What a Woman Desires (19 page)

“Monica—”

“It’s not fair for you to look or put your hands on me when I feel this way about you. Please.”

Their gazes locked and her harried breaths whispered over his face. Every part of him leaned toward her, his heart roared and his instinct to protect her burned and leaped like an inferno inside him. Without thinking, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He took and he branded; he loved and he lost.

She whimpered into his mouth and her hands came up and clutched the back of his neck, urging him closer despite her words of a few moments before. Their tongues tangled and devoured, their hands held firm as though each had the right to claim the other.

The heat between them didn’t feel like love; in that moment it felt dangerous and fatal.

There was no joy in their kiss or caresses, just anger and fire that was bound to scar and change them forever.

Yet, still he reached for her breast and still she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

The crunch of wheels on gravel broke them apart as quickly as a sharply shot rifle. The look of terror in her eyes and the flush to pale in her cheeks pulled at his heart. “Monica—”

“No.” She shook her head and swiped at her face before lifting her chin and pulling back her shoulders. “No more. From now on, we think only of what’s best for Marksville and your family.”

She strode toward the door, her smile in place to welcome the first of the dinner guests. Thomas let her go. His heart hammered and his gut knotted with frustration. Why had God been so cruel to create her and bring her back to him when she could never be his? Why had she left with a man Thomas had prayed would make her happy, despite the overwhelming sense Baxter couldn’t be trusted? Why couldn’t he have been wrong and instead, Baxter adored her, married her, and made it his life’s work to make her happy?

Inhaling a long breath through flared nostrils, Thomas drew strength and fortitude into his chest and stepped forward. The sky had turned from the day’s summer blue to salmon pink. It would at least be a beautiful night outside the house’s walls; God only knew the storm that would erupt within.

Taking a deep breath, Monica hurried down the front steps with Thomas’s kiss still lingering on her tender lips. The first guests to arrive were Mr. and Mrs. Abraham. They alighted from their carriage and each warmly shook Monica’s hand before she directed them toward the house. Thomas stood at the bottom step waiting. Swallowing against the erratic beat of her heart, Monica forced her head high and approached him. “Thomas, if you’d like to accompany Mr. and Mrs. Abraham into the parlor?”

Nothing in his lingering gaze gave away what had just occurred between them before he turned to the guests and smiled. “Welcome to Marksville; if you’d like to step inside, I’ll take you to Mrs. Danes and Miss Jane.”

Mr. and Mrs. Abraham smiled, but their confusion of Thomas’s role this evening was clearly etched on their faces as they ran their gazes over his formal attire. Monica bit back her smile. The daughter of the house greeting and then the groom taking them inside to meet the mistress made no sense in decorum or propriety. Monica’s smile broke as she reveled in the opportunity of orchestrating things so differently from her father.

Following on behind them, she looked at Thomas as the Abrahams brushed past him into the house. He tipped her a wink that set her stomach awhirl before following them inside. Monica held back, her heart beating fast. How was she to battle her attraction to Thomas for however many days and hours she remained at Marksville?

Her director in Bath had told her to take as much time as she needed, but every hour at the house stretched her nerves to breaking. The dinner had to be the step toward her release from this appallingly sexual bondage.

Lifting her chin, she turned when a second set of carriage wheels sounded behind her. More guests. She glanced toward the parlor door just as Thomas emerged and joined her at the door. He looked toward the second carriage as it drew to a stop outside and gestured with a wave of his hand. “Shall we?”

She inhaled a shaky breath and led the way outside.

One by one the guests arrived and were shown into the house. It wasn’t until Dr. O’Connor arrived that Monica left Thomas at the door alone to greet the remaining guests. Ignoring his warning glare behind the doctor’s turned back, she planted on a wide smile. “I’ll take you inside, Doctor. We only have Mr. and Mrs. Cole left to arrive and our party will be complete.”

Dr. O’Connor smiled, his face alight with kindness and his eyes keen on hers. “I was most pleased with your invitation, Miss Danes. I very much look forward to being introduced to some more people who live in and around the village. I have only really met patients on my rounds. Meeting others socially is always far nicer.”

Monica smiled and led him inside, Thomas’s glare burning holes in her back. The parlor was filled with soft chatter and laughter, and Monica inhaled with satisfaction. She had carefully selected three couples of the highest standing to attend the dinner, as well as the doctor and Caroline Flynn, daughter and sole heiress of her father’s flourishing wool business. With Monica, Thomas, Jane, and Mama, the table of twelve would be perfect.

She looked to the doctor standing beside her. His expression was set in a smile, but Monica didn’t dismiss the cool, steady, and somewhat calculating gaze of a seemingly ambitious man. During her years in the theater she’d found herself in front of similar men bearing similar expressions of assessment. Dr. O’Connor most certainly had an agenda of one sort or another. She cleared her throat. “Why don’t I introduce you to a few people, Doctor?”

He started and turned, his gaze immediately softening. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Monica led him across the room toward Mr. and Mrs. Abraham, and after introductions were made, left the trio alone to pour Dr. O’Connor a glass of wine. She joined Jane at the sideboard. “How’s Mama?”

Jane turned, but her gaze focused over Monica’s shoulder toward the chaise where their mother sat talking to Mrs. Lovett. “She’s as well as can be expected, but I daren’t leave her alone for long. I daresay she will soon get confused by the visitors.” She turned and focused on filling two small glasses. “How is the doctor?”

“Well. He seems very happy to be here.”

Jane exhaled a shaky breath. “Good. I wish my nerves would subside. My stomach is in knots. I have no idea how I will endure dinner knowing we are going after his money like two snakes in the grass.”

Monica smiled. “We are not snakes in the grass. We’re two wealthy, independent women in our own right regardless of selling Marksville. We merely wish to transact a business arrangement, nothing more.”

Jane met her eyes and her gaze burned with dismay. “We plan to cajole the man into buying the estate under the guise of a dinner invitation. We are snakes.”

Monica bit back her smile as her sister picked up the glasses and swept toward Mrs. Lovett and their mother. Shaking her head, Monica lifted the discarded decanter when the unmistakable scent of Thomas coming to stand beside her enveloped her senses and provoked her arousal. She briefly closed her eyes and inhaled before focusing on the task in hand. “Have Mr. and Mrs. Cole arrived?”

“Yes, I just came over to get them a drink.”

Cursing the trembling in her hand as the decanter clinked against one glass and then the other, Monica nodded. “Good.”

“And you’re still going to go ahead with your seduction of the doctor?”

She snapped her head around, annoyance rippling through her. Why did he always have to be so critical when she was doing her best for both of them? “This is not a seduction.”

“No?”

Heat pinched at her cheeks. “Of course not. Do not make me out to be some sort of harlot. It’s bad enough Jane thinks we’re snakes.” She placed the decanter on the tray and turned, holding Thomas’s disproving gaze. “I know what I’m doing.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Monica glared. “Yes.”

“Then there is no reason for you to be alone with him at any point this evening.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Thomas looked past her, his blue eyes darkening. “Let me be there when you talk to him.”

Monica turned and followed his gaze. The doctor stood with his back to them, laughing at something Mr. Lovett said. Monica turned and glared at Thomas’s profile. “It would hardly be appropriate for me to discuss the sale of the house at the table.”

“The man is not to be trusted.”

“If you’re with me, he won’t take me seriously as being able to make my own decisions. I don’t want you involved in the negotiations, Thomas. I’ll take your advice, but—”

“I’m not needed beyond that.”

Their gazes locked before he grazed his angry study over her face to linger at her mouth. “Just be careful. The man had an agenda long before you arrived here. If it’s the house he wants, he is clearly willing to bide his time. If he thinks you’re trying to manipulate him—”

“He won’t.” Monica picked up the filled glasses. “I’m a big girl, Thomas. I know what I’m doing.”

Leaving him, Monica walked purposefully across the room, battling her scowl into submission. “Your drink, Doctor.”

Dr. O’Connor turned from his conversation with the Lovetts and smiled. “Ah, thank you.”

He took the glass and drank deeply. Monica lifted her glass to her lips, grateful for the warmth of the claret as it slid down her throat. Thomas’s negativity had infuriatingly draped the doctor in an imagined icy cloak that he hadn’t worn before. Warning and doubt mixed and burrowed into Monica’s consciousness making her question her ability to negotiate and secure the sale of the house.

Inwardly cursing Thomas’s interference and distrust, she forced a smile. She could do what needed to be done for her family, just as she had done for herself over the last few years. She had managed perfectly well without Thomas beside her then and she would now. Monica relaxed her tense shoulders. “So, is your practice in the village, Doctor? I have barely had time to explore the changes in the village since I’ve been back. The endless work running the estate and, of course, tending to Mama, have kept me tied to the house.”

He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes soft with amusement. “You say that as though you do not like the house. Surely there isn’t a nicer place to spend your time?”

Thomas’s warning resonated inside Monica’s mind. Swallowing hard, she pulled back her shoulders and smiled. “Marksville may be beautiful, Doctor, but it isn’t my beloved theater. I desperately miss the stage, no matter how much I might be needed here.”

“I see. So you definitely do not intend to stay on at Marksville?”

Turning from his unwavering gaze, Monica stared at her mother. “No, running Marksville really isn’t for me. Of course, for anyone else, being mistress or master of such a wonderful estate would be a dream come true.”

“Well, I am most sorry to hear you will not be here much longer, Miss Danes.”

Monica turned and stared into his eyes. He stared straight back, his gaze filled with an implication she couldn’t understand nor decipher. “You are?”

“Indeed.” He lifted his glass to his lips once more, his gaze on hers above its rim. “I really had hoped we would see more of each other as the weeks went by.”

Unease rippled through her and Monica’s smile wavered as an unfamiliar feeling of being out of her depth emerged. She dragged her gaze from his to look about the room. Jane stared at them as Mrs. Cole chattered incessantly beside her. Heedless of Jane’s disinterest. Monica forced her attention back to the doctor. She had to soldier on; the sale of the house was about so much more than her wants. This was about Jane too. She cleared her throat. “No, I really do wish to continue living my life in Bath. If I didn’t have my career, I wouldn’t have a life. I love my work more than anything.”

“And what of Miss Jane?”

The hairs on Monica’s nape stood to attention and protectiveness overturned her apprehension. Her smiled dissolved. “Jane is a different woman from me, but as Marksville is mine to do with as I see fit—”

“The estate is entirely yours?” His eyes gleamed with surprise. “I thought your father would have split the estate equally.”

“I’m afraid he left it in its entirety to me, so any questions, interest, or problems in Marksville will now be mine to answer and deal with.”

“I see.” His gaze stayed on hers as the clock on the shelf beside them counted the passing seconds. He blinked and smiled. “To answer your earlier question, my office is actually at my home for the time being, although I have ambitions for a separate office somewhere. Alas, it is something on the back burner until I become more established within the community.”

Monica’s stomach knotted as her first glimpse of an opportunity to test how deep his interests in Marksville lie emerged. “It is always nice to meet an ambitious man, Doctor. It also pleases me that you wish to remain in Biddestone. The village seems to suit you.”

He smiled. “Oh, it does.”

She took a sip of her drink. “And do you wish for a family one day?”

He laughed. “That’s a very forward question, Miss Danes.”

Monica laughed and mentally poked herself in the eye for pushing too much, too soon. “I apologize. I merely ask because you strike me as a man who’d love a wife and children, as well as a thriving practice.”

His eyes darkened for the briefest of seconds before they softened once more. He raised his glass to his lips. “I must be quite transparent.”

“Transparency in a man is a rare and welcome virtue.” She glanced about the room and met Thomas’s steady and hardened gaze. “Sometimes far too much regard is measured by a man’s brooding and mystery.”

“Well, I hold no shame in sharing my ambitions. I love Biddestone and truly hope to make a permanent home here.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “Well, that’s wonderful. I’m sure the other residents will welcome you as much as I.” The gong sounded and Monica smiled. “Ah, dinner is served. Will you excuse me while I address everyone?”

He dipped his head. “Of course.”

Satisfaction washed through her as Monica left the doctor and walked to the fireplace. She’d managed to at least set the stage and would next draw on every one of her acting skills to expand the doctor’s interest in Marksville. She cleared her throat and the guests turned to look at her. She stretched out her hand in the direction of the open parlor door. “If you’d like to follow Jane and Mama into the dining room, dinner will be served.”

One by one, arms were taken and the guests filed from the room, leaving her and Thomas to bring up the rear. He came across the room and offered her his arm. “My lady.”

The soft, teasing lilt of his voice whispered over her skin and tugged maddeningly at her heart. Their eyes met and she smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

She pushed her hand into the crook of his arm and the inevitable rush of heat swept over her. So much for not touching him again while she was at Marksville, every fiber of her being told her she was meant to be with this man. Yet deep in her soul she still needed the theater like she needed air. The passion, fire, and sexual attraction between her and Thomas were unquestionable, but the odds of their lives together being happy were minimal at the very least.

So many factors were stacked against them—the contrast of their dreams, goals, and aspirations; the differences in their social class and experience. How would either of them ever be truly happy when they would be judged and spoken about wherever they went? Thomas led her from the room and into the hallway. She glanced at his profile as they walked and her heart twisted.

Maybe, just maybe, she could sacrifice her career for Thomas’s love—but she couldn’t sacrifice her liberty, and to stay at Marksville and be responsible for so many lives was just too great a risk to take. Moreover, there was no guarantee she would succeed where her father had before. What if her efforts failed and she was forced to sell a year, two, or four from now?