Forbidden (Regency Lovers 4) Read online

  She was more so, he realized, now that her face was not pale and anxious with the fear of being burned alive. He could also now see that the eyes which had appeared only pale in color to him the night before were, in fact, a deep gray surrounded by long dark lashes the same color as the silky hair now cascading about her shoulders. Gray eyes that seemed vaguely familiar, but Zachary could not currently place where that familiarity came from.

  Her features were delicate in her heart-shaped face: thin, dark brows above those gray eyes, high cheekbones in rounded cheeks, her nose slightly retroussé, her lips pink and full above a pointed and determined chin.

  Zachary had witnessed some of her determination for himself the night before when Rissa climbed over the balustrade of the balcony upon which she was stranded. A determination which was to be admired considering the danger she was in at the time.

  There was also an air about her of self-prepossession rather than arrogance that seemed wholly unusual in one so young.

  “I am interested to know, my lord,” she spoke softly, gray eyes alight with mischief, “exactly what the punishment you threatened last night might have been had I not obeyed your command to jump?”

  Zachary added a sense of humor to this young woman’s list of attributes. “Obviously, you did jump, but if you had not, then I am sure I would have thought of a suitable punishment which we might both have found…enjoyable.”

  A blush warmed Rissa’s cheeks even as she gave a husky laugh. “Why have I never met you before, my lord?” Not only had Rissa never met the Earl of Harrogate at any of the social events she had attended this past Season, but she had not heard so much as a whisper of gossip about him either. Surprising, considering Clara’s comment as to his being a recluse and how much she now knew the members of Society did love to gossip.

  The humor left his expression. “I do not care for Society.”

  Her brows rose. “Does Society care for you?”

  His mouth twisted into a derisive smile at her bluntness. “Not for the past eleven years, no.”

  She eyed him curiously. “What happened eleven years ago?”

  He shook his head. “I did not come here to talk about me.”

  Rissa’s heart began to beat so loudly, she thought the earl must be able to hear it as well as feel the rapid pulse in her wrist as he continued to hold her hand in his much larger ones. “Then why are you here?” she prompted.

  Zachary drew in shaky breath. “I have been unable to stop thinking about you since last night.”

  Her lashes lowered. “It was a memorable and traumatic evening.”

  “It was more than that. Rissa— Is that really your name?”

  She shook her head. “It is Clarissa. But my school friends very quickly shortened it to Rissa, and I have found that I enjoy being addressed by such a term of affection.”

  “It is as unique as you are.”

  Rissa’s throat moved as she swallowed. “Are you flirting with me, my lord?”

  Zachary shook his head. “I believe I have long grown out of the habit of flirting for the sake of it.”

  “And yet that is what you appear to be doing with me.”

  “I am being truthful, not flirtatious,” Zachary assured firmly. “I do not believe I have ever met such a beautiful and self-confident young lady. How old are you?”

  Mischief once again danced in her eyes. “It is impolite to ask a woman her age, my lord.”

  He gave a scathing snort. “I believe that only applies when that lady is old and wrinkled.”

  “I celebrated my eighteenth birthday last month.”

  “So, not old and wrinkled.” But, as Zachary was aged one and thirty, thirteen years older than Rissa, she was far too young for him to show such an interest. Unfortunately, his cock had other ideas and had become engorged the moment he took Rissa’s tiny hand into his own, and had defied listening to the logic of his brain ever since.

  “Not yet.” She chuckled.

  Zachary’s gaze roamed over the delicacy of her face. “Your bone structure is such you will age as gracefully as a fine wine.”

  She arched her brows. “Rather than an unrefined one?”

  Zachary bared his teeth in a smile. “Your teasing manner of speech is refreshing in one so young.”

  She smiled. “My stepmother does not believe that any woman, of whatever age, should be taken for granted or go unnoticed, and has advised me accordingly since she married my father a year ago.”

  “She sounds like a very wise woman.”

  “Oh, she is,” Rissa assured him, her eyes glowing with the affection she obviously felt for the older woman.

  “Although it cannot be easy for your father to now have two such strong-minded women in his household,” Zachary returned the tease.

  Rissa gave a burst of laughter. “I assure you, my father is extremely happy with the arrangement and more than capable of silencing both of us when or if he feels the need.” Her eyes glowed with the same love and admiration for her father as she had shown for her stepmother. “No doubt you will meet him yourself in the next day or so. I understand Lord Catchpole has already sent word to my father of yesterday’s fire. I am expecting him to come thundering up the driveway on his horse at any moment,” she added affectionately. “My stepmother cannot travel at present as she is with child, but if it was at all possible, then she would not be far behind him.”

  Zachary envied Rissa the obvious closeness she had with her family. His own family had all but disowned him eleven years ago when both he and their good name became the talk of Society following the scandal that had rocked the very foundations of that civilized world.

  He had been aged only twenty at the time, and not guilty of the crime he had been accused of, but none had believed him, then or in the years that followed, until in the end, he had stopped trying to defend himself.

  The truth of that scandal had finally been revealed the previous year, but Zachary still tended to avoid both his family and the Society that had treated him with such suspicion and contempt for so many years.

  This, having people in the house at his country estate, was so unusual that his household staff had, for a time, been thrown into complete disarray the previous night trying to cope with the arrival of so many guests after years of only having to cater to “the master.”

  It was something of a novelty at the moment to have guests in the house, but Zachary believed he might tire of their intrusion very quickly.

  Except for this young lady.

  He did not believe Rissa could ever bore him.

  He found his angel’s beauty and lively sense of humor entirely entertaining.

  His angel?

  It had been many years since Zachary had dared to think in terms of any woman ever becoming his.

  When the scandal happened eleven years ago, he had been half in love with and thinking of offering for the daughter of a marquis. That had all come to an abrupt end the moment Lady Sophia Richards made her accusation of his having taken her innocence against her will. There was a definite Before the Scandal and After It to Zachary’s life. A division he had not fully accepted was now over, even a year after his name had been cleared.

  Until now.

  Zachary had not lived his years of being ostracized as a monk, but neither were the women he associated with during that time of the caliber to ever become his countess and the mother of his children. He had resigned himself long ago to never having either of those things.

  Since meeting Rissa, he had begun to hope again, those thirteen years’ difference in their ages becoming more and more irrelevant the longer he spent in her company.

  “My lord…?”

  He glanced up at the uncertainty he could hear in Rissa’s voice.

  “Have I said something to upset you?” She looked worried that might be the case.

  Zachary gave her a reassuring smile. “Not at all. I was merely thinking of the difference a single night can make in one’s life.”

  �
�My lord…?”

  “Call me Zachary,” he invited. “And pretty as the name Rissa is, I believe I should like to call you Angel, as that is what I first believed you to be.”

  Rissa felt the color blossom in her cheeks. Her stepmother might have instilled a sense of self-worth and confidence in her without, she hoped, being arrogant about it, but Rissa had never before met a man as forward as Zachary Noble. “Is that not overly…intimate, considering we only met for the first time last night?”

  “It is,” the earl acknowledged gruffly. “But the circumstances upon which we met make a nonsense of the social niceties. That being the case, I should like your permission to call you Angel, if only in private.”

  Rissa did not believe she could ever deny this man anything, least of all his having a pet name for her that no one else used or knew about.

  Besides, she had to admit that the fire and the events that followed had certainly dispensed with any need for the social politeness between them she had found so tedious during those few weeks she had attended the Season. All that bowing and curtseying and veiled flirtation, without any substance to the conversation, had bored her within the first few days. Whereas this time alone with Zachary Noble was enough to make her heart race and heat the blood flowing through her veins.

  “Are you feeling unwell, Angel?” The earl frowned. “Your pulse has begun to beat very quickly.”

  Rissa drew in a sharp breath both at hearing herself addressed so singularly and at the way the earl’s long fingers were currently caressing her wrist. “I am not sure any of this is quite proper.” Even with the presence of her maid in the room next to this one.

  “Not quite, no,” he allowed. “But I feel a need to touch you anyway.” His gaze held hers as he lifted her hand and placed his lips against the rapidly pounding pulse point in her wrist.

  His lips were soft, Rissa acknowledged. Very soft and sensual against the warmth of her bare skin.

  “The doctor says you are well enough to get up this evening. Will you dine with me?” the earl invited softly.

  She swallowed before answering. “As I have had more than enough of lying in bed, I will happily join all of you downstairs for dinner.”

  He eyed her indulgently. “That is not what I asked.”

  Rissa’s eyes widened. “You were asking me to dine alone with you? Would the Catchpoles not think that strange?”

  “Probably,” he dismissed. “But, as I have said, I ceased caring what any in Society thought of me a long time ago.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his tone.

  She arched her brows. “Do you have the same disregard for what they might think of me?”

  Zachary’s first instinct was to say yes, but he knew that answer would not do. He might not care what Society thought or said about him, but his Angel was still very young and obviously the daughter of a member of the English aristocracy. The Catchpoles, Zachary knew, were only awaiting the arrival of their young guest’s father before they departed themselves to stay at the home of Catchpole’s sister and her husband.

  Except it was Angel’s imminent departure which now made Zachary’s actions all the more urgent. He wished to get to know Rissa, and for her to get to know him, before her father arrived here and had opportunity to express his doubts regarding the Earl of Harrogate showing such a marked interest in his daughter. As any responsible father must do, despite Zachary having been cleared of all past blame.

  “No,” he assured as he released Rissa’s wrist before rising to his feet. “If I must dine with the Catchpoles too for propriety’s sake, then so be it.”

  Rissa had trouble holding back her smile. “You really are outrageously impolite, my lord.”

  “Zachary,” he reminded.

  She arched a mocking brow. “So not the angel of death?”

  He gave a rueful shake of his head. “There is only one Angel in this room, and it is not me.”

  Rissa felt an unexplained heaviness in her chest as she watched the earl leave the bedchamber, finally recognizing that feeling for exactly what it was.

  Disappointment at seeing Zachary leave.

  Her stepmother had warned her against being alone with any gentleman for fear he might take advantage of her or she lost her reputation. Until now, it was a warning Rissa had absolutely no problem adhering to.

  But she felt Zachary’s loss the moment he left the bedchamber, instantly wanting to call him back again.

  There was something between the two of them. A connection, a closeness Rissa had never felt before with anyone.

  Did the fact Zachary wished to call her Angel, to dine alone with her, mean he felt that same connection and closeness?

  Chapter 3

  After so many years of freedom from the tediousness of Society dinners, Zachary had forgotten the extreme boredom of attending one. The fact this dinner was in his own home only made it more excruciating, especially when he would far rather have spent the evening alone with his Angel.

  She looked exquisite this evening in a borrowed evening gown of cream lace. The local gentry had rallied round today and very kindly provided the Catchpoles and their guest with adequate clothing until they were able to make other arrangements.

  Rissa’s dark hair was swept up and secured at her crown, with several loose and enticing curls at her temples and nape, leaving the vulnerability of her throat and shoulders bare. Several areas of slightly reddened skin showed where she had received burns the previous evening. Her face was also very pale still, adding depth to those gray eyes and deepening the pink of her lips.

  Otherwise, she seemed to have recovered well from her ordeal.

  Zachary also observed, as the dinner progressed, that Rissa was nothing at all like the shy or giggling young ladies he had encountered in Society eleven years ago. Clara Catchpole was a typical example of that, as she blushed and stumbled over her words whenever Zachary spoke to her. In contrast to her friend, Rissa was both self-assured and comfortable in her own skin, and able to contribute intelligently to any part of the conversation.

  And he, Zachary realized, was seriously in danger of falling in love with the young lady who had, quite literally, fallen into his arms the evening before.

  He ached to have Rissa in his arms again instead of continuing to listen to a conversation that was, as invariably happened on these occasions, rapidly deteriorating into the inane.

  Everyone seated at the table turned to look at him as he pushed his chair back noisily and rose to his feet. “The doctor left instructions that Rissa is not to overtire herself this evening. That being so, I believe, as your host, it is time I escorted her up the stairs to her bedchamber.” He strode about the table to place his hands pointedly on the back of her chair as indication he expected her to also stand.

  Rissa could see that all three of the Catchpoles were slightly taken aback by the earl’s autocratic tone. As was she. But as Harrogate was their reluctant host, it would look incredibly rude if she were to refuse his offer to escort her.

  She did, however, linger unnecessarily in saying her goodnights to the Catchpoles. All the time aware of the brooding presence of the disapproving earl as he stood in the doorway to the dining room waiting for her to join him.

  “He is so deliciously masterful!” Clara whispered in Rissa’s ear when the two of them hugged goodnight.

  Masterful was one way of describing the earl, Rissa inwardly snorted, while outwardly continuing to smile graciously. She could think of several other words that were more fitting. Such as overly arrogant. Even dictatorial. Whilst Rissa accepted and respected her father had similar attributes, she did not appreciate it in a man she barely knew.

  Almost as if the earl believed having saved her life the previous evening now gave him the right to express an opinion in what she did.

  Which would not do at all.

  Her mother had died when Rissa was aged only seven, and although she’d had her mother’s sister, Aunt Susan, in her life, her father had never been keen on t
he woman.

  Rissa might have only acquired a stepmother a year ago, but she had learned much from observing and listening to the older woman. One of those things was not to allow herself to be managed by any man, no matter who he was or what the circumstances.

  She had heard it said that women often fell in love with men who reminded them of their father. Having now met such a gentleman, Rissa could not help but wonder how her stepmother managed to live in such harmony with her arrogant and sometimes dictatorial husband.

  But perhaps it was love which made the difference?

  If so, it was far too soon in their acquaintance for Rissa to know how she felt about the earl. Nevertheless, she felt sure her stepmother would advise her to start the way she intended to proceed. Which, in the case of the Earl of Harrogate, meant Rissa not allowing herself to be browbeaten by his arrogant and decisive nature.

  “You are cross with me,” Harrogate drawled as he fell into step beside Rissa in the hallway after she had pointedly ignored the arm he held out for her to place her gloved hand upon.

  She shot him a daggered glance, cheeks warm with temper as the two of them walked up the wide staircase together. “I am unaware the doctor gave any such instruction.”

  “If he did not, he should have done,” the earl dismissed.

  Rissa gave him a frustrated frown. “It is very rude of you to have abandoned the Catchpoles in that way at your own dinner table.”

  He raised dark brows. “Are you chastising me?”

  “I am pointing out a social impoliteness.”

  “Inviting them into my home is not politeness enough?”

  Rissa’s exasperation deepened. “Surely offering such assistance in the circumstances was the neighborly thing to do?”

  He shrugged wide shoulders. “Ordinarily, I do not see the Catchpoles, nor they me, from one year’s end to the next.”

  Rissa once again wondered what could have occurred eleven years ago to cut this gentleman off from the Society to which he so obviously belonged but seemed to hold in such contempt.