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Regency Romance

About Me

Only the torches at the doors gave off any light as Rosa approached The Grange. As it should be. She slipped quietly around to the side door she’d left open. Her heart picked up speed. What if someone had come along and locked it? Slowly she lifted the latch and pushed. The door swung back on silent hinges.
She let go a sigh of relief and stepped over the thresh-hold.
A large warm body smelling of cigars blocked her way.
A man. She leapt back.
The man grabbed her arm and raised a lamp high. She blinked in the glare shining on her face, unable to see her assailant. “Back so soon, Mrs. Travenor?” he mocked. “Whoever you are meeting can’t be much good if he is finished already.”
Stanford. She recognized his mocking voice. A flash of heat followed by the cold of dread left her breathless. She drew herself up to her full height. “Stand aside, Lord Stanford.”
He hung the lamp on a hook on the wall. It cast eerie shadows on his harsh features. She shivered. “Let me pass.” She made to push by him.
He put a hand against the wall, blocking her way.
She could feel the heat of his body only inches from hers, his dark mocking eyes raking her face. “Where have you been?”
Her heart rattled. Her breath quickened. “Out for a walk.”
“At this time of night?” He made no attempt to hide his disbelief.
“Where I go is none of your business.”
“Perhaps not,” he mused, not moving an inch. “But Lady Keswick might be interested to hear about her little companion’s forays into the night. Or does she already know?” The amused smile on his lips made her want to hit him.
He lifted a hand and brushed back the hood of her cloak, trailed a finger down the side of her face. “Who are you meeting, hmmm? A lover? Or some man you must meet in secret because....he has mischief on his mind?”
Inwardly she trembled. She hated how weak he made her feel, as if her knees had no more substance that overcooked asparagus. She straightened her shoulders and forced herself to meet his dark gaze. And saw more than she expected. Heat.
She drew in a shaky breath. “Lady Keswick has no interest in what I do in my free time.”
He laughed. A cruel low chuckle, full of arrogance. “And if I tell her I suspect you are up to no good. If I tell her I suspect you have some criminal intent sneaking out at night? What then do you think?”
She edged back, away from the heat of his body, free of his overbearing presence that seemed to scramble every thought in her head, while his large form blocked the passage ahead. “Why are you wandering the halls at night?” she asked haughtily.
His smile broadened. “Waiting for you.” His low murmur was a silky stroke to her ear. “I saw you leave.”
A shiver slid down her spine, far too pleasant to be entirely fear driven. The thought of such a man waiting for her, far too distracting. Her brain seemed full of him, instead of coming up with a reasonable explanation.
“Well here I am,” she said, lifting her chin and meeting that penetrating gaze full on, terribly proud her voice held steady, despite the trembles rushing through her body. “And you can tell Lady Keswick whatever you wish. Now if you would excuse me, I would like to retire.”
His eyes widened a fraction. He turned sideways and leaned against the wall, tipping his dark head back. “Not until you tell me where you were.”
“Why?”
“Let us say I am curious.”
She swallowed. “I told you, I went for a walk.”
He turned to face her, his eyes gleaming. “In the woods, in the pouring rain?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I find the fresh air helps.”
“I know a very good cure for insomnia I’d be willing to share.”
“No,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
He chuckled softly. “Such a polite little nun. And yet I do think you are tempted.” He leaned closer.
Tempted? She stared up at him, staring at the smile on his sensual mouth a mere whisper away, the scent brandy and cigars filling her nostrils. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from his mouth. If she leaned forward just a fraction, she had the feeling he would kiss her.
Her lips tingled at the thought of how his mouth might feel on her lips. Her body ached to be held close to that magnificent breadth of chest. A moan of longing rose in her throat and only by dint of will did she stop from giving it voice.
Heaven help her, he was tempting. The man was a rake and a libertine and he thought her a widow. An experienced woman.
 Her heart knocked so hard against her ribs, her body trembled. Her blood ran in rivers of molten lava. Did he know the effect he was having on her? A glance into his eyes, told her he had no doubt about what he was doing. He was playing with her. Tormenting her the way a cat toyed with a mouse.
 “Let me pass,” she said, knowing she was begging for release, not from physical restraint, but the spell holding her enthralled.
 “Tell me where you went and I will let you pass. If you are sure you really want to go.”