“I’m sorry, Aunt Elizabeth.” Why couldn’t she understand? “I’m not ready.” They’d had this discussion many times before, and Kat wasn’t so sure her aunt was as upset as she appeared. “I want to experience the world. I want to be free to travel as my brother has.”
“A lady does not have the same freedom as a man. You have become such a lovely young woman. Yet you turn down every suitor who asks for your hand. Including Lord Whetherford.”
Why did she have to mention him?
Kat went to her aunt. Kneeling down, she placed her hands on the arm of the cushioned chair.
A soft, gentle, loving look flared in her aunt’s eyes. “You need a life of your own, dear. A home, children . . .”
More emotions filled her gaze. Love, yearning, longing for Kat’s happiness. Sadness for the loss of Kat’s mother and how proud she would be of the young woman Kat had grown to be. Sighing, she covered Elizabeth’s hands with her own.
“I haven’t met anyone who I am attracted to, let alone someone I might want to be with for the rest of my life.”
Liar.
The Earl of Whetherford.
The audacity of the man to take charge expecting her to follow him like a lost lamb. Well, she was no ewe, but he was surely the wolf. Kat changed the direction of her thoughts. “I know you think at three and twenty I should be married with a brood of children. Everyone thinks I’m past a marriageable age. I guess you think I should have held Lord Whetherford’s proposal.”
Elizabeth’s face took on an inquiring look, as though she waited for Kat to suddenly admit her feelings. “You did seem eager to accept his proffer to beg off.”
Several contradicting emotions assaulted Kat at once.
“Come sit, my child.” Aunt Liz patted the cushion beside her.
Kat climbed up from her squatting position to sit beside her aunt. Warmth enveloped her as Aunt Liz’s slim fingers grasped her own.
“Katherine dear, it would make your uncle and me very happy to see you wed. Albert has agreed he will not force you to marry someone not of your choosing. And he saved you from a forced marriage to the Earl. I must admit we were rather excited when your handsome Lord Whetherford brought you home and said he was your betrothed.”
“He is not my handsome Lord Whetherford.”
Elizabeth arched her brow in mock surprise. “You don’t think he’s handsome, dear?”
“You know what I mean.”
A sparkle came to her aunt’s eyes. “Of course. Even in my day, I would have swooned for such a specimen of a man to show interest in me.” She patted Kat’s hand. “Don’t tell your uncle, dear.”
Kat chuckled. “Why you wily, shrewd . . .” at her aunt’s vaulted brow, she quickly altered her words, “uh, clever, sweet, dear woman.”
“Thank you. Now. I believe you’re waiting for something that sets one man apart from all the others.”
A face made of granite, until it softened when his gaze raked down her body. Blue-black strands beckoning a woman’s fingers to caress their silken length. Full lips, slightly parted, that made her mouth go dry.
Dark. Powerful.
He is the most mysterious man I have ever seen.
When she noticed her aunt’s sharp look, she swallowed hard, glad she could not read her thoughts.
“Albert and I have been married for thirty years and I feel blessed to have every single one. With the right man, you can have that too.”
“Do you really think I’ll find a special someone?” Had she already? Whetherford offered for her hand. But, he’d been put in a position where his nobility and honor dictated his actions. No sentiment had been involved. He had not been looking for Kat when he found her. What a crazy idea, thinking Lord Whetherford may possibly care for her, especially after she snubbed his offer of marriage.
What was this other woman to him? He said she stole from him, but what kind of relationship did they have before she fled? Surely he had feelings for her if he’d been so consumed with finding her. Had she been his lover? Why did the thought bring a pressure unknown to her chest? Kat shook her head.
“Of course, dear.” Elizabeth cupped Kat’s face with gentle hands. “Darling, I just want you to be happy.”
“Aunt Liz, I am happy,” she hastened to reassure her. After a crushing hug, she whispered, “I love you so much.”
With unshed tears in her voice, Aunt Elizabeth replied, “I love you too, my dear. Albert and I are so glad you came to live with us.”
“So am I, Aunt Liz. So am I.”
“Now, go dry your eyes, dear. And take a nap. You don’t want to appear at the ball tonight with puffy eyes and a red nose.”
Morgan handed his hat and overcoat to the doorman. He couldn’t believe he’d hied off to London in search of Katherine. One minute he avowed to banish her from his mind and the next he possessed the fanatical urge to see her. As he entered the crowded ballroom, dancers floated past in a twirling blur of motion. He looked for a way around the mass of chattering young maids—some corner where he might view the entire room without having to converse with fluttering feather-headed girls and husband-hunting mamas.
Before he reached a place of refuge, Lady Farsdown bore down on him. He allowed himself a final glance for Katherine then he greeted the hostess of this fine gathering.
“Lord Whetherford. How dapper you look.” He wore a new suit of clothes his tailor had advised was the latest gentlemen’s fashion.
“Good evening, Lady Farsdown.” He gave a formal half-bow.
“You do your parents proud. Please accept my sincere empathy.”
He hated balls and he hated pity. But being the new earl, he had to appear in public. And he knew he’d have to deal with commiserations as well. “Thank you. Such a lovely affair.”
Her smile equaled the illuminations reflecting from the chandeliers. “I’m so glad you were able to attend. You’ve been gone a long time. It is good to know Whetherford Manor has an earl again.”
“Hello, Whetherford,” A clear-cut voice came from behind.
Aha. If he’s here, she is here.
Straightening, Morgan swiveled toward the masculine voice.
“Good to see you, my boy,” Thornton said.
“Lord Thornton.” Turning his gaze, he bent from the waist. “Lady Thornton.”
“Back in London so soon?” Thornton asked.
“I have business demanding my attention.” He did not add their niece was the demanding business that brought him back so speedily. The lovely redhead played havoc with his mind. He couldn’t get any work done for thinking about her day after day. What was wrong with him? She was just a woman. His damned guilt must have him pining after her.
Pining? Surely not! Katherine had charmed him. With those mesmerizing green eyes.
“Lord Whetherford, we’re delighted to see you,” Katherine’s aunt presented her hand.
He smiled at the elder woman. “May I say you are quite fetching, madam.” Pink flooded her cheeks. He said to her husband, “I see you also have returned to London.”
“My wife and Katherine desired to finish the season.”
Morgan mentally groaned at the mention of desire. Once again, his gaze searched the ballroom, and found her. His throat went dry. His chest tightened. His lungs constricted. Yet he indulged himself, admiring her from afar. As expected, a collection of followers surrounded Katherine. Laughter echoed from those standing in her circle. He marveled at her regal beauty as one gent took her hand and led her to the dance floor.
Morgan’s gut clenched while one after another claimed the woman who had become his obsession.
An impeccably dressed swain swirled her about right in front of him—the damned man amazingly light on his feet. He’d swear a cloud of her fresh fountain scent lingered
behind, wafting to his nose, teasing his senses. Her partner had access to the ripe curves that lay hidden beneath the gown clinging from her shoulders to the floor. A sudden jolt of envy robbed him of his breath. Morgan weaved his way through the throng of dancers.
Katherine’s heart gave a leap in rhythm, which caused her to miss a step. What in the world is he doing here? His strapping form stood taller, above the dancing couples—his breathtaking masculinity unmatched by any other man in the ballroom. Sweet Lord. How her eyes had craved the sight of him. Before, he’d looked dark and rugged in his handsomeness. Tonight he appeared more dashing in his fitted trousers of charcoal gray and a waistcoat of silver brocade with white cravat and black coat for the occasion.
With great strength, she tore her gaze away.
Her mind reeled. For three long weeks she’d fought her attraction to Lord Whetherford. Through hours of darkness, she’d been tormented by his handsome image. After his and her uncle’s meeting, he couldn’t take himself away fast enough. Without a backward glance, not even a word of goodbye. She loathed the man, she really did.
He hadn’t seen her yet. She accepted another dance partner and intended keeping her focus on the steps. But her eyes strayed to him again, and again. Another dance ended and Kat gave a heart-felt sigh. The best way to keep her partner from stepping on her toes would be to send him for a glass of punch. Then she could dash over to Aunt Liz—like a lady, of course.
“Good evening.”
Katherine stiffened. Drat. Just the sound of his vibrating tone had her insides churning. Heat flooded her face. Great. Right when she thought she’d finally managed to strike him from her mind.
Who was she kidding?
Her dance partner seemed none too happy. “Hello, Whetherford. Didn’t know you were in London.”
“Gainsford.” Lord Whetherford nodded to the man standing beside her.
Gainsford tilted his head toward her. “May I introduce . . .”
“I already know Lord Whetherford.” Kat gritted through tight lips. Her gaze shifted and lingered for a lengthy moment. Black waves curled around his face with an unruly lock fallen forward over his brow. Eyes dark as midnight heating her body to her very soul. Remarkably wide shoulders—a virile physique that did dreamy things in her fantasies—roused within her a yearning. Kat took a deep breath, hating her giddy reaction.
Gainsford did not hide his surprise as he looked from one to the other. “Ahem.”
Kat resisted chewing her lip between her teeth.
“Hello again, Miss Radbourn. May I have this dance?” Whetherford kept his voice light, but his eyes threatened the man standing beside her.
Nonsense. Just because she’d dreamed of him didn’t mean he’d given her the least bit of thought.
Gainsford touched two fingers to his brow in a casual salute, and took his leave. Whetherford’s eyes followed only a moment before he offered her his arm. Kat placed her hand on the curve of his elbow and he led her to the floor filled with twirling dance couples.
She placed her fingers lightly on Morgan’s shoulder. “You scared my partner away.”
Drawing her closer, his arm locked about her waist. A soapy scent of pure masculinity assailed her nostrils. Her head spun—and not because he swept her around the floor in a circle. Ever since she saw him standing at the end of the ballroom, her breathing had seemed labored. Now that she was in his arms, she was increasingly more aware of him.
From beneath her lashes, Kat weathered him a glance. The man was maddeningly attractive. She struggled to keep from smoothing the unrestrained curl from his brow. A warm blush swept from her breasts to heat her face. She dropped her head before he noticed the yearning in her eyes.
“May I say you look exceptionally lovely this evening.” His voice sent pangs of anticipation along her senses.
She glanced at him and wished she hadn’t. Black eyes seared her. An eruption of heat exploded at her core. She managed to say, “Thank you.”
She wrestled with her sanity, mentally knocking some sense back into her head. He seemed too perfect. Not considering the fact his men had kidnapped her, and his dominating arrogance telling her—not asking—they would be married.
As the music ended, Whetherford guided her toward the open French doors. Kat considered her options. If she went with him, others would see. She’d already been in one compromising situation—even if she had been saved by her uncle. It wasn’t that Whetherford would be a bad choice for a husband—she had not been allowed to choose. He forced the decision upon her. The idea of marriage to the lord had not been so appealing when he persevered simply to save her reputation.
Before she thought further, she found herself on the patio with a gentle breeze caressing her face. A three quarter moon shown above—a moon for sweethearts. Capturing her hand within his, he led her down a set of stone steps. Curiosity made her follow. Sluices of light flickered from lit torches along the path. Couples strolled in every direction. Quite a few with their heads together, giggles floating in the air mixed with hushed whispers.
Kat inclined her nose upward. “Lord Whetherford. Do you not worry you may find yourself forced to offer for me, yet again?”
She felt more than heard his sudden indrawn breath. He stopped, causing her to stop as well. “I was not forced.”
“How can you say that? Of course you were.”
“Miss Radbourn. I have never been forced to do anything in my life.”
Kat swallowed. Then why had he offered his protection. Could it be he might actually care? Impossible. “You did not know me. You’d never met me before that night. You had no interest in me whatsoever.”
His gaze intensified, and he stepped even closer. “No interest?”
If she thought her breathing strained before, it was nothing compared to the desperate need for air now. The way his eyes swept over her left Kat feeling as if she’d just been stripped of her gown. His gaze lingered on her breasts, arousing a burning within her bosom.
She opened her mouth to speak, her voice less than steady. “What . . . what would a man of your station possibly want with me?”
Whetherford’s head lowered ever so slowly—closer, closer. Her lips parted. Her vision blurred. Suddenly, his lips pressed against hers. She stilled—more from curiosity than from shock. Warmth flooded her entire being. She leaned into his embrace. His arms enveloped her and he slanted his face across hers. Pressure, moistness swept across her mouth. His tongue.
Fire leaped in her belly.
His groan jerked her back to reality.
Good Lord. She’d lost her wits. Kat pushed out of his arms. “Lord Whetherford. You forget yourself.”
He sighed and stepped away, then beamed a smile of satisfaction.
She wanted to slap his face. She stomped her foot instead. “How dare you.”
The smile immediately left his face. “You seemed to enjoy it well enough.”
“My curiosity got the better of me. I did not like it at all.”
“The devil you say.” He grabbed her again. This time he kissed her with a violence that shrieked—This is passion!
Kat lost all thought. She went limp in his arms, and an instant later she was kissing him back. His tongue teased her lips open. She gasped in pleasure at the fierce stroking as it laved and danced around in her mouth. Heat flowed through her body—so hot, her bones melted. Her lungs near to bursting, he finally ended the kiss.
It took a moment for her senses to return. Embarrassed and furious she’d lost control, she struck out at him. The slap cracked—sounding like thunder to her ears. The shock on his face matched her astonishment that she’d actually hit him.
Whetherford’s jaw twitched. His eyes flared. His hands fisted, opened, and then fisted again. The icy glitter in his glare set her back on her heels. Fearing she’
d gone too far, she grabbed the hem of her gown and fled.
Chapter 12
Morgan slammed the front door of his London townhouse so hard the walls shook. He charged through the entryway and sprinted up the steps, two at a time.
“What the devil!” A voice roared from below.
He halted in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, he stared below. A tall form appeared from the drawing room.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Morgan bellowed.
Wesley shoved his hair out of his face. He’d clearly been roused from slumber. “I didn’t anticipate a warm welcome, but I didn’t expect to be thrown out either.”
Altering his course, Morgan descended the stairs at a much slower pace, his dark mood evident in every footstep. He wondered if his face showed evidence of his temperament as well. This evening was just getting better and better. He strode past Wesley without another word.
Wesley gave a bark of laughter. “She must have turned you down.”
Morgan swung around on sharpened reflexes. “What?”
Wesley quickly held up his hands. “Hold on. I figured some light-skirt turned you down. There’s a first time for everyone. Including you.”
“Devil take you.” Turning on his heel, Morgan advanced to the side table. Bending, he opened the cabinet door and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.
“Planning on sharing that?” Wesley had the uncanny habit of presenting good humor, which this evening irritated Morgan beyond all reasoning.
“Sit down. If you need to open your mouth, do it only to absorb liquid.”
The Right One (One and Only Series) Page 10
