Lucy Monroe - Willing

Aware of Lady Grafton’s overlong silence, Julius smoothly interposed, “I’ve been trying to persuade Lady Grafton to take Skylark out for a ride.”

Amanda spun around. “Skylark? You’ll absolutely adore him! He’s powerful and swift, yet gentle as a lamb. Tell her, Julius, how he took me over ten miles at top speed without even breathing hard.”

“He has enormous staying power. It’s characteristic of the Atlas Barb breed. You’d enjoy trying him out, Lady Grafton.”

Elspeth tried not to misinterpret the marquis’s comments. Get a grip, she told herself. Everyone was simply discussing horses and she was reacting like an agitated adolescent to the most benign remarks. “If it were possible, I’m sure I’d enjoy riding Skylark, my lord. However, we lead a quiet life since my husband’s illness. But thank you for the offer. Won’t you sit down,” she politely offered when she would have preferred pushing her guests out the door and avoiding any further complications. From her husband and otherwise.

“Oh, look!” Amanda exclaimed, gazing out the window. “The most precious basket of violets! I adore violets!” Contriving a moment alone for Julius, she opened the terrace door and stepped outside to inspect the willow basket on the balustrade.

“Why did you come?” Elspeth hissed the second Amanda closed the door behind her. “I’m sorry—how rude…please forgive me,” she stammered, blushing furiously at her graceless behavior. “I shouldn’t have said—I mean…I don’t know what came—”

“I couldn’t stay away.” Uncharacteristically blunt words for the marquis who only played at love. And if Grafton wasn’t about to appear at any moment, Julius would have taken her in his arms and kissed away her trepidation.

“You shouldn’t have come. He might—that is…you don’t understand my…situation.” Nervously surveying the door to the hallway, Elspeth visibly trembled. “My husband”—she took a sustaining breath—“is very difficult.”

“I’m sorry.” She was so obviously alarmed he felt a twinge of conscience—a rarity for him. This frightened child was clearly not equipped to undertake any amorous games. He shouldn’t have come. “I’ll fetch Amanda and we’ll be on our way,” he offered, moving toward the terrace door.

“No.”

It was the merest whisper. His pulse quickened despite his newfound conscience and he turned back.

“God help me—for not having more restraint,” she breathed, her hands clasped tightly to still their tremors. “I shouldn’t be talking to you or even thinking what I’m thinking or—”

“Will your husband be here soon?”

She nodded, a jerky, skittish movement.

“We’ll talk later, then,” he calmly said when he wasn’t feeling calm in the least. When he was contemplating taking the lovely Lady Grafton to bed and keeping her there until he’d had his fill or couldn’t move or both. “Please, sit down.” Offering her a chair with a wave of his hand, he swiftly walked to the windows, knocked on a pane and beckoned Amanda in. Turning back, he smiled. “Don’t be nervous,” he gently said. “Relax. We’re just here on a friendly visit. Tell me something about your father’s parish. I understand he was a vicar.”

The marquis’s voice was incredibly soothing, as though they were indeed friends. She felt an instant lessening of her anxiety. “I suppose you do this all the time,” she murmured, taking a seat. “Rumor has it, you’re—”

“I never do this,” he said. In fact, the mindless craving he was experiencing was so outré, he thought he might still be feeling the aftereffects of last night’s drink. Taking a seat a respectable distance away, he added with almost an unbecoming brusqueness, “You affect me in a most unusual way.”

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“W ell, this is it.” Julie Kay tossed her keys on the kitchen counter. “Home sweet hell.”

“It’s nice,” he commented, glancing around the small house she rented from her brother-in-law. “I used to live in Inver, back when I was a student at the U.”

“Yeah, what, six weeks ago?”

“Oh, you’re hilarious.”

“I hate apartments. I always feel like a bee in a hive. So when my brother-in-law moved into a bigger place, he let me rent this one. It’s worked out for everyone.”

“Mmm.” Scott was prowling around the living room and dining area like a big, brunette panther. “I have an apartment, and I know what you mean. But I’m almost never there.”

“Where are you?”

“Work, usually. That’s why I was really glad when you decided to go out with me. I mean, I have no social life.”

“But you’re so…” Gorgeous. Delicious. Fabulous. Tall. “…smart.”

He shrugged. “I was always the tallest kid in my class, and the skinniest. But I was bad at sports. So who’d want to go out with a big gork like me?”

Oh, I dunno, anyone with half a brain?

“Uh, let me see if I can find something better than my old cardigan.” She turned to go into her bedroom, but he came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her around.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s the least of my problems, believe me. What the hell am I going to do about that poor guy at the restaurant?”

“Uh…well, I…uh…” Blue eyes were filling her world, her universe. They were getting closer and closer. There was nothing else: no house, no living room, no cardigan, no dead guy.

She felt his lips on hers and she put her arms around him—she could hardly reach, his shoulders were so broad. Her mouth opened beneath his and his tongue touched hers, tentatively and then with more assurance, licking her teeth and nibbling her lower lip. She pulled and the cardigan was on the floor, and her hands were running across his fine chest, and…

(Dead guy, dead guy!)

…she yanked herself away. “Stop that! This is totally inappropriate!”

“Hey, you kissed me.”

“I did not!” Oh, wait. Maybe she did. “Well, it doesn’t matter. This isn’t the time or place.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t kiss you. Although, I have to say,” he added cheerfully, “I’ve been dying to all night. But you’re right, this isn’t the right time. Bad, sweetie.”

“Oh, like you were really fighting it!”

“It seemed rude to give you the brush-off,” he said, sounding wounded. “You know, me being a guest in your home and all.”

“Well, never mind that. Let’s stay focused. Put your sweater back on.”

“I didn’t take it off,” he grumbled, but did as she asked.

“Let’s figure this out. We have to be back there in fourteen hours. So, if you didn’t kill the guy—”

“Charley Ferrin.”

She gasped. “You know him?”

“No, no.” He held his hands up, palm out. “Calm down, don’t have a coronary.”

“I’ll have one if I damn well please!”

“It’s not like that. Detective Hobbes told me his name. I swear, I have no idea who he is. The name meant nothing to me.”

“Okay, okay.” She forced herself to calm down. He was right, this was no time to burst a blood vessel. “So, if you didn’t do it, who did? Who had a motive and could do it quick, and avoid the cops, and stick you with a murder charge?”

“Honey, I got nothin’. I’ve been trying to figure it out all night. I was minding my own business, waiting for you, and the next thing I know, I’m wearing handcuffs. And not in a good way.”

She felt the blood rush to her face as she pictured him cuffed to her headboard. “All right. Did you overhear any arguments? See anybody fighting? Anything weird at all?”