his. “I am not…worthy of you.”
He smiled. “What nonsense. You are worthy of any man.”
Overcome by the love that swelled his heart as he looked at her, he bent to kiss her. Her lips were warm and soft beneath his, hinting of such pleasure that he almost could not bear it. He wanted her in that moment more than he ever had before. His blood pounded in his ears and thrummed through his veins. He thought of Rachel’s body pliant in his arms, of her mouth opening to him in passion.
His arms went around her, and he pulled her close against him, his kiss deepening. Heat surged through his body, and he pressed her body into his, delighting in her softness. His lips moved against hers, tasting the sweetness he had dreamed about for months. He thought of the days and weeks ahead, of introducing Rachel to the delights of the flesh, of exploring her body with his hands and mouth, of teaching her the pleasure they could bring each other, and a tremor of lust shook him.
The last thing he wanted to do was to end the kiss, to release her and step back, but he made himself do it. He must not frighten her with the extent of the passion pounding through him.
Rachel stared up at him, eyes wide with surprise. Her lips were soft and moist, dark from the pressure of his mouth, and the sight of them was enough to stir his lust all over again. Michael carefully took another step back, clearing his throat.
“I beg your pardon. I should not…” His mind was too clouded with desire to think of anything rational to say. “Perhaps we should, um, say good-night.”
“Yes, my lord.” Rachel’s words were barely a whisper, and she whirled and hurried from the room.
Michael took a step after her, suddenly worried that it had been fear he had read in her eyes, not merely surprise. Then he stopped, thinking that if she was a little frightened, his chasing after her would only increase her fear. No doubt his sudden kiss had startled her. It had not been, he thought rather disgustedly, a suave or subtle move on his part. It was not like him; in general, he was a man who was in control. But Rachel’s beauty tested his control, and over the months of their engagement he had had to exercise an iron control over his desires. With the end almost in sight, he had let his guard down. He would have to be more careful, he thought, to keep his distance from his fiancée until after the ceremony.
Right now, he told himself, the best thing to do would be to leave her alone. If his passion had upset her, her mother or sister would be much better at allaying her fears than he.
Michael retired to his study and poured himself a brandy.
He was still there over an hour later, his blood cooler, reading a book and sipping at the last of a second brandy, when there was a polite tap on the door. It was the butler, looking faintly embarassed.
“My lord…” he began somewhat tentatively. “The, ah, head groom wishes to speak to you. I told him you were in your study, but he was most insistent. He would not say what it was.” The butler looked displeased at that notion, but continued. “However, he seemed to feel the matter was urgent. I am sorry to disturb you, but, as it was Tanner…”
“Yes, quite right.” Michael rose from his chair, faintly curious. He supposed there must be some problem with one of the horses—or perhaps one of the guests’ animals. Tanner was a normally phlegmatic sort, not the kind to urgently seek his employer’s counsel.
Tanner was waiting for him just outside the door leading into the back garden, holding his hat in his hands and twisting the soft cloth nervously. Michael had known the man since he had come there as a groom when Michael was just a boy, and there was something in his leathery face that made Michael suddenly apprehensive.
“What is it?” he asked without preamble, striding over to the man. “Is it Saladin?” He named his favorite mount, a black stallion of unusual grace and speed.
Tanner looked faintly surprised. “What? Oh, no, my lord. Nothing like that. Saladin’s as fine and fit as ever. ’Tis something else entirely.” He paused, looking at Michael uncomfortably. “I’m hoping you won’t take this the wrong way, sir. I wouldn’t have even come to ye, ’cept that the lad generally has a good head on his shoulders. He’s not the sort to go startin’ at shadows.”
“I’m sorry, Tanner. I’m not sure—who are you talking about?”
“One of my lads, sir. Dougie. He’s a good boy, one of the best I’ve had here, and I would say trustworthy. He came to me just now with a story….”
“Yes?” Michael encouraged him when the other man’s voice trailed off. “A story you thought I should hear?”
“Exactly.” Tanner sighed, then said in a rush, “The thing is, the lad thought he saw Miss Aincourt.”
“Miss Aincourt?” Whatever he had expected the head groom to say, it had certainly not been this. “My fiancée?”
“Yes. That’s right. Down below the gardens, along the path that leads to the meadow.”
“The meadow! When? You mean tonight?”
“Aye, sir.” The other man looked away, not meeting his gaze. “Maybe thirty minutes ago or so. Dougie was taking a walk before bed, and he comes back inside, lookin’ all distraught, and he pulls me aside and he says he seen Miss Aincourt down there.”
“He must be mistaken,” Michael said automatically. “At this time of night? I just saw Miss Aincourt a little over an hour ago, and she was going up to bed.”
“I asked him, sir, and he swore up and down that it was the lady herself. He was taken aback to see her, he said, so he moved a little closer. He…” The groom hesitated, then went on in a rush. “He saw that she was talkin’ to a man.”
Michael went suddenly cold. His fingers curled into his palms. “Go on,” he said, amazed at how even his voice sounded.
“Dougie thought it was you at first, so he was goin’ to turn and leave, only a horse whinnied. He looked an’ seen there was a bay tied to one of the trees, kind of back in the shadow. Now Dougie knows horses, and this wasn’t one of ours, so he—he didn’t know what to do, sir. He was thinkin’ he shouldn’t leave Miss Aincourt out there alone, an’ he reckoned the man was a stranger, ’cause of the horse. So he stayed, watching, tryin’ to decide. And then, well, the man led his horse out, an’ Dougie saw his face. It was no one he’d ever seen afore, he said. An’ he—he helped Miss Aincourt onto the horse and mounted it after her, an’ they—they rode off.”
The groom studiously examined the flagstone walkway beneath his feet. Michael felt as if someone had just knocked the wind out of him. He remembered suddenly the look on Rachel’s face after he kissed her—surprise, he’d thought, then wondered if it had been fear. Had the force of his passion scared her into running from him? Then he remembered that she had seemed a little odd all evening.
He took a breath and tried to clear the confusion from his head. “He is certain?”
“He swears it is what he saw. I wouldn’t have bothered you if it had been some of the other lads. But Dougie…well, I’ve never known him to lie or even exaggerate. I asked him over and over, an’ he insisted he hadn’t been mistaken. There was no smell of gin on his breath. I didn’t know what to do, sir, but finally I decided I had to tell you and let you decide, you know….” His voice trailed off miserably.
“I
