Christie Kelley (11 page)

“Very dull, my dear.”

“But Haywood? He is only a squire and a gambler, while she is the daughter of an earl. A match between them—”

“Would make for a very romantic tale.”

She caught his excitement. “You might be right. Whenever Sarah talks to Haywood there seems to be this…well, attraction.”

“Just listen to how you describe his bowing over her hand. ‘He took my hand in his strong grip. Shivers raced up my arm until I thought my entire body would be consumed in them. His lips kissed my gloves and searing heat scorched a mark where he caressed me.’”

Banning looked over at her and smiled. “Haywood is the hero for Sarah.”

“But isn’t he rather arrogant for a hero?”

His brows rose. “There is nothing wrong with a little arrogance.” He placed the papers on the table next to his chair and walked toward her. “Does my criticism bother you?”

“No,” she answered. “I believe you might be right about it.” But could she do it? Could she write the story the way she had originally intended it to be? In her mind, all she could hear was Emory’s voice telling how important it was for her peers to accept her work, and no woman of the
ton
would let her daughter fall for a man like Haywood.

“I know I’m right,” he said, lifting her off the settee and into his arms. Right where she wanted to be, for a very long time.

Her mind flashed with images of summers spent just like this, winters by the fireplace in town. Perhaps they could continue their liaison after their two weeks…until he decided to marry someone. Then she would have to give him up.

“So what has given you that far off look?”

“Memories of you,” she whispered, and then kissed him softly.

“Memories? We’ve barely started making memories yet. There is so much I want to share with you.”

“Oh?”

“Hmm,” he said, kissing her neck. “Like making love outside. I love that.”

“What else do you love?”

“Let me show you.” He grasped her hand and led her out to the terrace. “That,” he said, pointing to the sea. “I should have been a ship captain. I love the wildness of the sea.”

He stood behind her as she looked out at the water with him. His hand reached around her waist, pulling her up against his hard length. Her nipples tightened from his close contact. Dear Lord, she was becoming insatiable.

Surely he’d noticed her breasts because his hands reached to cup each one. She arched her back as he kneaded her breasts. His lips burned on her neck. When he pulled her bodice over her breasts, baring them for the world to see, she stiffened.

“Banning, we’re out of doors,” she whimpered.

His mouth traced the shell of her ear, sending tingles down her back. “I own the outdoors here. No one is around for miles.”

“I—I…What about the Hathaways?”

“They’re probably doing the same thing we are,” he said with a husky laugh.

She should stop him before she succumbed to this madness. But the heat from his kisses on her neck seared her mind until she couldn’t think. Her wits never won when Banning was near.

He pushed her skirts up and out of the way then slipped his breeches down his hips and entered her wetness from behind her. Avis gasped at the sensation of fullness as he grasped her hips with his strong hands. Excitement rushed through her as he rocked her hips against his.

Dear Lord, she
needed
him.

She had lost control of her life. The only thing that mattered was the man behind her who could bring her such happiness and pleasure. And she wanted to please him. She wanted more than she had ever imagined. She wanted his lo—

She closed her eyes as her release washed over her.

Burrowing deep in her, he stiffened his muscles then succumbed to his own pleasure. The smell of the sea air mixed with the musky scent of their love. Thankfully, she hadn’t removed the sponge from this morning. She could only hope that it would still work.

Love.

She had almost thought that she loved him. Love meant losing yourself. Losing your self-preservation. Love led to violence—no. She had to stop thinking in such a manner.

“You are the most incredible woman,” he murmured.

What had she been thinking? She had so completely lost control of her sense that she let him make love to her out on the terrace. Banning made her do the most absurd things. Things she’d never even thought of until she came to know him so well. Making love outside? In the middle of the afternoon where anyone could have spied them. She had gone away with a man to learn about passion, but she was now no better than the strumpets down at the docks.

What was wrong with her?

Could she truly believe that she was falling in love with him? The idea was too impossible to contemplate. She didn’t love Banning. Loving him would make her life unbearable since she could never marry him.

What did she want from Banning?

Not love and marriage. Her mother had loved her father desperately, no matter how many times he’d abused her. No man would ever be able to convince Avis that marriage was something she needed.

Banning slowly moved off her and then turned her into his arms. “What is wrong?”

How had he sensed something was wrong? “Nothing at all,” she said in a completely unconvincing voice.

“Are you embarrassed by what we just did?”

She shrugged.

“No one saw us, Avis.” Banning took a deep breath. “What we did is perfectly normal. We are two lovers carried away by passion.”

He chuckled softly. “I should take you to the Abbey in Surrey. We have a lovely maze and could make love once we found the middle. I’ve heard rumors that it is quite an adventure.”

“No more sexual congress outside. Besides, we only have these two weeks and driving to Surrey would take days.”

He smiled down at her, then he kissed her sweetly. “I agree. We shall stay here. You can visit Surrey another time.”

Another time?
Perhaps he did want to continue this affair for a while longer, but she couldn’t afford the risk that someone might discover their relationship. Their time would end soon and then they would part. No matter how much her heart might want otherwise.

Avis sat back against Banning’s hard, bare chest and relaxed. The last three days had been bliss. She had thought this would be a difficult fortnight, being alone with Banning. She couldn’t have been more wrong. She felt relaxed, comfortable around him even when they disagreed about things. Not once did he lose his temper with her or lash out.

After pulling the white coverlet up over her breasts again, she reached for another piece of paper, read the page, and handed it behind her to him. “I believe this one is all right. What do you think?”

Banning took the paper and scanned it as she read the next page. Shaking her head, she blew out a breath.

“This just doesn’t work now,” she said with a sigh.

He nipped her naked shoulder with a kiss. Reading in bed had never been so much fun.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because Lord Shipley proposes. He cannot do that if Haywood is our hero.”

His lips skimmed up her neck, sending shivers of desire down her back.

“Unless,” she started then stopped.

“Go on,” he whispered against her shoulder.

“Think of the problems that would cause Sarah. Her mother will demand she marry Shipley, but Sarah will resist because of her attraction to Haywood.”

“I like that…and this.” His lips moved to the left side of her neck.

“Stop that,” she said breathlessly. “I cannot think properly when you’re kissing me.”

“Hmm, that is a good thing to know.”

“Behave.”

She had to admit editing with Banning was far more fun than doing it on her own. Just having someone to talk to about the story helped her immensely. Besides, when she tired of writing or editing, all she had to do was kiss him and they would find something much more interesting to occupy them.

“You’re not working,” he whispered in her ear.

“That thing prodding my back keeps distracting me,” she said with a laugh.

“We could take a break.”

“And do what?”

He stroked her bare arms. “I’m quite certain we could think of something.”

“You’re very bad for my concentration.” She whimpered as he brought her earlobe into his warm mouth.

He pulled back with groan. “All right, taskmistress. But we shall continue this later.”

“Most definitely.”

His hand slid up her arm and stopped at the scar on her forearm. Instinctively, she attempted to pull away from his light touch, but she paused as his thumb traced the jagged line.

Don’t ask about it
, she prayed.

“This must have hurt,” he commented.

Avis swallowed hard and said, “I scarcely remember. I was only seven.” She’d tried to reply lightly but her voice caught, betraying her.

“You must have been a brave girl.” He lifted her arm and gently kissed the spot.

If only he could kiss away all the pain so easily, she thought.

After releasing her arm, he picked up a piece of paper and read. “Lovely.”

“What?”

“You have the most beautiful descriptions.”

She turned her head and attempted to look at him. “You really think so?”

“I really do. You are a wonderful writer, Avis.” He tweaked her hair. “I wish I had your talent for writing.”

“But you have your musical talent. I can’t hold a tune or even read music.”

“Thank you. Now back to work.”

Avis smiled. “Now who is being the taskmaster?”

She penciled in a few notes to remember what she wanted to write when she had undisturbed time. Then she handed it back to him.

“Wonderful ideas,” he murmured.

“I have you to thank.”

“No, these were your ideas. It was evident in your writing how you meant the story to proceed.”

She still found it fascinating that after working on this story for almost a year with Emory, she had never realized why the story didn’t work. Then again, neither had Emory. She frowned. He’d been writing for almost fifteen years and had only four books published. Perhaps he was too much of a perfectionist.

But Banning helped her uncover the weakness in the story after only reading to page thirty. Without him, she might have continued to work the story in the wrong direction. A brief thought flitted through her mind. It was inconceivable. She shook her head in denial. Spending so much time in Banning’s company had started to make her disbelieve everything she knew to be true about Emory. He was her friend. He wanted her to publish as much as he wanted to be published again.

Emory could not have deliberately misled her.

After several lovely days spent mostly in bed, Banning was certain they would suit perfectly as a married couple. The only question was how to broach the subject. He’d known for years that she enjoyed being a spinster with the relative freedom the status gave her. But she couldn’t want that forever. She must want children. After ten days with her, he knew Avis Copley was firmly stuck in his blood and quite possibly, his heart. He had no idea when it had happened.

Love was not an emotion he believed he would ever feel for his future wife…until now. He’d always thought he would find a woman who would meet his requirements for a wife. If he were lucky, he would find a woman who was a good companion and wouldn’t drive him mad. But never had he anticipated falling in love with her.

Yet, his best friend, Trey, had fallen madly in love with Charlotte. Banning envied Trey’s relationship with his wife. They had the warmth of good friendship and the passion of lovers. The looks Trey gave his wife at times bordered on obscene and yet, Charlotte always returned those glances.

Avis groaned beside him. He turned to watch her in her sleep. Her eyebrows furrowed and suddenly her arms lashed out toward him.

“No, no…Papa, stop…”

He continued to stare as the dream subsided, and she relaxed again. He wondered what her father had been doing in the dream.

Her amber eyes blinked open, and Avis smiled up at him. “Good morning,” she whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Good morning. Bad dream?”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “How did you know?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

“I do? What did I say?”

“Hmm, ‘no, no, Papa, stop.’”

Avis stiffened. “Did I say anything else?”

“No.”

She relaxed again. “I cannot remember what the dream was about. Isn’t that strange?”

He nodded. Strange indeed. He had the singular feeling that she was lying to him. But why?

“What shall we do today?” she asked in an overly seductive voice. She reached her hand out and brushed his bristly cheek.

“Shave. You are going to leave here with red marks on your body if I don’t.”

She stuck out her tongue at him.

“Besides you have another scene to rewrite. The scene in the park with Haywood was perfect.” He felt her gaze on him as he stood to dress. She stared at his cock, already hard with desire for her.

“I had a good teacher,” she said.

She lowered the coverlet, until one puckered nipple came into view and then the other. The blanket continued to expose her creamy skin inch by agonizing inch. Her brown curly bush came into view, and he was lost.

“Damn. I’m never going to get that shave.”

He released the trousers he’d been attempting to get over his hard shaft and jumped back into bed.

“Wait, I need to put something in,” she said, reaching for her drawer.

“I’ll withdraw,” he said hungrily. “I want you right this minute.” He drew her hips back across the sheet and covered her with his hard, lean body.

“We only have a few more days,” she mumbled before kissing him.

No, we have a lifetime,
he thought but refused to say aloud. It was too soon to speak of marriage with her. She would need more time to accept the fact that they would make a perfect match. But they
would
marry.

Avis awoke to a strong rumble from her stomach and a feeling of lassitude in her muscles. She rolled over to watch Banning sleep. Never in her twenty-six years had she ever thought she could be so content. Her stomach groaned again, reminding her that while the sun was high overhead, she had eaten nothing. A small smile stretched across her face. No one had ever been able to make her forget her breakfast before now.

Silently, she rose, dressed, and tiptoed from the room. She found a basket of scones and a pot of chocolate on the dining room table. Touching the pot, she realized that the chocolate had long since gone cold.

How hard could it be to heat something? She shrugged. Having never done one bit of cooking, she had no idea. She walked to the kitchen with the tray in her hand. At least the fire was burning so she didn’t have to fight that. After a quick search of the room, she found a pot to heat the chocolate. She placed the pot on the hook near the fire, and then sat at the little wood table waiting for the liquid to warm.

She had only three more days with Banning then she would return to her dull life. Dreary days filled with writing and lonely nights in town. She had never minded this existence before, enjoying the freedom and independence her spinster status afforded her.

But now it all seemed dreadfully dull. Banning brought her to life and more than in the bedroom, though that was rather nice too. He sparked something inside her that was new, fresh, and exciting.

And in three days, she would lose these new feelings forever.

A low rumble from the pot by the fire forced her to stand and investigate. The chocolate boiled to the top of the pot. Without a thought, she reached for the handle and screeched as the pain shot through her hand.

“A towel usually helps keep the cook from getting burned,” Banning said from the doorway. His smile dissipated when she turned toward him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“This really hurts,” she retorted, holding her hand.

He rushed across the room, lifted her onto the table, and took her hand in his. The warmth of his hand eased her discomfort.

“It hasn’t blistered.”

“It still hurts.”

Slowly, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. While his action didn’t truly remove the pain, the gesture wasn’t lost on Avis. He wanted to comfort her, and she wanted his comfort. He cupped her face in his hand, kissing away the few remaining tears.

Dear Lord, how was she supposed to leave him in three days?

“Dare I venture a guess you haven’t cooked much?” he whispered in her ear.

Avis smiled. “I have never had a need. I am completely hopeless in a kitchen.”

“Then you need to marry a wealthy man to keep you in servants and cooks,” he murmured.

She stiffened and glanced up at him. An uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen.

“I have enough money for cooks and servants without needing to marry,” she reminded him.

“True, but they can’t keep you warm at night.” He turned away from her, reached for a towel, then grabbed the forgotten chocolate.

Banning couldn’t want to shackle himself to her, and she definitely did not want to marry. Jennette’s comment about him searching for a wife this season tumbled back in Avis’s mind. But he knew she had no interest in marriage. Surely, this affair was just a diversion from his pursuit of the perfect wife…something she could never be.

He poured the chocolate into two cups. “Shall we dine in here this,” he looked out the window, “afternoon?”

“That would be lovely.” She grabbed the scones and placed them on a plate while he brought the cups of chocolate to the table.

Silence filled the kitchen again. After his brief hint of marriage, Avis found herself unable to think of any other topic. She had no desire to bring the subject up again. She wasn’t about to ruin her few remaining days with him by having a disagreement.

Only the ticking of the mantel clock from the drawing room broke the stillness that filled the kitchen. Banning ate with quick, abrupt movements and a sour look on his face as if he were eating a lemon and not the delicious food Mrs. Hathaway had left them. Not that she tasted the meal either. Every bite tasted like the dry sand outside.

“I’m going for a walk,” Banning said, as he rose from his seat.

“Oh?” She waited for an invitation to join him.

“I shall be back in an hour or so. That will give you some time to write.”

He was leaving without her? Without even asking if she wanted to go too? He did not even look back as he left the room. Dejected, she walked up the stairs to the study he had made for her. Papers lined the desk, beckoning her to sit and write, but she could not think of a thing to write. She glanced out the window and saw the silhouette of a man, sitting on the sand, tossing shells back into the sea.

Banning picked up a small shell and hurled it toward the water. He’d known she wouldn’t be amenable to marriage when they started their affair. But after ten days he had thought she would change her mind. For some mad reason he had actually believed she might be falling in love with him.

He was a pathetic fool.

She didn’t love him. She only loved her writing. To her, he was nothing but a tutor in the passions of the flesh.

So why did he still want her? Why did he still believe she would make him a perfect wife? A wonderful mother to their children?

Because she would.

Avis was the ideal woman for him. His head knew that. His heart knew it too. He’d been foolish to think everything would fall into place just because he had decided it would be.

How could he have fallen for her so quickly? Although in retrospect, he’d known her for over eight years, lusted over her for years, and heard all about her from Jennette.

He had only three more days to prove to her that marriage wasn’t a prison. He would give her freedom to write. He would give her children to love. He would give her any damn thing she wanted.

And if she asked for it, he might even give her his heart.

“Banning, are you all right?” she shouted over the roar of the sea.

He leaned back and looked up at her, his future wife. Her tawny hair whipped around her face as she attempted to keep it out of her eyes. Her indigo dress danced around her ankles, flirting with her calves. But her brown eyes shone with concern for his well-being.