Jilted in January (6 page)

“Whatever were you
thinking
?”

Mr. Ford raised an eyebrow. “You wished to marry Mr. Potter?”

“Of
course
I didn’t.”

“Then what is your concern?”

“You don’t want—you can’t want to marry
me
.”

“That is rather beside the point.” He retook her hand and smoothed his thumb over hers. “If you are officially engaged to me, your brother can’t order you to marry elsewhere.”

“Because he’ll be expecting me to marry you!”

“
Expecting
… yes, but think about it, Miss Leyton. We continue our engagement until the new duke is found, and then you lay the whole matter before him. He can decide whether he wishes to prosecute your ex-betrothed for breach of promise, offer you a new and larger dowry, or marry you himself.”

Rose blinked hard at him. “And what about you?”

He shrugged. “I’ll abide by whatever makes you happy.”

“But
why
?”

He held her gaze. “Because you are my friend.”

She fought back tears. “That is too much to ask of any man.”

“I don’t think so. In truth, I’m happy to be of service.” He hesitated. “Can you bear the deception? We will have to pretend that we like each other.”

“I
do
like you.”

His smile was slow and so endearing that she caught her breath. For a terrible second she wished with all her heart that his affection for her
was
as deep as it could possibly be.

“Then there is nothing else to worry us, is there?”

He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. She closed her eyes as his mouth met hers and simply savored the essence of him—his breath feathering her lips, his warm hand curving around the back of her neck, holding her still for his kiss as though she was a fragile and precious thing.

With a soft sound she kissed him back.

“I think we will be quite convincing, don’t you?”

She nodded as he stepped back.

“Perhaps you should go and break the news to your great-aunt.”

“I’m fairly certain David will have done that already.” She paused. “Do you intend to write to your family, or will it be possible to keep the matter between ourselves?”

“As the Beckworth family are in mourning, I hope we can only inform those who are directly involved with this matter.” He smiled at her. “Neither of us are society high flyers, so I doubt anyone will notice what we choose to do. I will see you at dinner—if that is acceptable?”

He walked over to the door and held it open for her. With the sense that she was still abed and dreaming, Rose went past him, heading for her great-aunt’s bedchamber. She was now affianced to Mr. Ford—who seemed to think they were capable of deceiving her brother, her great-aunt, and possibly the new Duke of Beckworth, whoever he might be.

A smile quivered on her lips as she recalled the sight of her brother stretched out on the carpet and Mr. Ford standing over him in a particularly masterful pose. She’d never imagined her life would turn into a romantic novel with men fighting over her… In truth she
was
living in a novel, because none of it was real. The moment the duke returned, she would have to deal with the consequences of her choices—which wasn’t appealing at all.

But Mr. Ford had been magnificent. She would never forget that.

At dinner, Great-Aunt Maude offered her approval of the match, and afterward Colin was allowed to take Miss Leyton for a short stroll on the terrace that ran along the back of the palatial mansion. The covered portico protected them from the hint of rain and was illuminated by several lanterns and the glow of candlelight from within the house. Colin looked down at Miss Leyton’s bowed head and found himself smiling like an idiot.

Her shawl slipped from her shoulder, and he reached for it, catching the silky strands as his hand brushed the curve of her shoulder. He slowly inhaled the scent of her skin and realized she was looking up at him, her brown eyes wide.

Colin cleared his throat. “I should imagine Lady Maude thinks I will steal a kiss from you while we are out here alone.”

Miss Leyton worried her lower lip. “You don’t have to do anything you—”

He cut off the rest of her sentence by the simple expedient of placing his mouth over hers. She gave a tiny squeak of surprise and then kissed him back as he guided her toward a bench at the end of the balcony. She sank down onto the seat in a rustle of petticoats and satin, and he joined her, one hand clasping her neck, the other settling lower around her waist.

He murmured his approval and delicately probed the seam of her lips, begging for entrance, which she gave him, allowing him to introduce her to a whole new kind of kiss that sent waves of heat rushing through his body, settling in his now attentive cock. She moaned into his mouth and moved closer into his embrace, her arms now around him, her fingers threaded through his curls.

Colin forgot where he was and what he had been attempting to achieve in the sheer delight of the kiss. His hand slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip and coming to rest on the pleasing mound of her buttock. He shifted position until she was practically in his lap—too intent on the overwhelming sensation of touching her to think coherently. Not that she seemed to be doing much better. Her hands were roving, too, pushing inside his coat as she stroked his chest.

“Too many clothes,” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

He opened his eyes and blinked at her. “I…” Damnation, what on earth could he say? “I… apologize. I quite forgot myself.”

She pressed her fingers to her lips, which were now reddened from his kisses, and his cock kicked up against his breeches.

“That wasn’t quite what I was expecting.” She sounded even more breathless than he did.

“I can only apologize again. I didn’t intend to become so…
involved
.”

She moved slightly away, her color high. “It’s quite all right. I didn’t expect that either.” As she spoke, her gaze lingered on his mouth, which didn’t help matters at all. “I don’t remember Henry kissing me like that.”

Inwardly Colin cringed. “He probably treated you with more respect.”

“But I
liked
what happened between us.” She finally met his gaze. “Is that wrong?”

Only if she didn’t want to be ravished—because the way Colin was currently feeling made that option highly likely.

He cleared his throat. “If we continue to kiss like that, our thoughts might turn to more carnal matters.”

“Such as?”

“Taking you to my bed, stripping you naked, and having my way with you.”

“Oh.” She eyed him carefully. “But why?”

“What do you mean?”

She smoothed a hand over her bosom and downward. “I am hardly the kind of woman who excites men to consider acts of lust.”

“Whoever told you that?” She went to answer him, and he held up his hand. “I’ll wager it was your beautiful sister, am I right?”

She nodded, her gaze holding his, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“Your sister is wrong, you know. You have beautiful skin, whisky-warm eyes, and a mouth meant to be kissed.” He let his gaze travel over her. “You are well formed, with sufficient décolletage to make me dream about uncovering more of it, and you are rounded in all the right places.” He cocked an eyebrow. “What is there for a man not to like?”

He reached for her hand and held it tight. “But I should not be discussing such matters with you in a public place.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You will if Lady Maude comes looking for you and finds us sitting so closely together. We’ll be marching up that aisle in a heartbeat.” He tucked a strand of her disheveled hair behind her ear. “And with you looking suitably overcome.”

He eased away from her only because the urge to gather her in his arms, sit her on his lap, and kiss the blazes out of her was consuming him. She might not understand the implications of what he desired, but he certainly did, and for once he was going to have to be sensible for both of them.

Her smile faded as he rose and offered her his hand.

“Have I offended you, Mr. Ford?”

“Not at all. On the contrary—your charms threaten to overwhelm my good sense, and I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Because we aren’t really engaged.”

His sense of well-being dissipated. “Ah, yes. There is that.”

Rose allowed him to start walking back along the terrace before allowing the full extent of his reply to settle over her. Men had needs. Her brother had pointed that out to her on more than one occasion when she’d questioned his expenditure or habits concerning the opposite sex. Mr. Ford might desire her—which was rather thrilling in its own way—but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to
marry
her.

She pondered that thought as they walked back toward the drawing room.

“Henry said I was too impulsive and rather unladylike in my enthusiasm for being kissed.”

Mr. Ford snorted. “I think you know my opinion of Lieutenant Woodford, and that piece of outright nonsense does nothing to change it.”

“You don’t think me unladylike in my response to you?”

He patted her hand, which lay on his coat sleeve. “Not at all.”

Rose continued walking. “You are a very nice man, Mr. Ford.”

“Nice isn’t the word I’d use to describe myself at the moment.” He glanced down at her. “If I had my way, I’d scoop you up in my arms and take you to bed.”

“You would?” Rose found herself smiling. “I can’t say that I would object. I’ve always wondered what goes on between the sheets.”

Mr. Ford made a stifled sound, which she suspected was a curse.

“What’s wrong?” she asked innocently. Who would’ve believed she would be capable of flirting with a man in such a dangerously satisfying way?

He paused just outside the entrance to the French doors. “I am trying to behave like a gentleman, Miss Leyton, and you are undermining my resolution.”

“Then it’s my turn to apologize to you.” She curtsied and managed to wink at him. “This is so much more fun than I anticipated, Mr. Ford!”

“What is?”

“Being engaged to you.”

He bowed. “I believe you are laughing at me now, Miss Leyton.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I might be.”

“Then be careful I don’t take my revenge.” His gaze ran over her in a way that made her shiver, not unpleasantly. “I have a strong desire to put you over my knee.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and whisked herself away and into the drawing room. Great-Aunt Maude was dozing while her brother and Henry played out a hand of cards with two of the Beckworth invalids.

“Ah! There you are my dear!” Great-Aunt Maude started awake. “I believe I shall retire to bed. Come along.”

Across the room, David cleared his throat. “I’ll be going to Town tomorrow, Rose. I’ll return in the evening. Henry is coming with me.”

Rose curtsied. “I do hope you both have a safe journey. Good night.” She didn’t even turn her head. “And good night my
dear
Mr. Ford.”

Taking her aunt’s arm, she left the salon—ignoring the dogs that ran haphazardly around them—and mounted the stairs. Rose was fairly certain that Mr. Ford didn’t take his eyes off her until she disappeared from sight. If this was what a false engagement felt like, she could only wonder how it would feel to be Mr. Ford’s real intended. Would he have overcome his scruples and whisked her off to his bed? Somehow she doubted it.

She’d often wondered what went on in the marriage bed, and no one had seen fit to enlighten her. But the thought of Mr. Ford undressed and smiling a welcome made her heart race and her ­body yearn for something she couldn’t quite express. She wanted to bury her face in the crook of his shoulder and just breathe him in…

“Daydreaming, my dearest girl?”

Rose jumped as Great-Aunt Maude prodded her in the ribs with one bony finger.

“No shame in that. Mr. Ford comes from a fine family and will make you an excellent husband.”

Rose smiled. “I do believe he will.”

Chapter Five

Great-Aunt Maude frowned at Rose over her coffee cup. “I thought your brother was supposed to return last night.”