Reckless - By Anne Stuart Page 0,58

an imaginary stain there, and rubbed at it with the edge of his monk's robe.

"And what the hell are you doing dressed up? I thought you despised that sort of thing."

"I'm always open to new experiences, my boy. I decided if my dear young cousin was going to try something new then I should attempt something as well." He glanced down at the rough weave of his robe in distaste. "Let us agree to avoid wallowing in the mud in the future, however. These two days have been interesting, but I wouldn't think either of us would want to repeat them, do you?"

"No," Adrian said. "Two days of Charlotte Spenser were quite enough." At least, they should have been. He'd taken her, over and over again, trying to drain the need from his body. All he'd had to do was brush up against her skin and he'd be hard again. He'd taken her so often, so thoroughly, she'd probably have a difficult time walking for the next few days.

The thought should have amused him. He should share it with Etienne, to convince him how detached he was. Bui in fact the more he'd had Charlotte Spenser the more he wanted her.

He'd been careless, when he was the most careful of men. He'd pulled out each time, but he'd always waited until the last minute, or even beyond. Lina would have enough sense to make sure her cousin drank the tea the Gypsies provided, wouldn't she? He really didn't fancy having that conversation with the countess of Whitmore. She wouldn't like the fact that he'd despoiled her innocent friend. Not when she'd clearly been interested in being on the receiving end of such a despoiling.

When the door had opened a few hours ago, he'd half expected it to be her, demanding Charlotte.

But it had been Etienne, amused, mocking, offering him an escape he could hardly refuse.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of Etienne. His parents had disapproved of his friendship with his French cousin, and the stronger his father's disapproval, the more intrigued Adrian had been.

It was silly, childish, but inescapable. Francis Rohan, Marquess of Haverstoke, was an imposing figure, and the only man capable of intimidating Adrian. He fought back any way he could.

There were just so many times one could enjoy the controlled madness of drags, the visions of the forest mushrooms, the variations and combinations of sex. He was growing bored of it all. In fact, the two days alone with an unsentimental virgin had been the most exciting thing in his recent memory.

But he couldn't regret leaving her. The longer he was with her the more attached she was likely to become, and that would be miserable for everyone. A quick tear and it would be soonest mended.

He couldn't linger over such things.

Of course he was entirely immune. He'd enjoyed her while he had her, but now he could forget about her.

Couldn't he?

13

It turned out to be surprisingly easy for Lina to avoid Simon Pagett. If he walked into Monty's bedroom while she was reading him salacious novels, she would simply rise, whisk herself away with a light sally, and there was nothing the good vicar could do short of making a scene. Which such a conventional creature would, of course, never do.

It wasn't that she was such a fragile soul Lina reminded herself. So the man had called her a whore-most vicars would do the same. There was no reason that it should bolher her. She had set out to prove something to herself, and she'd never given a tinker's damn for anyone's opinion. The people who mattered loved her—Monty and Charlotte, and if that number was about to be cut in half she'd survive. She'd survived worse.

To her relief Pagett decided he needed to visit the vicarage where he'd be living for the next few years.

At least, Lina assumed he would be. She had no idea who Monty's heir was, but whoever came into the title would doubtless consider the position of local vicar to be the least of his worries. And for a few hours she didn't have to worry about running into the man in the long, empty corridors of Hensley Court.

"So what do you think of the good vicar, eh?" Monty was sitting up for dinner, his color improved even if his strength hadn't seemed to appreciate much.

Lina poured herself another glass of claret, admiring the blood-red color in an attempt to give herself time to come up with a