Stolen Kisses (11 page)

“Come now, Miss Benton,” he chastised, moving closer, “are you being prudent, or calculating?”

“That does not concern you,” she retorted. “It concerns only my family.”

“What does your family matter?” he said cynically. “Your family wouldn’t have had to rut with Wenford.”

She couldn’t suppress a shudder at the image. “Family is all that matters.”

He paused, looking at her with an intense curiosity that unsettled her even further. “Even so,” he went on after a moment, as though conceding a point to her, “couldn’t you turn down two or three of the least likely candidates? After all, there are other females looking for husbands this Season. It’s not fair to monopolize every man of marrying age and inclination.”

That hadn’t been her decision, either. “I’ve turned you down,” Lilith reminded him, so angry her voice trembled. At least she told herself it was righteous fury making her shake.

“But what of the rest?” He stepped closer, a slight grin on his face. “Other than Wenford, of course, who has taken himself out of the running.”

Lilith backed away from him. His voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her breathing was keeping pace with the accelerated beat of her heart. As he continued to advance, her back came up against the bookcase, and she was forced to stop. “Papa favors the Earl of—”

“Nance?” he interrupted, scowling. “He’s an idiot, and you know it. And I didn’t ask you to name your father’s favorite. Isn’t there one who’s caught your heart?” Dansbury stopped in front of her, his dark eyes holding hers. “One only, who makes you breathe faster?” He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and leaned closer. “One whose image won’t leave your mind,” he murmured, “but rolls around and around in your thoughts until you can think of no one else?”

“It doesn’t matter who…who it is,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to avoid his gaze, “so long as he is respectable.”

His lazy smile was belied by the glint in his eyes. “Anyone but me, then?” he whispered.

She took a shaky breath, wishing he would move away, look away, so she could muster whatever it was that gave her the courage to stand up to him. “Yes.”

“And you’ve left nothing out of your little equation for respectability?” he pushed, his breath warm and soft against her mouth. “Happiness, perhaps?”

“Respectability will make me happy, my lord.”

“Are you certain of that, Miss Benton?”

“Absolu—”

He bent his head and captured her lips in a rough, hard kiss. Everything stopped—her heart, her breath, all sensation except for the hot, sensuous feel of his mouth on hers. Her eyes closed, and her fingers tangled through his dark hair. Torn between wanting him to continue kissing her and horror that she felt that way, she frantically grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. He looked down at her in surprise, and she kicked him in the knee. The duke’s kiss had felt nothing like this, like lightning shooting down her spine. “You…you scoundrel,” she gasped.

Dansbury stepped back and bent to rub his knee, ap
parently unmoved by their embrace. “Sticks and stones may—”

“You blackguard! You beast!” She was angry—that’s what she was. She was furious.

He straightened with an unruffled grin. “—break my bones, but names—”

Lilith snatched up a vase.

“Try this, then!”

She hurled the porcelain at him.

Dansbury nimbly ducked sideways, and the container crashed against the couch. “Well, well, well, Ice Queen.” His eyes twinkling with amusement, he moved toward her again.

Lilith snatched up a ceramic candy dish and flung it at the marquis. “I am not a damned Ice Queen!” she shrieked.

This time her aim was true—the dish struck the side of his head. With a grunt, Dansbury staggered and fell to the floor.

For a stunned moment, Lilith stared down at him. Then she dashed over to kneel beside him. He remained motionless. “My lord? Dansbury?”

He didn’t move, but lay with one arm draped across his face.

“Jack?” Alarm that she might actually have hurt him ran through her.

He slowly lowered his arm and eyed her. “Blast it! That hurt.” He touched his temple with his fingers, and they came away bloody. He sat up, his dark eyes dancing. “I do believe you’ve proved your point.”

“What point?” This man insisted on bringing out the worst in her, and she seemed completely unable to resist responding.

“That you’re no damned Ice Queen, Lil.”

“Miss Benton,” she corrected, wondering why it mat
tered to her that she had convinced him. “And you deserved worse, you cad.”

“I’ve had worse.” He chuckled. “Though cracking me in the head does seem rather severe—it was only a kiss.”

Only a kiss. Well, he might have kissed enough women that he felt nothing, but Lilith couldn’t even put into words what he did to her insides. “Don’t ever do it again.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I intend to kiss you as often as I can get away with it.”

For a moment Lilith sat frozen on the floor, staring at him. “What have I ever done to you,” she managed, “that makes you keep tormenting me?”

Apparently unmoved by her plea, he gave her a careless grin. “I’ve already told you how you infatuate me.” He looked at her sideways. “And besides, you looked at me.”

“I looked at you? I don’t doubt there are at least a dozen other people in the world who have ‘looked at you,’” she countered, wondering what game he was playing now. “Why don’t you torment all of them instead?”

A slow, sensuous smile touched his mouth. “No, Miss Benton, you misunderstand. You
looked
at me. And then you pretended that you hadn’t.” He shifted closer to her, so that only a few inches separated them. “You were attracted to me. You still are.”

“I am not.” Lilith swallowed. “Perhaps for a moment I thought your countenance pleasant,” she admitted reluctantly. “But that was before I learned of your poor character.”

“Hm,” he murmured, holding her gaze, “and why is it you think my character poor?”

“You know very well.”

Jack reached out and gently touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You’ve made an accusation. I would like to hear your evidence.”

Lilith shivered at his light touch. “Stop that.”

“You’re a sensual creature, I think,” he murmured, letting his fingers trail down to touch the pearl necklace at the base of her throat. “Tell me.”

Good Lord, she’d been in less difficulty with the Duke of Wenford—at least her sentiments toward him had been pure revulsion. Dansbury was much more complicated. The gentle tug of the silver chain at her neck as he fingered the single pearl made her take a quick, shallow breath. Dansbury was also a much greater threat. “I am not—”

Before she could finish, William slammed the door open and rushed into the room. “Father’s carriage just turned the cor—” He stopped short, looking down at the marquis. “What the devil happened to you?”

Dansbury hauled himself to his feet. “I met with an accident,” he replied with a short grin, and held a hand down to her.

Lilith allowed him to pull her to her feet. “I hit him with a candy dish,” she elaborated.

Stifling what sounded like laughter, Dansbury squatted down, swiftly and efficiently cleaning up the broken pieces of pottery. No doubt he was accustomed to covering his scandalous doings on a regular basis.

William stood staring at Lilith, his eyes wide. “He’s one of the deadliest shots in England, Lil. Are you mad?”

“Completely demented,” the marquis supplied, before she could answer. “I’m beginning to wonder whether you didn’t do Wenford in yourself, Miss Benton.”

Lilith blanched. “Don’t you dare say such a thing!”

“Lil, you shouldn’t be talking that way to the Marquis of Dansbury,” William argued.

“He shouldn’t be talking that way to
me
!” She stomped her foot again, wishing for another item to throw at him. “Now, get out, before Papa sees you.”

“Lilith!” William protested.

“Oh, do be quiet, William,” the marquis unexpectedly interrupted, his expression annoyed. “I can fend for myself.” He set the pottery into the waste basket, then touched the knot on his temple. “I’ll have to think up an explanation for this, though.”

“I’m certain no one would have the least bit of difficulty believing a woman had to defend her honor against your advances,” Lilith said in amusement.

“I was hardly advancing,” Dansbury returned.

“No,” she agreed dryly, “I believe you were falling.”

He laughed. “Only for your beauty, my dear.”

Before Lilith could conjure another retort, he swept an elegant bow and gestured for William to precede him out the door. “Do show me out, will you?” He paused to look at Lilith. “Until next time,
ma chère
.”

As they left the morning room, William chuckled. “I don’t know why you’d think Lil might have done in Old Hatchet Face, Jack. I thought it was you. That bottle of port you handed him at White’s wasn’t full of strychnine, was it?”

“What?” Lilith asked sharply from behind them.

Jack stopped abruptly. “That is not amusing, William,” he growled under his breath.

“I thought it was,” William defended weakly.

“You gave Wenford a bottle of port before he expired on—on my couch?” Lilith said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he snapped. He finally had the
chit thinking about him and kissing in conjunction. The last thing he needed was for her to have an excuse to return to her former contempt toward him. “I didn’t want to shake his damned hand. I’m certain he’s been given gifts by peers far worthier than myself.”

“A less worthy one would be difficult to find,” she returned haughtily.

“Look among your other suitors, Miss Benton,” he retorted. “
Adieu
.”

He knew she wanted the last word, so he quickly shut the door behind him before she could respond. He wanted her to feel that things were unfinished between them—because they were. He followed William out the back way, where he had stashed Benedick. His skull throbbed, but as he’d told Lilith, he’d had worse, and for less reason. In this instance, it had been worth it.

The craving to touch Lilith Benton, to kiss her, had been driving him half mad, distracting him from the true goal of the game. He was saying things that were completely out of character, all to feel her mouth against his. And he was anything but cured of the desire to kiss her, to touch her, again.

“Where are we off to, then?” William asked, swinging up onto Thor.

“Believe it or not,” Jack said, still annoyed at the boy, “I’m off to Parliament. You’ll have to amuse yourself.”

“You actually attend the House of Lords?”

“When I can find it.” He pulled Benedick in when he sidestepped. “And I have a previous engagement this evening, as well.”

William grinned as he dismounted again. “Who is she?”

“A young lady of fair countenance and bright eyes, with sweet laughter an angel would envy.” Now seemed
as good a time as any to forward his secondary plan. “By the by, I believe Miss St. Gerard is hoping a certain young gentleman will escort her to the opera this evening.”

William brightened. “Antonia? Oh, Jack, that’s…” A frown lowered his brow again. “That’s awful. I have no box, and I can’t very well have her sitting with the commons in the back.”

Jack produced a piece of paper from his pocket. “Yes, but as you may recall, I have a box.” He held out the note. “Enjoy yourself.”

William reached up to take it, but Jack kept it gripped in his fingers. “And William, when the news of Wenford’s death comes out, I would suggest you not mention that bottle of port again. Is that clear?”

“Hell’s bells, Jack, it was a joke.”

“William…”

“All right, all right, I swear. I won’t mention the bottle of port again.”

Jack released the note and nodded. “Good lad. Come by and see me tomorrow morning. I’ll take you to Gentleman Jackson’s.”

In the meantime, Jack had more planning to do. His initial anger at Lilith Benton had evolved into something much more complex, and he had damned well better decide where he stood, before he took another step. Otherwise, he reflected with a grin, he might very well end up on his backside again.

Aunt Eugenia canceled their afternoon shopping excursion because of the frightful cold, ignoring Lilith’s protest that she would welcome a chance to get out for a bit. Even shopping with Eugenia would have served to clear her head, to get the blasted Marquis of Dansbury out of her thoughts.

She filled her schedule with whatever useless projects and entertainments she could find around the house, but however busy she made herself, it did no good. Dansbury was definitely up to mischief, though she was no longer exactly certain what kind of trouble he was planning. She reached up and traced her lip with her fingers, then, with an exasperated sigh, went back to her sewing. Mainly, she wished to figure out why he kept reminding her of her debt to him, instead of collecting on it.

“Lil?” her brother called.

“What is it?” she said irritably, regarding the rather large hole she’d been jabbing in her embroidery with her needle.

William strolled into the morning room. “I thought I might go to the horse auctions. Care to come?”

She sighed and set aside her stitching. “I’d love to, but Papa would never approve.”

Her brother leaned over the back of the couch beside her. “He never approves of anything, except finding old, sour-faced widowers for you to marry.”

“William, hush.”

“I know, I know. It won’t do any good, and it’ll only make him bellow at me. But it hardly seems fair.” He picked up her embroidery hoop. “This is…interesting,” he offered, studying it and experimentally lifting the needle.

“William, don’t you dare. Give it back.”

Silently he handed it over. “This Season’s ruined for you, isn’t it?” he said quietly. “Not that you ever had a chance of having any fun. But now with Wenford, and Jack, and me, and—”

“At least I won’t be marrying His Grace,” she interrupted with a smile. “And the Season’s not over yet.” Lilith looked up at his face, unused to seeing him som
ber. “I do wish you would be careful around the Marquis of Dansbury, though.”