Chapter Nine

M abel had been lucky enough to be put in a bedroom with two large bay windows overlooking the river, fitted with alcove benches. Sunshine was the theme, as the bedding, lounges, and wallpaper were all shades of yellow. It was a rather cheerful space, but Mabel couldn't help but be disengaged as she toyed with the king of hearts from her deck of cards.

Placing the card back down onto the top of the deck, Mabel continued to fidget. Her index finger pushed into the center of the deck as her middle and ring fingers held one side in place, then her thumb pulled back, causing the cards to flutter against her palm.

She was struggling to stay focused on her sister as she listened to Leona go on and on about Alfred.

"—I couldn't believe that he had followed me into the garden, but then he said he was desperate to speak with me. He said that he couldn't stand that he had made me so upset and promised to spend a lifetime making it up to me," Leona recounted, smiling. She was leaning against the wardrobe, gaze lifted to the ceiling as she rocked slowly back and forth. "It really was the most romantic thing anyone has ever said."

"I'm sure it was, my dear."

"Oh, I'm so glad I've decided to forgive him."

"Have you?"

"Yes, although I haven't told him that yet. I think I'll tell him tomorrow, during the regatta." Leona gave a light little laugh and then pushed off from the wardrobe. "How was your tour with the earl?"

"Oh, fine, I suppose," Mabel said, putting her brush on the table.

"Just fine?"

"Yes," she said. Leona frowned. "What is it?"

"Hmm? Oh nothing. It's just… Alfred and I were speaking earlier and… No, really, it's nothing."

Leona hurried toward the door.

"Wait, Leona," Mabel said, standing up. "Tell me what were you speaking about."

"Well," she said, dropping her gaze. "It's just, we both thought you two might have found some common ground. You know, you were so hesitant to befriend him when we first came here, but lately, you seem to be getting along better."

Mabel couldn't tell her sister precisely what she and the earl had in common. Instead, she shrugged and Leona leaned her back against the door.

"Have no fear, my dear," Mabel said. "The earl and I will maintain civility while we're in each other's company."

Leona's smile widened.

"I'm very glad to hear it. You know, Alfred told me that you would have a permanent invitation to stay with the Trembleys whenever you wish to visit. He said he understood what it was like to be away from his family, particularly what it was like to be separated from his siblings and, well, he wanted to make sure that you knew you were always welcome. And now that you and the earl have become friendly, maybe it will be easier for you to visit."

The grain of guilt Mabel had been experiencing seemed to grow into a pall-mall-sized ball. While she firmly believed that Leona would be better off back home in Philadelphia, Mabel couldn't squelch a growing worry that perhaps that opinion was driven more by what she wanted rather than precisely what Leona needed. The longer she spent in her sister's company, the more unsure she became of what would be best.

She wondered if Derek felt the same.

"That is a very kind thing for Alfred to say."

"Oh, but he didn't just say it. He meant it. Alfred cares about you just as much as I do."

Mabel pushed the uncomfortable feeling of being cared for out of her heart.

"It's getting late, dear," Mabel said.

"Oh, of course." Leona turned and opened the door. "Goodnight, Mabel."

"Goodnight," she replied as she closed the door behind her sister.

Well, if that wasn't enough to make her question everything about her arrangement with Derek, she didn't know what would. Why did Alfred have to be so accommodating and caring? It was enough to make her question whether it was right to tear Leona away from someone so sweet and kind.

No. She wasn't just questioning—she knew. It wasn't right to separate them. It wasn't right at all.

Sighing, Mabel walked toward the window bench, and sat on the yellow silk cushions and bolster pillows as she gazed out the pane glass. The last of the laborers were leaving, packing up their carts with tools and whatnot. She could see Derek, in a waistcoat and shirt sleeves, inspecting the bricks himself as the last of the light from the workers' oil lamps faded, leaving him in darkness.

For a moment, she thought about going down to speak with him. She couldn't ignore this growing fear that she wasn't doing right by her sister and Alfred. She wanted to stop meddling in their affairs, and she resolved to tell Derek as much.

As the last of the workers waved to the earl before leaving, Mabel decided to confront him. Standing up, she wrapped herself in her aubergine robe and quickly left her room.

It was nearing midnight, and most everyone had retired early to prepare for tomorrow's festivities, so the household was fast asleep. Without making any sound, Mabel hurried down the stairs, halting abruptly as she heard footsteps. Twisting quickly around the baluster, she ducked out of sight as a pair of footmen marched across the foyer. Once they had disappeared into the dining room, Mabel continued toward the front door and exited the house.

The midsummer night air was warm and comforting as she crossed the drive to the lawn. She knew that it wasn't terribly clever to go traipsing around an unfamiliar property at night, but she couldn't help herself. She needed to speak with Derek immediately.

The moon was full and low in the sky, shining a good amount of light across the grass as she walked down to the small bridge that led into the folly.

Derek was leaning against one of the brick pillars, gazing up as if he were trying to spot something. His shirtsleeves had since been folded up over his forearms, and Mabel ignored the simmering heat that coursed through her at the sight of them.

When he glanced at her, he started at first to look away again before doing a double take when recognition struck. Smiling, even with his brow knit together, he cocked his head to the left.

"Mabel? What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling out his pocket watch. Leaning his hand out of the shadows, he read the face in the moonlight. "It's nearly midnight."

"I wanted to speak with you."

"It couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"No, unfortunately. I believe it's something that cannot be delayed." Derek folded his arms across his broad chest, and Mabel made a point not to let her gaze linger on his exposed forearms. "It's just that… Are you feeling, maybe, a little guilty about what we're doing?"

He frowned.

"Guilty? No, not really."

"You don't?" she asked again, shifting from one foot to the other, unsure. "You aren't at all ashamed of all our meddling?"

"Meddling? I wouldn't call it that."

"No?" she asked. "I think trying to break two people apart may be the definition of meddling."

Realization appeared on his face.

"Oh, you're speaking about Leona and Alfred? Well then, yes, I suppose I have felt somewhat guilty about it, but it's what we decided what was best, wasn't it?"

Mabel shook her head.

"Yes, but I don't know if I'm doing it for the right reasons. I think perhaps we were too quick to judge Leona and Alfred's relationship by our own wishes. When you look at them together, without any preconceptions in the way, it's clear that they are quite devoted to one another."

"They are," he said, unfolding his arms as he approached her. "But I thought we decided that separating them was for the better?"

"Yes, but, well… I think I've changed my mind."

"Have you?"

"Yes," she said, moving past him to scan across the river. A handsome white stone estate sat across the water on the opposite bank. "It's just, from what I've witnessed, Alfred seems perfectly capable of keeping Leona happy. And as much as I'd rather have her return to Philadelphia, I'm almost positive that if I was able to bring that about, she would be miserable."

"Leona does seem to bring out the best in Alfred."

She twisted back to face him.

"Then perhaps we should resign our attempts at separating them."

Derek nodded slowly.

"I suppose you're right. I don't relish the thought of Alfred being hurt if he is not able to marry Leona. Besides, my mother is rather fond of her."

Mabel smirked.

"Yes, I noticed that too."

"Very well then," he said. "We will dissolve our previous agreement."

Mabel stuck out her hand, and Derek took it after a moment. The warmth of his fingers wrapped around hers nearly caused her to shiver. When she glimpsed up, she saw that the humor floating at the edge his lips had disappeared. His face was solemn now, and the hairs on the back of Mabel's neck begin to stand up.

Just then, a tremor went through his hand, and he dropped hers immediately as if to hide it. Considering that they were alone and rather more coconspirators now than acquaintances, Mabel wanted him to know that the shaking of his hands did not bother her.

"I don't think anyone else notices it," she said softly, uncertain how he might respond. Would he be upset with her for bringing it up? But she felt it needed to be said, even if it did upset him at first. "Your hands, I mean." Evidently, he was stunned, for he just gaped at her. She swallowed before continuing. "It's not noticeable, it what I meant to say."

He stayed silent as an uncomfortable flush of embarrassment crawled up her spine. She shouldn't have said anything. It was apparent he didn't want to discuss it, and yet—

" You noticed it."

Mabel's mind raced to try and think of something clever or witty. Something charming that would deflect from the moment. Something that might make him laugh and put him at ease at the same time, but all she could say was, "Yes."

"So, it is noticeable."

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "No one else seems to even notice your hands when it starts and if they do, you're rather quick at hiding it." She paused. "Is it… Do you know what causes it?"

Derek shook his head.

"No."

Mabel's hand came up to her head as she silently scolded herself. She had no right to ask him such a question.

"I'm sorry. It was unkind of me to ask."

"No," he said. "It's all right, I suppose. I've just never discussed it out loud."

"Not even with your mother?"

"My mother?" he asked before realization dawned on him. "Oh. Because she gets it as well? No. My mother's tremors seem to come on during anxious times for her. But my own never come during one particular time or another—at least, not that I've noticed. It happens when I'm annoyed, or happy, or excited. Even when I'm tired." He inhaled and exhaled slowly. "There seems no rhyme or reason for it."

"Oh."

"Yes," he said, gazing up.

The profile of his face was outlined in moonlight, and the line of his jaw was predominantly severe. Mabel nearly bit her lip as she strained to keep herself from giving in to the urge to touch it. Instead, she gave him an uncomfortable smile. She needed to escape him immediately, or she might find herself in a dangerous predicament.

"Well then," she said, dipping her chin. "Good evening."

But before she could walk past him, his hand touched her elbow, and she stilled.

A warm, near-tangible electricity vibrated between them. They both seemed to breathe momentarily, acutely aware of the heat between them. When Mabel lifted her gaze, Derek leaned forward with deliberate slowness while she remained perfectly still.

She racked her brain searching for something to say, but as the seconds dragged on, no words came to mind. Mabel's heart hammered within her chest, unsure why he had stopped her if he had nothing to say. She nearly pulled away when his hand came up and, for the briefest of moments, touched her cheek.

Like a thread snapping, all clear thinking evaporated as Mabel leaned in and kissed him. The moment their lips touched, Mabel was flooded with the same familiar, intoxicating sensation that had swallowed her the first time they kissed.

Mabel's hand rose against the side of his head, and her fingertips barely grazed his scalp as she scratched through his hair, causing him to shiver. His fingers tightened on her wrist, and the sharp intake of breath from her mouth at the corner of his lips made his solid body press against hers. It was outrageous, and yet she could sense the demanding need of his body. She deepened her kiss, her tongue swiping against his. He shifted, and her body pressed against the railing of the folly, pinned there by his weight and his strength.

Derek's mouth drifted downward as Mabel gasped out. His lips trailed over the length of her neck as his free hand drifted upward. The one holding her wrist raised it gently, pinning her arm over her head while his other hand drifted slowly over her breast. Mabel let out a shaky breath and arched her back as if begging for his touch, and blessingly, he complied.

Slowly, he fingered the edge of her robe, moving up and down with excruciating deliberateness. He peeled back the silk only to tease the peak of her breast through the thin fabric of her night rail. Mabel's skin was hot and aching, and the utter torment of his determined, unhurried movements caused her to growl. It was as if he thought he might miss something, causing Mabel to become desperate. She didn't need the gentle touch of an experienced man to carefully lead her toward orgasm.

She knew what she wanted.

"Derek, please," she said. "Faster."

"Not for all the stars in the sky."

She exhaled.

"This is torture. I'm not some young miss who needs you to waste time with—"

"My love, you speak as if this wasn't something to savor," he said as his head dipped. "I'd pay a fortune to be allowed to spend forever watching you squirm like this."

"Please," she breathed as his hot breath skimmed her nipple through the cloth. "Derek, please."

"Yes," he murmured softly. "My god, is there anything lovelier than your pleas?"

"Derek…"

Without warning, Derek's mouth fell to her breast, his wet mouth soaking the fabric as he sucked. Mabel's entire body quaked as his teeth toyed with her, lightly nibbling on her flesh beneath the nightgown.

What torture, yet what bliss. Every moment, every breath in his presence was exquisite, and he refused to hurry that which he seemed to feel demanded his meticulous attention.

"Derek," she moaned softly as his hand drifted lower between them. "Ah, we, shouldn't…"

"Do you want this?" he asked, as she began to shake in his arms.

"I… Yes…"

Evidently, that was all he needed to hear. Derek suddenly lifted her up and pushed her against the brick column while simultaneously bending his head to take the tip of her breast into his mouth to taste her more thoroughly. Though he didn't hold all of her body weight up, she was decidedly higher as he no longer had to bend his neck.

Her arms wrapped around his head, holding her tight as he feasted upon her. He changed between sucking and nibbling, and her erratic breathing only seemed to fuel him more. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulled and pressed him against her chest as her hips bucked forward, other parts of her wantonly desperate for his touch.

The need for him, as well as the desire, scorched her inhibitions as she released her hold on him. She slipped to her feet, several inches lower than she had been, but then he dropped lower and lower. His palms smoothed around the flare of her hips through her thin, muslin nightgown until he was on one knee, touching her ankles. Mabel's mood swung from disappointment to confusion to sheer shock.

"Derek, we can't—"

"Hush," he commanded.

"But—"

"Mabel, I cannot possibly live another day on this earth without tasting you. And I intend to do so, right this minute."

Her mouth dropped open at his words, and she knew in that instant that she would never forget this image of him, bathed in moonlight, mouth agape and eyes wide with equal parts need and desire.

Gathering the hem of her nightgown in his hands, he pushed up. Finding the part between her draws, he slowly, almost reverently, kissed her as her entire body jumped. Mabel hadn't ever experienced this sort of tenderness. He tasted her, licking deeply as she twitched and squirmed. One hand pressed against her hip bone, pinning Mabel's lower half against the brick column, while the other hand came underneath her, where her buttocks met her leg, and held her still as he continued to consume her.

Almost immediately, she began to shake, and then cry out. Surprisingly, she wasn't terribly worried about how loud she was. She had no fear of being heard, as her world had shrunk to this fish folly. The taste of his mouth still lingered on her lips, and her heart seemed to beat with the idea that this man would devour her. Every inch of him, every flavor, every word he spoke, was hers, and satisfaction rolled through her at his ability to make her squeak.

"Derek!" she cried, her body chasing a need that would not stop until it was fulfilled. "Yes! Please, yes."

A mighty swarm of pleasure swept through her as her body involuntarily clenched. Derek only deepened his fingers and maddeningly licked at every drop as her orgasm broke.

Moments, minutes, or months could have passed before Derek wrapped his arms around her thighs. When her limp body sagged against the column behind her, he squeezed around her legs before he drew away and came up off of his knees. When she saw him, dark hair rumpled, lips lustrous in the moonlight, she sighed. Never had a man been so tantalizing, and she was desperate to taste him as he had tasted her, to share all the wild need she had for him.

He stepped forward, looking as if he intended to have more of her, when the gentle sound of clanking, like tin on glass, caught his attention. Mabel barely heard it as she gave him the tiniest of smiles. She hadn't been bashful in years, and yet, beneath his intent and hungry gaze, she almost felt like a virgin again.

"That was—"

The clanging noise sounded again, and the lustful gaze he gave her cooled into something more alert. His brow pinched together.

"What was that?"

He put his hand to her mouth and shook his head as he surveyed the area around them. The moon was bright, but there were no signs of activity around the folly save the rushing water of the river. Mabel pushed off the column and squinted, gazing into the dark as Derek's hand came up from behind her to caress her cheek.

Mabel crooked her neck to press a kiss against his fingertips. His attention was temporarily on her, and it unnerved her how endearing she found it. But then he held his index finger to his lips as he gazed back over the water. Squinting, she doubted he would be able to see much, even with the moon so bright, and twisted again to see if she could see anything. Shadows stretched out from beneath the trees across the yard of Lord Nesby's property.

"What is it?" she whispered. "Do you see something?"

But he didn't answer. Shaking his head, he stared at her.

"No. But I did hear something."

"Me too," she said. "Maybe it was something in the river?"

"Maybe," he said as the wind blew. "Either way, to continue here would be dangerous. We should go inside."

"Oh," she said, somewhat disappointed. "I thought we might…"

"Yes, I did too," he said, gazing down at her. "But I'm afraid I let myself get carried away by the moment."

"I didn't mind."

Derek smirked.

"No, neither did I," he said. "But heaven forbid someone did see us," he said as the weight of that reality began to sink in. "You would not be pleased with the outcome of such a scandal."

"Nor would you," she said, almost too quickly in response.

Of course, she knew what the end result would be if they were caught. He'd be honor-bound to marry her—and even she, as brazen as she was, would have to accept his proposal, or she'd never be accepted in decent society again. She had vowed that she would never wed again…and yet for some reason, she couldn't quite reconcile with herself that marriage between them was the worst thing that could happen. Still pushing the idea out of her mind, she spoke again.

"You're right. We should not take any further risks. We would not want to cause any trouble for Leona and your brother, now that we've both consented to them marrying."

"No, especially considering what it would mean for your sister."

Mabel frowned.

"My sister?" she repeated. "Why especially her?" If there was a scandal, surely it would subject both of their families to gossip and derision.

"You know that it is the lady in these cases who is always the subject of the most speculation," he said, his tone even. "Leona would be the sister of a fallen woman."

"Fallen?" she repeated, evidently annoyed. "I'm not an innocent. I've been married before. Have known the touch of a man."

Though she said it matter-of-factly, Derek's mouth set in a hard line. It was almost as if he disliked being reminded of that fact. Whatever his reasons, Mabel didn't appreciate his reaction to it.

"Yes, but that hardly allows one to do what we just did out in the open."

"I wasn't the only one participating," she said, pointing her finger into his chest. "You, however—"

He encased her finger in his hand.

"Easy, love. There is nothing here that I regret. I only think we should go inside."

Mabel bit the inside of her cheek, conflicted. She didn't regret anything either, but the highhandedness of his remarks irked her.

As they approached the front door, a pair of stable hands came across the drive. Before she knew what was happening, Mabel was swept up in Derek's arms and hauled out of sight. In an instant, she was pressed against the hedge as the two stable hands laughed, their voices fading away as they walked, oblivious to the presence of their master mere steps away.

When they were well away, Derek released her, and Mabel stumbled slightly, only to grip his forearm. She couldn't quite settle why she had become suddenly unsure of their situation, but when they reached the house, Mabel left his presence as quickly as she could, without so much as a goodbye. She turned toward the staircase and climbed the steps to the second floor, leaving Derek behind.