Surrender To A Scoundrel (16 page)

Thank God he had withdrawn tonight—though it had not been easy.

Entirely spent, he toppled to the side, tipping over like a felled tree and coming down hard upon the bed. He covered his forehead with a hand and tried to keep his tone light, despite the fact that he was shaken by the force of that climax. “I feel like I disintegrated.”

She reached for his hand and held it. “But you didn’t. You’re still here, thank goodness, because
it’s only midnight, and I’m not the least bit tired.”

He turned his head to the side, looked at her enchanting profile in the darkness, and felt very confused all of a sudden. He’d enjoyed himself more than he ever thought possible this week, and he did not want it to end. He wanted to keep making love to her. He did not want to give up this bliss or lose her to another man.

But neither did he want the things that would come with a promise of forever, and the clash of those two desires was tearing him apart inside.

He only hoped she would not be hurt by it.

T
he next day, Evelyn was invited to an afternoon garden party. Struggling to keep from yawning and trying not to walk oddly after a full week of lovemaking at every opportunity, she arrived at the stone villa on the Green. She was welcomed by Mrs. Cunningham, the amiable hostess who was famous for her cook’s moist and delicious crab cakes.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” the woman said, shaking Evelyn’s hand. “Especially after listening to Lord Breckinridge sing your praises during dinner last night. He speaks very highly of you, my dear, and now I see why. What a lovely creature you are.”

Evelyn made an effort to hide her surprise, for she was not accustomed to being told she was the subject of dinner conversation or that she was a lovely creature for that matter, though with Martin, she was certainly getting used to it. “Thank you, Mrs. Cunningham,” she replied.

She mingled about and sipped tea and tried the crab cakes, which were indeed the best she’d ever tasted. Though she had earlier considered catching up on some sleep instead of attending, she was now glad she had not, for the sunny afternoon in Mrs. Cunningham’s garden was proving to be highly enjoyable.

“I see you’ve tried the famous cakes,” a masculine voice said from behind her, and she turned to find herself gazing up at Lord Breckinridge.

She quickly dabbed the side of her mouth with a napkin and swallowed. “Yes, they are certainly delicious.”

He immediately raised a hand to signal a footman, who approached with a tray. Breckinridge picked up one of the little cakes and sampled it. “Ah, yes. Pure perfection.”

She was thankful that Lord and Lady Radley joined them at that moment, and they all began a discussion about the food and weather and the many enjoyable parties they had each attended since they’d arrived in Cowes.

“But alas, the week is coming to an end,” Breckinridge said. “The race takes place the day after
tomorrow, which means I am going to have to collect on a promise now, Mrs. Wheaton, and secure a commitment from you before it is too late.”

“What promise is that?” Lady Radley asked, biting into a blueberry tart and glancing anxiously at Evelyn, who raised her teacup to her lips and took a composed sip.

“The promise Mrs. Wheaton made to me a few days ago,” he explained. “I am to take you sailing, remember?”

Unease seeped into her bones as she recalled making that promise. “Yes, but surely you’ll be preparing for the race between now and then. I couldn’t possibly impose.”

“It would be no imposition,” he argued, “as I have no intention of exhausting my crew the day before a race. We will simply enjoy a pleasure cruise.” He directed his gaze toward the Radleys. “You are both invited, of course, and the weather promises to be fine.”

Caught off guard, Evelyn wondered if she could come up with an excuse, but Lord Radley spoke for her before she had the chance. “We would be delighted to join you on the
Endeavor
,” he said. “And you must come, Evelyn. You’ve spent far too much time cooped up in your hotel room this week. You should get out on the water and experience the thrill of the sea.”

Lady Radley was notably silent on the matter.

“Yes, Mrs. Wheaton,” Lord Breckinridge implored. “I would relish the opportunity to show you the island from the water. There is a magnificent rock formation called The Needles, and you cannot visit the Isle of Wight without seeing it in all its glorious splendor.”

She took a breath to speak, but he interrupted. “Surely you don’t have any
other
commitments, do you?”

He looked at her with accusation, as if he knew everything she’d been up to the past week, including the thought-provoking gymnastics on the tabletop in Martin’s room that very morning.

“No, of course not,” she said with a forced smile, and Lord Radley nodded at her with approval.

“Excellent,” Breckinridge replied. “I will go and inform my first mate of our plans. If you will meet us on the landing stage at noon?”

“We’ll be there,” Lord Radley said, and as soon as his nephew was gone, his face lit up with cheer. “It’s going to be a marvelous afternoon, Evelyn. Breckinridge is an expert sailor and a charming host to be sure. I don’t doubt that most of the other women here will be very envious to know he has chosen
you
to join him tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it will be a wonderful day,” she replied, her only consolation the fact that Martin—unlike Lord Breckinridge—
would
be out with his crew at that time, practicing his maneuvers for the race.

Later that evening while dressing for dinner with Lord and Lady Radley, Evelyn began her monthly, and was completely astonished when she burst into tears.

Good God, she should have been relieved! She should have wept tears of joy and imagined the irreparable damage to her reputation if she had become pregnant with Martin’s child, for she and Martin had risked out-and-out scandal over the past week.

He would most certainly be relieved to know he would not be a father. Relieved also to know that he would not be obligated to propose when he wanted no such thing. He had made that very clear from the beginning, and she had accepted that when she entered into this affair.

She would tell him to night, she decided, as she finished dressing and fastened a necklace around her neck. And she would tell him how relieved
she
was, too. She would not tell him she had cried. She still didn’t quite understand it, because she had not made love to Martin for the purpose of conceiving a child. She had simply wanted him with inescapable passion. He bewitched her—he always had—and this week she had finally given up the fight. She’d surrendered to her desires and seized the opportunity to love him—both physically and otherwise. She had no business being disappointed that she had not conceived, despite
the fact that she had always wanted a child of her own.

She sat down in a chair and slipped her feet into her shoes, then stared absently at the window. She sighed despondently.

Oh, damn her foolish heart! Damn her mind for those dreamy moments when she’d imagined what would happen if she
had
found herself in the family way. She’d imagined him wanting to marry her. She’d pictured him pleading with her to say yes and getting down on one knee, and promising her that this bliss would never end.

She shook her head at herself. She had been such a fool to think she could be intimate with him and make love with him and escape all of it unscathed. The fact was, she had fallen desperately in love with him, and now she had to prepare herself for the inevitable. By the beginning of next week, she would be back in London, and this incredible week with Martin would be nothing more than a memory.

And she was going to be devastated.

It was almost midnight when a knock sounded at Evelyn’s door. Dressed in her nightgown with the buttons fastened tightly at her neck, she went to answer it.

It was Martin, as she’d expected. He was leaning at his ease against the doorjamb, wearing his black-and-white dinner attire, looking devilishly
handsome and smiling at her with that seductive glimmer that, despite her courses, aroused a passionate fluttering deep within her womanly core.

He continued to stand there, pulling his white bow tie from around his neck and tossing it over his shoulder. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, “but the dessert took forever. When it finally came, I swallowed it whole because I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

“You needn’t have rushed,” she said, her hand still on the doorknob. “There’s no reason for you to stay to night anyway.”

She realized suddenly that she had spoken with some hostility, which was not fair because he had done nothing wrong, and he had just apologized for being late, and he really wasn’t so very late in the first place. She was simply irritable because her monthly had begun and their affair had been cut short, when it had already been far too brief to begin with.

“What’s wrong, Evelyn?” he asked, pushing away from the doorjamb.

She hesitated, realizing she couldn’t very well explain the circumstances while he was standing out in the hall. Someone might hear. So she stepped aside and waved him in. He entered and faced her.

“It’s good news,” she said, burying her disappointment and the heartache that had already begun. She walked around him to close the book
she’d been reading, then faced him again. “My courses came to night.”

He stared at her for a moment, then let out a breath, his mouth forming a perfect O. His eyebrows lifted, and he went and sat down on the edge of the bed. Evelyn waited for him to say something—anything—but for the longest time he just stared down at his hands in his lap. At last he looked up.

“That is good news.”

Evelyn swallowed uneasily. “Yes,” she replied. “I’m very relieved.” She carried the book to her dressing table and set it down, then moved a perfume bottle to the opposite side of the silver tray that held her creams and fragrances. She forced herself to face Martin again and leaned back against the dressing table. “Don’t feel you have to stay.”

He seemed to be studying her eyes. “I’ll stay if you want me to.”

“What would be the point?”

He frowned. “To enjoy each other’s company?” he replied. When still she did not speak, he rose and crossed to her. “Evelyn, you told me you would not be hurt by a temporary affair. We discussed it, remember?”

Every nerve in her body tightened, for he had seen straight through to her traitorous feelings. “I’m not hurt,” she assured him, her pride willing it to be true.

“But you’re angry with me.”

She stood motionless. Yes, she was, even though she had no right to be. She had known the rules when she entered into this affair, and she could not blame him for the fact that her feelings had changed. He had never lied to her or misled her, and she had promised herself she could weather it.

She could and she would. Her pride demanded it.

“I’m not angry,” she firmly said.

“I don’t believe you.”

She looked down, then went and sat on a chair. “All right then, if you must know I was…a little disappointed.”

He was quiet for a minute. “Because we can’t make love to night? Or because there is no child.”

“Both.”

His shoulders rose and fell. “But I don’t want to get married again, Evelyn. You know that.”

She was not surprised to hear this, but it frustrated her just the same. “How can you feel that way after the week we just spent together? It was wonderful, and you know it was, Martin. I don’t understand how you can let it all end.”

He stepped toward her. “Yes, it was wonderful, and I
don’t
want it to end, which is why I am here. I want to be with you. I just don’t want to get married again. Nor do I want to have a child.”

She sat back and shot him a steady look. “So
you’re telling me you want to make love to me, but you cannot offer me a commitment, or any kind of future?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I am sorry, but that is not enough for me, Martin. I admit I entered into this affair without expectations. I only wanted to know what passion felt like, and I know I told you that I would not be hurt by any of it. I believed it was true at the time. But the truth is, I am already hurt by the fact that this cannot last forever. I have discovered that I am not so superficial, you see. I cannot love you with just my body and overlook the fact that it will one day come to an end. My heart has become involved, and I must now wrestle with the fact that I want more than just a casual, temporary affair. A great deal more. I need to know you are mine and I am yours and that you return my feelings.”

He dropped his gaze. “I don’t want to lose you, Evelyn.”

“Then
don’t
!”

He stood silently for a few seconds before he turned and strode to the window, where he looked out at the darkness over the water. Evelyn wondered what he was thinking about. His wife and child? The week they’d just spent together? Or perhaps his future alone?

He bowed his head, then turned and faced her. “Maybe I should go.”

Her stomach knotted with despair. So this was
it? And to think, all she had wanted was to be like those other women he flirted with and made love to. Now she was. She was another name on his long list of conquests.

He reached the door and put his hand on the knob, but paused before he left. “Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow,” he said. “I’m taking the
Orpheus
out in the morning for one last test run, but I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

Evelyn lifted her chin. “I won’t be here. I’ll be out sailing.”

“With whom?”

“Lord Breckinridge.”

She should not have taken such pleasure in announcing it, but there it was. Breckinridge had made no secret of the fact that he wished to marry her. He wanted to give her what Martin could not.

A muscle flicked at his jaw. “Are you sure that’s wise? You’re not going alone with him, I hope.”

“No, Lord and Lady Radley are coming, but even if they weren’t, it would be my decision to make.”

She was lashing out at him, and she knew it.

Martin’s brow furrowed with frustration or concern, she wasn’t quite sure which. “Don’t go, Evelyn.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a cheat, and he only wants you for your money.”

She knew he did not mean to insult her, but it was a direct hit to her pride. “You don’t think it’s possible that he might find me moderately interesting?”

“Evelyn, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t consider a future for myself? He might not be perfect, and maybe he’s an incompetent sailor who doesn’t know the difference between port and starboard, but he is at least offering me something—a commitment, a life, children. And why should you care? You don’t want any of those things.”

“I just don’t want to see you settle for less than you deserve.”

“And what do I deserve, exactly?” she asked with bitterness and bite.

“A husband who loves you.”

The air sailed out of her lungs. It was what she wanted, too, more than anything in the world, but she wanted that husband to be him—the only man she had ever loved. And
would
ever love.