In My Wildest Dreams (31 page)

She hated that she believed him, regardless of his confirmed record of being the biggest phony in England.

“Marry me. Let me prove my love to you. I'm not the richest man in England. Not yet. But I've got a great estate in Suffolk, a townhouse in London and a hunting lodge in Scotland. I've got servants who have a special reason to love you. A daughter who scolded me for letting you go. A mother who explained that I loved you.”

“Good for her,” Celeste muttered.

“I've got a huge garden that needs tending since my gardener and all the undergardeners have quit—”

“Oh, dear.” She had put her father in a dreadful position.

“—But if you wed me, you could probably convince them to stay. I would give you everything I own. If you wished, I would even find you occupation as a Russian translator—”

“Don't forget French, Italian and a little Romanian.”

He paused, and when he next spoke she detected a little more confidence in his voice. “Perhaps I'm not easy to live with—”

She snorted.

“—And perhaps you could find someone you could love more, but if you search the world over you'll never find a man to love you more than I do.”

“And I'll wager you'll let me look,” she said sarcastically.

“Well . . . no. I'm not a fool. I wouldn't take the chance.”

She grinned. He was telling the truth with a vengeance now.

“I seduced you because I couldn't
not
. You are everything that is missing from my life, and I had to take you, drink of you, taste you just once.” His hands moved in big circles on her back, massaging out the tension. “Only . . . once could never be enough.”

His sentiments sounded heartfelt. His touch evoked the memory of his possession. More significantly, her own desire sabotaged her resistance. She wanted him to be sincere. She wanted him to love her.

In that low, vibrant, deep velvet voice he vowed, “For you, I would take up my family and abandon my home and my duty, and come to live in Paris to acquire your services.”

“As . . . translator?”

“As courtesan! That is what my mother said you were going to do.”

She hid her face in his chest, but not quickly enough.

“Are you laughing?” He tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her face, shining with humor. “You
are
laughing.”

She tried to maintain her gravity. “Lady Philberta must have neglected to tell you she had talked me out of my decision to become a courtesan.”

He stared down at her, intent on something he saw in her face.

She quieted, looking back at him.

“I have missed your laughter. You're always smiling—do you know that's what I first loved about you? That ever-present smile. When I wiped it off your lips, I felt as if I'd destroyed something more precious than gold.” As though mesmerized by the sight, he caressed her lips with his thumb. “You never answered my question. Do you still love me?”

Insulted, she pushed at his chest until he let her sit up. “You are truly a dolt! True love doesn't disintegrate at the first touch of adversity. Of course I love you.”

He sat up, too, so quickly that he flinched. “Then will you forgive me? Take a chance on me? Marry me?”

She thought about how he had callously planned her seduction, and cold anguish and hot fury curled up her spine.

Then she thought about dancing in the ballroom. Talking under the stars. Loving in the conservatory.

She knew the ruthless businessman and spy lived within him, and if Garrick was left to end his days alone, he would in truth become the bastard who used and discarded without conscience. But within also resided the man of great passion and resolute integrity. If she . . . if she accepted his proposal, she would have to live with everything that he was. He was excruciatingly sure of his brilliance. He would do what was right for her whether she wished it or no. He would cosset her, talk to her, love her until all other existence seemed dry and tedious.

Did she dare take a chance that he loved her?

He did. She'd known it even before he'd stumbled onto that truth.

Could she whole-heartedly forgive him for his perfidy?

She had to. She loved him. Putting her finger on his chest, she pushed him back on the bed and leaned close. “I choose you, Garrick Throckmorton.
I
choose
you.
”

Throwing his head back, he laughed, a full, rich laughter that the old Garrick Throckmorton would never have permitted himself.

She kissed him while he laughed, reveling in his satisfaction. No matter that she made it clear she selected him; he was convinced he won her, and would be absolutely insufferable.

Still laughing, he kissed her back, holding her, running his hands over her. “Is the door locked?” he asked.

“Do you think I'm barmy? No, it's not locked!”

Rolling her onto her back, he kissed her with the light, delicate kisses of a seducer. “It should be,” he insisted.

“No.” Although she could be convinced, and soon.

Lifting his head, he stroked her hair. “I thought when I told you I loved you, you would run to my arms and stay there forever.”

“You're conceited.”

His thumbs glided in circles among the whorls of her ears. “After winning a woman like you, how could I not be?”

Sliding her hands around his neck, she brought him close and rewarded him for his brilliant reply. The heat between them flared; their mouths became more intimate.

Tearing himself away, he gasped, “The door.”

“It's not locked,” she assured him.

“I'll lock it.”

She caught him when he would have risen. “Mr. and Mrs. Jackman are already shocked that I demanded to care for you myself.”

“You are determined to make me pay for every little inconsequential hideous mistake I've made, aren't you?”

She adored hearing his frustration. “You've been wounded. You shouldn't indulge in rigorous activity.”

“I'll stay very still.”

“Then what good would you be to me?”

He glared at her, and when that made no dent in her determination, he submitted an offering. “Ellery is going to become a spy.”

“I told you he'd be good at it.” She trailed her fingers down his ribs, enjoying his nakedness. “What about Lady Hyacinth?”

He turned his attention to the buttons on the back of her gown, sliding them free with a light, quick touch. “She's going to marry him and become a spy, too.”

“Lovely.” She spoke of the plans
and
the buttons.

“If Mr. and Mrs. Jackman walked in on us now, they would be shocked anyway.” For all his impatience, he kissed slowly, teasing with his tongue, gloating at her unqualified enthusiasm. “I think we should have a swing built in our bedroom.”

“You are a very naughty man.” She paused and considered, decided he might be right and decided not to notice as his fingers slipped her gown off her shoulders. “How will we explain it to the children?”

“Never mind them. How will I explain it to my mother?”

“Oh . . . I think Lady Philberta will understand.”

“I will make you happy,” he vowed. “And I will never stray.”

“I know,” she said smugly as she kissed him. “I know how to use a rifle.”

“The door . . .”

“It's locked. It was all the time.”

CHRISTINA DODD is the author of over twenty romances that have made regular appearances on the national bestseller lists, including the
New York Times
. She has won numerous awards, including Romance Writers of America's Golden Heart and RITA awards.

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Praise for the Bestselling Master of Passionate Romance
CHRISTINA DODD

“Christina Dodd is everything I'm looking for in an author—sexy and witty, daring and delightful. She's one of my all-time favorites!”
Teresa Medeiros, author of
The Bride and the Beast

“One of the finest writers of the decade.”
Affaire de Coeur

“Christina Dodd's astonishing talents rise to glorious heights.”
Romantic Times

“Memorable characters, witty dialogue, steaming sensuality . . . sheer enjoyment.”
Jill Marie Landis

“[Her] hot sex scenes and tantalizing romantic tension don't disappoint.”
Publishers Weekly

“An award-winning writer of fast-paced, well-crafted historicals . . . Readers will be waiting for her latest.”
Library Journal

“Treat yourself to a fabulous book—anything by Christina Dodd!”
Jill Barnett, author of
Wicked

Also by Christina Dodd

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

IN MY WILDEST DREAMS. Copyright © 2001 by Christina Dodd. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition © MARCH 2003 ISBN: 9780061795213

First Avon Books paperback printing: October 2001

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