‘Perhaps that’s because you refused my offer of marriage. I did not expect it.’
‘Clearly not. You have too high an opinion of yourself.’
‘I’m entitled. I am an earl, after all,’ he teased softly.
‘I know. That’s part of the trouble.’
‘Sadly,’ he went on, ‘being a ladies’ man cuts no ice with you, since you ruthlessly spurned me after I presented you with an offer I’ve never made to any other woman.’
‘I’m flattered,’ she retorted, ‘but I’m sure you’ve had mistresses aplenty.’
‘Several. Why? Is it important?’
‘You never felt obliged to ask any one of them to marry you?’
‘No.’ He frowned, his eyes narrowed. ‘What is this, Jane? Why the questions?’
‘Because you are still something of a mystery to me. You revealed nothing of yourself. Ever since we met I have told you many things about me—about my life and my work. Yet you have told me little about yourself. I do not know you well enough to marry you.’
‘What do you want to know? Ask away and I will tell you.’
She glanced around, biting her bottom lip, as if trying to think how to put what she wanted to say. ‘There is something very wrong and you will not tell me what it is. That it is in the past, that it has something to do with a woman who let you down very badly, I know because you told me. She hurt you, I know it, but I feel there is something else—deep inside, I sense it.’
He smiled. ‘And I always said you were a sensitive soul.’
‘Please don’t make light of it, Christopher. You asked me to be your wife—offered me your name. Why? Because you felt obligated and you were arrogant enough to think I would accept...’
He cocked an eyebrow, his smiled widening. ‘And you say you do not know me well enough to marry me.’
She shook her head in vexation, turning from him and stepping away. ‘Please do not jest with me. I think you know what I am saying.’
He moved to stand behind her and leaned close to her cheek. ‘I know perfectly well what you are asking of me, Jane,’ he said, his voice soft but with a hint of steel. ‘I don’t want to speak of it, to open up old wounds that have never completely heated and never will. That aside, I tell you that you know me better than you realise. No one knows me better. Not even my mother. Ever since you left Chalfont I have been resisting the urge to come to London, to tell you how much I desire you. You probably won’t believe me, but I do not know what else I can do.’ Gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her round to face him, pushing his advantage. ‘You desired me, too, Jane—not so long ago. I have not forgotten that and I am sure you haven’t. Perhaps I could say what I feel with my body.’
Jane wanted to ask him again what was in his mind. Something had happened to him in the past, something more than the enormity of the debts his father had left behind and the woman he had referred to when he had proposed marriage to her. Whatever it was, it was clear he did not want to share it with her.
She found him watching her with an expression she could not mistake. Desire was in the tense line of his jaw, in the burning depths of his eyes. Desire and lust. She knew it—read the signs. Because she felt it, too.
Forcing himself to remain calm, Christopher caught her glittering gaze and held it. ‘I think we both know what we want, don’t we?’
Jane scrutinised his expression warily. Her feelings were nebulous, chaotic, yet one stood out clearly—frustrated desire. Something softened in her, but she was determined she must stand firm.
‘I haven’t forgotten. How could I?’ she whispered fiercely. ‘I do want you,’ she admitted. ‘Very much, as it happens. Why do you want me? That is what I am interested in.’
‘Why do I want you?’ he repeated quietly, suddenly thoughtful. He took a moment to reflect on her strong will, a quality he admired. ‘I cannot escape the fact that you have intrigued me for some considerable time. You have no artificial airs and graces and you possess a kind of courage that is unusual in a woman. You are also proud and independent, with bold, forthright ways which I admire. Looking at you now, what I see in your eyes quickens my very soul, stirring my mind with imaginings of what life married to you would be like.’
Jane was deeply moved by what he said. It was more than she had ever dared to hope for. But was it enough? Could she live with that, knowing that she did not have his love? Now that she’d had a taste of sexual pleasure, as intoxicating as it was, she realised it was a completely separate thing from what she really wanted from him—an intimacy of the heart. As a lover he could take her to the heights of desire, but just like his title and the beauty and peace of Chalfont, this was no substitute for love.
‘Don’t you see? I don’t want what I feel for you to be unrequited. I have to step back while I still have the strength. I don’t want to consign myself to a miserable life, falling in love with someone I could never reach. When I fall in love I want that love to be returned in equal measure. ‘
Christopher stared at her, knowing exactly what she was saying, what she was asking. ‘Neither of us know what will happen in the future, Jane. We can find a way that suits us best.’
She shook her head, holding his gaze. ‘You are so hard to read. I never know what you are feeling. If I can’t do that, how can I possibly trust myself to you the way a commitment like marriage will require me to? How can I give over the control of my life, let alone give you my heart, if I don’t really know you? If I gave all of myself in marriage, I would want all of you in return. Without that our future together would be very dark indeed.’
‘If that’s how you think marriage to me would be, then no wonder you said no. My life has been—difficult,’ he said very quietly, hesitantly. ‘That is partly the reason why I am not so open. I suppose I thought it would not matter, that the less you knew of me, the better my chances of winning you.’
‘You are so wrong, Christopher. Now, please, don’t pressure me now. This is not the place and if you don’t mind I have work to do.’
‘You want me to go?’
‘You must, if I am to get on.’
‘I think the reason you want me to leave is because you are afraid of me,’ he said, and there was a wicked note in his voice and a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Jane knew that look. Its power was not to be underestimated. Already she felt her blood warm inside her. ‘This is nonsense,’ she retorted. ‘I don’t fear you in the least. Why should I?’ But, just in case, she took a step back.
‘Because you know in your heart that I will eventually persuade you to do as I want. Because you can’t resist me.’
‘I can resist you perfectly well,’ she retorted, trying not to sound breathless.
He smiled, that so-handsome smile. ‘Can you resist me?’ he said. ‘Let me see.’
Taking her hand, he drew her to a tall screen conveniently placed across a corner of the room.
‘Christopher...’ She breathed in desperation, wanting to look away, wanting to stop listening, knowing that every word he spoke was drawing her deeper into love with him. She tried to pull away, but he had tight hold of her and would not let go. She wanted to present him with nothing but indifference, because then maybe he would let her go and leave her alone, but she found it difficult. He kept slipping past her defences. She wanted to be cold, but coldness was a hard thing to summon when he had only one thing on his mind.
Confined behind the screen, the limited space warm and dimly lit, Christopher took her face between his hands and they looked at each other for the length of several heartbeats. His features were less guarded than Jane had ever seen them and there was something so tender in his eyes that all she could do was stare.
‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘We mustn’t do this. Someone might come in.’
‘I know,’ he murmured, reluctan
t to let go of her face. He was content to let his eyes dwell on the softness of her lovely face, to gaze into the depths of her half-closed eyes, to glory in the gentle sweep of her long dark lashes which dusted her cheeks.
Almost unconscious of what he was doing, he lowered his head closer to hers, overcome by a strong desire to draw her mouth to his and taste the sweetness of her quivering lips, which he did, succumbing to the impulse that had been tormenting him for weeks. The moment he placed his mouth on hers Jane parted her lips to receive his longed-for kiss, her heart soaring with bliss. He kissed her slowly and deliberately, and Jane felt a melting sweetness flowing through her bones and her heart pouring into his, depriving her of strength.
With a deep sigh Christopher drew back and gave her a searching look, his gaze and his crooked smile drenching her in its sexuality.
‘There are times, Jane Mortimer, when you confound me,’ he murmured, placing his warm lips on her forehead.
Her cheeks aflame, Jane drew a long, shuddering breath, her whole being bent on recovery, until he lowered his head once more. His lips folded about hers in a way that drew the most wonderful feelings from the pit of her belly. His arms held her tight against him so that even through her petticoats she could feel his need of her.
Surfacing slowly from the mists of desire, she drew away from him and stared into his hypnotic eyes, dazedly watching their colour and mood change from the smoky darkness and passion to their usual enigmatic silver-grey, while she felt reality slowly return.
He kissed her lightly one more time before he drew away. ‘If we don’t stop now,’ he murmured in an odd, strained voice, ‘I’m going to repeat what happened between us in the folly—which I fully intend to do, but not here. Not today.’
They stepped from behind the screen. Jane kept her eyes lowered and smoothed down her skirt with shaking hands. Her heart did a somersault when the door suddenly opened and Finn came striding in. On seeing Christopher he stopped, looking from one to the other, assessing the situation correctly. He settled his gaze on the unknown gentleman with a combination of carefully concealed speculation and friendliness.
‘Finn! I—I didn’t expect you back so soon,’ Jane said breathlessly, flustered, trying to compose her features.
‘My meeting at the Museum didn’t take long.’ Finn studied her for a moment, thinking how delightful she looked with her face all flushed and her eyes bright, before shifting his gaze to her visitor. Finn regarded the gentleman curiously. He didn’t need any explanation for what might have taken place in his absence or that this man was indeed familiar to Jane. ‘Well, Jane, aren’t you going to introduce me to your visitor?’
‘Yes—of course. May I introduce Lord Christopher Chalfont, the Earl of Lansbury. Christopher, this is Phineas Waverley—Finn—an old and valued friend of my father—and me.’
‘I am delighted to meet you,’ Christopher said, extending his hand. ‘I understand from Miss Mortimer that you are quite a traveller and that you have worked in some exotic places along with her father.’
‘That is correct, but there is nothing exotic about it when you are actually there. In some places the heat and the dust leave a lot to be desired, I assure you. Since you—are here to see Jane I will leave you to talk.’
‘Lord Lansbury was just leaving, Finn,’ Jane was quick to say, ‘so there is no need to go.’
Christopher glanced at her sharply, lifting his eyebrows with some amusement. ‘I am?’
‘Yes. I really don’t think we have anything further to say to each other.’
He smiled infuriatingly. ‘For now. Tomorrow is Saturday.’ He looked at Finn. ‘Can you spare your assistant for a few hours?’
Finn nodded. ‘We don’t normally work on Saturdays. Besides, we’re almost ready to open.’
Christopher looked at Jane. All her life, of being shunted from one hot country to the next, living in heat and dust and desert sands, she had never had the opportunity to enjoy the luxuries of life. His mother was right. Jane had to be courted.
‘We’ll go for a drive tomorrow at two o’clock if the weather permits. I am looking forward to the exhibition when it opens,’ he said to Finn. ‘I’m sure I will find it most interesting.’ Inclining his head politely, he strode across the room and went out.
It was with a heavy heart that Jane watched him go. It was a ridiculous situation. She had thought Christopher had more pride than to come after her, especially when she had refused him so finally. Maybe that was the reason he was persisting—his pride. She had dented it badly by turning him down—and now he meant to repair the damage by trying to get her to change her mind. Unbeknown to her, her face was unguarded. All her emotions and feelings were there for Finn to see.
‘So,’ he murmured, folding his arms across his chest and perching his hips against the stout table. ‘Lord Lansbury is the gentleman who has got you into such a fix.’
‘I’m not in a fix, Finn.’
‘No, but it is plain to me that you have feelings for him. Am I correct?’
Jane nodded miserably. ‘Yes. I can no longer fight or ignore what I feel.’
‘Why would you want to—if you love him?’
She sank on to a stool and looked at him miserably. ‘Yes, I suppose I do. Sadly I cannot choose who to love, Finn, for love Christopher Chalfont I surely do with all my heart and soul.’
‘Well, then, what is the problem?’
‘It’s his inability to return my love that makes me hold back, because I will settle for nothing less. I love him and I want him to love me. Is it so very wrong of me to want what my mother and father had—that perfect love? Oh, Finn,’ she cried, ‘what am I going to do?’
As he heard the anguish in her voice, saw it in her eyes, Finn’s heart went out to her. ‘I truly have no idea, Jane, but the way I see it, the man’s a fool not to love you. However, I’m not convinced that he doesn’t. You could give him a chance and go driving with him tomorrow as he suggested. Some time away from this place will be good for you.’ He smiled. ‘Perhaps you might even enjoy yourself.’
* * *
The following afternoon at two o’clock precisely, Jane watched a shiny black carriage draw up in front of the house. Having dressed in good time, when Christopher was due to arrive she was ridiculously nervous and caught up in the heights of excitement. She had never been invited on an outing with a gentleman before, so this was all new to her—not that she could have refused, since Christopher had issued the invitation with his usual air of command and authority.
It was with some surprise that she watched him step down from the carriage holding a huge bouquet of red roses. He paused to speak to the driver, giving Jane a moment to observe him. He was casually dressed and bareheaded, the gentle breeze ruffling his thick dark hair. How handsome he was, how striking. Her heart wrenched with love as she allowed her eyes to dwell on his face, seeing the ruthless set of his jaw and his sculptured mouth.
It was never easy to remain composed when she was with him, for his face was so intense that she was affected by the force of passion that emanated from him, that seared her flesh and melted her bones. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how much he had come to mean to her, but until she knew he would reciprocate her love she would keep it locked in her heart.
When he walked towards the house she immediately ran into the hall and, without waiting for him to knock she opened the door.
‘Christopher! What on earth have you got there?’
Raising a brow with some amusement, he gave the flowers a dubious look. ‘They look very much like roses to me.’
‘But—why—what for...?’
He held them out to her. ‘They are for you, Jane.’
‘Oh! Why—I—I thank you. How lovely. Somehow I didn’t associate you with presenting ladies with flowers.’
‘I’m not. You
are the first. Red roses, I am told, have a significant meaning. I believe the flower reigns as the ultimate symbol of passionate love.’
Jane stared at him, not having expected him to say that. ‘It also began its symbolic history in Greece, in rose iconography—where it was associated with Aphrodite or Venus—the goddess of love.’
He grinned. ‘There you are, then. I’ve got that right.’ Handing them to her, he stood gazing down at her, holding her eyes in a wistful sheen of silver-grey.
‘I’ve never been given flowers before,’ she murmured, somewhat shyly. She glanced at him obliquely from behind the bouquet. ‘Are you trying to gain my favour, by any chance?’
‘Do I need to?’ He looked at the flowers. ‘In some countries I believe it is the custom for a woman to wear a flower on her dress to tell her husband of her desire.’
Jane laughed. ‘Since I don’t have a husband that does not apply. Perhaps I should put one behind my ear.’
He grinned, a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I believe that means an unmarried lady is available.’
‘In which case I shall put them in a vase and admire them.’
The maid, on hearing voices, burst into the hall, her eyes lighting up when she saw the roses. ‘Ooh, how lovely,’ she enthused. ‘Shall I put them in water for you, Miss Mortimer, before I leave?’
‘Yes, please,’ Jane said, handing them to her and watching her disappear. Looking at Christopher, she realised he was watching her with a strange and tender smile on his lips. ‘Why, Christopher! Do you court me?’ she enquired in soft amusement. Her mouth curved into a tantalising smile as she moved towards him with almost sensuous grace.
Christopher caught and held her eyes. ‘Would you mind if I did?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never been courted before. If you do it would be the first time ever.’
‘Would you welcome my attention?’
‘It would be a challenge.’
‘This whole situation is new for me—and my mother told me that if I am to court you then I have to do it properly—hence the flowers.’
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