The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  “Quite right,” Knowlton interrupted, cutting off Mrs. Moreton before she could open her mouth. “I detested Eton myself.”

  “Hartford sent his son to an interesting school,” Elizabeth interjected, and launched into a lengthy description of that place.

  Knowlton inclined his head to listen absentmindedly to Elizabeth and the squire’s wife, but his attention remained on Kate. She had revealed another clue about her late husband—he had attended Eton. That knowledge only added to the mystery surrounding her current circumstances. Circumstances he hoped to change soon.

  Once or twice her eyes strayed to his, and he reveled in the intimacy of their shared look. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, noticing her quickened breathing when she became aware of his gaze. Her cheeks colored with that maddeningly enticing rosy glow when their eyes met again.

  Damn propriety. He was going to have to find a way of furthering their relationship in such a way that no attention was drawn to them. But he was damned if he was going to let much more time pass before he pursued her in earnest. He had promised to remain a gentleman while she was under his roof, but tomorrow she repaired to her own house. The constraints on his behavior would be gone and he intended to make every use of the opportunity. He would waste no more time before he learned if she was as passionate in bed as her hair would indicate. Modest blushes or no, he had no doubts that she would be.

  Knowlton was relieved that he had included a chilled dessert on the menu. He needed the cool ice to dampen the fire in his body. That brief interlude in Nottingham seemed centuries ago. He belatedly jumped to his feet when he realized the ladies were taking their leave.

  He endured the remainder of the evening with growing impatience. Knowlton called the private gathering of the men to a close in an indecently short interval, and did nothing to promote a lengthy evening entertainment. Lady Wentworth was prevailed upon to play the pianoforte, which she did with consummate skill, but Knowlton only wished that everyone would go home so he could have Kate to himself for a time.

  She thwarted him in that endeavor, for when the vicar and his wife took their leave, she pleaded the need to check on her son and fled the drawing room before Knowlton could protest. The other guests rapidly departed as well, Somers and Elizabeth retreated to their rooms, and he was left quite alone in front of the dying fire with an unwanted glass of brandy in his hands. Whatever hopes he had held for the evening, he had not envisioned a scenario like this. He might as well seek his bed; perhaps he could find a moment alone with Kate on the morrow.

  As he reluctantly passed down the corridor, he noticed that the door to Robbie’s room was slightly ajar, and Knowlton could not resist the temptation to peek inside. Kate was probably safely in her own bed by now. But as he quietly pushed open the door, he saw she had not yet retired. He stood silently in the shadows, watching her as she stood in front of the window. With the curtains thrown open, the blue-white fight of the moon cast her corner of

  the room into almost daylike brightness. She was looking out onto the moon-drenched grounds of the estate, her arms loosely clasped about her. She still wore her dinner gown, although she had taken down her hair and its soft curls fell in flaming clouds about her shoulders. She looked so fragile and delicate. He clenched his fingers. If he retreated quietly, she would never know he had come . . .

  He silently crossed the carpeted room.

  “Robbie has dropped off at last, I see,” he whispered softly as he came up behind her.

  Startled by his presence, Katherine turned to face him.

  “It was a long battle,” she confessed, then returned her gaze to the moonlit scene outside. Her skin prickled in the knowledge of his nearness.

  He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “I hope you enjoyed tonight.”

  She smiled warmly at the night. “I am glad you persuaded me to attend. I did enjoy myself.”

  “Your presence certainly made the evening more enjoyable for me,” he whispered softly, brushing back her hair to expose one creamy white shoulder. “I scarcely noted what I ate. It was too difficult to tear my eyes away from your beauty.”

  She laughed nervously. “Of a certainty, my lord.”

  “Set off to great advantage by the lovely dress you are wearing,” he said, stroking his fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder, then tangling them in her fiery curls. “I have been longing to bury my hands in your flames all evening.”

  “Edward, I—”

  “Shh,” he said quickly, turning her so she faced him. They stared at one another for an eternity of silence; then with a slow, seductive smile he cupped her chin in his hand and covered her lips with his before she could protest further. Feeling her initial hesitation, he kept his kisses light, feathering them across her lips until he felt her relax. He drew away, looking into her face for her acquiescence before he went further. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise, yet he saw a flicker of desire there that encouraged him.

  Dropping his hands to her waist, he gently pulled her against him, bringing their mouths together once more.

  This time, she responded, and his kisses grew more demanding, more possessive. His senses reeled in a way he had not thought possible from a few mere kisses. He softly flicked his tongue over her lips, teasing, pleading until they parted beneath his and he could probe the warm moistness of her mouth.

  Katherine almost jumped at that all-too-obvious invasion of her body, yet she did not resist Knowlton’s bold advances. She would regret her weakness later, but for now she did not want to think coherently, only wanted to give herself up to the sensations coursing through her veins. Deliberately ignoring all the warning voices in her head, she raised her arms and curled her fingers in the hair at his nape.

  Cold shivers ran up Knowlton’s spine at her touch. She was a redheaded witch, casting a spell of sensual pleasure over him that he was powerless to resist. He buried his fingers in her hair, drawing her even closer. His other hand, pressed in the small of her back, held her pinioned in an embrace that scorched along the length of their touching bodies.

  Katherine trembled as she willingly pressed her body against his. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes against the warm sensations of his lips, her breath catching as he trailed kisses down her neck, pausing to nibble her ear before he once again claimed her mouth. She burned with fire; she was filled with an all-consuming need and want that overcame all rational consciousness.

  Knowlton grew bolder, kissing her with growing urgency, his tongue twining with hers as his hands roamed over her body.

  “Kate, Kate,” he whispered as his hand sought the softness of her breast. Through the thin silk of her gown he felt the nipple go taut beneath his seeking fingers, matching the growing tightness in his groin. Dear God, it had been so long . . . She was like a drug, sapping his mind, his thoughts. He was burning with a fire that only she could quench.

  A low moan issued from the shadowed corner of the room. Instantly, Katherine wrenched herself from Knowlton’s arms and quickly crossed to her son’s bed.

  Knowlton berated his stupidity for choosing such a poor location for his lovemaking. But he had not intended such a thing when he had paused at the slightly open door—or had he?

  “He is asleep.” Her whisper broke into his thoughts.

  Knowlton hesitated. The spell had been weakened, but not broken. Then slowly he brought her hand to his lips, kissing first her curled fingers, then pressing his mouth to her palm.

  “I apologize for my inopportune choice of place,” he said quickly, willing his rapid breathing to slow. Kate stood there silently; in the shadowy light it was difficult to read the expression on her face. He exhaled slowly. “These rooms connect with mine, you will recall. We could be more private there.”

  She knew what he asked, what he wanted. And knew that she half-wanted it as well. But she still held on to the last vestiges of her resolve. If only she could hear the words she wanted from his lips. “It is late,” she demurred
.

  He accepted his dismissal with grace. “Then I shall bid you good night, my fair Kate.” Knowlton pressed another kiss on her fingers, exiting silently into the corridor.

  Katherine stood in the middle of the room, unmoving, staring at the door. She had nearly lost all her control this time. If Robbie had not stirred . . . She had no doubt that she would have found herself in the earl’s bed. And she truly was not certain which outcome to the evening disturbed her more.

  With only the shadowy moonlight fighting his bedchamber, Knowlton stripped off his neckcloth and tossed it onto the dresser. Every nerve in his body still flamed with the memory of Kate’s shape pressed close to his. She had been so close to capitulation. Only his incredibly stupid move of attempting a seduction within feet of Robbie’s bed had cost him his prize. And tomorrow Kate would be gone from his roof.

  Unbuttoning his shirt, Knowlton considered. He grew tired of this clever game they played; he advanced, she parried, but they progressed toward the goal nevertheless. After tonight, there was no point in disguising his aim. She knew exactly what he wanted of her. And, he felt confident, she wanted the same of him. Kate had been just as passionate as her red hair indicated. He smiled quickly. Once again, his judgment had not failed him. Kate Mayfield was

  as delectable a morsel as he had desired in an age, and would be every bit as delicious as he hoped. His anticipation grew as he divested himself of the rest of his clothing and crawled beneath the covers of his solitary bed. Tomorrow he would finalize matters.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Come live with me and be my love,

  And we will some new pleasures prove.

  —John Donne, The Bait

  Knowlton awoke the next morning and stretched lazily beneath the covers, a smug smile of satisfaction crossing his face at the memory of Kate’s heated embrace. He had to have her, had to possess her.

  He had never before taken a mistress without first sampling her talents, but he held no fears that Kate would be a disappointment. He had seen and heard and felt enough last night to have no worries in that area. Whatever skills she lacked could be easily taught, and the pleasure would be in the teaching. His imagination stirred at the thought.

  He experienced a momentary doubt over Kate’s willingness to become his mistress, but quickly set it aside. With her straitened circumstances, it should be easy to work out a satisfactory arrangement. He knew how her poverty grated upon her. His offer would put an end to all that. And if gowns and jewels and money were not enough, there was always Robbie’s future to consider. Knowlton felt a twinge of apprehension at using the boy again to further his own interests, but quickly ignored it. It would benefit everyone if he paid for Robbie’s schooling. And if it meant

  that the lad would be away for a good part of the year, giving Knowlton uninterrupted access to Kate, all the better.

  With a low chuckle, Knowlton threw back the covers and padded across the room to the bell rope. He must plan his strategy carefully. He was determined to win the prize at last.

  Katherine looked up in trepidation when Knowlton entered the room. She was afraid to face him this morning, uncertain how she should react after her wanton behavior the night before. He would never believe her protestations now.

  She owned she had been more than a trifle surprised at her reactions to his lovemaking. Granted, Knowlton was a skilled practioner of the art, and it was to be expected that he would know all manner of tricks to get a lady to respond. But she had responded with all the pent-up yearnings of the last six years. And now she must face the ramifications of her recklessness.

  Knowlton was pleased to find Katherine at Robbie’s bedside when he entered the room. “Good morning, Mrs. May- field. Robbie.”

  Katherine did not turn her head. “Good morning, my lord.”

  Knowlton sat down next to Robbie on the bed. “Ready to do battle with grammar again this morning?”

  Robbie made a disgusted face.

  Knowlton laughed. “Cheer up. I promise I will come up to play you a game of chess later, before the doctor

  comes.”

  Robbie turned an apprehensive gaze toward Knowlton. “Will we . . . will we be able to play chess again after I go home?”

  “Certainly,” Knowlton reassured him. “That is, if your mama does not object.”

  Katherine shook her head, knowing future contact with the earl would only further her folly. “You have done more than enough for us, Lord Knowlton,” she protested weakly.

  “But not nearly as much as I wish,” he said in a low voice.

  Katherine turned away. It took only a look from him to set her pulses racing. Last night had been madness. How could she have allowed herself to do such a thing?

  Knowlton rose, pleased at her discomfort. It meant she was as affected by his presence as he was by hers. For a brief moment, seeing her averted gaze, he feared the morning would be full of recriminations. But Katherine Mayfield did not look like a woman filled with anger. On the contrary, she looked like a woman who very much needed to be kissed, again and again. He could not wait for the next opportunity.

  However, it was as if events conspired against him. Whenever he thought to draw Kate away and discuss his plans for her, some other matter always intervened. He seethed with frustration. Once the doctor gave permission for Robbie to go home, Kate would be gone before Knowlton had the opportunity to talk with her.

  When he finally freed himself from the latest minor crisis, he raced to Robbie’s room, only to discover Kate was elsewhere. He searched the drawing room and library before realizing she was probably in her favorite haunt—the garden. He quickly slipped outdoors. Relief flooded his face when he spotted her, and he hastened to her side.

  “I had hoped to find you here.”

  Katherine turned away slowly from her contemplation of the last brave roses scattering their color across the landscape. She could not keep the soft smile from her lips. “And why is that, my lord?”

  Taking her hand and placing it upon his arm, Knowlton led her along the graveled path. He prayed she would accept his offer. She would be a fool not to. Even he acknowledged that the terms he proposed were more than generous. He doubted there was another lady in the kingdom who had been offered as much. Yet he knew that the idea of becoming his mistress might be difficult for her to accept. She had been a properly married lady once, and throwing off the mantle of respectability, no matter how carefully he disguised their relationship to others, would give her some pause. He wished there had been more time to entice her with the pleasures of the flesh. Had they not been interrupted in such an untimely manner last night, he was certain the evening would have ended in his bed.

  But it had not, and now it was up to him to convince her that was where she belonged.

  Katherine walked nervously by his side, but did not draw away from him. They had but a few short hours more together. She wanted only to revel in his presence this one last time. She wanted to store away all the memories of him that she could, to warm herself with on those long, lonely winter nights.

  “My bed was such a cold and solitary place last night,” Knowlton said at last, a wistful smile creasing his face. “I kept thinking how much more pleasurable it would be with a lovely lady to keep me warm.”

  Kate closed her eyes for a brief moment. He was not going to let her forget last night, after all.

  Knowlton stopped abruptly and turned toward her. Cupping her face in his hands, he brushed her lips briefly with his, then kissed her with a searing intensity that brought back all the passion of the previous night. Katherine swayed against him, helpless to stem the sensations rising within her. To deny him now would take more strength than she would ever have.

  “I know what I want, Kate,” he said when he released her, his breathing erratic. “And last night proved beyond a doubt that I want you very badly.”

  He flashed her that wickedly seductive smile that sent a tingle of anticipation through her body. Her heart leapt at his w
ords. He wanted her. He cared for her.

  Knowlton took her hands in his, his gaze caressing her face. “I should like to take you under my protection. Know that I do not make the offer with any intention of causing you insult, Katherine, for I mean it as the highest compliment. I realize there are some . . . uh . . . different circumstances here than I usually deal with. I am quite willing to make arrangements for Robbie as well. For you, there will be a house in town, or a country cottage, if that is what you prefer. And I shall pay for Robbie’s schooling.”

  Kate heard the words, but they registered only feebly on her brain once she caught his meaning. Something inside her crumbled like a discarded piece of paper. He wanted her for his mistress. He was willing to pay her to come to his bed.

  Of course it had been foolish of her to ever think she could have more from him. She had manufactured that expectation out of her own longings. But like the reckless girl who had once raced off to Gretna Green, she had clung to her hopes that somehow she could reach into his inner self and touch him as no woman ever had before. Had she not been so close to tears, she would have laughed at her folly.

  “The idea does not offend you?” Knowlton asked with a tinge of apprehension.

  “Offend me?” she asked, her voice sounding as numb to her ears as she felt inside. “How could I possibly take offense? You have offered to feed me, clothe me, house me, and send my son to school. And you ask so very little in return.”

  “True,” he cheerfully admitted, oblivious of the sarcasm in her voice. “But I learned long ago that when one wishes the finest quality, one must be willing to pay for it.”