The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(67)
‘Yes, I am, yes, I know.’ His voice was muffled in the angle of her neck and shoulder, then he looked up. ‘You want a broadsword and you want me to take you to bed.’ He was laughing at her, his eyes sparking amber fire in the candlelight, his hands sliding over her body with dangerous ease, those beautiful, mobile lips curving into a smile.
‘Not necessarily in that order,’ Guin murmured as he walked her backwards towards the bed. When her knees hit the edge she sat down and watched as he went to lock the stair door, wedged a chair under the handle then did the same to the main door. He laid his rapier on the bedside table and then turned to look at her.
Somewhere he had shed his coat, waistcoat and neckcloth and his feet were bare. Why, when she had seen him naked, the bare feet, the vee of skin at his throat should affect her so powerfully, she could not say, but heat flooded her. ‘Not the most romantic of preparations for lovemaking,’ Guin said, more to try and stop herself dissolving into a puddle of lust than anything.
‘This time I am going to take every precaution. You want romance too?’ Yes, he was laughing at her. Or perhaps it was with her – there was no edge, no malice in his amusement.
‘It would be nice,’ Guin said demurely.
‘What is this?’ Jared bent to pick up a scrap of red leather that lay by the side of her dressing table. ‘Book binding. Someone has been in here.’
‘No. No, that must have been on my skirts. I was looking at something in the study before I came up to bed.’
The red leather turned again between his fingers to reveal gold tooling.
‘The Landed Gentry. You know how battered the binding is on that old copy,’ she said.
‘Why were you going downstairs, Guinevere?’ This time there was no sensual amusement behind the words.
She could lie. There were so many excuses she could find. ‘To look for you in the Peerage.’
‘I said – ’
‘I understand. But you cannot keep it a secret for ever. We need to know, we cannot fight this battle with some of the information missing.’
He shrugged off her words with a slight lift of one shoulder. ‘You wanted romance? Romance is for courtship.’ The laughter had gone although the smile lingered faintly, empty now. ‘You would be justified in having expectations of that, Guinevere, because you are correct and you will find my name in the Peerage.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, it matters and I should have thought of that before I came into your chamber. What we had before was an affaire, a brief flare of passion with a clear understanding that nothing could come of a liaison between a lady and a swordmaster. Now things are different, but I have nothing to offer you except an empty courtesy title, taken second-hand from my brother and the prospect of I know not what when my father is no more. At the moment I live on what I earn and that has not changed.’
‘So now you are Lord – Lord what?’
‘Viscount Ravenlaw. James Andrew Jared Forrest, son of the third Earl of Huntingford.’
Guin stood up and dropped a curtsey. ‘My lord. And I have no expectations of you that I did not have of Jared Hunt, swordmaster.’
‘Then you should have. You should expect me to marry you. An honourable man would offer you his hand. An honourable man who could keep you in the manner befitting you, that is. I cannot do that because I have no expectations whatsoever and no status in Society. I would not put it past my father to disinherit me of every scrap of unentailed land – and that is what supports the house and the household.’ Now even the ghost of the smile had left him. ‘A lady may condescend to take an inferior as a lover. An impoverished viscount does not take advantage of that lady, not without honourable intentions.’
‘You are splitting hairs, and you did not take advantage of me.’
‘I lied about who I am. I thought I was safe from having to be my true self ever again.’
‘I wanted you and I still want you. As a lover. I have had two husbands. One was a scoundrel, the other was a good substitute for my grandfather. I am in no hurry to take a third simply because he has a title.’
‘Guinevere, we would be a scandal. We are a scandal, only not many people know about us.’
‘Augustus would have approved of us. Theo, who is head of the family now, approves of you. And you have a Duke and Duchess as close friends – they will not condemn us, surely? Besides,’ she added when that produced no response, ‘I am caricatured as a wanton widow who plotted with her lover and nephew by marriage to kill her own husband. After that a swordmaster-viscount is positively respectable.’
He picked up his sword belt and buckled it on, the refusal as clear as if he had spoken it.
Do I have any pride left? Probably not. I can be shameless for one last throw, I suppose. ‘You do not want to be Ravenlaw. You do not believe that your family wants you. Stay as Jared Hunt, open your salle d’armes, be the man you created for yourself.’ Be my lover.
‘Before I was the spare with a vigorous older brother who married a fertile woman. I was not needed. Now William is dead and leaves no son. I have a duty.’
‘To the father who would not believe you?’ she demanded. How could he be so…
‘To the title, to the name, to the estate and its people. I have no idea how my father is. He was always a reclusive countryman, just as William was, and I have made no effort to find out. Whether he wants me or not, I have to make the effort now.’