Page 10 of Captured by the Earl (The Secret Crusaders #2)

CHAPTER 10

L ondon Society News:

Many ladies have inquired why it is so difficult to catch one of the prime men of the season. Here are some important reminders:

1. Do not appear too excited, officious or giddy.

2. Do not talk too loudly.

3. Above all, do not invade a man’s kingdom.

There will be consequences.

It was like her birthday.

Or her favorite holiday.

Or all the birthdays and holidays she ever celebrated wrapped in one wondrous present. The stony-faced men marched to the front of White’s, while every other man in the establishment stared at them in open-mouthed shock.

The plan was perfect.

They hadn’t actually made it into White’s, of course. Yet they were close enough the inhabitants could see them every time the door opened. By the cease in conversation, they had made quite the impression.

“Do you think it will take long?” Catherine whispered.

“I don’t think so,” Emma replied.

Priscilla grinned. “Three, two, one…”

“We’re told something out here belongs to us.”

Emma’s heart stumbled, just a little, at the comment from the man exiting the building. Peyton strode out, followed by Bradenton and Everly. All three men wore stern expressions, yet she focused on a single one.

As usual, Peyton stole her breath. He was always massive and well-built, yet he somehow seemed even more so now, with his chiseled features, auburn hair and golden eyes. He was dapper in dark breeches, a black coat and crisp cravat.

He regarded her closely, before his eyes darted to his sister, and narrowed.

“Why don’t we move away from the door, unless you want to provide an even greater show for the ton?”

The suggestion came from Everly, and was immediately agreed upon by the rest of the group. Actually, she did want to put on a show. Yet their mere presence already caused enough talk, and her performance was primarily for an audience of one.

When they reached a copse of trees in a relatively quiet area, Peyton looked between her and his sister. “Is everything all right?”

Emma smiled widely. “Everything is wonderful. Splendid, fantastic, now that I am here with you.”

He blinked. “Pardon me?”

She batted her eyelashes. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.” She gestured to the women next to her. “Why we’re all here.”

Now the two other gentlemen stared as well, as if encountering some curious breed they had never before encountered.

“I simply couldn’t let another moment pass without being in your presence. I do believe betrothed couples should spend every waking moment together, don’t you?” She sighed. Loudly.

Peyton stayed silent for a moment more. Then his lips slowly turned up.

Uh-oh.

“I’m so glad to hear it.”

What?

“I’m honored you would come all this way because you missed me.”

Why wasn’t he angry? Annoyed? Fleeing to America? “I don’t think you understand.”

“Oh I understand perfectly.” He smiled wider. “And I am so pleased.”

This was not following the script in her mind. “It doesn’t bother you that I simply showed up at your club?” She pressed closer. “You’re not angry at me?”

“Not at all. You’re right. We are not spending enough time together.” He stood taller. “Henceforth, we shall be practically inseparable.”

Excellent plan = spectacular failure.

“Is that the reason you are here?” Bradenton turned his wife. “You couldn’t bear to be without me for a moment?”

Priscilla shrugged. “I just came along for the show.”

Bradenton gave her a ducal stare that would make most men cower. She gave it right back. “You are still incensed with me.”

“Perhaps.”

“It’s going to cost me, isn’t it?”

The duchess smiled.

And Bradenton cringed. “How much?”

If one expected demands for jewels, a new spring wardrobe, or some pricey baubles, they did not know the Duchess of Bradenton. She held up her gloved hand. “The sanctuary needs another fireplace. And our two group homes could use them as well.”

Bradenton sighed, yet without any actual animosity. In truth, he was as generous as his wife. “Peyton, do you know where one can purchase a fireplace at a reasonable price?”

Peyton clapped the duke on the back. “I’m afraid not, old friend.”

“That’s what I thought.” Grimacing, Bradenton took his wife’s arm. “Then I shall see what we can do about building a few fireplaces.”

There was no sign of amusement as Peyton turned to his sister. “Why are you here, Catherine?” His voice was stiff and somber. “You should be at home.”

Emma frowned as Catherine visibly deflated. Yet before she could interject, the younger woman notched up her chin. “Actually, I’m not here for you.” She glared at Everly. “I heard about the offer you made to Lord Fulton. How dare you send him away.”

“How could I send him away?” The future duke’s gaze gave away nothing. “I do not make the decisions for Lord Fulton.”

Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Let me put it another way. Did you make Fulton an offer he couldn’t refuse, an offer that convinced him to leave London?”

“Absolutely.”

Catherine gave a sharp intake of breath. “You admit it. Why?”

“He was not right for you.”

Storm clouds brewed in her eyes. She held up a finger, pointed at the much taller man. “That is for me to decide. You are not responsible for me.”

Now Everly discarded his neutral expression, a predatory gleam shining in his eyes. He stalked closer to the petite woman. “I will ensure your care.”

In an instant, Peyton changed. There was nothing calm or mild-mannered about him as he stared at his sister and Everly. Lord Everly was an earl, a future duke and Peyton’s friend. Peyton should be encouraging such a match, yet he looked as somber as a funeral. “Actually, that is my job.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Why would you send Fulton away? He was eminently suitable.”

Everly did not look away from Catherine, even as he answered his friend. “As I said, I did not send him away, but instead gave him an opportunity. He will enjoy the Arctic.”

“The Arctic?” Bradenton gave a short bark of laughter, as all three women glared.

“The far part,” Catherine informed them icily.

“I wasn’t aware there was a close part of the Arctic,” Bradenton remarked.

“You had no right,” Catherine hissed. She stepped around him, looking him up and down like he was a misbehaving child. “I shall make my own decisions, with no influence from either of you.”

Now Peyton’s expression hardened, the light reflecting off his eyes like shards of glass. “That’s not how it works, sister.”

Emma sucked in a breath as Catherine reddened, clenching her fists. “Perhaps I will simply follow him to the Arctic.”

“That’s out of the question,” Peyton snapped.

“I think not.” Everly glowered.

For a moment, everyone stared at each other, eyes blazing.

Priscilla stepped forward, extending her hands in a placating gesture. “Perhaps these matters would be better discussed in a calmer, more private setting.” Her voice was even, steadying. “Clearly the gentlemen are far too busy to socialize right now. Catherine and Emma, I would be delighted if you would help me design the new fireplaces. We also have to plan a new wing for our smallest rescue.”

Bradenton stood taller. “A new wing? Now see here, madam.”

Emma rubbed her forehead. Her strategy had fared as poorly as Lord Walbantor in the lake of alligators, except for Priscilla, who somehow managed three fireplaces and a new wing out of the afternoon. Could matters possibly get worse?

“You are not leaving.”

Yes, matters could get worse.

“You cannot leave without us spending time together.” Peyton gently grasped her arm, casting tiny shivers on tender skin. “Not after you came all this way.”

Her composure slipped, as his simple touch inspired thoughts, sensations, memories . She couldn’t think clearly when he was near. “I must leave.”

“Are you worried you would enjoy it too much?” he murmured.

She looked up sharply. He saw every emotion she couldn’t hide. “Not at all.” She pulled her arm back and smoothed out her sleeves. Took a step, stopped, considered. Perhaps there was hope for her plan yet. If she showed how difficult she could be, he might realize she wasn’t the lady for him. “On second thought, you are right. We should spend more time together.”

“Fantastic.”

And with a single word, her good idea vanished.

“You cannot spend the afternoon alone.” Like a white knight, Priscilla swept in to save her. “Not without a chaperone.”

Peyton shrugged. “We are betrothed.”

Emma stiffened. He knew exactly what would happen if they were seen alone, despite the betrothal.

“We shall be your chaperones,” Priscilla announced.

“What?” The question came from several at once, and even Bradenton looked surprised. “I thought you wanted to shop for fireplaces.”

“We have plenty of time to shop for fireplaces, the new wing and a second story later.” Priscilla put a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t abandon Emma in her time of need.”

“A second story? Please tell me you are jesting.”

“Excellent.” Peyton rubbed his hands together. “The afternoon will be quite enjoyable, and perhaps even illuminating.”

The first was unlikely, the second quite possible. Unfortunately most likely he would discover her secrets, rather than sharing his own.

“I do not wish to stay,” Catherine said quietly. “I will return home.”

Peyton frowned, but it was Everly who spoke first, “Nonsense. You cannot roam London alone.”

She graced him with the full force of her displeasure. “I will do as I wish.”

“I think not.”

Emma winced. It was going to turn into a full brawl if she didn’t step in. “Do join us, Catherine. I have an excellent diversion planned.” And a new strategy. “The new ices establishment is only a few blocks away. It boasts the most flavors in all of London, and is purported to be outstanding.” She kept her voice light and innocent. “I’m sure you would like it.”

Catherine looked between the men and Emma, then softened. “I will stay, but only because I do not wish to spoil Emma’s day.”

“I will join as well.” Everly smoothed down his cravat.

“Lead the way, my lady.” Peyton gestured forward. “I cannot wait to see what you have planned.”

Neither could she.

Philip held the door open for the ladies as they entered Batton’s Ices, an airy, cool space with red round tables and a long marble counter at one end. It was a whimsical kaleidoscope of colors, with vibrant abstract paintings over sunny yellow walls. A dozen fruity flavors scented the air, sweet and fresh and tantalizing. Laughing patrons took up most of the tables, as the group made their way to a large booth in the corner.

Philip paid for the ices and returned with a menu. “What flavors would you like?”

“Why don’t you let us choose?” Emma sprang up. “What do you say, gentlemen? Would you like to be surprised?”

No doubt Emma had something special planned. He placed the menu on the table. “Why not? I’m feeling brave.”

“Of course you are,” Emma simpered. “You’re the bravest man of all.” She tittered. She then giggled. Then back to the twittering, and a few more giggles for good measure.

Priscilla was staring at her. Bradenton was staring at her. Catherine looked confused, and slightly alarmed, and Everly was expressionless. But him?

Pure amusement.

“I’m glad I amuse you,” he rumbled. “There is nothing as sweet as a lady’s laughter.”

“Seriously?”

Now he laughed. “Indeed.”

“Then I shall try to do more of it,” she grumbled.

Priscilla smiled at Bradenton. “Do you wish me pick out your ices, too?”

The duke leaned back in the hard chair. “Would it be wise?”

She smiled. “You offered to donate three fireplaces, a new wing, a second story and a neighborhood park. How could I be mad at you?”

Bradenton gaped. “ A neighborhood park ?”

“And what about you?” Priscilla turned to Catherine. “Would you like to surprise Lord Everly with his ices?”

Catherine gave her first genuine grin of the afternoon. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“I look forward to it.” Alexander plucked a piece of lint off Catherine’s sleeve. “Lady Catherine knows what happens when she challenges me.”

“I challenge you right back.” She turned to the other women. “Are you ready to surprise the gentleman?”

The returning smiles held no small amount of mischief.

As the ladies walked to the counter, Bradenton diverted them with tales of the current pugilist punching his way to riches. Next, Everly spoke about his horses, and finally Philip shared the plans for his townhome. Yet after all that, the ladies still hadn’t returned.

Philip turned to the counter, where a crisp young clerk was backed against the counter, his expression surprised, perplexed and more than a little alarmed. The ladies were talking all at once, their expressions a tangle of delight, amusement and mischievousness. “What do you think they’re doing?”

Alexander pursed his lips. “I believe it is safer not to know.”

Finally the clerk started mixing ingredients. The ladies waited while the clerk crafted their orders, then finally returned to the table with varied concoctions swirled in tall glasses. Holding out Emma’s chair, Philip lightly brushed her shoulders. She stiffened, yet didn’t pull away. Her plan may be foundering, but his was progressing perfectly.

He sat in the chair next to her. “This was a splendid idea.”

Her eyes darted to his ices. “Splendid, indeed.”

“What do we have here?” Philip touched the smooth glass holding his chocolaty dessert. It looked rather innocent, unlike the primordial slime masquerading as dessert in front of Alexander. The spymaster was glaring at it as if it were an enemy of the state.

“Chocolate, of course.” Emma nudged the glass closer. “Something sweet for my sweet lord.”

Philip prodded the chocolate with his spoon. Nothing crawled out, and it didn’t explode. All good things. Still, he’d been a spy long enough to know a sweet surface could hide a sinister center.

“Are there newts in mine?” Alexander asked frankly.

Catherine sighed. “How I wish I had thought of that. I can go back to the counter and inquire–”

“That is unnecessary.” Alexander picked up his spoon, holding it like a sword. “I am certain it is delicious.”

“Mine looks fantastic.” Bradenton smiled at his wife, who nodded, her eyes alight in the ices’ reflection. “You bought three?”

She dipped her head again, almost shyly. “I thought it was the right amount. Yours is the large one, I’ll take the medium and we can share the small one.”

Bradenton looked down at the ices for a minute, then shrugged and took a lick. Priscilla frowned deeply, and pushed aside her own treat.

“Delicious,” Bradenton announced. He didn’t choke, fall down or start twitching, which was a positive. At least one of the three hadn’t been sabotaged.

Could he be so fortunate? Peyton lifted his spoon and scooped out a large portion of the crystal treat. He put the entire spoonful in his mouth…

What in blazes?

He froze. He choked. He almost started twitching.

It was like biting into sugar. Pure sugar. An entire barrelful of it.

Actually, pure sugar would be far more bitter than whatever this affront to humanity was.

Emma raised her eyebrows innocently. “You don’t like it?”

He didn’t like tyrants, wars, and snakes. This was beyond that. He licked his lips, futilely trying to wipe away the taste. “Tell me, my lady, is their chocolate always this sweet?”

“Not at all,” she admitted happily. “I added a little sugar.”

“A little?”

“Perhaps a medium amount.”

“There is now a worldwide shortage on sugar, I believe.”

“Surely it is not dire as all that.” She blinked up at him. “I just wanted to show you what you could enjoy with me.”

A lady who amused him to no end. Unexpected surprises and lively conversations. Even as he drowned his glass of water like a desert wanderer who’d just found an oasis, there was no true anger. “Quite a bit of fun.”

She parted her lips.

Perhaps if he were better prepared he could handle a little. He took a small lick. Still intense, but in the small amount, tolerable. “A little extra sweetness isn’t bad, after all.” He lowered his voice. “I do believe this plan is faring even worse than your last.”

She glared, and he laughed once more.

“Is mine also sweet?” Alexander regarded Catherine. He poked at the green goop. Fortunately, and somewhat surprisingly, it didn’t poke him back.

Her eyes reflected the glittering crystals. “You’ll just have to taste it.”

Alexander was far smarter than he, for he took a measured spoonful of his grimy concoction. With a deep breath he took a lick, then grimaced deeply.

“How is it?” Catherine’s voice was as gooey as the gelatinous creation. “Do you like it?”

He looked down at the offending glob. “Perhaps you should ask for that newt. It could only be an improvement.”

Catherine grinned. “I’d be happy to.”

“Do not contemplate it.” Alexander stopped Catherine with a touch on her arm.

Philip’s instincts flared. Only the fact that Alexander quickly removed his hand, and their long friendship avoided a confrontation. For once, Alexander seemed oblivious to the danger, with his attention focused on the woman before him. “Tell me Lady Catherine, what is this delight you selected for me?”

Catherine lifted one delicate shoulder. “It’s a combination of parmesan, rye bread and burnt filbert ices. I simply couldn’t choose one, so I told them to combine all three. Isn’t it delightful?”

Alexander’s lips twitched, and he looked back down at his ices. With a determined expression, he took another taste. “Like Peyton, I am finding this not as bad as I first thought. I like a little tartness.”

With an angry glare, Catherine stabbed her own ices.

Everyone enjoyed, or at least tolerated, their ices. Bradenton and Lady Priscilla commenced light conversation, quickly drawing in the rest with their witty banter and cheery jests. Emma seemed to forget her campaign to annoy him as she joined in, teasing him in lighthearted fun. Even Catherine thawed as she ate her ices, and Alexander seemed less intense.

Of course not all of it was pure fun. Watching Emma lick her ices was a measure of torture rivaling some of the more harsh methods he’d witnessed. Every time she slipped that little pink tongue through those pouty lips, he fought the urge to lean over and kiss her, just to see how intoxicating the mix of woman and ices would be. Pure bliss.

Fun was not something he was accustomed to, and certainly not something he expected, despite the carefree attitude he typically expressed. Yet with Emma, the laughter came easily, followed by a contentment that had been all too rare since his father’s demise. Her plan to dissuade him was going poorly indeed.

He was all the more determined to keep her.

“Who’s up for a game of charades?”

They sat in Hyde Park, underneath a trio of towering trees, with a thick blanket to cushion the uneven ground. The afternoon had grown warm and pleasant, the scent of roses drifting in from a gentle breeze. Above, the birds chattered happily, their animated conversations joining the more muted exchanges of people enjoying the brilliant day.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Priscilla arranged her dress artfully over her legs. “We shall all enjoy some friendly competition. Ladies against gentlemen, I presume.”

“Exactly,” Emma concurred. A tiny butterfly soared past, its fiery orange wings reflecting the brilliant sun. She fingered the thick grass blades through her fingers. “I have an idea to make the game even more fun.”

Peyton shifted on the blanket next to her. “Please tell me it does not involve sugar.”

“It does. An entire tub worth.”

“How will I ever overcome your cruel jests?”

She fought the smile. Somehow he turned every aspect of her plan to his advantage. From henceforth she would not allow it. “Instead of each person crafting their own subject, someone on the opposite team will direct you.”

Peyton cocked his head to the side. “What’s to stop the other team from making it unduly difficult? Something like a flea doing the waltz while reciting Shakespeare in French?”

Amusement tugged at her lips. “If a team gives a puzzle that is impossible, then the other team will surely retaliate. That should persuade the charades to be solvable, at least.”

“At least.” He contemplated for a moment more, then shrugged. “Why not?”

“Sounds like fun,” Priscilla agreed, as the others nodded. “Since you devised it, Emma, why don’t you go first? Would you like to come up with a charade for Peyton?”

Would she ever. She rose from the blanket and smoothed out her skirt. Time to continue her quest.

Peyton rose and walked closer. And closer. And closer. The butterflies flying around took residence in her stomach. “What are you doing?” she breathed.

“You need to tell me the clue.” He pointed at his ear. “You will have to whisper if the others are not to hear.”

She. Had. Not. Considered. That.

But that was all right. She could get close to him. She could handle the handsome and powerful and good-looking… Stop that!

He leaned in.

Her heart thumped.

He delved nearer and nearer and nearer, as the idea faded from good, to perhaps not so wise, to Danger! She forced herself to stay still as he towered over her, as his hot breath fanned her neck. She sucked in a breath of air scented with spice and oak.

He stayed close, not moving. After a moment he whispered, “Aren’t you going to tell me the clue?”

“The clue?” His eyes really were extraordinary. She’d never seen anything like–

“Yes, the clue.”

“The clue. Of course.” She swallowed. She had come up with several suitable subjects, yet now she couldn’t remember one. “I…well…”

He raised an eyebrow, and she lowered her voice. “I remember.” She leaned so close her lips brushed his ear. She gave an involuntary shiver as she whispered her idea.

When she had told him the clue, he moved back. “Is that truly how you view me?”

Her heart still beating wildly, she nodded. She forced herself to stand straight. “Indeed.”

“Then I shall do my best to bring it to life.” With a nod, Peyton strode back to the group. “All right, gentlemen, I expect you to get this one with ease.”

She padded back through the soft grass and lowered herself onto the blanket. The ladies looked at her curiously as she settled back for a show, allowing a soft smile. This should be quite entertaining.

In an instant, Peyton transformed from calm gentleman to ferocious beast, baring his teeth and swiping would-be claws. He slashed with one hand and then the other, clearly portraying some sort of animal.

Only not the one she had given him.

The men flung guesses. “Lion!”

“Dinosaur!”

Finally, Bradenton called, “Tiger!”

Peyton stopped and bowed. “Precisely.”

“Precisely not.” Emma jumped up, placing her hands on her hips. “The clue was a newborn cat.”

“Exactly,” the large earl rumbled down at her. “I was a baby tiger. A ferocious one.”

He was supposed to have been annoyed. Incensed. Ready to give up his pursuit. Instead he had twisted her plan to suit his own purpose. “I meant a kitten.”

“You did not say kitten. You said newborn cat. And tigers are cats, so technically my interpretation is correct. I am now winning.” He grinned. “In more ways than one.”

She scowled. “We’ll see about that.”

“My turn.” He stepped forward, stopping just a hairsbreadth away, once again upending her senses as he leaned down. He whispered lowly, “You are a woman welcoming her betrothed home after a long absence.”

Ideas swirled. If he could twist his clue, so could she. “I should like assistance to demonstrate. Would you be willing to volunteer?”

His lips curved into a slow smile. “Of course, my lady.”

“I shall also need a prop.” She walked over to a tree, where a small bushy branch had fallen to the ground. She hefted it up.

Peyton looked on with wry amusement as she stalked him with the branch clutched tight in her hands.

“How could you do this to me?” She waved the branch, not actually touching him with it. “You are positively horrible.”

“A woman confronting a thief!” Priscilla yelled out.

“No, she’s fighting a brigand!” Catherine guessed.

Priscilla waved the branch again. “How dare you show your no good face here!”

“A pirate?”

“A kidnapper?”

Close. Peyton was all those things and more. Like a thief he’d stolen her choices, and as a pirate he’d stolen her senses.

He had literally stolen her.

The ladies hazarded more guesses, as she continued her tirade, although none close to the actual clue. Peyton, apparently not realizing he was supposed to be mightily annoyed, watched with indulgent amusement. She shook it once more – apparently, a little harder than she intended. A puff of leaves burst from it…

And covered Peyton.

The rest of their group burst into laughter, from Bradenton’s chuckles to Catherine’s all-out giggles. Emma just stared at the man before her, the strong, dignified earl now covered in leaves. He folded his arms across his chest.

“I, um–” She stepped forward. “Did not mean to–” She plucked off a leaf. “Cover you in, well you know.”

“Foliage?”

“Exactly. Foliage was not part of the plan.” She removed another leaf and then another. He should have leaned down, but instead he stood perfectly straight, requiring her to nearly press against his hard body to reach the spiky triangles. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching to capture the last leaf nestled in his thick locks. Her chest brushed his chest.

She froze.

What was she doing? They were in a public park, visible to half the ton. She jumped back, stumbling.

He grasped her elbow. “Are you all right?” His voice was smooth and warm as it ignited her senses.

She pulled back her arm, rubbed it. “There’s one leaf left. I trust you can get it on your own.”

He shook his head, and the leaf flew off, slowly floating to the ground in calm and carefree waves, a stark distinction to the rapid tattoo of her heart.

“What was it?” Priscilla called. “I thought pirate was right for sure.”

“It was a lady welcoming her betrothed from a long absence,” Peyton informed the group. He turned back to her. “Can I show you how I imagined it would be?”

Emma stepped back. “Most certainly not.”

“Don’t worry.” He matched her step with one of his own, not allowing her to increase the distance between them. “It shall not be something outrageous such as fleeing through a crowded party, escaping on a rickety boat or leaping to freedom from a thorny hedge.”

Heat spread throughout her body. “That seems like a reasonable response to me.”

“Oh no. The appropriate response would be something like this.” He paused, all humor vanished. “If only words existed for the emotions of seeing your beauty once more, the pure elation you alone inspire. I have longed for you, through dark winters and perilous storms, in my heart, body and soul. Now I am bursting with happiness, afloat in a sea of perfection, to once more feel our undeniable connection. May we never part again.”

He reached out and grasped her hand, pressed it softly to his lips. Even though it was clearly a game, a ruse, revenge even for her mechanisms, it seized her, casting unnamable emotions. She studied him as he studied her, as something passed between them.

Someone cleared their throat.

Emma stepped back. The others were looking at them with a mixture of a thousand emotions and untold suspicion. Had her ruse done more to solidify the match than end it?

“That is so sweet.” Priscilla dabbed at her eyes with a linen handkerchief.

Bradenton looked at his wife with concern. “Are you all right, my lady?”

Of course.” She waved the cloth. “I’ve just been a little emotional lately.”

Bradenton studied her closer.

“I thought it was lovely,” Catherine said the words quietly. “Every lady would like to hear such words.”

Everly, as usual, showed little emotion, even as he turned to Catherine. “You also wish for a love match,” he said softly.

Catherine’s gaze sharpened. She was silent for a moment, before nodding. “I think most ladies do, if they speak the truth.”

Everly was as stiff as the towering oak. “Would you believe many men feel the same way?”

Catherine held his gaze for a moment, then shook her head. “No,” she said frankly.

There was an awkward silence. Priscilla swiped her hands together and stood. “It’s my turn.”

Emma sat down as far on the blanket as she could from Peyton. Yet as an escape, it was woefully inadequate, as his heat transcended the distance. How did she ever think she could hold power over him?

Bradenton and Priscilla took their turns. The duke gave his duchess a typical puzzle, and it didn’t take long for the ladies to guess eating ices. The charade Priscilla gave to Bradenton was quickly apparent – holding a baby – although by the calm way the duke handled it, he was none the wiser of its double meaning.

There was a touch of excitement when Bradenton’s sister and mother stopped by after noticing them during their stroll. While Bradenton’s mother conversed with Priscilla, Sophia and Bradenton went to the side, and had a rather heated conversation about a new duke that would soon be arriving in London. Emma tried not to listen, but it was impossible not to overhear Sophia’s unabashed concern for her brother, which Bradenton immediately minimized. Like Peyton, Bradenton firmly belonged in the overprotective male category. Emma would ask Sophia, another member of the guild, about her concerns later, and do what she could to help.

After Bradenton’s family departed, Catherine and Alexander played their round. Alexander took it remarkably well when Catherine cast him as a court jester. She gave Alexander a long, searching look after he whispered his puzzle, and then expertly portrayed an artist painting a masterpiece. Finally, it was Emma’s turn. This time, her plan would work.

She didn’t even let it bother her when he leaned in far too close, or when he smiled at the clue. She returned to the blanket, sat back, and rubbed her hands in anticipation. No way could he portray a baby bird as anything other than small or weak.

He lifted his hands like claws… and pretended to attack people.

“Monster!”

“Dragon!”

“Dinosaur!”

Peyton bowed.

Emma stomped up to him. “You weren’t supposed to portray a dinosaur. I said bird!”

“Ah yes, well, there were dinosaurs that flew, were there not? I’ve read of dinosaur bones that resembled wings.”

“You are misconstruing the clues on purpose,” she accused.

His eyes sparkled. “You may be right.”

She closed her eyes, counted to ten. One log trip to America, two log trips to America, three… “Birds are not dinosaurs.”

“Of course not,” Peyton replied. “I used a little creative liberty.” He leaned down so they were nose to nose. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Of course, she minded. He was supposed to be annoyed and frustrated and angry, intent on ending the betrothal immediately. While he was at it, he was going to cease infiltrating her thoughts all hours of the day.

She turned to the others. “Would you mind if I take another? I just came up with an absolutely splendid clue for Lord Peyton.”

Peyton raised his eyebrows, but he gestured for her to continue, while the others nodded. She whispered the clue.

And he smiled.

Wider and wider.

Uh-oh.

Suddenly, he grasped her hand. In an instant, he led her to a fallen log, then gently pressed her down until she sat sideways on its rugged side. Holding her securely, he sat beside her. With one hand steady on her arm, he used the other to make wide rhythmic motions in the air.

What on earth was he doing?

Every sense sizzled, her breath and heart immediately quickening to a gallop. His thigh brushed against hers, in their natural seat for two. He was as hard as the seat under her, and just as massive.

The others watched in shock, awe, and confusion. None of the men even attempted a guess.

Finally, Priscilla offered, “It’s not the ladies’ turn, but I will answer. Are you riding a log to America?”

Peyton clapped. “Exactly.” He helped Emma up, brushing twigs off her dress, as if it was his right to care for her. “You said to portray paddling to America, but you didn’t specify I was alone. I decided to take you along.”

“Don’t you mean kidnap me?” she challenged.

His eyes shined. “Precisely.”

She shivered at the assertion, yet not from fear or anger. His attempts to usurp her power were as tempting as they were infuriating, affecting her in ways she couldn’t understand and wouldn’t analyze. “My plan is not working at all.”

“Quite the opposite, really.”

She sighed quietly. “Was it that obvious?”

“Since the moment you arrived at White’s.” His expression softened. “The reason you came didn’t matter. I enjoy your company greatly.”

She searched his face for deception, but there wasn’t any. Her humor faded, as other emotions surfaced. Confusion, yearning, desire.

“You can’t decide whether to get mad or enjoy this,” he murmured.

That was not something she would ever admit. “That’s not true. I’ve already decided to return to not being able to utter a coherent word to you. It really was quite convenient.”

He laughed softly.

She opened her mouth to say more, when a form suddenly emerged beside them. Emma squinted into the sun at the newcomer. Her smile faded. “What are you doing here?”

Elizabeth Henley clenched her hands tightly. “I need your help,” she whispered. She glanced around, as if fearing something or someone . “It’s a matter of life and death.”