Forgotten Fiancée (London Ladies Book 3)

by Jillian Eaton

  His teeth flashed in a wolfish grin. “Then it seems I am just in time for dessert.”

  Dianna’s fingers tightened on the windowsill, neatly tended nails digging crescent shaped furrows into the painted wood. “Go away,” she repeated. “Now.”

  “I am sorry for waking you,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic, “and I would leave if I could. Truly. But I cannot.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I can’t get you out of my head,” Miles said before, to Dianna’s shock and dismay, he kneeled down on one knee and gazed up at her with arms outspread.

  “If you begin quoting a romantic sonnet,” she threatened darkly, “I am going to retch out this window and it will land right on your head.” It wasn’t the most ladylike of declarations, but having been roused in the middle of the night by the man she’d fallen asleep cursing, Dianna wasn’t feeling very ladylike.

  “I think we both know I am not the romantic sort,” Miles drawled.

  Dianna could have pointed out that being on bended knee outside her window with the moon hanging heavily overhead indicated otherwise, but this time she managed to bite her tongue. Perhaps it would be best not to nettle him, especially if she wanted him to leave. Which she did. Immediately. It seemed the longer she was in his presence the more traitorous her thoughts became and the more her heart threatened to overrule her head.

  “Then what are you doing?” she asked in exasperation.

  “Asking for your forgiveness. I had every intention of attending dinner tonight, but Vesper fell ill with a fever.”

  Dianna’s shoulder stiffened. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t even want to ask. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. “Vesper?”

  “My horse.”

  His horse. Not a mistress or some woman he had seen tonight instead of her. Dianna hated that she felt a flicker of relief. “Fine,” she said with a magnanimous sweep of her arm, “you are forgiven. Now leave.”

  Though he stood up, Miles made no attempt to turn around. “We need to speak.”

  She began to lower the window. “It is not the time or the place.”

  “I am coming up,” he said as though she’d not spoken a word.

  Dianna’s eyes widened in shock when he placed a foot on the wooden trellis under her window and, without further warning, began to climb. “What are you - you will do no such thing! Miles Radnor, do not dare come up here!”

  He paused with one hand stretched above his head and the other hooked below it. Shiny green leaves tickled his chin. “Then come down here. Either way, we are going to have a conversation.”

  “But I do not want to,” she said stubbornly.

  Miles chuckled. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression you do not always get what you want?” he asked with a quiet chuckle.

  “Yes,” she said stiffly. “I believe I am quite well acquainted with that particular saying.”

  Silence fell between them, sharp and sudden. “A few minutes of your time,” he said, his smile slowly fading. “That is all I ask. Please, Dianna.”

  The ‘please’ gave her pause. If Miles had ever used that particular word before, she couldn’t recall. And it wasn’t as though he was giving her very much choice in the matter. She didn’t doubt for one moment that he would climb through her window and the only thing worse than being caught with him outside in the middle of the night was being caught with him in her bedroom!

  “Very well,” she said with great reluctance. “I will speak with you. But do not come up here. I will be down in a minute.”

  More frustrated with herself than with him, Dianna shoved the window closed and stepped to the side of it, spine pressing flush against the wall as she allotted herself a moment to find her composure.

  If there was ever a time to be strong, it was now. She needed to hold fast to her anger, for at the moment it was the only thing standing between hating Miles… and leaping into his arms.

  Wrapping a silk dressing robe around her nightgown and cinching it at the waist, she started to fluff a hand through her hair in an attempt to bring some semblance of order to the pale mop of curls only to stop abruptly when she realized what she was doing.

  Agreeing to meet Miles in the moonlight was one thing. Trying to improve her appearance beforehand was quite another.

  He is not a suitor you need to impress, she reminded herself sternly. He is… He is… Well, she couldn’t be exactly certain what he was, but she did know what he wasn’t.

  He wasn’t a man she had any interest in.

  He wasn’t a man she wanted to marry.

  He wasn’t a man she wanted to kiss.

  And she was a rotten liar.

  Five minutes. That was all the time she needed to give him. Then in the morning she would be off to London, and Miles Radnor would be nothing more than a distant memory.

  Forgetting shoes until it was too late to turn back, Dianna hurried barefoot down the hall, the long train of her violet dressing robe trailing behind her as she used the servant’s staircase yet again. Not daring to light a candle for fear of waking someone, she used the moonlight shimmering in through the many windows to guide her, silently thanking Aunt Abigail for her innate dislike of curtains.

  Pulse racing and heart pounding, she slipped out of the manor using a side entrance and navigated a stone walkway on tiptoe until she came around to the side of the manor where Miles stood waiting.

  She made nary a sound as she approached but he turned nevertheless as though he could somehow sense her presence. With the lantern at his back his expression was shadowed, making it impossible to read. Remaining on the path just out of arm’s reach, Dianna drew the silk robe a bit more tightly around her shoulders. “Well,” she said, careful to keep her tone reserved, “what do you wish to talk about?”

  Instead of answering her Miles took one step forward, then another. His dark gaze was intent. Every muscle in his body coiled and ready to spring.

  Feeling very much like a tiny rabbit run to ground by a hungry wolf, Dianna tensed and prepared to flee, but before he reached her Miles stopped short, long, muscular arms stiffening at his sides.

  “You are stunning,” he said hoarsely. “Absolutely stunning.”

  “I did not come here for empty compliments,” she countered, ruthlessly ignoring the tiny tug on her heart his words invoked. “Either speak your mind, or be gone.”

  “It was not an empty compliment. You were always pretty as a girl, but now you’re beautiful as a woman. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I’ve traveled the world over, and never witnessed your equal. Never even come close to it.”

  Though her cheeks flushed, Dianna refused to allow her resolve to weaken. Words were one thing, actions were another, and Miles’ past actions spoke louder than his present words ever could. “I will give you one more chance to tell me why you have come here tonight, and then I am going to wake the staff and have you escorted off the property.”

  Instead of being intimidated by her threat, however, he seemed to find it amusing and when his mouth curved in a devilish grin Dianna’s tiny hands curled into fists of exasperation. “You cannot keep doing this, Miles!”

  “Doing what?” he asked, the very picture of boyish innocence.

  “Showing up where you are not wanted!” she cried, momentarily forgetting they were standing out in the open where anyone could overhear them. “I waited for you for four years. Four years! Tonight I waited for you again. And you did not come. I am tired of waiting, Miles. Tired of hoping. I will not do it. Not anymore.” Her chin lifted. “I deserve better than that. I - I deserve better than you.”

  “I know you do,” Miles said softly. “I know you do. You always have.” He closed the distance between them and gently took hold of her wrist, the rough pad of his thumb moving in gentle, soothing circles across her sensitive flesh. “Yet sometimes we do not get what we deserve, and sometimes… sometimes we get more.”

  Staring down at his hand as it began to slowly t
ravel up the length of her arm, Dianna felt transfixed and utterly powerless against the sudden need building inside of her. A need that whispered of great passion and lust unfulfilled. A need that filled her mind with all sorts of wicked thoughts. A need she didn’t want… but was helpless to resist.

  His fingers skimmed up and over her shoulder, tracing the sharp blade before gently closing at the nape of her neck. She felt his touch like a lick of flame dancing across her flesh, and gasped aloud when his other hand went to her waist and he drew her hard against him.

  “Beautiful,” he repeated huskily, running the back of his fingers across one pale cheek before placing his thumb against her bottom lip, following the contours before settling in the middle and pressing down ever-so-slightly.

  Dianna didn’t think, she only reacted. Her mouth opened and Miles slipped his thumb inside to the first knuckle. He groaned as she circled the digit with her tongue, gaze never leaving his, taking dark pleasure in seeing his pupils widen.

  She tasted salt, and then she tasted him as he replaced his thumb with his mouth.

  The kiss was all consuming, a complete assault on Dianna’s senses that she did not have the strength to withstand. Yes, her body moaned, silencing the feeble protests of her mind. This is what I want. This is what I’ve always wanted.

  Miles dragged his fingers through her hair, short nails scraping against her scalp before he pulled her head back, affording him unfettered access to her mouth and neck which he took full advantage of.

  His mouth scorched her flesh as he dragged her harder against him, hands sweeping down the curves of her body before coming between them to cup her breasts, thumbs flicking across her hardened nipples through the thin layer of her dressing robe.

  Only when he began to pull at the bodice of her nightgown, baring her to the moonlight as though she were some pagan goddess of old, did some semblance of rationality return to Dianna. With a gasp she wrenched free of his embrace and stumbled back, dragging the fluttering edges of her robe up and over her chest.

  “Stop!” she cried when he took a prowling step towards her. “I… Please. Just stay where you are.”

  Chest heaving, Miles obeyed, but the hard clench of his jaw revealed he wasn’t happy about it. “Dianna…”

  “No. No.” On a sob she shook her head from side to side, sending her short curls whipping across her face. “That… that was mistake. It never should have happened.” And it wouldn’t have if her head had been stronger than her heart. Feeling betrayed by her own body, Dianna retreated one step further, the back of her heels bumping up against a hard jut of stone.

  “It wasn’t a mistake,” Miles said harshly. Green eyes glinting like twin shards of glass, he reached for her and hissed a curse when she cowered away, shoulders hunching. “Do not,” he bit out. “Do not look at me like that. I would never hurt you.”

  Perhaps not physically, Dianna thought. But there is more than one way to hurt.

  “I - I cannot trust you,” she whispered. How could she, when she couldn’t trust herself?

  Miles did not hesitate. “I am not asking you to.”

  “Then what are you asking?”

  “For one more chance.” His dark, tumultuous gaze captured hers, demanding something Dianna did not know if she was ready to give. If she was even capable of giving. “For both of us. I know I have made mistakes, and I know I have hurt you, but I am different now. I’ve changed. I’m not the boy I was. I am ready for things I wasn’t ready for four years ago. I want a wife. A family. You. I want you, Dianna.” He drew a deep breath. “I was careless with you before. I will not be again.”

  Overwhelmed, Dianna closed her eyes.

  The girl she had once been would have lapped up his words like honey. The girl would have flung her arms around his neck and wept tears of joy. The girl would have forgiven all.

  But she was not a girl any longer.

  “I made you happy before,” Miles continued in a voice gone raw and ragged. “I can do it again if you only give me the chance. Give me the chance, Dianna. Give us the chance. You felt what is between us. I know you did. I know it.”

  “You also broke my heart.” Feeling as though she were being torn asunder, Dianna opened her eyes and clung to the pain he’d caused her instead of the passion.

  Passion was fleeting. Here one moment, gone the next. But pain… pain lingered. Pain lasted. And it was that pain, that horrible, soul consuming pain, which she never wanted to feel again. “If you leave a second time, I fear I shall not recover. That is no way to live,” she said achingly. “That is no way to love.”

  As her head once again took control of her heart, the need inside of her slowly subsided, like a candle flame flickering down to the wick. Steeling herself, she forced her mouth to say the words that needed to be spoken. The words that would severe the last tie that bonded them once and for all. “I do not love you anymore, Miles.”

  Agony flashed like a lightning bolt across his face. “Dianna-”

  “If you truly want me to be happy, then you have to let me go.” Decision made, she stared at him without blinking, her mind oddly devoid of any thought or feeling, as though she were a chalk slate that had been wiped clean. “Let me go, Miles.”

  “And if I do not want to?” he demanded.

  “You did it before. You can do it again.”

  He stepped back as though she’d slapped him, green eyes filling with bewilderment. “You were filled with dreams once. With warmth and laughter. With love. Now your heart is as cold as snow and hard as a frozen lake. What happened to you?”

  “You did.” Turning gracefully on her heel Dianna walked away without looking back, the train of her robe fluttering silently in her wake.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stricken to his very soul, Miles watched the woman he loved more than life itself walk away from him once again. He silently willed her to stop. To turn her head. To give him some indication, no matter how small, that a flicker of hope remained between them.

  When he heard a door open and quietly close his heart sank like a stone inside of his chest.

  This was it, then. Her final decision. Dianna did not want him, and he would be damned if he begged more than he already had. She’d made her choice… and now they would both be forced to live with the consequences.

  Dawn painted the sky in vivid strokes of pink and yellow by the time he returned to Winfield, having forsaken the road for a moonlit ride through field and forest. Carrying the sharp, leafy scent of autumn into the house with him, he began to wearily climb the stairs only to stop short as a dash of movement caught the corner of his eye.

  “Harper?” he said incredulously, turning to find his sister curled in one of the parlor’s drawing room chairs. “What are you doing up so early?”

  Still dressed in a white nightgown with her long hair confined in a single dark braid and a thick book open on her lap, Harper glanced up at the sound of her name. “The moon was too bright,” she said. “I could not sleep.”

  “That makes two of us.” Descending the stairs Miles went into the parlor and sat across from his sister, ignoring her scowl of annoyance. “How long have you been awake?” he queried, noting the two silver candlesticks at her feet, both burned down to the quick.

  “What concern is it of yours?” Already bristling for a fight, Harper set the book she’d been reading aside and hunched forward, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I am not doing anything wrong. I haven’t broken any rules.”

  Glancing down, Miles saw her bare toes peeking out beneath the hem of her nightgown, reminding him that even though Harper thought herself a woman full grown, she was still very much a little girl, lost and confused in a world where she’d been forced to learn the bitter taste of abandonment far too young. “No one said you had.”

  “Then what are you doing here? What do you want?” she demanded, unwittingly repeating the same questions Dianna had asked him three hours prior.

  “I want to talk to my favorite sist
er.” Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his legs at the knee, making himself comfortable. Having been scorned by Dianna made him only the more determined to earn Harper’s forgiveness. He supposed it was to his favor that she couldn’t run from him, for given the choice he’d no doubt she would do precisely that. “Is that so much to ask?”

  “I am your only sister,” she said sullenly. “And I do not wish to talk with you.”

  Finding his patience for obstinate females had been worn past the breaking point, Miles gritted his teeth and said, “That is too damn bad, because I have a lot to talk about.”

  “Well I do not!” Harper jumped to her feet, knocking over one of the candlesticks. It fell to its side with a heavy thud, and the spent wax, jostled loose from its mooring, rolled across the floor. Hands on hips, steam all but pouring out her ears, she ignored the fallen candlestick in favor of glaring daggers at her brother. “And there is nothing you can do to make me!”

  Except there was something. One thing. One thing that gave him leverage over Harper that he did not have over Dianna. As the anger in his abruptly chest loosened, Miles felt only love for his sister. Love and the painful bite of guilt, both for what he’d done and what he was about to do. “I can cut you off. I can take away your dowry and leave you without a shilling to your name.”

  Harper’s jaw dropped. “You - you would not dare,” she said even as a betraying hint of uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “Mother wouldn’t allow it.”

  “She would not have a choice.”

  “Fine!” Harper cried, although the tears in her voice revealed it to be anything but. Miles could not blame her for being so upset. Threatening to take away her dowry was the equivalent of casting her out on the street, for a young lady without a dowry was a young lady without any hope of catching a husband or means to support herself. “Cut me off! I don’t-”

  “Sit down, Harp,” he interrupted gently, “and listen to what I have to say.”

  Mouth still agape and countenance several shades paler than it had been when he first came into the parlor, she reluctantly obeyed his command. Hands gripping the armrests of the chair until her knuckles gleamed white, she leaned towards him and spat, “You are wretched, Miles. Absolutely wretched. And I hate you. I hate you.”