CHAPTER EIGHT
Magic.
There was simply no other word for the beauty that surrounded her.
Kate drew in a deep breath as she leaned against the stone railing of the terrace. The ancient castle had been built atop the highest bluff, with a wide terrace that offered a stunning view of the vast sea and frost-kissed sky. She felt bathed in the rosy glow and at complete peace with herself.
To think she might have missed all this, Kate thought with a sigh. Indeed, until the very moment she had allowed Luce to place her in his carriage and drive away from the hotel, she had continued to warn herself she was making a dangerous mistake.
She was not a fool. She knew that he still thought to make her his bride.
But even as she sternly warned herself to return to her rooms and lock the door, she had stepped into the carriage and allowed herself to be whisked away.
And why should she not? she had argued with the voice of sense. She had precious little time left before she would have to return to Kent. It would surely be a waste to choose days locked in her chambers when she could be out enjoying adventures.
And if Luce could provide the adventure . . . well, that certainly did not mean she had to marry the man.
Hearing the soft approach of footsteps, Kate allowed a smile to curve her lips. Whatever her concerns, she could not deny that he was a master of creating a wonderful adventure. What other gentleman would have thought to arrange an elegant picnic within the picturesque ruins?
“You have become very pensive. What are you thinking?” he demanded, turning to lean against the railing so that he was facing her rather than the beauty below.
“I was just appreciating the view,” she admitted.
He arched a golden brow, his features oddly softened in the growing darkness.
“It is certainly more pleasant than London. No traffic, no choking air, no unfortunate relatives.”
She gave a slow smile. “You dislike London?”
“It is a necessary evil that I endure for the sake of my business, but I will admit a preference for the country.”
“And what of the sea?”
“It was once my haven,” he said in soft tones. “But one that is no longer necessary. Now I long for a quiet life surrounded by my family.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “A dull dream for you, my dear, but one that I have never had the pleasure of experiencing. I find myself longing for quiet nights settled by the fire with you in my arms and your sweet scent filling the room.”
Kate unconsciously frowned, her fingers tight upon the railing. It was terrifyingly easy to imagine such a domestic scene. And worse, to imagine herself warmly snuggled next to his steady strength with no desire to ever leave.
“What of your business?” she demanded, in an effort to distract her renegade thoughts. “Surely you cannot simply abandon it?”
He lifted a negligent shoulder. “I will, of course, always maintain control of my business, but for now it is the estate that is in need of my most strenuous efforts. Especially considering my lack of knowledge of how best to be a good landlord. It will take time to discover all I need to know as Earl of Calfield.” He paused for a moment before continuing in low tones. “And the assistance of a devoted wife.”
Wife.
A shiver inched down her spine as she threatened to become lost in the warmth of his steady gaze.
With a deliberate effort to shake off his oddly hypnotic spell, she forced a smile to her stiff lips.
“So you intend to trade in your position as a pirate for that of a farmer?” she questioned in light tones. “You should make an interesting addition to the local assemblies and soirees.”
Readily following her lead to lighten the mood, he reached up to give a gentle tug on a wayward curl. “Brat. I will have you know that not all sailors are by profession pirates.”
She raised a brow in teasing disbelief. “No, only the successful ones.”
His lips twitched. “Well, at least I have always been the most civilized of pirates. And I do not think I shall terrorize the neighborhood too greatly.”
No. He would not terrorize the neighborhood, she wryly acknowledged, but he would most certainly stir it to a fever pitch. Unwittingly, she let her gaze travel over the lean form attired in a black coat and dove gray breeches. What woman in her senses would not secretly weave fantasies about the delicious earl, even in his casual country attire ? And what gentleman would not seek to ape his elegant style and commanding air?
There was a vibrant energy about him that spoke of power and a ruthless determination that would draw attention like a bee to nectar.
“A civilized pirate?” she lightly retorted. “Is that not rather like an honest thief?”
“Very well, my wench.” Without warning, his arms reached out to encircle her waist and he pulled her against his hard body. Sparks seemed to fly as their forms collided and he smiled deeply into her wide eyes. “If I am a pirate that means you are my bounty. Now, that I like very much.”
Kate discovered that she liked it very much as well.
She liked the heat that surrounded her. The scent of his male skin. The feel of his hands spread across her lower back. The sharp dart of anticipation that arrowed straight to the pit of her stomach.
And the deep sense of sanctuary she felt in his arms.
As if she had found the only place she truly belonged.
A sudden chill inched down her spine and it was only with an effort she maintained her impression of bantering ease.
“Ah, but you are determined to become a farmer, and no longer be a pirate, my lord,” she retorted, although her voice was revealingly breathless. “And I assure you that farmers do not behave in such a manner.”
His hands tightened on her back, a sudden color staining his high cheekbones. “Considering the fact that any number of farmers are readily producing an entire flock of heirs, I find your logic rather flawed, my sweet. Indeed, I would guess that they behave in such a manner on a regular basis.”
A rash of prickles raced over her skin.
“Luce, do not,” she muttered.
Ignoring her weak protest, he dropped his gaze to the softness of her mouth.
“Dear God, I ache to kiss you.”
Feeling oddly breathless, Kate struggled not to melt into a puddle at his feet.
“Luce, I will not be seduced into marriage.”
He growled deep in his throat. “Stop it, Kate. This has nothing to do with marriage, or dowries, or empty coffers.” His gaze stabbed her with its glittering force. “This is nothing more than a man who is desperate to taste of a woman’s sweetness.”
Kate felt his fingers tremble as they pressed into her back, and she blinked at the unexpected sense of satisfaction that filled her.
Luce did want her, she acknowledged with a sense of wonder. Beyond his cunning plans to lure her back to Kent. Beyond his need for wealth.
There was no mistaking the taut lines of his body. The rasp of his breath and the restless hunger in his eyes.
A strange sensation rushed through her and Kate caught her breath. She had never before experienced the feeling of being truly desired.
It was dangerously enticing.
Too enticing.
“Luce, you must release me.”
“Why?” His breath brushed her heated skin. “Do you find my touch revolting? Does it not please you?”
A cowardly part of her longed to agree. To tell him that she did indeed find his touch revolting. Such a confession would no doubt put a swift end to this wicked encounter, and perhaps even to his determined pursuit.
Unfortunately, she feared her body was already revealing the unmistakable truth. He could not fail to notice the thunder of her heart or the faint tremors of pleasure she could not hide.
“You know I do not, but . . . it is not proper.”
He gave a soft chuckle at her ridiculous words. “I thought that you had left behind being proper in Kent? Are you not the maiden who is determined to seek all sorts of adventures? To taste of life and all it might offer?”
He was right, blast his arrogance. This was precisely what she had dreamed of when she had fled Kent. A glorious flirtation with a handsome rake.
When she had been in Kent, however, passion and need had been no more than the stuff of romantic poets. It not had been a tangible, sharp-edged ache that threatened her very senses.
“It grows late,” she muttered in uneven tones. “We should return soon.”
A sigh rushed through his lips as he placed his forehead against hers. “Someday you will trust me, Kate. Someday soon.”
She stiffened at the implication that she would concede defeat. As if she would be swayed by the pleasure of his touch.
“You are very confident in your skills, my lord.”
“No, not confident. Just accepting of a fate you insist upon fighting,” he corrected, shifting to brush his lips over her brow. “Now, as you said, it grows late.”
Her heart halted at the soft caress, before galloping back into motion as if to make up for lost time.
“Yes,” she murmured, awkwardly stepping backward.
Gads, she felt as if she had been tossed into a stormy sea with no idea if she would sink or swim.
* * *
Luce watched the stone he had tossed sink into the sea.
It was a wretched morning for a stroll. A chilled fog thickened the air, reminding the unwary that winter was indeed here. Still, it was preferable to pacing the cramped rooms at the inn.
As was becoming all too familiar, he had awoken well before dawn after a near sleepless night. A damnable predicament for a gentleman who had managed to rest even when sailing upon the stormiest waters.
Gads, not even the past two days of escorting his seemingly inexhaustible companion from one entertainment to another had managed to mute the restless impatience that coursed through his blood.
A wry smile abruptly touched his lips. Bloody hell. Of course, being with Miss Kate Frazer had not eased his restlessness. This burning in his blood was entirely due to the frustrating minx.
He had been a fool.
He had known before bringing her to Brighton that he desired her. No, that he increasingly ached for her sweetness. And that being in her constant company was bound to be a form of masculine torture.
But while he had prepared himself for the pangs of physical need, and battling temptation, he had somehow failed to consider the power of simply having her near.
Reaching down, Luce collected another hapless pebble and jerkily tossed it into the waves.
How could he not be enchanted by her vibrant spirit and startling wit? Or by her unexpected displays of kindness toward all those about her?
She was a rare woman, made all the more rare by the sheer courage that had allowed her to maintain even a measure of herself beneath her father’s grim rule.
With every passing moment, he became more certain that she was created to be his wife.
And yet, for all his certainty, she remained determinedly elusive. Oh, he sensed that she was attracted to him. And that she enjoyed his companionship. There were even moments when he would swear that she felt the relentless bond between them as fiercely as he did.
But for every step he took toward her, she managed to slip two back. A frustrating waltz that threatened to drive him batty.
Luce shivered as another gust of wind tugged at his caped greatcoat, then slowly he stilled in awareness. Although the enticing scent was faint he would know it in his sleep.
Turning about, he discovered Kate standing a few paces away, her slender form enveloped in a cherry red cloak with black fur about the hood. His chest seemed to tighten even as he carefully smoothed his features to a casual expression.
“Good morning, my sweet,” he murmured, moving to face her. “You are up and about earlier than usual on this rather dismal day.”
She wrinkled her slender nose as she glanced at the fog-shrouded sky. “Remaining beneath my warm covers was certainly a temptation, but then I realized that I mustn’t allow myself to waste a moment in Brighton. We will, after all, have to return to London quite soon.”
Luce allowed his gaze to sweep over the purity of her alabaster features. She appeared unexpectedly fragile wrapped in the heavy velvet, her cheeks flushed with cold.
“There is no hurry,” he murmured, not at all anxious to return Kate to London and the endless distractions it provided. “We are at liberty to remain as long as you desire.”
Her eyes briefly darkened as she gave a shake of her head. “No, we cannot remain. My father no doubt has already returned to Kent. It would be best to leave on the morrow.”
“There is something, or perhaps someone, awaiting you in London?” he demanded, regretting the unmistakably possessive words as soon as they tumbled from his lips.
As expected, she swiftly took a defensive step back, her expression guarded. “I believe I shall take a short stroll before breakfast. Perhaps I will see you when I return.”
Silently cursing his stupidity, he firmly took her arm and entwined it with his own. “Oh no. You are not getting rid of me so easily. Where shall we stroll? The Steyne? Or would you prefer to view the Pavilion?”
Standing so close, he could feel her slightly stiffen at his insistence, but thankfully, she did not pull away.
“Actually, the chamber maid was telling me this morning of an ancient legend I hoped to investigate.”
“Ancient legend?” He lifted his golden brows as he tilted his head to one side. “What sort of legend?”
“The legend of the Mad Monk and his hidden treasure.”
Luce gave a sudden laugh at her startling childish desire to hunt for hidden treasure.
“Odd. I would hardly think that a monk would have much of a treasure.”
She offered a small smile. “Well, it is rumored that he was traveling to a monastery in France, but that along the way to London, he fell violently in love with a village maiden,” she explained in soft tones. “Unfortunately, her parents refused to countenance a match with an impoverished wanderer. Especially after they had already received a large promise of wealth from a prosperous merchant who desired her. In the end, he left to make his fortune upon the seas as a pirate.”
His lids lowered slightly as he audaciously reached out to brush a stray curl away from her cheek.
“Please do not disappoint me and say that while he was gone, she treacherously gave into the wiles of the merchant, and the poor distraught monk tossed himself and his treasure into the sea.”
“No, indeed. His beloved remained true, but the day before he arrived, she died while giving birth to his child. In his grief, the monk decided to punish the greedy parents in the most devious manner. He buried his massive treasure somewhere near their home and then simply disappeared.”
“Ah, quite a cruel revenge, indeed.” He smiled gently as his fingers brushed down to the line of her jaw. He could understand how the romantic tale had caught her fancy. “It must have driven them mad to know that there was a fortune within their grasp and yet be unable to discover its location.”
“It is said that their ghosts still roam the cliffs in search of the treasure.”
“Of course. What is a good treasure hunt without ghosts?” He paused a moment, regarding her fragile beauty. “Are you certain you shall be warm enough? The breeze is quite chill.”
She gave a small shrug. “I am rarely affected by the weather. But I would not have you suffer for my folly. I will quite understand if you prefer to remain at the inn.”
Luce felt a sharp pang. When he first met Kate, he had presumed that he could read her like an open book. There was no artifice, no cunning that he too often found in others. Now he discovered that he had not the faintest notion what she was thinking.
If she desired his companionship or wished him in the netherworld.
It was not at all a comfortable sensation.
“I will come,” he said firmly. “I cannot allow you to wander off in the fog with dangerous ghosts and mad monks on the loose.”
“You need have no fear, Luce. I have it on excellent authority that they only make their appearance during a full moon.”
He smiled wryly. “And what of other unscrupulous rascals that might be lurking just out of sight?”
Her brows pulled together. “Good heavens, Luce, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I have no need for a guardian at my age.”
A startling flare of anger shuddered through him before Luce forced himself to take a calming breath.
Blast, there were moments when this woman could test the patience of a saint.
Why did she continue to thrust him away? Why would she not admit that they could possess something wondrous? Something that could endure for the rest of their lives.
Why? Why? Why?
Thoroughly disgruntled, Luce realized that Kate was regarding him with an expectant gaze. With an effort, he managed a stiff smile.
“No. Where you go, I go, Kate.”
“But . . .”
His hands reached out to frame her face. “You are not going anywhere without me. We are in this together.”