Pursuing Lord Pascal (12 page)

“Your niece is a great success, and her
popularity hasn’t turned her head.”

“No, she’s a good child, if a little too
inclined to mock the wisdom of her elders.”

Amy sent Sally a disgusted look. “I wish you
wouldn’t do that.”

“What?” Sally drained her brandy.

“Talk about yourself as if you’ve got one
foot in the grave. You’re beautiful, and you’ve got more energy
than Morwenna and me combined. If you think society’s gentlemen
haven’t noticed, you need spectacles.”

Sally’s lips twitched. “Shortsightedness is a
sign of old age.”

“And blind stubbornness is a sign of a closed
mind.”

Sally laughed, clearly discounting Amy’s
comments. “You’re too kind. Why would anyone look at me when I’m
with Meg, who’s so young and vibrant?”

Amy shook her head. “Not every man wants an
untried girl, Sally.”

Sally’s eyes sharpened. “Speaking of men who
like women with some life experience, when are you going to put
Pascal out of his misery?”

Amy’s shoulders tautened, although she knew
that this interrogation was inevitable. And also that Sally asked
the question to shift the focus away from herself. “He’s courting
me.”

“Which he’s done assiduously for the last
three weeks. I’ve never seen the man work so hard to win a woman.
Usually they’re clamoring after him.”

“That’s part of the problem,” Amy admitted,
staring into her glass to avoid Sally’s perceptive gaze. She’d
never told her friends that Pascal wanted to marry her. Although
since he’d become the perfect escort, he hadn’t mentioned marriage.
Quite possibly, he’d dismissed the idea, now Amy proved so much
trouble.

“Oh, tosh. None of those women meant a
farthing to him.”

A chill ran down her spine. “You seem
remarkably well informed,” she said stiffly.

Dear God, had she been too naïve for words?
Pascal and Sally were old friends and visibly comfortable together.
Had they once been more than friends?

Scorn edged Sally’s snort. “Tuck in your
claws. We’ve never been lovers. I was faithful to my husband, and
since his death, nobody has tempted me to err.”

“Then why are you pushing me along the
primrose path?” Amy said, ashamed of her petty jealousy.

Sally shrugged. “I’m not opposed to taking a
lover. Perhaps I’ll look around more seriously, once I’ve got Meg
settled.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know.” A dreamy light that Amy had
never seen before softened Sally’s expression. “It's just that you
and Pascal seem…right somehow. Like you fit. To be candid, I
expected him to tumble you into bed that night you came in from the
Bartletts’ garden, looking like he’d kissed you into next
week.”

“Oh.” Heat prickled Amy’s cheeks. “You
noticed.”

“I could hardly miss it.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

Sally smiled. “You were doing well without
interference. But since then, you’ve turned as prim as a
middle-aged governess, and he’s tiptoeing around you as if
terrified you’ll shatter at the first touch.”

“I want…I want him to prove he’s genuinely
interested.”

Sally rolled her eyes. “He’s so interested,
he looks ready to cut his throat unless you show him a drop of
kindness. Which would be a sad waste of a very pretty man.”

Amy sent her friend a direct look. “By
kindness, you mean let him seduce me.”

Sally shrugged and refilled her glass. “Or
you could seduce him. I hate to see you at odds, when it’s
perfectly obvious that you’re both mad for one another.”

“I’ve never…I’ve never taken a lover,” Amy
said unsteadily.

“Well, given dried-up old Wilfred Mowbray is
the extent of your experience, it’s time you did.”

“Wilfred was a good man,” she snapped,
hearing the guilt lurking beneath her defense of her late husband.
Because of course, Pascal excited her in ways that Wilfred never
had.

“He was. But he’s gone now. And he was always
too old for a vivid creature like you.” Sally set her glass on a
side table. The understanding in her face made Amy feel that her
friend guessed all her secrets. Including her aching longing to
surrender to Pascal and sample this hot magic that put the whole
world in a stew. “You need to see what a young, virile man can do
for you.”

“And that young, virile man is Lord
Pascal?”

“He’s certainly willing. I’ve never seen a
man as…willing.”

“It’s a big step.”

“And you’re frightened.”

Amy’s lips twitched. “Terrified. And I can’t
quite believe he’s attracted to me.”

Compassion flooded Sally’s face. “Oh, Amy, I
hoped you’d got over this silly self-doubt. You’re lovely and smart
and unusual, and any man would be lucky to win you. I know it. Meg
knows it. Morwenna knows it. All those men who line up to dance
with you know it. Believe me, Lord Pascal knows it. The only person
who doesn’t know it is you.”

“You make me sound so poor spirited,” Amy
said in a subdued voice. The brandy that had tasted so pleasant on
her palate now burned like acid in her stomach.

Sally made a sweeping gesture. “No. Just
inexperienced in the ways of the world. Pascal is eating his heart
out for you.”

“I’m not sure his heart is involved.”

Sally’s smile was arch. “Other parts of him
certainly are. The man’s turning into a complete wreck. I started
out enjoying the sight of him topsy-turvy over a woman. After all,
he’s had enough ladies sighing over him. Now I can’t help feeling
sorry for him. If you want him, take him. If you don’t, set the
poor fellow loose.”

It might reflect badly on her character, but
Amy couldn’t help relishing the thought of gorgeous Gervaise Dacre
sick with desire for her humble self. She sucked in a breath and
stiffened her backbone as she summoned all her courage. Perhaps it
was time to dare.

Her voice emerged with unexpected steadiness.
“I want him, all right.”

Sally’s smile was broad and approving. “In
that case, do something about it.”

Pascal mounted the shallow steps to Sally
Norwood’s door two at a time and brought down the knocker with a
resounding crash. The butler opened the door and regarded him
impassively. “Good morning, my lord.”

“Lady Mowbray has asked to see me.”

“Her ladyship is in the garden. Allow me to
show you the way.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find her.”

Ignoring the butler’s disapproval, he strode
past the man and through Sally’s elegant house, until he reached
the morning room with its doors open on the garden. April was the
usual mixture of showers and sunshine—today was like the start of
summer.

Or perhaps that was just how he felt this
morning.

“I believe she’s sitting beside the fountain,
my lord.” The butler had moved at a fair clip to keep pace.

“Thank you.” He flashed the man a smile and
ran outside and down the path. He’d been to parties here and headed
unerringly for the secluded corner where a mossy stone cupid held a
dolphin amid the play of waters.

“Pascal.” Amy’s joyous expression as she
stood echoed the happiness exploding like fireworks in his heart.
He strode up to her, boots crunching on the gravel, and caught her
by the shoulders.

“Is it yes?”

Her eyes sparkled with indomitable spirit.
“It’s yes.”

“My darling,” he breathed, dragging her into
his body for a kiss so hot it threatened to blast him to ash.

Too soon, she pulled free with a shaky laugh.
“You gathered a lot from three words.”

He kissed her again, quickly this time. He
wanted to kiss her over and over again, until she was panting and
trembling. Then he wanted to tumble her onto the grass, and toss
her skirts up, and join her on a voyage to paradise.

But he maintained a shred of sense. And thank
every angel in heaven, he’d have a chance to answer every fantasy.
Soon.

The second sweetest word in the English
language after “yes.”

He cradled her head between his hands and
studied her piquant face. At last the distance was gone. She looked
flushed and delightfully ruffled. “When the three words are ‘come
to me,’ I had an inkling what you meant. I’ve passed the test?”

The misty softness in her smile was new. His
Amy was inclined to regard him with a skeptical eye. He applauded
the change. It made him feel like a king.

“You have. I realized that I no longer
doubted you. I was just frightened. That’s no acceptable reason to
avoid something.”

He leaned forward and kissed her again. It
was a mere three weeks since he’d kissed her, but it felt like
three years. “So you’re going to take me like a tonic for the good
of your health?”

“Perhaps that’s what you are.”

His laugh was fond. That poignant tenderness
was more powerful than ever. During the interminable delay, it had
proven an awkward companion. “I promise by the time I’m finished
with you, you’ll feel much better.”

“Wicked fellow.” She linked her hands behind
his neck.

“I am indeed. And I intend to devote that
wickedness to your enjoyment. I’m hoping some wickedness might even
rub off on you.”

Her lips quirked. “That’s already happened. I
used to be perfectly respectable, devil take you.”

She didn’t sound like she minded too much. He
couldn’t help it. He kissed her again. She responded with sizzling
enthusiasm, until he could manage only a single word. The question
that thundered through every beat of his reckless heart.
“When?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Not
now. Meg and Sally will be home soon from their shopping, and
Morwenna is inside writing letters.”

“We could give her something interesting to
write about.”

“Too interesting. You need to stop kissing
me.”

“Never.” To prove it, he kissed her again.
This time he lingered over her lips, relishing how she welcomed him
into the honeyed heat of her mouth. By the time he raised his head,
they were both gasping for breath.

“When you kiss me, I can’t think.” Arousal
clouded her eyes.

“I haven’t been able to think since I met
you.” His voice descended into stark sincerity. “You make me so
happy.”

“You make me nervous and excited.” She
paused. “And happy. I’m sure I should regret this headlong dash
into sin.”

“Ah, sin,” he said on a voluptuous sigh.

“You’re incorrigible.” She laughed and pushed
him away.

He let her go, content now that he had her
promise. “When, when, when?”

She caught his hand. “So impatient.”

“Amy,” he growled. “You’ve teased me
enough.”

She drew him down onto the charming stone
bench where she’d sat watching the fountain. To his regret, she
started to sound sensible again. How he’d loved seeing this clever,
practical woman dizzy with excitement.

“It’s not straightforward. We need to be
careful. Any scandal will hurt Meg’s chances. The world can’t know
she’s sharing a house with Lord Pascal’s mistress.”

He liked the sound of that. He’d like the
sound of Lord Pascal’s wife even more, but today he was content to
postpone that discussion. “I want you to myself all night.”

Already she was shaking her head. “It’s too
risky.”

He sighed. “When did you become adept at
intrigue?”

Amy blushed and squeezed his hand. “I’ve…I’ve
been thinking of this since our last kiss.”

His laugh expressed astounded delight. “I had
no idea. You’ve been so cold, I quite despaired of winning your
favor.”

“I’m sorry that I was such a coward.”

“And you didn’t trust me. But you do now.
Your consent does me such honor.”

Amy was back to looking misty-eyed. “I
couldn’t resist you.”

She was a miracle, and he didn’t deserve her.
He sucked in a jagged breath to contain the vast wave of emotion
that threatened to choke him. In silent homage, he raised her hand
to his lips.

Pascal struggled to restore the lightness.
She wasn’t yet ready to hear what lay in his heart. He’d lured her
to the threshold of a life together, but only careful handling
would coax her across into a permanent place in his life. “So while
you were busy tormenting me, you were hatching wanton plans?”

Her smile was tremulous. “I thought perhaps
one afternoon…”

“
One
afternoon?”

She gave a nervous, excited spurt of
laughter. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We usually go driving
anyway. Perhaps instead of the park, we go to—”

“Heaven?”

Her breath caught, and her eyes darkened. “I
hope so, although I’m so afraid I’ll disappoint you. I’m sure…I’m
sure you’re used to more skillful lovers.”

He couldn’t bear to see her crippling doubt
creeping back. Catching the back of her neck, he drew her up for
another hungry kiss. “I want you, Amy. Only you.”

“And I want you, Pascal.”

He’d waited an eon to hear her say that. He
trailed a finger down her cheek, then followed the sensitive nerve
down the side of her neck. She shivered in response. There was so
much sensuality locked up inside her. He ached to set it free.

Tomorrow…

“You know, given our licentious plans, you
should call me Gervaise.”

A soft smile curved her lips, and when his
name emerged, it heated his blood like brandy. “Gervaise.”

This time his kiss was gentle, and when he
drew away, she clung to his shoulders. He suspected her head was
swimming. His balance didn’t feel too sturdy either. “Leave
everything to me.”

“I will. I’ll see you tonight for dinner
before the Lewis musicale.”

“
And will
you grant me both waltzes from now on?”

The radiant emotion faded from her lovely
face, but it was enough that he’d seen it. She mightn’t be in love
with him, but she hovered close. He’d wager his life on it. And Amy
Mowbray’s love was a gift he didn’t take lightly.