Slowly, unwillingly, he lowered her to the floor. When he gazed down at her, his smile held wonder. He seemed young. Vulnerable. “What an angel you are.”
“No,” she gasped, trying to smile, though her heart still thundered. “Just a woman.”
He raised a hand and touched her cheek with such infinite tenderness she wanted to cry. Hot tears welled behind her eyes, filled her throat. Because somewhere during the maelstrom their souls had touched. He’d felt it too. She could see it in his eyes. Feel it in the way his hand trembled against her skin.
They would never meet again, but she would carry the memory of his touch with her forever. And when she walked the five steps to her front door, her heart would shatter.
Rising on tiptoes, she kissed him fiercely, felt the strength of his shoulders and the heat of his body against her breasts and Lord help her, she wanted to stay forever, here, now, like this. In a place removed from the world.
Chapter Three
What the hell had just happened? Never once had he lost control the way he had with this woman. Was still losing control.
How he’d found the strength to withdraw from her body at the last, he didn’t know, when he’d been mindless with pleasure.
Was he mad? Drunk? Drunk on her.
And the power of her kiss only confused him more. She touched him places he thought long dead to feeling. How was she different from all the other noblewomen he’d known? Cold calculating females out to trap him into marriage with feminine wiles. He’d been fooled once. The experience had left him in ruins he’d rebuilt brick after cold brick. It would never happen again.
But she’d asked for nothing and given with heart-stopping abandon. And here he was willingly bound with the silken cords of her beauty and her strangely honest eyes. A siren whose song he could not resist.
He deepened the kiss. Felt her melt into him, cling to him, her small fingers running through his hair, gliding over his body as if she would remember every inch of his skin by feel. Triumph roared to life as he explored the silken recesses of her mouth. Reveled in her instinctive unpracticed but decidedly erotic responses. When they finally broke apart they were both breathing heavily, and he was as hard as granite. Ready to take her again.
“Spend the night,” he whispered, his gaze searching her face. “Whatever I can give you will be yours.”
The regret in her expression was like the lash of a whip. As she shook her head, his heart froze. Ice filled his veins. Rejection stung.
“I’m sorry,” she said. There was a heart-wrenching loneliness in those two words and it was reflected in the shadows in her eyes.
He couldn’t fight such sadness. Or offer more. Not heart or soul. How could he? Another woman had destroyed them long ago. He drew himself up straight. “As you wish.” He forced a devil-may-care smile to his lips and bowed. “Allow me to help you dress.”
In silence, he played the lady’s maid. Had he spoken, he might have made a fool of himself and begged. He moved swiftly, anxious to have their parting over with. Anxious to see the night and the rest of the day from the inside of a bottle to keep this new demon at bay.
Deftly, she draped the shawl around her shoulder.
Resentful and mystified by the emotions roiling in his gut, he leaned casually against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest, protection against an odd feeling of hurt, and watched her trip down the hallway. From here she looked ethereal. A figment of his imagination.
Until she paused at the hall table. “You really should read the note. The servant said it was urgent.”
It was always urgent. Lazily he strolled to her side and with a shrug broke the seal.
His heart twisted a little. Regret. Guilt. But it couldn’t be helped. The old man would have to wait a little longer for the black sheep to return to the fold. Next year. Or the year after. Maybe.
“What is it?” she asked.
“An invitation to Christmas dinner with my grandfather. He sends it every year.” And every year at this time, he paraded another milk-and-water miss for Richard’s inspection. A prospective wife prepared to do her duty for the sake of his wealth and his title. Or he had, until Richard stopped showing up.
Oh, he would marry one of them in time. Get leg shackled. But not yet. Not for a long while. And certainly not to some ghastly money-grabbing female selected by the old earl.
A strange expression filled her face. If it wouldn’t have been too bizarre, he might have thought it was envy.
Her pretty lips tightened. “It is Christmas. You should visit your family.”
He stilled. Let cynicism creep into his voice. “As you will be visiting yours?”
She hesitated, sorrow filling her eyes and he felt like a cur. “I would, if I could,” she said so softly he barely heard the words.
He’d hurt her, he realized. He wanted to comfort her, protect her from what made her sad. “Don’t go, Jeannie.”
Good God, he was begging. What was wrong with him? There were plenty of bits of muslin waiting in line. But none like this one, a voice inside him insisted. He wasn’t done with her. There was something in this woman that blunted the edge of his anger, made him tired of bitterness. He brushed his thumb across her full lush lips. “Surely there is something I can say to change your mind?”
The sadness in her eyes grew darker. “No.” She pulled free of his hand and fled for the door. For once in his life he felt like some virgin-pillaging monster. She opened the door, then turned back. “Go visit your grandfather, while you have the chance.”
Bitterness rose in his throat. Resentment at her presumption of his guilt in the matter. “You presume too much, madam. You know me for less than an hour and think to manage my life?”
She looked back at him with something like heartbreak in her eyes. His chest twisted with the pain of it. “I just wish my family cared enough to send me an urgent message requesting my presence at Christmas.”
She reached for the door handle.
“Lady Eugenie, please, don’t go.” The moment the words were out of his mouth he realized his mistake.
Horror widened her eyes and parted her lovely lips. Horror at her discovery. And something else. Shame.
Damn it all. What had happened between them was not shameful. It had been glorious.
“Don’t go,” he said again, raising a hand to detain her, then letting it fall again. “Please.”
“I should never have come here.” She glanced at the note. “If the servant had not said it was urgent…” Her voice was low and sad and it cut him to the quick. For the first time in many years his silver tongue failed him. He could only stand there and watch her leave.
She pulled open the door. “Good night, my lord.” The quiet words hung in the air, but she was gone. A gust of wind slammed the door shut behind her.
The house felt chill and dark and very empty. Oddly similar to the sensation in the deep recesses of his chest. It was as if, with her departure, there was no light or warmth left in the world.
He ran to the door and wrenched it open. But she had disappeared. Already gone inside her house, while he’d stood gaping like a fool. For a moment, he thought of hammering on the door. All night if need be.
She was everything he could imagine wanting in a woman. Delicious. Daring. Sensuality with gentleness. And her laugh. He could not get it out of his mind. A feeling of terrible loneliness swept through him.
The cold north wind lashed his naked skin and he grimaced. It wouldn’t work. Not with this woman. His cat lady clearly required more drastic action.
His stomach roiled. The thing was, did he really believe she was worth it?
Chapter Four
The dining room table decorated with its evergreens and shining silver looked pathetic with its place for one. A terrible contrast to the bustling Christmas feasts of her childhood.
Eugenie had put on her finest gown. A crimson silk with dark green embroidery. It did nothing to distance her from the wanton of last night, but
it served as armor against her misery. Somewhat.
Oh, here she went again, feeling sorry for herself. She smiled down at Ginger. “It all looks perfectly lovely, don’t you think. And plenty for both of us.”
It would have been nice to share her meal with… How could she have been so reckless as to fall for the wiles of a rake? To let her heart be bruised by him? Oh, and he’d guessed who she was. How, she could not imagine.
She would have to ask him not to speak of their encounter. The very thought of it made her go hot and cold.
If a whisper of her foolishness came to her brother’s ears, he would be so ashamed. The first time she’d fallen, she’d had the excuse of schoolgirl love for a charmer. This time there would be no way to protest her innocence.
There was no help for it. She’d have to go to Richard, beg him to keep their secret. But not today. She could not face him today. And besides, she’d heard him go out not long after she’d found her way to her bed. Out to find a new bedfellow no doubt, while she had cried into her pillow like some lovelorn schoolgirl.
Lovelorn? It wasn’t possible. The man was a dissolute rake. He’d known who she was and deliberately set out to seduce her. And she had made it so very easy.
She stabbed the slice of chicken on her plate with her fork. How could she have been so wicked? Hadn’t she learned that it was always the woman who received all the blame?
But she couldn’t entirely regret last night. It had been wonderful. Better than before. And she’d made the decision knowing exactly what she was doing. She should feel proud instead of utterly miserable.
Proud she’d been able to find the strength to take what she wanted.
Someone banged on her door.
Ginger disappeared under the sideboard.
Well she wasn’t opening the door to any more footmen with notes. It was far too dangerous. She peered through the sidelight.
Him.
Richard. Lord Townsend. Looking sartorially splendid in a dark blue coat with silver buttons. Today, his blond hair was carefully ordered. His shoulders straight. His face determined.
Knocking on her door.
Unable to breathe for the thud of her heart, she backed away.
He knocked again. Harder and louder and longer.
Oh dear. What if her neighbors noticed? The garden was secluded, but neighbors were infallibly nosy. She slid the bolt and opened the door and stared at him in silence.
His eyes widened, then he bowed. “I didn’t expect you to open the door.”
“The servants have gone home for the holidays.”
His gaze roved her person. “You look more beautiful than I remembered.” He laughed almost a little awkwardly. “I was beginning to wonder if I dreamed you up.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply and thoroughly.
Taken by surprise, tricked by her own deep longings, she melted against him, her heart blossoming with welcoming joy. A silly soft place in her chest fluttered and danced. Somehow her head imposed its will and she pushed him away.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, glancing out towards the lane, where the snow glistened in the pale sun and people would pass going to and from church. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to speak to you, Lady Eugenie.”
And she needed to speak to him. She might as well get it over with. She glanced over his shoulder, saw no one in the street, though his carriage was parked in front of the gate. Still, since he lived next door there was nothing unusual in that. “Come in.”
She led him through to the drawing room and turned. “About last night.”
He held up a hand. “Please, let me speak.” He drew in a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since you walked away.”
Nor she him. But it meant nothing. “No doubt you will recover when the next woman catches your eye.” Oh dear, that didn’t sound terribly conciliatory, when she had a favor to ask, and the tinge of color in his cheeks indicated she’d stung his pride.
He must think her a terrible shrew.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I also wanted to speak to you about last night. I…” Oh goodness, this was much harder than she had expected when he was looking at her as if he wanted to eat her up. “It was a mistake. It must not happen again.” Of their own accord her hands clenched in supplication. “I would be most grateful if you did not speak of it.”
What little pride she had left disintegrated to dust and she lowered her gaze.
“Eugenie,” he murmured. “You must think badly of me indeed, if you think I would betray you in such a baseless way.”
She looked up and found him watching her gravely. His eyes glittered. A muscle in his jaw flickered. His expression was dark.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” She could not keep the edge of bitterness from her voice.
The hard light went out of his eyes. “Someone hurt you badly.”
She turned her face, not wanting him to see the surge of anguish that took her by surprise. “It was a long time ago.” She gave a light laugh. “And as you discovered, last night, I am reckless and deserve little consideration. However, I would ask this of you.”
“Eugenie, I’m so sorry.” His voice was husky, full of pain, as if what she had said had somehow hurt him.
She didn’t understand why he would feel pain. She turned back to him and forced a bright smile. “There. I have made my request. What did you want to say?” Then the realization struck her. “Oh, don’t worry that I will demand you save my reputation.” She took a deep breath. “I have none to save.”
He smiled, but there was sadness behind it, perhaps even a smidgeon of hurt. “Last night, you bid me visit my family. You said it as if it was important. I went this morning.”
“You did?” She stared at him in astonishment.
“I did. My grandfather is ill.”
“I’m sorry.”
He brushed the apology aside. “We made our peace. He looked so damned lonely, surrounded by servants and not a single person there who really cared.”
She nodded. How well she understood.
“I promised to return for Christmas dinner.” His lovely lips twisted in a rueful smile. “I am his heir, you see. The last of my line. He’s been trying to force a marriage on me for years. The reason I avoided him. I promised to bring my prospective bride, to make him happy.”
Prospective bride. For no apparent reason, pain pierced her heart. “Oh.” Her throat filled with something hot. A lump that wouldn’t be swallowed. She paced to the window, trying to recover her balance. “And will you?”
“That was the favor I came to request. Will you come with me?”
Shocked, she spun around. “I am to pretend. To fool a sick man?”
“To make him happy. But not to pretend.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’m not much of a catch, but I would be honored if you would permit me to court you. Perhaps we could see if we suited…in other ways?”
She flushed as she remembered the ways in which they did suit. Sun streamed into the room. Church bells rang in the distance. Christmas Day services, she realized dimly. A strange feeling passed over her. A sense that she had been waiting for her life to begin and now it had.
Hope, foolish and painful, surged in her heart. Followed swiftly by a twist of agony. No nobleman could court a fallen woman.
“It is kind of you, my lord.” She even managed to dip a little curtsey, despite how her knees shook. The darkness around her heart seemed to grow. It squeezed out the joy struggling to take control. If only she’d not been as headstrong as a girl. A chill swept through her as she realized what she must do. “You do not know me.”
Shame churned in her stomach. Hot tears caught in her throat and her insides trembled, but she forced the words past stiff lips. “What you are asking isn’t possible.”
“Why? I am only asking to know you better.”
She forced a brittle laugh. “You already know me well enough. My reputation is ta
rnished beyond repair. I have caused enough scandal for my family. I will not cause them further embarrassment.”
“You speak as if what I propose is dishonorable. I can assure you it is not.”
Her heart ached, for she knew she must drive him away. “Then you are a fool. You said it last night. We were two lonely people on Christmas Eve. Nothing more. I am quite content with my life. I beg you, please go and leave me alone.”
Shadows darkened his eyes. His intense blue gaze searched her face as if seeking to read her mind. “If you had not encouraged me to visit my grandfather, I would not be in this awkward position.”
She hardened her heart. “It was your duty. I simply pointed it out.”
He touched her hand, a feathery touch that made her shiver. “Was I so wrong about what we had last night?” he said softly.
A breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t speak.
“It was more than lust, Eugenie. How much more, I am not really sure, but will you not give us a chance to find out? For years I have refused to trust any woman’s word. Yet for some reason, I trusted your judgement. Your advice. Never in a million years would I have expected that.”
He huffed out a breath. “I admit, I have watched you in your garden. Your sensual sighs and moans beyond my walls drove me mad, night after night.”
She gasped and heat raced up her face. Mortified by his words she turned her back, covering her ears with her hands. “Enough.”
Gently he pried her fingers free. He gazed into her face with great seriousness. “Eugenie, listen. I loved getting your letters. I admired your intellect and your wit. I looked forward to them. I longed to meet you. To know you as a person. Don’t you see, we were friends, long before we were lovers? Give me a chance to earn your trust.”
Trust him? When she had been so badly burned in the past? She wanted to. Her heart ached with the strength of that need as much as her body ached with desire.
Hope, a sensation so strong it refused to be ignored. Her body trembled with it. Yet still she hesitated.
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