by Cheryl Holt
They drew apart, and he hefted himself up and climbed into her bedchamber. She could have blocked his way or shoved him to the ground, but she didn’t, and before she could blink, he wrapped his arms around her and tumbled them onto the bed. In a trice, they were stretched out, his tall, lanky body pressing hers into the mattress.
It was the second time she’d allowed such a risqué encounter to occur, and it was just as delicious as the first had been.
No wonder females landed themselves in such trouble. His physical presence was so overwhelming that she couldn’t push him away as she ought, and she didn’t have a thread of hope that she could behave.
He kissed her for a long while, and she eagerly joined in. How could she not? As always when she was with him, he seemed very distressed. His woe rattled her and ignited her empathy. It made her want to coddle and protect him.
Ultimately, he pulled away, and he said in accusation, “You moved.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“You told me you wouldn’t leave.”
“I lied.”
“You informed me in a note. You didn’t have the courtesy to tell me to my face.”
“I’m a coward. I admit it.”
“How will I get by without you?” he asked.
He appeared bewildered, as if he truly had no idea, and she chuckled.
“You were fine before you met me,” she scolded, “and you’re fine now. Don’t pretend to be incompetent or lonely. You’re neither.”
“I had to hire new servants.”
“You poor, poor man. You life is such a trial.”
“Brinley is ungrateful and couldn’t care less, and Laura is never there. She runs wild. I’m not sure why I’m wasting any money on them.”
“You can’t force them to fend for themselves.”
“I know.”
“You’re the one who demanded they check out of the hotel.”
“I know!” he said more testily.
“Perhaps you should send them back to it.”
“No. I won’t put Brinley in a more public place.”
“If you’re not willing to fix the situation, stop complaining about it.”
She was on the verge of offering her assistance, of managing the house and supervising the servants for him, continuing the meals and other routines Laura required, and keeping an eye on Brinley. But she bit her tongue, lest she extend proposals she shouldn’t. She had to cease being quite so nice to him.
He rested his forehead on hers, and he held it there forever, breathing in her scent, enjoying how their bodies nestled together.
“I feel better when I’m with you,” he murmured.
“I’m glad.”
“It was cruel of you to forsake me.”
“I didn’t forsake you. For pity’s sake, I just moved down the street to my own home. I was always going to do that.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
“No, and you’re a spoiled tyrant. You insist on having your own way.”
“Doesn’t every man?”
“Yes, and I’m exasperated by your whole gender.”
He snorted with amusement. “Haven’t you missed me too?”
There was such longing in his voice, and it tempted her unbearably. “If I missed you, I’m not about to confess it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re entirely too vain, and it would simply stroke your massive ego.”
“My ego constantly needs stroking.”
“Yes, constantly.”
“Isn’t it a woman’s duty to stroke a man’s ego?”
“Only a demented cad like you would suppose so.”
“If I’m demented, it’s your fault.”
“I can’t imagine why you’d think it is.”
He shifted off her and snuggled onto his side. He shifted her too, so they were nose to nose. He looked so glum, so lost and alone, and she riffled her fingers through his hair as if he were a young boy who’d scraped his knee.
“I liked having you in my house,” he said.
“You barely noticed I was there.”
“I noticed.”
“It was impossible for me to remain. You understand that it was.”
“I don’t understand,” he protested. “Why don’t you come back?”
“I can’t.”
“After I realized you’d slinked away, I had planned to act as if I didn’t care, but I couldn’t.”
“If I’d stayed, what was it you envisioned happening? The other day, when your horse kicked you, we ended up loafing in your bedchamber. It was totally inappropriate.”
“Is that what this is about?”
“Yes. It’s exactly what this is about.”
“How could I make it seem less risqué?”
“You can’t—unless you’re ready to marry me. Is that what you want?”
“Gad, no,” he vehemently said.
She couldn’t help laughing. “Is the notion that revolting?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you possess such an aversion to matrimony? Isn’t it ultimately the fate of every bachelor?”
“Not this one. I’ve never witnessed a happy marriage, and my life has been horrid enough. I won’t add to my burdens by shackling myself to someone who would only increase my wretchedness.”
She scoffed with disgust. “Thank you for that stellar description of how you view me.”
“I didn’t mean you precisely. I was referring to women in general.”
“Well, as I am a woman, I will generally state that I would never wish to exacerbate your misery.”
He sighed. “I never say the right thing to you. Every time I open my mouth, my words come out wrong.”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t taken them to heart. If you got down on bended knee and begged me to have you, I wouldn’t. So there! We’ve thoroughly insulted each other. We’re even now.”
His aggravation was clear. “Why wouldn’t you have me? Every female I’ve ever met has been eager to wed me. Why not you?”
“No offense, James, but you’re not much of a catch.”
He chuckled. “I’m not?”
“No.”
“I’m the new Lord Denby.”
“An elevation you refuse to claim, so don’t toss it in the mix. What else would you bring to the table that I’d like to have?” She counted his failed attributes on her fingers. “You have no family to recommend you. You have one sister, and she’s deranged. You boast about having no bonds or ties. You’re arrogant and bossy, and I’m agreeable and accommodating. We’d be like oil and water together.”
“Probably.”
“If I ever decide to bind myself, I’ll have my brother pick someone wonderful for me, but at the current moment, I’m not interested in matrimony either. My last two attempts were exhausting and humiliating. I won’t throw myself out on the Marriage Market just yet. In my opinion, it’s a perilous place to be.”
“What if we merely had an affair?”
She scowled. “An affair?”
“We’re not ready to wed, so what if we simply dally?”
“Why would we?”
“To pleasure ourselves? To revel in our attraction? To pass the time?”
She studied him and realized he was serious. He thought she might consent to it. She didn’t know whether to be shocked or affronted.
“Mrs. Bennett told me you were a libertine. Is that how you speak to the women who tickle your fancy?”
“Only some of them,” he cockily confessed.
“I can’t believe you raised the prospect in my presence. What is there about me that would make you suppose I would consider it?”
“You’re awfully old to be a maiden, and what if you never wed? What if your brother never locates the perfect fellow you seek? Think of what you’ll have missed.”
She burst out laughing, then bit it down. She couldn’t have Victoria hear her
sputtering with merriment.
“Oh, James,” she said, “I will always be glad I met you, but no. I can’t engage in an affair. I’ll take my chances that I’ll never discover what might have happened.”
“Why deny yourself? There are many females who don’t marry, but they still welcome a man into their beds occasionally.”
“Not in the world where I come from,” she firmly insisted.
“It’s quite normal in mine.”
“It definitely must be. If you’d dare to suggest such a sordid arrangement, I’m guessing you often get your paramours to proceed.”
“I do, but they’re usually trollops, so they don’t have much to lose.”
“I, on the other hand, would have a lot to lose.”
“What if it was worth it though? What if you ended up right where you wanted to be?”
“I doubt that could be possible.”
“How about if we find out?”
* * * *
James rolled on top of her again, and he began kissing her. As far as he was concerned, they spent entirely too much time talking. He’d tried his best to avoid her, had told himself that she was smarter than he was, that she recognized the dangers of any liaison between them.
If she’d stayed in his accursed house, they wouldn’t have been able to prevent disaster from striking. He had no intention of involving himself in a manner he shouldn’t, and she had no intention of pursuing a petty flirtation. She craved and deserved a loving husband, which he could never be.
He comprehended all of that. He concurred with all of that. And…?
He’d been so miserable without her!
For the past three days, he’d pretended nothing was amiss, but he couldn’t keep pretending.
All evening, he’d sat in the barn with his horses, but he’d been incredibly despondent, so he’d gone home. Brinley and Laura had been asleep, their door closed. He’d wandered down to the kitchen and into Amelia’s old room, but it was empty.
It had been so depressing that it had spurred him over to her cottage.
The whole way, he’d struggled to convince himself to leave her alone, but his common sense was buried in a fog of peculiar needs he couldn’t tamp down.
Because she’d been in bed when he’d arrived, she was wearing a nightgown and naught else. It was hot inside and out, the air balmy with a hint of rain on the horizon. The garment was sleeveless, with tiny white straps over her shoulders, so her arms were bare, her bosom bare, and the sight drove him wild.
He couldn’t hold her tightly enough, couldn’t kiss her deeply enough. Evidently, she felt the same. There was a desperate urgency to the embrace.
He broke off to nibble a trail down her neck, to her breasts. They were pert and round, exactly the right size to fit in a man’s hands. He caressed them through the soft fabric of her nightgown, and gradually, he tugged on the straps, lowering them, so a taut nipple popped out from under the material.
He sucked it into his mouth, laving it, pinching it, until her body began to respond, their hips rocking together in the primal, ancient rhythm.
“James, we have to stop,” she frantically whispered, trying to pull away.
“No. Not yet.”
“I can’t be with you like this.”
“Yes, you can. Don’t you see? This is where we’ve been headed since the moment we met.”
“No, no, this has never been our path.”
He abandoned her breast, and he started kissing her once more, and he didn’t pause to give her a chance to complain further. He kept on and on until his own body was crying out for a release he couldn’t assuage.
Had he come to deflower her? Was that his plan? If so, would he do it like this, in a quick, hasty coupling where he hadn’t even removed his boots?
She shouldn’t be used so badly, but he’d walked himself out onto a perilous ledge. If he took one more step, he’d push them both to ruin. Could he treat her so shabbily?
He didn’t think so.
He slowed and drew away, and he stared down at her. They were frozen in place, rattled by the naughtiness of what they’d nearly accomplished.
She was always attuned to his moods, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“If I don’t get out of here—immediately!—there’s no telling what might happen.”
“What might happen?” she inquired, her carnal naïveté on full display.
“You’re a maiden, so I wouldn’t expect you to know, and I’m not about to describe it.”
He flashed a hot, potent look that furnished a hint of what he was contemplating.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened with dismay. “I don’t want to…I can’t…”
“I understand.”
But she would agree, he suspected. Eventually. He was a master at seduction. In that, he was just like his despicable father. He’d inherited all the man’s worst gifts. Women were never immune to a huge dose of Hastings’s charm.
He slid away and sat up, his feet on the floor. She was stretched out behind him, appearing rumpled and adorable, and she was smiling at him with an enormous amount of affection. He let it wash over him like cool rain.
Her sweet focus was precisely the balm he needed for what ailed him, and he had to figure out how he could keep receiving it. He had to visit often, to wear her down so she gave him what he was so anxious to have.
And he had to manage it before her brother arrived, for he was certain—once Evan Boyle waltzed into the picture—James would be swiftly shoved out of it.
“Now that you’re sharing quarters with Victoria,” he asked, “are you still having supper at eight?”
“Yes, and since when do you call her Victoria?”
“She and I are old friends,” he confessed.
“Your vague comment informs me that I should pepper her with questions about you.”
“Please don’t. She’d be very blunt, and I would hate to be diminished in your esteem.”
She linked their fingers. “You could never be diminished in my esteem.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “May I come to supper occasionally?”
“Why would you? You never joined me when I was living in that stupid house of yours.”
“I told you I miss you.”
She shook her head with exasperation. “Yes, James, you may come to supper when you can. Bring Laura with you.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow—with Laura.”
“You may dine with us whenever you wish, but you may not sneak in to dally. Don’t climb in my window again. If you knock, I won’t open the shutters.”
“Liar.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You can’t resist me.”
“I might be able to,” she ridiculously stated.
“No, our attraction is impossible to fight. We shouldn’t try.”
“Says you.”
“Yes, says me, and I am always right.”
She scoffed. “Not always.”
“Just you wait and see.”
“I’m serious, James. I’m not misbehaving with you.”
He could have argued the point, but he wouldn’t. He’d simply lure her around to his way of thinking, and it would occur so gradually that, later on, she’d wonder how he’d convinced her to relent.
He grinned. “I’ll let you wallow in your fantasy where you can remain strong and stay away from me, but it won’t last long.”
“Vain beast.”
“I admit it, but for the moment, you’ve tamed my inner demons.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“I am putty in your hands. You need only learn how to mold me.”
Then, because it seemed as if he might start babbling, he stood and strolled to the window. He crept out into the garden, and though he yearned to dawdle, to gaze at her and ponder how beautiful she looked with the moon shining in, he’d acted foolishly enough for one evening.
He tiptoed away and vanished into the night.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Victoria and Amelia strolled down the street arm in arm. They’d become fast friends, with Victoria working to ingratiate herself. Amelia was a kind person, and Victoria had been greatly rewarded for not doing much of anything.
She didn’t know how long Amelia would let her stay on, but each day—where she didn’t have to return to her brother in London—was a blessing.
She supposed Amelia’s own brother might have a few negative opinions about Victoria glomming onto his sister. Victoria had a tiny widow’s benefit from the army, but that was the extent of her income. She was giving it to Amelia to pay what she could toward expenses, and Amelia claimed Victoria shouldn’t fret over the small amount she was contributing.
But Evan Boyle might be less charitable. He’d likely put an end to Amelia’s generosity. In Victoria’s experience, men were fussy about their money. Then again, Amelia described him in glowing terms: handsome, dashing, wonderful, and loyal. He loved women and always involved himself in ways he shouldn’t as he tried to rectify their problems.
He’d recently had his heart broken and was still smarting from being tossed over by his betrothed. How devastated was he? Might he be ready for a new amour?
If he was a knight in shining armor, Victoria was definitely a damsel in distress. She would be delighted to have him leap into her life and take charge. Once he was back, she intended to fall in his direction to see if he might catch her.
Did that make her sound like a mercenary? Probably, but she didn’t care. She had no pride remaining.
“Could I confess a difficult dilemma?” she asked Amelia.
“Of course.”
“First though, you have to promise you won’t be angry if I’m candid.”
“I’m never angry,” Amelia said, then she frowned. “That’s not precisely true. The Hastings siblings have spurred me to fits of outrage, but other than that, I’m usually quite placid.”
“After I pose my comment, if you’d like to tell me to mind my own business, I won’t be offended.”
Victoria’s cheeks heated, and she nearly backed off, but Amelia was alone in Gibraltar and didn’t have any family members to urge caution. Shouldn’t Victoria assume that role?