Again, My Lord: A Twist Series Novel Read Free

rather merely in her nature: audacious, vital, and desperately testing life. He recalled the pleasure in her eyes on those occasions when he parried her light jabs.
    Each night when he slept he dreamed of her, vivid dreams that seemed like reality. And each morning when he awoke he took himself in hand and allowed the dreams to continue until he was groaning her name.
    Within a fortnight he was infatuated.
    Within a month he was besotted.
    On the thirtieth day since he had called at Dashbourne, he arose early and dressed in his finest coat, with the Dare insignia pinned in gold discreetly in his neckcloth. This time when he called on the Earl of Chance, he would insist upon being seen.
    Just as he prepared to depart the inn, she appeared in the doorway.
    “Good day, my lord,” she said as though unescorted maidens met lords in the doorways of roadside inns every day of the week.
    He bowed. “My lady,” he murmured. The fantasy he’d had less than an hour earlier had involved the generous application of her lips to his skin, and he was having trouble dragging his mind into reality now. He glanced behind her, pretending to search for her brother and sister, but mostly to look away from those tempting lips. The street was empty of Chance siblings. “Have Master Gregory and Lady Evelina remained at home today?”
    His blood pounded. In the absence of her brother and sister, today he might take her hand. Kiss her enticing lips. Tell her what had come to be in his heart. At least until he’d driven her home. He could not allow her to remain here, alone. He was not actually a ravisher. He wanted her with a desperate sort of ache he had never felt before. But he wanted her validly and licitly before he actually
had
her.
    “I have come before them,” she said breathlessly, her eyes very bright. “You see, I am running away and I don’t want them to know.”
    His tongue fumbled for words, his throat for sound. “Running away?”
    “Yes. Isn’t it marvelous? What an adventure!” She took a step closer to him. “But you see, I haven’t a horse or carriage or even any money,” she said more quietly and cast a glance over his shoulder. “I wonder if you might help me.” Her sudden smile blinded. “Would you drive me away from here? Today? Now? Please? I—” She placed a slender hand on his forearm. “I simply
must
leave today. At once.” After a brief silence she said, “I would be so very … grateful. I— I have— That is— I have missed London so— so dreadfully. Please, my lord?”
    With a movement of deadened economy, he removed her hand from his arm and released it as his insides crumbled into pieces of dried clay.
    “I regret, my lady, that unfortunately I cannot aid you in this.”
    She stepped closer and Tacitus’s battered heart did a painful turn about in his chest.
    “But you simply must,” she said, her speech now a silvery plea. “I beg of you.”
    He wanted both to retreat a pace and to grab her up and demand that she retract her words. But he stood his ground and it was the most difficult thing he had ever done except for burying his parents.
    “Lady Calista,” he said, “you must go home now.”
    He had never seen her eyes wider. “Are you refusing me?” She looked surprised and Tacitus knew he really had become an absolute fool, ensnared by a girl who was, however, not ensnared by him. Not only had she not come to like him enough to wed, but she now hoped to use him to convey her to more appealing company.
    He deserved to be used. All fools did.
    But he was not a fool by nature. Only by inclination at present. He had fallen in love swiftly. He would endeavor to fall out of love swiftly too.
    “I cannot drive you to London, nor indeed anywhere except to your father’s house.”
    Her lashes swept down and up. Three times. More slowly with each sweep. Then she said simply, “Very well, my lord.”
    And that was that. He drove her home, deposited her with her mother, and in a blind