Chapter 5
Well, there was nothing terrifyingly boring about that.
“Oh God, Tuck, I’m so sorry.” The words escaped her lips before she knew she would call him by his given name, but as the water gently rocked their rowboat and a spring breeze caressed her cheek, she didn’t think she could very well call him anything else.
His gaze skittered away from her, and she worried if she’d upset him. Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand over his against the oar.
“I’m sorry, Tuck,” she said again with more emphasis. “You mustn’t speak of it if you don’t wish to.”
His attention came back to her, and she was surprised to find curiosity in his features rather than annoyance.
“It’s odd, but I think I feel better having told you that.” His hand worked the oar beneath hers as if he needed to do something physical while he sorted through his emotions. “I’ve never told anyone about Harrison. Anyone who didn’t already know.” He paused, his eyes changing as he considered her. “I’m glad you know now.”
“I’m glad I know too,” she said and let go of his hand to sit up on her bench. “Do you wish to speak of it? Perhaps that will feel good as well.”
He looked away again, and she wondered if that was a habit, a way for him to collect his thoughts before speaking. When he turned back to her, a small smile played at his lips.
“Harrison was twelve years older than me and the second born son to my parents. There is a sister next, and my mother lost a baby after my sister. So I’m a good deal younger than my siblings, but Harrison never seemed to mind. He never treated me like an annoyance. If anything, he went out of his way to ensure I had a fun and at times adventurous childhood.” He swallowed then, so abruptly it looked almost painful, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out again and taking his hand.
This time she plucked it from the oar and cradled it between both of her own. The little rowboat bobbed in the water, the breeze pushing it along the lake. She was no longer paying attention to where the wind carried them. She could only study Tuck’s face, watch the past play out across his features.
“He went into service as was expected of him.” He looked up then and met her eyes as if remembering suddenly she was there. “Our father is a very minor baron and a judge, and my mother is the daughter of a viscount. My brother was expected to either take up the cloth or enlist, and as he was not ever one for Bible study, he chose the Queen’s Navy instead.” Her hand involuntarily clenched as she connected the pieces in her mind and braced herself for what was to come. “My brother was to sail on the Imogene out of Portsmouth. It was loaded with supplies for the Cape Colony. Another Navy ship, the Chilton, had passed through the Mediterranean just days before on its way to India through the Suez Canal. They encountered a storm unlike any they had seen before. They’d made it into port before the storm could take their ship, and they sent a telegram back to Portsmouth to delay the departure of the Imogene.” His eyes were on hers again, and she could almost feel the aching sadness that rippled through him. “The telegram didn’t reach Portsmouth because of the solar storm. My brother’s ship left port, my brother on it. It sank two days later before it even reached the African coast. All souls perished.”
She didn’t know how she didn’t break his hand with the way her grip tightened, as if she could make it all better simply by holding on to him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, never before feeling how useless such words could be.
She couldn’t bring back his brother or any of the other souls lost that day when the Imogene sank. But worse, she couldn’t take away his pain in the here and now, and that hurt more than anything at the same time she was in awe of it. For a man of science like Tuck to feel something so deeply, so completely, and to rearrange his life around those feelings, was something truly extraordinary.
He let go of the other oar then and placed his hand on top of hers, and now she couldn’t be sure who held whom. “I can’t let it happen again, Eloise.” His eyes flashed to hers, and she saw the determination in there, a determination that spoke to her, setting fire to parts of herself she had thought wasted. The yearning for a purpose, the desire for a mission, the need for more. But it was right there in his eyes, all of it. And she could never have it.
Still. She leaned in, unable to look away, unable to give up what she saw there. Maybe later she would be strong enough, but right now all of him simmered at the surface, and she wanted to dive in.
“I can’t let it happen again,” he repeated, more softly this time. “I promised myself, and I promised my mother and father that I would stop it from happening to someone else’s brother, someone else’s son. And that’s why I must find the funds for my expedition.”
She shook her head. “Then why don’t you tell people about Harrison? You said you never spoke of him.”
His eyes grew dark then, impossibly so, and she wondered at their changeability. “Because I don’t want this to be about him. It feels like I’m capitalizing on his loss to suit my own needs. I won’t sell him for a pound.”
While the sadness in his voice had been palpable when he’d relayed the story of his brother’s death, the vehemence in his tone now was enough to cut iron.
“You’re not selling him,” she said. “You’re making sure his death wasn’t meaningless.”
Something sharp passed over his face then, and it was almost as though she’d slapped him, light coming into his eyes when there’d only been darkness. But he didn’t speak, and neither did she. Silence fell over them like a fog, and it was as though he became her entire world. Everything came to a point where they held each other, and all she had to do was lean forward and press her lips to his, and he would be hers forever. She knew that somehow even as she knew she could never do it.
But right then she could. She remembered what it had been like to kiss him. It was like the flowery prose of fairy tales or the exotic ramblings of a novel. Kissing Tucker Ryan was simply what she was meant to do. It felt like coming home when she hadn’t known she’d been away.
So she leaned forward or maybe he leaned toward her. She closed her eyes, and then?—
She was unceremoniously knocked from the rowboat.
One moment she was nearing heaven and the next she was all but drowning.
She wasn’t sure what hurt more. When the giant hairy creature struck her or when she hit the water after tumbling from the rowboat. Either way the shock of it dulled her senses until she was under the dark, murky water of the Serpentine, her lungs burning for air even as water rushed up her nose, and her skirts clamped down on her legs as though they wished to drown her.
She had no sense of direction, but it needn’t matter anyway as her dress had successfully trapped her legs, preventing her from propelling herself to the surface. It didn’t stop her from trying though, forcing her eyes open to see if she could find the light of the surface and turn her body toward it.
But just as she got her eyes open, the water erupted in an explosion. The surge lifted her even as strong arms wrapped around her like a steel cage. When she broke through the surface, her lungs sucked in air automatically, ravenous for oxygen as the brilliant sun blinded her. Someone was yelling, the sound echoing through the water still filling her ears. It was several seconds before she could interpret what was being said.
“Put your feet down.”
Again the motion was automatic, and her legs went rigid, standing her straight up until?—
Her feet sank in a cushion of mud, stopping abruptly and allowing her to stand. Through the curtain of water that poured down her face, she became aware of several things. She was standing in the Serpentine, in approximately—she looked down—three feet of water, the whole of which she thought would drown her. Their little rowboat rocked violently before her as if upset by a sudden motion, and beyond it, the shore was crowded with gawkers.
“Oh,” she said, the word little more than a sound of despair as she took in the crowd.
“Oh God.”
She swung about to find Tuck in the water beside her. He was only soaked to the waist and the sleeves of his jacket as he’d reached into the water to pull her up. He shucked that jacket now as if it were on fire and swung it about her so quickly, she nearly toppled over into the water again. Without waiting for her to respond, he yanked the opening of the jacket together, drawing her smack into his chest.
“Oof,” she mumbled, peering up at him from her precarious position in his grip. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
She did a lot of hissing with him. Was this how their relationship was to be? Would they always find themselves in scandalous situations that required discreet whispering?
“You’re wet.”
“Of course, I’m—” She stopped talking, realization setting in. She glanced down even though all she could see were Tuck’s fisted hands as he held his jacket in place in front of her bosom. A bosom that likely had been clearly outlined for all of the onlookers to gaze upon. “Thank you,” she finished and carefully pried Tuck’s hands loose to assume control of the jacket that shielded her more private bits from the gawkers.
But he didn’t let go. She looked up, questioning, only to find something in his eyes she’d never seen there before.
Desire.
Pure, molten desire.
It was so unexpected the breath caught in her throat, and she was very much afraid of drowning again. While she had always felt a magical rightness with Tuck, she’d never felt his passion the way she did now, and it truly stole her breath. Her body responded to the look in his eyes without her volition, muscles clenching, heart racing. Longing was one thing. Desire was something else entirely.
And it broke her heart all over again.
This man wasn’t hers to have. No matter how he desired her and how she wanted him. It wasn’t to be.
“Tuck.” His name was enough to break the spell, and he released her, taking her elbow beneath the jacket to help her to shore.
“I’m so sorry,” a voice called from the lakeside. “He’s never done that before. I don’t know what came over him.”
She blinked against the sun, trying to make out the voice who called to her in apology.
“That’s quite all right,” she said as the speaker came into view.
It was a woman slightly older than she, perhaps somewhere in her thirties. A gaggle of children stood behind her and one of them, a boy who towered above the rest with long limbs and floppy dark hair, held a dog who dripped water much as Eloise imagined she did. The boy had wrapped both arms around the animal as if giving him a tight hug to keep the animal from bounding forward. Again, it would seem.
“He doesn’t usually chase waterfowl,” the woman said now. “I mean…” She cast a worried eye at the dog. “He’s afraid of sheep.”
They’d reached the shore then, and a gentleman there reached down to pull her up the bank.
“He is afraid of sheep,” the gentleman said now. “To that I can attest. Piglets too.” He held up a finger when she was safely on both of her feet on the firmness of land. “Not pigs, mind you. Just the piglets.”
She realized suddenly this man was with this woman, and this gaggle of children must be theirs. Her heart squeezed suddenly, and tears threatened as the yearning she’d tried to tamp down rose up inside of her.
This was what she’d wanted. This big happy brood of a family, spending their days together and creating memories like this one.
The time the family dog nearly drowned a lady in the Serpentine.
She smiled even though her heart trembled. “It’s really quite all right. I assure you no harm’s been done.” No harm that was visible anyway.
The woman stepped forward now, touching her husband’s elbow with a familiarity that spoke to how often she’d done it. A thousand times? More?
“I’m Eliza Kane, the Duchess of Ashbourne. You must allow me to procure a new gown for you.” The woman’s face was twisted with concern, sending a pair of small gold spectacles climbing up her nose.
Eloise only waved the suggestion away. “I assure you no such thing is necessary. I don’t usually partake of a swim so early in the season, but I suppose one must remain flexible.”
Eloise couldn’t accept this woman’s kindness because the guilt would kill her. The truth of it was this woman’s dog had saved Eloise from scandal. She’d almost kissed Tuck in that little rowboat in front of all these people. She’d have been ruined for sure. Tuck never would have secured a benefactor then. A man who damaged the reputation of a debutante? He’d be seen as no more than a scoundrel.
The duchess did not look convinced, but before Eloise could reassure her, a commotion at the back of the crowd had them turning.
Ardley pushed through the gathering, Annie trailing behind him.
“Eloise,” she said as soon as she reached them. “Are you hurt?”
Eloise smiled and shook her head, sending water droplets about her like a fountain. “Not in the least. It seems I’m merely the victim of normal canine instincts.”
“Ashbourne,” Ardley said then. “What the devil are you doing here? I thought it took an act of Parliament to get you out of that home of yours on the ocean.”
Ashbourne gave a bark of laughter. “Hardly an act of Parliament, Ardley. Just visiting family, I’m afraid. Another niece is being christened. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“Another one? How many does that make?”
“Eleven,” the duchess answered, her tone flat.
Eloise felt a tug of commiseration. Eleven nieces were a lot. She could only wonder at the number of nephews that might be involved and thought it best not to ask.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” the duchess asked then. “I promise you he’s normally a well-behaved dog.”
“He’s twelve years old. This is the most exciting thing he’s done in ages,” Ashbourne added.
Again Eloise waved them off. “Think nothing of it. Nothing has happened that can’t be remedied.”
That wasn’t exactly the truth, and much later when she gave Tuck his jacket back, they were both very careful not to touch one another.
* * *
He was at least drywhen the summons arrived.
He’d bathed and dressed faster than he’d thought possible, not wishing to be alone with his thoughts for longer than was necessary and was descending the stairs of Ardley House when a footman stopped him. A lad had come to the kitchen door with a note for the Honorable Mr. Tucker Ryan.
Tuck eyed the folded note on the footman’s silver salver as if it were a slumbering cobra. He had no wish to prod it, but the footman said the lad was waiting for a response.
Without delay, he snatched up the paper and read the two words scribbled across it.
Courtyard. Midnight.
There was no greeting or signature, but he didn’t need one. He knew who had sent such a cryptic message and knew all too well what it meant.
It was absolutely the worst idea he’d ever heard of, so he raised his eyes to the footman and said, “Yes, of course.”
The footman nodded and bounded back down the stairs to give the reply to the waiting messenger boy. Putting the note in his pocket with one hand, Tuck ran his other hand through his hair and went down the remainder of the stairs to find something to distract him. Perhaps there was a circus of monkeys in the drawing room doing acrobats. That would probably keep him occupied for a few minutes.
He found nothing in the drawing room and no one there either. Retracing his steps back into the hall, he found the butler lurking.
“His Grace wished me to inform you he went out for the evening. He had urgent business, which required his attention,” Mansfield explained.
Urgent business? Tuck thought it likely involved a woman.
He forced a smile. “Thank you, Mansfield. Would you please have a tray brought up to the library? I think I shall read for a bit.”
He didn’t read. He knew he wouldn’t. He paced instead. Paced, ruminated, stewed, and paced some more. The tray Mansfield sent up went untouched except for the tea, which he drank by the pot, forcing the poor maid to refill the thing by the hour, but his pacing fueled quite a thirst.
What was he going to do about Eloise?
The plan to ignore her clearly wasn’t going to work, not with Liam courting her. They were likely to be thrown together for the whole of the season, and they must come up with a better plan than avoidance.
But what would the plan be when Liam and Eloise finally wed?
This thought stopped him completely.
What would he do?
He had his research. Perhaps that would be enough to keep him from London, keep him from having to witness Eloise married to someone else. Not just someone. Tuck’s cousin. Liam.
He shoved a hand through his hair. God, he’d made a mess of this. But to be fair, he hadn’t known he was doing anything. Eloise had just been a lady he’d encountered under the stars one night. How was he to know who she really was?
His research wouldn’t keep him from London forever. Besides he couldn’t fathom a life spent away from Liam.
Hell’s teeth, he couldn’t see a way out of this. His only hope was that his feelings for her would fade, that one day he wouldn’t feel that instant clench of his gut when he saw her, as though his body recognized her without his conscious mind doing so, as if it…knew.
Cursing, he turned and looked at the clock on the mantel. Half eight. Midnight was an eternity away.
He collapsed on the nearest sofa, the will to even pace having drained out of him. He lay there and contemplated a life without Liam, a life without Eloise, and wondered how on earth he’d gotten into this predicament. He had already been in London for almost a month, and he was without benefactor and quite possibly soon he’d lose his cousin and the woman who had snared his passion all in one go. Could it get any worse?
It could, in fact. When the clock struck eleven, he realized with a start he must have fallen asleep at some point. He scrubbed the sleep from his face and rose, straightening himself as best he could before heading out of the library.
Ardley House was one of the newer homes in Mayfair with a shared courtyard with the other houses along the block. The courtyard was accessed through a set of doors off the conservatory. He’d discovered it when he’d first arrived and was seeking some outside space to use for some of the smaller experiments he’d brought with him, including the stargazing glasses he’d been testing the night he’d first encountered Eloise.
He slipped through the conservatory now and out into the night. They were deep into spring and unlike that night in early March, the air was warm against his cheek, having lost its winter bite over the past few weeks. He wound his way through the hedges at the edge of the terrace and onto the path that would lead to the heart of the courtyard.
The gardens there were of simple design, mostly yew hedges, the occasional flowering tree, firs and some sturdier trees to provide shade, and benches were placed along designated paths at specific intervals. The space was one very much suited to taking in the air rather than any serious gardening endeavors, and he found he enjoyed it. Such a clean, common space in which to enjoy both the outdoors and one’s neighbors. It was no wonder Ardley had chosen to sell the previous London townhome and purchase the lease here when he’d become duke.
The thought made his heart hurt, thinking of his cousin like that, and he pushed it away. Tuck was Odysseus himself, sailing between the dangers that lurked before him, and he liked none of his options.
Eloise was already in the spot where he’d first seen her, and the sight of her standing in much the same way as she’d been when he’d happened upon her the first time sent his stomach twisting with anticipation and nostalgia. Nostalgia. God, what was wrong with him?
“Eloise.” He spoke her name softly, reluctantly, not wishing to break the moment as she gazed so wondrously at the stars.
Her head turned swiftly though, her eyes falling on him, but her expression never changed. She kept that same wondrous gaze about her, and he wondered if that was how she approached the world, with a sense of curiosity and exploration.
“Tuck.” Her voice held a smile he somehow knew she was holding back.
“I’m sorry about today—” he started, but she held up a hand, cutting him off.
“There’s no need to apologize. You didn’t knock me into the lake.” The smile came now, slow but sure.
He wasn’t apologizing for the dousing she had received. Not entirely. The apology was more for how he had felt at seeing her standing there beside him, her every curve outlined. She’d gone from the woman who had infatuated him to a woman he very much desired in the space of seconds. When she was just Eloise, the mysterious woman under the stars, she had held a mystical element that had kept her almost untouchable. Even though he had kissed her, she still seemed otherworldly.
But when he’d seen her, all of her, she’d become real to him, solid, attainable.
“I should have stopped the dog.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And both of us would have taken a swim.”
She was probably right, so he went on. “If it’s not an apology you’re seeking, why did you ask me to meet you here?”
Her expression dimmed then, and he wished he could snatch back his words. She turned to fully face him, and he noticed her hands were folded in front of her in an efficient manner that didn’t seem to fit with the rest he knew of her.
“I don’t think our plan is going to work.”
He held back his own smile. “I came to the very same conclusion. What do you suggest we do?”
She took a step toward him and then another. He should have stepped aside, moved past her, but he couldn’t. His feet remained fixed to the path as he watched her approach.
“If we can’t avoid each other, we must come to an understanding.”
“An understanding?”
She was close enough now that he could see the gold tones in her hair. She wore no bonnet, and he drank in the sight of her, all of her. The tumble of her hair as it had loosened from some of its pins, how her eyes flashed in the moonlight, how her shoulders relaxed the closer she came, an easiness settling over her.
“You have something I need, and I have something you need.”
“Something you need?”
She licked her lips and looked down at her toes for a second before meeting his gaze and saying quickly, “I must secure Ardley’s hand this season.”
It was like a bullet directly to his heart, but she likely knew that. She’d been swift in her delivery, and it had caused him the least damage. The wound her words left was only fatal.
“And what do you have?” He didn’t want to talk about her marrying Liam.
Now her smile came easily. “I will help you find a benefactor.”
“Is that so? I’m afraid you’re too late. The Duke of Grimsby has offered his aid,” he said as the duke had indeed offered to help Tuck in his endeavor.
Her smile didn’t falter. In fact, she gave a small laugh. “Grimsby doesn’t have what I have.”
“And what is that?”
She held out her arms. “My charm.”
The way she said it, with warmth and humility, had him laughing. “Your charm?”
She dropped her arms. “And connections. The Stoke Bruerne name is a respected one. I can help you with introductions.” She poked him in the chest with a single finger. “And you can tell Ardley what a reliable helpmate I am.”
Her finger didn’t leave his chest. He stared it, and she stared at it, and they both said nothing, not for several seconds.
“Helpmate?” he finally managed, but still her finger didn’t move. Or rather it didn’t leave his chest.
Her hand shifted, coming to lie flat against him, the tips of her fingers curling ever so slightly into the front of his jacket as if she were testing something, searching for something.
“Hmm.” She made a distracted noise, and her gaze was on her hand, which moved freely now, sliding up until it reached the tangle of his cravat, higher until her fingertips touched the heat of his skin just above his shirt collar. Her touch was tentative, merely a brush, and then her hand stilled.
Just like it had in the boat earlier that day when he had felt as though the entire universe came to a point at the exact spot where they touched.
Her eyes lifted to meet his. “We make this a kind of partnership, Mr. Ryan.”
“Partnership.” Were her eyes brown or hazel? In the moonlight he could have sworn there were streaks of forest green in them.
“I help you.” She moved her hand, the barest of touches skimming his jaw, and electricity coursed through him until he thought it would render him paralyzed. “You help me.”
He couldn’t take any more. He seized her, lifting her off her feet, backing her up until he pressed her against a tree. He kissed her then, his mouth crushing hers as her arms came around his neck, her fingers clawing at his hair.
“I. Help. You.” He pronounced each word between biting kisses along her jaw, her neck, her earlobe.
“I. Help. You.” She responded in kind, pushing her head back against the tree trunk as far as she could, lifting her chin, exposing the long line of her neck to him.
He took, first pressing his mouth to the place that throbbed with her pulse and then running his tongue up the column of her neck until she whimpered, one leg coming up to wrap around him, pulling him even closer to her.
He ached. Every part of him ached and yearned for her, but he’d already taken too much.
“I want you.” She whispered the words. They skated over his ear and passed directly to his heart.
Suddenly nothing else mattered. Not society. Not a benefactor. Not even Liam.
Eloise was alive in his arms, and it was like he was seeing the world for the very first time after a long period of darkness. She had done that. She had opened him like that.
He felt. After spending so long in his dead brother’s shadow, Tuck felt something other than the urgency to avenge Harrison’s death. He felt her, Eloise, and it was almost more than he could bear.
He kissed her. He drank her in. It was as though she were the elixir of life and he the dying man. He couldn’t explain it or understand it, and he didn’t want to. He just wanted to keep kissing her, keep holding her, keep exploring her.
His hands ran down her torso, over her hips, and around to her buttocks, pulling her against him even though it was impossible for them to get any closer, but he must try. He must.
His hand roamed farther, lower, deeper. He cradled her thigh in his palm, kneaded it until she moaned against his mouth. The sound drove his desire into a fury, and he needed more. He needed all of her.
His fingers worked at her skirts, pulling them up inch by painful inch. When his fingers closed around the angles of her knee, he nearly lost what little sense he had left. She wore silk stockings, and his fingers slid along her knee, tracing the outline higher and higher until he stumbled into the line of lace at the top.
He paused, lingered, savored. Another inch and he would find bare skin. He knew that, and yet he couldn’t make his hand move. Not yet. He let the anticipation build, let the blood thrum through his veins, let his body shake with need for her.
Only then did he move his hand, sliding it up, tracing the pattern of lace until?—
She sucked in a breath, the sound sharp in the quiet of the night, when his fingers found her bare thigh.
“Tuck.” His name was little more than a whimper, and it was almost his undoing.
That he could do this to her, that he could make her want, that he could pleasure her.
Suddenly he needed to see her. He needed to see what he did to her.
Pulling ever so slowly away, he studied her, her head thrown back against the tree, her face flush, heat rising up her neck as she took harsh, ragged breaths. His gaze lingered there only a moment before dropping to his hand, to the place where flesh met flesh, and he finally touched her as he longed to touch her.
He saw it, his hand against her thigh, and desire roared up in him at the same time something else did. A realization, a thought, an understanding.
Forbidden.
He wrenched his hand away, took a stumbling step backward, and shoved the shaking hand through his hair.
And before she could open her eyes, before she could utter a single word in protest, he said, “Good night, Eloise,” and stumbled off into the dark.