My Fair Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  “Taking you to France will require a great deal of time and effort. You could make a small effort in return.”

  “I already am making an enormous effort,” she pointed out indignantly, before spying the warm laughter in his eyes. “You are hoping to make me feel guilty, aren’t you?”

  “I am appealing to your sense of fair play.”

  A chortle escaped Kate, even as she questioned her own common sense. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering teaching Deverill how to woo his potential bride.

  “I suppose I could show you a thing or two,” she said cautiously.

  “Good. We can begin this morning, once I escort you home.”

  Her exasperation returned. At her first hint of yielding, he had taken charge. “Nell has a fitting for her wedding dress this morning and won’t be free until this afternoon.”

  “You don’t need to hide behind your chaperone’s skirts. Moreover, I am meeting your brother at Brooks’s club this afternoon.”

  “I will need a chance to think on it.”

  “Well, think quickly. As you said, we have very little time before the Season ends.”

  At the reminder, Kate relented. Maura would likely be home this morning, even if Nell wasn’t. And the introduction of Lady X into the equation added urgency to her task of finding Deverill a suitable bride who would value him for himself.

  “True. And we could review my list of candidates. You should be prepared to encounter any of them at the ridotto this evening. Very well. We can begin when we conclude our ride.”

  The smile Deverill gave her was potent enough to curl her toes. At his intimate look, she couldn’t deny the jolt of excited anticipation that shot through her—

  Kate brought herself up short as all her defenses shouted “Beware!” Teaching him to romance her peers? Whatever had possessed her to agree? Clearly she needed to have her wits examined.

  Dragging her gaze from his, she directed her eyes straight ahead. Even more than her fierce attraction for Deverill, her tangled emotions made her far too vulnerable.

  No, Kate thought, steeling herself for the engagement to come. She would have to take great care if she hoped to remain unscathed. Otherwise, she could be in real danger of resuming her former idiotic romantic infatuation.

  Maura and Ash were out, Kate learned upon arriving home, yet she led Deverill to the drawing room anyway. Surely she could handle him for a short while.

  When he was seated on the sofa, she gave him a copy of Debrett’s Peerage. “You should study this to familiarize yourself with the ranks of nobles and knights.”

  Then she pulled out her list of potential candidates and settled beside him in order to review the names. “Here are the ladies I have identified so far.”

  “You put great store in lists,” he said, visibly amused as he skimmed over her notes.

  “Because they help me to organize my thoughts.”

  He looked up at her. “Have you made a list for our excursion to France?”

  “Only in general terms.”

  “We should discuss our plans soon. I want to hold up my end of our bargain.”

  Kate was gratified that Deverill hadn’t forgotten their agreement. “Where should we start?”

  “For instance, will anyone be accompanying us? Your brother expressed little desire to make the voyage since he has a wife and newborn son to consider.”

  “Yes. And Jack is in a similar situation. His wife Sophie is great with child and is expecting any day now, so he won’t risk a voyage.”

  “What of your cousin Traherne?”

  “Quinn was only married two months ago, and since he brought our parents’ murderer to justice, he doesn’t crave a more decisive resolution as I do. As for Skye, she would rather Hawkhurst remain in England for now. He has finally found happiness after so many years of sacrifice abroad in service to the Foreign Office. However, my uncle Cornelius is willing to accompany us.”

  “I thought your uncle was a scholar. Searching for sunken treasure and thwarting pirates would seem contrary to his usual pursuits.”

  “Indeed.” Her uncle Lord Cornelius Wilde was far happier with his nose buried in a Latin or Greek tome and had already sacrificed a great deal for their family—a bachelor raising his five orphaned, unruly relations as their legal guardian. “But he still feels responsible for me. Also, his new wife, Rachel, wishes to help me because I am scouting a match for her”—Kate paused to search for the appropriate description—“younger friend, Miss Daphne Farnwell. They know I will need someone along to observe propriety. I can’t very well go alone with you to France.”

  Deverill’s mouth curved, but he didn’t rag her as she expected. Instead, he said, “I should arrange a meeting with Macky to learn what he discovered from his investigation of the shipwreck.”

  “I would like to be part of the planning.”

  “As you wish. It will be good to see Macky again,” Deverill said absently. “And Hawk as well. I have missed them both.”

  “Has it been six years since you last saw them?”

  “Yes.” He turned to look directly at her. “Did you miss me while I was away in America?”

  Kate hesitated, not wanting to confess that her dotage had continued long after Deverill left her. “I couldn’t help but think of you now and then,” she hedged. “Especially whenever I saw the casualty reports in the newspapers. I didn’t want you to be killed.”

  “I am flattered.”

  “I was thinking of Aunt Bella also. I know how fond she is of you. I would not have wanted her to grieve.”

  “Would you have grieved for me?”

  “Well, yes.” She would have been devastated if Deverill had died, although confessing that would reveal how much he meant to her. “I did not pine inconsolably after you, if that is what you are implying.”

  “But you did miss me a small measure.”

  His insistence disconcerted her less than the intimate light in his eyes did. “Why ever would I? You made your feelings very clear that night. You didn’t want me.”

  “You are being deliberately obtuse, princess. I told you I was trying to be honorable in not taking your innocence before I sailed away.”

  “I suppose it was honorable of you.”

  He smiled slightly. “Finally you admit it.”

  Shrugging, Kate attempted to regain the upper hand in their conversation. “May we please change the subject? Remembering my abject humiliation all those years ago is not particularly delightful.”

  “If it’s any consolation, you are not the first woman to come to my bed uninvited.”

  Whether Deverill meant to tease her or reassure her, the thought stung. “Oh, I am certain there are legions of females flinging themselves into your bed,” she said tartly.

  “Not one I wanted there a fraction as much as I wanted you.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I still want you, you know.”

  And instantly, just like that, the tension between them changed from contentious to something far more intimate and potent.

  Kate froze. The light in Deverill’s eyes was a curious mixture of intensity, desire, and challenge—with a hint of tenderness.

  Leaning toward her, he raised a finger to her cheek, lightly stroking. Something warm and heavy settled in the pit of her stomach. When his attentive gaze wandered over her face, Kate’s breath tangled in her throat. He was so disturbingly male. All her senses were alert to him, to the hypnotic intensity of his eyes.

  Then he moved his thumb in a rotating caress that lingered at the corner of her lip, flooding her raw nerves in a warm bath of sensation.

  “Does this trouble you…my touching you?”

  “Yes…no.” “Trouble” was not at all the right word. Exhilarate, thrill, inflame—

  “Then why is your heartbeat so wild?”

  How did he know? Her heart had started racing as heat flared between them.

  When Deverill cupped her chin in his hand, as if intending to kiss her, Kate could
only stare at his mouth and remember how wonderful it had felt on hers. Her tension increased, as did her longing.

  He leaned even closer, his breath warming her lips, igniting sensual sparks in every nerve. Kate fought the urge to melt. It was deeply disconcerting, her instantaneous, wanton response to his touch. Profoundly unsettling, waiting for him to bring his mouth into contact with hers—

  Before he could complete the action, she drew back abruptly, breaking the spell with a sharp inhalation. She desperately needed to maintain control, both over Deverill and herself.

  “That is close enough, my lord. Now, if you don’t mind, I should like to review these possible candidates for your hand.”

  When she took the list from him, Deverill relaxed against the back of the sofa. “I am all ears.”

  Since he pressed her no further, Kate expected her tension to subside, yet she still felt unsettled and highly annoyed at herself. She was suffering a mental derangement, to be disappointed that Deverill hadn’t kissed her.

  They spent the next several minutes discussing names, descriptions, and characteristics of each lady on her list. Kate began with the two who were on opposite ends of the scales, from the most forward—Miss Phoebe Armitage—to the shyest, Miss Kitty Smythe.

  “Miss Armitage is likely to pursue you ruthlessly.”

  “Then why did you include her?”

  “Because she is related to the Duchess of Devonshire, and if you were to wed her, your acceptance in society would practically be assured. On the other hand, you will need to treat Miss Smythe with extreme gentleness. Lady Grace Middleton falls somewhere in between. Her father is an impoverished viscount, so she is looking to marry a fortune, but she has a kind heart.”

  “And you will advise me on how to court them?” Deverill asked.

  “Yes, but I told you, I would like time to consider the most effective ways. For now you need only become acquainted with each lady so you will be prepared for tonight.”

  “I would rather hear your plan to turn me into an ideal suitor.”

  Kate refused to be sidetracked. “Miss Emma Dodd is somewhat plain but has excellent breeding and a sharp wit that might appeal to you. Miss Eliza Rowe has impeccable manners and is welcomed everywhere, although I find her rather cold. Additionally, she is rumored to be on the verge of an engagement. Miss Ruth Osborne is soft-spoken and fits your requirements for ‘obedient’ and ‘biddable.’ ”

  “This list names six candidates. This morning you said you had identified seven.”

  “Yes, but I am saving the best for last. She meets all my requirements, although not yours. If you tire of wooing the others, I will introduce you.”

  “So tell me how you want to be wooed.”

  Kate sent him a chastising look. “There is no reason to talk about me, Deverill. You know my goals for marriage are different from most young ladies. I want true love.”

  “How do you define true love? I am curious.”

  Her gaze narrowed on him. “You only want to roast me.”

  “No, I am entirely serious. I should like to understand what you mean.”

  “It is simple, really. True love is a passion of the heart, shared equally by two people.”

  “Equally, hmmm?”

  Kate hesitated, puzzled by his reply. His expression was dispassionate, enigmatic. “Well, yes. The attachment cannot be one-sided.”

  When Deverill was silent, she expounded. “Love is kind and generous and unselfish and self-sacrificing, powerful and wholly consuming. It makes you feel complete and fulfilled….Put another way, you can’t imagine living your life without the other.”

  His grimace was slight but unmistakable. “You are speaking of ideal love, not reality.”

  She studied him thoughtfully. “Is it that you don’t believe ideal love exists,” she asked, “or that you can’t see the possibility for yourself?”

  “I suppose it exists. But it is extremely rare.”

  “Well, I have learned that life is too short and precious to live without it. In fact, it makes life worth living.”

  Deverill did not look convinced. “You have never known true love yourself.”

  “Not yet. But I have faith that someday I will. The proof is not only in my immediate family. A number of our Wilde ancestors were famous lovers. One of our enduring traits is that when we fall in love, we love passionately and for life.”

  His expression remained dubious. “I think you are creating a fantasy. A figment of your imagination. And you are bound for disappointment.”

  “Perhaps. But love is worth waiting for, fighting for, perhaps even dying for,” she returned emphatically.

  Deverill’s response was a hint of a smile. Evidently her intensity amused him.

  Kate firmed her jaw, unwilling to concede the argument. “I see your problem. You are a cynic like my cousin Quinn. He felt the same way before he met Venetia and discovered he couldn’t live without her.”

  “And your problem is that you are too choosy when it comes to suitors.”

  “I am merely discriminating.”

  “I wonder that any man could live up to your high standards. I can see you checking off your list of requisite attributes.”

  Kate compressed her lips to hold back a retort. “It is not a matter of conforming to attributes or meeting standards. I intend to follow my heart, not my head. Love often has nothing to do with logic or intellect.”

  “So you follow your heart and wind up disillusioned when your ardor isn’t reciprocated.”

  Her exasperation returned. “Even if a romance ends badly, it can be worth the risk. Even painful emotions make you feel alive.”

  “I would prefer to avoid the pain.”

  “So would we all.”

  She spoke from personal experience. Deverill’s rejection had been extremely painful, and yet he always made her feel keenly alive. Since his return to England, her senses, her very spirit, had come back to life, as if they’d been dormant all this time. Furthermore, all the ardent emotions and deep longings she’d carefully kept tucked away had come flooding back.

  But Deverill did not seem eager to discuss emotions. Shifting to face her, he stretched one arm over the back of the sofa behind her. “Perhaps your beliefs are not to blame. Perhaps the fault lies with your suitors and how they regard you. You should be treated as a woman, not a princess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your suitors worship at your feet. I doubt if any have dared seduce you or even kiss you as you were meant to be kissed.”

  Suddenly on guard again, Kate sat up straighter in her seat. “Trust me, I have been courted by expert seducers.”

  “But you prefer to remain a virginal spinster.”

  His gibe about her spinsterhood rankled. “You assume I am a virginal spinster.”

  Judging from Deverill’s raised eyebrow, her retort was unexpected. “Why would you think I haven’t taken any lovers?”

  “Have you?”

  “It is hardly your concern. But I have known passion.” At least in my dreams, Kate clarified to herself.

  When his gaze fixed intently on her, she stared back at him with a trace of defiance. She was shading the truth, yet it wasn’t a complete falsehood. In her dreams, Deverill had always been her only lover. Neither was she completely ignorant when it came to men and physical relations. She had her aunt Bella to thank for educating her. Bella had wanted her nieces to be armed against the rakes who might try to tempt them.

  When the charged moment drew out, Kate tried to will away the blush rising in her cheeks while silently justifying her prevarication. After Deverill, she’d felt vulnerable and unsure. Secretly she’d even wanted to make him regret spurning her. An unworthy ambition, she knew; she hoped she was not that petty.

  But she wouldn’t apologize for the entirely rational feminine need to make him believe she was not a shriveled-up old maid, or feel much remorse if she pretended to have had a torrid affair. Showing him she was desirable, that o
ther men wanted her, would be a salve to her wounded pride….Although she wouldn’t lie to him outright.

  “I have had more than one suitor who is considered a marvelous lover,” she declared. Which was completely true. She knew several rakish noblemen who were rumored to be remarkable lovers.

  She could tell Deverill wasn’t particularly pleased with her reply, which somehow made her feel better.

  “However,” Kate added, deciding it wiser to extricate herself from the web of deceit she was spinning for herself, “I value emotional gratification much more than physical.”

  “You say that because you don’t know any better. If your physical experience had been at all pleasurable, you would rate it more highly.” Deverill leaned closer while his voice dropped to a murmur. “Lovely Princess Katharine…I could show you pleasure.”

  Reaching up, he wrapped his fingers lightly around the column of her throat. This time, however, Kate was better prepared for the scalding impact. Suspecting that Deverill was testing her, she forced herself to remain still. If she had truly taken any lovers before, she would not be shy about his physical advances—and heaven help her, she wanted his physical advances.

  As if reading her thoughts, he drew even nearer. She watched, spellbound, as his ebony lashes lowered to shadow his eyes. She knew she ought to pull away, but he took the decision from her. Raising both his hands, he slid his fingers along either side of her jaw and bent his head to kiss her.

  Determined to pretend more experience than she really had, Kate made no protest, yet when his mouth settled on hers, claiming with a forceful tenderness, she found herself being swept up in the enchantment. The taste of him was gloriously arresting. When Deverill made her open farther for him, his tongue penetrating in an erotic invasion, an intoxicating rush of feeling assaulted her.

  She ignored the warning voice of reason when he pressed her back against the sofa cushions. She couldn’t summon the desire to fight him. Instead, her body softened instinctively against his, and she clutched weakly at his shoulders. She could feel the hardness of his corded muscles beneath her fingers, the heat of his powerful torso, could smell the arousing scent of him.