The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (14 page)

“Penniless?”

“Only at the moment,” she said sharply, then drew a calming breath. “When you look
at it in a practical, rational way, we have nothing in common.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” he said under his breath.

She was not going to rise to that bait, not again. “And obviously, as whenever we’re
together, I am not disciplined enough to pretend nothing has ever happened between
us.”

“Because I’ve seen you naked.”

“Well, yes.”

“Or maybe it’s because you’ve seen me naked.”

She stared. “Possibly.”

He studied her closely. “Do you think every time I look at you I see you naked?”

“No, of course not.” She drew her brows together.

“Do you?”

His gaze skimmed over her and he shrugged.

She gasped. “Do you?”

“More to the point, do you see me naked every time you look at me?”

“I don’t think that’s the point at all and don’t be absurd.” She huffed. “Not every
time.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

A slight smile played on his lips. “Then I would say we have a problem.”

“We wouldn’t if you would do the . . . the gentlemanly thing and leave.”

“I have already said I have no intention of leaving before the wedding.”

“But as an intelligent man surely you’re open to logic and reason.”

“I do love having my own words thrown back at me.”

“They were very good words,” she said quickly.

“I will be at the wedding, however . . .” He thought for a moment. “Gray and I talked
about spending some time taking the motorwagon around the country, visiting friends
of his family’s, to gauge interest. If we decide to do so, we will be gone most days,
probably until late in the evening. He says he’s really not needed here.”

“Oh, he isn’t,” she said eagerly.

“Which means there will be days when you and I don’t see each other at all.” He met
her gaze directly. “Will that do?”

“Yes.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s something of a compromise and I’ve never
been good at compromise—”

He snorted.

“But the fact that you are willing to make a concession in view of my feelings, it’s
very gallant of you. That will do quite nicely, thank you.”

“Then we are agreed.” He straightened. “I will determine a schedule with Gray in the
morning.”

“Excellent.” She thrust her hand out toward him. “Isn’t it customary to shake hands
now?”

“It is.” He stepped closer, took her hand, and gazed into her eyes. A shiver ran through
her at his touch. “As this seems to be a night of confessions, might I make one of
my own?”

“Don’t you think there’s been enough confession for one night?”

“Probably, but I may never get another opportunity.” He pulled her closer, his gaze
never leaving hers. “I wasn’t entirely truthful with you earlier.”

“Oh?” She swallowed hard. Why, the man practically radiated heat. Not that she had
forgotten.

“When I said I had been thinking about you a lot, that wasn’t quite true.”

“No?”

“A lot was not entirely accurate. I never forgot so much as a moment with you.” He
raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “I thought about you nearly every
day and dreamed of you almost every night.”

“That does sound like a lot,” she said weakly.

“It seemed pointless, though.” His lips moved to her wrist and her breath caught.
“You said you never wanted to see me again.”

“I said it would be . . . best.” She could barely choke out the words. What was he
doing to her?

“That’s right, it would be best, I remember.” His lips whispered across her wrist.
His free arm encircled her waist. “And so I did nothing but dream.”

“Did you?” She should push him away, right now, and end this. Only a fool would fail
to see what was happening.

“I did.” His gaze bored into hers. “Did you?”

Or perhaps only a fool would push him away. “I might have. Possibly. Once. Or twice.”
Or every night.

“And in your dreams, were my lips on yours?” He leaned in and brushed his lips across
hers and she wondered that she didn’t melt at his feet.

“Perhaps,” she whispered.

He dropped her hand and wrapped his other arm around her. “And were you in my arms?”

“Possibly.” Her heart thudded hard in her chest.

“Was your body pressed against mine?”

“It might have been . . .” As if of their own accord, her arms slipped around his
neck and she gazed up at him.

“Could you feel my heart beating against yours?”

“I thought it was my heart. Oh, God.” She gazed into his eyes. “You’re seducing me
again, aren’t you?”

“I thought we agreed that it was a mutual seduction.”

“In New York but now . . .”

“I was not the one who came to your room.”

“I only came to talk.”

“Did you?” His gaze locked with hers.

“That was my plan.” She didn’t sound the least bit convincing even to her own ears.
She wasn’t a fool. Somewhere in the back of her mind hadn’t she known how their talk
would end? Hadn’t she wanted this to end in his bed?

“And you are one for plans.”

She nodded. “Excellent plans for the most part.”

“But even the best plans don’t always work as expected.”

“Apparently.”

“Did you plan this?” He pressed his lips to hers, softly but insistently.

“No,” her lips murmured against his. For a moment, a dozen reasons why this would
be yet another mistake raced through her mind. She discarded them all. “Perhaps.”

His kiss deepened, her mouth opened to his. He tasted as she remembered. Of heat and
desire and wonder. Lord help her, she was indeed a fool. This was another mistake.
Or maybe it was simply . . . right. Or fate. Or magic. She didn’t know. Didn’t care.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save the heat of him, the feel of him pressed against
her, the passion in his kiss. The desire in her own.

His arms tightened around her. Her breasts pressed against his chest. The beat of
his heart echoed the beat of her own. Hunger surged within her. Desire. Need. Truth.
And fear. She’d lost herself in him once before and she would again. Whether it was
wrong or right or simply mad, she wanted him. And had from the moment she’d left him.
She angled her head, reveling in the feel of his tongue dueling with hers. The heat
of his body wrapped around her. How could something so obviously wrong be so very
right?

She pulled her lips from his and gazed into his eyes. “Not a plan but . . . dear Lord,
Sam, yes.” She swallowed hard. “I haven’t forgotten anything.” Her lips again met
his. “Not for a moment. . . .”

His mouth crushed hers and every doubt, every fear vanished in the feel of his mouth
pillaging hers. She responded in kind, her kiss as hard, as hungry as his. Months
of denying the magic between them vanished, swept aside by aching desire and frantic
need. She tugged at the sash of his dressing grown and pushed the cool silk off his
shoulders. Her mouth still clung to his, his hands roamed over her shoulders, her
back, her derriere. Her wrapper slipped to the floor followed almost at once by her
nightclothes. She hadn’t noticed his clothes were gone as well until she felt the
hard, hot muscles of his chest against her breasts. And she shivered with the heat
of his naked body pressed against hers. No, she hadn’t forgotten so much as a moment....

The instant the hotel door closed behind them, a dam of restraint between them burst.
Her lips crushed to his. His hands, her hands were everywhere at once. They undressed
one another with an urgency born of desire and need. She scarcely noticed when the
shepherdess costume crumpled at her feet or when his pirate attire joined her discarded
clothes. All she knew was the heat of him pressed against her, escalating her desire,
searing her soul....

She wrenched her lips from his and ran kisses down the slope of his neck and lower.
His head fell back and he moaned. She rained kisses on his chest, catching a hard
nipple in her mouth to tease and toy. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands skimming
over her heated flesh, over her back and lower to cup her buttocks and pull her tighter
against him. She couldn’t touch him enough. Couldn’t get enough of the taste of him.
. . .

He tasted of heat and desire and man. She explored him with her tongue and her mouth
and her hands, reveling in the hard, strong planes and valleys of his chest and his
shoulders and his legs. Aching for more....

Her body pressed against his and she wanted more. So much more. She raised her leg
and hooked it around his, and the hard length of his arousal slipped between her legs.
She felt the strength of him, demanding and insistent, and gloried in the feel of
her own slick desire on him. . . .

They tumbled together onto the bed, a tangle of lips and limbs and passion. She’d
never known, never so much as suspected, such unrelenting need could claim her and
wondered in a small part of her mind not clouded by desire how something so intense,
so all consuming could happen with a stranger. A man she scarcely knew. It was wrong,
certainly a sin. And nothing in her life had ever felt so right....

Together they twisted and stumbled toward the bed, her body and his, her mouth and
his, her hands, his hands never losing the contact between them. As if parting for
so much as an instant would drive them both mad. They fell onto the bed, frantic with
the need to touch and taste and feel. The need for more. His hands, his lips were
everywhere at once. He sucked at her breast and she heard an odd, whimpering sound
and realized it was her. She tunneled her fingers through his hair. Her legs wrapped
around him and he slid down her body, his mouth blazing a trail between her breasts
and lower to her stomach and lower still....

He buried his head between her legs and she held her breath, resisting the urge to
push him away. This was not . . . She had never . . . Phillip had never . . . Panic
welled within her. She couldn’t possibly . . . She gasped. He tasted her and all hesitation
fled, washed away by exquisite sensation and the deepest intimacy. Surely she would
die of the sweet torture he inflicted with his tongue and his teeth. And she knew
as well it would be a glorious way to die. . . .

Her breath came faster and she writhed beneath him, urging him on. She distinctly
recalled a moment of shock at this sinful intimacy in New York. Now, she ached for
his touch. Ached for him. She raised her hips. His fingers parted her, his breath
whispered over her. She cried out at the first touch of his tongue, dissolving onto
a being of sheer sensation. Knowing nothing but his caress. Existing only in the feel
of his touch. The touch that threatened to be her undoing. Her hands fisted in the
bedclothes. His tongue teased and stroked and carried her closer and closer to that
place only he had brought her....

Tension coiled tighter and tighter within her, straining and reaching until at last
her body shook in waves of unexpected, unimagined pure pleasure. For no more than
a fleeting instant, Phillip flashed through her mind and she hated him for never sharing
this and never caring. The thought vanished at once, dashed aside by rising need.
And she wanted more....

“No,” she murmured and shifted beneath him, sliding lower until his erection nudged
her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gazed into his dark eyes, glazed with
passion, reflecting her own. “I want . . .”

“You,” he said, his voice hoarse with passion. “Always, only you . . .”

Her hand slipped between them and her fingers curled around the hot length of him
and he moaned. She arched her hips upward and guided him into her. He gasped and slid
deeper, stretching her, filling her, claiming her once again as his....

“Delilah,” he murmured against her ear. “Oh, God.”

“Samuel . . .” She struggled for breath. “Please, now . . .”

He positioned himself between her legs and entered her slowly, carefully. As if she
were fragile and precious and valued. Until he filled her and she knew with blinding
clarity, for this moment, she was his. And he was hers....

She rocked her hips against him, urging him on. Faster and harder. He thrust into
her again and again, burying himself deeper and deeper. Hard and hot, and slick and
wet. Pleasure and the joy of being one with him gripped her, filled her, devoured
her. With every stroke, the past and the present, the dreams and the memories twisted,
entwining together like vines of desire and passion and wonder. Had it been months?
Or forever? Or only yesterday? His slick body slid against hers, every movement urging
her on, taking her higher. Her blood pounded in her ears. His heart thudded in tandem
with her own. Her body throbbed around him, aching, yearning, reaching for more. Always,
ever more . . .

And when release again caught her unawares, she wondered if this was the stuff adventures
were made of. Or dreams . . .

He groaned and his muscles tightened and he shuddered against her. He stroked into
her once more and again until she cried out and her back arched and her body exploded.
And ecstasy washed through her and curled her toes and caught at her soul.

When at last she could breathe again, she propped herself up on her elbow, gazed into
his brown eyes, and smiled in a most sinful, wicked manner.

His brow rose. “Why, Mrs. Hargate, if I didn’t know better I’d think you have another
plan.”

“My dear American.” Her hand drifted over his stomach and lower to his still hard
erection. “I believe I do.”

He laughed and caught her hand, drawing her palm to his lips. “Good.”

He pulled her back into his arms and in that moment before she lost herself again
in the joy of being with him, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her head.

Perhaps one adventure was not nearly enough.

Sam rolled over on his side, bunched the pillow under his head, and studied her. What
did it say about a man who couldn’t get a woman out of his head? Especially a woman
who was interested only in what a man had rather than what a man was. The kind of
woman he had sworn never to lose his heart to again.

“Well.” She stared up at the ceiling. “That was certainly . . .”

He chuckled. “Worth waiting for?”

“One could say that.” She smiled. “One could definitely say that.”

“Welcome back, Mrs. Hargate.”

She glanced at him. “I do hope you understand this was not my intention in coming
to your room.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Her objection didn’t quite ring true, especially as she’d made
no effort to avoid ending up in his bed.

“My apologies then. I have must have misunderstood.” He shook his head thoughtfully.
“You did not knock on my door, dressed only in a lace robe and nearly transparent
nightgown—”

“It’s not the least bit transparent.”

“It is when you stand in front of the light.”

“It’s really quite practical.” She propped herself up on her elbows and glanced around
the room. “Wherever it is.”

“It seemed practical to me.” He grinned. “Especially when you stand in front of the
light.”

“I shall keep that in mind the next time I come to a man’s door in the middle of the
night,” she said in a prim manner.

He laughed. “Oh, but you don’t do this sort of thing.”

“I don’t. Except for that once.” A smug smile creased her lips. “And now.”

He studied her for a long moment. How had he ever let her go? “I missed you, Dee.”

“Teddy’s the only one who calls me Dee.”

“Not anymore. I like it. Besides, Samuel and Delilah are entirely too biblical for
me.”

“Good Lord, Sam.” She sat up, pulled a pillow behind her, and drew the covers up around
her. “We’re not a couple. This is not what I want—”

“No?” he chuckled.

“No. And it certainly isn’t what I’ve planned. I thought you understood that.”

“Plans change.”

“Not mine.” She shook her head. “I did not plan on you.”

“You’re being practical and rational now, aren’t you?” He took her hand.

“I am trying.” She glanced pointedly at his hand on hers. “You’re not making it easy.”

“Good.” He leaned forward and kissed the crook of her elbow. “If I were Lord Stickinthemud,
and my money had come from King Arthur himself—”

“You do realize he was only a legend?”

“You’d be trying right now to think of how you could get me to propose.”

She started to deny it, then smiled. “Possibly.”

He chuckled softly. “Is this where you tell me it would be best if we never saw each
other again?”

“No.” She sighed. “I daresay it would be pointless.”

“Then you do want to see me again?”

“Perhaps we should more clearly define
see.
”

“I will define it however you wish.”

“There’s that unexpected gallantry of yours again.” She smiled. “Marred only by the
fact that you know full well what I mean by
see.
”

“Unfortunately.” He trailed kisses up her arm to her shoulder.

“It can’t be helped. Seeing one another, that is. We are both residing at Millworth.
You insist on staying for the wedding and beyond that you’re one of my future brother-in-law’s
closest friends.” She paused. “However, I suspect we can now be on friendlier terms
with one another.”

“I doubt we can get much friendlier,” he murmured against her shoulder.

“Now that we have eased this, well, this tension between us.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought it was.” Tension seemed as good a word as any. Although
magic was better.

She plucked absently at the covers with her free hand. “I must say I have never felt
this comfortable with a man. Oh, perhaps with Grayson and Winfield but I’ve known
them all of my life.”

“That’s what happens when one eases tensions.” He nibbled at the curve where her shoulder
met her neck and she shivered beneath his lips.

“Now that I think about it . . .” That breathless quality he had found so irresistible
was back and his stomach tightened. “I can’t recall ever feeling this relaxed before.
Certainly never in the company of a man,” she added thoughtfully.

He drew back and stared at her. “And you want to talk about it? Now?”

She shrugged. “I just find it interesting that’s all.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because one should always be on one’s guard around men. Men are generally not to
be trusted.”

“That’s a scathing indictment of an entire gender.”

“Oh, I’m certain there are a few worthy of trust. But I daresay that’s why men and
women are rarely, truly friends.”

“Because we can’t be trusted?”

She slanted him a chastising smile. “You needn’t take it as a personal affront. We’re
not talking about you specifically.”

“But about me in general as, oh, specifically, I am a man.”

“And an easily insulted one at that.”

“Actually, given some of the things you’ve said to me since my arrival, I thought
I had a fairly thick skin.”

She smiled.

“So men are not trustworthy?”

“When it comes to women, no.”

“Not even husbands?”

“Oh, especially not husbands.”

“I see.”

Her brow furrowed. “Don’t read more into my words than what I am saying.”

“Then we’re not talking about your husband?”

She paused for no more than a heartbeat but it was enough. “We are not.”

Again he noted her reluctance to talk about her husband.

He suspected Lord Hargate hadn’t been nearly as perfect as she claimed. “Because he
was perfect?”

“Exactly.”

“I see.”

“You see far less than you think you do,” she said mildly.

“And I thought I was most astute.”

She ignored him. “For the most part, one should never count on men to do what they
are supposed to do.”

“I had no idea we were so unreliable.”

“That’s because you deal with men in matters of business. That’s a different thing
altogether. I’m speaking of man in his domestic dealings. In his dealings with women.”
She shook her head. “Men have to be guided. Directed as it were.”

“Manipulated?”

Her brow furrowed. “That’s entirely too harsh a word.”

“But accurate nonetheless.”

“I suppose it’s not completely inaccurate.”

He heaved a heartfelt sigh. “I know I feel manipulated. However . . .” He paused.
“I enjoyed it.”

She cast him a startled look. He grinned wickedly and she laughed. “You do realize
there will be no more of this.”

He considered her for a long moment. She was a difficult woman to decipher. “If that’s
what you want.”

“It is.”

He didn’t believe her or maybe he just didn’t want to believe her. Nonetheless, if
this was the game she wanted to play, he’d play along. “All right. We’ll be friends
from this point forward.” He held out his hand. “Agreed?”

She cast him a suspicious look. “Oh, no. I know what happened the last time I shook
your hand.”

He laughed, grabbed her hand, pulled her close and kissed her hard, then released
her.

“Nor shall we ever shake hands again,” she said with a breathless catch in her voice.

He wasn’t sure he could simply be her friend nor was he sure he wanted to. In fact,
he wasn’t actually certain about anything at the moment let alone what he really wanted.
Was she a pleasant interlude or something more? Perhaps he needed to sort out his
own desires before he tried to address hers.

“Now then, if you would be so kind . . .” She fluttered her hand at him. “If you could
find my night things.”

“I’ll have to get out of bed to do that.”

“Yes, I know.”

He lifted the covers, glanced beneath them, then looked back at her. “I am naked,
you know.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“It’s a risk I am willing to take.”

“And I don’t want the thought of my naked body to haunt you every time you looked
at me.”

“I shall endeavor to bravely carry on.”

He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and grabbed the crumpled blue
silk heap that was his dressing gown off the floor. He threw it on, stood up, and
spotted her nightgown. He grabbed it and presented it to her with a flourish.

“Thank you.” She pulled the covers tighter and her brow furrowed. “Would you be so
good as to turn around or avert your eyes so that I might dress?”

“Ah modesty has reasserted itself.”

“I find it hard to believe it ever wavered.” She gestured again. “Go on then.”

He chuckled and turned away. Behind him, he could hear the rustle of fabric.

“I have a, well, a proposal for you.”

“Oh?” He arched a brow. “I thought you said we wouldn’t suit?”

“Not that kind of proposal. While I have not changed my opinion on the absurdity of
your motorwagon, as you are willing to absent yourself from Millworth, I should like
to show my appreciation.”

“I thought you just did.” He turned toward her and grinned wickedly.

“Good Lord, Sam, do you think of nothing else?” She pulled her wrapper around her
and tied the ribbons tight.

Did she have any idea how delicious she looked? With her dark hair disheveled around
her face, a sparkle in her blue eyes, and a flush coloring her creamy skin? As he
remembered her from New York. As she was in his dreams.

“At the moment it’s difficult.”

“Well, do your best.” Her tone was firm but a smile shone in her eyes. “My late husband
was very involved in business. I can’t tell you anything more specific because I don’t
really know specifics. He never discussed matters of business with me.” She shrugged.
“But I do know that he and his oldest and closest friend were partners in any number
of business endeavors. I was thinking of going to London tomorrow, primarily to meet
with my solicitor. If you would like to accompany me, I would be happy to arrange
a meeting. Mr. Tate might be able to offer some assistance or make some suggestions.
It might be, oh, beneficial.”

“It might at that.” He studied her for a moment. “You would do that for me?”

“I would simply like to make amends for my bad behavior.”

“Again, I thought you just had.”

She ignored him. “Besides, we are friends, aren’t we?”

For now.
Where did that come from? He chuckled. “We are at that.”

“I should be getting back to my room.” She moved to the door, opened it carefully,
and peered down the hall.

“And there will be no more of this?”

“Absolutely not,” she said absently, still perusing the hallway.

“In that case . . .” He stepped to the door, closed it quietly, and pulled her into
his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.” His lips claimed hers. For a brief moment she hesitated then wrapped
her arms around his neck and met his passion with her own. This is what he had dreamed
of since he had last kissed her in New York. Her lips warm and supple and welcoming
beneath his. The curves of her body melding so perfectly with his. The beat of her
heart echoing the rush of blood through his veins. But this was better than any dream.
This was real.

At last she pulled away and gazed up at him, her blue eyes glazed with desire and
resolve.

“I do need to go.”

He smiled down at her. “If that’s what you want.”

“I’m not sure what I want I’m afraid.” She smiled in a wry manner. “Your fault entirely,
I might add.”

“And for that I am more than willing to accept the blame.” He kissed her again then
reluctantly released her.

She opened the door, glanced down the hall, then looked back at him. “You are right
though, you know, about one thing.”

“And what might that be?”

“There are indeed activities beyond tennis that you do quite well.” She cast him a
wicked grin. “Quite well indeed.” She nodded and slipped into the hallway.

He chuckled and closed the door. This was not at all what he had expected when she’d
knocked on his door tonight. In fact, after their argument today, he would have bet
serious money that she would never speak to him again. Not that he was complaining.
But he was certainly confused. And not merely about the lovely Lady Hargate.

He crossed to the desk and absently straightened his notes. He wasn’t used to being
confused and couldn’t remember the last time he had been. Doubt was simply not part
of his nature. No, he was a man of confidence in the decisions he made and the paths
he chose to take. He was clear-headed and decisive and never uncertain about anything.

But when it came to this annoying, maddening, infuriating woman, he had no idea what
he wanted. Which in and of itself was odd. He always knew what he wanted. Always had
a goal in mind, a destination at the end of a road. Abruptly, the thought struck him
that while tonight was delightful, it was not enough.

Nor did he want it to be enough. Which was a much more startling revelation. One would
assume that after having thought and dreamed about her for these many months, he would
now be satisfied. The question, as it were, of
her
should now be settled. Instead, there were more questions in his head than before.

It was damned difficult to reconcile that he obviously felt something for this woman
who was not at all the kind of woman he wanted. He couldn’t have chosen a woman more
exactly the type he intended to avoid. She saw marriage as little more than a . .
. a business transaction. It might not be entirely accurate to call her a fortune
hunter but she was raised to see marriage as a way to improve her lot in life and
nothing beyond that.

He wanted more than a good bargain or a beneficial arrangement. When he decided upon
a woman to spend the rest of his days with, he wanted someone who didn’t care if he
had money or power. Who wanted him for who he was not what he had. He wanted a partner.
And he wanted love.