Every Time We Kiss (7 page)

For an impossibly long moment, they stared at each other. Neither saying a word.

“What—”

He cut her question off with his lips. Hard lips that hoped to punish her for her lies. She should push him away from her. Yell at him for his arrogance and gall. The last thing she should do was bring her arms up to wrap around his neck, drawing him closer.

His lips softened and he deepened the kiss, sending her into an abyss of heavenly sensations. As his velvety tongue skimmed across hers, she gasped. No man had kissed her like this in five years. Tentatively, she let her tongue touch his and discover the secrets of his mouth. Fire burned inside her belly as they explored each other so intimately.

She shivered and moaned as he pressed her even closer to his hard body. She’d wanted his kisses for so many years. His hands roamed down her back, cupping her derrière and squeezing softly. Even knowing she should put a halt to their kiss, she did nothing but return the heat of his passion.

While she had kissed numerous times before, never had she felt such a lightning shock of sensual desire. She had the strangest urge to unravel his cravat, unbutton his shirt, and let her fingers roam his broad, naked chest.

Unthinkable!

She pushed him away and turned so he would not see the bright red color tinting her cheeks. How could she have let this go so far? The man didn’t want her. Not after what she’d done to him.

“And?” he whispered.

And?
She twirled around to him with a frown. The man wanted a critique of his kisses?

“It was utterly unbearable,” she whispered, then raced from the room.

Matthew released a long breath as the door closed behind her. What had he done? Kissing Jennette had not been on his agenda for the evening. And yet, every time she came near him, he found his physical attraction to her growing. Not that it mattered.

There had to be another woman he could wed.

A woman who wouldn’t bring out his guilt for what he’d done. A woman who wouldn’t look at him with guilt in her eyes.

He needed to solidify his reasons for not wanting to wed her. She was a wastrel like his brother and father. While they gambled their money away, she wasted it on clothing she did not even need.

Anger for his stupidity surged within him. Even Miss Whitmore was a better option than Jennette. He walked to the door and reached for the brass knob. But the last thing he wanted to do was raise another man’s bastard as his own. His heir would be his progeny, not another’s. Nor did he want a woman who would be unfaithful to him. So perhaps not Miss Whitmore as a wife, but almost any other woman would be a superior choice.

But no matter whom he was forced to marry, it would not be Jennette.

Pausing, he closed his eyes and the image of her face came to him again. The look of shock and desire flashing in her blue eyes imprinted on his mind forever. Just as the sensation of her kiss would never leave him. He should have known how it would feel to taste her sweet lips again.

John had told him about her passionate nature and that alone should keep Matthew away from her. He didn’t need a woman who gave herself so freely to a man, even if that man had been her fiancé at the time. Jennette should have insisted on a quick wedding and not taken risks by prolonging the engagement for six months.

Shaking his head, he realized none of these insane thoughts mattered. He wouldn’t be marrying Jennette when there had to be at least one other woman who would have him. Walking down the hall, he heard the sound of angry voices and stopped.

“Why do you want me to do this?”

Matthew had never been one to eavesdrop, but Somerton sounded truly vexed, and in all the years Matthew had known him, that never happened.

“You have asked me for more favors than I have ever given another. This is the least you can do for me.”

He tilted his head in thought. The woman’s voice sounded vaguely familiar but he could not place it. He heard what sounded like a glass slamming down on the table.

“Very well,” Somerton said harshly. “But after I do this for you it will be time for you to tell me the truth. I want her name.”

“And you shall get it when the time is right,” the woman responded lightly as if she had no fear of Somerton’s wrath.

“No, Sophie. The time will be right after I do this for you.”

Sophie? Sophie Reynard? Jennette’s friend and the current medium taking the
ton
by storm? It made no sense that Somerton would have anything to do with her. Unless they were lovers…

“Anthony,” she replied softly but firmly. “I make this decision, not you.”

“Bitch,” he said roughly.

“Yes, I am. And just like you, I’m not one to cross.”

Hearing footsteps, Matthew continued down the hall before someone caught him listening in on what sounded like a very private conversation. He walked toward the gallery where people had congregated.

“Blackburn, hold up for a moment.”

He turned to see Somerton treading toward him with a smile. No sense of frustration appeared on his features, his stride relaxed, and his shoulders not tense. Nothing to make a person think he’d just been arguing with a woman. And losing the argument, from what Matthew had heard.

“Did you need me?” Matthew replied.

“I have two favors to ask of you.”

“Oh?”

Somerton smiled with his usual ease. “Accompany me on an errand, would you?”

“At this hour?”

“Yes.”

Matthew shrugged but wondered if this had anything to do with the conversation Somerton had with Miss Reynard. With his curiosity roused, he said, “Very well, I have nothing to get home to.”

“Excellent.”

“And the other favor?”

Somerton gave him a half smile. “I need you to save me from myself.”

“Is that even possible?” Matthew asked with a chuckle.

“Of course not. But I’ll be at Norton’s tonight and losing a tremendous amount of money—”

“But I thought you always win?”

Somerton shook his head. “I do. But tonight I shall appear to be deeply in my cups and losing money. I need you to stop me and drag me out of the building before I accuse someone of cheating.”

“Why?”

“Just a little something I’m working on. I need to gauge a man’s reaction to my outburst,” Somerton replied lightly.

“Very well, I will help you with both favors. But remind me again why I should assist you?”

“Because I am helping you with your quest to find a bride.”

Matthew barely suppressed his laugh. The idea of a profligate scoundrel like Somerton assisting him with finding a bride seemed highly unlikely.

Matthew leaned against the lamppost, again wondering why they were standing on Maddox Street at almost midnight. Nothing seemed out of place. Inside the stately houses, servants slowly snuffed out the candles, leaving darkness in their place. Except the brothel across the street. He assumed the prostitutes must have something to do with why they were here.

“So you can’t tell me why we are here?”

“I wish I knew,” Somerton muttered. “I was told to be here and stay until something happened.”

“Until what happens?” Matthew asked.

“I don’t know—something.”

“Who the devil would tell you that?”

“No one you need to know about.” The usual answer Somerton gave to anything the least bit intrusive in his life.

Matthew should be angry, but, knowing the type of work Somerton had done in the past, he decided not to press the conversation further.

“How long did you work for the Home Office?”

Somerton narrowed his eyes. “Whoever said I worked for them?”

“Just a rumor I’d heard,” Matthew said nonchalantly.

“And a rumor is all it is.”

Matthew sighed and watched several men walking out of Lady Whitely’s brothel. Everyone knew she wasn’t really a lady, but she did run the cleanest establishment in town. With a frown on his face, Somerton continued to glance over at the house.

The sound of a carriage rolling to a stop down the street drew his attention. He and Somerton watched as a groomsman opened the door and a woman wearing a hooded black cloak emerged.

“Is she involved in your business tonight?” Matthew whispered to Somerton.

“I am not certain,” he replied slowly.

The woman pulled out several packages from the nondescript carriage. The groomsman did the same until they were both struggling to walk down the dimly lit street. Something about the woman looked familiar but he couldn’t determine why. They placed the packages on the doorstep of the home next to the brothel. The servant hurried back to the carriage and returned with even more parcels.

Matthew watched as the woman arranged them by the door and turned to walk down the steps. Seeing her fully, he gasped.

“Well, now I believe we have determined our purpose here,” Somerton said with a chuckle.

“What the bloody hell is she doing over there?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer. Racing across the street, he reached her just as she grasped the carriage door.

He swung her around to face him.

“No,” Jennette whispered. “Not here, not now! You will ruin everything.”

She clambered into the carriage and he followed. Ignoring him, she continued to glance out the window. Matthew turned and watched as the groomsman banged on the door of the house and then raced for the carriage. Just as he swung himself up, the door to the house opened, revealing a petite, blond woman.

“Get this carriage moving!” Jennette shouted as she sat back against the cushions.

“Who was that woman?”

“My friend, Victoria,” she replied and then pulled the curtain back to look out the window.

Victoria? Of course, Miss Seaton. The woman who cared for the orphaned children.

Why would she hide from her friend?

He continued to watch as Miss Seaton slowly picked up the packages and surveyed the carriage rolling away. Realization finally dawned on him. Those packages were the same he’d seen Jennette carrying from the stores yesterday. They were not for her but for the orphans.

The orphans.

Not her.

God, he felt like an idiot.

He’d spent the past two days criticizing her behavior when all she had done was buy clothing for some orphan children. Yes, he was definitely a fool, he decided.

Jennette finally relaxed against the black velvet squabs and sighed. She had no idea what to do with the man who sat across from her. In all the years she had been supplying Victoria’s orphans with clothing for Christmas, no one, save Sophie, had discovered her. Nor had she ever wanted anyone to find out what she did for the children. Buying clothing for the children made her feel good, but she didn’t need admiration for the charity. She preferred to stay anonymous.

Victoria was proud of the work she did with the orphans. While Jennette knew she struggled with money at times, Victoria hated to take money from her friends. Even though it was a month earlier than Jennette normally left the packages, Victoria would know they were for Christmas.

“I believe I owe you an apology,” Matthew said softly.

“Oh?”

“You refuse to make this easy on me.” He leaned forward and clasped her hands.

“And for what do you apologize? Believing the worst of me? Calling me spoiled? Or kissing me without my permission?”

His sensual smile made her heart pound wildly in her chest. “I will never apologize for kissing you, Jennette.”

She could only stare at his face. The shadows in the carriage made it difficult but she could close her eyes and remember every detail. She would love to sketch him, or better, paint his portrait. Charcoal would never do justice to the strands of red in his dark brown hair. Nor would it capture his eyes—the color of a stormy day.

“But I do owe you an apology for thinking the worst of you. I had no idea you were buying all those items for the orphans.”

“You never asked. You just assumed I was buying for myself.”

He looked down at the floor of the carriage. “I made a dreadful error. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

A part of her wanted to mock him further, but he did look sincere. “Apology accepted.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing?” he asked softly.

“I do not buy the children clothing so everyone can congratulate me on being such an upstanding lady.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because the children should have decent clothes to wear. Because Victoria is a dear friend but won’t take money from me out of pride.” She paused then whispered, “Because it is the right thing to do and I have the means to do it.”

He nodded. “And you don’t care what people think of you.”

If only he knew the inaccuracy of his statement. “If they wish to believe I’m a frivolous spendthrift, then let them. I know the truth.”

“And now, so do I.”

“Not because I chose to tell you,” she reminded him.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

And he shouldn’t. But she did not want him to leave her just yet. “We could drive for a short while. My mother knows where I am and if it takes a bit longer than usual she won’t worry overmuch.”

“Someone might see us.” He squeezed her hands slightly.

“True, but it is very dark.”

“The servants might gossip,” he whispered.

“Never.”

“Indeed. But why would you want to spend even a minute longer than needed in my company after what I said about you?”

Jennette bit down on her lip to keep from blurting out that she actually enjoyed his companionship. At least when he didn’t believe the worst of her. The raspy tone of his voice soothed her and made her feel secure.

The man who could ruin her and her family made her feel protected. What a ridiculous notion!

Ignoring his question, she asked, “Did you enjoy the literary salon?”

He released her hands and leaned back with a smile. “Not at all. Between Miss Whitmore’s suffocating perfume and her scandalous advances—”

“She made advances in front of everyone?”

“Very furtively. I doubt anyone would have noticed.”

“You did!” she said as outrage filled her. She should have known better than to follow through with their meeting once Sophie had confirmed Miss Whitmore’s secret.

“It was hard to miss her hand sliding up my leg.”

“She did that? Where anyone might notice?”

“Oh yes. Her skirts hid her hand’s gentle caress,” he added in a husky tone.

“And I suppose you did nothing to stop her?” She folded her arms across her chest.

“If I had, people might have noticed.”

Why did the idea of Miss Whitmore touching Matthew make her heart sink deep into her chest? She didn’t want Miss Whitmore to lay a hand on him in any manner.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Now that we know Miss Whitmore won’t suit, who is next?” he asked lightly.

Next? She hadn’t even thought of whom else she could ask. She’d pinned her hopes on Miss Sheldon and Miss Whitmore. “I will let you know soon,” she finally answered.

A soft chuckle erupted from him. “You do not have any ideas of who will be next, do you?”

“No.” She released a pent-up sigh. “I thought more women would be interested in your title than your reputation.”

“And now I believe you fully understand my predicament.”

“I always did,” she mumbled softly. There had never been one doubt about society’s reaction to John’s death. And she had been such a bloody coward to let Matthew take the responsibility.

He glanced out the window quickly. “I shall take my leave now,” he said, knocking on the carriage to gain the driver’s attention. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, he reached for the handle. “Please let me know if you have any other women for me to meet. Or the date you would like to be wed.”

Before she could sputter an answer, he jumped down and closed the door behind him. Bloody arrogant man! She would show him. She would find him the most perfect woman.

Watching him, she wondered what he was about at this hour. He walked into an establishment and her heart sank. A gaming hell. He really was a gambler like his father.

The next morning Jennette sat at her desk in her bedroom compiling a list of possible brides for him. After much consideration, she’d decided on three more women. Each lady met his specific requirements and she hoped they would acquiesce to a meeting.

Having completed her list, she picked up her charcoal and let her imagination run free. Her hand deftly formed the image in her mind. Lips, hard and yet velvety soft, not too full but not too thin. A jaw that showed stubbornness and compassion.

“Interesting drawing, my dear girl.”

Jennette started and looked up to see her mother staring at the sketch that consisted of only lips and a jaw. “Mother, what are you about this morning sneaking in and give me a fright?”

Her mother pulled up a chair closer to Jennette and looked at her with one eyebrow raised. Oh dear, she knew that expression.

“I am a tad worried about you, Jennette.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you haven’t been your usual self. You seem distracted lately, as if you have something on your mind and can’t speak of it.” She glanced down at the paper again. “Perhaps you are considering a man?”

“No, Mother.” Jennette swept the paper under her pile and placed her folded hands on top. “I believe you are mistaken. I have been preoccupied with a favor to a friend, that is all.”

“So I have heard.”

Jennette’s eyes widened. “You have?”

“Banning told me all about the uninvited guest at your birthday ball. Would those lips you have concealed be his, perhaps?” Her mother gave her a knowing look.

“No,” Jennette replied far too quickly.

“There are far worse men in the
ton
than Lord Blackburn,” her mother said softly. “Far worse.”

Jennette knew she had to pretend outrage or no one would ever believe her. She scraped back the chair and stood. “I cannot believe you think I might have an affection toward that man. It is nothing of the sort.”

“Sit down, Jennette,” her mother ordered. “I of all people know not to believe that feigned anger. You, John, and Blackburn were very close. While you chose John, that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have felt something—”

“Mother, I did not have feelings for Blackburn.”

Her mother eyed her carefully before tilting her head in a quick nod. “Very well.”

Slowly, she returned to her seat and stared at the papers on her desk. “Mama, when did you know you had fallen in love with Papa?”

“Oh dear,” her mother whispered. “Well, most people wouldn’t believe it, but I knew almost from the start. It made no sense. Then again, when does love ever make sense? He was so much older than I. And yet, I knew the first time I danced with him that I would be his wife.”

“Were you a—attracted to him physically?” Jennette whispered.

“Very much so.”

She looked up into eyes as blue as hers. “Do you think you can be physically attracted to a man without loving him?”

Her mother patted her hand softly. “Unfortunately, I do think it is very possible. But it doesn’t mean we must act on those feelings, my dear.”

“I understand that, Mother. I’m just so confused where he is concerned. I do not love him. I don’t. But…,” her voice trailed off as she stared out the window seeing nothing but the image of Matthew in her head. The look of desperation in his eyes when he talked about his finances. The look of desire when he kissed her.

“But when he looks at you your insides turn to mush. You feel a certain stab of something undefined in your belly.”

“Yes!”

Her mother shook her head. “Lust,” she whispered.

Jennette leaned in closer to her. “Lust? I thought only men had those feelings.”

“Unfortunately, no. And that is why so many widows have their reputations ruined.”

“I don’t want to be lusting after him.”

“We don’t always get much choice in the matter. It all comes down to how we act.”

Jennette’s eyes shot open. “You don’t believe I would act upon these feelings, do you?”

Her mother smiled at her. “No, my dear. You never did so with John, why would you now?”

Jennette nodded. But the only reason she had never followed through on her feelings for John was that she never had these strange sensations with him. His kisses were sweet, not hot with passion. Even then, her thoughts had been on how Matthew’s kisses would feel. But telling her mother that would only cause her to worry needlessly.

Jennette had no intention of acting upon her feelings for Matthew. Even if his kisses created sensations she’d only previously encountered in her dreams. She would find him a wife and then she would be free of her past and could live in Florence.

Only every time she thought of Florence her heart sank. She truly never wished to leave. But she couldn’t stay. Matthew had given her five years of peace to enjoy life and gain her inheritance. He’d left Society for her. It was his turn to be happy.