Page 24 of The Dandy Lyon

With a gasp, as though coming up for air after being submerged for a long time, Marcus broke the kiss and staggered back until he was more than an arm’s length from her. He stared at her with eyes as black as coal, his face flushed, his breath coming in harsh pants. “We should not have done that, my lady.”

She leveled an unwavering gaze at him. “Do you regret it?”

“Not in the least.”

Joanna sighed in relief. “Then I suggest we discover a way to move forward in our courtship.” She turned back to Jupiter, the heat from their encounter still making her tingle all over. “Will you help me up?”

He tossed her up in the saddle and she settled her leg around the pommel before turning her gaze on him once more. “Because I did not regret it either, Marcus. And I mean for us to repeat the experience as soon as possible.”

Chapter Eleven

It took all of Marcus’s strength of will to calmly mount Lucky and turn the horses back toward the road that led to the lodge. What he wanted to do more than anything in his life was pull Joanna down off her horse and give her a thorough understanding of the term “green gown.” His cock was currently hard as granite, the horse’s gait only exacerbating his predicament as his breeches became an instrument of torture. Less than five minutes on the ground with Joanna would have resulted in an explosive release that might actually have killed him, not that he’d have complained at all.

The lady, however, would certainly not have enjoyed the experience as she should. For something as important as making love with him for the first time, she deserved the most elegant, most beautiful bed chamber with the softest sheets after a wedding at St. George’s with all the trappings. Of course, that would mean traveling all the way back to London and obtaining the consent of her brother. It would be so much more convenient to be married here in Scotland. If Joanna was as amenable to that plan as she’d just proven herself to his kiss, they could slip off to the nearest village tomorrow and have the local blacksmith perform the ceremony. Lord Braeton would likely throw him out for breach of his promise, but that would be a small price to pay to be able to call Joanna his wife.

Marcus glanced back at George, the groom, riding behind them and managing all the bags of heather. He’d have to give the lad a guinea to keep his mouth shut about that steamy tableau. It wouldn’t do to tip his hand to Braeton before he could talk with Joanna and discover if that kiss had fixed her affections on him as much as he hoped it had. God knew he could not love her any more if he tried.

By the time they arrived in the driveway in front of the lodge, Marcus’s body was once more under his control. He’d ridden beside Joanna most of the way rather than slightly behind her as had been his practice in order to be able to admire her excellent seat and figure as she sat the horse. That sight would have only aggravated his condition and he needed to be able to walk normally when they entered the lodge.

They pulled the horses to a halt, Marcus leaping down to help Joanna from Jupiter. Then taking the reins of both horses, he strolled to George and handed them over. “I wish to thank you for your discretion, George, regarding what you must have seen before we left the heather.”

The young groom avoided his eyes. “Nothin’ ta see, Mr. Dandridge. I was tendin’ to the heather, don’t ya ken?”

“And I thank you for that as well, George.” Marcus fished in his pocket and drew out a shiny coin. He’d developed the habit of carrying a bit of blunt on him in case he needed to reward such invaluable service. “Should anyone ask, I expect you would tell them just that—you were attending to the bags of heather and saw nothing else today.”

The boy’s gaze never left the coin, which was likely a month’s wages to the lad. Slowly, he nodded. “Aye, sir. That’s all I seen.”

“Good lad.” Marcus flipped the coin toward him and George caught it handily. “Be sure to tend to the horses as well.”

“Aye, sir.” George urged his horse to start, heading toward the stables with all the mounts and the bags of heather.

Marcus turned toward the front portico to find Joanna waiting for him.

“A little incentive for George’s silence?” She grinned at him.

“Guineas go a long way to assuring loyalty among servants.” He returned her smile and offered his arm. “Perhaps we should speak together after dinner this evening. I think we have some things to discuss…Joanna.”

Her eyes widened, then her smile broadened, almost stopping his heart. “Indeed we do, Marcus.”

They entered the lodge and Mackenzie hurried forward to take Joanna’s Spencer. “Thank goodness you’ve returned, my lady.”

Joanna’s brow furrowed as she handed the coat over. “Is something the matter?”

“Aye, my lady. Ye’re to come see the master as soon as ye return.” The butler took the garment and Marcus’s hat and crop.

“Has something happened?” She looked to Marcus, concern growing in her face.

“Ye could say so, aye.” The servant’s dour look spoke of ill things to come. “Ye’re wanted in the drawing room.”

“Would you like me to accompany you, my lady?” Marcus scented trouble, so he was loathe to leave Joanna to face it alone.

She nodded, her brow puckered, her eyes wary.

Marcus led her toward the back of the house, to the chamber where they’d met after dinner so often. Those fond memories were dispelled, however, for as soon as they left the foyer, the sound of angry, raised voices from the rear of the house assailed them.

Such fury boded ill for Joanna if the maddened tones were to be aimed at her. Had Braeton somehow discovered their tryst? That seemed unlikely, considering they had just arrived and the voices down the hall seemed to be in the middle of an argument. But who was arguing? Was Lord Wisbech or one of the other guests making a complaint to Braedon about Marcus monopolizing Joanna’s company these past days?

They drew closer to the drawing room’s closed door and Joanna stopped, her face draining of color. She turned to him, her eyes impossibly wide. “Marcus.”