by Jo Beverley
Suddenly she was free.
Stunned, she opened her eyes, trying to catch her breath.
“I believe the lady asked to be released.”
Lord Waverly had Baron Sheffield’s arm twisted behind his back. In spite of Baron Sheffield’s unwieldy size, Lord Waverly seemed to loom over him. Colette did not recall Lucien Sinclair being quite so tall, but she was only too grateful for his height and strength, as well as his unexpected and quite timely appearance. The baron had the gall to look affronted, while the murderous expression on Lord Waverly’s face left little doubt of his feelings on the situation.
“Unhand me, man!” Baron Sheffield sputtered in abject indignation, his round face puffed with outrage.
“First, you will apologize to the lady for taking liberties with her that were quite obviously unwanted. Second, you will leave this house immediately. Third, you will never come near Miss Hamilton again, or I shall not be so forgiving,” Lord Waverly said. His voice had an edge that brooked no argument. To emphasize his point, he twisted the man’s fat arm even tighter. “And if you apologize very nicely, I won’t knock your teeth down your throat.”
Aware of his weakness, the corpulent baron glared angrily at Colette and muttered with undisguised resentment, “My deepest apologies, Miss Hamilton. Please forgive my lack of control and excessive infatuation at your charms.”
Lord Waverly released him with such force that the man stumbled forward and nearly fell flat on his face. Colette practically had to jump out of his way to avoid him, instinctively moving closer to Lord Waverly.
As he got to his feet again, the baron spat, “This won’t be the end of it, Waverly.” To Colette he spewed, “And you can tell your uncle that the deal is off.” He turned and lumbered, huffing and puffing, as quickly as he could manage back to Lord Hutton’s townhouse.
Still trying to catch her own breath, Colette finally raised her eyes to Lord Waverly’s and felt a little lost looking in them. “Thank you.”
“There is no need for thanks. Did he hurt you, Colette?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
She shook her head mutely, stunned at his use of her given name.
“Would you care to go back inside now?”
“No, not yet,” she answered without hesitation. She was in no hurry to rejoin her aunt and uncle. “I think I should like a moment.”
As if he understood her motivation, he said, “There’s a bench over there. Come sit and pull yourself together a bit before going back to the ballroom.”
For the first time all evening, she did not mind in the least that a man placed his hand on her arm. Lord Waverly gently guided her to a white marble bench set in an enclosure of leafy hydrangea bushes along the brick pathway, where some moonlight spilled through the trees above. The faint sounds of the orchestra playing from the ballroom drifted around them.
“Are you sure he did not hurt you?” he asked again, once they were both seated. His eyes quickly roamed over her body, as if he was assuring himself that she was unharmed.
Colette’s pulse quickened under his scrutiny and her stomach felt suddenly full of butterflies. “I think he may have bruised my arms, but other than that I am quite well. I’m fortunate you came along when you did.”
“It wasn’t good fortune. I followed you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked in surprise.
“I saw you leave the ballroom with him. You had a decidedly…unwilling look on your face. When I saw him take you from the terrace, I just—”
“You just…?” She prompted him.
“I just had a feeling he was not going to behave with you as a gentleman should.”
“Well, your instincts about Baron Sheffield proved quite accurate. He was horrid.”
“Please don’t tell me that your uncle thought that man was a prospective husband for you,” Lord Waverly said.
Colette looked directly at him, once again thrown off balance by the stark handsomeness of his face. And the intensity of his gaze. And the fullness of his lips. Something about this man made her feel giddy, light-headed even. A delicious shiver ran through her. So different from the repulsive shiver she felt earlier with the baron.
“Apparently Baron Sheffield had been given the impression by my uncle that I would make a good wife for him.”
“And you disabused him of that assumption?”
“Quite successfully.” She couldn’t help but grin. “With your help and persuasion, of course.”
“You are most welcome,” he said affably before his expression turned serious. “But why would your uncle choose such an unlikely prospect for you? Surely there must be a gentleman more to your liking than that rude beast?”
“My uncle expects my sister and me to marry very well. Baron Sheffield possesses all the required assets for a husband as far as my uncle is concerned.”
“And those assets would be what?”
“Pots and pots of money. In addition to his baronial estate, he is apparently very wealthy from textile investments.”
“Ah, I see,” he stated quietly, his handsome face thoughtful. “Money is the key component of this marriage?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“You are quite candid.”
“It is my uncle’s decision,” she tried to explain, realizing how mercenary it seemed. “The reality is such that my father left my mother, my sisters, and me a less than modest amount to live on. Women have very little recourse in situations like this, Lord Waverly. Juliette and I need to marry well to support our family.”
He nodded his head in understanding. “But what of the bookshop? Does that not bring in income for you?”
“Unfortunately, not enough.”
“Why don’t you simply sell the shop, then? It must be worth a good sum.”
She shook her head determinedly. “No. Selling the shop is not an option.”
“It means that much to you?” He could not mask the surprise in his voice.
“More than anything. I shall never sell Hamilton’s.”
Recognizing the resolve in her tone, he shook his head slightly. “If you insist upon keeping the shop, then perhaps it is best that you should marry soon so you can have the proper support and guidance of a husband, Miss Hamilton.”
Ignoring his words, which disparaged her ability to manage the shop on her own, she simply said, “You called me Colette earlier.”
“I did?” His voice was threaded with surprise. “I had not noticed. Forgive me.”
The man seemed to be a study in contrasts. “For an earl with a well-known reputation, you are behaving like quite the gentleman, Lord Waverly.”
“Ah, you have heard of my reputation, then.” He looked at her without a shred of embarrassment. In fact, he appeared amused by her comment.
“Yes, but just vaguely, of course. My aunt and uncle have warned me against rogues like you. And your friend, Lord Eddington.”
He gave her a searching glance. “And what do you think of Lord Eddington?”
Did she detect a note of jealousy in his voice? “I think he is a delightful man. I very much enjoyed dancing with him this evening.”
He rubbed his hand across his chin. “Yes, well, I suppose we have both earned a certain standing in society’s eyes.”
She could not help herself from asking, “Have you really been with so many women?”
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “What a question from a lady!”
“So then it is not true what they say about you? You are not a rake?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you have rescued me from the lecherous baron, showed concern for my well-being and safety, and have not once tried to kiss me.”
“You are not my type,” he explained with succinct ease.
“And why is that?” she asked. She could not help feeling slightly insulted by his remark.
“Because you are a virtuous young lady, one that a gentleman would hope to marry.”
Now sh
e was surprised. “That’s not your type?”
“Decidedly not. I do have some standards. I prefer to dally with more experienced women who are not interested in marriage.”
She dared a direct glance at him. “But you wanted to kiss me that day in the bookshop.”
He held her gaze, but did not respond.
She would not let him off that easily. She knew she had not imagined what she had felt between them that afternoon. “You did want to kiss me, though, didn’t you?”
He lowered his eyes. “Yes, I did.”
His admission thrilled her. “But you didn’t.”
“Why? Did you want me to?” he asked, gazing directly at her.
His question turned her stomach upside down and she suddenly couldn’t think. “Perhaps…”
He grinned wolfishly at her, a grin that lit his eyes from within and caused her stomach to somersault again. “Did I disappoint you?” he whispered, his voice as smooth as velvet.
“I’m…I’m n-not sure,” she stammered, finding it difficult to breathe normally, lost in the look of his eyes, which glittered hypnotically in the moonlight. A thrill ran through her, as if something special were about to happen.
“I would hate to ever disappoint you, Miss Hamilton…”
He leaned in nearer to her, his face so close to hers she suddenly could not breathe at all. He waited there, hovering. His eyes searched hers. He smelled clean and so very masculine and infinitely appealing. She could see the faint stubble along his chin and wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers across it. His nearness unnerved her and left her trembling, while her stomach felt as if it had just plummeted to her toes. Unable to bear the intensity any longer, she closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” he demanded in a hushed whisper, his hand cupping the back of her neck in a gentle movement.
Her heart pounded wildly in anticipation as her lids fluttered back open. She took a shaky breath. His green eyes pinned her in place as his lips touched hers lightly, teasingly. He kissed her as if she were the most delicate, the most fragile of crystal. His touch was soft, featherlike. His mouth was warm, his lips smooth. The hand on the back of her neck pulled her closer, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin there, sending shivers down her spine. The feel was so exquisite she thought she would faint.
“Colette,” he breathed her name into her mouth and suddenly his lips became more insistent, more demanding. They possessed her, seared her in a kiss so all-consuming she could not breathe.
She closed her eyes in spite of what he said and lost herself completely in the sensation of his mouth covering hers.
His mouth became possessive, virtually ravenous over hers. She felt devoured. To her own surprise, her lips parted, instinctively responding to his. His tongue entered her mouth. Shocked and thrilled by the sensation, her heart raced. Heated and slick, his tongue swirled with her own inside of her mouth. Good heavens! Was this what made women swoon in the gothic novels she had read? And that was her last rational thought as his kiss overwhelmed her with its blatant intimacy and intensity. He was strength and gentleness combined, and she could not get enough of him. A hunger grew within her as they kissed. Never had she felt something so completely and utterly satisfying, yet it left her yearning for more, desperate for more. She didn’t want it to end.
Lucien’s mouth on hers wasn’t enough.
When did she place her hands on his shoulders? His quite broad and firm shoulders. What possessed me to do such a thing? And when did his other hand find its way around her waist?
And still they kissed.
And kissed.
She could no longer hear the music from the ballroom, nor the chirping of the crickets, nor the usual noises of the cool evening around them. Only the rapid thumping of her heart and the sound of their breathing echoed in her ears.
Then he pulled her closer, and she clung to him with no resistance whatsoever. She found herself sitting across his lap, a position that was at once so intimate and possessive. It was as if she had been designed to fit perfectly there, with his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest. The feel of his muscled thighs beneath her left her light-headed. It seemed they could not get close enough to each other. They melted into each other, as if they were the only two people in the world and where they were did not matter. Time seemed to disappear.
And still they kissed.
His hands cupped her face, his fingers threaded through her hair, loosening it from its upswept style. Lucien’s touch made her feel cherished and adored. Colette had never experienced anything like it. She had never been kissed before, but she knew, just knew, she would never be kissed like this again. This was wild, reckless, and passionate. She had read about passion, of course. But now she was fast learning what the word truly meant.
She was kissing and being kissed passionately.
By a man who held her on his lap. By a man who touched her with infinite tenderness and unmistakable desire. By a man who…
Abruptly, he turned his head away from hers, and she collapsed into the crook of his neck. They both panted heavily, and he stroked her hair. For a long while they did not speak, but simply tried to regain their breath.
His voice was ragged when he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Colette.”
She knew why he was apologizing; yet she still wished he had not done so. The apology made their kiss seem wrong, and his mouth on hers felt more right than anything she had ever known. Reluctantly she lifted her head, feeling very groggy, as if she had just awakened from a most delicious dream. Her lips felt heavy and swollen and the thought of leaving his embrace made her want to cry.
They stared at each other, and she tried to read his unfathomable green eyes. Did he regret kissing her? Did he think she was angry? God, but he is stunningly handsome. Lightly, she touched his face with her fingers, tracing the strong cheekbones and the masculine line of Lucien’s jaw. Lucien. For of course, she could not think of him as anything but Lucien now.
Lucien. Lucien. Lucien.
“Colette?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered when she was capable of speaking coherently again. “Is kissing always like that?”
“No. No, it’s not.” His husky words thrilled her. He took her hand in his large one and pressed a sweet kiss to her palm, and then he gently closed her fingers, as if saving the kiss for her.
Her heart fluttered wildly at the tender gesture.
“Which is why this cannot happen again between us.”
Then she could only nod in agreement with him as she slowly came back to her senses. It certainly could not happen again. What was she thinking? Kissing the man in full view of whoever happened to be walking through the garden! She had just behaved more scandalously than Juliette had ever done! No, this could never happen again!
What had come over her?
Gently Lucien slipped her off his lap and onto her feet, which were none too steady at that point. Suddenly flooded with embarrassment, she could not look at him.
“We must get you back to the house unseen. You should enter first and I’ll stay outside a while longer.”
Her hands went intuitively to her hair; she knew it must look a fright. Everyone would know just by looking at her what she had been doing. Kissing the Earl of Waverly in a moonlit garden while she sat in his lap! She had behaved disgracefully, yet oddly enough, she did not regret one minute of it.
As she attempted to put her hair to rights, Lucien leaned over and kissed her cheek. The kiss was soft and gentle, and sent another thrill through Colette’s body.
“You are a beautiful woman, Colette. You can have any man you want, and so you must promise me that you won’t allow your uncle to force you to settle for any man you don’t wish to marry.”
She stared at him, feeling confused by the deep emotions Lucien stirred within her heart. “I promise,” she whispered before turning and making her way along the brick pathway
back to the house.
Her heart pounding, Colette gulped deep, filling her lungs with air to calm herself. The comparative glare and the noise from the ballroom made her want to hide her face, which she knew had to be flaming scarlet. She inhaled another long breath and pressed her hands to her heated cheeks, suppressing the urge to look back in the garden. Would Lucien be standing there, watching her? How long would he wait before returning to the ball? Torn between wanting to run back to his side and never wanting to face him again, she ventured hesitantly into the ballroom, wishing she could hide somewhere quiet and relive what had just happened to her.
Juliette found her first.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been?” her sister demanded.
“For a walk in the garden.”
“Alone?” Juliette’s sharp eyes missed nothing.
“No,” Colette attempted to explain. “The repulsive Baron Sheffield dragged me out to the garden with him and then had the nerve to try to kiss me!”
“He did no such thing!” she exclaimed in shock.
“Unfortunately, he did.” She recoiled at the memory of the baron’s mouth on hers.
“Oh, Colette!” She laughed nervously, her expression aghast. Juliette grabbed her hand in comfort. “How perfectly awful! What did you do?”
“I kicked him.” Colette described the events in a whisper as the two of them hid behind a marble column. “He was not very happy with me, quite angry really, and stalked away. By now I’m certain he has told Uncle Randall that I am an utter hoyden.”
“Well, at least you won’t have to bear his company again.”
“No. But I’ve no doubt Uncle Randall will find someone equally detestable to court me.”
“Are you sure that is all that happened to you?” Juliette questioned.
Colette flushed, unsure why she did not want to tell Juliette that she had just kissed Lucien Sinclair passionately. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m not sure. You just have a look about you, excited or happy. You look different somehow.”
