A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess (In War and Love #3)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Clock Chime

D iana’s nerves were wrecked. She may have refused to conform to Society’s expectations, but she never broke the rules, never crossed the lines. Now, she was ready to bounce off so far out of the lines that she wouldn’t even see them.

His proposal, his sinful proposal, echoed in her head.

“You and me, Diana. Alone. At night…”

That night.

Diana grabbed her fork with such force that she was sure the silverware would snap in half. Stephen and Elizabeth were discussing something, but she could barely function, let alone have an intelligent conversation.

“Diana?” Elizabeth asked. “You seem exhausted, dear.”

Diana was exhausted. The agitation alone exhausted her, and she could barely keep still on her chair in the beautifully lit dining hall where she always had dinner even as a child.

Her sister-in-law regarded her with interest, but she smiled.

At any other time, Elizabeth would have noticed more. Her sharp intellect would have picked up on Diana’s agitation, and her feisty nature would have required answers. However, she was also exhausted, probably bearing the greatest news this house has heard since she married Stephen. Diana was twice lucky in a way.

“Are you alright, Diana?” Stephen went in full father mode. “Are you feeling hot? Is your stomach upset?”

Thrice lucky .

Diana realized that once Stephen became a father, he would focus all that excessive protective energy on someone else.

“I think I overestimated myself when I agreed to embroider so many pieces for the auction,” she was quick to reassure him.

“You did a wonderful job, though.” Elizabeth smiled.

Diana nodded and mustered as much of a smile as she could. She felt guilty for lying to them, but somehow she was certain that if she said, “I am sneaking out tonight to meet James alone and have him do wicked things to me,” her brother would die of apoplexy on the spot and leave Elizabeth a widow.

I am lying to protect them .

“I think I had better go to bed early,” she said quickly, reaching for her napkin and dabbing at her lips.

“That is a good idea, Diana,” Stephen agreed.

Diana smiled one last time and all but bolted out of the room. She went to her room, where Bess, her maid, waited to help her with her night routine.

Bess, the soft, quiet, loving girl. Bess, the dutiful and blissfully ignorant maid. Bess, who had a room on the ground floor with a window overlooking the back garden.

All Diana needed to do was get to that window. And she had a plan.

The hair was brushed, the nightgown was worn, and the covers were dutifully pulled over her body.

Diana clenched her teeth. It was time to set her plan in motion.

“Anything else, My Lady?” Bess asked dutifully.

This was the moment. Diana could just not go. Not set this whole thing in motion. It was dangerous, and if she was caught…

“I have so much more to teach you, Diana.”

His voice curled around her like a silken vice. Her fingers twitched against the sheets, restless, burning with the dark promise of his eyes. Her thighs pressed together beneath the blankets, taut with tension just from remembering the way his hands had explored her body.

“My Lady?” Bess prompted.

Diana swallowed, determined. “I feel so tired and restless at the same time. Perhaps some chamomile tea would help settle my nerves.”

“Right away, My Lady.”

The moment the maid was out the door, Diana bolted out of bed. She had three days to make a plan for tonight, and she was prepared. She took off her nightgown and hid it under the covers. From there, she produced the black, simple dress she had hidden earlier and threw it on. She dug a black hooded cloak out of the back of her wardrobe and her most comfortable slippers.

She didn’t have a lot of time, but she had practiced. Of course, she had practiced it. She took more pillows and a small, round one and arranged them on her bed. This trick was older than time, but there was a reason it was timeless. It worked .

She took a step back to admire her handiwork, and she was happy to see that it gave the impression of a body beneath the covers. Sweet Bess would never disturb her after seeing her so tired and gone to bed so early. It was a moonless night that secured darkness.

When the scene was set in her room, Diana went to the door, wrapping her hood around herself. She had a goal—Bess’s window. The only clear path out of the manor that she was familiar with.

She smiled. She had specifically asked for her maid to have that room when she first came to the manor. It was just below her room, one staircase away and next to a small auxiliary kitchen. She didn’t want the poor girl to go to such lengths while catering to her needs.

It seemed that her kindness was repaid. However, to use such a sincere, considerate act for such scandalous reasons was evil.

Or an unexpected stroke of luck .

All she needed was to have Bess out of her room. Asking for chamomile tea, for instance, did the job. And she needed to hide. She knew exactly the spot—the only safe spot between her room and that window.

But now that she was standing before that very spot, she hesitated. This had seemed like a good idea in theory. Now, faced with the grim reality, she reevaluated the worth of her plan.

Diana stood before the grandfather clock, staring at it. Squeezing herself into the narrow body of the clock had seemed like a good idea, but now it made her reconsider her life choices.

“James, you better appreciate this,” she murmured in the empty hallway

She opened the wooden door, hiked up her skirts, and squeezed inside, drawing it almost shut. Almost . She had no intention of being locked inside the clock. She could feel the cold brass weights against her back, but she was shaking from agitation.

Her ears were straining to hear the one thing she was waiting for—Bess walking into her room with her chamomile tea. She had to be ready. The moment the maid was in her room, Diana had to move as fast as lightning and as stealthily as a cat. Time was literally ticking.

She was trembling, but it wasn’t all from fear. The thrill, the forbidden nature of what she was doing was exhilarating.

This is madness .

But at the same time, her blood was thrumming with something dangerously close to delight. And the reward for her audacity. Him. All to herself.

Her chest heaved at the thought.

Footsteps. She heard footsteps.

Diana’s focus became razor-sharp as every muscle in her body tensed. The footsteps passed her by, and she heard a knock on a door.

“Lady Diana?”

Then the creaking of the door.

It’s now or never!

Diana opened the clock door, which she had made sure was well-oiled, and climbed out of the ticking coffin. One glance at her door, hearing Bess murmur, “Poor thing,” and she ran down the hall.

She had a small window of time. Bess would probably take her tea to the kitchen to dispose of it and wash the cup and teapot before she retreated to her room.

Diana had to remind herself to breathe as she ran. It would be profoundly stupid to go to all this trouble only to faint halfway down the hall. She rounded the corner on silent feet. Then, she ran down the stairs, gripping the banister to keep from stumbling in her haste.

Left turn. Past the little kitchen. Bess’s room. The door didn’t creak.

“Lady Luck is on my side.” Diana chuckled in the darkness. “My courage has been rewarded.”

The window was right there. Her hands trembled as she unlatched it, pushing it open just enough to squeeze through. A rush of cool air kissed her skin.

Almost there.

Without hesitation, she hoisted herself on the sill and climbed through. It was wide and big enough to make it easy for her. Now, all she had to do?—

Snag .

Her skirt was caught in the latch and was not giving in. Perhaps this was the sign that she was snarled up in something out of her depth.

“Not now. Damn these dresses. I should have worn breeches. Blast it!” Diana cursed and pulled.

Nothing.

Oh God .

Diana cursed under her breath again and pulled at her dress with her whole weight.

Rip.

Her skirt was irreparably torn, but she was free.

She wrapped herself in her cloak, closed the window, and ran to the tall side wall. She sprinted across the short grass as fast as her legs would carry her.

There .

She spotted a small, forgotten door—a remnant of the times when the estate was smaller—hidden behind overgrown ivy. She had made sure the days before that the latch was still working, and she made sure to bring something to prevent it from latching back. She needed this gate open. It was not only her escape but also her way back in.

Once she was out, she glanced at both sides of the dark road. Her heart was pounding hard.

“I’ll wait for you in three days at the side of the abandoned Lesham Manor. I’ll wait till the sun rises, Diana,” James had promised her.

That was where she was going. Lesham Manor was next door. It had been abandoned for years, dark and empty. Diana turned and?—

James.

He was there, leaning against the curricle, his massive body imposing. His head was bowed, his hand over his lips as if he were lost in thought. Then, he sensed her and turned around.

Diana inhaled to slow her racing heart. Useless. The moment she saw him, it thundered even harder.

James was there, wearing a shirt with no cravat. The top buttons were undone, and a sliver of skin peeked from the opening—a call to her yearning hands.

It’s a warm night, and it’s about to become scorching.

Then, finally, she looked into his eyes. All the hiding and running and the ripping of her dress was nothing compared to what his look did to her heart. The moment his eyes landed on her, it skipped a beat. The look in his mercurial blue eyes shifted, from brooding to relieved, and then?—

Oh.

She felt it rather than saw it. The hunger.

His gaze swept over her, and it was as if he was touching her. Seeing her in black made him graze his lower lip with his teeth before he stopped at the torn fabric of her dress. The tear was just enough to expose the pale curve of her shins—a sight so scandalous that it made the muscle in his jaw twitch.

He pushed off the curricle, pinning her with the look in his eyes. Before Diana could even realize it, he stalked toward her. He grabbed her by the waist, one hand digging into her flesh and the other cupping her face. A sharp inhale from her, a deep, guttural sigh from him, and then his mouth crashed onto hers.

He devoured her as if he had starved to death during the three days they hadn’t seen each other. His mouth was demanding, claiming her tongue, caressing it, luring it deeper. A wet, decadent kiss that made her knees buckle, only for him to pull her against his solid body, lifting her off on her feet. His hand slid into her hair and loosened it.

With a pained grunt, he stopped.

“You are here,” he panted, almost in disbelief.

“That was the plan.”

“And you came to me dressed like temptation itself?” His eyes raked over her body. “Tell me, Diana, who is teaching who here?”

Diana looked down at her torn dress and then back at his ravenous eyes. “It is simply an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction.”

“Oh.” He swiped his thumb over her lower lip. “There is nothing unfortunate with the way you look.”

Diana blushed under his intense gaze, which betrayed his inner struggle. He was seriously thinking of ditching all the plans he had for tonight, pinning her against the curricle, and doing scandalous things to her.

He took a deep breath to compose himself, and Diana was intoxicated by the power she had over him. She almost made him lose control. Almost.

“Let’s go.” He helped her into the small curricle.

“Wait. Where is the driver?” Diana asked as she lowered herself onto the bench.

Instead of answering, James climbed in beside her and grabbed the reins. Like he had been doing since they met. He turned to her and smiled at her. A taunting smile at her surprise. Then, he clicked his tongue, and the horses took off.

The night stretched out before them, the road dark and open, and James stole her away into the night.