In Compromise with the Earl by Ava MacAdams

Chapter Thirteen

Walking into the rarely used library, Oswald happened upon Aphrodite playing a game of chess against herself. He paused and watched as she toppled a Rook with a Bishop and scowled at herself. He saw her mistake—she had left her King open to attack.

A smirk tugged at his lips as she moved her Queen to protect him, putting her other King in peril. He cocked his head and waited for her to decide which King was going to fall first.

“Are you going to stand there all day and smirk at me?” she muttered without looking from the board.

“Who is winning?” Oswald said.

“I cannot tell,” she sighed. “I know me too much to outsmart me.”

After replacing the book, he had borrowed days ago onto a shelf, Oswald said, “You aren’t like other ladies your age.”

Her lashes swept down, and her shoulders sagged. Before he could apologize for insulting her, she said, “I know. I can’t help it.”

“Being different isn’t a bad thing,” he said, taking a seat across from her. There were two sides to her, the bold and daring one, and this one—the vulnerable side—and he liked both aspects. “Being the same is passé.”

She gave him a thin smile. “Would you like a game?”

“Why are you not out with the others?” he asked. “Aren’t there some bonding activities at the lake?”

“I’d ask you the same but watching a Lord row across the lake to fetch a hidden treasure for a Lady is not interesting to me,” she said. “Besides, His Disgrace is there, and I want no interaction with him.”

Oswald’s eyes tightened. “What happened?”

She plucked up a pawn. “It seems he only wants me by his side because I am not like the other ladies, and I have a rebellious air about me. Apparently being a hoyden is my pulling factor to him.”

“Nothing more?” Oswald asked, his tone dropping to unbelief. “Not your intellect, or your beauty?”

Her brow lifted. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“There is no denying it,” he said directly. “And he is a fool not to acknowledge it.”

“Jameson is only concerned about himself,” Aphrodite said. “Narcissus had little clout on him. He has an unrealistic sense of superiority and belittles others as inferior. If he ever says I’m beautiful, it will only be to sweet talk me into being an accessory on his arm.”

“Do you think he will stop pursuing you?” Oswald began rearranging the pieces into their proper places.

“Not until I’m either on the shelf or dead,” she moved a pawn a space. “I don’t know which, but I have to find a way to stop him.”

After moving his pawn two spaces, she moved another pawn two spaces. Oswald gently lifted his King and placed it in check to her Queen. Aphrodite smiled and slid her Queen to checkmate him. “If it were only so easy to remove him from the game.”

“Perhaps it is,” he said, gesturing to the board. “You’ve proven yourself a strategist, perhaps you can find a way to scare him off. What does he hate?”

“People taking what he thinks is his and his only,” Aphrodite’s lips pinched. “Which might apply to me too.”

“And how will you prove that you are not his in any form of the word?” Oswald asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Besides taking a page out in the Times and the Gazette to publicly tell him to leave me alone, I am blank.”

Feeling compassionate, Oswald replied, “I happen to know one thing or two about strategies. If you come up with one, I’ll help you refine it.”

Her eyes went a touch wide with surprise. “You will?”

“Yes, even after this farce of a matchmaking retreat is done with.” He made to stand—but she held onto his arm, lifting herself halfway from the seat as well. Warmth spiraled up his arm and congregated in the hollow of his chest.

“Why are you willing to help?” she asked, her gaze searching his. “I don’t think I have earned your…compassion, at all.”

“Compassion or not, there are standards of human decency that we must live by,” he said, gently pulling his hand away. “And, confusion about why aside, I will be lying if I do not admit that for some odd reason, I want to look out for you.”

“You’re telling the truth—” she said quietly.

“I am not one to lie,” he said. “I’m serious. When you find the way, whatever it is, I’ll help you.”

She sank back to her chair. “Thank you, Oswald.” Her voice trembled as she said his name, and, while he doubted she’d realized it, one thing was clear, he loved hearing her say his name.

“Say that again when we get this cur off you,” he nodded curtly and left the room.

He left the room knowing that he had given her a carte-blanche promise and he wondered what she would come up so he could help her. There was not much one could do against a persistent suitor that did not present any danger, like the Duke. But Oswald did not like the looks the man gave to Aphrodite when she was not looking—that level of possessive or covetous thinking could turn dangerous.

He headed out to the stables where a part of his calmness rested. If the Duke did decide to take some drastic actions to get Aphrodite—what could he do? Oswald had given up on participating in any of the activities Lady Pandora wanted for him, as he had suspected, it was all foolishness.

Goliath was stomping in his stall as Oswald approached. “A bit antsy are you?”

He unlatched the stall and reached to pull the gate open when hurried steps came from behind him and a hand slammed the door back into place. Oswald turned and faced the Duke’s fuming glare. “Why—”

“Stay the bloody hell away from her,” the Duke snarled, “or there will be hell to pay.”

“Step aside or I will make you!” Oswald’s tone was lethal.

“She is not yours, you bloody disgrace,” the Duke said mockingly. “You are a laughingstock of the ton and an utter joke. You are a sorry example of what a man is and if you have any semblance of honor, you will excuse yourself from our noble ranks.”

Incensed, Oswald’s grabbed the Duke’s collar and bodily lifted him up and slammed him against the wall. “I said, StepAside.”

Gasping in horror, the Duke wrestled himself away, inspected his jacket, and his expression darkened at the sight of a tiny tear on the sleeve “What the devil did you do that for, you uncouth ruffian? This is a new Weston, by God.”

“I told you to step aside,” Oswald said through clenched teeth. “But you did not.”

“And a bout of fisticuffs was the answer?” the Duke spluttered.

“That was hardly a fight,” Oswald said. “If I were to throw a proper punch, you would be unconscious. I’ve been boxing since I was six-and-ten. You with your veal soft hands don’t know a thing about being rough. All you do it sign papers and drink Spanish Wine all day. Aphrodite will not go anywhere with you, you fool. You repulse her.”

Meanwhile, the Duke was still inspecting his jacket. “You are an ingrate. By God, I will have you meet me at dawn for this!”

“No, you won’t,” Oswald rolled his eyes and turned away to grasp his horse’s reins—only to see a fist arcing to his jaw and connected his chin.

Barely jolted, Oswald pivoted on his feet and threw a punch. His fist connected with a sickening crack against the Duke’s jaw and he added one to the man’s gut for good measure, sending him sprawling to the floor.

A booted and breeches-clad Aphrodite suddenly flew through the doors. “What is happing here?”

“You bastard!” the Duke yelped from the floor

“You threw the first punch,” Oswald rubbed his bruised jaw.

Duke Strathmore scrambled from the floor, his face blotchy and his hair askew. “I will tax your soul for this!”

“Go ahead,” Oswald said mildly. “If you can find a sliver of it left, please tell me.”

The Duke spun to Aphrodite. “Do not have anything to do with this cur, I say. He is a vagabond, an utter imbecile. Do not disgrace your name or your family’s by any entanglements with this blackguard. Come with me. We’ll wed and put this nonsense behind us.”

He reached for Aphrodite’s arm, and as soon as his hand circled it, she yanked it away and edged closer to Oswald. “No.”

“No?” Duke Strathmore gaped. “Have you lost your senses, Aphrodite? You would choose this riff-raff over me? Do you know how many ladies are clamoring for one look from me, yet you will refuse me? Me!”

She stiffened her back and her gaze hardened. “Those legions of women panting after you must have twisted your sense, Your Grace. Contrary to your selfish belief, you are not irresistible. I do not want a thing to do with you, not now, or ever.”

“Well, I never!” he spat, then turned to an unfazed Oswald. “Mark my words, you’ll pay for this.”

As he hurried out of the stables, Aphrodite turned to him. “Are you all right?” Her fingertips touched his bruised chin and he hissed while pulling his head away. “Nothing more than a scrape. Believe me, I have had worse.”

“He shouldn’t have come against you,” Aphrodite said while wrapping her arms around herself. “T’was all my fault for putting you into his sights. You don’t need more trouble than what you already have.”

Her genuine sorrow nearly had him chuckle. “There is nothing to be sorry for. He feels threatened by me when it comes to you. I must say, it feels fine to know that I intimidate him.”

With a crooked grin, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing the tender shell. Pleasure engulfed him when he spotted her soft skin tremble at his touch.

She rested her hands on either shoulder, tipped on her toes and brushed her lips across his. “Thank you for defending me.”

“Who told you I had?” he asked, dropping a hand to the small of her back. The innocent act of her touching her lips to his had fueled his lust more than he had felt while dealing with doxies in the past.

“I guessed,” she whispered.

Unable to help himself, he traced his thumb under the plumpness of her bottom lip before his hand slid into the loose shining tresses; loving how the locks slipped like liquid silk against the roughness of his palm. God's teeth, Oswald knew he was getting himself in trouble, but he shuttered logical thought from his mind and acted on impulse.

The smell of jasmine and lavender, a mix he found irresistible, wafted toward him while he leaned closer, his face an inch from her lips. Her breath skittered across his face as he fit her body snugly against his.

Her eyes fluttered shut and he covered her mouth with his own, meeting open lips and a seeking tongue. He kissed her lightly, thinking—vainly—that it would be enough. But the flicker of her shy tongue against his lit an inferno in his chest.

A strange possessive yearning twisted inside him, and for a moment, it unbalanced him. Never in his life could recall feeling this possessive over any lady. Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushed her against the wall, dipped his hands to her knees and lifted her. Smartly, she locked her legs around his waist and her hands sunk into his hair while angling her head to suckle on his tongue.

* * *

Pressed against the wall by Oswald’s granite body, Aphrodite allowed herself to sink into the kiss. Her breasts heaved against his firm chest as the kiss grew blistering. His mouth devoured her, possessed her, his tongue laying claim to her body with each pass through her mouth.

Caged within his body, Aphrodite gave control over to him, over her body, over her pleasure. She felt vulnerable but safe and protected in his arms. With the press of his chest on her, the scrape of his shirt against her, her nipples started to tighten between them.

Oswald’s hand slipped to her bottom and curved over the backside, and as she expected him to hold her—he ripped himself from her. Guilt and shame covered his face as he stepped away. “I should not have done that.”

While he apologized, Aphrodite saw beneath his controlled façade and spotted raw passion dancing in his eyes. “Forgive me,” he grimaced and tuned to the horse.

“Why?” Aphrodite asked.

“It was not right,” his hands didn’t seem focused as he attended to the bored-looking horse. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

She rested her hand in the middle of her back. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And since when is following your heart something to be ashamed about?”

His laugh was empty and hollow. “Trust me, my heart was not the organ I was following.”

A strange ripple ran over her skin, and she gently turned him. “Have I told you why I spoke to you that first night? Why, of all the Lords here, I chose you?”

Slanting a look at her, his brow knitted together. “No. Why did you?”

“Four years ago, while you were in Soho, a young woman in rags swooned in the middle of the street. You caught her, lifted her and held her while others looked at you with scorn, as if she was not worth resting on your fine jacket.”

“You carried her to a physician nearby, paid him from your pocket and when she was better, bought her a meal for sustenance. I was there, at the corner of the street and watched it all. Never in my life had I ever seen such chivalry to a complete stranger,” Aphrodite said. “It touched me.”

He turned, and she saw a haunted look in his eyes. “Marian, her name is Marian. She was alone then, begging for pennies on the street.”

“What happened to her?”

Oswald took her hand, and a fleeting smile ticked his lips. “I sent her to school and now, she is a governess in Manchester, very healthy I might add. She sends me a letter every Christmastide.”

“You’re a good man, Oswald,” she touched his face. “Why are you so hesitant in taking what you want?”

“Because what I want might just condemn us both,” he grated.

“Are you worried about Jameson?” Aphrodite asked. “Don’t be. He is probably more worried about his scuffed clothes than whatever slight you two had.”

“I’m worried about me,” he dropped his attempt at caring for his horse. “Whatever he might have say about me does not matter. It is water off my back. He might spread rumors about you, besmirch your name or—”

Aphrodite laughed. “More than my father has? I don’t think so?”

“You don’t mind more scandal? Especially from me? A man who couldn’t see his wife’s actions before it was too late?” Oswald asked, surprisingly without the old bitterness he always carried.

“As far as I see it, someone is always going to have something to say,” Aphrodite added. “If you or I live a life by their standards, nothing will ever be enough and no will ever be happy, so why not ignore the chatter? We have had enough gossip about us to last a lifetime, I’m impervious to it by this time.”

“It does mean…” Oswald reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder and placed a thumb under her chin, “that you would want more.”

“I want you,” she said.

His mouth flickered. “You do not mince words, do you?”

“What’s the point?” She shook her head. “I have liked you for years, admired you from afar and now that I know who you are, I like you even more. Curmudgeon and all.”

“That insult sounds so affectionate,” Oswald smiled. “But we do have to walk carefully. Duke Strathmore can be a problem for both of us. If he is going to force this dawn appointment, I will have to answer it.”

“And how good are you with a pistol?”

“If it happens, you will see,” Oswald grinned. “The Peerage might lose a Duke tomorrow.”