Why Lords Lose Their Hearts (27 page)

She could not help uttering a small gasp at the perfection of it. It was a veritable romantic dream and she wasn’t quite sure she believed it could be true after the horror of last night.

“When did you arrange this?” she asked him, noting that he seemed to be waiting to read her response.

“This morning,” he said, his eyes intent upon her. “I wanted you to have a new, happy memory to replace the one from last night.”

Turning, she kissed him tenderly and felt the safety of his strong arms as he pulled her to him. “You are the sweetest man,” she said, laying her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I know how incredibly fortunate I am.”

“I could argue with you,” he said with a half-smile, “but I’d rather not waste time arguing.”

She allowed him to lead her to the blanket where they lowered themselves to sit and exclaimed over the delectables that had been laid out for them by the Lisle Hall staff.

“I told the cook to choose what to send and it would appear that she thought you deserved the best,” he said with a grin, pouring the wine. “She likes you, I think, because you complimented the dinner last evening.”

Taking a sip of wine, Perdita chided, “Do not try to cozen me, Lord Archer Lisle, for I am quite aware of the effect you have on females. I have little doubt everyone from the housekeeper to the lowliest kitchen maid is besotted with you.”

To her delight, he actually blushed. “I haven’t done anything to woo them,” he said quickly. “I treat them just like I treat everyone else.”

“Yes,” she said with a smile, “with fairness and courtesy. You’d be amazed at how far that will go to earn a servant’s loyalty.”

“I suppose,” he said, biting into an herb tart. “But you’re not exactly loathed by the staff here or at Ormond House.”

She conceded the point, and brushed the crumbs of her own tart from her hands. Looking at Archer, who seemed more carefree than she’d ever seen him, she said, “It wasn’t all bad, you know.”

At his puzzled look, she took his hand, felt the strength of it in comparison to her own. “Last night,” she continued, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. “In fact, I quite enjoyed myself before the interruption.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes, which then darkened with remembered passion. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said with a grin. But then his gaze turned serious. “I’ve been continually impressed with your ability to take pleasure in the moment. Even when things seem to be devolving into chaos around you.”

“It is a skill I acquired during my marriage,” she said wryly. “Though I had hoped it would be unnecessary once he died. But it would seem that fate had other plans for me.”

“Not fate,” Archer said firmly, “but a madman. A madman I mean to stop before he can give you another moment of fear.”

His handsome face was determined and Perdita longed to beg him to be careful. But she knew it would do little good. Men like Archer stayed the course until what they saw as their duty was done. And if it meant putting himself in danger, he would do it. It was the way he was made.

She leaned in and kissed him. “I do appreciate you,” she said quietly. “So much.”

If he wished for her to say something more, make a declaration of love, he didn’t say so. Instead he busied himself with helping her pack up the remnants of their picnic into the hamper and then pulled her to her feet.

“A stroll along the beach, I think,” he said, “before we allow reality to intrude upon our idyll.”

Perdita did not argue, and when after meandering along the water for a while hand in hand, they turned back, she wordlessly allowed Archer to lead her to a small corridor created naturally by the rocks. Spreading the blanket on the ground within, they went into each other’s arms with a passion born of last night’s distress, and a need to affirm life in the face of another’s loss of it.

She stroked her hands over his chest while Archer shrugged out of his coat, tossing it to the ground beside them. Eagerly, she surrendered to his kiss, even as she unbuttoned his waistcoat and pulled his shirt from his breeches. Archer pulled away for a moment to unwind his neck cloth and Perdita almost screamed with the frustration of it. She wanted him against her, skin to skin, now. But soon, he’d divested himself of his shirt as well and set to undoing the tiny row of buttons down her back.

Finally, Archer in stocking feet and breeches and Perdita in only her shift, they came back together. His kiss was surprisingly tender, and Perdita felt tears well in her eyes even as she moved her mouth against his, welcoming the gentle thrust of his tongue against hers. She allowed her hands to roam over the chiseled perfection of his chest as Archer’s hands embarked upon an exploration of their own, stroking over the peaks of her breasts, making her gasp.

“Archer,” she whispered, as his mouth roamed down over her chin and stroked a path down to where he’d pulled down the front of her chemise to reveal the hardened point of her breast. When he took the nipple in his hot mouth, she nearly cried out from the wonder of it. Restlessly, she threaded her hands though his hair, holding him to her as he sucked. “Dear God,” she exhaled.

“Easy,” he said, pulling back and moving to expose her other breast. At the same time, he used his other hand to slip beneath the fabric of her petticoats to stroke up past her knee, to her thigh, and then to hover over the aching center of her.

Giving herself up to him, Perdita opened to him, while at the same time releasing his hair to stroke down the front of his chest and downward. She was diverted, however, by the simultaneous stroke of his hand over her wetness and the feel of his teeth scraping over her nipple. “Oh, yes, please,” she murmured, “there.”

In response, he gave a tug on her breast and stroked a finger inside her, rhythmically stroking inside her as her hips began to move of their own accord. It took only a brief caress upon the bud of pleasure there for her to lose herself altogether, and with a sharp cry she shattered.

It took her only a moment to recover herself, and at the feel of Archer unbuttoning the fall of his breeches, she reached down to take him in hand, guiding him into her, and at the first thrust they both gasped. Perdita closed her eyes at the delicious fullness of him within her. And gave an experimental squeeze of the muscles there, drawing a wonderfully filthy curse from Archer.

“This won’t last long, I’m afraid.” His voice was deep, husky with desire, and the timbre of it sent a ripple of answering lust down Perdita’s spine. And then there was no more time for talk as he kissed her, then pulled almost all the way out of her before stroking slowly back in. He set up a steady rhythm that soon had them both gasping and it wasn’t long before they were moving back and forth in as ancient a dance as that of the sea behind them.

When she began to lose herself again, when the pulse of orgasm overtook her, Perdita clung to him, her legs and arms trying to hold him still within her even as he began to move faster and faster. Finally, just as her own release subsided, he gave a hoarse shout and thrust once more inside her, holding still as pleasure overtook him.

Despite her protests, Archer reversed their positions as soon as he came back to himself. “What was I thinking to take you on the rocks like that. Your back must be bruised.”

“You’ll hear no complaint from me,” she said, moving off him to set her chemise back to rights before picking up her discarded gown and pulling it over her head. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt as … invigorated as I did just now. There is something about making love in the open air.”

Having discreetly adjusted his breeches, Archer pulled his own shirt back on before tying his cravat into a loose knot. “I am glad to hear it, Duchess,” he said with a grin. “For there are a few more spots along the coast where I’d like to … invigorate you.”

Relieved to see his eyes twinkling again after the darkness of the past few days, Perdita grinned. She’d been afraid her unhappy life would leach all the mirth from him. And that would have left her inconsolable.

Allowing Archer to button up her gown, she twisted her hair back up into some semblance of neatness, and soon they were presentable, if not as tidy as they’d been a few minutes earlier.

“Thank goodness for the sea wind,” she said as they made their way up the stairs and toward the path again. “I think it can be blamed for all kinds of sartorial sins today.”

“Indeed.” Archer grinned as they walked hand in hand away from the sea and toward the path leading into the little wood on the far side of the village. “Though I don’t know if it could have covered up for your misbuttoned gown. I’m glad I caught it before we made it to the village, or your reputation would be in tatters.”

“It’s already in tatters,” she said without any real distress over the matter. After so many years of living under Gervase’s thumb, she was prepared to endure much in exchange for Archer’s company. “Do not forget that your entire family caught you emerging from my bedchamber last night.”

“I have not forgotten,” he said with a shake of his head as they moved into the cool shade of the wood. “And on that same subject—” he began, but broke off at a loud blast. “Get down,” he said, pushing her to the forest floor, then dropping down to cover her with his body. As they lay there, Perdita could hear the sound of footsteps thrashing through the underbrush going in the opposite direction. Finally it died out, and the only noise was the whisper of the wind in the trees.

Finally, when there had been no sound for some minutes, Archer stood and helped her to her feet.

“What was that?” Perdita asked, knowing even before she asked.

“A gunshot,” Archer said angrily. “Someone took a shot at you.”

Twenty-two

Perdita began to tremble, and Archer pulled her into his arms. His own heart beat much faster than normal still, so he knew that she had to be feeling the aftereffects of fear, as well.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his shoulder, where she’d tucked her head as if she could hide from the world outside the cocoon of their bodies. “I shall be back to my usual self in just a moment. It’s just that—”

“Do not apologize to me again for reacting in the manner of a rational human being in the face of terrible fear, Perdita,” Archer said, unable to keep the anger from his tone. “You were just shot at, for pity’s sake. I think a bit of fright is allowed.”

“I didn’t mean—” she began before Archer cut her off. “I know,” he said firmly. “I know you were simply being polite. It’s what one does when the world is falling apart around them. But you don’t need to pretend such things with me. I know good and well that this monster frightens you. And if you weren’t frightened I should think you were completely mad yourself.”

“I hate this,” she said fiercely, her spine stiffening with frustration. “I hate constantly being afraid that he’s going to hurt me, or you or someone I care about. I want him caught.”

“I know you do, my dear,” Archer said, kissing the top of her head. “And I will do whatever I can to make sure that he’s caught. Sooner rather than later. I am hoping we’ll find something in the village that might help us in this regard.”

Pulling back from him, Perdita brushed off her skirts and said, “Then let us go there at once. For I can’t wait another minute to find out who this person is so that we can get on with our lives.”

They made it to the village without further incident, though both Perdita and Archer were vigilant about keeping watch for the shooter.

As they stepped into the Pig and Whistle, a well-dressed gentleman looked to be on his way out. When he saw Perdita, he stopped.

“You!” he said, pointing rudely at her. “It’s all your fault. You weren’t content to murder only your husband, but you had to see Vyse murdered, as well.”

“I think you’d better consider your words more carefully, my good man,” Archer said, placing a hand on the other man’s chest to keep him away from Perdita. “The duchess had nothing to do with Lord Vyse’s death. Nor did she have anything to do with her late husband’s demise.”

Before Perdita’s accuser could continue, she spoke up. “Indeed, Lord Loftin, Lord Archer is correct. Though whoever killed Vyse did so in an effort to torment me over Ormond’s death, make no mistake, I had nothing to do with it.”

Like Lord Vyse, Lord Loftin, a viscount, had been a crony of her late husband’s. And, she recalled, he had a country house in the area. He hadn’t been quite as wild as the rest of them, but his association with them had certainly been enough to give him a reputation for deep play and womanizing. His eyes narrowed as Perdita spoke. “You can make up whatever sort of stories you like, Your Grace.” He spat out the courtesy as if the very words tasted foul. “Vyse was a friend of mine. When the local magistrate discovers who was responsible for his death, I have little doubt that whoever set the blaze will be found to have a connection to you. Everything you touch, it seems, turns to ruin.” He turned to Archer. “I’d watch out, Lord Archer, lest you discover that you’re next on her list.”

“I thank you for your concern,” Archer said coldly, “but I believe I can get along quite well without it.”

“Suit yourself,” Loftin said, pushing past them and out the door into the street beyond.

Her heart pounding from the confrontation, Perdita was grateful for Archer’s arm as he led her to a tidy woman carrying a pile of linens.

“Lord Archer, as I live and breathe,” the little woman said with a wide smile. “I had heard you were home.” She set her burden down on a chair and stepped forward. “And you must be the young widow staying at Lisle Hall. Just as pretty as I’ve heard, too.”

Quickly, Archer introduced Perdita to her. “This is Mrs. Jane, Your Grace. And don’t tell Cook up at the hall this, but she makes the best biscuits in three counties.”

The older woman blushed. “Go on with you, you young flirt.” Then, turning serious, she said, “I am that sorry about what happened up at the hall. Whatever is the world coming to? That young man that died, Lord Vyse. Poor fellow. Can’t be an easy thing. I hope your father discovers who killed him as soon as he can. I don’t know how we’ll be able to sleep at night knowing there’s such a villain lurking about Little Lisle.”