful.

When Miles finally let her go she felt shaken and weak at the knees. She glanced up at him and thought she saw a look of blank shock in his eyes. It was only there for a fleeting moment and then his expression became completely impa.s.sive. She had no idea what he was thinking. Perhaps she had done it all wrong. Perhaps she was hopeless at kissing. She could not tell. What she did know was that she should never have got herself into this situation in the first place. One of the lessons she had learned as a servant girl was to avoid dangerous rakes.

"Are you all right, Miss Lister?" Miles asked, and once again Alice felt that insidious tug of attraction that undermined all her defenses.

He truly cares...

"I am quite well," she said, although that was not really an accurate reflection of her feelings. "If that is your idea of seeing me safely home," she added, "I think that I should finish the journey alone."

Miles's grim expression lifted slightly and he almost smiled.

"Perhaps you should," he said.

Alice walked away from him, controlling the instinct that made her want to turn to look back. Even though she could not see him she was aware that he stood watching until she reached the garden door and the thought that he was indeed taking care of her almost melted her guarded heart.

You are a fool, Alice Lister, she told herself, for she knew Miles Vickery's very skill lay in persuading her that it was her person and not her money he was interested in. Yet she was afraid that for all her stern common sense, she was falling in love with him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

DEXTER STOOD under the pump in the courtyard of the Morris Clown Inn and shivered as the cold water cascaded over his head and down his body, soaking his shirt and chilling him to the bone. It was so cold that it hurt, and the autumn wind that was blowing down from the fells made him shiver all the more. But he had wanted this. He needed the clarity of mind that this coldness brought with it.

The previous night he had told Laura he would make her an offer of marriage. Triumphant in his possession of her, full of raw masculine satisfaction that she had loved him, whether she had denied it or not, and exultant that she was wholly his, he had been determined to claim her publicly as his own. He wanted her and he was going to have her. He was certainly not going to climb out the window like a thief and scuttle off to leave her to face the consequences. Since he seemed unable to control his pa.s.sion for her he would tame it within marriage. It was a sensible solution.

One sleepless night later, the demons of poverty and fear were on his back again, flaying him alive for his wanton lack of self-control. If he could not persuade Laura to keep the money Henry Cole wished to settle on her then he would be throwing away the chance of making an advantageous marriage. He would be letting down his family. And all because those wayward urges that had ruined his parents' lives were now threatening to play havoc with his own.

He thought back to the previous night and the moment in their lovemaking when Laura had begged him not to stop, not to leave her. From the moment he had first kissed her he had been so shaken by the blaze of their pa.s.sion that it had taken every last ounce of his strength to restrain his desire for her. Nevertheless, he knew in his heart that he could still have ended it before it was too late, even though it would almost have killed him to cease at that particular point. He remembered clearly that although his mind had been clouded with pleasure and his body had clamored for satisfaction there had a been a moment-two moments, in fact-when he had stopped to think about what he was doing. He had to acknowledge that and to take responsibility. But he had been reckless. He had made the deliberate choice to continue because he had not wanted to stop. Making love to Laura had been as exquisitely pleasurable as he had remembered it. There had been the same sense of completion, of rightness, that he always felt when he was with her. He had thought that he had wanted to break the hold she had over him, but what he had really wanted was to take her and bind her to him forever and claim her as his alone. Each time he made love to her was more intense than the last. He could not make his craving for her cease and to think that he could was futile.

He disliked feeling like this. It was irrational and unhelpful. It reinforced for him how traitorous and untrustworthy physical pa.s.sion could be. The feelings unleashed in him the previous night had been dangerously close to what he had felt four years before when he had loved Laura with such abandonment. It was easy to see how an impressionable young man might mistake l.u.s.t for love. Dexter never again wanted to lose his control and his self-respect, lose his way, as he had done in his youthful madness. It was too close to the reckless excesses of his parents.

He shuddered under the stream of cold water. In truth it was too late. He had already lost his way. He had failed to exercise sufficient restraint. He had made love to Laura and they had been caught. She might argue that she was no schoolroom miss to lose her reputation, but the truth was that a man of honor-a status that he was hanging on to by the skin of his teeth-was obliged to make her an offer of marriage. If he did not he would be a cad of the first order and, on a more terminal note, her cousin would call him out and try to kill him.

Marrying Laura had clear benefits. He not only wanted her in his bed, but in some way he did not quite understand he knew that he also needed her warmth and openness in his life. He knew that in his determination to be responsible he could also be too serious. Laura teased him out of that, though there was a danger that such frivolity could go too far. In his heart of hearts he was not sure that he wanted to live without the sense of completeness she brought to him. To lose her would feel as though a part of him was missing. It would feel as though he had carelessly thrown away something that made him whole.

But such thoughts were not helpful. He shook his head angrily. To think like this was impractical. He had to admit that to marry Laura ran contrary to all his plans. She was not the heiress he had intended to wed. Although she was now a lot wealthier than he had realized, he knew that she planned to refuse the money the new duke insisted on settling on her and knowing Laura, she would do precisely that. She certainly could not offer him a calm and undemanding life. She was no biddable wife. If he made her an offer of marriage he would be throwing his future into the very turmoil he had sworn always to avoid. It would be reckless and dangerous. Downright irresponsible. He would be letting down those who relied on him to secure a fortune. He did not want to take that risk.

He stepped out from under the pump.

"A word with you, Anstruther."

Dexter rubbed the water from his eyes and opened them to see Miles Vickery holding a towel out to him. It was not exactly a conciliatory gesture; Miles looked as though he would rather punch him. His face was tense, his hazel eyes, so like Laura's own, were hard. Looking at him, Dexter wondered suddenly whether he had permanently forfeited the good opinion of one of his oldest friends through his behavior the previous night. If he had, he could hardly blame Miles for it. If someone had seduced Annabelle or Caro he would kill him.

He took the towel and rubbed hard at his hair. "I know you want to hit me again, or worse," he said, when Miles did not speak for a moment. "I would feel the same in your position. What I did was indefensible."

Miles's tight expression eased a notch. "I can scarcely blame a man for acting the rake when I do so myself," he admitted, "but even so..."

"But even so you would not have acted the rake with my cousin."

This time Miles almost smiled. "No," he said. "I hope I would not, although..." He shrugged. "Well, actually, I probably would have done. But I thought you were the better man."

"And now you know I am not," Dexter said.

Miles squared his shoulders. "Do you really mean to make Laura an offer, Anstruther?"

Dexter stopped. "It would be the honorable thing to do," he said slowly.

"For G.o.d's sake do not propose out of chivalry," Miles said. "If this is just a casual affair for you then I would ask you to do the decent thing and end it. I will never speak of what happened nor, I am sure, would Miss Lister. Laura's reputation would be safe."

Then, as Dexter looked at him in astonishment, he said with difficulty, "Laura deserves better than this, Anstruther. She has already been trapped in one unhappy marriage. She deserves someone who truly loves her, utterly, completely and forever. So finish this. Then you can marry Miss Cole for her money as you originally desired, or you can find another heiress, and Laura can find someone who will genuinely love her." A rueful smile touched Miles's mouth. "I doubt Laura would accept you, anyway. You heard what she said last night. She has no more wish to be compromised into marriage than you really have to offer it."

He walked off leaving Dexter wondering if it were possible to feel any more dishonorable than he already did. Miles had put the situation in stark terms. He was suggesting that Dexter abandon Laura now in order to resume his carefully planned strategy of marrying Lydia for her money. Dexter's integrity revolted at what that would make him. Did the phrase callous, fortune-hunting philanderer cover the situation or was that too generous? And yet if he was to achieve his original intention of a convenient marriage, that was exactly what he had to do.

Finish this. She deserves someone who truly loves her...

Dexter did not believe in a love like that anymore. He did not want to. Love like that had to be dangerous, leading a man into all kinds of ill-considered actions. To love someone utterly, completely and forever, as Miles had said, would be extraordinary. He had never seen an all-consuming love like that, certainly not on the part of his parents, whose loves had been as undiscriminating as they had been frequent. He was not even sure that such a love could exist. But even if true love did exist, Dexter was not sure it was worth the risk. It was certainly not the way he felt for Laura. He wanted her with a pa.s.sion, but that was surely a matter of physical possession only.

On that basis he should perhaps do as Miles suggested and step aside so that Laura could find love with another man. As soon as the thought formed in his mind-and it was an entirely rational thought based on a logical sequence of ideas-he realized that he did not like it. In point of fact he had a large problem with it. Specifically he had a problem with any other man marrying Laura, or making love to Laura, or even being within a radius of six feet of Laura. She was his. He wanted her. He needed her. And he certainly was not going to let any other man have her.

The primitive fury of his possessiveness shocked him even as he recognized that it was part and parcel of all those other turbulent emotions that Laura aroused in him. He thought again of his parents, led astray time and again by the type of uncontrollable l.u.s.t that he felt for Laura now. It was not a sound basis for marriage. They had proved that with their infidelities and their affairs. He did not want to risk going down the same road. Yet he was already halfway down it. And if Laura had conceived his child in that mad, reckless moment last night then he had repeated all his parents' mistakes. The thought brought him out in a hot sweat even as the last drops of the cold pump water still trickled down between his shoulder blades. No child of his would suffer the slights that he and his siblings had throughout their life. He would not permit a child of his to be in ignorance of their true parentage nor to have any doubt cast on their good name.

He went inside to find a clean set of clothes and prepare to set out to meet Laura, all the time mulling over the terrifying contrast in the paths now before him. He could sacrifice his honor by telling Laura that whatever was between them was at an end and then make his bloodless, pa.s.sionless marriage to Lydia or another heiress. Then he would run the risk of being twice the scoundrel he already was if Laura gave birth to his child out of wedlock. Alternatively he could sacrifice all his plans for security and fortune and offer for Laura. He would have her and all the wild pa.s.sion that was between them but he would have no money and no security, he would not have the steady life he craved, and if the desire between them died he would be left with nothing at all. He had to make a choice and he had very little time in which to decide now.

He rode out of the village past the huge bonfire that the children were busy constructing for the celebration of Guy Fawkes Night in the field by the river. The track to Fortune Hill wound upward between walls of gray stone. Pastureland gave way to bracken and heather, turning bronze and gold in the autumn sun, and he rode higher until the whole of the village and the river and valley beyond were spread out before him. The wind was keen in his face.

He saw Laura as his horse breasted the rise at the top of Fortune Hill. He had expected her to be on horseback and maybe even to have brought a groom not so much for propriety's sake but as a defensive gesture. However, she was alone. She had tied up her horse, a beautiful highly bred chestnut with a white flash that he recognized, ruefully, from his one encounter with the Glory Girls, and was seated on a pile of stones from the tumbledown wall. She was staring pensively across the valley to the far fells. She was wearing a riding jacket in deep rust red that matched the fallen autumn leaves.

She looked up as he reined in beside her and dismounted, and their eyes met.

For a long moment they stared at one another. There was something different about her, Dexter thought, an element of vulnerability in her face that he had not seen before. Her eyes looked tired, as though she had not slept. His heart stumbled to see it. Laura so seldom let her defenses down. All the impossible choices he had to make rose up to torment him and without intending to he took her in his arms and drew her close to him. She fitted perfectly against his body and he instantly felt comforted. It felt less like unbridled l.u.s.t and more like something deeper and much more tender. She instinctively raised her face to his and he kissed her gently, and tumbled straight into the profound depths of his desire for her, made all the hotter by his memories of their night together.

It was several minutes later that he realized she was wearing riding breeches rather than a habit and that beneath them she appeared to be naked. He was so shocked his hand fell away even as his body reacted to the knowledge and he became even more rock-hard than before. This felt more like rampant l.u.s.t.

"It is easier to ride astride," Laura said, answering his silent question, "and with breeches a lady cannot wear underwear."

Riding breeches. No underwear. Dear G.o.d.

He was not sure what showed on his face-the same uncontrollable hunger he felt inside, probably, because she took a step back from him. "I did not expect you to discover it," she said. "I thought we were going to talk." She shook her head slightly. "I suppose I might have realized, given that we do not seem to be able to resist one another. Have I shocked you, Dexter?"

"That hardly describes my feelings," Dexter said.

She met his gaze very directly. "I suppose not. Not after last night. And yet we must talk. We do not appear to have a problem relating to one another physically, do we? It is in other respects that the problems lie."

That went straight to the heart of the matter and he admired her for her honesty even as his body groaned with frustration to be denied. To take her here, now, on the windswept hillside, with the autumn leaves as a bed and the wide sky above them would fulfill his wildest fantasies. But that was exactly where his dilemma lay. To succ.u.mb to those feelings again and give himself up to their pa.s.sionate affair would be irresponsible, reckless and dishonorable. It was marriage-or nothing. It had to be or he would have surrendered the last shreds of his honor.

"I did not come here today to resume our affair where we left off last night," Laura said, echoing his thoughts as she walked a little away from him. "I have been awake all night trying to decide on the best thing to do and I have come to make it clear that what is between us must end, Dexter. I hope you will feel the same and agree with me. You need not for one moment feel obliged to offer for me because of what happened. You are a free man."

Dexter waited for the feelings of relief to swamp him, as surely they must. Laura was refusing to contemplate a proposal from him. She was setting him free.

He waited. Nothing happened. He did not feel relieved. No calm rea.s.surance washed through his veins. He looked at her with the wind in her hair and the pink color staining her cheeks and the jacket and breeches hugging her slender form and the hot, masculine possession gripped him like a vise.

"Is there some other man you would prefer to wed?" he asked. He thought of the fortune hunters lining up to court her now that she had money and the jealousy speared him like a knife. It was another new sensation.

She gave him a scornful look. "Not in the slightest. After everything that has happened do you still think me the kind of woman to take you into my bed-" her lips twisted "-or on my sofa, at least, and then profess a wish to wed another?"

"No," Dexter said. "I do not think you that sort of woman."

She sighed. "It is simply that I do not wish to wed again. How could I, when my previous experience of marriage was so unhappy?" She saw he was about to interrupt her and held up a hand. "I know you are not like Charles. Of course you are not. But I could never wed a man who does not love me and I am not sure you even believe in love anymore, Dexter. I am not sure that you want to. Last night you called it a dangerous illusion and said that mutual respect was all you required in marriage."

Dexter shrugged. "When I was younger I believed in love," he said. "I attributed the feelings and emotions around l.u.s.t and pa.s.sion to it. That was my naivete and now I know that love is just a pretty word for physical desire. It makes it sound more acceptable."

It was only an articulation of what he had been thinking earlier but Laura looked disgusted by this piece of logic. "Congratulations, Dexter," she said. "Somehow you have managed to sound both cynical and stuffy at the same time. I am not at all certain how you achieve it." She snapped a twig of the hawthorn hedge and broke it sharply between her fingers. "I suppose that you see marriage primarily as a business arrangement?" A shade of scorn touched her voice. "It must be, I imagine-your rich, conformable marriage to your biddable heiress bride?"

"Ideally it would be," Dexter said. "I am not a man to indulge in meaningless affairs, so I have always hoped the marriage relationship would also have a physical side. I hoped it would be enjoyable."

"Enjoyable!" Now there was no doubting Laura's scorn. "Is that how you felt about last night, Dexter?" she snapped. "That it was enjoyable? You reject the power of emotion and yet you cannot quite eliminate it from your life, can you? So you pretend that love is less important than it really is by calling it by other names and thinking to keep it in a box and under control. You know, I pity your poor bride!" She took several angry steps away from him. "You are offering her a fake-a marriage where you want no more than her money and a quiet life-oh, and a pleasant time in her bed! What sort of existence is that?"

"A rational one," Dexter said. He looked at Laura's flushed face and bright, angry eyes, and her luscious body stiff with indignation, and wanted to grab her and kiss her even though his attraction to her contradicted every last commonsense principle he held to, and drove him mad into the bargain. "A calm, ordered life is the ideal," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"How very tedious!"

"That is rich criticism coming from you, madam," Dexter said, feeling his temper slipping and, as always with Laura, utterly powerless to resist. "Why, from the very first you have hidden behind a facade of propriety when really you are wanton and pa.s.sionate and shameless and wild-" He had unconsciously taken a step closer to her with each word and now he grabbed her upper arms and kissed her with all the pent-up denial and frustration that was in him. His mouth seduced hers relentlessly, plundering its softness, demanding her response.

"I admit it!" Laura wrenched herself from his arms and stood looking at him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s heaving beneath the tight riding coat as she gasped for breath. "I have acted the part of the perfectly proper d.u.c.h.ess in public but at least I am honest enough to admit both to myself and to you that I am wild and pa.s.sionate under the surface." She glared at him. "When I marry-if I ever marry again-I would want my husband to understand that and to want me as I am. He would not seek to change me to fit into his conventional view of life. So I cannot marry a man who secretly deplores his attraction to me and wishes he could make sense of it!"

"You mistake," Dexter said. His breathing was ragged. He took her in his arms again. "You will marry me, Laura."

"No, I will not." Laura looked defiant. She wriggled, trying to free herself from his grip. Dexter gritted his teeth at the provocative slide of her body against his.

"You do not really want to marry me," she said. "What you want is to be free of your pa.s.sion for me so that you can wed a nice quiet girl who fits all your ideas of a perfect wife and a perfect marriage. That was what last night was about, you wanted to break the spell between us!"

"And I failed," Dexter ground out.

She was right. They both knew it. She was not what he had sought in marriage. He did not want his life to be driven by so demanding a pa.s.sion. But with the insistent pressure of Laura's body against his, Dexter knew only that it was Laura he had to have or run mad, a situation that was even less practical, even less desirable than the one he was in.

"I have no choice, Laura, and neither do you," he said, his mouth only inches from hers. "We have to wed. It is the only way I can have you in honor."

He brought his mouth down on hers again and Laura's gasp of shock turned to a moan as he drank deep from her. He wanted to pull her down onto the soft bed of leaves behind the tumbledown wall and peel away her saucy red riding jacket and the tight breeches. He thought he would burst just to think of it. He knew that he was every bit as driven by the demand of his senses as his foolish, f.e.c.kless father had been and was equally as powerless to resist. But he could bind Laura to him in marriage. That would make matters right. He could conquer this need in him by keeping her with him forever.

Laura dragged herself away from him. She was breathing hard. She looked frightened. His heart clenched at the expression on her face.

"Laura-" He put out a hand to her. He wanted to rea.s.sure her and tell her that everything would be all right. They would marry as soon as possible and then this wild and spontaneous pa.s.sion between them could be controlled within the bonds of matrimony....

"I cannot marry you," she whispered. "Not when you do not love me and when you do not know-" She stopped. She looked terrified.

"Everything will be all right," Dexter said. "Laura, trust me. We will be wed soon. I will get a special license-"

Laura shook her head. "No, Dexter." She looked at him and made a little hopeless gesture. "There are many very good reasons why I cannot marry you, although being with you almost makes me forget them."

Dexter caught her arm, suddenly anxious not to let her leave on this denial.

"Is it Hattie?" he asked. "I understand it might be confusing for her at first but she is young and children do adapt. And I have six younger brothers and sisters, so I know a little of what to expect. I swear I would be a good father to her and I am sure that in time she would come to accept me-"

He stopped. Laura's eyes were brilliant with tears. It shocked him to see them. There was so much grief and uncertainty in her face that he instinctively tried to draw her into his arms, but she held him back. Her evident distress reminded him of the previous night, when she had struggled so hard to deny her love for him and he had known that there had been something frightening her.

"It is not that," she said. "Oh, Dexter, you are a good man." She gave a little laugh that was almost a sob. "You are a good man, despite your misguided views on love." She shook her head a little. "I am sorry. It is my fault, but we cannot wed."

Dexter stood and watched her walk away. He wanted to call her back and insist that she explain to him. His need to understand and to uncover the truth drove him. Yet she looked so sad and so determined that something held him still. He could not rid himself of the feeling that when she had apologized, it had not been for refusing his offer of marriage but for something else entirely, something he did not understand.