A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

As soon as he was assured Dariell had drifted into a peaceful slumber he would venture outdoors, hoping the mistress of the manor had taken to dawdling in the storm.

Perhaps it was wrong of him to throw temptation Miss Darling’s way. Indeed, he was not in the habit of seducing virgins. But he could no more stop his desire to have her than he could stop the rain falling. Despite his desperate longing, he could not venture up to the house. If Miss Darling wanted him as much as he hoped, then he prayed she’d find the courage to seek him out.

Deciding he should linger beneath the cottage’s front porch—holding a lamp to signal his intention should the lady stray from the house—Lockhart peeled back the blankets and slipped out of bed. He tiptoed to the chair in the far corner of the room, grabbed his shirt and dragged it over his head before throwing on his breeches.

Having left his boots near the front door so as not to wake Dariell, Lockhart was about to pad stealthily from the room when the Frenchman’s voice penetrated the darkness.

“Is it not a little late for a stroll outdoors?”

Damnation. Could Dariell not mind his own business?

“It’s never too late to take in the fresh air.”

“Will you not catch a chill being out in the rain?” Dariell said, sounding highly amused.

“I’m used to the harsh elements.” He’d brave a typhoon for a chance to kiss Claudia Darling again.

“And what of Miss Darling? The lady does not share your hardy constitution.”

Bloody hell! Was it the man’s mission to pry?

“Then I would have to say you don’t know her as well as I do.”

“No, my friend, that is quickly becoming apparent.”

“The lady knows her own mind.”

“And you must follow your heart.”

Lockhart wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but he’d heard enough words of wisdom from Dariell to know he should act on impulse. Particularly when that impulse had taken full command of his mind and body.

“Don’t wait up,” Lockhart said as he crept from the room to ready himself for his late-night rendezvous. Assuming Miss Darling came, of course.

After thrusting his feet into his boots and lighting the candle lamp, he yanked open the cottage door.

Rain pelted his face. The wind threatened to extinguish the flame. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning could strike a foot away, and it would not deter him from his course. The earthy smell of the night called to his primitive needs. The darkness fed his lustful cravings. And yet it was his heart that pounded hard, his heart that throbbed with passion.

Waiting heightened his anticipation.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood beneath the stone porch, his gaze fixed on the long gravel drive leading up to the house. Thirty minutes? Forty? Maybe more. He’d stared through the gloom, his face wet, water dripping from his hair as the rain battered his meagre shelter.

Disappointment flared.

He considered returning to the comfort of his bed when a flicker of light captured his attention. A yellow sphere hovered in the distance, swaying back and forth as it bobbed closer.

Stepping out onto the private road between the avenue of trees, Lockhart raised his lantern aloft—a sign he was also seeking something on this dismal night—and traipsed through the puddles to meet the advancing figure.

In a scene reminiscent of a gothic novel, the mistress of the manor approached, her cloak billowing and whipping about her legs, the lantern held high as if an evil presence had drawn her from the safety of the house to wreak havoc on her delicate sensibilities.

Miss Darling was in danger. In danger of being ravished by her husband. In danger of succumbing to the hunger flowing through her veins, too.

“There’s nothing as refreshing as a walk in the rain,” he said as they both came to an abrupt halt just a few feet apart. Rivulets ran down his face. His soaked shirt clung to his chest like a second skin. His sodden breeches were plastered to his thighs.

Claudia tugged down the hood of her cloak to reveal a flowing mane of golden tresses. She raised her face to the heavens, a broad smile of satisfaction sweeping over her pretty features.

“Someone once told me that they find the rain cleansing.” Water splashed off her cheeks and chin. The tip of her tongue traced the line of her luscious lips, lapping every drop of moisture.

Hell’s fire. Had Lissette given her lessons in how to drive one’s husband wild?