by Gill, Tamara
But nor did he want to miss out on sampling her sweet lips. He could imagine being the first and only man to know her intimately. To give her what she wanted. How she tempted him, more so than any other woman he’d ever known. The woman was fairly bewitching him.
Something Cecilia said caught her attention and Miss Martin looked away.
“I heard the most peculiar thing from Darcy yesterday,” the duke said, coming to stand beside him but not venturing to say any more.
Hamish fought not to roll his eyes at the duke’s vague disclosure, but when nothing further was stated, Hamish had to ask. “Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess.”
The duke chuckled and as Miss Martin was pulled out on the dancefloor for another turn about the room he ground his teeth. How much dancing could a woman do in a night. Surely, she must be getting fatigued.
He was surprised she’d not sought him out to renew her scandalous idea. The fact that she had not left a sour taste in his mouth. He adjusted his cravat, keeping his attention on anything but the woman clouding his thoughts.
Damn it all to hell.
“Very well, I shall tell you since your name was mentioned, I thought you better have your wits about you when it came to Miss Martin,” the duke drawled, censure in his tone.
Hamish groaned. They knew…
“I already know, your grace. Miss Martin asked me for the favour after all. I have refused her of course,” he added quickly when the duke’s gaze turned thunderous.
His grace sighed in relief. “I am glad to hear it, although I was shocked that Miss Martin would even venture such a notion. Not that I have any say in her future or what she does, but I would not like to see her ruined since she is a particular friend to my wife.”
“Are you warning me not to change my mind?” The veiled hint was not hard to miss, but the duke needn’t worry, Hamish had no intention of seducing the delectable Miss Martin.
Not at all, he promised himself.
The very woman if by design crossed in front of them while dancing a reel with Sir Fraser. Her mischievous gaze met his and he scowled. Never had he ever met such a vexing woman in all his days. Was she laughing at him now? Did she suspect what they were talking about.
“By Society’s standard there is no doubt Miss Martin is on the shelf, a matron in the making, even though I find her very pretty. She is from a social sphere so much beneath our own. Even so, I think it would be a mistake to trifle with her, even if she wishes. We’re all friends and there will be situations in the future when we’re thrown together. I do not want there to be any awkwardness or ill feelings.”
“Or the fact that she could get with a child.” Hamish shuddered at the thought.
The duke nodded once. “There is that as well.”
Miss Martin continued to weave and dance before them, her silver gown, making her look ethereal and showcasing her long legs when the forgiving material flowed about her. Hamish swallowed. He needed to get himself together. “I promise you,” he said, unable to tear his gaze away from her. “It will not be me who ruins her.”
Darcy came up to them and dragged the duke out on to the dancefloor, and Hamish made his way over to Cecilia and Hunter. His reprieve was short lived when Miss Martin was brought back to her friends by her dance partner. The gentleman didn’t stay long, going off and dancing again with another woman minutes later.
None of which seemed to annoy Miss Martin in the slightest, her cheeks flushed with exertion only threw images into Hamish’s head he didn’t need there. Of them, together, of kissing her senseless and bringing forth such a shade of pink across her cheeks and other delectable parts of her body.
There was something seriously wrong with him, and if he didn’t get hold of himself soon, he’d whack himself about the ears.
* * *
Katherine sipped her ratafia and fought not to giggle, maybe there was a positive to dressing more fashionably. This ball had been quite a triumph with the amount of dance requests she’d had, and for the first time in a long time, she was enjoying herself immensely.
Poor Lord Leighton though, he did look very conflicted, and it was all her doing. And yet, she couldn’t find the desire within her to stop her teasing. For the first time in her life , a wealthy, powerful lord was regarding her, his gaze all but burning admiration threatened to light her up in flames. She could get used to such inspections. A heady feeling indeed.
She had no hopes that he would take her up on her quest to lose her virginity, and nor would she look to anyone else, no matter what she told the silly man, but he did owe her, and this is what she wanted. So, if he only said the word yes, she’d meet him anywhere and at any time to spend just one night in his arms.
The thought of him above her, doing whatever it was that gentleman did above their ladies left her flustered and a peculiar flutter deep in her belly.
If she were honest with herself, she was desperate for him to kiss her. To ruin her, as scandalous as that was. Explore and take part in all the things that would normally be denied her and be damned what Society said or her friends for that matter. She would do as she wished, and deal with any consequences later if there were any.
The Marchioness and Marquess stepped out onto the ballroom floor to dance a waltz and Hamish turned to her. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” she asked, gazing at him from under her lashes, a little trick she’d seen the duchess do to the duke when she wanted to get away with something.
He leaned toward her to ensure privacy. “I will not sleep with you.”
She sighed, having expected as much. “Are you sure? You do owe me, my lord, and you promised me anything that I wished. I think it very unfair you will not give me what I want.” Katherine stepped closer still. “I’ve heard it can be quite pleasurable, my lord. Would you deny a spinster her only chance of experiencing a man in such a way?” she whispered against his ear.
She was being overly bold, but she was sick of missing out while others did not. She was forthright, opinionated and sometimes loud in her employment, and it seemed if she used similar traits in trying to gain the attentions of the opposite sex it also worked to her advantage. It certainly had this night at least.
He stilled.
“Do not play with fire, Miss Martin.”
His words were low and thrummed with warning. “I hired your father’s company, surely that is payment enough after your assistance at Two Toad’s Inn.”
She raised her brow, having not expected him to seek out that excuse. “You hired my father’s company to rebuild your home because he’s the best. My wishes for us are unchanged, but I will seek another if you refuse to honor your debt.”
A muscle worked in his jaw and he pulled at his cravat. “The duke has warned me away from you, so you see, even if I wished to have you, I cannot.”
Did he wish to have her? How delicious if he did. “The duke has nothing to do with it.” Katherine cursed that Darcy had been able to swindle out of her what she desired of Lord Leighton. How the woman had accomplished such a feat, Katherine was still trying to figure out. That the duke knew of her idea was part mortifying and vexing. Did these married couples have to share everything between them?
“I will honor my debt to you, Miss Martin in any other way than this. I have already sent a donation to your charity and I will enclose the four pounds you paid for me when I settle your building fee. Please, anything but what you ask.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his words torn and with a pleading edge to them. Her insecurities threatened. Was she so horrid, so tall and thin that he was worried she would not inspire him enough when they were alone for him to lay with her? Of course, she was, and she was a fool to hope otherwise.
Katherine swallowed the lump that formed in her throat at the mortifying thought. She would put a stop to the duchess and marchioness giving her beautiful gowns to wear, having their maids do up her hair in fashionable, intricate styles. The false bravado the
y were giving her was giving her airs that she did not need, nor what others saw. She was at her core, still the plain, lanky woman from trade who was only here due to who she knew, not because of what she was.
Shame washed through her and she blinked, horrified that tears threatened to spill over her cheeks. “Lord Leighton your words have made me realize what a terrible and shameful thing I’ve been asking you. Please forgive me and know that I shall not ask again, nor will I state your debt as unpaid. I never sought repayment in any case, it is not in my nature to do so. I think these past months have made me see what I shall never have, and I saw an opportunity to gain it and in doing so I’ve embarrassed both you and myself. I’m so very sorry.”
Katherine managed a quick curtsy before she walked from the room, needing to get away from everyone less they see her upset. She would return home and send a missive apologizing to her friends for leaving early. Better that than to make a spectacle of herself in public.
* * *
The following morning Katherine walked out of the breakfast room, having come down early after a restless night. It suited her plans in any case as she had to oversee more of the roof construction at Lord Leighton’s townhouse.
“You’re not wearing those, I hope,” Jane said, all but floating down the staircase in a light blue muslin gown, her blonde hair perfect and coiled to perfection. The vision of her cousin only amplified her own shortcomings and she snatched up her riding gloves from the small table beside the front door. Gentleman wanted women who were beautiful and full figured, they did not care for wit or intelligence, such as she possessed.
“As you see. I often wear breeches and father is aware of the fact.” Katherine placed the grey felt cap on her head which all but covered her hair, and glancing in the looking mirror, she would easily pass as a man. Certainly, her figure was not the most feminine and not desired at all by Lord Leighton. He’d certainly made that plain enough last night, and she had been dressed as well as any woman there.
“I suppose with your long legs and body that doesn’t have one ounce of womanly curves, you’ll pass as a gentleman easily enough.”
Katherine stopped at the front door, debating whether she’ll let her vexing relative get away with such an insult or simply ignore it. She chose to ignore it, and pulling the door open, strolled from her home.
The day was young, the air fresh and crisp and hailing a hackney cab, she headed over to Mayfair. Their workers would have arrived by now, and just as she presumed, upon arrival she was happy to see the men busy up on the roof.
“Can I help you?” A man asked when she walked through the front doors and into the entrance hall of the home.
Katherine stifled a scream, having not seen the gentleman standing by the library doors.
“Lord Leighton, you frightened me. I did not see you standing there,” she said, coming over to him.
His eyes widened, his attention snapping to her legs. “You’re in breeches.”
It wasn’t a question and Katherine raised her brow. “As you see. I often wear breeches in such a way for this employment, it enables me to move about more freely and help the men here when required. It also saves my gowns from being unnecessarily ruined.”
His lordship swallowed, but didn’t reply straight away, just continued to stare. “You cannot,” he said, regaining his voice at last, “go upstairs, with a group of men in those breeches.”
Katherine turned on her heel and headed for the staircase. “Oh, don’t worry, my lord. The men are quite used to seeing me dressed like this. As for you, I do apologize for startling you so, but I assure you, once I have completed my inspection here I shall leave you to yourself, where there will be no chance of me embarrassing you.”
* * *
Hamish took a calming breath as he watched Miss Martin climb the stairs, the men’s breeches showcasing every long, sculptured line of her legs, her small buttocks that were only minimally covered by her bottle green jacket.
He’d never seen a woman dressed in such attire, and as ridiculous as it would seem, he damn well liked it. More women should wear such clothing if they looked as well in it as Miss Martin.
He followed her up the stairs, unable to tear his gaze away from her ass. She never turned to look back at him or engage him in further conversation. He stewed, worried that their conversation last night had insulted her in some way.
Who was he deluding, of course she’d been hurt. He hadn’t missed her tears after his denial of her. But what Miss Martin didn’t know was his denial of her was not because he did not want to have her, run his hand along every line of her body, find out if she was as smooth and sweet as he imagined, but because his want of her went against his better judgement. He may be one of the rogues of London, but even he had rules.
They had a working relationship and that is where it would end. Should they sleep together and she fell pregnant, he would be honor bound to marry her, a situation that he did not look for in his future. And then for Miss Martin to thicken with child, the idea made him break out in a cold sweat and his heart trembled.
His sister May’s atrocious labour with her son was something he never wanted to see again. May, like Miss Martin was delicate and small boned. Neither of them even looked suitable to having children. The doctor who’d looked after his sister had even stated that women who were small across the hips, delicate boned and thin were not suited to go through the trauma of birthing a child.
Miss Martin might go on to marry and have children, take such a risk, but it would not be by him.
They made the first floor landing and headed toward the ballroom which was a hive of activity. Hamish could see the foreman in conversation with two of his workers, all of them looking up at the beams going up in the new roof.
The room, with the structure coming together was starting to take shape into what it had once been, except for the newly designed balcony that opened to allow guests to congregate outdoors, even if up on the first floor of the home.
“Do you like the design, my lord?” Miss Martin asked, coming to stand beside him out on the balcony that looked over his large, manicured back garden.
The air smelt of oak and some of the workers had set up saws on the newly constructed balcony and used it to cut wood to suit their needs. Hamish walked out to where the balustrade was taking shape. A stonemason had been brought in to create one that matched the terrace below, and large stone pillars were already beneath them taking some of the weight the new structure placed on the home.
“I trust it’ll not collapse,” he said half joking. It was a very long way down after all.
“Most certainly it will not. We’ve built support beams into the home itself that run beneath the ballroom floor. As you know, most of it was damaged, and has been replaced. Before we did that, and because you stipulated you wished to have a balcony terrace, we laid the support beams. Of course, the balcony is also supported from beneath, but once the stone pillars are in, this balcony is not going anywhere.”
“Is it safe for us now?” he asked, not quite convinced of her words yet.
“Yes, for the few of us who’re on it. Obviously, you’re not holding a ball where as many as twenty people could be standing out here at any one time. Until the pillars are finished I wouldn’t suggest such a thing, but just us and the couple of workers at a time is perfectly safe.”
Hamish nodded and glanced back through the terrace doors, those too were new and still in their natural form, not painted or with any handles. “You’ve done a marvellous job so far. Give my thanks to your father.”
She smiled, and pride filled her face, making her look even prettier than he thought possible. And he’d turned her down. Refused her one wish...
“Thank you, Lord Leighton. Father will be pleased to hear you say so.”
“I’m not blind to your own input and hard work on my home, and I do thank you too. I will recommend your company to anybody I know who’s looking for a master craftsman.”
Sh
e started to walk off and he followed.
“We’re only doing our job, and soon enough we’ll be out of your way and your life can return to normal.”
Normal…boring. He enjoyed having her here, talking about things other than gossip or the latest fashions. Miss Martin was an interesting woman, a very smart and educated one at that. “Are you heading somewhere else?” he asked, as she waved goodbye to the foreman and continued toward the staircase. Maybe they could extend this tête-à-tête with a impromptu lunch.
“I am. I have to inspect a building out at Richmond we’ve just finished building. We build homes as well as repair them you see. Always busy.”
Hamish caught her hand and pulled her to a stop as she made the footpath. It wasn’t until Miss Martin pulled her hand away that he realized he still held it. “Miss Martin, will you do the honor of allowing me to call you by your first name? Calling each other Miss and Lord seems overly formal, and we’re friends are we not? If you feel more comfortable only calling me by my given name when we’re here or alone that would work too.”
She met his gaze, a small teasing grin lifting her lips. “Alone, Lord Leighton, you didn’t wish to be alone with me, so perhaps it’s best we stay formal and aloof.”
“And if I said I do not wish to remain formal and aloof.” Why he suggested it Hamish couldn’t fathom, nor did he regret his words, which was something that he couldn’t fathom either.
Miss Martin climbed up in her carriage and leaned a little out the window. She contemplated him for a moment, a small frown line marring her usually perfect brow. “My name is Katherine, but Kat to my friends. You may call me either one, in private or public, in either locale does not bother me.”
Katherine. He liked her name, and the shortened version Kat had a vixen ring to it. It suited her. He picked up her hand that lay atop the carriage door and kissed it. “Until we meet again, Katherine,” he said, liking the fact that her cheeks coloured with the lightest shade of rose.