Fascination -and- Charmed

by Stella Cameron

  “You seem certain of all this.” He stood very close to her. “What of the letter you gave to Avenall?”

  Pippa stared directly at his white shirtfront and austerely simple cravat. “I am certain.” Of the letter she said nothing. “You discussed this with him.”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  With a gloved forefinger, he gently raised her chin. “Will you please confide in me? I am not your enemy, Pippa. I think we are both very well aware of that. Explain what has happened here.”

  His voice, so deep yet so soft, curled warm and tingling into her stomach.

  “Pippa?”

  She would not look up at him. “This is such a bother. Such foolishness. I feel so foolish.”

  “Don’t.”

  “How can I do otherwise? Running about dressed as a boy, like some character in a bad romantical novel. I wouldn’t have considered such silliness, but I didn’t know what else to do. For a moment when you were with me last night, I hoped you would agree to…Yes. Well. I did think I had a chance of getting away with it if I spoke quickly and left quickly.”

  “But Avenall spoiled your theatrics, is that what you mean? You are fortunate. Had he not been so obviously physically distressed, he’d doubtless have recognized you—as I did.”

  This time she did look up into his black eyes. “I am not fond of being treated like an annoying child, Calum. Kindly adjust your tone and your choice of words when you speak to me. If you ever have cause to speak to me again.”

  There, she had told him and she sounded most collected.

  His hand, tightening on her shoulder, ensured that she could not march away as she’d intended.

  “Good day to you, sir.”

  She looked at his firm mouth with its ever-so-slightly uptilted corners and did not feel at all collected.

  “It is not a good day,” Calum said. “It is, and has been, one of the worst days of my life. Although it does begin to show a little promise again now. Could you perhaps remember to call me Calum rather than ‘sir’? At least when we’re not in the company of others?”

  She felt him, his strength and the powerful life within him. He made her want to touch him! Pippa held herself rigidly straight and replied, “I’m very glad you are of an optimistic turn of mind.” She ignored his request for her to use nothing other than his given name.

  “It is you who make the day brighter, dear one,” he said clearly. “I find that when I look at you, there is this certainty that no obstacle would be too large for me to overcome. I do believe I could fight several duels in a morning for you.”

  Her heart turned completely over and stopped. Yes, she was certain—her heart had stopped.

  “This is most odd,” he continued conversationally. “I don’t recall ever feeling quite like this before. What do you suppose it means?”

  She swallowed, shivered, shifted from foot to foot in the boots that had evidently belonged to Saber Avenall when he’d been a boy and which were too big for Pippa. At least Saber hadn’t shown signs of recognizing his castoff clothes.

  “What, I ask you?” Calum pressed. “I’m asking for your help in diagnosing this condition.”

  “Arising too early,” she suggested. “Or possibly not going to your bed at all. And you may be hungry. Did you have breakfast?”

  He didn’t respond to her suggestions, but merely swept off her hat and regarded her with his head tilted to one side. “Duels would be nothing,” he declared. “Wrestling with lions might be more of a challenge.”

  He did not sound at all like himself. “The duke was wrong to bring about a duel,” she said. “And when he did so, he produced a desperate situation. A shocking bother. All I did was deal with that situation. It’s my way, d’you see—dealing with bother in a sensible manner.”

  “Is it?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve had to learn to do that. My father has always been a busy man. I like him for that, of course, but there was never any time for him to deal with foolish female nonsense, so I simply had to learn not to allow it. I do not tolerate female foolishness, or any foolishness at all—in myself or in any other.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “People are.”

  “You’re so humble.”

  She nodded. “My father has always believed in humility. I like him for that.”

  “Arran would approve of your coiffure,” he told her.

  “That large man?” She touched her severely drawn-back hair and checked the ribbon that restrained it at her nape. “Who is he?”

  “The Marquess of Stonehaven.”

  “Ah.” She recalled some mention of him at the Esterhazy ball. “The Scot?”

  “The same. Could you, do you suppose?”

  She missed his meaning. “Could I what, sir?”

  “Always call me Calum when we are alone? Until you are comfortable using my name in front of others, too.”

  “We should not be alone again,” she told him testily. “But…Calum, I should return to Pall Mall.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “I want—” Her eyes felt alarmingly as if they were filling with burning tears. How could that be? “I am glad—no grateful that there was no duel.”

  One of his hands closed over hers where she’d pressed it against her stomach. “I cannot forget our kisses, my dearest Pippa. Yesterday morning, or last night. You are so warm where I’ve touched you—and so hot, I think, where I have not touched you. As yet.”

  Pippa breathed in sharply. Some of what he said was plain; much was a confusing riddle.

  His thumb stroked the back of her hand, traced the rise and fall of each knuckle. “Are you at all happy?” he asked so softly that she leaned a little closer. “I know you do not admire your fiancé. But is he—is Franchot kind to you?”

  A lump swelled in her throat until she felt she might never swallow again. She coughed and averted her face.

  “Is he? My dearest—”

  “If we were ever to be alone,” she said rapidly, “as we were last night and are now, but probably never shall be again, then I should always enjoy hearing you say my silly little name. Pippa. Very silly, but the name my friends like.”

  “I like it, too. There is nothing about you that I do not like.”

  She glanced quickly up at him. His lips remained parted to show the edges of square teeth. Where his mouth tilted at the corners, curved lines formed. Had he smiled a great deal in his life? She liked to think that he had.

  “Does that cause you any happiness?” His breath raised his broad chest inside the simple but perfectly cut black coat he wore beneath a many-caped cloak. “That to me you are perfect?”

  “I like the way your voice sounds when you tell it. And I like the way your eyes grow even darker.”

  The lines beside his mouth deepened, but his smile didn’t narrow his eyes. Moistness in the air glistened in his curly hair and on his eyelashes. The same moisture wet his skin.

  “There is something…” What did she mean to say? That there was something mystical in this moment? “I am a very sensible female,” she said instead.

  “I’m certain you are, Pippa.” His smile widened even more, and with the backs of his fingers he stroked her cheek, stroked away escaped strands of her damp hair. “Oh, yes, I’m sure you are most sensible. If being sensible can make a woman the most desirable creature in the world to a man—to this man—to me.”

  “This should not be happening again,” she told him, but when he spread his hand over the side of her head and bent to press his lips to her brow, her eyes closed. “I was most determined that there would never again be such an unseemly closeness between us. And I have gone to so much trouble to ensure Franchot cannot hurt you.” And she leaned closer.

  “Tell me about your trouble.”

  Reason struggled to stay alive. “I cannot.”

  “You can.”

  “I must never speak of this again. And I must go back.”

  His lips moved to her temple, to th
e hollow in her cheek, to her jaw. “Could it be that you came this morning merely to fulfill an obligation?”

  “Obligation?” She felt…drugged.

  “To see me again. We agreed you owed me another time with you to erase your insult to my honesty at the ball.”

  He was attempting to trick her in some manner. “I have already seen you again—at Pall Mall. Twice.” To be tricked by Calum Innes was to be in heaven. “The first meeting was dangerous and caused a great deal of bother. The second meeting was simply…dangerous.”

  “No, no,” he whispered against her ear. “That will not do at all. Our last meeting was far more than simply dangerous. It was ecstasy. You sent me away, but I do not think I am ready to give up on you quite yet, my Pippa. But as to the other, I’m certain your admirable father would expect nothing less of you than that you accept responsibility for the discharge of your own obligations.”

  “To see you again?” Pippa inclined her head, the better to feel his mouth upon her ear. “I did see you. You know I did.”

  “I saw you,” he told her, and there was laughter in his voice. “I came to you. Twice. That is not at all the same thing. You were to see me, don’t you know?”

  “Words, Calum Innes. Only words. I do not muddle easily.”

  “I cannot forget the feel of your lips on mine. Or their taste.”

  This was so reckless, but she could not make herself care. “I cannot forget, either.” Pippa opened her eyes and looked at him direct. “I have been receiving instruction on the ways of the world, Calum. It is entirely wrong for me to say so, but I would like, just once more, to feel…I should like to do it again, please.”

  Shades of darkness shifted within those black eyes, and mist-slicked lashes flickered, a little. Without a word, Calum Innes’s eyes closed and a singular expression passed over his features. Sweet, intense ecstasy? Pippa wondered if she knew what sweet ecstasy was. Her heart speeded. Sweet ecstasy that became sadness—or aching need? And then his mouth pressed hers and she saw nothing more, only felt, only felt the supple shifting of his lips against hers, only tasted the sweet, mist-dampened taste of his lips on hers.

  Pippa tried to sigh, but could not find new air. Heated, flushing, she started when Calum threaded his fingers between hers and held her hands tight against her thighs. His face moved hers, raised hers, brushed hers with skin so subtly different from hers. Male skin, a little rough where his jaw grazed her tender skin.

  His lips parted—slightly—parted, so that the edges of his teeth touched the sensitive inside of her lower lip. And then his tongue sought the same spot—so very carefully, so lightly.

  There was more.

  Just beyond her reach. Just outside what he knew she wanted, there was more. Why didn’t he know what she wanted? Why couldn’t she tell him?

  “I…” she murmured.

  “Mmm?” He breathed softly, dipped to place a dozen tiny kisses along her pulsing throat. “What is it, Pippa?”

  She could not tell him what she wanted, because she did not know.

  He released her hands and held her waist. “That man is a fool,” he said.

  She did not understand.

  Calum shook his head and brought her fingers to his lips, then kissed—with great concentration—each one. “This will not be enough, you know.”

  Pippa looked up at the treetops. The fog had almost dissipated. Patches of sky showed. “It’s all going away,” she said. “But it has to, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” he said, as if he understood her perfectly. “No, it doesn’t have to go away. Not yet and not forever.”

  “We will not meet again after today.”

  “Oh, but we will, my dear lady.”

  “I am to be married.”

  He fingered her throat and brought his thumbs to rest beneath the point of her chin. “You are indeed.”

  “So you do understand that this is wrong? The blame is mine.” And she must turn from him, run from him. Now.

  “We will speak more of this soon.” The light that seemed to see only her did not leave his gaze. “Why did Franchot not come this morning?”

  “Oh, that.” She could not concentrate.

  “Yes, that. What manner of coward hides behind a woman’s skirts?” He grinned and glanced down. “Or breeches?”

  Pippa straightened her shoulders. “Would you have me believe you consider a woman less your equal than a man?”

  For a moment he appeared nonplussed. His hands fell to rest on her shoulders. “I merely mean that no man should hide behind a woman. There is no doubt as to the weaker of the sexes, is there, Pippa?”

  The dreaminess lifted, and the spell. “There is no doubt that women are physically less strong than men, Calum. But that, I know, is where the disparity ends.”

  He made a short bow. “I respect your right to your own opinions. In fact, I find your sprightly manner enchanting.”

  Enchanting? Really, even when one felt totally at one with a man for the very first time, he had to ruin the moment by exhibiting his ridiculous belief in wretched male supremacy.

  He shook her lightly. “Come, do not be angry with me.”

  “I am not angry. You are misguided, but we will not discuss this further. I know it is no use to try to persuade you of the obvious. My father always warned me that my life would be easier if I didn’t insist upon declaring my…Anyway, I have always liked my father for being so direct.”

  “A wise man,” Calum remarked. “It grows light, Pippa. I want to ensure you arrive home safely. But first, please tell me where Franchot is.”

  She marshaled her most serene countenance. “Certainly. He is in his bed…when he is not out of his bed.” She shrugged. “But then he is back in his bed. Or so I believe, for, of course, I have not seen him there.”

  “Of course,” Calum said, and his deep frown assured her that he was no wiser than before she’d begun her explanation. “You intrigue me, Pippa. Sincerely, I wish to know where my opponent is. And his other second.”

  “I have told you where he is. By now poor Saber will have returned to the same place. And Henri St. Luc—His Grace’s other second—is also there.”

  “And where—”

  “Good day, Calum. I have enjoyed knowing you for a little while.” She turned from him and began walking away.

  Calum caught up and fell in beside her. “You will not be able to forget our kisses, y’know. Neither will I.”

  “We must. I am—that is, I have not been myself. It was the strain of this morning’s events—and those that took place in the gardens last night.”

  “If you were not yourself, I intend to help you not to be yourself very frequently.”

  Fear began its cold journey through her veins. “Please leave me now, Calum.”

  “Alone? In Hyde Park, while the night’s villains are still abroad? Never.” He took her elbow.

  “Forget what has happened, I tell you. I have not been myself.”

  “Ah,” he said, chuckling. “But I have been very much myself. And I should like to kiss you again and again.”

  How could she have forgotten herself so outrageously? “Give me your word you will stay away from me.” She began to run.

  Calum kept up by lengthening his stride. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “Because I care about you,” she said before she could stop herself. “I mean, because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Thank you, sweet one.” He pulled her to a stop and swung her to face him. “Do you want to marry this man?”

  She could hardly breathe at all. “I was betrothed to him at the time of my birth.”

  “So you have already told me. Do you want to marry him?”

  “It is expected of me.” Her heart hurt.

  “Pippa, do you want to marry Franchot?”

  He must stop. She covered her face. “My father always—”

  “Yes,” he cut her off. “Yes, you like your father for always deciding what is best for
you, and that is exactly as it should be. But, and I beg you for your honesty, do you want this marriage?”

  “No!” She fell back a step. “No, no, no.”

  He pulled her against him so fiercely she tripped. He caught her and wrapped her in his arms. “Sweet one. What a miracle you are. If only I could tell you—” He buried his face in her hair.

  “Tell me what?” Pippa managed to gasp.

  “You will see me again,” Calum said. “Again and again. You and I are sealed together, do you understand?”

  “No…yes, perhaps.”

  “Oh, yes. You and I are sealed by fate to walk together through life. And I will make your life very good, sweet one. Just as you will make my life all that it can be.”

  She did not understand. “I will do what I must do, Calum.”

  “Yes.” But he looked happy. “You will do what you must do. What you were always intended to do.”

  “I will never disappoint my father.”

  “How could you disappoint anyone?” Catching her hand, he led her quickly through the trees to a horse that quietly cropped the shaggy grass. “I’ll get you back,” he said, lifting her to the horse’s back and leaping up behind her.

  “We can’t go like this,” she protested. “We might be seen.”

  “Ah, yes.” At that he rode a distance and dismounted to retrieve her top hat. Seated behind her once more, he plopped it on her head, arranged her in the most intimate manner between his thighs and set off. “I am a man no one knows, riding with a boy no one knows. Possibly a man with his son? Fear not. I shall release you a distance from Franchot House.”

  Pippa’s doeskin breeches stretched much too tightly over her bottom. And her bottom fitted much too neatly against That part of Calum Innes that had so fascinated her from their first touch.

  “You will send for me if you need me?” Calum asked, bending his head beside hers. “Do not doubt that I will come to you at once.”

  “I will not need you.”

  “Then I will come as soon as I’ve done what must be done.”

  He was such a puzzle. “You will never be able to come for me. This must be enough. This must be all.”