A Scoundrel's Surrender (7 page)

Victoria came forward, her own glare focused on Caleb even as she said, “Of course. Mr. Winstead, will you follow me?”

Winstead smiled at Caleb and then offered a quick bow. “Good day, Mr. Talbot.”

“Whisperton,” Caleb said as the other man offered Victoria an arm and the two left the room together.

As soon as they had gone, Marah stalked to the terrace doors and yanked them shut with enough force that their glass shivered. As she spun back on Caleb, he stared. She was livid, there was no doubting that. Her skin was flushed pink and her dark blue eyes snapped with emotion.

“How dare you?” she said, her voice no more than a harsh whisper.

“Dare I?” Caleb said, lifting his hand to his chest in feigned innocence. “I'm certain I don't know what you mean, Miss Marah. Or how I could have offended you so deeply.”

Her hands came to her hips. “Don't treat me like I'm a fool. From the moment you came into the room you were rude to my friend, dismissive, mocking, and eventually you two made idiots of yourselves by posturing like bulls.”

“Was
that
him posturing?” Caleb said with a snort.

She advanced on him one step and extended a finger, which she pointed at him menacingly. “You don't have any right to be jealous, Caleb. And that man doesn't deserve an ounce of your contempt.”

“Is he a
man
, Marah?” he snapped, the thin wire of control within him finally breaking. “Because all I saw was a dandy who is looking to further his profit through a match with a lady he's not fit to shine the boots of.”

Marah's jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. “Well, he's more of a man than anyone else in the room I saw. Good day, Caleb.”

She turned to go, but Caleb lunged toward her. He caught her arm and twirled her around, unwilling to leave things as they were, unable to leave her slur against him unanswered.

But when she turned, she tumbled off balance and fell against his chest. He caught her, holding her steady against him, and everything else around them stopped.

The previous night he had been addled by liquor and also by certainty that Marah would allow him to kiss her, despite any denials she had made of him earlier. Today he was under neither of those influences. He looked down into her face and he felt her soft body pressed to his and he wanted her with a power that rocked him to his very core.

If he offered her a chance to resist, she would, but without the choice . . . well, he had a sneaking suspicion that the bright emotion in her eyes was more than just anger. She wanted him. He felt it in the trembling of her body and the beating of her heart.

So he dipped his head and kissed her. At first her lips remained tight and thin beneath his, but when he darted his tongue out to gently trace the crease of her mouth, she parted her lips with a soft sigh. He delved into the space she had offered and the stiffness in her, the resistance faded. Her fingers fanned out from the tight fists against his chest, curling as she tilted her head and granted him even more access to her mouth.

He gathered her closer, holding her to his chest in an embrace rather than a prison and let out a low, hungry moan. She tasted the same. She felt the same. And he wanted her the same way he had wanted her two years before. A primal urge to take and claim, one more powerful than he had felt with any woman before, rose up in him and washed over him until he couldn't see or feel anything but her.

But before he could do anything about that desire, before he could seduce her any further with his kiss, her palms flattened against his chest and she shoved him away.

He released her immediately and she reeled until her back was firmly to him. She stood that way for a moment and then turned back to him to spear him with a glare.

“I thought I made it clear to you last night that I don't want this. Not from you,” she said, her tone steely even though her lower lip still trembled ever so slightly. “If I didn't, let me state it again: I
don't
want
you
, Caleb.”

“No?” he drawled, stepping back until he leaned against the terrace wall. He folded his arms. “I think you do, angel. Despite yourself. You can't deny that when I kissed you, you melted.”

Her lips thinned into an angry line, but a dark red color also filled her cheeks and streaked down her throat to disappear beneath her gown's neckline. Finally she shook her head.

“Fine. It would be stupid of me to pretend that a libertine like you can't recognize when a woman wants him. Perhaps I do desire you.”

He straightened up with a grin of triumph, but she waved him off and continued, “But I would like to think that I am more than just the carnal needs of my body. You and I have proven already that we are not a compatible match.”

Caleb's brow wrinkled. He wasn't certain that was true. They had never really
tried
to be a match, which he could admit was his own fault. “So you will pretend you have no interest in me?” he asked.

She nodded. “I have plans, you see, Caleb, and you are not part of them.”

He moved toward her. “But this Winstead fellow is?”

She smirked. “I
knew
you remembered his name. And yes, he is a part of the future I envision for me. He is good-natured, capable of taking care of me, and above all else, he is
stable
. So whether or not I have an occasional attraction to you really matters very little.”

Caleb stared at her, the nausea he had felt earlier in the day returning once more. But he had no intention of letting her know how much she had stung him with this declaration to unite herself with another man. Partly to protect his ego, but also because she was right. He had no right to jealousy. Certainly
stability
wasn't something he was capable of offering if that was what she required. He never had been.

“It sounds like a wonderfully loveless and passionless union you plan for yourself, then,” he said, his tone more forced and tight than he would have liked. “And I suppose if that is what you require then you are correct: I'm not the man for it.”

Her cheek twitched, but Marah made no other outward sign as to her feelings on the subject. “I'm glad we're in agreement. Now I'm off to my stroll. I hope we won't have to have this conversation again.”

He nodded once as she turned away. “Trust me, Miss Farnsworth. We won't.”

Chapter 7

T
he day was as beautiful as one could hope for a romantic outing between a lady and her beau. The sun sparkled down on Marah, warming her skin as she walked with Winstead along the lake's edge. Victoria strolled a few feet behind them, offering them privacy, but for all the fact that she was almost alone with a man she claimed to wish to marry, Marah's mind wasn't on her companion.

Instead she kept playing and replaying her infuriating encounter with Caleb over in her mind. Blast the man for kissing her! She could still taste him on her lips, still feel his hands closing around her back and holding her so close that it felt like there was nothing between them at all.

For two years Marah had been contemplating Caleb Talbot's kiss. She had fantasized about it, cursed it, and dreamed of it. In order to regain some sanity, she had ultimately told herself that the kisses they shared two years before couldn't have been as pleasurable as her memory recalled them to be. She had decided that girlish delight had forced her to believe they were more passionate and powerful and intense than was truly possible.

But now she couldn't deny one fact: Caleb's kisses
were
different from what she remembered. But they were better, not worse.

“You are distracted, Miss Marah,” Winstead said softly, drawing her from her reverie.

Marah drew a deep breath to calm her suddenly raging heart and smiled at him. “You are correct, I fear. I
am
distracted and I feel I must apologize, both for my lack of attention and for the abominable rudeness earlier of my . . . my . . . Mr. Talbot.”

“There is no need for you to trouble yourself with such thoughts,” Emerson said with a comforting pat of the hand that gripped his inner elbow. “In truth, I wasn't so very surprised by Mr. Talbot's outrageous behavior. Everyone knows he's been gone from all good society for a very long time. And the rumors of how he conducted himself even before his sudden departure from London weren't ones to give me hope that he would prove to be a gentleman.”

Her lips pursed as she sent a side glance toward Emerson. She hated that his censure of Caleb, well-deserved after his shocking demeanor today, actually annoyed her. She despised even more that she felt a strange urge to
defend
Caleb in the face of this man's view of him.

“Are you quite all right, my dear?” Emerson asked as he turned toward her. “You are suddenly pale.”

She shook away her unwanted reactions and nodded. “Of course. I was simply thinking that I wouldn't want you to hold an ill view of Mr. Talbot . . . for . . . for the sake of the earl and his wife, who are dear friends of mine.”

“Who could judge someone so important as the earl and his lovely bride by the conduct of his libertine younger brother?” Emerson said with a shake of his head.

“I'm not sure I would say
libertine
,” Marah responded with a wrinkled brow.

Why did she continue to defend Caleb? It was unconscionable! Especially since she had used the very same word to describe him not two hours before.

Emerson's expression softened. “Of course you wouldn't be so judgmental. I sometimes fear you see only the best in those around you. It is one of your most remarkable qualities, and I admire it and you immensely.”

Suddenly his stare became very focused on her face, and heat flooded Marah's cheeks. In the past year Emerson had been a friend to her, he had been a comfortable companion, and though she believed he would offer for her hand, he had never been overtly romantic with her. Now his unwavering gaze held hers, and within it she saw the first glimmerings of what might be called desire.

And yet she wasn't thrilled by this. No, instead she found herself shifting restlessly, made uncomfortable by the expression instead of excited or pleasantly anxious for what might come next.

But to her surprise,
nothing
came next. Instead of moving in for a kiss or taking her hand or saying something tender, Emerson suddenly focused his attention on a spot just over her shoulder.

“Why look there,” he said. “I believe I see Lord Underhill and his cousin entering the park together.”

Marah looked out of politeness rather than interest and saw the portly form of Lord Underhill and his relation standing a few hundred yards away.

“Indeed they are,” she said with a forced smile.

Emerson nodded. “I am very close to making a bargain with them on some investments. Would you mind very much if I engaged them for a moment? I find it always helps a deal along if the parties have a friendly acquaintance.”

Marah blinked, but then nodded. “O-of course. I shall wait here for your return.”

He patted her shoulder and then took off across the lawn toward the other men. After he was gone, Marah let out a low sigh and turned to look out over the water.

“Admit it, Marah, you feel a bit of relief that Mr. Winstead has gone.”

Marah spun to find that Victoria had joined her. The other woman's pretty face had a rather smug smile on it, and Marah glared at her friend.

“No! Of course not!” she protested, though in truth Victoria was right. It
was
relief that had flowed through her when Emerson decided to tend to his business rather than tend to stealing a kiss.

Victoria stood beside her for a long moment without comment before she added, “And you realize that a man truly smitten wouldn't have even noticed the people around him. He would have been too caught up being with his ladylove to see anything but her.”

Marah folded her arms with a huff of angry breath. “And why should I listen to you?
You
are nothing but a troublemaker!”

“Me?” Victoria lifted her hands to her chest with a laugh.

“Oh yes,” Marah said, looking around them quickly to ensure that they weren't going to be overheard by anyone else. “You may pretend that you are all innocence, but
you
are the one who invited Caleb to join us in our luncheon today. Admit it.”

Victoria's eyebrow arched delicately. “Very well, as long as
you
admit you couldn't keep your eyes off of him.”

“I did no such thing,” Marah said with a gasp. When Victoria leaned away with an incredulous expression, Marah shook her head. “And even if I couldn't, it was only because he acted like a brute to our guest, nothing more.”

“Nothing more,” Victoria repeated. “Of course nothing more.”

Marah spun away with another rough sigh. “Oh, I don't want to talk about
him
anymore.”

“Very well. Would you like to talk about him instead?” Victoria asked, yanking her head toward Emerson.

Marah followed the direction her friend indicated. Emerson was standing with the two gentlemen he had left Marah for and they were laughing loudly. She had always found Lord Underhill to be rather garish and rude, so Marah winced at the sight of her hopefully future husband so enamored with the man. She had a sudden vision of having to host the fool in her home and bear his presence at her table, all in an effort to support Emerson's business.

But she refused to show Victoria that reaction and hear her crow, so she faced her friend with a shrug.

“And why
wouldn't
I wish to talk about Emerson?”

“Because one only has to spend two minutes in a room with the two of you to see you have little interest in him,” Victoria snapped.

Marah let out a sound of outrage. “Of course I have an interest in him. He is a . . .
friend
.”

“And that's all?” Victoria pressed. “You have designs only to keep him as a friend?”

Marah shook her head. “Perhaps not. At least not for very much longer.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Oh Marah! You cannot truly wish to marry this man.”

Marah struggled for a moment. She was closer to Victoria than she was to any other person in the world. Her friend had always been able to catch her in lies and Marah hated telling them, for it made her guilty and awkward.

Finally she shrugged in reply to her friend's statement.

Victoria laughed. “That isn't an answer.” She hesitated, and suddenly her laughter faded and her face grew serious. “Or perhaps it is.”

Marah frowned, embarrassed by Victoria's close scrutiny and the pity that lined her face in that moment. She had to explain herself, to make Victoria see why this union was a good plan. Perhaps to remind herself as well, since she was so confused by Caleb's uninvited kiss earlier.

“Victoria,” she whispered, drawing closer both for privacy and in a hope for true understanding. “I have lived a lifetime surrounded by undependable men who have disappointed me at every turn. You might be correct, Emerson doesn't make me shiver, but he also hasn't let me down.”

“Like Caleb did,” Victoria said softly, not a question, but a statement. “Has it ever occurred to you that the reason Mr. Winstead is incapable of letting you down is that you don't care for him one iota. That to disappoint, one has to have feeling involved, like you do for Caleb.”

For a moment Marah didn't reply because her mind was clouded with images of Caleb kissing her, both today and two years ago. Of him talking to her, confiding in her, holding her, making her laugh.

She shook away the thoughts. There was no use reliving those things. They were over. They had to be. “No, Caleb had his chance.”

Victoria frowned before she wrapped an arm around Marah's waist and squeezed her gently. “I'm sorry to interfere, Marah, I truly am.”

Marah laughed, her good humor returning for the first time since she had arrived and found Caleb in London. “No you aren't! You thrive on interference!”

Victoria grinned. “Only a little. But in all seriousness, I don't wish to run your life. I only worry about you. You see, if I hadn't given Justin another chance, my life would have been empty indeed.”

Marah turned on her friend and gently cupped her face. “It would have, I agree, for your happiness glows within you in a way that makes you even more beautiful. But I'm not you. I think I must be more pragmatic about my mate. All of us cannot expect your good fortune to find true love and a union of souls with our partner.”

Victoria opened her mouth as if to protest, but Marah lifted a hand to silence her.

“Here comes Emerson,” she said, trying to ignore the little sinking feeling in her heart as he strode toward them. “I'd like to continue with our walk.”

Victoria's brow wrinkled and her face was still lined with worry, but she nodded. “Of course.”

Marah squeezed her friend's hand and then moved to greet Emerson with a smile. As he retook her arm and they began to walk again, she frowned. There was no denying that her best friend was troubled about the direction of Marah's life. But the one thing she hated, the one thing she didn't want to admit, was that she was troubled, too.

T
he carriage rocked and Caleb lifted a hand to steady himself as it moved around a tight corner on the busy London streets. After another emotional evening at his father's bedside, the last thing Caleb wanted was to be flung all over the vehicle until his body was as bruised as his spirit.

Justin gave him a quick glance, and his brother's face softened. Caleb frowned. He must look a wreck if his brother looked like he wanted to comfort him as he would a child.

But instead of doing something so humiliating, Justin grinned. “So, Victoria tells me you met Marah's Mr. Winstead today.”

Caleb groaned.
Marah's
Mr. Winstead. The very idea turned his stomach. It was not a topic he wished to discuss, especially since the stinging memory of that morning's events still made him want to break things. Preferably Emerson Winstead's smug face.

“I did indeed,” he said as he scrubbed a hand over his eyes.

“And you were abominably rude, apparently,” Justin continued with another sly smile.

Caleb jerked his gaze to his brother. “Why shouldn't I be? You can't possibly
like
that pompous, posturing jackass, can you?”

Justin's brow arched. “Well, I've done extensive research on the man's background and temperament and I haven't found any reason to interfere, if that's what you mean. And it doesn't really matter what I think of him. Marah likes him.”

Caleb scrunched further into the seat and folded his arms. “So she says.”

“And
you
haven't any right to be angry about that fact,” his brother insisted.

Caleb shut his eyes with a long sigh. “So she says,” he repeated.

Justin slapped Caleb's knee and forced Caleb to look at him with a glare. “What?”

“Come now, you had your chance with her, didn't you? You didn't want it. And now you claim you don't want
her
at all. Didn't you tell me, not two days ago, that you wished to return to your flagrantly dissolute lifestyle? Wine, women, the occasional song . . . that's the life for you, isn't it?”

Caleb glared even harder, for he knew his brother was trying to goad him into admitting he wanted more. That he wanted Marah. And he did, but he wasn't about to state it out loud. What he wanted she wouldn't give and he shouldn't take. Not again.

Slowly he straightened up. “Thank you, Justin, you've reminded me of my plan. You're right, I
do
want to return to the carefree life I once enjoyed. Tonight is as good a time as any to start that. Come, I heard Alyssa is holding a fete at her home. We should go.”

Justin laughed. “Oh no, my friend. I have no interest in that.”

Caleb frowned.

“That's right,” he said, his tone mocking. “You're in love.”

Justin frowned, but only nodded. “I am. These little diversions no longer hold interest to me. I have something at home that far outshines everything Alyssa or those of her acquaintance can offer me.”