Beth closed the door softly behind her and stood with her back pressed against it, wondering if she could really carry out her plan. The earl was watching her.
She had unpinned her hair and brushed it until it shone like a coppery curtain around her shoulders, the rich colour accentuated by the pale ivory of her silk wrap.
'Mrs Forrester!'
She forced her lips to curve upwards. She must look warm, seductive. Smile, Beth, she silently encouraged herself. You are no shrinking virgin; you know how it feels to be in a man's arms.
'I have come to talk to you, my lord.' Good, her voice was a little breathless. She did not miss the flicker of interest in his hard eyes.
'Is it not a little late, madam?' he asked her, his brows raised. 'Would it not be better to talk in the morning?'
'I think not.' She took a step towards him. 'I wanted … to be alone with you.'
He reached for her hand and she knew a moment of terror. Quickly she lowered her lashes, veiling her thoughts from him. He led her to the chair beside the fire.
'Will you not sit down? You look a little pale. Peters has left me some brandy, or I could send for wine … '
'Brandy would be very welcome, thank you.' The ghost of a genuine smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. 'It would not do for anyone to know I am here.'
'Of course not.'
There was only one glass beside the decanter. The earl filled it and handed it to Beth. She took it with both hands, praying he had not seen the way her fingers trembled. His lips twitched.
'I'd wager you are not familiar with that drink, madam.'
She did not answer him. The pungent liquid was burning her throat, though she would die before she admitted as much. He leant back against the bed, his arms folded in front of him.
'What is it you wish to discuss, Mrs Forrester?'
She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. 'I-um-I hope you have enjoyed your stay at the Priory, my lord. I … I have not been as … welcoming as I ought.'
He inclined his head, saying politely, 'You have been all kindness, ma'am.'
'You are too generous.' She took another sip of brandy. Really, it was not so bad and at least it stopped her shivering. She said, 'I have been a little … cold towards you, I fear, but you know the reason for that now.'
'You were concerned for your brother.'
'Yes.' She rose. 'I thought perhaps I could … I might … make amends.'
She forced herself to stand still, hands at her sides and her eyes fixed upon his face. They were only inches apart. She saw his eyes darken and glow with something she did not understand, but suspected was desire. As if someone had opened a pot-pourri jar she was suddenly aware of his scent, a mixture of sandalwood and spices. Slowly he reached out one hand and caught the belt of her wrap, pulling her towards him. Her heart jumped and began to hammer a swift tattoo against her ribs.
You wanted to know how his arms would feel, she reminded herself as she stepped closer, eyes lowered, breast rising and falling quickly as he untied her belt and pushed the wrap from her shoulders, revealing her thin nightgown. It had formed part of her original trousseau, but had never been worn. Light as gossamer, it hid none of her charms. The strings at the neck were loose and the gown had already slipped from one shoulder. He reached up and ran his fingers lightly over the curve of her neck between shoulder and jaw. She could see the pulse jumping at his throat. He wanted her. The thought excited and frightened her. He slid his thumb under her chin and tilted her face up. She kept her eyes modestly lowered, the dark lashes sweeping her pale cheeks. She forced herself to stand passively while he cupped her face with his hands and began to cover her face with light gentle kisses. When he slid his mouth over her lips they parted invitingly and she was immediately aware of a change. The earl's mouth instantly became more insistent; he wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hands over her buttocks and pressing her against him. There was only a fine layer of muslin between her flesh and his roving fingers. Her muscles tightened, she was pressed against his groin and there was no mistaking his arousal. Instantly her body responded, hips tilting, breasts almost painfully taut. He explored her mouth with his tongue and she gave up trying to resist and kissed him back until she was quite heady with desire.
She almost groaned when he broke away and scooped her up to lay her on the bed. She reached for him, eager for him to take her, but he evaded her hands and stood looking down at her. The bed-hangings were tied back and she lay in the golden glow of candlelight, her hair spread over the coverlet and her body tantalisingly visible through the fine muslin of her nightgown. She watched as his gaze ran over her. No man had ever studied her thus before. Her husband had insisted their couplings took place in the dark, hinting that only a wanton would display herself to a man. Now, as Darrington turned away to toss his waistcoat over the chair she was shaken by doubt.
What are you doing, surely you do not think you can seduce a man as experienced as Lord Darrington?
He turned back to her at that moment and she dragged up a smile, but not quick enough. He had seen the uncertainty in her eyes and stood looking down at her.
'Why are you doing this, Beth?'
'Does there have to be a reason?'
He had positioned himself so that he did not prevent the candlelight from falling on her face, but his own countenance was in shadow. She knew he was watching her and she suddenly felt very vulnerable. At last he spoke.
'You think that you can seduce me, so that I will not betray your brother.'
'No! I-'
He put a finger on her lips. 'Do not lie to me, Beth.'
She sat up, pulling up the neck of her nightgown. 'I th-thought I might persuade you … '
She heard the anger in his voice as he ground out, 'I am not so cheaply bought!'
The words cut her like a whip and she flinched. She wrapped her arms over her breasts as shame and embarrassment burned her up.
'Here.' He picked up her wrap. 'Put that on.'
She almost snatched it from his hand, struggling into it while he stepped across to the fire and threw on more logs. His movements were quick and angry. Taking advantage of his distraction, Beth eased herself off the covers and fled.
Guy heard the soft click as the door closed and swung round. She had gone. With a muttered oath he threw himself into one of the chairs, trying to make sense of the welter of emotions that were raging through him. Anger and disappointment made a bitter mixture! What in hell's name did she think she was playing at? She was as good as married to Radworth. Guy did not think her the sort to enter into such an agreement lightly, but it might be a business arrangement, a marriage of convenience. He could not deny he was attracted to the lady and if she had come to satisfy a mutual lust he could have accepted that, but to offer herself to him, like some sort of sacrifice, and an unwilling one at that-did she think so little of him?
Sighing, he walked across to the washstand and plunged his face into the cold water. The chill sobered him, dousing any lingering desire and cooling his anger. She had come to him in an attempt to protect her brother, yet Guy remembered the way she had responded to his kiss-she was not indifferent to him, he would swear it!
And if he had taken her, if they had spent the night in passionate love-making, what then? Would she have walked away once she had extracted from him the promise not to betray her brother? No. Beth Forrester might be a widow, but she was an innocent. He would stake his life that she was far too honourable to sleep with one man and marry another.
'So you are well out of it,' he told himself as he climbed into bed. 'You have saved the woman-and yourself-a great deal of trouble!'
Back in her room, Beth locked the door and leaned against it, shaking. What had she done? How could she have been foolish enough to think that she could seduce a man? She had no experience, save for the quick, clumsy coupling she had shared with her husband years ago. When the earl had taken her into his arms and kissed her she had experienced a thrill of excitement, a pleasurable anticipation of what might follow.
If only he had not stopped then and questioned her. If only he had taken her in his arms and made love to her as she wanted him to do-perhaps she would not have had the courage to ask for his silence, but at least she would not have felt this wrenching, gnawing hunger for his touch. Even now her body was aroused, tingling at the very thought of him.
Without pausing to snuff out the candles burning on the mantelshelf, Beth threw herself on her bed and curled into a ball while scalding tears spilled over her cheeks. Her actions had done nothing but make the situation worse-she might even have made Darrington think Simon was guilty. After all, what woman would stoop to such tactics if she had nothing to hide?