Lord Fox's Pleasure. Helen Dickson
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I tend to agree with him.’
‘It’s none of your business,’ she retorted with cold hauteur, infuriated by his imperious tone. ‘I do not have to explain what I do to you, Lord Fox.’
‘Do you make a habit of leaving the house without telling anyone—unaccompanied?’ Lucas persisted.
‘Sometimes.’ She tossed her head, the chestnut tresses dancing against her back. ‘I do what I like.’
‘Then don’t you think it’s high time you began to consider the consequences of such recklessness and tried harder at being a lady?’ Lucas admonished, fighting the urge to turn her over his knee.
Prudence glanced up at him when he drew level and halted her by taking her arm at the end of the street. He was standing close, and though the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat hid part of his face, she detected a strong note of disapproval in his stance.
‘Mistress Fairworthy,’ he said curtly. ‘When I came upon you just now you were about to be ravished. Your abuser accused you of being a doxy and I do not care to know why. I am here on behalf of your brother to escort you home—under force, if necessary. So let us, in common agreement, strive to be both gracious and mannerly until we reach Maitland House, where your brother will deliver the punishment you deserve, and soundly thrash that most tender part of your anatomy and render you incapable of sitting down for at least a week.’
Prudence’s face burned, shamed and guilt-stricken because she felt she’d earned his condemnation—although the idea of being spanked like a naughty child went some way to shredding her confidence. Nevertheless she opened her mouth to challenge his statement, then closed it hastily. The expression in his eyes had frightened her.
‘Do I make myself clear?’
Dejectedly, she said on a quiet note, ‘Perfectly. Still—I am no doxy—and you, Lord Fox, should treat me with more courtesy and respect.’
‘Courtesy and respect have to be earned,’ he told her, satisfied by the lowering of her eyes and the droop to her soft bottom lip that she was adequately chastened.
‘I confess that when I saw you in the Strand yesterday I mistook you for a female of a very different kind—which was why I did what I did,’ he continued. When she made a move to carry on walking he took her arm once more and forced her to stand in front of him. ‘Come here—and stop dancing about,’ he said when she yanked her arm free and glared at him, mutiny returning to her dark eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you again,’ he told her drily, producing a handkerchief. ‘You have blood on your chin. You don’t want to face Thomas looking like you’ve been in battle, otherwise he will assume the worst.’
After placing the handkerchief to his lips and wetting it, he proceeded to rub Will Price’s dried blood off her chin none too gently, aware of the effort it was costing her to stand there and let him. When the task was completed his generous, laughing mouth broadened into a lazy smile. ‘I’m flattered you found the kiss I gave you more to your liking and did not feel the need to retaliate so cruelly.’
‘Why, you conceited, overbearing—’ She clamped her lips together in frustrated rage at the mockery playing in his gypsy eyes.
Lucas arched a sleek black brow. ‘I know. Infuriating, isn’t it? I have also been accused of being arrogant, ill bred and domineering. But I can be reasonable, polite and well mannered when the mood takes me,’ he said agreeably, gazing down at her lovely, rebellious face. ‘In fact, I can be rather nice on occasion.’
Prudence was thrown off guard by his unexpected gentleness. But then, with her meagre knowledge of men, she never did know what to expect from them. ‘Did you mean it when you said that when you first saw me yesterday, you mistook me for a woman of a different kind?’ she asked quietly.
Lucas studied her impassively for a long, silent moment, reading her perfectly correctly and sensing that this bothered her. ‘No. That was unfair of me,’ he said softly. ‘Would you really like to know what I saw when I looked at you yesterday?’
She nodded, gazing up at him silently.
‘I saw a lovely young woman with vibrant chestnut curls, wonderful eyes the colour of amethysts, and the smile of an angel. I will also tell you that you have an appeal—I can feel it. You have a fire burning inside you—and I find you the most enchanting creature I have seen in a long time. There is a freshness and warmth about you I find fascinating—in fact, you, my dear Mistress Fairworthy, are a veritable treasure trove of entrancing contrasts.’
‘But I didn’t know that was how people would see me,’ she said, her voice a husky whisper, feeling utterly confused and miserable, not wanting to be any of those things if it made men behave towards her as he had yesterday and Will Price had done today. She swallowed and looked away, her glorious dark eyes sparkling with suppressed tears, shining with the pain his words had caused her. ‘If I am like that I can’t help it. But I don’t want to be. There—there must be something wrong with me. It’s nothing to be proud of.’
Lucas took her chin gently between his finger and thumb, giving it a small shake to bring her gaze up to his once more, and he looked with deep regard into the unwavering depths of her eyes. ‘Let me assure you that there is definitely nothing wrong with you. I was paying you a compliment. You are a lovely, desirable young woman. It is hardly strange if the young blades find it hard to conceal their interest. You should be flattered by their attention rather than angry.’
Prudence stared at him in confusion, hardly able to believe the words he spoke or what she saw. Lord Fox’s eyes were full of warmth, and he was smiling at her with gentle understanding. ‘But how can I be flattered when it makes them behave like you did yesterday—and Will Price? It will bring me nothing but trouble.’
Realising just how hopelessly naïve and truly innocent she was, that she was unsullied and still a child in many aspects, Lucas sighed deeply. ‘No, it won’t. You might even begin to enjoy it. You can’t change what you are,’ he told her, envying the man who would one day unleash in her the sensual and passionate woman he knew she would be, ‘so you might as well make peace with it.’
‘Like you do, you mean,’ Prudence said, startled by the gentle caress in his voice and feeling the need to lash out defensively when she felt herself weakening, ‘by kissing every woman you meet?’
Lucas smiled ruefully, tracing his forefinger along the satin soft curve of her jaw. ‘I don’t. But if I did I wouldn’t hate myself for it.’
The tips of his fingers on her cheek, and the deep, compelling timbre of his voice, were beginning to have a strange, seductive impact on Prudence’s senses. Tingles of apprehensive excitement danced along her nerves.
Lucas studied her with heavy-lidded speculation, his gaze dropping to her soft lips and lingering on her mouth for a long moment before he slowly lifted his eyes to hers. ‘I was right, wasn’t I—last night—when I said you have never been kissed before.’
‘Yes,’ she confessed weakly.
‘I knew it.’
Prudence tilted her head on one side, frowning up at him. ‘How could you tell? Was I very bad?’ she asked candidly.
Lucas’s eyes were suddenly full of mirth, but he strove to keep a straight face to answer her question, which she had asked with the open curiosity of a child. ‘No. In fact with a little practice you could become perfect. I—could show you how it’s done. You will find me an excellent teacher,’ he said, wanting more than anything to show her there and then, to kiss her until he had her clinging to him and melting with desire.
Prudence snapped her head up. His words and their meaning brought her spirits plummeting back to earth. ‘Don’t you dare touch me. I do not require lessons from the likes of you.’
‘Are you not just a little bit curious to know how it feels to be kissed?’
‘I do.’
‘Properly, I mean.’