The Scandal in Kissing an Heir Page 10

  All prospects considered, however, it was a chance she was willing to take, because if he did stand by her, she sensed that their marriage would be a happy one, filled with friendship, laughter and . . . passion, if the effect she had on him equaled the one he had on her. Even now, as he barely touched her, she could feel a flush creeping across her skin and her breasts beginning to tighten. With the very surreal feeling that she was leaping blindly into an abyss, Rebecca whispered, “I will accept your offer, Mr. Neville, if you will grant me a favor.”

  “Anything—just name it.”

  “That Laura is allowed to come with us. I won’t leave her behind.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, his voice low and thick in the darkness. Dear Lord, she didn’t have to see him to know that the heat radiating from his eyes would probably burn her to cinders. “You’ve made me extremely happy, my lady, and I will endeavor not to disappoint. The last thing I want is for you to regret your decision.”

  He leaned closer, the length of him pressed up against her, the light stubble on his chin and jaw brushing against her neck until she ached for his touch. God help her if this made her wicked, but she could no longer deny the sensations that coursed through her whenever he was near—a wanton desire for his hands to caress her in places she rarely touched herself.

  “May I kiss you now?” he asked, his words barely more than a breath of air against her flesh—flesh consumed with prickling heat.

  “It’s one of my requirements,” she managed, attempting a touch of humor and hoping that she didn’t sound too desperate in doing so.

  “Only one?” His hand had found her face and his fingers were tickling her jawline, turning her head in his direction.

  “One of many,” she said, fearing that her galloping heart might escape from her chest.

  “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss the rest later.” His breath caressed her cheek. “As for the one of kissing you—I’m only too happy to oblige.”

  And then he did, his lips touching the corner of her own so gently that she scarcely felt it at all. But then he adjusted himself, his mouth finding hers with greater pressure. It felt good, though not as cataclysmic as she’d expected, given the way her body responded. Somehow, she’d imagined the kiss would increase her pleasure and this need she felt to crawl all over him with complete abandon, but it didn’t really. It was both puzzling and distressing.

  “Why so tense?” he asked, pulling back just enough so he could speak.

  Tense?

  Rebecca forced her awareness back to her own body and realized that yes, she was. The reason for it came a second later. This man was a rake. He’d kissed countless women and had probably bedded an equal amount, while she had no experience at all. This was her first kiss and she was worried she’d disappoint, though she’d probably done so already. Why else would he have commented? “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I know I lack the experience of—”

  “Shh . . . not another word, Becky. May I call you Becky?”

  She’d never had a pet name before, and the fact that he’d just given her one warmed her heart. “I like it,” she said.

  “Good. Then you must call me Daniel from now on. Agreed?” She did, and he pulled her closer. “Now, let’s try that kiss again, shall we? Just relax and let me guide you.”

  This time, she felt his tongue first as he brushed it against her lower lip, eliciting a helpless groan from her throat. His teeth came next, tugging gently at the plump flesh while his tongue pressed forward. Her mouth opened of its own accord, and he was there, ready to accept the invitation she offered.

  This was what she’d wanted. Though she’d lacked the experience, her body had sensed that something had been missing. Daniel gave it to her now, stroke for stroke as his tongue slid over hers, teaching and directing as the pleasure of his kiss awakened other parts of her. She felt her nipples tighten against the fabric of her bodice and could think of nothing more wonderful than for him to touch her there. How sinful that would be—a notion that swiftly sent a wave of heat straight down between her thighs. She gasped, and Daniel pulled away, leaving her bereft.

  “You learn quickly,” he rasped, “and I look forward to teaching you more, but if we don’t stop now, then I fear I may not be able to.”

  The implication of his words sank in, and no matter how much she wished he’d act on his rakish impulses, she knew that he was right.

  “I will return for you and Laura tomorrow evening,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said, happy that he’d mentioned her maid as well.

  When they emerged from the wardrobe, they found Laura diligently mending some garment or other. “Have you come to an agreement?” she asked, setting her work aside and coming to place a blanket across Rebecca’s shoulders.

  In the close confinement of the wardrobe, Rebecca had been unaware of the chill that filled the rest of the room. “Yes, Laura. We leave tomorrow. Mr. Neville has graciously offered to take me to Scotland, where we shall be married.”

  The relief that flooded Laura’s features was beyond touching. “Thank you, sir,” she said as her eyes brimmed with tears. “I kept hoping you’d save her, and now you have. You’re a good man.”

  Rebecca smiled, happy that the two most important people in her life were going to get along just fine.

  Chapter 10

  Things did not go according to plan.

  When Rebecca awoke the next morning, she finished her toilette and started working on her watercolors while she waited for breakfast to arrive. Now was not the time to pack; she would do so later in the day when her aunt and uncle napped and she was unlikely to be disturbed by either of them. But when her aunt arrived instead of Wendy, who usually brought her breakfast, Rebecca set down her paintbrush and gave the woman her full attention. Something wasn’t right.

  “I’ve brought you some sustenance,” her aunt said haughtily. Either she believed she was doing Rebecca a huge favor by feeding her, or she believed that having to climb all the stairs to get there had been a great inconvenience. Both were likely the case.

  “Thank you,” Rebecca said. She looked warily at Laura, who’d risen as soon as Lady Grifton had arrived. She’d bobbed the expected curtsy and now appeared to be very much on edge.

  Setting the tray on the table, Lady Grifton turned her usual scornful glare on Rebecca. “Frankly, I don’t know why any man would want you with that black hair and dark complexion, but then again, I doubt His Grace has any interest in what’s fashionable as long as you’re willing to tend to his needs.” Lady Grifton laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you—I’ve no doubt you’ll be spending a lot of time confined to your bedchamber once he takes you off our hands.”

  Rebecca chose not to respond to her aunt’s inappropriate innuendo with the scathing retort that sat on the tip of her tongue, for she knew that Lady Grifton’s sole intent was to provoke her temper. Unwilling to give her the power to do so, Rebecca told her calmly, “I’m sure you’re right, Aunt, and I can assure you that I have no intention of shirking my wifely duties.” Though she’d every intention of fulfilling them with Daniel rather than with Grover. “However, I do think it would be wise of you to remember that once I say my vows, I will be Duchess of Grover, a position that far outranks your own.”

  Fury drew her aunt’s lips into a tight line. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, you impertinent girl. You’re still in our care, and as long as that is the case, you will do as we say.” Her features softened into a smirk. “Your eagerness for your new title is fortunate, though, since His Grace has just suggested we forgo the formalities of a lengthy engagement and the crying of banns.”

  A cold shiver ran down Rebecca’s spine, but she managed to feign a look of genuine interest. “What do you mean?”

  “I suppose he’s quite keen for you to be his.” The nonchalance of Lady Grifton’s tone wa
s far from comforting as she continued, “He has gone to London, intent on meeting with the archbishop and acquiring a special license.”

  “Oh?” Rebecca silently thanked God for her ability to keep her voice steady. She would not appear weak in front of her aunt by allowing her despair to show.

  “He has asked that we join him later today.” Lady Grifton’s gaze met Rebecca’s with cold menace. “We depart for London in an hour, so I suggest you start packing.”

  “But what about the settlement?” Surely there had to be a way to delay this. If she left now, she’d lose all hope of marrying Daniel instead.

  “We are to meet His Grace at Grover House for precisely that purpose. Once that is done, it’s off to the altar with you.” Her aunt sashayed across to the door, where her pudgy hand found the handle. “Do I detect a bit of trepidation?” She grinned mockingly as she opened the door. “Your acting skills aren’t what they used to be, Rebecca. I can see right through that stoic façade of yours.”

  The door closed and Rebecca realized for the first time that her whole body was trembling. Lord help her, she’d never been so livid.

  “I’m so sorry,” Laura said from the other corner of the room.

  “They will not win,” Rebecca muttered, her mind already working on seeking a means of escape. “I’ll find a way to stop this, no matter what.”

  “But if we’re to go to London today and His Grace is procuring a special license, then I’m sure he means to marry you tomorrow at the latest,” Laura said.

  “You’re probably right.” Getting up, Rebecca started to pace about the room. If she could only delay the duke’s plans enough to find a solution. She considered her options, and as she did, an idea began to take shape. If she could pull it off, then this would be yet another impressive scheme. Her adventurous spirit soared, and she turned to Laura with a smile. “I believe I have a plan.”

  Seated on a lovely settee of light blue silk, Rebecca waited patiently for her intended to make his appearance. He’d been ensconced in his study for the past hour with her uncle and two lawyers, finalizing the financial aspects of the marriage—the settlement and the transfer of fifteen thousand pounds from Grover’s bank account to her uncle’s. From what Rebecca understood, the costs involved with the rehabilitation of Roselyn Castle would be charged directly to Grover. There was no doubt that her aunt and uncle had made a coup, though Rebecca was convinced that Grover was equally pleased with his end of the bargain, for there had been no end to the lascivious smiles he’d given her.

  Rebecca squirmed on the inside just thinking about it, but on the outside she managed to remain calm as her mind busied itself with her plans of escape.

  “And it’s teeming with servants,” Rebecca’s aunt said. Since arriving at the duke’s residency she’d been prattling on about how good His Grace had been to rent a splendid town house for them to live in during their stay in London.

  The door opened and Grover stepped into the parlor, followed closely by Rebecca’s uncle. The duke smiled at Rebecca, eyes gleaming with unabashed greed. “Everything has been settled and we can finally focus on the wedding.”

  “What splendid news.” Rebecca was pleased with how happy she sounded. She met his gaze. “Perhaps we could have a moment alone together, Your Grace? With everything that’s been happening, we’ve hardly had a chance to talk to each other.”

  “Of course, my dear.” His voice was silky as he turned to Rebecca’s aunt and uncle. “If you’ll please excuse us.”

  “But we—” Rebecca’s aunt began, suspicion flickering in the gray depths of her eyes as she glared at Rebecca. Clearly she didn’t trust her and was unwilling to accommodate her request.

  “The door will remain ajar,” Grover said, cutting her off. He then swept his hand toward the exit. “If you please.”

  “Very well,” Rebecca’s aunt conceded as she straightened her back and stood up. “If that is what you wish, I see no reason to object.”

  Rebecca waited for them to leave before turning her attention on her fiancé. “Will you come and sit with me?” she asked, patting the empty seat beside her.

  Grover beamed. “With great pleasure.” The emphasis he placed on the word pleasure would have given anyone with less resolve cause to reconsider, but Rebecca was determined to do what she must, more so now than ever before. Time was running out.

  Placing her hand over Grover’s, she turned to him with a pleading gaze. “Your Grace, I understand your eagerness for haste in regards to our marriage, but I was rather hoping that I might convince you to offer me a boon.”

  A frown appeared upon his brow, but then he lowered his gaze to the rise and fall of her bosom and all signs of concern were immediately erased. Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a moist kiss against each knuckle while Rebecca did her best to remain still. She could not allow her distaste for the man to show. “I suppose it is the least I can do for you,” he murmured, “considering what you will be offering me later.”

  She shuddered to think of it and sincerely hoped that it would never come to that.

  “I was hoping that you would consider hosting an engagement ball, Your Grace.”

  Grover leaned back, his frown returning. “I see no need for that, my lady, though you are more than welcome to host as many balls and soirees as you desire once you are duchess.”

  “That is most generous of you, but don’t you think it would be wise to quench any suspicions that the ton may have regarding our marriage? Would it not be best to assure them that I am marrying you because I wish to and because the union is beneficial to us both?”

  “My dear, I may be old, but I am not a fool. We both know that you would likely have preferred a young buck if given a choice.”

  “Perhaps,” she conceded, “but I also appreciate the value of experience . . . and to be perfectly honest, money. I believe that Your Grace has both in ample supply.” Lowering her lashes, she delivered a shy smile.

  “Unquestionably,” Grover replied. He licked his lips, leaned closer to her and said, “If it weren’t for your aunt and uncle, I’d be happy to give you a little demonstration right now. Even more reason to hasten things along if you ask me.”

  Rebecca forced back the urge to leap from her seat and run screaming out of the room. “Your Grace,” she said, her face feeling hot. “You really mustn’t say such things. It’s highly inappropriate.”

  Grover chuckled. He ran his leathery index finger along the length of her arm. “What a pleasure it is to see that I can so easily affect you,” he said, mistaking her mortification with something else entirely. “You’re so pretty when you’re all flushed and excited.”

  Yuck!

  “Well, your words are quite . . . ahem . . . suggestive. However,” she said, determined to move on quickly before he attempted to kiss her or, God forbid, worse, “I do believe that showing a mutual desire to marry will be to our advantage—especially if we are to marry by special license. Once the ton sees that we have come to an understanding with each other, they will have no reason to spread rumors.”

  “You think that I care if they say that I married a fortune hunter? I’m a duke, for heaven’s sake. They can say what they please.”

  This was not going as well as she’d hoped. “I care, Your Grace. I’m young and not nearly as good at dealing with such things. I’m afraid that if you marry me like this and without giving the ton a chance to at least see me beforehand, they’ll make the worst assumptions about me. Please try to understand that I am relying on you to help me.” She squeezed his hand a little. “All I want is for us to be happy.”

  Grover sighed. “I can see how troubled you are by all of this, so if having a ball to stop the gossips’ tongues from wagging will ease your concerns and allow you to focus your energy on me instead, then I suppose I can accommodate your wish.”

  “You are most kind, Your Grace.”


  “Don’t thank me yet. You have two days in which to make the necessary arrangements, after which I want to see you in church. Is that understood?”

  “Perfectly. I will get to work on the invitations without further delay.”

  Grover’s lips drew up to show a set of yellow, uneven teeth. “And I will do my best to keep my longing for you at bay.”

  Fearing any further contact with the man, Rebecca slipped out from beneath his heated gaze, stepped toward the door and dropped into a deep curtsy. “You flatter me, Your Grace, and I thank you for it. But if there is to be a ball this Friday, then I have much to attend to.” She offered him her most benign smile and began to heap on the compliments; the benefits of flattery were not to be dismissed. “To be frank, I wasn’t very pleased when my aunt and uncle decided to choose my husband on my behalf, but I have since come to realize that they were wise in doing so. You have shown yourself to be magnanimous, and I have every confidence that you will make a most excellent husband.” Pausing for emphasis, she then added, “It will be an honor to be the mother of your children.”

  Later that night, after writing over a hundred invitations that would be mailed out in the morning, Rebecca considered her conversation with Grover. The lies she’d told him didn’t sit well with her, yet she didn’t regret what she was about to do. In spite of what she’d said, Grover was just as selfish and lowly in character as her aunt and uncle. He’d practically bought her, for heaven’s sake, and his disgusting insinuations regarding what he required her for were abhorrent.

  Closing her eyes, she thought of Daniel and dearly hoped that he found her note and would still be willing to help. With their last conversation in mind, she believed that he would, for he’d seemed sincere in his promise, and the kiss they’d shared . . . well, that had been quite something. Warming at the memory of it and hopeful that he would come and save her, Rebecca finally drifted off to sleep.