The memory of his lips, of his hands, overshadowed all else. To feel him again, to experience that flood of warmth over her body—she couldn’t resist the pull she felt.
She stood on her toes and brought her lips to his.
“Oh, Mere,” he sighed, suddenly crashing into her. He pulled her close, his lips bruising hers with the force of his passion. She grabbed hold of his shoulders, latching onto him with all her strength.
And then he started to ease the pressure, pulling back and slowing the rhythm. No longer demanding, but searching. She nipped at his lips, allowing herself to explore him with her tongue, learning everything she could and all she shouldn’t. It was deliberate, each one looking for something in the other, uncertain of just what that was.
Then all of a sudden his lips stopped moving and she felt him go very still under her hands. He pushed himself away from her, sending her staggering backward.
He growled and raked his fingers through his hair, pulling the dark waves away from his face. “This cannot be happening again!” He started pacing back and forth, like a caged panther.
He stopped and pointed at her. “This is
your
fault.”
She shielded herself behind the back of a wing chair. “How is this
my
fault? Better yet, what exactly are you trying to blame me for?”
“This.” He waved his hands wildly. “You did it again!”
“I did nothing!” she yelled back. “I was just minding my own business when you pulled me in here and
accosted
me.”
“
I
accosted
you
?” He pointed at himself, mocking her with his tone. “I think you have it the other way around.
You
kissed
me
.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I was coerced.”
“If anyone was doing the coercing, it was you!”
Meredith held up her injury. “You were
caressing
my hand!”
“I was examining it for a possible fracture.”
“No surgeon ever looked for a broken bone
with his mouth
!”
His nostrils flared. “This cannot happen again.”
“Oh, trust me, it won’t.” She’d been foolish in abandoning her judgment and allowing him to seduce her into such a wanton mess.
“I mean it this time,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself.
“It would appear that we’re in complete agreement with each other. Whatever
this
is that keeps happening between us, won’t happen again. And I mean that not just as a threat, but as a promise. After all, you’ve got your ill-fated pursuit of Miss Marshall to follow, and I have my own romantic interests that need attending to. Neither one of us have any time to devote to such a fruitless endeavor.”
“I wouldn’t call my interest in Miss Marshall ill-fated.”
“Linguistics, Lord Sutherland. It sounded much kinder than
doomed to fail
as was my first inclination.”
“I
will
be with Miss Marshall.”
“Just because you keep repeating it, doesn’t make it any more likely to happen.” If he’d been the man she knew years ago, then Ophelia would be fortunate to make such a match. But not now. She deserved more than a loveless marriage with a man who had no intention of spending his life with her.
“Meredith?” Ophelia called from the hallway.
The two immediately shut their mouths. Derek brought a finger to his lips, and they listened in silence. Her heart was still beating wildly, a combination of desire, anger, and fear.
He nodded toward the door, an indication that she should leave first. She smoothed down her gown, surprised at just how much a kiss could irreparably wrinkle a gown. The two locked glances, and for a brief moment she thought she detected something other than anger in his gaze. It was like she was looking at Derek again, and not the infamous Earl she so eagerly despised.
He was still in there, somewhere. The thought warmed her.
The sound of a nearby door opening was all the prompting she needed to break their stare and run out of the room.
“I’m over here,” Meredith called back.
Ophelia smiled. “You were gone for so long. I thought I should come find you in case you were lost. We’re getting ready to play cards now. I was hoping you’d sit at my table. Perhaps we can convince my brother and Lord Sutherland to join us?”
“Sounds . . . wonderful,” she finally managed.
Ophelia reached out and jiggled the handle on the door. “I thought that door was closed. Whatever were you doing in there?”
“Oh, I was just snooping around. Looks like you’re redecorating?”
She nodded. “It’s to become a reading room. Honestly, I don’t understand why they can’t all be called sitting rooms.”
“But then where would you read?” Meredith asked, trying to lighten her mood with a joke.
“In the library where all the books are,” Ophelia answered, unaffected by the paltry attempt at humor.
Meredith sighed. One couldn’t exactly fault her for that logic.
Chapter 20
The four were once again seated together, this time for a rousing game of Whist.
“How about Garrett and I form one team, and you and Lord Sutherland can be on the other?” Ophelia took the deck of cards.
Meredith pressed her lips together. “Or, perhaps you and I can be on one team, and the two gentlemen can be on the other?”
Ophelia shook her head. “Garrett and I have been playing together for years. We’re familiar with each other’s styles.”
“More reason to mix it up a bit, don’t you think?” Meredith urged.
“Garrett and I are a force to be reckoned with.” Ophelia stared across the table at her brother, who nodded in agreement with her rationale. “Shall we play?”
Meredith smiled, cordially accepting her loss.
Her last run-in with Derek had left her even more confused than before. It was as if he couldn’t stand to be around her . . . until they were alone together. And the same could be said for her. She resented him, and hated the man he’d become.
And in spite of all that, her fingers still ached for the want of touching him.
She sighed.
Every so often she’d steal a glance his way, noting that he’d been conspicuously quiet since rejoining the party. He looked tense—his lips pressed firmly together and the muscle in his jaw occasionally twitching.
It was his turn to deal.
Garrett turned the first card over. “Is everything quite all right, Sutherland?”
“Just fine, Marshall,” he answered flatly. “Why do you ask?”
“You just seem a bit stressed tonight. Do you know what I do when I’m stressed?” Ophelia asked.
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
She placed her card down. “I like to walk outdoors and look for new plants to catalogue. It’s so methodical, I find it relaxing.”
Meredith smiled at her friend. She really was such an interesting girl. Odd. Very odd. But interesting.
“I box,” Garrett declared, taking the first trick.
“Funny, I didn’t fancy you a pugilist,” Derek remarked, not bothering to look up from his hand.
Garrett’s chest puffed out a little. “I’m the club champ, actually. What about you, Sutherland? Ever fight in the ring?”
He chuckled. “I’ve fought plenty, but not in a ring.”
Meredith peeked over her cards across the table at Derek. He looked far too dark. Brooding. Mr. Marshall would be wise to drop the conversation.
“Are you afraid of losing?” Garrett goaded.
It was all she could do to resist rolling her eyes at his stupid prodding. Garrett was an aristocrat, his face almost as pretty as her own. Derek had just spent half a decade sailing around the world, doing whatever necessary to protect valuable cargo. She had little doubt which man would be the victor, should the argument turn from theoretical to physical.
Still, Derek surprised her with his calm demeanor. “There’s very little that scares me. I can safely say going up against a bunch of dandies who fancy themselves real fighters is certainly not one of them. I fight out of necessity—not for sport.”
Derek slapped his card down. “Miss Castle, I believe that’s our point.”
He looked across the table at her, the intensity of his gaze causing a pool of warmth to gather low in her belly.
She could do nothing but smile back, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak.
“Lord Sutherland.” Ophelia set another card down. A spade. “Have you had the opportunity to visit your family since returning to England?”
“I spent a few days in Middlebury not long ago. I’ve been trying to convince my mother to leave ever since my father died. I even offered to buy her a home here in Town. After I inherited the estate, I suggested she live there. She simply refuses to leave the home she spent with her husband for all those years. Still, she’s at least allowed me to find workers for the land so she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.
Her heart leapt at the mention of Mrs. Weston. She’d always been so kind to her. Growing up, her mother had never been a particularly affectionate woman. She was always too ill, or too tired, or too . . . well, too consumed with herself. But Mrs. Weston always had time, treating her like one of her own, the daughter she never had.
“How is she?” Meredith asked.
“She’s doing well.”
Meredith could feel the animosity evaporating as he spoke of his family.
“It sounds like you two were close,” Garrett remarked dryly from behind his cards.
“The Westons were kind enough to host dinner on Friday evenings. My step-father had business that required him to go away for extended periods, so my mother and I took advantage of their hospitality,” Meredith explained, embarrassed that she had to lie about her step-father’s absence. That poor excuse for a man had been
travelling
for most of her life, but it was much more acceptable to be absent due to business than the desertion of one’s own family.
“But that was years ago,” Derek clarified.
Meredith felt a stab of regret in her chest. “Yes,” she turned to Garret. “It was a long time ago.”
“It’s a pity. I think my mother misses the company.” Derek slapped down a card.
“I’m sure my mother would come to dinner if invited.” Her heart warmed at the memory of those dinners.
Derek shrugged. “She said she’s tried, but your mother is travelling so often, it’s been hard to find the time.”
“Travelling?” She repeated the word slowly, as if it would make more sense to her that way. “What do you mean?”
“Since your mother bought the home in Brighton—”
“Brighton?” Meredith interrupted, her voice raising an octave.
“Your mother lives in Brighton?” Ophelia asked.
Meredith shook her head. “No, my mother doesn’t travel anywhere. There was a time she was staying in Bath, but it was at a hospital. She suffers from some sort of stomach ailment and the waters there were supposed to be quite beneficial. But, as far as I know she hasn’t left Middlebury for months. Years even. She’s much too ill to travel any distance.”
“She was at a hospital in
Bath
?” Derek asked, setting his cards down.
“Yes. Aunt Cynthia took care of it.”
“And she doesn’t travel anywhere?”
Now, it was her turn to set down her cards. “I’m afraid with my step-father
travelling,
that she wouldn’t have the means, even if she was well enough.”
Derek nodded. “Do you see her often?”
She swallowed down the lump that was forming at the base of her throat. “No. I’m afraid she’s much too ill for visitors. She prefers that I stay here. It’s her vanity—she’s just embarrassed to be seen in her weakened state. She’s a proud woman, so it’s hard for her. We correspond regularly, though.”
Derek shook his head. “Of course, I apologize. It’s just . . .” He paused, his brows furrowed, a deep crease gathering between them. “Never mind.”
Meredith didn’t press him, and the group played on; Ophelia and Garrett taking the most tricks. Her heart wasn’t in the game and her performance had been dismal at best. She found it difficult to focus with her mind wandering as it was. Derek’s behavior had gone from irate to evasive, and she had no idea what had prompted it.
She used to think she had all the answers, but now . . . well, she was left with only questions.
Chapter 21
Meredith stood back and admired the rack of gowns. “I just don’t know,” she muttered to herself. There was a time when sorting through her extensive wardrobe would have been the highlight of her day. Now it seemed like more of a chore than anything.
She pulled a blue taffeta out of the mix. “Why do I have so many?”
Alex took a grape from the bowl on the pedestal table beside her chaise and popped it in her mouth. “Why wouldn’t you? Now, save us both the trouble and take them all.”
“It would make things easier.” Meredith nodded toward a gray dress and Lizzie promptly removed it from the rack to place in the trunk at the center of the room. “I can ask my aunt if she’d be willing to pack a few of my things in her trunks. Though I doubt she’ll have room, given as many gowns as she’s likely to bring.” Aunt Cynthia was also coming, but had a prior commitment so she would need to travel separately, later in the week.
She was leaving for the Marshall’s in just five days and there was still so much to make ready. Unfortunately, the distraction was not nearly as much help as she’d hoped it would be and did little to push the events of the dinner party from her mind.
The opportunity presented by being a house guest at the Marshall’s was twofold. Not only did it provide her with much needed time with Garrett, it was also her chance to convince Ophelia that she didn’t need to settle for Lord Sutherland. She was an odd duck, but she was also exceptionally well-meaning and pretty enough that she could have her pick of husbands. Meredith was positive that Lady Marshall would forget all about the idea of matrimony if Ophelia succeeded in becoming a Ribbon. Now, all she had to do was make certain she did.
Still, it wouldn’t be easy, and she knew that her cause would further be helped by enlisting the assistance of someone else.