Undone by His Kiss (25 page)

She could attest to that. He winked and her breath caught in her throat. Perhaps he did remember their
moment
?

“Thank you.” When she spoke, he flicked another glance in her direction before screwing tight the next pipe. “For retrieving my bracelet and entertaining yet another appeal for help.”

“It was indeed my pleasure.” He stood and rinsed and dried her bracelet before he did the same to his hands. Much to her dismay he unfolded his shirt cuffs next.

“I’ve learned through several lessons these past weeks, my original belief that a female is capable of accomplishing most anything alone, is thoroughly untrue.” She didn’t know if he recalled the most important of those lessons, but she certainly did. Worse yet, she found herself wanting a bit more experimentation in the process. She struggled to tamp down the unfathomable force of her longing.

“Redesign is the path to ingenuity.” He stepped forward and held the bracelet outstretched. “Allow me.”

She extended her wrist, praying he wouldn’t notice the fluttering pulse beneath her skin, the rosy flush most likely reflected in her cheeks, the soft abbreviated breath she held as he fastened the piece of jewelry. When he finished, he didn’t step away. “However may I thank you?” She peered up past his strong jaw, into the depths of his brilliant green eyes, and waited.

“Miss Shaw—”

She searched his face, looking for any clue to what he might say next, noting the determined set of his lips and chin, the riveting intensity of his gaze focused solely on her face. What could he possibly mean to suggest? “Yes?”

He placed his palm against her cheek, his fingertips feathering the delicate skin near her ear and a shiver trickled through her. She tried to inhale, exhale, any breath would do.

“I find I’m at a loss.” He swallowed audibly and she followed the movement down his neck to where his cravat met his collar, remembering the vee of skin he’d exposed when she’d held the stethoscope to his chest, recalling the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart beneath her palm.

She swayed a little, unsure if her body acted without permission from her brain. How easily it would be to fall into his embrace. The gentle caress of his hand against her face was exquisite agony, the memory of his palm against her inner thigh rushing forth with more strength than ever before.

“A loss?”

Chapter 25

Her two words whispered against his chin, for somehow as he’d questioned his will to resist temptation, they’d floated closer together. It was nearly impossible maintaining mundane conversation while his body urged him to act otherwise. He could only have sounded a bore as he’d shared plumbing facts to keep his body temperate, his mind focused on something other than Miss Shaw’s lovely kiss. “A loss, yes, for your given name. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced or such.” His lips hovered over hers, a hair’s breadth separating their collision.

“I thought you knew.”

She murmured her answer and lowered her lashes, a sensual softness making her lids appear heavy. He fancied she looked similar after a thorough loving and the notion caused his ever-growing problem to worsen.

By damn, how much was a man expected to endure? Most especially when the impulsion of his desire kept appearing in his path, asking for his help, looking absolutely fetching? He hadn’t escaped the memory of his hand skimming the arch of her calf, the friction of her sheer stocking present on his fingertips like water he couldn’t dry, haunting him every time he dared close his eyes and increasing his craving.

In all his inventiveness he’d never imagined skin so soft and beautiful, combined with novel inspiration and intelligent wit. Miss Shaw, lovely Miss Shaw, proved a rare original.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

“Sorry?” She tilted her chin, the space between their mouths widening, much to his dismay.

“When our kiss advanced, when I…” How did one articulate the deliciously wicked transgression when he harbored no regret and would commit the same sin in a heartbeat given the slightest inclination she wanted the same? “I hope I didn’t upset you.”

“No.” She blinked twice as if the idea never occurred to her. “Not at all.”

He placed his hands at her waist, his forehead bowed to press against her silky tresses. “I haven’t any time right now to invest in something as precious as a relationship, when I’m already coaxing the spark of my business venture.” He felt her exhale slowly, as if she’d measured her breath and now dared to breathe again. What had she expected him to say? “Yet since I’ve met you, my mind has been anywhere but finances and inventions. Instead, I find myself preoccupied with the variations of brown in your hair as I watch your approach through the front window and the sunlight slants through the branches when you pause to find your key. I notice the fiery determination in your voice when you address the members of the league. I admire the delicate angle of your cheekbones…” He smoothed his thumb across her face before sliding a finger to gently caress her mouth. “Thirst for the perfection of your kiss.” He cradled her face, looking into the depths of blue that had captivated him from the start, reminding of childhood wonder and magic, and undiscovered secrets most of all. “So I am undone and done for, unable to hold a thought in my brain because you’ve already filled me with illimitable beauty.” He blew out a soft exhale, having confessed his heart, and waited.

“Jasper.”

“Yes?” He braced himself for her next words.

“I know I shouldn’t be here alone with you in this back room hoping you’ll kiss me or—”

“Jasper!” Randolph’s voice resounded in the front office, a note of urgency diverting all attention.

Jasper dropped his hands, indicating with a finger to his lips Miss Shaw should remain silent, then left the room and hurried to see what had Beaufort in high dungeon.

“What the devil? You can’t come into the office hollering like a tosspot at the top of your lungs.” He advanced to Beaufort in three angry strides. “What is it?” He forced the question through clenched teeth, furious with his friend’s untimely arrival.

“It’s Kellaway.” Beaufort held up a hand as if to temper his approach. “He’s taken it to the street in Hanover Square.”

“We just spoke and shared luncheon. He sounded resolved. What has changed? A further issue with his father?”

“Yes, nothing embarrasses the man, and it’s the worst this time, a brawl concerning Kell leaving London.” Beaufort shook his head for emphasis. “We need to get to George Street. I’ve a hack at the curb , and came to collect you as soon as I heard.”

“Very good.” Jasper grabbed his hat from the rack on the wall. “One minute more.” He eyed Beaufort and then hurried to the back room, but he needn’t have worried as Miss Shaw waved him away, aware of the urgency of the situation without him uttering an explanation. He paused before turning the corner in lament of their unfinished business and offered her a rueful smile, one he hoped expressed his disappointment. Then he rushed to join Beaufort and be off.

Kellaway. An uncomfortable sensation shivered through her, yet no, that wasn’t it exactly. This recurrent feeling was more of a strange kinship. There was a time when she scoured the newspapers for any tidbit of information regarding peerage and their societal adventures, but her father changed all that. Since his departure, she dared not look at a copy of Debrett’s nor take an interest in the gossip rags.

Still something urged her to the curb where she hailed a hackney in anxious flight, a bird on the wing, and headed to the address Beaufort had blurted out in honest panic. If Kell meant to leave London, Emily needed to see him once more if only to discover the reason she sensed an unexplainable bond with him, inordinately moved by his problems, not so different than her own.

She arrived at George Street to a fair degree of pandemonium. A crowd had formed, at least fifty people encircled the square itself, where she surmised Kellaway stood at the center. Ripe to riot, the group of cits, commoners, and dayworkers composed a mixture of classes rarely comingled, most definitely not in tearooms or ballrooms. People continued to flood forward. The anxious crowd walled the square in speculative formation with a density thick enough to deter the hackney driver into stopping early, unwilling to enter the
mêlée
.

Emily paid the driver and approached the growing mass with wary trepidation. She hadn’t anticipated the scene, her eyes scanning the area from street level to above where windows were snapped open allowing onlookers to gain a better view, a few curious lads dangled from a small terrace. Carriages and carts were abandoned, so the gossip-hungry could gain their full share of the odd incident and provide rare and lively conversation around the dinner table.

She remained too far from the fray to perceive what occurred at the center, though the alternating hushed silence and discordant cacophonic uproar could only indicate the viscount and his sire produced a good show of angered repartee. Edging closer, she observed the bystanders, glued to the entertainment and unaware of her intrusion as she maneuvered her way to the innermost circle.

But as she grew closer, people pushed and shoved, angered words were muttered, as everyone sought the best vantage point. A brief flash of alarm kicked her pulse faster, but she continued to weave a path through the crowd, determined to gain an unobstructed view of the spectacle. At last, she slipped between two gentlemen who’d begun their own argument and turned toward each other in confrontation, thus allowing the access she needed. She gathered her skirts close, stepped over someone’s abandoned hamper and gained a narrow place to stand with a clear line of vision.

At the center of the square, two men stood on opposing sides of an ornate fountain, both evidencing signs of fisticuffs turned shouting match, the unlikely display riveting the turbulent mob. A gasp caught in her throat, stuttering her breathing, halting logical thought for a long moment. But oh, that was the least of what shocked Emily. The impact of her recognition hit her with supreme force. She might have fainted were she not wedged so tightly against the crowd, surely the realization that impactful.

“Miss Shaw, what are you doing here?”

Jasper appeared out of nowhere. He grasped her arm too tightly, the severe censure of his question echoed in his hold. She needed little remonstrance. The square was no place for a young lady, most especially as the invigorated crowd shifted and swayed to gain scrutiny of the spectacle.

“I heard what Beaufort said in your office and I needed to see Kellaway one last time. Still…” She paused and glanced from Jasper to the men in the square and back again. “I can’t believe my eyes.” She shouted the words to ensure she’d be heard, the onlookers’ murmurings rising to a collective clamor and then at once silenced as Kellaway’s voice rang out.

I’m tired of your broken promises and ignominious antics. You disparage my mother and shame me as your heir.

A wave of conversation swelled within the crowd as they gestured in poor taste and yelled their crass opinion of the two noblemen displaying their familial discontent as if a play on Drury Lane.

Jasper’s expression turned grim. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous and unseemly.”

She bit back a defiant retort, aware of the truth in his statement yet refusing to allow panic to overwhelm her. “I had to come.” It was no excuse, but all she could offer.

Jasper’s brow furrowed, his attention divided. “I’m here only to aid Kellaway. Look around you. This mob is volatile with the potential to turn riotous at any moment.”

As if he’d conjured evidence, the crowd swelled from behind, forcing Jasper forward. He sheltered her with his body as if he feared she’d be caught up and carried away. Alarm thrummed in her chest.

“Selfish philanderer.” He shifted his eyes from her face to the argument in the square and back again. “The older man there, that’s Kell’s father.”

“That’s my father.”

Jasper’s confusion narrowed his eyes, and then all at once, he jerked his head upward as if a great reckoning occurred. He brought her closer to his side, as if to offer a protective wing, all the while staring at her with curious intent.

“Yes, it’s true.” She nodded in solemn acknowledgement. “That man is my father and so Kellaway is my brother.”

“Half-brother,” Jasper countered in a hard tone.

“Brother enough, it would seem.”

In front of them, the two men continued to circle the fountain, trading accusations and threatening violence to which the rabble reacted with approving incitement. Her pulse jumped, realizing the potential for peril were the bystanders to become disorderly. She’d pushed her way to the center of the fray and therefore made her wellbeing all the more vulnerable, trapped on all sides by spectators more interested in aristocratic embarrassment than their mundane routine.

“How could you not know?” Jasper shook his head in obvious disbelief.

“I never wanted to know. My father didn’t care, and I cared too much.” She wouldn’t apologize for her choices. Everything seemed to make sense now, the manner in which she was drawn to Kellaway as if they shared a connection, only to discover they did after all.

As if Jasper read her thoughts and recognized the depth of emotion and magnitude of her realization, he clasped her hand tighter. “Come this way.”

He angled his body to protect hers, taking the brunt of those who shoved and elbowed as they wove through the aggressive horde. Still she wasn’t immune, jostled twice with such force her teeth rattled. He locked her to his side in the nick of time as spectators forced their way forward and a swift change transformed the crowd from curious gathering to erratic upheaval; sparked by the clash of classes, livid with the peerage’s sense of entitlement and distempered display.

Three lads with new whiskers, old enough to know better, bucked their way through, breaking her hold on Jasper’s hand. In her rush to recover, she stumbled, the last of the trio’s boots snagging her hems and propelling her forward before she could regain balance. The fear of being trampled thundered in her chest until she was swept to her feet, a frantic glow alive in Jasper’s eyes as he once again held her safe.