Wildfire Kiss (19 page)

She looked like a caged kitten about to claw its way
out of a corner.

What the deuce was going on?

He was already in a foul mood. He had just come from
Sir Frederick’s lodgings and had endured Freddy’s chatter about the
ride he’d had with Babs, Miss Bretton, and the dry-witted Lady
Jane.

He had managed to inquire casually if Lady Babs
seemed to be in spirits, and Freddy had answered, “Babs? Odd that
you should ask that.”

“Oh, and why, may I ask?”

“Because I couldn’t put m’finger on it, but, Nick,
she didn’t seem herself at all … and if I didn’t know better,
I would swear her eyes were red from crying. I remarked on her eyes
looking a bit red, and she said it was the flowers …
but …”

“Perhaps she was a bit under the weather,” Nick had
responded, but he hadn’t been able to banish the sick feeling that
swept through him.

“Well, I asked Corry … Miss Bretton what was
towards with Babs, for I tell you, though she tried damnably to
hide it, something was wrong.”

“And what did Miss Bretton have to say?”

“Well, you see, Miss Bretton and I are, I hope, I
believe, reaching an understanding and are therefore on …
comfortable terms—”

“Damnation man, though I am pleased to hear it, do
tell me what she thought about the Lady Babs!” snapped Lord
Wildfire, losing the patience he had been trying desperately to
maintain.

Freddy had eyed him curiously for a moment and said,
“Aye … she told me that her cousin was suffering from a
terribly tight situation, but before she could finish, we were
interrupted, you see, and she was unable to tell me the rest.”

Freddy’s words had nagged at him, and now, here she
was, looking as though she were about to cry and trying very hard
not to do so. In fact, it appeared as though she were pleading for
her life …

What a muddle he was in. What should he do?

Time to cut the couple off before Sir Edward took up
the reins. Why not? Perhaps he would use this moment to pay his
respects to the bride … and see what he could see.

One thing, however, nagged at his brain: the
question of why.

Why the devil should he care if she was the sort to
turn her back on their intimacy and go to another’s bed? Why should
he bother?

A moment later he cantered up the sandy hill to the
road so he was alongside the parked phaeton. He tipped his hat and
called out a jovial greeting.

He caught the look that came into Babs’ eyes, and it
sucked the breath out of his lungs. He was dashed finished, he told
himself. He had his answer to his questions.

He urged his horse to her side of the vehicle as he
gave Sir Edward a perfunctory nod and took his hat off to Babs. “To
the Lady Babs,” he said quietly. “May I extend my congratulations
and wish you happy?”

Her face froze with shock as she turned and stared
at Sir Edward and seemed to make up her mind. “If that is what you
wish to do,” she said on a defeated note.

“Babs, sweetheart … what is this?” He spoke
only to her, heedless that Sir Edward’s face had taken on
color.

She brought those luscious, dark eyes of hers up to
his face and silently implored him for help. How could he help her
when he didn’t know why she had accepted to marry Sir
Edward—especially after their lovemaking?

“You see, Nick … sometimes we appear to be what
we are not. Sometimes we must do
not
what we want, but what
we must, and those of us that can … make the best of it.” She
said this last with a catch in her throat, and the duke had the
very strong urge to take Sir Edward by the throat and strangle
him.

“This is all very touching,” Sir Edward interjected
dryly. “But I must see my lady home.” He nodded curtly and whipped
his horses off.

Lord Wildfire sat his horse and watched them draw
away down the avenue. Lady Babs turned once and cast him a soulful
look. Something in the droop of her shoulders seemed to suggest she
was acknowledging defeat.

What did all this mean? Was she being constrained to
marry Sir Edward? Was Ned offering such a price to her father that
he could not refuse in the face of his debts?

No, by damn, she wasn’t marrying Ned—or anyone else
for that matter!

Eighteen

LADY BABS LOOKED around the Alvanleys’ ballroom with
a heavy sigh. She had been thinking long and hard about doing just
what she had told Sir Edward she would do. She would approach the
Prince …

Brighton was ablaze with the hedonistic
ton
.
The seaside town had been brought into fashion by the Prince Regent
when he chose it for his Royal Pavilion, and he was very prominent
at the moment with his collection of intimates surrounding him.

Otto stood at Bab’s side, pointing out first one and
then another woman who had chosen to wear a gown he found
appalling. She managed to laugh and told him he was very naughty,
but her heart wasn’t in it as she scanned the crowd of guests for
but one person.

Otto led her onto the floor, but as they were
continually bumped by other dancers, he took her hand and led her
off. “You will be bruised trying to dance with that squeeze of
people bumping us at every turn …”

Babs smiled absently up at him, happy for his
company, which Sir Edward seemed resigned to allow.

Otto touched her chin. “You are very lovely. Your
choice of gown, the white with the black embroidery at the bodice,
is very fetching and suits you with its simplicity.”

“Does it,” she said automatically. “That is
nice.”

“Dash it, Babs, what the deuce is wrong?”

“Wrong? Why, Otto what could be wrong?”

“My question—you have but to answer.”

He was her dear, sweet friend. Most people would not
have noticed her distress, she told herself. Could she confide in
Otto? Should she burden him with such a secret? He would take her
part. He would rage and fume, but in the end … what could he
do?

“Nothing is wrong … perhaps I am tired from the
long, boring day.” She patted his arm.

He was not convinced. “You do not fool me,
Babs … something is wrong, and you are not tired … pale,
yes, but tired, no.”

“Stop it, do, or you shall have me worried about my
appearance, and then something will be wrong.” She allowed him a
bright smile; though she had wanted to give him a laugh, she was
unable to summon one.

Sir Edward approached and won a dark frown from
Otto.

“May I lead you out for a dance …?” Sir Edward
ignored the count as he spoke softly to Babs.

She lowered her gaze and put her hand on his
extended forearm.

“It is a squeeze on the floor …” Otto
complained.

“I know well how to protect my lady,” answered Sir
Edward with a sneer.

He bent and whispered in her ear, “I see the good
count is determined to watch over you.”

“With gentlemen such as yourself lurking about and
ready to pounce, ’tis no wonder!” she answered roughly.

“Oooh, the lady’s tongue is sharp tonight.” He
smiled at her, appearing not in the least disturbed by her bad
humor.

“Do you find the truth … sharp?” she pursued
irritably, her gaze shooting darts of fury at him.

“Babs,” he said gravely, “the truth is that you will
be mine, so accept it. Learn to enjoy what can be.” With his
white-gloved hand tightly on her waist, he spun her to the beat of
the waltz and then towards the garden doors. He bent his head close
to her ear and said, “In the end, you will find yourself in my
bed … and enjoying your place as my wife.”

She blanched. The effrontery of the man. How dare
he … how … but if she did not do something soon, that
would be her fate. She wanted to slap his face and tell him to do
his worst. A scene … it would create a scene, and then he
would ruin her family for revenge. However, the fighter in her came
to the fore. “Accept it? You mistake your power, sir. You would
have to find yourself a mighty philter, for it will take nothing
less for me to accept it. You may make me your wife … but do
you think you can force me to your bed …?”

“You haven’t a choice in the matter,” he said
grimly.

“Ah, but I do … will you ruin my reputation
then, sir? Will you tell all the world your wife penned
Passion’s Seed
… will you?”

“No, I will have you in the end, my way—even if I
have to muster up a love potion to do it.”

“A love potion? A ball and chain is not a love
potion, and that is how I will always perceive my connection to
you.”

***

Anyone intimate with Babs would have noticed if they
happened to glance her way that she was undergoing some emotional
strain. Therefore, Corry, who had been watching her cousin, broke
off her conversation with Sir Frederick to exclaim, “Freddy, I wish
you were able to dance.”

“Would love to accommodate you, my dear, broken arm
n’all,” he offered devotedly with a gallant bow.

“No, no—I mean to save Babs,” she answered with some
distress.

“Why?” asked a strong male voice at her back. “Is
Lady Babs in need of saving?”

Corry looked around and saw the duke, tall and
solemn, stepping purposely forward. He did not bother to smile a
greeting.

Corry attempted a light rejoinder, uncertain just
what she should say to him. “I was just remarking that my cousin
looks a bit … fatigued.”

“Were you?” He looked thoughtfully at Lady Babs.
“She looks spirited—flushed in fact—but certainly not
fatigued.”

“Indeed,” Sir Frederick stuck in, looking from his
friend to his beloved. “I think Lady Babs needs a bit of fresh
air.” He smiled sweetly at his love. “Shall I take her off, my
dear …? Will you join me?”

“No need,” the duke said. “You may continue to
attend to Miss Bretton, Freddy.
I’ll
see to Lady Babs!”

***

The duke had suddenly made up his mind. Something
was wrong, he knew that, but what it was he couldn’t tell. However,
he was not about to allow Sir Edward to browbeat the woman of his
heart. She wasn’t going to marry Ned—damnation, no, because she was
going to marry him.

He told himself that he had the experience and the
skill to handle all that life threw at him, but he would never be
able to handle life itself without the Lady Babs in it at his side.
Somehow she had found a way to get under his skin, into his blood,
and was the reason his heart pounded.

He tapped Sir Edward’s shoulder. The waltz was
nearly at an end, and as Sir Edward turned to see who wished to
interrupt, a smile froze on his face.

“Nick,” he said on a hard note. “A bit late, aren’t
you?”

‘No, I don’t think so. I rather think I am just in
time.” Creating a scene would only embarrass Babs, so he made a
show of laughing and said, “Here, give over gracefully. You will
have her all to yourself soon enough, Ned.”

Sir Edward had no choice. He couldn’t very well
create a scene. He would be laughed at as a fool, and Lord Wildfire
knew it. He watched Sir Edward bow himself off, a slight sneer
marring his smile.

And then Wildfire, true to his name, lost no
time.

He easily, deftly steered Babs out of Sir Edward’s
view. Before she could question, or object, he had her slender arm
and was at the ballroom door pulling her out into the courtyard and
the warm night air.

Outdoors, he took a moment to bring his thoughts
together. Babs looked up at the stars and said softly,
“Beautiful …”

He looked meaningfully at her. “Exquisite.”

When she looked up and into his eyes, he felt like a
boy. Her dark eyes held a shine, held a look of love, and thrilled
him. The air was intoxicating with the sweet scents of early summer
blossoms. A breeze wafted by touched with salt and was refreshing
after the tight quarters in the small ballroom. The fresh green
landscape, the torches, and his beloved …

He was overcome with need and love and desire. She
had wrapped her fingers around his soul and made it hers. She said
his name softly, and like a fool all he could say was, “Babs …
my love … my everything …”

He crushed her into his arms, and at first his kiss
was a gentle brushing of her full lips with a light touch of his
own. Then he felt her tongue lick at his bottom lip, and he parted
her delicious lips so that his tongue could join hers. One kiss
turned into two, and then he was taking her shoulders and setting
her apart from him.

Her dark eyes looked up at him questioningly, and he
groaned. “Babs, beloved girl, I want you, but not like this—not
when you are in trouble and desperate and don’t know where to
turn … so
turn to me
.”

She frowned up at him and lowered her eyes. “I did
not say I was in trouble …”

“And yet I know that you are. Tell me, why have you
told Ned you would marry him? It makes no sense to me.”

Her eyes were so dark, and suddenly a tear rolled
down her cheek. “Because I have to …”

“You have to?” he nearly shouted back. “Why in
thunder do you have to? Is it money? Does your father need the
money—has Ned offered to pay off his debts?”

She shook her head. “No, it isn’t the money …
now … not a problem with money.”

“Then, love … sweet love … tell me. Trust
me. If you are trying to protect your father, I shall immediately
make all the financial arrangements—”

She cut him off with a finger in front of his face.
“
No!
You cannot buy me for a mistress. How can you suggest
such a thing?”

He laughed, but it was short-lived. “How can you
think that is what I am offering?”

“What else must I think?”

“Babs, my own dear sweet Babs. I did not think I was
ready for marriage … am not quite ready for marriage, but I
still wish to protect you.”

She eyed him with a shake of her head, but once
again he was kissing her, and this time
she
pulled away.