To Catch a Lady (5 page)

“Now,” Beatrice said before he could manage an escape, “please, go find my terrible sister and scold her for rushing off so quickly.”

“Scold her?” Ash's mind instantly filled with ways that he might indeed reprimand the errant Caroline. A well-placed kiss, for instance, or perhaps a firm hand to her derriere…

“I shall, indeed.”

“What's the matter with me?” Caro muttered, grateful that there was no one in earshot. Thankfully, she'd managed to slip into one of the small parlors a short walk from the main ballroom.

No longer able to stay seated, she began pacing. “It's just the excitement of the evening,” she told herself. After all, it was an enormous undertaking, and their very lives depended on the outcome of the meeting between her sister and the duke.

And yet, the very thought of Summerton bothered her immensely. She remembered all too well the way his gaze a few moments earlier had trapped her breath in her chest. Or how she fairly melted the very moment she'd fallen into his arms.

“Hiding from me, are you?”

Spinning around, Caro was suddenly face-to-face with the subject of her musings. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his appearance a combination of devilish charm and angelic innocence.

“I was merely taking respite from the crush, Your Grace,” she answered him in a sharp tone. Not that she was particularly angry with him, but rather because she was more irritated with herself for being caught off of her guard.

“It is quite the affair, isn't it? Then again, I imagine you aren't accustomed to such frivolity.”

Caro bit her lip. “I have been to Almack's, sir. Do not think us simple folk, Your Grace.”

“I would never infer such a thing. In fact, I find you to be quite well spoken and quick minded.”

“As I do you.”

“So, you came out into society as well?”

“It was a short season for me, but yes, I did. My great-aunt, Winifred Collins, who passed away last year, made my introductions. It was a terrible loss, made even more so since she wasn't here to do the same for Beatrice.”

“Your sister must have been devastated.”

“You would think so, but she has such a strong spirit. In addition to being well read, good with running the house, versed in French—”

Summerton held up his hand. “No need to continue, Miss Hawkins. You did a thorough accounting of your sister's attributes at our first meeting.”

“Oh. Of course.”

A long silence drew out between them. Caro felt as if the room had shrunken to half its size and was growing smaller by the minute.

“Tell me, Miss Hawkins. Do you never consider your sister's feelings in the matter of her future?”

Caro nearly choked. “It's for my sister's benefit that I have chosen this path. Believe me, there is nothing more important than her well-being.”

“I'm not referring to her well-being. Happiness, Miss Hawkins. That which makes us want to continue living, even through the worst of times.”

Caro couldn't believe his words. “You make it sound as if I'm some sort of overbearing beast.”

“Aren't you? She told me that she has recently suffered the loss of a potential husband.”

“The man was a scoundrel who makes a habit of crushing hopeful young women's hearts.”

“I suppose that justifies your callous actions?”

“Sir, how dare you!”

He held up his hand. “I meant only to say that since I've met you, I have wondered if there truly beats a woman's heart inside you.”

Before she knew what she was doing, Caro was across the room, her hand poised to deliver a most deliberate slap to his face. Unfortunately, he was far quicker than she and before she could deliver her blow, he caught her wrist in mid-swing.

At that moment, she didn't know what infuriated her more, the fact that he prevented her from wiping the smirk from his face, or that the very touch of his hand set off all sorts of alarming sensations throughout her body.

But that wasn't the worst of it. That came when he tugged her forward and, wrapping his other arm around her waist, drew her into a deep, all-encompassing kiss, and she—wretched girl that she was—kissed him back!

When he'd entered the room, Ash had no idea what he meant to say, except that he'd wanted to give Miss Hawkins a proper scolding. At least that's what he told himself. He would not admit that what he really wanted was to hear her voice. He'd wanted to watch her full lips move as she spoke and see the color of her eyes change from the mild jade of her annoyance to the blazing emerald of her anger.

“Your Grace!”

He was not disappointed. Her eyes grew wide with surprise and then narrowed in anger when she realized that her plans had been thwarted. She was every bit the woman he'd remembered.

And when she'd advanced on him, hand drawn back, furious and ready to do him bodily harm, it was all he could do to keep from throwing her on the carpet and taking her on the spot.

Instead, he satisfied his lust by kissing her.

Which, to his surprise, did nothing more than fan the flames of the desire that raged within him.

Pulling back from their kiss, he allowed her a few moments to settle herself.

“You, sir, are a blackguard. A detestable rogue!”

It was clear that she had every intention to deliver a set-down, but somehow her voice lacked the sharp-edged indignation he'd expected. That fact alone gave him hope. Rather than let her temper settle, he decided to coax it a bit more.

“Miss Hawkins. It was rude of you to abandon your sister in such a way. You should be ashamed.” He spoke in a half-playful tone, doing his best to goad her into full-out fury.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I've never met such an ill-mannered, short-minded lout as you!” She gasped, probably realizing that she'd all but called out a duke. “Your Grace,” she added, after a second.

It was too late. The moment she used that sharp tone, flashed him that challenging expression—well, he couldn't turn away. He had to touch her, had to have her in his arms, had to kiss her again.

Lunging forward, he quickly drew her into his arms, inhaling the sweet scent of her, touching the firm, soft roundness of her bottom, crushing her against him. He could no more keep from kissing her than he could hold back the torrents of a summer squall.

And when their lips met, it was a burn so deliciously hot that he never wanted it to stop.

She gasped. “My goodness!”

“My dear Miss Hawkins, goodness has nothing to do with it.” Pulling her closer, he delighted in the way that she fit against him. Though layers of material separated them, he could only imagine how deliciously sensuous it would be to lie with her, skin on skin.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, and then paused when he leaned forward, claiming her mouth again. They were beyond the need for words.

“Shhhh,” he said, playing his tongue against her teeth, coaxing her to give in to his assault. She responded, opening her mouth wider, allowing him in.

“But Your Grace…” she began again.

“Ash. Call me Ash. And you shall be my Caroline.”

“Yes,” she breathed, leaning in for another kiss.

Not waiting for her to argue, he lifted her in his arms and carried her across the room.

“Oh,” she said, as he gently laid her on the settee. “I don't know what's come over me,” she said, the distress mounting in her tone. “Please. This cannot happen. What sort of horrible person would I be to have a tryst with my sister's future husband?”

Shaking his head like a great beast, he knelt in front of her, his hand kneading first her ankles and her calves, her legs fascinating him beyond belief. Pushing up her gown, he delighted in her shapely legs.

“There is no need to concern yourself,” he said, and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her left knee. “It's you I want, Caroline, not your sister.”

She pulled back from him. “But why not? She's the perfect choice! Clearly, even you can see that.”

“I have no doubt she's a fine young lady. Intelligent, beautiful, witty—everything a man could want. But she doesn't want to be shackled to me any more than I want to be with her.”

“But Your Grace…” A panicked expression overtook her face.

He quickly put up his hand. “I know that she will need to marry well, and soon. In fact, I have just introduced her to a good friend who, to my estimation, needs a good match as much as she does. If they don't suit, then there are many on the marriage circuit that could serve as prime husband material. She'll have it all, a title and an income. Not the position of a duchess, mind you, but she won't be emptying slop buckets to earn her meals.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm very sure. Now, as to the matter between us…”

“There's a matter between us?” she asked, breathless.

“I want you, Caroline.” He'd said it outright, bold as a crowing rooster, as though he had the right to take her.

He felt her tremble at his pronouncement. “You do?”

“Yes. I think I've wanted to bed you from the moment we met. You mystify me. Like a moth to a flame, I'm drawn to you. Surely you can feel it as well?”

“I do,” she breathed, “but Your Grace—uh, Ash, I mean. We can't take such liberties. Think of the scandal…” A low moan escaped her as he trailed kisses up her thigh.

“There doesn't have to be a scandal,” he muttered, sliding his hands inside her legs. He was bare seconds from touching her center.

“Wait!” She sat straight up and Ash knew he must look the fool, on his knees between her legs, ready to claim her as his own.

“I fear if we try to hide our actions, we will surely be found out.”

Ash groaned. Never had he experienced such a drive, such an all-encompassing need to be with a woman. He'd had his share of paramours. He'd been a soldier, after all. But this was different.

“You don't want this?” Ash asked, his voice raw and guttural.

Granted, he hadn't known her long, but a woman's expression of distress was universal. He watched, completely fascinated by the way she glanced about, worrying her teeth across her bottom lip.

“I don't know. Yes. I mean, no.”

“Is there someone else?”

“No, of course not. It's just that I shall never marry.”

“Really? Why not?”

She gave him a hard expression. “Because the institution of marriage is merely another excuse to place a woman under a man's rule.”

“You don't seem to mind marrying off your sister to the first blue blood that comes along.” He paused, thinking. “Is there another reason you won't marry me?”

Surprise and anger colored her face once more. This was the Caroline Hawkins that had intrigued him. Of course, it pleased him greatly to see her temper rise again.

“Beatrice and I are vastly different. I can earn my own way, while she cannot. She simply hasn't a head for numbers or any idea how to manage a home. For another, she's likely to fall in love with the very next man who showers her with pretty words and noble assurances.” She sighed. “I love Beatrice dearly, but she's lived a very sheltered life and doesn't understand the way of the world.”

“And you do?” Ash watched her expression closely. She seemed on the verge of saying something but must have changed her mind at the last moment.

“I have been overseeing my mother's care and Beatrice's upbringing since I was a girl.”

“And doing a most competent job, I'm sure.” He nodded to her respectfully. “It's obvious you care for your sister very much.”

Caroline sighed. “It's just that if it's so easy for her to fall in love, then why can't it be with a titled gentlemen who will take care of her and give her happiness?”

“As good an explanation as any, I suppose.” Ash wasn't satisfied with that. “But I'm more concerned with you. I sense there is another reason you choose not to marry. After all, a proper husband with a fat purse and vast estate could well serve your purpose of advancing women's status in society, wouldn't he?”

She quickly averted her gaze, her face turning a pinkish hue.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice low and gentle. “Whatever it is, I won't judge you for it.”

“I can't marry. I won't marry,” she amended.

“I see.” He paused for a moment, trying to gauge her intentions. “A potential husband, perhaps?”

She looked away from him, but not before he saw the evidence of remembered pain. “No,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ash watched her closely; her gaze was averted, her face coloring once again, no longer the delightful pinkish blush but the deep red of shame.

“You were forced, then. Some horrid blackguard took liberties with you. Tell me his name! I shall call him out!”

“No. It wasn't like that.”

“I suspect you're not telling me the truth. There was another man, wasn't there?”

She shook her head and wisps of hair sprang loose from her chignon. “It's no matter. The gentleman is gone. Dead and buried.”

“Well, good riddance to him, then. I'm sure the fires of Hell are now licking his heels.”

She let out a breath. “Perhaps we could not discuss this any longer.”

“Of course.”

“As it happens, I have no desire for any man to hold sway over me. Kind words and flowery affirmations aside, I shall make my own way in this world.”

“I have no doubt you shall. You've a good, strong way about you.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “As for me, I've no care for what's happened in your past. My offer is the same. Should you change your mind, I will extend my offer of marriage until such time as I am too old to sign the contract or I am otherwise engaged.”

“You are most gracious, sir, and your offer is most tempting. To never have to worry about money again…” She drew in a quick breath. “Unfortunately, I made the decision a very long time ago that marriage was not for me.”

Ash was certain she was protecting someone. He knew well that a powerful man could destroy whomever he chose. Two young women with an addled mother would barely be a passing consideration. He clenched his fists, furious that he could do nothing to the wretch who'd so carelessly destroyed this woman's life. A good thrashing was out of the question, since she would not reveal his name. No matter. He'd do some investigation of his own. He might not be able to convince her to marry him, but he would damn well make sure she and her family remained safe.

Despite her refusal of his affections, he couldn't deny the bone-deep ache he suffered now, with her so close. And, judging by the expression she wore, his nearness deeply affected her as well.

“Very well, no marriage. But will you deny yourself this?” he asked as he slid his hands between her legs once more, gently caressing her inner thighs as he did so.

“Oh!” The breath went out of her once again. “I…uh, I suppose I'll have to…”

“Truly? I can't imagine an entire lifetime without a lover's touch.”

Ash pulled away, thinking he should do the correct thing, help her to straighten her gown and once again assume the role of the proper gentleman.

For the life of him, he couldn't help but place one final tender kiss above her knee and blow out a final, warm moist breath against her center.

A rush of pleasure shot through him when she responded to his touch with a quiet whimper. Another thought occurred to him.

“I don't care what secrets you are keeping, sweet Caroline. You are an innocent when it comes to making love…”

Caro gasped, astonished at the deep chord Ash had struck within her and the hollow sound of deep regret that followed. She had to admit that the possibility of she herself taking a lover wasn't something she'd ever considered.

After all, for a man to choose a mistress was widely accepted, sometimes even expected. A woman, on the other hand, was scorned, called a harlot, or worse, her reputation and a chance for a happy life in ruins.

Of course, there were women who took on lovers, but they usually had money and connections already or were courtesans. But a woman of Caro's age and situation? It was scandal, pure and simple.

Caro knew she'd have to wait until Beatrice was properly married and above reproach before she could consider openly engaging in such wanton behavior.

One moment she was deep in thought, and the next she was caught up in the duke's final gift. The startling and pleasing sensation of his warm, moist mouth touching her, followed by his blowing a heated breath between her legs, gave her sudden intense pleasure. In that breathless and scorching hot second, her body took control and she barely recognized her own voice.

She gasped, throwing caution to the wind. “Well, perhaps, if we were careful…”

She felt Ash's smile against the skin of her inner thigh. “Very careful, Miss Hawkins. The utmost careful, in fact.” From there, he continued his journey upward again, nibbling bits here and there.

“No one must ever know,” she said, suddenly breathless and panting.

“I shall never tell…” Without another word he rose from the floor, and she delighted as he climbed up on the settee beside her.

“Oh…” One long sigh escaped her when he settled beside her and took her into his arms, his right hand pulling up the hem of her gown.

Before she knew what was happening, Caro was reaching for his trousers, desperate to tear the fabric from between them and allow him fully against her. Once they were free, he pushed forward, searing flesh against searing flesh, and suddenly Ashton consumed her in ways she hadn't dreamed possible. He filled her senses with gentle touches, kisses, his warm breath wafting over her, and she shivered in anticipation.

His hands roamed unashamedly all over her body, rubbing her back and buttocks, his mouth suckling her breasts. At the same moment, his groin pushed against her and she felt she was on the verge of something dangerous and unstoppable.

Caro was so consumed by his lovemaking that the rest of the world drifted away and she knew nothing but the two of them. She could hear her blood rushing through her body and feel the shock of his hands caressing the moistened skin of her center.