A Necessary Husband

by Debra Mullins

  Lady Agatha leaned forward and whispered, "What did you say to Mrs. Devering, you young scoundrel?"

  Startled from his lusty fantasy, Garrett tore his attention from Lucinda's lovely bottom. "What?"

  "Come, now. What did you say to her? She's furious with you," the old lady confided in a low voice. "She's a pretty thing. I know you like

  her."

  "I—why wouldn't I like her?"

  "Have you made untoward advances?" she asked, her dark eyes gleaming with something that looked like anticipation.

  "Of course not!" At least, not yet.

  "You didn't?" His aunt seemed disappointed. "Too bad. I had such high hopes for you."

  Before he could answer, Meg's voice rose to a pitch he knew signaled trouble. "I told you, I'm tired and my foot hurts! Are you deaf? Shall I say it in French?"

  Monsieur Collineau's face had turned red, and his pale eyes bulged in his thin face. He whirled on Lucinda. "Madame Devering," he implored in a voice taut with frustration, "you know we do not have much time. I am expected at the Grendales' residence promptly at five o'clock, and I cannot return to further instruct Miss Stanton-Lynch until the day before you leave for London. We have but a half an hour left of our lesson. Will you please reason with the girl?"

  Lucinda raised cool brows at Monsieur's irate tone, but she turned to Meg anyway. "Meg, perhaps—"

  "No, Lucinda," Meg interrupted. She turned her attention to the dance master. "The girl is sitting right here and speaks English, Monsieur Collineau. The girl is tired and has sore feet! The girl cannot dance again for at least fifteen minutes!"

  "Mon Dieu!" Monsieur cried, spinning away in dramatic horror. "Fifteen minutes! We are undone!"

  Even Lucinda looked worried. "Meg, you know you need to master the waltz. And Monsieur Collineau cannot return until next week."

  "I don't care." Meg folded her arms, blue eyes welling with tears. "Can't I just watch for a few minutes?"

  Lucinda sighed. "Meg, the waltz takes two people."

  "Perhaps I can assist." As all heads swung toward him, Garrett looked at the dance master. "Monsieur, I can help by demonstrating the dance with Mrs. Devering while my sister observes."

  "Merveilleux!" Monsieur cried. "We are saved!"

  "I don't think—" Lucinda's words faded away as Garrett came to stand before her. "Can you even dance the waltz?" she demanded.

  "I'm certain I can follow Monsieur's instructions." Grinning, Garrett held out his arms, hungry to touch her even in this innocent way. "Mrs. Devering, I await your pleasure."

  Chapter 4

  Lucinda stared at the arrogant devil tempting her to step into his arms. His blue eyes gleamed with warm appreciation, and dimples creased his cheeks.

  "Go on, Lucinda," Meg said from behind her. "If I see how it is supposed to be done, it will help me learn."

  "Come, Mrs. Devering," Garrett urged. "We are well chaperoned. You have nothing to fear."

  "I hardly fear you, my lord." Chin held high, Lucinda stepped forward into his arms.

  He quirked his brows at the use of his title, and sent her a private look bold enough to make her breath catch.

  "Excellent form, my lord!" the dance master exclaimed, fluttering around them. "Now, your hand rests here, at her waist—very good—and you take her other hand in yours... yes, yes, perfect!"

  The casual weight of his hand settling at her waist made her flesh tingle. Good heavens, how long had it been since a man had touched her? Years, certainly; Harry had stopped sharing her bed long before he had died. As she breathed in the scents of soap and man, an unexpected thrill went through her.

  She met Garrett's eyes as Monsieur adjusted the American's fingers where they closed over hers. Garrett's hands were big and a little rough, yet he cradled her hand with a gentle warmth that echoed the heat of masculine interest in his eyes.

  "My lord, you are familiar with the waltz, are you not?" Monsieur asked.

  "I'll muddle along," Garrett murmured.

  "Very well. Lady Agatha, if you please..."

  The music began, and with a knowing smile, Garrett swept Lucinda into the dance.

  The first turn left her spinning. She had expected to have to step carefully, lest she tread on his inexperienced feet, but instead she found herself in the arms of a man who could waltz with a grace that stole her breath.

  His steps were sure, his arms strong, as he swept her around the room. His thighs brushed hers now and again as he whirled her around and around, making her flush with unexpected delight.

  Her heart seemed to burst open with forgotten feelings, emotions she had carefully locked away. It felt glorious to be held again, magnificent to be able to let go of her control and trust a man to guide her for this fleeting moment in time. She began to hum with the music, eyes sliding closed, lips curving in a smile.

  For this brief instant, she wasn't Harry Dever-ing's long-neglected widow or Meg's companion or the daughter of General George Northcott. She was simply a woman—a woman who had gone too long without being touched by a man. Oh, the sensations were exquisite, and she never wanted this waltz to end.

  Garrett relished the feel of her in his arms. It had been nearly a year since he'd held a woman who was not his sister, and he was enjoying the experience immensely. Her head just reached his shoulder, making them a perfect fit from chest to thighs. He watched her face as she relaxed in his arms, saw the pleasure spread across her delicate features as her eyes closed, and she began to hum with the music. A small smile curved her lips.

  Desire flared hotter. Her expression resembled that of a woman who had just been thoroughly made love to, and suddenly he could imagine her lying on the bed amid tangled sheets, those toffee-colored curls spread across the pillows, that very smile of satisfaction on her lips.

  Oh, yes, and he could imagine every touch, every kiss, that would bring that smile to her face. He slid his hand more firmly around her waist, longing to pull her closer.

  Eventually they would be alone. And then... Going to London no longer seemed so intolerable with the prospect of enticing her into his bed.

  Lucinda's eyes drifted open, and she gave him a sincere smile of pure enjoyment. He couldn't help but smile back and whirled her in a turn that made her laugh out loud. Her eyes glowed, and she tightened her fingers on his shoulder as he swept her into another turn.

  Dear God, he had to have her.

  She must have seen something in his face, because her smile faded. She held his gaze as the tension rose between them.

  He slowed, making every movement a seduction, every step a caress. He squeezed her waist, watching the awareness slip into her eyes. Her lips parted, and he swept her into another turn, pressing his body against hers for the merest instant before allowing the proper distance between them again.

  Lucinda felt as if he were making love to her through the waltz.

  His intent expression, his blue eyes focused so fiercely on her face, as if willing her to fall under his spell... The brief brush of his body against hers, so carefully orchestrated that no one but she was aware of it, all bespoke his feelings.

  He wanted her.

  The knowledge made her heart pound and her head spin. Men had shown interest in her before, but this was the first time she had wanted one back.

  She had to get control of herself. Had to rein in her emotions. This could not happen!

  But how could she resist those blue eyes, the color of a cloudless sky, looking at her as if he could see her soul? How could she ignore the alluring power of his body, the ease with which he guided her through the dance? How could she not notice those broad shoulders that seemed capable of taking on innumerable burdens with ridiculous ease? His hands, strong enough to crush her bones but gentle enough to hold a newborn kitten? The clean scent of man that tempted her to taste his sun-kissed skin?

  How was a woman supposed to resist a man who loved his sister so fiercely that he would sail halfway around the world to be with her?


  She couldn't stop the emotions that flooded her, the longing and the wanting and the sheer pleasure-pain of feeling again. He had brought her back to life. Somehow, with one dance, this American with the work-roughened hands and the summer-blue eyes had resurrected the spirit of the woman she had once been.

  She wanted, fiercely. She desired, hungrily. And had she been any other woman in any other circumstance, she would have taken the handsome American to her bed—knowing he would leave her, but also knowing that somehow he would unlock the prison where her spirit had resided these past ten years.

  But she was Lucinda Devering, pawn of the Duke of Raynewood, and this man was a danger to her future.

  Somehow she had to resist him. Somehow she must dredge up the will to deny herself the joy of finally living again. To find the power to turn away from something she wanted more than she wanted her next breath, and concentrate on what had to be.

  The music came to an end. With a flourish, Garrett swept her into one more turn and then bowed, pressing his lips to her hand in a courtly gesture she hadn't expected. The feel of his warm mouth on her flesh surprised a gasp

  from her, and he met her eyes with unabashed desire.

  She shivered at his power over her. Thank God she would be rid of him once they went to London. If she could manage to resist him for one more week, then she and Meg would be gone from Raynewood and Garrett would go back to America.

  Somewhere she would find the strength to deny her innermost longings. If she gave in to Garrett's advances, not only would she be risking her only chance at a decent future, but he would no doubt become disappointed with her, just as Harry had.

  It was much better to quietly glory in the fact that he was attracted to her than to torment herself worrying about what could not be.

  A burst of applause brought her back to reality with a jolt.

  "That was wonderful!" Meg cried, clapping. "Garrett, you must dance with me next!"

  "Splendid, my lord!" Monsieur Collineau trilled. "Quite splendid!"

  Lucinda slowly stepped away, slipping her hand from Garrett's. His other hand dropped from her waist. She had to swallow hard before she could speak. "You are an excellent dancer, my lord."

  "We do dance in America," he replied easily.

  Trying to pull her scrambling emotions together, she gave him a polite smile. "I simply didn't expect a man like you to be so big...I mean," she hurried on, cheeks flaming, "I mean, I did not expect a big man like yourself to be so good at this. Dancing, that is. You are quite graceful."

  "Why, thank you." The twitch of his lips indicated that he knew her thoughts had drifted onto the path of impropriety. His voice held seductive nuances that only she seemed to hear, as he said, "I look forward to dancing with you again, Mrs. Devering."

  "Yes, how regrettable that we shall not have the opportunity," she said coolly.

  "Oh, but you will!" Meg cried. "When we go to London you'll have plenty of chances to dance together, since Garrett is going with us."

  Lucinda's heart stopped. "Wh-what?"

  "Meg has asked me to accompany you to London," he said. "I've agreed to go."

  "How splendid!" Lady Agatha chimed in from the pianoforte.

  "Yes. Splendid," Lucinda echoed hollowly. "If you'll excuse me, Captain, the dance has left me a bit breathless."

  "Are you certain it was the dance?" Garrett murmured.

  Ignoring his comment, she walked stiffly to the chair beside the pianoforte as Garrett took his position again with Meg as a partner.

  "Simply keep the count and follow his lord-ship's lead," Monsieur said to Meg. "Lady Strathwaite, if you please."

  Lady Agatha started playing again, and Garrett swept his sister into the waltz to the accompaniment of Monsieur's counting. Meg's giggle of pleasure echoed over the well-tuned notes of the pianoforte.

  Lucinda found herself captured by the sensual grace of Garrett's movements. His lack of coat allowed the flexing of his back and arm muscles beneath his white shirt to be easily seen. Against her will, her eyes were drawn to his well-shaped thighs and tight buttocks, moving in rhythm with the music. An image drifted through her mind, of Garrett sans clothing, his muscles rippling as he tumbled her onto the bed...

  "He's a handsome devil, isn't he?" Lady Agatha murmured, still playing.

  Lucinda took a moment to calm her pounding heart. "My lady?"

  "My great-nephew. He's a handsome devil." Lady Agatha glanced over, her dark eyes twinkling. "A woman would be lucky indeed to attract his attention."

  Lucinda straightened her spine. "I'm not interested in his attentions," she said firmly. "Meg is my concern." And the duke has plans for him, she reminded herself.

  "Meg may be your concern," the old lady said with a chuckle, "but you've just become my nephew's. If you don't welcome his attentions, I suggest you lock your bedroom door at night."

  "My lady!" she exclaimed, shocked, even as a ripple of heat went through her at the thought.

  "I may be old," Lady Agatha said with a snort, "but some things haven't changed, and this is one of them. As far as I'm concerned, you could use a man like him, even for a little while. And if you're any bit the woman I think you are, you'll know exactly how to handle my nephew."

  "This discussion is quite improper," Lucinda whispered, breathless at the mere idea of handling Garrett Lynch.

  "When you get to be my age, Mrs. Devering, propriety falls by the wayside. I hope you'll give that young devil a chance."

  The idea of Garrett Lynch as a potential lover continued to haunt Lucinda as she watched Garrett sweep Meg into a waltz.

  * * *

  He had to have her.

  As he danced with Meg, Garrett cast a quick glance now and then at Lucinda. It didn't matter to him if she was interested in his grandfather— something he was not at all certain of anymore. He was certain that his youth and virility would be more enticing than the duke's fortune. And if the lady required hard, cold proof of his devotion, he was a wealthy man in his own right.

  But given the heat he had just seen in her eyes, he now knew the key to winning her. Beneath that proper veneer beat the heart of a passionate woman. Unrelenting seduction was called for in this situation, and he was eager to begin.

  The more he thought about it, the more he came to believe that Lucinda had not lied when she claimed to have no interest in the duke. From her reactions, he deduced that she was a woman who had not been touched in a long time.

  He would remedy that.

  He swept Meg into one last turn and caught Lucinda's eye. She pointedly looked away, and he grinned. Soon he would turn Lucinda's protests into purrs of pleasure.

  Very soon.

  Chapter 5

  Lucinda made her way to her room, having deftly avoided Garrett's attempts to speak to her privately after the dance lesson. She was well aware of the lusty gleam in his eye, and her own emotions were so churned up that she dared not be alone with him. Needs she had not felt in years had awakened with a vengeance, demanding immediate attention.

  She was not some green girl to be bowled over by a handsome man, she chastised herself. She had been married for ten years and knew what the world was like. Even if her marriage had been mostly a sham, she had learned much about the ways of men and women during that time, and there was no need to become moony-eyed over broad shoulders.

  No matter how much she had longed to stroke her hands over them.

  Stop it! She was a grown woman, well able to take care of herself. Then why did you deliberately use Meg to avoid being alone with him? She had stayed with the young girl until he'd finally given up trying to get her attention, and gone upstairs to dress for dinner. Lucinda had just left Meg to do the same.

  Coward.

  "Practical," she argued aloud. "You know what would happen. Better that you stay away from him."

  But she wouldn't be able to evade him forever; she couldn't avoid him at dinner or when Meg desired his company. All she could do in those situations was
maintain a disapproving exterior when he looked at her with those blue eyes that hinted at such sinful delights.

  Even if her woman's heart melted beneath her icy veneer, making her yearn to lose herself in the pleasure promised by his single-minded pursuit.

  A vigorous man like him would soon get bored with a battle he could not win, and take himself off to the village for female companionship. And if not—well, London was full of demi-reps who might entertain the American. All Lucinda had to do was maintain her position of chastity.

  Easier said than done.

  She arrived at her chamber and reached for the doorknob.

  "Mrs. Devering."

  She jumped, letting out a little shriek as she whirled around. Garrett leaned against the wall opposite her room, his arms folded across his impressive chest. His dark coat blended in with the shadows, as did his ink-black hair. He grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the semi-darkness, and he moved away from the wall.

  "Calm yourself, Mrs. Devering," he said as he walked toward her. "Or may I call you Lucinda?"

  When had the hallway gotten so small? She wet her dry lips. "You may call me Mrs. Devering," she said weakly. "What are you doing here, Captain?"

  "Surely you know the answer to that." He stopped only inches away and reached for her hand, then raised it to his lips, his eyes fathomless in the dimly lit hallway.

  She should snatch her hand away. She should give him the sharp edge of her tongue. Instead she only whispered, "No."

  "No?" He cocked his head to the side, his long hair sweeping his shoulders with a soft swish. "No, you do not know the answer? Or are you saying no to something else?"

  "Give me my hand." She tugged, but he did not release her. "You should not be here."

  "You knew I would come." He took a step closer, releasing her hand only to crowd her back against the door of her room.