My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(34)

Lucien considered a moment before offering her a faint smile. "Then, why do you not escort me to the farm you have purchased for your young women?"

She gave a blink of surprise at his sudden request. "It is not really a farm. Only a cottage with a small field."

"I would like to visit it."

"It would hold little interest for you."

He arched his brows in a challenging motion. "I wager I would find it fascinating," he retorted, then, knowing how best to bend her to his will, he touched upon her stern sense of duty. "Besides, you surely need to occasionally visit and ensure that all is well?"

As expected, her thoughts swiftly turned to those women who depended upon her charity.

"It has been some time since I was last there," she admitted.

"Good." Not about to give her time for second thoughts, Lucien smoothly turned and headed toward the door. "I shall brave Meg's wrath and request a supper to be packed. We shall make a day of it."

Feeling surprisingly lighthearted, Jocelyn nibbled upon the delicate mushrooms in cream sauce and fresh peas.

It had been a lovely day.

After renting a carriage, Lucien had happily driven them the short distance to the cottage Jocelyn had requested her father's man of business purchase for her nearly a year ago. The investment had put an end to her small savings and often consumed a fair amount of her allowance, but it had been worth every quid. There were few things more satisfying than visiting the six young maidens who currently lived at the cottage. Not only because they were clearly happier in their new surroundings, but because Jocelyn had also provided the women employment with the local weavers. They were learning skills that would allow them to be independent once they had become strong enough to leave the cottage. They would never again be forced to sell their own bodies to provide food for their tables.

Or that, at least, was her hope.

Covertly glancing from beneath her lashes, Jocelyn regarded the elegant bronze features of Lucien as he sat beside her on the cover he had spread upon the ground in the pretty meadow.

She could not deny that she harbored a reluctance to allow this gentleman to accompany her to the farm. Although Lucien had proven to be generous and kind beyond a fault, she was all too aware that few shared her compassion for fallen women. Most believed that they willingly enjoyed selling their bodies for profit, or even that once having become prostitutes, they were beyond redemption. Gentlemen especially preferred not to consider the notion that only desperation and hunger would lead a woman to such a profession.

She had known that she would be absurdly disappointed if Lucien had treated the women with anything less than respect.

Now she could only smile at her fears.

Lucien had not only revealed a kind consideration for the nervous maidens, he had swiftly charmed them into giddy, rather wide-eyed admirers as he allowed them to show him about the cottage and surrounding gardens. Not one was immune to his potent appeal. Not even Sally, who was as a rule terrified of most men.

Of course, no one could blame the susceptible women. Not even Jocelyn's staunch resolve was enough to battle the persuasive Lucien.

As if sensing her lingering regard, Lucien set aside his empty plate and regarded her with a lazy smile. In the gathering dusk his features took on a shadowed, mysterious beauty.

"More chicken?" he murmured.

She grimaced as she set her plate upon the cover. After three days of barely nibbling at the trays of food Meg had sent to her, she had been suddenly consumed with hunger. For the past half hour she had gorged upon the delicacies that Lucien had removed from the basket.

"Good heavens, no," she groaned. "I am stuffed."

Leaning forward, he refilled her empty glass. "At least have more champagne."

She lifted her brows, her expression teasing. "You are not perhaps attempting to get me foxed?"

The golden eyes abruptly shimmered with that irrepressible humor. "I will admit that it would be quite interesting. I have never seen you cast to the wind."

"Interesting for you, perhaps. I will be the one nursing a thick head tomorrow morning. Not at all a pleasant prospect."

His chuckle echoed through the peaceful meadow. "True enough. Still, I do not believe that you will be overly bosky from two glasses of champagne."

Jocelyn was not nearly so confident. Already there was a giddy glow flowing through her blood, and a decidedly unfamiliar excitement fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

Of course, she did not believe for a moment that the tingling sensations came from the expensive bottle of champagne. Only this gentleman had ever been capable of creating such a dizzying flood of emotion.

At this moment, however, she readily ignored the whispers of warning in the back of her mind. She did not desire to be the sensible, utterly dependable maiden who never accepted risk in her life.

With a small smile she picked up the full glass. "Then I shall be daring."

As if sensing her uncharacteristic mood of carefree joy, Lucien shifted closer to her seated form, his warm scent cloaking about her.

"I desire to propose a toast," he murmured as he held out his glass to touch her own.

Jocelyn regarded him in puzzlement. "A toast? To what?"

"To you, my dove. And all your amazing qualities."

She fought back a sudden rush of embarrassment at his soft words. "Absurd."