Not Quite A Gentleman

Seven

Today’s Modem Woman should apply the simple rules of fishing to catching her gentleman. First, bait the hook with a tempting morsel, such as a low-cut gown. Then cast the lure in the form of flirtatious conversation and suggestive looks. Reel in the prey with “accidental” brushings of her body against his, then drag him onto the shore and leave him gasping for breath with a slow, deep, sensual kiss.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Nathan looked at the blush spreading riotous color on Lady Victoria’s creamy smooth complexion and forced himself not to reach out and touch that bewitching color. Her blue eyes snapped with outrage and she all but bristled at his improper comment. Indeed, she resembled a firework about to explode.

“If that arrangement is not suitable to you, my lady, you need only to give me my note. Otherwise I fear I shall have to stick to you like green to lettuce. Like yellow to daffodil. Like red to tomato. Like-”

“I quite understand your meaning.” She pressed her lips together and he found himself staring at her mouth, anticipating her releasing the pressure so he could watch it resume its plump fullness. “Clearly you think that by making a pest of yourself-not a difficult feat, by the way-I will find your constant company so odious, I will gladly hand over the note.”

“That is my fondest wish, yes.”

“Then you’ve underestimated me and my determination.”

“On the contrary, I can see how stubborn you are.”

“There is a difference between determined and stubborn.”

“I’m sure you think there is. And I’d be delighted to hear your theory on the subject during our ride.” He raised his brows. “I should think you’d want me to go with you so as to ensure that I’m not searching your bedchamber in your absence.” He allowed his gaze to wander down her form, then met her eyes and slowly grinned. “Unless you fear that I’ll find the note on your person.”

She raised her chin in that obstinate, haughty, prim, look-down-her-nose fashion that for some idiotic reason he found highly arousing. “Certainly not.”

“Excellent. Then it is settled. Follow me.” He walked toward the stables, and she fell into step alongside him. Watching her from the corner of his eye, he suppressed a grin at the furtive glances she threw over her shoulder at his animals who followed directly behind them.

They entered the stables and he called out, “Hopkins, are you about?”

“Right here,” came a muffled voice. The first stall door on the left swung open and a rugged man with a swatch of fiery red hair and a matching beard shouldered his way through the opening carrying a large pail in each hand. “‘Mornin’, m’lady, Dr. Nathan.” He held up the buckets. “Just about to fill yer brood’s troughs. The hens left ye a gift of three fat eggs.”

Nathan smiled. “Thank you, Hopkins. Bring them up to the kitchen and have Cook prepare them for you.”

“Thank ye.” He shot a narrow-eyed look at the goat, pig, cow, and ducks who hovered in the doorway. “Out with the lot of ye. Yer grub is comin‘.” He looked at Nathan. “Will ye be needin’ horses saddled, Dr. Nathan?”

“If you’ll feed the animals, I’ll take care of the saddling for Lady Victoria and myself.”

Hopkins jerked his head in a nod, then headed outside, followed closely by the herd. As he disappeared from sight, his voice drifted back into the stable. “Git yer bloody snout out o‘ my arse, ye damn impatient beast.”

Pretending he didn’t hear a thing, Nathan said, “Just let me settle Boots.” He set the sleeping kitten in the first stall then latched the door. When he returned, he said to Lady Victoria, “Are you a proficient rider?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I think Honey will be a fine mount for you. She’s spirited, but gentle.” He led the way to the last stall, where the mare, named for her pale golden mane, nickered at the sight of him.

“She’s beautiful,” Lady Victoria exclaimed when he led the mare from the stall. He watched her stroke the horse’s neck and velvety nose.

While Lady Victoria and Honey became acquainted, he outfitted the mare with a sidesaddle, listening to Lady Victoria croon soft, complimentary words to the horse. He then saddled Midnight, a pure black gelding, for himself.

After seeing Lady Victoria safely settled in the saddle, he swung up onto Midnight and led the way out of the stables. Curious as to whether she truly was a proficient rider, he struck out at a brisk trot toward the huge copse of elms at the far edge of the lawns, purposely avoiding the other direction, where the haunting memories from that night three years ago waited to ambush him. When they neared the trees, he slowed their pace, wandering slowly along the wood-scented trails dappled with pale skeins of early morning sunlight. Birds twittered, leaves scrunched underfoot, and a soft sea-scented breeze filled his head. Memories assaulted him from all directions. He’d ridden and walked and run these paths countless times during his youth, and even after such a long absence it now felt as if he’d never left.

He wasn’t certain how long they rode in silence before she said, “The grounds here are lovely. Do you visit Creston Manor often?”

He wondered if something had shown on his face to prompt her question. “I haven’t been here in three years.”

Her brows shot upward. “You mean since that last mission?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you returned?”

He turned and faced her directly. The sunlight glimmered on the dark brown curls framing her face, coaxing cinnamon highlights. Her dark green riding costume complemented her creamy complexion. And her lips… bloody hell, her lips looked like they were fashioned from plump, moist, succulent peaches. Perhaps going riding with her hadn’t been a good idea after all-

“Lord Nathan? Why haven’t you returned?”

Bloody hell, he’d completely dropped the conversational ball. He quickly debated telling her the truth, then decided, why the hell not? It’s not as if her opinion of him mattered. “After the mission failed, I had a falling out with my father and brother. It was best for all concerned that I left.”

Her gaze searched his, then she said softly, “That must have been very difficult for you.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it hadn’t been that. He’d expected her to pry, to look scornful, to be curious. Instead she offered him sympathy, as if she understood such estrangement. He found it confusing. And unsettling. Damn it, he didn’t want to discover anything nice about her.

“I imagine that being here again brings back many memories,” she said, again disarming him with her uncanny ability to understand precisely what he was thinking.

“Yes. This trail we’re on right now was always my favorite. It splits about a quarter mile ahead, with the right fork heading toward the beach and the left to a small private lake at the far edge of the property.”

“So this particular spot is filled with happy memories?”

He nodded slowly, a smile tugging at his lips as some of those memories slipped through his mind. “Yes, it is.”

“Would you care to share some with me?”

He shot her a look. Her expression revealed only interest. “You realize that if we converse, we run the risk of arguing.”

“We won’t converse,” she said with a smile. “You can talk, and I shall simply listen to your stories of your misspent youth. So tell me, why was this spot your favorite?”

He hesitated several seconds, allowing the atmosphere of the surroundings to infuse him with nostalgia. The twittering birds, the soaring trees bathing them in dancing ribbons of shade and gilded sunshine. The scent of fresh earth, clean air, and always, that underlying tang of the sea that made him think of home. “My two favorite spots on the estate were the lake and the sea. Every day, no matter what the weather, I walked this path, debating the entire way which body of water I would visit that day.” He laughed in remembrance. “The decision was agonizing.”

“How agonizing could it be? Why not simply solve the dilemma by alternating destinations every day? Or better yet, visiting both?”

“Excellent suggestions, however, visiting both never seemed viable, as I do not like to rush, and once I arrived at one location I hated to leave. Therefore, much had to be considered when choosing my daily destination. Such as the weather.”

“What did the weather have to do with your choice?”

“I always chose the sea route if it was storming. The drama of the waves crashing against the shore, the roar of the churning water spraying up onto the rugged cliffs, enthralled me. I also chose the sea path directly after a storm, as the shore always held a new selection of debris to look over and shells to collect.”

“I love collecting shells,” Lady Victoria said, her eyes shining. “I keep them in an enormous glass jar at Wexhall Manor which I add to every year during our holiday in Bath.”

“Then you’ll certainly enjoy the beach here.”

“I gather, then, that you took the lake route on fair-weather days?”

“Usually, as I enjoyed swimming in the lake. Sometimes I came alone, enjoying the solitude of just floating on the water, staring at the sky, watching the clouds. Most of the time, however, Colin, Gordon, and I were together, making some sort of mischief, playing pirates or the like.”

“Gordon… do you mean Lord Alwyck?”

“Yes. We’ve known each other our entire lives.” And used to be the best of friends. Nathan shook off the thought, then continued, “Of course, Wednesdays were always devoted to the lake, regardless of the weather.”

“Why is that?”

“Because that is the day Hopkins bathed in the lake. We would skulk down there and wait until he was fully submerged, then nip off with his clothing.”

Her eyes widened, then she pressed her gloved fingers to her lips to hide her smile. “You did this to the poor man every Wednesday?”

“Without fail.”

“Did he not retaliate?”

“Oh, yes. It became a battle of the wits. Hopkins took to hiding his clothes in different places, we found them. He’d bring an extra set, but we caught on to that as well. He hid a towel in the bushes, we located it. We always left his clothes in the stable, neatly folded, with a note that read ‘Till next week, the Got Yer Arse Bared Clothes Thief.’” A smile eased across Nathan’s lips. “When he was around us, he always pretended that he didn’t know it was us. But we would hide in the woods and watch him emerge from the lake, dripping wet, cussing and swearing, promising vengeance against those ‘young hooligans’-although his words were decidedly saltier than that and not ones I would repeat to a lady.”

She tried to look stern, but there was no mistaking the amusement in her gaze. “Did Hopkins never get the better of you?”

“Oh, yes. One time he filled our boots with horse manure.” He made a face, then laughed. “The expression on Colin’s face when he shoved his foot into his boot is one I shall never forget. Another time Hopkins nipped off with our clothes, which I can’t say we didn’t richly deserve. We nearly made it into the house undetected through the servant’s entrance, but as luck would have it, we ran into two maids delivering fresh linens to the bedchambers. And I mean literally ran into them. Sheets and pillowcases flying in the air, naked, red-faced boys, gaping, gasping maids. And to make it worse, Father came upon us-it was quite the spectacle. Received an ear-blistering set-down from Father, forbidding us to swim in the lake ever again.”

“And did you heed him?”

“Of course not.” He grinned. “Where is the fun in that?” He reined Midnight to a halt and pointed. “There is the fork. Which direction do you choose?”

When she tapped her finger to her pursed lips and considered, he said, “Now you understand my agonizing. Imagine, if you will, that your two favorite shops in London were giving away merchandise, but only for a single afternoon, and at the exact same times. Which would you choose to go to?”

“I wouldn’t choose at all. I’d go to one location and send a servant to act in my stead in the other.”

Nathan couldn’t help but laugh. “But then you would miss the thrill of choosing the items yourself.”

“But I’d still have items from both stores.” She smiled. “As today is Wednesday and I’ve no wish to interrupt Hopkins’s bathing routine, I prefer the beach and shell collecting.”

He bowed deeply. “As you wish.” They started down the path, which narrowed, making it necessary for them to travel single file. Nathan led, allowing visions of the past to flow around him. These were the paths of his boyhood, filled with countless memories, all now conspiring to resurrect the dull ache of homesickness he’d thought he finally buried. In an effort to keep it at bay, he said, “The sea is just ahead.” He kept Midnight to a slow pace, allowing the anticipation to build, knowing the exquisite view that awaited him.

He rounded the curve and reined Midnight to a halt as the vista from their high vantage point hit him like a stunning blow. Cerulean skies, dotted with cottony clouds melding at the horizon with sun-dappled, white-crested water that graduated from the deepest sapphire to pale blue in the shallows at the beach below. Dark cliffs rose majestically, at once mysterious and forbidding, and, as Nathan well knew, a treasure trove of hiding places for smugglers.

A brisk, salty breeze cooled his skin, and he lifted his face, briefly closing his eyes and deeply breathing in the scent that had always brought him both a sense of peace and a longing for adventure. The screech of gulls captured his attention, and he reopened his eyes to watch a group of the gray and white birds float on the wind, suspended for several seconds, wings spread wide, before swooping downward to capture a morsel from the sea.

“Oh, my… this is spectacular.”

Nathan turned to look at Lady Victoria. Her eyes glowed with delighted wonder as her gaze slowly scanned the panorama spread before her. It occurred to him that her eyes were the identical intriguing shade of blue as where the sea and sky met. He watched her raise her face toward the sun, close her eyes and draw a deep breath, exactly as he had done. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him with a bemused expression. “I’m not certain what I expected,” she said in a breathless voice, “but it wasn’t… this.”

He watched, fascinated, as a slow smile spread across her lovely face. Even when she frowned, she was lovely, but her smile utterly dazzled him. That same fierce tug of attraction he’d experienced the first time he laid eyes on her seized him with stunning force.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said softly, moving her hand in an encompassing arc. “The sheer beauty of the colors, the majesty of the cliffs and sea from this height… truly magnificent. You should have prepared me for what I was about to see, as the sight stole my breath.”

His gaze dropped briefly to her moist lips. “I think there are some things you cannot prepare yourself for, Lady Victoria. They simply… happen. And steal your breath.” He forced his gaze back up to her eyes. “As many times as I’ve rounded that corner and seen this very same view, I’m awed each time. Not only because it is so beautiful, but because it is so unexpected.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, that describes it perfectly. It makes me wish I’d brought along my watercolors, although this is clearly a scene whose drama and vibrant colors are more suited to oils.”

“You paint?”

A splash of rose colored her cheeks, as if brushed on by an invisible artist. “Not well, I’m afraid, although I enjoy the hobby immensely. I’ve never attempted oils, but I brought my watercolor supplies to Cornwall.”

“Then by all means you must try to capture this scene before you return to London.”

Her gaze shifted to the stretch of golden sand below. “How do you access the beach?”

“There is a path about a mile ahead. Follow me.”

Victoria set her mount into motion, then reluctantly dragged her gaze away from the panoramic view to turn her attention to the trail ahead. Her gaze settled instead on Dr. Oliver’s broad back. His white linen shirt stretched across the expanse of golden skin and sleek muscles she so vividly recalled seeing from the carriage yesterday. Skeins of sunlight showered down between the leaves and branches of the trees, gleaming through the strands of his dark hair. He handled his mount expertly, and a shiver of awareness worked its way through her at the sight of his powerful legs straddling the saddle. The way he moved-from the fluid ease with which he rode to the smooth, almost predatory way he walked-had her swallowing to relieve the sudden dryness in her throat. Heavens, old Dr. Peabody, who had been her family physician for years, didn’t look like that, move like that. No, he stomped through the house with all the grace of an elephant.

But there was nothing graceless about Dr. Oliver. With an effort she pulled her gaze away from him, concentrating on the beauty of her surroundings, the sound of the gulls and the surf, the brisk refreshment of the sea-scented air, the glimpses of white-capped blue through the trees. Still, no matter where she looked, she was very much aware of him riding ahead, and she wondered what he was thinking.

They continued on for a quarter hour before he halted near a small pond and dismounted. “The path to the beach is just ahead. We can leave the horses here so they can drink and rest while we’re exploring.” Midnight immediately went to the pond for water while Dr. Oliver approached her. When he stood beside Honey, he wordlessly raised his arms to help her dismount.

Her heart performed the most ridiculous somersault and Victoria inwardly frowned. Numerous gentlemen had helped her dismount in the past without causing any such reaction. But the thought of Dr. Oliver’s large hands gripping her waist, a man whose hands had once caressed her in a manner that proved he was not quite a gentleman, unsettled her in a way that she couldn’t name other than to know that it…

Excited her.

Whatever part of her sensible self that warned her she shouldn’t allow him within ten feet of her was wholly overridden by the emerging daring part of herself that wanted him to touch her.

She looked down at him and easily read the amusement and challenge in his eyes. “I don’t bite, Lady Victoria. At least not very often.”

“A relief to be sure,” she said lightly. “However, are you certain that I don’t bite, Dr. Oliver?”

His eyes seemed to darken and his gaze dipped to her mouth. “As I recall, you do not. However, it is a risk I am willing to take.”

There was no mistaking his meaning, and she barely resisted the urge to fan herself with her gloved hand. Clearly he recalled their kiss, possibly in more detail than she’d suspected. Well, if that was the case, excellent. It could only help her cause, something she’d lost sight of for a few moments.

Reaching down, she rested her palms on his shoulders. His hands grasped her waist and he lowered her. But not in the quick, efficient manner other gentleman had. No, instead she found herself being lowered with a deliberate lack of haste that dragged her torso down the hard length of his. Mischief and something else, something that accelerated her heartbeat, glittered in his eyes. By the time her feet touched the ground, her face felt flushed and her breathing was erratic.

Instead of releasing her, his hands tightened on her waist, and her fingers flexed in response on his broad shoulders. She inhaled sharply and her head filled with the scent of him. Clean linen, sunshine warmed skin, mixed with a hint of sandalwood. Only inches separated their bodies. The last time she’d stood this close to him, the room had been dimly lit, but today ribbons of sunlight embraced them. Looking up at him, Victoria admired the intriguing dark gold flecks in his eyes, eyes that even up close remained maddeningly unreadable. Noted the faint pattern of lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes, as if he were accustomed to laughter. The golden texture of his skin, smoothly shaven, stretched over his high cheekbones and firm chin. And then there was his mouth…

His lips, like everything else about him, had fascinated her the instant she’d seen them. Surely men were not supposed to be blessed with such beautiful mouths. His lips looked simultaneously firm and soft, as if they could issue harsh commands yet yield at the same time. Perhaps it was due to the perfect, precise shape of his upper lip, which contrasted so unexpectedly with the sensual fullness of his lower lip. It was a mouth that commanded attention, and Victoria knew she couldn’t have been the only woman to be held so enthralled by it. As she well remembered, he knew how to use that mouth.

And it suddenly struck her that she wanted him to kiss her again. Wanted to know if the magic she’d experienced three years ago had been real or just a figment of her overactive, girlish imagination. She’d come to Cornwall armed with the intention of sharing another kiss with him, but it hadn’t occurred to her that she would actually want to kiss him for more than mere revenge. A frown furrowed between her brows. Damnation, wanting him-in any manner-was not part of her plan at all. He was the one who was to want her.

Jerking her attention upward, their gazes collided and Victoria inwardly groaned. He’d obviously caught her staring. Bad enough, but even worse was the absence of any hint of desire in his eyes. No, he simply stared at her with an utterly blank expression. Definitely not boding well for her revenge plan.

Clearly this wasn’t an optimal time to try and entice him, as he appeared quite… unenticeable. Well, no matter. She would have plenty of opportunities during her visit, although she couldn’t deny she was irked that he’d so unsettled her while her nearness had obviously not affected him at all. Slipping her hands from his shoulders, she backed up several steps, further annoyed that her knees felt less than steady. His hands slid from her waist, and although he no longer touched her, she swore she still felt the imprints of his palms on her midriff.

Several seconds of silence stretched between them, then he cleared his throat. “Shall we continue to the beach?”

“Please.” She fell into step beside him, and had to grudgingly admit that he was politeness itself, offering his hand in spots where the path was a bit steep, holding back stray branches so she could pass unharmed, catching her arm when she stumbled once. Of course, he certainly should have caught her, as it was entirely his fault she stumbled. If she’d been concentrating on the path rather than the brush of her shoulder against his upper arm, she wouldn’t have missed her step.

But holding onto any semblance of annoyance was completely impossible as they neared the beach. A band of golden sand stretched before them, filling her with the desire to spread her arms and run across the unspoiled grains. The sea breeze caught at her bonnet, and she pressed a hand to her head.

“Most likely a lost cause,” Dr. Oliver said, indicating her bonnet with a nod. “We’re about to leave the protection of the trees, and the wind can gust quite strongly.”

Victoria kept her hand clapped onto her head as they ventured onto the sand. The wind seemed to have died down, and she lowered her hand. Almost instantly a salt-misted gust snatched the bonnet from her head. “Oh!”

Dr. Oliver shot her a quick grin that clearly said, “I told you so,” then he took off in pursuit of her runaway bonnet, sprinting toward the water. Watching him dash across the sand filled her with the overwhelming desire to do the same. Grasping her skirts, she lifted them to her ankles and ran after him.

The leather ankle boots she’d worn for riding sank into the soft sand, slowing her progress, but the wind whipped at her hair and gown, the sun gleamed on the azure water, and the scent of salty freshness filled her lungs, instilling her with a heady sensation of freedom unlike anything she’d ever known. A delighted laugh escaped her, then another, and she ran faster, kicking up golden grainy arcs of sand behind her.

She ran on toward the water, watching Dr. Oliver reach down twice for her bonnet, only to be eluded both times, before finally capturing the elusive hat by one of its long dark green satin ribbons. He was brushing sand from it when he caught sight of her running toward him. He stilled, watching her approach. She halted several feet away from him, laughing, breathless, and invigorated.

“You rescued my hat,” she said, her words coming out in breathy pants, her chest heaving. “Thank you.”

He handed her the runaway bonnet. “You’re welcome. Although I would have returned it to you. There was no need to exhaust yourself.”

“I’m not exhausted. I’m invigorated!” She threw her arms wide and spun around twice. “I have never been anywhere as refreshing as this beach. It seems as if the air is vibrating with energy. Yet, it somehow manages to also feel… serene.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hands, then laughed. “I’m afraid I cannot explain what I mean.”

He looked at her intently. “There’s no need to explain, as I understand precisely what you’re saying. It is a place that simultaneously inspires excitement and infuses the soul with peace.”

“Yes! That’s it exactly.”

A slow smile curved his lips, speeding up her heart in an altogether different way than her impromptu run. She felt bewitched by his gaze, captivated by the way the breeze ruffled his hair and how the sunlight bathed him in golden warmth. She managed to force her gaze downward, only to find herself again transfixed by the way the breeze molded his linen shirt to his chest and torso, offering a teasing hint of his masculine form that was at once entirely too much and not nearly enough.

Determined not to be caught staring again, Victoria turned her head, and her gaze fell upon a shell in the sand. She quickly pulled off her gloves, then bent down. “My first treasure,” she said as she rose, holding up the delicate pearly white shell.

“Lovely,” he murmured. She glanced at him and noted that he wasn’t looking at the shell, but at her, with that same unreadable expression. What might wipe that expression from his eyes and fill them with something easily decipherable, such as… desire?

She wasn’t certain, but she realized she wanted very badly to know.