A woman who looked as enticing as Guinevere did in the height of anger should not allow the word pleasure to tumble from her delectable lips and not expect a man to kiss her senseless. But he was sure that was exactly what she expected. Asher held himself in place, still leaning against the wooden garden door, by the sheer will born of a child who’d grown up thinking he was a bastard and had been forced to ignore daily taunts hurled at him and master his natural instincts to respond.
Every part of him wanted to straighten, swallow the remaining distance between him and the glorious siren before him, and claim her mouth—and whatever else she was willing to surrender. He had to try very hard to concentrate on what she had said, what he was trying to discover, and not his base instinct to kiss her—everywhere.
Directness was best. “Do ye want me to pursue ye, or do ye want Kilgore to do so?”
“I knew it!” she burst out, splotches of ruby red coloring her lovely, sculpted cheeks. “If you think me such a fool that I will let you play games with me twice in my life, Your Grace, then you are an addlepated louse.”
Twice in her life? What game had he ever played with her? Questions pelted him—and doubt along with it. Doubt that perhaps he’d been wrong about Guinevere and that maybe Lady Constantine had been correct. He allowed the doubt, and with it, his urge to touch her became uncontrollable. Reaching out, he grasped her gently by the wrists and tugged her closer.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Ensuring ye do not run off,” he said, offering a half-truth. The other half was that he could not hold back the tide of desire any longer. “Guin, I have never played a game with ye in my life.”
Except now, damn it.
But no, the pursuit to save his company had not truly commenced.
“I was always honest with ye,” he said.
But would he have remained honest?
Her eyes narrowed, and her gaze glimmered like hard stone. “Always honest, you say?”
He had been. So far anyway, so he nodded. Hell, he could barely manage that. His attention was torn between her lips and the way her pulse hammered at the place between her collarbones. He wanted to lick that spot and a whole host of others. He wanted to find every shadow, dip, and curve her body possessed and explore each one with his tongue, his lips, and his hands.
“Did you or did you not pursue me to spite your father five years ago?”
He was momentarily speechless that she knew what had originally sent him across the ballroom years before. His momentary intent, show of defiance toward his father, had meant nothing. He had been intrigued by her, drawn to her from the beginning, but it was true that at first, before he knew her, he had decided that she would make going against his father’s command all the sweeter.
She jerked one wrist free of his grasp. “You need not bother answering. Your face has revealed the truth well enough.” Her tone was sharp but pain shimmered in her eyes. That hurt nearly shattered him. She had cared for him. She had.
He curled his fingers more firmly around her other wrist. Not so tight that he would hurt her but snug enough that she could not easily flee him until he could at least explain himself. But how to explain the foolishness that had driven him toward her at the very start? “I do not know who told ye that—”
She arched her eyebrows at him. “Does it matter?”
Good God, it did. Just how much should have sent him running, but he did not move. “Aye, because whoever it is surely had a reason to tell ye such a thing, and the only one I can think of is that they wanted to keep us apart. I have never told anyone that.”
“So it is true?”
Her words were like quick, painful jabs. The lass was angry indeed, and she had a right to be, given she thought his whole pursuit of her before was simply to spite his father. “It’s not.” Well, that was not the complete truth. “Or rather, it was.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. He was making a damned mess of this.
He raked his free hand through his hair. “It was true for a moment.”
She let out a brittle laugh at his statement, which even to him sounded ridiculous. “Let me go,” she said, tugging on her wrist.
He released her, though he didn’t want to. “Guin, whoever told ye that—”
Fire lit her emerald eyes. “Your father told me, Carrington.”
He flinched at the news and stood for a moment in complete surprise. Then fury burned a hot path through him. “When?” was all he could manage.
She bit her lip as if contemplating whether to answer him and finally said, “Shortly after you and Elizabeth were wed and left England.”
He had no damned idea why his father would have told her that then, unless it was in anger for Asher cutting him out of his life. He studied her for a moment, trying to decide what to say. Everything about her stance appeared strong, but her voice had contained a wobble, and he could well imagine how hurt, how mortified she must have been if she had cared for him as he now thought she might have. Was he a fool to allow the possibility?
Fool or not, he wasn’t sure in this moment that he could stop the allowance of it. He swallowed. “I never told my father that, and I do not know why he would have told ye such a thing.”
“It hardly matters now,” she said with a shrug and a dismissive wave. “You have confirmed it was true. I cannot even say why I mentioned it. I do not care.”
But she might.
The possibility pleased him dangerously. Even aware of that fact, when he felt her physically drawing away, he said, “Guin, listen to me.”
“Why sh—”
“Because,” he interrupted, knowing she would argue. Because maybe they had both been fools. “Aye, when my father saw me looking at ye the night we met, and he said I was not to pursue ye, my first thought as I left his side and went to ye was to pursue ye just to spite him. But within a moment of speaking with ye, that was not my thought anymore. I was struck by yer beauty, yer wit, ye—”
“Oh, yes,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm, “I can quite recall how my beauty and wit struck you. Why, my charms hit you so hard that they knocked you straight into Elizabeth’s arms!”
“That is not what drove me into Elizabeth’s arms,” he snapped, realizing how damned foolish his words were, how they could be misconstrued, when Guinevere’s jaw went slack.
“My point precisely,” she snapped. “But thank you for reminding me how I pale in comparison to Elizabeth.”
Devil take it. Asher shoved a hand through his hair once more. This was not going well at all. He had no more information now than he’d had at the start of the day on if Kilgore currently had a claim on Guinevere, and he doubted she would be honest with him in her current state of vexation. What he had uncovered, or at least he thought he had, was that she had once cared for him. He didn’t even bother denying that it pleased him. Then he thought of the kiss they had shared in the library and the passion he believed had simmered between them. A kiss could tell a man a great deal, and if Guinevere responded to him as she had in the library, he didn’t see how Kilgore could hold a claim on her truly.
“I’m finished with this hunt!” she announced and shoved the paper she’d been holding into his chest.
He grabbed her by the wrist and brought her hard against him, circling his arm firmly around her back and threading his other hand into her hair.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“Getting answers,” he growled and then lowered his mouth to hers to claim her lips.
She stiffened at first, but then, almost immediately, her lips became soft and her body relaxed. When he traced his tongue over the crease of her lips and she opened for him with a soft whimper, exaltation rushed through his veins. He forgot that he wanted answers. He forgot Kilgore. He forgot everything but the beguiling, frustrating woman in his arms.
Her strawberries-and-cream taste. Her scent of lilies. Her silky hair between his fingers. Her soft body pressed so invitingl
y to his.
He wanted her. Yes, she was a weakness, but in this moment, he didn’t give a damn. His blood pounded through him, urging him to kiss her deeper, harder, to lay claim to her and demand she respond. And she did. Good God, she did. Her body arched toward his, and she made the most seductive mewling sounds as she met the ravaging of her mouth with a hunger of her own. He tasted her desire. He felt it. He heard it.
Even as a knock came at the garden door and a woman’s voice called out, he did not release her.
When another woman’s voice joined the first, he broke the contact of his lips with Guinevere’s, but he kept a gentle hold on her elbow, not ready yet to totally let her go.
“Open the door!” came a voice he now recognized as Lady Lilias’s.
Guinevere’s hands went to her hair and then over her dress, scrambling to right the mess he’d made. He drank her in, unable to look away. She looked radiant and well kissed. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips swollen, and a flush had crept over her chest.
“Open this door at once!” came Lady Vivian’s voice next. “Our hunt has led us here, and it’s not fair to win the treasure hunt by locking doors!”
He knew he couldn’t keep Guinevere in here alone, but he wanted to. Whatever claim Kilgore did or did not have on her affections, there was something undeniable between them, just as he’d believed there had been years ago. So why had she pretended otherwise? Why had she kissed Kilgore that night on the balcony? It shouldn’t matter to him, but he found he could not go forward with pursuing her until he knew the answers. And what did that mean, then? Was he pursuing her to save his company or to resurrect a dead dream of what could have been?
Later that night, Asher tried to pay attention as Lady Longford prattled on about all the attributes Lady Constantine had that he might find pleasing, but his mind was on Guinevere and nothing else. He had not seen her since the treasure hunt had ended, and he had not been alone with her since they’d been interrupted by her sister and Lady Lilias in the rose garden.
He cut his attention from Lady Longford and made a quick scan of the parlor, which was filled with all the guests awaiting the dinner bell. All the guests, that was, except Guinevere and, most notably to Asher, Kilgore. Where was she? And where the hell was Kilgore? It still irritated the devil out of him that Kilgore had won the treasure hunt and claimed Guinevere as the person he wished to be partnered with for skits the following day.
Asher hated that Kilgore had outmaneuvered him, and he damn well hated that it mattered to him at all whether she was pleased about Kilgore choosing her or not. And since she’d begged off immediately after the announcement, pronouncing a horrible megrim, he had not gotten a chance to speak with her to secure more answers.
This afternoon, as Kilgore had stared at Guinevere like he was a wolf and she was his next meal, it had occurred to Asher that it could be Kilgore pursuing her, and perhaps it had always been that way, despite what Elizabeth had told Asher. Elizabeth had been a damn liar so it stood to reason that she had been untruthful about Guinevere, too. Or it could be that he had become a fool once again? He was supposed to be here making the business decision to pursue and wed for necessity.
He forced his gaze back to Lady Longford, who still droned on about Lady Constantine, who offered him another apologetic smile.
“Mother,” she broke in when Lady Longford finally paused to take a breath, “Lady Barrowe is waving at you. Shall we see what she needs?”
Lady Longford looked in their hostess’s direction with a frown. “I’ll attend her. You stay here and chat with His Grace.”
“Mother, I’m certain the duke does not wish to—”
“I can think of nothing I wish to do more than chat with ye,” Asher interrupted, seizing the opportunity to speak alone with Lady Constantine, or relatively so given they were in a parlor full of people. They could, at least, have a somewhat private conversation.
Lady Longford beamed at them, and when she departed, Lady Constantine said in a whisper, “Please choose your words carefully, Your Grace. You give my mother hope where there is none.”
“I apologize,” he replied, glad they were apparently still speaking bluntly. It made what he wanted to ask much easier. “Shall we stand by the window where it is cooler?” And more private.
She looked toward the window and then smiled at him, understanding in her gaze.
They made their way over, and he noted the eyes that tracked them. The gossip by supper would be that he was courting Lady Constantine. That could present a problem with Guinevere, but there was no help for it. He needed answers.
Lady Constantine met him with a frank stare. “You have something you wish to ask me?”
“Aye. Is it Kilgore who has yer affection?”
The woman lost all color, and for one moment, he thought she might faint. “I—” She darted her gaze around, searching, he imagined, for her mother or perhaps Kilgore.
“Yer mother is on the other side of the room by the pianoforte, and Kilgore has not graced us with his presence yet.”
A bit of her color started returning to her face, but when she brought her hand to her hair, it was trembling. “How did you know?” she asked, fiddling with her hair. “Was I obvious?”
“Nay. I guessed at supper last night, but I never would have had we not spoken last week. Might I ask, did Kilgore ever indicate to ye that ye had his affection?”
“Yes,” she said, turning nearly scarlet.
Good God. The woman had no idea what her face gave away. Asher would wager his fortune that Lady Constantine had given Kilgore her innocence. “If ye believe ye have his affection and ye have stated he has yers, why is it, would ye guess, that he has not offered for ye?”
“I do not know.” She sounded and looked pained. “The year I made my debut, he all but told me he was going to call on my father and ask for my hand.”
“How long ago was that?”
She bit her lip. “Five years ago.”
Fury rose in him. That was the same year Kilgore had kissed Guinevere. He had to warn Lady Constantine that Kilgore was a blackguard, that the man must enjoy toying with women. Had Kilgore failed to conquer Guinevere and that was why he was pursuing her still?
“Lady Constantine, I think it best that ye forget—”
“My, Lord Pierce!” Lady Constantine burst out, looking past Asher at the same moment he felt a presence behind him.
He turned sharply to find his brother a hairsbreadth from him. “I believe we are to be paired for tomorrow’s skits,” Pierce said, looking at Lady Constantine.
“Oh,” she said, “I did not realize the pairings had been announced other than Kilgore’s choosing Lady Guinevere as his partner.”
Asher did not miss the hurt in Lady Constantine’s tone, and by Pierce’s knowing look, his brother had not missed it, either. He also did not seem altogether surprised by it, which indicated Pierce may have known something about Kilgore and Lady Constantine, or possibly just Kilgore.
“They have not been announced,” Pierce said, “but our esteemed hostess just told me.”
“I will look forward to tomorrow, my lord,” Lady Constantine said. “If you will both excuse me…” She did not look at either of them.
Asher frowned as her face went pale, and he followed her gaze to the parlor door. Kilgore was in the entranceway with a lady Asher did not know, but they both looked as if they had just been well satisfied.
“I’ve a horrid megrim suddenly,” Lady Constantine blurted and rushed away before Asher or Pierce could reply.
Asher followed her progress through the crowd and to the door, where she nearly plowed Kilgore over to get by the man. He did not so much as spare her a glance, but when she passed by him, his face did seem to tighten.
“So, Brother,” Pierce said, “shall we be expecting a betrothal announcement between you and Lady Constantine?”
“Nay.” Asher turned his attention to Pierce, who looked surprisingly sober for once. “Her affections are
engaged elsewhere.”
“I had heard gossip of that nature, but I’m not one to spread tales.”
Asher frowned. “Ye said she was a cold sort. ‘Ice where her heart should be,’ I think were yer words.”
Pierce grimaced. “I… Well, she was always cold to me.”
Ah, the lady had rebuffed his brother and injured his pride. Asher decided not to pursue that particular subject. “What is the gossip ye heard regarding the lady?”
“Well, it concerns White’s, which is a gentlemen’s club where—”
“I know what White’s is,” Asher said. It was a boring club where a bunch of toffs drank and squandered their money on wagers. He had no interest in such things. If he was going to go to any club, it would be the one he owned, which was one in which he only had partial ownership, and he would not be spending coin but earning it off the stupidity of the toffs.
“And you know of the wager book?” Pierce asked.
“I’ve heard of it.”
“Well, five years ago, a wager was made between Kilgore and an anonymous Lord X after the Season had started. Lord X wagered Kilgore an astonishing amount of money that he could not seduce four specific ladies. If Kilgore failed, he was to pay Lord X; if he succeeded—”
“I know how wagers work,” Asher said, impatient.
Pierce shrugged. “Only trying to be helpful… There were four women on the list—two wed and two young, unmarried ladies. Lady Guinevere and Lady Constantine were both on that list, and to date, Kilgore has seduced all but one of the ladies, if rumor is to be believed. You can check the books yourself.”
Rage filled Asher. “Rumors are not facts.”
“No, they are not, but Lady Constantine has yet to wed, the two married women are often seen in Kilgore’s company, and Lady Guinevere… Well, it seems the lady is in his sights now, and the end date on the wager is one month away. I imagine if you stay, you can watch her succumb.”
Damn Kilgore. The man had seduced Lady Constantine, and he must have tried to seduce Guinevere before and failed so he was trying again. But why wait five years to try to complete the wager? Had he worked his way down the damn list and now returned to Guinevere? Asher slid his teeth back and forth and thought of the two kisses he had shared with her. Everything about those encounters told him she desired him and not Kilgore, but if he was wrong and she succumbed to Kilgore, he could not wed her even to save his company. He would find another way.
Lady Guinevere And The Rogue With A Brogue (Scottish Scoundrels: Ensnared Hearts Book 1) Page 13