Never Say Never to an Earl (Heart of Enquiry Book 5)

by Grace Callaway

  “An ichthyosaurus. A complete set, no less.” Excitement radiated from his sweat-sheened face.

  “How, um, thrilling.” Gathering her courage, she said, “Mr. Pickering-Parks, I’ve recently made a discovery myself, and it concerns my future—”

  “I beat out two other collectors in order to attain it. It was the highlight of my life,” he crowed.

  “Speaking of highlights, I’ve recently made the acquaintance of—”

  “But the ichthyosaurus pales in comparison to the new lead I received,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

  The truth was that he’d always had the tendency to carry on his own conversation. Whereas she’d once welcomed his self-absorption—because it meant less of a focus on her—now she found it… exasperating. It wasn’t his fault that her preferences had changed, but she couldn’t deny that they had. She was no longer content with a one-sided relationship. A convenient and passionless match. She wanted… more.

  Because of Sinjin.

  From the start, even when she and he had butted heads, she’d felt that she had his undivided attention. Whenever they were together, even in a roomful of people, invisible filaments of awareness seemed to connect them. It was more than just physical attraction, though Lord knew there was plenty of that between them. He made her feel special, cared for—and, at the same time, she suddenly realized, terrified.

  She was a girl who’d spent most of her life trying to avoid notice. Yet now she had the attention of the most compelling and attractive man she’d ever met, and he wanted to marry her… and all she had to do was say “yes.”

  Love, like anything worthwhile, involves taking a risk, Thea had said.

  Was Sinjin worth the risk of rejection and pain?

  In the midst of Nigel’s droning, her heart gave the unequivocal answer. In truth, she didn’t know why it had taken her so long to come to the inevitable conclusion. Beneath her bodice, his pendant was warm and vital next to her skin.

  I’m falling in love with Sinjin.

  The knowledge flowed through her even as she realized there was really only one answer to her dilemma. It was too late to guard her heart where Sinjin was concerned—that ship had sailed—but she could marry him… as long as she kept her affliction hidden.

  She appreciated Thea’s advice, but any risk she took would have to be calculated. She didn’t have a normal ailment like her sister; she, Polly, was a freak. One who’d already experienced the consequences of revealing her flaw to a man. Reminded of her folly with Brockhurst, she felt a quiver of fear; she prayed that he would take her secret to his grave.

  If the notion of marrying Sinjin without telling him about her anomaly caused a stab of guilt, she reminded herself that he didn’t want intimacy. In fact, he’d insisted upon privacy for both of them… so really she was just going along with the rules that he’d set, wasn’t she? Sinjin had also said that he didn’t want love, so she would strive to keep her feelings to herself, to not make any emotional demands upon him.

  She couldn’t deny that having Sinjin for a husband would bring more happiness than she’d dreamed possible… and they might one day have a family as well. The image rose of a little boy with mahogany hair and devilish blue eyes, and her chest constricted with longing.

  “As you know, I am a member of the Society for the Study of Antiquities and Historical Artifacts,” Nigel was saying, “and from there I heard rumblings of a new find in Dorset. Now can I trust you with a secret, Miss Kent?”

  She tried to focus on him. “Er, yes?”

  “Apparently this new set of fossils is of a mammoth creature never before catalogued,” Nigel said ardently. “A giant biped with a massive tail. Whoever discovers the bones will be feted by collectors throughout the kingdom!”

  “But didn’t you say someone already found the fossil?” Polly said in confusion.

  “Well, if you must nitpick, some local clergyman found it, but the man who owns and displays the specimen as part of his collection is its true discoverer, naturally. Everyone knows that.” Nigel swatted irritably at an insect. “I should think that obvious, Miss Kent.”

  Thankfully, they’d reached the Chinese Pond, the loveliness of the spot softening her increasing aggravation with her escort. The water was dotted with waterlilies, surrounded by trailing willows and rippling screens of cattails and rushes. Carp darted in bright flashes beneath the murky surface. In the distance, Polly spotted a golden spire, the rest of the structure obscured by surrounding greenery.

  Just then, a figure materialized, rounding a bend in the path and heading toward them. There was no mistaking the graceful, predatory stride, the virile physique in the merlot jacket and tan trousers, the devilishly handsome face.

  “Who on earth is that?” Nigel muttered.

  “Revelstoke,” Polly breathed.

  Sinjin exchanged introductions with Nigel and greetings with her and Thea, who’d just caught up to them.

  “What are you doing here, my lord?” Polly said in disbelief.

  “Just happened to be in the neighborhood. I was taking air in the Heath and was lured over by this scenic pond.” To Nigel, he said easily, “Jewel of a place, sir.”

  Nigel mumbled a reply. Polly did not, for a single moment, buy Sinjin’s innocent tone. But she was so happy to see him that she didn’t care.

  Thea shot her an I-told-you-so glance. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll take a little rest on that inviting bench over there.” A hint of mischief danced in her eyes. “You three go on and enjoy yourselves.”

  Thea headed off, and Sinjin said, “May I compliment you on your exceedingly fine looks today, Miss Kent?”

  His gaze caressed her like a touch, her body responding helplessly. Her breath quickened, nipples rising into tingling stiffness. As if he knew his effect on her, his eyes grew heavy-lidded, satisfaction deepening the blue of his aura.

  “You must be counting your lucky stars to have such charming company, Pickering,” he added.

  “It’s Pickering-Parks.” Nigel mopped his brow with a handkerchief, a rivulet of sweat escaping and catching in his limp cravat. “As it happens, Miss Kent and I were enjoying a chat—”

  “I hope you won’t mind if I join in, then.” Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, Sinjin guided her along the path. His eyes smiled at her. “What were we talking about?”

  “Miss Kent and I were discussing fossils,” Nigel huffed, trying to get alongside them. The graveled walkway was just wide enough for two to stroll comfortably side by side, and Nigel swore as he snagged his jacket on some thistly brush, falling behind them. “I doubt our conversation would interest you, my lord. I am a noted collector, you see, and the level of my discourse may not be suitable for amateurs. In fact, I’m in the process of acquiring the largest bones—”

  “I’m no stranger to big bones,” Sinjin said smoothly. “Indeed, I’m certain Miss Kent will vouch that I’ve been in possession of a rather large, hard specimen in her presence.”

  Polly choked back a horrified giggle.

  “Is this true, Miss Kent?” Nigel said suspiciously. “You’ve seen this fellow’s bone?”

  She couldn’t form a reply, not if her life depended upon it.

  “Do you have it with you now?” he demanded to Sinjin.

  “I only show it under the most intimate circumstances. You understand.”

  “I do indeed,” Nigel said with an air of importance. “Fossil collectors can be a shifty, unscrupulous lot, not to be trusted. In fact, that is precisely what I was telling Miss Kent before you came. Between you and me, my lord, I’m in negotiations to obtain one of the most important finds in Dorset—”

  “Dorset, you say?” Sinjin shook his head, making a tsk-ing sound.

  Nigel paled. “What have you heard? Is someone else after the find? I knew I should have set off immediately when I received the news—”

  “It’s not too late now.”

  “By George, you’re right.” Nigel thumped h
is fist into his palm. “I don’t care what Mama says. No stupid picnic is more important than those bones.”

  “You’re still here,” Sinjin said.

  “Farewell, sir. And you as well, Miss Kent.” Nigel doffed his hat hastily before trundling off.

  Polly wondered in bemusement if she’d ever see him again.

  “Care to explain what you’re doing with that fribble?”

  She turned to Sinjin—and was shocked to see the banked fire in his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Polly blinked at him. Shaded by the brim of her straw bonnet, her aquamarine eyes were so huge and clear that Sinjin could see himself reflected in them, and he didn’t like what he saw. More to the point, he didn’t like what he felt.

  Could he, the notorious God of Revelry, be jealous over some windbag fossil collector?

  The idea was laughable. Absurd. There was no way in hell he felt threatened by Pickering-Parks. He told himself that he just didn’t like the fact that Polly had hidden whatever was going on between her and that popinjay. Because she was hiding something: he’d sensed it yesterday and now, catching her on a jaunt with the bone-chasing buffoon, he was sure of it.

  “I wasn’t, um, doing anything,” she said.

  Her answer, the nervous way she wetted her lips, did not improve his disposition. Taking her firmly by the arm, he led her along the path and a safe distance away from her chaperone. He took her to the Chinoiserie style pagoda he’d passed on his way to find her. The rectangular structure was made up of four columns holding up a double-tiered roof and was topped by a golden spire. The longer side overlooked the pond, the shorter sides shielded by dense walls of rushes. He backed her up against the nearest column, which was hidden from view of the path.

  Leaning in, he said, “If it was nothing, then why did you lie about it?”

  “I didn’t lie,” she protested. “I told you I would be here.”

  “Not about that. About why you didn’t want me here. Does it have something to do with that stuffed shirt?”

  A notch formed between her brows. “You can’t possibly be jealous… of Nigel?”

  Wrong bloody thing to say. On two counts.

  “Nigel?” he said acidly.

  She flushed, mumbling, “It’s easier to say than Mr. Pickering-Parks.”

  “You’d best take that into consideration, then. Polly Pickering-Parks—that’s quite a tongue-twister. You’d give old Peter Piper a run for his money.”

  “There’s no need to be sarcastic.” Frowning, she added, “And you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

  Rationally, he knew she was right, but she’d stirred the devil in him. Even as he strove to keep the monster in check, he was swayed by the powerful emotions and roaring thoughts. Why is Polly dragging her heels over marrying me? Does she think that I won’t make a good husband? Does she think that that paltry bone collector would make a better one?

  Sinjin’s molars ground together. This burning possessiveness was new to him. He didn’t like her power over him: how easily she could unbalance his equanimity, add momentum to his inner pendulum.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” he bit out.

  With a sigh, she said, “In the past several months, Mr. Pickering-Parks and I have spent some time in each other’s company. Nothing happened between us, but there was the unspoken possibility that something might. I came today to let him know that the possibility was no longer there.”

  “Did he kiss you?”

  “Nige—I mean, Mr. Pickering Parks?” She made a sound of amusement. “Can you imagine him being moved to do so with anything other than a fossil?”

  He knew she was right. Still…

  “Did you want him to kiss you?”

  Her head rocked side to side against the column.

  “Then why was there even a ‘possibility’ with that prat?” he said flatly.

  She chewed on her bottom lip, and he couldn’t blame her. He wanted to nibble it, too. And other parts of her—

  “Because I thought he might make a suitable husband.” Her words pierced his lustful trance. “Socially, we’re equals. And, physically speaking, he’s my male counterpart.”

  The pressure in Sinjin’s veins shot up at her using the phrase “suitable husband” to refer to that fool—to any man but him. At the same time, he couldn’t help but stare at her.

  “You believe he’s your counterpart,” he said incredulously.

  “It’s the truth. We’re about the same height and similarly nondescript.” Her chin lifted a fraction. “We’re both plump.”

  Holy hell, she couldn’t be serious. Yet he could tell from her resolute expression that she was. That she truly thought of herself in this distorted manner. Seeing the slight quiver of her lower lip, he felt his anger abruptly fade. Understanding took its place… along with a rush of tenderness.

  “Apparently, I’ve failed to convince you of how desirable you are,” he said after a moment. “And here I was thinking that I’d done a rather thorough job of it during that carriage ride.”

  Roses bloomed in her cheeks. “You were seducing me. Of course you’d use flattery.”

  “You didn’t think I was sincere?”

  “I’m sure you were but…”—she frowned, and he could practically see the gears of denial turning in her head—“… you were being kind. A gentleman.”

  “You think I’d make love to a woman I didn’t find genuinely attractive?” He shook his head. “Kitten, I’m not that much of a gentleman.”

  “Maybe you’re less… particular when it comes to carnal matters.” She must have gauged his scowl for what it was, for she added hastily, “I don’t mean that you’re indiscriminate, just that you’re, um, open-minded. About what constitutes beauty, I mean.”

  “It doesn’t take an open mind to see your attractions, just a bloody pair of eyes.”

  As he spoke, he took in her outfit—yet another high-necked, dull frock—and the realization suddenly struck. He didn’t know why it hadn’t sooner. Probably because he’d been too distracted by what lay beneath to duly ponder the reason behind her wardrobe choices. Before, he’d attributed her concealing frocks to modesty or a lack of interest in style, but now…

  “Is that why you dress the way you do? Because you think you have something to hide?”

  That little chin angled up more. “Not all of us can be perfectly formed, you know. We can’t all look like dashed Greek Gods—what are you doing?”

  He finished untying her cherry-colored bonnet strings and tossed the head covering aside. “Seeing as I can’t convince you through words, I’m reverting to my other method.” He nuzzled her ear, savoring her apple blossom freshness. “And if that doesn’t work, at least I’ll have fun trying.”

  “We can’t—ohh.”

  As he sucked on her plump earlobe, she melted against him. He moved on, hunting for her scent above the high, ruffled edge of her bodice. When her lips parted on a sigh, he swooped in, claiming the mouth that he’d been hungering for since he’d last tasted it. He threaded his fingers in her silken curls, holding her in place.

  “I fantasized about this last night,” he murmured between plundering kisses. “Did you?”

  In answer, her hands clutched at his shoulders, pulling him closer. He obliged, pressing her against the column, reveling in their perfect fit. Their mating tongues, his hard edges against her delectable curves—they went together like pieces of a damned jigsaw puzzle. It was ridiculous that he had to convince her of so obvious a fact.

  Wedging his leg boldly between her thighs, he tore himself away from her luscious mouth long enough to say, “What did you think about while you touched yourself?”

  She made a whimper of embarrassment. “I… I can’t talk about it.”

  “But you did do it?”

  Her lower lip caught beneath her teeth, she gave a little nod.

  Fire swirled through him at her admission. “All right, my shy puss, I’ll start us off. Alone in
my bed, I thought about you looking at me the way you are now.”

  He saw her surprise, as if that wasn’t what she expected him to say. Drawing his thumb along the slope of her cheekbone, he murmured, “Aye, you were looking at me just so, your eyes so clear and pure, the color of wonder itself. And when I kissed you,”—he couldn’t resist dipping his head for another quick taste—“I could see that in your eyes too. The way they are now, darkened and desirous, telling me you want me as much as I want you.”

  “You thought about my eyes?” Her lashes fluttered like the wings of a tawny butterfly. “When you were, you know… doing that?”

  “Yes,” he said huskily. “I also thought about the way your lips have the slightest curve, even when you’re not smiling, as if you know secrets we mere mortals do not. And when you do smile at me,”—he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip—“it warms me down to the marrow.”

  “Oh, Sinjin,” she said tremulously.

  “There’s more, of course. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also imagine stripping you layer by layer, until there was nothing separating us.” Imagining doing that very thing, he slid his palms over her shoulders, down her arms, cupping the generous swells of her breasts. He squeezed gently, savoring the erotic heft. “And these beauties—do you know what I did to them?”

  “What?” The word was a sensual puff from her lips.

  “I kissed and licked them all over. Especially here.” He circled the center of her breasts, found the jutting tips beneath the layers. “Are your nipples hard for me, kitten? Do they throb for my touch, my kiss?”

  “Mmm hmm.” Her head fell back against the column.

  He’d take that as a yes. “You taste so sweet here, like a ripe berry against my tongue. Just the memory of licking you, suckling these tight little buds, arouses me—can you feel that?” Fisting her skirts, he tossed them up, grinding the clothed ridge of his erection against her bare thigh. “Can you feel how hard you make me?”