Saint's Devils: Devil In My Arms Part 5

After the dance, Eleanor had excused herself and retreated to the retiring room, while Sir Hilary slipped out a side door to the garden. He'd told her he'd wait for her just beyond the fountain, where the light from the house would be dim. She was to wait a few minutes, until supper was underway, and then slip out the same door to join him.

Her heart was racing. This was by far the most risque thing she'd ever done. She'd never had a season as a young girl and so had never shared kisses or anything else with a man in a garden. There'd been only Enderby's grasping and grabbing and heaving. She shuddered. She couldn't imagine Sir Hilary acting as Enderby had. Sir Hilary was a graceful dancer, his movements very precise, as one would expect. She rather thought his lovemaking would be the same. He would know just what to say and what to do and it would be very precise and ... civilized. Surely he'd studied desire enough to know how to please a woman. Everything else about Elizabeth Fairchild's life was so different from the old Eleanor Enderby, and Eleanor wanted this to be different, too.

She wasn't expecting incandescence, but a pleasant interlude would be more than acceptable. Perhaps Sir Hilary was correct, and indulging their obsessions would put an end to them. At least on his part. She very much doubted that one interlude with him would be enough for her. He was everything she'd dreamed of as a young girl, and nothing she'd known as a woman.

As instructed, she walked sedately out of the retiring room, headed for the supper room. Moving slowly, she made sure no one was about, and then she slipped down a hallway to her left and out the door at the end into the garden. The night air was cool, almost cold, but she didn't mind. The ballroom had been quite overheated. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her hands on her chilled skin as she moved off toward the fountain. Luckily there was a path strewn with pebbles to keep her dancing slippers clean. She was very much enamored of these slippers. She loved almost all the clothes that Harry and Roger had insisted on buying for her. They were so different from what she'd worn with Enderby.

Suddenly a man stepped out from behind a tall bush and she gasped. Sir Hilary grinned, and his teeth gleamed in the moonlight. "It isn't often I get to surprise you," he said.

"I do not like surprises," she told him firmly, her heart hammering.

He wrapped his arm around her, warming her as he urged her deeper into the garden. "Liar," he said softly.

He was right. This pa.s.sion between them was a surprise. She'd thought she'd never want a man in any way, ever. But apparently Enderby had not ruined that for her. She let Sir Hilary lead her back to a secluded corner of the garden; there was a bench there, and a tree growing near the brick fence. He let go of her and leaned his back against the tree.

"You are very quiet," he observed, watching her closely. "That is unusual."

"Actually it is, or was, quite normal for me until recently." She wanted to kick herself for bringing up the past, but it had been much on her mind as she slipped out for this a.s.signation.

"I like to listen to you talk."

"Do you?" she said, standing there awkwardly, cold again. "Did you bring me out here for more conversation?"

"Conversation of another kind," he answered, and there was something about his voice that made a s.h.i.+ver chase down her back. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. "But only if you'd like to ... converse."

"I'm afraid this is a topic of discussion I'm unfamiliar with," she said apologetically, glad to speak in euphemisms. She felt gauche and untried compared to his urbane sophistication. "This is my first a.s.signation with a man in a garden."

"Then I had better make it a good one," he said. "I'd hate to be the cause of your disappointment."

"Oh, good," she said, relieved. "That means the duty is yours. I abdicate all responsibility."

He laughed, but it was low and seductive, and more than slightly dangerous to her peace of mind. She s.h.i.+vered again. "Duty? Hardly. This task will be pure indulgence." He stretched out his hand and simply waited. She understood what he wanted. If she took his hand, she was giving him permission to do whatever it was he had in mind to do. If she didn't, then this was an a.s.signation that wasn't. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves and took his hand. It was perhaps the most courageous thing she'd ever done and she was rather proud of herself.

He tugged gently, reeling her in, and she went, though she felt a little faint, probably from her racing heart and the fact that she was holding her breath. Instead of giving her the pa.s.sionate embrace she'd been expecting, and fearing a little, too, he wrapped both arms around her and rubbed his hands up and down her back. "Better?" he asked quietly. "It's cooler out here than I antic.i.p.ated."

She nodded and hesitatingly rested her cheek on his shoulder. "I was cold."

"I'll warm you up," he said, and the innuendo was clear.

"I have not been ... warm, for some time," she conceded, rea.s.sured that they were still using euphemisms and innuendo. "I wish you luck."

He chuckled, and she liked the feel of it rumbling against her chest and stomach where she was pressed to him. Inexplicably it relaxed her. "You challenge me at every turn. I like it."

For a moment she was a.s.saulted by memories of all the times Enderby had found fault with her for challenging him. She blocked those thoughts, concentrating instead on the clean, fresh scent of Sir Hilary. She sniffed his jacket. "What is that scent?" she asked, changing the subject.

"A new French scent for men only, by a fellow named Pinaud," he said. "Do you like it? My acquaintances think I am a dandy for indulging."

"I like it," she said, rubbing her nose on his jacket. She adored it. She adored him, actually, for not rus.h.i.+ng her or belittling her inexperience.

"May I kiss you now?" he asked quietly. She didn't answer right away, still quite unsure of what she was doing. "The mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another," he quoted Percy Sh.e.l.ley quietly. "No sister-flower could be forgiven, If it disdained its brother." He was whispering quietly in her ear and his breath fanned softly against her hair. Her heart beat faster. She knew this poem. "And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea-What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?"

"Poetry?" she teased, a little breathlessly, not sure she could find him any more attractive than at this very moment. "I confess it is my weakness. 'Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine, In one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine?' " she quoted back, though they had inverted the poem. It somehow seemed right, to do it wrong.

"Is that a yes?"

She nodded, biting her lip. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head from his shoulder. His thumb rubbed her lower lip until she let go and then he leaned down and kissed her.

It was ... pleasant. His lips were soft and warm, his breath sweet, and she sighed and sank into his chest as she kissed him back. He continued to press soft kisses to her mouth, and when he gently sucked on her lower lip she giggled. She was shocked. She never giggled. She felt him smile against her mouth and she smiled back. It was fun to kiss someone while you were smiling. She gave in to her earlier urge and slid her hand up his chest and over his shoulder to the back of his neck, where she ran her fingers through those tempting curls. He snuggled her closer, spreading his legs and wrapping his arms around her. He was so warm; so tall and strong and wonderful.

When he deepened his kisses, pressing more firmly against her mouth, she was ready for it. She wanted it. She wanted to know how he tasted. So she was the first to open her mouth just a little, the first to tentatively lick at the corners of his mouth, asking entry. He moaned and opened and she slipped inside and he was just as warm and soft and sweet inside as out. He tasted divine; he kissed perfectly.

His arms tightened at the same time hers did. Instead of toying with his curls, her hand was now burrowed in the soft, thick hair on the back of his head, holding his mouth to hers. She had the other arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, holding tight. He made her feel delicate and pet.i.te and wanted. There was nothing rough or frightening in his pa.s.sion, it was natural and unguarded and divine. For the first time she felt as if he had dropped all pretense and she knew the real Sir Hilary. She held the very essence of him in her arms. He'd pulled her up so she was on her toes as he took control of the kiss. Suddenly it was a desperate kiss, hungry and aching and pulling the pa.s.sion up out of her until she was breathless and damp and on fire for him.

Eleanor had never been more out of control in her life. While his pa.s.sion didn't scare her, hers did. What was supposed to be a pleasant interlude in the garden had turned into something much more. More than she'd planned on, more than she wanted, more than she could handle. She dragged her mouth away and he pressed his cheek to hers, his breath hot and heavy in her ear as he whispered, "Eleanor," and she'd never heard her name said like that. As if she were air and water and everything he needed, as hungry, desperate, and aching as she was. He kissed her cheek and then trailed his mouth down her neck. Not a kiss, really. Just dragging his lips along her skin, the heat of his mouth replaced by the cool night air in its wake, making her s.h.i.+ver, until he stopped on the swell of her breast, just visible above her neckline, and kissed her there. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s immediately began to ache like the rest of her, and she wanted to rip off the offending dress and bare herself to him, press his mouth to her skin and come undone.

She wrested herself away from him then, frightened by how powerful her feelings were. All her defenses were down, and she felt vulnerable and exposed. He'd done it, hadn't he? He'd torn away her mask and revealed the real Eleanor, just as she'd feared. An Eleanor who was lonely and aching and needful. She became aware of voices in the distance and the glow of the ballroom through the windows visible across the garden. If she wasn't careful, she'd lose all her inhibitions here in this chilly garden, and perhaps much more. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't this sort of woman. Pa.s.sion had never ruled her before, and never would. "I have to go," she said breathlessly. She lifted the hem of her skirt and spun around, but Sir Hilary grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Eleanor," he said, as breathless as she. "Don't go. I'm sorry."

She laughed-at herself, not at him. "Don't be. It was an education." She turned to face him. "But this is not what I expected, nor what I want. I'm sorry, Sir Hilary."

"Hil," he said. "Call me Hil."

She shook her head. "There is too much intimacy between us already. I can't do this. I just can't." She choked on her words, and this time when she spun around to leave, he let her go.

Hil waited impatiently in the Templetons' drawing room for Eleanor. Last night's garden encounter had left him longing for more with her, yet not sure it was possible. He needed to speak to her, to find out whether there was a chance. Why had she run off? What couldn't she do? He'd tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep as he relived each moment, torn between arousal and dismay at her abrupt departure. For a woman of words, she'd had none for him before running off. Why must women be so inscrutable? A simple "I do not care for your company," or "I do not wish to see you again," would go a long way to settling a man's mind.

"Are you here to wreak more havoc?" Roger asked from the doorway, eyeing Hil warily.

"Hardly," Hil replied, his dry tone conveying his displeasure at such a question.

"What did you say last night to cause Eleanor such distress?" Roger looked very serious.

"Playing the big brother?" Hil asked, irritated most because he understood Roger's protectiveness.

"Yes. Answer the question." Roger walked over to small bar table and poured a drink.

"It is barely ten o'clock," Hil admonished.

Roger walked over and to Hil's surprise handed the drink to him. "It's not for me," Roger said. "She doesn't want to see you."

Hil took the drink and downed it. The fiery burn of the whiskey soothed his ruffled vanity. "What did she say? Exactly."

"She said, 'I do not wish to see him.' I don't believe I can misinterpret that." Roger's sarcasm was unwelcome at that moment.

"Tell her that I will wait all day. She owes me an explanation." He wouldn't be able to focus on anything at all until he had settled this with Eleanor.

"She owes you?" Roger said incredulously. "Whatever for? Did she slap you? I would have liked to have seen that."

"Don't be so b.l.o.o.d.y stupid," Hil snapped.

"Oh ho," Roger said with a delighted grin. "She has you off temper. Can't say I've ever known a woman to be able to do that. Trust Eleanor to accomplish the impossible."

"I went too far," Hil confessed. He sounded angry, and he was. With himself. "I owe her an apology."

"What the h.e.l.l do you mean you went too far?" Roger said angrily, all amus.e.m.e.nt gone. "What did you do?"

"I kissed her."

"You had better keep your mouth to yourself," Roger warned. "I'm not above thras.h.i.+ng you, friend."

"It was a kiss," Hil dismissed. "A rather ... intense kiss, but only a kiss, just the same." He shook his head. "But to her, it seemed as if it were much more. I forgot, d.a.m.n it. I forgot where she's come from, what she's doing here. She made me forget it all." His hand was a fist at his side, his inner turmoil leaking out.

"Come back tomorrow," Roger said. "Today she's snappish and out of sorts. Your fault, I'm sure. You do that to people."

"I do nothing of the sort," Hil said, spreading his coattails and taking a seat on the divan. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'm a busy man. I cleared my schedule to come here to see Eleanor today. And see her I shall."

"That's Mrs. Fairchild to you," Roger growled. "And I don't want you growing mold on my sofa. Leave. Come back tomorrow."

"No."

Roger blew out an exasperated breath. "You are so annoying. Fine. I shall go plead your case."

"No need, Roger," Eleanor said crisply from the doorway. "He is annoying. I knew he wasn't going to leave until he said his piece. So here I am. Go ahead." She marched into the room and sat down across from Hil. He'd jumped up at her arrival and after a moment sat back down, wary of her mood. He didn't like not being able to tell what a person would say or do. He was usually such a good judge of character. He was at sea with Eleanor. One minute she was melting in his arms, pa.s.sionately kissing him, the next she was cool and disdainful.

He glanced over and saw Mrs. Templeton hovering in the doorway. "Alone, if you please," he said to her and Roger.

"I don't please," Roger said, moving over to sit down in a chair not far from them.

"I'll be fine, Roger," Eleanor a.s.sured him. "I can handle Sir Hilary. And our conversation is going to involve personal things I don't wish to share with you, family or not."

"You don't know him," Roger warned. "He's underhanded."

"I am not," Hil said, affronted. "First I cause people to become snappish and out of sorts, and now I'm underhanded. I can't imagine why you still call me friend."

"I'm not too sure right now, either," Roger told him, "so mind your manners."

Roger glared at him and he glared back. Eleanor made a shooing motion and Roger left, obviously reluctant to do so. He and his wife were whispering furiously as Hil stood up and closed the door in their surprised faces.

"It doesn't lock from the inside," Eleanor offered unhelpfully.

"Roger will not breach our privacy," Hil told her with false confidence.

"Got him under your heel, have you?" she asked. "Don't think to train me so well."

"He is not under my heel. He is a friend who trusts me. There is a difference." Hil stood away from the door once he was sure Roger wasn't going to try to open it. He straightened his jacket and walked sedately over to the divan and once again sat down. "Good morning, madam," he said. "You look lovely."

"Both of those are questionable observations," she commented drily. "You have my attention. I make no guarantee how long that will last."

"I have never met a woman with more cheek," he said testily.

"Then don't let me disrupt your schedule any more than I have already," she said, beginning to stand.

"You don't get to run away again," he told her, sitting back and getting comfortable. He crossed his legs and waited for her riposte.

"I do not run away," she said, sitting back down. "I remove myself from unpleasant situations. There is a difference."

"Hmm." He could tell his noncommittal mutter infuriated her.

"Kindly state your business," she snapped. "I have other appointments."

"With whom?" he asked suspiciously. Was Caron coming today? It was the thing to do the day after a man danced with a woman.

"That is none of your business." She gave a satisfied grin at his obvious annoyance at her failure to answer his question.

"I am here to discuss what happened last night." If he'd thought to throw her off balance with his announcement, he failed.

"I a.s.sumed as much. Apology accepted."

He took a deep breath. Getting angry would accomplish nothing. "I did not come here to apologize. I am not sorry for kissing you, and I would do so again if given the opportunity."

"You will not be given the opportunity, so you need not waste another thought on it."

"I have wasted a whole night of thoughts about it, but that is not what I want to discuss right now." She gave no sign she'd comprehended his meaning. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot and swollen, either from crying or lack of sleep. He hated seeing that. "I want to know what exactly you cannot do, and why."

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, but she was clearly stalling.

"When you ran off-"

"I did not run."

"-you said, 'I cannot do this.' What did you mean?"

"I meant that we risked discovery and I could not have that happen. I also meant that I could not have an affair with you." She wouldn't look at him as she said it, but he didn't need that telltale sign to know she wasn't being completely truthful.

"Why?"

She was sitting ramrod straight, part of her defenses. A woman's posture was never better than when she was under attack. He made a show of settling deeper into the cus.h.i.+ons, relaxed as only a man in the right could be.

"Discovery would surely have destroyed my reputation and put my name in the gossip sheets. I cannot afford that sort of notoriety. It is imperative that I maintain an exemplary reputation if I am to avoid detection."

"I think you are wrong. Your husband has a vested interest in protecting your real ident.i.ty. And most people are fools who will accept the simplest explanation given them. They will believe you are your cousin, whether you are caught in flagrante delicto with a man or not. What I meant is, why can you not have an affair with me?"

She stood then, and walked over to the window, throwing it open and leaning out before she took several deep breaths. "I have led a very quiet life, Sir Hilary," she said. "Neither pa.s.sion nor defiance have ruled my life. An affair with you would involve both. I don't wish it. There, you have my answer." She turned to look at him, and despite her declaration there was pa.s.sion and defiance in her expression. She was angry and hiding something, and daring him all at once.

"You admit you have a pa.s.sion for me. I reciprocate. Who, or what does this pa.s.sion defy?"