Nicole Jordan (5 page)

Max bowed to his hostess, Lady Hennessy, but it was Caro he addressed. “Good evening, Miss Evers. I wasn’t certain I would ever have the good fortune of meeting you again.”

She frowned, as if searching her memory. “Do I know you, sir? Oh, yes…Major Leighton, is it not?”

His eyebrow shot up in surprise. Max studied her, wondering if she truly had difficulty remembering his name, or if she was just dissembling for the sake of their audience.

He feigned a wince. “You wound me, Miss Evers, if you cannot even recall my name.”

She pursed her lips. “Oh, I recall it quite well, Mr. Leighton. How could I not, when the gossip columns are full of your amorous adventures?”

Lady Hennessy made a sound that was suspiciously like a chuckle, but Max ignored her. With deliberate gallantry he took Caro’s hand and bent over it, pressing his lips to her gloved fingers, interested to see how she responded.

Not only did she give a start, but when her eyes locked with his, something warm and primitive arced between them. Her gaze then flickered lower, over his mouth, and Max knew for certain that Caro Evers had not forgotten him.

A sharp surge of male satisfaction rippled through him, even though she withdrew her hand coolly.

“Actually, I was on my way to find you,” she said. “Thorne asked me to convey his apologies to you. He was called away on sudden business. He regretted”—she glanced pointedly toward the gathering of ladies Max had just abandoned—“having to leave you to the tender mercies of your gaggle of admirers.”

She rose then. “I hope you won’t mind if I excuse myself, Mr. Leighton. I have had a long journey, and I have another long one ahead of me tomorrow.”

Bending, she kissed Lady Hennessy’s cheek. “Thank you, my lady. Thorne will be grateful that you have released him from his promise.”

The dowager shook her head with mock sternness. “You can’t fool me, my girl. I can see right through him. He wasn’t brave enough to face me, and so he coerced you into pleading his case.”

Caro smiled. “True, but you must admit, you are quite formidable when you get in a high dudgeon.”

She turned to Max, her gaze flickering over him before she nodded toward the cluster of ladies who were still watching him. “Perhaps you should return to your devotees. It is obvious they anxiously await you. Good night, Mr. Leighton.”

Max remained where he stood, staring after her. He had just been dismissed, he realized.

It was a novel experience for him, to be spurned by the only woman he longed to be near. And his dismissal had a decided effect on him—arousing the primitive male urge to chase fleeing prey and stirring even deeper instincts of possessiveness.

He had a claim on Caro Evers, whether she realized it or not.

Watching him, Lady Hennessy let out a deep chuckle. “Perhaps you have already discovered that Caro is not like any other conventional young lady.”

“Indeed,” Max said wryly.

“She despises balls and all the other trappings of society. I doubt she will come down again this evening. Most likely she will hide herself away reading one of those infernal medical tomes.” The lady’s eyes took on a calculating gleam. “But she is staying upstairs in her former rooms. If you wish to speak with her, Mr. Leighton, I suspect you will have to go after her.”

Max curved his mouth in an amused, calculating line of his own. “Thank you, my lady. I have every intention of doing just that.”

Chapter

Two

It was absurd how flustered Maxwell Leighton made her, Caro thought as she escaped the ballroom. She felt his gaze locked on her back, hot as flame, which only served to further kindle her overheated senses.

When finally she reached her bedchamber, Caro closed the door and leaned against it while she waited for her wits to stop whirling, for her heart to stop pounding. She had hoped he wouldn’t be as devastating as she recollected, but her wish had been futile.

How could he have such an affect on her?

How could he not?
a logical voice responded.

Not only was he the kind of hero maidens dreamed of, he had been her first and only lover. He’d helped her to fully become a woman. To experience passion. Surely it was only reasonable that she would see him in a different light from any other man. That she would remember him more vividly. That a simple glance from his startling blue eyes could set her heart leaping and her stomach fluttering like an army of butterflies had taken residence there.

Had he noticed her reaction? She had tried to feign indifference but wasn’t certain that she’d succeeded. Especially since she couldn’t refrain from sniping about the admiring beauties who were pursuing him, which had made her sound like a jealous witch.

How could she possibly feel jealousy? Caro scolded herself. She had no right. She had no place in Max Leighton’s life. He likely wouldn’t
want
her in his life. If not for the special circumstances of that long-ago night, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance.

Tonight he had seen her as she really was, without the benefit of moonlight, without the island’s spellbinding enchantment. He wouldn’t feel the same fiery attraction that she still felt for him. True, for a moment he had stared at her as if absorbing the sight of her. But she’d obviously been indulging in fanciful dreams, mistaking his look for the fierce ardor she’d imagined in her most secret fantasies.

With a sigh of self-disgust, Caro took off her pelisse. A fire had been lit in the grate, and a light supper awaited her on a small table near the hearth, but she was too agitated to eat.

Her valise had been delivered by a footman, and she debated whether to change into her nightdress. But then she recalled Thorne was supposed to return shortly. Moreover, the ball would probably go on for hours—she could hear the faint strains of music below—and being undressed would make her feel too defenseless when the house was filled with so many lovely ladies wearing splendid ballgowns.

Caro paced restlessly for a moment, then forced herself to stop when she caught sight of herself in the cheval glass. Her dark brown hair was wild and untidy, with dozens of curls escaping from their pins. No wonder all those haughty beauties had stared at her. That
he
had stared at her. But it was only one more mark against her in a social ledger that was full of black marks.

She brushed out her hair, then poured herself a cup of tea and settled in the wing chair before the fire to read a recently published medical treatise, although she comprehended perhaps only one word in three. Her mind kept returning to Max Leighton, to the incredible night she had spent in his arms.

Perhaps half an hour had passed when she heard a soft rap on her door. Expecting Thorne, Caro rose and opened it.

She felt herself go cold, then hot, when she saw who stood there.

“You escaped before I could make a single inquiry,” Max said lightly as he sauntered into the room without so much as a by-your-leave. “I wanted to ask you how Lieutenant Yates is faring.”

Caro snapped her gaping jaw shut. She would
not
let him fluster her again, even if he
had
invaded her bedchamber uninvited. Thank heaven she had kept on her clothing.

“Surely you know his status, Mr. Leighton. John told me that he writes to you regularly, just as you requested him to do.”

“I want to hear your account. How else can I trust that he’s being truthful when he claims to be recovering?”

The defensive set of Caro’s shoulders relaxed somewhat when she understood the reason for Max’s visit; he needed to know about his former lieutenant to set his mind at ease.

She swung the door almost closed, allowing them privacy, but leaving it open a crack for propriety’s sake. “John Yates actually is doing quite well. His spirits are far higher than I ever would have expected.”

Max roughly ran a hand though his hair. “I’m glad he isn’t merely trying to spare me.”

For a moment he stared down at the carpet, as if caught in some dark memory. Then he looked up at her, his glance once again setting her heart scampering. “And you? How are you faring?”

She clasped her hands in front of her to steady them. “Well enough, thank you,” she answered, preferring not to open the subject of her missing friend.

“From your haste in departing the ballroom, I wondered if I had offended you in some manner.”

Caro felt fresh color stain her cheeks. “No, you didn’t offend me.”

He took in the length of her…her mouth, her breasts, her hips, as if remembering. All the nerves in her body seemed to flare with heat. “I am not accustomed to women running from me.”

“No, I would expect not.” Her lips pursed in unwilling humor. “They are much more likely to be chasing you. By all accounts you are the marriage prize of the decade.”

His own mouth curled in a wry grimace. “Are you quoting the gossip columns again?”

“Indeed. We read newspapers on our island, Mr. Leighton. They are weeks old, but we still get them. Your name has been linked to any number of heiresses and titled ladies eager to become your bride. Last month it was a European princess, was it not? The predictions are that a match will be announced very soon.”

“The predictions are wrong. I have no interest in marriage.” He gave her a speculative glance. “Are you interested in marriage, Miss Evers?”

Caro returned a startled look at the strange question. “No, not in the least.”

“Good. That greatly relieves my mind.”

“I don’t know why it should.”

Instead of replying, he strolled over to the window, pushing aside the heavy drapery to peer out at the dark night. “I trust you won’t object if I take refuge here for a while?”

She hesitated a moment. “It would hardly be proper. This is my bedchamber.”

Turning, he propped a shoulder against the window frame. He remained silent, merely studying her with a raised eyebrow, his expression seeming to say,
I have been in a much more intimate setting with you than your bedchamber.

“Are you so concerned with propriety?” he asked. “Judging from the rumors, you thumb your nose at decorum every chance you get.”

It was Caro’s turn to deplore the gossips. “Not
every
chance. I imagine you heard the shocking details of my London Season,” she said stiffly.

“I wasn’t overly shocked. It seems that your chief offense was inspecting human entrails. And I saw enough of those bloody things during the war to become inured.”

“But I am a
female
,” Caro retorted, unable to keep a tart edge from her tone. “To the ton, it is a crime for me to do anything more than ply a sick patient with calves’ foot jelly.”

“You are criminal indeed,” he murmured in amusement.

Shrugging off her longtime disaffection, she managed a smile. “Why don’t you return to the ballroom and your admirers? I’m certain they can regale you with tales about me that would curdle your blood.”

Max shook his head. “I’d wager they know almost nothing about the real Miss Caro Evers. They wouldn’t know, for example, that you like to bathe in the moonlight.”

Caro felt her breath falter. “You really shouldn’t be here, Mr. Leighton.”

“Why not?”

When she made no answer, he slowly crossed the room to stand before her. His nearness made Caro retreat a step. A mistake, she realized, since her back pressed against the door, shutting it with a loud click.

“Are you afraid of me?” Max asked, his hushed voice somehow more intimate than his bare hands on her skin.

“Of course not. But it seems that for some reason you are trying to intimidate me.”

He smiled at that. “It would be futile of me to try. You are obviously not a woman to be easily intimidated.”

“I’m not. But I still would prefer that you leave.”

“You weren’t concerned about propriety that night.”

“What night?”

“Are you again claiming you don’t remember?” His gaze searching her face, he took a step closer and reached up to touch her lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

Caro drew a sharp breath. Of course she remembered. He had filled her dreams for months afterward. Even now she still sometimes dreamed of him….

“I think you haven’t forgotten about that night,” he murmured. “I certainly haven’t.”

She couldn’t lie so brazenly, but she could at least prevaricate. “No, I haven’t forgotten. It was…interesting.”

“Merely interesting?”

Determined to resist her ridiculous attraction to him, Caro moved across the room to the table where her valise lay and busied herself folding a shawl. “You are asking a great deal of probing questions,” she observed.

“Just answer this one question, then. Why did you give yourself to me that night, a stranger?”

The intimacy of his question flustered her, but she stuck to her pretense. “I took pity on you. Merely that.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Pity?”

“You were in pain. You needed comforting.”

“So you made a virginal sacrifice?” His voice held a wry edge. “Do you comfort every stranger like that?”

“Obviously not,” she said unevenly.

“No, obviously not. I was your first lover. Some men would feel damned guilty for taking your innocence.”

“You have no reason to feel guilty,” Caro pointed out. “You weren’t responsible for what happened between us. It was my fault entirely. I was the one who…insisted.”

“I believe I went along,” Max said dryly. “What I don’t understand is
why
you insisted. Because you’re a healer and you wanted to heal me?”

“Not only that.” She looked away, unable to meet his intense gaze. “I told you then, I wanted to know what passion was like. I had read about coupling in medical texts and…I was curious.” To prove her point, she withdrew a heavy leather-bound volume from her valise and held it up for him to see.

Yet Max ignored the book and moved toward her again. It took all of Caro’s willpower to stand her ground.

“Did I satisfy your curiosity?” His voice was suddenly husky.

“I suppose so.” Which was a masterful understatement. Passion was so much more devastating than she had ever expected. At least passion with this man was.

He seemed to echo her thoughts when he said softly, “I have never experienced anything like that night.” When she started to speak, he put a finger to her lips. “And pray don’t tell me it was the island’s magical spell. It was far more than that.”

“Perhaps it was,” she said carefully. “You had seen too much of death, and you needed just the opposite. Physical passion is a way to defy death, to know you are alive. And intimacy is a natural means of seeking comfort. You needed comfort that night. A few moments of warmth and closeness to another human being.”

“How did you grow to be so wise?”

She stirred uneasily at the amused admiration in his eyes. “I am not wise, merely pragmatic. And I want you to know…I may be unconventional, but I am not normally the kind of woman who gives herself to strangers.”

“Clearly not. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been a virgin.”

He was teasing her this time, she reflected, feeling flaming color spread over her cheeks.

Max studied her for a moment before nodding sagely. “I think I begin to see the problem.”

His oblique comment confused her. “What problem?”

“You are embarrassed by what happened. You needn’t be. You saved my life that night, angel.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have no idea, do you?” Reaching up, he gently pushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead. “Let’s just say you helped me face returning to war.”

She was taken aback by the look in his eyes. It was almost…sensual. No man had ever looked at her that way, with desire. Except for Max. Except for that night.

“You have haunted me ever since,” he said simply, his voice no more than a whisper.

You have haunted me as well.

Caro tried to swallow, but she failed. When she remained speechless, his thumb slowly rubbed over her cheekbone as his glance slid down her body to linger on her abdomen. “There was no child?”

“N-no,” she managed to reply.

“I wondered.”

He took a step closer, until his body was almost touching hers.

Dear God, he was dangerous, with his beautiful face, his dark-lashed blue eyes, his sensual mouth.

A shudder running through her, Caro shut her own eyes. His nearness made her dizzy. She could feel the warmth of his body, could remember what it felt like to have him kiss her, to touch her, to make love to her. She could still feel him moving between her thighs….

Sweet heaven, she couldn’t dwell on those sensual memories.