A Necessary Husband

by Debra Mullins

  "My lord," she said, "please go. What if someone should see us?"

  "Always the proper English lady," he teased, and leaned closer. "Tell me, Lucinda, have you ever been tempted to be less than a perfect lady? Haven't you ever wanted to strip off propriety and give in to your innermost desires?"

  His voice lowered on the last words, vibrating through her with the echo of her unspoken longings. She should be shocked. She should scream or slap him or something, but the image of both of them naked and bared of all inhibitions had taken control of her imagination and would not let it go.

  "You are impertinent," she managed to say breathlessly, as her body flooded with the heat of long-denied desire.

  "I'm a man," he corrected. He reached out, stroking his fingers down her cheek. "And you, my dear, are very much a woman."

  Her knees turned to pudding, and she struggled against the urge to press her lips to the delicious masculine mouth that hovered so close to hers. "How clever of you to notice," she breathed. "Now that the biology lesson is over, I must change for dinner."

  "Perhaps you would allow me to assist you."

  Those strong fingers trailed down her neck, paused at the pulse that pounded in her throat, then continued down to trace teasingly over her bare shoulder, along the edge of her gown.

  Lucinda clenched her hands into fists at her sides and leaned heavily against the door as her body melted beneath his touch. "Please, I cannot," she whispered, no longer able to maintain even the slightest façade of resistance. "My lord, I beg you."

  "Garrett," he corrected. He leaned in and inhaled the scent of her hair, his mouth hovering above her ear. "I want you, Lucinda."

  She squeezed her eyes closed as his warm breath swept her ear. "No. Impossible," she said weakly.

  "Not impossible," He cupped the back of her head in his big hand and tilted her face back so that she looked at him. "We are adults, you and I. You're a widow, and I am a man alone in a strange country. Perhaps we can make this trip to London more interesting for both of us. I want to be your lover, Lucinda."

  The blunt words devastated any arguments she might have summoned. He lowered his head, hesitating for the briefest instant before taking her lips in a sweet kiss laced with unmistakable hunger.

  He kissed the way he did everything else, powerfully and without apology. He pressed her back against the door with the weight of his body, his hand still cupping her head as he devastated her defenses with his mouth. His other hand rested along the curve of her hip, and she brought her own hands up around his waist to find balance in her tilting world. His lips were appealingly soft for such a large, strong man, and she willingly opened her mouth to him, surrendering to the desire between them.

  Their kiss went on and on, and with every stroke of his tongue, every nibble of his teeth, her passion overrode her common sense. Finally, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in fast pants. Sandwiched between him and the door, she could easily feel his arousal through their layers of clothing. For one wild instant, she was tempted to open the door behind her and take Garrett into the intimacy of her chamber.

  A footstep down the hall and the voice of one of the maids jerked her back to reality with a violent jolt. What had she been thinking? She had been about to jeopardize her entire future for a few moments of passion!

  She attempted to push Garrett away, but he was heavy and not inclined to move. "Some-one's coming," she hissed.

  He took a reluctant step back, his fingers lingering to stroke her cheek. "I will come to you tonight."

  "No." She shoved at him, and his surprise at her answer made him fall back a step.

  "What do you mean, no?" he demanded. "What about—"

  "No," she said again, shoving open the door to her room. She darted behind it, peering at him from behind the sturdy wooden shield. "I want no lover, Captain Lynch. What I need is a husband."

  "Husband!"

  "Yes, a husband. Now please take yourself off before someone sees you and starts gossip."

  He slapped his hand on the door, holding it open. "You may want a husband, Mrs. Devering," he growled, "but what you need is a lover. And I am just the man to accommodate you."

  "I am not some tavern maid for you to tumble at your whim," Lucinda snapped. "I am a woman of good family, and here in England, a man marries such a woman if he wants her."

  "I have no intention of getting married."

  "And I have no intention of being your lover," she shot back.

  He gave her a scorching look that was a combination of lust and anger. "We'll see about that."

  "Indeed we will."

  She slammed the door in his face, then leaned against it, her heart pounding and body singing with unbridled passion, until she heard him storm down the hall.

  She had won this battle, but he would be back. And she needed a husband to survive, no matter how tempting a lover might be to her now. In the end, a lover would probably be disappointed in her anyway. Besides, the duke planned to see Garrett wed to Lady Penelope. She shuddered to think what His Grace might do if she interfered with those plans.

  Everything depended on her keeping a level head. She must resist Garrett's seduction. No matter what.

  * * *

  A husband!

  He should have known, Garrett thought darkly, as he made his way to the drawing room where everyone gathered before dinner. Was there not one woman on earth who could honestly enjoy a man's attentions without attempting to trap him?

  He had presented Lucinda with a simple proposition. She had been a widow for over a year now, and he had been at sea for almost as long. It seemed a neat and enjoyable solution to him.

  Leave it to her to complicate the situation by mentioning marriage!

  Garrett strode into the drawing room and stopped just inside the doorway when he saw that the only occupant was his grandfather. Blast it all! The last thing he needed now was a battle with the duke. Garrett's black coat and trousers, which he reserved for business dinners, were not as formal as British evening wear, but it was all he had with him.

  The duke also wore plain black, but there the similarity ended. The stark color, relieved only by his snowy shirt and cravat, emphasized the harshness of his features and his white hair. The old man stared somberly at the portrait of his younger self, which hung on the wall above the mantel.

  Garrett moved to step out of the room unnoticed, but suddenly his grandfather looked up.

  For an instant Garrett thought he glimpsed anguish in the old fellow's eyes, but then the proud aristocrat was back, his gaze coolly polite, his smile bland and practiced with only a hint of arrogance.

  "Good evening, grandson."

  Garrett gave a curt nod, but said nothing. He uncurled his hands, which had somehow formed into fists, and relaxed his stance, realizing that he had automatically shifted to the balls of his feet as if preparing for a fight.

  A smile of genuine amusement tugged at his grandfather's lips for a brief instant. "So," Erasmus said with polite interest, "I am told you have decided to accompany us to London."

  "Yes."

  "Excellent! Will you stay with us at Stanton House, or would you prefer your own rooms?"

  "I'll be wherever Meg is." The words were a warning, and the duke's raised eyebrows indicated he had received it.

  "Margaret will naturally be staying at Stanton House," the old man replied. "As will my sister, though she has her own home in London. And Mrs. Devering, of course."

  A new thought occurred to Garrett. Good Lord, what if Lucinda's aim was marriage to the duke, and not a simple affair as he had surmised? "Mrs. Devering is a beautiful woman," he commented casually.

  "So she is."

  "A beautiful widow, who lives in your house, even though she is not a member of your family." His tone rose at the end of the statement, making it more of a question.

  The duke let out a startled laugh. "Devil take you, boy, are you implying that she's my mistress?"

>   "Is she?" If Lucinda was involved with his grandfather it would explain her reluctance to enter into a perfectly harmless affair with him, especially if her goal was marriage.

  The duke shook his head, unable to disguise his amusement. "I thank you for the compliment, my boy, but Mrs. Devering is too young for an old man like me. She is merely the daughter of an old friend and is teaching your sister to get on in society. That is all."

  So, even if she did plot to wed the old man, her plans would come to nothing. Good. "I like to know who the players are," he said with a careless shrug.

  "A wise precaution."

  "After all," Garrett continued, frowning, "just because you aren't a young man, don't assume that a woman wouldn't be interested in your company. Many women go after wealth and position rather than physical appearance."

  "Ah, yes." Erasmus gave him a considering look. "No doubt you have encountered such females yourself. I understand that you have done quite well in America. You have your own business and a fine house in Boston. No doubt there were women who found a young man of such means to be irresistible."

  "They found my coffers irresistible," Garrett scoffed. "It was one of the reasons I went to sea. There are no women there."

  "I daresay it's not much better in London," the duke warned. "You will encounter the same type of female, who hungers for riches and longs to increase her social standing. Especially now that you are the Marquess of Kelton."

  "I'm not interested in the blasted title," Garrett ground out. "I'm going there for Meg, and that's all."

  The duke drew himself up and looked down his blade of a nose at Garrett. "The ‘blasted title,' as you put it, has been in the Stanton family for six generations. And my own title goes back to the Conqueror himself, some eight hundred years. While you are in London, you shall not disgrace either. Do I make myself clear?"

  "I have no intention of disgracing your precious title," Garrett retorted. "I just don't want it. Meg is the only reason I have remained beneath your roof."

  "You have made no secret of that. Just remember, no matter what your feelings for me, your behavior directly affects your sister's reputation."

  "I am aware of that."

  "We shall have to get you some clothes and a proper valet, and I shall see that you have membership to all the clubs. I'm certain Mrs. Devering will be more than happy to teach you what you need to know."

  "I know how to eat with a fork and dance without stepping on anyone's toes," Garrett said tightly. "Mrs. Devering doesn't need to teach me anything."

  "And I think you will find it convenient to answer to 'Kelton' while in London," the older man continued. "The Stanton name has more power in London society than you realize."

  "The only power I want is the command of my ship."

  Before Erasmus could answer, Meg swept into the room, Lucinda behind her. "Good evening, everyone. Are we late?"

  "Of course not, my dear," the duke replied, his expression softening. He sent a nod to Lucinda. "Good evening, Mrs. Devering."

  "Your Grace," she said with a curtsy. She glanced at Garrett. "Good evening, Captain."

  "Mrs. Devering." This evening she wore a Nile blue gown cut low across her bosom, baring her shoulders in a creamy display that rivaled the pearls at her throat in its beauty. Her curling brown hair was swept up and threaded through with a matching ribbon, and her brown eyes widened with awareness as he openly appreciated the picture she made.

  The memory of their kiss heated his blood, and he knew from the rosy flush that swept her cheeks that she remembered, too.

  "We have only to wait for my sister, and then we can go in to dinner," Erasmus said.

  "I'm here," Lady Agatha announced, stepping through the doors. She was dressed in layers of tulle that made her resemble a puffy, pink wedding cake. A diamond the size of a baby's fist glittered at her throat. "Don't just stand there," she commanded. "I'm hungry!"

  "Then arrive on time," Erasmus grumbled. He offered Meg his arm and escorted her from the room, leaving Garrett to escort the remaining ladies to the dining room.

  * * *

  From the moment they arrived in the dining room, Lucinda knew she was in trouble.

  Meg sat at the duke's right, Lady Agatha on her other side. With a sweep of his hand, the duke indicated that Garrett sit at his left.

  Which left Lucinda to sit next to Garrett. The wicked man had the nerve to wink at her as she seated herself, but she ignored him, resolved to treat him with an icy politeness that would make it clear she was absolutely not interested in his attentions.

  She might even convince herself.

  Under the table, his foot brushed hers. She snapped her head around, prepared to deliver a scathing setdown, and met his startled, blue-eyed stare.

  "My apologies," he murmured in a low voice, then spread his napkin in his lap.

  Lucinda hesitated, unsure if it had been deliberate or not. When he turned his attention to the footman who entered the room with the tureen of soup, she relaxed. Perhaps it had been innocent, after all.

  And perhaps pigs would sprout wings and fly them all to London.

  But as the meal progressed and he engaged in polite conversation with Meg and Lady Agatha, Lucinda began to think she was indeed mistaken. Maybe he really had accepted her refusal to start an affair with him. Maybe the talk of marriage had changed his mind.

  He had no doubt bedded women in every port of call in the world, and she didn't need an itinerant lover who would leave for Boston as soon as he could do so.

  But at least she had the memory of that kiss.

  Over a plate of roasted chicken, his hand brushed her arm as he reached for his wine glass. She darted a glance at him, but he seemed completely engrossed in the anecdote being told by Lady Agatha.

  Close quarters, Lucinda reasoned. Determined to ignore the tingle brought on by the memory of his body pressing hers into the door of her room, Lucinda reached for her own glass of wine.

  Everyone burst into laughter as Lady Agatha finished her tale. Lucinda smiled and sipped her wine, having not heard a word.

  "Garrett will be joining us at Stanton House," the duke announced. "I trust you will assist him with whatever he desires, Mrs. Devering."

  Lucinda choked on her wine. Whatever he desires? Garrett's rakish grin indicated he knew where her thoughts had taken her. The duke was talking about London, not about..."As you wish, Your Grace."

  He looked at Garrett. "Mrs. Devering can ease your way into society, my boy. I hope you will stop being so stubborn and use her expertise wisely."

  "I'm certain Mrs. Devering is more than capable of easing me in," Garrett remarked, his expression bland despite the devilment gleaming in his eyes. "But I hesitate to ask her to bear my weight when she already does so much for Meg."

  Lucinda gulped down another swallow of wine. The images his words brought to mind were not the ones a lady usually entertained at dinner. They weren't ones a lady entertained at all!

  But a woman who had tasted passion—ah, that was another story.

  Garrett's knee bumped hers beneath the table, and this time she knew it was deliberate.

  Damn his dimples, he knew exactly what he was about. Garrett Lynch was toying with her— and enjoying her discomfort immensely.

  Two could play at that game, she thought recklessly.

  "Your Grace," she said, watching Garrett from the corner of her eye, "I am more than happy to lend my expertise in this matter." As she spoke, she stroked her fingers up the stem of her wineglass. Then down again. Slowly. Caressingly. Again. And again. Garrett's gaze locked on her teasing fingers. With a secretive smile, she continued, "I have considerable experience in such things."

  Lucinda trailed her fingertips languorously around the rim of her glass, then stroked them down over the goblet and along the stem. "So I will be delighted to give your grandson any instruction he should require."

  Garrett choked.

  "Are you quite all right, my lord?" she asked solicitou
sly. "You must have a care when swallowing. It is best to sip slowly, so as not to catch something in your throat."

  "Fine," Garrett croaked.

  "Do let me know when you require my services," Lucinda said with a smile. Then she picked up her fork, stabbed an asparagus spear, and bit the tip off.

  Garrett flinched. "I will."

  "Ugh," Meg said from across the table. "I hate asparagus. Here, Garrett." She lifted her plate and held it out across the table.

  Lucinda, Lady Agatha, and the duke all put down their silverware with a clank as Garrett scraped her vegetables onto his own dish. He started to dig into the asparagus, then noticed the stark silence. He looked from Lady Agatha to the duke to Lucinda. "Is there a problem?"

  "Something must be done," Lady Agatha said, turning beseeching eyes to the duke.

  "Indeed." The duke's dark brows slashed down in a frown. "Mrs. Devering, you will see to it."

  "Someone mind telling me what's going on?" Garrett inquired, his scowl mirroring his grand-father's.

  Meg bit her lip. "I've done something wrong, haven't I? I'm so sorry, Grandfather."

  "Don't worry about it, my dear," the duke said, patting her hand.

  "I shouldn't have passed the plate, should I? And now Garrett's in trouble, too."

  "It's all right," the elderly man said. "Mrs. Devering will take your brother in hand, won't you, Mrs. Devering?"

  The wicked gleam in Garrett's blue eyes made her breath hitch.

  "Of course, Your Grace," she agreed. "For it seems to me that he is in desperate need of instruction."

  Garrett's eyes widened in surprise, and he choked on a mouthful of food.

  Lucinda smiled serenely, the picture of English femininity as she hid her satisfaction in a swallow of wine.

  As conversation picked up again, Garrett reached for his wine and leaned closer to murmur in her ear, "First point to you, Mrs. Devering."

  Pleased with herself, she raised her goblet a bit in a mock toast. "To you, Captain."

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a wicked grin that she found incredibly appealing. "Enjoy your victory, Lucinda. The game is not yet over."

  He turned to speak to Meg, and Lucinda shrugged off his words. She would win this battle of wits, no matter what Garrett thought. She was a survivor, and she would resist him without fail until Captain Lynch had sailed his ship back to Boston.