33. Caught in the Act
CHAPTER 33
CAUGHT IN THE ACT
T he following afternoon at Vouros Mansion
After a day spent at the Erechtheion searching for inscriptions on what was left of the marble cella, Randy had helped Diana pack her tools into her satchel. He watched as she rolled up the rubbing she had completed at great risk to herself, the memory of what she had done forcing him to suppress a chuckle as he slid the roll into her tubular carrying case and slung the strap over his shoulder.
“Thank you for walking me home,” Diana said, removing the case from Randy’s shoulder. Before she could do anything with it, the butler took it from her and helped to divest Randy of the leather satchel.
“I appreciate you allowing me to do so,” he replied, watching in confusion as the servant disappeared from the vestibule.
His gaze took in the mansion’s decor. Although he had been here for dinner only a few nights before, he had been escorted to the dining room almost immediately upon his arrival and hadn’t seen most of the house. He had already been shown the curved marble staircase from the main hall, but the ceiling hid its ultimate destination. He had climbed those stairs, though, all the way to the roof.
Twice.
The reminder of his time with Diana in the dark, under a curtain of stars, had his cock twitching. The first time she had been dressed as if she were a proper English lady, even if she had been flat on her back. The second time, she had been wearing a nightrail, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the mounds of her breasts or the tops of her thighs. Despite the dark, he was sure her nipples tented the muslin.
Their night together on the beach had nearly been his undoing. Desire for her—desire to discover what would please her, to become her one and only lover—had consumed his thoughts ever since.
Seeing her now, garbed in breeches and a man’s shirt, a cloud of soft curls surrounding her dirt-smudged face, only increased his desire for her.
How was that possible?
“You’re staring as if you’ve never seen the inside of this house before,” she accused. “You were here for dinner,” she reminded him before lowering her voice to add, “And the night before last.”
He gave a start. “It looks rather different in the daylight is all,” he said, his gaze sweeping the interior. He was tempted to say something about only having eyes for her, but he didn’t think she would welcome the sentiment. Instead, he waved to indicate the ground floor parlor. “I don’t remember seeing this room,” he said. “You certainly have the better house,” he added as he passed beneath an arch and into the parlor. “Italianate, is it not?”
Diana crossed her arms and joined him. “Or what passes for it here in Athens,” she replied. “One of the servants and I finally finished unpacking the crates the day before yesterday,” she added. “I didn’t wish for my parents to arrive to find the house still in disarray from the move.”
Randy picked up a small vase, realizing almost immediately it was an ancient Greek rhyton. The drinking vessel, shaped like a horn, featured the face of a cat at its base. He carefully returned it to the table. “So you set up all this by yourself? After you spent most of the day on the Acropolis?”
“I did,” she replied, as if it were no trouble. “Though, I expect some of it will be rearranged once Mother arrives.”
“You don’t think she’ll like it?” he asked in alarm.
Diana lifted a shoulder. “She does have issues with her eyesight,” she said. “Even when she’s wearing her spectacles, she might discover a piece of furniture has suddenly jumped out to collide with her shin.”
“She’s that blind?”
Diana seemed to think on her response a moment. “When she doesn’t wear her spectacles, she may as well be. Father told me she nearly fell off a cliff near Girgenti,” she said. “Trying to take in the view from the Temple of Hera.”
Randy’s eyes rounded. “What happened?”
“Father saved her. Apparently scolded her something awful for not wearing her hideous spectacles at the time. Made her cry so hard, he felt terribly guilty. At least, according to Father.”
Frowning, Randy was quick to defend the viscount. “He was probably frightened out of his wits,” he said with more force than he intended. His family had visited the temple whilst on their tour of Sicily. Although an ancient city wall lined most of the Valley of Temples, the area around the Temple of Hera was open, its few remaining columns perched on a cliff visible from the sea.
Diana blinked at hearing his reaction. “I suppose,” she replied. “He took her to Palermo and found an oculist who could make her a decent pair of spectacles. They’ve been back there several times over the years so he could make her new ones when her eyes worsened.”
Randy nodded. “I am glad to hear it.”
When he seemed about to say something else, she pressed him to continue. “What else were you about to say?”
He inhaled and let the breath out. “Mother told me once that Cousin Marianne was forced to marry Viscount Henley. That they were discovered?—”
“Kissing. Next to a fountain featuring Cupid,” Diana finished for him. “And he wasn’t forced to marry her. He wanted to marry her,” she added defensively. “Even if she was blind.”
Randy furrowed his brows. “Are you saying he made sure they were caught?”
Diana gave a start, as if she hadn’t considered that possibility. “He hasn’t said so, but he did have a gleam in his eye when he relayed the story to me.”
Allowing a smirk, Randy chuckled softly. For a moment, he imagined how Diana would react should she be caught kissing him. He rather doubted she would be amenable to marriage—forced or otherwise. Despite their conversations in the dark, he was fairly sure she still intended to be a spinster. As for if she would ever consider taking a lover— him for a lover—he still didn’t know. “I look forward to finally meeting them.”
“Well, I expect you’ll have your chance in the next day or so,” she replied. “We received word they were departing Rome on a sailing vessel.”
“Going through the Strait of Messina?” he asked, remembering when the captain of their ship, The Fairweather, had instead taken the southern route around Sicily rather than through the strait when they were on their way to Catania.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t believe they planned to stop anywhere on the way, but they could, I suppose. There are certainly a number of ships that go in and out of Piraeus,” she added, referring to the nearest port to Athens.
“Do you plan to stay... for a long time?” he asked. “In Athens, I mean.” He moved closer to where she stood.
She nodded. “Given my father’s new patron and his desire to discover the evidence of a temple he thinks must have been on the Acropolis,” she explained. “I expect we’ll be here for several years.”
Randy continued to study the artifacts set up around the room before he moved to join her in the middle. Finally facing her, he seemed unsure of what to say. “I... I doubt we’ll be here for more than a month or so before we move on,” he murmured. He lifted a hand to the side of her face. “Maybe we’ll go to, uh, Delphi,” he stammered. “Or one or two of the islands.” He tilted her head up with two fingers placed along her jaw.
She swallowed. “I hear Crete is quite nice.”
“Mayhap we’ll stop there on the way to Egypt,” he whispered.
“That’s a good plan.”
“But I suppose it all depends.”
“Oh? On what?” she asked, sounding breathless.
He didn’t respond, his attention moving from her eyes to her lips.
“Why... why are you looking at me like that?” Diana asked, shivering when Randy slid his thumb along the edge of her bottom lip.
“I’m trying to memorize every bit of you,” he whispered.
“Why would you want to do that?” She inhaled when his thumb moved up and slid across one cheekbone, dislodging a layer of dirt from where she had wiped her face with the back of her glove earlier that afternoon.
Although he had been tempted to wipe it away with his handkerchief when it happened, he knew it would help with her attempt to appear as a boy when they were walking through the city.
“I like to imagine your face while I’m falling asleep.”
She swallowed. “I...I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
He was pulled from his reverie at hearing her words. “Why ever not?”
Her brows drew together. “Because I’m fairly sure my face is covered with a layer of dirt. My hair is filthy and in need of a comb. My...”
Her words ceased when his lips suddenly covered hers, her intake of breath deepening what might have been a simple touching of lips.
D iana froze in place, as much from surprise as from how Randy’s lips had captured hers in what was becoming one of the most pleasant sensations she had ever experienced in her entire life.
A kiss. A kiss so enchanting and consuming, so deep and demanding, she was no longer aware of anything but the two of them. She felt relief when one of his arms wrapped around her back. She needed it for support, for she was sure her knees were about to buckle. When his fingers splayed over the back of her shirt, she was sure he could feel the cravat she had wrapped twice around her chest in lieu of a corset.
Perhaps he would know how to undo it through her shirt, for she wanted to be rid of the damned binding. When she lifted her arms to his shoulders in an effort to hold onto him, she knew he could feel where the ends of the cravat were tucked under her arms, the wrap no longer tight enough to be secure.
For a moment, she wanted it to slip down her torso. Wanted there to be less fabric between her breasts and his chest. She wanted her tightened nipples to rub into the planes of his body and provide the surcease she didn’t know she needed.
When he angled his head in a different direction, his lips never leaving hers, his other hand moved to grip her waist. His thumb brushed the side of a breast, and she felt the touch through the fabric of her shirt and the cravat. Inhaling sharply, she briefly broke off the kiss.
“Take me as one of your lovers,” Randy murmured, his lips moving to nibble on one of her earlobes.
She made a sound of disbelief. How could he speak coherently at a time like this? “I rather doubt I would take more than one,” she whispered, her breaths coming in short pants. The idea of more than one man seeing her—knowing her—was almost as frightful as giving in to the idea of accepting a lone lover for the rest of her life.
“Then take only me.” His lips moved back to hers, his tongue invading her mouth to slide along her teeth and tangle with her tongue.
Unable to reply, Diana could only do her part in helping to deepen the kiss. To press her body closer to his until she felt his arousal against her middle. To softly moan when his tongue retreated from hers. His lips didn’t move from hers, though, but simply captured her lower lip to nibble it before once again claiming her mouth.
At some point, she moved a hand to the side of his face, her fingertips reaching beyond the whorls of his ear to thread through his hair. She was sure she felt his body shiver when her fingernails scraped his scalp.
As if in retaliation, he slid a hand along her side, his thumb sliding between their bodies to circle the nubbin of a hardened nipple.
Inhaling, which only seemed to deepen the kiss, Diana lifted her other hand to his ear, her thumb tracing the top whorl before she tugged his lobe between two fingers. The sense of satisfaction she felt when he once again shivered nearly had her smiling against his lips, but it was his audible groan that nearly had her laughing.
When he finally ended the kiss, he left his forehead pressed to hers. “I will be yours and yours alone,” he vowed out loud.
“Well, I should hope so.”
R andy blinked, sure Diana’s lips hadn’t moved. He also realized the words were spoken in a much deeper voice than she possessed.
Alarm gripped him. He lifted his head and turned to discover a middle-aged man and woman staring at them in disbelief. The woman wore spectacles and an expression of bemusement while the gentleman’s dark brows were furrowed in what could only be interpreted as anger.
Or perhaps it was confusion.
Although he really should have given up his hold on Diana—he remembered something about needing to behave—Randy instead pulled her closer, one arm moving in front of her as he stepped forward to act as a shield.
His move proved fruitless, for Diana pulled her hand from his as she moved to stand next to him.
“Hello, Mother. Father,” she said, sounding even more breathless than she had when she had been speaking to him. She rushed forward to pull her mother into an embrace before turning to kiss her startled father on his cheek. “Welcome to Athens.”
“What a welcome it is,” Marianne, Viscountess Henley, said, her gaze still on Randy. When she finally turned to look at Diana, she scoffed. “Oh, darling, your poor face is covered in dirt, and I do believe an introduction is required,” she added, lifting a blonde brow as her attention returned to Randy.
Stunned by the woman’s resemblance to his mother—her facial features were so similar he would have mistaken her for his mother in a crowd—Randy was dumbstruck.
Except for the spectacles.
Surrounded by gold wire, the thick lenses caused Marianne’s eyes to appear smaller than they really were.
“Lady Henley. Lord Henley,” Randy said as he bowed, sure his face was bright red with his embarrassment. “I am Randolph Forster, heir to the Gisborn earldom.” He stepped forward and lifted Marianne’s hand to his lips. “It’s very good to finally meet you, Cousin.”
“Oh, well, I suppose I am your cousin,” she said, grinning. “And this is my husband, Jasper Henley,” she said before Diana could do the honors. “It’s very good to finally meet you, Cousin Randolph.”
When Randy straightened from his bow, he discovered Jasper’s expression had changed to one of confusion. “You... you are Cousin Hannah’s son?”
“Her oldest son, indeed.” He took Diana’s hand in his. “Miss Diana’s second cousin,” he added. “I apologize for the situation in which you found us. My fault entirely.”
“Oh, I rather doubt that,” Marianne said, her face displaying a grin of delight.
Diana gave her a quelling glance. “Mother.”
“I take full responsibility, my lord,” Randy stated, his words directed to her father.
Jasper’s attention went to his daughter. “You do understand what this means?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Randy watched as Diana visibly swallowed. Before she could respond, he said, “Lord Henley, might I have your permission to marry your daughter? So that she will one day be my countess?” Although he had never intended to use his future title as a means to induce a betrothal, he realized it couldn’t hurt in this instance.
What else could he say to help his cause? They had been caught in the very same act that had forced Diana’s parents to marry.
He didn’t have to see Diana’s reaction to know how she felt about the matter. The way she attempted to pull her hand from his grip told him she didn’t agree with what he was trying to do. He reluctantly let go of her hand, dipping his head in an effort to hide his disappointment.
Jasper cleared his throat. “Before I give you permission to do anything, I think it best I have some time to, uh, discuss it,” he stammered. “With my daughter.” When Marianne’s elbow intersected his ribs, he quickly added, “And my wife, of course.”
Randy stiffened. “Of course, my lord. I’ll, uh, take my leave and, if it’s agreeable, return on the morrow?” He was well aware Diana was staring at him, although he didn’t dare tear his attention from the viscount to discover if she was angry with him or not.
He knew she was. Either that, or she was panicking. He had a thought that he, too, should be feeling panic, but instead, he was experiencing something altogether different—a sense of impending loss.
“Are you staying here in Athens?” Marianne asked, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm.
“Yes, my lady. We have taken a residency at Engels Mansion in Adrianou Street,” he explained, noting how she aimed them in the direction of the front door. He fell into step next to her.
“We?” she prompted.
“I’ve come with my uncle Will—your cousin Will,” he said, determined to emphasize their relationship. “My aunt Barbara, and their son David, Viscount Penton—he’s Uncle Will’s heir—and my brother, Thomas,” he added.
“But not Cousin Donald?” she asked, concern evident on her face. She lifted her free hand to tap a finger against her cheek as a grin lit her face. “Oh, I suppose you have left him behind in Catania with his new bride,” she guessed.
Randy’s eyes widened with his surprise at hearing her comment. “We did,” he replied. “Lady Montblanc is increasing with child. Donald thought it best they remain there rather than travel with us,” he explained. “She’s due to give birth in a month or two.” His brows suddenly furrowed. “You... you know about Cousin Donald? That he married the Marchioness Montblanc?”
Marianne nodded as she beamed in delight. “Despite the distance, I receive a letter from Aunt Cherise every month,” she said, referring to the Marchioness of Devonville.
Cherise was Donald and David’s grandmother. And Thomas and Randy’s, as well.
“I actually first learned of it from reading a Sicilian news-sheet, though,” she added, her voice kept low as if she were sharing a secret. “I used to buy them every week in Girgenti,” she added happily as they entered the vestibule.
“Grandmother Cherise must be thrilled to know Donald married a marchioness,” Randy said, knowing full well she was. Cherise wrote to Aunt Barbara every month as well.
“Oh, I think she was more thrilled to learn that his son is a marquess,” Marianne countered happily.
Despite her thick spectacles, Randy noticed how she winked. “No doubt,” he said, grinning.
“Well, I’m so glad to hear so many of our family are here in Athens,” she said. “I should like to finally meet my cousin Will. And Lady Bellingham, of course,” she said. She turned to glance back at her husband. “We’ll have you all to dinner once we’re settled, but in the meantime, do join us for breakfast in the morning. Say ten o’clock?”
Heartened to hear the invitation—perhaps she would be his ally when it came to convincing Lord Henley—and Diana—to accept his offer—Randy nodded. “I shall be here, my lady,” he assured her, his gaze darting to the front door. He gave a start and angled his head to one side and then the other, his attention on the ancient painted panel. Blinking, he stepped back and then leaned his head forward before he scoffed softly and returned his attention to Diana’s mother.
Despite her thick lenses, he could see how her gaze darted to the front door before she returned her attention to him. “Do call me Marianne,” she insisted, turning to face him when the butler opened the front door. “Have you a coach... or another means of transportation?” she asked, looking toward the street to see there weren’t any vehicles other than the one in which they had arrived from the port in Piraeus.
“I’ll walk. It’s not far,” he assured her. He once again lifted her hand to his lips. “I do feel affection for your daughter,” he said in a quiet voice. “If that has any bearing at all on the matter.”
Marianne angled her head to one side and sighed. “Well, that much was obvious,” she replied with a grin. “Good day, Lord Forster.”
“Randy. You can call me Randy,” he said before he bowed again. “I’ll come back at ten o’clock in the morning,” he added. “And if you could, maybe mention the door to her? She’ll understand.”
Marianne blinked. “I’ll be sure to do that. Oh, do give my regards to your family,” she said before she allowed the butler to shut the door.
I nhaling deeply, Randy made his way down the pavers to the street, his thoughts on what his uncle would say when he learned what had transpired.
Behaved, he had not. The temptation to kiss Diana had been so great, he wasn’t sure if he could have stopped himself if she had attempted to push him away. The pillows of her lips had been so soft against his mouth. They had tasted of dates and wine—a combination that reminded him of the joy she had exhibited at discovering the name inscribed in the marble of the Erechtheion.
How would she react if he ever had the honor of making love to her? He remembered her soft inhalations of breath when his fingers grazed the side of one of her breasts. The way her eyes darkened when his thumb brushed over her hardened nipple.
If he hadn’t been behaving the last night they had spent on the roof, he would have continued what he had started. Pushed her sleeve down her arm and taken her bare breast in his mouth. Suckled her nipple with the fervor of a man starved for sustenance. Lifted her nightrail so his fingers could skim up her thighs to her pussy.
Would he have been able to pleasure her by simply rubbing her quim with his hand? Perhaps she would have allowed him to insert a finger inside her most private place. He was sure she had been aroused, even if they had only been speaking of her taking lovers, for he remembered the light scent of musk teasing his nostrils in the darkness.
He wondered if she had been as wet as his cock was hard. Wondered at how it would feel if she were to spread her legs and allow the tip of his manhood to enter her.
It would not have been enough, though.
His cock would have demanded surcease. It would have forced him to thrust the entire length of his rod into her. Bury his cock as deep as it would go. To claim her. To brand her as his own.
I don’t wish to be anyone’s property.
The reminder of Diana’s words acted as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his head. She was determined to be a spinster in order to avoid becoming someone’s property. From a legal perspective, marriage meant she would be her husband’s property. It’s why he had proposed the idea of her taking a lover instead, hoping she might choose him.
He hadn’t given a thought to where they might live or what he might do if she wanted to continue her search for secrets from the past—especially outside of England.
Would she ever willingly give up her avocation?
No . At least, he rather doubted it.
Which meant he would have to accommodate her avocation, at least until he inherited the Gisborn earldom. After that, he wasn’t sure what he could offer her. He didn’t think she was the least bit interested in becoming a countess—her reaction to his mention of it to her father had proved that point.
What could he offer her?
He was determined to do the right thing, and not only because he wanted to experience the sorts of kisses he had shared with her moments ago. Not only because he enjoyed lying next to her. Not only because he yearned to find her still there the following morning. Not only because he wanted to experience again the sort of sensations he had felt when she scraped his scalp with her fingernails.
He wanted to impart those same pleasures for her. Wanted to kiss and to hold her in the dark. Wanted to protect her. Wanted to make love to her until she begged him to stop. Wanted her to wake up happy next to him.
Yes, he wanted to be her one and only lover. But now he was discovering he wanted more.
He hoped Lord Henley would insist she marry him—it’s what he wanted. He could only hope Diana would agree once she learned what he planned.
What he hoped she would agree could work for now and after he inherited.
Surely what he had seen etched in the front door would help in that regard.
“Marriage it is,” he murmured, his steps quickening as he made his way back to Engels Mansion.