Siren's Song Read online

  Worthington laced both his hands with hers, holding them firmly without causing pain. Slowly his hands pulled hers as he stretched them out sideways, thus pulling her body inexorably closer to him. His steely, blue gaze locked with hers. She dared not look away.

  Alex recognized her anticipation and feared it. Her mouth went dry despite the moisture of the lake glistening on her lips. Her breasts were taut with unwanted desire, hovering just below the water’s surface. One good pull would splay her body to his.

  Stillness emanated all around. Alex vaguely recognized Salem neighing before her head was forcefully plunged in the water by his large hand. She immediately struggled against the duke’s strong-arming until she heard him speaking. The words were difficult to understand as she froze underwater, but there was no mistaking one thing.

  They were not alone.

  Chapter Seven

  Joshua’s hand guided her around his back, where Miss Stafford was able to come up for air and still remain hidden. She pressed her face to the center of his back, arms holding his flanks in obvious fear of being caught. The sensation of her body against his back, legs tangling in the water with his, was almost more than he could bear. He swallowed painfully for control before addressing his friend.

  “Marcus. Good morning.”

  “And to you, Joshua.” Marcus moved closer to shore, still astride his stallion. “Are you alone? I thought I heard you talking.”

  Joshua grinned as warning fingers bit into his skin. He was relieved Miss Stafford’s horse was blocked from his friend’s view. “Just me and Cyclone. I was planning renovations and didn’t realize I was talking aloud.” He changed the subject. “Are you riding or would you like to join me?”

  Nails dug into his ribs at the suggestion.

  “Not today. I just came to find you. Langley said you came out this way,” Marcus explained. “Your things from London have arrived along with Michaels and several servants. They are in need of direction.”

  “Ah, thank you. I’ll be right there,” Joshua said, but didn’t move. Stonewood stayed on the shore, not inclined to leave either it seemed.

  “Oh, and I found out a bit about that Stafford woman. None of it good, sorry to say.”

  “Well, no one’s perfect.” Joshua winced as the nails dug deeper. “I’m just going to do a couple more laps and I’ll be right along. Let Michaels know, won’t you?”

  Marcus nodded with a grin. Joshua knew his friend suspected something, but he was not willing to give up protection of the delicious creature holding him so desperately at the moment. The nails were torturous, but everything had a price.

  Stonewood reined his horse. “Very well. I’ll tell Michaels you’ll be there shortly.” He saluted and disappeared down a path in the woods.

  “Is he gone?” Alex whispered. The one man she needed to make a good impression with had nearly caught her naked in a lake with his friend. Could a woman be more compromised? She didn’t know for sure, but this was definitely an indiscretion she wouldn’t be inquiring about.

  The duke turned in the water, and she immediately tried to get away. Having her body pressed against slick, hard muscles was surely more than any woman should have to endure.

  “Yes, miss, you’re safe.” Worthington let her swim a few feet away. The water was cold now without his heat. He followed, keeping a little distance. “Not even a thank you?”

  Alex registered the mock disappointment in his tone and turned fully in the water to face him, her exasperation clear. “No, Duke. I’ll not be thanking you until the good Lord sees fit to take you. Then I’ll count my blessings.”

  “My spindly legs and protruding belly save your reputation from harm and you wish me dead?” Alex fought the twitch at her lips, refusing to be humored. “That’s not very neighborly, Miss Stafford. Not very neighborly at all.”

  The sound of her name whisked away all evidence of humor. So he knew who she was all along. Bastard. She wanted to take a swing at the arrogant, good-for-nothing English brute.

  “Call me Joshua. It’s easier than Your Grace,” he said, emphasizing the proper title. “And perchance you would share your name?”

  “Miss Stafford will do.”

  “Decidedly unfriendly. I thought Americans were known for their welcome.”

  She swam toward shore, ignoring him.

  “Ah, silence. Refreshing in your company, no doubt.”

  “What? I beg your pardon—”

  “Please do. I assume you mean for swimming in my lake, but being a gentleman and your neighbor, of course it’s quite all right. I accept your apology.”

  Alex couldn’t speak. The words she wanted to say would ban her from polite society for the rest of her less than sainted life.

  “Back to silence then,” he noted. “Well, if you don’t mind, it’s a bit cold here now.” Worthington indicated the shore. “Unless you prefer to go first?”

  “By all means.” She motioned her hand, allowing him to make the first exit. He was waist deep when he turned to see her still watching. She grinned and turned around to give him privacy.

  Alex dunked her hot cheeks underwater again to cool her burning skin and hide the shameless grin on her face. She had looked away, but only to turn her head again for a full view of his glorious backside. His shoulders were immense. His back tapered down to a firm waist. And the rest—she gulped her appreciation—the rest brought one word to mind: thoroughbred.

  Wasting no time contemplating her easy fall from grace, Alex made her way down shore from the duke. She felt uncomfortable leaving the protection of water, but her skin was pruning up and there was no chance he could see her from this vantage point. She darted for her clothes and dressed in seconds flat.

  Alex leapt on Salem as Worthington turned down the path, sitting regally on a nearly all white stallion. The two horses faced each other just as the two humans. Assessing. Scrutinizing. Wondering.

  Alex propped her hat on her head and applied her most haughty air to the situation, nudging Salem forward. She reached up and grabbed the whip wrapped around a branch, and hooked it to her saddle before riding parallel to him.

  “Perhaps I was wrong,” she relented.

  He was wary. “Yes?”

  “About the spindly legs,” she answered, her eyes dropping pointedly to his thighs.

  Joshua was speechless. She was, without remorse, letting him know that she had looked at him while he was getting out of the water. A good look, judging by the sudden flush on her cheeks and her complete inability to suppress that wicked, lopsided grin.

  “Good day, Duke.” She left before he could return the farewell.

  His chest began to shake with humor. A rascal of a woman. He would find out her name. But in his heart, he already knew.

  Chapter Eight

  “Alexandra Stafford?” Joshua let the name linger on his lips. Allie? It must be. How many rich, red-haired, wild American women could there be? God help them if there were more than one.

  “Yes, Alexandra Stafford,” Marcus said, hands entwined behind his back, as he paced.

  “Of Stafford Shipping?” Joshua inquired, connecting the clues. Some of their ships had come through the West Indies. He knew them by reputation, not acquaintance.

  “So it seems. And a demon by all accounts!”

  “Infamous, perhaps,” Joshua suggested. “But a demon, no. I’ve heard of Captain Alex Stafford, but did not know he was a she.” That was a bit mind twisting to be sure. Not what he expected. Not married. No children. He corrected, no known children. Just as quickly, he wiped that ill-suggested notion from his mind.

  “She travels the seas without a chaperone. And carries weapons,” Marcus pointed out. “We have seen that proof ourselves.”

  “Well, if she is traveling the seas alone, she would need the protection,” Joshua offered logically, humoring his friend. Marcus was pacing. Not a good sign. He hoped Emma would show up soon.

  “And Langley says she carries a whip. A long one. I cannot h
ave Emma associating with her.” He lifted the London Daily to emphasize. “Two young woman of society have already ruined themselves from bad judgment. Lady Millicent Fairbanks. We know her father. Harrington. She ran off with their groom.” He tossed the paper back on the desk. “And just last week Cherise White disappeared. It’s presumed she jumped in the river to get out of a marriage she did not want. Drastic measures indeed to not fulfill one’s duty.”

  Joshua sprawled on a settee and crossed a leg. “Drastic indeed, when one’s duty is so simple.”

  Marcus frowned at him. “I know Emma is lonely, but she will understand this is for her own good. Next she will be hanging around docks with this woman. I can’t allow that.”

  “Really?” Joshua tilted whisky to his lips. “And you think Emma will go along with your plans?”

  “I’ll tell her at dinner.”

  “And ruin my meal? Perfect.” Joshua finished his drink and set the glass down with a knowing shake of his head. “You deceive yourself, Marcus. Emma is loyal if nothing else.”

  Marcus ignored him, but poured an extra splash of courage. A sure sign he wasn’t confident.

  “I think this Miss Stafford is an interesting and resourceful woman. Let us not judge too quickly without further acquaintance. And certainly the Stafford company is known for reliability and talent at turning a profit. I should like to see what they know.”

  “The sooner I tell Emma, the better,” Marcus insisted, planning his course of action.

  “Tell me what?”

  Emma had entered and stood in the doorway.

  Joshua choked. A quick look to Marcus captured his friend’s dropped jaw and frozen pose.

  Good lord. Emma had grown up.

  Lady Emma rushed to the earl’s private library and paused to calm herself outside. The earl had left the manor to look around the estate before she had arrived for breakfast that morning. She thought to catch up with him, but pride prevented her from chasing him down. He had not waited to greet her, but had simply left word of his arrival and that he would see her at dinner.

  Emma sighed over it for a moment then cleared her mind to deal with more important matters. She and Alex had had a very productive session in the “war room” over tea. Langley and Mary, both trusted servants and friends, had been subtly drawn into the plan. This first part was all up to her.

  With a deep breath and a lift of her chin, Emma opened the doors and made her grand entrance. She was clothed in a silver-blue gown that shimmered when she walked and brought out the highlights in her curls. At least that’s what Alex had told her. Curls that had been painstakingly piled atop her head—a look they both agreed was designed to show off as much skin and cleavage as possible.

  The earl’s glass froze midair when he turned to her.

  She determined phase one to be a success.

  Emma noted with pleasure the careful swallow of liquid that followed. The duke, after recovering from a slight cough, expressed pleasure to see her, causing Marcus’s expression to become something between watchful and territorial. Either way, it gave her a wealth of confidence.

  Marcus couldn’t believe the woman before him. His ward, he quickly reminded himself, while getting his fill of the view. He resisted the urge to carry her up to her room and cover her from the eyes of his friend. A friend who was ogling as amateurishly as him, he noted with irritation. Then Joshua recovered and proceeded to bow over Emma’s hand. His words of praise were playful but annoying. Marcus noted Emma’s reaction. Yes, very annoying.

  “Emma, your beauty is incomparable. You outshine the sun. The fair moon laments that you have stolen her glow. The—”

  “Do stop with attempts at poetic flattery, Josh. I shall become sick and spoil the wonderful dinner Emma has so carefully arranged.”

  “Let me finish, Marcus.” Worthington pulled her hand to his breast. “The flowers bloom in praise of your glory. The birds sing a new song this eve. The—”

  Emma laughed, and Marcus pointedly took her hand from Joshua’s chest, then bent to kiss her on the cheek she lifted dutifully.

  “Welcome home, Marcus. I’m sorry I was not here when you awoke. You had an adventurous evening, I gather?”

  “It was rather.” Marcus smiled. He tucked her hand on his arm and guided her effectively away from Joshua.

  “You were going to tell me something?” she asked.

  “Oh. Er … it can wait until dinner.” Marcus cleared his throat. “Which, I believe is ready. Shall we?”

  Emma nodded and politely turned for Joshua with her other hand. She glanced coyly back up at Marcus and tightened her hand on his arm to get his attention.

  “This will be nice. I’ve missed you.”

  Marcus softened. “I’ve missed you, too, Emma. I’m sorry I stayed away so long.”

  She smiled. “You are here now.”

  Dinner was a complete success as far as Emma was concerned. She just followed Alex’s advice. Lull them into a false sense of security, then pounce.

  The earl was relaxed despite the occasional scowl at Joshua’s blatantly flirtatious looks. Emma kept the conversation lively with stories of the village people, the trials of the orphanage, and some local politics. Any questions about Alex and their adventures she sidestepped lightly, knowing there were some things the earl would not approve. By the time the last course had ended she had given him a complete rundown of the estate. She ended with a casual mention of the next topic on her mind.

  “But don’t worry about remembering all this, my lord. I have made copious notes so that all will be in order and run smoothly when I am gone,” Emma smiled. She had just begun phase two of the Alex Stafford Stratagem.

  For the second time that evening, the earl’s glass froze midair. Emma pretended not to notice. She turned to Joshua. “Did you enjoy the meal, Your Grace?”

  “It was superb. But when did we become so formal?”

  “Since you became a duke, of course.”

  “I hope I will always be Joshua to you, my love.”

  Marcus barely prevented his wine from spilling when his glass came down too hard on the table, making Emma jump in surprise.

  “Where exactly do you plan on going, Emma?”

  “Wherever my husband is of course, my lord. You would not have us stay here?”

  “Husband?” Marcus looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

  “Yes, Marcus. I must marry someday. I will be eighteen next month, and it is time to be done with the task.”

  “Task? I’m not sure your future husband will appreciate being referred to in that way,” he said sarcastically.

  Emma shrugged as if it was of no consequence. “I believe men think of it more as a business transaction. It is all the same.” She directed the conversation away from the matter as if it were no consequence, but Marcus was not done. As hoped.

  “And who is this husband you have picked out?”

  Emma pulled out a piece of paper hidden in the folds of her dress. “I have made a list of nine, but I believe I have narrowed it down to three. Let us retire to the study and I shall brief you on the offerings.”

  “The offerings?” Marcus raised a brow, which Emma ignored.

  Instead, she stood briskly, all business now, and strolled in the direction of the study after directing a servant to bring dessert and after-meal drinks.

  Joshua recognized the set look of determination beneath Emma’s calm demeanor and knew trouble was coming. He rose to his feet, waiting for Stonewood.

  Mary, the housekeeper, cleared away the table with a deep sigh. “We shall miss her when she’s gone. ’Tis sad.”

  Marcus scowled deeper as he got up. “She has a list of the ‘offerings,’ ” he repeated.

  “I heard,” Joshua smiled calmly.

  “This should prove very entertaining.”

  “This whole day has been entertaining,” Joshua commented.

  “Will Hilton!” Marcus roared with distaste. “He is a scrawny lad, and a half-wit to top
!”

  “William is twenty and a squire, and his family likes me.”

  “What’s not to like?” Joshua asked.

  “Lord Frederick is widowed and much too old,” Marcus said, rejecting the second choice instantly.

  “Is he not the same age as you, my lord?”

  Marcus reeled.

  Joshua resisted the temptation to laugh.

  “He is a good eighteen years older than I!”

  “Oh. I hadn’t realized,” Emma commented innocently. “He seems young compared to Lord Franklin, I guess.”

  “Lord Franklin is seventy-two. He is your third choice?” Marcus questioned. “What can you be thinking?”

  “What all women think. That he will be dead soon,” she responded bluntly.

  Joshua coughed violently. Both pairs of eyes looked over. He held up a hand. “I’m okay.”

  Emma continued, “The others are of course possibilities, but these three are willing to take me as I am.”

  “Damn well, they should!” Marcus exclaimed, clearly outraged that anyone might insult her.

  “Don’t swear, Marcus. I only mean having no assets of my own. The others are all respectable, but they don’t have much money, and I know how important that is to men like you. Since I have no dowry of my own I think it is very generous of these men to take me. They recognize my talents, feel I would make a useful wife, and barring any difficulty in child-bearing, a good mother.”

  Childbearing! The very thought of her with another man made Marcus’s stomach twist with unaccountable violence.

  “You are not without assets, Emma. I would provide you with a very generous dowry.” He added meaningfully, “When the time comes.”

  “I will not take a penny from you, my lord. I came here with nothing, and I will leave with nothing, and if you dare insult me by selling me off with a ‘generous dowry,’ I will run away and never return.”

  Marcus panicked. Surely this was the behavior akin to what he had just read in the paper! “Where would you run to? What would you do? You are being ridiculous.”

  Emma swallowed slowly. “It is you who are being ridiculous, by stubbornly refusing to see what is right in front of you. Many girls are married or betrothed by now. I missed my season due to the mourning period. I am practically an old maid compared to others. Once my looks are gone, no one will have me. Humor, intelligence, and wit are not appreciated in wives.”