“While I prefer not to discuss it,” she countered with a quelling glance for her aunt. “I should hope you’d both respect my wishes.”
Lady Pensworth sniffed. “Very well. But don’t stay too long; I don’t trust that man one whit.”
“Don’t worry, Aunt. Neither do I.” With that, Bree took Niall’s arm and tugged him into the house. He let her, but only because he wanted to get her alone before pursuing the matter. He needed to know more about the estrangement, if only so he could plan his strategy for his mission.
So he waited patiently while she donned a cloak of brilliant scarlet and an enormous bonnet with flowers that matched those on her gown. He said naught to her while they climbed into his carriage and he ordered his coachman to drive on.
But once they’d set off, he broached the subject again. “Enough of this reticence about your father, Bree. If I’m to get to the bottom of this counterfeiting business, I need to know exactly what caused the rift between you two.”
She stared him down. “Why? Our mission has nothing to do with any of that. Besides, it’s in the past.”
“Clearly not that much in the past if your aunt is still worried about it.” When she merely turned to stare out the window, he remembered what she’d said about having not seen her father since her mother’s funeral. “It wasn’t related to your mother’s death, was it? I hope he wasn’t somehow responsible for that.”
Her shocked glance put that supposition to rest. “Good heavens, my father might be a gambler, but he’s no murderer.”
“Ah. Then I assume it has something to do with his gambling.”
Jerking her gaze from him, she let out a heavy sigh. “Of course. What else would it have to do with?”
“What did he do, ask your husband for funds to pay his gaming debts? Cause an estrangement there?” That would explain why she’d become cautious concerning marriage.
“Certainly not,” was all she would say.
“Then perhaps your father gambled away your dowry,” he pressed. “Is that why your aunt had to step in to give you one this time around?”
Her chin quavered. “Something like that.”
Hmm. That made more sense. She’d hoped for a rich, titled husband, and her father had made that impossible. So she’d had to settle for Trevor, who’d had property but no title. Was that why she’d married so soon after Niall’s exile? Because she’d feared that if she didn’t snap up the first eligible man who offered, she’d never marry at all?
Assuming she hadn’t married the man for love. Which Niall still wasn’t sure about. By God, it gnawed at him that she had let him go so easily, only to take up with a fellow of half his consequence.
And he still couldn’t understand why she hadn’t just written to him, so he could send for her.
Unbidden, his father’s words from long ago came to him: What good would you be to her once the two of you are in hiding in Spain? She won’t be able to lord it over her friends as a viscountess or show off her fine town house or prance about to balls on the arm of an earl’s heir.
Right. That was why.
“So Trevor married you for your beauty alone, since you had no dowry to give him,” he said coldly. “And you married Trevor for what? Love? His property?”
She tensed up. “I told you, I don’t wish to discuss my marriage with you.”
“Why not?” Resentment welled up in him. “Afraid that I’ll find out exactly how disappointing he ended up being?”
“He was a good husband,” she bit out. “And he gave me my son. For that, I will always be grateful.”
“Yet according to my cousin, he abandoned that son—and you—by gambling away all your funds, then drinking himself into oblivion and stumbling into the river, where he drowned. That’s not what I’d call a good husband.”
She gaped at him. “Warren told you that?”
“He mentioned it, yes.”
“Don’t you think it’s rather like the pot calling the kettle black to accuse Reynold of abandoning me, when you abandoned me first?”
“That’s not how I remember it, Bree,” he said softly.
“Well, no matter how you remember it, that’s how it happened.”
His temper flared. “Admit it, you would have been better off with me, exile or no, than with a fool like that.”
“Don’t call my husband a fool,” she hissed. “You don’t know anything about him.”
Her defense of the bastard really irked Niall. “I know that he didn’t appreciate you, or he wouldn’t have left you to raise your son alone.” He leaned across the carriage. “I suspect that he didn’t have your heart. That he didn’t fire your blood or make you feel the things that I made you feel. That I still make you feel, blast it.”
Panic flickered in her eyes before she shuttered her features and slid to the other end of the seat to escape him. “That’s not true,” she whispered.
It was, and the need to hear her admit it settled in his gut like a chunk of lead. Damnation, he’d keep pushing her until she admitted that she’d made a mistake. That she should have run off with him. That she regretted her choice. Only then would he be satisfied.
Throwing himself into the other seat, he dragged her into his arms. “The hell it isn’t.”
Then he caught her head in his hands and kissed her. Hard. Intimately. He pressed his tongue against her teeth to gain entry, the way he’d never dared to when they were courting. The way he knew she would like now that she was a widow, now that she’d experienced a man’s bed.
The way he’d dreamed of kissing her for seven years.
When she froze, he feared he’d gone too far and put her even further on her guard. But as he slid his hands into her hair and ran his tongue over her trembling lips, she opened her mouth, and he exulted.
In this at least, she was his again. And he meant to make the most of it.
Six
Brilliana tried to resist Niall’s kiss, but it was impossible. She’d dreamed of this for years, and now that his mouth was on hers, she realized her memory hadn’t done it justice. Especially since they’d never kissed this way in their youth. How she wished they had! She’d never liked it when Reynold did it, but with Niall it was glorious. He plundered her mouth like a pirate at sea, commanding everything before him. His breath mingled with hers, his lips molded every line of hers, and his tongue . . .
Oh, it took and gave and played and drove, as if he meant to possess her again. Only this time, he meant to take both heart and body.
The thought of it made her so light-headed that she clung desperately to his arms. Just to steady herself. Not to pull him closer so she could possess him. No, indeed.
And what well-wrought arms he had, much more so than she remembered. She wanted to stay in them forever, to keep kissing his warm mouth, smelling his sandalwood scent . . . feeling the flex of his muscles through his coat sleeves.
The urge was so strong that when he broke the kiss, she nearly moaned. Then he murmured her name in a tone that sounded as full of wonder as she felt, and tugged her right atop his lap.
Goodness gracious!
And the kissing began all over again, even fiercer and hotter than before, so hot she thought she might go up in smoke. So hot that she knew she ought to halt him. He was a rogue—she shouldn’t encourage this. It meant naught to him but seduction.
But she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. She wanted this taste of him too badly, this taste of their past together. This sweet, heady reminder that she was a woman with needs that he could satisfy, if she let him.
She couldn’t, mustn’t, let him. And yet . . .
“I can’t believe I forgot this,” he murmured against her lips. He settled her more firmly on his lap. “Do you feel what you do to me, sweeting?”
Oh yes. The bulge in his trousers made that perfectly clear. “Yes. But we can’t. . . . I won’t. . . .”
He took her mouth again like the ravisher he was. Only he didn’t stop there this time. He covered
one of her breasts with his hand, kneading and tempting and provoking her to madness.
And it felt so good, drat him. It had been over a year since she’d been touched by a man; she’d forgotten how exquisite it could feel. Especially when the man touching her had once held her heart—
No! She mustn’t let him do this to her again!
Wriggling out of his arms, she threw herself onto the other seat and fought to catch her breath.
“Bree . . .” he said in a low voice, leaning forward as if to reach for her again.
“Stop that!” She slid as far from him as the seat would allow. “You . . . you said you wouldn’t try to take advantage of the situation.” Oh, how she wished she didn’t sound so desperate. “You promised!”
“I didn’t promise any such thing,” he ground out.
To be fair, that was true. Wrapping her arms about her waist, she drew into herself. “Not precisely that, but you said you wouldn’t ‘behave lecherously.’ ”
Anger flared in his face. “And that’s how you saw what we just did. As a sordid attempt to ‘lure’ you into my bed.”
She thrust up her chin. “Wasn’t it?”
“If it was, then you weren’t exactly opposed to it.” He leveled a hard gaze on her. “It seemed to me that you were as eager for me just now as I was for you.”
“You started it, though,” she said inanely. Lord, she sounded like a child.
“And you continued it.” A mocking smile crossed his lips. “You’re a widow, Bree. You can do as you please, you know. Plenty of widows take lovers. If you want me—”
“I don’t.”
His eyes glittered at her. “You gave a very convincing performance otherwise, sweeting.”
Well, she could hardly deny that. “I was . . . swept up in the moment. It’s been some time since I . . .” When his smile broadened, she gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t matter why I gave in. Temporarily. It won’t happen again. It mustn’t.”
“I would dearly like to know why not,” he drawled, laying his arm on the back of the seat with that supreme self-assurance she remembered so well.
She’d been captivated by it once. She wouldn’t make that mistake twice. “Because I’m not fool enough to fall for your attentions again.”
His gaze darkened. “You can tell yourself that all you like. But Fulkham wasn’t lying when he said that ‘the air fairly thrums’ between us. Still, after all these years. And that kind of feeling doesn’t just disappear because you think it foolish.”
How she wanted him to be wrong. But the idea of taking him as a lover tantalized her.
Or it would have, if she hadn’t known how it would eventually end, both in bed and out. The actual lovemaking always proved disappointing. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. My plans for the future do not include you.”
“Nor do mine include you,” he said bluntly. Then he raked her with a hot glance that touched her mouth, her breasts . . . and lower, before meeting her eyes again. “That doesn’t mean we can’t thoroughly enjoy our situation while it lasts. We’re both free to do that at present.”
“You’re free,” she snapped. “Men always are. But I have a son and a reputation to uphold, for his sake as well as my own. And if you should happen to get me with child—”
He shrugged. “There are ways to avoid that.”
“With which you’re thoroughly familiar, I’m sure.”
She’d expected her snippy remark to insult him. Instead, it only seemed to amuse him. “All I’m saying—”
“I know what you’re saying, but—” The carriage shuddered to a halt, and she could have wept with relief. “We’re here.”
He glanced out, his lips tightening into a thin line. “So we are.”
The footman quickly put down the step, opened the carriage door, and hurried up the town house steps to knock at her father’s door.
Niall disembarked, then turned to help Brilliana climb out. But he didn’t release her at once. Instead, he stood there with his hands gripping her waist as he stared down at her, looking for all the world like a real fiancé.
“We’ll continue this discussion later,” he said in a low, husky voice.
Her throat tightened. She really wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. It did wicked things to her insides. “I shan’t change my mind.”
He chuckled. “You don’t know how persuasive I can be.”
Oh, but she did. That was the trouble. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten how stubborn I can be.”
His amusement faded, replaced by a searing intensity she found far more unnerving. “Trust me, I remember only too well. But you are no longer a sweet young innocent and I am no longer a besotted young fool. I suspect we would do much better together these days.”
She slipped from his arms and rushed up the steps ahead of him. She refused to let him win in this, even when she was painfully conscious of his steps echoing behind her, of his gaze on her back—and probably her backside, too. It felt as if she’d stepped back in time to when she was seventeen.
It only made matters worse that nothing about the Payne town house had changed. The same pot of nasturtiums sat at the far end of the porch, the front door held the same brass wolf-head knocker, and the fanlight iron still needed blackening. Memories flooded her, more bad than good. She had hoped never to return here.
So much for that.
Jenkins appeared in the doorway, the same genial old butler he’d always been, albeit a bit balder. And clearly curious about her appearance here with a gentleman of Niall’s consequence.
“As I live and breathe, it’s you!” he cried. “Your father will be so surprised to see you, Miss Bri . . . I mean, Mrs. Trevor.”
She pasted a smile to her lips. “Good afternoon, Jenkins. I take it that Papa is home?”
“Oh yes.” He cast a furtive look at Niall.
“If you would, please let him know that Lord Margrave and I have come to call.”
“At once, madam.” He glanced behind her. “And the . . . er . . . child? Isn’t he with you?”
“I’m afraid not. I preferred to visit Papa without him first.”
Jenkins looked disappointed, but then, he’d been with the family for years. No doubt he had a natural curiosity about her son.
She felt a quick stab of guilt at having not brought Silas along, but she still wasn’t sure she wanted him to know his deceitful, betraying gambler of a grandfather. Who might just be a counterfeiter to boot.
As they waited to be announced, Niall glanced around at the worn rug, the walls in need of paint, and the fraying curtains. “For a man who might be involved in something criminal,” he said in an undertone, “your father doesn’t exactly live large.”
“No. He’s always too busy staying ahead of his creditors for that.” With a jolt of pain, she stared at the space where her favorite cabinet used to stand. “And given that my entire collection of Wedgwood seems to have disappeared, I’ll wager he’s not doing very well with that.” Her throat tightened. “I’m sure he got a pretty penny for it.”
“I’m sorry, sweeting,” Niall said in a low voice. “I know how much you admired Wedgwood’s designs.”
The fact that he remembered made her heart turn over. A pox on him for that. “Well, if my father is part of this conspiracy, I warrant it’s only because he owes money everywhere.”
The tap of a cane in the hall a few moments later was their only warning that someone approached. She was surprised to find it was Papa.
And when he came into the light, she saw that the cane wasn’t the only thing new about him. His hair had gone fully gray. There were new wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and a droop to his chin. The belligerent, heedless fellow she remembered didn’t seem quite so belligerent anymore. And when he clutched the cane with both hands, an odd alarm stabbed her chest.
“What happened to your leg?” she burst out.
“Not that you care, girl, but the gout plagues me from time to time.”
“I’m s
orry to hear that,” she said, realizing that it was the truth.
In spite of everything he’d done and all he’d cost her, he was still her father, and seeing him looking so old for a man only in his fifties . . . It made her want to cry.
“If you are, I’m surprised. You denied me even a glance at my grandson.” His expression turned resentful. “So am I to assume that your presence here means you have finally acknowledged your duty to your family?”
The unfair words were such a slap in the face that they lessened her sympathy considerably. Belligerence still lurked inside him, after all. “I fulfilled that duty long ago, Papa,” she said quietly, “and you know it.”
Something flickered in his gaze. Regret? No, Papa never felt regret.
Niall cleared his throat, reminding her that she wasn’t here alone, and she started. “Papa, may I introduce Niall Lindsey, the Earl of Margrave.”
“Her fiancé,” Niall added in a strangely protective tone as he took her hand and planted it firmly in the crook of his arm.
Papa scowled at her. “You have a fiancé, girl? And this is the first I’m hearing of it?”
She bristled. “For one thing, it just happened last night. And for another, it’s not as if I’m some wide-eyed innocent who requires my father’s permission to—”
“Forgive me for not speaking to you first, sir,” Niall said in an ingratiating tone as he squeezed her hand. Hard. “I was simply so swept up in my plans and afraid of letting her get away that I blundered right in.”
Well, wasn’t he just the smoothest fellow ever? And judging from the slight softening in Papa’s features, her father had fallen for it. She wasn’t sure whether to admire Niall for his swift thinking, or find him even more suspicious a character.
“But I do mean to start this marriage off right,” Niall added, making a point of caressing her hand, which perversely freed a cloud of butterflies in her belly. “That’s why I wanted to make up for my blunder by coming to meet you at once.”
The way he’d refused to do seven years ago, when he’d had the chance.
The Pleasures of Passion: Sinful Suitors 4 Page 9