Moonlight & Mechanicals (14 page)

His mother was sad? Why? Other than having been married to his father of course. Living with the earl had crushed the life out of her, or so Liam had been led to believe from his nurse. “Can you speak with her?”

“Not yet. If she continues to coalesce, perhaps soon. Is there something you’d like me to ask?” Nell could discuss speaking with the dead in the same way another lady might mention conversing with a dinner partner. Coming from a family of lycanthropes, Liam would have thought nothing could seem outlandish to him, but then he’d met the Hadrians.

“Ask her why she’s so sad.” He couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth, but they had and he realized somewhat belatedly that they mattered. If some action of his was causing his mother’s unrest, then he needed to know.

“I will. Mostly I just think she worries about you.” She gave him another sweet smile. “You don’t need to be so alone, you know. You have so many people who care about you. It doesn’t take a ghost to tell me that.”

A lump clogged his throat, preventing him from answering. Fortunately, the dance ended and he bowed before handing her to her next partner.

“I saw Wink and Connor slip out toward the balcony,” Nell whispered before they parted. “Perhaps if you’re not engaged for this set, you could go check on them for me?”

Liam nodded. He knew it was a terrible idea, but he didn’t have it in him to deny Nell. She was too much the little sister he’d never had. He wondered if his own sister, the one his mother had died trying to bear, would have been like Nell—only without the ghosts. He’d have liked to think she would.

Shaking off that maudlin thought, he moved to the glass doors, where a balcony had once overlooked the gardens. With London air as bad as it was, most of the balconies and terraces of the fashionable homes had been glassed in, but potted plants, fairy lights and revolving fans still lent the feeling of out-of-doors. The Hendersons’ was no exception as Liam discovered. A curving staircase even provided access to the ground-floor terrace, where flowering trees reached up three stories to their glass ceiling.

He followed his ears to the far corner of the enclosure, where Wink and Connor occupied a bench behind an ornamental cherry tree. He didn’t strain to hear their words—what they said was none of his business. He could tell Nell her sister was fine and go play some cards, maybe with Eustace.

When he saw them kiss, though, his vision went red and it was all he could do not to howl or turn wolf.

* * *

Wink allowed Connor to lead her out into the glassed-in garden of the Henderson home. This was as good a time as any to tell him she’d made up her mind. With so much of her family in town, this might be the best chance she’d get to speak to him alone—as Jamie had proven that afternoon. They wound their way down the spiral staircase and found a secluded spot behind a grape arbor and a weeping cherry tree. Wink sat on the wrought-iron bench and pulled Connor down beside her.

“I wanted to speak to you earlier,” she said. Her fingers automatically reached for George’s smooth head, her touchstone in times of trouble. Since he’d been left at home, she gripped the iron bench until her fingers stung. “I’m sorry, Connor…”

“You promised me a week,” he said, anticipating her words. “It’s only been a few days.”

She shook her head. “I know. But I also know it’s pointless. You’re my friend, Connor. All but family, and I do care about you, more than I think you realize. But when you kissed me last night—didn’t that tell you anything? There’s nothing there between us—no spark, no passion. You have to know that, somewhere in your heart. I’m not the one for you.” It didn’t seem right to tell him about Jamie’s vision of the voluptuous brunette, but she hoped, for Connor’s sake, that it did come true.

“No, you mean
I’m
not the one for you.” He gave a bitter snort. “I felt plenty of passion for the both of us, believe me. I know you don’t have much, if any, experience in this sort of thing, but…”

Wink winced. “You’d be surprised.” Had he forgotten she wasn’t the typical upper-class miss? There was so much she hadn’t told him about her past.

“Passion is a natural thing,” he said, ignoring her interruption. “If your emotions are engaged, the physical expression will follow. Just let yourself feel it, beloved.” And with that, he swooped down and pressed a hard, almost rough kiss on her mouth.

For a few moments, Wink was too startled to react. She remained passive as his tongue penetrated her lips and his hands gripped her buttocks through her gown. It wasn’t unpleasant. If she hadn’t kissed Liam, she might even enjoy herself. They were two young, healthy adults and he was right. Passion was a natural thing. She understood that. But after Liam’s kiss—this just felt wrong. Gathering her wits, she smacked Connor on the head with her fan and then pushed him off of her, or tried to. He was a big man and stronger than most, but she managed to pull her mouth away from his.

“Enough.” She shoved again, this time hard enough to send him sprawling on the grass. She heard fabric tear as he fell, but it didn’t concern her. “My answer is
no,
Connor. I will not marry you. Now or ever. I care for you. I wish you all the very best the world has to offer, and I hope one day soon you find your soul mate. But it isn’t me. I’m sorry.” Even she heard the tears thickening her voice.

Connor stood and brushed off the seat of his pants. “I see. Your pardon, Miss Hadrian. It appears I’ve been mistaken. If you see the Hendersons, will you please let them know something’s come up? I trust you can make your way home with your aunt?” He brushed the wrinkles out of his coat and bowed formally.

“Of course.” She watched as he stalked off to the garden entrance of the glasshouse and left, without looking back.

Wink sat on the bench and blinked back tears. It really wasn’t fair. In a perfect world, she’d have fallen madly in love with Connor, and together they’d have raised another generation of Knights. Now though, it looked as if she’d grow old a spinster, doting on nieces and nephews and working for the Order. Ah well. There were worse lives. All she knew was that if she couldn’t marry Liam, she didn’t want anyone at all.

“Your dress is torn.” The raspy, gravelly tone made her look up as Liam stepped out of the shadows. “Did he hurt you?”

Wink shook her head, noting the damaged neckline of her gown from when he’d clutched at her as he was falling. Blast it all, that meant she couldn’t go back inside, either. What a cock-up this night was turning into. “I rather think it was the other way around.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Liam stepped closer. His hands were at his sides, clenched into fists. “I saw you push him away.”

“Then you know that all he did was kiss me.” She hiccupped, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Unless you intend to call yourself out as well, you don’t have any standing to complain about that.”

“Damn it, Winifred, that was a mistake.” He stepped closer, his voice more raw than she’d ever heard it. Liam was the only one who ever used the long version of her name, and she decided that from him, she rather liked it.

However, she didn’t care for his attitude. She sat up straighter, crossing her arms over her chest. “I find I take exception to being considered a mistake.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He paced restlessly in front of her. “You’re too good for me.”

“Not only is that the most clichéd line ever, it presupposes that I don’t know my own mind. It appears I don’t get any say in the matter of my so-called best interests.” She was making a fool of herself. An idiot wouldn’t have been able to miss the bitterness in her voice, and Liam was far from an idiot.

“You have no idea what you’re asking.” He stepped close enough to grip the back of the bench. “Just like my mother, damn it. You’re not the kind of woman for a casual relationship, and I’m not the kind of man for a permanent one.”

“Your mother?” As far as she could remember, Liam had never once mentioned her before. “What does she have to do with your decision not to marry? And how do you know what kind of woman I am anyway? Maybe a casual fling is all I’m looking for.” It wasn’t, but an affair with Liam would be better than nothing at all.

“Ballocks.” He kicked a decorative rock out of its manicured bed. “Your father would shoot me, for one thing. And your brothers. Not that I’d blame them. Now let me go get your aunt so she can take you home.”

“No.” She didn’t want Dorothy, or even Nell or Jamie to see her like this, so flustered and with a ripped gown. That wouldn’t be fair to Connor since the dress had torn when she’d pushed him down. “Just get my wrap and hail me a cab. I’ll get out of your hair and you can get on with whatever it is you call your life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He came even closer, looming over her. “Do you really think I’d let you leave here alone? That I
could
let you leave unescorted? It isn’t safe. I killed a vampyre here in Mayfair the other night.”

Wink stood, facing him nose to nose, refusing to back down. “So? I’ve been killing them since I was nine. What’s your point?”

The low rumble of a growl was the only warning she had before he caught her shoulders and his lips descended on hers.

Just like before, she responded before she even knew what she was about. The instinct to twine her arms around his neck and hold on took precedence over everything—even breathing.

His kiss was ravenous and dark, but he didn’t frighten her in the least. Not even when he dragged his mouth from her lips and trailed it down the side of her throat. She twisted her hands in his thick, glossy hair and dug her nails into his scalp, refusing to let go. Instead she tilted her head to give him better access to her neck. When one of his hands settled on her breast, she arched into the touch, wishing with all her heart that her corset wasn’t between them. Wink felt alive in a way she never had before, save for those few brief seconds in the coach the night before.

This time, Liam didn’t pull back. He sat on the bench, tugging her into his lap. His deft hands found her skin, one the back of her thigh, under her skirts, the other delving into the neckline of her gown. She groaned as his fingertips brushed the sensitive peak of her breast. Her body responded in ways she’d never experienced, not even when she’d touched herself, alone in the dark.

This was right. She was certain of it. Here, in Liam’s arms, was where she belonged. Desperate to feel more of him, she scrabbled under his frock coat, pulling his shirttails from the waistband of his trousers. She slid her hand against his side, amazed at the heat and the smoothness of his skin, the firmness of the muscle beneath.

Liam shuddered at her touch. He nibbled at her throat, an area she’d never suspected was so responsive. He shoved her corset and gown down until her breast was bared to the warm breeze from the overhead fans. Small as she was, she was sensitive there, and the gentle plucking of his fingertips made her melt. Then he shifted her, moving his lips down her throat, until they took the place of his fingers.

“Liam.” She clutched at his waist, bowing her spine to bring him even closer. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was risky. They were out in the open with a crowded ballroom just a few yards away. At the moment, however, getting caught was the least of her worries. As long as he didn’t stop, nothing else mattered.

“Wink?” Nell’s voice called out from the upper terrace. “Are you out here?”

“Shite!” Liam pulled his face away from Wink’s chest. Hastily, he tugged Wink’s bodice and corset into place—more or less. Clearly he didn’t have the same lack of concern she did about being caught. She pushed that aside, tried not to let it sting.

“Ow,” she whispered as he inadvertently pinched a bit of flesh. “Fix your own clothing. Let me do that.” She scrambled off his lap and began to push and pull everything back into place.

“I don’t think they’re out here.” Jamie’s voice was just a bit too loud to be casual. He knew they were down here—this was a warning. “Let’s go look in the supper room.”

Wink smoothed her skirts down over her hoops. “I can’t go back inside. My gown is still torn from before.” She swiped a dangling curl back behind her ear. There was no hope of getting the mass of tangles confined again without her maid.

Liam finished tucking his shirt in and adjusting his tie. “I’ll go tell Dorothy you’re tired and I’m taking you home. After I fetch your shawl and my hat, I’ll call for a hack and meet you at the garden gate.”

Wink nodded. She made her way to the rear door of the glasshouse and waited. Unfortunately, the ten minutes or so gave her plenty of time to think about what they’d just done. For Wink, it had been one of the most exciting moments of her life. For Liam, it had clearly been another mistake. What would he have done if they’d been caught?

She shook her head. Liam had too much honor. He’d have done the so-called right thing, and offered marriage. Then he’d have resented her for it the rest of their lives. Wink wanted him, but not like that.

Damn and blast it, what was she going to do with him?

* * *

Liam didn’t say a word on the drive back to Hadrian House. He was too busy castigating himself. How much further would things have gone if they hadn’t been interrupted? Wink wouldn’t have stopped him. He’d never had a woman come apart so readily in his arms. Every one of her shocked gasps and breathy moans was etched into his memory. Given her obvious lack of experience, it was all on him that things had gotten so far out of hand.

Her resolution not to marry Connor both terrified Liam and elated him. While he truly hated to see another man touch her, it left him with the same problem he’d started with. What was he going to do about Wink? He couldn’t marry her. Although if things had gone a little further in the garden, he’d have had to.

Then he’d be forced to watch while she learned to hate him. Liam could survive a lot of things, but he didn’t think he could survive having Wink despise him, seeing her cold, hurt stares over the breakfast table every morning. Worse yet would be seeing her hide in her room as his mother had done, so no one saw the bruises. Liam liked to think he would never strike a woman, particularly one under his protection, but he had his father’s temper. His first love affair had proven that. While there had been no repetition of that episode, his desk had dents in the wood and he’d torn his knuckles on the stone walls of his cellar more than a time or two in the last few months. That fury and the ability to shapeshift, were maybe his only legacies from the old man.