Regency Historical - Love And The Single Heiress Part 21

"Caution is not an ign.o.ble virtue, Catherine."

"I agree. Yet you can see what happened to all my caution. It was not difficult to maintain while untested. But I'd never met anyone whom I wished to take as a lover. Until now."

His eyes darkened, and a s.h.i.+ver of delight ran through her. Catherine's eyes slid closed, and for several heartbeats she relived the wonder of their joining. Exhaling a long, slow breath, she whispered dreamily, "Nothing we'd talked about had prepared me. When I wrote the Guide I didn't-"

Her words chopped off at her slip, and her eyes popped open. For one horrified second she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Heat rushed into her face, and her insides cramped. Then she forced out a laugh, one she prayed did not sound as nervous to him as it did to her. "Read," she said, willing away the blush scorching her cheeks. "I meant when I read the Guide, I thought that I knew what to expect. But I was wrong."

She forced her lips into a calm smile, but she knew her face still flamed red. Had his gaze turned suddenly watchful? Speculative? No, no surely she was just imagining it. She'd made a silly slip of the tongue. People made such errors all the time. All she needed to do was change the subject. And cease blus.h.i.+ng.

Before she could speak, however, he said, "I'm certain you've considered that our liaison could conceive a child."

Relieved that he clearly had not attached any significance to her verbal blunder, she said, "Yes. You need not fear that. I have taken steps to ensure that I do not conceive."

"I see. And you are aware that you still run the risk of someone discovering that we are lovers."

"Of course, but surely you agree that it is greatly minimized by the fact that you reside in London and will be returning to your home in a week's time."

"In other words, you do not fear discovery as this is only a temporary arrangement."

"Yes."For reasons she refused to examine, that single word tasted most unappetizing.

Silence stretched between them, and she realized she was holding her breath. Finally, he nodded, an obvious sign of his agreement, and for some inexplicable reason, she felt let down that he didn't argue with her. Suggest that they somehow find a way to continue their liaison beyond his weeklong visit. They couldn't, wouldn't, of course, but still...

Her thoughts drifted off when he sifted his fingers through her hair, eliciting a head-to-toe tingle that drove everything from her mind. "Your hair," he said softly, "your skin, they are so amazingly soft." His hand drifted over her shoulder, then down her arm. "Never in my life have I touched anything so smooth. So silky." His eyes met hers, and she stilled at the seriousness of his gaze. "I have a confession to make, Catherine."

Her heart performed a flip at his grave tone. Did he want their affair to continue beyond his visit? "I'm listening."

"I never thought I'd have the opportunity to touch you, and now that I do..."He cupped her breast and a wicked gleam kindled in his eyes. "Now that I do, I must confess, I cannot stop."

Her breath caught as he teased her nipple into an aching point. Splaying her hand on his thigh, she leaned forward until only a hairbreadth separated their lips.

"My darling Andrew, I don't know when I've heard better news."

Staring into the low-burning flames crackling in the grate, a slow smile curved the lone figure's lips upward. The plans were in place. All was in readiness...

The ticking of the mantel clock served as an irritating reminder of the pa.s.sage of time. But I shall remain patient. My quarry is in sight. I know who you are. Soon, very soon, all the wrongs will be righted.

Chapter 15.

As men tend to be forgetful creatures, Today's Modern Woman needs to make an indelible impression in her gentleman's mind so he cannot ever completely dismiss her from his thoughts. The most effective way to do this is to say or do something deliciously naughty-very discreetly, so only he is aware of it. If a man believes there is a s.e.xual encounter in his imminent future, his attention will not wander far.

A Ladies' Guide to the Pursuit of Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment by Charles Brightmore Andrew prepared to exit his bedchamber the next morning, one thing uppermost in his mind: Catherine.

After a final lingering kiss, he'd reluctantly left her at her bedchamber door four hours ago. Actually four hours and eleven minutes ago, not that he was counting.

Very well, he was counting. And those four hours and eleven minutes had felt like four years. He needed to touch her. Kiss her. Hold her against him to reaffirm me miracle of last night. Making love to her had been a revelation. In his dreams, he'd touched her, loved her, countless times, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of her beneath him, looking up at him, her eyes glazed with need. His body joining with hers as he wordlessly expressed all the feelings he'd kept locked away for so long. All the things he couldn't say-yet.

He exited his bedchamber and strode down the corridor, impatience pulling at him. When he looked into her eyes this morning would he see all the magic they'd shared together reflected there? The desire to experience more of the same? Or would she have spent the last four hours and now twelve minutes deciding that last night was enough?

His lips pressed together. If she'd somehow decided that it was enough, he'd just d.a.m.n well have to change her mind. She was his. And he intended to have her.

When he rounded the corner, he spied Milton nearing the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Stanton," the butler said in his precise tones, "I was just coming to your room. This arrived for you." He held out a silver salver bearing a sealed note.

Andrew took the missive. His stomach tensed when he noted his name scrawled in Simon Wentworth's cramped handwriting. d.a.m.n. He doubted his and Philip's steward would be writing to impart good news. "Did the messenger say anything?"

"Only that the note was for you and that he did not require a reply. He's already departed."

"I see. Are Lady Catherine and Spencer about?"

"Master Spencer is on his way to take the waters. Lady Catherine requested a meal in her bedchamber. Breakfast is laid out in the dining room, sir."

"Thank you. I need to read this correspondence first. I'll be down shortly."

Milton inclined his head, then headed back down the stairs, and Andrew returned to his bedchamber. After closing the door behind him, he broke the wax seal and quickly scanned the words.

Mr. Stanton, I am writing to inform you that someone entered the museum last night, and I'm sorry to report that considerable damage was done. The magistrate believes that when the thief-or thieves- realized there were no artifacts yet housed in the museum, he became enraged and inflicted as much damage as he could. An ax was taken to the floor and walls, and every single one of the newly installed windows was broken. The magistrate doesn't hold much hope that the scoundrel will be caught unless a witness comes forward with information. I'll set the workmen up to repair the damages-no need for you to worry on that score, but I don't have the experience to handle the investors, and I'm afraid their reactions are already not favorable. Lords Borthrasher and Kingsly were making inquiries, as well as Mrs. Warrenfield and a Mr. Carmichael. Therefore, I think it might be best if you returned to London as soon as possible. In the meanwhile, I will see about hiring on more workers. Per your instructions before you left London, I have not written to Lord Greybourne to inform him of anything regarding the museum.

Sincerely, Simon Wentworth Andrew blew out a long breath and raked his hand through his hair. In his mind's eye he pictured the museum's polished parquet flooring and richly paneled walls. And all those beautiful pane-gla.s.sed windows... d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l and back! All that work, destroyed. It made him sick inside. As did the thought of leaving Catherine, especially now. But he had no choice. And he had to tell her.

Slipping the note into his waistcoat pocket, he quietly departed his room.

Her skin still tingling from a warm bath, Catherine looked out her bedchamber window at the sun's gentle morning glow reflecting silver off the dew-laden gra.s.s. Her gaze drifted toward the garden... toward the path that she and Andrew had followed last night.

Her eyes drifted closed. Vivid images flashed through her mind of how they'd spent the hours until just before dawn... intimately exploring each other's bodies. Sharing the wine, bread, and cheese. Andrew feeding her strawberries. Laughing. Touching. Making love again, slowly, savoring every touch. Every look. Every kiss. Every stroke of his body deep inside hers.

For all the times she'd imagined being with a lover, for all the curiosity the Guide had planted in her mind, she'd never, not once, envisioned anything like last night. She'd always believed that one's imagination could conjure up scenarios reality could never match.

She'd been horribly mistaken in that belief.

Imagination could not experience the wonder of Andrew's lips and hands wors.h.i.+ping her, burning away everything, every thought, except him. The feel of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s crushed against his warm, naked chest. The musky scent of their lovemaking surrounding them in the gazebo's golden-lit, still air. The texture of his firm skin beneath her fingertips. And the sight of him...

A long, feminine sigh escaped her. Dear G.o.d, the sight of him, his strong, muscular body glistening in the flickering light, fully aroused. For her. By her. His eyes black with want. Hot with desire. Filled with a fierceness at complete odds with his gentle touch. His absorbed expression as he aroused her beyond bearing. Then the sensual, sated languor glowing in those eyes in the aftermath of their pa.s.sion. His quick grin. His lovely smile. Yet behind his humor the heart-quickening heat simmering just below his surface.

Unfortunately, she suspected she was feeling more than simply heart-quickening heat for Andrew. And that was unacceptable. Disquieting. And most of all, frightening.

She wouldn't, couldn't allow herself to forget that this was temporary. She well knew the heartbreak a.s.sociated with a permanent arrangement. And lest she forget...

She crossed to her wardrobe, then knelt to withdraw a small mahogany jewelry box she kept hidden in the far back corner beneath several blankets. She opened the lid and withdrew the ring inside. Rising, she stared at her diamond wedding ring resting in her palm. A flawless five carats of brilliance, surrounded by a dozen smaller stones, all equally perfect. A ring most women would covet. Sadly, she was not most women. She'd kept this painful reminder of the past so she'd never forget the emptiness that resulted from all its promises. One look at the jewel was a forceful reminder that she would not, could not allow one night of pa.s.sion to cloud her common sense. Whatever these... feelings for Andrew were, she needed to push them aside. Forget them. They would enjoy a few more days together, then go their separate ways, leaving them both with lovely memories, but nothing more.

Satisfied that she'd put everything back into its proper perspective, she was about to bend down to retrieve the jewelry box when a quiet knock sounded at her door. Slipping the ring into her pocket, she said, "Come in," wondering if Mary had forgotten something when she'd delivered her breakfast.

The door opened, and Andrew stepped over the threshold. Andrew, looking clean and freshly shaved, his hair neatly combed, his fawn breeches and dark blue jacket accentuating his dark good looks, cravat perfectly knotted, boots polished to a high sheen. He looked tall and broad, masculine and delicious, and, with his eyes intent upon hers, just a bit predatory and dangerous. Her heart jumped, and every nerve ending tingled with awareness.

His gaze traveled down her length, making Catherine very much aware that she wore nothing beneath the cream satin robe knotted loosely at her waist. Her skin s.h.i.+vered with antic.i.p.ation under his leisurely regard. When their eyes finally met once again, he reached behind him and locked the door. The quiet click reverberated through her mind, and she desperately tried to recall the Guide's sage advice on how to greet one's lover after a night spent naked in his arms. Her common sense screamed that he shouldn't be here, that she didn't want him here. Her bedchamber was her sanctuary. Her haven. Hers. Unfortunately, the pounding of her heart drowned out her common sense.

He walked slowly toward her, looking very much like a sleek jungle cat stalking its prey, and her heart rate doubled at the ravenous gleam in his eyes. As she seemed suddenly incapable of movement or speech, she waited for him to stop, to smile, to say good morning, but he did none of those things.

Instead, he walked right up to her, wordlessly pulled into his arms, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Oh, my. It was her last coherent thought as she simply gave herself over to his demanding kiss. His clean scent surrounded her, as did the heat of his body. The strength of his arms. The urgent press of his thighs against hers.

She parted her lips and was rewarded with the sensual sweep of his tongue against hers. And his hands, those glorious, large, callused hands that could only be described as magical, seemed to be everywhere. Combing through her hair. Skimming down her back. Cupping her b.u.t.tocks. Palming her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. All while his mouth devoured hers with a fierce hunger that left her breathless and starving for more. Had it only been a few hours since she'd been in his arms? Somehow it felt like years.

His arms tightened around her, and she reveled in his strength, lifting up on her toes, straining closer to him. Then he suddenly changed the pace of their frantic kiss, gentling it to a slow, deep melding of mouths and tongues that dissolved her knees. When he finally lifted his head, she wasn't certain she could recall her name.

"Good morning, Catherine," he whispered against her lips.

Catherine. Yes, of course. That is my name.

She supposed she murmured good morning, but she wasn't quite certain. He leaned forward and nuzzled his lips against the sensitive juncture where her neck met her shoulder. "You smell incredible." His warm breath sluiced over her skin, eliciting a barrage of heated s.h.i.+vers. "Like a flower garden."

Summoning her strength, she pointed toward the bra.s.s tub set in the corner of the room. "I just finished bathing."

He turned his head, looked toward the tub, then groaned. "Do you mean to say that if I'd arrived only minutes earlier, I'd have caught you in the bath?"

"I'm afraid so."

His teeth lightly tugged on her earlobe. "I shall have to see about correcting my lamentable timing. Although, I don't know that my heart could have withstood the sight of you in the bath. Do you have any idea how the sight of you, simply standing there in your robe, affected me?"

She leaned backed in the circle of his arms. Surely she meant to be demure. Coy. Instead, the simple truth rushed from her lips. "Yes. Because seeing you enter my bedchamber, with desire in your eyes, affected me the same way." Warmth rushed into her cheeks at the admission. "Why are you here?"

"I needed to speak with you." He hesitated, then said, "I'm afraid I must return to London. Today. As soon as possible."

Dismay and disappointment filled her. "I see. Is something amiss?"

"A break-in and some vandalism at the museum. There was nothing there to steal, but apparently the building sustained considerable damage. I need to see how extensive the repairs will be, so I can report to Philip. I'll also need to talk to the investors, allay any fears they may have. The last thing Philip and I need is nervous investors."

She rested her palm against his cheek in a gesture of commiseration and sympathy. He looked so very

grim. "How awful. I'm so sorry this has happened."

"As am I. Not only for the obvious reasons regarding the museum, but also because I have no wish to leave here. I was very much looking forward to spending the day with you and Spencer." His eyes darkened. "And the night with you."

Desire fluttered through her veins, and she swallowed before asking, "Are you... planning to return to Little Longstone?"

"Yes."

A breath she hadn't realized she held pushed past her lips. "When?"

"I'm hoping tomorrow."

"Please consider my stable at your disposal."

"Thank you. The journey will be quicker if I travel on horseback rather than coach. I'll do my best to arrive here by early evening, but I may be later."

"I see. Will you... meet me tomorrow night?"

"When and where?"

She considered for a moment. "Midnight. At the springs. I want..."

He cradled her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to make love to me in the warm waters."

Something that looked like fear, but surely wasn't flickered in his eyes, but it vanished so quickly she

decided she must have been mistaken. He brushed a soft kiss against her mouth. "It will be my very great

pleasure to grant your wish, Catherine." His words caressed her lips, shooting want to her core. "Tomorrow might, the springs, at midnight," she murmured in a breathless whisper. Pa.s.sion, desire, l.u.s.t, all so new, all so long denied, swamped her. "Andrew... I don't want to wait until tomorrow night."

He lifted his head, and the inferno burning in his gaze singed her. "Be careful what you wish for Catherine, because you are only seconds away from-" "Being led astray?" Stepping back from his embrace, she unknotted the sash to her robe, then shrugged the satin from her shoulders, where it fell to a soft heap at her feet.

He watched her robe slither down her body, leaving her naked. His entire body tensed, filling her with a heady sense of feminine power and satisfaction. "Led astray?" he repeated softly, taking a step closer to her. "Hmmm. Yes, that is definitely a possibility."

"Only a possibility?" She made a tsking sound, then backed up another step, then another, until she leaned against the wall. "How... disappointing."

He erased the distance between them in one stride, then braced his hands on the wall on either side of her, bracketing her in. His heated gaze raked over her, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and her breath hitched.

"Is that what you want, Catherine? To be led astray?"

"I'm not certain precisely what that entails, but it sounds... tantalizing."

"I'd be delighted to show you."

She splayed her hands against his chest, further emboldened by the rapid pounding of his heart against her palms. Her entire body quickened in antic.i.p.ation of his touch. "Excellent. I'm looking forward to a proper good-bye."