WHO WILL TAKE THIS MAN?

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  Breathless, heart thumping, she listened, as if in a trance, while his fingers continued their exploration of her face. “Her nose is a shade too wide, and her jaw far too stubborn. Yet she attracts me like no classic beauty ever has. Her smile is enchanting, and illuminates her entire face. She has a tiny dimple, just there”—he skimmed the pad of his thumb over the corner of her mouth—“that winks when she grins. Her skin is like velvet cream stained with peach that deepens and pales in the most fascinating way depending on her mood. And her eyes... her eyes are extraordinary. The same vivid aqua as the Aegean, just as deep, just as fathomless. They are expressive, yet they hide things as well, which only serves to intrigue and bewitch me further. Her features are, in fact, identical to yours.”

  He stepped closer to her, drawing her into his arms. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slip her arms around his waist. He pulled her closer, until their bodies touched from chest to knee. His hardness pressed against her, flooding her with heat that settled between her thighs. Her nipples hardened, and she knew her cheeks flamed bright, knew her eyes and expression and flushed face gave away everything she was feeling. Still, she could not look away from him. From his eyes, the want and need in them magnified all the more by his spectacles. From the muscle jerking in his cheek, a testament to his fight for control—the same fight waging in her, and a battle she very much feared she was on the brink of losing.

  He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. Her eyes slid closed. A long, breathy sigh escaped her, and she tilted her head to allow him better access.

  “Her scent,” he whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck, “drives me mad. She smells like fresh-baked goods... warm and enticing, tempting and delicious. How is it that a woman can smell so sweet? Every time I’m near her I want to just take a bite.” His teeth scraped gently against her skin, eliciting a shiver of delight. “Her scent is, in fact, identical to yours.

  “And her form,” he continued, before she could catch her breath, “puts that of any so-called classic beauty to shame.” His hands slowly roamed her back, from her shoulders to her buttocks, pressing her closer to him while he continued to trail drugging kisses along her neck, his words breathing heat against her skin. “She fits against me as if the gods fashioned her for me alone. I danced with two dozen women this evening, but she was the only one who felt right in my arms. She felt, in fact, exactly as you feel now.”

  He lifted his head, and she instantly mourned the loss of his lips against her. “Meredith. Look at me.”

  With an effort, she dragged her heavy eyelids open. He was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her. As if she were the most beautiful, desirable thing he’d ever seen. Surely that should have alarmed her. Brought back her missing common sense. But instead it enthralled her. Excited her. And filled her with the reckless sort of abandon she’d strived to pummel into submission for as long as she could remember.

  Keeping one arm wrapped around her, he combed the fingers of his other hand through her hair. “Those golden-haired society diamonds you paraded in front of me this evening all pale in comparison to you. I have never, in my entire life, been so painfully attracted to a woman as I am to you. I cannot stop thinking about you. God knows I’ve tried. After our kiss last night, after I’d tasted you, I thought it would be enough, that I could forget you. But I cannot. That kiss only made me crave more....”

  He lowered his head until his lips hovered just above hers. “Is it only me who feels this way, Meredith? Or did our kiss make you want more as well?” His warm, brandy-scented breath touched her, intoxicating her as if she’d actually partaken of the potent liquor. Her heart and mind waged a brief battle, but there was no contest. Raising up on her toes, she spoke a single word against his lips. “More.”

  All the pent-up longing and need Philip had held in check erupted like a volcano. He captured her lips in a wild, desperate kiss, all fire and raw need. His tongue caressed the silky heaven of her mouth, while his arms tightened around her. His inner voice tried in vain to inject reason, warning him that he was exhibiting an appalling lack of finesse. But any small chance reason might have had of exerting itself was instantly banished by her heated response.

  Lost in a mindless, heated fog, his hands skimmed down her back to cup her rounded buttocks, then raced upward to tangle in the fragrant silk of her hair. One hand then smoothed downward again, tracing her delicate collarbone, absorbing the frantic pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. Then lower, until he cupped the fullness of her breast. Her breath caught, a tiny sound of feminine arousal that tensed every muscle in his body. Her nipple beaded against his palm, and his fingers circled the aroused peak through the thin muslin of her gown.

  She squirmed against him, and his erection jerked in response, eliciting an animal groan from him. He cursed the clothing that barred her soft skin from him. He was desperate to touch her. Desperate to have her hands on him. So desperate that in the infinitesimal part of his brain that was still functioning, he recognized that if he didn’t stop this now, he would be unable to stop at all.

  Breaking off their kiss, he rested his forehead against hers. Eyes squeezed shut and pulling in ragged, shuddering breaths, he tried to calm his racing heart, but it was damn difficult while her soft body remained flush against his. While her breast still filled his palm. While she still clung to him in a way that indicated her knees were less than steady—much like his own.

  After several seconds, he straightened and opened his eyes. And saw nothing but fog. Damn spectacles. Fabulous invention for many pursuits, but kissing was most definitely not one of them. Reluctantly releasing her breast, he lifted his hand to remove the steamed-over lenses, only to feel her small, soft hand halt his halfway to his face.

  “May I?” she asked softly.

  He wasn’t certain what she was asking permission to do, but he wasn’t about to deny her anything. “Of course.”

  She gently removed his glasses, then set them carefully on the mantel. He blinked, feeling very much like an owl. Bloody hell, he no doubt looked like one, too. Since a piece of vellum could not have fit between them, he saw her face clearly. He knew if he took one step backward, she would turn blurry.

  After studying his face with unabashed curiosity, the remnants of unmistakable arousal still lingering in her eyes, she said softly, “I’d wondered what you looked like without your spectacles.” She tilted her head from side to side, as if viewing a museum piece When the silence stretched between them, he finally asked, “Well?”

  Her lips twitched. “Are you casting about for compliments again?”

  “I wouldn’t presume to hope for one. I’m merely curious.”

  “You look far less studious. Rather boyish, in fact.” She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, an intimate gesture that stilled him. “Or perhaps that is just because your hair is disarranged.”

  “As is yours. In a very charming way.”

  Meredith looked into his brown eyes, at the passion still simmering in their depths, and felt an answering stir in her body. Her common sense coughed back to life, bringing with it all the reasons that she should not be doing this. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped back, out of the circle of his arms.

  “Lord Greybourne—”

  “Philip. Surely after what we just shared you can call me by my given name.”

  Warmth crept up her neck. He looked so incredibly tempting, his hair tousled from her explorations, his cravat askew, his eyes dark with unmistakable desire.

  Two steps. It would require only two steps forward for her to be once again wrapped in his strong arms, to feel his warm, hard body against her, to again experience the magic and wonder of his kiss. And the urge to take those two steps was so overwhelming it frightened her. This interlude was something she never should have begun. But since she had and couldn’t change it, it was certainly time that she ended it.

  Lifting her chin, she adopted her most businesslike brisk air. “Philip, a
bout what happened here this evening, it was...” Incredible. Intense. Heart-stopping. Frightening.

  And impossible.

  She cleared her throat. “It was the result of a lapse of judgment on my part.”

  “I beg to differ. It was the result of this powerful attraction between us.” He reached out to touch her, and she quickly sidestepped him, moving to put the settee between them. This was difficult enough to say. If he touched her, she feared she’d lose her resolve altogether. He made no further move to touch her; rather, he plucked his spectacles from the mantel and slid them on.

  Pressing her hands together, she straightened her back and looked him directly in the eye. “Obviously I cannot deny I find you attractive.”

  “Just as I cannot deny I find you attractive.” He shifted a bit. “Painfully so.”

  Heat crept up her neck as she recalled the delicious sensation of his hardness pressed against her. “Be that as it may, last night, at Vauxhall, you said, and I agreed, that allowing this to happen again would be a mistake of gargantuan proportions.”

  “When I said that, I was merely stating what I thought would be your view of the situation. It was not my view, nor did I agree.”

  “Semantics. The fact remains that we cannot act upon this attraction again.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Surely you can see this is impossible. There are dozens of reasons why.”

  “Then please, share these dozens of reasons with me, for I cannot think of one.” He leaned his shoulders against the mantel, folded his arms across his chest, and crossed his booted ankles. “You have my full attention.”

  “You’re making sport of me again.”

  “On the contrary, I am very serious. We’ve admitted we are attracted to each other. Even after our kiss last evening, I still thought I could ignore what’s between us, but clearly I am mistaken. I would very much like to see where this attraction leads. You clearly have objections, whereas I have none.”

  “But that is the entire point! This attraction cannot lead anywhere.”

  “Again, I must ask. Why?”

  “Are you being deliberately obtuse? Where precisely do you think it could lead? You are bound by your promise to marry. I am supposed to be finding you a suitable bride. We can hope that in a matter of mere days you will have a wife. Please, let us be honest with each other. There is absolutely no room for me in your life. The only two possible outcomes for this attraction are utterly impossible—I cannot marry you, and I won’t be your mistress.”

  Silence, thick and heavy, descended between them, broken only by the ticking of the mantel clock. Nearly a minute passed before he spoke. “Just out of curiosity, assuming I am able to break the curse and marry at all, would marrying me prove such a dreadful hardship?”

  The quiet note of underlying hurt and confusion in his question tugged at her heart in a completely unacceptable way. A lump clogged her throat, forcing her to swallow twice before she could trust herself to speak. “Whoever you choose will be a very fortunate woman. I’ve no doubt you will be a wonderful husband and... father. And that woman will, of course, be of impeccable breeding and from a station similar to yours. I am, obviously, not that woman. And even if I were, as I’ve told you before, I’ve no desire to ever marry.”

  “A statement I find most curious. Why do you harbor this aversion to the one thing most women aggressively strive for?”

  If you only knew... “I am very satisfied with my life exactly as it is. I enjoy my work and the measure of independence it affords me. In addition, Albert, Charlotte, and Hope depend on me, and the feeling is mutual. I would never do anything to disrupt the close-knit family we’ve built. As for the other option—”

  “Becoming my mistress?”

  “Yes. I refuse to endanger my reputation, as it would harm not only me, but my family as well. I fought too long and hard to earn my respectability to risk it.”

  His gaze turned questioning, and she instantly realized she’d said too much. To forestall any questions, she rushed on. “I’ve learned that it is futile to look back, to wallow in regrets. We can only move forward and hope to learn from our mistakes.”

  “An admirable philosophy, yet I hear the voice of experience there, Meredith. What sort of mistakes have you made?”

  “We all make mistakes,” she said, forcing her tone to remain light. “My most recent one occurred only moments ago in this very room.”

  He stared at her with an unreadable expression for several heartbeats, then blew out a long breath. “Well. One of the things I liked about you right from the start was your ability to state things in a clear, concise manner.” He inclined his head in salute. “You’ve quite outdone yourself this time.”

  Guilt, for the hurt in his voice, and profound regret that things could not be different, collided in her. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “I’ll always treasure what we shared, Philip. I’m not sorry it happened. We simply cannot allow it to happen again.”

  Yet even as the words passed her lips, her inner voice yelled, Liar! For she was sorry. Deeply sorry. For herself and the torment the memory of his kiss, his touch, would bring to her. And deeply sorry because those few precious moments in his arms had opened the floodgates to the feminine yearnings she’d so carefully guarded for all these years, making her ache with needs and desires she knew would haunt her long into the lonely nights ahead.

  She’d told him she didn’t wallow in regrets, but she knew that tonight, once she was tucked under the covers, she would allow herself one night to wallow, to grieve for her past that would forever keep her from having a man like Philip.

  Not trusting himself to be alone with her, Philip arranged for Bakari to accompany Meredith home. Before she left, he explained what had occurred at the warehouse, and cautioned her to be careful. After watching his carriage disappear down the darkened street, he sat on the settee, next to the still-sleeping Prince. Propping his elbows on his knees, Philip lowered his head into his hands.

  Bloody hell, what a night.

  Pushing aside his conflicted thoughts regarding Meredith for the moment, he turned his attention to the matter he’d forced aside for the bulk of the evening—Edward’s disturbing revelations. Who had attacked him? Had he stolen anything? If so, what? And why? A knot formed in his stomach. Surely it couldn’t be the one item Philip sought. The suffering begins now.... Bloody hell, what did that mean? He didn’t know, but he was determined to find out who was behind this. He’d arrive early at the warehouse and assess the damage. He hoped Andrew would feel well enough to accompany him.

  Pulling off his spectacles, he rubbed the heels of his palms against his forehead as thoughts of the other part of the evening bombarded him. The party. Granted, most of the young women had been pleasant, and all were undeniably beautiful. Unfortunately, not one had kindled the least spark of interest in him.

  Except Meredith.

  What had she meant about fighting too hard and long for her reputation? Had it been compromised at some point? Something in her voice when she’d spoken of mistakes led him to wonder exactly how serious some of her past mistakes might have been.

  But did any past mistakes really matter? No. Meredith Chilton-Grizedale was without a doubt the woman he wanted. There were some things you could fight, and others you simply could wage no defense against. There was no doubt which category Meredith fell into.

  Now he just needed to decide what the bloody hell he was going to do about it.

  Ten

  Philip was just finishing his predawn breakfast when Bakari appeared in the dining room doorway. “Your father,” he said.

  The earl entered the room. His cheeks were pale, and dark circles shadowed his eyes, but he otherwise appeared surprisingly fit, walking with a spry step. He was, as always, perfectly turned out in a Devonshire brown coat, fawn breeches, blinding white shirt, and intricately tied cravat. Philip idly wondered if Father’s valet ever slept.

  “Good morning, Philip.” He nodded at the f
ootman. “Coffee, if you please.”

  “Father. How are you feeling today?”

  “Quite well, thank you. Better, in fact, than I’ve felt in weeks.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Philip glanced pointedly at the mantel clock. “Although perhaps you should be resting? It’s rather early for a visit.”

  “I wanted to catch you before you took yourself off for the day. I knew you’d be awake—you’ve always been an early riser, and obviously I haven’t dragged you from your bed.” His sharp gaze raked over Philip’s appearance. “Or have I? You’re looking a bit disheveled, although that is hardly surprising.”

  “I didn’t sleep well.” He nearly laughed at the understatement. He hadn’t slept at all. The question of what he should do about Meredith had kept him tossing and turning, weighing his options, examining the facts, until he’d finally drawn his conclusion—the only possible solution.

  “Mind filled with images of all those lovely beauties, eh, Philip?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “That’s why I’m here—to discuss last night’s festivities.” Father cocked a single brow. “Well, did the party have the desired result? Did you meet a woman willing to take you on?”

  No doubt Philip should have been offended by the brusquely worded question, but instead his lips twitched with amusement. “I’m not quite sure.”

  “Meaning what, precisely?”

  “Meaning I met a woman I’d like to take on—”

  “Excellent.”

  “—but the lady has expressed some reservations.”

  “Bah. What woman wouldn’t want to marry the heir to an earldom?”

  “For starters, one who isn’t eager to risk expiring two days after the nuptials.”

  His father waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Who is the chit?”