Rob ran a hand through his disheveled blond hair and peered through his bleary, bloodshot eyes. “You’ve done your share of drinking lately. I only look bad to you tonight because you happen to be sober. Besides, I can’t help it. I’m worried about the money.” He looked about the room, blinking against the glare of dozens of candles and the thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry that decorated the distinguished guests. “If I could only get my hands on that diamond choker Dorothea Lieven’s got round her skinny neck, all my troubles’d be gone in a trice.”
“Don’t resort to thievery, Rob,” Jack advised drily. “You know I’ve arranged to pay all your domestic expenses, so things aren’t desperate, but I won’t put out the ready to settle any more gaming vowels. You’re going to have to wait for your quarterly allowance from your uncle in Yorkshire and work out a payment schedule with your debtors. In the meantime—”
“Yes, yes, I know!” Rob retorted testily. “I must quit gambling. It ain’t that easy, Jack.”
“I know. But right now, Rob, I don’t want to argue with you about it.” Jack had just spied a pale blond head in the middle of a knot of town bucks, and he had a sinking suspicion that the female getting all that attention was his sweet,
shy
Amanda.
“This does not bode well,” Jack mumbled.
“What?” asked Rob, straining to see what Jack was staring at so gloomily. “Say, who’s the new chit?” he inquired, immediately interested … like a wolf who’d caught the scent of a lamb who’d strayed from the herd.
“That’s Amanda, Rob.”
Rob’s eyes bulged. “
Your
Amanda?”
“Miss Darlington to you.”
“Fine-looking filly, Jack. Rich, too, I suppose?”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“Thought you said she wouldn’t have anything to do with you?”
“So she said.” Jack advanced, his eyes never wavering from his intended objective. “But I’m going to give it another go.”
“And you’ll probably bloody well succeed,” Rob grumbled, snatching a glass of champagne off a tray as a liveried porter walked past. Then he watched morosely as Jack politely shouldered his way through the crowd toward his Amanda.
Jack was glad Rob had stayed behind … even if he did resort to downing champagne by the glassful. Lately Rob spent his entire waking hours either gaming or drinking. He was ruining his health and his appearance and making himself unacceptable as a guest to most of the noble hostesses. He’d not have been welcome tonight if he hadn’t come with Jack. And Jack wasn’t sure how long he could support Rob, financially and socially, if he didn’t change his ways. But he was honor-bound to do as much as he could because Rob had saved his life. It was that simple.
Right now, however, Jack didn’t want to think about Rob and Rob’s problems. He had a big problem of his own. He had to extricate Amanda from a crush of admirers and somehow get her alone. He’d made a decision. In fact, he’d made a monumental decision. No matter what her feelings for him were or what she’d say in return, he was going to tell Amanda that he loved her. It was a big gamble, but there would be a huge payoff if things went his way.
Luckily, Jack had been able so far to work his way through the crowd without having to stop for more than a polite “how do y’ do.” Most people were flabbergasted to see him again after his self-induced exile from society. But word was getting round that Jackson Montgomery was showing his handsome face—with a new scar!—for the first time since his broken engagement and that absurd fairy tale about losing his memory, and a buzz of excitement rippled through the crowd.
Ten feet from his objective, Jack was suddenly besieged and surrounded. There were two men in the group, but the rest of those in the imprisoning circle were women. Trying to be polite, but wishing they’d all go to the devil, Jack looked frantically over the head of one petite and gushing redhead to see if Amanda was still within reasonable reach.
She was in reach, all right. In fact, her circle seemed to have inched closer and had parted in the middle so that she had a clear view of Jack and his effusive companions. Their gazes met and held. Jack’s heart hammered in his chest, and his mouth went dry as the Sahara.
God, but she looked beautiful! He’d been right to expect her to look like an angel because that’s exactly the sort of celestial being she resembled. Only trouble was, all those damned pinks of the
ton
were just as enamored of her beauty as he was. The difference, he thought fiercely, was that he knew her and loved her for more than her beauty. She belonged to him body and soul. Like a savage, he wanted to pounce into the middle of Amanda’s circle of admirers, scatter them like so many lesser beasts of the jungle, throw Amanda over his shoulder, and haul her to a cave to have his way with her.
Jack was very much afraid that the brutal possessiveness and wild need he felt were reflected in his expression. Amanda’s eyelids fluttered. She shivered and he could almost see the gooseflesh rise on her arms. For a dreaded instant, he thought she was going to swoon. He’d either aroused her or frightened her senseless. He had to get to her. He had to get
free
…. But people persisted in pressing him with questions, and he was forced to tamp down his ferocious impulses and pretend to be civil.
Jack dragged his eyes away from Amanda and made conversation for several minutes … precious minutes he wanted to spend with Amanda. When he was finally able to make his excuses, he looked up eagerly, but she was gone.
Luckily Jack was tall. Evading more hangers-on, he skimmed through the crowd looking over heads for Amanda. Just when he was about to despair—and strangle the nearest unsuspecting person just to vent his frustration—he saw a wisp of midnight blue disappear behind a potted palm, headed for the French doors leading to a first-floor balcony. He quickly followed, darting and dodging and trying to ensure that no one followed him.
The door Amanda had gone through stood slightly ajar. He silently opened it just enough to squeeze through, then just as silently closed it securely behind him. She was standing with her back to him, staring out over Lady Cowper’s gardens and mews at the back of the house. The moon was nearly full and shone on her pale hair, making it gleam like silver, silken threads. He advanced.
Just as he reached her, she turned. Her mouth had formed a small circle of surprise. It was too damned inviting. He couldn’t help himself. Gone was any pretext of subtlety. He took her by the arms, crushed her to his chest, and kissed her.
At first she struggled. Her hands curled into fists, and she beat them against his waistcoat. Then she melted. He felt her muscles relax under his fingertips, her skin turn warm and pliant. She pressed closer, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and shoulders.
Her hands slipped up his jacket lapels, around the nape of his neck, and into his hair. Her hands were eagerly, tenderly grasping. His own hands moved with the same desperate passion. He needed to touch her, hold her, possess her.
And the kiss deepened. Oh, so deep … so warm and wet and wanton. He delved and dipped into the velvet sleekness of her mouth, their tongues mating wildly. Jack was immediately aroused, as hard and hot as he’d ever been in his life.
Their lips parted, and they gasped for breath. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and dazed, her breasts heaving against his chest, her arms trembling. “Oh,” she said faintly, sudden moisture welling in her eyes. “Oh, how I
hate
you, Jackson Montgomery!” Then she buried her face in his neck cloth and burst into tears.
Jack was stunned. He didn’t know what to do, except hold her. She clung to him which was a good sign he supposed, but did she really
hate
him? He forced himself to be patient while she cried herself out, tenderly patting her shoulders and trying to ignore the enormous ache in his groin. Eventually her crying subsided to sniffles, and she began to grope for a handkerchief. Jack pulled his own out of his waistcoat pocket and gave it to her.
Amanda stepped back as she dried her tears and gave a ladylike little noiseless blow into the handkerchief and wiped her nose. When she finally looked up at him, she said haltingly, “I suppose I … I look a fright. Has my nose swelled up like a strawberry?”
Jack cupped her face and smiled down at her. “You look adorable.” And the strange thing was, he was telling the truth. There was a slight pinkness at the tip of her nose, but it was barely noticeable and not unattractive. Her eyes glistened and her lashes were dark and heavy with the residue of tears, but that only made them lovelier. “You’re more beautiful than ever, Amanda, darling.”
“You’re just saying that. You can’t mean it,” she demurred, glancing down at the handkerchief she’d crumpled into a ball.
He slid his hands down her neck and rested them lightly on her shoulders. She shivered again, and he began to hope that such a response was a positive one.
“Did you mean what you just said?” he inquired gently. “That you hate me?”
She sighed and laid her cheek against his chest. “No, but I wish—”
He bent his head to catch the muffled words. “What, Amanda? I can’t hear you, darling.”
She lifted her head and sniffed. “I said, no, I don’t hate you. But I wish I did.”
He chuckled. “Why?”
“Because you’re a lady’s man. Seeing you tonight with all those women flocked around you just made that fact even clearer to me.”
“But you, my dear, were just as guilty tonight of attracting suitors. When I arrived, the crowd around you could have rivaled the Regent’s royal entourage in Brighton when he takes his daily saunter down the pier. You’re the belle of the ball, Amanda.”
Amanda blushed prettily but did not argue with him. That made him smile. He squeezed her and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Dear, sweet Amanda. I do wish you weren’t so enamored with the idea of hating me.”
She lifted questioning eyes to his, the wet, spiky lashes gleaming in the moonlight. “Why, Jack?”
“Because it makes it rather harder for me to tell you how I feel about
you,”
he admitted with a lopsided grin.
She bit her lip. “About … me?” she quavered.
Jack’s grin fell away. Deadly serious, deeply stirred by the depth of his feelings, Jack reached up to cup Amanda’s face. He lovingly, thoroughly examined every feature. By the time he met her dewy, wondering gaze again, she was trembling.
“For weeks now—possibly since the moment I first clapped eyes on you, Amanda Jane Darlington—I’ve loved you more than life itself.”
“Oh, Jack …” Amanda’s eyes welled with tears. He’d said them. He’d said the words she’d longed to hear. And the knowledge that he loved her made everything right … and anything possible. She was ready to forgive and forget. To trust. To even marry the man … if he’d only ask her again.
“I love you, too, Jack,” she breathed, trembling harder than ever.
Jack’s eyes shone like golden stars. “Does that mean you forgive me for lying to you, Amanda? Can you trust me again? I’ve missed you dreadfully and haven’t been able to think of anyone or anything but you. Tell me we can start fresh, give me another chance to earn your trust, and you’ll make me delirious with joy.”
“Jack, I forgive you and I trust you with my life,” she answered, lifting her hand to stroke his cheek. “Let’s not spend any more time worrying about past misunderstandings. I think I understand why you did what you did, anyway. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.”
He smiled tenderly. “How wise you are, Miss Darlington,” he teased. “After all, what’s more precious than the present? I propose we spend every moment doing what makes us happiest.” Then he bent and kissed her … reverently, lingeringly, and she clung to him, her heart bursting with happiness.
“Jack?” Startled, Jack and Amanda turned toward the sound of a mature female voice. There, sticking her head just around the corner of one of the French doors, was Lady Cowper herself. Amanda and Jack jumped apart like guilty children.
Lady Cowper laughed. She was a lovely woman, and though Amanda didn’t know her beyond their brief introduction and conversation earlier in the evening, she knew she was rumored to be one of the most warmhearted and tolerant of the patronesses at Almacks. She waggled her finger at them.
“I don’t know what your chaperons are about, Miss Darlington, to allow you to stray outside on this private balcony with a rake like Jack … or any man, for that matter. But if the tattle-tongues start wagging, Sally Jersey might decide to request a return of that voucher she sent you. I suggest you two come in at once, or Miss Darlington’s reputation will be in tatters.”
“Thank you, my lady, for the gentle reminder,” Jack said with a charming grin that Amanda was sure no woman could resist. “I certainly don’t want Miss Darlington’s reputation to be tarnished … and for more reasons than you can guess.”
“Indeed, Jack?” said Lady Cowper, raising her finely arched brows. “How very interesting.”
Amanda wondered if she dared hope that Jack was hinting that he meant to make her his wife. If only Lady Cowper hadn’t disturbed them at just that moment, perhaps Jack would have proposed to her again! Amanda sent a hopeful prayer winging toward heaven. He loved her … and that fact alone made her mad with happiness. Was she destined to be even happier? Was there a chance her dearest dreams would come true?
“There, you see, Nan. They’re coming back into the room now. I’m sure Lady Cowper wasn’t angry but was only cautioning them to be careful of Amanda’s reputation.”
Rob was standing in a deep window embrasure, behind a dropped red velvet curtain, when he heard the conversation between the two elderly females. He was completely hidden from view, which is just what he’d intended. As soon as he’d seen Jack follow his darling Amanda outside onto the balcony, he’d retired to this secluded spot to feel sorry for himself and finish off the flask of Irish whiskey he kept in the deep inside pocket of his jacket for just such emergencies.
He was beginning to truly hate Jack. It looked like the bloody sod was going to get the girl of his dreams after all. It just wasn’t bloody fair. He was even wishing he could somehow prevent Jack from getting what
he
couldn’t.