At Last (3 page)

Reluctant admiration at her courage in the
face of his ire washed through him and he leaned back. “I sent Lord
Benningfield a note informing him I’d be arriving in London this
evening and requested an invitation, which he kindly provided.”

She frowned. “Why would he do that?”

“
Why wouldn’t he? He’d
hardly turn away the Earl of Marlington.”

“
I agree. But surely he’d
turn away his groundskeeper...” Her words trailed off and
realization dawned in her eyes. “Dear God. You’re not...you can’t
be--”

“
Ah, but I am--the
crabbitty curmudgeon himself.” He offered her a formal bow. “Lord
Marlington, at your service.”

Chapter 3

Feeling as if the flagstones shifted beneath
her feet, Sophia stared in disbelief at the man she’d
unsuccessfully tried to forget for the last six months. The man
she’d had to force herself to leave. “The Earl’s name is William
Ferguson,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“
Aye. And I am he--William
Ian Broderick Ferguson.”

Her gaze drifted over his perfectly tailored
formal attire--garments that clearly cost a fortune, and suddenly
things about him that had seemed incongruous with a groundskeeper
clicked into place. His love of literature and poetry. His regal
bearing. His expertise at riding. The ease with which he conversed
on any subject. Why hadn’t she seen the clues? No doubt because she
was keeping her own secrets and therefore hadn’t wanted to too
closely examine any discrepancies in his behavior lest they lead to
questions about hers. The fact that she’d been so utterly besotted
with him clearly hadn’t helped her thought processes. Even as she
realized he now spoke the truth, part of her still couldn’t quite
believe it.

“
You lied to me,” she
said, not certain if she were more angry at him for his deception
or at herself for not suspecting the truth.

His brows shot upward.
“Now isn’t that a wee bit o’ the pot calling the kettle
black--
Lady
Winterbourne
.”

Botheration, he had a point, which only
served to annoy her further. “I told you my true name. I merely
omitted my title.”

“
As did I.”

“
I had reasons,
valid
reasons for not
telling you I was a countess.”

“
Just as I had my valid
reasons for not telling you I was the earl.” He stepped closer and
Sophia drew in a quick breath, one she instantly regretted as it
filled her head with his scent...that intoxicating mixture of warm
skin and sandalwood and something elusive that belonged to Ian
alone. It required all her will not to throw her arms around him
and bury her face against his neck and simply breathe him in. Tell
him how much she’d missed him. Explain how it had taken every ounce
of her fortitude to leave him. How she hadn’t been the same since
the day she’d met him. Nor since the day she’d left him.

“
I was on the verge of
telling ye the truth, but when I awoke, you were gone.” He cupped
her face between his hands and Sophia’s heart nearly stalled at the
intensity of his gaze, at the hurt and desire and confusion burning
in his eyes. “How, Sophia? How could you leave me like
that?”

The question sounded tortured, and panic
filled her at how badly she wanted give in to the yearning
ambushing her. At how easy it would be to forget all the reasons
she’d ended their affair so abruptly. Summoning a cool demeanor she
was far from feeling, she said, “We both knew I had to return to
England.”

“
Aye, but not for another
fortnight. And earlier that last night we’d discussed you remaining
longer.”

Yes. Which had precipitated her abrupt
departure...while she still had the heart to leave.

A muted peal of laughter reached her and she
recalled the hundreds of guests just beyond the French windows. If
she were found out here, alone with Ian...she shuddered at the
thought of the scandal that would ensue--the very sort of scandal
she’d left him to avoid.

“
What we shared was lovely
while it lasted, Ian,” she whispered in a rush, desperate to end
this confrontation and get away before they were discovered--or
before she gave in to the overwhelming need to touch him. “But we
both knew it was only temporary. I’m truly sorry I hurt you. That
was never my intention.”

“
It may have started as
temporary, but that changed very quickly, and you bloody well know
it.” His eyes narrowed and she locked her knees to avoid shrinking
under his sharply assessing gaze. “Or are you trying to tell me
that my feelings were one-sided all those weeks?”

“
I’m trying tell
you--
again
--that
our...liaison of last summer is over. And now if you’ll excuse
me--“

Her words chopped off with
a gasp when he slapped his large palms against the stones on either
side of her head, caging her in. “
Liaison
?” He pinned her in place
with a look that simultaneous froze and heated her. “The woman
standing in front of me is no’ the same woman who shared my bed, my
home, my every bloody thought for all those weeks. Which means one
of you is a damn liar. I’ll give you one
chance--
one
chance, Sophia--to tell me which one of you is false before I
find out for myself.”

“
There is nothing to tell.
I’m the same woman and--“

His mouth came down on hers, ending her
words, the raw passion and naked need in his kiss obliterating her
every thought. She tried to remain unresponsive, fought to keep her
longing and desire contained, but they ripped through her, a razor
sharp sword that sliced through her resolve and shredded her good
intentions. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip and the battle
was lost. With a groan she was helpless to contain, she wrapped her
arms around his neck and parted her lips. And instantly felt as if
she’d arrived home after an arduous journey.

He crushed her to him, deepening the kiss.
The irresistible heat of his body surrounded her, and she rose up
on her toes, desperate to get closer. With a sound that resembled a
growl, he curved one large hand around her bottom, pressing her
tighter against his hard arousal. Dear God, he felt so good. Tasted
so good. And she’d missed him so much. Wanted him so badly.

He lifted his head, ending their kiss, and
Sophia barely refrained from moaning in protest. Clinging to his
broad shoulders, her head flopped weakly forward. His heartbeat
thundered against her forehead, in unison with his rapid breaths
beating warm against her temple. She squeezed her eyes shut in a
vain attempt to block out the recriminations falling upon her like
bricks.

A single kiss. That’s all it had taken for
every one of her fine resolutions and good intentions to crumble to
dust. For him to render her breathless. Boneless. Just as he had
from that first moment she’d seen him in the meadow, when he’d
stepped into a shaft of sunlight and utterly dazzled her. Her
momentary fear at finding herself alone with a stranger in such an
isolated spot had vanished when she’d looked into his eyes.

While those beautiful dark blue depths
clearly harbored secrets, they’d also reflected a vulnerability and
sadness that told her without any words that he’d suffered great
loss. As she’d suffered the same, she felt an instant kinship with
him, one that went far deeper than the physical attraction she’d
felt. Between his commanding height, muscular physique, thick,
unruly hair, bold features, and mischievous grin, he was nothing
short of spectacular.

In spite of the fact that
at five and twenty he was twelve years her junior,
s
he’d been unable to resist him--an
affliction that given her current breathless, boneless state,
obviously hadn’t lessened one iota.
She’d
tried so hard these last six months to forget him, the magic
between them, bury her feelings, and she’d thought she’d succeeded.
One kiss proved she’d completely failed.

Filled with self-directed reproach, Sophia
pulled in an unsteady breath, then opened her eyes and raised her
head. And found Ian studying her with grim satisfaction.

“
Well, that answered that
question,” he said in his hoarse Scottish burr. He leaned forward
to nuzzle her neck with his warm lips, rushing a sigh of pleasure
into her throat. How such a firm mouth could be so wickedly soft,
she didn’t know.

“
Caileag
bhrèagha
,” he murmured in Gaelic against
her skin. “My beautiful girl. The girl I met in the meadow.” He
lightly sucked on her sensitive skin, then with a tortured sound he
raised his head. Framed her face between his palms. And regarded
her through very serious eyes that burned with suppressed passion.
“As much as I’m aching to continue this right here, right now, ‘tis
not the place.”

She flicked a glance toward the French
windows and gave a tight nod. Dear God, she was fortunate they
hadn’t already been discovered. “Not the place,” she concurred,
“and discretion is called for. We cannot return to the ballroom
together.”

His briefly glanced at her mouth then
nodded. “One look at us and even the most casual observer would
know we shared more than conversation out here and I’ve no wish to
give rise to any speculation that could harm your reputation.
There’s no need to return to the ballroom at all. My carriage
awaits us in the mews.”

Without another word, he took her hand and
led her down the terrace steps. Questions bounced through Sophia’s
mind, begging to be voiced, but she shoved them aside. All that
mattered now was escaping the party without being noticed.

Once in the garden, she followed him along
the shadows near the high stone wall surrounding the property. His
warm, strong fingers remained wrapped firmly around hers, guiding
her safely over the uneven ground and shooting pleasurable tingles
up her arm. Mental images of his big, sun-browned, calloused hands
flashed unbidden through her mind. Removing her clothes. Exploring
every inch of her skin. Teasing her feminine folds. Soaping her
body as she lounged in his brass bathtub. Feeding her morsels of
food he bought in the village. Bringing her more pleasure than
she’d ever dreamed possible…

They arrived at the wooden gate at the rear
of the garden and silently slipped into the mews. After helping her
into the waiting carriage, Ian settled himself on the seat opposite
her, then tapped on the roof, and the vehicle started with a jerk.
Ensconced in the safety of the dark, curtained interior, moving
swiftly away from the party, Sophia drew what felt like her first
deep breath since she’d seen Ian standing across the ballroom.

As much as she dreaded their upcoming
conversation, there was no avoiding it. Best to get it over with as
quickly as possible then send him on his way back to Scotland.
She’d listen to his explanations, offer her own--making absolutely
certain he understood there could be no further relationship
between them. Then they’d both return to their lives.

Lives that had briefly intersected, but
never would again.

Chapter 4

Sophia’s pulse jumped when Ian moved from
the opposite side of the slow-moving carriage to sit next to
her.

He reached out and touched her cheek.
“Sophia. God, how I’ve missed you. You’ve not left my thoughts for
even a moment these past six months.”

The anguish in those whispered words flayed
her. “I’ve thought of you, too, Ian, but--“

He pressed a fingertip to her lips. “No
‘but.’ The fact that you thought of me is enough for this
moment.”

“
Where are we
going?”

“
Mayfair. I’ve let a
townhouse on Park Lane.”

Sophia’s brows shot upward. “That’s the most
exclusive part of town.”

“
Aye.” One corner of his
mouth lifted. “Ye didn’t expect an earl--even a Scottish one--to
stay in a hovel, did you?”

Embarrassment heated her face. “Of course
not. I’m simply not accustomed to thinking of you as an earl,
especially as you seemed very much at home living in the
groundskeeper cottage.”

A sheepish expression crossed his handsome
features. “That was actually my private hunting lodge, and I’m used
to being there alone. I enjoy occasionally fending for myself, not
being surrounded by servants. It’s my sanctuary. No one has ever
accompanied me there.” He raised her hand and pressed a kiss
against her palm. “Until you.”

Her common sense screamed at her to pull her
hand from his, but her inner voice whispered to take this
opportunity and enjoy his touch.

The whisper defeated the scream.

“
How long do you intend to
remain in London?” she asked.

“
Just a few days. I must
return to Melrose to attend to estate affairs I’ve put
off.”

“
Put off because you were
looking for me?”

“
Aye. They paled in
importance to finding you, but now that I have, there are duties I
cannot postpone any longer.”

Silence swelled between them. Ian looked at
Sophia and bludgeoned back the desire threatening to strangle him.
He’d inwardly vowed not to pounce on her like a starving mongrel,
yet he knew he’d do exactly that if he gave in to the overwhelming
temptation to kiss her again.

Determined to keep the promise he’d made to
himself, he said, “I’m waiting to hear why you kept your title a
secret from me.”

“
I’d prefer to hear your
explanation first.”