To Desire a Wicked Duke (Courtship Wars)

“But you particularly delight in having opinions contrary to mine.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Is that not an outrageous case of the pot calling the kettle black? Besides, I need an excuse to leave Fanny and Basil alone together. If I am occupied with you all morning, then their courtship can proceed that much faster.”

Ian shook his head in resignation. Tess was fiercely loyal to her friends and loved ones and wouldn’t be deterred from her plan except by sheer force.

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of your matchmaking,” he grumbled. “Very well, then. Where do you suggest we begin our search?”

“Where I first heard the ghostly sounds, naturally.”

Ian exhaled an exaggerated sigh, but there was a smile on Tess’s lips when she led the way from the breakfast room.

They searched the castle room by room, starting with her bedchamber where she had heard the clanking noises. The sounds, Tess said, had seemed to come from one side of the room, near the hearth, or possibly down the chimney.

However, they found nothing of interest in any of the castle’s upper floors, or in the towers or cellars either. Their failure seemed to gratify Tess, judging by her good-natured gibe once she had dismissed all the servants who had aided in their exploration.

“I am glad you had no more luck than we had the first time, Rotham. I would not have liked to be upstaged.”

The teasing note in her declaration captured Ian’s attention more than her actual words, and when he hazarded a glance at Tess, he found himself transfixed. They had finished their search up on the battlements, where she had paused to drink in the view.

When she lifted her face to the morning sun, letting the glow caress her ivory skin, Ian’s breath caught at the enchanting picture she made. She wore her hair down instead of piled atop her head as usual, and the dark richness reflected the sunlight, making him want to bury his hands in the silken mass.

Her quiet smile held that same joyful touch of warmth, like the first rays of a sunrise.

Ian felt a hard tug of sheer lust in his gut. With fierce effort, he clamped down on his primal urges. He refused to act the fool, lusting after Tess when the desire was so one-sided.

Fortunately, she seemed not to notice his momentary paralysis, for she changed the subject entirely. “Now, if you will be so kind, I would like for you to accompany me on my morning calls.”

Ian winced at her suggestion. “You are asking a great deal of me, you realize?”

“Perhaps, but our absence from the castle will continue to allow Fanny and Basil to be alone together. And because of your exalted title, our neighbors are likely to receive me more cordially if you are with me. I confess I am eager to meet them, especially the vicar.”

“That is because you know little about him,” Ian replied sardonically. “I guarantee that spending even ten minutes with the good reverend will be torture.”

Her eyes danced with restrained amusement. “You can suffer for one afternoon, I imagine,” she replied sweetly, her smile full of magic and mischief. “It is time you owned up to your obligations, Rotham. You’ve led a life of dissipation for so long, you have no inkling how to aid your fellow human beings.”

Ian refrained from arguing with Tess again about his dissipation. Thus it was that while Fanny wrote on her manuscript and Eddowes began cataloging the Falwell library, he found himself paying duty calls on his neighbors, beginning with the vicar for the parish, Gideon Potts.

Ian was far from happy, however. It was bad enough that he’d been embroiled in Tess’s matchmaking against his will. Traveling over a large part of Cornwall with her was even worse, since it gave him far too much time alone with his entrancing new wife. And before Ian realized it, he was being drawn into Tess’s newest cause.

At her first meeting with Vicar Potts, she explained her plan to organize a charitable fund for the poorest parishioners. During the next several days, they visited every single genteel family in a thirty-mile radius of Falwell, as near as the neighboring village of Fowey, and as far away as St. Austell to the south and Liskeard to the north.

Ian found it intriguing to watch their unsuspecting neighbors fall under Tess’s spell. Whatever she did, she poured her heart and soul into, and this instance was no different. She charmed and wooed them all, as tenacious in her campaign as Boney had been in conquering much of Europe.

When he labeled her “Saint Tess,” she took his ribbing with good grace.

“You may disparage me all you want, but I find it deeply satisfying to help people and make a difference in their lives. It wouldn’t hurt for you to engage in a bit of philanthropy yourself.… Beyond the wedding gift you recently gave me, I mean. Just think of all the good you could do if you put your vast wealth and power to a useful purpose.”

It was one of her greatest strengths, Ian knew; Tess inspired others to try their best to please her and live up to her lofty standards. He was undeniably affected himself. Yet he was also drawn in by her physical allure … the sensual pitch of her voice, the creamy glow of her skin, her easy laughter.

His attraction was becoming harder and harder to resist, Ian admitted. Especially since on every visit, they pretended to be a happily married couple—although each night he continued to escort Tess to her bedchamber, where he left her alone.

On the fourth night, however, she hesitated with her hand on the doorknob and turned to gaze up at him.

“I want to thank you for all your help these past few days, Rotham. I know you would much rather be occupied elsewhere.…”

When her voice trailed off, Ian realized he had involuntarily lifted his fingers to touch her cheek.

He felt a sudden tension shimmering between them, a certain sexual awareness in the air. From the look in Tess’s dark eyes, he knew she was as acutely conscious of him as he was of her.