Laurie Brown - What Would Jane Austen Do?

“Did you not think I would recognize you? The tilt of this stubborn chin …” He touched her bottom lip and drew his finger down to her neck. “The curve of your cheek that my palms itch to caress.” He took her face in his hands. “And even if I had not recognized your scent and the feel of you when I carried you in my arms—”

“Over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes,” she corrected, her dignity still bruised.

He ignored her sarcasm. “One kiss and I would know your lips, the taste of you.” He kissed her long and gently before breaking away. He pulled on the ribbon ties of her hat, and the bow under her chin disappeared as fast as her resistance to his charms. “Please take off that mask.”

She stepped back, removed her hat, and worked on the knots of the mask.

“I can’t believe you’d think I didn’t know who I kissed.” He shook his head, then stopped and looked at her with a quizzical expression. “As a matter of fact, I cannot fathom why you’d even consider my seducing Mina as a possibility. She’s little more than a child.” By the end of the last sentence, his eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw clenched. “What sort of man do you think I am?”

Eleanor could hardly explain that she knew it had happened. Now she thought it wasn’t Mina after all and had been Deirdre, the older of the two sisters, he had seduced. “Based on the evidence—”

“Your so-called evidence was circumstantial at best. I should think you would have believed better of me despite the situation.” Even as he said the words, he realized he’d made judgments concerning Eleanor, believed she might be one of Napoleon’s agents based on evidence that was shaky at best. He ran his hand through his hair. “My apologies. I’ve never felt … whatever this is between us.” He turned away, unable to think clearly while looking into her eyes.

Eleanor couldn’t define what was happening between them, but she knew it had no future. Long distance love affairs were an uphill struggle at best with a gaping chasm at the summit. When the gap to cross was two centuries wide, any relationship was impossible. She’d never thought of herself as a one-night stand, but if she didn’t grab this chance to be with him, she might never have another. At least she would take the memory of him back with her.

She stepped around his body to face him. “I’ve never felt this way before either. I burn for your touch.” She put her hands on his chest. “Does my boldness shock you?”

He sucked in a breath, and the muscles beneath her palms tensed. “Your audacity enthralls me. But I cannot promise you—”

“I’m not asking for promises. No strings, no regrets.” At least none he would ever know about.

He whispered her name and wrapped his arms around her with a groan. Then he set her away from him and rested his hands on her shoulders. “If we aren’t back for the curtain call in fifteen minutes, your reputation will be ruined.”

“Not yours?”

He shrugged. “It is the way of the world.”

“I don’t care about my reputation.”

“Ah, so you say now, but if you’re judged guilty of immoral behavior, the other guests would shun you. You might even be forced to leave the house. Is that what you want?”

“Oh.” That would mean she wouldn’t have another chance to speak to Jane Austen. Hmm … hot sex or the real, live Jane Austen? Hell of a choice. Eleanor backed away to put space between herself and Shermont so she could think clearly. If she had to leave the house, how would the ghosts find her to take her back to her own time? Damn.

“I want more than a few stolen moments with you.”

What did he mean by that? His words sounded suspiciously like a brush-off. She sat properly on the edge of the seat, her back yardstick-straight, ankles and knees together, hands folded in her lap. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I don’t know.”

He ran his hand through his hair as he sat next to her, close enough for her to feel his body heat but not touching. He knitted his fingers together as if to keep from reaching for her and rested his forearms on his knees.

“I am not habitually inclined to spontaneous, ill-considered conduct, however …”

She recognized his attempt to distance himself from her. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, speak plain English.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.”

At least he was honest. They sat in silence. She couldn’t fault him. He’d only caught her when she fell. She placed her hand over his.

“I forgot to properly thank you for saving me yet again.” She used her free hand to turn his head, so she could place a kiss on his lips.

He looked surprised.

“Did I shock you?” she asked.

“Your boldness enchants me beyond measure.” He embraced her and kissed her long and hard, tasting her, teasing her tongue with his.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her onto his lap and ran his hand up her leg.

Eleanor smiled against his lips. Regency women didn’t have an article of clothing similar to modern panties, and he would find no impediment. She concentrated so hard on willing his hand higher … higher, she nearly missed the sound of a scratch at the door and the latch opening. Shermont didn’t.

Suddenly, he stood with a twisting motion that dropped her flat on her back on the sofa.

“Yes, Tuttle,” he said, his voice a lot calmer than she felt.

“Pardon, milord. Mrs. Aubin said Mrs. Pottinger fainted. I’ve brought cold compresses, a vinaigrette, and the housekeeper. Mrs. Otto has some skill dealing—”

“That will not be necessary,” Shermont said. “You may leave the cart by the door.”

Eleanor realized he was trying to keep the servants from coming far enough into the room that they could see over the high back of the settee. And discover his obvious arousal.

She quickly made sure all her clothing was in place and then stood, forcing Shermont to take a step back. She assumed a position between him and the door, flashing a smile at the butler and housekeeper.

“Thank you for your concern,” Eleanor said, making sure her tone was gracious. “I was a bit light-headed for a minute, but I’m fine. We will be rejoining the others now.”

“That will be all,” Shermont added, and the servants bowed their way out of the room without any change of expression.

The brief respite had brought Eleanor back to her senses. What was she thinking? Anyone could have interrupted them.

“Eleanor?

She turned to face him. “I’m afraid our time is up.”

“Can we meet later tonight?” he asked. “After everyone has gone to sleep? I will come to your room.”

“Yes. No. I mean, yes, we can meet, but you can’t come to my room. I’m sharing a suite with Deirdre and Mina.” If one night with him was all she was going to get, she would grab the chance. “We must be discreet. I’ll come to you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You never cease to surprise me … delightfully so.”

She ducked her head. “You make me want to be daring, wild, and wanton.”

“The next few hours without you in my arms are going to be hell, and I am not usually a patient man.”

She looked at him from underneath her lashes. “Maybe I’ll make it worth your wait,” she teased, stretching onto her toes to kiss him on the chin before dancing out of his reach. She picked up her hideous hat, discarded the ruined mask, and paused at the door. “Ready to return to reality?”

If he had asked her that question, her answer would have been “no.” She wasn’t ready to go back to her world. Not yet. Please, not yet.

Eleanor jerked awake when her head fell forward. Either that or the raging thunderstorm outside had woken her. The single candle had guttered out, and she couldn’t see the clock on the mantle. How long had she slept? Would Shermont still be waiting? She stood, dumping the book in her lap onto the floor with a thump.

Damn. She hoped the girls were sound sleepers, or that the noise would blend with the thunder. She picked up the book. Moving slowly, using the fairly frequent strikes of lightning to orient herself, she made her way to the door and across the sitting room. She put her ear to their bedroom door. Silence.

She peeked in. Two lumps under the covers reassured her that the girls had not woken due to the noise. She eased the door closed.

With a sigh of relief, she carefully made her way to the exit. She opened the door and saw a movement in the hallway, then pulled the door shut except for a tiny crack. Omigod. Was that Count Lazislov leaving Patience’s room? Eleanor put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. She’d heard the Count and Countess had insisted on separate rooms, and now she knew why.

Eleanor waited as she counted slowly to one hundred and then opened the door enough to make sure the hallway was empty. She slipped out and pulled it shut with a soft click. When she reached the stairway, she saw lights below and heard talk and laughter, though the sleeping footman at the front door seemed oblivious. The clock in the entrance said two-twenty-five. Could people still be awake? And partying?

She started to head back to her room, and then, at the sound of uneven footsteps, turned and stopped.

Shermont reeled out of the parlor door and stumbled on the first step. “Whoa.” He shook a finger at the step. “If you must move, make it upward.”

“Wake Stevens and let him help you to your room,” Digby called from the parlor.

“Noooo. I’m never too drunk to put myself to bed.” To the sound of laughter, on the third try he got his foot solidly on the step, grabbed the banister, and pulled himself up. After awkwardly negotiating half the steps, he ran nimbly up the rest.

“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” he whispered to Eleanor.

She shrank back a step. “Are you drunk?” she whispered.

“That? Only an act to get out of playing cards. Everyone knows I never drink while I gamble.” He took her arm and gently guided her down the hall in the opposite direction from her room.

Eleanor dragged her feet. She was having second thoughts. This seemed so … so premeditated. And she was getting nervous. The first time with a man could go either way. What would he think of her naked? Should she get naked? What sort of lover would he be? What would he like? So many questions ran lickety-split through her brain. Then something totally off the track occurred to her. “How did you know I was at the top of the stairs?”

“Ahh. I could say I sensed your presence.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Or that I recognized your perfume?”

“From that distance, I should hope not.”

“Or I could admit I coerced Alanbrooke into a chess game. I set up the board and positioned my chair so that I could see the stairway in the convex mirror located in the entrance hall.”

“A rather small, distorted image,” she said. “What if it had been … the Countess Lazislov?”

“Then I would have been surprised. She is downstairs playing cards.”

Normal conversation, even if it was in whispers, calmed her nerves a bit. “Why weren’t you in the game? I’d heard …”

“Ah. Don’t believe everything you hear. Not only would I rather be with you, if I’d stayed, it would have broken several of my cardinal rules for gambling. Never gamble with anyone who wants to learn how to play. If you think there’s a patsy at the table, it’s probably you. And never gamble with a female—”

“Don’t tell me you’re—”

“I was about to say … never gamble with a female willing to bet her jewelry. Either she’s cheating, or her jewels are paste.”

“So, which is it? Is the Countess cheating, or are her jewels fake?”

He laughed. “Both. As Digby, Rockingham, and Parker will find out soon.”

“You didn’t warn them?”

“Not my place to save a grown man from his own foolishness, which rarely works even if you try. Some lessons must be learned the hard way.” They reached the end of the hallway, his door the last one on the right. He reached for the knob and paused. “Someone has entered my room since last I left.”

“How can you tell?” she asked, her voice matching his barely-above-a-breath volume.

“I always leave a thread or hair on the doorknob for just such an incident.”

Eleanor wasn’t sure what to make of that. He hadn’t seemed paranoid. “Your valet? One of the servants?”

He shook his head. “Not only would they have no reason, they would have used the servant’s entrance.” Shermont crossed the hall, opened the mica filter on the wall sconce, and took out the lit candle. “Wait here.”