Just One Kiss (15 page)

"Let me go," she ordered the instant they were inside.

Fingers tight around her soft flesh, he steered her toward the library. "This discussion is not finished."

She muttered under her breath. In all her days, she'd never encountered arrogance such as his!

Simmons appeared. "Sir," he began, "I must tell you that your—"

"Not now, Simmons."

He guided her into the library, pulling the door tight behind them. Elizabeth jerked free of his touch and whirled to face him.

From the corner of her eye there was a swirl of movement across the floor. Before she could say a word there was a burst of husky masculine laughter.

"I must say, Morgan, you keep a very fine bottle of brandy—a pity you don't enjoy it."

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. From the wing chair near the fireplace, a figure rose in leisurely grace. A staggering horror seized hold of her. Elizabeth could only stare in shocked, frozen disbelief.

Dear God, it was Nathaniel.

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For the life of her, she didn't know who was more stunned—she or Nathaniel.

His smile withered. An oppressive mantle of silence descended.

It was Morgan who broke it. "I see you've made yourself right at home, Nathaniel." His hand caught Elizabeth's. He raised it high. "I'd like to introduce my wife, the former Lady Elizabeth Stanton, only daughter of the Earl of Chester. But I forget… the two of you know each other, don't you?"

She could almost see the confusion running through Nathaniel's mind. He shook his head, as if to clear it. "Elizabeth," he said hoarsely. "Sweet Lord, how on earth…"

"She arrived nearly two months ago." Morgan's tone was icy cold. "But of course, you weren't aware of that."

Nathaniel had yet to take his eyes from Elizabeth. He set aside his brandy and stretched out a hand. "Elizabeth," he said imploringly. "Tell me it isn't so. Tell me you didn't marry him!"

Elizabeth gave a tiny shake of her head. "I… It's true," she said haltingly. "We've been married nearly two weeks."

"How could you? Dammit, Elizabeth, how could you?"

The hurt in Nathaniel's voice cut her to the quick. She might have gone to him, but Morgan had transferred his hand to her waist. At the precise moment she would have moved, he pulled her tight against his side. His arm slid around her waist, like a shackle of iron. Her lips parted, but Morgan was already speaking.

"We're husband and wife, Nathaniel. And not a soul on earth can change it."

Nathaniel's face underwent a lightning transformation. His eyes flamed as he snarled, "Stay out of this, Morgan. In fact,
get
out. I want to speak to Elizabeth alone."

"No." Morgan spoke but one word. Quiet as it was, never had a sound been more ominous.

The atmosphere was suddenly sizzling. Nathaniel cursed roundly. "Dammit, Morgan, this is between me and her—"

"Not anymore."

Nathaniel clenched his fists. "You bastard!" he hissed. "I knew her before you. She's mine! She's here because of me, and I have every right—"

"You have no rights, Nathaniel, nor is she yours. You see, I know the truth. I know how you claimed to be a rich Boston shipbuilder with a house on Beacon Hill—odd, how much you and I have in common, isn't it? I know how you charmed Elizabeth, how you professed to love her; how you asked her to marry you, when all the while you had no intention of following through."

The seconds crept slowly by. Nathaniel didn't deny it. Instead he glared at his brother, even as a betraying flush crept up his neck.

"But it no longer matters," Morgan went on, "because Elizabeth is now married to me. And as my wife, there is no aspect of her life that doesn't concern me as well. So if you'll excuse us, its been a long and tiring day. And as I'm sure you can understand"—a half smile lurked on his lips—"we eagerly await our nights together."

Elizabeth was mortified beyond words. Grasping her elbow, Morgan propelled her from the room and up the staircase. Once they were outside her bedroom, she wrenched away. "That was rude!" she told him heatedly.

"He knows the way out."

Elizabeth was outraged. Aware that her cheeks still flamed scarlet, somehow she found the courage to speak her mind. "You only said what you did about us to—to taunt him!"

Morgan made no reply. Opening the door, he nodded for her to precede him into her room.

Elizabeth marched inside. "You could at least be civil!"

The door closed. He leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest, his expression coolly remote. "I'm sorry my manners fail to live up to your standards, my
lady
," he stressed. "But I wonder if you know exactly why my brother came here tonight."

"And I wonder if
you
do!"

"I can assure you, it wasn't because of any desire to see me. Surely that was apparent even to you."

It was indeed. The air between the two brothers was charged with something she couldn't even begin to understand. Striding to the bureau, where she stood before the mirror, she raised her hands to unfasten her pearls. "Perhaps he came to ask for your advice on some matter—"

Morgan stepped behind her. He addressed himself to her reflection. "Trust me, Elizabeth, he didn't. He came for one reason only." There was no give in his tone whatsoever.

She continued to struggle with the catch on the pearls. "And what, I might ask, is that reason?"

Suddenly his fingers were there, brushing hers aside. Everything within her seemed to leap. For the space of a heartbeat, his touch was warm and smooth on the bare skin of her nape. "What else?" he said flatly. "Money." In the next instant, the pearls were deposited on the bureau.

Only then did Elizabeth realize she'd been holding her breath. His nearness had an unsettling effect on her nerves—and her pulse. Quickly she stepped away, anxious to put some distance between them.

Her reply was just as unshakable. "You have a deplorable opinion of your brother."

"Deplorable? Now, there's a word that does indeed leap to the fore when it comes to Nathaniel." Morgan's laugh was anything but mirthful. "In time you'll come to see what I mean."

"Why do you dislike him?" she demanded.

Morgan's lips thinned. "I don't dislike him. I merely see him for what he is. And so should you."

Elizabeth gritted her teeth. "I'm quite capable of thinking for myself, thank you. And I begin to see why the two of you cannot stand each other—you're too much alike." Her skirts swished as she moved to the connecting door between their rooms. "Now, if you don't mind, it really
has
been a long and tiring day."

"Then I won't keep you any longer." The faintest note of sarcasm in his voice, he bid her good night.

But he didn't exit through the connecting door between their rooms. Instead he strode into the hallway… A moment later she heard a door slam. The sound of hoofbeats soon followed.

An odd little hurt knotted Elizabeth's heart. Morgan had no doubts about Nathaniel. And she had no doubts about where he'd gone…

Back to his mistress.

It was late before Elizabeth roused the next morning. She woke as fatigued as she'd been only hours earlier, for it was near dawn before she'd finally fallen asleep. It was for that reason she declined a breakfast tray and waited instead for the noonday meal.

It was while she was eating alone in the dining room that Simmons carried in a small silver tray. "This just arrived for you, ma'am."

Elizabeth blotted her lips with her napkin, then reached for the small linen envelope on the tray. "Thank you, Simmons," she said with a smile. Thinking it was probably an invitation to a party or some such affair, she very nearly set it aside. But then she noticed her name alone was scrawled on the envelope.

A strange feeling tightened her middle as she gingerly opened it. Her smile faded as she read the note inside.

It was from Nathaniel.

He wanted to see her. He listed an address on Hansen Street and asked that she meet him there that afternoon.

Elizabeth caught her lower lip between her teeth, her lunch forgotten. Instinct warned her that Morgan would not be pleased if he knew. Yet how could she refuse? Morgan had allowed no time last night for either questions or discussion. No doubt Nathaniel merely sought answers…

And she had some questions of her own.

Rising from her seat, she called for Simmons and asked that he have Willis, the driver, ready the carriage. "I've decided to do a bit of shopping," she told him.

Within the hour she was at the address Nathaniel had given her. Holding on to her bonnet, for the wind threatened to carry it from her head, she told Willis that she would hire a cab for the return trip home. He seemed puzzled that she didn't want him to wait, but she was firm. She waited until the horses had rounded the corner before hurrying down the walkway toward a small red brick building.

She couldn't help but note that the neighborhood was scarcely elite. Tufts of grass poked through the earth here and there. A window high above was cracked, the curtains a dingy yellow, the brass knocker rusty and stiff as she thumped it twice.

Footsteps sounded within. Nathaniel threw open the door. "Elizabeth! I knew you would come!" His smile was warm and welcoming.

Elizabeth felt distinctly ill at ease as she stepped inside. Something had changed, she thought vaguely…
everything
had changed.

Nathaniel led the way into a small parlor.

But despite the shabby furnishings, Nathaniel was as usual, impeccably and fastidiously dressed in the height of fashion. He spread his arms wide. "As you can see," he proclaimed grandly, "my brother keeps me in the height of style."

"It should hardly be up to your brother to keep you at all!" The stinging retort slipped out before she could stop it.

His smile faded. "He's gotten to you, hasn't he? He's turned you against me!" He swore hotly. "Dammit, Elizabeth. How could you do this? How could you betray me?"

Elizabeth was speechless, first with shock, then with anger. "Betray you… I did no such thing! You know it as well as I! We agreed that when Papa was well, I would come to you. Well, Papa
died
, Nathaniel. But still I did as I said. I came to you as soon as I was able."

Nathaniel had the grace to look sheepish. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know about your father."

"How could you?" She confronted him with flashing eyes. "It was you who promised you would be waiting, Nathaniel! But you were not, and I think I'm owed an explanation. Your brother even hired an investigator to try to find you!"

"I left Boston soon after I arrived from London," he said quickly. "I was in New York visiting a friend I hadn't seen in years."

"Then why didn't you send word to me? I expected you would be here in Boston!"

"I should have, Elizabeth. I know that now. But frankly, I-I didn't expect you so soon. For all I knew, your father's illness might have dragged on for months."

"But it didn't, did it?" A faint trace of bitterness crept into her voice.

For the longest time he said nothing. "That still does not explain why you married Morgan."

Elizabeth laced her hands together before her. "When I arrived, I went to his home, believing it was yours. But I was very ill and collapsed when I saw your brother and not you. He and his friend Dr. Marks took care of me."

Nathaniel snorted. "You married him out of gratitude?"

"Necessity," she supplied curtly. "I had no choice. I could not return to England, Nathaniel—I
will
not. You were gone and I had no one to turn to for help. I had very little money and—"

"Very little money! Elizabeth, your father was hardly poor. Surely he left you something—"

"Papa left nearly all to Clarissa—the estate in Kent was to pass to me on the occasion of my marriage. But the task of finding a husband was left to Clarissa." She paused. "The only choice Clarissa would approve was Lord Harry Carlton. When I refused to marry him, I was disinherited."

"You were left nothing?" Nathaniel was aghast.

His reaction made her cringe inside. Outwardly she was calm and poised as she surveyed him. "Precisely."

"You mean to say you came to Boston knowing you'd been disinherited?"

Elizabeth knew then… she knew it was not she herself who had captured Nathaniel's fancy…

It was the thickness of her father's pocketbook. And indeed, there was a bitter irony in that his brother had married her not because of wealth, but simply because she was
Lady
Elizabeth Stanton, daughter of the Earl of Chester.

"So it wasn't me you loved—it was the size of my inheritance."

"Elizabeth, of course not! How can you even think such a thing?"

His wounded facade did not fool her. "You are not the one who was wronged here, Nathaniel. I did not posture myself as wealthy. I did not claim my brother's achievements. I did not promise to await the one I proposed to marry."

"I know," he said quickly. He sat down, running his fingers through his fair hair. "It's just that I-I did not expect you so soon," he said again.

"Let us at least be honest with each other, Nathaniel. You did not expect me at all." Strange, but the hurt Elizabeth expected to feel did not materialize.

Nathaniel's expression turned hopeful. "Perhaps if you returned to England, Clarissa would forgive you. You could divorce Morgan—"

Divorce! Why, such a thing was scandalous! "No, Nathaniel.
No
. I cannot. I have done nothing wrong and I will not pretend that I have." She struggled to contain her mounting indignation and didn't entirely succeed. "I most certainly will not grovel before Clarissa for the sake of money! Whatever the reason, your brother and I are married."

Nathaniel got to his feet. His gaze sought hers, a tentative question on his lips and in his eyes. "Elizabeth, has he… Did he?"

There was no need to say more. Elizabeth colored deeply. She couldn't say yes. But dear God, she couldn't say no.

Nathaniel reached his own conclusion. His expression turned faintly belligerent. "He forced you to marry him, didn't he? Of course he did. I know Morgan and he—"