Every Time We Kiss (11 page)

He had no idea what could be making her appear so nervous. It finally dawned on him. She must be expecting Ancroft and wanted to be alone with him.

She leaned down to pick up her pencil case as a swift gust of wind whipped around them. Several of the papers she’d been holding blew out of her grasp.

“Oh no,” she exclaimed, doing her best to step on them before they were picked up again by the wind.

“Here,” he said, reaching for some.

“No! Don’t touch them!”

Ignoring her, he grabbed the closest papers. Turning them over, he gasped.

“Oh God,” she whispered.

He stared down at the sketch of his face looking back at him. “When did you…?”

“Give it back to me,” she nearly shouted.

Instead of responding, he stared at her, raising one eyebrow in question.

“It was nothing,” she said. “Just something to pass the time.”

“Of course.” Pleasure coursed through his body with the thought that, of all the people she might have sketched out here alone, she chose him.

In that brief moment, he knew she was as affected by him as he was by her. And he’d never felt so conflicted in all his life. Just down the path stood a woman obviously pleased that he’d chosen to court her. While directly in front of him stood a woman who appeared to have no interest in marriage to him, but fascinated him for all the wrong reasons. He handed the sketch to Jennette and turned toward Mary.

He knew in what direction he was headed.

She was a complete and utter idiot, Jennette thought as she followed behind Mary and Matthew. How foolish could she be? How could she have dropped those papers in front of him? The only consolation was the fact that he’d only seen the two sketches of his face. She still held the other two next to her chest. Once she reached the house, she would burn them before anyone noticed them.

What was she thinking, drawing him as she imagined he would appear without clothes? Anyone might have come upon her and seen the pictures. But after her conversation with Avis this morning, she’d been unable to think of anything else, save him. Matthew with his cold gray eyes that warmed like coal embers when he kissed her.

Having only felt his shoulders and chest, she really had no idea exactly what he might look like without clothes. But she’d done her best to capture her image of him based on statues she’d seen at the British Museum. However, never having seen one of the more interesting parts of his body, she’d given him the obligatory fig leaf.

She shook her head, angry with herself for letting her imagination take over, and frustrated with him as he walked quietly in front of her with Mary Marston. Why had he baited her when they were all but in front of Mary? Though Mary seemed beyond hearing distance, she still might have overheard something scandalous.

His comments about inviting her to stay in his room still sent a shiver down her back. Had he asked last night, Jennette wondered how she would have replied. In her slightly intoxicated state, she might have agreed.

If only he’d asked….

He glanced back at her with a devilish wink. Oh God, now he knew. He could see into her wicked soul and knew the truth of her desire for him. She had to put this to an end. Her mother had raised her in the correct manner and no proper woman took a lover.

Except Avis
, her traitorous mind told her.

Avis’ situation had not been the same. She wanted to find out what happened between a man and a woman to help her writing. Jennette knew what happened. Her mother had given her very specific talks about the marriage bed.

The marriage bed
.

Making love was strictly for marriage.

And she couldn’t marry Matthew. She’d secured her future five years ago when her foot slipped on the wet grass, and she let him take the scandalous blame.

She would always remain a spinster.

So if that was the case, what was stopping her from taking a lover?

No, she wasn’t that sort of woman.

Thankfully, they had finally reached the house. Now she could burn those images. If only she could erase them from her mind so easily.

“Lady Jennette,” a voice called out from the salon.

Jennette stopped and walked to the threshold to see Baron Huntley standing by the fireplace. “Huntley?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, moving toward her.

“We spoke, however briefly, at Lady Elizabeth’s literary salon just last week.”

He looked down and blushed. “Of course.”

“I didn’t realize you knew the Astons.” Jennette remained rooted to the spot but sensed Matthew standing behind her.

“Blackburn,” Huntley acknowledged with a nod.

“Huntley.”

She heard Matthew’s cold response. What was between them?

“I have some occasional business with Lord Aston,” Huntley finally replied to her comment.

“How nice,” Jennette said but had no idea what else to add. She’d known Huntley since her bow, but he had never expressed any interest in her. The man was a rake through and through.

Huntley combed his fingers through his sandy brown hair. “I suppose I should change before the luncheon. Perhaps we can talk later?”

What in the world would Huntley want to discuss with her? “Of course, that would be lovely.”

Jennette turned only to face Matthew’s angry face. He moved out of her way but she still caught the scent of his frustration—a tangible thing that carried the redolence of sandalwood and pine. And made her heart pound in her chest.

As she walked down the hallway, she sensed his presence behind her. Turning toward him, she demanded, “Why are you following me?”

A smile curved his lips upward. “I am going to my room.”

“As am I.”

“Are you now?” His voice turned husky and haunting.

“Not
your
room.
My
room.”

“Now that is a shame,” he said with a grin.

“Stop it! You don’t want me.”

He stepped closer to her. “You know I want you.”

“You cannot want me. You even told John that I wasn’t the right woman for him.”

“He told you that?”

She cringed at the sound of disbelief in his voice. “Yes. He thought it was very kind that you worried about him. I didn’t realize until the morning of the accident just why you said that to him.”

His cold gaze darted between her eyes and her lips.

A part of her wanted to tell him the truth. She had planned to break her engagement but the words wouldn’t come forth. The idea of breaking John’s heart always seemed to stop her.

He walked to a door and waited. “Coming in?” he drawled in a deep voice that made her quiver.

She could say yes and have her questions answered. She would find out exactly what he looked like without clothes, what he felt like, what he tasted—

“No,” she replied. “I am going to my room…mine and my mother’s.”

His smiled deepened. “Coward,” he whispered.

“I am not a coward. I just don’t believe I should come between you and Miss Marston,” she said quickly, then backed up a step. Turning away from him, she walked down the hall.

“Coward.”

His whispered word swept over her. She was a weak coward, but in this case, she was being practical. He deserved a far better woman than her.

Matthew watched as everyone entered the dining room. Lady Elizabeth entered with Jennette. While Miss Marston entered next, he couldn’t keep his gaze off Jennette. Her high-waisted, pale-blue silk gown framed her perfectly rounded breasts.

Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut around her? Asking her to his room was completely unacceptable, no matter how much he desired it. The image of her drawing his picture as she sat alone in the garden wouldn’t leave his mind. The idea that she felt attracted to him warmed his heart and other more wicked parts of his body.

“Lord Blackburn, look, we are seated next to each other.”

God, he wanted that excited voice to be Jennette’s, not Miss Marston’s. But he understood his duty. Marriage. And, he reasoned, Miss Marston was the better choice.

She would bring no baggage with her, as Jennette did. Mary’s reputation was clean, no dead fiancés coming between them. Jennette’s remark about how badly the gossips would talk about them was correct.

Mary was the better choice.

Now he just had to convince his damned desire of that. He held out the seat for Miss Marston as her sweet orange petal perfume swept up his nose. Attempting to control his sneeze, he took the seat next to her.

He glanced over at the woman next to him wondering just how he would feel about her in a year, ten years, forty years. Hopefully, he would grow to love her. No matter what he’d said to Vanessa, he wasn’t the type of man to cheat on his wife. Even if his wife was nothing more than a duty.

“My parents will be joining us tomorrow afternoon,” she commented before taking a sip of her wine.

“I would be honored to meet them.”

Miss Marston gave him a secret smile. “I think you will get along famously with them.”

He prayed that was so because at this point she was his only hope.
Other than Jennette,
he thought. No, she was out of the question. Spearing a piece of lamb, he decided to concentrate solely on Mary Marston.

His future bride.

The woman who would rescue him from his current plight.

The woman he would spend the rest of his life with no matter how much he desired another.

“You will ride with me tomorrow, will you not?” she whispered, leaning closer to him.

“Of course.”

That brought images of another form of riding that had nothing to do with horses. He glanced down at Jennette and wondered what she would be like in bed. As much as he knew about her, she would be full of passion, an enthusiastic lover who would take everything he could give her.

Mary cleared her throat. Matthew looked over at her and instantly knew what she would be like in bed. Dull. A woman who did her duty because that was what was expected of her. She would give him the children he wanted and then she would request he leave her alone.

He really should kiss her just to determine if he could find a spark of attraction.

His wandering gaze landed on Jennette again. She appeared in an animated conversation with Baron Huntley. The hairs on his neck stood on end. Huntley was a known gambler and rake. He’d been after Vanessa as a mistress for years. When she’d chosen Matthew as a protector, Huntley had been furious. Worse even, rumor had it the man had five bastards from different women.

Matthew turned his attention to the people around him who had entered into a conversation regarding the unusual weather of the year. Joining in, he gave his opinion and his hopes that next year would be better. Perhaps then his tenants would have a good crop and pay their outstanding rents.

The men entered the large salon after their brandies and cigars. All the women had been gossiping or complaining about womanly issues until the men entered. Then they all put on their smiles, fanning themselves in the cool room. Jennette had welcomed the reprieve from the men. Baron Huntley had monopolized the conversation at the dinner table, giving her a headache.

As the men wandered the room searching for a whist or chess partner, she wondered how she could escape unnoticed. With her mother in the room, Jennette knew that wasn’t a possibility. Nicholas caught her gaze and she nodded to him. Perhaps a game of chess with him would help pass the time.

“Interesting dinner companion,” he said as he sat down.

“The man is a bore.”

“Have a care, Jen.” Nicholas set up his black pawns. “The man is a gambler.”

Jennette raised her eyebrows at him. “I know that. He is of no interest to me.”

Nicholas laughed. “I didn’t think he was. I’m quite certain where your interest lies.”

“Blackburn is also a gambler. I want no part of that either. In fact, all I want is a quiet game of chess. No discussions.”

Nicholas turned his lips downward as his eyebrows did the same. “I’ve never heard nor seen Blackburn gamble any amount of money.”

Jennette pursed her lips. “And yet, his dearest friend appears to be Somerton.”

“Which means nothing.”

“Tell me about Emma.” Jennette hoped his fatherly pride would bring the conversation to a safer topic.

Nicholas regaled her with all the troubles of bringing up a ten-year-old girl. As much as she tried to listen, she couldn’t help but glance over at Matthew while he played piquet with Mary. Ignoring the painful envy clawing at her heart, Jennette watched the interplay of the couple. Mary looked happy as she played but Matthew appeared bored.

Maybe they weren’t as perfect a couple as Jennette had thought. She did want to see him happy and if Mary wasn’t the right woman, she needed to know. Somehow, she would have to meet with Matthew in private and discuss it.

“The game is over here, Jennette,” Nicholas said with a chuckle. “It is your move.”

Jennette looked down at the board and realized Nicholas had her queen trapped and could put her into check in two moves. Quickly, she moved her pawn in front of her king, sacrificing her queen.

“Your attention is not on the game tonight,” he said, picking up her queen. “Normally, you would give me a much tougher game. Something on your mind you want to talk about?”

“Nothing.” She focused on the chessboard but knew it was a lost cause.

Nicholas took his turn and quietly said, “Checkmate.”

“Well played.” She moved her chair back. “Good night, Nicholas.”

Jennette wanted to escape the people and the noise of the salon. She slipped from the room and wandered down the hall until she found Lord Aston’s study. A small fire still warmed the study and the silence was too inviting to ignore. She poured a small glass of brandy, determined to drink only one glass, then go to bed.

Curling up into a leather chair by the fireplace, she stared at the dancing flames. A small sigh escaped her lips. In two weeks, her ship would depart for Florence. She loved her family and didn’t want to desert them but leaving appeared the only way to keep her secret safe and yet, her reason for departing had changed.

No longer did she believe disappearing would give Matthew a better chance at a happy life. His only hope hinged on her finding him the perfect woman—something she could never be. And the idea of staying here and watching him fall in love was unimaginable.

“Drinking again?”

Jennette closed her eyes and sighed. “Did you follow me here, Matthew?”

“Yes.” The sound of his footsteps indicated he’d moved closer to her chair. “Do you think brandy is the answer to the problem?” he whispered.

“What do you care? Drinking helps me forget. Besides, you should be with Mary.” Jennette blinked. He strolled to the brandy, poured himself a snifter, then took the seat across from her.

“Mary had a headache and went to bed.” He gave her a sensual grin. “I didn’t think I should follow her.”

“No, that would be completely inappropriate. As is being in here with me.”

“And yet, you are not rushing to leave.” He brought the snifter up to his perfectly shaped lips and took a sip.

Jennette knew she should run before her desire raced out of control. But her body refused to move. Lethargy had set in with just a few sips of brandy. If she stayed, she could watch him, stare at him, imagine being with him.

God, no she couldn’t!

“How are you and Mary getting along?” she asked.

“Well enough.”

“But…?”

He shook his head quickly. “I have to admit I am worried that she might not be up to the task of being mistress of my estates. She appeared to worry when I mentioned the number of servants.”