An Indecent Proposition (20 page)

“Surely I’m entitled to a little nervousness over the wedding.” She arranged her skirts with one hand, being careful to seem nonchalant. “I feel certain most prospective brides have a few misgivings now and then.”

“Probably, I’ll grant you that point as long as that is all it is. We do so want you to be happy.”

Happy? When was the last time she’d felt happy?

The carriage turned a corner and Annabel caught the strap to steady herself against the sway of the vehicle. A vision came into her mind, unbidden and unwanted, of a warm, glorious summer afternoon, the quiet library at Manderville Hall, which she almost considered her own private retreat, and a magical kiss. Derek, so impossibly attractive with his fair hair just slightly rumpled and a look in his azure eyes she’d never seen before, turning to her, gazing downward and lowering his head with unmistakable intent . . .

And then the touch of his mouth on hers. Soft, tender, taking but giving, stealing the very breath from her lungs.

But then another memory intruded, this one of the same man who had taken her so gently into his arms embracing another woman.

Annabel banished both with ruthless determination and told Margaret, “I am happy.”

Her surrogate mother just looked at her for a moment and then murmured, “If you say so, I believe you.”

 

The street was crowded in the late afternoon, and Derek stepped out of his favorite tobacco shop on Bond Street and nearly collided with one of the pedestrians walking past the doorway. He murmured, “Pardon me.”

“Manderville. How nice to run into you. Not in a literal sense, of course.” The man’s mouth twitched at his attempt at levity.

Good God, Derek thought with wry realization, of all the damned people to practically plow him down on the sidewalk, why did it have to be the man he wanted to see least of all in the entire city? “Yes, indeed.”

Alfred Hyatt also carried a package. “Just come from the glove maker myself. Tedious business to run errands, but one must now and again, I suppose.”

“No getting around it,” Derek agreed with grim politeness. “Well, I suppose I—”

“Join me for a drink? There’s a little tavern down the street that serves a decent whiskey.” Friendly and urbane, Annabel’s fiancé looked at him expectantly.

People streamed by, carriages rattled past, and maybe it was the noise and the distraction, or maybe he was just plain dim-witted at that moment because of the ironic notion of having a friendly drink with his adversary, but Derek couldn’t come up with a swift excuse without it sounding churlish.

Devil take it, Hyatt probably didn’t even
know
they were adversaries.

“A whiskey sounds like just the thing,” he muttered, and that wasn’t a lie. Maybe he’d drink an entire bottle, he brooded as they fell into step.

The tavern proved crowded, the patrons a mixture of well-dressed men like themselves and shopkeepers and tradesmen. They managed to find a quiet corner and sat down, and an efficient barmaid with an Irish brogue whisked off to fill their order.

Hyatt smiled in his usual pleasant way from across the worn surface of the table. Everything about the man, blast him to perdition, was pleasant. He was nice looking in a sort of unremarkable way, he dressed stylishly but without affectation, his demeanor wasn’t posturing or foppish, so men liked him, and obviously if Annabel had agreed to marry the bastard, he appealed to women as well.

Damnation.

“Actually, seeing you today is fortuitous,” Hyatt said, folding his hands on the table as they waited for their drinks. “I’ve been contemplating asking your advice on a matter of some importance to me.”

That wasn’t what he expected to hear. Derek raised a brow. “Oh?”

“In an area you are somewhat more of an expert in than myself.” Hyatt gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Did I say ‘somewhat’? I should have omitted that from my previous sentence. Let’s just say I am reasonably sure for several reasons you will be able to help me with this dilemma.”

“What dilemma?”

“Well . . . it has to do with females, of course. I am going to guess in the course of your . . . er . . . many relationships in the past, you have discovered just what pleases them when it comes to gifts. Add to that the simple fact you know Annabel well, and I wondered if you could guide me as to what to purchase for her as a wedding gift.”

Derek stared, wondering just what bad deed he’d committed that fate sought to punish him by having the very man who was betrothed to the woman he loved ask him for advice on what would please her to celebrate their nuptials. Casting back quickly over his life, he decided that even in his less-than-angelic moments nothing came to mind that was bad enough to warrant this particular torture.

When he didn’t immediately speak, Hyatt added, “I am at a loss, yet I want to get it just right, as I’m sure you understand.”

Derek cleared his throat. “What you would buy a paramour and buy a wife are two different things, I’m sure. I doubt I can help much. Annabel isn’t vain enough to covet jewels or expensive perfumes, I’m afraid.”

“You see, you do know her,” Hyatt pointed out with unerring accuracy. “That’s helpful already. Go on.”

The barmaid arrived with their drinks like a gift from heaven. Even though she had pockmarked skin and was probably two decades older, Derek could have kissed her. He picked up his glass, drank so large a mouthful he nearly choked, and relished the burn as it went down.

The faster he finished it, the faster he could make a plausible excuse and leave.

“I knew her better as a child,” he said, which was not quite the truth but close enough. The open, inquisitive child had given way to a woman, with a woman’s dreams, and a woman’s ability to beguile and fascinate. Had he understood her transformation a little better, maybe he wouldn’t have ruined everything. “We don’t really speak too often.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that.” Hyatt took a reasonable sip from his own glass.

For the first time, Derek took note of the watchfulness in the other man’s eyes.

Perhaps a reassessment of the situation was in order, he realized with a start.

Uncle Thomas said he’d thought Lord Hyatt had noticed Annabel’s behavior at the engagement gathering. Maybe the man was perceptive in other ways also. Thomas had seen through Derek. Maybe Hyatt also sensed a rival.

As evenly as possible, Derek said, “We don’t see each other often.”

“She mentioned that to me once.” Hyatt sat back a little in his chair, his gaze intent, and while not overtly hostile, his expression was set. “I have to say she becomes quite tense when your name arises.”

Wonderful. They’d discussed him. Though Derek doubted Annabel would say anything about the kiss, he had no doubt she would have little complimentary to say otherwise. He wasn’t sure how to excuse her derision, but he took his best stab at it. “I think once she was old enough to understand all the gossip, she decided I was rather less heroic than she thought when she was younger.” He took another fiery sip from his glass. “She’s absolutely right, of course.”

“Quite.” Hyatt looked bland. “Who knows how a woman will react to things?”

It was hard to know how to respond, so Derek declined to do so. Instead he finished his drink and set the glass down with a smart click. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with a brilliant idea for a gift.”

“Not at all.” Hyatt waved a hand in a careless gesture, but the guarded scrutiny in his eyes didn’t falter. “It was nice to talk, just the same. After all, we will shortly be part of the same family and see each other often.”

And how the hell he was going to endure that, Derek wasn’t sure. Worse than his visions of his lordship and Annabel in bed, he pictured her ripe with another man’s child and it flayed him in a way he never imagined possible.

“Of course,” Hyatt went on in the same mild conversational tone that barely rose above the noisy crowd, “I’ve thought about taking her away for a bit after the wedding. Italy, perhaps. Do you think she’d enjoy it?”

No. He
wasn’t
going to discuss their wedding trip. The word “enjoy,” in particular, grated on his nerves. Derek stood, summoning a false smile. “Annabel has always had a sense of adventure. I am sure she would. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Has that sense of adventure ever extended itself to you, Manderville?”

Derek went very still. He narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Any man might wonder unless he was blind. I,” his lordship added succinctly, “am not. She reacts to you. I suppose most women do, so maybe it isn’t unusual. But maybe it means something.”

This was the point where Derek should be able to declare he’d never touched her. But he
had
touched her, tasted her, and while one kiss hardly meant she was compromised, he still was not guilt free.

Looking the other man in the eye, Derek said tersely, “Rest assured, her honor is intact. Thank you for the drink.”

He swung around and left the tavern, shouldering his way past the milling occupants, a light sweat on his brow.

Once outside he stalked down the street with purpose and it must have shown, for people stepped out of his way.

So Lord Hyatt had his doubts, did he?

Was it a good sign, or a bad one? Annabel might hate him all the more if he was the cause of contention between her and her prospective bridegroom. But Hyatt had mentioned
her
behavior, not his.

He needed to talk to her. There was no doubt about it.

I
t surprised him, but Nicholas found he liked the softness of the dawn. Not that he was slothful in any way—he had more to do than was possible some days—but he usually stayed up late and rarely rose just as the sun was cresting the horizon. After a few mornings of lying in bed and watching the sky lighten, he realized he enjoyed it.

Of course, it didn’t hurt to have a captivating woman next to you either, he decided, and maybe that was the reason he’d suddenly developed a sentimental attachment to the sunrise after twenty-eight years on this earth of ignoring it completely.

Caroline slept like a child, on her side, one hand beneath her cheek, her breath even and slow. Except she was certainly not childlike in any other way, her nude, voluptuous body half-covered by the silken sheets, full, pink-tipped breasts exposed and all too tempting. Her rich hair tumbled over her pale shoulders and decorated the blanket in a glossy spill of disordered curls. In repose, she resembled what he supposed to be his ideal of the perfect woman, all graceful sensuality and earthy appeal.

And delicate feminine vulnerability coupled with an admirable inner strength that moved him.

Nicholas rose up and propped himself against the pillows, contemplating her lissome form with a faint frown between his brows. This was sexual, no more, he reminded himself sharply. At heart, he was a practical man.

But she woke early, and he’d discovered he liked waking with her.

Sure enough, as soon as the room lightened so the furniture was no longer vague shapes and the illumination against the drawn draperies gave the Oriental rug a warm glow, she stirred. Long lashes fluttering, she sighed, stretched just a little, and opened her eyes.

“Good morning.”

Caroline rolled over to give him a sleepy smile. With a modesty that was a little too late and most unnecessary, she tugged the sheet upward over her naked breasts as she blinked awake. “Good morning.”

“Always. When I wake with you.”

“It’s too early for your facile charm, Rothay.” She laughed and stretched lazily again.

“What if I’m sincere?”

“We haven’t known each other long enough for you to be sincere.”

“It’s always a possibility I am anyway.”

Delectable and disheveled, Caroline was the picture of enticing womanliness. Close, warm, and beguiling. He had to flex his hands to keep from reaching for her.

He wanted to explain. That he didn’t normally stay the night. If he’d drunk more than his share, or if the weather was bitter, he did sometimes sleep in the bed of the lady he’d entertained, but that was a mere practicality, not because he wanted to wake up next to someone.

But he said nothing. It was harder than he imagined to articulate true sentiment. With that, he had little practice. It usually wasn’t hard to walk away.

His affair with Helena had taught him that. Keep attachment at a minimum because it could bring nothing but grief into your life. Trust was fragile, and so easily shattered.

Caroline sat up and tossed back her hair, sliding long bare legs over the side of the bed. Nicholas snared her wrist. “Don’t get up just yet, my sweet.”

With a laugh, she disengaged his fingers. “Forgive me but I need to . . .”

He grinned as she gestured at the screen discreetly concealing the commode from the rest of the room. “Of course. How ungallant of me. Hurry back.”

Caroline arched a delicate russet brow. “You are in your usual state, I see.”

His current level of arousal made a visible statement of just why he wanted her to return with all due speed, the outline of his erect shaft lifting the sheet pulled up to his waist. His mouth twitched. “It’s a compliment to your incomparable allure. A direct cause and effect. The moment you woke, so did a certain portion of my anatomy.”

And alluring you are,
he thought as he watched her walk across the room to take care of a basic human need, all pale dewy morning skin and rounded perfect curves. When she returned a few moments later, he enjoyed the privilege of watching the sway of her breasts with each step, the luscious flesh beckoning for his mouth and hands.

She climbed back in beside him, an expectant look on her lovely face. He could smell the signature scent of her violet soap. Nicholas just gazed back and waited, his lashes lowered a fraction as he lounged against the pillows.