A Kiss to Remember (24 page)

But his mother was kneeling by the door, tears streaming down her beautiful face. As the ghost of the boy he had once been walked right past her outstretched arms, his small shoulders set in unforgiving lines, she began to fade.

“Mama,” Sterling whispered, but it was too late. She was already gone.

He turned around to find old Granville Harlow standing by the hearth, a sneer twisting his thin lips. “I’ve never believed in coddling a child,” the duke said, slapping his walking stick repeatedly across his own palm. “I’ll make a man of the lad in no time.”

Sterling hurled his half-full glass of brandy at the hearth, vanquishing the old man back to hell where he belonged.

But there was to be no vanquishing the shades that followed. Shades of Laura and the man she had called Nicholas Radcliffe. Radcliffe leaned against the mantel, grinning at Laura like the fool she had made of him.

The two of them shared the window seat, entwined in a tender, yet passionate, embrace. He knelt before the ottoman, framing her lovely face in his hands before touching his lips to hers. She collapsed and he was there to catch her, there to gather her into his arms and hold her against his heart.

Sterling sank down in the leather wing chair, grinding the heels of his hands against his eyes. It seemed that Arden Manor wasn’t haunted. He was.

A rumbling purr shattered the silence. Something plush and warm rubbed against his ankle.

“Nellie.” His voice broke as he reached blindly down to run his fingers through the heavenly softness of her fur. “Oh, God, Nellie, where have you been all this time?”

But when he opened his eyes, it wasn’t Nellie gazing soberly up at him but the small yellow kitten who bore such a striking resemblance to her. He glanced at the door. It had slipped open a mere crack, just enough to grant her entry.

Sterling slowly withdrew his hand. Like everything else at Arden Manor, the kitten was simply an illusion. A taunting reminder of the life he would never have.

“Go on with you,” he commanded hoarsely, nudging her with the toe of his boot. “I’ve no time for your nonsense.”

The little cat didn’t budge. She simply settled back on her hindquarters and let out a piteous meow, begging to be readmitted into both his lap and his good graces.

Sterling surged to his feet, the last of his control snapping. “I’ve already told you I can’t abide cats!” he shouted.
“Now why don’t you leave me the hell alone!”

The kitten whirled around and darted for the door. Sterling knew instinctively that she wouldn’t be coming back.

His hands clenched into fists, he swung toward the hearth, half expecting to hear his great-uncle’s mocking laughter. But it seemed the ghosts had all fled as well, leaving him more alone than he’d ever been in his life.

Laura lay on her side in the guttering candlelight, gazing at her sister’s empty bed. The all-powerful duke must have decreed that Lottie wasn’t to be allowed to share her imprisonment. Shortly after noon, the stony-faced footman had ushered her brother and sister from the chamber, leaving Laura all alone to await a summons that had never come.

She had expected bread and water for supper, but Cookie had sent up a tray laden with all manner of succulent meats and tempting delicacies. Although Laura had rearranged the food so Cookie wouldn’t be alarmed when the tray was returned to her, she hadn’t been able to choke down a single bite of what was supposed to be her wedding breakfast.

She could only imagine what the villagers must have thought of the morning’s debacle. They had probably found it more stirring than any of Lady Eleanor’s theatricals, even the one where George’s turban caught fire and the sheep ran amok through the village church.

As dark had fallen, she had donned her nightdress and climbed into bed as if it were only one of a thousand other nights. As if she hadn’t spent the previous night cradled in the arms of the man she loved—kissing, laughing, sharing their plans for the future. And tasting
a tantalizing pleasure that was only a shadow of what they were to have shared tonight.

Laura squeezed her eyes shut against a blinding wave of pain. The only arms wrapped around her tonight were her own, but even they weren’t enough to still her shivers of misery. She wished she could cry, but her tears seemed to be frozen into an icy lump lodged deep in her breast. It hurt so much to breathe that she almost wished she could stop.

An eerie hush had hung over the manor all day, as if someone had died and no one dared speak above a whisper. Which made the sudden jingling of a harness and the clop of hooves on the cobbled drive outside Laura’s window that much more startling.

She tossed back the bedclothes, flew to the window, and drew aside the drapes. The elegant town coach that had delivered disaster to her wedding was making its way down the lane at a rapid clip, heading toward the village.

Or London.

Laura’s wish was granted. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe at all.

Perhaps Sterling Harlow had never summoned her into his exalted presence because he had come to the conclusion that she was beneath both his notice and his contempt. Perhaps he’d simply decided to return to the glittering excitement of the life he led in London and pretend the past three weeks had never happened. Only a breath ago, if someone had asked her what would be the more terrible punishment—facing him tonight or never seeing him again—she wouldn’t have been able to say. But as she watched the carriage lamps rock away into the darkness, Laura knew.

She had just managed to drag herself back to bed and draw the feather quilt over her when the bedchamber door came flying open. She sat up with a startled gasp, but this time it wasn’t the footman who dared to disturb her privacy. It was the duke of Devonbrooke himself.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest as he surveyed her across the sea of rumpled bedclothes. “You needn’t look so surprised to see me, darling. Or have you forgotten that it’s our wedding night?”

Laura’s papa had tried
to warn her. If you sold your soul to the devil, it would only be a matter of time before he came to collect. But Papa had never warned her the devil would be so beautiful that she would be tempted to surrender that soul without a fight.

With his lips curved into a mocking smile and his fair hair tumbling around his face, Sterling Harlow looked every inch the fallen angel. His cuffs had been shoved up to reveal muscular forearms dusted with golden hair. His stocking feet and the cravat hanging loose around the throat of his half-unbuttoned shirt only enhanced his disreputable air.

“You may scream if you like,” he suggested pleasantly. “My cousin Diana may adore me, but that doesn’t mean she’ll stand for me accosting a helpless young lady in her bedchamber. If you yell loud enough, Dower might even come running from the barn, pitchfork at the ready.”

Laura had no intention of screaming. This was a dance only the two of them could do. “Swooning in front of the Bogworth sisters was humiliating enough. I’m not about to wake the whole household and frighten the children by screeching like some milksop maiden in one of Lottie’s novels.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself, then. Just don’t forget I gave you the chance.”

His eyes flicked lazily downward. When she had sat up so hastily, both the quilt and her nightdress had gone sliding down, baring one creamy shoulder. Struggling to appear casual, she reached for the wrapper draped across the foot of the bed. Sterling got there at the same time she did.

“I don’t know why you’d want to bother with that silly old thing,” he said, gently tugging it from her hands and tossing it over Lottie’s bed. “We’ve had some of our best conversations while you were in your nightclothes.” Although his voice was cool and crisp, his eyes glittered with an unfamiliar fire.

“You’ve been drinking,” Laura observed, settling back against the pillows and smoothing the quilt over her lap.

“Steadily since this morning,” he confessed. “Although I was forced to stop a little while ago when I exhausted my father’s supply of brandy. Did you know he kept another bottle stashed inside the pianoforte?” Sterling shook his head. “He might have had a tin ear for music, but you have to appreciate his resourcefulness.”

“From what I hear, there was precious little else to appreciate about the man.”

“Is that what Lady Eleanor told you?” Sterling’s voice
was deceptively light. “Ah, yes, dear, saintly Lady Eleanor! I was like a son to her, was I not?”

Laura lowered her eyes, ashamed of her own monstrous cruelty, however unwitting. She would have gladly bitten out her own tongue to take back those careless words.

Sterling frowned at her. “You disappoint me, my dear. I had rather hoped you would throw yourself at me and plead prettily for my forgiveness.”

“Would it do any good?” She slanted him a glance from beneath her lashes, halfway hoping he would say yes.

“No,” he admitted. “But it would have still proved very entertaining.” He leaned one shoulder against the bedpost. “Along with my drinking, I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading today. Did you know that Lord Hardwick’s Act of 1753 made falsifying an entry in a marriage register with evil intent a capital offense?”

“If you’re going to have me executed, I wish you’d go ahead and summon the hangman,” Laura snapped, frustration making her reckless. “He’s bound to be in a better temper than you.”

“Killing you wasn’t
quite
what I had in mind. But I really shouldn’t be so hard on you, should I? After all, you’ve suffered nearly as great a shock as I have. It must have been quite distressing to learn that you’d just wed ‘a repugnant toad of a man who cares nothing for anyone but himself—a heartless, petty, vindictive wretch.’ ”

“You left off ‘vile,’ ” she reminded him grimly.

“It is rather ironic, isn’t it, considering that you weren’t even going to invite me to your wedding, that you’d just as soon have invited Beelzebub himself.”

Laura briefly closed her eyes as her own words came back to taunt her. “I can’t blame you for hating me.”

“Good,” he said crisply.

“You probably won’t believe me, but I did it to protect the children. When you wrote and said you were going to claim Arden Manor for your own, you left me with little choice.”

“Did you honestly believe I would cast innocent children into the streets?”

“No. I believed you would cast them into the workhouse.”

“Even I’m not that much of a devil. I had every intention of finding Lottie and George homes in some reputable household.”

She met his gaze boldly. “And what about me? What was to become of me?”

“As I recall, I was going to marry you off to some fool.” Sterling shook his head with a soft, bitter laugh. “And I suppose I’ve done just that.” He came around the bed, his steps as measured as his word. “I really can’t blame you for thinking me the devil. You were already well aware of my colossal indifference toward the woman who gave me life, my debauched habits….” He trailed off, leaving those dangerous words hanging in the air between them.

She smelled the heady sweetness of the brandy on his breath before he touched her. Before he sank down on the bed, resting his weight on one knee, and slipped a hand beneath her hair. She stared straight ahead, not responding to the persuasive warmth of his fingers against her nape, but not resisting it, either.

Touching his mouth to her ear, he murmured, “Do
you remember what you promised to give me should we ever come face-to-face?”

“One of Cookie’s crumpets?” she ventured.

His lips drifted around to graze the corner of her mouth. “A tongue-lashing I’d never forget.”

If he’d been rough with her, if he had taken her mouth with punishing force, Laura might have been able to resist him. But he was far too diabolical for that. Instead, he teased her lips apart with the tip of his tongue, then tenderly claimed them for his own. He might be a devil, but he still kissed like an angel. Unable to resist the devastating sweetness of those silky thrusts, her mouth melted into his, giving him that tongue-lashing she’d promised. He groaned, the deepening ferocity of his kiss giving her a taste of the hurt and hunger raging beneath his iron control. Before she even realized what she was doing, she had risen to her knees and pressed herself against the lean, hard planes of his body.

He tore his mouth away from hers. Breathing hard, he wound one hand through her hair and tugged her head back, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Damn it, Laura, I want the truth! You owe me that much. Why? Why did you choose me? If you didn’t know who I was, then it couldn’t have been the money and it couldn’t have been the title. You obviously had no lack of suitors. If you believed what my mother told you, you could have married any man in Arden and still have inherited this accursed place.” Her kiss had stripped the veneer of brittle mockery from his features, leaving them fierce and raw.
“Why me?”

She gazed up at him, her eyes brimming with both tears and defiance. “Because I wanted you! Because I
saw you that day in the wood and I wanted you for myself!”