To Seduce a Rogue (34 page)

Adam did know. This was not his, nor Tanner’s, affair. Why had Tanner been invited? He socialized with him, of course, at their club and a few other places he would just as soon forget. But, neither of them were dinner party men.

Just who would be at this damn thing?

Charlie passed him on her way to the door, her skirt whispering against the polished floor.

She was angry with him. All right. He
was
trying to keep his emotions from her. He was trying to deny the incredible
vulnerability
he felt when he was with her. He could not be as honest as she. He just could not. Because if he was, then he would never be able to let her go. And loving someone again was much more than he was willing to risk.

It was too
late
.

He caught her, though, slowing her with a light touch to the back of her neck. Her skin burned his fingertip as surely as a flame. “Wait.”

She stopped but didn’t turn. “I need to go.”

He moved closer until he pressed against her. Remembering Tanner was in the room with them, he fought the urge to kiss the skin exposed by her neckline and upswept hair. “You look beautiful. More beautiful than any woman I have ever seen.” He inhaled, catching her scent at once: roses and something earthy, like fresh cut grass and sunshine.

She half turned, eyes wide, surprised.

He smiled. “I don’t lie.”

“You don’t tell me everything, either.” She sighed, and he saw her shoulders tremble just a little. “You must know that you’re my best friend.”

He swallowed and took a step back. “You are mine. You know that, too.”

“Then, why? Why lock me out?”

“Sweetheart...
two
days
. You’re leaving in two days.” He balled his hands into fists at his sides. “Why make this any goddamn harder?” He could not keep the anger from his voice. She wanted him to share his whole life, then casually say goodbye. Was he allowed to keep something from her to save himself?

“I don’t think of what we’ve shared in the same way that you do. I never have.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He watched her force a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.” She fluttered her hand, an insouciant movement unnatural to her.

He noticed, felt a moment’s frustration, then shook his head as it occurred to him that the little sneak was turning his own tricks on him.

Hiding behind smiles and inane, insincere gestures.

She grasped the handle to the library door, and his gaze followed her. The sleek cut of her dress in harmony with her slim build, silk curves inviting his touch.

She laughed and snapped her fingers. “Ahh, yes, I meant to tell you...”

He blinked, forcibly separating himself from his hunger for her. “Tell me?”

She pulled the door open and half turned on the ball of her foot. “Mrs. Peters wanted me to mention that Miss, Miss...” She scratched her chin with a gloved finger. “Elliot! Miss Elliot called at the last minute to say she would accept the invitation to dinner.”

“Shit,” he whispered beneath his breath as the door closed behind her.

Marilyn
.

Realization

The making or being made real of something imagined.

She was attractive. Charming. Intelligent.

And Marilyn’s attractive, charming, intelligent hand was resting lightly on Chase’s arm.

He was the height of elegance tonight in a black linen suit complete with striped waistcoat and snowy white shirt. His tanned skin glowed in contrast to the crisp color.

Charlie looked away. She smiled and nodded to the man seated to her left. He had made a comment she supposed she should reply to, but she’d not been listening. Something about the performance. She smothered a yawn and joined in the applause.

At least she had made it through dinner. Too much food. Mindless conversation that interested no one. Meddling disguised as polite banter. What fun was it to eat when so many people were hawking your manners and the amount of food you put into your mouth? She’d felt like she was having dinner with thirty chaperones.

She glanced around the parlor, a large, rarely used one she had never been in before. It was a comfortless room, full of stiff furniture and belongings she was afraid to touch. Ceramic figurines and crystal vases, miniature portraits of people she guessed had no relation whatsoever to Chase. Chairs from other rooms had been brought in to form a half circle before the piano. Luckily, she had been a late arrival and sat on one of the sofas behind the chairs.

Chase and Marilyn Elliot sat on the other.

The woman had cornered him, obvious for everyone to see. Imagine Mrs. Peters’ embarrassment if she ever realized she had invited Adam Chase’s mistress to her little soiree. Perhaps, though, polite society allowed this, if prudently handled. Charlie didn’t know. All she could tell that mattered was that the mistress chew with her mouth closed.

Charlie wanted to understand. She wanted to deny the jealousy she felt. But, she couldn’t quite accept another woman
touching
him. As liberated as she wanted to be, the sight of Marilyn’s hand on his arm ripped a gash deep inside her. It made her think harsh, ugly thoughts.

It didn’t help any to know Marilyn would be here when she left. Hellfire, she didn’t expect him to live the life of a priest. She knew, no, she
recognized
the reality of their situation. But still, it hurt.

“Miss Whitney? What do you think of Miss Cameron’s musical ability?” Her neighbor on the sofa leaned closer in expectation of her answer.

“I’m sorry?” Had he been talking to her for long? She hoped not.

“Miss Cameron. She is quite good. I love to hear her play.” He tapped his hand on his knee. “Absolutely divine.”

“Yes, she is.” Apparently, Miss Cameron had an admirer, and
Charlie
had been fortunate enough to get the seat next to him. “You know, I feel a headache coming on. I think I may take a moment to catch my breath. On the verandah.” She had a porch. Chase had a
verandah
.

Miss Cameron’s admirer stood with a bow as she swept by.

“I hope I don’t miss much. She
is
divine,” she added because she thought she needed to.

From across the room, Mrs. Peters’ stern gaze followed her. Charlie winked and flicked her fan against her head in salute. Her chaperone frowned harder. She couldn’t hear it, of course, but she did see the deep inhalation and release of breath she had come to know so well these last two weeks.

She took a sharp left as she entered the hallway. She wanted to escape Miss Cameron’s
musical abilities
. Escape the sight of Marilyn Elliot’s hand on Chase’s arm.

The verandah was just the place.

* * *

Marilyn Elliot’s gaze lingered on the man sitting beside her as he watched Miss Whitney exit the room. Against her best efforts, Marilyn liked the young woman, who had introduced herself with an outstretched hand. Marilyn had never shaken a woman’s hand before and was not sure how to do it. Grasp and squeeze? No squeeze with just a shake?

Charlotte Whitney had definitely been a surprise. Intelligence, spirit and a refreshingly straightforward manner, wrapped in a freckle-specked, sun-blistered package.

Marilyn smoothed her hand down the bodice of her dress. She and Adam had never had any more than a friendship that certainly went beyond the proper bounds of friendship. But she was a woman after all, competitive and rancorous at times. She admitted to being saddened to see him so entranced by another woman. She’d assumed what they shared was the most any woman was ever going to share with him.

Yet it took only a moment, to witness his gaze lingering upon Miss Whitney’s face—at once fierce and smoldering, the next warm and lovingly amused—to know what he felt for her.

Marilyn had to admit they were a well-matched pair. Intelligent to a fault, beautiful in a disinterested way, aggressive, honest, and of course, infatuated with a dusty old newspaper. Wouldn’t you know it?

Jared. Miss Whitney had called him that today, when they walked into the dining room together.
Interesting
.

Marilyn knew only a little of Adam’s family. Of course, she had heard gossip about the tragedies: the mother’s demise at a young age, the indifferent, tyrannical father who died in a steamboat explosion, the elder son’s death during a duel. Other than that she did not know much. Adam did not speak of his family. He used his middle name when he wrote, but she had never known anyone to address him by it.

As he shifted with a restless twitch, she felt a heavy pull in her chest. Leaning, she whispered near his ear, “Go have a smoke. This is dreadfully dull, but Kate’s a friend, and I have to stay.”

He turned to her, his gaze tight and calculating as if he expected her to say more. Dared her to.

So, he has not admitted to himself that he loved the girl. Marilyn almost smiled. That was more like the Adam Chase
she
knew.

“Go on.” She settled her hands in her lap and straightened her spine. “Kate will probably only play another song or two. We can take a stroll later.”

He squeezed her gloved hand and rose from the sofa.

Marilyn Elliot turned her attention to Miss Katherine Cameron, who was arranging her skirt and flexing her hands in preparation for another piece. Marilyn swallowed and tilted her chin, head held high. Adam’s gesture was meant to comfort, she was sure, but it had felt so very much like a farewell.

* * *

“Hello, stranger.”

Adam turned at the sound of her smooth murmur. He had been peering through the darkness, looking for her. As it was, he could barely see her, hidden in shadow, the moon providing only a feeble remnant of light.

“Looking for me?”

“No.” He released a puff of smoke.

She laughed, a seductive laugh, low and throaty. His hand shook as he lowered it to the balustrade. She was becoming a woman before his eyes, beneath the persuasive stroke of his fingers, changing in ways that excited him, made his blood dance beneath his skin.

He heard her walk toward him. Her slippers bounced off marble as she dropped them from her hands. She slid her arms around him and pressed her face against his back. “I think you
were
looking for me.”

Of course he was, but there was no need to give her more ammunition. “Whatever you say, love.” He denied the callousness of his words as he laid his free hand over hers, which were clasped together across his stomach.

They stood in silence, the darkness isolating them from the party. A light breeze carried the scent of roses, honeysuckle and tobacco. Somewhere a night owl called.

Adam extinguished his cheroot and turned in the circle of her arms. She clung to him, her head pressed against his chest. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed her in. He smiled. She had loosened the chignon.

Waking in the middle of the night, when the horrible dreams threatened, was nothing new. With sweat rolling down his face and neck and the force of his expelled breaths shaking his entire body and finding her there
was
. Lying on her side often as not, touching him with her hand or her foot or her hip, as it was too hot to hold each other as they would in the winter.