Nicola Cornick - The Notorious Lord

‘Cleaning your rifle?’ Rachel said lightly.

‘It has its own peculiar charm,’ Cory agreed gravely. He hesitated, then bent forward and kissed her. His cheek brushed hers, hard against her softness. Rachel’s skin shivered.

‘A kiss between friends,’ she said lightly. ‘One might even go so far as to say a brotherly kiss.’

For the second time that night she saw a flash in Cory’s eyes that was wholly masculine but far from brotherly. It was a look that spoke of desire and conjured wanton images of tangled bed sheets and naked skin and all the things that Rachel had read about and never associated with her own life and in particular had never thought of in conjunction with Cory Newlyn, her childhood friend. She opened her mouth to speak, though she had no notion what she was about to say, and in the same instant Cory took a very purposeful step towards her.

The door of the house opened abruptly and Sir Arthur Odell appeared in the doorway, the Antiquarian Review trailing from one hand and his reading glasses clasped in the other.

‘What the devil is going on here? Can a man have no peace in his own home? I am trying to concentrate on Crabbe’s report on the Lincolnshire excavations!’

Rachel dragged her gaze from Cory’s face, though the action seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort.

‘There is no need to create a fuss, Papa,’ she said. ‘It is only Cory and I. We have been down at the excavation site.’

‘Oh.’ Sir Arthur looked nonplussed. ‘I thought that some knavish creature was out to rob us.’

‘Not at all, Papa,’ Rachel said. ‘And I do not believe that we can have been making a great deal of noise.’ She took his arm. ‘Come along inside now. Goodnight, Cory.’

Cory’s gaze had not wavered from her during the entire exchange; though Rachel had not been looking at him she had felt him watching her. Now he bowed slightly. ‘Goodnight, Rae,’ he said. ‘I will see you in the morning.’

He walked off in the direction of the stable and Rachel shook herself out of the strange, heated lethargy that seemed to possess her. For a second she leaned back against the door, feeling the handle cold against her hot palm. Perhaps she had imagined that flash of desire in Cory’s eyes, but she did not think so. Nor could she dismiss the answering spark it had lit deep within her. From their very first meeting that morning, something had changed between them. She did not understand it and she was not sure that she liked it. She wanted their old friendship back, with all its comforting familiarity. She stood still for a moment, letting the cool breeze touch her face and calm her mind. Cory was her friend and her parents’ colleague. He would never flirt with her or try to seduce her. Very likely he did not even wish to and she had imagined the whole thing. There was nothing to fear at all.

Yet still she wondered.

‘No,’ Cory said. ‘I won’t do it, Rachel. I will not be an exhibit in Lady Sally’s book of watercolours. The idea is absurd.’ His set his jaw in a stubborn line. His silver gaze was hard. He shovelled another heap of earth out on to the pile to his right with unnecessary vigour.

He heard Rachel sigh. She was sitting on an upturned bucket at the side of the trench where Cory was digging. She had only been persuaded to sit down after the bucket had been thoroughly dusted-and after he had assured her that he was unlikely to dig up any bones, at least while she was there.

It was the day after the meeting of the reading group at Saltires and Cory acknowledged wryly to himself that he should have realised that Rachel would come back from it fired with Lady Sally’s charitable zeal. In fact, he was a little surprised that she had not broached the subject immediately the previous night. Rachel was usually extremely direct with him; once she had an idea in her head, she could not be dissuaded.

Cory had already heard about Lady Sally’s book of watercolour drawings from his host, the Duke of Kestrel, who had been petitioned to take part when he had met Lady Sally at the Langs’ card party the previous night. Justin Kestrel had laughed at the idea, but had not been opposed to it. Cory was less enthusiastic.

Rachel tilted her parasol to shield her face from the sun. She looked composed and unruffled and it made Cory smile that she was the only person he knew who could sit in the middle of an excavation and look as though she was at a duchess’s garden party.

Cory shoved his spade into the sand and rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. Digging was a dirty business. He probably smelled of sweat already. No doubt Rachel would tell him if he needed to take a bath. She had been indelicate enough to speak of such things plenty of times in the past since they were friends and there was no artifice between them.

‘Why did you not ask me about this when you came back from the reading group yesterday?’ he asked. ‘Why put it off?’

He thought that Rachel looked a little evasive.

‘I knew that you would refuse,’ she said morosely.

Cory laughed. ‘Then why did you ask me at all?’

‘I did not wish to make assumptions,’ Rachel said, ‘but I thought I knew you well enough to guess your answer.’

‘You know me well enough to predict my reactions to most things,’ Cory observed.

He saw a tiny frown dip between Rachel’s brows as she pondered this. She looked a little uncomfortable with the thought but did not reply, and after a minute Cory returned to his digging. If Rachel knew him well, then he also knew her. She was stubborn. He had not heard the last of the watercolour book yet. In fact, he would lay money that she would return to the topic within the next five minutes. He dug out a few more feet of trench-and waited. It took two minutes, not five.

‘Why will you not agree to pose for the book, Cory?’ Rachel asked. ‘It is one of Lady Sally’s charitable ventures and all in a good cause.’

Cory looked up and adjusted the rim of his disgusting hat to shade his eyes from the sun. Rachel’s brown gaze was steady and curious on him. Clearly she saw nothing wrong in a parade of eligible men being flaunted in order to sell Lady Sally’s book. Cory set about disabusing her.

‘Rachel, I dislike the idea of being exhibited like a piece of meat, to titillate the female appetite!’ He stuck his spade into the earth in an impatient gesture. ‘I can see the description now: Cory, Lord Newlyn, six foot one inch tall, possessed of an income of forty thousand a year and estates in Northamptonshire and Cornwall…’ he made a noise of disgust ‘…and various other assets that an enterprising young lady might like to discover for herself!’

Rachel gave a peal of laughter. ‘I had no notion that you were such a stuffed shirt, Cory. You have always been willing for the ladies to examine your assets up until now! Look at you down by the river!’

Cory did not reply. He felt irritable. He disliked the idea that he was a killjoy who was not prepared to help Lady Sally in her charitable venture. Damn it, he was always prepared to contribute to a good cause. What he was not prepared to do was to pose for the book. He was well aware that it was just an excuse for what was essentially a husband-hunter’s handbook and he preferred to do the hunting himself rather than be a target for desperate females. He also preferred the whole business to be rather more subtle. This so-called book seemed to him to be a blatant excuse to parade a few eligible men before the young ladies of the ton.

‘Why do you think that I should take part?’ he asked abruptly.

Rachel had been idly watching her father, who was sifting a sieve full of soil on to the spoil heap further down the field. Now she looked up and focussed on him again. There was a faint smile still lingering about her mouth and the same hint of curiosity in her eyes. Cory knew that she was surprised by his reticence and that she did not really understand his reasons for refusing. She knew that he was neither naïve nor coy. After all, she had seen the proof of it herself.

‘Why, because it is for charity-’ she began.

Cory put up a hand. He held her gaze. ‘Yes, I accept that. But why me?’

He saw puzzlement come into her eyes. Rachel had very beautiful eyes, speckled brown, gold and green. Taken all together, her features were pleasing, although Cory knew that she did not think so herself. But then, why should she, with no one to tell her? Lady Odell would be more likely to praise the attractive qualities of a Grecian urn than to extol her daughter’s virtues. As for him, he had given up attempting to pay Rachel compliments for he was unhappily aware that she did not take them seriously. She gave his admiration the same weight that she attached to his casual affection for a pet kitten.

‘Why you?’ Rachel repeated. Her brow wrinkled slightly. ‘I suppose…because you are an attractive man.’

Cory raised his brows. ‘Do you think me attractive?’

Rachel looked slightly confused. ‘Well, I…I mean that you would generally be considered attractive. By other ladies.’

Cory grinned. ‘A fine distinction. You yourself do not believe it, then?’

Rachel’s chin tilted up haughtily. ‘I have never really thought about it.’

Cory found that this rankled. He kept his gaze on Rachel’s face. A tinge of colour had come into her cheeks and though she held his eyes for a few seconds, she was the first to look away. Cory felt a rush of arrogant, masculine pleasure. So that was a lie. Rachel had looked at him and thought him attractive and the knowledge pleased him far more than it ought to have done. He sighed inwardly. Last night he had known that there was something between them when he had looked at her in the firelight and seen an echo of his own passion in her gaze. He had known then that he should not take matters further and he knew it now. There was a wariness between them at the moment and he suspected that it was largely down to the unease he had stirred in Rachel through his behaviour. He was slightly surprised that she had come to see him today. Cory looked around. There were plenty of other people on the excavation site and no doubt she felt quite safe. And at the moment he need not worry that he was arousing anything other than annoyance in her. She was looking at him with something approaching dislike.