To Seduce a Rogue (18 page)

A noise. She pressed her ear to the door. Tom and Chester were riding away. Without a goodbye.

She was going to make Tom even angrier on Saturday night.

It would have been wonderful—and wretched—to see Chase today. Maybe he would have taken his shirt off to cut down the tree. Charlie buried her face in her arms, uttering a feeble moan.

She missed him. Missed their walks, their comfortable conversations, their conspiratorial smiles. She longed for the pungent odor of his cheroots, the touch of his fingers brushing hair from her face, the charismatic timbre of his voice.

With that staggering kiss lying between them, could they be friends again? She wanted to be his friend—wanted to absorb everything before he returned to Richmond.

Maybe they needed to forgive each other, forgive themselves, for what they could not give.

* * *

“Lila, I can’t make it this Saturday.”

Lila stiffened, the porch swing tilting as she turned to him. Her mouth settled into a stubborn pout. “What do you mean?”

“I mean: I cannot come to dinner on Saturday night.” He allowed himself a modest smile, hoping to soften the announcement.

“Why, Adam, certainly you’re mistaken.”

“No, Lila, I am not mistaken.” Still the smile.

She trailed her finger along a crease in her dress. “May I ask, after planning this dinner for three days, what could keep you from attending?”

“Gerald and Charlie are working this very minute, staying late to finish a press run. We’re two days behind already.” He dug a cheroot from his shirt pocket. “I have to
work
on Saturday night.”

She wrinkled silk between her fingers. “Why can’t Charlotte work on Saturday? Does she have a dinner to attend? I’ve invited ten people to my home, not including my parents. The menu is set. The replies secured. These people want to discuss Richmond. Europe. Not Edgemont.” She shook her head, truly puzzled. “What will we do without you?”

Adam lit his cheroot and smothered a smile. “Certainly, I can’t mean that much to your lovely dinner party?”

She laid her hand on his arm. “No, it’s fine. We can discuss Mrs. Mindlebright’s upcoming class or, better yet, the Dole’s new barn.” She waved her hand before her face as smoke drifted her way. “Can’t Charlotte work for you? What else has she got to do?”

 He jerked his arm from her, deciding to let his frustration show. “Lila, I have no idea
what
she has to do. I simply don’t want her in the office alone at night. So, I’m working on Saturday. End of story.”

“What is it with the two of you? Do you think I didn’t see you follow her into the woods at the dance, each of you trailing back, separately, twenty minutes later? I kept telling myself ‘Lila there’s nothing to be worried about, she has a beau. God help him—’”

“I’ve heard enough.” Adam stood, pushing the swing back. He dropped to one knee, grasped a slate of the swing and jerked it until Lila’s face was inches from his own. “I am only going to say this once: I don’t answer questions about my private life. Do you think what we’ve shared in these few, brief weeks gives you the right to dictate what I will or will not do? Or with whom?”

She didn’t pull her gaze from his, though he felt her tremble. “My family is dead, Lila. Therefore, so is my accountability to another living soul. I don’t have a wife or any illegitimate children. I don’t keep a mistress. In fact, I only entertain the most discreet affairs, and those happen when and where I choose. I don’t like problems, scandals or threats. And, I don’t like when my friends are hurt by unjust rationalizations, conjured by foolish, resentful people.”

He released the swing and pushed to his feet. “Be careful which gossip you choose to repeat, Lila. If your sense of family is so warped that you can’t distinguish right from wrong, then let me inform you that I will not allow you to attack her any more than you already have. Do you understand?”

Lila straightened, her spine pressed into the wooden slats. “Are you in love with her?” she whispered, her strangled tone clearly stating she found the prospect appalling.

He met her gaze, offering nothing. He stared for several long seconds. He didn’t owe this woman any part of his life or his thoughts. “Good-bye, Lila.”

He did not look back, even as she called to him.

Provocation

Something that incites, instigates, angers or irritates.

He needed a drink. Soon. Now. Thank God the saloon was right around the corner.

Something was in the air. He sniffed. Burning leaves. He could almost taste the cinders on his tongue. With a cough, he crossed the boardwalk and swung the Four Leaf’s doors wide. The rank smell of tobacco and whiskey circled him and settled in. Not a sign of cheap perfume. He made a quick study, hoping the women had the night off. It was hard for an unattached man to get a drink without assistance, even in
this
town. A sigh of relief escaped him. He didn’t care if he talked to another female for as long as he lived.

“She’s over there.”

Adam turned to find a curvaceous woman, blond hair hanging well past her shapely bottom, staring at him. Damn if they didn’t sneak right up on a man. “Pardon me?”

“We heard about you. All nice manners and pretty clothes. The one you’re looking for is over there.” She hitched her head toward the back.

What is she talking about
? His gaze strayed to the dark corner. Well, he would be goddamned.

Charlie sent him a cheery smile and bombastic salute, her cool, blue gaze sparkling like a child’s. Something in her expression triggered a memory: her lips under his, their tongues meeting, his hand sliding along her back and wanting to move lower. His mouth went dry; his groin tightened. “I wasn’t looking for her.” He glanced back to the woman. “Really.”

She smiled and put her hand against his back, pushing him toward the table. “Anything you say, mister.”

Charlie, in refined fashion, whistled as he approached. “Hello, boss.”

Scowling, he halted at Charlie’s table. “I thought you agreed to work in the office tonight.”

She nodded, her face cloaked in shadow. “I did.”

He held out his hand in question. When she didn’t reply, he dragged a chair over. “Well, I guess I’ll have a seat.”

* * *

Charlie glanced at her writing tablet. She was holding to her promise to get along with him. The last few days had been uneventful. No arguments, no disagreements. No kisses, either. Which was...good...bad...
good
. Bowing her head, she smiled. She was happier. Of course, everything was not back to normal. Never would be, she guessed. For one, they weren’t walking home together.
And
that peculiar, intense pressure still vibrated between them. Still, they were sharing those lovely, furtive smiles again, as if they could talk without speaking, and they worked together like pieces of a fine pocket watch, with remarkable rhythm and precise execution.

They made a good team.

The chair creaked as he sat. Affected, as always, by his presence, she battled with herself a moment before glancing at him.

He was staring at a sketch of Aldo and his family, hanging on the wall above her head. “One of yours?”

“Yes. I drew that one, oh, three years ago. The children were just babies.”

“Another of your many talents.”

Now what did that mean? The serving girl saved Charlie from having to respond. She carried a wine bottle and two glasses, which she placed on the table with a thump and a giggle. “One of yours, Mr. Chase.”

For the first time, Adam appeared to notice her standing there. His gaze fell to the bottle. “Thank you.” He dug in his pocket and handed her a coin. She flashed a smile and walked away.

“What was that about?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “How should I know?”

Should she believe him? After all, he came in here a lot. She didn’t think Aldo would allow anything risqué to go on in the Four Leaf, but what about after hours?

Adam opened the bottle with a wooden stick with a curled metal end. He poured himself a glass, then gestured to her. She nodded. His wrist turned and the dark, ruby liquid flowed into her glass. He was an elegant man. Graceful: the way his fingers lightly caressed the stem; the way he cupped his palm around the curved glass, raising it slowly to his lips.

His gaze met hers across the table. “Try it.”

“What” —she licked her lips— “is it?”

He took another drink. She watched the muscles in his neck contract when he swallowed. “A French wine I tried when I was in Europe a few years ago. One I was not able to ship to the states until last month. In fact, restaurants in Richmond are just receiving it. I think it will be quite popular.” He tipped his glass at her.

She raised her glass and took a sip, almost purring in pleasure as the rich, spicy liquid slid down her throat. A smoky aroma, like the forest in winter, met her nose. She laughed and sampled a bit more.

He smiled, one of the genuine smiles she loved. “Lovely, is it not?”

A laugh from the bar drew Charlie’s attention. She twisted in her chair. The serving girl was pointing at them. Charlie frowned and turned back. Chase’s gaze once again strayed to a point above her head.

“Have you had relations with her?”

He jumped as if she’d interrupted deep sleep. “
What
?”

“You heard me.”

He groaned and drained his glass in one swallow.

She shifted her shoulder in the direction of the bar. “It’s not me they’re after.” She didn’t want him to think she was crazy. She didn’t want him to think she was jealous, either. But to imagine him running his hands—

She drained her glass in one swallow.

He leaned in. “That’s not something you should ever ask a man.” His whisper was harsh, his brows drawn.

“She’s laughing about something. I was just curious.”

“Curious.” He poured another drink. Looking above her head again, he sighed, then shrugged. “Fine. You’re curious.” He moved the wine bottle in a slow circle on the table. “They’re whispering about us, Charlie. Me. You. Together.” His gaze locked with hers. “They think
we’re
having relations.”

Her mouth dropped open. “No.”

“Yes, they do. Part of the reason they believe that is because I” —he traced his finger along the mouth of the bottle— “I’ve rejected offers of, shall we say, friendship.”

“But...but, it’s not true. About us.”

“No, it’s not true.”

“I mean, one kiss. One simple kiss.”

He took a sip, his gaze intense upon her. “A sweet, very lovely kiss, though I would not deem it simple.”

He thought their kiss was lovely? Sweet?

Exciting, hot, fierce was how she remembered it. 

“Also, not that it’s any of your business, I haven’t had
relations
with any of these women. Thank you, though, for thinking so highly of me.”

“Relations? Is that different than an affair?”

He squirmed in his chair. His gaze bounced away. He took another drink, this time straight from the bottle. He tapped his fingers on the bottleneck a full minute before he finally glanced back at her. “Charlie, could you ask Katherine about this?”