Scoundrel (23 page)

She stared at her hands as if she could see the past more clearly there. “The taunting didn’t stop until the year I turned sixteen. My father called me a late bloomer. Over the next few years, people started to look at me differently. The compliments were grudging at first and I didn’t beleive them. Then I realized that Papa was right, that I was changing. Girls who once laughed at me began to put their noses in the air and turned their backs whenever I walked into a room. Boys who’d tossed me careless, cutting insults began to stare at me in ways that made me want to bathe. I didn’t see how being called pretty was much better than being called ugly. Things only grew worse when I made my debut. Women I didn’t know refused to speak to me. Men I didn’t want to know made a great nuisance of themselves.”

She looked up at him, her lips curved into a wry smile. “Don’t you see? Every time someone gives me a compliment, I remember a taunt. I wonder what they will say to me when my hair is gray and my face wrinkled. I try to keep that in mind whenever I am tempted to believe empty flattery. Faces and figures might be called pretty or pleasing, but I think you must know a person’s character before you call them beautiful or handsome. It’s the part inside a person that matters most.”

The odd pieces of her character began to fall into place; her lack of conceit or wiles, the cynical light that came to her eyes whenever he spoke of her looks. He smoothed his hand down her arm and laced his fingers through hers to cover her gloved hand completely.

“Your hands do not seem so large to me. Sturdy, perhaps.” He turned her hand over and lifted it to press a line of kisses against the lacy gloves from her wrist to the center of her palm. Her fingers curled, as if to capture the kiss.

She pulled her hand away. “I believe you are deliberately trying to distract me from our conversation.”

“Ah, yes,” he murmured, leaning closer. “I believe we were talking about kissing.”

She placed her hand on his chest. “We were talking about our courtship.”

“Kisses are a much more interesting subject.” His hand covered hers, trapping it against his chest. “I think you like them.”

She looked at him with that enchanting mixture of innocent curiosity and desire, the light of the carriage lantern reflected in her eyes. “I don’t think I should like them so much.”

The confession caught him off guard. “Lily, never tell a man that you like to kiss him.”

Where did that warning come from? He didn’t want her to play games with him. He smiled to cover his blunder. “However, your admission pleases me. You can be delightfully honest at times.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And at other times?”

“At other times, you can be quite vexing.” He thought about the secrets she’d kept from him, how much they’d complicated matters. His humor faded. “Admit it, Lily. You deceived me from the moment we met.”

“Oh, and you were sterling in your honesty,” she shot back. “You sound much like the pot calling the kettle black, my lord.”

There was a moment of charged silence, then he smiled again. “Do you realize that you are the only woman who ever argues with me?” He stroked the curve of her cheek. “Most women do their best to be agreeable in my presence.”

Her eyes flashed with a spark of anger. “Most women make cakes of themselves in your presence. They are too busy impressing you with their charms to find time to argue.”

His smile grew broader. “Is that jealousy I hear?”

“It is nothing of the kind. Why on earth should I be jealous? We are no more than partners in this assignment. When this courtship is over you are certain to find some other female to amuse yourself with. Our rather odd relationship will be at an end.”

“I rather like the notion of being your friend.” He drew her closer to his side, a little surprised when she didn’t object.

“I have a feeling your definition of the word ‘friend’ would vary greatly from mine, Remmington. As far as I can tell, you don’t want anyone close to you.”

“You are close to me right now.” His arms circled around her and her eyes grew wider, as if she’d just realized the precariousness of her position. Her lips were temptingly near, but he forced himself to meet her gaze and push other thoughts aside. “I believe a friend is a person who enjoys your company, someone who will stand by you no matter what. A friend knows your deepest secrets and keeps them.” He cupped her chin in his hand and brushed his thumb across her lips. Her skin was so very soft, her scent delightful. The shudder of desire he felt was his own. It was her hair that smelled of sandalwood. He wanted to loosen it and run his hands through the silky strands. He knew he was playing with fire but he didn’t seem to care, couldn’t seem to help himself. His hold on her tightened. “Is there anything in my definition of friendship that does not characterize our relationship?”

“Friends do not kiss each other so intimately.”

“You think not?” He shook his head. “Some of the greatest love affairs in history began as friendships.”

“I think…”

He felt her warm, sweet breath against his face, and noticed the rapid pulse that fluttered at her throat. If he weren’t so curious about her answer, he would give into temptation and kiss that sensitive pulse point to feel her heart beat beneath his lips, to know that he was the one who made it beat faster. Didn’t like kissing her, indeed. He would like to kiss every inch of her.

Somehow her hands made their way to his chest and she pushed against him with surprising strength. “I think you are trying to confuse me. This is nothing more than a temporary arrangement. The time will come when we will go our separate ways. In the meantime, I realize it is in both our best interests to appear no more than cordial. This must be a very entertaining game for a man of your experience, but you said yourself that I am not a good actress, and I—” Her eyes widened when he lifted her onto his lap. “What are you doing, Remmington?”

“Appearing cordial.” Just one more taste, he decided. One small kiss to show her just how desirable he found her.

She opened her mouth to let out a startled cry, but he was quicker. He caught the sound as his mouth covered hers, a fierce kiss that robbed them both of breath. When he began to draw away, her hands curled around his lapels to pull him closer. He felt a surge of satisfaction. His lips brushed across her mouth and his hands stroked her back as he gentled her to his touch. With each stroke she melted a little more, grew a little softer. She was so incredibly responsive. He deepened the kiss. Her hands moved up his chest and around his neck until her fingers tangled in his hair, then she smoothed her fingers along the back of his neck in a shy, hesitant caress. The affect on him was instantaneous, a quicksilver flash of desire that tightened every muscle and made him exquisitely aware of how much he wanted her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Lily.” He caught both her hands and held them securely against his chest. “We have to stop.”

“Why?”

His laugh was almost a groan. “You taste too sweet.”

He leaned down to brush his lips against her forehead. When she closed her eyes, he pressed feathery kisses against her eyelids. A moment later they fluttered open again. What he saw there made the breath catch in his throat. He reached out and drew her head down onto his shoulder, then cupped his hand around her face to keep her there.

“Give me a moment to calm down before you look at me that way.” His voice was deeper than normal, almost strained. “You know how that affects me.”

She didn’t know, and told him so. His arms tightened around her.

“It makes me want to kiss you again.” A moment passed before he corrected himself. “No, that isn’t true. The look in your eyes makes me want to do much more than kiss you. If anyone else saw you look at me that way…” He shifted and tried to find a more comfortable position, tried to think of anything that would cool his desire. “We need to talk about something else, Lily. Tell me about Lord Osgoode. I have yet to hear you speak a word of your former fiancé. Was he nice to you? Do you miss him?”

“Lord Osgoode?” She looked confused by the question.

“Forgive me,” he said at last. “I didn’t mean to burden you with sad thoughts. You must have cared for him a great deal.”

Lily shook her head. “Lord Osgoode escorted me to two balls and an afternoon brunch. In truth, we were not all that well acquainted. We exchanged the usual social pleasantries and I did not object to his company, but I certainly had no intention of marrying him.”

“I thought you were engaged.”

“I thought you were engaged to Margaret Granger,” she countered.

“We have more in common with each passing moment.” He inclined his head to concede the point. “Who courted you before Osgoode?”

“I really don’t think that is any of your business.”

“Everything about you is my business,” he bit out. “I still believe the man who attacked you is someone you know. I want to know if there are any more Osgoodes out there, perhaps another man whose affections you’ve spurned.”

“I haven’t spurned anyone,” she said indignantly.

“Osgoode fought a duel for you. Why?”

Lily looked offended by the question. “In future, you would be well advised to obtain your gossip from a source other than Margaret Granger. I have no idea who Osgoode dueled with, but I am certain he did not duel over my hand or some slur against my honor, or anything else remotely related to me. I meant no more to Osgoode than I mean to you.”

“You mean a great deal to me, Lily.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think them through. The hopeful look in her eyes made him grit his teeth.

“Are you trying to tell me that our courtship is not a sham?”

He felt as if the ground had opened beneath him. He knew what she was really asking. For a woman like Lily, there was only one logical conclusion to a courtship. Marriage. He felt a bead of perspiration form on his brow and the carriage suddenly seemed too warm. This afternoon he’d convinced himself that he could enjoy Lily’s company for the duration of this “courtship,” then walk away as easily as he’d walked away from every other assignment. In the meantime, no one would think it odd if they shared a few intimacies, and no one but he and Lily would have to know the exact nature of those intimacies. Hell, he’d planned to seduce her.

He saw a mental image of his plan disappear in a puff of smoke. He knew now what that plan would do to her. Lily wasn’t experienced or jaded enough to play at the games of love. When she gave a man her innocence, she would give him her heart as well. He didn’t deserve either, and he certainly couldn’t return her precious gifts.

“I want there to be honesty between us,” he began. He watched the light of hope disappear from her eyes as she tried to ease herself off his lap onto the seat beside him. He held her more securely, then cupped her face with one hand. “We have enough secrets in our lives. The fact that we can share our secrets is one of the things that makes our friendship special. I care for you, Lily, but I will not lie to you, or give you any reason to think our courtship might lead to a wedding. I learned long ago that I am not a man suited to marriage, and I would rather see my brother’s heirs inherit than take another wife.” Her wounded look made him release a frustrated sigh. “My views have nothing to do with you, Lily. You cannot possibly know how marriage changes a person. I doubt you even know what I am talking about. You are innocent in ways I can’t even remember.”

“I did not think it was such a sin to be innocent,” she said, her eyes bright with tears.

“It isn’t a sin. It is a gift, Lily. One that you would waste on a scoundrel.” One crystal tear rolled down her cheek and he resisted the urge to brush it away, half afraid it would scald him. “There was a time when I would have made you a fit husband, a time when I still believed in marriage and loyalty, love and devotion. I know better now. That isn’t the way it works in our world. You have yet to learn that lesson, and I will not be the one to teach you. Damn it, Lily. You want something from me that I cannot give you.”

Or could he? Did a part of him rebel against the idea of a serious courtship with Lily because he knew how easily he could fall in love with her? The attraction he felt went beyond her beauty. What he liked best about Lily lay beneath the surface. Her looks were simply a bonus, an enticement to draw him closer to his doom. Yet how long could he hold her? Catherine’s betrayal had wounded his pride more than anything else. If he lost Lily to another man, her betrayal would destroy him. The reason why struck him like a blow. He was half in love with her already.

That admission didn’t sit well. He could see Lily’s future as clearly as she showed him her past. Her innocence protected her now, but once she married, every male in the
ton
would consider her fair game. If he were fool enough to marry her, he would still have to leave her on occasion to fulfill his duties in the War Department. He knew well enough that men would line up to offer solace in his absence. They would tempt and entice her at every turn. The longer she resisted, the more of a challenge she would become. It would only be a matter of time before one caught her eye, and that would be the end of her “love” for him. He’d rather be celibate the rest of his life than put himself through that hell. It would be better to lose her now, before he began to deceive himself with impossible dreams, before he told himself lies that his marriage could be different from the rest. Marrying Lily would be the worst mistake of his life.