A Beastly Kind of Earl (Longhope Abbey, #1)

by Mia Vincy

That was Arabella’s pride speaking, of course. She was one of those aristocrats who nurtured indifference as if it were a pet. Which reminded Thea of another question.

Somehow, he had recovered from that weakness; if only she could ask him how to do that, how to regain one’s faith when the world had been whipped out from under one’s feet.

“Do not touch that flower,” he said, in his low, rough voice, its smoky edges sliding down her spine.

“Oh. You’re going to educate me. Very well.” She folded her hands and waited politely. “You don’t sound thrilled,” he remarked. “On the contrary, my lord. I’m always thrilled when a man wants to tell me all the important things he knows.” His brows hitched a fraction. “I suppose now you will tell me what the word means and where the plant comes from, and if I’m very lucky, you’ll explain at length how you know more about it than anyone else.” That little half smile curled

“Here is this gorgeous, magnificent flower, and some man—who for unknown reasons is put in charge of naming it—he looks at this gorgeous, magnificent flower and he says, ‘By George, that looks like my bollocks.’ And then he says, ‘You know what the world needs now? The world needs more things named after my bollocks.’ So he names this gorgeous, magnificent flower after his bollocks, and all the other men look at it and say, ‘How excellent, it is named after our bollocks.’”

Yes, that was it: The vitality about her, the way her whole face and body welcomed the world’s delights.

Why had no one thought to mention that she had mischievous eyes and a playful smile and a tendency to break out in satire?

He scowled at her. “A marriage proposal from an earl amuses you, Miss Knight?” She shook off the last of her laughter. “It is such a male way of solving your problem: ‘Should I kidnap this woman or seduce her? By George,’ he says, ‘I’ll do both at once and just marry the girl.’”

“That must be quite a sum.”

Blast it. He had miscalculated. With his attention on the practical details of his scheme, Rafe had failed to consider Thea Knight as a real woman. A woman whose skin promised to be soft, and whose smile promised mischief, and whose curves promised that her ankles were definitely not her most interesting feature.

“Are you a good earl?” she asked. “‘Good’ as in competent, moral, or well-behaved?” “Any of those.” “No.”

“She can be impulsive. She has a tendency to try to save people, a blatant disrespect for rules, and a gift for seeing through others’ claptrap. If she were shipwrecked alone on a rock, she would find something to entertain her. Do not mistake her playfulness for foolishness.”

He wanted to smash heads against the wall, starting with her father, because Thea’s joie de vivre was a gift that she gave to the world, and they had robbed her of it.

That was the genius of the plot against her: People would believe that a scheming woman had used wiles to trick a man, because that was one of the stories people always believed. And Rafe, damn his own eyes, had chosen to believe that too. Hell, he had believed it so deeply he had based his entire scheme upon it. But watching her now, he could not doubt she told the truth.

She was a survivor. When people talked of survivors, they meant battle-scarred soldiers and shipwrecked sailors, people like Rafe, who wore his trauma on his face. But how many other survivors walked through the crowd?

“Yet why should we ignore them?” she asked. “I do not wish to pretend your scars are not there. Our scars are our stories, and stories should be told.” “Then my story must be a frightening one, to match my face.” “But that’s it.” She stepped closer to him. “The attack must have been horrific, but now you seem so strong and fearless, and I wish I knew how to… You wear those scars like a challenge.

Russell and you could get some money.” “Exactly.” He wiped a hand over his eyes. “I promise, you will be safe.” How marvelous, to feel safe again. She had always believed herself safe, until those minutes in that ballroom, when her world was whipped out from under her and she learned that everything she believed in could disappear in the blink of an eye.

“Don’t even think it,” Rafe said. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not getting married again. I’m not good at it.” “It’s marriage, my boy. No one’s good at it. That’s what makes it so much fun.” Nicholas sipped his tea, his bright eyes fixed on Rafe. “This girl sounds perfect for you.”

The years had been good to him, but then cads like him always prospered, for it was not only coats and boots that were tailor-made for them; it was the whole world.

finger. “He’s a good boy. But he’s caught up in false beliefs. It would be lovely if someone would set him free.” He half turned and hesitated. “That jaguar saved his life, you know.” “How?” “Ask him about it sometime.”

So what if it is nonsense? Most people could not get out of bed if they did not have some nonsense to sustain them. I will do what I must for my family.”

How animated she would be, how curious, enthusiastic, fun. Her expressive face… So help him but he would love to pleasure her just to watch her face.

It took nearly two days to reach Brinkley End, though Lord Luxborough grumbled that they would arrive more quickly if Thea didn’t insist on making frequent stops. Such breaks were essential, she argued, for what was the point of travel if one didn’t stop to gush over the scenery, eat snacks, and torment the locals?

“It’s not even old,” she complained. “I never said it was.” “It should be old and crumbling and gloomy, with mad monks and bats and ghosts.” She shook her head. “Honestly, Luxborough. How do you manage to stay so grumpy when you live in such a beautiful place?” “An overabundance of natural talent, I suppose.”

enough of her. “Show’s over,” he snapped, irritated both by Thea’s blatant admiration and by his new tendency to find excuses to touch her. “You’ll find walking easier if you face forward.” Thea looked up at him, her face bright with excitement. Blast her and her talent for delight. It was not only infectious, but addictive.

“How noble and self-sacrificing of you, my lord! To go without dessert! So stoic. So honorable. So—” “Shut up and eat your blasted syllabub.” With an impish smile, she did just that, with such blatant pleasure it was sheer torment to watch. Rafe gulped at his wine, but it failed to dull his desire. She seemed unaware of him, all of her senses engrossed in her sweet solitary pleasures. And he… Damn it, he was jealous! Of a blasted spoonful of blasted whipped cream!

Her eyes were so bright, her spirit so lively. It would be a small matter to take one more step, to brush her hair away from her face and slide his lips over hers. If he were a different man, he would. If he were a different man, he would tease and play with his bright, lively bride; he would revel in these prizes of pleasure and delight and joy. But he was not a different man.

“You’re smiling,” she said accusingly. “I am not.” “Ha ha! Now I

“You like that,” he growled, her ardor turning his desire savage. “You like knowing how much I want you.” “Who doesn’t want to be wanted, when it’s someone they want too? Someone one would pursue to the ends of the earth.”

like she was a queen and he was her throne, a queen wearing nothing but her shift, queen of a million unruly sensations.

The wedding vows would work like a magic spell, transforming her from unwanted, impoverished outcast, to a desirable member of society.

woman

more lost wanderer, trying to be heard. A lone woman, saying, “but listen, please listen, this matters, this is my life.” They were all trying to be heard, all wandering around their own lives, trying to tell their stories and find their way. They

“Thea, know that I shall always come after you, as long as you want me. You said you cannot trust the ground on which you walk, but know this: I will be the earth beneath your feet.” He lifted her hands, pressed his lips to

“Wife.” Rafe loomed, his face hard and unflinching. “That lady is the Countess of Luxborough, and you will show her due respect.” He eyed the audience menacingly. “You will all show her due respect.” Then he looked at Thea; his expression softened, and the world faded away. Her senses perceived nothing but this man, her man, publicly claiming her as his own.