An Earl's Guide to Catch a Lady Page 3

  “Oh bother,” Evelyn muttered under her breath.

  Matthew glanced over his shoulder, his brows pulled together. He smiled when a beautiful shade of red stained her cheeks. So she wasn’t as unaffected as she would have him believe. The thought pleased him. What a mystery she remained.

  “Are you traveling alone?” he asked offhandedly.

  Her startled gaze flew to his. “Yes. I uh, mean no,” she recovered, scolding herself for the slip. “I am traveling with a chaperon,” she continued, leaving out that her chaperon was her footman, even though she had been more than willing to leave him behind—for his safety of course.

  “Where is your ladies maid?”

  A big reddish cat slinking through the grass caught her attention. “Oh uh, she became sick on our journey so I sent her home,” Evelyn replied, distracted by the cat. It entertained itself with something hairy, a mouse perhaps?

  “I see.”

  Too late Evelyn realized her mistake. She should not have parted with that information, however insignificant it appeared. Eyes narrowed on the back of his head. What was this man about? He seemed to be planning something, she was sure of it, and it no doubt involved her. Heaven forbid he should insist upon escorting her to her destination. That would not do at all.

  “May I ask a question?” she asked, redirecting the topic of conversation.

  He quirked a brow, curious. “You may.”

  “Why is it I happened to wake up with a man in my bed?”

  The scoundrel chuckled. “I believe you mean my bed. You do not remember then?”

  “No,” she muttered grudgingly. “I’ve no memories of meeting you at all.”

  “I should blister your behind. Had it been any man other than me, you could have found yourself released of your virtue.”

  If only.

  “I am aware sir, and I will certainly never do so again,” Evelyn replied, sarcasm laced heavy in her voice.

  “And I am to accept your word?”

  She snorted. “It is of little consequence whether you accept my word or not.”

  “You were convinced I was a dream,” he teased.

  She came up short, glaring at his back. “I most certainly did not!”

  That earned her another chuckle.

  “You most certainly did,” he reassured her.

  Her humiliation was now complete. “Then I owe you an apology sir... Not only did my imagination run wild, but I overindulged, behaved like trollop and stole your horse.”

  Matthew paused upon hearing the defeated note in her voice. She sounded tired and dejected. He much preferred the angry Evelyn to the defeated Evelyn. “Please, call me Matthew. The time for formalities has passed, do you not agree?”

  Matthew. The name suited him, she mused on a wistful note, thankful that he’d offered it without her having to ask. She also had no intention of forgoing that particular formality. It kept him at the desired distance. “Thank you for accepting my apology.”

  He turned then, his eyes locking with hers. “No need for apologies. All has been forgiven,” he said, then added with a sly smile, “The moment you stomped away so marvelously.”

  His ancient green eyes held her spellbound and drew her in... Into what she didn’t know, “I do not stomp,” she whispered, barely audible, almost indignantly, still captured by his gaze.

  Matthew did not think, only reacted, covering her lips with his in a fervent kiss. She stiffened in his embrace and he let his tongue slide over her lower lip, coaxing a gasp from her. He took ad-vantage of her parted lips and plunged his tongue into her mouth, drawing her closer to him.

  A soft moan escaped her the same time she melted against his chest. Damn, he wanted her. She was driving him mad with desire. How long since he’d held a woman in his arms? Not since Charlotte, six years ago.

  The force of his desire staggered him. But he did not dare. Women weren’t creatures to be trusted, no matter how sweet and innocent they appeared. He would do what he had done six years ago. He would walk away and never look back.

  He broke the kiss and muttered in a harsh breath, “We need get back before you freeze to death.”

  “Y-Yes of course,” Evelyn stammered between breaths as she watched him march away. She was not at all certain what had just happened. One moment he’d kissed her passionately and the next he’d pushed her away like she had some sort of illness. It should not bother her. She had no business kissing him, especially not since she sensed he’d be nothing but trouble. Moving to follow him, she shivered as coldness stabbed at her legs.

  “I can’t imagine what compelled you to steal my horse without wearing the proper attire.” She heard him mutter darkly.

  Her delicately arched brows rose mockingly. “Are you talking to the trees now?”

  He shot her a glare. “You did not escape from Bedlam, did you?”

  Evelyn shrugged, not insulted by the question. “You will never know.”

  He snorted. “Have it your way, sweetheart. But I would’ve expected a little more gratitude toward the man who saved your life. Can you even grasp what might’ve happened if any other man came across you in your present,” he gave her a once over, “state? A lesser man may have been overwhelmed with admiration and lust and had his wicked way with you.”

  What rot!

  But the idea of him having his wicked way with her was a surprisingly appealing one, yet he seemed entirely unaffected by their impromptu kiss. Evelyn ran her gaze over his masculine form, taking in his broad shoulders, narrow hips, long muscular legs and then lastly, his buttocks. She wondered what he would do if she pinched them.

  “Wicked way indeed,” she murmured. Her head started to throb again.

  “I beg your pardon?” he shot her a look of complete surprise.

  Had she said that out loud?

  “Nothing,” she replied awkwardly under his penetrating gaze.

  “Do you perhaps want me to have my wicked way with you, Evelyn?” His voice hoarse and throaty, the force of it sent little prickles down her spine.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly know you,” she replied with false indignation, standing firm even while her legs felt unsteady. She needed to get rid of him, not encourage him.

  “Don’t play games with me, sweetheart.” There was a hint of warning in his voice. He stepped closer until he was so close, she could feel his breath on her cheeks.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “So you are not using my attraction toward you as a means to manipulate me?”

  Evelyn blinked at his accusation, confused. Manipulation? Attraction?

  “Now I know you cannot be serious,” she answered on a laugh. “I'm no beauty nor do men find me attractive. Which begs the question, what games are you playing?”

  Matthew stared at her in disbelief. Not attractive? He saw the confusion in her eyes, saw curiosity. It appeared she truly believed she was no beauty.

  “I don’t bother with games. I find you very attractive.”

  To prove his point his lips found hers again in a hard and unrelenting kiss, his arms pulling her into his embrace, crushing her against his chest. Just as quickly he let her go, and once again turned to walk away, leaving Evelyn to stare at his back, perplexed.

  Her temper sparked. Not playing games was he? Well there would be no more games played. He can be sure of that.

  “Gentleman my backside,” she muttered, moving to follow his lead.

  Matthew chuckled. “You have a biting tongue, Evelyn. Be careful that it does not get you into trouble one day.”

  “I’m merely commenting on the fact that you are not very gentleman like.”

  “How very astute you are, madam. But then,” he paused for effect, “I have been in the company of a hoyden these past few hours.”

  Evelyn wanted nothing more than to kick him again, but she managed to control the impulse. Still she was a bit breathless when she said, “You, sir, are a rake.”

  “I have never been a
rake, sweetheart, but the devil in me likes to play with little angels like you.”

  What was this? Rogue code? “I’m hardly an angel.”

  Her thoughts slipped back to the events of earlier. No, she was hardly an angel.

  “You are an angelic creature, my dear.” He told her, his voice low and compelling. “You even taste like heaven.”

  Her cheeks reddened. She was way out of her depth and dreadful at flirtation. Then again, it hardly mattered, she decided. Before this day was over she would be gone, and she would never see him again.

  “Well, you are the first devil I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

  “I'm sure I won’t be your last,” he replied darkly.

  Evelyn considered his statement. It was a casual assertion, but his tone made no pretense at it being a simple one.

  “So, where are you traveling to?” she asked, guiding the subject back to a safer topic. She quickened her pace so that she could walk by his side.

  “The lady is curious now, is she?” His dark eyes suddenly glinted with mischief as he glanced down at her.

  “Absolutely.”

  His finger came up to brush her cheek, and she tried to ignore the pleasant sensations stirring in her blood. She pressed on, “Not to mention good manners.”

  “It appears that I have lost my manners.”

  Evelyn snorted. “We should pick up the pace, lest we want to be soaked,” she murmured casting a worried glance at the darkened sky.

  She was suddenly anxious to get away from him and the feelings he provoked in her. He could keep his secrets.

  “Whatever the lady wishes.”

  The Inn came into view the same time a droplet hit the point of Matthew’s nose. He glanced at Evelyn, noting her pensive expression. She intended to make a run for it. He knew it as certain as he knew the grass was green. She was a lady, of that he had no doubt. Her mention of a footman and maid confirmed it. Though he had suspected it from the first moment he met her. And yet she travelled alone. No gentleman worth his salt would let her continue on her journey without a proper escort. Not that he claimed to be a gentleman worth his salt, but Evelyn was different.

  “Is it a secret then, your destination?” He heard her ask behind him.

  “You honestly cannot remember anything from the previous evening?” He sounded amused.

  “I— Ah, well no, as I have said.”

  “I have business to see to.”

  Her nose wrinkled in annoyance. That was it? What a vexing vague man.

  “Does your business including butchering or some other nefarious deed?”

  “No.”

  Evelyn tamped down her irritation. His moods were quite disconcerting. One moment he exuded charm, friendliness and passion and the next moment he was distant, cold and brooding. Also, he was too handsome for his own good.

  “Did I spill my deepest, darkest secrets?” she asked in an attempt to get some answers.

  He only snorted.

  The man could try a saint. It vexed her to no end that he gave nothing of himself away. Evelyn decided to ignore him and his tiring moods. Instead, she focused on her aches and pains, men-tally counting all the places her body hurt.

  He cast a sidelong glance in her direction, taking in her pallor, and slowed his pace until she strolled once more beside him. “You’re awfully quiet,” he remarked after a moment, breaking through her thoughts. “You’re not planning to leave without saying goodbye?”

  Evelyn made a face behind. He hadn’t even broken stride.

  “If only my body would allow me,” she muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm. She was, however, intending to do just that. The thought left an odd feeling in the center of her heart.

  Chapter 3

  Two hours later Evelyn was sprawled, quite scandalously, in a comfortable chair enjoying a steaming cup of tea. Her thoughts were occupied by one particular man as her eyes followed the patterns of the rain clattering against the window. The sensation of his lips still scorched her skin. She should have been outraged that he’d taken such liberties, but for some unexplainable reason, all thoughts of propriety fled when she was in his presence. It was quite nerve-racking. Especially now, that the heavy rain prevented her from slipping away.

  Evelyn thought back to the past day and wondered at what point her life became so complicated. No bells had rang, marking the point of change. No little men jumped out from shrubberies shouting ‘surprise’! It was only now in the quiet safety of her own room that Evelyn felt the subtle shift like that of a fluttering butterfly.

  Her fingers settled on her mouth in a soft touch. The only experience she had in the field of kissing had been stolen pecks—nothing as passionate at Matthew’s searing kisses. But even if she had been kissed in that manner before, Evelyn doubted it would have had the same force, the same intensity that compelled her to kiss back.

  After his last onslaught to her senses and mouth, the impact of her fall finally caught up with her and it had taken them another hour to arrive at the Inn. Matthew, bless his soul, had gradually slowed his pace so that she could keep up. And so an hour of silence had ensued. An hour of being tormented by thoughts of his kiss. The Inn was already bustling with activities and together with his amused groom, Carleton, they’d snuck her through the back entrance without being seen.

  And now that she was in her own room, Evelyn had begun to relax once more. Well, except for the blasted kiss she couldn’t rid her mind of. No matter, as soon as the rain stopped, her footman would return with their repaired carriage. She heaved a sigh of frustration. Being comfortable again still didn’t change the fact that she was stuck here for another night, maybe two, with him.

  She glanced toward the door in speculation. Somewhere between the confines of these walls Matthew would be resting, or pacing, or doing... something. Was he obsessing over the kiss as she? Did he feel frustrated that he would be stuck for another night or two, with her?

  Bah! It was in her best interest to forget about him. Her predilection toward travel meant nothing good could ever come of their acquaintance and she would rather avoid the unpleasantness of a scandal. Not that she cared one wit whether she was cast out of society or not. Their endless set of rules on decorum and deportment were enough to try a saint. But Evelyn did not want to shame her family and friends with unnecessary scandal even if they never would abandon her.

  Lifting the cup to hover over her lips she was about to take a sip when the scrape of an opening door drew her attention to the figure that suddenly filled the doorway. Her heart leaped against chest.

  “It’s bad manners not to knock,” she snapped, irritation overriding her initial shock. She couldn’t, however, stop her traitorous heart from fluttering at the sight of him. He leaned casually against the doorway, regarding her with amusement, his arms folded across his chest. Dressed entirely in black he looked dangerous and powerful. The glint in his eyes so mesmerizing it sent shivers down her spine. It was quite disturbing how breathtaking she found him. He was magnificent. He was trouble. Evelyn shifted in her chair and cleared her throat.

  “Can I help you?”

  Matthew’s breath caught. Again. She stole the very air from his lungs every damn time. It was all he could do not to yank her body against his and kiss her senseless.

  Mine.

  The thought pulsed through his blood and for a mere second he wished that she was. But he pushed the notion aside. She could never be his. He had to remember that. Women, especially beautiful women, were untrustworthy and deceitful.

  “Can I help you?”

  His lips twitched at the supposed indifference in her voice and he sensed her defiance. If she knew the wicked deeds he wanted to do to her at this moment, his little hellion would try to box his ears. Without replying, Matthew stepped into the room and kicked the door shut with a thud, pleased her eyes widened in alarm. It felt oddly good to know that he could ruffle her feathers.

  “I thought I could entice you to a game of chess?�
� he drawled lazily.

  His predatory smile widened when she considered him through narrowed eyes. Evidently she did not trust him either. Good girl. He supposed she was debating whether to agree or toss him out, but she would soon learn he would not accept the latter.

  Surely Evelyn’s ears must be playing tricks on her. Chess? Now there’s a pile of rot, Evelyn thought suspiciously. She ought to scream, it would serve him right. “Actually Mr. Langdon I—”

  For a moment he looked surprised that she’d learned his last name and she inwardly smiled, like a cat, with cream. She had her own means to obtain certain information.

  He recovered just as swiftly. “Matthew, please.”

  “Actually Mr. Langdon, while I do like a good game of chess, I find myself exhausted and in no mood for company,” she replied pertly, waving her hand in a dismissive manner.

  “I see. I suppose that losing can become rather tiresome.”

  He chuckled at her outraged expression.

  “The predictable outcome, Mr. Langdon, is that I always win.”

  “How about I join you for a cup of tea then?”

  Did he not know what ‘in no mood for company’ meant? It appeared not, as he only stood there, looking impossibly arrogant. She considered him for a moment, not quite certain what he was up to. It was clear from his lazy stance and hard set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to leave. And even though his words were framed as a question, he expected her to agree. He would not be dismissed, it seemed. And even though the chances were slim that he’d depart in this weather, she had rather hoped he had, regardless.

  Why then, was she so ridiculously pleased that he hadn’t? It appeared that where he was concerned, her trusting mind and her traitorous heart were at odds with one another. Even so, Evelyn couldn’t see any harm in sharing a cup of tea, improper though it might be. It might even make time pass quicker.

  “Very well sir, you may join me for tea.”