She hoped he thought her voice stern and unyielding. To her ears, it sounded hopelessly breathless.
‘Come here.’ His voice allowed for no refusal.
Hattie took a step towards the stairs. Her stomach tensed. If she started towards him, she’d be in his arms, begging for his touch. And she already knew that was a hopeless cause. ‘That wouldn’t be a good idea.’
‘I’ve gone beyond what you consider a good idea or not, Harriet.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Come here. Let me see your face. All I can see is the light from the candle.’
She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and straightened her skirt. He was too far away and the candlelight hid her upset state. ‘No one calls me Harriet.’
‘I know. It is why I am doing so.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’ve no wish to frighten you. Come back and talk to me.’
‘Why should I?’
‘I had no idea about your husband’s betrayal. I thought your prim reserve was from a different cause. I’m sorry.’
‘It served my purpose.’ Hattie raised her chin. ‘It is the first time I could speak of it.’
‘Are you crying over him?’
‘I shed my last tear for him a long time ago.’
‘Then why the tears?’
‘Because I’ve wasted my life.’ When she said the words, she knew she meant them. They had sprung from a place deep within her. She’d wanted to erase all trace of Charles from her life, but she hadn’t done. For too long she had been hiding, fearful of the long shadow. ‘It is not what I wanted. I had so many plans. I’ve done none of them.’
His hand closed about hers and gently took the candlestick from her. ‘You will burn your hand.’
‘I already have.’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘It is fine. I won’t set the house on fire.’
Rather than letting her go, he pulled her to his hard body. ‘Silence. Perfect silence.’
He bent his head and captured her lips, demanding a response. Hattie opened her mouth and tasted the sweet interior.
A deep and dark fire welled up inside her, blotting out everything else. She twined her hands about his neck and held him close, allowing her body to say things that she didn’t dare. His mouth travelled over her face, softly nuzzling her cheeks and temple. ‘Hush now.’
A soft moan escaped from her throat. With the last vestige of common sense, she put her hands on his shoulders and created a space between their bodies. ‘I ought to go.’
‘Why did you bring me here?’ he said, sliding his hands down her back and cupping her body to his.
‘I told you. Because I wanted to make sure you lived. You saved me and my honour.’ Hattie kept her head up and looked him straight in the eye, attempting to ignore the fire blazing in her nether regions. If she wasn’t hanging on to him, she’d fall. Her legs had become wobblier than jelly.
‘It is poor excuse. We have gone beyond such things.’ He traced the outline of her lips. ‘Whatever you do, give solid reasons, rather than mealy-mouthed excuses.’
He placed a kiss in the corner of her mouth.
‘Why do you think I brought you here?’
‘Because you craved intimacy. You wanted more to your life than a solitary kiss in windswept ruins.’ His fingers touched her face, gentle but at the same time wildly exciting. ‘You wanted it as badly as I do. You have been driving me mad with longing, Harriet. The things I want to do with you.’
She turned her face to his palm. She was tempted to pinch herself to see if she was awake or if she had somehow fallen asleep and was dreaming. ‘Did I?’
‘You do.’ He put his hands on her shoulders. His face turned grave. ‘I’m not making promises that I can’t keep, Harriet. You understand that. It is about living in the moment with no regrets. I can offer you a summer and that is all.’
‘I’m aware of the rules of engagement, as it were.’ She tucked her head into her chest, torn between a longing to put her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat and the instinct to flee. He wasn’t offering anything honourable, only pleasure and only for the summer.
There was nothing wrong with taking her pleasure. She was a widow, rather than a débutante in search of good marriage. Sir Christopher was notoriously single. With discretion all things were possible.
‘A summer affair sounds intriguing, but we must be circumspect,’ she said quickly before she lost her nerve.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Bringing me here is circumspect? The story will be all around the village before morning.’
‘I brought you here because you were injured.’
Hattie tilted her chin upwards to show she had considered the potential for disaster. ‘I was doing my Christian duty. No one dare gainsay that.’
‘You kissed me all the same. And shall do again, I wager.’
A single finger lifted her face so she was staring directly into his eyes. His lashes were far too long and pretty for a man, she thought abstractly. She wasn’t in love with him, not in the way she had thought she’d been in love with Charles. She desired him and his touch. Her heart was safe, more than safe. Passion might burn white-hot, but it rapidly turned to ash. She knew not to want for ever with this man. She’d settle for living in the moment for this one summer. ‘Then we are agreed.’
‘Until the summer ends.’ He bent his head and softly kissed her lips. This time, the kiss was less fierce. It was a gentle heart-stopping persuasion. His mouth pressed kisses against her eyes, her nose and trailed down to her ear. Hattie knew that Charles had never kissed her like this. These kisses were about giving pleasure and healing.
She twined her arms about his neck, pressing her body against his. Hattie opened her mouth and allowed her tongue to tangle with his. In that kiss, all her fears and regrets fell away and all she knew was the feel of his lips against hers.
Her hand mimicked his and slid down the length of his torso. Instantly he stiffened.
‘Is something wrong?’
He groaned in the back of his throat and put her from him. His face contorted in pain as he rotated his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. It is worse than I thought.’
She clapped her hands over her mouth. She’d been so intent on assuaging her own anguish that she’d forgotten about his very real pain. ‘You are hurt. You have no business being up and about. This should never have happened.’
‘I’m very glad it did.’ He gave a ghost of a smile. ‘I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. You must never cry alone in a corridor again.’
‘You should have done. The last thing I wanted to do is to cause you to get worse.’ She felt the hot tears prick the backs of her eyes. ‘You are the one who is supposed to be recovering from a terrible fight. You shouldn’t have to comfort me because of something that happened seven years ago.’
‘Allow me to be the judge of that.’
‘You are to get back in bed.’
‘And you shall join me in a bit of bed-sport?’
Hattie knew her face flamed. ‘Mrs Hampstead will be up soon. We need to be discreet.’
She found it hard to believe that she was even discussing the possibility...of an affair.
‘I would love to make love with you, Harriet. Right here and right now, but...it wouldn’t be wise. My body aches too much.’
‘The last thing I want to do is hurt you.’ She looped her arm about his.
‘It was worth having that fight simply to have you kiss me properly. I intend to hold you to your promise.’
‘Which promise would that be?’ Her voice sounded hoarse and seductive, foreign to her ears.
He smiled down at her and then immediately winced, going pale.
‘You are to stay in bed tomorrow and I will have no excuses.’
‘You are a saucy wench, Harriet. Ordering me to stay in bed, while your mouth is cherry ripe.’ He gave her a hooded look. ‘What else do you intend?’
His using her full name made her seem special and different from the Hattie who had been at the fair, but she also recogn
ised the teasing note. She had never been teased in this way before, or indeed felt comfortable enough to tease back. A ripple of contentment went through her.
‘I thought all fallen women were bold,’ she retorted.
‘You haven’t fallen yet... It is not anyone else’s business. It will stay that way if we are discreet.’ He twisted a lock of her hair about his fingers. ‘Reputations can be protected. I intend to do all that is in my power to be discreet and to prevent speculation.’
‘I know. You can’t promise...but you will try.’ Her insides twisted. Open her mouth and insert her foot. She wanted this. She wanted that dark heat from earlier to consume her. Charles’s love-making had been perfunctory and tepid to say the least. Even his early kisses in the summer house had been respectful. If she had known what it was like to be kissed by a master, maybe she would have stopped it. Hattie squeezed her eyes shut. No regrets. Ever. ‘After you recover...’
‘After I recover, we will take up where we left off. I want you, Hattie. That wanting is not going to go away. Trust me.’
She half-opened her eyes. He was looking at her with an intent gaze, but she could also see the pain in the way he held his mouth. ‘I trust you.’
He dropped a kiss on her nose. ‘This is where you leave me. If you stay, I will want to make love to you and my mind may be willing, but my flesh is weak. When we make love I want to be strong. I want to give you pleasure. Immense pleasure.’
Her stomach tightened at the thought. He was interested in her pleasure, not just his own. She tried and failed to imagine having this conversation with anyone else. ‘I...I don’t know what to say.’
‘Run along before I change my mind and do something we both regret.’
‘I promised to stay.’ The words escaped from her mouth. She swallowed hard and tried again in a calmer tone. ‘At least allow me to see you back to your bed.’
‘When? When did you promise?’ The colour drained from his face, leaving him pale and tense.
‘At the fair, you asked me.’ Hattie blinked rapidly. Somehow she had made a mistake and she wasn’t even sure what it was. She felt sick. If he hadn’t requested her to stay, she’d never have confessed. She should have thought that it wasn’t anything but a plea for the hurt to be gone. ‘Surely you remember? You must remember.’
His gaze became troubled. Slowly he shook his head. ‘Everything remains hazy. It remains a blank. You mustn’t take what I said literally.’
‘I brought you here because you asked me to stay with you.’ Hattie’s heart pounded. He didn’t remember when he’d gripped her hand. It had seemed so important to her and he’d forgotten.
‘I can take responsibility for myself tonight. I want you to dream of me in what little is left of the night.’
‘And afterwards...’
He cupped her face with his hands. ‘I want you, Harriet Wilkinson, never doubt that. I want to make long slow love to you and show you how good it can be between us.’
Chapter Nine
Kit woke in the early hours of the morning and lay, gazing up at the ceiling. His entire body ached from the fight, but also with desire for Hattie. It unnerved him.
He kept willing himself to remember all the events. He couldn’t have asked Hattie to stay. He never did things like that. He never tried to compromise anyone else’s freedom in that way or put demands on them. Asking someone to stay would mean he had feelings for Hattie and he always made a point to end a relationship then. He refused to allow himself to be hurt.
What was worse was that he distinctly remembered speaking about his father. Kit had spent several years forgetting about him, his quick fists, the never-ending stream of perfumed women and his refusal to allow them in his life. He took pride in the fact that his fortune had not come from his inheritance, but from shrewd business decisions.
In his mind he went over the kisses in the hallway. None of them was supposed to happen. He had gone out to comfort her and to make sure that she wasn’t hurting. And he’d nearly ended up seducing her. He should give her up. But having tasted the pure honey of her mouth, he knew he wanted more. It had infected him the first time he’d kissed her at the Roman ruins. He’d thought the feeling would diminish, but it had only grown stronger.
He knew she’d only kissed him out of a need to stop thinking. But he was very glad she had.
Now he was going to have to consider how to put things to rights and conduct their summer affair.
Discretion was called for and, as much as he might not like it, he had to take the hard decisions now. When autumn came, it would end, but Hattie would need to be protected. For once he was going to do this right.
* * *
Hattie sat in the dining room, staring at her half-eaten breakfast. Moth lay under the table, waiting for crumbs.
She had gone to bed, but had lain fully dressed, waiting to hear the slightest movement from the sickroom. Mrs Hampstead had appeared about six and told her to sleep.
‘I came as soon as it was practicable, Hattie. These scrapes you do get in. I declare you are worse than the children.’ Stephanie strode in, every inch the outraged matron.
Hattie dropped her piece of toast and stared at her sister. Silently she thanked her guardian angel that Kit remained upstairs, asleep in the sickroom. She swallowed hard to get rid of the tightness in her throat. ‘Stephanie. How good of you to call and at such an early hour. It is not even ten.’
Stephanie towered over like some avenging angel from the inquisition. The ribbons on her bonnet trembled. ‘Is it true that you insisted on bringing Sir Christopher here after what happened? Have you taken leave of your senses? Never mind the village, the entire Tyne Valley and possibly all of Northumberland are speaking about the fight and the aftermath. Your behaviour, Hattie, has been much remarked on.’
‘No, I had my senses fully engaged. Sir Christopher had just rescued me from what is delicately referred to as a fate worse than death. I had no intention of leaving him to bleed on the muddy ground. Would you have done that?’
‘You owed him nothing.’
‘We shall agree to disagree on that. I always pay my debts.’ Hattie gave a small shudder as she recalled how the drunk had pawed her and how his fetid breath had smelt. She hadn’t been strong enough to fight him. ‘He saved me and was injured, probably badly injured. Doctor Gormley has diagnosed a mild concussion at best. What sort of person do you take me for to put some form of mock refinement before my duty?’
‘Surely Dr Gormley would have taken him in?’
‘It was two hours before Dr. Gormley was found in the ale tent. I do not think he could have seen straight to sew stitches. And you know that his housekeeper is rather too fond of whiskey to be fully trusted.’
‘It would appear that I misjudged matters,’ Stephanie mumbled, sinking down into a chair. ‘You were attacked. He saved you. Of course, it was right and proper in those circumstances to behave in the manner you did. I will make the appropriate people know how proud we are of you. It should stop the worst of the gossip.’
‘You have indeed.’ Hattie crossed her arms. She clearly recalled the enlightening conversation she’d had with Portia and Livvy on the way to the fair. Stephanie’s meddling and interference stopped now. ‘You rushed in without waiting for an explanation, Stephanie. However, if I had decided to utterly ruin myself, that would have been my business.’
‘You won’t be ruined. I will force him to marry you if needs be,’ Stephanie declared. ‘You can count on me.’
‘How?’
‘I will think of something.’ Stephanie’s ribbons swayed as her face took on a defiant air. ‘I’m not a woman without influence. Mr Parteger will ensure the right and proper thing is done.’
‘You mean a duel.’
‘If called upon, my husband will be happy to defend your honour.’ Stephanie put her hand to her mouth. ‘But I doubt it will come to that. Sir Christopher will see the sense in my argument.’
Hattie shuddered at even the mer
est suggestion of a duel between Kit and her brother-in-law. In her mind’s eyes she could see her brother-in-law’s rather rotund figure lining up to face Kit’s rather more athletic form. She was torn between laughing and crying at the prospect. She leant down and stroked Moth’s ears, regaining some semblance of control.
‘I would hardly want Mr Parteger fighting a duel over my reputation. Besides, it is utterly pointless and unnecessary. Nothing happened. How could it? Sir Christopher was insensible most of the time. You worry needlessly. Mrs Hampstead is here and you know
what an ogress she can be. I remember when you were courting. You used to complain bitterly about Mrs Hampstead poking her nose into the drawing room.’
Stephanie readjusted the ribbons of her bonnet and gave a pained expression. ‘Are you willing to give me an assurance that nothing untoward happened last night?’
‘When have I ever done anything that was in the remotest way indiscreet?’ Hattie sat back in her chair and waited, swallowing her other caustic retorts. Patience was required with Stephanie, not barbs.
‘You have changed your hair. It is softer. Suits your face.’
‘I thought I’d worn a crown of braids long enough. I like the ringlets.’ Hattie tilted her head and regarded her sister through narrowed eyes. Stephanie had to be redirected before she started asking awkward questions. ‘You are changing the subject, Stephanie. It generally means you are losing the argument.’
‘You always look for the ulterior motive. I noticed it and I like it. I can also guess the reason.’ Stephanie reached over and squeezed Hattie’s hand. ‘I’m your sister. I care about you, but you need to be careful. Sir Christopher has a much different stamp than your dear, but now long-departed, Captain Wilkinson. You were always too reckless, Hattie, even as a girl. I can’t help fearing for your reputation. I want to make it right for you.’
Stephanie was worried about her. She was tempted to tell her that Sir Christopher was a man of entirely different sensibility than Charles, but it would leave her open to questioning and, having faced one storm last night, she knew she couldn’t face another. And she had to wonder how much Stephanie knew or guessed. Her husband had been a friend of sorts to Charles.
Hattie Wilkinson Meets Her Match Page 13
