by Gill, Tamara
“Me?” she finished for him, hurt crossing her features before she masked the emotion.
The single word brought him up quick. “No, not you, not anyone. Not yet at least, or at all.” Hamish ran a hand through his hair, his mind conjuring up all thoughts of images of what Miss Martin would look like naked on his bed, beguiling and begging for more. Her long legs, and slim waist, her dark, chocolate rich hair, laying softly against her perfect creamy shoulders.
Bloody hell…
“I will make no demands on you other than one night in your bed. Forgive me but I must speak plainly. I have a substantial dowry, more than most in my circle, but I’m passable pretty and marriage does not look forthcoming to me. I have tried to gain the attention of gentleman when they’d bothered to court me, but it has always failed and come to nothing. I will make no demands on you. My future, even if an unmarried maid, will be a future of comfort where I would not have to work if I do not wish. I merely want to experience the marriage bed and nothing more. You said you were in my debt. This would clear that debt. It is what I wish.”
He came and sat beside her again, hating the fact that she damn well smelt as alluring as her words. “What if you become pregnant? What then, Miss Martin?” That would be the worst of disasters. The memory of his sister haemorrhaging, writhing in pain shot through his mind.
He looked at her, her large brown eyes wide in hope and vulnerability.
“I’m not so green that I do not know there are means, things women and men can do to stop such things. Why,” she said, gesturing, “there are many mistresses in this city that are not mothers, so I know some methods are successful.”
Hamish wasn’t sure if he wished to strangle the woman for offering herself to him like a sacrificial lamb or damn well kiss her senseless, right here and now. His attention snapped to her lips. Damn she had a delectable mouth, lips that begged kissing, and plenty of it. How had she not been married by the gentlemen in her social set. Were they dunderheads!
“There are ways, but nothing that a well-bred young woman such as yourself should know about or even mention.” And even with such ways, women still ended up pregnant. His sister for one who was very similar in frame to Katherine had been warned not to have children. The doctor termed her body as unsuitable to enable birth, something about her narrow hips, and Miss Martin’s were very similar. Should she become pregnant, the thought of her dying due to his irresponsibleness was enough to turn his stomach.
She laughed, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. “I’m as old as you, Lord Leighton, not a green country miss. Have you forgotten I work at the London Relief Society with Cecilia? There is not much I have not seen or been told in some way or another. We are both adults. I’m proposing to you what I want and offering solutions to problems you’re throwing at me. The way I see it is we’re having a reasonable and grown up conversation. Something more women should do with the men in their lives if you must know.”
No, he didn’t know, and nor did he wish to be having this conversation at all. He would not sleep with a virgin simply because she did not wish to die an old maid. Why, even tomorrow a young man could bow before her at an event where they could fall madly in love, and then where would she be. Ruined.
“I will not do it. I’m sorry.” He stood. “Please, since we’re to work with each other on the rebuild of my home do not bring up this suggestion again. I shall repay you in any way I can, in any other way I can, but I will not take you to my bed.” He would not risk her life or her honour.
Hamish swallowed when she stood, a tall woman he could almost look her straight in the eye. “Is there any way I can change your mind, my lord?”
He swallowed, fisting his hands at his side less he wrench her into his arms and kiss the hell out of her. Scare her away. Damn it all to hell. He wasn’t a debaucher of virgins. And what the hell was a woman doing tempting him so? Even now, the deepening allure of her voice, her slight but determined lean toward him as she waited for a reply told him all he needed to know as to what game she played. She was playing him, but she would not win. This would not do.
“There is not. Goodnight.” Hamish strode back toward the terrace steps and sought the safety of the ballroom, anything but the enticement that remained in the garden. He knew what it was to feel sorry for Adam now, but he would not bite the forbidden fruit. Not even for one night.
Chapter 5
Two days later, Katherine stood before Lord Leighton’s home on Berkley Square and watched as the heavy beams were loaded off the cart and laid along the footpath. The roof was scheduled to go on this week, and by her calculations the home would be water tight within three weeks. All was progressing well, and she made a note in her diary to check that the slates for the roof were on schedule for delivery.
“Miss Martin, how are you this afternoon?”
The familiar voice caused a shiver to run down her spine and gathering herself, she turned and smiled in welcome to Lord Leighton. “I’m very well, my lord. It is fortunate that you have arrived today. As you can see,” she said, gesturing to the piles of beams, “your roof has just arrived and looks very well indeed if I must say so myself.”
Another carriage arrived on the street and the Earl mumbled something under his breath before going to open the door to the carriage himself when it came to a stop before the home.
A woman in a black gown, heavy set with lace stepped from the carriage. She was an older woman, and across the eyes was similar to his lordship. Katherine checked her gown and hoped she’d not wiped any dust across her cheek when she’d been inside looking over the construction.
Lord Leighton kissed the woman’s cheek and brought her toward Katherine. “Miss Martin, may I present my mother, the dowager countess of Leighton. Mother, this is Miss Martin. Her father owns the company that is rebuilding my townhouse.”
The lady’s severe frown needed no explanation of exactly what she thought of Katherine and her presence on a worksite that was normally reserved for men.
“Miss Martin, singular that your father isn’t present. Are you here, unchaperoned?” The slight Scottish burr went some way in explaining Lord Leighton’s non-English name.
Katherine bobbed a small curtsy, holding her diary and clipboard before her breast. A means of protection perhaps, quite possibly. Lord Leighton was so very easy going, a free and happy type of man, where as his mother seemed quite severe and cross.
“My father is inside the home, your ladyship. Overseeing the builders. We shall be on site more often over the next few weeks as we finish up this construction and make it ready for the internal decorators to begin.”
“You’re a woman.”
Katherine raised her chin, having been subject to such conversations before, but for some reason the dowager Leighton made her being here seem more wrong that she’d ever experienced. Knowing that the woman before her was Lord Leighton’s mother, did she want to impress her? Did it matter what her ladyship thought and what her opinions would make Lord Leighton think? Never before had Katherine ever responded to a man as she did with Lord Leighton. Never before had she wanted to feel the glide of lips as much as she wished to feel his against hers.
Even so, she would not feel shame and embarrassment over her position in life. Her employment was the one source in her day where she was proud of what she achieved, for she achieved it very well.
“I am, your ladyship, but lucky for you and your son, I’m an intelligent one, just as my father is, and I can assure you once the rebuilding of your home is complete, you’ll be well pleased, just as all our other clients are.”
She sniffed at Katherine and looked up at the townhouse. “Oh, I so loathe having tradesmen trample through our beautiful home. I hope you have all the valuables removed, one cannot trust the men not to steal whatever is not nailed down. They are poor after all, Hamish.”
Katherine bit her tongue less she cost her father a very profitable, and very connected customer. “I can vouch for our employees and
state with full confidence that nothing will be damaged or stolen.”
“You cannot know that for sure, why look at them,” her ladyship said, her lip turning up in disdain as she watched the men unload the cart of beams. “Dirty, filthy commoners.”
His lordship balked at his parent’s words. “Mother, that is rude and unkind. Apologize to Miss Martin. These men are under her employment and guarantee. You cannot make such claims of them.”
“I shall do whatever I wish.” Her ladyship turned back toward the carriage, waiting at the door for her son to help her up the steps. “Do not forget that you’re to accompany me and Lizzie to Everys’ ball. We’ll expect you at eight.”
Katherine moved over closer to the cart, not wanting to be anywhere near Lord Leighton’s mother. Never in her life had she ever met a woman with such ill manners. The carriage moved away, and the clip of his lordship’s steps sounded before he came to stand beside her.
“I do apologize, Miss Martin. My mother is…well, she’s stuck in her ways and there’s no shifting her ideas I’m afraid.”
The last of the beams was unloaded and Katherine thanked the men delivering the goods, asking them to send around their invoice as soon as they could. She turned back to Lord Leighton who stood beside her, staring at the building. “I’m here to do a job, and we shall complete the job well, on budget and in time. And I can promise you, my lord, nothing will be stolen or damaged as we do so.”
“Even so, I am sorry she insinuated otherwise.”
With the beams now unloaded at the building site, Katherine’s day at his lordship’s home was complete. Her father would take care of anything else that needed attending. Calling out her goodbye to her foreman Mr. Perry, she made her way over to her gig leaving Lord Leighton staring at his townhouse. He hurried over to her, frowning.
“You’re driving yourself back to your office in London traffic?”
Katherine settled her skirts, picked up her reins and unhooked the brake. “I often drive myself about town, my lord. We have other building works happening around the city, and I cannot rely on people driving me about like some queen who cannot handle a horse.”
“And you’re going to another work site now, Miss Martin?”
She nodded, amused he was a little shocked by her ability. “I am. Not all of us have the luxury of lazing about all day at our clubs, or our friends’ home. Some of us must work for a living, so we may pay for lords who turn up at Inns in the country and require their bills to be paid.”
“Touché, I shall allow that remark, but if you think I’m going to change my mind about what you asked of me the other night you’re mistaken. I shall not change my mind, no matter how fetching you look in your drab, grey working gown.”
His lordship started at his own words. Had he not meant to say such a thing? She studied him, wondering for the first time if he actually meant what he said regarding their one night of sin. “However,” he continued, “I will offer a large donation in lieu of your request to the London Relief Society as recompense.”
Katherine ignored the pang of hurt his words brought forth. Not that she would begrudge money to the orphanages and schools, but here was another gentleman who would offer anything other than be with her. It wasn’t like she was asking for much, simply one night. She would settle for a kiss at this stage in her life, and she couldn’t even gain that. She steeled her back and refused to feel sorry for herself. At least she tried to find out what married life would be like, which was better than not trying at all. “The donation would be welcome, thank you. You wish to have a working relationship and I’m quite resolved to accept your decision. But remember this Lord Leighton,” she said, flicking the reins and walking on, “it does not mean I cannot ask someone else.”
* * *
Hamish sat up in bed, his body soaked in sweat and the bedding damp to touch. His heart beating a million times too fast in his chest. He leaned over toward the bedside cabinet and picked up the glass of water he had there, downing it quickly. After accompanying his mother and Lizzie to the Everys’ ball this evening, he’d decided to stay at his mother’s townhouse instead of the marquess of Aaron’s. If only to give his friends a little time away from him. He would hate to become a nuisance while he enjoyed their hospitality.
He ran a hand through his hair, his body hard, his mind awash with images of Miss Martin. Images that he knew he should not be thinking since he’d determined never to sleep with the woman, not even after her parting comment that she’d simply find someone else to do it for her. Even though the very idea of another man kissing her, touching her…. he couldn’t even think it. Bloody hell!
He threw off the bedsheets and walked to the window, throwing up the sash and breathing in deep the cool night air. His door opened, and a slither of light flooded the room.
“Are you well, Lord Leighton? I heard the commotion in your room.”
Hamish inwardly groaned. His distant cousin, Miss Lizzie Doherty was in town for the season and being fully sponsored by his parent. Worse was the fact the young girl had taken it into her head that he would make her the perfect husband.
“I’m quite well, thank you Lizzie. Please shut the door on your way out. You should not be in here.”
She threw him a tentative smile, and he frowned, loathing the idea that he could be caught in the middle of the night, alone in a room with an unmarried miss. His mother would demand he marry her, and that would be disastrous for both of them. He would not be pressured into marriage, not by his mother and her desires to see him settled with someone she approved of. Marriage on such terms would only lead to heartache and resentment and would ultimately end in disaster.
“Very well. Good night, my lord.”
He nodded. “Goodnight.” He sighed in relief when the door closed behind her. Whatever next! Hamish made a mental note not to stay at his mother’s townhouse again, not unless Miss Doherty was back safely stowed in the country and her home or married off to a man who was at least interested in the chit.
Wanting to make sure he wasn’t checked on again, Hamish locked the door and went back to bed. The dream he’d had regarding Miss Martin was an anomaly , he was sure of it. It was simply her words from the other day playing tricks in his mind. She wouldn’t sleep with another man simply to throw her maidenhead out the window.
The thought of her making love with another gentleman; perhaps even enjoying the act and wishing to do it again left a pit in his gut. He wouldn’t’ allow it. Perhaps he should talk to her friends the duchess and marchioness to stop it. Surely, they would not condone such an absurd idea.
* * *
Three nights later Hamish stood in the Duncannon’s ballroom and groaned. Damn it, the vexing Miss Martin would turn his hair grey before the season was over. She was dancing with Lord Thomas, a gentleman with a title, but little else. His pockets were well known to be for let. And the coy, fluttering eyelashes that Miss Martin kept flashing at the gentleman told Hamish exactly what he needed to know. She’d picked another man to deal with her introduction to sensual delights and was trying, right at this moment to seduce him.
He wouldn’t have it, nor would he be lured in by her charm. But he would warn her of the licentious reputation of the man she danced with, hopefully sparking some sense into her.
His mother waved to him from a little way up the room, Lizzie beside her smiling in hope that he’d greet them. Unable to escape, he headed their way. “Good evening, mother, Lizzie. I did not think you were attending Duncannon’s ball this evening. I thought you were for Sir Colton’s musical loo.”
The dowager gestured to the guests milling about them. “We’re here because I wanted to see you before we quit this ball and headed over to Sir Colton’s. You know Lady Colton is one of my closet friends, and she’s just returned from her country estate and I so dearly wish to catch up.”
“Well then,” Hamish said, not wanting to postpone their departure. “Would you like me to walk you to your carriage?”
/> “Oh, no, we do not need assistance, Hamish, but I come with news. Your late sister’s husband, Lord Russell is returning from Bath. He’ll be in town for the season if you wished to see little Oscar at all.”
Hamish smiled. This was good news. He always enjoyed Lord Russell’s company, and adored Oscar. “I look forward to seeing them. It has been several months since we last spoke.”
“I thought you would be pleased. He’s staying with me at my townhouse, since he has no fixed address in London at present. You may call on him there after Friday next.”
Hamish took his mother’s hand and placed it on his arm. “Allow me to walk you to the carriage. You’ll miss your friend if you do not leave soon.”
“Oh, you’re right. We must go,” his mother said, allowing him to maneuverer her toward the entrance of the home.
After seeing his parent off, and Lizzie, though she begged to remain with him, Hamish strolled back into the ballroom and headed for the first footman he could see who held a tray of champagne. Taking a glass, he mingled with guests about him, promised a dance to Miss Grey, a young woman he’d often admired. The ball was a crush and standing back from the dancefloor he watched Miss Martin from afar. She was talking with Cecilia, gesturing with her hands and both of them laughing.
Miss Martin looked up and their gazes locked across the ballroom floor. A peculiar sensation thrummed through him and he took another sip of his champagne. Tonight, she was dressed in a silver muslin gown with a deep blue trim that accentuated her figure. She looked simply stunning. He didn’t want to feel desire for the woman, that would never do. He did not toy with virgins, no matter how old or on the shelf they were, neither interaction was fair.