The Hidden Heiress (11 page)

She laughed. "Very amusing, Marshall, but you are the one who suggested it. I only agreed. And you will never own me because I will never allow it."

"But marriage--"

"I would never marry you," she swore, embarrassed that she ever made it seem like she would. In real life, he was beneath her anyway. Isabel Darton could not marry a second son.

"You wouldn't marry me?" He pulled her closer to him. "Then let's look at this from a much different angle. Would you prefer to be more like
them
?" he asked, pointing at the painted women again.

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like to be my kept woman?"

"You cannot afford me, Mr. Templeton."

He laughed, shaking his head at the idea. "That hasn't stopped any of the men I know from having a mistress."

"No? What about you? Do you have a mistress?"

"I wouldn't be here if I did. I'd be enjoying my Sunday with her. Weekends with the mistress, then Monday back to the wife."

"That's repulsive."

"The wives don't mind as long as one is discreet," he said, amused by her naivete.

"I don't believe that."

"Most of the MPs I know get home from a long day in parliament and the only person waiting up for them is the housekeeper. She prepares him a late dinner, his valet undresses him, and he tucks himself in. During all of this, his wife is in another wing of the house, obsessing about what homemade cream recipe will best smooth her skin."

Isabel escaped his forceful embrace. "And you feel those women over there are different."

"Many of them are. A man gets a far better welcome from those he pays to keep in comfort."

"This is enough, Marshall. I must go," she gasped, her body nearly overheated by his words.

He grabbed her hands and squeezed them. "No. I saw you watching that man. Who was he?"

"That is none of your concern."

Marshall nodded. "I must make sure my niece's governess isn't up to anything unsavory."

"How do you intend to prove that?"

He pulled her closer yet again, into the heated circle of his arms. "By following her everywhere she goes. I shall never leave her side."

Isabel glanced around at her surroundings. "Please, Mr. Templeton, don't do this. People will talk. You're a recognizable figure and--"

"You're right, my dear. We shouldn't be here. We should go somewhere more private."

Isabel broke free and stalked off toward the gates. "I'm leaving."

Marshall stayed at her side. "I'm following."

He followed her the entire way home, only stopping at her bedroom door. He leaned against the doorframe. "May I come in?"

"You can come in once you realize you can't have something for nothing," Isabel said, then slammed the door in his face.

&nbp;

Paige slammed the lined book onto the table in front of her. "Miss Balfour, is this word spelled correctly?"

Isabel shot back in her chair. "Paige! Don't throw things around like that."

"No?" She pulled back her work and threw her pencil on top. "I asked you the same question two times before and you didn't answer."

"I'm sorry, Paige. I suppose I was daydreaming." More than a little embarrassed, Isabel pulled the book toward her and checked the work. The words swam before her eyes. As much as Marshall protested otherwise, could he actually be interested in her for the long term? He was constantly pursuing her and--

"You're doing it again!"

Isabel jumped. "Did you ask me something?"

Paige pushed herself away from the table. "I asked you if my work was satisfactory."

Isabel blinked away the fog in her head. "Where are you going?"

"I am going to take a break. It's obvious
you
need one. I'll be in my bedroom."

The door to the hallway opened before Paige opened the door to her room. Marshall entered, a bouquet of vibrant red roses in his hand. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No," Paige replied, before Isabel could. "I was just about to take a break."

Marshall smiled at Isabel. "Does she make those decisions herself?"

Isabel stared at the flowers. It was as though he was purposely trying to confuse her. She glared at Paige. "It seems that way, doesn't it?"

"I brought you these," Marshall said. "I thought they might brighten up your bedroom."

"Thank you," she said, watching her student from the corner of her eye.

Paige shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I'll leave you alone."

"Paige, that isn't necessary. Paige--" Isabel cried, but by the time she'd said her name twice, she was gone.

Marshall shoved the flowers into her hands. "For the honor of your company, I offer you this."

Isabel rested the roses on of the table. "You shouldn't have."

"I've never heard that cliché uttered with such truth," he said, kicking the door shut with his heel. "Regardless, I didn't want to be accused of taking without also giving."

"I didn't realize you'd taken my words to heart."

Marshall smiled. "Now, why would you think I wouldn't?"

Isabel gazed at the door Paige had exited through but didn't reply.

Marshall followed her gaze. "Alone, at last."

She moved away from him. "If you're going to embarrass me again--"

"That's what you'd call it? Embarrassed."

"Yes," she replied.

"I'd call it aroused."

She made an attempt to reach the door, but he was blocking it by the time she reached it. "Don't. Paige will be back at any moment."

"I'll be finished by then."

"Finished with what?" she groaned. "Don't answer that. Paige could be listening outside the door!"

"Why would she do that?" he laughed.

"She might be listening to discover if we have a relationship."

"Then perhaps we should stop talking."

He pulled her hard against his body and seized her lips with his mouth. She gasped into his mouth, her eyes wide open, searching the room. What if Paige came back? What if Mrs. Templeton came up to check on them? What if?

Her eyes drifted closed as he seduced her with his lips. It suddenly seemed as though all of their differences could be easily conquered. He teased her with his tongue and made her ache to feel his hands on her body. She pushed him against the door so that it would be difficult to open from the other side.

He moaned in delight. She pressed harder.

His heavy hands massaged her neck, tickling the wisps of hair that curled at the base of her chignon. She lost herself in the aches of pleasure that accompanied every movement of his large fingers. She tried not to focus on the other parts of her body that would appreciate such devoted attention.

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. But when he pressed his groin against her, it was too much. She gripped a clump of dark hair and pulled.

Marshall growled. "What are you doing to me?"

"I'm sorry," she ventured.

"Oh no, don't be sorry," he said and pushed her against the table.

He leaned against her, his weight pleasingly erotic.

Her heart beat faster. "The door," she gasped.

Marshall pulled them to their feet, his face flushed. "Someone's at the door?"

"No," she replied. "But I felt safer when we were against it."

"Or maybe you felt naughtier when we were against it."

She stepped toward the connecting door. "Paige, you can come back now!"

Marshall's eyes increased to the size of huge pools. "How could you do that? I'm indecent."

She looked back at him. "I was afraid of what might happen next."

Marshall looked at the door when the handle started turning. He jumped into one of the chairs and pushed his knees under the table.

Paige came into the room and smiled. "Are you joining us for our lesson?"

"I suppose I am," he admitted.

Isabel laughed, unsure when Marshall had gone from being a risk to her purity to a risk to her heart.

"What shall we do tonight?"

Paige looked at Isabel and frowned. "If I know you, we're going to study."

Isabel laughed. "No, not tonight."

Her student's eyes went wide. "No studying? Impossible."

Isabel opened the schoolroom door. "Your parents went to the opera, so I felt you deserved a treat too. Perhaps we could sit in the drawing room? We could play cards or work on your scrapbook."

Paige grimaced as she followed her out into the hallway. "No, I hate that scrapbook. My mother makes me do it."

Isabel led the way down the stairs. "Then no scrapbook."

She heard heavy footsteps in the hall just as they got to the last landing. Had the Templeton's returned? Disappointment filled her.

Luck was on her side. It was Marshall.

Marshall said, "I thought I would keep the two of you company."

"Paige, can you get me the playing cards? I left them on my dressing table."

Paige grimaced, then walked out of the room.

Isabel turned back to Marshall. "You shouldn't be here. First you followed me to the park, then you brought me the flowers, and now you're--"

"Spending the night in my own house?"

"This isn't proper, Mr. Templeton."

"Proper, proper, proper! You're always saying that it's not proper. When will it be proper?"

She sighed, exasperated. "I'm not the one who makes these rules."

"Who in heaven does?"

"You should leave," she said.

Marshall smiled. "That's too bad because I'm staying. And we both know you want me to."

"I do, but . . ."

"Then it's settled," he said, sitting down on the horsehair sofa. "I don't understand what you're so up in arms about. I enjoy being in your company. Is that so wrong?"

Isabel shook her head, trying to ignore him just as she tried not to notice his dark blue coat and the way it draped his muscular upper body. She might have come up with another reason why he couldn't stay, but Paige returned too soon.

"Are you staying, Uncle?" she asked, offering Isabel a pointed look of distaste.

"Of course, Paige. Would I disappoint you?" He settled into and prepared to stay awhile. "Don't tell me you're going to play cards."

Paige ran her fingers along the edge of the cards. "Why not? I know how to play all the games."

"Never mind that," he said, standing up and moving toward the door. "We should play something more exciting. Like hide and seek."

Paige dropped the cards on a side table. "Could we, Miss Balfour?"

It wasn't surprising that Marshall wanted to play something so childish. Isabel sighed. "I suppose."

Paige clapped her hands with glee and ran up to Marshall. "Can I hide first?"

"Of course." He winked at Isabel when his niece turned her back. "I'll count to twenty while you find somewhere to hide. Then we'll come looking for you."

"You'll never find me!" she exclaimed, then urried out of the room.

Isabel stared at the empty doorframe. "She took to the idea rather quickly."

"I knew she would." He took a step toward her, smiling secretively.

"Shouldn't you be counting?"

"I'm counting up here," he said, pointing to his forehead. "Besides, if we give her a little extra time, what's the harm?"

"It's not . . . she . . ." With a flourish, she grabbed the playing cards and fanned them out in front of her. "Pick any card."

Marshall's fair eyebrows arched toward the ceiling. "You want me to pick a card?"

"Yes, any one you like." She smiled. Her chest puffed out as she tried to stifle a laugh. "I shall tell you your fortune."

"I would like that very much." His hand hovered over the cards. "Now, which shall I choose?"

Isabel's heartbeat increased the closer Marshall leaned. It wasn't possible he could hear it . . . was it?

Finally, after pulling a card from the center, Marshall straightened his back. He looked down at his card and laughed. "The Queen of Hearts. What can you divine from that?"

"Perhaps you will win the heart of a Queen."

"Perhaps? I need a little more to go on than that."

Isabel leaned back and tried to put a little distance between them. Though she'd managed to build iron walls around her heart, Marshall was positively magnetic. She shuffled the cards. "I would say the Queen of Hearts represents a woman who has her choice of many suitors. You've picked her card, so your destinies are intertwined. You shall win her heart above all others."

"That sounds about right." His cocky smile lit up the room. "But I don't like a woman who is too flirtatious. I wouldn't want to be the last in a long line of beaus."

"I'm sure you would stand out among any group."

"Is that right?"

As if he didn't know. Isabel broke eye contact, then hurried toward the hall. "I think we should start to search for Paige."

"Of course," he replied, following her.

She didn't look back. She didn't need to see his shrewd smirk to know it was there. "Where should we look first?

"Why not start here?" He opened a cabinet door as soon as he entered the hall and leaned over to peek inside. "No one in here."

They checked the rest of the hallway, the closet, and the cloakroom. Isabel jumped every time he came near her. After a while, she wondered if he was doing it on purpose. The thought made her jump even higher the next time she sensed him behind her.

"There," Marshall said when they were finished with those areas. "We've eliminated quite a few good hiding spots."

"If I were to hide, I would hide in the cloakroom, behind the coats."

"Perhaps we can hide together when it's our turn. Imagine what Paige would think of that."

She shook her head. "I don't think she'd like it."

"I know why you wouldn't want to hide with me," he said, giving her the look that by now she had grown used to.

She wondered if she should even ask, knowing that his response would engender either a blush or a strong impulse to run away. "Why wouldn't I want to hide with you?"

"Because, my dear Isabel, it would be improper." His eyes widened. "Pardon me, may I call you Isabel?"

He was trying to challenge her; put her on the spot. "I would be delighted if you would call me Isabel, if I, of course, may call you Marshall?"