The Wicked Baron

‘I am sorry, then, if you thought it was intruders.’

‘I was more concerned that the lightning had started a fire. Why are you not at home?’ he barked the question at her, frowning.

‘I wanted to have one last look at my father’s work. I beg your pardon; I never meant to disturb anyone. I will go now.’

‘Oh, no, you will not.’

She blinked.

He took off his hat and shook it, sending off tiny droplets of water that sparkled in the candlelight. ‘I mean the storm is too violent. It is not safe.’

‘Oh.’

That one little word, spoken so softly, was his undoing. His heart went out to her; she looked so vulnerable, holding aloft the candlestick with one shaking hand. He said gently, ‘You need not worry, you are perfectly safe here.’ He stepped forward and took the candlestick from her. ‘Let us look at your father’s work together.’

They wandered through the empty rooms until they found themselves in the salon, which occupied one end of the house. There was only one painted panel, set between the two marble fireplaces. The other three walls were taken up with long windows, designed to allow in maximum light, although now they only gleamed blackly as the rain spattered against the glass. Luke crossed the room, raising the candles higher as he studied the mural.

‘Your father is a great artist, Carlotta. This is really very good.’

‘Thank you. May I show you something?’ She took his arm and led him to the far corner of the panel. ‘There,’ she pointed. ‘Look closely at the decoration on the lady’s sandal.’

He peered closer. ‘A tiny snail.’

‘Yes, a lumaca’. She laughed. ‘It sounds so much prettier in Italian. It is Papa’s signature. He does not tell many people, but it is very important to him. When he was in Rome he would often paint copies of the great masters for the foreign visitors to take home and put in their grand houses. He insisted that as long as he signed them then there was no harm in it; he was not trying to trick anyone.’

‘I am honoured you should share it with me.’

He looked down at her and Carlotta smiled back at him briefly before she looked away, suddenly shy and awkward. As if to distract him, she pointed up at the chandeliers.

‘When all those candles are alight this room will glow. Can you imagine how elegant it will look, with all the ladies in their finest gowns?’ She sighed. ‘I wish I could see it.’

‘Perhaps you will.’

She laughed. ‘Perhaps! I will creep up to the windows and press my nose against the glass one night.’

The thought made him angry. ‘That is not what I meant,’ he growled. ‘You should be in here, dancing with all the other young ladies.’

‘Do not frown, sir. I do not want you to pity me.’

‘No, of course not, but I am determined you shall dance here.’ He put down the candlestick and opened his arms to her. ‘Come.’

‘You are nonsensical!’ She laughed, but did not resist as he took her hand and began to lead her around the room, humming a tune.

‘Do you waltz, Miss Durini?’

‘No, sir. I have never learned.’

‘Well, the gentleman holds the lady like this.’ He drew her towards him, pushed her cloak off her shoulders until it hung like a train behind her and slid one hand beneath it to rest on her back. Immediately her body tensed. A tremor ran through him as her breasts pressed again him, separated from his skin by only a few thin layers of silk and linen.

‘I have been told the waltz is considered by some to be improper,’ she remarked. ‘It certainly feels very daring, to be standing so close.’

She looked up at him, smiling shyly, and suddenly he could not breathe.

‘Well, sir, what next?’

‘This.’

He placed his fingers beneath her chin, tilted up her face and kissed her, very gently. She gave a faint sigh when he lifted his head, but did not move away. Tension crackled between them. Carlotta leaned against him, a tiny movement, but it was enough. With something very like a groan he swooped down on her again and his kiss this time was much more urgent. She responded, her lips parting in surrender to his demands and her body melting against him. His arms tightened. He nibbled gently at her lip and in response she put her arms around his neck.

Together they sank to their knees and he lowered Carlotta to the floor. She clung to him as he stretched out beside her, his mouth moving slowly, sensuously, over her lips while one hand slid to her breast. Luke felt her tremble, her back arched. A pulsing wave of desire swamped him. His fingers tore at her shirt, pulling it free from those soft, clinging breeches, then his hand was on skin, caressing the gentle curve of her waist. He ran his fingers over her stomach and she drew it in, gasping. He covered her face with kisses, drinking in the sweet taste of her, a taste of summer flowers and new-mown hay. His senses reeled. He had known many women, but never had the urge to possess and protect been so strong. She moaned softly and his touch faltered. He was overwhelmed with tenderness. She was such an innocent, it was important not to hurt her, not to frighten her. He knew the heady heights that love-making could achieve, but for her it would be new, strange and bewildering. Suddenly he was aware of their surroundings, lying on the cold, hard floor. By God it was not even his house!

He raised his head and stared down at her. Carlotta gazed up at him so trustingly and with a sudden, startling clarity he knew it would not do. This was not how he would show his love to Carlotta.

‘This has gone far enough,’ he muttered, almost to himself.

He got to his feet and held out his hand. Her brows contracted and she looked at him with bewildered, frightened eyes.

‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

His smile was strained as he pulled her to her feet.

‘Not you, sweetheart.’ He brushed his lips against her mouth in a fleeting, butterfly kiss. ‘You are everything I could wish for, but this is not right, not here, on the bare floor of an empty house. You deserve so much more than that.’ He looked towards the window. ‘I think the rain has stopped. We must get you home.’

There was an uncomfortable silence. Carlotta did not move.

‘I thought you were going to teach me to waltz.’

She sounded so lost that he had to stifle the temptation to take her in his arms again. He reached out to pull her cloak back over her shoulders.

‘I am no saint, Carlotta.’ He bent to pick up the candlestick.

‘You are not angry with me?’

He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss into the palm. ‘No, love. I am not angry with you.’

No, he had not been angry with her then, but now, as he led Carlotta on to the crowded dance floor, it occurred to him that he had been wrong about her; even then she had been trying to catch herself a rich husband.

With all the pleasure of someone walking to the scaffold, Carlotta accompanied Lord Darvell onto the dance floor. His hand beneath her arm was stiff; indeed, she thought his whole body was rigid with disapproval. She summoned up all her courage to help her through this ordeal. Anger came to her aid. What right had he to disapprove of her? When they took their places in the set she put up her chin and gazed steadily at some point over his shoulder. The music began; they held hands, moved forward until they were almost touching, the delicate flowers of her corsage trembling within an inch of his waistcoat. She must concentrate on her steps and forget her partner. There was no need for them to talk, after all. However, she soon discovered that Luke had other ideas.

‘Why did you change your name to Rivington?’ he asked her suddenly.

‘It is in deference to my aunt and uncle. They have been very good to me.’

‘And perhaps you are ashamed of your origins.’

‘I am not! It is not unusual to take the name of one’s benefactor.’ She almost snatched her hand away as the dance parted them. Insufferable man! He was determined to think badly of her. Carlotta’s head came up: she would not court his good opinion.

Luke fought down his anger. Damnation, one could not have an argument in the middle of a ballroom. The movement of the dance took him past his partner and he almost laughed aloud at the fury of her look. One had to admit those dark eyes flashed magnificently when she was angry. It seemed she planned to ignore him for the duration of the dance, but he would have none of it. The chit should learn that she must at least show him society manners.