Strictly Forbidden (38 page)

Kira left, the soft click of the latch deafening in its finality.

It was over, and it was for the best. Gavin wondered why it bloody didn’t feel that
way.

Equally distressing, Kira would remain beneath his roof, a constant temptation, until
Darius returned from Cornwall. How the hell could he manage to stay away from her?

Gavin stood. He paced to a window and opened it, glad for the brisk air that barreled
through, clearing his head.

Soon, an idea tumbled through his head. Maybe he would not have to resist Kira. Maybe
he could distract himself. Yes. And almost certainly the notion taking shape in his
head would ensure she wanted nothing more to do with him.

And he need only ask one simple question…

* * * *

Gavin felt like hell when he called upon Cordelia the following afternoon. If he’d
had more than ten minutes of sleep last night, none of them had made him feel rested
today.

Still, he knew what he must do.

“Back from Birmingham?” she asked, greeting him as she reclined on a little blue settee
in her parlor. He sat in a plump yellow and white striped chair opposite Cordelia.

The golden arch of her brow over glittering azure eyes told him she did not believe
a word of the story he had circulated before leaving for Cornwall with Kira.

Blast it all, he could not afford to have Cordelia angry with him—not today. Too much
was at risk.

“I did not go to Birmingham, as you well know. James did his best to assist another
needy soul and became lost. Aunt Caroline sent me to fetch him. I simply did not say
so because I did not want to embarrass him.”

It was a lie, and Gavin felt it all the way to his toes. But he swore to himself this
one would be the last he ever told Cordelia.

“I see. How odd that Miss Melbourne chose that same time to go away. Back home, was
it?”

Splendid. Now
what
? If he told the truth, no telling how this appointment would end.

“Miss Melbourne will not be wedding my cousin, and is therefore no longer my family’s
concern.”

That got her attention. “Really?”

“Indeed. She expressed just yesterday
”
—
or
rather, last night in bed—
“that she had every intention of returning home.”

“Did your cousin finally recognize her for the wanton commoner she is?”

Gavin gritted his teeth. “Kira Melbourne is a gentle, good person, innocent of Vance’s
lies.”

Cordelia leaned closer and frowned. “And how do you know—
”

“Do you wish to talk about my cousin’s former fiancée or hear what I’ve come to say?”

Pausing, Cordelia clearly mulled the situation. Then she nodded. “I will listen.”

“Thank you.”

With a sigh, Gavin stared at Cordelia. He knew he should kneel down, but he could
not bring himself to do it. He sat and regarded her with a direct gaze.

“For some years now, we have been…friends.”

“Indeed,” she drawled.

“I respect you a great deal. You are a woman of social grace, good breeding, and superior
judgment. We move in the same circles, even share some common investment in the T
and S Railroad. I feel comfortable with your companionship.”

“I see.”

She appeared completely collected
,
even slightly bored. But Gavin saw the hint of a smile playing at her mouth.

“I realize you receive offers of marriage regularly.”

“I do.”

Gavin nodded, exhaled, then pressed on. “Are you, perhaps, amenable to discussing
a—a marriage between us?”

The smile he only sensed earlier emerged, brightening her pale countenance. The sun
slanted in thorough the windows, and with her smile he also noticed a smattering of
pale freckles across her nose. He did not like freckles. Kira had not a one.

Damn it, he had to stop thinking about her.

“I am not only amenable,” Cordelia said. “I am willing to accept. You represent everything
I wish in a husband, now that I am in a position to choose my own.”

That was quick. Much quicker, in fact, than Gavin expected. And he had not had to
ask, really. Or kneel. Or profess undying love. Kira would have wanted all three.
Truly, he was better off here. And soon, whatever melancholy had gripped him would
dissipate so that he could rejoice in his good fortune.

“Splendid. Shall we plan to commence our… union on June fourteen, Tuesday next? Will
that give you adequate time to prepare?”

“Indeed. I hope to be the most gracious Duchess of Cropthorne ever.”

Gavin forced himself to smile. Marriage to Cordelia wouldn’t be so terrible. He did
enjoy her company, her wit. And she would, indeed, make a most gracious duchess. She
would bring a great deal of respectability to the family
while helping him to repress his unreasonable lust, thereby avoiding scandal.

“I believe you will.” He nodded, wishing he could be more enthusiastic. “Because I’ve
had no time to discuss my intentions with my family, I ask you to wait a few days
before speaking to anyone of our engagement. I should like them to hear the news from
me, not party gossip.”

Her mouth tightened for a moment. “As you wish.”

“Thank you.”

Now that his future was settled, he rose to depart, conscious of the fact his palms
had been sweating. Why did he feel as if he’d just made a move he would regret?

“Leaving already?” she asked.

He nodded. “I must see to some business, then I should like to find my family and
inform them—
”
and Kira—
“of our upcoming nuptials.”

“Capital notion.” She nodded, her pale curls tickling her temples. “But might I persuade
you to sit beside me for a spell?”

What did she want? Gavin tensed. “Of course.”

Slowly, he made his way to her side. Stiffly, he lowered himself beside her, peering
at her with a question in his gaze.

Could he be married to Cordelia for the rest of his days? Could he sire children on
her? Lord, he had never even kissed her, never had the urge to.

Kira had roused his interest—and more—instantly.

Bloody hell, he
must
stop thinking about her.

Cordelia laughed. “You need not be nervous now. I accepted.”

Gavin forced a smile in return. “Yes, you did.”

And what would become of them? He pushed the question aside. He would wed her. Together,
they would be the toast of London. Kira would return to Suffolk—

Lord, there she was again. Why could he not get her out of his mind?

“Do you plan to leave without kissing me?”

The question could not have stunned Gavin more if she had hit him between the eyes
with her fan. He looked at her mouth. It was pink and plump. It could be deemed pleasing.
Certainly Cordelia did not lack beauty.

Close your eyes and kiss her,
he told himself. How difficult could it be?

“I’m not certain that is proper,” he said instead.

Her soft, trickling laughter filled the room all the way to the ceiling. “Gavin, really.
We are engaged. I am a widow, a woman of some…experience. Though you’ve never chosen
to tie the knot in the past, I doubt very much that you are an innocent.”

Not in the least. “You—you’re right.”

In fact, he could lay her out on the settee and kiss her senseless without raising
too many brows at this point. But the idea seemed oddly unsettling.

He looked at her again. She truly was a beauty, and calm-headed, collected, regal—everything
to admire in a woman. She would never ask him where his heart was.

Besides, how could he know if he would like kissing her before he even tried?

Taking a deep breath, Gavin leaned toward her and anchored a hand upon her shoulder,
more to steady himself than her. He watched as she closed her eyes and leaned toward
him. Just before their lips met, he saw a hint of a blue vein running beneath her
left eyelid. He shook off the observation as they began to kiss.

The first touch of her mouth brought…nothing. She smelled faintly of tooth powder
and summer breezes and raspberries. He detected no hint of delicious vanilla—

Stop it!
Gavin ordered himself.

He rededicated his efforts to kissing Cordelia. This time, closing his eyes. Ah, that
was better. No blond hair to distract him from the image of jet curls coiling around
his hands—

No, this was Cordelia. No one else.

Her lips were firm, slightly moist and parted. Then she sighed and brushed her mouth
over his.

She was by no means bad at kissing, but Gavin could not deny that he wished himself
elsewhere. And wished it violently. Perhaps he should think of Norfield or—or the
races at Ascot. Yes, that would get the blood pumping.

But he was only conscious of the fact Cordelia parted her lips beneath his, inviting
him inside.

The last place he wanted to be.

Then she
laid
her hand upon his thigh.

Gavin all but jumped off the settee. Surely he had someplace he must go.

“Time to dash off. Family obligations and whatnot. We’ll discuss jointure and pin
money and all that another time.”

“But—
”

“Good to see you,” he said.

Then he dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek and nearly ran out the door.

Outside, Gavin took a deep breath and mounted his horse slowly. He was sweating, despite
the gentle June breeze.

Well, that went swimmingly.
He sighed in disgust as he rode away. Cordelia was a perfectly wonderful, attractive
woman. Why could he not enjoy her kiss?

Well, he had not thought of Cordelia and sex in the same breath before. His respect
for her was so great that imagining her as a lover was a shock. And a proper woman
like her did not display unseemly passions.

Gavin discarded each excuse as feeble. The fact was, Cordelia did not attract him
in that way. He certainly would not worry about Cordelia inflaming the cursed Daggett
blood that ran through his veins, for she had not inflamed him in the least. And perhaps
that was good. No man should want his wife too much. Marriage was business, after
all.

Still, images of Kira dominated his thoughts—the first day he’d met her as she stood
in the dusty lane before Norfield, again at Lady Westland’s party, where she’d sobbed
as if her heart were breaking, then last night in his bed, when she’d gasped and dug
her nails into his shoulders, hovering on the brink of climax.

He just couldn’t get the woman out of his head, couldn’t replace her image with Cordelia’s.
He wondered if he ever would.

It didn’t matter. Marrying well—marrying Cordelia—was his duty. He owed his family
a duchess without scandal, without mixed blood, without the ability to drive him to
the edge of sanity. Cordelia fit that description. Wedding her would amply discharge
his obligation. And a duty, by definition, was not necessarily something in which
one found pleasure; it was something one did because one must.

And Gavin
always
did his duty.

Despite that fact, his future yawned before him like a bleak, endless chasm. Life
without Kira would be like life without laughter or sunlight or color. Without breath.

Yet somehow, do without he would.