A Lady at Last (31 page)

She realized he could have walked away, but he hadn't. She touched the pink silk at her waist, smoothed it down to her hip. Then she looked up.

He was staring, his eyes so hot she thought the hall might burst into flames. A part of her felt awful for so shamelessly trying to seduce him. One moment stretched into an eternity as she waited to see if she would triumph over him. But his next actions weren't clear. He turned his back to her and leaned his forehead against the wall, panting.

Amanda went to him and put her arms around him and leaned her face against his back, followed by her entire body. He flinched when her breasts flattened there and she thrilled, her hands on his tight stomach. He whirled, taking her in his arms, a look of fury and despair on his face, in his eyes. “Damn it!”

Then he cradled her face in his two large hands, holding her so she could not move, and he began to kiss her.

The kiss was hot, hard, demanding and filled with both passion and anger. He opened her mouth, giving her no choice but complete surrender and an even greater response. Amanda tried to kiss him back, gasping in pleasure, but he was controlling the kiss, devouring her, making any response other than a passive one impossible. His tongue went deep.

He released her face, his tongue still deep inside her, grasping her breasts, the silk between his hands and her flesh exquisitely sensuous. Amanda whimpered, gripping his waist. He shoved his hard thigh right between her legs, forcing her to sit astride him.

She began to sob against his mouth, writhing on his leg, rubbing herself there.

He clasped her buttocks and lifted her even higher; her hip brushed his huge erection.

Amanda threw her arms around him and gasped in an explosion of pleasure.

He turned her, pushing her back against the wall, still kissing her, thrusting his leg up higher. She wept as the convulsions intensified.

And when they softened and slowed, he tore his mouth away and held her in his arms, tightly, his cheek against the top of her head, allowing her feet to drop to the floor. The climax fading, she clung to his broad shoulders, new emotions swiftly arising. Being in his arms was the best place in the world. Cocooned by his entire body, she never wanted to be set free.

He gripped her shoulders and pushed her away.

She was still dizzy and faint, not quite coherent. But she looked at him and saw that he remained furious. “Don't,” she begged, terrified now. “I don't mind just this, Cliff, just your lovemaking. Please, do not talk of honor now!”

He backed away. “Haven't I hurt you enough? I am only a man, Amanda, and apparently not honorable enough to resist your charms. Damn it! We are here inspecting your dowry—a dowry for you and your future husband—I am
not
making you my mistress! Why do you wish so little for yourself?” he cried.

She had never seen him so enraged, and he was angry with her. “But if I do not mind, truly,” she began.

“I mind,” he roared.

She flinched, squaring her shoulders. And she made one final attempt, already knowing it was futile. His will was too strong. “I want you. I will always want you. Why is it so wrong?” she cried. “You want me, too, and you care about me, I know you do. We are friends! Good friends!”

“I'm your guardian!” he shouted. “It's my responsibility to find you a husband, not take you as a lover.” He was shaking. He jerked on his breeches for some relief. Then he raised his hand, warding her off, preventing her speech.

“You have become a beautiful lady. Why destroy your future this way?” He shook his head. “My family is already mocking my efforts to be noble with you. This is hardly helping!”

After such ecstasy, she was sinking rapidly into despair. It was hard to wrap herself in dignity, but she did. “I have one defense,” she said. “I love you.”

He inhaled harshly, trembling. “I care for you. Deeply. And that is why I am not making you my mistress,” he ground out. “If I need a mistress, there are a hundred suitable trollops in town. I am trying to provide you with a good future, Amanda. But I will not succeed, obviously, if we continue to spend time together as we have this day.”

She was trembling. “What does that mean?”

“We should not be alone together. Not ever,” he added harshly.

“No!”

He shook his head, his expression telling her that his mind was made up. “I will no longer delay. You need a husband immediately.”

Amanda sagged against the wall. “How can you do this?”

He didn't seem to hear her. “I am taking you back to London tomorrow. I will ask Eleanor and my stepmother to comprise a new list of suitors. In fact,” he hesitated, “I will solicit Adare in the endeavor. You will be wed within months.”

Amanda cried out, horrified.

But he was set against her now. “In the interim, I have a ship making a short run to Holland. I will be on it.”

Amanda gasped. “Cliff, please! What about the Carrington ball? It's in three weeks. You promised me the first dance!”

He was as rigid, as unyielding. “I gave you my word. I will be there for the first waltz.”

“Don't go,” she heard herself whisper.

Their gazes locked. “This is untenable,” he said. “I have no other choice.”

A
MANDA HAD NEVER
missed Cliff more.

She knew now that she had made a terrible mistake. He had been gone for more than a week. They had returned to London in separate vehicles, Cliff traveling not with her but with Ariella and Anahid, refusing to even look at her as Monsieur Michelle helped her into the coach they would share. Upon arriving in London, he had gone to bid Alexi farewell, and Amanda had followed him up to the nursery, aware that he had never worn such a harsh, grim expression. Filled with dread, she had stood in the doorway of Alexi's bedchamber, watching him embrace his son. He'd mussed Ned's hair, as well. A brief lecture had followed, with Alexi begging to go with him to Holland, but Cliff had refused. Although he had spent half a day in a coach with Ariella, he had then gone to her room, casting one hard look at Amanda. “You need not follow me through the house.”

“Cliff, please don't leave like this,” she cried desperately.

His expression had hardened impossibly and he had increased his stride, leaving her standing at one end of the hall, near tears. It had felt like the end of their relationship.

Alexi had tugged at her hand. “What did you do to make Papa so angry?” he had asked in a whisper, wide-eyed.

Amanda could not remember what pitiful excuse she had made.

She had gone to her bedchamber, refusing to cry and wishing she had never tried to seduce him. She had been mad to think she could cause him to violate his sense of honor, she realized. Standing at the window, she had watched him leaving Harmon House with only a small valise. No matter how many times she told herself that when he returned, he would smile at her once more, as if nothing had ever happened, she had the awful sense that their friendship would never be the same. Cliff wasn't just leaving the country for a few weeks, he was putting a great distance between them. No two acts could be more symbolic than his departure and his decision to see her immediately wed. His mind was made up. Very soon, he was going to be walking her down the aisle and giving her over to another man. When he did that, the distance between them would be inviolable and permanent.

Amanda couldn't do it.

She was acutely aware of her heart now. She was deeply in love with Cliff de Warenne and nothing would ever change that. She could not marry a man she neither knew nor loved, not even for the security of a home like Ashford Hall. She had never been sadder, because she couldn't remain at Harmon House this way, either, heartbroken, dependant upon him and still yearning for what would never be.

She was going home, but not until after the ball.

Amanda went to the armoire and slowly took out the beautiful gown she would wear to the Carrington ball. It was the most exquisite dress she had ever seen, elaborate and elegant enough to be a wedding dress, really, with a low square bodice, small cap sleeves, sheer gold chiffon layered over the white floral silk beneath. She had been eagerly anticipating wearing it; she had been sure Cliff's eyes would blaze when he saw her in it. Now, she felt certain he would barely look at her. She had little doubt that he would not be taking the first waltz with her, if he hadn't given her his word.

But Cliff de Warenne never broke his word.

He would be there, and she could imagine how awkward being in his arms would now be. After the ball, she would profess her gratitude for all he had done for her—and then she would say goodbye.

Her heart screamed in protest. Amanda held the ball gown up to her chest and regarded herself in the mirror. She didn't want to be La Sauvage ever again. She didn't want to roam the island like a boy in breeches. She was going home as a lady; if she was allowed to take her wardrobe with her, she would sell most of it and open up a small shop. Otherwise, she would borrow funds. She knew all about sailing and world trade. She would import a small cargo of the most beautiful fabrics—there had never been enough dress shops in Kingston. She would charge the highest prices possible and start saving the profits. As soon as she could, she would buy her own ship and hire the crew to sail it. Once she had her own ship, she could import anything and she would cruise the world, looking for exotic merchandise. Instead of stealing or begging, she would become a merchant, the first female merchant on the island. Ladies weren't merchants, but she would be the exception to the rule, just as Eleanor O'Neill was an exception. As Eleanor had advised, she would be quiet, polite and well dressed in public, and privately she would do as she willed. Only then would she swim in the cove or dive off the cliffs just west of Belle Mer.

A bit of the wild child still existed, she rued, but it no longer mattered.

There was one problem. Sooner or later Cliff would return to Windsong, and she would be drawn there. She imagined herself calling on him in his island manor, a wealthy, independent and respected lady now, a dozen years older, perhaps, wearing jewels she had bought herself. Her heart leaped wildly. She would always be thrilled to see him.

She had to close her eyes, fighting her most powerful dreams that even a dozen years from now, his eyes would light up with admiration and hunger, and he would smile at her in that promising way he had and then pull her into his arms….

Amanda put the ball gown on the bed. She was always going to be tempted to dream of his love, but she had better recognize it was only that, a wild, fanciful dream.

It would be better to focus on the present. Last night she had gone to her first opera with the earl and countess, Lizzie and her husband, Tyrell. Briefly, she had been enthralled enough to forget about Cliff. She had enjoyed herself and there was no opera in Kingston. She was genuinely going to miss his family, she thought, and she would even miss town. A knock sounded on her door, but Amanda did not hear it. Maybe one day Eleanor would come to visit her with Sean and Rogan.

Eleanor appeared in the looking glass, her eyes soft with sympathy.

Instantly, Amanda rearranged her sorrowful expression into a pleasing countenance.

“I did knock. But you didn't answer and I can see you are absorbed in your thoughts.” Eleanor touched her as she turned to face her. “You don't have to pretend, Amanda. We all know how unhappy you are. I personally am plotting various ways to bring my brother to all of his senses when he returns.”

Amanda continued to smile. “I love my dress,” she said, refusing to discuss Cliff. Then she changed her mind. “Cliff has been wonderful to me. Don't be angry with him.”

Eleanor's eyes widened. “You need to stop defending him, Amanda. Do you want to tell me exactly what happened at Ashford Hall to make him run away from you this way?”

Amanda felt her cheeks heat. “He has business abroad,” she began, lowering her eyes.

Eleanor scoffed. “He could send his agent! You are so modest. Some vanity would serve you well, Amanda. You are wrong. He is besotted with you and I have my suspicions as to why he left town as he did.”

“He is fond of me. He has even admitted it.” Amanda went to the bed and took up the dress, returning it carefully to the armoire. She did not want to discuss her feelings for Cliff or their relationship with his sister. “He is hardly besotted.”

“You should seduce him. He'll pony up if you do.”

Amanda flinched. If Eleanor knew why Cliff had left, she would never be suggesting such a thing.

Eleanor sighed. “You might think about it. In any case, we have callers. And no, it is not your most recent admirer, MacLachlan.”

Since her return from Ashton, there had been quite a few callers. Blanche Harrington had visited and Amanda had enjoyed her company. They had strolled together in the gardens, happening upon Rex as he returned from a hack, but Rex had been in his usual dark humor. There had been other callers, too, as the countess was genuinely admired and very well-liked. Eleanor had received several ladies she knew from her own comeout years ago. Amanda had been present during every call. No one seemed to suspect that three months ago she had led a very different life. Conversation had become easy for her; she no longer had to worry and fret about what she should or should not say and do. And no one knew that deep in her heart she was grieving.

There were gentlemen callers, too. And now that she planned to go home very shortly, she felt guilty entertaining them. MacLachlan had returned, in spite of Cliff's edict. His father and Adare were friends and the earl openly approved of him. He had brought some bachelor acquaintances with him. There had been other gentlemen, as well, faces she could not recall, names she did not remember, all invited to the house by Adare and his wife to meet her, all being considered as possible husbands.

She felt dreadful deceiving his family now, but she could not tell anyone her plans. She knew that someone would go directly to Cliff to tell him what she intended. The morning after the ball, she would tell him herself. It would be difficult enough to do so. She knew he would be opposed to her plans, but she had made up her mind, and this one time, she would have her way.

“Who is it?” Amanda asked, rearranging her expression into one that was suitably curious. Entertaining was better than grieving and she had no more plans to make.

“I do not know the ladies, but they have called on Lizzie and they are our age.” Eleanor smiled. “You have been such a success, Amanda. Surely you are thrilled.”

Amanda smiled at Eleanor as they went downstairs. “It seems like I arrived here in breeches a lifetime ago.”

“Yes, it does, but it hasn't been that long.”

“I've only been in town six weeks,” Amanda remarked, her heart twisting. And she had spent six weeks with Cliff on his ship. She felt as if she had known and loved him forever.

Eleanor's next words were strange. “You do know that you can trust me, don't you? I truly think of you as my sister now.”

More guilt assailed her. “You have become such a wonderful friend,” she said, meaning it. “Tell me about our callers,” she said, to change the subject.

“Lady Jane Cochran is the daughter of the Baroness of Lidden-Way. I have heard of her, as she is quite an heiress. The other two ladies have modest inheritances.” Having reached the great hall, they crossed it swiftly, Eleanor adding, “Perhaps we will both make new friends.” She was rather wry.

Amanda knew that Eleanor missed Ireland and that she only tolerated London because Harmon House was a gathering place for her family. “Perhaps.” She was noncommittal.

Eleanor, as always, minced no words. “Lady Cochran seems a bit vain. I do hope she is not jealous of you.”

Amanda almost laughed. “Why on earth would she be jealous of me?”

“She is rather homely, dear, and you are so beautiful. They are all unwed and in the market for husbands. Lady Cochran really need not worry, not with her fortune, but I have met her like before and I think she might see you as competition.”

“Eleanor, I do not wish to be competition for anyone.”

“I know, and I know why,” Eleanor whispered as they entered the salon.

Amanda became uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Eleanor seemed to have guessed at her deep love for Cliff. But she was instantly diverted, remarking the three young ladies who were assembled in the salon, all of whom turned to gaze at her. She saw a tall, thin, rather plain young woman wearing a beautiful dress and pearls. From her somewhat haughty bearing, Amanda knew that this was Lady Cochran. Instinctively, Amanda did not care for her. Her overweight friend was quite pretty, actually, with a pleasant smile. The third caller was a nondescript woman, neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, but her expression was boldly curious.

Lizzie came forward to make introductions. “You have already met my sister-in-law, Mrs. O'Neill. This is my brother-in-law's ward, Miss Amanda Carre. Amanda, this is Lady Jane Cochran, Lady Honora Deere and Lady Anne Sutherland.” Lizzie smiled.

Amanda curtsied, while the other three women inclined their heads. She sensed a tension in the salon which she did not care for. All was not well.

“We have heard all about you,” Lady Cochran said brightly. “And of course, we all know your guardian somewhat. When he is in town and attends a ball, there is quite a bit of swooning. We thought it prudent to greet you and welcome you to town.”

“That is very kind of you,” Amanda said carefully. Jane Cochran was smiling, but she was neither friendly nor warm. Amanda hoped the call would be brief and uneventful.

“It is very kind,” Lizzie agreed, “as we hardly know one another.”

Lady Cochran faced her. “We should become far better friends, don't you agree? You will one day be Countess of Adare, and I, the Baroness of Lidden-Way.”

After politely agreeing, Lizzie said, “Let me see what is keeping Masters with our refreshments.” She hurried out.

“Is your guardian, Captain de Warenne, in residence?” the plump Lady Deere asked breathlessly, blushing.

Amanda suspected that Honora Deere was infatuated with Cliff. She did not mind, as she could hardly blame her. Cliff would never look twice at Lady Deere, although he would be gallant and charming. She smiled at the women. “Unfortunately he has gone out of town to attend to some business affairs,” Amanda said. “He will be back for the Carrington ball.”