Miss Frazer's Adventure (3 page)

He leaned even closer. Close enough for her to catch the scent of masculine cologne and warm male skin.

“I could force you to change your mind, you know. All I need do is send a message to Sir Frazer that you are not in Surrey as he so trustingly believes, and you would discover yourself hauled back to Kent in the blink of an eye.”

Her fury threatened to boil over at the smooth threat. How dare he? How dare he toss her aside as if she were a worthless piece of rubbish and then smugly presume he could waltz back into her life as if nothing had occurred?

“You may be capable of forcing me back to Kent, but I assure you that it would only make me more determined than ever to avoid any relationship between us. Nothing could force me to speak with you again.”

Checkmated by her fierce words, Calfield frowned in gathering annoyance. He was clearly torn between his arrogant desire to toss her over his shoulder and force her to his will and a budding suspicion that she might actually dare to defy him.

At last he gained command of his male impulses and turned to balefully study the gentleman sitting close to her side. Calfield's lean features appeared to harden at the sight of the other's sleek elegance and aggressive masculinity.

“Are you not going to introduce me to your . . . acquaintance?” he rasped.

“No,” Kate retorted, thoroughly embarrassed at what Lord Thorpe must think of her. “I do not want you here. Not in this garden, not at this hotel, not in London. Go away.”

Calfield turned back with a smile that did not match his suddenly cold eyes. “And here I thought you would be pleased to see a friendly face.”

“Your only thought was to bully me back to Kent. But I will not go. You might as well return to whatever it is that keeps you so occupied that you cannot recall which day it is.”

“Oh no, I will not be leaving, my dear,” he warned, sending a chill down her spine. “I intend to remain in London as long as necessary.”

With a sudden motion, Lord Thorpe rose to his feet. “I hate to break up this . . . intriguing reunion, but I believe I should be returning to my home.” The dark gaze warmly stroked over her flushed features. “Will you be attending the theater tonight?”

Vividly aware of Calfield's looming form, Kate gave a reckless smile. What woman with the least amount of sense would not leap at an opportunity to further her acquaintance with this gorgeous gentleman?

“Yes, I believe that I will.”

“Lovely. Until then.”

With a sweeping bow, Lord Thorpe turned to stroll back across the garden, leaving Kate alone with the man now regarding her with a simmering annoyance.

“I suppose he is the reason you are so reluctant to leave London? Have you decided he is a preferable choice to become your husband?” he grated.

Kate jumped to her feet and reached for her parasol. The lout was fortunate she did not swing it upside his head. While Lord Thorpe's admiring gaze had made her feel desirable, the manner in which Calfield kept inspecting her overly slender form was a potent reminder that she possessed none of the bumps and curves that made gentlemen's blood boil.

“For your information, I just met Lord Thorpe.” She roughly tugged at her spencer. “Although I do not comprehend why I am explaining anything to you. Who I may or may not marry is no longer your concern.”

His hands landed on his hips, making the muscles beneath the clinging coat ripple with a fluid strength.

“You are still my fiancée.”

“Fiancée? I have never been more to you than a tempting dowry.” She gave a lift of her chin. “But no longer. Now I fear you must seek a new means of acquiring your fortune.”

His brows drew together. “You were eager enough to wed me just a few weeks ago. Your feelings cannot have changed so swiftly.”

“But they have. Everything has changed.”

A sharp, disbelieving silence descended as he gave a slow shake of his head. “This is insanity, Kate,” he burst out in obvious frustration.

“No, this is my life and I intend to enjoy it. Every moment of it. Pack your bags and go home, my lord. There is nothing you can say or do to change my mind.”

She reached down to grab her reticule, and Calfield took a hurried step forward. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the hotel to change my attire,” she informed in him crisp tones. “I am attending the most fascinating lecture on Egyptian mummies this afternoon.”

Not giving him the opportunity to respond, Kate turned on her heel and marched toward the nearby hotel.

To hell with Lord Calfield, she told herself firmly.

If he wished to waste his time chasing after her, then so be it.

There was nothing he could do to force her into marriage. Not as long as she remained adamant in her refusal. Eventually he would tire of his game and leave.

Until then, she would carry on exactly as she had planned.

A hot bath.

An Egyptian lecture.

A brief nap.

And attending the theater with a man who was utterly breathtaking.

Yes, life was good.

* * *

Life was a royal pain in the backside.

Seated in the sinfully luxurious theater lobby, Luce stretched out his long legs and sipped his scotch.

He should have been on the docks.

There were always meetings to attend. Deadlines to meet. A payroll to sign.

A luscious mistress who would be delighted to return him to her bed.

Why the devil should he be chasing after a woman who obviously was not at all what he had thought? A woman who clearly possessed the temperament of a shrew and the tongue of a viper? A woman, moreover, who had made it clear that she considered him a worthless fortune hunter?

If he possessed the least scrap of sense, he would be rejoicing at having avoided an eternity with a woman destined to become a bitter, shrill spinster.

No, a silky voice whispered from the back of his mind. Never a spinster. Not with that firm and shockingly desirable form that had suddenly been revealed in the sheer crimson gown.

An unwelcome heat flooded his lower body as he recalled the sight of her attired as audaciously as any courtesan. For long moments, he had not even recognized his prim and proper fiancée.

Surely, Kate could not possess that delicate body that virtually begged for a man's touch? Or that heavy curtain of titian hair that had been left loose to shimmer with a seductive promise of hidden fires?

His body had reacted with a purely male instinct to her alluring attire. Not even the realization that it was indeed his fiancée could halt the stirring awareness.

And it had not helped to have that lusty Lord Thorpe panting beside her like a cur in heat.

He had wanted to sling Kate over his shoulder and carry her back to where she belonged. Or better yet, put his fist into the leering scoundrel's overly pretty face.

It was little wonder he had handled their encounter with the finesse of a fumbling buffoon, he wryly acknowledged. He had been caught off guard, startled by the undoubted transformation of Kate as well as her stubborn determination to court certain ruin.

Well, it would not be allowed to happen again.

He was prepared for anything.

Absolutely anything.

That rather smug thought had just passed through his mind when he lifted his head and Kate stepped into the lobby. With a startled gasp, he promptly choked on his scotch.

Bloody hell.

Although she had at least replaced the scandalous crimson gown in deference to the elegant surroundings, the daring jade gown she now wore was no more successful in covering her slender body. Barely skimming her shoulders, it hugged her slight bosom with a tenacious perfection, the skirts floating down in a river of silk. Beneath the candlelight, her skin glowed with a milky perfection and the sultry glow in her eyes added a potent sensuality that set fire to the very air.

His breath evaporated as she glided across the lush carpeting, her curls framing her pale countenance with a rich, vibrant temptation. A temptation shared by him and every other male in the room, if the stunned expressions were anything to go by, he acknowledged dryly.

So much for being prepared for anything.

Giving a shake of his head, Luce forced himself to his feet.

Very well, she was not the dowd she had pretended to be. In fact, there was absolutely nothing dowdy about her. Beneath those former ugly gowns and hideous caps, she had been a gentleman's deepest fantasy.

That did not alter the reason he had come to London. If anything, it made it all the more imperative that he whisk her back to Kent before some shallow rake managed to steal the heart that belonged solely to him.

“Good evening, Kate,” he murmured, stepping directly into her path and forcing her to a halt. “What a pleasant surprise.”

A brief flare of annoyance darkened her eyes to an interesting shade of green before she was determinedly offering him a tight smile.

“Hardly a surprise, I should think, my lord. You did after all know quite well that I would be here this evening.”

He regarded her steadily. “I believe that I requested you call me Luce when you accepted my proposal. It is not so difficult a name.”

“But we are no longer engaged, Lord Calfield,” she replied, deliberately using his formal title.

“By your choice, not mine.”

She lifted her brows in a manner perfectly designed to set his teeth on edge. “I believe, sir, that you must have taken an unfortunate blow to the head. Or perhaps your advanced years have affected your memory. I was not the one who deliberately missed my own wedding. Indeed, I stood at the altar for nearly an hour awaiting your arrival. It was a most . . . enlightening experience.”

Luce battled a sharp pang of guilt. Blast it all. He had not meant to hurt her. Perhaps he should have left London earlier. Or insisted that Foster take the ship out, and damn the storm. But . . .

But nothing, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. He had behaved like an arrogant ass by treating his own marriage as if it were no more than an unwanted appointment that could be attended or missed at his convenience. Now, it was obvious he would have to pay for his indifference.

“I am sorry, you know,” he said softly. “It was never my intention to hurt or humiliate you.”

If he had hoped his words would melt her heart, he was to be sadly disappointed.

“It no longer matters. In truth, I should thank you for jilting me.”

Luce did not like the sound of this. Not one little bit.

“Thank me?”

A genuine smile curved her lips. “Yes. Had you not left me at the altar, I would never have found the courage to come to London and truly seek my independence. You offered me something that I never expected to find.”

“And what would that be?”

“Freedom.”

He stilled. Dash it all. He had known he was not going to like her confession. And he most certainly did not.

She was not supposed to want her freedom. She was supposed to want marriage and security and children and social position. All the things he could offer.

Something in his chest squeezed in a most disconcerting manner.

“And . . . what do you intend to do with this freedom?”

A hint of enchanting color touched her cheeks. “That is really my business, is it not?”

“I am merely curious.” He gave a faint shrug. “Do you devote every day to lectures on mummies?”

“Oh no, tomorrow I am invited to a tea to discuss Byron's latest poem and then a political dinner at Mrs. Roberts'. It should be quite fascinating.”

Luce narrowed his gaze at the undisguised anticipation in her voice. “You really are enjoying yourself, are you not?”

“Yes, I am. Which is why it is pointless for you to remain.”

Luce forced a smile, refusing to be goaded. Although he knew that he could force this woman into marriage by the simple means of calling for Sir Frazer, he was not willing to sink to such a desperate measure. At least not yet. He did not want her coming to him filled with anger and resentment.

He was fully confident that her burning embarrassment at being left at the altar would fade in time. And that she would realize that she was being a fool to turn her back on a marriage that would elevate her to the rank of a countess.

Until then, he intended to play his hand as any true gambler.

Calm, cool, and collected, he reminded himself.

“Now that I am here, I might as well enjoy a few days in London. My previous visits have usually entailed endless days upon the docks. It will be a pleasure to return to society.”

Her lips thinned with annoyance. “You will not change my mind. I have no intention of wedding you.”

“So be it.”

“Lord Calfield . . .”

“It is Luce. And you have my word of honor that I will not attempt to bully you back to Kent,” he interrupted, raising his hand in a solemn promise.

Kate regarded him with patent disbelief. “I do not trust you.”

Luce could not prevent a rueful laugh. “That, I suppose, is our fundamental problem, is it not, my dear?”

Her expression remained decidedly wary. “You will not tell my father I am here?”

“No.”

“And you will keep my true identity a secret?”

“If that is your desire.”

“And no interfering in my life,” she continued in warning tones.

“No interfering.”

“If I wish to attend a boxing match, or visit a gambling hell, or wear daring gowns, you will not halt me.”

Luce felt his heart come to a perfect halt as all sorts of delicious sensations whizzed through his body.