by Jenna Jaxon
“Is there nothing that would entice you to leave your Hell for my Heaven?”
She struggled to answer, opened her lips to deny it, only to find her mouth completely sealed by his.
Chapter 9
The feeling of his mouth on hers transfixed her. She could hear her heart racing, thudding painfully in her chest. Not with terror, but with something she feared even more: pleasure.
He was gentle, for all the swiftness of his attack. Just like before. Softly he pressed her lips, leisurely outlining her mouth with his tongue. The sensation sent shivers all over her, even as a flush of heat rose in her core. Her body molded to his, his hard muscles rippling against her as he shifted his weight and gathered her more tightly. He clasped her head in a grip that supported rather than restrained. Cradled described that feeling best. Yes, cradled in his arms.
That overwhelming sense of safety washed over her again, and she relaxed into the comfort of his embrace. Her body remembered the exquisite sensations of before and delighted in them. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed closer, opening her mouth, urging him to enter. He obliged wholeheartedly, sweeping in to claim his playground. Kat whimpered as a sweet urgency filled her. She wanted to remain this way forever.
Her senses returned only when he eased away, leaving her trembling with desire for him and enraged at herself for allowing such a thing to happen again. He looked at her, eager for a response. She obliged him, exploding her hand onto his scarred cheek, loud as a whip crack, with enough force to make her fingers burn and prickle.
The astonishment on his face almost made her laugh. He was so damned arrogant and self-assured. Well, she’d taken him down a notch. She shook her hand to coax some feeling back into the palm.
“Does that answer your question, Lord Dalbury? Apparently I prefer the Hell of my own choosing.” She walked away, needing to put distance between them. One glance at Dalbury persuaded her she could not deal with the marquess on rational terms at the moment. Her heart still beat erratically, her lips were tingling with phantom kisses.
“But I compromised you, Lady Katarina. If word of what happened ever became known, you would be shunned by everyone in the ton. Honor demands that I marry you.” Gravel crunched under his boots as he followed her.
She rounded on him. “No one knows you compromised me, my lord, and I intend to keep that secret safe. Tomorrow I sail back to Virginia. There is a man there, a captain in my father’s old regiment, who wants to marry me. I do not know if that will satisfy your honor, but it will have to do. Because I will not marry you.” No longer angry but simply tired to the bone, she asked, “Will you please return me to my brother? I would dance with him one last time before I sail.”
The marquess’s face fell into stern lines, but he nodded and they walked side-by-side, silent until he handed her to Jack. “Lord Manning, I am delighted to make your acquaintance and that of your beautiful sister. Lady Katarina has been a charming partner this evening. I had cherished hopes of a longer association with her, but she informed me of her proposed voyage to the colonies.” He kept glancing at her as he spoke. “I truly regret that our relationship will have no time to deepen.”
One last look from those soulful brown eyes sent a shiver coursing through her.
“Good evening, my lord, my lady.” A final bow and he was gone.
She followed his progress until he disappeared through the front entrance. Not even a backward glance. Why would he look back? She had given him no hope. Except for that kiss. Damn.
Remembrance of that kiss made her flush and avoid Jack’s puzzled look. Of all the men she might respond to, why did she react so wantonly with this man? Amiable’s kisses had been pleasant, but nothing like the tangle of wild emotions she experienced when the marquess touched her. If she wanted to be honest, she regretted they had not met at the masquerade ball under better circumstances. That she could never trust a single word the rogue said. And that her dislike of him was less sharp now than two hours ago. She steeled her heart. Her course was set and she sailed...today!
Willing away the specter of the Marquess of Dalbury, she smiled with affection at her brother. “If you want a last dance, Jack, you had best take me to the dance floor now. I sail for home in a matter of hours.”
As he led her into the line of contra dancers, Kat sighed and forced herself to see only him, not the image of her first partner of the evening. And was exasperated at how difficult the task proved to be.
* * * *
Duncan walked outside and ordered his carriage again, hovering between elation and deepest despair. So much of his relationship with Lady Katarina had rested on luck.
Tonight, for instance, only chance had returned him to the ballroom. He’d actually been headed down the street on the way home when one of his team had pulled up lame. Upon his return, he’d found Braeton talking to the Earl of Manning and Lady Katarina flirting with two young men he did not know. The sight surprisingly infuriated him, though he carefully hid that when she’d finally approached him.
He mounted his carriage and sank onto the upholstered seat, all the while seeing Lady Katarina as she had just appeared to him. Her seductive hair dressed elaborately on top of her head. A few riotous tendrils had escaped to tease his senses in the ballroom as they’d danced. Oh, to pull that hair down and run his fingers through its sensuous length. And her gown...
His first sight of her had taken his breath. The blue gown complimented her coloring perfectly, making her skin glow creamy white. The decolletage left just enough to the imagination to make a man long to discover the rest in earnest. Of course, he already knew what lay beneath, and the knowledge set his groin to aching. If only he had not enfolded that lovely body so closely. He sighed. Unfortunately, these thoughts were the closest he would ever come to her again.
She had made her distaste for him more than clear throughout their encounter tonight. Except for the kiss. He had thoroughly enjoyed that kiss. Her response was as sweet and satisfying as he’d remembered. Of course she’d slapped him afterward, as well she should. Such liberties must be repelled unless they were betrothed. He chuckled at the thought that their kiss could be considered a liberty after the other intimacies they’d shared.
Duncan sighed and entered his house. Their marriage would have solved so many problems: that of honor, of finding a wife, of providing an heir. She would have made a magnificent marchioness, a wife to be proud of. But she was not for him.
He signaled a footman to lock up, and started up the polished marble staircase, determined as ever to become a husband and a father. Perhaps the scandal had died sufficiently to allow that to happen now. Lady Braeton seemed eager for him to meet her cousin, Miss Forsythe. There could be only one reason for such an introduction. Aunt Phoebe would be thrilled. Duncan repressed a shudder. Beggars could not be choosers, but he’d watched the young woman earlier this evening and found her unappealing, despite her admittedly gorgeous auburn hair. He suspected he found her lacking, however, because he compared her to his memory of Lady Katarina.
He entered his suite of rooms, hoping to relax after this most trying evening. The tastefully opulent blue and gold decor always seemed inviting to him, but in his somber mood tonight he took no comfort from the familiar surroundings, only a sense of dismal failure. He must put the lady out of his mind. The hunt for her was ended. He had proposed and been refused. Honor had been satisfied and he must continue his search for a wife. As Aunt Phoebe constantly reminded him, there was no time to lose.
His father’s death at fifty-one had shocked the entire family. He’d choked to death at the dinner table while they’d looked on, horrified, powerless to help him. In the ensuing five years Duncan had sown wild oats aplenty, all the while with an eye out for a likely woman to be his wife. No one in the ton had come close to taking his fancy–until Lady Katarina.
He moved to the sideboard and began pouring brandy from the decanter into a glass. Why the hell could he not have met her somewhere else,
anywhere other than at Amorina’s? And how the devil had she gotten betrothed to this officer in the colonies so quickly? She’d said nothing about such an arrangement the night they met. Would she not have mentioned possible retaliation by a fiance?
He stilled at the thought. The brandy slopped over the lip of the glass, onto his hand. Startled, he put both decanter and glass on the sideboard and stared into the pungent amber swirls of liquor.
Was Lady Katarina really betrothed? Or had it been a ruse to get rid of him? Was she even truly sailing for Virginia? She certainly disliked him enough to lie. And what would her brother have to say to his offer? Certainly his sister’s marriage to a marquess would be more desirable than one to an army officer, a mere captain. There would be so many more advantages for her, both socially and financially. For the new earl as well, he could see to that. Perhaps a call on Manning was warranted later this morning.
Eyes closed, he conjured up Lady Katarina as she’d looked in the ballroom, in the garden. His heart thumped faster. That kiss...the feel of her pressed against him, his hands buried in her hair...not wanting to let her go.
He still wanted her, even more than when he’d first seen her on the auction block. But now he wanted her for all time. Her feisty spirit called to him, challenged him as no other woman had ever done. She was his match, his mate. By God, he would move heaven and earth to possess her. As for her mistrust of him, he would find a way to overcome that. Whether she liked it or not.
Chapter 10
Next morning, Margery appeared as Kat finished her packing to tell her Jack wanted her in the receiving room. She’d breakfasted with him earlier, and couldn’t imagine what he wanted with her now. Except for another last minute appeal to stay in England. She closed the final trunk and gave the key a firm twist in the lock, mentally preparing herself for the ordeal to come.
“Will you fetch the footman, Margery, and have him load these trunks to take to the dock? And yes, tell my brother I will be there directly.”
With a curtsey, Margery retreated and Kat went to the mirror to check her appearance. They might not see one another for years after today. She wanted Jack to remember her looking her best. She smoothed the folds of her stylish apple-green gown and tucked a tendril of hair that had managed to escape up under her pinner cap then raised her chin and smiled; she would do.
This time tomorrow she would be on her way home. A carefree sense of adventure assailing her, she almost ran down the carpeted steps. She kept at bay thoughts of the actual journey, for sailing tried the limits of her body’s endurance.
Home. Virginia. The delicate pink and white of the dogwoods, the fragrant apple blossoms, and the glossy magnolias that lined the driveway. They would all be in bloom now. Would they last until she arrived? She could almost smell the honeysuckle vine that grew along the road to town. The only thing to mar her homecoming would be Jack’s absence. But Amiable would be there, and life could begin again for her.
A qualm assailed her as an image of the marquess surfaced. Last night, in the garden. The tender regard on his face after he kissed her. That kiss... Kat shook herself, forcing herself back to the present. Amiable. Virginia. That was where she belonged.
She steeled herself for Jack’s mournful gaze, then pushed the door open and entered, gaily laughing. “I suppose you had to beg me one more time, Jack? If you think an eleventh hour plea will move me to stay here with–”
Her brother rose from the sofa, as did another gentleman seated across from him. The momentum of her entrance landed her directly in front of the Marquess of Dalbury, who bowed elegantly.
“What the devil are you doing here?” Her outraged tone caused Jack to wince, but she paid her brother no mind. “I thought I made myself clear last night, my lord. Are you perhaps hard of hearing?”
“Katarina, behave yourself,” Jack snapped, glaring at her. “The marquess is our guest and I will have no disrespect from you this morning. Please be seated.”
Was he now championing the detestable marquess? Wary, she sank into the companion chair that faced Dalbury. Irked that the pit of her stomach trembled the moment she saw her brother’s visitor, she fought to get her emotions in hand. She must keep her wits about her, for this meeting now boded ill.
“What is this all about, Jack?” Determined to pay no attention to the man opposite her, she stared at her brother. She would not give Dalbury the opportunity to distract her again.
“I called you because I wanted to hear from your own mouth if what the marquess has told me is true?” Jack’s forbidding expression, contorted with lowered brows and thin lips, struck a blow of fear deep in her heart. He knew about that night. The damnable marquess had told him what transpired between them in March. She leapt to her feet, bringing both men to theirs.
“It’s a damned lie!”
“Katarina! Your language.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Jack. I’ve been swearing as bad as you for more years than I can count. You want to make a fuss about it because he’s in the room?” She flicked a finger toward the marquess, pointing at his chest as though she aimed a pistol. “Besides, it is a lie.”
Jack stared her down. “Katarina, be careful what you call a lie.”
“And just what do you know about it?”
“I saw you.”
“What!” Her mouth dropped open, heat racing through her body. “You did not!”
“I most certainly did.”
“You couldn’t have been there, Jack. You were here, unconscious when he tried to force me–”
Dalbury’s hand on her wrist brought her up short.
“What are you talking about?” Jack asked, his words terse. His face was ashen. “I saw you and the marquess kissing in the garden last night. I said nothing then because I hoped you might consider him reason enough to stay here in London. Now Dalbury tells me he offered you marriage and you turned him down. That is why he is here, to offer for you again.” Jack switched his attention from the marquess to fix her with a frigid blue gaze. “Do you mean to say he accosted you that night in March?”
Stricken, she could only stare at her brother. At last she answered, “Yes, Jack,” very low. Her lips trembled and she cursed that weakness inwardly. She swung around on Dalbury, tensed and seething. “Is this why you came here? To tell him what happened? To try to trap me into a marriage I do not want? Well you are mistaken, my lord. I don’t care who knows what you did. I will not marry you no matter what. What say you to that?”
Dalbury stared down at her and said simply, “I love you.”
She shivered at his words. Her hand flew to her mouth and a gasp escaped at his wicked lie. She lashed out. A handprint appeared on his face. Then she turned and fled the room before he could say anything else.
“Kat! Kat, come back here.”
She could hear Jack calling her, but paid him no heed. Lifting her skirts, she raced up the stairs and into her room, slammed the door and locked it. With her back pressed against the wood, she sobbed aloud, kicking the oak panel with her heel in frustration as her life spiraled out of control. This was the nightmare she’d feared for the past three weeks.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. “Kat. Let me in, please.”
“Go away, Jack.”
“We have to talk. And I don’t want to have to shout through this door.”
“I have nothing to say to you or to him. Ever.”
“Katarina. Listen to me.” Her brother forced his voice into a calm, soothing tone. Much good it would do him. “You have to tell me what happened. I know what you told me before, but... Damn it, what you said just now, what you almost said. He was in that room with you, wasn’t he?”
The back of her head thudded against the door as she stared at the ceiling and huffed out a sigh, attempting to temper her anger. “I am not discussing this with you, Jack. I am leaving for Virginia as planned. Whatever he told you, whatever you think happened, I do not care. I am going home, do you hear? I cannot marry that man!”
“Jack,” she sobbed again, laying her hand flat against the door. A poor substitute for the comfort of his shoulder. “Jack, please.”
“He’s trying to do the right thing, Kat. You should be grateful.” His tone held more than a little reproach.
“Grateful!” She twisted the key and flung the door open.
Jack jumped back with a startled, frightened look.
“Grateful to the wretch who ruined me? If he had believed me, or helped me, or been a true gentleman that night, then perhaps I would feel differently.” She scowled until her face ached with the strain. She stalked toward Jack, who retreated to the opposite side of the corridor. “But all he wanted was to slake his lust with me. And you want to help tie me to him for life in my own best interest? Then God save me from you, too!” She turned on her heel and stormed into her room, slamming the door in his face.
His footsteps retreated. She threw herself down in the chair, head in her hands. Jack would undoubtedly side with Dalbury. For honor. Well, honor be damned. Where was their honor on that cold night in March? Memories she tried to deny, tried to forget, assailed her now. Her body pressed against the marquess, his mouth on hers, her tongue in...
She had to get away. If she could get on board the Constanza and barricade herself in the cabin, the ship would sail regardless of what either her brother or the marquess did. But she must go now. Before they thought to restrain her. She hoped Peter had already taken her trunks to the dock, but if not she must go as she was.
She rose, fashioning a plan as she donned cloak and hat. Money. Her reticule held a goodly sum she was taking with her. That was providential, for she assumed Jack would now send no more to her.