Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) (5 page)

At least, she tried to tell herself that was the
reason.  Scoundrels really shouldn’t be so handsome.  It was most unfair.

As he walked through the ballroom, he was hailed by
any number of gentlemen wanting to have a word.  Her mystery man paused but
never lingered.  With only a few words, he invariably made them laugh, then
moved on until he was stopped again.  Several women followed him with their eyes,
and while more than one mama watched him pass with pursed lips, Mel had a
feeling they would smile broadly enough if the man asked their daughters to
dance.

He passed through the French doors to the terrace
and Mel followed, making sure to stay far enough behind that he wouldn’t turn
and see her.  It became clear that he was walking with purpose as he descended
the stone stairs with the grace of an athlete and, given his state of
inebriation, the balance of a circus performer.

As he moved further away from the house and into the
darkest recesses of the garden, Mel’s curiosity was thoroughly engaged.   Was
he going to leave through a back gate?  It was so dark in that deserted portion
of the garden she was surprised he would even be able to find an exit.   She
couldn’t see him anymore, and as she realized just how isolated she was, she
decided to turn back.  But she only went a few steps before a hand reached out
and pulled her behind a massive tree and up against a broad, muscular chest. 

Before she could scream, warm firm lips touched
hers, as two arms snaked around her waist and pulled her to him.  She was quite
shockingly pressed against a man all the way down the length of her.  And, from
what she could dimly see in the moonlight, it wasn’t just any man.  It was the
man she’d been following.

He lifted his lips from hers, then gently nibbled
her left ear.  The sensation was unlike any she’d ever experienced.  All of
this was like nothing she’d ever experienced, since she’d never even been
kissed until a moment earlier.  And she’d certainly never stood this close to a
man, not to mention had his hands explore her body.  She felt flush all over,
with an odd sensation in her stomach.  She knew she should put a stop to such
outrageous behavior at once, but she was so breathless she couldn’t speak.

His lips had continued their journey from her ear to
her neck.  One hand was massaging her bottom, while the other was resting just
below her left breast.  Every time she breathed, it seemed his hand grazed her breast. 
She wondered what it would be like to feel it on her.

Mel knew she was being wicked, but she was
overwhelmed by sensation.  She didn’t know anything could feel this good. 
Through her reform activities in Philadelphia and London, she’d befriended a
few prostitutes.  She knew some claimed to enjoy their work, but she’d always
wondered whether they were simply making the best of a dire situation.  Now she
understood a least a bit of the appeal.  But enough was enough.  She was going
to pull away from the scoundrel who was kissing her so deliciously.  She really
was.

“I’m surprised you followed so quickly,” murmured
the stranger.  “Wouldn’t want word to get back to your husband.”

Her husband!
 
Mel pulled back from the handsome man, who obviously had mistaken her for
someone else.  They were far enough apart now that he should realize his
mistake, but he simply looked at her with his heavy-lidded eyes and swayed.

Mel was humiliated and wanted to deliver a setdown
that would blister his ears.  But before she could even begin, he passed out in
front of her.  She tried to catch him, but gravity had already taken hold.  The
best she was able to do was slow his fall before he hit the ground with a thud.

And there was her sinfully handsome stranger, passed
out cold on the grass.  Looking better than he should.  Looking better than
anyone should.  She had no doubt there were gentlemen in the ballroom who could
primp with a valet for hours and not look nearly as good as this drunkard in
front of her.

After checking to see if he was still breathing, she
loosened his cravat just a bit.  Her fingers touched the warm skin of his neck
and she became heated all over again.  She knew she could not linger.  It was a
miracle they hadn’t been discovered and she would be ruined if someone came
upon them.  She felt bad about deserting him, but since he’d obviously been
expecting someone else, hopefully that woman would appear soon enough and take
care of him.

Which also meant she needed to leave right away. 
She looked out from behind the tree and saw no one around.  She walked away as
quickly as possible, deciding to tell a footman that she might have seen a
person fall.  They would get him the help he needed.

In her haste, she nearly bumped into a beautiful
woman several years older than she.  There was a distinct resemblance between
the two of them in height and hair color.  The woman was smiling like she was
about to receive a treat and she was headed directly to where the mystery man
had passed out.  Was she the married woman he’d been expecting?  Aside from the
moral implications – and, really, how could they commit adultery – Mel was
relieved that the woman would be able to get the man the help he needed.  She
walked a bit further toward the house, to a point where torches illuminated
that portion of the garden.  She knew she should continue on into the ballroom,
but she wanted to make sure the man would receive assistance.  It was the least
she could do as a woman who prided herself on helping others.

And she felt she might owe it to him after that
incredible kiss.

A few minutes later the woman re-emerged from the
garden with a look of disgust on her face.  As she was climbing the stairs to
the terrace, an elderly man found her then indicated he was ready to leave. 
Mel watched the two depart without the woman summoning help.

It looked like it was up to Mel.  She stopped a passing
footman and told him she thought she’d seen someone faint, then pointed in the
general direction of the victim.  The footman thanked her and said he would
attend to it.  Mel walked back up to the terrace and waited a few moments until
three liveried footmen walked across the lawn and picked up the man, carrying
him out to the mews.  Mel could only hope they knew who he was to send him home
properly. 

She knew it was no business of hers whether he was
delivered safely.  Yet, she couldn’t help thinking about him for the rest of
the night.

CHAPTER FOUR

It had been a mistake to go to White’s,
thought Hal the next morning as he was sitting in his club with an aching
head.  But he’d needed to get out of the house.  Lynwood had been livid when
he’d returned from the ball at two in the morning, having been informed by
several matrons that his youngest brother had to be carried to the family’s
carriage after having passed out in the Raleighs’ garden.  Their Aunt Agatha
had threatened to move into Lynwood House until Hal could be persuaded to give
up his rakehell ways.  Lynwood made it clear to Hal that he would do whatever
was necessary to dissuade their aunt from carrying out her threat, even if it
meant locking Hal in his bedchamber and barring the windows.

Hal couldn’t blame his brother for being so angry. 
He rather thought he deserved the condemnation, although he’d never admit such
a thing to Liam.  Even he didn’t understand his downward spiral of the last few
months.  Maybe it was time to pull back a bit, perhaps find an activity that
was more worthwhile than drinking, gaming and whoring his nights away.  It
shouldn’t be difficult to find a more honorable activity, but he had a feeling
it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.

“There you are,” came the familiar drawl of Charles
Francis, as he slouched into the chair next to Hal holding a brandy.  “I called
at Lynwood House just now, only to be told in terse tones that you were not at
home.  Sometimes I get the impression the duke doesn’t like me.”

“He’s been in a devil of a mood these past few
weeks,” said Hal, taking another sip of a restorative drink.  “If I didn’t know
him better, I’d say it was a problem with a lady.  But, it’s Lynwood.  What
kind of women problems could he possibly have?”

“Exactly.  I’ve always believed the world comes a
bit too easily to your brother.”

Hal wasn’t sure that was true.  Liam had assumed the
title at nineteen, upon the death of their parents.  He’d had to grow up
instantaneously at such a young age.  Hal could barely assume the responsibilities
of adulthood at five and twenty.  It must have been incredibly hard for Liam to
do that and more.  He took another sip of his drink.  “I’ll thank you not to
speak ill of my brother.”

“I would never dream of it,” said Francis with a
lazy smile.  “We shall change the subject to one so much more interesting, like
your luck with the ladies.  I saw you speaking to Lady Lawson last night and
things looked quite cozy between you.  Please tell me you availed yourself of
the good woman.”

“Here’s the thing,” said Hal, pondering a question
that had been plaguing him all morning.  “I’m not so sure I did.  I don’t
remember much of the Raleighs’ ball, other than speaking to Regina and arranging
to meet.  The next thing I knew, I was kissing a delectable piece who fit my
arms like none other.”

“So you and Lady Lawson did meet up.”

“I do not know the answer to that, but very much
wish I did.  She was about the same height and had the right coloring, but it
was all a bit off.  Something in the way she tasted.”

“Ah,” said Francis, as he took a sip of his brandy,
“just the kind of details I like to hear.  How did she taste?”

“Like innocence.”  Hal might have laughed when he
saw the look of disappointment on his friend’s face if he hadn’t been so
perplexed by the incident himself.  “Sorry to let you down, old boy, but that’s
the story.  I seem to have blacked out shortly thereafter, briefly awakening when
the Raleigh footmen delivered me to Lynwood House.”

“Such a disappointing tale,” said Francis.  “I can’t
help but wonder if you somehow managed to kiss someone other than the
delectable Lady Lawson, who I can’t imagine has tasted like innocence in two or
more decades.  And to pass out after only a kiss.  I do believe you’re losing
your touch.”

“I most certainly am not,” said Hal.  “Although I do
find myself becoming a bit bored with our usual entertainments.”

Francis looked his surprise, then chuckled.  “I
wouldn’t think you were ready for your leg shackle, but it appears the Countess
of Crenshaw is bringing you to heel.”

Hal bristled at the very suggestion.  “I just think
there might be more to life than spending our evenings at brothels and hells.”

“Perhaps,” said Francis, as he contemplated his
drink.  “Although I’m not sure you could find success among the
ton
as
you used to.  You reputation isn’t what it was.”

“I’ll do just fine,” said Hal, finishing his drink
and tiring of the conversation. 

“Care to make a wager?” asked Francis.

“Only if you’re prepared to lose your blunt.  You do
it so well.  It’s a most admirable trait in a friend.”

Francis finished his drink then waved lazily at a
footman for another.  “Ah, but this time I shall not lose.  I am so sure that
you have lost enough of your vaunted charm that you will be unable to seduce
the chit of my choice.”

“And here I thought you were going to propose
something difficult,” said Hal lazily.  “But I have no interest in playing with
others to amuse you.  Whenever I engage in a liaison it is because the female
in question is interested in either me or my blunt.  Often both.  I still have
enough of a conscience not to seduce a woman for any other purpose.  Sorry, old
chap, but you’ll have to find another taker for your bet.”

Francis studied Hal for a moment as he took another
brandy from the footman.  “What if you only had to steal a kiss?”

“Then you might as well hand over the blunt right
now.”

“You may talk a good game, but it’s quite another
thing to actually go through with it.”  Francis hid a smile at Hal’s answering
glare.  “Just one kiss from the chit of my choice and you don’t even have to do
it in public.  Although I will require some proof.”

 “You wouldn’t take my word for it?”

“I’m afraid not.”  Francis gave him a mock look of
contrition.

“I don’t kiss innocents.  Or at least I don’t when
I’m not in my cups,” Hal amended, thinking once again of that kiss the previous
evening.  How he wished he knew who it had been.  He was almost positive it hadn’t
been Lady Lawson.  But who was she and how had he come to be kissing her?  More
importantly, how could he find her and kiss her again?

Francis expounded on the infernal wager.  “I promise
not to choose anyone with a matchmaking mama in tow.  The last thing I want is for
you to become leg-shackled – Lynwood is enough of a shrew.  And before you
berate me, I take it back.  I won’t say another thing about your beloved saint
of a brother.  Now, since we’re already here, shall we make it official?  Let’s
enter this in the book.”