The Lady In Question (17 page)

“Why?”

“Why?” His brows drew together as if her question were phrased in a language he didn’t speak.

“Yes.” She bit back a grin. She hadn’t been at all forward with a man until she’d met Charles. Now it appeared to be an altogether natural way of dealing with situations like this. And extremely enjoyable.

“Why do you treasure the opportunity to be alone with me?”

“Well.” He thought for a moment, as if desperate to come up with a suitable reason for being alone with a woman in the shadows of a terrace short of stealing a kiss. Delia suspected, or perhaps hoped, that would be at least part of his answer. “You are lovely.”

“
Tsk
,
tsk,
my lord.” She shook her head in mock dismay. “Is that the best you can do? I expected something far more original from you than that.”

“Did you? Very well. I should hate to disappoint you.” He set his glass on the bench, leaned back against the balustrade and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me think for a moment.”

“My, that is flattering.” Delia wrinkled her nose and sipped her champagne.

“It’s not all that difficult. I do enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

“I see. It’s my stimulating conversation, then?” Cassie had always maintained the most successful way to flirt with a man was to provoke him to discuss his favorite subject, usually himself.

“Most certainly.” St. Stephens nodded.

“Coupled with my knowledge of current affairs?” Cassie’s interest in what was going on in the world extended no further than the latest gossip and the newest fashion.

“Absolutely.”

“And my understanding of the workings of nature as well?”

“The workings of nature?” He frowned. “I’m not certain —”

“Oh, you know.” She glanced upward. “The stars, the moon, that sort of thing.”

“Not at all.”

“No? I thought certainly you would leap at that particular reason.”

“No.” His voice was firm. “When I am on a terrace, on a night like this, with you, Miss Effington, I am scarcely aware of anything but you. I note the stars only in the way in which they reflect in your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“Indeed.” He straightened and stepped closer. “I cannot see their color at the moment, but I know, because I have gazed into them before, your eyes are blue as an ocean. And here in the night, the stars shine in them like fairy lights upon the water.”

“Fairy lights, you say?” It was nothing more than flirtatious banter, yet it was hard to resist the fanciful nature of his words. And harder still to resist the oddly serious note that underlaid them.

“I have always been quite fond of fairy lights,” he murmured, moving nearer. He stared down at her.

“And then there’s the moon, of course. The way the moonlight touches your hair, a kiss, perhaps, of magic.”

“Magic, you say?” He was very good at this. “But there is no moonlight tonight, my lord.”

“And yet, I know.” His voice was soft, seductive…irresistible.

He lowered his head toward hers. She strained upward to meet him.

Without warning, she realized she’d been in precisely this position before. She drew a sharp breath, stepped back and downed the rest of her champagne. “Sir.” She set her glass firmly on the balustrade. “I fear you have me at a disadvantage.”

He narrowed his eyes in obvious confusion “What?”

“I said” — she swallowed hard — “sir, I fear you have me at a disadvantage.” She fluttered her eyelashes for good measure.

He frowned. “Do you have something in your eye?” He stepped closer. “Can I be of help?”

“Of course I don’t have something in my eye.” She huffed in frustration and stepped away. “I shall try this once more.” She squared her shoulders. “Sir, I fear you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Blast it all, woman, what are you talking about?” He stared. “I certainly don’t feel as though I have you at any disadvantage whatsoever. In truth, Miss Effington, I fear you have me at a disadvantage.”

At once the absurdity of the situation struck her and she laughed. “Perhaps, I have, my lord. How does it feel?”

“Confusing. Annoying. Irritating.” He smiled grudgingly. “Intriguing.”

“If that intrigues you, you might appreciate this as well.” She drew a deep breath. “I have a confession to make and I neither make them lightly nor well.”

“Then I am honored you have chosen me to confide in.”

“I hope you will continue to be honored rather than insulted. You see, my lord, I fear my memory has failed me.” She paused to gather her courage. It was bad enough that she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t, but she preferred not to compound her sins with additional pretense. Besides, Cassie really didn’t remember him. “You have my most sincere apologies, but I cannot recall meeting you.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “You do not remember our dances together?”

She shook her head. “I am sorry, but no.”

“But surely you recall that this is not the first time we have retired to a terrace?”

“It isn’t?”

“No indeed.” He shook his head and sighed with disappointment. “I warn you, Miss Effington, I shall be shattered if you tell me you don’t remember sharing a kiss on a terrace very much like this under stars very much like these.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Or rather Cassie didn’t. “Are you certain?”

“I most certainly am.”

“You’re not confusing me with someone else, perhaps?”

“Never,” he said staunchly.

“I can’t imagine anyone forgetting something like a kiss,” she murmured.

“Nor can I. It’s not at all flattering, you know. A man likes to think his kisses are memorable.”

She would have to throttle her sister when she saw her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Neither do I. I am crushed.” His shoulders drooped in an exaggerated sigh, then he straightened.

“Perhaps you just need something to refresh your memory.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. His gaze locked with hers and the odd drowning sensation she’d had when she’d first looked in his eyes tonight gripped her with a vengeance. His voice was low, intense, intimate. “I know I shall never forget.”

For an instant, or perhaps forever, she stared into his eyes. She had made one horrible mistake with a man that had changed her entire life and no matter how appealing the idea of becoming an experienced woman was, she truly hated to make another mistake. A voice in the back of her head, the same voice that had warned her against involvement with Charles, screamed this man was every bit as dangerous. Possibly more. Yet, something somewhere deep inside, something perhaps nearer her heart, urged her onward, and she had the strangest feeling this was no mistake.

This was right.

His lips brushed against hers and her eyes closed. Her body melted at the mere suggestion of his lips near hers and she knew she was lost.

And didn’t care.

He paused and she felt him sigh against her. “I fear I too have a confession to make, Miss Effington.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Now, my lord?”

“I’m afraid so.” Neither of them moved.

There was little more than a breath between them. “Are you certain?”

“Unfortunately, I am.” Regret sounded in his voice.

If she reached upward the tiniest bit, she would be the one kissing him. Would he insist on confession then? “If you tell me I have you at a disadvantage, I will not believe you.”

“It’s not that, although I suppose I have, in truth, had you at a disadvantage all along.”

She rested her hands on his jacket. His muscles tightened beneath her touch. “Wouldn’t you rather kiss me first and then confess?”

“Good Lord, yes.”

“Excellent.” She pressed her lips against his.

He hesitated, then pulled away slightly. “But I can’t. Your memory is not failing, Miss Effington.” She felt his muscles tense against her and wondered if he was bracing himself. “We have never actually met before.” He held his breath.

“I see,” she said slowly. “Then why —”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “It was rather amusing at first and I was curious as to how long it would take for you to admit that you didn’t remember me. It did take rather a long time, you know.”

“I was trying not to be rude,” she said in a lofty manner.

“You were most polite. It was a silly game, but rather fun nonetheless.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was carried away, and I do apologize.”

She should be annoyed with his deception but instead was relieved and rather pleased. It was one thing to flirt with a man who had kissed your sister, and something else altogether to kiss a man who had never met your sister at all.

“Then we have never danced before tonight?”

Yet they did dance together with an ease born only of practice or nature. As if they were meant to dance together.

“Nor have we met on a terrace beneath the stars?”

He shook his head. “I am most sorry, but no.”

Even so, it was a meeting lacking in the awkwardness of most first meetings. As if indeed they had met and talked before.

“And never shared a kiss?”

“No. To my everlasting regret, no.”

“I see.”

She could put an end to this. Now, this very minute. Turn and walk away, and not even he would blame her. Still, his sense of honesty would not allow him to kiss her under false pretenses. It was quite an honorable thing to do and really rather impressive. Why, the man should be rewarded. Or, at the very least, given an opportunity to atone for his sins.

“Then this, my lord” — she slipped her hands up and around his neck — “shall be our first.” She met his lips with hers.

He hesitated for less than a heartbeat, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. His lips were warm and firm and tasted delightfully of champagne, or perhaps starlight. In spite of the forward nature of her actions and his obvious desire, the touch between them was light, tentative, cautious. The last time she’d been kissed it had led to passion and scandal. Now she wasn’t sure where this would lead. His lips pressed harder against hers and she realized she didn’t care. Desire and need swept through her and her restraint snapped. Regardless of what might happen between them, she wanted this, wanted him. Wanted his lips pressed against hers, his tongue meeting and mating with her own, his body firm and strong against hers.

His hand splayed across the small of her back and held her tight against him. Her hands clutched at the back of his neck and she clung to him as if he were the answer to her prayers. Or her life. He slanted his mouth harder over hers, and one kiss turned to another and another, until she thought she would surely swoon of the sheer bliss of his mouth on hers, of being in his arms. At last, he slowly raised his head. “Well…”

“Good heavens.” An odd note of awe sounded in her voice.

“I know I shall surely remember that,” he said under his breath.

“As will I.” She sighed and wanted nothing more than to remain in the warmth of his embrace. Forever.

He released her with a reluctance she shared. They stepped apart and she struggled to catch her breath.

Silence fell between them and stretched, long and awkward. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but it was obviously much more than a kiss. Her legs were unsteady and her heart pounded in her ears. She had known passion and desire before, but this was different. This reached inside her, past mere passion and ordinary desire to something deeper, richer, terrifying. To her very soul, perhaps. Who was this man?

She stared at him and wondered if it was those same emotions she saw reflected his eyes. Or was it just the shadows? Did he too feel that what had just passed between them was far more significant than a stolen kiss under the stars. Or was it just another flirtatious moment?

There was obviously a great deal to say, a great deal she wanted to say or at least should say, and a great deal she was afraid to say. She drew a deep, steadying breath. Surely a woman of experience wouldn’t be the least bit flustered, regardless of the impressive nature of a kiss or the weakness in her knees or the fluttering in her stomach. But perhaps she didn’t have the kind of nature required to truly be a woman of experience.

“Well, I should probably…” She stepped toward the light.

“No doubt.” He cleared his throat. “As should I…”

She took another step. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stop her or let her go. She wasn’t sure of anything at all. “I think it’s…best…”

“I want to see you again,” he blurted, and closed the distance between them. His gaze searched hers, and even in the dim light, she could see an intensity there far beyond a mere kiss shared in an impetuous moment.

An intensity that was at once exciting and shocking. And all the more so because it was shared. She stepped back and forced a teasing, lighthearted note to her voice. “On a terrace, under the stars, perhaps?”

He drew a deep breath, his tone matching hers. “Or anywhere at all, Miss Effington.”

A myriad of unsaid declarations or vows or questions hung between them.
What would a woman of experience do now?

“I refuse to make any promises beyond the moment. One never knows what tomorrow will bring.”

Her voice was surprisingly steady. “As for seeing you again” — she shrugged in an offhand manner —

“we shall see, my lord.” She cast him her most flirtatious smile, turned on her heel and headed back toward the ballroom.

His low laugh drifted after her. “Indeed we shall, Miss Effington, indeed we shall.”

She resisted the urge to look back or, worse, to turn back. Certainly she wanted to turn back. To throw herself into his arms and kiss and be kissed until he picked her up and carried her off to his bed. And his life.

Odd, she had known a similar desire with Charles, but this was somehow different. She wasn’t certain exactly what the difference was, but she knew it was different as surely as she knew her own name. Perhaps it was the difference between curiosity and excitement and something…more. Something deeper. Something better. Something special.