Chapter 7

7

T homas glanced toward Jonathan and Victor, who were standing close to the exit toward the foyer. Where was Tricia? He had been watching her with one eye all evening, and now that his mother had gone for a short repose, he wanted to find her.

Cameron should be looking after her, of course. She was his responsibility. But he and Rose were engaged in a conversation with Lily and the duke, so it was up to Thomas. He wasn't sure why he felt such responsibility. There was nothing between Patricia and him. They had shared one smoldering kiss on the day of his father's burial. It had been an escape and nothing more.

Yet Thomas hadn't been able to erase it from his mind. Sometimes thoughts of his lips on Tricia's plagued him all night, to the point where he tossed and turned among his linens, rising in the morning after having not slept at all.

He strode toward his cousin and friend. "Where is Lady Patricia?" Thomas asked.

"I don't know," Polk said.

"You were the last to dance with her," Thomas accused.

Polk frowned. "Was I?"

"So you've been keeping quite an eye on her then," his cousin said.

Thomas cleared his throat. "She is Cameron's sister. Of course I am concerned."

Polk looked toward Cameron, still engrossed in speaking with his brother-in-law, the duke. "His lordship doesn't seem overly concerned."

Thomas had nothing to say to that. He brushed by both of them and swept through the foyer, stopping a servant.

"Yes, my lord?" the young servant said.

"I beg your pardon, but did you see the Lady Patricia Price-Adams out here?"

"I believe she might have been out here earlier," the servant said, "but I haven't seen her in at least the last half hour."

"Thank you. I appreciate your help."

The servant bowed. "My pleasure, my lord."

Thomas walked through the first floor of his mansion, checking every room, the parlor, the drawing room, the music room, the library. The dining room and the large kitchen. He even walked over to the servants' quarters on the first floor that were off to the side of the mansion itself.

Tricia was nowhere.

He did not want to disturb her bedchamber because Katrina was most likely already abed. Still, he knocked softly on the room that had been assigned to Ladies Patricia and Katrina. There was no answer, so on a lark, he took out his skeleton key and opened the door. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Lady Katrina asleep in bed. Tricia was not there. He sneaked back out, closing the door behind him and making sure it was locked.

Where could Patricia have gone? She might simply be in the ladies' retiring room. But since he was up on the third floor, he may as well have a look around. Finding no sign of her, he walked up to the fourth.

The fourth floor of the mansion was rarely used. Only when a house party became so large that they needed to open and air out the rooms.

The fourth floor had been Thomas's playground as a child. When it was too cold to play out of doors, Thomas would come up here and run around, playing pirates in the rooms and rescuing damsels from the parapet.

This place had been his respite during the few hours per week that he had to himself when he was a boy. His training to become the next Earl of Ashford had begun nearly as soon as he was taken from his mother's womb. When he could, he stole up to the fourth floor and had a wonderful time pretending he was a pirate king and the fourth floor was his ship, complete with a telescope and all kinds of pirate's treasure.

And indeed there was treasure up here. This floor housed so many objects that had been passed down from the earldom each generation. No one got rid of anything, and that which became obsolete found a place up here on the fourth floor in one of several extra rooms. Thomas would delight in finding pieces of dulled medieval weaponry, discarded nautical instruments, and busts of family members that had been forgotten or—God forbid—disinherited.

Thomas delighted in foraging through the old rooms, finding his treasures.

He found himself smiling. How long had it been since he had been up here?

In that moment, all of his hosting duties fell by the wayside. He was a child again, foraging for treasure in these rooms. He absentmindedly picked up a tarnished sextant and examined it, for one moment forgetting his troubles as Earl of Ashford and reliving the folly of his youth.

One of his favorite places was the small balcony with a parapet on the west side of the mansion. It looked over the rolling green meadows of Hampshire, and he loved just sitting out there, letting the wind whip through his hair, as he pretended he was on his pirate ship. He stole to the end of the fourth floor, to the door that led to the parapet that crowned the edges of the rooftop.

He opened the door, ascended the narrow, hidden staircase, and there she was, looking out at the stars. He could see only from behind, but already he knew it was her.

It was Tricia.

"My lady…"

* * *

That was the voice. The voice Tricia dreamed of every night.

He had come to find her. Her own Earl of Ashford.

She turned, but as she did, the heel of her slipper caught on a loose piece of gravel and she lost her footing. In the next instant, the railing broke beneath her?—

"Tricia!"

Strong arms grabbed her as she watched the railing fall four stories onto the lawn below. Thomas grasped her in his arms and held her as her heart stampeded so hard she was sure he must be able to feel it against his own chest.

"My God, Tricia. Are you all right?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words emerged.

She could only gasp into his chest while she clawed at the brocade of his jacket. She breathed quickly, gasping and gasping.

"My God. What if something had happened to you?" Thomas breathed in deeply. "What would I have done?"

Tricia tilted her head back then, met his dark gaze, and in the moonlight he looked like a god of Mount Olympus come to life. Beauty. Such masculine beauty that took her breath away to the point that it got caught in her throat.

Thomas pierced her soul with his eyes. "You are too young and beautiful to be up here. What would you have done if I hadn't been here? You might have fallen..."

She continued staring at his beautiful face.

"I don't think that I could have gone on," he continued. "To have such beauty erased from this earth. What in the world were you doing up here, my lady?"

Back to "my lady" now. He had been calling her Tricia.

But he was a man of honor after all.

Tricia opened her mouth, but several silent seconds passed before she was able to eke a few words out. "I am…quite well, my lord, thank you."

He met her gaze in earnest. "But what if you had not been? What if I had not been walking past? What if I had not come up here?"

"Indeed, Thomas"—in a breath of longing she used his Christian name—"why did you come up here?"

He pulled her into his chest once more. He brought his nose down to the top of her head, taking in the scent of her hair. "You had disappeared from the ball. I was looking for you. But then I got lost. Lost in the thoughts of my childhood. Of many days spent up here, playing. It's a good thing I decided to go to the parapet." He pulled her inside, out of the winds and brisk air. "What were you doing up here?"

"I just needed a respite," she said. "This is all so daunting, you know?"

"Indeed I do know. Though I suppose it is more so for a young lady during her first season. It certainly is something I cannot understand."

"I'm very fine." She awkwardly untangled herself from Thomas's arms and took a step toward the door back inside. "I think perhaps I'd like to go to my chamber."

"Of course. I shall escort you."

They took a few steps away from the broken railing and back inside, to the top of the narrow staircase, and then?—

Thomas's mouth was on hers, his tongue prying her lips open.

The kiss. The kiss she was so afraid she would never experience again. But this kiss... Granted, she had only one other to compare it to, and it was the same man, but this kiss... It was different. The kiss at his father's gravesite had been a kiss of loss. A kiss of wanting to prove he was alive when his father was not.

But this kiss…

This kiss was a different animal altogether. This was the kind of kiss that made a woman's knees weak, set her thighs on fire, transformed that very secret place into an intensity so bold and hot that she could hardly stand it. His tongue. His tongue was velvet, and it stroked hers, and as it did, she became an active participant in the kiss.

She slid her own tongue into his mouth, and as he took from her, she took from him as well. Her entire body quivered with lust. Thank goodness he was holding her, because she wasn't sure her legs would work otherwise.

She trembled in his arms, yet she wanted to get closer to him. She wanted to shed these restricting clothes, turn, and let him unlace her corset. She wanted to be naked with him. She wanted to see that part of him that she had heard could give her unbounded pleasure.

Against her belly, even against her corset, she could feel his desire for her.

She surely was not at the estate any longer. She must be ascending the spiral staircase to paradise itself.

But a moment later, Thomas's mouth had been ripped from hers, and he stepped away from her, looked away from her, his breath coming in rapid pants.

"Forgive me," he said.

Forgive him?

Was he serious?

"My lord, if you hadn't been here, I would have fallen from the parapet."

"Perhaps you wouldn't have. I wouldn't have startled you, and you wouldn't have lost your footing, and then you wouldn't have leaned against the rail, and the rail wouldn't have broken, and?—"

Tricia's dander was rising. "For the love of all that is holy, Thomas, do you think any of that matters? A sequence of events unfolded, and I nearly lost my life. And even if I hadn't, I would have suffered tremendous injury and trauma. I, for one, am very thankful you came by when you did."

He turned from her, combed his fingers through his thick dark hair. "Tricia, you have no idea what you do to me. What your nearness does to my body. I am the host of this ball. I should be downstairs, doing my duties. I have responsibilities, but instead, I'm searching the mansion for you."

Tricia narrowed her gaze coyly. "Well, you found me."

"Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?"

Tricia's heart raced against her sternum, and she was nearly convinced it would pop right out of her bodice. "I don't know how to answer that."

"I must find a wife, Tricia. I don't want a wife, but it is my duty now that I'm the earl."

Her heart hammered against her chest. Was this a proposal of marriage?

"I don't know what to say, Thomas."

"There is nothing more to say." He laid a hand on her upper arm. "All I can tell you is that I hunger for you. I desire you, Tricia. I desire you as I've never desired another woman. I noticed you when we first met, when you were but a child of fifteen. I'm ashamed to admit that I had impure thoughts even then. You deserve someone worthy of you."

Her heart was hammering so hard. "You are worthy of me. It is I, Thomas, who am not worthy of you."

He didn't reply, simply burned her with his gaze.

"I am not highborn, Thomas. Perhaps my blood is, but I was not. I was not brought up in your world." She raised her arms to either side of her body. "But if you desire me, take me."

Thomas averted his gaze. "Do not say such things. Please."

"I'm offering myself to you." Tricia should be shocked at the words coming from her body, in her voice, but she was not. Perhaps it was because she'd just brushed death. Or perhaps it was because of her love for this man. Or perhaps… Oh, who knew?

Thomas raked his fingers through his beautiful hair once more. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me? I'm ready to take your virginity right now, right up against this wall, and I wouldn't feel a speck of guilt over it."

"Did I ask you to feel guilty?"

"You're nearly a child yourself, Tricia. You don't have any idea what you're saying. What you're asking me for. You are not ready for this. And I am not ready to ruin a beautiful lady of the peerage."

Tricia could barely breathe. She was so full of yearning, so full of want.

Boldly, she raised her hand and stroked his cheek through her gloved fingertips. He placed his own gloved hand over hers, and the warmth… The warmth from his own skin seeped into hers, even through the two layers of their gloves.

"Damn it," Thomas growled. "I will regret this till my dying days. But I'm going to take you, Tricia. I'm going to take you right now."