Twice the Temptation

by Beverley Kendall

  She huffed. “Suffice it to say, I did get some sleep.”

  As always, tirelessly honest his Catherine. His.

  “Who was he?” he asked now that pleasantries were out of the way. It was time to get to the heart of the matter.

  Her chest fell and rose as she drew a deep breath. “A man my brother hired to search for my sister.”

  It took a moment for Lucas to digest this bit of information. That had been six years ago. “Does this gentleman have a name?”

  “Does his name really matter? Have I asked you who the first woman with whom you had sexual relations?”

  “Her name is Jessica Posner. I was sixteen years, she was nineteen, and it occurred in the carriage house on my father’s property in Connecticut. Now, will you be so kind as to answer my question.”

  “What is it you truly want to know, Lucas?” she asked softly, her lashes veiling her eyes.

  “I want to know when.” He didn’t care to know the more lurid details. Quite honestly, he wouldn’t be able to stand it.

  Her gaze first dropped to her hands on her lap before lifting to meet his directly. “Nearly six years ago.”

  Lucas finally felt he could breathe, which he did in surplus. It hadn’t happened in the past year. Not after they had become more intimately acquainted. Although there’d been no understanding between them—hell, she’d probably thought she’d never see him again—for an entire year he could think of no other woman but her.

  “What happened to him? Why did he not offer marriage?” Clearly the man must have been insane. Notwithstanding her substantial dowry and her connections to a noble family, the woman was exquisite. Certainly, whoever this idiot had been, he could not have done better.

  Affront had her narrowing her eyes at him. “Who said he did not offer?” she asked archly.

  After silently castigating the man, Lucas didn’t know how he felt about that. “Did he?”

  “Yes he did. I refused him.”

  “You gave this man your virginity yet you refused his proposal of marriage?” he asked, his voice rising. For most young women, the act alone would preclude the other. Unless— “What was wrong with him?”

  “Nothing. There was nothing wrong with him save the fact that I was not in love with him, which is the reason I regret that he was my first. I should have waited but it happened at a time in my life when—” she looked everywhere but at him “—when I needed someone. He was there.”

  Caught between relief and jealousy, Lucas didn’t know which of the two was preferable in this instance.

  She shifted her gaze back to his, before looking away again. “I also discovered—too late as things would have it—that he’d been quite infatuated with Charlotte. But of course, she was to marry Alex then and she’d only danced with him once at a public ball. I don’t believe she has any recollection of their introduction or dance to this day.”

  And there he had it, what she believed was history about to repeat itself. Now he understood her fears more than he ever had.

  Lucas came to the edge of the chair, placed his hand beneath her chin, and lifted her gaze to his. “You understand that I am not this man, do you not? You and your sister are not and have never been interchangeable in my affections. She is my dear friend. That I could never deny. However, you I want as my friend and lover. My most ardent wish is that you will be my wife, the mother to my children and the woman I shall love for the rest of my life.”

  Her lashes fluttered, her lids lowering until they veiled her eyes from his. “He said he loved me.”

  The man probably had at that. He’d have been a fool had he not. The man’s feelings for Charlotte had not been love of any sort; lust, an attraction, an infatuation at most. And from Catherine he’d received a gift that she could never give another. And he couldn’t deny that the knowledge gnawed away at him. It was sheer hypocrisy and he knew it but he couldn’t help his feelings. If it weren’t so sad, it would be amusing as he was a man who hadn’t expected virginity of his wife.

  His sisters, yes. His wife, not necessarily.

  “He didn’t love your sister. He hardly knew her.”

  Catherine gave a small nod, blinking rapidly. “But you know her very well, do you not? Better than you know me, I daresay.”

  “I know you both well enough to know how I feel,” he stated, conviction in his voice.

  She smiled ruefully. “Are you quite finished then? Have I answered all your questions?” she asked, turning her head, which dislodged his hand from her chin.

  Catherine still wasn’t entirely convinced of his feelings for her, that was obvious. And there was nothing else he could do at this point in time but to prove it to her so that one day there would be no shadow of a doubt in her mind.

  Slowly he straightened and continued to watch her. “Yes, unless there is anything else I should know.”

  “Do you mean much like I should have known that you’d proposed marriage to my sister?” she asked, succeeding in finding the mark.

  Lucas thought it best not to respond. Any answer he chose to give would probably send him back five steps when he’d been lucky enough to advance two. He’d leave that minefield alone.

  “So what are your plans for the day?” he asked instead.

  Most gentlemen would have washed their hands of her. Her loss of virtue would have effectively made her damaged goods. Certainly the gentleman of the ton would have looked upon her that way. Not that she could say that her loss of innocence hadn’t mattered to Lucas. His demeanor had given a fair impression of chest thumping and pissing about her person to mark his territory. But he hadn’t allowed himself to completely revert back to cavemen-like tendencies. All in all, he’d handled it better than she dared hope.

  Now the only obstacle in their path to happiness was her own misgivings, which would be excised, as she’d learn the truth in a matter of days. The party would commence on Friday.

  “You have nothing else to say?” she asked, just to be certain this particular subject wouldn’t rear its head in the future.

  Frankly she’d been more than a little hesitant to tell him but he’d given her no choice in the matter. What else could she have said when he’d made it clear he thought she was an innocent he’d soon be deflowering?

  He drew back slightly and stared at her intently, his face now set in a somber mask. “You have answered my questions. What else is there for me to say?”

  “Most men—”

  “Yes, many men do aspire to wed a virginal bride—make that a requirement of the marriage—however, I am not one of them. In truth, I’d never given it all that much consideration. Now I’m not certain why I assumed that a woman with your beauty, charisma, and vitality would keep herself chaste for so long.” He gave a dry laugh. “Perhaps it’s because when I look at you I see the illusion of a proper English rose.”

  “Waiting to be plucked?” she asked, her tone dryly amused. She certainly wasn’t that—proper—and the only rose-like thing about her were the thorns. And there had been occasion that some had been pricked by them before.

  Laughter, so unexpected it gave her a start, bellowed from his throat. She soon joined in and any fears she’d had that he would view her differently, that somehow his affection for her would be diminished in the light of her revelation last night, dissipated.

  “I have more than mere plucking in mind for you,” he murmured softly, his amusement transforming quickly to desire.

  Catherine grew warm under the heat of his regard, the air now thick with mutual wanting. His gaze dropped to her lips, his eyes the color of copper with emerald flecks. After lingering there long enough to cause her heart to start beating double time, it drifted down to her breasts. The bob of his Adam’s apple and the way his pupils dilated told the tale of his growing arousal.

  Her nipples beaded and the ache between her thighs said that her body was in concert with his.

  The deferential knock on the door successfully doused the fire that Lucas had started
in her with just a look.

  The door was opened in the amount of time it would take an amorous couple to properly put themselves together should that be required of them. As it was, Catherine only needed to cool the heat of her cheeks. Lucas leaned back in his chair.

  The head footman stood in the doorway. “Miss Catherine, Lord and Lady Avondale to see you.”

  Her sister. Her brother-in-law. She shot a worried glance at Lucas, who appeared unperturbed by the arrival of the man who treated him as he’d love nothing better than to see his head on a pike.

  “Please show them in,” Catherine said as she stood, anxiously smoothing the skirt of her dress. Her hands trembled.

  Lucas followed her lead, coming to his feet in one fluid motion. He truly was a fine specimen of a man, she mused, watching him covertly.

  Her attention immediately shifted to Charlotte and Alex when they entered the drawing room.

  Today her sister’s riotous curls were not evident, her hair pulled back into an elegant bun. Charlotte’s gaze practically skipped right over her and went straight to Lucas. A smile of sheer delight took over her face.

  “Lucas, this is a surprise.”

  Was it? Was it truly? Catherine could only wonder.

  With one eye firmly on Alex, Lucas moved to greet her, taking her sister’s hand in his. “Charlotte, you look radiant.”

  Catherine noted that although his greeting was warm, his smile genuine, Lucas didn’t linger over the contact, clasping her twin’s hand for the briefest of seconds before immediately releasing it.

  “Alex, Lucas is here.”

  Her sister wasn’t simply stating the obvious, she was issuing her husband an edict she expected him to heed. Her look promised retribution if he didn’t accede to her silent demand. Whichever form of punishment her sister employed, it must work very well indeed for Alex acknowledged Lucas, saying stiffly, “Mr. Beaumont.”

  “Lord Avondale,” Lucas replied politely.

  “Well it appears you don’t require our company. I thought you might be a little lonely being back in the house alone. But I see you are in capable hands.”

  Catherine’s face heated and Alex’s expression darkened at his wife’s poor choice of words. Lucas appeared to be biting back a smile.

  “Although, if you’ve made no plans for this evening, we would love for you both to come for supper.”

  What the devil was her sister doing? It wasn’t as if things weren’t strained enough as it was between the two men. But she could tell by the determined glint in her sister’s eyes that she would not be deterred.

  Alex shot his wife a telling look before his expression shuttered.

  Catherine didn’t know quite how to respond. If she were to go by her brother-in-law’s mien, she’d make an excuse and decline. But perhaps her sister had a good point. It would do her good to observe Lucas with her twin. She’d rarely seen them interact at length. And people unknowingly revealed themselves in small ways. Sometimes it was the matter of a look, a smile, or a simple touch that gave away their true feelings.

  “We’d be happy to join you for supper,” she replied after too long a pause.

  Charlotte’s smile was one of relief. Alex’s jaw tightened. When Catherine turned to Lucas, his expression was carefully blank. He studied her closely as if wondering what she was about.

  What the hell is she up to?

  Lucas couldn’t believe she’d just accepted an invitation that would put him and the marquess in the same room for hours. Which was precisely what he asked her when Charlotte and the disagreeable man departed.

  “If you plan for us to marry, the two of you must get on,” she said sounding entirely too logical and pragmatic for him.

  “Forcing the issue isn’t going to help the situation. The man despises me.”

  “He’s not fond of you because he believes you may still be in love with his wife.”

  “Yes, but I am not.”

  “Right, but he doesn’t believe it.”

  “Do you believe it?” he asked.

  She started somewhat guiltily before answering. “Yes. Yes, I do now.”

  Did she really? Lucas wondered.

  “Well it’s not my fault if he doesn’t.” Frustrated, he took to pacing the floor.

  “But don’t you see, it is all of our problem. I absolutely refuse to be estranged from my sister because the men we are married to don’t get on. Whatever you have to do to make things right between you, I want you to do it.”

  It would have been simpler if she’d asked him to catch a shooting star in a glass jar.

  “The problem isn’t me, so there is little I can do about it.”

  “Of course there is,” she retorted.

  Exasperated, he halted and threw up his hands. “What? What is it that I can possibly do?”

  “You can convince him you are not in love with his wife.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lucas saw his sisters and Mrs. White off as they boarded the train in Reading that would take them back to London. His sisters hadn’t been at all surprised when he’d told them he wouldn’t be returning with them. In fact, Caroline had looked a little too pleased about it for his liking. But he hadn’t had time to dwell on that. After all, she was twenty years of age and no doubt didn’t appreciate having her older brother too much underfoot.

  Back at the house, he’d gone over the financial records of a company he was looking to purchase. It was a textile mill located in Manchester. The company was in decent shape, their profits sound, but would require some new equipment and someone to manage the day-to-day operations.

  When he and Catherine married, he’d liked to make their home close to Reading. There was no question of asking her to leave her family to live with him in America. But he would have to spend a number of months there every year. But they’d talk about that when the time came.

  The reading was drier than the sand in the Sahara, the challenge of concentrating on it exacerbated by the evening ahead. And not just having to deal with the marquess—the jealous ass—but Catherine’s decree.

  You can convince him you are not in love with his wife.

  Good Lord, he’d left England the year past for just that reason. Had he been in love with her, would he have returned home early for the sake of the woman’s marriage as Charlotte had requested him to? No, he would have remained and relished the fact that he was driving a wedge between the couple.

  It had been his sincere affection for Charlotte, to see her finally happy with the man it was obvious to all, she loved to distraction—never mind that the bastard didn’t deserve her. And he’d left despite his growing feelings for Catherine. He may not have been able to admit it to himself back then, but months later it had become clear to him that he’d fallen in love with her. Absence hadn’t just made his heart fonder, it had made him ache with such a longing, the days went from interminably long to tortuous. He’d missed her. Missed everything about her.

  Lucas sighed, placed the papers down on the desk, and looked around the office. To think he’d thought convincing her to give him another chance given the way he’d left things was going to be the challenge. The marquess had been a passing thought at best. An unpleasant one. Now it appeared the man was an important part in getting Catherine to the altar.

  But not into your bed.

  Lucas tried to quiet the voice in his head to no avail.

  Yes, perhaps tonight after the dinner. Now thoughts of taking Catherine to bed replaced the earlier unpleasant ones of her brother-in-law and the formidable task that lay before him. He grew hard thinking about how she would taste and feel. His excitement climbed when he thought of all the things he wanted to do to her when she lay beneath him, staring at him with passion-drugged eyes, her breasts bared to his gaze.

  No there would be no waiting for the marriage bed. She’d all but admitted that when she’d left the ball with him three evenings ago.

  Yes, tonight he would be rewarded. And for all his patience, he w
ould finally have Catherine the way he’d hungered for her this past year.

  Lucas arrived at Gretchen Manor seven that evening. Catherine had arrived hours earlier, insisting she wanted to spend some time with her sister. He’d thought it more likely that she and Charlotte required time to map out their strategy for the dinner. He imagined them poring over thick, dusty books that advised on how to establish peace during wartime.

  Charlotte was the first to greet him after he was escorted to the drawing room to await his hosts.

  “Dare I hope that your husband won’t be joining us,” he teased upon her entrance.

  Her lips pursed, feigning disapproval as a reluctant smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Now you must be on your best behavior. Alex is already annoyed with me. I’ll not have you give him cause to regret conceding to me regarding this.”

  Lucas had thought as much. As disagreeable as the man could be to him, it was obvious he adored his wife. Would do anything for her, as the dinner tonight would attest.

  “Unca Lucas!”

  The excited cry drew his attention to the open door. The sound of the childish voice had barely registered before, in a blur of blond curls and the speed only a child could achieve, small arms were circling his legs.

  Lucas gave a hearty shout of welcome as he bent and scooped Nicholas up and into his arms.

  Nicholas’s arms were now wrapped around his neck as he clung tightly to him. “Mama says you was coming.” His blue eyes shone with complete and utter joy.

  “Yes and here I am.”

  For four years, Nicholas had been as close to him as his own child. There hadn’t been anything he wouldn’t have done for him, which was the main reason he’d proposed marriage to his mother. A boy needed a father.

  “Nicholas, did I not instruct you not to leave the room?”