Pulling the necklace towards him, she had no choice but to step forwards, lest the chain snapped. Slowly, her body touched his, and his fingers walked their way back up her décolletage, stopping at the faint bruise, still on her skin.
Clara was staring straight ahead, level with his chest. He tilted her chin upwards and gazed at her delicate face. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were as black as sin in the dark.
He was aware he should leave, but Clara’s hand came up and stroked the harsh frown line at his forehead. Her satin touch sent him over the edge. He kissed her, but it was no delicate touch this time. Her mouth was already open, and he took the opportunity to taste her. He was waiting for her to resist, for her to push away his impudent touch. Instead, he felt the heat of her mouth; her tongue touched his and all control, all good sense was lost.
The frustration and anger of the day made him haul her small, slender body against his, as he crushed her lips with his. His hand tangled in her wild curls, and he tilted her head for better access to her sweetness. His other hand gripped her backside, raising Clara to the tips of her toes.
“Lord Rookdean, whatareyou doing to that poor girl?” The loud shriek cut into his head, and he pulled away. Behind Clara were Lady Minkworth, Hestia and the aunt. He felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, and images flashed into his head, past and present. Visions of Clara’s chaperone ‘letting it be known’ that Clara was on the balcony; Hardwicke’s long-suffering face saying, ‘don’t get caught like me’; Hestia smirking and Lady Minkworth managing to look both outraged and smug, all at the same time. He didn’t look at Clara.
He let go of her, and her body slid down his. He ignored his body’s reaction to the pleasurable sensation, and moved her to his side.
“I presume you will be doing the honourable thing by the girl, Rookdean?” Minkworth gloated.
Rook pulled at his cuffs. “I will not be tricked, hoodwinked or pressured into anything. The girl was willing, and I was merely… acquiescing.” There was a shocked gasp from all parties, except Clara. He still didn’t look at her, but he could feel her stillness.
“Rook, you can’t –” his sister started.
“Oh, I most certainly can. Did you think this all up together? Hmm? How to get the earl down the aisle in as little time as possible? Was that the purpose of the village today – to come up with a plan?”
“Why you pompous, arrogant –” Hestia shouted, and Rook felt Clara about to speak. He lashed out.
“Spare me the histrionics, Hestia. This house party was your idea after all. I know not your reason. Did you want to impress your friends? Find me a wife? Well, I will not be married on the whim of a bunch of scheming women. And since my presence here is an anathema to you, I will take myself elsewhere.” He bowed to all concerned, as though he had just finished a dance.
He dared to look at Clara, expecting tears, but her face was a mixture of shock, sadness and unmitigated fury.
For a moment, he checked himself. God, could he be wrong? Had he made a mistake about the situation? He surveyed all the women again. No, he didnotbelieve in coincidence. He strode off, down the steps, out through the garden, heading for the gate.
The women rushed to gather around Clara, fussing and cosseting. Without her being able to get a word in, they agreed that nothing of tonight would go any further than amongst the four of them. Nobody else had seen anything, and ithadonly been a kiss, albeit a very passionate one.
No, it was universally agreed – Clara should never be forced to marry such an oaf, even if he was an earl.
“Are you alright, Clara love?” her aunt asked tentatively.
Clara swallowed. “Do not worry for me, aunt. It is as you say; Rookdean is an oaf. I did sense…that he was annoyed tonight, but I will not be his whipping boy,” she said, looking up at the myriad of stars. Had it only been a week earlier that she’d looked up at them with such pleasure whilst Rook… “It’s all fate,” she murmured.
“Tosh,” her aunt said pulling her arm around Clara. “It’s egotistical, overbearing, arrogant men – they are the problem.”
The ladies all went to the retiring room, where they patted Clara’s curls and straightened her dress. Even Lady Minkworth let Clara borrow her salve to soothe her lips. “Fiend,” she added with a sniff, as she handed over the jar.
Clara felt surprisingly calm. She didn’t comprehend Rook’s outburst tonight, but she did understand that he’d been angry – she’d felt it in his kiss and his touch. He’d wanted to ease his frustration with her, and she’d let him – she had no-one else to blame for that.
However, she did not deserve his condemnation and censure. Tonight, he had reverted to the dictatorial and egotistical nobleman that she previously thought he was. Would he realise his error? Would he apologise?
He only had a short amount of time to do both. Everyone would go home tomorrow, including her.
Clara felt as though she’d spent months at the earl’s estate, and despite Rook’s ridiculous outburst and her anger at his denunciation, she still felt an underlying contentment with herself. Some of her old confidence had returned. It was enlightening, freeing and…
“Ouch!” she shrieked as Lady Minkworth pinched her cheeks.
“Need some colour. You go out there, young lady and dance every dance with disgustingly handsome men…and flirt your stockings off.”
Good grief, thought Clara, she always knew Lady Minkworth was a devastating adversary, but to have her as a friend was really quite frightening.
Together, they headed back to the ballroom, where she noticed Hestia whispering with Jack. As soon as they saw her, Jack came over and raised her hand, bringing it to his lips.
“I will kill him for you, Clara. Bring him back in little pieces, and then we can scatter them around the estate.” Jack looked pleased at this gruesome plan.
“He was rather horrible, Jack, but I could tell that he was very upset about something. I ended up being thescapegoat. Do you know why?”
“There are no excuses, Clara, but yes, I have an inkling.” He sighed wearily. “He feels things for you, Clara – things that he has never felt before. Rook is rather out at sea...all adrift. I’m leaving the dance now, but I will see you before your departure tomorrow.”
With his usual cock-sure grin, he winked at Clara, kissed Lady Minkworth’s hand and bussed Hestia on the cheek. A dozen or so envious eyes followed him out of the ballroom.
ΦΦΦ
