Every Time We Kiss

by Christie Kelley

  Which had already crossed his mind. “And why would that be so dreadful? It would get me off your hands rather nicely, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “No.”

  He rose and strode across the room until only a billiard table stood between them. Leaning over the table, he whispered, “Why do you care whom I marry as long as it isn’t you?”

  She closed her beautiful blue eyes. “You deserve better,” she answered softly.

  No one had cared about him in so long that he had no idea how to react. “Pardon?”

  “I promised to find you a bride. But I do believe you at least should have a decent woman. A woman who isn’t already with child.”

  So the rumors of Miss Whitmore were true. Another reason he needed to tread more carefully when searching for a bride. The most eager of women likely had a cause for a rushed wedding.

  He strolled along the edge of the billiard table, slowly coming closer to her. In her distracted state, she apparently hadn’t taken notice of his position. After the cloying odor of Miss Whitmore’s perfume, the slight scent of jasmine that Jennette wore smelled like a breath of summer air.

  “Precisely how did you determine Miss Whitmore is with child?” he asked. “I doubt she volunteered the news.”

  “As I told you, she acted extremely eager to meet you. She and her mother kept giving each other odd looks when I spoke with them.”

  Matthew suppressed a chuckle. “And from that you decided the only logical explanation had to be pregnancy?”

  “No,” she answered in a hesitant tone. “I asked Sophie to attend tonight because she can usually sense these things. She spoke with Miss Whitmore and held her hand. From that she determined her condition.”

  Matthew groaned out of frustration with her illogical thoughts. But there was also the possibility that she was correct about Miss Whitmore. Perhaps the only women who would have anything to do with him all had something to hide. Except Jennette. She had the most to keep secret…and she didn’t want him either.

  “So far you have made me dance with a woman so disgusted with me she could scarcely move. Another woman, barely out of the nursery, who was in love with another man—”

  “Miss Sheldon?” she gasped. “I had no idea.”

  “And now you set me up with a woman who might be carrying another man’s child.” He stepped closer to her as his anger surged until he had her trapped between his body and the billiard table. He leaned in closer, inhaling the tempting scent of her perfume. Ignore the clawing desire, he told himself.

  “You had best have a care, Jennette,” he whispered near her ear.

  “Wh—Why?” she stammered.

  “You’re starting to look like my only hope.”

  “You’re mad!”

  “Hardly,” he said with a small grin. “You have yet to protest my close contact, either.”

  Deliberately, he traced the delicate line of her jaw with his finger. God, he was a fool to want her as he did. She was everything he didn’t need in a woman. The last thing he should do was bait her. Or stand so close that her breasts almost scraped against his jacket.

  He should back away…but his feet wouldn’t move. The urge to retreat flew out of his mind only to be replaced by a much stronger yearning.

  No. He looked away from her. He should do what he intended and ignore her.

  Jennette shoved at his chest, embarrassed by the accuracy of his statement. Three times, he’d pinned her body between him and another object and not once had she protested. Instead, she only savored the scent of him and the strength of his hard, lean body all but touching her. God help her.

  “I believe you are quite wrong on that matter,” she said resolutely.

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked with a grin.

  “You are the most annoying man I have ever met.”

  He leaned nonchalantly against the billiard table, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me, Jennette, would it be so horrid if we had to marry? Would you be unable to tolerate my kisses?”

  She turned toward him as embarrassed heat crossed her cheeks. “How dare you insult me with such a question?”

  “I apologize,” he said softly.

  “I would find it unbearable,” she lied. She could never let him know how much he affected her senses.

  “Unbearable?” he said with a low chuckle. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

  Jennette stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest as he had. “Utterly unbearable.”

  Anger flared in his gray eyes. “Liar,” he bit out. “You have done nothing to find me a proper bride, thus allowing you to absolve your conscience when you find yourself married to me.”

  “That makes no sense at all,” she replied, throwing her arms up in frustration.

  “Indeed?” He moved closer to her again. “You can tell yourself that you did your duty—you found me several eligible young ladies. Only you will never admit the truth, that you deliberately interfered with the process so you could marry me without guilt.”

  “You have completely lost your mind!” She’d never thought that intriguing idea.

  “Do you think I don’t feel the same guilt?” he asked.

  “You have nothing to feel guilty for. I am the one who impaled my betrothed.”

  “Prove it to me,” he whispered. “To yourself.”

  “What do you mean? Prove what?”

  “Kiss me, Jennette.” He stepped directly in front of her. “Show me how repulsive it would be if you were forced to kiss me.”

  “Never. We have kissed before and it meant nothing,” she lied frantically to avoid his proposition.

  “That kiss could only be considered a peck on the lips. I am speaking of a real kiss, Jennette.”

  “I have nothing to prove to you.” And she had nothing to prove to herself either. She’d dreamed of exactly what his kisses would really feel like—repulsive and unbearable were not even close. But she had no need to experience it firsthand. She had the memory of that one kiss no matter how brief the contact.

  She turned to storm out of the room before this ridiculous conversation became more intimate than it already had. As she stepped past him, his arm reached out and caught her. Dragging her closer to him, his feral grin suddenly had her quivering.

  For an impossibly long moment, they stared at each other. Neither saying a word.

  “What—”

  He cut her question off with his lips. Hard lips that hoped to punish her for her lies. She should push him away from her. Yell at him for his arrogance and gall. The last thing she should do was bring her arms up to wrap around his neck, drawing him closer.

  His lips softened and he deepened the kiss, sending her into an abyss of heavenly sensations. As his velvety tongue skimmed across hers, she gasped. No man had kissed her like this in five years. Tentatively, she let her tongue touch his and discover the secrets of his mouth. Fire burned inside her belly as they explored each other so intimately.

  She shivered and moaned as he pressed her even closer to his hard body. She’d wanted his kisses for so many years. His hands roamed down her back, cupping her derrière and squeezing softly. Even knowing she should put a halt to their kiss, she did nothing but return the heat of his passion.

  While she had kissed numerous times before, never had she felt such a lightning shock of sensual desire. She had the strangest urge to unravel his cravat, unbutton his shirt, and let her fingers roam his broad, naked chest.

  Unthinkable!

  She pushed him away and turned so he would not see the bright red color tinting her cheeks. How could she have let this go so far? The man didn’t want her. Not after what she’d done to him.

  “And?” he whispered.

  And? She twirled around to him with a frown. The man wanted a critique of his kisses?

  “It was utterly unbearable,” she whispered, then raced from the room.

  Matthew released a long breath as the door closed behind her. What had he
done? Kissing Jennette had not been on his agenda for the evening. And yet, every time she came near him, he found his physical attraction to her growing. Not that it mattered.

  There had to be another woman he could wed.

  A woman who wouldn’t bring out his guilt for what he’d done. A woman who wouldn’t look at him with guilt in her eyes.

  He needed to solidify his reasons for not wanting to wed her. She was a wastrel like his brother and father. While they gambled their money away, she wasted it on clothing she did not even need.

  Anger for his stupidity surged within him. Even Miss Whitmore was a better option than Jennette. He walked to the door and reached for the brass knob. But the last thing he wanted to do was raise another man’s bastard as his own. His heir would be his progeny, not another’s. Nor did he want a woman who would be unfaithful to him. So perhaps not Miss Whitmore as a wife, but almost any other woman would be a superior choice.

  But no matter whom he was forced to marry, it would not be Jennette.

  Pausing, he closed his eyes and the image of her face came to him again. The look of shock and desire flashing in her blue eyes imprinted on his mind forever. Just as the sensation of her kiss would never leave him. He should have known how it would feel to taste her sweet lips again.

  John had told him about her passionate nature and that alone should keep Matthew away from her. He didn’t need a woman who gave herself so freely to a man, even if that man had been her fiancé at the time. Jennette should have insisted on a quick wedding and not taken risks by prolonging the engagement for six months.

  Shaking his head, he realized none of these insane thoughts mattered. He wouldn’t be marrying Jennette when there had to be at least one other woman who would have him. Walking down the hall, he heard the sound of angry voices and stopped.

  “Why do you want me to do this?”

  Matthew had never been one to eavesdrop, but Somerton sounded truly vexed, and in all the years Matthew had known him, that never happened.

  “You have asked me for more favors than I have ever given another. This is the least you can do for me.”

  He tilted his head in thought. The woman’s voice sounded vaguely familiar but he could not place it. He heard what sounded like a glass slamming down on the table.

  “Very well,” Somerton said harshly. “But after I do this for you it will be time for you to tell me the truth. I want her name.”

  “And you shall get it when the time is right,” the woman responded lightly as if she had no fear of Somerton’s wrath.

  “No, Sophie. The time will be right after I do this for you.”

  Sophie? Sophie Reynard? Jennette’s friend and the current medium taking the ton by storm? It made no sense that Somerton would have anything to do with her. Unless they were lovers…

  “Anthony,” she replied softly but firmly. “I make this decision, not you.”

  “Bitch,” he said roughly.

  “Yes, I am. And just like you, I’m not one to cross.”

  Hearing footsteps, Matthew continued down the hall before someone caught him listening in on what sounded like a very private conversation. He walked toward the gallery where people had congregated.

  “Blackburn, hold up for a moment.”

  He turned to see Somerton treading toward him with a smile. No sense of frustration appeared on his features, his stride relaxed, and his shoulders not tense. Nothing to make a person think he’d just been arguing with a woman. And losing the argument, from what Matthew had heard.

  “Did you need me?” Matthew replied.

  “I have two favors to ask of you.”

  “Oh?”

  Somerton smiled with his usual ease. “Accompany me on an errand, would you?”

  “At this hour?”

  “Yes.”

  Matthew shrugged but wondered if this had anything to do with the conversation Somerton had with Miss Reynard. With his curiosity roused, he said, “Very well, I have nothing to get home to.”

  “Excellent.”

  “And the other favor?”

  Somerton gave him a half smile. “I need you to save me from myself.”

  “Is that even possible?” Matthew asked with a chuckle.

  “Of course not. But I’ll be at Norton’s tonight and losing a tremendous amount of money—”

  “But I thought you always win?”

  Somerton shook his head. “I do. But tonight I shall appear to be deeply in my cups and losing money. I need you to stop me and drag me out of the building before I accuse someone of cheating.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a little something I’m working on. I need to gauge a man’s reaction to my outburst,” Somerton replied lightly.

  “Very well, I will help you with both favors. But remind me again why I should assist you?”

  “Because I am helping you with your quest to find a bride.”

  Matthew barely suppressed his laugh. The idea of a profligate scoundrel like Somerton assisting him with finding a bride seemed highly unlikely.

  Chapter 7

  Matthew leaned against the lamppost, again wondering why they were standing on Maddox Street at almost midnight. Nothing seemed out of place. Inside the stately houses, servants slowly snuffed out the candles, leaving darkness in their place. Except the brothel across the street. He assumed the prostitutes must have something to do with why they were here.

  “So you can’t tell me why we are here?”

  “I wish I knew,” Somerton muttered. “I was told to be here and stay until something happened.”

  “Until what happens?” Matthew asked.

  “I don’t know—something.”

  “Who the devil would tell you that?”

  “No one you need to know about.” The usual answer Somerton gave to anything the least bit intrusive in his life.

  Matthew should be angry, but, knowing the type of work Somerton had done in the past, he decided not to press the conversation further.

  “How long did you work for the Home Office?”

  Somerton narrowed his eyes. “Whoever said I worked for them?”

  “Just a rumor I’d heard,” Matthew said nonchalantly.

  “And a rumor is all it is.”

  Matthew sighed and watched several men walking out of Lady Whitely’s brothel. Everyone knew she wasn’t really a lady, but she did run the cleanest establishment in town. With a frown on his face, Somerton continued to glance over at the house.

  The sound of a carriage rolling to a stop down the street drew his attention. He and Somerton watched as a groomsman opened the door and a woman wearing a hooded black cloak emerged.

  “Is she involved in your business tonight?” Matthew whispered to Somerton.

  “I am not certain,” he replied slowly.

  The woman pulled out several packages from the nondescript carriage. The groomsman did the same until they were both struggling to walk down the dimly lit street. Something about the woman looked familiar but he couldn’t determine why. They placed the packages on the doorstep of the home next to the brothel. The servant hurried back to the carriage and returned with even more parcels.

  Matthew watched as the woman arranged them by the door and turned to walk down the steps. Seeing her fully, he gasped.

  “Well, now I believe we have determined our purpose here,” Somerton said with a chuckle.

  “What the bloody hell is she doing over there?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer. Racing across the street, he reached her just as she grasped the carriage door.

  He swung her around to face him.

  “No,” Jennette whispered. “Not here, not now! You will ruin everything.”

  She clambered into the carriage and he followed. Ignoring him, she continued to glance out the window. Matthew turned and watched as the groomsman banged on the door of the house and then raced for the carriage. Just as he swung himself up, the door to the house opened, revealing a petite, blond woman.

  “Get th
is carriage moving!” Jennette shouted as she sat back against the cushions.

  “Who was that woman?”

  “My friend, Victoria,” she replied and then pulled the curtain back to look out the window.

  Victoria? Of course, Miss Seaton. The woman who cared for the orphaned children.

  Why would she hide from her friend?

  He continued to watch as Miss Seaton slowly picked up the packages and surveyed the carriage rolling away. Realization finally dawned on him. Those packages were the same he’d seen Jennette carrying from the stores yesterday. They were not for her but for the orphans.

  The orphans.

  Not her.

  God, he felt like an idiot.

  He’d spent the past two days criticizing her behavior when all she had done was buy clothing for some orphan children. Yes, he was definitely a fool, he decided.

  Jennette finally relaxed against the black velvet squabs and sighed. She had no idea what to do with the man who sat across from her. In all the years she had been supplying Victoria’s orphans with clothing for Christmas, no one, save Sophie, had discovered her. Nor had she ever wanted anyone to find out what she did for the children. Buying clothing for the children made her feel good, but she didn’t need admiration for the charity. She preferred to stay anonymous.

  Victoria was proud of the work she did with the orphans. While Jennette knew she struggled with money at times, Victoria hated to take money from her friends. Even though it was a month earlier than Jennette normally left the packages, Victoria would know they were for Christmas.

  “I believe I owe you an apology,” Matthew said softly.

  “Oh?”

  “You refuse to make this easy on me.” He leaned forward and clasped her hands.

  “And for what do you apologize? Believing the worst of me? Calling me spoiled? Or kissing me without my permission?”

  His sensual smile made her heart pound wildly in her chest. “I will never apologize for kissing you, Jennette.”

  She could only stare at his face. The shadows in the carriage made it difficult but she could close her eyes and remember every detail. She would love to sketch him, or better, paint his portrait. Charcoal would never do justice to the strands of red in his dark brown hair. Nor would it capture his eyes—the color of a stormy day.