by Amelia Grey
Light-headed? Unsure of herself? Off balance and breathless?
Had his kisses made her feel that way?
No, Adam thought. He didn’t want to think about that possibility, and he certainly didn’t want to think about the way her touch and her kisses made him feel, either. That was heading into dangerous territory he didn’t want to venture into.
“What’s wrong?” Lady Leola exclaimed as she came rushing into the room, belting her flowing brown velvet robe tightly about her waist. A long, thin length of braided gray hair hung past her shoulders. Her concerned gaze darted from Adam to her brothers, then back to Miss Wright.
“Oh, Auntie, I wish they hadn’t called for you to come down. It wasn’t necessary. I am fine.”
“But what’s happened?” She knelt in front of her niece and beside Lord Willard and took both of Miss Wright’s hands in hers.
Adam was a little amazed that Miss Wright’s uncles and aunt were so concerned about her fall. Most guardians would have been more concerned that she was in his arms. Adam found that odd.
“I was outside exactly where you left me and I fell. Lord Greyhawke saw me, picked me up, and brought me inside.”
Miss Wright certainly had a way with words. Everything she said was true. It just wasn’t the whole truth. Somehow she had managed to give only the bare bones of what had happened between the two of them without sharing the wealth of passions and feelings that had passed between them.
Lady Leola looked up at Adam with questioning eyes before returning her attention back to Miss Wright. “You fell outside? You poor dear. Where is your cane?”
Adam wondered how Miss Katherine Wright became as strong as she was considering how her aunt and uncles coddled her. It was clear to him she hadn’t been harmed by the fall.
“I must have dropped it.” She looked around her and then up at Adam. “I don’t see it anywhere, so I guess it’s still outside.”
“I’ll get it, Lady Leola,” Adam said, “while you see if she’s injured.” He glanced at Miss Wright. She glanced at him, and suddenly he had the feeling a bond had been forged between them that he was going to have a devil of a time trying to shake. He then turned and headed for the front of the house.
Adam stepped outside and inhaled the cold air into his lungs. His first thought was that he shouldn’t have kissed her. His second was that he shouldn’t have kissed her so deeply, so hungrily. And his third thought was why were her uncles more worried about the fall than the possibility that she’d been ravished by a man some called the beast?
It was inevitable he would kiss Miss Wright when he walked out the door and saw her standing on the lawn in front of him. He knew it right then. It was as if she were a gift wrapped with a soft, satin ribbon and ready for him to open and uncover the secrets of the kiss he was anxious to give and she was ready to receive.
If it had been the first time they’d met that evening, or maybe even the second, then perhaps he could have been strong enough to deny himself the pleasure of kissing her in the moonlight. But it was impossible when it was their third meeting, they were alone, and he’d wanted so desperately to do it. Fate had smiled upon him and granted him such an easy opportunity that he couldn’t ignore it.
He walked over to where Miss Wright’s cane was lying and picked it up. He looked it over. There were no intricate markings, paintings, or mother-of-pearl inlays on the shaft. No fancy silver or ivory handle at the top and no brass or waxed tip on the bottom. Nothing to make it stand out or say it belonged to the niece of a wealthy duke. It was a simple wooden cane with a well-worn handle.
She was probably right, though, Adam thought. He really should have kissed her softly the first time, as she’d expected. It was her first kiss, after all. But she’d already bewitched him with her clever wit and wistful expressions. He already knew he wanted to kiss her tempting lips before his hand grazed hers under the dinner plate and surprised them both. Once he knew he was going to kiss her, consequences didn’t seem to matter. And the instant his lips claimed hers, he hadn’t wanted to control his hunger for her. It had been too long since he’d savored such sweetness.
While he held her so close, it had taken every ounce of his power to keep from molding her incredibly soft body against the demanding hardness beneath his trousers. He truly hadn’t expected desire to flame so quickly between them.
But now that he’d had his taste of her, he must stay away from her. For his good as well as hers. Miss Katherine Wright was the first lady he’d actually wanted to kiss since long before Annie’s death. That made her a danger to his newly garnered yet tenuous peace of mind.
It didn’t seem fair that he’d desired her the moment he saw her. Miss Wright wasn’t a young lady he could trifle with. She had hurts that very possibly ran as deep as his. The thought of that tightened his chest. He couldn’t let her think that he might be available to ask the duke for her hand. That life was closed for him forever. He couldn’t put another woman through the pain that Annie had gone through.
And had he really offered to teach her to dance? Why in hell’s name had he said that? He knew. She’d looked wounded. He knew what it felt like to be wounded, and he wanted to help heal her. But why would he think he could do that when he was riddled with scars that wouldn’t heal?
Perhaps he should just lay all the blame for the ending to the evening on Bray and Harrison. He probably never would have approached Miss Wright tonight if they had not just told him both their wives were in the family way.
Both?
At the same time?
To have favored him in his youth, fate certainly had a cruel hand when dealing with Adam now.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them; he was. But he didn’t plan to be in London when their time was due. He had punished himself for Annie’s death for two years. There was no need to continue.
Adam looked up at the bright night sky and remembered how beautiful Miss Wright was in the moonlight. He’d have to be satisfied with the fact that he was the first one to kiss her, the first to create desire in her for the touch of a man. And as for his own lusty desires, perhaps it was time he started looking for a mistress.
“Lord Greyhawke.”
Swinging around, Adam saw Lord Willard standing in the open doorway. Shadowed by the glow of the harsh lamplight, for a moment his slim, erect figure seemed menacing. But then, that feeling might have washed over Adam because he had a guilty conscience. He didn’t regret having kissed the duke’s niece. How could he feel remorse for something that had given him the most pleasurable feeling he’d had in years? He did regret she’d been caught in his arms. He didn’t want to bring any shame or blemish to her reputation.
“Did you find the cane?” Lord Willard asked.
Adam glanced down at the walking stick in his hand. “Yes,” he answered, and strode up the steps.
“Thank you for coming to Katherine’s rescue for us, Lord Greyhawke. The crisis is over. We’ll see to Katherine from here.” Lord Willard held out his hand.
Adam’s gaze studied the older man’s eyes as he talked. He didn’t see any anger, wariness, or even suspicion that what Katherine said might not be true. That surprised him.
He nodded once and gave Miss Wright’s uncle the cane. “Is she going to be all right?”
He put his hand to his ear and said, “What?”
“Is she going to be all right?” Adam said more loudly, overpronouncing his words for Lord Willard.
“We believe so but will know more in the morning.”
“Would you like me to come back inside and carry her to her room for you?”
Lord Willard’s shoulders flew back and he puffed out his chest. “That won’t be necessary, my lord. Good night.”
With that, Lord Willard closed the door, leaving Adam to turn on his heels and start toward his carriage. He stopped at the gate and picked up the hat he’d thrown down earlier. He replayed in his mind how quickly Miss Wright had fallen when he’d stood her on her feet. It
was as if her legs had given way beneath her.
But why?
What was wrong with Miss Wright?
“No,” he whispered firmly to himself, and settled his hat on his head.
It was none of his business what was wrong with her. In fact, the less he knew about her, the less he saw of her, the better off he was going to be. And she didn’t want him to know more about her anyway. It was best he stay away from her.
Adam opened the gate and strode across the street toward his carriage. A part of him knew that would be hard. But another part of him knew that all he had to do was think of Annie and how she’d suffered because of him. That would give him all the strength he needed to deny his interest in Miss Wright.
He might not like it, but there was no use in making a bed he would never sleep in.
Chapter 12
Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak.
—As You Like It, act 3, scene 2
A noise disturbed Katherine’s slumber. Her lids fluttered open. A slice of bright light roused her further. She rolled over and saw her aunt Leola drawing open the blue velvet draperies, a duty usually reserved for Katherine’s maid. Beautiful early spring sunshine flooded the room as her aunt tied the panels back with matching fringed sashes.
Katherine stretched and yawned before sitting up in bed and stuffing pillows behind her back for support as she did so. She supposed there were worse things than having a hip that constantly ached and a knee that wouldn’t bend correctly. Such as the embarrassment of falling down on her rump in front of Lord Greyhawke. However, she got over that easily enough when the earl had lifted her into his strong arms. She had a fairly good notion that was the reason Auntie Lee was the one waking her rather than her maid.
“Good morning, Auntie.”
“Oh, I do like the sound of the uplifting phrase good morning,” Auntie Lee said, turning to greet Katherine with a cheerful voice. “I hope it is a good one for you. How’s my favorite niece feeling today? Are you sore or in any pain?”
“Not at all,” Katherine said confidently, and started weaving her long auburn hair into a hastily made braid. “I feel wonderful today. And how about you?”
“Lovely as can be.” Her aunt picked up a serving tray from the dressing table and placed it across Katherine’s lap.
Katherine looked down at the dainty teacup filled with chocolate, a slice of toast, and a serving of preserved apricots. “You haven’t brought me breakfast in bed for several years now, Auntie. I’m quite suspicious of this act of kindness.”
“No need to be,” she answered, leaning a hip against the bed. “I haven’t done it recently because I haven’t needed to. You haven’t fallen down in a long time.”
“It’s been years.” Katherine smiled and shook her head. “I thought we’d settled some time ago that I was way too old to be coddled any longer.”
“Don’t be preposterous. You are, and I’m doing no such thing. I’m being nice and inquiring about how you feel because I’m concerned. I don’t want you coming belowstairs until I know your leg is all right and not going to buckle beneath you.”
“Then rest assured it is in tip-top shape and so am I, Auntie. I told you last night I didn’t harm myself.”
“But you haven’t put any weight on it yet, dearie. You don’t know if it’s hurting anywhere.”
“I do. I don’t have a twinge,” Katherine insisted.
“Hmm.” Auntie Lee picked up a spoon from the tray and started spreading a generous amount of the preserves on top of Katherine’s toast. “But you did fall,” she said without looking at Katherine. “I mean, that is why you were in the earl’s arms, isn’t it?”
Katherine studied her aunt’s unreadable face. So now they were getting to the heart of the reason her aunt was in her room, treating her as if she were nine years old and had broken her leg again. And it was as Katherine had suspected—the earl.
In a way, she could understand her aunt’s keen interest. A young lady’s reputation was about the only thing she had that truly belonged to her. And it was her aunt’s duty to protect that valuable asset until Katherine was safely wed.
“Yes,” Katherine said with a clear conscience in spite of the passionate kisses she had shared with the earl. And it was the truth. Just not all of it and maybe not in the correct order of things that happened. “And Lord Greyhawke picked me up. My story is not going to change.”
“I didn’t expect it would—but I wanted to be sure.” She handed the toast to Katherine, who promptly laid it on her plate. “Did you know that Lord Greyhawke hadn’t left the house when you asked to stay outside and—look at the moon?”
“No.”
“But you had reason to believe he hadn’t.”
Hearing no real censure in her aunt’s voice, Katherine picked up her chocolate and took a sip. “I had no idea who or if any gentlemen had left the house. You know I was in the drawing room with you until we walked outside.”
“I do know.” She took her time and unfolded Katherine’s napkin and gave it to her. “So you say it’s mere coincidence that Lord Greyhawke, who sat beside you at dinner and captured your fancy when all others have failed, just happened to be the first gentleman out the front door after you fell.”
Katherine stared into her aunt’s eyes, which looked so much like her own. Her aunt didn’t seem to be chiding her, or even questioning her, but Katherine couldn’t be sure. Lady Leola was much too clever to reveal what she was actually thinking. Her facial features remained stoic, not expressing condemnation, acceptance, or even disbelief.
Still, Katherine suddenly had a feeling her aunt knew the earl had kissed her. Kissed her long, deeply, and passionately. But there was no way her aunt could, unless she’d been watching out a window.
Katherine couldn’t see her very proper aunt doing such a thing.
“You aren’t insinuating the earl and I arranged an assignation, are you, Auntie? I can assure you we didn’t.”
“I’m not implying anything, my dear,” she countered pleasantly, relaxing more fully against the bed. “I’m simply asking. And you do know, of course, if you are interested in the earl, you don’t have to meet him in secret. The duke will be more than happy to make a match with him for you. I’ll go so far as to say he would love to.”
For some reason that suggestion made Katherine’s pulse race, but she quickly insisted, “Auntie, I didn’t meet him in secret. I have no plans to meet him—”
A knock sounded, and Katherine looked over to see her two uncles standing in the doorway, looking like two splendidly dressed sentinels. Both men carried themselves with all the power and privilege that had been theirs by birth.
“May we come in?” Uncle Quillsbury asked.
“Of course,” Katherine said, feeling once again as if she were returning to the days of her youth, when her aunt and uncles stopped by her room each morning to check on how she was feeling before they began their day. “And before you ask, I am wonderful and was in no way harmed by the incident last night.”
“That’s good, my dear,” Uncle Willard said.
“Still,” Uncle Quillsbury added, stopping at the foot of her bed, “it might be good for you to stay right where you are for a day or two and rest. Don’t you think so, Lady Leola?”
“Whatever you suggest, Your Grace.”
“No,” Katherine said, more loudly than she’d intended the word to come out, so she added a smile. She couldn’t allow her aunt and uncles to rekindle their hovering over her every step as they had for so many years. “I will not be made an invalid again, Uncles,” she continued, speaking loudly enough for Uncle Willard to hear every word. “I will rise and don my clothing and accomplish my morning duties as soon as all of you have left my room. I will keep my appointment with Viscount Rudyard and go for a ride in the park with him this afternoon as we planned.”
“Does this insistence on carrying out your plans today with Lord Rudyard mean a gentleman has finally caused you to take s
econd notice of him?” Uncle Quillsbury asked.
Yes, one had, but it wasn’t the viscount; it was Lord Greyhawke. But Lord Rudyard was on her list of possible husbands, and right now, the earl was not.
Katherine smiled at her uncle. “It means there is nothing wrong with me and no reason I shouldn’t go and enjoy myself.”
Uncle Quillsbury looked over at his sister. She shrugged lightly and said, “If she says she is feeling wonderful, we will have to accept that and let her do as she pleases.”
“You must not fret over a little tumble, Uncle. I am not as delicate as I used to be when I first came to your household.”
The duke looked down at her with serious brown eyes and clasped his hands together behind his back. He leaned toward her and said, “I will not fret at all once I have you safely wed and under the responsibility of a husband. Is that likely to happen soon?”
“The Season has just started, but I promised to be more diligent in my efforts to settle on a husband by the end of it, and I will.”
“Good. Time is running out. This is your fourth Season, my dear,” he added pointedly.
Katherine bristled slightly but hoped it didn’t show. It was never her intention to argue or correct her uncle, because he’d always been so good to her. Still, she couldn’t let the wrong information stand, so she said apologetically, “It’s only my third, Uncle.”
“First, third, fifth,” he said, and straightened. “Doesn’t matter when you pass the first Season without a match. After that you start your journey to becoming a weed on the shelf. You have rejected a duke, a viscount, four barons, and two wealthy counts from Italy while swearing to me you must have love. I won’t mention the gentlemen who weren’t titled who asked for your hand, or the ones who were too old or too light in their pockets for me to even contemplate a match for you. And that doesn’t take into consideration the ones that approached you directly that I never heard about because you were so disinterested you never even told me about them. I am sure there are plenty of those, too.”
