Nicola Cornick - The Notorious Lord

In fact, she stood to lose everything.

When Cory found her the following morning, Rachel was standing on one of the library chairs, plying a feather duster to remove the cobwebs from the candelabra. It was not the position that she would have wished to be in when she met him, for it set her at a distinct disadvantage. She had endured a miserable night, tossing and turning as she thought over what she had to say to him. She knew that she had to talk to him at the first opportunity. Early in the morning she had gone down to the excavation to see if he was there, only to discover that he had not yet arrived and no one knew where he was. In desperation, Rachel had sought refuge in cleaning. It had always worked in the past when she felt unsettled, but now she was so unhappy than not even a brisk sprucing up of the library could make any impression on her blue-devilled mood.

The library chandelier was an ugly object. It was suspended from a hook on the ceiling that looked uncannily like a butcher’s rack for hanging game, and there were long trails of candle wax hardened on to the branches in a dreadfully dirty fashion. Just seeing it there offended Rachel’s sense of cleanliness. Although Sir Arthur Odell was the only one who used the library in the evening, she knew that she simply could not countenance leaving such a dirty object hanging there. The difficulty was that the hook was just out of her reach and even if she stood on tiptoe she could not quite ease the heavy iron candelabra from its catch.

She put the feather duster down on the table, moved the chair to precisely the correct position beneath the candelabra, and climbed up again. If she stretched up as far as she could…

The chair lurched beneath her with sickening suddenness. Rachel made a grab for the back of it and her hand raked thin air. She felt her balance going and then strong hands grabbed her about the waist and she was swung through the air and placed gently on her feet.

Cory’s voice said, ‘Trying to break your neck, Rachel?’

Rachel felt flustered. Cory still had his hands about her waist and she could feel them warm through the thin muslin of her dress. His expression was quizzical as it rested on her flushed face.

‘I was trying to dislodge the candelabra,’ Rachel said.

‘And instead you almost dislodged yourself,’ Cory observed. ‘Why did you not call one of us to help you?’

‘You were all busy,’ Rachel excused. She tried to step out of his grasp, but Cory did not let go. He was watching her expression, amusement in his own face.

‘What are you doing inside, Cory?’ she asked. ‘I thought that you were working.’

‘I came to see you,’ Cory said, ‘and there is no need to make me sound like the kitchen cat. I swear I took my boots off before I came inside.’

Rachel looked him up and down. He was indeed in his stockinged feet and the sight gave her a rather odd feeling, as though he were in a state of intimate undress.

‘I am glad that you are here, for I wished to talk to you about something important,’ she said, averting her gaze to the table and glaring rather hard at a smear of dust on the shining surface.

‘I wished to see you too,’ Cory said, smiling, ‘although not necessarily to talk.’

Something twisted inside Rachel at the happiness she saw in his face. It made it all the more difficult for her to reject him. Already she felt sick with apprehension and misery at what she was going to do.

‘Cory,’ she said desperately.

‘Yes?’ Cory asked.

Rachel looked at him. Her heart gave a painful leap into her throat. She swallowed hard, but found that the words of dismissal that she had practised for the best part of the night simply did not come. Cory moved closer to her, his gaze disturbingly intent on her face.

‘You have cobwebs in your hair, Rae,’ he said softly.

‘Oh…’ Rachel put a self-conscious hand up to her head. She felt a little confused. ‘I knew that I should have worn a cap,’ she said.

‘Thank the lord you did not,’ Cory said feelingly, ‘for I should have had to take it off you. They are as unbecoming as a frumpish gown, and you are only two and twenty, Rae, far too young to be donning a spinster’s cap.’

His fingers tangled with hers in her thick, brown hair. ‘Hold still. I will get the cobwebs out for you.’

‘You will loosen all the pins!’ Rachel wailed. She felt his fingertips brush her scalp and felt acutely self-conscious. This felt dangerous, reminding her of the experience in the phaeton when she had been completely abandoned in her response to him. At such close quarters her senses were full of him; his touch and the scent of his skin made her head spin. She felt slightly dizzy, put out a hand to steady herself and found herself clutching his arm. The linen shirt was smooth beneath her fingers and Cory’s arm hard and strong beneath that. Thinking about it, she felt even more shaky.

‘You are making me forget what I wanted to say,’ she said faintly.

Cory smiled into her eyes. His voice was soft. ‘I am only removing the cobwebs from your hair, Rae.’ His fingers tangled once again in her curls. ‘There. I have finished.’

‘Thank you.’ Rachel realised that her voice sounded a little husky. She cleared her throat. ‘Thank you, Cory.’

‘You look charmingly dishevelled now,’ Cory said, his gaze appraising her. There was a disturbing light in his eyes. ‘I think I have made matters worse rather than better.’

He picked up the feather duster, turned it over in his hands and laughed. ‘In fact, you look like a tousled Cinderella.’ He touched her cheek lightly with the feathers. ‘This is rather nice…’

‘Don’t…’ Rachel began. Her voice almost failed her again. The touch of the feathers was soft, sensuous, disturbingly arousing. Her skin prickled. Goose pimples teased their way down her back. Cory was watching her face and she knew he could read her feelings. Slowly, so slowly, he let the feathers drift across her throat and down one of her arms. Even through the material of her gown, it felt like a lover’s touch. Rachel could feel her eyes starting to close as shivers of sensation coursed through her body. The expression in Cory’s eyes made the heat burn in her blood as she saw the echo of her own desire, hot and hard, in his eyes. The feathers brushed her bodice and her nipples hardened in shameless response. She knew the outline of them must show clearly through the thin material, knew that Cory could see it too. The knowledge heated her senses past bearing.

‘Cory…’ she said, on an anguished whisper.

She grabbed the feather duster from his hands and almost snapped the handle in the attempt. In a second it would be too late and she would be helplessly caught in her desire for him. No, it was already too late. Cory pulled her roughly to him and the feather duster fell unnoticed to the floor. He kissed her hard and long and very thoroughly until Rachel was breathless and her knees were in danger of buckling beneath her.

They were both so engrossed that they did not hear the tramp of footsteps in the hall nor even hear the upraised voices until the door burst open and Sir Arthur Odell burst in, blunderbuss in hand. His boots were still on and he was scattering sand all over the neatly swept floor.

‘What the devil is going on here?’ Sir Arthur demanded. ‘Kissing and hugging in full view of the window!’ The blunderbuss wavered alarmingly in Cory’s direction. ‘When I invited you to join us in our work, sirrah, I didn’t throw my daughter in as well! What do you think you are at?’

Rachel had seldom seen Cory look so taken aback. He took a step forward-and one back again, when the blunderbuss menaced him.

‘My apologies, sir. I realise that this looks bad-’

‘Damned right it does!’

‘But it is not as it seems.’

Sir Arthur glared. ‘In what way is it not as it seems? Seems pretty clear to me!’

‘Papa,’ Rachel interposed, placing herself between them, ‘there is no need for such a scene. Cory was just leaving-’

‘Not before time,’ Sir Arthur growled.

‘Sir,’ Cory interposed, with increasing desperation, ‘please! It is not as it seems because I wish to marry Miss Odell. I was intending to ask your permission shortly-’

‘Seems to me you are accustomed to doing everything the wrong way round,’ Sir Arthur barked. ‘Young people today-’

There was a flutter in the doorway as Lavinia Odell hurried in. ‘Arthur? Mrs Goodfellow said that you had brought your blunderbuss into the library-’ She stopped as she took in Cory’s desperate expression and Rachel’s agonised one.

‘Whatever is going on here?’ she enquired mildly.

Rachel looked at Cory. Cory turned back to Sir Arthur and ploughed on.

‘Indeed, sir, if you would give me permission to call on you we may sort this matter out-’

‘Just a moment,’ Rachel interposed. She was trembling. ‘I need to talk to you about this, Cory.’

Cory gave her a smile that made her whole body tremble. ‘My dearest Rachel-’ he began.

‘Please don’t,’ Rachel said wretchedly. ‘Oh, Cory, there is no need for all this simply because we have shared a few kisses.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from Lady Odell and an angry bellow from Sir Arthur.

‘A few kisses! Damn it, Newlyn, seems you have been playing fast and loose! Heard you were a scoundrel-never believed it until now!’

Cory made a gesture of desperation. ‘Sir! My intentions are of the most honourable. Rachel-’ he turned to her ‘-please tell them that this is no flirtation.’

Rachel took pity on him. ‘Cory’s intentions are honourable, Papa.’ She frowned. ‘It is simply that I have not said that I will marry him.’

‘Modern girls,’ Sir Arthur said disagreeably, turning his displeasure on her. ‘Never seem to know what they want.’