“Have you eaten yet?”
She nodded. “I ate in the kitchen and kept Ned company while I waited for the water to heat.”
“You seem rather close to your footman,” he ventured.
“I am,” Miranda told him. “We’re the same age. He grew up at Blackstone Abbey, our country house, and when we were in residence there, my father arranged for Ned to accompany me wherever I went. We became friends when we were small, and our friendship endures to this day.”
“I see.” Daniel glanced down at his plate. “I hoped you would reconsider and decide to keep me company while you ate.” He tried to keep the note of disappointment out of his voice and failed.
“I made a list of errands for Ned to run and sent him on his way to your tailor on Bond Street.”
“Then I shouldn’t complain at being left alone.”
“No, you shouldn’t, Your Grace, for I brought you something.” Miranda turned around, then bent and picked up a marble chessboard set with carved marble chessmen.
“A chessboard?” He leaned forward to get a closer look at the marble board and the exquisitely carved black and white marble pieces occupying the matching squares.
“Yes,” she said. “I saw it in the library downstairs.”
“You brought me a chessboard?” Daniel couldn’t hide his surprise at Miranda’s thoughtful gesture. She’d left the bedchamber with no promises and returned with a gift for him. “May I?”
“Of course.” She walked over and set the chessboard on top of the coverlet.
“Thank you, Miranda.” Daniel held up a pack of playing cards. “I found these in the drawer of the bedside table.”
“Oh, well …” She turned to leave. “If you’ve got those, you don’t need me. You’ve plenty of games to keep you busy.”
“As it happens, I’m heartily sick of my own company, and of solitaire.” Daniel spoke the truth, for all he’d done since Miranda had left him alone was eat, sleep, play card games, and listen to Miranda bathe. He patted the coverlet. “Shall we?”
Miranda accepted his challenge and climbed onto the bed beside him. She settled the chessboard between them. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body, and her heart quickened its pace. “All right.”
Miranda glanced at the pillow in his lap. Daniel followed her gaze.
“That’s a nice thought,” he said bluntly. “But I doubt I could perform, and even if I could, I have the feeling we’d both be disappointed.”
Miranda stared at him, astonished that he’d admit such a thing. “Then I’d rather play chess.”
Daniel nodded. “Ivory or black?”
“Black,” she answered. “I should warn you, Daniel, I’m an excellent chess player.”
“Then you’re the opponent for whom I’m looking.”
Miranda’s face lit up at his challenge, but Daniel didn’t see it. He had his attention turned to the chessboard, carefully aligning the ivory pieces on the proper squares. “Ready?” Daniel looked over at her.
Miranda nodded.
He opened with his king’s pawn, then smiled at her. “Your move.”
She countered with a black pawn, and the game began.
Miranda hadn’t lied. She played an excellent game of chess, but Daniel was better. He beat her handily in a matter of minutes, but she challenged him to a rematch. He quickly and efficiently checkmated her a second time.
“You might be a gentleman and allow me to win,” Miranda protested when she lost again. “At least one game.”
“I’ve never read that in the rules of etiquette.” Daniel smiled at her move, then moved his ivory pawn into play. “Or in the rules of chess.”
“If it isn’t there, it should be,” Miranda said, advancing her pawn as they started a new game. “I don’t mind losing a game now and then,” she told him, “because that’s the only way to improve my play, but I heartily object to losing every game.”
“How will you improve your play if I let you win?” he asked, countering her move by taking her pawn en passant.
Miranda groaned. “I won’t,” she admitted. “But it will make me feel better. And it will make you feel better, too, because it’s ungentlemanly to beat a lady.”
“I agree.”
“So you’ll let me win the next game?”
“Not at all.”
“But you said …”
“I agree that it’s ungentlemanly of a man to beat a lady. Physically. I don’t agree that it’s ungentlemanly of me to win at chess.” Daniel stared at her over the chessboard as she placed another piece into a precarious position. “Who taught you to play?”
“My father.”
“You’re very good,” Daniel complimented her. “But you take too many chances.”
“In your opinion,” Miranda said, moving her knight into position. “And I find that observation ironic coming from you.”
Daniel studied the board. “Why?” He moved his bishop.
“Do you see any bandages on my person?”
Daniel leaned forward and leered at the front of her dress in a manner no gentleman should ever do unless invited. “No bandages.”
“Daniel!”
He raised his eyebrows in an expression of pure innocence. “You issued the invitation.”
“So I did.” Miranda imitated his wide-eyed look. “Check.”
Daniel looked down at her move, then back at her. “Damnation.” She’d distracted him long enough to put his king in jeopardy.
She smiled at him.
He returned her smile. So that was how she intended to play. “Your eyes are blue,” he said softly, truly surprised by his discovery. “I always thought they were green.”
“They change colors,” she replied, watching as he managed to save his king.
He arched an eyebrow in query.
“When I wear green my eyes appear to be green and when I wear blue, they look blue.” Miranda made her next move. “Check.”
“Extraordinary.” He didn’t look at the board. There was no need. He couldn’t go anywhere.
“Mate,” Miranda added, doing her best not to grin.
Reaching over, Daniel grabbed a spare pillow and passed it to her. “Get comfortable. We may be here a while,” he said as he reset the board for another game.
She took his advice, bunching the pillow beneath her and adjusting her skirts so she could stretch out on the coverlet.
“No fair,” Daniel decried when her new position placed her bosom into prominence and wreaked havoc with his concentration.
“All’s fair …” she began.
“In love and war?” he prompted, completing the quote.
“I was going to say ‘in chess,’ ” Miranda told him.
“Chess is a form of warfare, Miranda,” Daniel reminded her.
“So is love, Your Grace.”
Hours later, he opened another game by advancing his king’s pawn.
Miranda recognized the opening gambit and quickly countered it.
Daniel shifted his weight on the bed, resting his back and his aching ribs by relaxing against the pillows. He countered Miranda’s move, then smothered a yawn.
“Is it the company?” Miranda spoke for the first time in half an hour as she advanced another chess piece. “Or my strategy?”
He glanced over her head to the clock on the mantel across the room. “I think it’s the hour.”
Miranda followed his gaze to the clock. It was nearly three in the morning. She started to get up, but Daniel stopped her.
He moved a rook. “Not until we finish the game.”
“That could take hours,” she said, advancing a bishop.
“It won’t.” He smiled at her. “Check.”
“Blast it!” Miranda swore, looking at the board, trying to find the solution. “I hate losing.”
“Might I make a suggestion?” he offered.
“No.”
“So be it,” he drawled.
“All right,” she gave in. “What’
s the solution?”
He chuckled and Miranda noticed the strong line of his lean jaw, the dimple on the side of his mouth, and the way the network of fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I’m not giving you the solution. The object of this game is to win. I intend to.”
“You asked if you could make a suggestion.” She tried to pout and failed.
“My suggestion is that you pay attention to the game,” he replied. “You’re off somewhere woolgathering.”
Miranda looked down at the chessboard, smiled a dreamy sort of smile, recognized the solution, and quickly moved her king out of danger.
He gave her a look of approval. “So, tell me, my lady,” he said softly, “what’s all this woolgathering about? Where would you be if you hadn’t been sitting here playing chess with an invalid all evening?”
She looked up from the chessboard to see if he was baiting her or if his question was genuine. “I’d be lying on satin cushions in the prow of a punt with my hair down around me, trailing my hand in the water, wearing nothing but sunshine, rose petals, and a smile, while my strong, handsome companion poles me around a lake.”
Daniel’s body reacted to the mental picture she drew in typical male fashion. He shifted his position to accommodate the sudden increase of blood flow to his nether region and reached for another cherubic-faced tapestry pillow. He turned the pillow face down in his lap and said the first thing that came into his head. “A lake?”
“Of course, a lake.” She chuckled. “I’ve never heard of anyone punting on bodies of water other than ponds, lakes, or rivers—except, perhaps, bayous and estuaries. But I think a lake would be best.”
“For whom? You or the strong, handsome companion poling you around it?”
“For me, of course,” she answered. “It is my fantasy, after all.”
“It would have to be, to have someone poling you around a lake in the sunshine like that.” He looked over at her. “And while you’re fantasizing, my lady, you might wish to make it a private lake. That isn’t the sort of thing that can be managed in Hyde Park on a midsummer’s afternoon.”
She looked at him from beneath the cover of her lashes.
“Don’t look at me,” he warned.
“You do enjoy a private lake at Haversham House,” she teased.
“I don’t enjoy punting on it.”
She sighed. “Oh well, the lake at Regent’s Park should do nicely. It’s private.”
“It won’t be when Nash finishes building villas around it.” He looked at Miranda. She refused to be dissuaded once she’d made up her mind to do something. “You do know about the villas John Nash is building around Regent’s Park?”
“Of course I know about them,” she replied. “One of them is mine. Or rather it will be as soon as he completes construction on it.”
“What’s wrong with your town house on Upper Brook Street?”
“Nothing, but Papa invested quite a bit in the Regent’s Park project, and I think I’d enjoy living there, where it’s far enough from town to be rustic, but not so far as to be inconvenient.”
Daniel gave a thoughtful nod. “Well, find yourself a strong, handsome companion and some rose petals and you’re all set.”
“That may present a problem,” she said. “Because none of the men of my acquaintance have ever offered to take me punting. Although it’s quite romantic and just the thing to do on a midsummer’s day, poling a punt around a lake requires a bit of exertion, and all the men I know reserve that romantic endeavor for featherweight ladies under six feet tall.” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Of course, that’s only a fantasy. The truth is that if I hadn’t been here playing chess, I would have been at Lady Garrison’s party in Richmond.” She paused. “I had intended to go with Alyssa and Griff, and I was looking forward to it.” She exhaled. “Of course, it would be breaking up by now, and everyone would be leaving or preparing to leave. What about you?” she asked. “If you hadn’t been injured and forced to spend your evening playing chess with me, what would you have been doing?”
He thought for a moment. “I’d probably be spending a quiet evening at home.” Resting up for his next mission.
Miranda lifted her eyebrow in a show of disbelief.
“Or I’d be at Lady Garrison’s party dancing with you.”
Or on the Channel smuggling. She thought it, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“I’m sorry you missed your party.”
“There will be other parties.” She straightened her back, then stretched out her legs, taking great care not to jostle the chessboard. “And if the truth be known, I’d rather be here playing chess with you than anywhere else in the world.”
“Careful, Lady Miranda,” he cautioned. “You’re in danger.”
She looked down at the chessboard.
“Checkmate,” Daniel said, before shoving the board out of the way and closing the distance between them.
He covered her mouth with his, and Miranda yielded to temptation, parting her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He complied, moving his lips on hers, kissing her harder, then softer, then harder once more, testing her response, slipping his tongue past her teeth, exploring the sweet hot interior of her mouth with practiced finesse.
Daniel kissed her as if his life depended upon it, leisurely stroking the inside of her mouth in a provocative imitation of the mating dance, while Miranda followed his lead, moving her lips on his and returning his kiss.
What she lacked in experience, she made up for in natural ability and enthusiasm. And her newfound talent delighted him. Daniel made love to her mouth, sharing his store of knowledge, offering her the advantage of his greater expertise as he patiently taught her everything he’d ever learned about kissing.
Miranda absorbed his knowledge as she absorbed the feel of his lips on hers. She eagerly accepted his kisses and returned them in full measure, as she advanced from being a novice in the art of kissing, to becoming an intermediate and ultimately a virtuoso, in a matter of minutes. Mimicking the action of his tongue, Miranda took what he gave her, and succeeded in adapting the motions into a technique all her own.
The pleasure he felt while kissing her shook Daniel to his core. She took his breath away, and with it went all vestiges of his precious self-control.
He grew rock hard beneath the pink sheets. The blood pounded in his head, and his body trembled with the force of the passion that rolled over him, urging him to pull her closer so he could experience the exquisite pleasure of settling himself against her and surrounding himself with her warmth and softness.
Forcing himself to slow down, Daniel pulled his mouth away from hers as her soft sigh of surrender registered in his brain, reminding him that despite her extraordinary talent for kissing, she had never lain with a man.
He rolled away.
“Daniel?” Miranda rolled with him and placed her hand on his shoulder.
He felt her cool palm on his back and heard his name on her lips, but the sound seemed to come from a distance as he battled for control. He sucked in a breath as the tightening in his loins hit him like a punch to the belly. Damnation! Looking at her had the power to make him ache. Daniel struggled to tamp down his raging desire. His muscles were taut, his member rigid and insistent, and his control was stretched almost to the breaking point.
Miranda pressed her face against his back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Inhaling the clean pear and vanilla scent of her, Daniel closed his eyes. An image of Miranda lying naked on a cushion of satin pillows in the prow of a punt popped into his brain.
He did his best to blot out the image as she placed a kiss on his bare back. But he trembled beneath her touch. Miranda was dangerous. Dangerous to his peace of mind. And far more potent than the whisky he’d consumed the night before.
Because he wanted her with a passion that astounded him. He wanted to lie naked, buried to the hilt, between Miranda’s thighs. But first, he wanted to touch her and taste
her and make her writhe with the force of the pleasure he gave her. He wanted to explore her depth, feel her pulse around him, and to spill himself deep enough to make a miracle take root.
And then he wanted to do it again.
He wanted to fall asleep in her arms and wake up to the morning light holding her in his.
Reaching up, Daniel took hold of her wrist and brought it to his lips, where he planted a kiss on the vein where her pulse beat a strong, steady tattoo. “Go, Miranda,” he whispered. “Go before it’s too late.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Because it’s already too late.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Marriage has many pains,
but celibacy has no pleasures.”
—Samuel Johnson, 1709–1784
Miranda rolled off the bed and stood beside it. She thought for a moment, then reached up, unbuttoned her dress, and let it fall to the floor. Her undergarments followed, and Miranda felt a moment of panic as Daniel turned and looked up at her.
She thought he was going to change his mind. She thought that his willpower was stronger than his desire for her. She needn’t have worried. He moved over on the bed so she’d be against his uninjured side, flipped the covers back out of the way, and invited her to join him.
“I won’t make you any promises,” he said.
“I don’t remember asking for any,” she retorted.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, allowing her another opportunity to change her mind.
Miranda nodded. “Are you?”
Daniel gave her a dazzling smile. “At this moment, I want to make love to you more than I want to breathe.”
“Then shut up and do it.”
He patted the mattress. “Won’t you come in?”
Miranda slipped between the sheets and Daniel enfolded her into his arms.
“I’m not sure what to do,” she admitted, staring into his face, meeting his gaze. “Where to begin …”
Daniel traced the contour of her bottom lip with the tip of his finger. “I generally start with kisses.” He followed his words with action, lightly covering her lips with his, teasing and tempting her to relax. “Why don’t we try a few kisses and see where they lead?”
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