My Fair Lover

Home > Other > My Fair Lover > Page 11
My Fair Lover Page 11

by Nicole Jordan


  Julia glared daggers at Kate and muttered what sounded like a curse, then picked up her skirts and ran after Lisle. “Wait, darling, please….”

  Making her way through the crowd on the terrace, Kate joined Deverill, whose gaze was following the disappearing widow.

  “Did you have a hand in taking her off my scent?” he queried.

  She chose to answer with the truth. “I am not ashamed to say that I did. I hoped to keep her too occupied to chase after you.”

  Deverill gave Kate a knowing glance that was part amusement, part respect. “I am all admiration—and I thank you.”

  Kate returned a smile that was less triumph than gratitude.

  “Now that you have rid me of Lady Dalton,” Deverill added, “you could save me from the Armitage chit.”

  “Apparently Miss Armitage has a tendre for you.”

  “Not for me. For my fortune and title.”

  “I warned you, Lord Valmere.”

  When he shot her a sour look, this time Kate replied with a genuine smile before turning away.

  Deverill, however, reached out to grasp her arm, staying her. “Not so fast.” When she turned back, his tone took on a mock pleading quality. “You wouldn’t abandon me to the she-wolves, would you?”

  “What? You need me beside you to protect you? Such a big, strong fellow?”

  He flashed her a very male grin. “Perhaps I do need your protection.” Taking her elbow, he pulled Kate toward the stone banister overlooking the gardens, away from the crowd. “I had not expected my bride search to be so disappointing,” he continued in a low voice. “In fact, I am considering calling off the whole thing.”

  Kate searched his face in surprise. “But we have barely begun. Take heart, Deverill. I have someone in mind who could be ideal for you. The Honorable Miss Daphne Farnwell. You will like her, I promise. I will introduce you tomorrow night at the Perrys’ ball.”

  He was silent for a span before saying lightly, “I think I should wed you instead.”

  Kate’s jaw dropped momentarily—until she realized he must be joking. Giving a soft laugh, she replied in the same vein. “Because it would shield you from fortune hunters.”

  “It would also save me the bother of a courtship.”

  “I see,” she said with amusement. “You hope to avoid the hard work required to find the right mate.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “But you don’t really want to wed me.”

  Tilting his head, he gave her a contemplative glance. “I am not so certain.”

  “I am. You are only considering me for convenience.”

  “You would hardly be convenient. I could think of few prospects more likely to cause me trouble and grief. You are not the comfortable sort—but that is actually a point in your favor. And in some ways, you would be the easiest choice for my bride. For one thing, you could effortlessly assume the role of my baroness.”

  “Any number of ladies could.”

  “But none who compare to you. You are the most desirable woman of my acquaintance. And I need a wife to fill my life and warm my bed.”

  His gaze locked with hers, making her feel breathless. Kate could barely contain her flush. Trying to ignore the fluttering warmth in the pit of her stomach, she looked out over the gardens. “But I don’t want you for my husband.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not. We are incompatible in the only way that counts: We don’t love each other. And you have said you have no intention of changing.”

  “At least you already know my faults. Otherwise, we would make a good match.”

  “That would not be enough for me.”

  “You could try to mold me as you wish.”

  Kate laughed outright. “How gullible do you think I am? You would be impossible to mold to that extent.” She shook her head. “No, we should keep to our original plan. For now…perhaps we should find Ash and Maura and take our leave. You know Maura dislikes leaving her young son for so long.”

  A short while later, they did quit the garden party, but Kate found that Deverill’s impromptu proposal lingered in her mind long after they had dropped him off at his hotel.

  What if she were actually to accept his offer of marriage? Even though he was clearly not serious, it was a ridiculously intriguing proposition. But no. She intended to hold out for her dream of true love, and she couldn’t trust that Deverill would ever love her. By his own admission, tender emotions and feelings such as love were foreign to him.

  But what if she could somehow make Deverill love her?

  She quickly shied away from the question as an impossibility. Abandoning her standards was not an option, either. Her parents’ marriage had been based on love and devotion and rock-solid trust, and she would settle for nothing less. Finding the same mutual heart bond was the only reason she would ever marry.

  With thoughts laced with regret, Kate gave up contemplating what-ifs and turned her attention to the next evening—making certain that Daphne appeared in the best possible light.

  The Perrys’ ball was a grand, glittering affair, with over a hundred guests in attendance. As expected, when Kate presented two more candidates on her list, Deverill did not seem enamored of the sharp-witted Miss Dodd or the soft-spoken Miss Osborne.

  However, her favorite choice, Miss Daphne Farnwell, was a different story altogether. For the first time, he seemed genuinely interested in furthering an acquaintance and immediately danced two dances with her.

  Daphne, who was slender and elegant, with golden-brown hair and light blue eyes, contrasted appealingly with Deverill’s powerful build and ebony hair.

  Later, watching them laughing together, their heads close as he murmured in her ear, Kate unconsciously frowned—and then caught herself.

  What was wrong with her, to be suffering pangs of jealousy toward Daphne? She ought to feel ashamed. Likely she would find fault in any lady she’d arranged for him to inspect, because of her fondness for Deverill if nothing else. She harbored real anger toward Lady Dalton, but Daphne had no such glaring deficiencies and might be perfect for him.

  In an act of will, Kate directed her concentration to her own dance partner. And yet a niggling dissatisfaction kept nagging at her. Had she perhaps made a mistake pairing him with Daphne?

  When it came time for refreshments, she accompanied Maura and Ash to the supper rooms while Deverill escorted Daphne. Kate couldn’t take her eyes off the attractive couple, a fact that Maura commented on once Ash stepped away.

  “It seems Lord Valmere is getting on famously with Miss Farnwell.”

  “Yes, it does,” Kate replied.

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  “No, I am very happy,” she claimed falsely. “Not only will Daphne make a good match for him, she will be lucky to have him for a husband.”

  Maura knew her too well, though. “Kate, dearest…you are expending great effort to turn Valmere into an ideal husband for some other woman. Are you certain that is what you want?”

  “I have his best interests at heart.”

  “What of your best interests? What of your heart?” Maura’s dark eyes held real concern. “I have seen how you are when you are with him, Kate. Your whole being lights up. The sparkle in your eyes returns—the one that has been missing for years.”

  Kate made a face at the indisputable statement. Doubtless the fiery spark of attraction she felt every time Deverill looked at her, the bright jolt of energy whenever he was near, was evident to anyone who knew her well.

  “I can’t deny it,” she said with regret.

  “But you also harbor deeper feelings for him. I think you want him for yourself.”

  Unable to protest, Kate gave Maura a probing glance. “What if I do?”

  “Then you should take action.”

  “Meaning?”

  Maura smiled kindly. “It seems to me that you are giving up prematurely. The Kate I have always known and loved would never act so passively. She would
go after what she wants with every fiber in her being.”

  It was similar to the advice Kate had given to many a friend, and Maura knew it, judging by her self-satisfied look.

  “I am nowhere near as skilled a matchmaker as you,” Maura added. “But if you resolve to have him, I will help you in any way I can. And you should act soon”—she glanced toward Deverill, who gave every appearance of wooing Daphne—“before they form a strong attachment.”

  Another sharp pang shot through Kate, and when her friend turned away to address Ash, she was momentarily left alone to consider a stark realization: She’d been deceiving herself by pretending that Daphne was his best choice.

  The truth was, she didn’t want Daphne to have him. She wanted Deverill for herself.

  It was a disturbing acknowledgment, one that sent Kate’s thoughts churning. It took an intense effort of will to control her unruly emotions and finish supper before returning to the ballroom.

  She went through the motions of dancing and conversing, but she was still stewing over Maura’s admonition a half hour later when Deverill suddenly appeared before her and drew her away from the crowd.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked in puzzlement as he led her out of the ballroom.

  “Out of range” was his cryptic answer.

  Hoping he would explain, she accompanied him along the corridor and felt more bewildered when he glanced into the various rooms they passed. Finally he ducked into a parlor that was unoccupied and dimly lit by a single lamp.

  “What is the matter?” Kate demanded a little breathlessly.

  Crossing the room to the hearth, he pulled her behind a Chinese screen that protected a sitter from hearth flames. “Miss Armitage is on my scent like a bloodhound.”

  Kate couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you hiding from her?”

  “Yes. Pray, keep your voice down.”

  “Now who is being craven?” she whispered.

  He glanced down at her. “Wretch,” he said lightly. “You are too damned gleeful at my predicament.”

  Kate kept her voice to a murmur. “You should remain here for a while. Miss Armitage is a rank amateur compared to Lady Dalton, but she can still cause you trouble.”

  “I will, but you must remain here with me.”

  “Deverill, the ball is not over. I am promised to several more dance partners.”

  “I know. One poor devil after another is dangling at your shoestrings. But I dislike standing in line. Now tell me if we were followed.”

  Puzzled by his remark, she turned toward the screen to peer between the crack in the hinged panels. “There is no one out there,” she whispered.

  “Good.”

  To her surprise, she felt Deverill’s arm slip around her waist from behind. Kate went still. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “This is revenge for being amused at my expense.”

  “I am sorry for laughing at you.”

  “No, you are not.”

  When his fingers rose to the décolletage of her ball gown and brushed the swell of her breasts, she sucked in a breath. “Deverill, you need to release me.”

  “Not on your life. Since you have avoided me all evening, I had to create my own opportunity to be alone with you.”

  Kate shook her head in disbelief. He was constantly confounding her, and in this case, he had an ulterior motive. “Why would you need to get me alone?”

  “I mean to bring you to pleasure.”

  “Right here?” Her voice rose an octave and came out a squeak.

  “Hush, sweetheart,” he chided. “You don’t want to be discovered in my arms.”

  In the distance she could hear the sounds of chatter and music, but the parlor was fairly quiet. If someone were to enter, she and Deverill could be heard.

  “I advise you to keep silent,” he repeated. “If someone finds us like this, there will be a scandal.”

  Craning her neck to look back up at him, Kate narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to coerce me?”

  His mouth quirked. “I can’t imagine coercing you into anything you don’t wish to do. But you will wish this, I promise.”

  He was serious, she realized. Shock rippled along her spine, along with an electric thrill.

  When she tried to break away from him, Deverill prevented her by tightening his embrace. “Be still, princess. If you struggle against me, you will cause a scene.”

  His warning was abetted by her realization that she had no desire to struggle. In fact, she craved more of the pleasure he had given her in the folly.

  What did that say about her wantonness? What did that say about his? Many of her ancestors had lived lives of scandal and passion, and this generation of Wilde cousins had unabashedly lived up to their name. But Deverill was every bit as outrageous as her family, bold and brazen and so very irresistible. No one had ever lured her into temptation the way he did, damn him.

  Kate was trying to form a coherent objection when he cut her off. “I am not releasing you, so you might as well let yourself enjoy this….”

  While he spoke, he raised her skirts to bare her sex to the evening air. Then, very gently, he ran his palm along the front of her thigh. The erotic caress made her breath catch.

  When his palm shifted farther left, stroking the satin of her inner thigh, Kate tensed and remained so when his fingers glided through the curls covering her woman’s mound.

  The unexpectedness of the contact stunned her. She felt light-headed and unsettled. Then his hand slipped fully between her legs, pressing against her cleft. At the searing heat of his touch, longing melded with insidious excitement.

  Deverill must have been pleased to find the wetness there, judging by his sound of approval.

  “See,” he murmured in her ear in the lazy, husky voice that always made her hot. “You want me badly.”

  “How…do you know?”

  “Your body betrays you. You’ve grown hot and wet between your thighs, and the bud of your sex is hard and swollen.”

  As if to prove his claim, his fingers slid along her slick flesh, grazing the nubbin secreted in her feminine folds. Even that slight pressure was like a jolt of lightning to Kate. Suddenly she lost the ability to think, to move, to breathe.

  “Hold up your gown,” he ordered softly.

  He was asking her to participate in her own seduction? She knew better, and yet she obeyed.

  “Ah, sweet Kate….” His rough whisper was mesmerizing, increasing the sexual excitement inside her. “I remember how you looked climaxing the other day, how you felt, the little moans you made….You can’t moan now, though. You need to remain quiet, remember?”

  When Kate gave another whimper of frustration, he hushed her by placing his free palm over her mouth. His right hand remained between her legs to continue his sensual assault, probing the delicate tissue, rubbing lightly. Kate strove to maintain control. He was as strong-willed as she was, and he was leaving her no choice but to submit to him.

  “You are not…playing fairly,” she complained in a muffled tone.

  “No.” She heard the smile in his voice as he drew his fingers along the crevice, stroking, parting her sensitive flesh.

  “Open your legs for me, lovely Kate….”

  She gave in, closing her eyes, her head falling back against his shoulder.

  The next moment he gently slid one finger inside her. Kate arched wildly against him, her heart racing with echoing thunder.

  “Steady,” he urged. Bending his head, he touched the frantic pulse in her neck with his lips while he plied her folds with his finger, gliding slowly, sinking just deeply enough inside to linger and tease before withdrawing again.

  She was panting a little when he pushed her thighs farther apart and a second finger joined the first with a sweetly probing eroticism.

  Kate whimpered again, her hands instinctively clenching at the silk fabric of her gown. She was suddenly a quivering, trembling jumble of nerve endings, and Deverill was encouraging her abandon w
ith every caress, every provocative whisper.

  Her hips began moving instinctively in a primitive, needful rhythm. He was wooing her senses, his wicked fingers sheathed in her pulsing warmth while his thumb attended the swollen nub and the throbbing knot of nerves there. She could feel the walls of her woman’s passage stretching, heating, could feel her dampness grow, seeping and spreading from her core to her inner thighs.

  “Lord, I want you. I have imagined what your lovemaking would be like, your lovely body coiled around mine….”

  He pressed his lips in the curve of her neck, feathering her skin with kisses, sending pleasure rocking through Kate as he stroked her with torturous intent. The heat rising inside her centered around the imprisoning caress of his hand, yet he made her whole body burn.

  In another score of heartbeats, she was writhing. Suddenly, the pleasure was too keen to be borne. Her hips jerked, driving her sex against his fingers. Sensation tore through her, spiraling outward.

  She gave herself up to the convulsive climax he urged upon her, her body shaking. The intensity of it stole her breath away.

  Even when her spasms faded, Deverill kept his fingers where they were. Kate sagged back against him, her eyes tightly closed. If he hadn’t been holding her, she would have slipped to the floor.

  Eventually, though, he pushed her skirts down and, still supporting her, turned her in his arms. Then he tipped her face up and his lips found hers tenderly.

  His slow, thorough, heart-stopping kiss devastated all her remaining willpower, rendering her utterly weak and helpless.

  When at last he pulled away, Kate gazed up at him blindly. Once again he had left her dazed with pleasure. Even through her daze, however, one thought kept returning. She wanted more from Deverill than just pleasure. She wanted him to want her for more than just pleasure. She wanted him to love her.

  So what do you intend to do about it?

  Her sight clearing, she realized Deverill was gazing down at her with unmistakable desire. She refused to look away, but the heat generated by his look made her blood sizzle.

  Then he drew her hand to the front of his satin breeches. “Once again you have caused me great pain,” he accused, a spark of humor lacing the strain in his voice.

 

‹ Prev