The Lady Confesses

Elizabeth had been rendered uncharacteristically dumbstruck by the earl’s suggestion that he accompany her on her walk outside, but now she gaped at him. ‘Smuggling?’

Deep brown eyes regarded her with mocking amusement as he gave an inclination of his head. ‘Still a very lucrative, though totally illegal trade in Devonshire, I believe. One that I am sure the gentlemen involved would prefer not to be interrupted by a young woman walking her dog.’

‘I had not thought of that.’ Mrs Wilson nodded briskly. ‘Perhaps you should accompany Betsy, Osbourne …’

‘Betsy’ could have screamed with the frustration of being discussed as if she had no will or mind of her own. Which, of course, as Betsy Thompson, companion to Mrs Wilson’s pampered and much-loved dog, she did not …

‘Unless Betsy believes it improper to venture outside alone with me?’ the earl asked huskily.

Elizabeth’s mouth tightened as she looked up into his rakishly handsome face, knowing that he was certainly not above mocking her now that his appetite for his dinner had been satisfied. ‘You—’

‘That is as ridiculous as the suggestion that the maid should not tidy your bedchamber, Osbourne,’ Mrs Wilson dismissed impatiently.

Placing Elizabeth firmly in the position of lowly servant, a role she was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain when in the company of the rapidly recovering Nathaniel Thorne …

‘How long has it been since you acquired the name of Betsy?’

The young lady striding determinedly at Nathaniel’s side on the moonlit pathway that ran along the cliff-top now stumbled slightly at the unexpectedness of his question.

That she was furious at his intervention earlier was obvious, considering the frosty silence with which she had treated him since her return from collecting her black-velvet pelisse from her bedchamber. She had taken Hector’s leash from the waiting footman and stalked outside without so much as a glance in Nathaniel’s direction.

He had followed at a more leisurely pace, enjoying his cigar at least as he did so, his much longer strides enabling him to reach her side within seconds. From her continued silence, and the subsequent glance down at her resolutely averted features as they walked along side by side, he realised she had no intention of even acknowledging his presence unless provoked into doing so.

Which, unless Nathaniel was mistaken, he had effectively just done …

She looked up at him sharply in the moonlight. ‘What do you mean?’

It was a clear spring evening, warm enough that Nathaniel had no need of an outer coat, with not a cloud to mask the brightness of the stars shining in the velvet-black sky overhead. Probably not the ideal night for smugglers to be abroad; Nathaniel believed they usually preferred a few clouds to cover the light of the moon and so mask their movements.

In which case, it should have been pleasant to walk in the moonlight with a young and desirable woman and the happy little white dog trotting ahead of them. Instead it had so far been a silent battle of wills between them.

He sighed. ‘I have noticed that you seem to flinch whenever my aunt—or indeed, anyone else—addresses you as such.’

‘You are mistaken, my lord—’

‘I think not,’ he interrupted firmly; his patience with this young woman was not limitless.

Elizabeth glanced up at him warily, knowing that she had seriously underestimated him, that his insight now showed that there was far more to this gentleman than the affectionate nephew he was to Mrs Wilson, or the flirtatious friend of the scandalous Lord Faulkner who had attempted to make love to her this afternoon.

‘Your lengthy silence betrays your need to think of a suitable explanation for your behaviour,’ Nathaniel said quietly.

She drew in a determined breath. ‘You need only question your aunt to receive that explanation, my lord,’ she replied lightly as she continued to walk along the narrow path.

‘Which, for obvious reasons, I am not about to do!’

No, it really would not do for the Earl of Osbourne to show such an interest in the young lady who was companion to his aunt’s dog! ‘I assure you there is no mystery to the explanation, my lord; Mrs Wilson did not consider my full name of Elizabeth to be suitable for a servant in her household,’ she explained airily.

So her name was really Elizabeth, Nathaniel mused as he continued to stroll along at her side. Yes, he believed the elegance of that name suited this contradictory young woman far better than Betsy. ‘Then in future I shall call you Elizabeth—’

‘I wish you would not!’ She had come to another halt in her agitation. ‘I—your aunt would not like it,’ she added with far less vehemence.

‘I do not recall saying that I intended asking my aunt’s permission,’ Nathaniel said drily.

Elizabeth frowned her displeasure. ‘You have not asked my permission, either, my lord—for if you had I should certainly have refused it.’

‘Perhaps when we are alone together like this—’

‘No, my lord!’

He shrugged. ‘I call Letitia by her given name.’

‘Because the two of you are related by marriage,’ she reasoned primly. ‘Whereas I am merely—’

‘—the young lady I kissed earlier today,’ Nathaniel completed her sentence huskily.

Deep blue eyes flashed up at him in the moonlight as she came to another halt on the pathway. ‘That you attempted to kiss, Lord Thorne! An attempt I believe I successfully routed,’ she added with smug satisfaction.

Her satisfaction alone would have been enough to prick Nathaniel’s masculine pride; that obvious air of smugness was taking things altogether too far!

Something that Elizabeth also became aware of as she began to back away from him warily. ‘You really cannot go around taking advantage of the young ladies who work in your aunt’s household, sir.’

‘There is only one young lady in my aunt’s household in whom I have the least interest in taking advantage of, my dear Elizabeth,’ Nathaniel murmured as he threw away the remains of his cigar to slowly follow her.

‘I am not your dear anything!’ she protested with righteous indignation.

‘Not yet, no,’ he acknowledged throatily.

‘Not ever!’ Her dark curls bounced in the moonlight. ‘My lord, you really cannot—’

‘Oh, but I really can.’ Nathaniel nodded with certainty.

‘You—oh!’ This second protest came to an abrupt halt as he pulled her effortlessly into his arms to hold her tightly against him.

‘And, my dear Elizabeth, this time we will have no unfair advantage taken of my bruised ribs.’ He grinned down at her wolfishly before his head lowered and he claimed her lips with his own.

Elizabeth had not been mistaken earlier; it was both enthralment and pleasure she felt at having Nathaniel Thorne’s experienced lips upon her own. A warm, tingling pleasure began at her breasts, causing them to swell and those tiny swollen buds at the tips to press sensitively against the bodice of her gown, before it surged through the rest of her body and ended between her thighs.

Oh, my!

Elizabeth had never experienced anything like this particular heat before; it felt as if she were swelling there, too, and there was also a dampness that, although slightly uncomfortable, nevertheless made her legs tremble and her knees feel decidedly weak …

Her hands moved to the front of Nathaniel’s silk waistcoat, fingers curling into that material in an effort to steady herself, instantly becoming aware of the heated hardness of his muscled body beneath that waistcoat and shirt—firm, ridged muscle that quivered in response to her touch as his mouth continued to devour her own.

It was, Elizabeth decided completely breathlessly, the most thrilling experience of her life. Unlike anything she had ever known or felt before. The heat that coursed through her body increased tenfold as one of his hands moved to capture the swell of her breast—

Elizabeth felt bereft as he suddenly ended that kiss, blinking up at him as he scowled off into the darkness.

‘What have you done, you silly girl!’ he exclaimed.