My Fair Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  But his desire for her now went deeper than he had ever admitted. In Kent, he’d counted the days till he could complete his duty visit and return to her. A remarkable change in his long-held perspective, Brandon realized. He was accustomed to being alone and, until lately, content to stay that way. Yet now he was willingly, even eagerly, contemplating ending his bachelorhood.

  The simple truth was, he wanted Kate for his wife. No other woman would do. Certainly not the two tiresome society misses he’d met this evening, or any of the other young ladies on her list, either.

  The trouble was, however, Kate was too fixated on the elusive notion of ideal love. He’d always known he wouldn’t readily fall victim to love. In fact, he doubted that any woman could have such an effect on him, even Kate.

  Unlike her, he’d witnessed few examples of loving relationships, seen precious little joy. His own parents had been callous and unfeeling, their marriage a cold business arrangement, their procreation of children a mere duty. As for himself, the closest he’d come to experiencing any sort of emotional intensity was getting lost in a pair of vivid green eyes and a warm, sensual smile.

  But that was before the war. Since then, he felt as if something inside him was missing. He’d hated killing and maiming, and the experience had left him a little scarred inside, Brandon suspected. Perhaps that was why the idea of marrying Kate had an irrefutable appeal. She could fill up the empty corners of his life.

  For years, he’d had nothing but obligations and duty to look forward to. No one to make him smile, to warm him at night. No one to come home to, or even to care if he came home at all.

  Kate could be that someone.

  There was a strong bond between them already, even if it would never blossom into anything more ardent than friendship and affection. His challenge would be to make her recognize that bond and accept his limitations. If she wanted him badly enough, she wouldn’t insist on love.

  He had already succeeded to some degree; she wanted him but didn’t like it. But he needed to press his advantage.

  Kate was a handful under any circumstances, and although he preferred forthrightness and honesty, he couldn’t reveal his ulterior motive or she would bolt. At minimum, he had to pretend to go through the motions of searching for a bride—which was why he’d proposed that she tutor him. So he could learn what she wanted in a suitor, how she wanted to be wooed. He would use her own counsel against her and compel her to let down her guard.

  In short, he intended to pursue Kate with every means at his disposal, conventional or not. Even if he pushed the boundaries of fairness, or violated the accepted mating and marriage rituals, he would win her.

  With his decision, Brandon was finally able to close his eyes and relax enough to let sleep overtake him. And just before he dozed off, he smiled faintly in satisfaction.

  He had chosen Kate. Now he just had to convince her of the inevitable.

  When Kate reached home late that evening, her temper was still simmering from her clash with Lady Dalton. She spent the night tossing and turning and woke with fresh determination to find Deverill a worthy bride. Obviously, she had been too desultory in her search thus far and needed to reconsider her strategy. No more tame, mousy girls for him. He needed someone much better.

  Therefore, she would move up her plan to introduce him to her first choice, Daphne Farnwell. Daphne could be an excellent match for him. She was intelligent, beautiful, talented, a good conversationalist, and as the daughter of a baron, she held a respected position in society.

  Indeed, Kate decided as she dressed for the day, she should be glad for her nemesis’s warning shot since it had brought out her fighting instincts. Yes, jealousy played a role in her renewed resolve, but mostly she was thinking of Deverill. She would do everything in her power to keep him safe from the clutches of that witch.

  This was no longer merely a favor for her aunt, or a means to persuade him to escort her to France. This was a battle for his future.

  —

  Before parting last evening, they had agreed to convene this morning at her home. Since both Nell and Maura would be away, Kate chose the folly in the rear gardens for her meeting with Deverill—a pretty, domed structure partially hidden in a copse of woods.

  Surrounded on all sides by white trellises, which in turn were covered by thick ivy and climbing rose vines, the folly should provide privacy, yet because of the dreary, gray day, the setting was not romantic in the least. With a misty rain falling, the air was even a bit chilly, requiring outer garments. Kate rationalized that since she would be more heavily clothed Deverill would have less opportunity to fondle her bosom.

  When he arrived at ten o’clock, she met him in the entrance hall. After donning a hooded cloak, she led him outside to the rear terrace and down the sweeping stone steps.

  There was no sign of any gardeners as they traversed the graveled path. Deverill, however, seemed to divine her purpose, if his knowing gaze was any indication. He paused just inside the doorway of the folly, surveying the interior and the opposing wooden benches. “Shall I guess the reason you chose here?”

  “I will happily tell you. I wanted a less intimate setting than my drawing room.”

  “The setting wouldn’t stop me if I was determined to be intimate.”

  Kate found herself flushing, then scolded herself for her reflexive response. She was acting very much like the prude Lady X had accused her of being.

  “We have a good deal of ground to cover so we should begin at once.” Pushing back the hood of her cloak, she sat on one of the benches and indicated that Deverill should take the other. Instead of complying, however, he leaned one broad shoulder against the wooden door frame, waiting.

  Kate took a breath. She should stop worrying so much about being alone with Deverill and get on with tutoring him. The trouble was, that intense stare of his—so tender and sensual—was unsettling.

  “We must focus on increasing your appeal to your chosen candidate,” she said. “Since I don’t care to endure your roasting, I won’t bore you with my myriad lists—”

  “Praise the saints.”

  She cast him a narrow glance. “—but I will share some attributes of an ideal suitor. I believe most women will appreciate these same qualities in a husband.”

  Deverill folded his arms over his chest. “Pray, proceed.”

  “First, the negative. I have already mentioned that sheltered young ladies may be put off by your provoking nature and warned that you cannot be intimidating or arrogant or dictatorial. At the same time, you should never belittle her or act as if you are better than she is.”

  “Do I act as if I am better than you are?”

  “No, but you could take my advice a step further. It can be disarming if you can laugh at yourself. A self-deprecating manner can put a shy girl at ease. And you could strive to be a good conversationalist. At least some ladies want that.”

  “Such as yourself. I will practice developing my witty ripostes after tea.”

  Kate couldn’t help but smile. “You should be quick with a compliment, but not in the obvious way….Not necessarily with appearance or beauty, I mean. A plain woman will know you are feeding her falsehoods if you call her beautiful, but you could admire her best feature or praise an attractive character trait—something she takes pride in. Everyone has some attribute that is worthy of praise and admiration. But flattery must always be truthful, even if exaggerated a little.”

  “You have amazing eyes.”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “That is overdoing it, my lord, but you are on the right track. It also helps to be forgiving of her flaws and accepting of her limitations.”

  “Such as you and your lists.”

  Kate flashed a bright smile. “Exactly. And at the top of my list: Attentiveness is perhaps the most effective quality in a suitor, to my mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Listen to her, talk with her. And most important, you ought not close off your feelings.”
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  “I thought you advised disarming her.”

  “There are many ways to accomplish that. Show a genuine interest in her. Care about her interests. Ask about her hopes and dreams. Be considerate of her needs. But one of the best ways is opening your own heart to her.”

  “Why?”

  She leveled him a look tinged with exasperation. “The whole point is to try to make her fall in love with you, Deverill. I know you put little value on love, but if you want to earn her regard and perhaps even win her heart, you cannot come across as calculating or cold. She will warm to you if you sometimes share what you are feeling.”

  “You have created quite a lengthy list.”

  “You needn’t do all these things, but some measure would go a long way toward earning her gratitude and affection.”

  “If I were to court you as you’re advising, you would be bored out of your senses.”

  “We are not talking about me,” Kate replied, voicing the same argument she had made several times before. “Stop being so provoking, Lord Valmere. You could also strive to be a little romantic.”

  “Command and I will obey.”

  She gave a dubious laugh. “You, obey my commands? That will never happen. Besides, this is supposed to be a courtship, not a naval battle.”

  “What else am I to do?”

  “Well, try to observe the proprieties whenever possible. For example, you dance very well, but—”

  “What is this, a compliment? From you?”

  Kate ignored the interruption. “But you ought not hold her too close in a waltz. I have already warned you to minimize the damage your privateering will cause. You cannot come across as a rake, either.”

  Deverill’s expression turned contemplative. “I’ll wager some ladies are attracted to wickedness. Seduction may work as well as attentiveness.”

  “Perhaps, but you will likely have to win over her family and the arbiters of society. If you seem bent on seduction, you might attract the lady but her family will rush to shield her. But again, none of that is as important as sharing a more personal side of yourself.”

  For a moment, Deverill’s thick lashes lowered to veil his eyes. Then he pushed away from the door frame and sauntered toward her. “How is this for sharing my feelings? Yesterday you left me in a painfully aroused state.”

  Kate lifted an eyebrow. “So I am to blame? You are the one who kissed me. I was doing my best to stop you.”

  “Hardly your best. Do you know what I did last night when I was lying alone in my bed, unable to sleep? I brought myself to pleasure with my hand. And I was thinking of you the whole time. In fact, I dreamed about you the entire night. Quite lustful dreams, I might add.”

  His explicit talk took her aback. But then Deverill had a notorious record for knocking her off balance.

  “You will just have to control your lustful urges,” Kate retorted.

  “What about your urges?”

  “I don’t have urges.”

  “I’ll wager you do.”

  Deverill stood before her, gazing down at her. “I think you are underestimating how large a role physical appeal plays in a courtship. In my experience, a woman wants to be wanted.”

  He wanted her, an underlying note in his voice implied. The notion was soothing to her vanity but made her pulse race.

  When she had no quick riposte, Deverill sat on the bench beside her and gave her his blandest smile. Kate watched him warily. She didn’t trust that look, yet she stifled the urge to leap up and retreat across the folly, determined to hold her ground.

  “You are more desirable than any of the candidates on your list,” he murmured.

  “Thank you, but I am not interested in you in the least.”

  It was the wrong thing to say, judging from the intrigued spark in his eyes. No doubt he felt challenged by her resistance.

  “Now that is a falsehood if I ever heard one,” he said slowly. “Yesterday on your sofa was vivid proof.”

  “A momentary aberration that I already regret.”

  “Was it an aberration?”

  “Yes. Not every woman lusts for you.”

  “I don’t care about every woman. Only you. Confess, you want me.”

  He was goading her and tempting her at the same time—and against her will, Kate responded, “It is not unreasonable that I feel an attraction for you. I am human after all.”

  “Ah, yes. Very human. All woman. And I think you want a real flesh-and-blood man, not the tame, dull, idealized sort you profess to admire.”

  Reaching over, he grasped her hand and drew it to the front placket of his breeches, sending a shock of awareness rocketing through Kate. Beneath the fabric, he was very large and very hard.

  “I am very much flesh and blood, sweetheart.”

  She fought the urge to snatch her hand back. Deverill was vigorously flouting her rules of proper behavior and pushing the boundaries of acceptable conduct, but she wasn’t required to play his game.

  “The condition of your flesh is not my concern,” she said sweetly as she calmly freed her hand from his grasp.

  Deverill eyed her, assessing. “You are cruel to leave me in such dire pain.”

  “And you are brazen and outrageous.”

  “You once admired brazenness. In fact, you once were brazen and daring yourself. You seem to have forgotten how to be wild and adventurous. You are far too concerned about being a proper lady.”

  Kate winced inwardly. His charge was similar to the accusation Lady Dalton had made last evening about her prudishness.

  It seemed Deverill was not finished with his observations, either. “For too long you have tried to restrain your lively, enchanting nature. These days you resemble a cold-blooded princess.”

  “I am not cold-blooded,” Kate retorted with more vehemence than she intended.

  “Then why are you so skittish? Is it because you are afraid you will enjoy my lovemaking too much?”

  “I am not afraid, either.”

  “Then show me.”

  Kate summoned a frown. “I will do no such thing. You are a champion at baiting me.”

  “Am I succeeding?”

  The amusement lurking in his eyes vexed and exasperated her, and she knew she was in trouble.

  It was sheer idiocy to make this into a battle for supremacy between them, for Deverill was almost certain to win. On the other hand, she was tired of always feeling defensive. Moreover, she kept remembering the widow’s stinging rebuke. The scandalous Lady X would never have been so concerned with violating propriety.

  “I have no intention of becoming your lover,” Kate said with less assurance than she would have liked.

  “Why not? If you’ve enjoyed lovers before, what are you worried about?”

  She glanced around the folly. “This is still far too public a place. Someone might catch us in a state of undress.”

  “There is no need for us to undress. I can make love to you fully clothed. In fact, I could bring you to climax with a minimum of touching, without either my hands or my mouth.”

  “I very much doubt that.”

  In answer, Deverill leaned closer, bringing his face within a breath of hers.

  Kate drew back as far as possible. “What are you doing?”

  “You issued a challenge.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  When she rose to her feet, he caught her hand. “Are you running away?”

  At his provoking query, Kate planted her feet. “No, I am not running away!”

  He looked skeptical. “I never took you for the craven sort.”

  The implication riled her. “I am not craven, Deverill!”

  “Then prove it.” When she was silent, he tugged on her hand. “Come closer, sweetheart.”

  “Why?”

  He gave her a slow smile. “Indulge me.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you about?”

  “Showing you pleasure, what else?”

  What else? It was clear he w
as set on seducing her to establish his mastery over her, and she was rising to his bait, devil take him.

  It didn’t help when he asked in a tone that was slightly taunting, “Haven’t your ‘marvelous’ lovers ever brought you to pleasure with the barest stimulation? They must not have been very skilled or concerned about your satisfaction. I would never make that mistake.”

  The promise in his vow stroked her nerve endings.

  Kate set her jaw. No one could get under her skin the way Brandon Deverill could. His smile alone was infuriating. He knew how devastating that smile could be. And his eyes…She saw both desire and tenderness in his eyes. Heaven help her. She was out of her depth, her own harried emotions spinning out of control. Worse, he had ignited a deep, desperate desire in her to surrender—and a deeper need to prove him wrong. She was not a coward.

  She took a deliberate step forward, till their knees touched. “Now what?”

  Gazing up at her, he spread his legs slightly. “Now I want you to mount my thigh.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

  “Utterly. It will be like riding a horse. You are an excellent horsewoman.”

  Defiantly, Kate hiked up her skirts several inches and eased her right leg over his right one. Then placing her hands on Deverill’s shoulders for balance, she settled on his thigh and stared back at him. “Like this?”

  At her rebellious gaze, he cocked his head. “Not quite. You are far too tense. Relax your body. As you said, this is not a battle.”

  Kate swallowed. There was a hypnotic force in his gaze. He was capable of stirring wicked fantasies with a mere look.

  Sliding his arms around her, Deverill drew her close enough that her breasts pressed against his chest. Her heart picked up its pace, banging against her rib cage.

  Then he moved his thigh slightly, lifting her up. The pressure on the sensitive core of her made Kate give a faint gasp.

  “Now close your eyes,” he commanded, his voice a seductive murmur.

  When she obeyed, he leaned forward to plant a delicate kiss on her cheek. His lips were tender, coaxing, softly teasing her flushed skin.

  “You said you didn’t need to use your mouth,” Kate complained in a ragged voice.