Branson lunged toward her and extracted a copy of the newspaper from an inner pocket of his jacket. He shook it in a hard fist. “The Gazette brings me here.”
Caroline sighed. “Is that why you have come? To speak ill of Duffington?”
“The man is brash in the extreme to offer you marriage after only two days’ acquaintance. Why, I have admired you for far longer.”
Caroline inclined her head. Branson was correct. He had known her for all of four days.
Branson clasped Caroline’s hand and fell onto one knee, bringing to mind a wounded soldier trying valiantly to prove his worth. He pressed a fervent kiss to the top of her hand. “Caroline. My heart is wounded by the turn of events. I had wanted to offer for you, but my friends argued it would be prudent to wait a week.”
“A week?” Caroline echoed, incredulous.
“But he who hesitates is . . . well . . . suffice it to say I cannot wait anymore. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Caroline felt as though the blood drained from her head. Indeed, she felt as if all the blood drained from her body. This could not be happening again. She extracted her hand from the sandy-haired young man’s strong grip. “It is very kind of you, Mr. Branson. Truly. But . . .” Her mind searched for some deterrent. “Don’t you have another year at university?”
He rose unsteadily. “We could have a long betrothal.”
Caroline sighed, trying to pick through an appropriate response. A long betrothal would not solve her family’s financial problems, and the thought of marrying this boy-man made her feel about as hopeful as a long march to the gallows. Honestly, between Branson and Duffington, she wasn’t sure of the worse choice.
Dermott stepped forward then. She had almost forgotten his presence, so quiet had he been through the awkward exchange. “Mr. Branson was a bit eager in his offer, I think. Might I inquire first whether you have accepted Mr. Duffington’s offer?”
Caroline shook her head, blinking under the somewhat mesmerizing spell of Mr. Dermott’s rumbling voice. He had a way of asking a question that suggested he already knew the answer, and used his voice only to hypnotize his prey. She recalled now that he had spoken in just such a way in the moments before he had kissed her on the Chain Pier.
She flushed at the unfortunate memory. “I have not formed a decision yet.”
Dermott smiled up at her, and she was reminded that she had, for a time, thought the man quite handsome. Their first physical interaction had ended disastrously, but their dance last night had gone better. A quivering hope sprang free. She could not deny that Mr. Dermott, at least, made her blood hum in some degree of awareness. It was not the body-spinning attraction that David Cameron brought out in her treacherous veins, but it was at least something beyond the mild case of peptic upset that Duffington and Branson inspired.
She reminded herself that this was the man who had all but ruined her life with his thoughtless words. The man who had stalked her, kissed her, and then jeered at her.
But he wasn’t jeering right now. In fact, though she had treated him with only the stiffest sort of courtesy last night, he had presented himself at her home this morning, respectful intentions in hand.
One of Dermott’s hands played about the lower edge of his waistcoat, and Caroline’s eye darted toward the motion. Poppies today, unless the bit of enlivened embroidery was playing tricks on her eyes. His voice pushed through the rolling fog of her thoughts. “I am glad to hear you are carefully considering your answer. I hope that means you will consider my own suit.”
“Your suit?” Caroline asked, still staring at the bloodred poppies, lined up like soldiers against the black woolen background.
“I have come to admire you, and although I would normally wish to us time to become more closely acquainted, the rash behavior of others forces me to quick action.” He shot Branson a heated look. “Given that my family has visited Brighton for many years, and given that I have, in fact, graduated from university some five years past, I hope you will consider me favorably.”
“Oh, I say, that’s a little unfair,” Branson protested.
Caroline met Dermott’s unswerving gaze then, abandoning the poppies for the distraction of his smile. The man was brilliant. In one smooth sentence, he had managed to make Branson seem panicked and immature, and cast a logical suspicion on the rationale behind Duffington’s two-day proposal.
“What are you saying, Mr. Dermott?”
He straightened his waistcoat, and offered her again that stunning, cunning smile. “I would take this opportunity to lodge my own proposal there beside the others. Miss Tolbertson . . .” He drew a breath, and then continued, “Caroline . . .” This time her name did not sound so grating to her ears. “I would be humbly honored if you would consider becoming my wife.”
Chapter 28
SHE WALKED EAST, of course.
She could do nothing else, after leaving the circus of her house. Her mother was beside herself with excitement. Penelope seemed pensive. Poor Bess busied herself changing out the water in all the flower arrangements.
And so Caroline had taken the walk she had known she would take from the moment her eyes had opened this morning. If nothing else, it gave her a solid hour to think.
Three proposals. Three opportunities to help her family.
Three chances to get it completely, miserably wrong.
She almost, almost turned back around on the threshold of the cove. But the painful memory of David’s parting last night and the wretched, abraded surface of her heart, pushed her forward through the final stretch of scrub grass. She did not know which gentleman’s offer to accept, but she knew she could not consider any of them without taking this next, necessary step.
Her conscience was doing its best to tell her this decision was wrong. Not the wanting of David—she suspected she was going to be caught in that trap no matter her final decision on which offer to accept. She could no more stop loving him than stop the tide from coming in. But wanting the man and acting on her desires were two different things.
Was it a sin to seek physical passion from one man when she had a bona fide offer of marriage from another? If it was, she was about to be a sinner three times over.
He was already in the water when she arrived, a fact Caroline found vexing. He had coaxed a promise from her that she would not swim here alone on account of the danger, and yet here he was, sluicing through the waves. He was swimming away from her, facing the eastern edge of the inlet, and Caroline took advantage of his removed concentration to study him.
Although she tended to have a critical eye when it came to swimming technique, she could find little fault with his movements today. He had improved since their instruction began, and her gaze moved appreciatively from the motion of his arms to the spray of water his feet kicked up. She noted a few things they could work on. His hand tended to cup on the downward arc, which, when corrected, would lessen the drag. And his legs tended to kick too wide apart, when a narrow, scissorlike kick worked better for propulsion.
Caroline stepped behind the rock and set herself to the task of removing her dress, but she hesitated at the point of putting on the altered navy gown. Her fingers skimmed the lower edge of her shift, pausing at the scalloped lace edge. Yesterday’s experience in self-exploration had been . . . frustrating. Incomplete.
Maddening.
Why had he chosen that particular lesson? Truth be told, David had been far more physically engaged during the interlude in the bathing machine. And to her mind, the main difference between those two experiences had been the amount of clothing involved. Warmth pooled in her abdomen, heat that had nothing to do with the sun or the blinding light from the cliff walls. She recalled the appreciative gleam in his eye when he had kissed her under moonlight, remembered the heady feel of his hand on her bare breast a mere two days ago.
But this was not a moonlit night, nor a dimly lit bathhouse, with shadows to hide her flaws. The midday sun hung
overhead, bright and glaring and inescapable. Her doubts tried to dissuade her, jeering at her as loud as any crowd, but she refused to be guided by those old fears.
She did not want to release David from his promise, no matter their argument last evening, no matter the shocking details of his confession. He would not be outside the bounds of logic—or decency—if he refused to honor their arrangement today.
But to Caroline’s mind, these lessons had been negotiated and executed primarily on the basis of her curiosity, and that had not abated in the slightest. If anything, faced with the mind-rattling choice of the three men vying for her hand, her desire to seize this moment with David had swollen to a fearsome size. And if she gave him the choice to bow out now, she would not merely be denying her own chance at pleasure. She would be giving up on him.
She wanted to prove to him that he was more than his history. She wanted to lie down on the rock beside him, run her fingers through his hair, and extract the hurt he carried inside him. And if she were truthful, she wanted him to understand what he was forcing her to offer another, so that he might feel a fraction of the envy that she felt when she thought about Elizabeth Ramsey.
The navy serge gown dropped to the rocky shore, forgotten. She had two days left.
And she refused to spend them as frustrated as he had left her yesterday.
DAVID HAD BEEN swimming for the better part of an hour, pushing his body, testing his strength. He had slept poorly, tossing and turning and waking in sweat-soaked sheets, plagued not by nightmares of the girl he had lost, as he had expected, but by feverish dreams of the girl he could not permit himself to have. He had come to the cove early, determined to drive all carnal thoughts of Caroline out of his head the only way he knew how: with a good, punishing dose of exercise. It had nearly worked too. He was exhausted, struggling for air, and swimming in water that reached several feet over his head when he saw her.
Caroline Tolbertson was standing at the water’s edge, clad only in her shift.
His mind was none too clear, having reached that place where survival outweighed the need to think. His muscles were numb, both from the physical exertion and the constant, cold waves that battered him. But his brain was not so muddled that it did not hone in on the sight of her lithe body, stepping into the water.
He sucked in a breath and seawater flooded his mouth, making him cough and sputter. Eleven years ago he had nearly drowned in this very spot, paralyzed by the knowledge that he had failed someone he loved. And as Caroline waded out farther into the waves, he was struck by the sudden realization that in a scant few seconds, he was going to be poised to do it again.
Because if he held her in his arms, with only the futile barrier of her wet shift between them, his failure to preserve her virginity wasn’t just a possibility.
It was a bloody foregone conclusion.
He had hoped his exhaustion would have calmed that part of his body. He had never been a man prone to good fortune. The sight of her dampening shift, and the shadows that emerged to visibility beneath the translucent fabric, proved more than enough to send his cock straight to attention, the cold water and exhaustion be damned.
He made his way toward her, wary and weary, slogging his way through water that lessened in depth with each step. And then she was inches away in hip-deep water, peering up at him with ocean spray in her eyelashes. He wanted to crush her to him and kiss her till her knees gave way beneath her. It would be wrong to take that advantage, though.
He briefly entertained the idea of shaking her senseless, if kissing was not going to be an option. She had clearly come for their lesson, dressed as she was. Any sensible girl would have kept her distance, given that he had admitted to something just short of murder last night.
Of course, hadn’t Caroline proven on more than one occasion that she had far more substance lurking beneath her surface than any merely sensible girl?
“You started without me.†Her voice sounded accusing, and he wondered how long she had been watching him battle the ocean current.
“I did not expect you,†he admitted. “Not after last night.†He ran a hesitant hand through his hair. “Christ, Caroline, you twist me up in enough knots to do a sailor proud. What do you want from me?â€
“Our bargain.†She licked her lips, and the motion shot straight to his groin. “I am not inclined to release you from the promise you made.â€
David groaned out loud. Couldn’t she see how dangerous this was? He had no way to win this game she played. He preferred his odds of surviving the inlet’s high tide. While weighted down with paving stones.
Tumbling down drunk.
Suddenly she was in his arms, and he was knocked off balance by the sweet, terrible surprise of her. They tumbled into the water, and then they were under, their lips of an accord on the matter of kissing.
Salt water stung his eyes, and the power of the ocean roared in his ears, but it was no match for the wicked sting of lust that snaked through him as her mouth moved against his. And then her tongue touched his own, and he was lost to all coherent thought, save one:
This woman was both his reward, and his greatest punishment.
He had timed the morning’s brutal exertions to temper the keen edge of desire. Had swum an hour in this ferocious current for no other purpose than to banish the need to claim her as his. How ironic to discover that far from serving its intended purpose, his exertions had instead left him too exhausted to resist her.
They bobbed back up to the surface, gasping for the air in each other’s lungs. He cradled her head in his hands, threading his fingers through her hair. The beast in him, the one he tried so hard to keep chained, raised its head to roar. Mine.
But the gentleman in him, the gentleman he hadn’t quite believed existed, placed an authoritative hand on the beast’s head and pushed it down for the breadth of a second.
“Are you sure this is what you want?†He all but snarled against the sweet temptation of her lips, because God help him, he was failing the test he had laid for himself.
“With certainty.†She answered with a breathless moan he could not refuse.
Scooping her up in his arms, he staggered to the shallows, his lips refusing to leave hers for even the second it took to draw a new breath. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he could feel her bare calves rubbing against his own skin where his trousers met his torso. Implausibly, his brain registered the obvious before his cock did.
They were here alone, an hour or more from civilization. She was almost naked. And the scandalous press of her legs about his waist was pushing her core flush against his bare skin.
The trouser-encased part of his anatomy that wanted to bury himself inside her jerked toward the promise of her body. He thrust upward, a deliberate stroke that left nothing to either of their imaginations. She gasped into his mouth.
And then, unbelievably, she said, “More.â€
He obliged the lady’s request and thrust again. Slower this time. A delicious promise of friction that sent his fingers curving about her cotton-clad arse, there at the point of no return.
“Think hard on this,†he growled into her mouth, even as they splashed down to earth at the water’s edge. “Because there is no going back.â€
Caroline landed on top of him, a heavy burden he could not bring himself to regret. The relentless current swept them backward toward shore, and pebbles and shells scraped across his bare back, but he held her about her waist as she straddled his chest, the feel of her woman’s mound against the bare skin of his abdomen the most agonizing sensation of all.
“I have thought hard on this,†she told him, her eyes glittering down. “And eleven years is a long time to think.â€
He thrilled to her response, even as he pulled her down to meet his lips. David kept his touch gentle, though his body ordere
d he set a different pace. He ignored his cock’s demands for the moment. He’d endured a great deal of practice ignoring that most insistent part of his anatomy, a part that hadn’t even, at first, realized the treasure it was pointing him toward.
Five more minutes’ restraint was not going to kill him, not if he could stoke the fires of her enjoyment first.
He forced his body into compliance and kissed Caroline a long, leisurely moment, enjoying the sharp, salty taste of her. The tide was coming in, the waves rolling into oblivion around them, but he ignored them for the moment. He ran his tongue along the edge of her lips, a sensual slide that belied the building frustration he felt for this slow, careful process he was determined to construct for her. His hand had found her breast at some point during the kiss, and he rubbed his thumb deftly over her peaked nipple, back, forth, and back again.
She responded by rocking against him and gasping into his mouth. “More,†she murmured again.
He grinned into her kiss. For such a loquacious person, it seemed the woman in his arms was reduced to the same primitive, one-word responses that he felt in this moment. “Tell me what you want.†He let his hand drift lower, teasing at the edge of her shift. “I am good at following directions.â€
She pulled back and stared down at him, breathing hard. Her skin was flushed, marring the usual prominence of her freckles, and her lips were beautifully swollen from his kisses. “Liar,†she told him, rocking against him again in a movement that suggested either a damned fine instinct, or a great deal of time spent studying her sister’s book. “If you had followed proper directions, we would have done this yesterday.â€
Chapter 29
DAVID FELT AN answering grin spread across his face. “Tell me what you want today, then.”
Summer Is for Lovers Page 25
