* * *
The earl stood for a long moment and groaned to himself. Had he just been thwarted or saved?
No doubt, if he put any intelligent thought into it, he had been saved, as had the innocent beauty he had almost deflowered. He had sunk to a new low, and at that moment he very nearly hated himself.
Quietly, and unseen, he made his way out of the room and to his own. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He needed to send her away. He needed her to leave. He couldn’t control himself. He had been a man of control all his life. He had never allowed anything or anyone to take that away from him, and here he was, lost.
He was having a time of it, controlling his feelings for her. Perhaps the solution was to alter how she felt about him? He had to find a way to make his wee lass feel disgusted with him, even, perhaps, hate him. He wanted her, bloody hell, he wanted her, but he wouldna seduce her. So, he had to push the innocent lass away.
A notion came to him.
He had noticed the look that had come into Bess’s eyes when he went off to chat with Sally Sonhurst.
Bess had not liked it, not one bit. He could use that—his past relationship with Sally—to turn his bonnie lass away from him. The notion that she might end by hating him hurt so wickedly that he went to the sideboard in his room and poured a stiff drink before throwing it down.
What was wrong with him? He knew what needed to be done, and he was a man of decision and control, yet neither one was working properly. He had to do something, for he was going mad with a hunger that was soon going to show itself and land him stuck in a marriage.
Marriage just wouldn’t work for him—would it?
How could it? He had always had an eye for the ladies. What if he strayed? He didn’t want to be unfaithful to Bess. He couldn’t do that to her—not to her. Yet, when he looked at her, touched her, he thought …?
Marriage with Bess? Would it be so awful? At that moment in time, he wanted no other woman, only the wee lass, but would it always be so? Och, but he was a lowly fellow. His father had been faithful to his mother, as had his grandfather to his grandmother. Surely if they were not swayed from their vows, he, too, could keep a vow to his lass, his sweet and bonny lass.
Still, it would be better, safer, if they parted and soon, very soon.
~ Twelve ~
LADY BESS HADN’T slept very much. She had tossed and turned and punched her pillow several times trying to get comfortable, but she couldn’t. She had to wonder if Maddy had saved her from making a terrible mistake.
Was it better to know the kind of lovemaking the earl could give her and
then perhaps lose him forever or to go unscathed forward and find another love—would there ever be another love for her?
That was the crux of her concerns. She believed with all her heart that the earl was her one true love.
She believed she would never feel again what she felt now for the big, beautiful Scot. Would his voice, his touch, forever haunt her? Could he want her above all others? Could he take her for wife and remain faithful? She couldn’t live a life with a man who went to other women for his pleasures—would he do that if he married her?
Marriage? She doubted that had even entered his mind.
Oh, faith, what was she to do? She knew what decorum and breeding dictated. But life was never so simple. How could she allow herself to fit into a mold? People thought a woman should be a virgin when she married, but why? She couldn’t find one good reason for it. Just the opposite.
How could a woman know how to please a man, know how to be pleased, if she didn’t enjoy life’s experiences? And being with a man of her choosing—well, wasn’t that part of life’s experiences?
And why should women be held to a standard men rarely held themselves to? Men flitted about from woman to woman, taking kisses and more wherever they chose.
Sighing heavily, she pushed away her coffee, smoothed the skirt of her pretty pale green muslin day gown, and went downstairs to the breakfast room, where she could hear Robby in fine form.
She smiled as she entered and looked about to find that the earl was not present. A part of her immediately deflated to find he wasn’t there, while another part of her was relieved, relieved that she wouldn’t have to look at his face and wonder what he was thinking. Oh, what must he think of her after last night?
A familiar chuckle at her back made her spin around. There stood her father, and for some inexplicable reason she charged into his arms. He would understand. He just would. They always talked about everything. Could she talk to him about his? Oh, no, she didn’t think so.
His voice was merry but held a note of concern. “Ho there, daughter, what is all this?” He set her apart, held her chin to look at her, and said softly, “What is it? Did you not enjoy Mary Russell’s little soiree last night? Did something go amiss?” He looked past the top of her head, and Bess saw him glance at Donna, who raised her brows and shook her head.
Bess found her voice and chided him. “I am just happy to see you, Papa. I missed you.”
“Come, let’s sit and be comfortable and have some coffee together,” he said softly as he led her to a seat and took one beside her.
Maddy beamed and put her hands together. “My lord, how lovely Donna and our Bess looked last night. Like angels.”