This Earl Is on Fire (16 page)

“Perhaps, though I have my doubts.” She scoffed quietly but did not retreat from his embrace. In fact, she swayed toward him, her body molding against his. Her arms settled around his waist. The supple yielding pressure of her breasts, the rise and fall of her stomach with each breath, brought her closer to him.

His body responded in kind, obliterating any distance between them. He knew he should step back. He'd come here out of concern for her, not to seduce her. But as he nuzzled the hollow on the underside of her jaw and tasted how warm and sweet her flesh was beneath his lips, he found himself pulling her even closer instead.

Gliding a hand down her spine, he settled it into the curve of her lower back, lifting her and aligning their hips in one motion. “This is not the hot, insistent weight of
pity
pressing against your sex.”

Her eyes widened. “You . . . desire me? Even now, with my hair shorn like a lamb in spring?”

He chuckled. Her hair was hardly shorn, but even if it were . . . “Long hair, short, or with only whiskers on your scalp, I would still want you.”

The truth of those words filled him with a modicum of panic. He knew he wasn't only speaking of filling her body with his flesh, but something more. Something deeper. And in that moment, the certainty of him wanting her—all of her—tunneled through him.

Warned of the dangerous ground shifting beneath his feet, he set her down and released her. The moment he did, however, she wavered, teetering to the side. Automatically, he reached out for her.

He'd forgotten about her leg.

Adeline stumbled away from him on a strained gasp. She covered her mouth with her empty hand, her face pale, her eyes haunted, bleak. “And lame too? How that part of me
must
inflame your passion.”

Actually, it never entered his mind. Not even from the first moment that she'd told him. “You have never once seemed in want of wholeness or support.” She was complete in every way imaginable.

“W-what did you say?” Adeline's voice trembled.

Had he spoken aloud? Damn it all. Those words—like the others he'd just spoken—were too true. He should never have said them. Should never have revealed so much.

His heart pounded in his chest, fierce and raw. Seeing the distress on her features stirred a terrifying helplessness in him. He would do anything to banish her insecurities, to prove that she was everything a man could desire and more. But her tears were causing his undoing.

Behind him, the door beckoned. Yet, how he could leave her like this? Especially when he wanted to be the one who stripped away her sadness?

“I said ‘Lift your nightdress and I will tell you.' ” He employed the practiced tone of seduction, wanting to return to where he felt more secure. When he earned a choked laugh from her, he finally felt some relief.

She looked askance at him. “Showing you my limb is not an adventure I care to have.”

The distraction was working, for both of them. His own panic subsided as he settled back into a more familiar skin. “You've never thought about it? Not even once?”

“Baring myself to you? Of course not.” Her blush deepened as she focused on the hair in her grasp.

“Come now, Adeline. I know better. You purr whenever my mouth touches you. Hell, even when you watch me eat, your gaze reveals that you are imagining all the wicked things I could do to you. Every inch of you.” He was stalking her now, circling her as if this were a naughty game of blindman's bluff. “Surely in these fantasies, you are not fully clothed.”

Her lips parted, not on a gasp but on a series of rapid breaths that caused her breasts to rise and fall beneath the ruffled layers of white silk. Pressing her lips together, she kept her gaze averted. “Nor am I fully undressed.”

Damn! He nearly tripped. Her soft admission brought him to full, instant arousal. He expected her to
deny
dreaming of him, to taunt him in return. Now the hard length of him strained against the fall of his trousers.

Stepping behind her, he made the necessary adjustment. Thankfully, she did not follow his movement but remained still while he resumed his pacing.

Once he stopped in front of her, he held her gaze as he took the bundle of hair from her grasp and set it down on the foot of the bed. “Hmm . . . Then what are you wearing in these wicked thoughts of yours? A pair of stockings and your chemise?”

“Surely not.” Adeline laughed softly.

The lush, decadent sound shuddered through him. He grinned, liking this game. Making another pass around her, closer, he trailed his fingers along her throat, around to the nape of her neck, taking pleasure in the quickening of her breath.

“Just stockings, then? With pink ribbons tied above your knees. My, my, Miss Pimm”—he stopped behind her and whispered into her ear—“naughty, indeed.”

“Perhaps I am demurely covered from my neck to the floor in my nightdress.”

Standing behind her, he gently grasped her chin, drawing her face to the side to press a kiss to her cheek. His fingertips trailed down her chin, to the hollow at the base of her throat, and paused at the ribbon that tied the collar of her nightdress closed. Then brushing small, nipping kisses along her jaw and down her neck, he tugged on the ribbon. “And does it slip off one shoulder . . . like this?”

She gasped, lips parting. “Perhaps.”

He loved that she didn't shy away. Loved that she leaned back against him. Loved that her skin responded to his touch with an eruption of fine gooseflesh.

He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, that sweet pear-scented place on her throat . . . “And in this fantasy, does my mouth press here? And here?”

Her answer was more moan than word, making his abdomen tighten. He drew closer. His hands roamed down to her hips. Threading her fingers over his, she followed his progress as he pulled the curve of her buttocks back against him.

Pleasure spiked through him and drugged him simultaneously. He felt dizzy with it. On a groan, his mouth descended to her shoulder, his gaze straying to the rounded flesh that hinted at the perfection of her breasts. How many nights had he recalled the delicious memory of her fluffing his pillow? Of that supple unrestrained weight?

Up until this point, his behavior had been practically chaste. He'd done nothing more than kiss her. Surely, he deserved a reward.

As if reading his desires, Adeline guided his hands upward over the valley of her abdomen. In the warm recess beneath her breasts, she hesitated. But the moment his mouth opened against her neck, she lay her head back on his shoulder and slid his hands over her supple flesh.

Instantly, her nipples pebbled against his palms. Arching her back, her taut buttocks nearly unmanned him with the glorious pressure of her untutored thrust. He groaned, loving her response.

Then with a single tug of her nightdress, he took her bare flesh in his hands.

Her skin was soft as petals, their pleasing weight warm, full, and yielding in his grasp. At their crests, a treasure awaited his attention. Those pink circles were so pale and perfect that they held a silvery sheen in the lamplight, like small coins from an undiscovered land.

“I've thought of this too,” she admitted on a rasp as he grazed the ruched peaks. “I try not to, but the more I try, the more it happens. All day long. Each and every night . . .”

“Tell me no more,” he pleaded, his erection threatening to rend the fabric of his trousers. His sac tightened, thoughts of seduction filling his head. He knew hundreds of ways to touch her, to coax her further, to encourage this event onward without a moment's hesitation. He could take her, fulfill this driving need . . . “We should not do this. There would be consequences, Adeline.”

“I know you would not marry me,” she said, turning her head to press her lips against his throat. “But since I am not marrying either, then I would not be ruined for my husband. So there is nothing to stop us.”

It was the word
ruined
that finally jarred him enough to lift his mouth away from her skin. He lowered his hands from her breasts, then straightened. In that instant, his body revolted in a jerk, unwilling to leave her.

Forcing himself, he staggered back, his breath labored and burning through his lungs. Carefully, he lifted her nightdress in place, making sure to tie the ribbon at her throat before he moved to stand before her.

“You are two and twenty. So young. So passionate. Not jaded by the world. You will marry someday. I know it with a certainty that I cannot explain. And I . . .” Unable to help himself, he reached up and brushed the newly cropped tendrils away from her cheek. “I could not in good conscience repay the family who saved my life with your ruination.”

She turned to press her lips to his palm. “No one but us would know.”

“A statement which only proves your naivety.” Her family was from the country, he reminded himself. They were good, kind people who had taken him in, sacrificing so much for a stranger. And this was how Liam would repay them?

No. He could not, or rather,
should
not. The fact that he could imagine himself taking Adeline—laying waste to that fragile barrier between them and making her irrevocably his—caused panic to rise up once more.

So, before she could tempt him further, he turned on his heel and left the room without another word.

I
n the morning, Mother decided they should take a drive in the park. It was the perfect day for it, with few carriages about at this early hour. Of course, Adeline would have rather walked, but felt that she'd put her mother through enough with the shock of her shorter hair.

The missing weight of her usual braid kept her reaching back to check on her chignon. That was when she remembered that Hester had been able to accomplish a new stylish twist on her crown. Adeline thought it made her look taller, older, and more refined. So then, why was she still so uncertain of herself inside?

Adeline wasn't sure, but she felt it had something to with Liam and how he'd left her last night. Especially when she'd given him every opportunity to stay.

She stared out the window, toward Rotten Row in the distance. “What was it like when you first met Father?”

“We've spoken of this before, Adeline. I'm sure you recall the story. Your father simply introduced himself and told me that I would be his wife. As you know, he was correct,” Mother said with a laugh.

“And you knew without a doubt that he was to be your husband?”

“The truth is that I thought your father was an accomplished flirt.”

“You weren't lightheaded or stricken with a terrible weight upon your breast? You didn't feel inexplicably tethered to him from the first moment?”

Mother shook her head. “Not at first. I fell in love with him straightaway. But I did not know that he was perfect for me until you were born.” She looked out the window, her gaze far off. “During that time, I first felt the dizziness and that invisible chain you mentioned. Of course, your father had felt that way all along—that certainty is in your blood—and I'd felt foolish for not understanding the power of such a bond until we'd been married for nearly three years.”

“Did you ever tell Father?”

Mother nodded. “Oh, he knew. While he was confident that I loved him, he was also rather smug in telling me that it wasn't as strong as the way he loved me. I thought he was just being romantic again.”

All these years, Adeline had thought that the stories she'd heard about the Pimm family line falling deeply, inexplicably in love had always happened to
both
parties. Learning that they were—quite possibly—only quixotic stories left her feeling rather empty.

Her spirits plummeted. She told herself it was foolish to feel this way. “I'd always thought you both knew from the first moment.”

“Are you worried that Wolford might not feel the same?” Mother's uncanny look of
knowing
lit her eyes.

“No, of course not.” Adeline shook her head, adamant. “That would presume too much on both our parts. He does not want to marry and . . . neither do I.”

She waited for her mother to look surprised, but she merely smiled instead and waited patiently, as if anticipating what her daughter would say next.

Adeline forged ahead. “You might have guessed that I did not come to London for the purpose of finding a husband. I came here to—”

“Prove to your father and I that you are a capable young woman. Yes, I have noticed things too,” Mother said. “I've bitten my tongue to keep from asking if you were too warm or too cold. I've wanted to pack your things and hie you back to Boswickshire at least a hundred times. The other day, when Juliet and Ivy were here for tea, it took all of my willpower not to cover your ears so that you would not hear what the
ton
was saying. Not to mention the countless times when I've absently reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. And most of all, I've become all too aware of each passing year.”

So Mother had taken her request to heart. She truly was trying not to coddle her any longer. And while Adeline appreciated the effort and love, those impulses Mother confessed to seemed as if she still thought of Adeline as a lame little girl. “You've never asked me to assist you with managing the servants or learning any of the duties expected of me. Most young women have that instruction from the time they are young.”

“I suppose seeing you blossom into a woman has made me want to hold on all the more. I didn't want to offer instruction on how to run a household because I did not want to lose you to your own.”

“Then it is not because of”—Adeline held her breath—“my leg or that you think me incapable?”

Mother's eyes watered. “Not at all. I'm sorry that you ever felt that way. That is my own failing. The burden of guilt over your leg dissipated long ago. You did that for me by being so brave all your life.”

A choked sob escaped Adeline. This was the whole reason she'd wanted to come to London. If she had known . . . then she might never have left Boswickshire. Might never have met Liam. Might never have known what if felt like to feel utterly connected to another person. Then again, perhaps she would have been better off not knowing him. Especially considering that he might never feel the same about her.

Drying her eyes, a sense of certainty filled her. She would be better off returning home regardless. It was getting too difficult to think of her life without him, and therefore she needed to do just that. Live her life without him, before it was too late for her heart.

S
tanding in the study at Sudgrave Terrace, Liam heard the front door open. At first, he'd assumed it was one of the footmen from next door or even Boswick coming to look in on him. He did not expect to see his uncle stride through the open archway as if he owned the property. Although since Uncle Albert had been living abroad until recently, Liam chose to shrug it off as a difference between cultures. It might take some time for Albert to remember London ways.

Uncle Albert's walking stick rapped against the floor as he came to a sudden stop. Beneath a beaver hat, his yellowed and graying brows shot up. He stroked a hand over his trimmed though unfashionable beard and mustachio, before flashing a cigar-stained grin. “So this is where you've been hiding.”

An odd greeting
, but again, Liam was willing to make allowances. He set down the invoice that Rendell had left on the top of the crate and extended his hand. “Uncle Albert. I'm glad to see you. I trust both you and my fair cousin had a safe journey?”

“Couldn't have done it without Gemma. She speaks the native tongue wherever we travel. I daresay, even better than her poor sainted mother had.” Albert removed his hat and grabbed his walking stick by the neck and—instead of shaking Liam's hand—began to stroll about the room, absently looking over the collection.

Liam lowered his hand and studied his uncle. “She was always a bright girl. I imagine she is eager to finish her studies.”

Albert peered inside one of the crates. “She finished those ages ago. No. In fact, she expressed a desire to have a Season.”

“Surely little Gemma is not old enough for a Season.” His cousin had had a head full of bouncing black ringlets while scampering about in a pinafore the last time Liam had seen her.

“My thoughts mirror yours,” Albert said convivially, while he continued his perusal around the room. “The truth is, she is one and twenty now.”

Only a year younger than Adeline?

The thought gave him pause. Was it normal for him to compare every woman, even if only their ages, to Adeline?

Albert laughed. “It came as a surprise to me as well. It seemed as if one day she was a grinning girl, excited about riding to the dig site on the back of a camel, and then overnight she turned into a woman who thinks camels are smelly, disgusting creatures. Then again, she might be correct about that.”

Liam chuckled. “So you intend to stay?”

“We have come home to roost, as it were.”

Liam felt relieved. Not only for Gemma's sake but for Albert's as well. His uncle was far too naïve sometimes and prone to being deceived by unscrupulous men. Liam thought back to the day he'd made this discovery. It was only a year ago when Albert had returned to town for a few days. During the visit, he'd spotted one of Albert's new acquisitions—the head of Aphrodite.

Albert had boasted that it was one of the Elgin marbles that were thought to have been destroyed during their voyage to England years ago. Apparently, he'd paid a pretty penny to secure it for a colleague, who had backed out, leaving Albert without payment and in the weeds for his next excursion. Knowing that his uncle was too proud to admit that he was short on cash, Liam had offered to buy the head. At the time, he'd only thought of the amusement he'd have by examining it. Because no one had known that he already possessed the original. And now, only Vale and Adeline knew that he had both in his collection.

“But enough about me,” Albert said. “Edith tells me that you intend to give a lecture at the Royal Society about forgery.”

Liam concealed his confusion. Edith mentioned his lecture? But she had been the one most concerned about embarrassing Albert, should his purchase of the forgery be revealed. He was beginning to wonder if he truly knew any of his family.

Stranger still was the sudden change of topic, to be sure. And how odd that his uncle's thoughts had practically mirrored his own. Though perhaps, Liam reasoned, Albert had suspected the head of Aphrodite was a fake—but no. It didn't seem possible. His uncle had been too proud of the acquisition. At the time, he'd never given away an inkling of doubt.

Even so, Liam couldn't shake himself free of the notion that something seemed out of place in this visit.

“As a favor to Vale,” he answered, choosing to believe that Aunt Edith had accidentally revealed his secret but without stating that Albert's Aphrodite would be the star of the exhibit. “As you might have heard, he is a new
fellow
.”

“Hmm . . .” Albert smirked. “One would think Vale would present an invention of some sort instead. It sounds to me as if he thinks to do
you
a favor. After all, you are hardly the scholar that he is.”

The statement had been made often enough over the years that Liam dismissed it with a mere shrug. His collection was seen as nothing more than a rich man's plaything. He rarely revealed his true passion to anyone.

Yet just now, Albert's laugh pinched at Liam's ego like a falcon perched on his shoulder, one that could not be dislodged with a mere shrug.

Feeling the tendons and sinew of his shoulders tighten, Liam adopted his characteristic persona, reverting to mockery, and self-mockery at that. “Vale has become sentimental since his marriage, so I do not doubt you are correct. Though I would not dream of letting him down, even if only to give the
fellows
an hour of amusement at my expense.”

Strangely, Albert frowned. His hand now clutched the head of his walking stick until his knuckles turned white. “Perhaps you should postpone it. After all, you were recently injured, and still hiding yourself away.”

That was Albert's second mention of hiding. But Liam wasn't. In fact, he'd stayed here last night as if rooted to this place. Though perhaps it was not the property, but a certain young woman's hold over him.

Yet after last night, he knew he had to sever ties. He'd made the decision earlier this morning that it was time to return to his old life. It was safer there. He didn't need the cumbersome weight of his attraction to Adeline, nor his fondness for her parents, clinging to him. He wanted to shrug it off, go back to the way things had always been, and settle into a more comfortable skin. In fact, he'd already sent word to the infamous Lady Reynolds to expect him for dinner.

Thinking about the alternative—allowing Adeline to burrow beneath his skin, inside his heart—brought back a painful memory. He'd been foolish once, and the lesson had left a permanent scar on his jaded heart. He would rather remember Adeline as she was in his mind, instead of being proven wrong in the future, which seemed inevitable.

“I am well recovered, thanks to the kindness of my neighbors who took me in.”

“Yes. Edith has told me all about Lord and Lady Boswick,” he said absently. “Were you able to discover who attacked you?”

Liam shook his head. “I still cannot recall their faces. Likely one was a jealous husband. As for the other, I could not say.”

“A jealous husband? Why would you assume that?”

Liam pressed a finger to his temple. “That night is still a bit foggy in here.”

“Surely, you remember something. A voice? A face?”

Liam had been having dreams of that night, fragments of shadowed images and a voice asking strange questions.
Where is The . . . ? If you let her go, we could end this.

The instant he'd awoken, Liam repeated that first question, trying to hold on to the dreams. “Where is The—
what
?” Yet the words had been too garbled to comprehend. He was hoping for a name he recognized. Running through faces of the women he knew, he could recall none with a name that began with the sound of
The
. He knew a
Theodosia
, but she was Edith's aunt, and somehow he doubted those men were seeking an octogenarian with poor eyesight and at least forty cats.

The
seemed important, his only link. Unfortunately, he could not wholly dismiss it as being dream fiction, nor could he add credence to it.

These thoughts caused his headache to return, like the ones that only Adeline had alleviated. Likely seeing her would make this one disappear as well, but it was best to withdraw from her for as long as possible. He didn't know how he would be able to see her at the ball Aunt Edith was hosting for Albert and Gemma at week's end.

Until that time, he needed to garner his strength by avoiding her. Even if it was only a wall that separated them now.

“Nothing, Uncle.” Liam shrugged.

Albert's watchful gaze honed in on him for another moment before he drew in a breath and appeared more relaxed. Then he abruptly changed the subject. “Edith mentioned—
special guests
, I believe were her words—coming to the ball. She intimated that you hold a certain young woman in high esteem.”