Dangerous Desires Page 2

  “I understand you like to read.”

  Her eyes lit up, and he made a mental note to thank Joseph for the information.

  “Very much, my lord.” She sat up straight, her face full of joy.

  Dominic did not expect such a reaction from something as simple as books.

  “I’m quite impressed by your library, my lord. You have so many titles, and I…”

  As she continued talking, Dominic couldn’t help but think that she would make someone a wonderful wife. His gaze fell past her chin to her swanlike neck, then down further to the soft swell of her breasts. The firm globes were perfect—not too large, just about a handful. The tight corset made her slender frame appear even smaller. His cook was renowned for her skill—it wouldn’t take long to put some meat on Arlie’s bones.

  His innards warmed as he stared at the curl that had escaped her chignon and lay against her bosom. He wondered what she would look like with her soft hair flowing down her back in thick pale curls. An image came instantly to mind, one in which she stood before him wearing nothing. The blood stirred in his groin, rushing to his cock, making his breeches achingly tight. He took a deep breath, and tried to diffuse any notion that she would become his lover. Yet the image would not fade and to his distress, his penis throbbed painfully.

  She stopped abruptly, her brows furrowing into a frown. “What’s the matter?”

  Taking a long, steadying breath, he sat up straighter. The trembling hand that had been adjusting his breeches a moment before now held firmly to his glass as he drained the brandy. I should be struck by lightning, he thought, disgusted by his attraction to this young woman who, no doubt, considered him to be an old man.

  “Nothing,” he said, managing to sound not at all disturbed by her presence, when in fact, he felt very out of control. He dreaded word getting out that he was the guardian of this gorgeous, desirable young woman.

  The ton would have a heyday.

  But he would prove, not only to them, but to himself, that he could be a guardian. In a few months she would be married off, and he would forget about this nightmare.

  Why was he fantasizing about a virginal young woman anyway? He liked his women experienced, and preferably married, just like his current mistress…who would have a fit when she saw Arlie. “Do you like your room?” he asked, hoping to divert his attention.

  “My quarters are lovely. I’ve never had anything so fine, and the bed…it’s so soft. When I first lay down on the mattress, I found it impossible to get up.”

  If he had his way, she would never get out of his bed.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m glad it pleases you. Feel free to request whatever it is you may need,” he remarked, forcing his thoughts to the rugged conditions she had once lived in.

  He’d had his lawyers search her background thoroughly. Aside from the knowledge that Arlie had in essence raised herself, her relationship with her father had been a strong one. He knew she would give anything to have her father back, and perhaps her way of life as well. In fact, maybe she would be better suited for his country home in Whitley, the estate he stayed away from since his grandmother was always in residence. The manor was a good five hours ride from London—far away from him.

  He dispelled that notion a moment later when she said, “I can hardly wait to see the sights of London. One of the footmen said it is less than an hour away. Do you think that perhaps one day we could take a ride?”

  “Perhaps,” he said, and immediately he saw the disappointment in her eyes. He had never been known for stinginess. In fact, he treated his mistresses with the utmost respect and lavished them with baubles and flattery. Seeing his ward’s disappointed expression made him want to give her anything she desired, even a trip into London. Though he couldn’t form the words because he felt she was not quite ready for Society. The moment he introduced her to the ton, all hell would break loose. Like Joseph had said; men would be knocking on the door at all hours. He closed his eyes, already dreading the future.

  And once again an image of Arlie, naked in his bed, rose to taunt him.

  If only she knew his thoughts, she would run far and fast. He opened his eyes to find her watching him, frowning. She must be terrified, he thought, managing a smile for her benefit. “I apologize. It has been an awfully long day. In fact, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll retire.” He stood, and nearly knocked the chair over in his haste to escape the room. And his wicked thoughts.

  “Of course, please do.”

  He headed for the door, and stopped, realizing his manners had been deplorable. “Would you like me to escort you to your room?”

  She shook her head and flashed a soft smile. “No, I think I’ll stay here and enjoy my tea. Sweet dreams, my lord.”

  Sweet dreams? He’d be lucky if he slept at all tonight.

  Exiting the dining room, he wondered why this had happened to him. Of all people to become a guardian to a young woman, he was the least capable candidate. And if he had to have a ward, then why could she not have been homely?

  As he shut the door behind him, he wondered if this wasn’t God’s way of testing him to see if he did have a soul. If so, he was surely heading for the gates of hell.

  Chapter Two

  The next few weeks saw Arlie besieged with dressmakers and tutors. One dressmaker, Mrs. Candora, had praised her for her straight posture, but lectured her about her preference of men’s clothing when Arlie had showed the woman her wardrobe.

  Arlie endured hours of being poked by the woman’s needle. She wondered if the hateful woman pricked her repeatedly on purpose. If she thought the woman spiteful during the measuring process, she turned absolutely heinous when she burned Arlie’s favorite breeches and shirt before her very eyes. The fire roared in the fireplace, and Arlie watched with inner fury as the comfortable clothes turned into a charred mess.

  Arlie had been able to save only one pair of breeches. That pair remained safely tucked under the mattress, where hopefully no one would be the wiser.

  If she had thought Mrs. Candora had been stern, her long list of tutors had been exasperating. Deportment came first and foremost on the earl’s list. Apparently he was under the impression she knew nothing of how to behave in Society. Under Miss Elridge’s instruction she would, within six weeks’ time, become the perfect lady.

  No matter how much she did not want the lessons, Arlie gave every one of her tutors her undivided attention, hoping her guardian would be pleased and treat her with a trip to London. At times she found it difficult to concentrate on her studies when there was a whole other world out there just waiting to be explored.

  But Rochford had been specific that her lessons take top priority, leaving her time to do little more than walk the gardens and yearn for the day when she could escape the manor’s walls—walls that were slowly closing in on her.

  Rochford usually left first thing in the morning, and never returned until after seven in the evening. Each night was like the one before. They would have a cordial dinner, talk briefly of their day, then he would excuse himself.

  Later, while reading in her room, she could hear the murmur of his voice as he and his friends burned the midnight oil. Not once had he requested her presence, and she had yet to meet any of his acquaintances.

  Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she contemplated why Rochford had not seen fit to introduce her. Could it be he thought her so ill mannered as to embarrass him? Surely if he would just take the time to get to know her, he could see for himself she had been well educated and didn’t need the tutors who came in a steady stream day in and day out to teach her things she already knew. If his embarrassment came from the way she dressed…well, she had not worn a pair of breeches since her arrival. Instead, she wore the new, constricting gowns that she found far too heavy and cumbersome.

  She sighed heavily. With every day that passed, she became more bored and lonely. She’d tried to strike up conversations with the servants, but none seemed interested in talking with
her. And her tutors had been paid to teach her, not talk, as they told her every time she tried to initiate any form of dialogue.

  Leaning her head back, she squinted as the sun peaked through the clouds. It would be a perfect day for a ride. How she missed the feel of the horse beneath her, the wind whipping her hair, the adrenaline race through her body.

  She smiled to herself. Did she dare? Rochford had left and wouldn’t return for hours. Even the shortest ride would get her mind off her loneliness and burn some of her energy. She raced to her room to don her riding habit.

  The stable master was an older gentleman who took his job seriously. He made it quite clear that Arlie should not venture from Rochford land alone. After assuring him she would take a short ride and stay close to the manor, she mounted the horse effortlessly. The stable master had been right, the mare was an excellent ride, much like her own had been before she had sold her in order to put food on the table.

  Going against the stable master’s advice, Arlie rode south, straight for London. She had heard it took the earl a good hour to get there via his carriage, but if she hurried, she could be there in less time and back before he even knew she’d left the manor.

  The horse seemed to sense her excitement and bolted. Arlie leaned over the horse’s neck as they raced across the flat land. This is exactly what she needed—the wind whipping her face as she flew over the hard-packed ground.

  She kept going, eating up the miles, losing track of time, not caring about anything other than the exhilaration of being on horseback and the prospect of seeing the city she had longed for. Having lived her entire life in a small village, she knew not what to expect of a city such as London.

  At the thought of her childhood home, melancholy washed over her in waves. She remembered the life she had once led and envisioned the one laid out meticulously before her. She hated the structure, hated the way every minute of her day was planned to the minute. Every day it was the same thing, absolute repetition. She did not deny being thankful for a roof over her head, clothes that actually fit, and going to bed with a full stomach every night.

  If only her guardian could see how desperately she needed his friendship…

  Though Rochford had taken her in and given her the best of everything, he hadn’t taken the time to get to know her. Every day, she yearned to ask him when she could see the sights of London; attend parties, soirees, the theater…anything. But always he seemed preoccupied, and she ultimately lost her nerve.

  At least she was out now. Away from stuffy servants and the same walls of Rochford Manor. She knew every inch of her guardian’s home, having explored its depths whenever she had a free moment away from her tutors. Slowing the mare to a gallop, she smiled triumphantly as her stress slipped away. She needed to be patient with Rochford. Perhaps he was still experiencing the shock of having another person under foot, something he was not accustomed to.

  When she came upon a passing carriage, Arlie slowed her pace. She lifted her chin, nodding at others who acknowledged her with a smile or curt nod. When they passed by and out of sight, she continued at a breakneck pace.

  As she approached the city, it became increasingly difficult to keep her excitement at bay. There were people all about—and the noise sounded like a constant humming. Elegant carriages, simple wagons, gentlemen, ladies, and commoners filled the streets.

  She noticed more than one person staring at her, and she knew she had been foolish to continue into London alone, but she could not help herself. For too long she had wanted this. Now she was here, she could not bear to leave.

  Fancy gas lampposts stood on every corner. Charming brick townhouses with intricate iron rails lined one side of the street, while shops, clubs, and a hotel lined the other. She smiled to herself. London was everything she imagined it to be and more.

  The women, dressed in expensive gowns, looked so refined. It served to remind Arlie that these ladies were what Rochford strived for in her deportment. He wanted her to be a true lady, so she could snag herself a man who would take her far away from Rochford Manor.

  Her good mood darkened at the thought. She turned her attention to an enormous park filled with extravagantly dressed individuals. This must be Hyde Park of which she’d read. The books had not done the park justice. In her mind it had been but an acre of grass with trails where one could walk or ride on horseback. This enormous park sprawled out over many city blocks, a place to see and be seen.

  With head held high, Arlie passed by a group of women, who lifted their brows at her. They said nothing, but she could see the disapproval in their eyes. Did they stare because she rode alone? Miss Elridge told her a young woman such as herself never, under any circumstance, went out without a chaperone. It could easily cause a scandal.

  Arlie fought back the wave of guilt that assailed her. She had made a mistake by coming to London. She cringed, hearing the whispers of the women passing by in a curricle, their laughter burning in her ears.

  She must leave at once.

  “Hello there.”

  Arlie jerked toward the sound of the masculine voice. The man, sitting astride a large dark horse, watched her intently. About the same age as Rochford, the man had pleasant features: hazel eyes, hawkish nose, full lips, which complimented his golden hair. Arlie’s gaze strayed to the fine cut of his dark green coat, then to the buff-colored pants and black high-polished boots. With a single glance, she knew without a doubt this man belonged to the ton.

  “Allow me to introduce myself.” With hand on heart, he bowed slightly. “My name is George Hawthorne. My friends call me Langley.”

  She released the breath she’d been holding. He had not mentioned a title. Perhaps he did not know Dominic. She smiled warmly. “And I am Arlie Whitman.”

  His brows furrowed. “Arlie Whitman? Whitman? Hmm…by any chance are you related to Terrance?”

  “No,” Arlie said a touch too quickly. “I fear I have no family in London.”

  His frown deepened.

  “Actually, I am living with my guardian for the time being.”

  A smile replaced his frown. “And may I inquire as to your guardian’s identity?”

  Arlie swallowed hard and replied, “Dominic Santrell, Earl of Rochford. Do you know of him?”

  Langley’s mouth dropped open for a scant second before he caught himself and snapped it shut. Yet, as he continued to stare, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile.

  Arlie could only imagine what he was thinking—and preferred not to.

  “Rochford is one of my closest friends. I saw him just yesterday. Odd, but he didn’t mention a word about you.”

  The words cut at Arlie’s heart, confirming her worst fear…Rochford hated her.

  “How long have you been staying with Dom?”

  “A few weeks.”

  “I must say I’m surprised. Dom just isn’t the type I figured as a guardian. Are the two of you related?”

  Though she expected this line of questioning, she found herself at a loss for words. What did one say when the guardian her father had picked for her despised her? Before she could form a reply, she heard Langley laugh under his breath.

  “Tell me, Miss Whitman, does Dom know you are in London?”

  The way he looked at her made her uneasy—like an unruly child in need of discipline. She wanted to tell Langley—and Rochford as well—that she could take care of herself, that before coming to live with the earl, she had spent months alone without any supervision, save Johanna, coming and going as she pleased. Her life had been free of ridiculous schedules, and continuous studies.

  She shifted in the saddle. “Well, I did not exactly tell him I would be visiting London.”

  “Do you realize how far you’ve come from Rochford Manor?”

  “No,” she said, hoping she sounded surprised. “Though it has been some time since I last rode. I suppose time just got away from me.”

  “And you found yourself in London,” he said, his voice unconvinced. Pulling his p
ocket watch out of his waistcoat, he winced. “It’s almost half past five now. Soon it will be dark. I’m afraid if we don’t hurry, your guardian will come looking for you himself. And I’ve a feeling he would not be happy to find you in London.”

  True, Rochford probably would not be happy, yet why should he care? He had not even told his good friend about her. Why should he care if she came up missing? In fact, he would probably be thrilled to learn that she’d left.

  She should leave Rochford Manor. Being walled up in that mausoleum, learning things she already knew until he was good and ready for her launch into Society, was making her insane.

  “Shall we go?” Langley asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  She wanted to tell him she could make her own way back. She could ride fast and make it to the manor in no time. Perhaps before Rochford returned. However, the horse beneath her was exhausted, and the man at her side would probably not take kindly to her riding alone, especially since he and Rochford were friends.

  They rode at a leisurely pace, Arlie in her own thoughts, saying little to the man at her side. Keeping her gaze focused ahead, she could only hope Rochford had not made it home early.

  She winced. The tutors would have arrived by now, and those tutors cost good money. A wave of regret washed through her. Perhaps it hadn’t been wise to leave the manor without telling someone exactly where she planned to go. And it certainly had not been smart to venture into London alone.

  “How did you come by Dom as a guardian?” Langley asked while straightening the lace at his cuff.

  “My father met Rochford many years ago, when the earl had need of assistance. In appreciation for the help he received, Rochford told my father to look him up if he should ever need anything.”

  “How very interesting,” Langley remarked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a charming smile. “He must have made quite an impression in order for your father to entrust him with your life.”