Tempting a Proper Lady

by Debra Mullins

  “Ah, my dear Mrs. Burke.” Sir Harry’s voice held a note of compassion that was echoed in his eyes. Eyes that seemed to strip away her façade of calm and see the roiling emotions beneath. “I believe it is what you don’t say that is the most captivating.”

  She glanced away from that perceptive gaze. “I do not understand your meaning.”

  “Yes, I have been told that quite frequently.” He indicated the terrace doors. “Do you care for a stroll on the terrace?”

  She eyed the doors, bit her lower lip. Samuel was out there with Annabelle. She trusted that he was not yet ready to end their arrangement, but would the nostalgia of being alone with him prove too much temptation for young Annabelle? Curiosity about what might be happening ate at her.

  She could go out there, be the chaperone she was supposed to be, and break up whatever intimacies might be occurring. Annabelle would not think anything of it. And Samuel…well, Samuel on a dark terrace was too tempting. Even in a crowded ballroom. Even with gossips in every corner. Even with Sir Harry beside her and Raventhorpe lurking about somewhere.

  She could pretend that it was duty that motivated her, but she knew the truth. She had turned into a creature that craved a man’s touch as much as she craved air to breathe. And not just any man. Samuel.

  Curse him. She had wanted him to teach her how to choose a husband, and instead he had only taught her to want him. She ached for his kiss, the stroke of his hands on her skin. She burned to feel him inside her again.

  “Mrs. Burke?”

  She took a deep breath. “I would love some fresh air.”

  “I’ve always loved the moonlight,” Annabelle said, slanting a sideways glance at Samuel.

  He could not mistake the invitation in her voice. She looked like a vision, all blond curls and blue eyes and pink silk. Her skin glowed alabaster in the moonlight, her lips half pursed in welcome. A man would have to be deaf and blind to misinterpret her intention.

  She wanted him to kiss her.

  How many times had he imagined a scenario just like this one as he lay alone beneath the stars on that blasted island? In his fantasies, he had always accepted the siren’s call with eagerness, feasting on Annabelle’s pretty mouth and slender body, greedy to possess her. He had indulged himself in imagining how she would look naked in his bed or big with his child. Always before, the tantalizing visualizations had left him hungry, hot, and hard.

  Now here they stood, alone for a few precious moments in the dark. And he didn’t move. Didn’t even want to. Clearly Virgil had not made it clear to Annabelle what Samuel’s intentions were.

  Or maybe she had just decided she was too irresistible for a mere man to resist.

  Confusion flickered across her features, but then she turned to face him, one hand flat on the stone balustrade. A small smile played about her lips. Did she realize how her posture thrust her breasts at him? How her white throat arched just so, begging for his mouth to trace the pulse there?

  He observed all this as if from a distance, unmoved by what would once have been a compelling enticement.

  “Samuel, why did you want to marry me?”

  The question surprised him. “That’s a silly question. You’re sweet and pretty, and you’ll make a great mama some day.”

  She pouted. “Is that how you see me? As somebody’s mama?”

  “Now don’t get all upset. Most fellows want children.”

  “I guess.” She bit her lower lip, glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. Hell, every man alive knew what that look meant.

  “Now, Annabelle…”

  “Oh, Samuel!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Her lips were soft and her skin smelled sweet, and her young body felt pleasant pressed against his.

  Pleasant. Nothing more.

  He broke off the kiss and eased her back a step. “Annabelle, we’re supposed to be getting to know each other again, not sparking.”

  “I thought we were getting to know each other.”

  “Not like that.”

  “Oh, all right.” She sighed and rested her cheek against his chest. “You always made me feel safe, Samuel. That’s why it hurt so much when you left me alone.”

  “I didn’t intend to leave you that long.” He gently eased her back a step.

  “I know that now.” She looked up at him. “I’m not mad at you anymore, you know.”

  “That’s good.” What else could he say? “I think we’d better go back inside before someone comes looking for you.”

  She giggled. “Yes, like Mrs. Burke. She would scold me for being indiscreet.”

  Just the mention of Cilla hit him like a splash of cold water. The secluded privacy of the terrace suddenly struck him as wrong. The intimate darkness closed around him like water over his head. What was he doing out here? How could he not have realized what Annabelle intended when she’d suggested they get some air?

  “Time to go back,” he said, and took Annabelle’s arm to steer her toward the ballroom.

  Cilla and Sir Harry filled the doorway.

  “Good evening,” said Sir Harry. “Breedlove, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Good evening, Sir Harry.” Samuel nodded at the baronet, and then his gaze slid over Cilla. “Mrs. Burke.”

  “Good evening, Captain.” Cilla looked at Annabelle. “I believe your mother was looking for you, Annabelle.”

  “Oh, dear,” Annabelle said.

  “I will escort her back straight away,” Samuel said.

  “Good idea, Captain. Best not to give the gossips any more to chew on,” said Sir Harry. He looked out at the night sky and gave a huge sigh of satisfaction. “Beautiful night, do you not agree, Mrs. Burke?”

  “It is indeed.”

  “Allow me to point out the constellations to you.” Sir Harry led her toward the balustrade.

  Cilla could feel Samuel’s gaze on her as she moved past him, but she did not dare meet his eyes. She did not know what she might do if she saw the slightest invitation there.

  Sir Harry pointed at the sky, then glanced back at Samuel. “If you would not mind, Breedlove…”

  “Not at all. My apologies.” His voice sounded tight and a bit gruff to Cilla. “Come, Annabelle. Your mother is waiting for you.”

  The two moved off; she could hear the rustle of Annabelle’s skirts. Gripping the balustrade with both hands, she lowered her head and let out a long, slow breath.

  “If it is any consolation,” Sir Harry said, “he did not like the idea of you being out here with me.”

  She straightened. “Nonsense. Why would you think such a thing?”

  He merely looked at her with those too-perceptive eyes, his face a study of compassion. “Why, indeed.”

  She raised her chin. “You were about to show me the constellations?”

  “Quite so.” He pointed. “If you follow my finger, you will see the North Star…”

  Samuel escorted Annabelle back toward her mother, but his mind was still out on the terrace with Cilla.

  Cilla and Sir Harry Archer.

  Looking at the stars.

  On a dark terrace…

  He’d “looked at the stars” with a lady a few times in his life, and the heavenly bodies had nothing to do with his motivations for taking the woman outside for a moment of privacy in the dark. Had Cilla begun to look for a new husband already? Was she considering Sir Harry Archer?

  He didn’t like the idea, and his jealousy threw him off balance. First the navy man, now Archer. Hell, his fiancée had been engaged to another man, and he hadn’t even felt a hint of the green-eyed monster, only a determination to set things right. But now? He rubbed a hand over his heart. Now he was surprised his jacket wasn’t in shreds from the monster’s claws.

  “Samuel, are you all right?”

  He’d nearly forgotten about Annabelle, though she held his arm as they navigated the crowded ballroom. “Of course,” he said, forcing a smile as shame cringed inside him.

  “Th
en let’s dance. I do love it when you hold me in your arms.” She flashed her coquette’s smile at him.

  “I thought I was taking you back to your mother?”

  “Come now.” She quickly stroked her fingers along his sleeve, a movement that would incite a firestorm of gossip if anyone noticed it. “Don’t you want to spend more time with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Besides…” She gave a quick jerk of her head. “Richard just came in and he looks like a thunderstorm. I sure hope he hasn’t lost again. Maybe we can avoid a scene if we’re dancing.”

  He frowned. “Annabelle, I can handle Raventhorpe.”

  “I’m sure you can, but he wasn’t pleased that Pa’s letting you escort me around, so I’d rather just avoid him when we are together.”

  “I won’t hide from him.”

  “We’re not hiding. We’re avoiding. Please, Samuel?”

  “Very well.” He led Annabelle onto the dance floor to set her at ease, but dodging the earl did not sit well with him. “I don’t want you to be afraid of him, Annabelle. If he starts trouble, I’ll finish it.”

  “This is no place for a brawl, and I don’t want Richard embarrassed. He’s a very proud man.”

  “And I am not?” The orchestra started up, and he swept her into an energetic polka. “I’m civilized enough not to start a brawl in the ballroom, Annabelle. Certainly you know that.”

  “Now, Samuel, don’t fret.” She gave a soothing pat to the shoulder she clung to as they danced. “I know you’re brave. I just think it’s better to avoid a scene. Surely you can do that for me?” Her smile was all coaxing and sugar. She might as well have yanked on a leash.

  Was this the life he had once strived for? Was this the woman he had imagined as the mother of his children for all those long months on the island? This uninitiated flirt who thought to control a man’s actions with fluttering lashes and a smile? If so, then he’d had a lucky escape the day Annabelle had broken their engagement.

  “How old are you, Annabelle?”

  She laughed. “Now Samuel, you know it’s not polite to ask that.”

  “Humor me. The years have gotten away from me.”

  Her merriment faded to be replaced by compassion. “I’m so sorry. Of course they have. I’m twenty years old, though I’ll be twenty-one in June.”

  “Twenty-one.” Hell, she was just a baby. Had he really considered her for his life’s partner?

  He caught sight of Cilla strolling down the edge of the dance floor with Sir Harry. Her womanly curves never ceased to draw his attention. Cilla and the baronet appeared to be in an animated discussion. Her eyes flashed with intelligence as she laughed, the husky sound getting lost in the volume of the music. Her hand rested on Sir Harry’s sleeve. Now that was a woman suitable for a long-term partnership.

  Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter 19

  Friday dawned bright and cheerful. Cilla glanced at the note in her hand, her heart stumbling over itself as the words sank into her consciousness.

  I will send the coach at noon.

  She folded the paper as if were made of moth’s wings, then tucked it into the tiny wooden box that held her simple jewelry and other treasures. Someday when she was much older, she would find these notes and remember with fondness how she had indulged in one wild love affair.

  She had thought after watching him with Annabelle Wednesday night that Samuel would not want to see her again. But when the young boy had arrived at the kitchen door yesterday afternoon with the missive in his hand, it was all she could do not to snatch up the lad and kiss him soundly. One more day with Samuel brought joy to her heart.

  She loved him. How could she not? Here was a man who sacrificed anything necessary to do what was right. A man who fearlessly pursued the honorable path, even though it might seem an impossible task. No wonder he had survived the trials of his captivity! He had bound himself to Annabelle two years ago and strived from the moment of his release to keep his promise to her. She could respect him for that.

  A knock came at the door. She tied the ribbons of her bonnet, then hurried to open the portal. Annabelle stood outside in the dim hallway. “Oh good,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I was hoping to see you before you left for the day.”

  “Is something wrong?” Cilla tightened her hand around the doorknob. Please, God, let nothing go awry that would keep me home today!

  “Not wrong. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. Might I come in?”

  “Certainly.” Cilla stepped backward, opening the door wider.

  Annabelle darted inside, and stood fidgeting as Cilla shut the door. “Mrs. Burke, I need your advice.”

  “Of course.” A bit alarmed by Annabelle’s nervousness, Cilla indicated the chair of her tiny writing table. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “No, I can’t sit still.”

  “Are you sick? Is something wrong?”

  “No, no.” The girl shook her head.

  “Is there a problem? Was someone cruel to you?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Did you—”

  “I’ve decided to break my engagement to Richard so that Samuel can court me, too,” Annabelle blurted. “That is, let both Samuel and Richard court me so I can decide which one to marry.” She sucked in a breath and bit her lower lip, eyes wide as she awaited Cilla’s response.

  Cilla, on the other hand, had no breath. Surely every whisper of air had left her lungs. Her heart had stopped. The world stood still, then sharply turned over on its axis, tossing Cilla aside like a discarded handkerchief. Annabelle was actually talking about jilting Raventhorpe, but the price would be Samuel stepping to the role of suitor.

  He had already told her that he had no intention of taking his relationship with Annabelle any further than close family friend. But if courting her got him the goal he wanted—keeping Annabelle from Raventhorpe—would he then consider it? And once in the position of contender for her hand, would he then be compelled to follow through with marriage? Would his honor demand it?

  If he agreed to any of it, their arrangement would end. And she wasn’t ready.

  “Mrs. Burke, you haven’t said anything.”

  Cilla inhaled slowly. “Does he know?”

  “Samuel? No. I still need to break my engagement with Richard first before telling Samuel.”

  “You made this decision after one evening in his company?” Cilla asked, her lips dry.

  “He was going to marry me before, so I know my money doesn’t matter to him. And I know him. I’m comfortable with him.”

  Cilla nodded. Words lodged in her throat, unable to wedge past the emotion welling up there.

  “I haven’t told anyone yet,” Annabelle said. “I wanted you to be the first to know.”

  “Thank you.” Was that raspy croak really her voice? She cleared her throat. “Thank you, truly. I am honored to be the first to know.”

  “I’m off to tell Mama and Pa.” Annabelle grabbed Cilla in a huge hug. “Thank you for being such a wonderful friend, Mrs. Burke. I don’t know what I shall do without you when we return to the United States.” She opened the door and rushed out, leaving Cilla stricken and alone.

  John helped her down from the carriage. Samuel came to the doorway of the cottage, shirt untucked and his hair askew as if he’d run his hands through it. When he saw her, a smile swept across his face, and her chest seized.

  Dear God, how could she ever walk away from him?

  He stepped forward as she neared the doorway and pulled her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers in a kiss that fueled her own passion. She clung to him, clenching her hands in his shirt as he gave her what she’d been craving.

  Him. Just him.

  Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced them back. Later she would cry. Later she would curl into a ball and let pain carry her away. But for now—

  Dear God, she needed to tell him. How could she form the words?


  He must have sensed something because he pulled back, slowly as if he couldn’t bear to stop, and looked into her eyes. His brow furrowed. “Priscilla, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

  She opened her mouth to speak and could not, not while she was looking into that face, those eyes. Beloved face, beloved eyes. God help her, but she did not want to let him go.

  “We should go inside,” she managed.

  “Of course.” Samuel gave a salute to John, who returned the gesture and snapped the reins over the horses. Samuel curled his arm around her shoulders and led her into the house.

  Once inside, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She stared around her, at the tiny cottage and the memories that lingered there. She wanted to moan like a grieving widow, to beat her breast. She could not do this. She wasn’t strong enough.

  “Cilla, my darling.” He took her by the shoulders and peered into her face, his own a study of concern and confusion. “What is it? Tell me.”

  Tell him. Yes, she needed to tell him. She sucked in a deep breath. “I have news, Captain.”

  “Captain?” He reared back a bit, as if uncertain. “Something has happened. What is it?”

  “Good news.” She forced a smile to her lips, hating its falsity, trying to project a cheerfulness she would never feel. “Annabelle told me this morning she wants you to court her. She is going to break off the engagement to Lord Raventhorpe completely and allow both of you to compete for her hand.”

  “Both of us?” he repeated, his voice flat. Shock, perhaps?

  “You should be happy. We are closer to our goal.”

  “Indeed.” He frowned and looked down at the floor, hands on his hips. “Certainly this is a time to celebrate.” Her insincere smile was going to crack her face if it got any wider. “Maybe some of that wine you are always offering me.”

  He jerked his head up, his eyes intense in his face. “Are you pleased about this?”

  “I am happy for you. I am not pleased about losing my position now that the wedding may not happen.”

  “Hang your position! Aren’t you the least bit upset about us? That our arrangement might have to end, even for a little while?”