An Earl by Any Other Name(33)

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Leo set his gun down by the door, shrugged out of his Norfolk shooting jacket, and removed his hat. He tossed it onto one of the comfortable-looking armchairs facing the fire. Then he knelt in front of the hearth and started to work on lighting the tinder. Ivy loved to watch him move as he rose and stepped back from the hearth, the fire now devouring logs. He glanced about the room, eyes taking in everything as though to assure himself it was adequately prepared for their stay. He was comfortable in their surroundings. It was obvious he came here often.

"Come over here," he urged, pointing to the empty chair. She obeyed, biting her lip to hide a smile as he retrieved a thick woolen blanket from the bed and wrapped her in it like a child before he turned his attention back to the fireplace, stoking it with a poker. Sparks shot out and the crackling and snapping increased, as did the warmth that kissed her face and hands where they peeped out from the blanket.

"Will the others miss us?" Ivy suddenly realized the precariousness of the situation. It wouldn't take much for the rest of the shooting party to notice their absence. She would be compromised, and Leo would be forced to marry her. It would ruin both their lives.

"They won't miss us. Mr. Bramble, my head gamekeeper, will know to avoid the cottage. He will have the rest of the party chasing pheasants in the opposite direction."

Had Leo intended for this to happen? To get her to a secluded location and compromise her without having anyone witness it? Surely he wasn't so cold and calculating … Anger surged through her, sharpening her senses and heightening her awareness of the quiet solitude of their location.

"You planned this?"

He glanced at her, brushing dust off his hands with a small cloth before tossing it to the ground. The look on his face was an angry one, his brows bunched above his eyes as he glowered at her.

"Bramble knows I come here often and have no real taste for shooting. The lodge is always ready for me, and he keeps the other guests away so I might have a brief respite from the crack of gunfire."

Deflated and embarrassed, Ivy looked away. It was then she noticed several framed sketches on the wall. Sketches by an artist she knew only too well … her mother.

"Where did you get those?" She rose, wrapping the blanket about her like a long shawl as she approached the nearest sketch. It showed a young girl, Ivy, playing in the shallows of a stream, caught up in wild abandon as only a child could be when tossing pebbles. Ivy closed her eyes as the vivid memory of that day took over. The warmth of the afternoon sun, just hot enough to turn her cheeks rosy but not to burn. The water, cold and crisp, nipping at her ankles like exuberant puppies. The way the light flashed and sparkled on the surface as the water broke over the rocks. Her mother had laughed and settled down on the grass close by the edge, sketching. Ivy had never known her mother had drawn her that day. She had been too lost in the delight of the moment. 

Leo's body heat warmed her from behind, and his hands fell onto her shoulders.

"One of my mother's dear friends drew them. She passed away years ago, but my mother kept the sketches. They reminded her of a time when … " His voice roughened. "When there was happiness here at Hampton. I asked my mother if I might take a few of them and put them in the lodge. It was a place of refuge for me and the art seemed to fit."

Ivy's tongue felt thick and no words escaped her as she stared wordlessly at the art. The cruel loss of her mother seemed to resurrect itself at the worst possible moments. She desperately wanted to tell Leo who she was, to confess to the charade his mother had created, but she didn't. Instead, she turned to face him, their breath shared in the small space between their faces. Last night she had convinced herself she wouldn't go this far, wouldn't betray her heart. Yet, denying it what it wanted was somehow crueler. To never know his love would be a worse fate than to know it and lose it. She had one chance to be with him before she forced herself to let him go.

"W-would you kiss me? Like you did before?"

He curled one finger under her chin, lifting her face as he studied her.

"I would do anything you asked." The words were a promise of something more, something she could not fully understand, but it did devastating things to her heart.

The organ trembled in her chest, beat madly, and then stuttered to a stop again before racing wildly. She could scarcely breathe as Leo kissed her. His lips were featherlight, but not chaste as he tasted her. His hands slid down her arms, lightly clutching her, his fingers barely digging into her skin as though he wanted to drag her closer but feared she would protest.