Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers (4 page)

BOOK: Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers
11.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Miss Morgan?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Cartwright,” Heather exclaimed, jerked out of her thoughts by the seamstress’s concerned voice.

“So, what can I do for you today?”

Heather took a deep breath. “I’m going to need to look at some more plates and fabric, I’m afraid.”

“That will be no trouble at all, Miss Morgan. Here, make yourself comfortable and I will fetch the books.”

Heather sank down into the plush chair vacated by Danielle Marston. Her headache had returned, but she managed to focus her attention on Mary and begin the process of selecting a larger wardrobe.

Chapter Seven

Heather was exhausted when she and Jameson returned to Grosvenor Square. A footman brought her parcels inside at once, making certain they were stowed away before she went to upstairs to freshen up.

At the top of the stairs, Heather froze. She wasn’t certain where she was expected to do any freshening up. True, she’d been sharing Drew’s chambers, but what if he was already there? Her cheeks burned. What if she walked in on him before he was decent?

She eyed each of the four closed doors, tapping her forefinger against her pursed lips. Mrs. Markham was nowhere to be found.

That woman is like smoke,
Heather thought with frustration.
Well, I cannot stand out here in the hallway all night. I may as well return to Drew’s room for now.

She turned the knob, opening the door without bothering to knock, and then halted in her tracks as fire tore through her.

Drew had returned. Not only had he returned, but he had also decided to freshen up, for he was in the process of dressing.

Thankfully, he wore trousers. But that was all. He didn’t seem embarrassed by her sudden entrance. Instead, he smiled as he turned to face her. “Welcome home.”

She stood stock-still, fighting to keep from staring. It was impossible. Heat swept through her like wildfire. If she’d thought the eyeful she’d gotten the other evening was impressive, it was
nothing
compared to the view he offered her now.

Did he have even an ounce of fat on his body? More importantly, was it possible for a man to have a beautiful chest? If so, then his was the most beautiful chest in existence.

Her pulse thrummed through her as she gave up trying not to stare. His skin, a sun-kissed bronze, was taut over his shoulders and arms, the heavy, corded muscles bunched with each movement.

He was shaving, the razor still in his right hand, a cup flecked with soap foam standing on the lip of the washbasin. His hand lowered from his cheek, and the wildest urge to caress his newly-smooth cheek with her own swept through her.

“I’m — I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard as she fought the urge to fidget and look away. “I should have knocked first.”

“No need to apologize,” he replied easily, reaching for the linen towel beside the silver lather cup. He patted his face dry, refolded the towel, and tossed it back onto the dressing table. “I trust Mrs. Markham gave you my message?”

“She did,” Heather replied, eyes riveted on the floor.

“And did you do as I asked?”

“Of course. You are the master.”

She swallowed hard at the glint in his eye. Her heart sped up and that served only to push that awful uncomfortable heat deeper into her being. Her mind whirled as she struggled to deflect it. “You were out all night?”

“It was almost dawn, yes. I was tied up with business at the harbor, as I said, and I spent the night on my ship. I have never been so grateful to see this townhouse as I was this morning.”

As he spoke, he closed the space between them. Her breath caught in her throat, and her discomfort worsened. Her muscles were so tight, she was certain she’d been screeching in pain at any moment.

Then it changed.

What had been uncomfortable — almost painful — tension twisted, then burst like a soap bubble. Discomfort became something much more pleasant. Not quite delight, but something very close to it.

She bit the inside of her cheek. No pain this time. He caught her face between his rough palms. His fingers moved over her cheeks in long, soft strokes. The touch brought weight to her eyelids, making them heavy, but she didn’t want to close her eyes. She wanted to see him, wanted to see how he gazed down at her with such intensity. The topaz of his irises seemed to glow with a fire she’d never seen, and touched her without making any sort of contact. Desire. She knew, without having to be told, that desire was the driving force behind those sensual eyes. Before she could say anything, he leaned closer, his lips closing down over hers.

She had not imagined their softness the first time he kissed her. The fluttering began, wings uncurling in her belly as his mouth moved against hers sensually, caressing her lips as if they were delicate rose petals.

She paused for a moment, not knowing where she should put her hands. It seemed forward to place them on his bare chest, even more so to slip them about his waist. Aside from that, she didn’t know her other options.

She finally decided on his hips, so that was where they went, and she was amazed at the solid feel of the muscle stretched taut over his hipbones. He seemed to be made entirely of granite, without a soft spot to be found anywhere.

He explored her with his kiss, his tongue teasing hers in a silky caress. His fingers crept higher, pushing into her hair, to stroke along her scalp, dislodging pins to send the curls spilling over her shoulders. His fingers slid through her hair before moving lower to brush against her neck, skimming over her shoulders, before moving down her arms.

She shuddered as he swept along the outer contours of her breasts with his thumbs. The heat started deep in the pit of her belly to slowly uncoil itself, like a cat waking from a nap. It spread through her limbs, her knees threatening to buckle under the onslaught of his lips.

Drew slid his arms about her waist, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along her throat. Her head fell back beneath the delicious tingling sensations coursing through her, a soft groan bubbling to her lips.

She wanted to touch him, to feel his bare skin against her palms. He awoke something in her and she wanted to spread her fingers over the warm rise of his chest, to wrap her arms about his neck and crush herself against him.

She let out a soft mewl as his hands skimmed down to cup her backside. He lifted her, pressing her into him, bringing her into her first contact with his arousal.

That most solid part of him sent a shiver tickling down her spine. It was the first time she’d ever felt a man’s desire. But there it was, pressing right up into her as if seeking her out.

He eased one knee between hers and she couldn’t contain her groan as the sensual frictions sent shockwaves pulsing through her. Apparently she had a desire of her own and it was just as unfamiliar to her. Until now.

He pulled away and their eyes met once more. His were hooded, darkened to a molten gold that practically snatched the breath from her lungs. No man had ever looked at her this way and her heart thundered in her chest as he took her by the hand to lead her to the bed.

“Captain McKenzie?” Mrs. Markham tapped on the door.

“Oh, hell…” Drew breathed, pressing his cheek into Heather’s hair. “I am going to recommend that Sheffield fire that woman.”

“Captain McKenzie? It’s time for tea.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Markham.” Sarcasm dripped from each growled word.

“Tea does seem to be important to her,” Heather murmured, eyes half-closed as he nuzzled her. Frustration, surprisingly strong, rolled through her.

Damn that woman and her bloody awful timing
.

“I hate that woman,” he muttered after a long moment, pulling away to gaze up at her. “She interrupted what was a very lovely moment.”

Heather smiled up at him. When would her heartbeat, her breathing, return to normal? The discomfort returned, and she bit back an aroused sigh. “There will be other moments.”

“Ah, there should have been. Now, I’m not so certain.” He pulled free, then moved to finish dressing. “That is part of the reason I was gone all night. I had a little spat with the harbormaster. Seems I’ll be taking myself from these shores sooner than I thought.”

“How much sooner?”

“Most likely within the next two days, while the tides are favorable.”

Her stomach dropped at that. Two days? Two days and she would be left to fend for herself. She thought about the calling card the duchess had given her. Heather supposed she could accept the duchess’s offer, and hope her secret never came to light.

Then Drew surprised her. He must have seen the look of horror on her face, for he smiled then, crossing back to take her in his arms and whisper, “Come to America with me.”

Chapter Eight

She stepped back. Surely she
must
have misheard him. Hadn’t she?

“What?”

Drew smiled at her. “You heard me, Heather. Come with me. You can be my mistress in Brunswick just as easily as you can here in London.”

“I cannot go to America! Are you mad?”

“What is so mad about it?”

She struggled to come up with a reason, waving a hand about as if it would help her think. Of course it was mad — stark raving mad, in fact. How could he think otherwise?

Of course now that she’d blurted it out, she couldn’t think of a reason. What was to keep her in London? She had no family, her friends would no longer associate with her and the
ton
would no longer accept her. Life as an outcast awaited her when Drew left. Whereas in America…

What would await her in America? She had no way of knowing. A fresh start, perhaps? A new life?

Still, she
had
to be mad to even consider Drew’s offer. Didn’t she?

He arched one brow and her cheeks burned. Finally, she gave him the best reason she could. “Because it is,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster.

“A perfect reason, to be sure,” he replied dryly, reaching for the midnight blue shirt draped over the foot of the bed. “I may not know much about the rules of your society, my lady. But I am fairly certain ladies of the peerage do not find their way to mistress auctions. I’m even more certain that other ladies of the peerage would look upon your situation with no little trouble. Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Miss Heather? In the eyes of London society, you are not exactly on par with the lords and ladies with whom you hope to mingle. Mistress and wives of earls and viscounts and dukes — ”

“Dukes!” She clapped a hand over her mouth at her outburst.

“Yes, dukes. There were more titles that I’d shake a stick at over at Coal’s. And more of them saw you. It’s fairly safe to say, you are already quite infamous. It was enough when you were only on the block. But when Coal announced your one asset…” He shrugged. “It didn’t trouble me to hear you were a virgin, as I will never deny nor confirm any relieving of your virginity. But, you should know, whether I touch you or not, your virginity is but a memory now as far as any ladies of the peerage are concerned. You are ruined. It’s only time before the invitations dry up. And once they do, they are gone. You will have to save the life of a duke’s wife or child to get back into societies’ graces, but you will never be considered marriageable.”

Her shoulders sank. “I will be no better than a strumpet.” She looked up to frown at him. “I thank you for reminding me.”

Drew sighed, closing the space between them. He brought his hands down onto her shoulders for a gentle squeeze. “It isn’t as if I’m taking you away from some wonderful life, Heather. Where are you going to go once I’m gone?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I thought you’d be here a while longer.” A chill settled over her. She hadn’t given
any
thought as to what would become of her once Drew left England behind.

“Well, I was supposed to be. If I had more time, I would see you set up in a house, with a stipend and all. I’m afraid I no longer have that kind of time.”

His words surprised her. “You were going to do that for me?”

He nodded, buttoning his shirt and tucking it into the waistband of his trousers. “Of course. That’s what a man does for his mistress. I’ve not the time to find a suitable residence, so this is my alternative. I do not wish to see you in the gutters, love, and that is where you will end up. That is, if you do not return to Coal’s.”

She shuddered at the thought. “I would never go back there.”

He shrugged. “Then it’s a perfect solution.”

“Drew, you met me three days ago. And now you wish me to travel to America with you? It’s insane and you’re mad as a March hare for suggesting it.”

“Of course it is. It all is. And so is spending thirty-five thousand pounds at an auction to buy a woman who doesn’t really know what she’s doing.” His boyish grin kept those words from stinging.

Could this actually be happening? Could he truly want to bring her to America? Would she be a fool to trust him?

There was nothing in London for her, save a return to Coal’s. She would much rather risk finding her own way in America than return to that horrid place. Perhaps she
was
being foolish, but what other options she did have?

His grin unnerved her, as if he could read her mind. She wracked her brain, trying desperately to think of something to say. The best she could come up with was: “I suppose it is.”

He chuckled. “Just a bit.”

Embarrassment rushed through her. What would he tell his family when he returned home with her? What would they think of him? Or, for that matter, what would they think of her?

She paused for a moment, trying to think of a tactful way to phrase the question. Before she could say anything, he’d moved away and began stowing things in his sea chest.

“Besides,” he said. “This way my hard-earned money won’t go to waste.”

His words held no malice, but brought forth the truth of the matter. Drew had bought her. The shame she’d thought she’d left at Coal’s flooded through her now. No matter how hard she tried to pretty it up, nothing changed.

She had become his possession the moment he’d paid that outrageous amount to Coal.

Perhaps he hadn’t meant it quite as she’d heard it, but there was no mistaking he was right. He owned her now. He was, in fact, her master.

“I suppose I ought to begin packing as well,” she replied, trying unsuccessfully to keep the bitterness from her voice.

“I will send Jameson to purchase a sea chest for you, Heather. That way — ” The words died on his lips and he frowned. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing,” she replied, ducking her head and turning away. She felt like such a fool, reading far more into Drew’s intentions than she should have. There was no way she could ever
tell
him that. It sounded mad, even to her. He hardly knew her, never mind care for her. It was purely physical.

He didn’t press the issue. Instead, he shrugged and straightened up, pulling on his frock coat. “I suppose we ought to go down before Mrs. Markham is pounding on the door again.”

“Yes. I suppose we should.”

He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Heather hesitated, but decided it was in her best interest to accept that proffered arm. If a master he wished to be, then she would do her damnedest to make certain to treat him as one.

She couldn’t ignore the warmth seeping into her hand as it rested lightly on his forearm, but resisted the urge to squeeze the dense muscle packed beneath his skin, muscle she could feel even through his clothing. She cast a sidelong glance up at him, but said nothing as they left the room to go down to tea.

Drew sensed her sudden coolness, but couldn’t imagine what the reason could be. She grew quiet, speaking only when spoken to, averting her eyes whenever he happened to look at her. Her brow was furrowed, as if something weighed heavily on her mind. Whatever might be troubling her, she kept to herself.

He wondered if it had to do with leaving England. He didn’t know what had possessed him to invite her to go with him, but the words were out before he could stop them.

He did not regret issuing the invitation. He wanted her to go with him, although he wasn’t exactly certain why. He didn’t keep mistresses. His habits were much more short-term. The shorter, the better. That was his motto.

But there was something about Heather, something that pressed him, urged him to keep her close. He couldn’t simply sail off and leave her to fend for herself. Not when he knew where she would most likely end up.

The very thought of her returning to Coal’s fired his blood. Anger coiled within the pit of his stomach any time he thought of another man laying a hand on Heather. He knew possessiveness made up a fair amount of the blood of a McKenzie male, but he couldn’t explain why he should feel it where she was concerned. As she’d pointed out, he’d only just met her. How could he feel possessive toward her in such a short time? It made no sense, but he could not deny it.

Heather said nothing as they went into the drawing room, where Mrs. Markham had set out the tea. She prepared a cup with plenty of sugar and thick cream, and sat back in an elegant red leather wing chair to take a sip. She remained quiet, eyes downcast, as she nibbled at a scone.

He sat across from her, scowling, his biscuit ignored on his plate.

“What’s on your mind, Heather?” he finally asked, shoving his plate away in disgust.

She looked up at him, her wide, dark eyes filled with what appeared to be innocence. “There is nothing on my mind, sir.”

Her eyes were the loveliest he’d ever seen — deep, dark brown, as luminous as moonbeams and as fathomless as the ocean. A man could get lost looking into those pools.

He cleared his throat. “I thought we agreed you were never to use the word
sir
in association with me?”

“Of course. I apologize.”

As her gaze ducked back to her plate, he fought to squelch his rising irritation. Whether she chose to admit it or not, there was something troubling her and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

The sooner, the better
. If possessiveness made up half his blood, impatience made up the other half.

“Please, Heather. Do not apologize for every little transgression,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Show a little spirit.”

“Of course.”

He gritted his teeth. Something was going on beneath her chestnut curls and that something was going to drive him mad.

A maid bustled into the room to clear away the dishes, hovering as she cleared away his place. He sighed, mentally rolling his eyes over the maid’s attentions. Flattering, but tiresome just the same. He waved her away and said to Heather, “So, did you enjoy shopping?”

She nodded. “I did.”

“I take it Jameson kept a watchful eye over you?”

“He did.”

This was becoming tedious. “You are allowed more than two words per sentence, Heather.”

His scolding worked. Color flared in her cheeks, only instead of firing back at him as he’d hoped she would, she backed down. “I’m sorry.”

It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so damned frustrating. Resting an elbow on the table between them, he leaned toward her. “Am I boring you, love?”

That
got a reaction. Her head jerked up, her gaze meeting his, and he was happy to see a spark of annoyance in them. “Of course not.”

“Ah, three words. It’s a small improvement, but an improvement just the same. Now please, for the love of God, will you speak to me?”

“As you wish.” She set down her scone to fold both hands in her lap. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“This is ridiculous.” He shoved up from his chair and moved to stand before her. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious about America? About Brunswick? About anything?”

She pressed her lips together, obviously mulling over his words. It seemed as if she was on the verge of asking him
something.
Finally, she inhaled deeply and blurted, “It isn’t my place to question your wishes.”

“What?”

Her chin up, she held his stare. “I said, it’s not my place to question your wishes. I suppose I will find out all about America once we arrive there.”

At last, he was getting somewhere. “Heather, if you wish to question anything, please do so. Why do you think otherwise?”

“I think that should be quite clear.”

“Well, it isn’t.” Drew shook his head. “I am a bit confused as to this sudden change. What brought it on?”

She shrugged. “It’s how things should be.”

“How things should be, eh? Very well, I suppose it would be best to leave things alone then.”

“As you wish.”

This was wearing on his nerves; he had no desire to keep playing games. “That is what I wish. I need pay a visit to the harbor to see that preparations are underway to set sail as soon as possible.”

BOOK: Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers
11.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Force Me - The Princess by Karland, Marteeka
His Beautiful Wench by Dae, Nathalie
Loonies by Gregory Bastianelli
Bittersweet Darkness by Nina Croft
Maggie MacKeever by The Right Honourable Viscount
The Mayfair Moon by J. A. Redmerski
Apparition Trail, The by Lisa Smedman
The Tragedy of Mister Morn by Vladimir Nabokov, Thomas Karshan, Anastasia Tolstoy