Suddenly the train lurched, propelling Jane out of her seat and across the distance that separated her from Lord Lansbury, sending her crashing into his steely warm chest.
Christopher’s eyes captured Jane’s with some considerable surprise and Jane looked into his face and for a long moment could not look away again, held by something she was unable to name but which her female body instantly recognised. His eyes had narrowed in sudden concentration and he looked faintly surprised at something his body was telling him.
Unprepared for the sheer force of the feelings that swept through her, she knew, with a sort of panic, that she was in grave danger, not from him but from herself, and was aware that she must, absolutely must, pull back. But she was too inexperienced and affected by him to do that. Her eyes became fixed on his finely sculptured mouth as he came closer still and she knew he was going to kiss her.
She was trapped and she knew it. She was mesmerised by him, like a moth to a flame, and she felt her heart suddenly start pounding in a quite unpredictable manner. He was looking into her eyes, holding her spellbound, weaving some magic web around her from which there was no escape.
The darkening of his eyes, the naked passion she saw in their depths, seemed to work a strange spell on her and conquered her, and, without knowing what she was doing, moving within his arms, her entire body began to tremble with desire and fear. There was nothing she could do to still the quiver of anticipation as he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his own.
The shock of his lips on hers was one of wild, indescribable sweetness and sensuality as he claimed a kiss of violent tenderness, evoking feelings she had never felt before as she was half sitting, half lying across his lap. Any notion that she should fight never entered her head. Her eyes fluttered closed and, for a few seconds, time ceased. What he was doing to her was like being imprisoned in a cocoon of dangerous, terrifying sensuality where she had no control over anything. Particularly herself.
His kiss deepened, widening her lips for the slow, exploratory stroke of his tongue in her mouth, and the sensations inside were like tight buds that burst into blossom, filling her with splendour.
In the haze inside her head, the train came closer to its destination, but Jane had wandered away from what had happened to propel her into his arms as her bonnet became dislodged and fell on to the seat. His fingers slipped through the tight strands of her hair, pulling it loose from its confinement and tangling sensuously in among its glorious mass. He gripped her nape as his mouth slanted over hers in hungry demand.
Imprisoned within his embrace and seduced by his mouth and strong, caressing hands, burning wherever they touched, Jane clung to him, her body responding eagerly, melting with the primitive sensations that went soaring through her, her lips beginning to move against his with increasing abandon as she fed his hunger, unwittingly increasing it.
Her hands held on weakly to his broad shoulders and she clung to him as ivy might cling to an oak. The strength in that hard, lean body gave her strength and gave promise of pleasure she had never imagined, promising far more than this first hungry contact between them. His tightening embrace crushed her breasts against his chest.
Often Jane had dreamed of such a kiss, but this, her first, made those insubstantial dreams seem like shadows in this delirium of delight. She gave herself up to the magic of this first romantic kiss, savouring the difference with a sensual awakening as Lord Lansbury’s arms held her captive, her body moulded to his. Warm and moist, his lips tenderly caressed her own, pressing gently, probing, firm, growing more and more insistent, demanding the response she instinctively gave.
But although he held her firmly, Jane experienced a sensation of falling weightlessly to earth like a drifting leaf. Then she seemed to soar into a void of violent pleasure, and the delirium mounted moment by moment until nothing existed but this man, this magic, this miraculous new world of sensation exploding within her.
He went on kissing her for several delicious seconds more before he withdrew his lips and she caught her breath, gasping. Then he buried his lips in the soft curve of her throat and her fingers clutched the cloth of his jacket. She threw her head back, her hair spilling behind her in heavy waves.
After what seemed like an eternity he raised his head. When he released her, dizzy and disorientated, she would have fallen from his lap on to the floor of the compartment if he had not immediately steadied her. She was too innocent and naive not to let her emotions show on her face and for a long moment Christopher’s gaze held hers with penetrating intensity. The clear grey eyes were as enigmatic as they were silently challenging. She had no immediate thoughts. She had only the memory of something immense, of incredible joy, beyond which nothing was comparable.
‘So,’ Christopher said softly, a lazy grin sweeping over his handsome face, ‘I was not wrong about you, Jane Mortimer. You see what you do to me?’ Meeting her gaze, he saw that her eyes were naked and defenceless.
His voice was no more than a breathless caress, but at the sound of it the passionate spell broke and dissolved before the cold inrush of reality. They exchanged a shocked glance as he gripped her arms and sat her on the seat beside him. His eyes had darkened to a stormy dark grey. The smile widened on his lips.
‘Why do you look so worried?’ he asked, reaching for her once more.
Jane’s face flooded with colour and she lowered her head, mortified. For a moment she was thrown into such a panic she could not think coherently. She knew he, too, had felt the sudden excitement of physical contact. Jane had never been kissed in her life and she could not have imagined how pleasurable it could be. His kiss and his embrace had been like being wrapped in a cocoon of dangerous, pleasurable sensuality where she had no control over anything. Not even herself.
‘Please—let me go,’ she implored helplessly. ‘My—my head is in a turmoil... I—I can’t think straight.’
The train had come to a halt. Doors opened noisily and the engine gave a shriek, but Christopher Chalfont, who had just kissed his companion, did not notice as he stared at Jane, reeling with the unexpected bounty of her kiss and too intoxicated by her sweet lips to care. Her unsullied inward beauty fed his soul and those plump, soft lips were every bit as luscious as he’d briefly fantasised.
He raised a finely arched brow and chuckled softly at her distress. ‘It was but a kiss,’ he murmured.
‘To you, maybe, but not to me.’
Jane was shocked by the explosion of passion between them, shocked by what she had done. What had happened surpassed anything she had ever known. She tried desperately to control her raging emotions and match his casual mood. All her adult life she had wondered what it would be like when she was kissed for the first time, but never had she believe it would be like that. Lord Lansbury should never have done so, nor should he be so insufferably composed about it.
‘It—it should not have happened. It should not,’ she stressed.
Taking her hands to still them as they fluttered about arranging her clothes, Christopher looked closely at her face. ‘But it did. It did happen and nothing you can do or say will change that. Accept it.’
‘I will have to,’ she whispered, drawing her hands from his. ‘But it was a mistake all the same.’
He was passing the kiss off as some light occurrence, but Jane began to feel that something momentous had happened and her life from this point on had changed beyond recall. Her face was suddenly pinched and all colour seemed to have faded from her cheeks. Then, without speaking, she hurriedly fastened her hair and snatched her bonnet from the floor, placing it on her head and securing it with the ribbon beneath her chin.
‘The train has stopped,’ she murmured. ‘We should get off.’
Standing up, she picked up her bag and shoved her book inside. Her thoughts wandered as she did her utmost to avoid Lord Lansbury’s questioning gaze, unable to believe what
had just happened. Ever since she had set eyes on him he had haunted her, as did the passions she held for him. She watched him whenever he was close with what she felt to be a most improper and uncomfortable ardour, studying furtively the handsome face, the full curve of his strong mouth, the fierce dip of his dark eyebrows.
And now he had kissed her she felt completely at odds with herself. She could see the irony of it and would have laughed had she not felt so wretchedly ashamed.
She tried not to look at him when he assisted her off the train on to the platform. Walking side by side, they left the station where a row of horse-drawn cabs waited, some wearing nose bags, and there was a smell of straw and the stable.
‘Thank you,’ she said primly, about to climb inside the nearest cab. ‘I can manage perfectly well now. It isn’t far to Aunt Caroline’s house in Kensington.’
‘I know that,’ he uttered brusquely, tossing his bag on to the seat and taking hold of her elbow. ‘But what kind of gentleman would I be if I abandoned you now? We will share the cab. I will see you to your aunt’s house.’
Having no wish to argue the point and eager to reach Kensington, Jane let him hand her inside. As the cab moved on she was still trembling in the aftermath of his kiss, unable to believe what had happened and that she desperately wanted him to repeat the kiss that had stunned her senses with its wild sweetness. Seated across from her, he held her gaze and she looked with longing at his lips.
‘Don’t look at me like that unless you want me to kiss you again, Miss Mortimer,’ he murmured huskily, his eyes darkening with renewed passion.
With her heart beating hard against her ribs, she averted her eyes. ‘I don’t—I mean— Oh, what have I done?’ She forced herself to draw a deep, uneven breath. ‘It was as if something—’ or someone, she thought ‘—had cast a spell on me and made me behave totally out of character, for I would never have behaved in such a bold manner before...’
Christopher saw that her lovely eyes were apprehensive and deceptively innocent. ‘It was not entirely your doing. If you have to blame someone, then blame me. You are too hard on yourself. Calm down,’ he said gently. ‘We will soon be at your aunt’s house. Don’t let her see you like this.’
Her eyes were drawn back to his. ‘Like what?’
‘With your eyes aglow with passion and your lips trembling.’ Unable to resist teasing her, he smiled, leaning forward and touching her cheek.
‘She—she will think I am pleased to see her—which I will be, of course.’
‘If seeing your aunt makes you look like this, then you should come to see her more often.’ His expression became serious. ‘You are not angry with me, are you?’
She shook her head. ‘I am not angry,’ she replied quietly, meeting his penetrating gaze. ‘Only afraid of what might happen as a consequence of this indiscretion.’
Christopher put out a hand, as if to draw her to his side of the cab.
‘No,’ she cried with a hint of anger. ‘Do you enjoy inducing feelings in me that can come to nothing?’ She thrust his hand away as the cab came to a halt outside her aunt’s front door. ‘We have arrived at my aunt’s house. I must go.’
Flinging the door open and stepping down, she walked towards the house without a backward glance, feeling extremely conspicuous after what she had done. No decent, upstanding woman would have done what she had just done, she thought, chastising herself most severely. No, indeed. Any moral, respectable, God-fearing twenty-one-year-old would not have allowed her employer to kiss her like that and, worse, enjoyed the experience. She was horrified and afraid of the feelings unfolding inside her.
* * *
Aunt Caroline was delighted to see Jane so soon after writing to her.
‘You take me by surprise, but it’s so nice to have you back. I’ve missed having you to talk to,’ she enthused as she poured them tea in the drawing room. ‘I imagine Lady Lansbury will miss you—as well as Lady Octavia.’
‘I don’t intend staying away too long,’ Jane said, sitting back in her chair and gratefully sipping the tea her aunt handed to her.
‘Was that Lord Lansbury I saw leaving in the cab?’
‘Yes. We travelled to London together. He’s thinking of selling the London house.’
‘So,’ Aunt Caroline said, shaking her head, ‘it’s finally come to that. His father certainly has a lot to answer for. Ever since he took over the reins Lord Lansbury’s been struggling to keep afloat.’
Despite still feeling quite wretched over what had occurred between them, Jane felt a stirring of admiration for Lord Lansbury. ‘It must have been extremely difficult for him at that time.’
‘It was, but he was determined to succeed, to recoup his father’s losses, pay off the creditors and make Chalfont what it once was.’
‘It’s a beautiful house, there’s no denying that.’
‘And the earl is a terribly attractive man. It’s easy to see what women see in him. There isn’t a woman alive who isn’t impervious to him. Christopher Chalfont is one of the most attractive men on the social scene—when he deigns to favour society with his presence, that is. Wherever he goes women strive to please him, for despite his cynical attitude, there is an aura of virility about him that does dangerous things to their hearts.’
‘And how does Lord Lansbury react to these adoring females?’
‘That’s the trouble. He doesn’t.’ She gave Jane a sideways, questioning look. ‘What is your opinion of him, Jane? After all you must have formed one, living in his house and taking care of his sister.’
‘I—do not know him well, Aunt Caroline, but in my opinion he is much nicer than he appears.’
Aunt Caroline looked at her curiously, noting the delicate flush that had sprung to her cheeks. ‘Why, Jane, what is this? You aren’t by any chance enamoured of Lord Lansbury, surely?’
‘No,’ Jane replied in a rush, averting her eyes. ‘At times he can be quite insufferable, but I have seen some of the qualities you speak of.’
‘I dare say he is no more immune to a pretty face than the next man, but since the family fell upon hard times he has conducted his affairs with absolute discretion. It is rumoured that he is to marry a rich American woman to shore up his finances. Do you know anything about that?’
‘Only that he has decided against it.’
‘Then perhaps things are looking up for him and he doesn’t need a rich American after all.’
* * *
Jane got little sleep that night. Her body was restless. Her thoughts of what had happened on the train became a sharp disturbance and she could not put it out of her mind. She ceased chastising herself for her weakness, for the potency of how it had felt to be held in Lord Lansbury’s arms and almost kissed into oblivion took precedence over any regrets she might have had at the time.
She saw the image of Lord Lansbury. The darkness was full of him. She knew every detail of his powerful presence, the unforgettable moulding of his face, his body, the eyes so full of light, the beautiful mouth curling at the corners caressing hers. He was in the room, haunting her like a wonderful memory she did not want to let go of.
Turning over, she pressed her hot face into the pillow. Closing her eyes with the remembrance of his kiss burning in her mind, she was seized by a nameless, crushing longing for him to kiss her again. Until Lord Lansbury had kissed her she’d had no real inkling of the intensity, the sheer force of passionate love, and now it had touched her she would not deny herself the pleasure of it again if the occasion and the opportunity arose.
* * *
The following morning she dressed with special care in a light brown skirt and dark green jacket. Accompanied by her aunt, she was very calm as she took a cab to Westminster and arrived at the offices of her father’s solicitor, Mr Shadwell, shortly before noon.
They were shown into Mr
Shadwell’s office. Large and solid, he stepped forward to greet them, smiling broadly. ‘Good day to you, Miss Mortimer. I’m pleased you could see your way to coming so soon. Please be seated. There are important matters we have to discuss.’
She allowed him to seat her at the table while her aunt took a seat at the back of the room and looked on. Mr Shadwell sat in a leather-covered chair across the desk.
Jane was so awed by the occasion and what he had to say that she took little notice of her surroundings. When she had received Mr Shadwell’s letter asking her to attend his offices in London now that her father’s affairs had been finalised, she hadn’t known what to expect—though, of course, she didn’t know enough about lawyers and wills to make comparisons.
What she did know was that her father had been a wealthy man when he died. In India the opulence of the Moghul Court and the princely states was legendary, and their dazzling jewels attracted a great deal of attention. Through his work her father had made many influential friends, which had led to substantial gifts. They had meant nothing to him. What could he do with rubies and diamonds and precious sapphires from Kashmir? He wasn’t interested in accumulating wealth for himself. But he was a shrewd and careful man, and to take care of Jane’s future some of the gifts bestowed on him he turned into readily transportable capital. This was his legacy to her, for when the day came when he would not be there to guide her.
A shiver of apprehension ran through her as Mr Shadwell glanced down at the folder in front of him. As briefly as possible he explained the terms of the will.
‘As you know, Miss Mortimer, you are your father’s sole heir, and he has left you a very wealthy woman indeed.’
Lord Lansbury's Christmas Wedding Page 11
