Confessions at Midnight (8 page)

Bloody hell, yes. Starting immediately, if not sooner
. "I'm suggesting we see where last night's kiss leads us," he replied cautiously, not wanting to see her sprint from the room in panic, "although I admit I have a very good idea where that will be."

"Which is an affair."

"Yes."

The flash of heat in her eyes told him she was tempted. But then her gaze flicked to the portrait and she shook her head. "I've never… I cannot." Another shake of her head. "I'm sorry."

Reaching out, he lightly clasped her hands. "I know how much you loved him. Still love him. He was, in every way, a man to be admired. Do you not think he'd want you to live?"

"Yes, but…" Her words trailed off and he could easily see how torn she was.

"I don't require your heart. In truth, I've absolutely no wish for it."

Confusion clouded her eyes. "Then what do you want?"

"Is it not obvious? I want
you
. Your company. Your laughter." He gently squeezed her hands. "I want you as my lover. In my bed. Or your bed… or wherever our encounters may take us. Your heart can remain your own. As mine shall continue to belong to me. Your body, however…" His gaze skimmed slowly down her form.

"Would be yours?" she asked in a husky whisper.

"Yes." He resettled his gaze on hers. "As mine would be yours."

"For how long?"

"For as long as we wished. Until one of us no longer wanted to be involved."

"Just a temporary, carefree liaison, based solely upon physical gratification." She sounded both skeptical and intrigued.

"Yes. Except you forgot to mention discreet. No one would know except us."

"How do I know you wouldn't tell anyone?"

"First, because I give you my word of honor I wouldn't. And second, I don't like to share. Anything. But most especially the private details of my life."

"I… see."

"I would protect you in every way. Including against pregnancy."

Her gaze briefly dipped downward. "That… that wouldn't be necessary. After seven childless years of marriage, I finally had to accept that I am unable to conceive."

There was no missing the sadness in her voice, and he gave her hands another gentle squeeze.

"You are a stunning, desirable woman. And passionate as well-something that, based on your reaction to our kiss, I think you've lost sight of."

A frown whispered across her face. "I fear you're reading too much into it. My reaction was an aberration."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was."

"I see I shall simply have to prove you wrong." And with those words he erased the distance between them with a single step and covered her mouth with his, instantly falling into the same dark abyss of want and need he'd plunged into last night. A fiery, shadowy place where only the two of them existed. A place he never wanted to leave.

Forcing himself to move with a deliberate lack of haste, one in complete contrast to the urgency pounding through him, he released her hands and slid his around her waist, drawing her against him until they touched from chest to knee. For several seconds she remained stiff, then with a soft moan wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips.

If he hadn't been so consumed with need, he might have savored the triumph. Instead, he tightened his hold on her and sank deeper into the kiss, his tongue exploring the delicious, velvety warmth of her mouth. With each passing second he felt more and more as if he were being pulled into a carnal vortex from which there was no escape. Not that he wanted to get away. God no. In fact, they weren't nearly close enough.

With a groan he slid one hand down to the small of her back. His palm pressed against the base of her spine and his fingers splayed over the curve of buttocks, urging her tighter against him. His erection pressed into her and his hips involuntarily flexed, a slow thrust that dragged a growl of pure want from his throat.

He lost all concept of time. Knew only that no matter how long he kissed her it wasn't long enough. Heart hammering, he somehow found the strength to lift his head, but only far enough to trail his lips along her jaw. Down the curve of her fragrant neck. All the while absorbing the sweetly erotic sounds emanating from her parted lips. He glided his tongue along the side of neck, tasting her warm, flower-scented skin, then gently sucked on the spot where her rapid pulse beat. No woman had ever tasted so delicious.

With an effort that cost him, he finally raised his head. And bit back a groan of intense longing at the sight that greeted him.

With her eyes drooped to half-mast, her cheeks flushed crimson, and her lips parted and kiss-swollen, she looked thoroughly and deliciously aroused. Keeping one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her anchored securely against him, he raised a non-too-steady hand and brushed the backs of his fingers across her warm, satiny smooth cheek.

Her eyes fluttered the rest of the way open and he stared into their deep blue depths. And felt himself drowning all over again.

"Still think last night was an aberration?" he asked, his voice low and rough with arousal.

He didn't recognize the expression that ghosted over her features, but it clearly wasn't happiness. Indeed, it looked more like defeat. "Apparently not," she conceded. "But-"

He cut off her words with a quick kiss. "Remember what I said about statements that follow the word 'but' not being very encouraging?"

She opened her mouth, clearly intending to argue further, when a knock sounded on the door. For several seconds she froze, then with a gasp she pulled away from him, as if he'd burned her, and smoothed her hands over her hair and gown in an agitated gesture.

"You look fine," he assured her, jerking his jacket into place. "Although by 'fine' I actually mean 'perfect.'"

And by God, she did. Perfectly kissed, he decided, as he mentally cursed the interruption. Although, perhaps it had actually come at the ideal time. They'd just shared what he would describe as another extraordinary kiss, and she hadn't had time to raise any objections. Indeed, he should grasp this opportunity to depart and leave her to recall just how incredible their kiss was. And hopefully leave her wanting more.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened and the dour-faced butler who'd shown Daniel in entered bearing a silver salver upon which sat a trio of calling cards. "Visitors to see you, my lady. Lady Walsh, Lady Balsam, and Mrs. Amunsbury. Are you at home?"

Her gaze shifted to Daniel. "I must be going," he said quickly. "I've several appointments scheduled."

She nodded then said to the butler, "You may escort Lord Surbrooke to the foyer, then show the ladies in, Nelson."

"Very good, my lady."

She turned back to Daniel. "Thank you for the honey."

"You're welcome. Will you be attending Lord and Lady Gatesbourne's soiree this evening?" He assumed she would, as their daughter, Lady Julianne, was one of her closest friends.

She hesitated. "I've not yet decided."

And in that instant he knew that
he
was the reason she wasn't certain if she'd attend. Clearly she didn't know if she wanted to see him again. Her decision whether to attend would reveal a great deal, he decided.

Forcing himself not to touch her, he merely made her a formal bow. "I hope to see you there, my lady. And please remember to take care and not go out alone." He then crossed to the doorway and forced himself to follow Nelson from the room without looking back.

In the foyer, he exchanged greetings with Kimberly, Lady Balsam, and Mrs. Amunsbury, all of whom eyed him curiously.

"And what brings you to Lady Wingate's home?" asked Lady Balsam, brushing away one of her turban's peacock feathers from her cheek.

Daniel forced a smile. The beautiful, haughty countess was one of the most notorious gossips in the ton. "Merely a neighborly visit, as my home is only two doors away. After I heard the shocking news about Lady Crawford's death, I decided to check on Lady Wingate to make certain she was all right."

"Quite the knight in shining armor," said Kimberly, eyeing him with amusement. "Is she all right?"

"I'm happy to report she is fine. And I'm very glad to see all you ladies are fine as well." Curious as to the reason for their visit, as he wasn't aware that any of the ladies were particularly close friends of Carolyn's, he casually asked, "What brings you calling on this lovely day?"

"We were on our way to Regent Street to visit the shops when Lady Walsh suggested we call upon Lady Wingate to see if she'd like to join us," reported Mrs. Amunsbury. She held her nose hoisted so high in the air, Daniel wondered that she didn't regularly tip backward. "We're all so delighted she is getting out in Society again."

"Yet now we must be concerned about a murderer running about," said Lady Balsam with a sniff. Daniel barely refrained from looking toward the ceiling. God forbid
anything
should have the gall to come between the countess and her visits to the shops. "Terrible business, the murder is," she continued, "but really, whatever was Lady Crawford thinking, lurking about in the mews? Asking for trouble, for a lady to venture there."

Although he agreed, he had no wish to discuss the matter further. After offering the ladies a formal bow, he left. As he made his way down the flagstone steps then the short path leading to the black wrought-iron gate, he pondered Lady Balsam's words and wondered who or what had led Blythe to the mews. Her adventurous spirit wasn't the sort that would lead her to expose herself to unsafe areas. Which could only mean she'd either expected to meet someone in the mews-someone who either hadn't shown up, leaving her at the mercy of whoever killed her-and that person had killed her. Or she hadn't gone into the mews alone, and the companion who accompanied her there killed her. Which meant that the murderer had attended the masquerade. Like everyone else, he could only hope the culprit was quickly caught and brought to justice. And that Rayburn, and especially Mayne, would turn their attention away from him and concentrate on finding the real murderer.

Yet even as the mystery surrounding Blythe's death circled through his mind, deep inside him another question tied him in knots.

Would Carolyn come to the Gatesbourne soiree tonight?

He supposed the answer depended on the other question that he knew would haunt him all day.

Would she be brave enough to admit she wanted him as much as he wanted her?

H
olding a glass of lemon flavored punch, Carolyn stood in the drawing room of Lord and Lady Gatesbourne's elegant Grosvenor Square mansion and nodded at whatever Sarah was saying. Her sister had been chatting for several minutes, and while Carolyn felt certain that whatever tale she was relaying was fascinating, she still found her attention wandering. To the very thing she didn't wish to think about.

Lord Surbrooke.

Blast the man. Why couldn't she simply banish him from her thoughts? The fact that he seemed branded in her mind was both confusing and utterly vexing. It was as if her brain had developed a freakish resistance to doing what she wanted it to do-which was to forget everything that had to do with Lord Surbrooke. His crooked smile. His dark blue eyes. His handsome face.

His devouring kiss.

And its devastating effect on her.

Even now, hours after he'd departed her home, heat crept up her spine at the mere thought of the way he'd held her. Touched her. Kissed her. The unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against her, swirling a storm of physical wants and needs through her. Wants and needs that still, in spite of the passage of nearly twelve hours, had not abated one bit. Her skin felt hot and too tight, as if it had been soaked in warm starch.

After she'd declined the kind invitation from Lady Walsh, Lady Balsam, and Mrs. Amunsbury to visit the shops, she'd indulged in a warm bath, hoping to ease her discomfort and relax her mind. She always found a soak in her oversized tub soothing. But not today. No, today her mind had buzzed with images of Lord Surbrooke-naked-approaching the tub. His body sculpted to perfection and perfectly aroused-something he proceeded to make perfect use of. With her. In the tub.

The vivid images had left her in such a state, she'd fled the tub and spent two hours pacing, concluding that she simply couldn't attend tonight's party at Julianne's parents' home. She'd planned to go, had looked forward to spending the evening with Sarah, Julianne, and Emily, but
he
was going to be there.

I knew it was you the instant I saw you
. His words filled her with the most confusing combination of guilt and excitement. She hadn't been able to admit to him that she'd known his identity the instant she saw him. To do so would have forced her to acknowledge out loud that theirs hadn't been a chance, anonymous encounter. Her only protection against him, the things he made her feel, was to feign ignorance. Otherwise that anonymous meeting would be changed into a deliberate choice… a choice to share intimacies with a man who wasn't her husband. Who wasn't Edward. The man she'd loved, still loved.

But Edward is gone
, her inner voice whispered.

Yes. And she was alive. Something Lord Surbrooke had made very evident. But how could she deliberately choose to be with another man? A man who wanted them to become lovers.

And that was why she had ultimately decided to attend the party. Because staying away would be tantamount to admitting she wanted to be his lover but was too afraid to say so. Which was untrue. She wasn't afraid to tell him what needed to be said-that she would not, could not, be his lover. And until such time as she could find a private moment to deliver her decision, she'd adopt an air of cool indifference.

Except she couldn't quite manage to find her air of cool indifference.

The fact that even while standing in this crowded, noisy drawing room she couldn't think of anything save sensual images of her and Lord Surbrooke, naked, in a bathtub… well, that didn't bode well at all.

Heat sizzled through her, and she pulled in a deep breath, nodding absently at Sarah while her gaze panned the room. Where was he? Had he decided not to attend the party? She should be glad. She
was
glad. In fact, she was delighted. She'd come and stood her ground and therefore had won the day, staying true to her convictions. This unwanted attraction for him would quickly fade and she'd regain her sensibilities, which he had somehow managed to sneak beneath her guard to steal. Then she and Lord Surbrooke would return to the casual friendship they'd enjoyed before the masked ball. He was clearly looking for a new bed partner. And, of course, that partner would not be her. She simply couldn't become his lover. She wasn't the sort of woman to engage in an affair, no matter how incredibly he might kiss. And make her yearn.

All she had to do now was tell him.

Therefore the least he could have done was show up this evening so she could do so. Once she put this episode behind her and moved on, life would return to normal. Her very fulfilling life did not have room for any man, and most especially not one like Lord Surbrooke, who was so… practiced. So much so that he'd made her temporarily forget herself. But she wouldn't allow it to happen again.

He's made you forget yourself twice
, her pesky inner voice reminded her.

Annoyed, she shoved the voice aside. Naturally, after hearing her refusal, he would pour on his considerable charm and endeavor to change her mind, if for no other reason than to salvage his pride-she imagined that few, if any, women had ever turned him down. But she was resolute. Determined. She would not be swayed from her decision. No matter how persuasive his kisses. No matter how they made her simply… melt. No matter how thoughtful his gift of honey had been.

None of it mattered.

She had to resume the calm, sedate lifestyle she'd carved out for herself. And that certainly did not include a torrid affair with a man who, while unquestioningly attractive, was really nothing more than a spoiled, shallow seducer of women. After hearing her decision, she had no doubt he would immediately turn his attention to someone else. Another woman who would fall willingly into his arms.

That thought filled her with an uncomfortable sensation that made her feel as if her entire body had just twisted itself into a tight knot. She gripped her glass of punch so tight the intricate design cut into her fingers. Damnation, she could almost see him… taking some other nameless, faceless woman in his arms.
Making hex feel all the heated, shockingly pleasurable things he'd made me feel last night and this morning
.

"Don't you agree, Carolyn?"

Sarah's question yanked her from her unsettling thoughts, and she shifted her gaze to her sister, who was staring at her over the rims of her spectacles. "I beg your pardon?" she asked.

Sarah pursed her lips. "I don't believe you've heard a word I said."

Fire raced into Carolyn's face. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm… preoccupied."

Concern flashed in Sarah's brown eyes. "Are you all right?"

No. I'm overheated and frustrated and confused and it's all that aggravating man's fault
. "Yes, poppet, I'm fine."

"Are you certain? You look… flushed."

The fact that her inner discomfort showed so plainly on the outside only served to rush more heat through her. "It's just a bit warm in here. What were you saying?"

"Several things. First, that Lady Crawford's murder is on everyone's lips. There's talk of husbands not allowing their wives to go anywhere unescorted. When we arrived, Julianne said her father threatened not to allow her out of the house. Matthew has made me promise half a dozen times not to venture
anywhere
alone."

"I'm glad he's done so," Carolyn said. "Everyone I've spoken to is very concerned." She leaned closer and said in an undertone, "I see that Mr. Rayburn and Mr. Mayne are here. That makes one feel a bit safer."

"Yes," Sarah agreed, "although I'd guess they're here in more of an investigative capacity than a protective one."

A shiver ran through Carolyn. "Surely Lady Crawford's death was the result of footpads, and not someone who attended the party."

"I hope so."

"What else did you say?" Carolyn asked.

"He still hasn't sent me a note."

"He? Note?"

Sarah pushed her glasses higher on her nose, and for the first time Carolyn noticed that her normally imperturbable sister seemed very… perturbed. Indeed, she appeared to be in an absolute dither.

Leaning closer, Sarah said in an agitated undertone, "Matthew. And I'm referring to the sort of note we read about in the
Memoirs
. I don't understand why he hasn't. Good heavens, the man thinks nothing of plying me with diamond ear bobs, yet I ask him to send me a one line note and he cannot manage it."

Carolyn's amusement was tempered by Sarah's obvious discomposed state. "Giving you diamonds rather than a note. That beast. He deserves a good thrashing."

Sarah blinked, then a sheepish expression crossed her face. "Point taken. It's just that, well, I'm anxious for him to do so. So I can experience the same excitement the Anonymous Lady described."

The knot in Carolyn's stomach cinched tighter. Those damnable excitements the Anonymous Lady had described were the catalyst that had sent all her thoughts-and actions-running amok. "He's most likely just trying to figure out the perfect time and place, poppet. Don't be so impatient."

"I suppose, but 'tis difficult when I know something so pleasurable awaits me."

She instantly thought of Lord Surbrooke… naked, aroused, climbing into her bathtub, the mental picture so vivid her breath caught. She squeezed her eyes briefly shut to banish the image. "I'm certain Matthew will send you a note soon." Then, determined to change the subject, she asked, "Have you seen Emily and Julianne?"

She craned her neck, looking around for her friends. And most certainly not hoping to catch a glimpse of
him
. She noted Mrs. Amunsbury, Lady Balsam, and Lady Walsh standing in a tight group near the fireplace. All three ladies were looking at her, and Carolyn couldn't help but wonder if they'd been discussing her. She inclined her head, a greeting the trio returned, then continued looking about. "There's such a crush of people it's impos-"

Her words cut off when her gaze happened upon Lord Surbrooke. He stood on the opposite side of the large, crowded room, facing her, his head bent to catch the words of a petite blond woman whose back was to Carolyn. As she watched, he laughed at something the woman said. Then, as if sensing the weight of her stare, he glanced up and their gazes met.

Carolyn felt the impact of his regard all the way down to her toes, which promptly curled into her satin slippers. For several frantic heartbeats it seemed as if his gaze bore straight through her. He offered her the briefest of nods, then returned his attention to the blonde.

A heated flush enveloped her entire body, and she had to force herself not to snatch her sister's fan and wave it furiously in front of her burning face. Myriad emotions assailed her. Disappointment, confusion, and embarrassment all collided. He'd acknowledged her, but in a wholly impersonal manner one would use with a stranger. Certainly not in any way that would indicate to her he'd kissed her senseless. Twice. And not in any way that made it appear he was happy to see her. No, he looked perfectly content to continue speaking to the blonde upon whose every word he clung.

A wave of something that felt precisely like jealousy nearly drowned her, although surely it was just annoyance. Why, the man was impossible! Kissing her as if he couldn't breathe without her one minute, then barely glancing her way the next. The blonde was welcome to Lord Surbrooke.

Lifting her chin, she returned her attention to Sarah. And discovered her sister watching her with a questioning look.

"Are you certain you're all right, Carolyn? You don't seem at all yourself. Would you like to leave? Matthew and I can accompany you home."

She shook her head and kept her attention firmly fixed on her sister. "I'm fine. Truly. Just a bit tired." Yes, tired of thinking of things best forgotten. Tired of searching the room for a man she didn't even want to see, other than to tell him she didn't wish to see him.

"I see you found Julianne. Doesn't she look lovely?"

"Julianne? No, I didn't see her. Where is she?"

Sarah shot her an odd look. "You were looking directly at her. She's speaking to Lord Surbrooke."

Carolyn blinked. Then her gaze flew across the room. And she realized that the petite blonde facing Lord Surbrooke was indeed Julianne. And Lord Surbrooke was still hanging on her every word.

"Lord Surbrooke seems to be hanging on her every word," Sarah commented in an undertone, her words eerily mirroring Carolyn's thoughts. "They make a handsome couple, don't you agree?"

A vice seemed to be compressing her chest, and she barely managed to force out, "Indeed."

And indeed they did. How could they not? Lord Surbrooke's masculine dark good looks perfectly complimented Julianne's delicate golden beauty.

"Lady Gatesbourne is watching them from near the potted palm," Sarah whispered from the side of her mouth, indicating the plant with a slight jerk of her head. "She's sizing up Lord Surbrooke with the sort of zeal I imagine an undertaker experiences when measuring one for a coffin."

A brittle laugh escaped Carolyn. "If Lady Gatesbourne is expecting to bring Lord Surbrooke up to snuff, she's in for a disappointment. The gentleman has no intention of marrying anytime soon."

"So Matthew has told me." She felt the weight of Sarah's regard. "I don't recall mentioning such to you, however."

Carolyn pulled her gaze away from the striking couple. "Lord Surbrooke told me himself."

"Indeed? When?"

Carolyn hoped her shrug looked less forced than it felt. "During one of our conversations," she said vaguely. Her conscience slapped her for her less than forthcoming answer, but she knew if she mentioned Lord Surbrooke's visit to her home that morning, her curious sister would ask endless questions-questions she had no desire to answer.