A MERRY CHASE Page 4

  Blowing out her breath in a huff, Laurel leaned back against the cushion. "I do so hate it when you're right," she grumbled in mock ferocity.

  "You'd best get used to it."

  "Arrogant jackanapes," Laurel retorted with a laugh.

  "Quite true." Grinning at her, Royce leaned closer. "And you enjoy my company for precisely that reason."

  "Rubbish. The only reason I'm in your company at all is because you bedeviled me until I agreed to spend time with you."

  "What happened to your honor, my lady, to spout such a bald lie? You are in this carriage at this precise moment because of your pride."

  "My what?"

  "I believe you heard me," he returned, thoroughly enjoying their repartee. "If I hadn't dared you to meet me, I'm quite certain you would still be cowering in the ballroom."

  "Cowering!" Laurel exclaimed, twisting in her seat to face him. "I assure you, my lord, I have never cowered in my life."

  Meeting Laurel's affronted gaze, Royce leaned even closer. "Royce."

  "The braying coxcomb," she added, her eyes sparkling with life.

  Her sweet scent drifted upward, tickling his nose, teasing his senses. Dropping his gaze onto her lips, Royce longed to indulge in his private fantasy, to see if Laurel could possibly taste as wonderful as he imagined.

  Unable to resist, he bent toward her.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Laurel's breath caught in her throat as she watched Royce lean closer, his gaze fixed upon her now parted lips. Uncertainty mixed with desire within her as she struggled to remain still. Part of her wanted to turn away from his kiss, but the other half ached to experience it, to satisfy her burning curiosity.

  Having found Royce fascinating from the first moment he'd approached her, Laurel wanted … no, needed, to ease her desire for this man. Perhaps then she could treat him as a friend instead of finding herself constantly plagued with unwanted passion for him.

  Mere inches from her mouth, Royce stopped, his warm breath feathering across her lips, making her heart pound in anticipation.

  "Laurel," he whispered, his voice achingly soft. With his gaze capturing hers, Royce grasped her hand, slowly lifting it to his lips. His eyes darkened as he pressed sweet kisses upon the tips of her fingers, the soft touch of his lips sending shivers of delight down her body.

  Gasping, Laurel watched, transfixed, as Royce slipped the tip of her index finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around the sensitive flesh, before freeing it to the warm night air. All conscious thought escaped her as she quivered beneath Royce's expert touch, willing him to continue his sensual torment of her senses.

  Turning her hand over, Royce pressed his lips against her palm, the softness of his mouth making her crave more. She leaned closer, wanting to feel his lips upon hers. Slowly, he lifted his head, bringing his mouth a breath away from hers. Anticipation washed over her as she awaited his kiss.

  "I want nothing more than to kiss you at this moment," Royce rasped. "May I indulge in my fantasy, sweet Laurel?"

  Only one answer sang in her blood. "Yes."

  His expression held sensual promise as Royce closed the distance between them. Waiting breathlessly, Laurel watched him come closet wetting her lips in anticipation. The first gentle sweep of his kiss caused her fingers to curve around his, holding him last. Desire fluttered downward when he settled his mouth over hers, his lips tasting, searching for a deeper touch.

  Groaning softly, Royce lifted his free hand, stroking across her cheek to hold her steady, before delving into her mouth, his tongue sweeping forward to claim her. Unknown delights soared through Laurel as she fell into the kiss. She'd never experienced such passion with Archie, never burned for more, never craved his touch the way that she craved this man's.

  As if sensing her desire, Royce slid his hand along the curve of her jaw, stroking downward, until his fingers rested at the base of her throat. Breaking off their kiss, Royce pressed kisses along the path his hand had taken as he made his way toward the edge of her bodice.

  Toying with the lace of her dress, Royce lifted his head to recapture her lips, swallowing her moan beneath his hungry kiss. When his fingers curved along the edge of her breast, molding the flesh into the palm of his hand, Laurel pressed eagerly against him, craving surcease from the burning torment within her. Her hands clutched at his waist as she arched upward, offering herself to him.

  Disappointment flooded Laurel when, instead of accepting her invitation, Royce drew back slowly, ending their kiss in a light brush of his lips. A soft moan escaped her.

  Lifting his hands to cup her face, Royce shook his head. "Laurel, my love, we must stop now … before I forget myself."

  "But … but…" she stammered, before falling silent. How could she protest when she knew Royce had followed the wisest course? This man, this wonderful, infuriating, enjoyable man, had made her forget all she'd ever learned, all she'd experienced. The heady thought was also a frightening one.

  In Royce's arms, she had lost control.

  Even more disconcerting was the fact that Royce had obviously not been as affected by their kiss. He was, after all, the one to break it off. Gathering her composure, Laurel straightened and forced a smile onto her face. "I must thank you for retaining a hold upon your senses."

  "I'd accept your thanks if that were true, but I must confess it was only the rapping on the door that brought me to my senses."

  That thought warned Laurel. "Rapping on the door?"

  Sliding a velvet drape aside, Royce motioned toward the carriage window. "Our coachman was merely letting us know that we've arrived back at our party."

  Only then did Laurel realize that the carriage was no longer moving. Giddiness and relief welled inside of her. "My goodness, Royce, you certainly do know how to treat a lady to a fantasy."

  The intensity of his gaze made Laurel gasp. "Not everything was a fantasy, Laurel," he whispered softly. "With a reality like the one we just shared, there's no need for enhancement. Our reality is better than most people's dreams."

  She couldn't deny it. Somehow, some way, this man had pushed past all of her defenses and safe-guards and gifted her with a dream come true. Unbidden, she arched toward him.

  "As much as I'd like nothing more than to kiss you again, it might be best if I accompany you back to the ball now." Grinning rakishly, Royce leaned forward to whisper, "After all, everyone always notices when the Royals step out for a few moments."

  Their game reestablished, Laurel tapped Royce lightly on the arm. "So very true, my humble servant." She lifted her chin. "And because I'm in a generous mood, I shall even forgive you your liberties with my person."

  "Most generous, indeed," Royce replied thoughtfully before opening the carriage door.

  Gazing at Royce where he stood in the doorway, offering her his hand, Laurel felt happiness well up inside her. For the first time in years, her future looked bright once more.

  With a smile, Laurel accepted his hand and allowed him to assist her from the carriage … and back into reality.

  * * *

  Satisfied.

  Yes, if he had to pick one word to describe how he felt at this very moment, it would be satisfied, Royce decided as he stepped back into the ballroom. Automatically, he searched for Laurel, spying her across the room where she stood conversing with her friend, Henrietta … or was it Harrietta? Shrugging away the unimportant question, Royce instead focused in upon Laurel, noticing her heightened color.

  A finger of desire curled inside of him at the realization that he'd put that flush upon her face. Memories of their passionate embrace cheered him; her sensual nature simply enhanced the prospect of marriage, an added bonus to an already wise decision. Royce tried to keep the smile of triumph from his face. The task proved difficult as he considered how easily he'd snared his quarry. Tomorrow he would call upon her father and formally ask for her hand in marriage. After their lovely carriage ride, Royce had no doubt that
his strategy would proceed as planned.

  "Your methods appear to be failing," James observed as he handed Royce a glass of port.

  Glancing at his friend, Royce lifted a quizzical brow. "Excuse me?"

  "I said that your theory about catching a bride was off the mark." James tilted his head toward Laurel, who stood across the room. "Proximity does count in these matters."

  "I must agree with James," William added as he joined them. "You can hardly get the job done if you're on different sides of the room."

  Crossing his arms, Royce allowed a smile to ease onto his face. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen, but the trap has already snapped and the vixen has been captured. All that remains is claiming the prize."

  "Come now, Tewksbury. Wishful thinking there, isn't it?"

  "Not in the least." Royce returned his attention toward James. "Have you ever heard of the Earl of Hath's penchant for elaborate carriages?"

  "Who hasn't?" replied James with a shake of his head. "But what does that have to do with attracting Lady Laurel's attention?"

  "Patience, patience." Shaking his head, Royce grinned at his companions. "That is part of your problem, gentlemen. You are so quick to question, so eager to act, that you forget to take time to strategize your attack."

  "Strategize?" exclaimed William. "Good God, man, you're proposing marriage, not a bloody war."

  "When you compare the two logically, there's not much difference. In both cases, the best way to accomplish your goal is to treat it like the conquest it is and plan for success."

  Rolling his eyes, James muttered, "You make the entire business sound so … cold-blooded."

  Again the memory of Laurel's embrace shimmered in his mind. No, what he had created with Laurel in that carriage was anything but cold. Shrugging, Royce answered, "Not at all. I'm merely applying my intelligence, gentlemen, to accomplish the task in the most efficient manner." Swiftly, Royce told them of the carriage ride, omitting, of course, the passionate kiss. Some things weren't meant to be shared. "So by challenging Laurel, I made her come to me, allowed it to be her decision to accompany me, thus, perhaps in a small way, overcoming her antipathy toward marriage and males in general."

  William glared at him. "Does everything come so blasted easy for you, Tewksbury?"

  Brushing his hands together, Royce nodded succinctly. "Usually," he admitted cheerfully. "I've found that whenever a gentleman applies logic to a problem, the solution is easily discovered." Royce took in the disgruntled stares of his friends and smiled. Lord, it felt wonderful to be proven right.

  "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need to see about returning a carriage," Royce murmured as he moved off, secure in the knowledge that the night's work had been most profitable.

  * * *

  "The bastard's too smug by half," grumbled James as he took another swig of brandy. He'd joined William at White's to lament their friend's good fortune.

  "He's got good reason to be," William pointed out glumly. "He usually succeeds where we mortal men fail miserably."

  Swirling the brandy around in his glass, James nodded in agreement. "Personally, I think it high time he learned a lesson in humility and discovered what life is like for the rest of us."

  "We already tried that." William sank back into his chair. "And all we did was hand him yet another victory."

  "Hmmmm," murmured James, rubbing a finger along his eyebrow. "Lady Laurel proved a disappointment. I thought for certain she would make Royce run circles 'round her before granting him her hand in marriage."

  "You can hardly blame her. After all, she doesn't realize she's the quarry in Royce's sights."

  "No, she doesn't—" Bolting upright in his seat, James slammed his glass down onto the table. "That's it!"

  "What the devil are you talking about?"

  Slapping a hand onto William's shoulder, James crowed, "I'm talking about a way to bring our illustrious friend down a notch and to make this wager of ours into an actual challenge."

  William shook his head. "I'm afraid I still don't follow you, James."

  "What I am proposing, my friend, is that we let the lady in on the wager."

  William's eyes widened. "You want to betray Royce's confidence?"

  "I'd rather do that than give him the upper hand once again." Sitting forward, James tried to convince William to agree to his plan. "Think on it, William. If Lady Laurel were to overhear us discussing the wager, then we wouldn't be betraying Royce. After all, we can't control who hears us speaking, now can we?"

  "I don't know," William hedged. "It seems rather underhanded to me."

  "And what if it is? Would you rather look upon Royce's bloody smug face as he waltzes the lady down the aisle? Besides," James continued, "you know Royce well enough to realize he'll enjoy the challenge. He's easily bored these days, so we'll actually be helping him … in a fashion."

  "Well." Slowly, William nodded. "Perhaps you're right. If Royce convinces Lady Laurel to marry him so quickly, he'll soon tire of her. Yet if she resists his charms, it might make him appreciate her more. So, your plan might help her as well."

  James smiled as he listened to William try to convince himself that the entire plan was for Royce's own good. Hell, he wasn't above admitting that he wanted to see Tewksbury taken down a notch or two. But if William needed to justify their actions, then so be it.

  "All right," William agreed finally. "I'm in."

  "Wonderful!" James cried as he raised his glass in a salute.

  "What do we do now?"

  "Why, we follow our chum's advice—apply our intelligence to the matter, and devise a strategy." James was more than ready to increase the stakes in the game. "It's time we set a trap of our own for the spirited Lady Laurel."

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  "You're awfully quiet today, Harriet," Laurel observed as she set down the hat she'd been admiring. "Is something bothering you?"

  After a moment's hesitation, Harriet murmured, "Well, no. Everything is perfectly … fine."

  Placing her hands upon her hips, Laurel turned her full attention to her friend. "That lackluster response was hardly convincing, which only makes me even more curious as to why you're not being truthful."

  Harriet's gaze darted around the milliner's shop. "Excuse me?" she squeaked before clearing her throat and reclaiming her composure. "Are you insinuating that I am lying to you?"

  Seeing the guilt in Harriet's expression, Laurel nodded firmly. "Indeed I am," she replied with a laugh.

  "Well!" Harriet sniffed. "I never—"

  "Don't waste your efforts on me, Harriet Nash." Laurel waved her hand, dismissing Harriet's protest. "You won't be able to distract me by acting affronted. We both know it's simply an attempt to change the subject." Leaning closer, Laurel looked into Harriet's face. "Now tell me what is bothering you."

  Fiercely, Harriet shook her head. "I don't want to tell you. It will upset you far too much."

  "Believe me, Harriet, nothing could upset me on this wonderful day." Memories of the previous evening, of her delicious kiss with Royce, were still with her. "Absolutely nothing."

  "I know you're still excited from your adventure…"

  "My grand adventure."

  If anything, her correction made Harriet look even paler. "Indeed," she replied weakly.

  Something in Harriet's voice caused Laurel to pause. "Whatever is wrong with you, Harriet?" But before her friend even had a chance to respond, a horrible thought struck Laurel. "Does your distressing news have something to do with Royce?"

  Glumly, Harriet nodded.

  "Well?"

  "I don't want to tell you," Harriet moaned, placing a hand upon Laurel's arm. "I was so very happy for you last night when you told me about your carriage ride and I don't want to spoil anything for you."

  Unwilling to continue the argument, Laurel didn't say a word; she merely looked at her friend. Beneath her steady gaze, Harriet shifted in discomfort.

  "Ver
y well," Harriet said with a sigh. "Before I called upon you, I went to the park to feed the swans."

  "As you do every day…" Laurel prompted, wondering where Harriet was leading.

  "Yes, indeed, but this morning there were two gentlemen already feeding the swans as I arrived. Even though I stood a few feet away, I could hear their conversation quite clearly."

  "Obviously they said something that upset you." Suddenly, Laurel connected the two pieces of their conversation. "Did they see me in the carriage with Royce?" she gasped, alarmed at the thought that someone had witnessed her intimate embrace. She'd hoped that everyone would simply assume she'd stepped out for a bit of fresh air. After all, she and Royce had left and then returned separately. But perhaps someone had noticed both of their absences and pieced it together. "Did they?" Laurel asked again.

  "No."

  Laurel released her indrawn breath. "Thank heaven."

  "It was much worse," Harriet said softly.

  With four words, Harriet had destroyed her sense of relief, making her tense once more. "I can't stand this any longer, Harriet. You need to tell me what you overheard."

  Straightening her shoulders, Harriet nodded. "It's far better that you hear it from me than from … someone else." She took a deep breath, before blurting out, "Royce Van Cleef is spending time with you … on a wager."

  Laurel struggled to make sense of Harriet's words. "I don't understand," she whispered through a suddenly tight throat.

  Harriet's gaze darkened in sympathy as she placed her hand upon Laurel's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Laurel, but it's true. I overheard Lord Edridge and Lord Mull discussing it this very morning. It was quite clear from their conversation that Royce Van Cleef has been spending time with you in order to win a bet."