Twice the Temptation

by Beverley Kendall

  But if that had been the first test of her will, it was one she’d failed utterly. She had glanced back to see him still standing precisely where she’d left him, no doubt supremely satisfied that he’d sent her scampering away like a frightened child. But she had every right to fear him. He’d in fact declared war on her emotions, vowing, in essence, to crush her will. If he was feeling particularly kind about it, he may only chip away at it, one vertebra at a time. Or in draconian Shakespearean manner, he’d just reach in and take his pound of flesh that was her beating heart.

  Argh. Now she was becoming as dramatic in her musings as Meghan tended to be with her words.

  “In my opinion you are handling this all wrong.”

  “I believe him.”

  Respectively, Olivia and Meghan chorused their objections as Catherine thought they might once the facts didn’t paint Lucas as an evil villain.

  “You can hardly blame the man if he met the wrong twin first,” Olivia scolded and then tipped her head to the side as if in deep thought. “Although, I’m not taken with the fact that he asked for her hand. I do understand you taking issue with that. But if he and your sister say there was never any romantic love on his part, I think I’d be inclined to believe them,” she concluded with a definitive nod.

  “I fully agree with Olivia,” Meghan said. “I do think he does love you and I don’t think you should be in such a hurry to cast aside the only man I’ve ever seen you mad about. Who knows if you’ll ever feel for another man the way you feel for your American.”

  Catherine’s heart thumped. Did they think she hadn’t already taken all of that into consideration? That it wasn’t also her greatest fear?

  “Even if that were the case, it’s not only myself I must think of, there is also Charlotte and Alex. Lucas has been and continues to be a cause of dissension between them. Their marriage would be made difficult by a union between us. And as you very well know, I simply cannot have that on my conscience. It is the least I owe them.”

  Her friends fell silent for they couldn’t dispute that, dismiss the debt she owed to her sister and her husband.

  “But it will pain your sister more to see you unmarried or married to someone you don’t love. Not as you love Mr. Beaumont,” Olivia said, breaking the silence that had gone on for well over a minute.

  “Again, I say he loves you. I’m quite sure there are a fair number of women in America who would make him a wonderful wife, yet he left his country, his birthplace for you. That gesture alone speaks of how strong his feelings are,” Meghan pointed out.

  “More than ever, I want to believe that but I would always wonder,” Catherine rebutted in a small voice.

  “What if you could be certain?” Meghan asked, tapping her index finger lightly against her cheek.

  “That would only be possible if my sister were free to marry him. As you very well know, that is not the case.” Catherine replied.

  “Not exactly,” Olivia said slowly, glancing at Meghan, anticipation growing in her eyes. “What if we tested him and employed your sister to assist us?”

  Catherine rose abruptly and stared down at them in disbelief. “Have you both lost your minds? My sister would never participate in something like this.” And she would never ask Charlotte to involve herself in their activities. She also had a husband and children to think of.

  Striding over to the fireplace, she regarded them from half the distance of the width of the room. She feared that with proximity, she would catch whatever madness must have afflicted them.

  “How do you know unless you ask her,” Olivia countered calmly.

  “Indeed, why even put your poor sister through the exercise? The two of you are identical in almost every way. You can do the thing yourself,” Meghan interjected with uncharacteristic solemnity.

  “My, are you not both brimming with ideas today? Good Lord, what would you have me do, try and seduce him pretending to be her?” This went beyond what they did when they tested the men.

  “Why yes, that was the general idea,” Olivia said. “If he truly loves you, he’ll rebuff her—your advances and then you would be assured of his affections.”

  Catherine shook her head vigorously. “It would never work. Lucas would know. He’s most adept at telling us apart.”

  “Are you certain? When is the last time you tried to pass yourself off as your sister? Wasn’t it just this past month that Mrs. Kent complimented you on how quickly you’d gotten back your figure after the birth of your daughter?” Olivia asked, smiling smugly.

  Catherine rolled her eyes. “Everyone confuses us as you well know. But that’s because they don’t know us. You are speaking of acquaintances not intimates.”

  Her friends’ expressions turned sheepish as they exchanged a look.

  “Upon my word, don’t tell me that you still confuse us? You don’t know me after all of these years?”

  “Dearest, of course we know you,” Olivia soothed. “But when your sister is out without that gorgeous husband of hers at her side or a child in her hands or glued to her hip, I cannot truthfully say that recognition is immediate—especially at a distance. Things are even more confusing when you’re out with Nicholas. It is usually your manner towards me that relieves me of having to guess.”

  “And the manner of your dress,” Meghan added. “Your sister has a tendency to less vibrant colors. I believe marriage and children does that to a woman.”

  Catherine choked out a laugh. Charlotte would be interested to hear that.

  “Alex can tell us apart.”

  “Alex has known you as long as your own brother. He sleeps with your sister every night from what I’ve heard. I would say that if anyone shouldn’t confuse the two of you, it should be him.”

  Meghan made a very valid point.

  “And just where would you propose I do this? At a ball? The theater? At her residence with her husband and children about? Even if I found the idea palatable, it would never work. I can hardly go parading about as my sister, much less doing it while trying to entice a man who is not her husband. My sister’s reputation would be in ruins by the end of it all.”

  Gathering her skirts, Olivia stood and joined her in front of the fireplace. Meghan soon followed and within seconds, she was flanked by both.

  “I’ve thought of that too. Do you remember the house party my father hosts every Easter?” Olivia asked.

  Catherine nodded warily.

  “Well I shall invite Mr. Beaumont and we’ll make up something to excuse your absence the first day of the party. You will arrive alone pretending to be your sister. I can place you in rooms next to one another so it shall be a simple matter of you slipping into his room after everyone has retired for the evening. The following day, your sister will be called away, which is when, of course, you will arrive. Not a soul will be the wiser,” Olivia finished, looking altogether pleased with herself. Genius at work, her tone suggested.

  “No, you cannot place them in rooms next to one another. That may be too obvious. He’ll know something is amiss,” Meghan said and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Oh I know,” she exclaimed after several beats of silence. “You can assign them the same room and then claim you and your housekeeper unknowingly assigned the room to different guests. It shall be excused as a terrible mix-up.”

  A beauteous smile spread over Olivia’s face as she gave Meghan an approving nod that silently said, True genius at work.

  Her gaze darting from one beaming countenance to the other, Catherine could only now appreciate the inner workings of her friends’ minds. She could only imagine what they’d be capable of if their intentions weren’t altruistic.

  “Have you thought about what this would do to my sister and Alex? Lucas will believe Charlotte is unhappy in her marriage. Or worse yet, that she is willing to be unfaithful to her husband.” And she could just imagine Alex’s reaction if he ever got wind of what she’d done. A shiver chased down her spine.

  “But of course we can’t
have the man thinking your sister was trying to seduce him. When everything is done and over with, he’ll have to be told the truth.”

  Catherine opened her mouth to argue but Meghan continued blithely on as if the truth-telling bit was of little consequence. “Once he’s proven his love for you, he’ll be so relieved that you now believe him, he won’t hold the tiny bit of deception against you. Much like what we do for the women seeking a faithful husband, the ends justify the means and he will be able to see that.”

  “It appears you are more intimately acquainted with him than I, as I have no such assurances that this bit of deception will be met with this forbearance you speak of.”

  “A man doesn’t leave his country almost half a world away to marry a woman he’d abandon over something that, in the end, was done to ensure a long and happy marriage. Don’t worry, my darling, he’s an intelligent man and he’ll understand the situation his proposal to your sister has put you in,” Olivia said confidently.

  “Indeed. And he’ll have to make allowances for the simple fact that it wasn’t he who told you about it,” Meghan added with a nod.

  How was it that her friends made the crazy scheme sound all very rational? And for two people who had met him but only twice, they seemed to have a great deal of faith in him.

  “You are forgetting my brother-in-law. Alex despises him.”

  “In the end, Lord Avondale will do whatever it takes to make his wife happy. And you as well. Once he realizes how misplaced his suspicions are and how wildly in love with each other you are, he’ll come around.”

  Unable to remain still, Catherine walked over to the piano and idly ran her hand over the shiny, black surface. She didn’t look at them when she said, “I wouldn’t do something like that without my sister’s permission, and that is something I shall not ask of her.”

  Neither Olivia nor Meghan offered up any more arguments. Catherine’s tone was final regarding the matter. Things were better if she and Lucas remained apart. All she had to do was tell him she didn’t want him. Her only problem was her actions would have to support that.

  The mind was a dangerous thing. It had a penchant for equivocation when one was doing battle with it. When Lucas was not about, Catherine’s mind led her to believe that she was strong. Or dare she say, stronger than she actually was.

  Such a fallacy could only exist in his absence. Three tortuous days of it, wondering when and—then on the third day—if he would appear.

  The fourth day dawned with all the sun and cheeriness she now only associated with fairytales and her nieces and nephews smiles. Catherine was beginning to despair over Lucas’s absence and at the same time admonishing herself for not being happy about it, when she walked blindly into the morning room with the intention of practicing on the piano, to find him cozily ensconced in one of the armchairs chatting with her sister.

  Upon spying her at the door, Charlotte sprang to her feet. “There she is. Katie dear, look who has come to call on you.”

  Catherine marveled at the innocuous expression on her twin’s face when she managed to utter those words with nary the hint of a smile…or guilt.

  Her tormentor in question rose from the chair, his movements fluid and predatory. “Cath—Miss Rutherford.” The bow he graced her with may have been overly formal but the possessiveness of his regard stamped her as his own.

  The very thought should not send a jolt of indescribable pleasure through her but it did.

  “Mr. Beaumont, this is most unexpected.” She tried to infuse coolness into her voice but could only manage lukewarm. Concentration was nearly impossible when under the spell of his hooded gaze.

  “Indeed?” he queried, cocking an eyebrow. “I thought I’d made my intentions clear to you during our last meeting.”

  “Well I shall leave you to chat,” Charlotte broke in cheerily. With a quick smile, she was on her way, exiting the room before Catherine could blink. The door closed behind her with a quiet click.

  Marching to the door, Catherine threw it open, now sorely tempted to place something large and heavy in front of it to keep it that way. How on earth was she to win this war with everyone fighting for the other side?

  She returned to where she’d been standing and failed to repress the shiver that chased down her spine when she met Lucas’s gaze.

  “Cold?” he asked politely, a faint smile curving his mouth.

  Wretched man.

  “Unbearably,” she replied just as politely.

  To avoid looking directly into his too-knowing eyes, Catherine fixed her gaze on the framed portrait of a vase on the wall just to the left of his shoulder. “I wish you had not come.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he replied softly, his heated perusal running the entire length of her.

  Lord, this is intolerable. The whole of her grew uncomfortably warm and he hadn’t so much as touched her. Yet. Catherine breathed deeply in an attempt to slow her racing heart.

  “I thought we might take a stroll.” He gestured toward the window, beyond it the great outdoors and blue skies.

  Catherine shook her head recalling their last stroll. The kiss. They’d be all alone out there. “Lucas, I think it best if you left.” Wasn’t doing the right thing, the just thing supposed to make one feel good? In her case, the right thing equated to denial and never had it felt more like punishment.

  In seconds, he stood inches from her. He lowered his head until his mouth was next to her ear. He whispered, “I thought of nothing else but you these past four days. Last night, I dreamt of having you naked in my bed.”

  If he meant to inflame her senses, he accomplished the task with alarming proficiency. Her body went up like a lit torch, the flames practically singeing her skin. Palms damp, her heart took off at a gallop, and her breath caught in her throat. A bolt of pure unadulterated lust shot through her to settle in her core.

  She should not have allowed him to get that close, but she could hardly go scampering about the room in an effort to avoid him. After all, he hadn’t touched her inappropriately. His voice, his words had done the seducing and tormenting.

  “Lucas,” she said, intending it to be a reprimand, instead it came out imploring.

  “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “I much prefer that to having you address me as Mr. Beaumont.”

  Catherine’s head came sharply up to look him squarely in the eye. “What do you hope to achieve? Saying such things to me?” she whispered hoarsely. “Don’t you see you are only making things more difficult? I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “Yes you will.” He spoke as if he’d never been so sure of anything in his life. “And do you know why?”

  Shaking her head in denial, Catherine retreated two steps before turning and walking to the far end of the room. Now a sofa, curio, piano, and the expanse of a red-and-gold, filigreed rug stood between them.

  To her dismay, he had indeed sent her scampering. She only prayed he wouldn’t follow. Except for turning to face her, he remained right where he stood.

  “Because in your heart you know I’m right,” he said, continuing in his relentless pursuit to reduce her will to ashes. “You know that what I feel for you is real and not some redirected emotion. And you want me as much as I want you. Your actions have yet to convince me otherwise. Why else would you be all the way over there if not to create a physical distance between us because you haven’t been able to create an emotional one?”

  God help me!

  Every word out of his mouth battered away at a resolve that had already been weakened by his presence here today. How was she supposed to fight him and herself as well?

  Then she heard it, Alex’s voice out in the hall. It was followed by her sister’s murmured one. Both stark reminders that not just her heart was at stake in all this, but their happiness as well.

  “I would appreciate it if you would leave now.”

  Lucas didn’t speak for a good while. He simply stared at her with the most sober of expressions,
mouth tight, eyes slightly narrowed. When he started toward her, her heart dropped and her breath suspended. He stopped short of running her over, he stood that close.

  Crooking his index finger, he placed it under her chin and tipped her face up to his. She had to fight from closing her eyes, didn’t want to see the hunger in his as his gaze drifted down to her mouth.

  “Tell me,” he commanded softly. “Tell me and I’ll go.”

  “I don’t want you,” she whispered, her voice pitifully weak and unconvincing even to her own ears that roared with the sound of her heart pounding.

  “Say it again and then I will kiss you to get your real answer.”

  A mix of fear and arousal churned within her as she glanced nervously at the open door.

  “Yes, I will do it and I don’t give a damn who may witness it. It may even hasten the wedding.”

  Catherine fell mute at the silky tone of his voice, unwilling to risk that he’d follow through on his threat. She could not marry him. She blinked and swallowed hard, unable to move away from the touch of his hand on her chin.

  When it became apparent that she would not repeat what they both knew to be a lie, he gently rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. He smiled faintly as he stared hungrily down at her. “What a shame,” he murmured. “I was looking forward to that kiss. Another time, perhaps?”

  Only when he removed his hand from her face, when he was no longer touching her, did she allow herself to inhale a deep, mind-clearing breath.

  Turning from her, he walked and picked up his hat from where he’d set it on the marble table. “Expect me at two tomorrow,” he said and took his leave before she could form a response.

  If this was a battle, the following weeks Catherine could only call the besiegement. Bouquets of flowers not yet in season arrived at her sister’s residence almost daily and he called on her religiously, four times a week.

  At first, she suffered through his calls, perhaps hoping that eventually they would help to inoculate her against him. But every time he challenged her to tell him—show him—what it would take to send him from her life completely, she could not.