The Marquess and the Maiden(12)

Which meant that Harriet needed to maintain her agreement with Lord  Davenport so she could continue to use that townhome. She'd sent a  message to him earlier, requesting they meet at the Crystal Palace. It  was the perfect location for her to point out prospective brides to him  without it being too obvious. Tonight there was a special concert being  held, and she knew that plenty of marriageable women would be there. All  for his choosing.

It was so much easier for men. She rolled her eyes. They could  practically step into a room and point at any woman and demand she marry  him, provided he had a title or wealth.

"Already irritated, I see. I didn't think I was that late."

His voice poured over her like warmed chocolate, and she nearly sighed.  What is the matter with me? He was an annoying man. One who knew far too  many of her secrets.

She looked up at him and sucked in a breath. While he hadn't shaved, he  had trimmed his beard, and he'd tied his hair back in a queue. He gave  her a wolfish grin.

"You look particularly fetching today, Lady Harriet. That color suits you quite well," he said.

She frowned.

"You disagree?"

"Stop wasting your time flirting with me. We have a mutual agreement.  You have fulfilled your end, or at least part of it, by allowing me to  use the Burkes townhome. But I must know, are you going to tell anyone  what you discovered about me?" she asked in a whisper.

"About your special skills?"

Despite his beard, she could see the effects of his smile. Her heart  stuttered. Blast him for being so handsome. "Yes, about that."

"Of course not. All of your secrets are safe with me, sweet Harriet."

It was on her tongue to inquire as to what other secrets he thought he  knew, but she decided it was best to not open that particular Pandora's  box. "Thank you. Now it is up to me to fulfill my end of the bargain and  find you a bride."

"Very well then, lead on, my lady." He held his elbow out to her, but she ignored it and walked forward.

They walked silently for a moment before she spotted a possible candidate for him.

"Do you see the girl over there, the one in the green dress with the reddish-brown hair?"

He nodded.

"That is Jane Spencer, and she is sweet. She is quite popular at balls, because she's a glorious dancer and-"

"I cannot dance," he said flatly.

"Of course." Why was it that she always seemed to flaunt that to him? It  wasn't intentional. She rarely noticed his cane or his limp. Though she  knew others did. There were fantastic stories and theories of how he'd  injured himself. She wasn't certain anyone knew the truth.

"Perhaps you want to tell me what you're looking for in a wife."

"I prefer fair-haired ladies." His eyes met hers. "And curves I can grab  onto, particularly for activities in the bedroom." He let his gaze  sweep down her body. Slowly.

She knew her cheeks heated. And her chest. She probably glowed from the  blush. And she found it difficult to breathe. She felt exposed, as if he  could see every flaw she hid beneath her blue gown. Of course, he  hadn't meant her. She had far too many curves. There were others that  fit his criteria.

"Lady Tabitha." She gently motioned with her head to the woman perusing  the jewelry display in the Renaissance court. "Looks to be what you're  looking for. She is a quiet girl, polite, yet well-read enough to voice  an opinion when she has one." Then she frowned. "I am told she has a  penchant for small dogs."

"I loathe small dogs," he said plainly.

And so their conversation went for the better part of an hour as they  strolled through the exhibits. She would point out a pretty girl, give  him information about her, and then he would promptly discount said girl  for some ridiculous reason.

They had made their way into the Greek court and found themselves remarkably alone. She turned on him.

"If you're not going to take this seriously, I am wasting time with which I could be doing something else," she said.

"Like catching thieves?"

"Be quiet! Someone might hear you."         

     



 

"In case it has escaped your attention, we are perfectly alone in here." He moved his hand to rest on the small of her back.

The touch sent chills scattering in every direction. She searched the  room and they were, in fact, completely alone. Evidently the attendants  had all made their way to the concert.

"So alone I could perhaps steal a kiss before anyone became the wiser," he said.

She sucked in a breath. He wouldn't dare. I don't want him to. Do I?  "You are wasting my time. I am giving you good suggestions, and you are  finding one reason after another to dismiss said suggestions."

He shrugged. "I know what I like and what I don't like."

"Then perhaps you should find your own wife." She glared at him.

And he had the audacity to grin at her. A crooked smile that seemed to tug at her heart, which was ridiculous.

"There is one person you could suggest whom I wouldn't veto."

She propped her hands on her hips. "Well, why didn't you say so? I swear you are the most exasperating of men."

His brow rose.

"If you have someone in mind, simply tell me; I can arrange an introduction," she said.

"I need no introduction. I know her. Quite well, actually. I know what  she smells like." He took a step closer so that he was so close to her  she could feel his warm breath against her bare neck. "Cherries and  cloves, a most intoxicating mixture. I know the precise shade of her  eyes when she's overcome with desire, like the sea after a summer rain."

Harriet did her best not to close her eyes and lean in to the  seductiveness of his voice. Good heavens. She swallowed and tried to  concentrate on her breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

"I know the taste of her mouth, the feel of her tongue on mine, tentative, yet passionate."

"You should marry her, then," she said, knowing he could hear the  breathlessness in her tone. "She sounds as if she is everything you  could want."

"Oh, she is."

"I see." She wondered for a moment if he was going to reveal that he  couldn't marry the woman in question because she was already wed to  someone else. Lady Burgess. Perhaps he still loved her. "If you know  her, my lord, you should simply ask her to marry you. Unless she is  already married."

"No, she's quite available." He was quiet for a moment. His hand trailed  down the spine of her back and landed at her waist. He rested his hand  on the curve of her hip. "'Tis you, sweet Harriet. Marry me."

She spun around to face him, her mouth gaping. Her heart plummeted to  her feet and she was certain that if she took a step, she'd crush it to  pieces. She had waited so long to hear those words. And he'd made a  mockery of them. A mockery of her. "I find it deplorable that you would  tease in such a way."

His brows arched. "You don't believe me?"

"I do not. We were poised to get married, or have you so easily  forgotten? You told me, in no uncertain terms, that you had no desire to  marry me. That even providing a better life for your mother wasn't  enough temptation to be saddled with me."

He pulled her into a quieter part of the room, in the darker corners  behind the Parthenon replica. "What I said then … " He shook his head.  "That was about me. Not you."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't believe you. This is just  like you, to say something to try to distract me. Just like the other  day when you pressed your hard muscles against me." She couldn't prevent  herself from perusing him. Even fully clothed she knew that his body  must be as expertly sculpted as the statues in this room. "You pretended  you wanted to kiss me. This is ridiculous, this game you're playing.  And it serves no purpose. Unless you're simply so cruel that you enjoy  tormenting me."

"You leave me no choice."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'll simply have to prove it to you. My desire for you is real, Harriet."

She opened her mouth, then promptly shut it. "You are ridiculous." She  made her way to a glass case with a vase enclosed. She leaned forward to  examine the ancient pottery.

He stood behind her, not touching her, but close enough that she could not mistake his presence.

"You were right the other day. I wanted to kiss you," he said. "I want  to kiss you now. I want to press against you so you can feel how much I  want you. There is no denying it, Harriet. I want to strip every last  piece of clothing off your body and kiss every last inch of your  delicious curves." He leaned closer to her ear. "Every. Single. Inch."         

     



 

She swallowed. Desire poured through her, liquefying her limbs. She  braced her gloved hands on the glass case to bolster herself so she  would not melt into the floor. She knew what that dampness was pooling  between her thighs. And thus far in her life, she'd felt it only with  him. Her breathing tightened.