Chapter Two
Florence had never felt anything so exquisitely good in her entire life.
But why was Trajan Aubrey, the former Lord Aubrey and now Duke of Weymouth, kissing her with such possessive heat? Or any heat at all?
Dear heaven.
His mouth felt gloriously good on hers.
Was this meant to be a farewell gesture as Lord Frampton came upon them and killed them? Did Aubrey believe this ambitious lord was so depraved?
Florence’s senses were too addled for her to think straight. She tried to run through all the reasons, other than impending death, why Aubrey would want to kiss her, but could think of none.
However, she knew he was no coward, was actually fairly intelligent, and would never meekly resign himself to dying.
Trust him.
He had told her to trust him, and so she did.
When another shot rang out, she grabbed hold of his divinely muscled shoulders and held on for dear life as he deepened the kiss.
Mother of pearls.
Why exactly was he giving her the hottest, most insanely wild kiss she had ever experienced in her soon-to-be-ended life? In truth, this was not saying much, because she had never been seriously kissed in a romantic way before this very moment.
But he was kissing her like a demon, and nothing had prepared her for the conquering crush of his lips on hers, or the relentless—but thoroughly exquisite—pressure of his mouth as it fused with hers, so that she was certain they would have to break the suction in order to draw apart.
They would eventually, of course. Both of them had to come up for air sometime soon.
But not yet, please.
If they were to die, could there be a better way to go?
Heat coiled through her and stirred her in places that she did not know existed on her person.
Was this not the saddest comment on her love life?
She pressed into him, still not understanding his purpose in devouring her, body and soul.
Then it came to her in a sudden revelation.
This was how he meant to convince Lord Frampton she was not the interloper he had spotted spying on his home.
This shockingly intimate kiss was meant to serve as her alibi, since she could not have been up a tree, binoculars in hand, peering into his house, while at the same time on this lovely sand beach frantically locking lips with the scorchingly hot Duke of Weymouth.
And since Aubrey had tossed her binoculars into the underbrush, they would never be found on her person should Lord Frampton be so loathsome as to order her searched.
Quick thinking on his part. In fact, all-around good thinking by this clever man. Not only did his action deflect suspicion, but it also made their claim to have seen no one else in the woods believable, assuming Frampton bothered to ask.
An entire army could have marched past them and she would not have noticed a single soldier while this impossibly handsome duke was kissing her with enough heat to melt the icecaps atop the Alps.
For this reason, she went along with the ruse and made not the slightest protest when his hands began to roam up and down the length of her.
However, those little fires he was setting off everywhere in her body were proving most embarrassing. The cur had to know he was affecting her.
She bit his lip lightly when he cupped her bottom, because this was supposed to be an evasive tactic, not a really, really enjoyable moment for either of them.
Much as she was enjoying herself.
Was there a point to prolonging this performance that would earn them a standing ovation if ever reenacted in a Covent Garden theater?
Not that she objected to being seduced and conquered by this golden-haired dream of a man with eyes that were sharp as razors and incredibly seductive. Cold. Clear. Pale-green ice. Eyes that could freeze you and also melt you.
Was it her fault she was melting right now?
Florence needed a moment to regain her composure once he ended their kiss. The cad cast her a smile that promised of torrid nights if he ever got her into his bed.
Oh, gad.
How was she ever going to resist him now? Not only was he handsome as sin, but…who had muscles like his?
Well, medieval warriors, perhaps.
Although warriors were generally built like hefty blocks of granite, while Aubrey was tall and elegant, cutting quite the imposing figure when dressed in formal attire.
Lord Frampton and his cohorts were staring at them from atop the stairs.
“Weymouth, do we get a turn next?” Frampton called out in jest, and started down the steps toward them with a hunting rifle in hand. His lackeys, also carrying weapons, followed him down.
Florence’s heart beat faster. She hoped he’d meant the remark as a jest.
She moved closer to Aubrey, who had kept an arm protectively around her. “It’ll be all right,” he whispered. “Don’t be scared.”
But she was, and could not stop her heart from pounding through her chest as these unpleasant men drew closer.
Frampton’s companions had the look of London ruffians, the vile sort who roamed the London docks at night and would just as soon slit your throat as beg your pardon. They were staring at her too avidly.
Trajan Aubrey—well, she really ought to start thinking of him as Weymouth, since he was now the duke—kept tight hold of her. “Let me do the talking, Florence.”
“Fine.” At this moment, she could not string two words together.
She took several deep breaths to calm herself. The two of them had to keep their wits about them if they were to fool these ugly fellows.
“I hope you are carrying a pistol,” she muttered, wishing she had some sort of weapon hidden on her person that she could whip out to defend herself with.
Aubrey nodded. “I have several on me, but they won’t be needed. I promise.”
She let out a shaky breath, not nearly as confident as he was. “Do not make promises you cannot keep. Those scoundrels do not look nice at all.”
“Yes, rough fellows,” he agreed. “They’re probably his guards. Frampton is ruthless and must have made many enemies on his climb to the top of the social ladder, many who would like nothing better than to do him in.”
As she watched them, Florence questioned her sanity in agreeing to take on this particular assignment. But she’d really had no choice.
She would be forever indebted to Aubrey if he got them out of this scrape.
He glanced at her, no doubt to make certain she was not going to faint.
She wasn’t. However, her knees were knocking and her heart was still pounding too hard.
“Be brave for me, Florence,” he whispered. “I won’t let any of those men touch you.”
Frampton and his four lackeys were now upon them.
Florence glared back at these men who were eyeing her with shocking disrespect.
Do not show fear.
Never show fear.
“Weymouth, I was going to ask if you had seen anyone running past you recently,” Frampton said, all the while leering at her, “but it is obvious you were otherwise occupied.”
The other men chuckled.
“You happened to catch me and Lady Florence in a special moment,” Aubrey admitted, sounding surprisingly calm, even joyful. “She has just agreed to become my wife.”
What?
Florence tried to hide her panic.
Was this his harebrained scheme to keep her safe?
He gave her hand a warning squeeze. “We had hoped to keep the betrothal quiet until notifying our families, but it seems we are now caught and our secret has slipped out.”
Frampton arched an eyebrow. “She is your betrothed?”
Florence found herself nodding. “A love match. Quite the whirlwind romance. But when it is right, you just know. He is completely devoted to me. Isn’t he divine?”
Aubrey gave her hand another squeeze, silently warning her not to overdo it.
“Mutual, my love. You are mine now. All mine.” Which Florence hoped was his way of conveying to those ruffians that he would slit their throats from ear to ear if they laid a hand on her.
Frampton held up a hand and drew back a step.
“Who am I to interfere with the course of true love? Well, I’ll trouble you no further.
But do me a favor, Weymouth. Let me know if you notice anyone lurking on your property.
I think someone is spying on me, and I do not like it one bit.
In fact, if I catch the fellow, he will not walk off your property alive. ”
“That is some threat,” Aubrey said, arching an eyebrow. “Just do me a favor and kill him on your property if you do catch him. I would prefer that my good name not be dragged into your disputes.”
“Of course. In turn, keep your eyes and ears open.”
“All right, although I may be a bit distracted.” He winked at Florence and cast her a worshipful smile for good measure.
She wanted to tell him not to overdo it, but left the warning for later, since she did not want to say or do anything that might give them away.
“But on a more serious note, Frampton,” he said, now frowning, “Lady Florence and I do enjoy bird watching. This mutual interest is what first brought us together.”
Florence tipped her chin up proudly. “I am chairwoman of the Ladies’ Ornithological Society in Lower Bramble.”
Aubrey cleared his throat. “Keep this in mind on the chance you see us walking about with our notebooks and binoculars. But if you are concerned at all, is there anywhere on our adjoining properties that you prefer us not to tread? This matter is obviously of importance to you, and I want to respect your wishes.”
Frampton appeared pleased. “Oh, it isn’t on the grounds so much. But I sensed this trespasser was peering into my house.”
“Into your house! That is outrageous. No wonder you are incensed,” Aubrey remarked, sounding sincerely appalled—which he probably was, and she would catch a stern lecture for it later.
“Quite so. This invasion of my family’s privacy is a serious offense.”
“Rest assured, I will alert my staff and have them notify me the moment they spot any strangers walking around here.”
With that said, Frampton and his cohorts climbed the stairs and returned to their neighboring property.