Chapter 16

Langdon awoke to a summer blue sky. Not outside. But here in his bed. Resting on her side, one hand beneath her cheek, a contented

look on her face, Marlowe was watching him. His hand was curled over her hip, the shirt providing a barrier between their

skin. He supposed even in sleep, he recognized that she wasn’t his to take liberties with.

“Did you sleep all right?” he asked.

Her smile was soft, not one broad enough to give him permission to kiss her as he wanted. “Mmm. I woke up well rested.”

Her slender fingers feathered along his throat, slipped beneath the chain around his neck, and skittered down until she was

holding the silver medallion his chest had warmed. “Why do you wear this?”

“My mother gave it to me. The image etched on it is of St. Christopher. Patron saint of travelers. She thought it would protect me during my journeys.” He wore it because he loved her and to make her feel better, not because he attributed any special powers to it.

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but saints are for everyone.” Her hand was resting against his skin. He wrapped his fingers around it and brought it

to his lips. “Even with your bruises, you’re still beautiful. How is your lip?”

“Tender but healing.”

“And your other lips?”

“Hoping I have a nightmare tonight.”

He laughed. “You are—”

“Ollie!”

He released a low groan and a solid curse as he heard the feet stomping up the stairs.

“Ollie?” she repeated.

“Oliver.” He threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed. “Wait here.”

“Who is it?”

“My brother.”

He’d just snatched up his shirt from where he’d tossed it the night before when the scoundrel dashed in, his gaze going directly

to the bed, and he staggered to an abrupt stop like he’d slammed into a stone wall. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened.

Of the three children his mother had delivered, Stuart was the one who most resembled her, with his blond hair and fairer

features. But his eyes were the Claybourne eyes, pewter gray.

“Mother sent me to check on you now that the waters have calmed. She was worried about you being in the storm, but it appears

you survived exceptionally well.”

“Get out.”

“Not going to introduce me to your lady fair?”

“No. This is hardly the appropriate setting for introductions. We’re not properly attired for God’s sake.” As soon as the

words were out, he wished he’d stilled his tongue before they were uttered.

His brother bowed, his gaze focused on Marlowe. “I’m Stuart. Unfortunate younger brother of Ollie here. I daresay it’s a pleasure

to make your acquaintance.”

“Get. The. Hell. Out.”

Stuart had the audacity to wink at her before spinning on his heel and heading from the room.

Langdon turned to look at her. She was sitting up, her back against the headboard, her gaze aimed at her hands folded primly

in her lap. Her cheeks were pink, and he couldn’t recall if he’d ever seen her blush. “I apologize for bringing attention

to our disheveled state.”

She gave her head a slight shake before glancing up. The sadness in those blue eyes was like a punch to the gut. “It’s all

right. I’m accustomed to not being introduced.”

He took a step toward her and noticed the tiniest of flinches. His back being flayed wouldn’t have hurt more. “I was striving

to protect you, your reputation.”

She arched a brow. “You think he doesn’t know who I am? And what reputation? It’s not sterling, I’m not a lady with any hope

of dragging a lord to the altar.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, cupped her chin, grateful she didn’t jerk away. “I handled the entire matter poorly and for that I apologize. I’m not ashamed of being seen with you—even if I’ve no right to be with you. There are better ways to have conveyed that to my brother. And I’m a bit put out with him for disturbing what was a

lovely beginning to the morning. Still, I need to make sure he understands that no one is to learn that you were here.” Leaning

forward, he pressed a kiss to her brow. “I won’t be long.”

As he descended the stairs, he dragged his shirt over his head. The stone was cold. He should have taken the time to pull

on his boots, but he wanted Stuart gone as quickly as possible. He found his brother in the front chamber staring at the multicolored

cloth spread out over the floor, his hands on his hips. Some instinct must have alerted him to Langdon’s silent arrival because

he abruptly turned, a bit of censure marring his otherwise handsome face. “You do know who she is.”

“Of course I do.”

“How did Marlowe end up here? Did you steal her from Hollingsworth? Does he know? When you return to London, are you going

to be facing a pistol at dawn?”

“No pistol at dawn because you’re not to tell anyone she was here.”

“But you’re cuckolding him.”

“I believe that term applies only to a husband.” He released a deep sigh. “But no, it’s not what you think. The storm delivered

her to my shore. I have only the one bed. Nothing untoward happened within it.” Nothing very untoward at least.

With a curt laugh, Stuart shook his head. “You have London’s most beautiful and infamous courtesan in your bed, and you don’t fuck her?”

Langdon saw so much red that he thought he might drown in it. He was also very close to punching his brother. “Don’t use that

word when speaking about her.”

“Which one? Beautiful? Courtes—”

“Fuck. And no, I did not.”

His brother stared at him. “Christ, I believe you. Don’t think I could have said the same.”

“You’re not to touch her.”

“I wasn’t planning to. After all, we’ve not been formerly introduced.” He didn’t attempt to hide his sarcasm, and Langdon

realized he’d insulted his brother as well as Marlowe by not introducing them, but then he’d have never introduced any woman

found in his bed. It simply wasn’t done.

Turning slightly, Stuart waved his arm in the general direction of the cloth. “What is all this?”

“An envelope.”

“Have a lengthy letter to post, have you?”

His brother tried so hard to be humorous when all he was succeeding at was being irritating. “Apparently that’s the official

name of that portion of a hot-air balloon. It’s how Marlowe ended up on my shore. She flew the bloody thing. Unfortunately,

it crashed in the sea. Only that was salvageable.”

His eyes widened in awe. “She’s an aeronaut?”

“Yes.”

“She might get more respect if people knew that.”

His hands closing into fists, he took a menacing step forward. “Who doesn’t respect her?”

The irony of the question struck him once he heard the words spoken aloud. He’d once viewed her as a ruined woman and given her less respect than she deserved.

Stuart opened his mouth to speak, closed it. Grinned broadly. “Hello, Marlowe. Ollie was just telling me you’re an aeronaut.

Well done.”

Langdon swung around to see her standing in the doorway, wearing his shirt and the blanket skirt, her hair plaited. Christ,

how much had she heard? He prayed nothing.

“In London, I’ve never heard anyone refer to him as Ollie.”

How often had she heard anyone refer to him at all?

“Oh, he hates it. That’s why I do it. Younger brothers are supposed to be a nuisance and I take my role in his life very seriously.”

Her smile was small, no doubt because of her injured lip, but it was obvious by the twinkling in her eyes that she was charmed.

Stuart had that devil-may-care sense about him that gave the impression he was jolly good fun. Who was Langdon kidding? Stuart

was always up for a good time. He had no responsibilities weighing him down. As the spare he was free to do as he pleased.

“Ollie was explaining the unfortunate circumstances that brought you to his shore. I would be more than delighted to take

you back across to the mainland.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Langdon said so sharply that both Marlowe and Stuart snapped their heads around to stare at him in surprise, like maybe they’d forgotten he was even there. He feared they could see the green-eyed monster presently sitting squarely on his shoulder. He was swamped with possessiveness and jealousy when he had no right to either emotion because she wasn’t bloody well his. “I’ll be taking her across this afternoon.”

It was ridiculous for him to go to the bother of doing so when Stuart would already be taking the same route. He was certainly

capable of getting her to the village and ensuring she boarded a coach that would get her to London. But Langdon wanted to

be responsible for her, care for her, and, in essence, be her hero. Could he be any more of a fool?

He expected both to object or to argue the ridiculousness of his plan.

“Would you mind if I stayed a bit longer?” Marlowe asked. “Just until I’ve finished mending the balloon. You have so much

more room here, and your lack of furnishings allows me to spread it out. My town house has no chamber as large as all this

and it’s not nearly as sparsely decorated.”

Langdon was very much aware of his brother’s rapt attention. Still, he nodded. “Very well. It won’t be a bother for you to

stay.” Could he sound any more disaffected, especially as he was grateful to have her to himself for a few more days? He turned

to his brother. “I’ll walk you down to your boat.”

Stuart’s sardonic grin conveyed that he knew Langdon was striving to get rid of him. Once more, he bowed toward his guest.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Marlowe.”

“You as well, my lord,” she said sweetly.

Where was her tart tongue when it came to his brother? On the other hand, he rather liked that she reserved it for him.

It wasn’t until they were outside, walking down the path, that Stuart said, “I think you’ve stolen her from Hollingsworth

without even realizing it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“So you do realize it.”

He growled. “I’ve not stolen her. She’s as loyal to Hollingsworth as I’ve seen any woman be loyal.”

“But she asked to stay.”

“Because she cares about her bloody balloon.”

“What do you care about?”

Nothing he was interested in discussing. “Assure Mother that I’m fine. I’ll visit in a few days so she can see for herself.

Do not tell her about Marlowe. Mother will want to come over to check on matters, and I’d rather she not.” Selfishly, he wanted

whatever time was left to him and Marlowe to be theirs and theirs alone. “I’ll introduce Marlowe when we arrive.”

They walked along in silence for several minutes. Langdon preferred his brother quiet.

“I heard you once had an opportunity during a card game to win her from Hollingsworth. I’m surprised you didn’t take matters

in hand to ensure you won.”

“It would have been only for a few hours.”

“I would have cheated to have her alone for a few minutes .”

Langdon was hardly aware of quickly twisting around and grabbing his brother by his shirtfront. “If you cross paths with her in the future, you will show her the utmost respect. You won’t be leering at her the way you did in there.” He jerked his head toward the tiny stone castle. “And if you wish to retain all your teeth and continue to receive an allowance after Father passes, you will absolutely do nothing in order to have her at all.” He gave Stuart a little shake. “Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

“Good God, you’ve fallen for her.”

Releasing his hold, he shoved his brother away. “Don’t be daft.”

He’d come to like her. Certainly. But fallen for her? He was too practical to make that sort of tragic error in judgment.

“You seem terribly protective.”

“I’ve read that in some cultures if you save a person’s life, you become responsible for them.”

“Not in ours.”

“Still, I saw the woman near death—and I’ve seen others succumb to its call—so yes, I suppose a part of me doesn’t want to

see any harm come to her and feels a need to defend her from those who might use her callously.”

“I wouldn’t, but”—he held up his hand before Langdon could issue a retort—“I’ll honor your request to steer clear of her.”

“Very good.”

Stuart began walking, and Langdon fell into step beside him. He loved his brother and didn’t usually go about issuing threats but the thought of anyone seeing Marlowe as a source of momentary amusement made his blood boil. She was worthy of a man who appreciated every aspect of her. Hollingsworth might not be her husband, but she seemed to care for him and he for her... except for the one night when he’d offered her up. That continued to vex and made no sense.

“At dinner the other night, Mother speculated this might be the Season you settle on a wife,” Stuart said quietly.

Langdon sighed. “Why are mothers always so anxious to marry off their children?”

“I think it makes them feel their children become someone else’s responsibility.”

“I’m twenty-eight. She’s no longer responsible for me.”

“She feels differently. Why else have me come check on you?”

“She’d probably feel responsible for us if we’d seen a hundred years. Perhaps it’s just the way of mothers.” He wasn’t quite

certain Marlowe’s mother had done right by her. He tried not to sit in judgment, but he wondered how different her life would

be if her mother had stepped up and taken care of matters instead of relying on her daughter to do so. He also understood

how hard it was to let others see you bruised and broken. His family all believed him scarred but mended. However, some wounds

simply wouldn’t heal.

They reached the shoreline where Stuart had moored his boat. Two men Langdon recognized as serving as footmen up at the estate

were sitting on a large boulder staring out at the sea of blue. “You didn’t come alone.”

“No. Water might look calm, but I don’t quite trust it.” He grinned. “If you’d known I wouldn’t be alone with her, would you

have let me take her across?”

“We’ll never know.”

“Oh, I think we very much know. How does it work when a mistress wants to be mistress to some other gent? It’s not as if she

has to divorce the first. Does she just leave? Would you have to duel for her honor?”

“She’s not going to leave him.”

“Conferred with her about it already?”

He sighed deeply and with frustration. “No. And I’m not going to discuss it with you. Get in the damned boat.”

With a deep laugh, Stuart swept his arm through the air. “All right, gents, we’re headed back to Heatherwood.” It was the

name of the family estate.

After everyone was situated in the boat, oars at the ready, Langdon pushed on the skiff, wading into the water until he could

properly shove it and its occupants off.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Stuart yelled.

Shaking his head, Langdon waved. Then he stood there, the water swirling and eddying around his calves, and wondered how a

mistress did go about breaking things off with her lover. He knew men who had let their mistresses go, usually by purchasing them expensive

gifts, but he’d never wondered how a woman might instigate the proceedings. And would Marlowe have any interest in securing

him as her protector?

On the other hand, did he want to be associated with a woman of such notoriety?