Before the Fire Page 6

  Bessy put the chamber pot down on the floor and turned to face Kane. As people are apt to do whenever there is a language barrier present, she raised her voice and spoke very slowly, over-enunciating every word. “Ye make yer business in the chamber pot like so.” Bessy squatted over the pot and made the same hissing sound Kane had made moments prior.

  “Then,”—the maid stood up and placed the chamber pot in the cradle of her arm—“when ye are finished”—she looked into the gold bowl and smiled theatrically, like a mother would after praising her child for leaving behind a “present” in a waste facility for the first time—“ye put the chamber pot down”—she did so on the nearest table—“and ye call me”—she raised her hand to the bell pull, dramatically over-exaggerating how one might pull it.

  “Now,” Bessy asked, slowly and loud enough to wake the dead, “do ye have any more questions to put to me, m’um?”

  Amused at the maid’s game of charades, and flattered that the girl had acted them out sincerely rather than spitefully, Kane shook her head in the negative. “Thank-you, but no.”

  Bessy nodded, inordinately pleased with her ability to communicate with the new mistress. “Very well then. I will be takin’ me leave now, m’um. His lordship will be expectin’ ye at breakfast right quick like.”

  Kane smiled, thanking her again for helping her figure out how things work in this bizarre world. “Oh and Bessy,” she added before the maid could quit the chamber.

  “Yes, m’um?”

  “Could you dispose of this, please?”

  Kane handed the soiled vase she’d used last night to the maid. Bessy looked down into the urn, the very one which the dowager countess had procured at three thousand pounds no less, then blushed to the roots of her mousy brown hair. She coughed discreetly into her hand, her gaze to the floor. “Of course, m’um.”

  “May the goddesses bless you, Bessy.”

  Bessy shook her head as she walked out of the bedchamber, thinking to herself that the wealthy were the strangest lot of people on the bloody earth. “May the goddesses bless you, m’um.”

  * * * * *

  Thirty minutes later, as she sat eating her breakfast in the Blackmore’s formal dining room, Kane was thinking somewhere along the same lines as Bessy had been.

  As she’d learned last evening at dinner, everything in eighteenth century England was regimented, cordial, and formal. The napkin had to grace a lady’s lap just so, the required eating utensils had to be picked up thusly. She watched and learned, doing her best to imitate Lady Julia that she might not embarrass herself.

  All but giving up, she stabbed her eggs and shoved them into her mouth with as little ceremony as possible. Apparently she wasn’t behaving too badly, for the dowager countess hadn’t given her any of the bemused looks she’d thrown her way last night during the five course dinner. Kane cleared her throat. “Lady Julia, will George be joining us for breakfast?”

  The dowager countess shot her gaze toward Kane, smiling brilliantly with the realization that the young woman actually wanted her son’s company rather than fearing it. “I’m afraid not, my dear. He asked me to send his apologies, as he had intended to be here.” She shrugged her shoulders and waved her elegant hand through the air nonchalantly. “Problems with the crofters.”

  Lady Julia had made that last statement in such a way that Kane assumed she was supposed to know what it meant. It was obvious that crofter’s problems meant a great deal in eighteenth century England. If Kane had the first notion what a crofter was, she might have spoke a word or two in return. Instead, she reverted back to smiling and nodding. Always seemed to work in a pinch.

  Thankfully, the conversation between her and the dowager was always amusing, so the two women soon struck up a lively one. They spoke of everything—from the state of England’s politics to the newest fashions of the court. Kane asked a lot of questions and Lady Julia thoroughly enjoyed answering them. So much so that it didn’t dawn on the dowager until much later that she knew virtually nothing of Kane and her origins.

  Still, an old femme fatale such as Lady Julia Blackmore hardly minded being the focus of so much attention. No, the former vixen didn’t mind at all.

  Chapter 7

  Kane and George strolled arm-in-arm through the lush gardens of Blackmore. It was the eve of their second night together, yet still he had made no motion toward mating with her. Kane found herself mildly discouraged, yet still refusing to give up on the hope she nestled close to her heart.

  She had learned enough during the conversations she’d had with Lady Julia to realize that men of this time were supposed to be the aggressors, not the women. Kane found this odd custom barbaric, not to mention extremely stifling to her plans, but she bit her tongue and bided her time, doing her best to fit in with George’s world. She would simply have to wait for the earl to make his move and mount her. A dizzying sense of desire coursed through her belly at the mere thought of it.

  Kane realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that mating with George would be the headiest, most galaxy-shattering experience of her twenty-six years. He was a real man, a humanoid chiseled to perfection of body. And his heart was so big and caring. How any of these eighteenth century dwellers could believe him a murderer was beyond her reasoning abilities.

  “What are you thinking of, my dear?” George squeezed her arm gently as they continued their moonlit promenade through the gardens and waited for her answer.

  Kane darted her eyes up to him and smiled. She searched for a quick lie, knowing she could never admit that the majority of her thoughts revolved around forcing him to the ground and ravishing his delectably muscled body until neither of them could walk. “I was, uh, thinking of how much I enjoy your company.” That much was true.

  George’s face lit up at her words. He simply couldn’t believe his good fortune. He knew he’d be the envy of every gentleman of the ton once he introduced his new and beautiful wife to society. And yet, it was not her beauty that beckoned to him. It was more. It was everything.

  It was the way Kane plopped down into a chair with such vigor, then looked around to the back of it and smiled, as if she had expected an elk to jump out of it at her, and was pleased when it didn’t. It was the way she strutted so provocatively in her walk, as if assured that the world was hers to explore and to conquer. Hell, it was even the manner in which her lips would purse and her finger would tap against her cheek when she was considering the answer to a question being put to her. Everything about Kane Edmonds fascinated and beguiled him. “I enjoy your company just as much, my sweet. In fact, I found myself counting the hours during daylight until dinner was at hand and I could see you once again.”

  “Really?” Kane squealed, grinning from ear to ear. “I did the same thing while out searching for the flower! Isn’t that cosmic?”

  “Cosmic?”

  “Uh…fated…significant…a sign.”

  “Ah.” George grinned again at his good fortune. Her care for his company was like finding the pot of mythical gold at the end of a rainbow. He was so elated that Kane felt the same way about him that he felt about her that he all but giggled. He kicked himself mentally, telling his self that earls do not giggle. Especially not giganticly carved earls with black reputations. He cleared his throat, then spoke in a forced manly grumble. “It is a sign, I do believe.”

  “I’ve got it!” Kane announced as she squeezed George’s huge hand. She drew them both to a halt then spun around and faced him directly. The earl inclined his head politely, smiling. “Yes, my dear?”

  “Why don’t we both take a little time from our work tomorrow afternoon and have what you might call a…” She racked her brain for the appropriate word, then snapped her fingers together in excitement when it came to her. “Picnic.”

  “Picnic?”

  “Yes. I’ve never had a picnic before. Lady Julia told me all about them. It would be a lot of fun! And just think,” she added as she fanned her eyelashes up to him, “we wouldn’t h
ave to wait until the moon rises to see each other again.”

  George nodded slowly, won over by her last argument. He had an exhaustive amount of work to accomplish on the morrow, still settling disputes among the crofters as he was, yet it would be rejuvenating to partake of a picnic lunch with the woman he hoped to woo into marriage. If Kane could take time out of her schedule, then so could he. “I can think of nothing I should like more. Shall we meet in my study at say, one o’clock?”

  “Yes. I’ll tell the powdered wig man who answers the door to have lunch ready for us to take.”

  George chuckled, bemused by her description of his butler. “Never fear, I shall handle the arrangements with Stuart.” He fished into his waistcoat and pulled out a pocket watch. The earl sighed, eyeing the increasingly late hour. “As much as I hate to cut our walk short, I fear I must retire so we can have our picnic on the morrow.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’ve much work to see to before we eat.”

  Seemingly upon its own volition, Kane’s lower lip perched out ever so slightly from underneath the upper one. She knew she was pouting, but couldn’t seem to help herself. “Oh okay,” she finally relented with a frown, “I understand.”

  George didn’t want to leave her anymore than she wanted to be left, yet he knew it was of necessity that he rise exceptionally early and delve into his ledgers if he was to lunch with her on the morrow. He raised Kane’s hand to his mouth, turned it over, and delicately brushed his lips across her palm. Kane gulped, wide-eyed and very horny. “Until the morrow, sweet Kane.”

  “Until the morrow,” she murmured.

  George inclined his head politely, then released her hand, preparing to guide his lady back to the mansion. Before he could manage aught, Kane jumped into the air and flung herself towards him with amazing speed. She wrapped her arms about his neck and her legs about his middle, then kissed him demandingly on the lips.

  Wide-eyed, George grunted at the impact, but didn’t back away from her ravishment. When his lips parted slightly on a sound of surprise, Kane wasted no time in slipping her tongue inside of his warm mouth. George’s eyes rounded with disbelief, then narrowed in a haze of passion.

  The earl and the planabotonologist kissed for long moments, exploring and enjoying the taste and feel of each other. But just as his passion was beginning to override all of his chivalrous senses, Kane released him, dropping to her feet with a delicate thud.

  She gazed up at George, her eyes glittering with desire, her lips puffy with his kisses, and winced. “I apologize for my uh…impropriety,” she enunciated with a shake of her golden head, “but I highly resent and dislike your custom of making the woman wait for the man’s advances.” She glared at him, waiting for him to tell her she had been in the wrong.

  But he didn’t.

  “I a-agree,” he squeaked out as he held his breath against the agony of his erection. George let out a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He grinned down at Kane, then shrugged. “Please feel free to do that any time you desire.” He thought on his words a silent moment, then added, “so long as we are in privacy.”

  Kane nodded, giddy with relief. “The same for you, my lord. Any time you desire.” She bit her bottom lip, then smiled up at him in earnest. “And I don’t care if we’re in privacy or not.”

  Upstairs in his bedchamber a few minutes later, George undressed slowly, paying careful attention not to cause any injury to his aching and swollen penis. He had dismissed his valet the moment he arrived into his bedchamber, insisting that he could ready himself for sleeping without aid tonight.

  A few minutes later, he lowered himself into the wide, deep Roman tub in his connected bathing chamber and basked in the heat of the calming water. He closed his eyes and allowed his senses to unwind, praying his throbbing friend in the nether region of his body would do the same.

  It was no use.

  The earl sighed, realizing his stiffness was likely to remain. Good heavens above, Kane had all but thrown herself at him! It was an act of pure and unadulterated wantonness lacking in the finer moral attributes. It should have turned him off. It should have made him flee as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. But it didn’t. It only made him want her all the more.

  She was the first woman he’d ever met who saw him, George Wyndom, when she gazed up at him. She didn’t see the Earl of Blackmore or the future Duke of Browning. She didn’t see a man of tainted reputation and questionable virtue. She saw him, the real him. And she wanted what she saw.

  George sighed forlornly, realizing that Kane couldn’t possibly be a virgin. He would have liked to have been her first, as well as her last. He wished that his was the only body that would ever love hers. Yet her actions clearly stated that she was anything but innocent.

  A chilling shudder went through George that wreaked of possessiveness. If he learned the name of any man who had bedded her, he would issue challenge immediately. He would be honor-bound to do so. Hell, who was he attempting to jest? He realized smugly that he would take great pleasure in doing so.

  George fancied himself amused that he still wanted to wed with Kane, even knowing her to have no maidenhead. It wouldn’t be enough for his sense of peace to make her his paramour, to dally with her without giving her his name. He had to have her permanently. He needed the reassurance of knowing that she would be bound to him by law, unable to leave him.

  George took a deep breath and with it he released all of his animosity over her lack of virginity. Kane was no Nina. She had never made a pretense, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously one moment, then proclaiming her innocence with deceitful blushes the next. Kane was pure of heart and untainted by deception. And he was slowly but surely falling in love with her. It was enough. It was all and everything he needed.

  The earl smiled, finally at peace with himself. He glanced down at his jutting member and sighed, simultaneously amused and annoyed that at least one part of him was not able to find its serenity. He stared at his erection for a silent moment before surrendering himself to its obvious need. He shook his head in vexation and grunted, then reached for his cock and clamped his large hand around it. “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he began to stroke up and down.

  The earl realized his hand was a poor substitute for Kane’s silky body, but it would have to do.

  * * * * *

  The following morning, George sat at his desk and went through each ledger with painstaking vigilance. Most noble gentleman employed a steward to oversee the books, but George didn’t. He couldn’t count on both hands how many times his father had been swindled by lecherous con-men just waiting for the chance to glean an illegal, stolen profit from the masters coffers. The current Earl of Blackmore resolutely refused to fall victim to said crime.

  When a man stole from his lord, he stole from the whole of the village. Everyone felt it, from the lowest in the class stratum to the highest. George was far too concerned for his people’s wellbeing to allow such an event the chance to transpire.

  A knock at the study door broke Lord Blackmore out of his accounting work. He raised his head and bade his butler entrance. Stuart walked stiffly, regally, to his master’s side and bowed. He held out the silver salver that contained a note that had been left behind for the earl. “Thank-you, Stuart. That will be all.”

  George broke open the wax seal and regarded the parchment in his hands.

  My dearest George,

  Your mother and I have gone to the heart of the village, as she wishes to show me around. She has advised me that our mission

  Mission?

  shall last the whole of the morning, but we shall be back in time to picnic. I look forward to commencing our picnic and will be in the study sharply at thirteen hundred hours. I have been looking forward to our afternoon rendezvous all day and can’t wait to be alone with you.

  Neither can I, my dear.

  Please keep me in your thoughts, as you are always in mine.

  May the goddesses bless you,


  Kane

  George looked down at the note he held in his hand and smiled. He lifted it toward his face again, noting at once that the parchment still carried Kane’s fragrance. It was an earthy, musky, exotic scent that would forever belong to only one woman. He grinned broadly, then placed the parchment upon his desktop and resumed his work with the ledgers.

  Two hours later, the earl stretched his back and groaned, the stiffness in his shoulders causing quite a few aches to linger. He reached into his waistcoat, procured his pocket watch, and eyed the time wistfully.

  He didn’t feel like working today. He felt like seeing Kane. But it was only eleven in the morning. He disliked the thought of waiting a full two hours to see her. He shot to his feet, fresh and rejuvenated once he’d made up his mind to call it a day. He dropped the pocket watch into his waistcoat and strode toward the door whistling.

  He wouldn’t wait to see her. He’d find her and his mother in the village.

  * * * * *

  “What do you call this, Lady Julia?”

  “Why it’s called a kitten, my dear.”

  “A kitten. Isn’t it lovely?”

  The dowager countess watched through bemused eyes as Kane knelt down and petted the scruffy-faced little creature they’d followed into an alley between the village’s assorted shops. “Haven’t you kittens in Houston, my dear?”

  Kane shrugged, using the bodily gesture to give her a few seconds to prepare an answer. “No, milady. We have no pets to speak of there.”

  “’Tis odd,” Lady Julia announced thoughtfully as she watched the golden-haired Kane fawn all over the obviously hungry and badly mauled mutt cat. “It looks as though this particular kitten has sustained an injury. Mayhap he was in a fight with another beastie.”

  Kane frowned as she looked the kitten over. “Yes, he does have an injury.” She turned to the dowager countess and smiled terrifically. “Let’s take him to Blackmore and care for him there.”

  Lady Julia was about to deny her, shuddering at the idea of the filthy creature running about the mansion, then thought better of it. It was hard to deny Kane anything when she seemed so excited by the notion. The dowager countess grinned warmly, amused by the fact that Kane showed more enthusiasm over the urchin cat than she had over the gemstones displayed at the jewelers or the fine cloaks and gowns at the modiste’s. “I think it a fine plan, dearest.”