And Nicholas had one.
The marquess’s voice could have a sobering effect on elation. At least it had that effect on Lucas. The man entered the room seconds after his voice had.
“But it’s Unca Lucas, Papa,” Nicholas exclaimed, twisting in Lucas’s arm to watch his father stride toward them.
In his innocence, the boy was completely oblivious to his father’s feelings toward him and Lucas envied him that. He wished he too was equally oblivious. It would have made the evening more tolerable.
When Lord Avondale smiled at his son Lucas had to stop himself from staring at him wide-eyed in astonishment. Not that he hadn’t seen the man smile before. Upon second thought, he hadn’t. And the smile transformed his face. Grudgingly, he could see why Charlotte would be attracted to him. When the man wasn’t scowling, he may even be considered attractive by some.
“I know you’re excited to see—er, Mr. Beaumont—” he shot Lucas a veiled glance that indicated he didn’t understand the excitement “—but Jillian hadn’t finished dressing you.”
Lucas looked down at the child in his arms. He wore a navy-blue jacket, a waistcoat, and a pair of knickerbockers but from his knees on down, his legs were bare, lightly tanned as though he’d spent the day playing outside in the sun.
“Yes young man, you must listen to your father. Supper won’t be served for another hour. You’ll have time to see your Uncle Lucas after you’ve finish dressing. Now come with me,” his mother instructed
Lucas reluctantly lowered Nicholas to the floor, praying to God that Charlotte wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave him alone with her husband. He soon learned that she could and would indeed be that cruel as he watched her take her son’s hand and lead him from the room.
It was only after they’d disappeared from sight that Lucas finally turned his attention to the marquess.
Where the hell was Catherine?
“He’s growing tall.” Lucas offered the olive branch in hopes the man would accept it, thereby making the coming hours less taxing than they would certainly be.
“He’s a good boy.” There was a certain amount of pride in his voice at that. The man loved his son.
“Yes he is.”
“My wife tells me I owe some of that credit to you.”
Lucas blinked and might have fallen over had his equilibrium not been as sound as it was. He was certain he hadn’t heard the marquess correctly. The acoustics in the room were probably not as it should be for he would swear what he’d heard was praise.
“If Charlotte said that, she’s giving me too much credit. Nicholas is as he is because of the exemplary way she raised him.”
The marquess didn’t immediately respond, but just stared at him. Lucas felt like he was under a microscope and the feeling was most disconcerting. Not that he hadn’t been under harsh scrutiny before. He had. No, it was that being on civil terms with the man was paramount to his future with Catherine.
“I could not love Catherine more if she were my own sister,” Lord Avondale stated, breaking the silence.
He stood against the backdrop of the double doors to the drawing room, his legs spread at a comfortable distance with his hands held loosely behind his back. If the man’s intention was to intimidate him, he failed. But he did inspire a grudging sort of respect.
Lucas pushed his shoulders back, and stood up straight, meeting the marquess eye-to-eye. “Which is how I love Charlotte. And I love Catherine as you love your wife.”
Lord Avondale didn’t blink but inclined his head in a nod. “If you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your days.”
The man’s statement would have read like fictional melodrama but it didn’t come out that way. It didn’t even sound like a threat but more a pledge a Brit would make to God, his country and his queen.
“If I hurt her, the cause of my regret would not be because of anything you do to me.”
The hardness of Lord Avondale’s expression eased, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Then I do not foresee us having any further difficulties, do you?”
Lucas laughed outright at that. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”
A fortnight ago, Lucas would never have believed the marquess would ever view him as anything other than a rival—the man who’d tried to steal his wife and son’s affections. Tonight it appeared his feelings on that had shifted and Lucas didn’t have to wonder what—or who—had caused his change of heart.
“I sense the hand of your wife in this,” Lucas said, amused but not entirely surprised that Charlotte could get a man like the marquess to bend in this matter.
Lord Avondale emitted a low chuckle and there was a scratchiness to it that suggested it was reluctantly given. “In no uncertain terms, I was informed that should I do anything else to jeopardize her sister’s happiness with you, I would regret it for the rest of my days.”
Lucas joined him in his laughter.
A woman’s threat was not to be taken lightly.
The sound of male laughter reached her ears just before her eyes witnessed a scene she’d never thought to see in her entire life.
Lucas and Alex were laughing, smiling at one another as if sharing a private jest. Hesitant to break the stalemate, as she didn’t know how long it would last and more importantly, what had brought it about, she didn’t show herself immediately. No, she remained unobserved at the threshold to savor the wonder of it—peace and hope—and reacquaint her eyes with the masculine beauty that was Lucas Beaumont.
Tonight she found him more appealing, she didn’t know why nor had she thought it possible. His face hadn’t changed; not his square jaw that was shadowed by midday or his talented lips and tongue that must have been designed to give a woman infinite pleasure. His physique was the same as she’d last seen it. His broad shoulders, narrow hips and muscled arms and thighs elevated his bespoke garments to a work of art.
Dear Lord, it was all she could do not to drag him to her room and ravish him six days to Sunday. What fun they would have and the peaks they would achieve. She could practically feel his hands on her and hers on him.
Catherine shook her head clear of the lurid thoughts that threatened to inflame her already overheated senses and entered the room. She would say nothing about the men’s sudden cordiality. In its infancy, it may be too fragile for any overt comment or speculation. But it was difficult to behave as though nothing had changed.
Immediately Lucas turned to her and pinned her with a heated stare. Her breath got caught somewhere in the vicinity of her chest unable to make it up to her throat. For an unguarded moment, lust burned in his eyes. And then as if realizing they weren’t alone, he schooled his features so that no one could accuse him of lascivious intent if one were to solely base it on the way he watched her.
“Hello, Lucas.” Her face heated knowing the lasciviousness of his intent no matter how well he was able to hide it.
“Catherine,” he replied, his voice rough around the edges.
Good heavens, she’d never blushed so much in her entire life. When Lucas was about, she began acting like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. It was embarrassing. It was exhilarating. She truly needed to stop and pull herself together.
He advanced swiftly toward her and she did the same, gapping the distance between them in seconds. Up close, she caught and inhaled the familiar woodsy scent of his cologne. He took her bare hand in his and lifted it to his mouth for a kiss.
The pleasure of his touch—that mouth, those lips—emanated from her insides. Her skin prickled with heat. All too aware that her brother-in-law silently watched their greeting, she desperately endeavored to stem her physical response for she could not hide it completely.
“You look lovely,” Lucas murmured, lifting his head and lowering her hand. He took his time finally releasing it.
“I—” Catherine cleared her throat and swallowed before attempting to speak again. “As do you—that is I mean you look quite dashing.” What on earth was the matter
with her beyond the simple fact, she wasn’t acting herself?
A slow, wicked smile spread across his countenance. He knew precisely what he did to her.
But it was high time she reverted back to the Catherine she knew and was most comfortable with. She turned to Alex. “Charlotte is not here yet?”
“She’s tending to Nicholas. He couldn’t wait to see Mr. Beaumont and escaped Jillian only three-quarters dressed.”
Catherine tittered.
“But we are here now,” her sister announced from the doorway, her hand clutching her son’s.
An hour later, Jillian came and took Nicholas to bed and the small dinner party repaired to the dining room.
Supper consisted of four courses, which kept them at the table for the next two hours. Catherine wouldn’t say that Lucas and her brother-in-law conversed easily throughout. No both were too guarded for that. But they got on well enough, discussing things like the war in America and the escalating price of steel and precious metals. She wondered at the sudden change in Alex. Later, she would have to ask her sister what she had done to bring it about.
That opportunity came after the dinner dishes had been cleared away. The men went off to the drawing room to partake in a glass of port. Her sister hustled her off to the morning room, closed the door, and then turned to her, a triumphant smile on her face.
“Pray, what did you say to Alex?” Catherine asked, before her sister could say a word.
“I told him that he was to be civil to Lucas.”
It couldn’t have been that easy. “That well went far beyond civility. I daresay his manners bordered on amicable. I don’t believe I saw him scowl once.”
Her sister chuckled and strode over to her. “Very well, it may have been a bit more than that.”
This she wanted to hear.
Looping her arm through Catherine’s, Charlotte crossed the wood floors to the sofa and pulled her down beside her.
“My husband is—was dreadfully resentful of Lucas.”
“That is an understatement,” Catherine said wryly.
Her sister smiled ruefully. “Yes, I suppose it is. You remember what it was like when I returned. Alex was so angry, so bitter. I would have done anything to prove my love for him, which is why I asked Lucas to leave.”
Catherine stilled and stared at her twin. “You asked him to leave where?” she asked, not fully comprehending what her sister meant.
Charlotte’s brows furrowed as she shifted closer to her on the sofa. “It was terribly selfish of me but I was afraid I was going to lose him. Alex. You know our marriage was a farce to begin with but it wouldn’t be anything beyond that unless he was able to forgive me—trust me again. Lucas’s presence was making it all but impossible. Had it simply been my relationship with Lucas at issue, I would not have felt compelled to make such a request of him. But because Nicholas was only just becoming acquainted with Alex and his bond with Lucas was so strong, I could clearly see how much Lucas’s presence was hurting Alex. As I had already denied him the first four years of his son’s life, I couldn’t further subject my husband to that.”
“You did what you had to to save your marriage, which wasn’t selfish at all. I would never ever fault you for that. I hope you know that.” Consuming her and eating Catherine alive was her own guilt. She’d never forgive herself for the large part she’d played in her brother-in-law having lost the first four years of his son’s life. She fully understood Alex’s feelings toward the man who’d—for a time—seemed to take on his role in their lives despite the fact that Lucas and Charlotte had never been lovers.
“But he didn’t want to leave, Katie,” her sister continued. “I put him in a very difficult position. When he expressed a reluctance to leave England at the time, I told him if marriage was his intentions then I wouldn’t ask that of him.”
“But he had no intentions of marrying me so he returned to America,” Catherine said flatly. That had been the end of the story. He’d returned home.
“No—yes—no, that isn’t what I’m saying or why I’m confessing this to you. I made him go even though his reluctance was obvious. Had I asked him a month later, I’m positive he would have refused me—for you. As it was, you were only becoming acquainted. Too soon to commit to something as life altering as marriage, I’m sure. And you can’t fault him for wanting to know for certain, that his feelings were much deeper than physical attraction or lust.”
No, Catherine did not fault him for that. Although, had he asked her back then, she would have said yes a thousand times.
“He must care for you very much.” And that was the rub. Not that he cared for Charlotte but the extent of how much.
“Yes, the same way I care for him. He wants me to be happy. He wanted me to give my marriage a chance to work. That is the only reason he left you. And he’s back because he realized how very much you do mean to him. Enough to return whether I approved of it or not.”
“Is that what you told your husband?” Catherine asked.
Charlotte snorted. “That he already knew. Today, I told him that he should be thanking Lucas for showering his son with so much love and attention when he wasn’t there to do it himself. Nicholas may not have taken to Alex so quickly if not for his experience with Lucas.”
“What did Alex say to that?”
A small smile ghosted her sister’s mouth. “He didn’t say anything for a long time and then he kissed me.”
Catherine could well imagine what happened then.
“We both want the same thing for you and that is a chance at happiness with the only man you’ve ever loved. You do love him, do you not?”
Yes, she did love him. More than she thought possible. Catherine nodded.
“And he loves you. Very much.”
“I believe that he believes he does.”
“He believes it because he does.”
“Lottie, you must understand. I want to be certain. I couldn’t bear to live my life always wondering what would have happened had you not been in love with Alex.”
Sighing, her sister regarded her. “The house party commences on Friday. You will know for certain then.”
Good or bad, she’d have her answer.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An hour later, Catherine and Lucas boarded his leased landau. At her sister and brother-in-law’s indulgence, he assumed the privilege of seeing her home…to her door. Which door was still in question.
The carriage hadn’t gone fifty yards before Lucas rose from his seat and took the one next to her. In addition to two adults, there was enough room on the upholstered bench seat to fit a small child. Lucas made certain no such space existed between them. She sat exquisitely trapped between him and the corner.
“The evening went much better than I anticipated,” he said taking her bare hand in his.
Catherine’s pulse jumped. His woodsy scent invaded her nostrils. When he was near to her like this, her misgivings fled.
Had she been a woman like Lady Ramsey—bold and intrepid—she would run her hand up his thigh, lean over and graze a kiss across his jaw and up to his plump bottom lip. She would be the initiator, the seductress, truly a temptress and not the facsimile of one.
“It was nice to see you and Alex getting on so well.” She tried not to sound as if his proximity didn’t render her slightly breathless, but the task was easier said than done.
He shifted closer and she felt him down her left side.
“No one was more surprised than I at his sudden amiability.” Did his voice sound huskier?
“Alex is a—”
That is as far as Catherine got before Lucas’s mouth was on hers, stealing more breath from her than she could afford, breathless as she was already. Although she’d sensed the kiss would come, had been anticipating it with a focus of a wanton, he’d still managed to surprise her with his dexterity and quickness.
He kissed her like a man who hadn’t seen a drop of water in days and was desperate to quench his thirst. Hi
s tongue plunged in deep and within seconds had her moaning her pleasure into his mouth. Cupping her nape in his hand, he continued the delicious invasion, licking, sucking, nipping. She was selfish and greedy for she simply wanted more. She moaned and pressed into him. When she touched his thigh and her hand began its trek up warm flesh and hard muscle covered by fine wool, Lucas groaned and wrenched himself from her. He straightened and tugged at his necktie. He breathed as if it were the most laborious task known to man.
Bereft could not begin to describe how she felt. To be so cruelly denied the pleasure of his touch, of his mouth and his talented fingers did not go down happily. Trembling, she gave her coiffure a few self-conscious pats before tugging her cloak tightly about her, mindful of how it chafed her nipples that were now achingly erect.
“I promised myself I would kiss you but once on the ride back to your residence,” he said his voice tight and rough with what it had cost him to end the embrace. And while he spoke, he didn’t look at her, instead staring directly ahead. “As I stated before, I do not want our first time to take place in a carriage. You should be afforded an experience much better and far more comfortable than this.”
In that moment, Catherine sorely resented his self-restraint. He had been able to keep his head, while it was clear she had lost hers for she would have permitted it. She would have laid back in a carriage whose width was too short to accommodate either their heights. She would have parted her legs and allowed him to take her amid the muffled cries of pleasure, the canter of horses, and the chirping of crickets.
Catherine grew moist just thinking about it, her imagination a source of pleasure as well as infinite frustration.
“I have given Reeves the day off and the housekeeper takes to her bed by nine on the days my brother and his family are away.” In other words, should he require an interpreter, all the servants would have already retired for the evening when she reached home.
Catherine regarded his shadowed profile trying to discern his reaction. Had his expression changed? Was his heart beating as violently in anticipation as hers?
Twice the Temptation Page 20
