“Ahem.”
He groaned against her lips. Would there ever be a time when he could kiss her without interruption? Reluctantly he released her, gratified to note she was just as reluctant to release him.
“Lord Stillwell.” Adrian stood at the top of the stairs flanked by Hugh on one side, Sebastian on the other and James a step behind. “A word, if you please.”
“No.” Miranda stared up at her brothers.
James choked.
“No?” Confusion crossed Hugh’s face. “Did she say no?”
“I think that is exactly what she said.” Sebastian stared.
“Miranda,” Adrian began in his best I-am-the-earl voice. Win recognized it immediately as he had a similar voice. He did so enjoy using it. “This is none of your concern.”
“No, Adrian, this is none of your concern.”
“You are my sister, my youngest sister, and everything that affects you concerns me.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
Win grinned. Now this was the Miranda he knew.
“I am twenty-eight years of age and more than capable of making my own decisions. I have been married and widowed. I have my own finances. And I . . .” She glanced at Win and he nodded. “I not only own Garret and Tempest, I run it. I am not merely the youngest Hadley-Attwater, I am a woman of business.”
The men at the top of the steps stared in stunned silence. Apparently, this was the night for it. Win wondered if dinner with the Hadley-Attwater family was always this interesting. He wouldn’t be at all surprised.
Her brows drew together and she looked at him. “Did you know that? That I run the firm, that is?”
“I have never been as stupid as you have thought I was.”
“I never—well, perhaps I did . . .” She had the good grace to blush at that. He liked it.
“Miranda,” Adrian said. “You barely know this man.”
“On the contrary, I know him quite well. I know he is stubborn and can be stiff and stodgy on occasion. I know he is suspicious of progress. I know he has very firm ideas about the place of women in this world.”
“Oh, I do sound delightful,” Win said under his breath.
“I know as well that he values tradition and heritage. He treats his parents with affection and his servants with respect. He makes me laugh more than I can ever remember laughing in my entire life. He is kind to children and small animals, even his aunt’s dog, who is not at all a pleasant beast. He is intelligent and not unattractive. And when he kisses me—”
One of the other men groaned.
“He makes my toes curl and my heart skip a beat.”
Win flashed her brothers a smug smile. “Add to that my title and fortune, and I am quite a catch.”
“A catch is not what I would call you,” Adrian said sharply. “Are you aware of his reputation with women? Do you know he has had three fiancées? Three?”
“I can’t imagine there is anyone alive who is not aware of that, but might I point out, dear brother, that while you may not have the trail of fiancées he does, your reputation was no better than his. Why, we had begun to think no decent woman would have you before you met Evelyn.”
Adrian sputtered.
“As for Sebastian—”
“No, no that’s quite all right,” Sebastian said quickly. “I am well aware of my past reputation.”
“I never had an especially scandalous reputation,” Hugh said in a lofty manner.
“No, Hugh dear, you were too busy studying, although I do recall a few incidents.”
Hugh’s brow furrowed in thought; then he winced.
“See here, Miranda,” Adrian began.
“And didn’t you have this same discussion with Diana about James before they married?”
“I don’t recall,” Adrian muttered.
“I do.” James shuddered. “Diana nearly killed you.” He took a cautious step back. “However, it does strike me that this discussion would be best confined to blood relations so perhaps I should—”
“Oh no, James,” Miranda said sharply. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re a part of this and it’s not over, as there are a few more things I wish to say. And I would appreciate it if the four of you would come down to this level so that I don’t feel like I’m talking to the gods on Mt. Olympus!”
The men exchanged glances, then reluctantly descended the stairs.
“You’re absolutely right,” Adrian declared in an obvious effort to regain control. “It’s not over.”
“She’s yelling at us, you know,” Sebastian said in an aside to Win when they reached the ground floor. “Bianca yells, Portia yells, Diana yells. Miranda never yells.”
Win chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”
“What have you done to her?”
“The real question, old man, is what has she done to me?”
Sebastian shook his head.
“Now then.” Miranda’s gaze shifted from one brother to the next. “I am going to leave with Lord Stillwell in a few minutes. He will escort me home. Tomorrow I am going to accompany him back to Millworth so that I may resume my work at Fairborough. I am not managing construction—I have a very capable gentleman who does that. But I am in something of an advisory capacity in regards to the plans and blueprints as well as a liaison between the office, the architect and the construction site.”
Win stared. So she wasn’t going to confess everything? Wasn’t that interesting?
“And, of course, I report on the progress to Lord Stillwell and his family. Now, is there anything else?”
“Miranda.” Adrian glared. “As head of this family, I absolutely forbid you to leave with this man.”
“I give you my word she’ll be perfectly safe. I promise not to sell her to a harem,” Win said solemnly.
Hugh snorted back a laugh.
“Don’t be a twit, Adrian. You have nothing to say about it. If I wish to leave with him, if I wish to embark on a torrid, scandalous affair—”
Win grinned.
“If I wish to tie him up and have my way with him—”
“Every little boy’s dream,” Win said under his breath.
“I shall do exactly that.” She glared at her brothers. “Do you have anything else to say?”
Adrian stared at his sister for a long moment, then drew a deep breath. “What do you propose I tell Mother?”
“Tell her I shall see her soon and whatever else you wish. I love all of you, but it simply doesn’t matter. It is my life, and I am very tired of hiding what I think and how I feel. However . . .” She thought for a moment. “I have people who depend for their livelihood on the continuation of Garret and Tempest. Obviously I therefore want it to be viable as long as possible. I am well aware that when the extent of my involvement becomes known publicly we will lose most of our commissions. And the fewer people who know about this the better. So. . . .” Her eyes narrowed in a menacing manner. It was most impressive. “I want your word that you will not tell Mother, Diana, Evelyn and especially not Portia.”
“Bianca knows, of course.” Sebastian scoffed.
Hugh stared. “And what would you have us tell them?”
“Well, it seems to me the truly juicy part of all this is when Lord Stillwell went on and on about what a remarkable woman I am.” She flashed him a quick grin. “I should think that would provide more than enough topic for discussion and speculation. Good Lord, Portia and Mother could live off that little bit alone for weeks.”
“Very well.” Adrian nodded with what might have been the vaguest suggestion of a smile on his lips. “I suspect we have no choice.”
“You don’t.” Miranda smiled. “But thank you. Thank you all.”
Adrian’s gaze locked on to Win’s. “You and I still need to talk.”
“And talk we shall. Eventually.” Win cast him a pleasant smile. “But I believe I have another discussion I must have first.”
“Yes, well.” Adrian’s gaze slid from Win to his sister and back. �
�I wish you good luck, Stillwell. I suspect you’re going to need it.”
“That is much appreciated, Waterston.” He offered Miranda his arm. “But I think I already have it.” A footman opened the door and they swept out into the night.
“Now that,” he said with a grin, “was a grand exit.”
She laughed. “I’ve always wanted to make a grand exit.”
“What now, Miranda?”
“Well, in that direction is my house and you may escort me home. Or . . .” She nodded in the direction of his house. “Your house is that way. Much closer, wouldn’t you say?”
“Well, yes, I would, but . . .”
“Winfield.” She gazed into his eyes. “This is entirely your choice. You may still escort me home and the evening will be at an end.”
“Good Lord, Miranda, I couldn’t ‘still escort you home’ at this point if I was offered a million pounds to do so. I just want to make sure this is what you want.”
“My darling Lord Stillwell.” She smiled up at him. A smile filled with promises of tonight and forever. “There is nothing I want more.”
Chapter 20
It was the damnedest thing.
If someone had told Winfield Elliott, Viscount Stillwell, heir to the Earl of Fairborough, a man who had once been known for his exploits with women and skating on the thin edge of scandal, that he would feel even so much as a hint of nerves at taking a woman to his bed he would have laughed and called him a liar. But there was definitely something very much like nerves that twisted in his stomach now.
He and Miranda said little on the brief ride to his house, but then what was there to say? Small talk didn’t seem appropriate and even that he couldn’t seem to manage. Miranda, however, did not appear the least bit apprehensive. Indeed, a serene smile had played on her lips in the carriage, in the foyer when he had dismissed the servants for the night and as he had escorted her to his rooms. Even now, as she stood near the fireplace discarding her evening wrap, the smile lingered.
He had no need to be anxious about this. He snapped the doors closed behind him. It was not as if he was about to seduce a virgin, not that he ever had. Although he suspected Miranda had never been with a man other than her husband. At least not before her marriage and probably not after she’d been widowed either. He couldn’t be completely certain and it was not something he could ask. Besides, it would be most hypocritical of him to care one way or the other and he did hate to be hypocritical.
She tugged at one of her gloves and slowly pulled it off in a manner as mesmerizing as if it were her stocking. “You surprise me, Winfield.”
“Oh?” He swallowed. “In what way?”
“From the look in your eye, one would think you’d never had a woman in this room before, which I find hard to believe.” She glanced around the bedroom with its dark wood furnishings, deep claret-colored wallpaper and matching bed hangings and draperies. “Indeed, this is a room that fairly screams seduction.”
He started to deny it, then thought better of it. “And I thought it was a room that fairly screams Winfield Elliott.”
“Aren’t they one and the same?” She pulled off her other glove, again in a slow and decidedly seductive manner.
“You give me entirely too much credit, Miranda.”
“Do I?” She smiled and started toward him.
He had the strangest impulse to flee. “I believe I have mentioned that I have not . . . well . . .”
“Dallied with women recently?” She continued toward him. “Enhanced your reputation? That sort of thing?”
“Something like that.” He resisted the urge to step back.
“But you’ve certainly not been celibate for any length of time.”
“I suppose that depends on how you define length of time,” he said cautiously. In spite of her comment about wanting a wicked man she was a respectable lady from a respectable family. There had never been so much as a breath of scandal about her. Indeed, he hadn’t been especially aware of her existence until the day they met.
“What a clever answer, Winfield.” She stopped less than a foot away and stared up at him. “It wouldn’t be at all fair of me to condemn you for activities in the past. Would it?”
“And yet women often do.”
She sighed, reached out and untied his necktie. “We are a confusing lot.”
He stared down at her. What was wrong with him? He had done this any number of times before. “I would define length of time as being well before I met you.”
“Oh?” She slowly pulled his necktie free and dropped it to the floor.
He shrugged in as offhand a manner as he could manage given that his heart was thudding in his chest and various other parts of his body were responding to her nearness. “I have been . . . busy.”
“Ah well, that explains it then.” She unfastened his collar.
“Explains what?”
“Why you haven’t seemed nearly as wicked as I had expected.” She started to pull off his collar.
He caught her hand and stared into her eyes. Her definitely green eyes. “Are you disappointed?”
“Not yet.”
The moment between them stretched, lengthened, endless, eternal. At once he understood. This wasn’t any woman. This wasn’t another conquest. This was different. This was important. This was Miranda. He didn’t know if it was love, wasn’t sure he’d recognize love, but he had never felt this way about a woman before. And he’d never wanted any woman more.
His nerves vanished.
He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve never been with a woman of business before. Or for that matter”—he smiled—“a governess.”
“What? You’ve never fulfilled that dream of every little boy?”
“Not yet.” He bent closer and kissed the curve between her neck and shoulder. She shivered.
“Then we are well matched.” A slight breathless note sounded in her voice. Her eyes were green and glazed with desire. “I have never before been with a wicked lord.”
“You will tell me if it doesn’t live up to your expectations,” he murmured against her skin.
“You shall be the first to know.” She pulled away, wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his face to hers.
Their lips met in a kiss, slow and deliberate. A kiss that said they had all the time in the world. A kiss to savor, to relish and enjoy.
It was not enough.
Restraint between them shattered. Desire he had denied for too long rose up within him. He couldn’t get enough of her. His hands, his mouth were everywhere at once. She responded in kind, touching him, tasting him. He wondered if he had ever felt such passion before and knew as well that it was not because she was lovely and enticing but because she was Miranda. He wanted her. He wanted more.
Within moments he had her clothes off and was removing his own.
“Good Lord, Winfield.” She snatched the coverlet from the bed and held it up in front of her.
“What?” He froze and stared at her. His shirt hung open, his trousers were halfway down his legs.
“Well, I didn’t expect, that is . . .”
“If you have thought better of this.” His words were measured and she knew it took a great effort on his part. “If you have changed your mind . . .”
“No, no, of course not.” She shook her head. “I want this. I want you. It’s only that . . .”
“Yes?”
“Well.” She winced. “You do seem to be shockingly efficient. Which is to be expected, of course. You had no difficulty whatsoever with my gown and my corset and . . . everything. I don’t think my maid could have disrobed me better and certainly not faster.”
He stared. “Thank you?”
“It’s just that you are so . . .so . . . so very skilled.”
“It’s a gift?”
“Don’t be absurd.” She scoffed. “It’s because you have had a great deal of practice.”
“You knew that,” he said slowly.
“Yes, and it do
esn’t concern me whatsoever.” Her gaze flicked over him. “Would you mind either pulling up or taking off your trousers? I find it most disconcerting to see them hanging around your knees like that.” Although, in many ways, it was rather charming.
“My apologies,” he muttered and pulled up his trousers. “I had not intended for them to remain in that position.”
“I know and I am sorry. In truth I find your vast experience exciting.”
“Then why are we standing here?”
“Goodness, Winfield, I have only ever done this with one man. No other man has ever seen me without clothing before. And the lamps are still lit and . . .” She knew she sounded like an idiot, or worse, a frightened virgin.
“Oh, I see.” He nodded. “Should I put the lights out?”
“That does seem rather cowardly.” Besides, she wanted to see him although it did seem somewhat wanton to admit such a thing. “It’s understandable that I would be a little apprehensive. Not that I don’t want to continue,” she added quickly.
“Forgive me, if I’m confused.” His brow furrowed. “But not more than a few minutes ago, you were as eager to get my clothes off as I was to remove yours.”
“Oh, I am eager.” She nodded with enthusiasm. “Extremely eager. I can’t recall feeling this sort of desire ever before.”
“Ever?” His brow rose.
“I mean, that is to say . . .”
“Go on.”
“Oh Lord, I shouldn’t be saying this. But I do tend to say all sorts of things to you I shouldn’t. Relations with my late husband . . . well, John and I were . . . oh, what is the right word?” She thought for a moment. “Civilized, I suppose.”
“Civilized?”
“Always quite pleasant, but, yes, civilized. I suspect with you it will be anything but civilized.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.”
“Definitely flattered. Civilized isn’t nearly as exciting. And might I say this would be a moot point by now, given the way we were, oh, swept away by . . . by passion a few minutes ago, if you had not stopped the proceedings to disrobe.”
The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor) Page 23
