Not Wicked Enough (40 page)

“Lily.” He took her hand again but just held it. “I don’t mean to force you to accept me.” He frowned. “But we will suit. You’ll see.”

She cocked her head, and everything Mountjoy had told her rushed into her head until she was dizzy with it. “My lord, if I were to marry, it would be to a man who makes my heart race. I want my stomach to drop to my toes, my limbs to quiver with passion.”

Fenris studied her in his quiet way. “Are you convinced we would not have that?”

“I haven’t the faintest notion.” Her words came out too quickly, her breath too short.

“Sometimes affection between a man and a woman grows slowly, upon deeper acquaintance.” He flushed, and that made her wonder if he was thinking about the woman he loved. The one who’d broken his heart. “Love is not always a fire that roars through you. It can be a flame that is small yet steadfast over the years.”

“I want my husband to love me and admire me and believe he cannot live without me.” She took a step away and threw her arms wide. “I wish myself to be madly in love in return, Fenris. Can you promise me mad love? Can you imagine yourself so desperately in love with anyone that you would rather lose your soul than lose her?”

He stood straighter, but she recognized the bleakness in his eyes. “Yes.”

“Not with me,” she said. “Can you really imagine yourself in love with me? Be truthful or there’s no hope for us. None at all.”

He eyed her. “I imagine there are very few men who cannot envision themselves madly in love with you.”

“Can you? Could you?”

“I am not a man of public passions.” He held her gaze and then smiled. “That does not therefore mean I have no passions, I assure you of that. Marry me,” he said in a low voice, “and that will change. I promise you. My family will be doubly your relations. They will recognize you and accept you.”

“Marry you and I’ll have everything I’ve ever wished for?” She frowned. “Is that a threat, my lord?” She lowered her voice to a basso note. “Marry me or you will never meet your uncle the duke.”

He had the audacity to laugh at her. “I wouldn’t call that a threat. Quite the opposite.”

“What would you call it?”

“Persuasion.”

She stopped smiling. “Tell me true, if I say no, will I lose any hope of reconciliation? If I’m not your wife, is there any circumstance under which Camber will accept me?”

“No matter what my father says or does, you are my cousin. And Camber’s niece. I won’t turn my back on you merely because you refuse my offer of marriage. I am a man of quieter passions than you,” he went on, “but not shallower ones.” And then he gave her a penetrating look. “One hears that Mountjoy will soon be married to one Jane Kirk.”

“What does Mountjoy have to do with this?”

“Everything.”

“Why?”

“Because you are in love with him.”

I
N
M
OUNTJOY’S ROOM
, L
ILY PRESSED HER BACK AGAINST
the wall beside the door, not wanting to look away from him. Not yet. Her heart beat faster when he closed and locked the door. His room. She drank in everything about his private quarters. Every detail revealed him to her and made her heart ache. He’d brought her here where, without meaning to, he would break her heart. She knew it. He hadn’t asked her about Fenris. If he did, what would she say? What could she possibly tell him that would not ruin everything else?

The curtains were open, but the sun was at the other side of the house and his rooms were cool and shadowed. The decor was reassuringly spare, as suited the man, but not austere. She stopped examining their surroundings and watched Mountjoy. He stood by the door, a hand on the latch. Silent.

Here she was. Alone in a room with a man to whom she was not married. With a man who had just admitted for them both that they were lovers now and who had asked her to be his mistress. He’d not used the word, but he’d meant that.
Still with his hand on the door, Mountjoy cocked his head and gazed at her, the faintest of smiles curving his mouth.

She said, “I’m nervous to be here with you. I don’t know why. I oughtn’t be.”

“Tell me what I can do to make you feel better.” He stayed where he was, just at the door, but with his body angled toward her. Shadows darkened the edges of his face.

“Kiss me?” She meant it in jest, but it wasn’t. Not really. She wanted the comfort and steadiness of his arms around her.

He leaned over to kiss her lightly on the mouth. She raised her chin, and his mouth lingered on hers. Her stomach flew away. Mountjoy continued kissing her, softly, tenderly, but not at all politely. How strange it was to pretend during the day that she never once thought about throwing herself into his arms. The truth was she did. She was happy around him. Giddy.

Hunger rose up in her as they continued to kiss, and she found herself leaning into him. She coiled an arm around his neck.

After a bit, he drew back, one hand lifted to brush her cheek. His head stayed by hers. “A moment.”

He pushed away from the door and lit a lamp which he set on a table on the other side of the door from where she stood. Across the room he locked an interior door. So that his valet or some other servant, she supposed, would not accidentally come upon them. He left the other interior door open. She presumed that one led to his bedchamber.

The lamp made it possible for her to see there were the usual things one found in a room meant for a gentleman’s privacy and relaxation. In the middle was a gleaming cherry-wood table and chairs, against another wall, a cherry writing desk with gold fittings. Books, a newspaper, and several volumes of a gentleman’s magazine were on the desk. One of the torques from the treasure hoard sat atop the desk. A claw-footed sofa faced the fireplace. On one wall was a landscape from somewhere in Yorkshire.

The room and its decor suited him. It was easy to imagine him sitting in here, tending to his private affairs. Writing letters. Reading. Having a drink before he retired for the night. She committed the sight to memory so that she would have the image with her always.

She left the door to sit sideways on the nearest of the mahogany chairs, one hand gripping the top rail. This was Mountjoy’s private domain. His room. He lit the tapers in a branched candelabra and the room grew brighter. He seemed so matter of fact, going about mundane tasks while she could scarcely breathe. Next, with a glance at her, he walked to a side table. “I know it’s afternoon, but would you care for a cognac?”

“I’ve never had cognac.”

“It’s time you tried, then.” He picked up a decanter and removed the top. With his free hand, he turned over two tumblers and poured cognac into both glasses. He walked to her, holding out one of the glasses. The other he left on the table. “A sample, to see if it’s to your taste.”

She accepted the glass and took a sip. It burned going down, but mellowed quickly enough that she was able to suppress a cough. Warmth spread through her chest. She looked up at him, still gripping the top of her chair. “My.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. She didn’t know what to say and knew even less what might be going through his mind just now. Had she really agreed to continue seeing him? Being here with him was a deliberate enough choice that she was forced to admit that yes, they were lovers. If he came to Exeter, she would gladly continue as his lover.

He broke the silence. “Are you having second thoughts, Wellstone?”

She shook her head because words of denial stuck in her throat. They had done this before, been alone together in a room locked against intrusion. They had been to bed before. Conducted their illicit affair out of sight of family and staff. But the intimacy of being here was too real.

“If you’d rather not, I understand.”

She clutched her glass. She did not want him to send her away, and yet, if he did, she would spare herself the tension squeezing her heart. “How sanguine, Mountjoy,” she said. “Are you so indifferent to my presence?”

He smiled. “I would be disappointed if you left, don’t misunderstand. At the same time, if you are not certain you want this, then don’t feel you must be here or that you must stay simply because earlier you agreed.” He gave a quick look at the ceiling. “Damn me for saying such a thing. I’m not usually so noble.”

“Yes you are. You are the noblest man I know.”

His eyes landed on her again. “I want you to stay. Please. Stay. Make me forget again that the world consists of anything but you and me.”

“It seems different now.” A part of her mind shouted that she should leave immediately, that if she did this with him here, her life would change irrevocably. Her heart would never be the same. “Why is that?”

“Have you changed your mind?”

She held his gaze. Somehow, Mountjoy had become her friend, and she did not want to give him up. “No. Have you?”

He held out his hand and waited for her to take it. “Not in the least.”

She put her hand on his palm, and he tugged the merest bit until she must either resist or stand. She stood.

He took the cognac from her and placed the tumbler on the table. His fingers tightened around hers, and he pulled her close to him. Closer than was proper, but then when they were behind locked doors they were never very proper, were they?

He dipped his head to hers, not to her mouth, but to the side of her throat. “I am unbearably aroused by you. And I ask you, why is that?” His breath warmed her skin. He trailed his fingers up her arm to her shoulder. His lips touched her skin just above her collarbone, and his mouth parted. She shivered at the touch of his tongue, the kisses he dropped. “I want to see you reclining on my bed,” he
said. “With your hair down and your legs spread, looking at me with that imperious gaze of yours.”

“Imperious? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I adore that about you. The way your eyes snap with intelligence.”

“I should think you ought to at least be overcome by the perfection of my figure.”

He laughed. “I am. I am and hope to be so very soon.”

She leaned toward him, and his arms tightened around her. “I should like to see you unclothed as well, Mountjoy.”

He lifted his head. His arms remained around her. “Ah yes, you and your fondness for splendid animals in their natural state.”

“Extremely splendid, Mountjoy.” She kissed his lower lip. “And very, very natural.”

“Your every wish is my desire. After all, you’ve done the same for me, haven’t you?” He took a step back and shrugged off his coat. He dropped the garment on a chair, all the while looking at her. He unfastened his watch chain and tucked the watch into a pocket of his waistcoat before he undid the buttons.

“Do you require assistance?”

He kept unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Kind of you to ask, but no. But make a note, Wellstone, that you’ll need to order me new riding clothes. These won’t do for me at all. Not anymore.” He tipped his chin in the direction of the chair she’d been sitting on. “You may sit down again, if you like.”

“I’ll just stay here.” She leaned against the table.

He dropped his waistcoat on the chair with his coat. “Mind your cognac.”

She moved the tumbler to the middle of the table.

Mountjoy undid his cravat next, exposing the placket of his shirt. He sat down to remove his riding boots. And then his buckskins. The rest of his clothes followed. He didn’t hurry, but he was naked soon enough.

Lily gazed at him in silence.

He waited, arms at his sides, his weight on one leg. She
made a motion with one finger and, with a grin, he obliged her by turning in a circle. Muscle shaped his long legs, his torso, too, front and back. He had, as she knew, little hair on his body. His body, so magnificent, demonstrated the effects of the hours he spent in the saddle or working with his tenants and neighbors. He walked to her and, taking her cognac from the table behind her, drained the tumbler. Her heart sped up.

He set down the glass and took a step back. “What will you do with me, Wellstone, now that I’m at your mercy?”