Fascination -and- Charmed (63 page)

Then the door opened and Calum Innes stood there, framed by light.

“Oh!” Pippa wrung her hands together in front of her, winding the strings of her reticule so that the little bag swung back and forth. “Oh,
bother.
This really is
too
bad of me, Calum—I mean, Mr. Innes.” She must not forget her vow to return to formality in this situation.

“Pippa?” He came in and closed the door. “Pippa, my dear, what can have happened?”

He was so…His was the face she would never forget. In that moment, Pippa knew that wherever she went and whatever her life became, the sharply defined lines of Calum Innes’s handsome face—and the way light caught his dark eyes and the red in his hair—would be a picture that entered her mind without bidding. And she would see his mouth…

His lips parted and he jutted his chin, just a little, when he said, “Pippa?”

“Er,
nothing
has happened. Absolutely nothing. I was…that is, I decided to take a drive…”

Calum shook his head and one darkly arched brow rose. “No, Pippa, you did not simply decide to take a drive.”

Oh, fie, this was not by way of being a reflection of her usual nature. “I am a very reasonable, calm female. I am not given to rash decisions. Certainly not rash actions. In fact, if one had a dilemma in which a cool head might be of use, one might do well to come to me.”

“One might?”

“Oh, yes. I expect I get these traits from my father. He has them, too, you know, and I’ve always—”

“Admired him for it?”

“Quite.”

“Sit down, Pippa.”

“Well…thank you, no. I must leave.”

Calum approached her. “Springer admitted you only a few minutes ago.”

Pippa reached for her hood and dropped her reticule. “Oh,
bother!”
Really, being clumsy was such a trial.

Before she could retrieve her bag, Calum bent to swoop it up and slip it back on her wrist. She thought he might be smiling just a little. Let him smile at her awkwardness. Everyone else did.

“As I was saying,” Calum continued, “Springer has only just admitted you to the house.”

“True.” She managed to arrange the soft hood over her hair without further mishap.

“The hour is exceedingly late. Some might even say it is exceedingly
early.
A young female doesn’t venture abroad—alone—at such an hour for no reason. I cannot allow you to leave without telling me why you came.”

Telling him quickly—pleading with him to understand quickly and do what she was certain was imperative for his safety—was the only way. “I had to wait until I was certain—or as certain as I could be—that no one was likely to notice. That meant it had to be rather late, don’t y’see.”

“I see that you are a young female in dire distress.” Frowning, he stood before her. “You do know how incautious you are to place yourself in the company of a man, in the privacy of his lodgings, without a chaperon?”

“It is more than incautious: it is outrageous and could well result in my ruin.” Now he knew that she was no foolish green girl who did not know the way of things.

“But you have come,” he said more softly. “So we must do everything we can to ensure that no harm comes either to you or to your reputation, mustn’t we?”

“It will not,” she responded with certainty.
Tell him and leave!

“So certain?”

“Naturally.” How could he doubt that she had thought everything through with great care? “You are a gentleman.”

“And, therefore, you trust me?”

Pippa found she could not breathe quite properly. “Of course.”

“There is no part of you that suggests you might do well to be even a little afraid of me? Particularly in light of what has passed between us on—let me see—” He squinted and pretended to count. “
Three
occasions? That’s correct. Three.”

“I…no.” Was there? Uncertainty hovered in tiny places within her, but she would not allow it to grow. “You are far more likely to have reason to be afraid of me.” She clapped her fingers over her mouth, horrified at what she had implied.

“Really?” He smiled then, really smiled, and rested his fists on his lean hips. “How so, Pippa? Are you also in the way of tossing out challenges? Have you come armed with a pistol?”

She laughed. “I would never need a pistol to guard myself against you, Calum.”

He turned his back on her so abruptly that she flinched.

“I think you are in much greater danger than you know, Lady Philipa.”

Something had entered his voice, something strange and still. And now she was Lady Philipa again, but perhaps that was as well.” The events of recent days lead me to believe you are in need of my advice, Mr. Innes.” It was only appropriate that she follow his example and address him formally.

He wore a black coat, and when he crossed his arms, as his movements suggested he had, the material stretched tight across large shoulders and a straight, powerful-looking back. Pippa stared at his back. Then she stared at his dark hair with its hint of red where it curled against the stark white of his linen collar.

“The matter of the duel was a very close call, sir,” she said, not liking the wobble in her voice. “If events had not gone exactly right, I am not at all certain we would be having this conversation tonight.”

“Because I would be dead? Dead at the hands of a superior opponent?”

She wished he would face her. She also wished she didn’t wish so terribly strongly to flatten her hands on his back, to rest her cheek there against his strong muscles, to close her eyes and simply
feel
him.

Pippa straightened her own spine. It was happening again, this unforgivable desire for evil, carnal things with a man who would doubtless be horrified if he could see inside her head. He would probably have her ejected from this house at once!

“I should not be discouraging you from leaving this house at once,” he said. “In fact, at this precise moment, I should open the door of this salon and order that you be dispatched forthwith.”

“Yes,” she said. “I expect you are right.”

“You do?”

“I certainly do, Mr. Innes.”

“I don’t intend to do so.”

“Oh.” Pippa fiddled with the gloves she held in one hand. She took a step toward him, and another, until all she could see was the expanse of his black-clad back—and his hair on his collar. “I have angered you, haven’t I?”

He didn’t respond.

Pippa raised a hand. She could touch him, very lightly, as if to draw his attention—or make a point. Carefully, she settled her fingertips on smooth kerseymere.

He did not move, did not say a word.

“There was a reason why I came this evening—Calum.” What point was there in pretending they had never taken a single step toward the small intimacy of first names? Why, they had kissed! More than once! Many more times than once. And they had done considerably more than kiss!

That heavy, hot sensation began inside Pippa, the one that burned low inside and pressed between her legs.

She flattened her palm on him and smoothed just a very little. “I don’t believe I am foolish to trust you.” Her action would be construed as forward. She removed her hand.

“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Please touch me, Pippa. Just as you were doing.”

With only the slightest hesitation, she did as he asked. He was warm—and tense. Pippa rubbed a ridge of muscle. If she could, she would ease whatever made his body so tight. She would soothe him, muscle by muscle, inch by inch of skin drawn tight over flesh and bone by whatever force she felt within the man.

“I should send you away,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“I am too weak, Pippa.”

Her second hand joined the first. And she rested her cheek, very carefully, between.

“You were right,” he said quietly. “I should definitely be afraid of you.”

She did not understand him. “If I could, and if you would allow it, I should like to look after you, Calum Innes.”

He laughed again, that short, sharp, amazed laugh that, again, she did not understand.

“I believe,” she told him, “that strong people often are more deeply in need of care than weak ones. You see, everyone knows weak people need to be looked after and so they are. The strong are supposed to be beyond the needs of mere mortals. They can be so alone in all that strength. At least that’s what I’ve often thought.”

He bowed his head and she ran her hands up to touch his hair. She found it thick and soft.

“Have you always been thought to be strong, Pippa? Is that where you come by so much wisdom for someone so young?”

She considered. “Perhaps. My mother died when I was still a child. My father has been exceedingly busy about important matters and he expected me to make him proud by accomplishing my own personal affairs. So I did.” Stroking, she gauged the texture of his shoulders, and then of his arms.

His hands found and covered hers. “And so you did. But how sad it would be if there were never to be anyone who found and cherished the real Pippa.”

What the intention of his words might be, Pippa could not be certain, but she felt a warmth and softness inside that was both incredibly sweet and achingly sad. “I think you are telling me that you wish…You do not know me, Calum.” She tried to pull away.

He held her fast. “What I wish is of no moment for now. But I do know you, sweet one.” He turned around and settled his hands loosely around her neck. “Only dire concern over something other than your own safety would bring you here tonight. The girl who risked herself to stop a duel the other morning thinks of others before herself.”

She thought of
him—
only him. “My life is not my own,” she told him, without intending to tell him any such thing. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she let him know the rest. “I am a simple woman, with simple needs and dreams. I do have dreams, of course. But they are that I shall be useful…and loved. I do want to be loved. I should like to have children of my own to teach, but until then, I should very much like to continue to teach children who would not otherwise learn.” She paused for breath.

“And why should you not be able to have these things?” His gaze traveled over her face to her hair, and he lifted down her hood. “Surely the duke intends for you to bear his children.”

The trembling she could not control began deep inside Pippa. “Yes. He has told me so.” If she locked her knees, perhaps she would not shake so noticeably that Calum would feel it.

“There. So all is well,” he said. With light behind him, he was all shadows.

There was nothing more she could tell him. She had already said far too much. “Quite so.” Pippa smiled and straightened. “But none of this has anything to do with this visit that must seem so strange to you. It
is
strange. I’m afraid I am occasionally given to impulsive actions.”

“I had noticed.”

“Yes, well, this has been a most difficult day. A most difficult evening.”

His expression hardened. “I doubt if your evening was more difficult than mine.”

Pippa resolved to end the conversation and be on her way. “I wish to make a request, Calum. Do not come to Cornwall.” He stared at her.

“Heed me, please, and remain in London. Or go elsewhere. But do
not
come to Franchot Castle.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Trust me. I have a very good reason.”

“Then by all means, share this very good reason with me.”

Pippa attempted to draw away, only to discover that Calum’s hands, resting upon her shoulders, were exceedingly strong.

“Do not play with me further, my lady. Explain yourself.”

“I do not know
how
to explain.” Each word rose higher. “I am…I am bemused by myself. Afraid for you and afraid for…I know it would be disastrous for you to make this journey to Cornwall. Please, accept what I say and ask no more.”

He shook his head slowly.

Surely…surely she was mistaken in thinking his eyes had lost focus. “Oh—” when he pulled the tie on her cloak undone, she clutched at his wrist.
“No.
I am definitely leaving.”

The cloak slipped from her shoulders to the floor.

“I do not approve of the colors you wear,” he said, and yes, he looked at her
differently.
“They are too muted. And your clothes are—”

“Too boring,” she said breathlessly. “I know. I dislike them also, but the dowager considers them appropriate and I must do as I am told. I have always done as—”

“As you are told?” Calum finished for her. “Because your father is a man who adheres to the proper order of things and you have always admired him for that?”

“Quite so.”

“And does the dowager instruct you in all things, Pippa? Does she speak to you of what will be required of you as the duke’s wife, perhaps?”

Heat flooded Pippa’s face and she knew she must be unbecomingly red. “She has bravely made my instruction in those unpleasant necessities her responsibility.”

He lifted her chin. “The dowager told you that marriage is an unpleasant thing?”

“Oh, yes. And I am truly reconciled to accept what must be.”

“Must be?” he repeated, as if musing. “The duke himself has shown you no sign of a gentler side of this arrangement?”

“There cannot be a gentler side!” What could Calum be thinking? That she was an addlepated girl who believed the stuff of fiction? “It is not intended to be so. Oh, no, I am aware that it is my responsibility to submit…to…That is…I am aware of the way of things, Calum.”

“Fools,” he muttered. “Criminal, wasteful fools.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rather than answer, he framed her face and studied her with such concentration that she could not be certain he remembered she was there at all.

“Calum?”

“Franchot tried to kiss you. You said as much.”

“Yes.”

“That suggests he did not actually kiss you.”

To her disgust, she felt her eyes fill with tears. “His Grace probably did not particularly want to kiss me at all.” She swallowed. “In fact, I’m not certain he knew it was me he had encountered.”

Calum brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “How could he not know? How could any man who ever saw you not feel his heart stop simply at the sight of you?”