by Farr, Diane
“Miss Chadwick. Lilah.” He cleared his throat again. “Please don’t be alarmed. These things happen.”
Now she lifted her chin and looked at him. Levelly. “Not to me,” she said with dignity.
His cheeks flushed a dull red. “No, of course not. Sorry! I didn’t mean to imply…well, I didn’t mean to imply anything. About you.” His collar appeared to have suddenly grown too tight. “I just meant that, once in a great while, you meet a certain person who…well, what I mean is, not you personally. And not me, actually, until now. But I’ve heard of this sort of thing. One hears of it happening, you know, to other people. People meet people, and…”
Lilah stared at him, mystified, as his voice trailed off. “Drake, what on earth are you talking about?”
Her brisk tone seemed to brace him. He faced her and tried again. “Chemistry,” he said, more firmly. “Animal magnetism. What happened between us wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t my fault. It was a freak of nature. Like chain lightning, or earthquakes, or the aurora borealis.”
Light dawned. “I see,” said Lilah slowly. “Like…like a shooting star. It flashes across the sky, and then…then it’s gone.”
“That’s right,” he said, appearing relieved. “And afterward, everything is just as it was before.”
Sharp disappointment was stabbing through her. She knew it was irrational to feel disappointed by his attitude. She took a deep breath and reminded herself, with great sternness, that Drake was saying exactly what she had hoped he would say. He was right.
And even if he wasn’t right, it was better to pretend he was. After all, what were the alternatives? Either their kiss had been meaningless, or…it had been important. The implications of their kiss being important were too frightening to face. Why, it would change everything. It would ruin all her plans. The entire course of her life would alter. Was she ready for that? Of course not. She had thought everything through very carefully, and she was going to marry Jonathan Applegate. A quiet man. A predictable man. A man of mild habits and calm temperament. A man who was her opposite, not…not her soulmate.
To strengthen her resolve, she tried to conjure up the face of Jonathan Applegate. She failed. Drake’s overwhelming presence had wiped Jonathan’s image from her brain.
Oh, dear.
Meanwhile, Drake had begun pacing. In his agitation, he raked his hands through his hair. It seemed to be a habit of his. Even when dry, she noted distractedly, his hair immediately sprang up into cowlicks when he did that. It made her want to run her own fingers through the thick, gleaming waves of chestnut, muss them up, smooth them down, feel her fingers slide through—
Good God, what was she thinking? She must stop this lunacy! Her thoughts had taken on a life of their own, flying, willy-nilly, down paths not of her choosing. Paths better left unexplored.
Drake’s brow knitted in a fierce frown of concentration beneath his disordered locks. “I wish to high heaven I had never met you!” he exclaimed. The rudeness of this remark seemed to strike him and he paused, adding, in a milder tone, “Meaning no offense.”
“None taken.” It was an automatic response, but she meant it. “I understand you perfectly,” she added. “I wish the same! But since we have met, and this terrible thing has sprung up between us—magnetism, did you call it? We really must address it somehow.”
He eyed her with misgiving. “Well, I don’t know how,” he said bluntly. “Normally this sort of encounter leads to marriage, but I fancy you don’t care for that idea any more than I do.”
“No, I don’t,” she said fervently. “Please marry Eugenia, and let me marry my Jonathan. You and I would be miserable together.”
“Aye, that we would.” But then his features darkened. “Who the devil is Jonathan?”
Lilah pulled herself up to her full, if diminutive, height. “Jonathan is no concern of yours,” she said stiffly. “Suffice it to say, I have no interest in associating with, let alone marrying, a hot-tempered man like you. I require a peaceable man, a gentle man—”
“A man you can bully.” He gave a rude crack of laughter. “You’re right; I am not that man! And you, I need hardly say, are not the woman for me. We would be at each other’s throats more often than not.”
She glared at him. “I resent your tone, Drake! Are you implying that I would henpeck my husband?”
“Of course you would. I never met a more controlling female.”
“In other words, you never met a woman strong enough to stand up to you,” cried Lilah, bristling. “Heavens, what a wretched life awaits your unfortunate Eugenia! I sincerely pity her.”
“Save your pity for someone who wants it,” ordered Drake, an angry flush reddening his neck. “Eugenia and I never fight about anything, I’ll have you know! She is the perfect woman for me. We are always of one mind.”
Lilah gave a scornful laugh. “Your mind, no doubt! She probably defers to you out of habit, because she’s learned how exhausting it is to oppose you.”
“Which is doubtless the reason why people defer to you! Or hadn’t you thought of that?”
“People don’t defer to me! I am not an all-powerful earl! I know you think I am vain and spoiled—”
“No, just spoiled.”
“—but I am not! It’s simply that I have been blessed with a high degree of—of ability, and more than my share of good ideas. If others let me have my way it is because they honestly agree with me, not because I ride rough-shod over them!”
Drake appeared to be breathing through his teeth. “So you think I ride rough-shod over people?” he snarled.
“Yes, I certainly do!”
“Well, I think the same of you, so one thing is abundantly clear: we must avoid marriage at all costs! Good God, we would brangle day and night!”
Lilah shivered. “Horrible! If we agree on nothing else, my lord, we agree on that.”
“Good.”
They both breathed a little easier. After taking a moment to collect herself, Lilah even managed to smile at Drake. “I am glad you do not feel obligated to propose marriage,” she said archly, trying to lighten the moment. “It would upset my father very much if I spurned an offer from an earl.”
His rare grin flitted briefly across his face. “And I am glad you do not insist upon such nonsense. Any other female would have treated me to a bout of maidenly hysterics. Thank you for sparing me that.”
Her smile warmed with genuine amusement. “You’re welcome. But I’m not such a poor creature.”
“No. That you are not.” Drake’s voice had softened. Dangerously. “You’re no man’s notion of a poor creature.”
Their eyes met across the narrow room. Met, and held. There was a wealth of appreciation in his eyes—and infinite attraction. Lilah felt suddenly dizzy. He was drawing closer, and she could not bring herself to move, or even to look away. Caught in the grip of feelings she feared but could not suppress, she stared helplessly into his eyes and let him approach.
Please don’t kiss me, she begged him silently. Her panic must have shown on her face—and her inability to resist him. He halted, inches from her, and something like pain moved in his eyes. He lifted one hand to trace the edge of her cheekbone. She shivered at his touch.
“You have the most amazing face,” he said, as if to himself. “Strong, yet feminine. Vivid. Your expressions flash and pour like water over pebbles. I could watch this face for hours.” His thumb moved across her cheek and his voice grew unsteady again. “What a pity that we cannot tolerate each other.”
“Yes,” whispered Lilah, giving him a crooked smile. “But we are too alike. Fire cannot marry fire. And neither of us is likely to change.”
His amber eyes darkened. “I cannot touch you without wanting you,” he said hoarsely.
Lilah instantly felt faint with longing. It wasn’t fair for him to say such things. She closed her eyes so the sight of his regretful face would no longer tempt her, and managed to whisper: “Then you must not touch me.”
> “Right.” He dropped his hand with obvious reluctance. Lilah opened her eyes and caught him staring at her neckline. “Your lace,” he said, his voice carefully devoid of emotion, “is torn.”
She glanced down. It certainly was. Her left breast was nearly completely exposed where the fragile stuff had fallen away. The lace was now secured at only one corner, near her left shoulder. Drake reached for the lace, his large fingers surprisingly gentle, and pulled it back across her tender flesh. The soft scrape of his fingers against the top of her breast tingled like electricity. Lilah caught her breath.
At first she thought Drake’s fingers were shaking. Then she realized she was trembling. And then she saw that both things were true. Both Drake and she were utterly focused on the sensation of his fingers touching her body. They were oblivious to everything else in the world; nothing existed but his flesh lightly caressing hers. Together, they became completely engrossed in prolonging the delicious moment—and in fighting what it made them feel.
Feeling drugged, Lilah slowly raised her eyes to Drake’s face. They stared into each other eyes. Their lips parted. Their breath quickened. She had never before felt desire for a man. She had never dreamed what power mere attraction could wield. She had not known such complexity of emotion was possible. And then his fingers slid between her breasts as he tucked the lace back into place, and Lilah discovered, beyond doubt, that desire was the strongest force in nature.
Neither Drake nor Lilah heard the door open behind them. They failed to notice the swell of sound from the ballroom. They did not even observe the light flicker and sway as the candles caught the draft from the open door.
But they did hear the outraged voice of Sir Horace Chadwick as he thundered, “What in blue blazes are you two doing?”
Chapter 10
Lilah sprang backward with a little scream of surprise. In the doorway stood four people. It was easy to tell who was whom, for none of them were masked. One was her father, clad in a Puritan costume and looking angrier than she had ever seen him. Standing beside him, her hand lightly resting on his arm, was a tall, black-haired young woman in a pink domino. Lilah realized at once that this must be Eugenia Mayhew. Her appearance came as something of a shock. Whatever Lilah had expected, it had not been this: a homely beanpole of a woman who, despite her lack of beauty, radiated a poise that was almost regal. If her true object was to attach Drake through feigning interest in another man, she greeted the sight of Drake’s fingers tucked into Lilah’s neckline with admirable serenity.
Another, older, couple stood behind her father and the beanpole. The older lady was a comfortable-looking woman in a shepherdess costume, who peered through her spectacles at Lilah with great interest. She looked from Lilah to Drake and back again, for all the world as if they were on display at a zoo. Beside this lady, Lilah saw with chagrin, was the genial, tipsy sheep she had encountered earlier.
“Dear me,” said the shepherdess mildly. “It’s Drake.” She did not appear shocked in the least.
The sheep’s face noticeably brightened. “Why, so it is. Drake, my boy! Didn’t know you were here. How are you?”
Drake, however, failed to respond. He appeared rooted to the spot, too flummoxed to move a muscle. Looking at him, Lilah was struck by the overwhelming irony of their situation: this was the exact opposite of what they had hoped to achieve! The plan had been to surprise Sir Horace and Eugenia, not to have Sir Horace and Eugenia surprise them. Now their plans lay in ruins. Lilah wondered if it were possible to faint from mortification. She rather wished it were. It would be a tremendous relief to lose consciousness right now.
But her father turned on his heel to address the sheep. “Are you acquainted with this fellow, Nat?” he asked sharply. “Kindly tell me who is mauling my daughter!”
The sheep looked distressed. “Tut, tut, Horace! No need to fire up. It’s Drake, old thing. Polly’s nephew Adam. One of the Harlestons. Daresay he didn’t mean to maul your daughter. The Harlestons are like that, you know; act first and think later. They never mean any harm.”
“Nat, dear,” interposed the shepherdess. He turned to her inquiringly. “It doesn’t matter what he meant by it,” she said, with an air of infinite patience. “Drake’s carelessness may be deplorable, but he knows the rules as well as anyone. I’m sure we may count on him to do the right thing.”
Eugenia turned to Lilah’s father with gentle courtesy. “Adam is the Earl of Drakesley,” she explained, in a low and musical voice. “You have heard me speak of him. We call him Drake.”
Lilah began to feel that she had wandered into a madhouse. Everyone except her father seemed preternaturally calm. She pressed her hands to her temples, feeling dazed. “I do not understand. Papa, what brought you into this room? And why did you bring all these people with you?”
Sir Horace’s choler had visibly diminished. He was obviously much mollified by the news that the rapscallion he’d caught manhandling Lilah was an earl. Besides, even under the most extreme provocation, displays of temper did not come easily to him. He placed one hand over Miss Mayhew’s where it lay on his arm, as if unconsciously drawing strength from her quiet presence at his side.
“I came in here, Lilah,” he said sternly, “in search of you. I was never more astonished than when I glimpsed you in the ballroom tonight! Why, I could scarce believe my eyes. And then to see you making such a figure of yourself—perched up against the wall, of all things! Had you been a few years younger, I would have turned you over my knee! At any rate, I lost sight of you after you jumped down. Someone pointed out which way you had gone, and I gathered together the three persons I particularly wanted you to meet, and went to find you.”
Lilah felt her jaw dropping. “But—but—how did you know it was me?”
Sir Horace looked exasperated. “I could not mistake. You are wearing a dress from your mother’s trousseau! Although God alone knows where you found it.” His expression softened as he looked more closely at it, and his voice became gruff. “A man doesn’t generally notice a woman’s gewgaws and such, but I would know that gown anywhere.”
Lilah was silenced. Her mother’s memory seemed to flood the room with her lively, laughing presence. Nostalgia, and something like homesickness, squeezed Lilah’s eyes shut for a moment. Eugenia Mayhew could never fill her mother’s dainty shoes. Never.
But Sir Horace was facing Drake now, puffing his cheeks with disapproval. “Well, my lord?” he asked him sternly. “What have you to say for yourself?”
The gray-haired shepherdess stepped calmly forward. “I think introductions may be in order,” she said, with an air of great good humor. “Drake, the gentleman addressing you is Sir Horace Chadwick of Chadwick Hall. Sir Horace, this scapegrace is indeed my nephew’s son. He is Adam Harleston, the Earl of Drakesley.”
Sir Horace sketched a brief, rather jerky, bow. “My lord,” he said stiffly.
Drake cleared his throat. “Sir Horace,” he replied, bowing with slightly more grace.
The shepherdess looked from one to the other. Lilah could have sworn she saw her eyes twinkle. “Well. Since the only persons present who might finish the introductions seem momentarily incapable, I suppose I must bend the rules a trifle.” She bestowed a kind smile on Lilah. “My poor child, this is all quite dreadful for you, isn’t it? But you must not let Drake’s want of conduct embarrass you. His impetuosity is legendary. None of us will hold you accountable for his bad behavior. You are Delilah Chadwick, are you not? Of course you are. I am Drake’s Aunt Polly, and I’m very pleased to meet you. The sheepish fellow is my husband, Drake’s Uncle Nat.”
The sheep dug an affectionate elbow into his wife’s ribs. “Sheepish! Ha, ha! Very good, my love.”
Lilah, blushing furiously, dropped into a curtsey. “How do you do?” she murmured, scarcely knowing where to look. She knew that her unwitting hosts’s name was Peabody, so it wasn’t as if she needed more information—but it seemed very odd that Mrs. Peabody had introduced herself and her husb
and by their Christian names.
The mystery was solved by her next words. Mrs. Peabody folded her hands comfortably against her generous midriff and announced, with great satisfaction, “I see no need to stand on ceremony, Delilah. You may call us Aunt Polly and Uncle Nat. Since you will doubtless marry Drake without delay, I consider you quite one of the family.”
Drake and Lilah were immediately jolted from their daze. They spoke with one voice: “No!”
It was an anguished cry, blurted straight from the heart. Drake’s fingers writhed in his hair once more. Lilah clasped her hands before her in an attitude of prayer and rushed into impassioned speech. “Oh, pray—! You have completely misunderstood. I know it looked very bad, but I promise you, Drake has not—not compromised me. And even if he had, I would not marry him.”
“And I wouldn’t offer!” exclaimed Drake. Four pairs of shocked eyes fastened on him with varying degrees of reproach and horror. He gave a strangled moan and opened his mouth to explain, but Lilah had dashed to his side in quick support.
“No, of course you would not,” she said warmly. “It would be the height of absurdity. And a waste of time as well, since you already know I would refuse you.” She spread her hands beseechingly, addressing Polly Peabody. “Dear ma’am, we mean you no disrespect—”
“Despite the fact that we crashed the gates tonight,” added Drake.
“—but there is no romantic attachment whatsoever between Drake and me, and we cannot, must not, marry.”
“In fact, we dislike each other,” said Drake earnestly.
“Extremely,” said Lilah, in the same fervent tone. “Why, we’ve known each other for only three days and have nearly come to blows on more than one occasion. Have we not, Drake?”
“Yes, indeed we have.”
That disturbing twinkle had returned to Polly Peabody’s eyes. “How odd,” she remarked. “You seem, to me, to be in complete agreement.”