Twice the Temptation (17 page)

Lucas was doubly amazed that she knew the cost of everything—books, chalk, paper, uniforms—down to the shilling. The vision and passion she had for the school sparked his own enthusiasm for its completion and success. The students would be fortunate to have her as their advocate and supporter.

The only thing that would have made the hour-long tour of the site better was if Mr. Kramer had not accompanied them everywhere. Lucas hadn’t been able to steal one solitary moment alone with Catherine and he knew she’d been relieved about that. But he’d taken every opportunity he could to touch her; the small of her back as they’d sometimes had to step over wooden planks on the floor or walk the slight incline that separated the main school from the lodgings in the rear. He’d taken ruthless satisfaction in the fact that she shivered every time.

He remained silent on the drive back to Gretchen Manor, hoping to unsettle her. Given the number of times she cleared her throat and cast furtive glances his way, he succeeded. She didn’t attempt to initiate a conversation, which he found just as rewarding as her nervousness.

Before she could bolt out of the carriage, as she’d done the last time, Lucas leaned forward and claimed possession of the door handle, cutting off any attempt of a hurried exit. About to reach for it herself, her gloved hand pulled back as if in fear of being bitten by a poisonous snake, stark terror and something basic flaring in her eyes as she stared at him. He remained still and held her gaze. She visibly swallowed. He released the handle when the driver appeared at the door.

He followed closely behind her as she alighted the carriage and observed as she moved away from him as swiftly as possible. “Thank you for your escort,” she announced politely but her voice was strained.

“My driver won’t be arriving for another half hour. Why don’t you take me on a tour of the gardens? If I remember correctly, your brother’s is the finest in the county. I should like to see how your sister’s fairs in comparison.” He blithely ignored her words that were meant to draw his visit to a close.

At this point, he’d have done and said anything to get her alone. And the way he’d presented the request, she’d have been rude to refuse him, after all, he would have to wait somewhere until his transport arrived.

“The garden won’t be in bloom for another month at least. It’s still too cold for—”

“That is right, it is still only March. But the day is so unseasonably warm, I thought it would be nice to take a leisurely stroll, breathe in the fresh air. Unless you’d rather we go inside where we can sit and converse in the comfort and privacy of your brother-in-law’s drawing room?” he asked innocently.

For an instant, she looked panicked. Her expression quickly shuttered and she accepted her fate with a polite, barely perceptible nod. “Yes, it would be a shame not to take advantage of such fine weather.”

“Wonderful. Shall we?” He gestured to the stone walkway that commenced on the east side of the house and along it a row of peonies whose closed buds indicated they wouldn’t be blooming anytime soon.

They walked in silence and when Lucas glanced down at her, he could clearly see the steady pulse of the vein running down the side of her neck. He wanted nothing more than to lean down and trace it, the entire length—with his lips and tongue. But he resisted, content to have her to himself for now.

As they made their way to the rear of the house, she dutifully pointed out where the various flowers were planted. She told him their names and colors. It was all very polite and constrained, the guided tour of a garden still in hibernation.

When she turned around to go back, thereby concluding their walk, he stayed her by grasping her arm near the elbow. She visibly stiffened and turned her gaze up to him.

“Come, let’s walk a little farther. Your brother-in-law owns a fine piece of property.” And he meant that. The south lawn was ideal for croquet and gave way to gentle rolling hills and towering trees that, given their massive trunks, looked to be a hundred years or more.

“There really isn’t much else to see.” Despite her words, she permitted him to propel her along farther and farther from house.

After they’d walked another minute in silence, she came to an abrupt stop forcing him to do the same.

“Lucas, what are you doing? What is this all about? I’ve quite made up my mind and there’s nothing you can do or say to change it. The situation between us is impossible. I shouldn’t want you to waste anymore of your time on me.”

“I would never consider one moment with you to be a waste of time. And as I told you before, I am not giving up. I want—” He broke off when he took in her compressed lips and the way her chin tipped stubbornly up. He immediately concluded that a different approach was needed.

“Very well. If you can tell me truthfully that you don’t care for me anymore, I give you my word that I shall cease my pursuit.”

“But this isn’t about my feelings for you, this is about—”

“As long as
you
still want me, how can you expect me not to continue to pursue you…the love of my life?” he interjected.

She inhaled deeply and briefly closed her eyes. She then squared her shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. “I don’t care for you anymore.”

She didn’t stammer or flinch. But words were easy.

Lucas said nothing as he hooked his arm around her narrow waist.

On a sharp inhalation, her eyes rounded and she went stiff. “Wh-What are you doing? You said you’d leave me alone if—if—”

“Now I must test to see if you truly mean it,” he whispered softly, pulling her inexorably closer until her breasts made contact with his chest.

Her pink lips parted on a soft gasp and that was all the invitation he needed. Taking due advantage, he took her mouth in a kiss that put down stakes, claiming her in every and any possible way a kiss could.

For the scantest of seconds, she remained stiff against him, her mouth resistant to the intrusion of his tongue. But that resistance soon gave way to acquiescence and before long, she was returning the kiss passionately. Her mind may want to deny what he’d known from almost the day he returned to America, but her body could not. They were meant to be together. They fit.

He devoured the plump softness of her lips, foraging her mouth. The slippery slide of his tongue against hers, made him so hard the ache in his cock was just as painful as it was pleasurable.

One hand firm on her softly rounded hip, he used the other to press her lower body against his so she could feel the full extent of his arousal, stiff and unyielding against her belly. She emitted a whimper, a helpless sound he captured with his mouth. Before he could advance the kiss, lost all his good sense, and pulled her down onto the emerging grass, he felt the solid press of her hands against his shoulders.

With lust still surging fiercely through his veins and his body demanding the satisfaction that lay between her beautiful thighs, Lucas didn’t release her immediately. He stilled, attempting to bring his ragged breathing under control and prepare his body for the loss of hers.

“Lucas,” she said, her breathy pants an indication that he wasn’t the only one whose desires would be thwarted. “We can’t. We shouldn’t.”

As she stared up at him, her big blue eyes clouded by desire, he forced himself not to kiss her again and finish what he’d started. He wished he’d finished what he’d started a year ago, when he’d first kissed her, touched her and brought her to release with his mouth on hers and his hands between her legs. What he’d discovered in the past year is that the delay had made the wanting worse. But he took solace in the fact that she still wanted him, which meant that in all probability, they would indeed take this to its inevitable conclusion—him buried deep inside her.

A shake of her head sent golden tendrils whirling about her neck and flushed face. “No Lucas, we mustn’t.” Again she pressed against his shoulders. This time he released her but slowly, reluctant to part with the softness that was her.

The second his hands fell to his sides, she quickly retreated, apparently now more determined than ever to keep him at a distance. Warily she looked up at him.

“Y-you can’t just come here and kiss me like that.” She spoke haltingly, her hand going self-consciously to her swollen lips and her eyes could scarcely meet his gaze.

“I came here to make you my wife and I remain firmly committed to that goal. You
will
marry me. You will bear
my
children and no other’s. It will be with me to whom you make love and give your body to every night. The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for all involved.”

He could see the telltale signs of arousal when her pupils darkened with his each pronouncement, her eyes growing impossibly wider. Her expression turned to one of alarm. It was in that moment he knew that
she knew
he wasn’t going to make it easy for her to dismiss him from her life or her heart.

“Lucas, you promised—”

“I promised I would cease if you could
truthfully
say you didn’t care for me. I think I’ve clearly proved you weren’t being truthful.”

“I shan’t marry you,” she insisted as if trying to convince herself.

“You can tell yourself that all you want but I assure you, it will do you no good.”

Her lips firmed, becoming a pink line of dissension. “You cannot force me to marry you against my will.”

Lucas smiled at that. He had a good mind to kiss her again to prove his point. He didn’t but more for his sanity than hers. The last thing he wanted was to be marched to the altar by an English lord, the cold metal of a rifle prodding his back because he’d actually been caught in the act of compromising an earl’s sister and a marquess’s sister-in-law. All that aristocratic ire wouldn’t be good for the wedding night.

“We shall see,” he said softly. “But know this, I am a man accustomed to working hard to get what I want, and I can safely say there is nothing and no one I desire more than I do you.”

She turned away from him before he could witness her reaction and started back toward the house. Her pace quickened and before long, her skirts were waving about her legs like bed linens hanging from a line on a blustery day. She was running scared.

Good.
He hoped the fear he’d just instilled in her would give her plenty to think about all day…and night as she lay alone in her bed.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN
 

“H
ow is it that you failed to appear for our weekly call—an abominable shirking of your duty to our friendship I might add—yet here you are looking not in the least bit ill as your message professed you were?” Meghan’s wasn’t a greeting, it was an assault delivered in as loving a tone as any verbal assault had ever been. That was her talent. And she was quite good at it.

 Catherine halted at the edge of the Turkish rug that encompassed the sitting area in the morning room and regarded her friends. Meghan and Olivia respectively occupied an armchair and the divan to the left and right of her. Whether by chance or design, both wore hunter-green promenade dresses, but that was where the similarities ended. Olivia’s had a high bodice with a pretty lace fichu while Meghan’s bodice was low, the chemisette with full bishop sleeves. 

“Never mind that you also kept us waiting,” Meghan added teasingly, wrinkling her nose. 

It had taken her ten minutes to pry herself away from her beautiful niece’s cherubic face. The past month had seen Rose begin to smile in gumless wonder and delight and Catherine couldn’t help but get misty-eyed at the sight. 

“Am I not permitted to recover from my illness? Or perhaps you’d rather one of the footmen have tossed my person into the carriage and deposited me at Winsgate no matter the condition I was in?” Catherine asked, straight-faced. 

“My physician would have taken excellent care of you,” Olivia said with a wink. 

Meghan chortled. 

Catherine smiled for the first time in days. “Lord forbid, you ask about my well-being or the particulars of the illness that could be ravaging my body this very moment. I could be suffering a virulent stomach ailment and
this
is all the sympathy I’m to expect from you? Pray, what kind of friendship is this?” 

Peals of laughter erupted. Much snorting ensued after that. 

Once Olivia could speak without giggling, she said, “I’ll have you know we came as soon as we could. Meghan was most insistent that she spend the night at Winsgate so we could be here as soon as possible this morning.” 

“Yes and we arrived with the expectation of having to be ushered upstairs to the sickroom where we would find you…well sick.” Meghan perused her from head to foot and then up again. “Instead you appear none to worse for the illness that had you in its clutches yesterday, which leads me to conclude that you were not.” 

Catherine sobered and took a seat beside Olivia. “I’m not going to marry Mr. Beaumont after all.”