“Fascinating,” she repeated against his shoulder.
A satisfied sigh was his only response as he breathed in the scent of her, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. He planted a kiss on her temple before rolling out of bed. Fishing his shirt off the pile of discarded clothes, he used it to wipe off the evidence of his release. Let Bennett think what he liked.
Eyes like warm honey were studying him when he looked up. She was stretched out on her back, chestnut hair in disarray. That fiction of a nightdress did nothing to hide her from his return perusal, and the sight of her took his breath away.
“Fascinating,” he said in a husky imitation of her own declaration.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“And beautiful,” he continued, advancing toward her. “So incredibly beautiful.”
She blushed from the heights of her perfect cheekbones to the tips of her pert nipples. He crawled up the foot of the bed until he lay alongside her. Stroking gently, he dragged his fingertip along the side of her neck, down her arm. The silky fabric came with it, baring her shoulder for his kiss. He dragged it farther, and the soft swell of her breast slipped into view. He applied loving attention to the rosy bud with his lips and tongue, as he repeated his gesture down the other side. When he was finished, she was breathing through parted lips, bared to the waist.
“Perfect,” he whispered, as he laved attention on the newly revealed nipple, sucking and biting gently.
“They’re not,” she said breathlessly. “They’re too small.”
“Too small for what?” He cupped them in his hands, squeezing and circling with his thumbs until she moaned. “Not too small for that. Or this.” He returned the attentions of his mouth, teasing her relentlessly until she was begging him with wordless nonsense.
He shifted her, settling her full backside against his rising erection as he stretched her body out like a bowstring. He scraped his teeth along her earlobe as he pushed the flimsy silk up her thigh, bunching it at her waist. He slid his palm down her abdomen, between her thighs, and met the pooling moisture escaping her core.
“Open for me, Hannah.”
She nodded her mindless agreement, giving him full access as he hooked her leg back over his own. He rocked with her, the heel of his hand pressing her back against him. The slide of his fingers across her swollen bud caused her hips to jerk, and they settled into an erratic, thrusting rhythm. Her hand grasped for his, and their fingers entwined against the pillow as he relentlessly worked her body into a fervor.
Hannah rode her passion, writhing her hips furiously to chase down her own release. When her cries reached a fevered pitch, his fingers doubled their efforts and sent her crashing over the edge. He gave no quarter, continuing until her cries took on a desperate tone and she shuddered violently against him. Satisfied, he wrapped her in his arms, holding her close and murmuring words of comfort as she came down.
Pulling a blanket over them, he turned her in his arms, smoothing the hair from her face. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. Her mouth opened beneath his in a slow, leisurely kiss that resonated in his protesting groin. He pulled back gently.
“Hannah.”
“Hmm?” Her sleepy reply made him smile.
“What would you think about actually marrying me?”
Complete stillness stole over her. “Why do you ask?”
Because you’re the reason I get out of bed in the morning, my motivation for becoming a better man. You’re quite possibly the match to my soul. He didn’t say any of that. Instead, he said, “We seem to get on rather well.”
She relaxed a little in his arms. “We do.”
“It would seem, if we both must marry eventually, it might as well be to each other.”
Her lips formed a line against his chest. He could practically hear her thinking.
“Gavan,” she said carefully. “I don’t intend to marry eventually. Or ever.”
He leaned back to get a full view of her face. She did not appear to be jesting.
“What do you mean you don’t intend to marry?”
“Exactly that. I don’t intend to marry.”
“You were going to jilt me and get yourself shackled to someone else. That was the plan. You agreed.” Never mind that Gavan was fairly certain following through with the original plan would herald in the worst days of his life.
“No, you declared it. I never agreed to that.”
“You marrying is a crucial part of the plan!” He couldn’t sit still anymore. Gavan rose from the bed and started pacing the room.
“Not really,” Hannah said calmly.
“Very really! It’s the part that keeps you from being shunned out of England, and keeps me from acquiring a very unfashionable bullet hole.”
Hannah sighed, securing her nightgown back up onto her shoulders. “Your cousin isn’t going to shoot you.”
“He most certainly is, if you wind up in disgrace.” Gavan wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but at the moment it suited his purposes to make it so.
She pursed her lips. “I’ll think of something.”
“No need. I’ve already thought of it. You marry me.”
“I told you, I’m not marrying anyone.”
“Why bloody not?”
She threw her hands up in a frustrated plea. “Because I like my life! I like my freedom, and I don’t intend to give it up!”
“That’s ridiculous.” It was the wrong thing to say. He could see it on her face immediately. He was simultaneously saved and damned by the inward swing of the door.
“Hannah, is everything—” The question ended in a gasp. Jane Bailey took one look at his undressed state and flung herself around to face the hallway.
Behind her, Lady Hawthorne was a bit more circumspect.
“Rhone. What a pleasant surprise,” she said with a touch of humor. “Perhaps you’d like to put some clothes on?”
“Rhone was just leaving,” Hannah replied. The beet red flush of embarrassment didn’t stop her from impaling him with an icy glare.
“We heard shouting,” Jane said to no one in particular.
Gavan pulled on his breeches and coat, gathering the rest in a bundle and heading for the door.
“I’ll see you out,” Lady Hawthorne said with unusual authority. “Might I suggest the back stairs?”
He edged past the scandalized younger Bailey with a nod and headed for the servants’ corridor. They walked in silence until they reached the ground-floor landing.
“I didn’t . . . She’s still . . .”
The words wouldn’t come out, but the older woman seemed to catch his meaning.
“That is fortunate,” she said with sincerity. “Rhone, I’m hardly a stickler for propriety, but this goes quite beyond sneaking into alcoves or moonlit strolls.”
“I know.” On top of upsetting Hannah, a pervading feeling of guilt rolled over him. It wasn’t just himself and Hannah he jeopardized by coming here.
She smiled kindly. “At the risk of overstepping, would you accept a little advice?”
“Of course.” It was the least he could do.
“Mothers preach chastity to their daughters, because most men are not compelled to marry without sufficient carnal incentive.”
“I assure you, I have no—”
“In this scenario, Hannah is the one requiring the incentive,” she interrupted. “She is receiving all of the benefits with none of the commitment, darling. You might consider making life a little more difficult for her.”
Gavan blinked at her, unsure how to react to the comparison.
“Time to go, dear.” She smiled again and ushered him out the back door.
Chapter 13
Last night’s downpour had washed the streets of London clean, and the city’s overcrowded populace had not yet re-sullied them. Hannah wis
hed there was a rain to wash away her inner turmoil and leave her sparkling in the morning sun.
Damn Rhone a thousand times. Last night had been so wonderful. She loved his body, the way she felt powerful touching him, the way she felt cherished when he touched her. Why couldn’t he just have fallen asleep? That’s what Betsy said men did, after. Not Rhone, though. No, Rhone had to ask her to marry him, and then be a complete jackass.
To further ruin what could have been a lovely memory, Jane hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to her all morning. As they strolled from shop to shop, the absence of Jane’s bright chatter grew larger until she couldn’t take it anymore. Hannah valued Jane’s friendship too much to let it dwindle or wither.
“Jane, please talk to me.”
Jane looked up from the gloves she had been inspecting. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Whatever is bothering you.”
“That’s easy, then. Nothing is bothering me.” Jane’s tight smile and smoothing of her skirts gave away the lie.
“That’s not true, and you know it!” Hannah’s exasperation drew the attention of a pair of ladies near the display window who began murmuring behind their hands. Jane blanched and dragged her toward a more private area of the shop.
“What is wrong with you!” Jane whispered. “Can you never behave as you ought to?”
Hannah was taken aback at the wealth of feeling behind Jane’s words. “I know last night was a bit of a shock.”
“You don’t even realize the danger you put yourself in.” Even in her impassioned state, Jane’s voice was barely audible.
“I’m fully aware of the biological implications, but Rhone and I have not—”
Jane waved off her point. “You cannot spit in the face of decorum, Hannah. People will find out, and there will be terrible consequences.”
Hannah began to realize Jane’s escalating fear had little to do with her interlude with Rhone. “Everything will be all right, Jane.” She reached for her friend, to comfort her, but Jane flinched back abruptly.
“No, it won’t be.” The taller woman stared at her hands, curling and uncurling her fingers. “You must behave better, Hannah. It will go badly if you don’t.”
“What do you mean, Jane?” Something was clearly wrong with her friend. She hadn’t met Hannah’s eyes at all and had begun to shake slightly.
“You must be beyond reproach,” Jane said, not really seeing the milliner’s shop. “Always, Hannah. You must never falter.”
Whatever was going on with her friend, it was beyond Hannah’s capability to solve. She temporarily left Jane to her dazed trance and found Mathilda at the front of the shop. “Mathilda.”
“What’s wrong, dear?”
“Jane is . . .” Hannah wasn’t certain how to describe it. Fortunately, she didn’t need to.
“Behaving strangely?” Mathilda understood immediately. “If you would have the carriage brought around, I’ll see what I can do to return my niece to her usual charming state.”
Hannah left the older woman to it. Exiting the shop, she found the groom waiting outside to carry their packages and sent him off in search of the coachman. With a few moments to herself in the fresh air, Hannah took stock of the situation. The life that had been coming together quite satisfactorily was trundling toward disaster. She began formulating a list of the issues at hand and possible solutions.
Betsy appeared at the corner the groom had disappeared around. “The carriage is on its way, miss. Is everything all right?”
“I’m not certain, but I’m sure we’ll manage,” Hannah reassured her.
Hannah’s closed carriage rolled up to the curb, and Mathilda and Jane joined them on the walkway. Jane looked every bit as pale and frightened as she had earlier, but her aunt was able to usher her into the carriage without incident.
“I should stay with her, but there’s no reason you need to come with us,” Mathilda said gently. “She’ll feel awful if she thinks she ruined your outing.”
Hannah nodded her acceptance. She desperately wanted to help her friend, but she was at a loss for how. Until she was certain her assistance wouldn’t do more harm than good, she would follow Mathilda’s suggestions. Lady Hawthorne seemed to have the situation in hand.
“I’ll send the carriage back for you once we get to the square.”
“No need. It’s not that far. A walk will do me good.”
Mathilda nodded, and the carriage set off into the light traffic at a fast clip.
“It looks like it’s just us, Betsy. What shall we do?”
“When I picked up the books you ordered, the clerk said he had some others you might be interested in.”
“Let’s find out, then, shall we?”
They had barely started walking when Hannah heard herself being hailed.
“Miss Howard?”
The crisp brogue did not belong to either of the Scotsmen she was acquainted with. She turned to find Rhone’s blond replica. “Lord Courseclay.”
“Forgive my intrusion. It was a stroke of luck to come across ye, and I am loath to let it pass.”
Given what she had heard of their relationship, Hannah had imagined Gavan’s half brother to be a pretentious villain. Instead, he was soft-spoken with a genuine feel about him that she found very relaxing. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is entirely mine,” he said sincerely. “Though I must confess, it is not entirely the joy of yer company that prompted me to flag ye down.”
“No? Tell me, then, what inspired you?” Hannah had a fairly good notion. She didn’t have to wait long to be proven correct.
“I was hoping to speak with ye about yer betrothed.”
* * *
The tea garden Lord Courseclay took them to was astonishing. Gentle strains of music floated toward them as they sat in a pavilion next to a pond. It appeared that its sole purpose was to be pleasing; Hannah had never seen anything like it.
They sat in silence for a long while, broken with polite small talk. Despite his initial boldness, Hannah’s companion seemed to have difficulty broaching the topic of his father’s other son.
“My lord,” Hannah said, setting her cup down. “While your company is most pleasant, I fear we will run out of daylight before we come to your purpose.”
His smile was rueful. He placed his cup on the table, holding it in place with his fingertips. “I’m not quite sure where to begin.”
Hannah waited silently.
“We’re not on the best of terms, Rhone and I.”
“So I gather.”
“I’d like to be.”
That was news, but not surprising. Hannah hadn’t imagined he had asked her to tea to perpetuate the enmity the two men held for each other.
“My mother died this last year. Our father a few years before that. They never . . .” He took a fortifying breath. “My parents blamed him, and they should not have.”
“And you?”
“I was cruel to him,” he said honestly. “My father might as well have abandoned us, the way he pined for Lady Rhone, and my mother . . . She just slowly wasted away from the shame. I was angry, and I took it out on him.”
Hannah felt a surge of sympathy for the boys they had been. Neither of them deserved the mess they had inherited. “You were young.”
“It’s no excuse. We share blood. I should have protected him, not made it worse.” He adjusted his shirt cuff, and it was such a familiar Gavan gesture that Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. Lord Courseclay’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Rhone does the same thing, when he’s uncomfortable,” she said, gesturing to his sleeve.
He looked down, and his expression softened into a smile. “He’s the only family I have left now. I can’t change our past, but, if he’ll let me, I’d like to know him in the future.”
Hannah considered. “What can I do to help?”
“If I could just get him to listen, I think we could make a start.”
“I assume you have tried calling on him?”
“I have. He will not receive me.”
Hannah nodded. Reasonableness was not her fiancé’s strong suit, even when it didn’t involve a childhood tormentor. “Can you have a list of your entertainments for the week sent to me? I can try and arrange for us to attend the same function.”
“I tried that at the Conduitt ball. The sum of my success was a fine view of his retreat.”
“You did not have me as your ally at the Conduitt ball,” she said confidently. She could not marry Rhone, but perhaps, before it was time for her to go, she could leave him better off than she found him.
With the outline of a plan in place, it was time for Hannah to return home. She and Betsy strolled the lovely pathways toward the entrance as Lord Courseclay went ahead to hail a hack for her. It was in a shadowy section where the trees overlapped above the walk in a canopy that someone shoved Betsy to the ground and grabbed Hannah from behind.
Hannah tried to scream, but a large hand clapped over her mouth as she was dragged through the foliage. Through the snapping of branches and labored breathing, she heard Betsy let loose a shriek. The sound snapped Hannah into action. She slammed her head backward into her attacker’s nose. She heard him curse as he dropped her, and she stumbled back toward the pathway. An exposed root tripped her, and she slammed into the ground hard, and tasted blood. Her assailant lumbered through the brush after her, still cursing. She had to get back to the path.
She was certain he would catch her, but then she heard Lord Courseclay calling out her name, and the pursuit stopped. Branches broke and rustled, heading away from her. Hannah said a silent prayer of thanks.
“I’m over here!” she called out around the rapid swelling of her lip.
There was a great commotion of branches as Lord Courseclay and Betsy burst through the foliage. Rhone’s brother looked around wildly, and Hannah pointed in the direction she’d heard her attacker take off. The Scotsman set off in chase.
A Convenient Engagement Page 16