Home for the Holidays (10 page)

She was an innocent. She might not realize yet that the strong feelings she had been experiencing were sexual in nature and perfectly normal. Yet he couldn’t explain—and end up frightening her even more.

There was no need to panic, though, since he’d already planned to let her think that her valuables had been stolen
or were otherwise unavailable to barter for currency. He would have preferred not to have to lie to her about them, but wouldn’t feel too much remorse in doing so. Any means to keep her under his roof was permissible, as far as he was concerned, short of locking her in.

“I thought I assured you that you are most welcome to stay here until your father returns.”

“And if he doesn’t return?” she asked in a quavering voice. “No, Lord Everett, we can’t continue to accept your charity, which is what it is. You required an address of us. That is why we are here. But I assure you I will have an address for you before we leave—I just need to go out and find one, which I intend to do.”

“Nonsense,” he countered. “You can at least wait until the beginning of the New Year. Surely you can give your father a few more weeks to make an appearance. Or do you mean to disrupt your brother’s Christmas as well as his recovery, when you don’t have to? And after we just agreed that you shall have your Christmas tree?”

She worried at her lower lip in indecision, seriously chewed on it. He wished she hadn’t, because he now had an overwhelming urge to help her chew on it. Such lovely lips she had. Did she realize what her simple action was doing to him?

“I suppose a few weeks more—”

Vincent gave in to the urge. He had meant to further
his seduction today, to draw it closer to the inevitable conclusion. And he could see no reason, really, to wait any longer for that conclusion. Once she shared his bed, there would be no more talk of leaving, which was the deciding factor for him. And the sooner she did, the longer he would have to enjoy her, before her father arrived to take her away.

He didn’t expect to lose himself so deeply in the magic of his own creation, but he did. He wouldn’t have carried her straight upstairs either, where any number of passing servants would notice, it being only late afternoon, but he did that, too. He had planned to ask her to leave her door open for him tonight, so it would be entirely her decision. He had simply meant to so heat her with desire today that there would be no other decision for her to make. And he certainly hadn’t expected to so dazzle her with one kiss that she was completely his in that moment, to do with as he would.

It was too stirring a kiss, too craved to not be. They were both ignited by it instantly, bodies crushed together, taste and senses exploding in sensual delight. It was her dazed look when he finally let her go that had him picking her up and carrying her upstairs. She had no time to come to her senses. She was still clinging to him when he got her inside her room. Unfortunately, he’d had a little time himself, and a scowling stare from his housekeeper on the way, to jolt him out of his own rashness.

This
wasn’t
how he meant to have her. It
wasn’t
going to salvage his conscience later, that he had given her no opportunity to think, let alone decide to embrace ruination for a few moments of immense pleasure.

He forced himself to set her down in the middle of her room. He kissed her again, gently now. He waited for her eyes to become focused.

Then cupping her face in his hands, he told her, “You’ve exhausted yourself today. Take a nap before dinner. I may not join you. I doubt I’d be able to keep my hands off of you long enough to eat. I will join you later, though, if you will leave your door unlocked for me tonight. Follow your heart, Larissa. I promise you pleasure unimagined.”

Incredible, to have left her there. If he didn’t think himself an utter fool for doing so, he might have been proud of himself …

And he made sure that his housekeeper saw him returning downstairs.

L
ARISSA DID INDEED TAKE A NAP THAT AFTERNOON.
I
T REFRESHED
her, though it didn’t help to clear her confusion over her latest encounter with the baron.

She wasn’t sure exactly what had happened between them, or what he had implied would happen. He had sounded like a parent—or a husband—when she had entered the house and he had railed at her for what he considered reckless behavior. And since he had never been either, what was she to think? He cared. It was patently obvious. In the brief time she had known him, he had come to care about her.

And that incredible kiss. She had still been cold, standing there in the entryway. He had warmed her completely. She had still been slightly trembling from it. She had trembled even more from his kiss.

She had never experienced anything even remotely like it. She had left Portsmouth without ever having had any real interest in any young man; thus she’d never let one kiss her. And she had spent her first year in London pouting, which didn’t include any socializing, nor was much done in the last two years, other than with her father’s business associates.

She had never realized how lacking she was in social congress with young men she might like, let alone be seriously attracted to, as she was to the baron. She had been promised a Season that would most likely find her a husband, and had been perfectly content to wait for it.

She was in no hurry, after all, to leave her family, who were still in need of her. But her father had expected her to marry soon, now that she was of age to do so. Her brother did, too. She had been resigned to it herself, even slightly looking forward to it finally, when the trouble started with her father’s business. And now—she was resigned to not having a Season after all.

He cared about her.

She was still having trouble grasping the implications of that, other than that the thought thrilled her. She
wasn’t quite naive, though, about what he’d meant by not being able to keep his hands off of her, nor about what would likely happen if she did unlock her door tonight.

Her father had found her alone with a young man the year before they’d moved to London. It wasn’t what he’d imagined; the fellow was the brother of one of her good friends, and she’d been talking to him about his current romantic interest, who happened to be another of her friends.

But her father had felt compelled to explain to her about men’s unruly desires, a most embarrassing conversation for them both, but most enlightening, too, about things she could only have guessed at before.

The baron cared about her
and
he desired her. His remarks had cleared that up for her, where before she never would have believed either of him—which was one reason for her prior confusion. She simply hadn’t believed he was interested in her that way—nothing he had said supported it—so the heat she’d seen in his eyes couldn’t have been from passion. But it was. She didn’t doubt it now. And it had been there almost from the beginning.

Could she marry him, though, after what he had done to her family? He was directly responsible for their losing their home. But it hadn’t been personal, had been just another business transaction for him, and of course, he was
in a position to make complete amends for it, had already made some by bringing them into his own house.

She could marry him; indeed, that thought thrilled her, too. And it was what he must have in mind. She was of good family, after all. He wouldn’t consider making love to her without offering marriage. He had probably just been too overcome with impatience to mention it yet.

She could understand that. She was skirting around his “pleasure unimagined” remark, didn’t dare think of that, or she would have been overcome with impatience herself, nearly was already. She was even counting the minutes until she would retire tonight.

She almost didn’t go down to dinner. Vincent had said he wouldn’t be there, but if he was, she didn’t think she’d get much eating done. But she went, and it was a solitary meal, or at least it was until an unknown gentleman walked in, clearly expecting to find the baron at his meal. His surprise was evident, to find her there in the dining room instead.

“Oh ho, are you for me?” was the first thing he said to her.

He seemed absolutely delighted by that prospect, whatever he meant by it. She wasn’t quite sure.

“Excuse me?”

“A sop to keep me happy until Vincent finds what I commissioned him to?”

That didn’t clear up the confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He blushed now, apparently realizing he’d made a mistake. “Beg pardon, miss, truly. Lord Hale here. ‘Fraid I wasn’t expecting to find a lady in this bachelor residence, and one alone—or are you not alone? Here with your father? Never say with a husband?”

She was on firmer ground now. “I’m awaiting my father here.”

“Is Vincent a business associate of your father’s, then?” he asked.

“No, he recently became our landlord—and evicted us from our house.”

She shouldn’t have added that. It was certainly none of his business why she was there or how she’d got there, and now she was the one blushing for letting her bitterness over that show.

It also surprised him enough to say, “The devil he did. Kicked you out? So you’d end up here?”

“Well, no, that had nothing to do with it. He’s offered us temporary lodging so that he can be assured of speaking with our father when he returns. Some misunderstanding that needs to be straightened out.”

“Then your father isn’t actually—here? You’re here alone?”

“No, my brother is with me, and several of our servants,” she replied.

He seemed disappointed by that. “Ah, everything on the up and up, then. Oh well, I’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

He wasn’t making much sense again, but no matter, he seemed harmless enough. He was about the baron’s age, not nearly as tall and rather chunky of build, with light blue eyes and a rag-mop of unruly black curls that seemed designed to look so unkempt. He would even be considered handsome if one didn’t compare him to the baron, who was too handsome.

Since he didn’t seem inclined to leave, simply stood there in the doorway sighing as he gazed at her, she thought to ask, “Did you have an appointment with the baron?”

“Not really, just my weekly check on his progress, though he was probably expecting me, since I show up about this time each week. I’m a bit impatient to receive what he’s finding for me.”

“Which is?” she asked rather stiffly, thinking he might be the gentleman who had wanted their house so badly that Vincent had bought it out from under them. But then she blushed. “I’m sorry, that was presumptuous of me.”

“Not a’tall. It’s a painting. A special painting that I simply
must
own for myself. Price is no object. I know, I know, silly of me to put so much stock in possessing something, but there you have it. I’m the first to admit I’m eccentric. And I’ve run out of things to spend my money on. A deplorable state of affairs. Rather boring, too.”

She smiled. She couldn’t imagine anyone so rich that it became boring. And as long as he wasn’t the fellow who had coveted her home, she had nothing against him, was even grateful to him for taking her mind off of what she expected to happen later tonight.

“I’m sure you’d be welcome to stay for dinner,” she offered. “I don’t think the baron will be joining us, though. I’m not even sure he’s at home just now.”

“Oh, he is. The butler wouldn’t have let me in the door otherwise. I suppose I should seek him out.” Another sigh. “But I’ll see you again soon. Depend upon it. Think I might be stopping by daily now for reports. Yes, I just might.”

“H
OW MUCH IS SHE GOING TO COST ME
?”

It took a moment for Vincent to realize that Jonathan Hale wasn’t talking about the painting he’d hired Vincent to find for him, which he had been known to refer to as “she,” because of its title, La
Nymph.
But only a moment, since he did happen to have been thinking about the same “she” when Jonathan entered his study.

He still asked, “Who?”

“That dazzling wench you’ve left to dine alone across the hall.”