Chapter Nine
Delilah Hargate was not the sort of woman to be confused. Of course, she was never rude either and that no longer seemed to be true.
She paced the floor of her room, the same rooms she’d occupied as a girl. She refused to consider that in many ways, she had come full circle, back to where she began. Hopefully, the years had taught her much. Unfortunately, not enough. Apparently, when one made one mistake, it was impossible to avoid another. And another. And so on.
The rest of the day had been a blur after she’d left Samuel. But then what could one expect after having had a revelation of epic proportions? Or perhaps it wasn’t a revelation as much as a realization. As much as an acceptance of a truth she’d prefer not to face.
She’d gone through the motions of enjoying the rest of the party. She’d been pleasant and polite and even laughed at the occasional joke but she’d been more than a little relieved when the gathering had ended earlier than expected and everyone had departed. Fortunately, both her sister and her friend had been too busy attending to the guests and preoccupied with future plans to note any difference in Delilah’s demeanor. Teddy would surely have noticed otherwise and Camille was proving to be far more perceptive than her sister had expected. Nor had she eaten; she hadn’t been the least bit hungry, which in and of itself was something Teddy would have remarked upon if her attention had not been otherwise occupied. Delilah rarely passed up food. She was relieved as well to notice Samuel too had taken his leave. Delilah was simply not up to pretending they had just met.
She’d gone to her rooms as soon as she could gracefully escape, pleading a headache. The housemaid who’d come to turn down her bed told her Camille and Teddy had also retired. Good. Neither would be seeking her out and she wasn’t up to pretense with them either.
She had gone to bed far earlier than was her custom but after a day of tennis and emotional turmoil, a good night’s sleep was called for. Things always did look better in the morning.
Still, morning was very far away and she couldn’t sleep a wink. Every time she closed her eyes he was there. Every moment they’d shared filled her head. From their first meeting and the vague hint of confusion in the eyes of a tall, blond American to the wicked smile of a pirate at a masked ball. From the pride in his voice today when he’d explained the intricacies of his horseless carriage to his look of triumph at their tennis victory to the justifiable anger in his dark eyes at her irrational fury. When she closed her eyes she saw the look on his face before he’d kissed her for the first time. And when he’d kissed her for the last.
After hours of tossing and turning she’d given up the attempt entirely. She’d been pacing the floor for a good hour now, hashing and rehashing everything that had passed between them. Everything she now understood and everything he didn’t know.
Rational thought was certainly called for even if it was as elusive as sleep. She never should have responded to Samuel today the way she did. She could have ignored the way he smiled when she’d asked what else he was good at. But God help her, that was the only thing on her mind when he was around. It had been bloody hard to concentrate on the game when he was behind her, watching her every move. Even when they were arguing, she was all too aware of the passion that emanated from the man. His presence was not merely a constant reminder of what had passed between them, but more and more it was a temptation. And a warning.
It was time, past time really, to face the truth at least to herself. She hadn’t up to now. Hadn’t dared to accept the truth even in her own mind.
Samuel Russell had terrified her from the moment his laugh had wrapped around her heart.
She wasn’t used to being afraid. It was as if she were standing at the edge of an endless precipice and it would take no more than a nudge to push her over. And she would be lost. She had no idea how to deal with such fear. But as long as she never saw him again, she wouldn’t have to. He could remain her secret. Like a treasure hidden away only to be taken out on occasion when one needed a measure of comfort from a memory and the thought of what might have been.
She pulled her lace-trimmed wrapper tighter around herself and continued to pace. He was wrong though. He was wrong about all of it.
It wasn’t the possibility of scandal that concerned her. Her life had always been scandal free. One misadvised adventure certainly wouldn’t ruin her. And she was a widow after all. It wasn’t how gossip might affect her prospects for a second marriage that worried her either. Even as much of a stickler for propriety as she was, she had no intention of marrying anyone who would allow gossip to influence his choice of wife.
She’d been appalled not so much by her behavior in New York but because she had let her guard down. But she’d felt so, well, free in those few days. Not at all constrained by the rules she lived by. She could have stopped what happened between them at any time. But she hadn’t wanted to. From the moment his hand had brushed hers, she hadn’t wanted anything but him. She had quite simply been swept away. For the first time she had known what even the most practical woman would acknowledge as magic. And in that had violated the one rule she’d set for herself.
Then she’d come to her senses. They were completely different people. They wanted different things. They saw the world in different ways. If she couldn’t find love with a perfect match, one so completely imperfect, so utterly wrong, would ultimately end in disaster. She’d vowed long ago, she would never allow her heart to be broken again.
And he would break her heart. She’d known it from the start and knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the east. Still, for a few days in New York, she hadn’t cared. It hadn’t mattered. But then she’d thought she would never see him again. Planned never to see him again. It was for the best. Why didn’t he see that?
And now he was here. He’d never understand that her unpleasantness toward him had little to do with him and everything to do with her. She hadn’t really understood it herself until today. She’d only known she was angry and frustrated and, yes, scared.
She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was past two. There was nothing to be done about it. She had to talk to him. Apologize again, of course, attempt some sort of explanation and ask him, again, to leave. Surely after today he would see the wisdom of that.
He had to leave before it was too late.
It was probably foolish to go to him now. In the wee hours of the morning. Dressed in her nightclothes. But better now than during the day when everyone was about. Besides, she had summoned up at least a small measure of courage and she wasn’t going to be able to sleep until she spoke to him.
She opened her door, glanced up and down the corridor, and started down the hall. A gas sconce burned low, filling the corridor with dim light and shadows. His rooms were at the far end of the hall, away from those occupied by the others. Her footfalls echoed quietly in the night. A light shone under his door. Good, he wasn’t yet asleep.
She stood before his door and hesitated, trying to sort out in her head what she’d say, searching for the right words. She had no idea really what to say but she did know, the one thing she wouldn’t tell him, was the one thing she knew firsthand from bitter experience.
Love did not conquer all.
She drew a deep breath and knocked softly. Without warning, panic swelled within her. It was all she could do to keep from turning and fleeing back down the corridor. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Or was she thinking at all? This was not the least bit wise. Surely it could wait until—
The door opened and he stared at her. “What do you want?”
What did she want? “May I come in?”
His hair was tousled and he wore dark striped pajamas under that blasted blue silk dressing gown. At once she remembered the feel of that silk against her skin and a shiver ran down her spine. She ignored it. That was not why she was here.
His eyes narrowed. “Did you come to berate me again?”
“No, I came to apologize.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, I did and I would prefer not to do so standing here in the hall.”
He studied her closely then nodded. “Very well then.” He stood aside and she slipped into his room. “You seem to be making a habit of apologizing to me.”
“When one is a lunatic.” She forced an offhand note to her voice. “One tends to say things one shouldn’t.”
He closed the door behind her. “As one does when one is dealing with a lunatic. I have apologies of my own to make.”
“Accepted.”
He frowned. “I haven’t made them yet.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I have never in my life called a woman a—”
“No need to say more,” she said quickly.
“It was coarse and crude. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You were provoked and I was . . .”
“Rude?” he said with a hint of a smile.
“No, Samuel.” She straightened her shoulders. “Rude is something of an understatement. I was beyond rude and for that I am truly sorry.”
“You’re getting better at this, you know.”
“At apologizing?”
He nodded.
“I am getting a great deal of practice.” She glanced around his room. The covers on his bed were disheveled and papers were scattered on the writing desk. “I see you couldn’t sleep either.”
“Either?”
He was obviously not going to make this easy for her. She sighed. “I’m afraid my ill manners have weighed on my mind.” She nodded at the desk. “Were you working?”
“I was trying but I don’t seem to be accomplishing anything.” He moved to the desk and straightened the papers. “Gray and I had a long talk tonight about our plans for manufacturing the motorwagon. Unfortunately, his business contacts are primarily in America.”
“I thought Winfield was involved in business. Can’t he help?”
“Possibly.” He nodded. “But Gray says he’s fairly conservative and not as progressive as one would hope. Still, Lord and Lady Stillwell’s interest is a good beginning. Of course they haven’t seen it run yet.”
“I’m sure that will only increase their enthusiasm.”
“With luck.” He crossed his arms over his chest and rested his hip on the desk. “If that’s all, you should probably go.”
She drew a deep breath. “I’m not quite finished.”
“Go on then.”
“Very well. It seems to me, along with my apologies I owe you some sort of explanation or perhaps it’s a confession, I’m not sure.” She wasn’t about to tell him she feared she had found her soul mate, if one believed in such things, and he was the wrong man. Nor had she said she’d be completely honest but part of the truth was surely better than no truth at all. She sighed. “For one thing, I am so very tired of being angry with you.”
“Imagine it from my side,” he said wryly.
“It’s not merely that you are here . . .”
“No?”
“Or that I was surprised, well, shocked really, to see you again.”
“And?”
“And I was, well, this doesn’t seem to have as much to do with you as it does with me.”
“I never thought otherwise,” he said coolly.
She drew her brows together. “This is not easy for me and you aren’t being very helpful.”
“Oh, well, my apologies then.”
She ignored the sarcastic note in his voice. “As I was saying, it really has as much to do with me as it does with you I think. More so probably. I mean you could be anyone.”
“Anyone?” His brow rose. “That is flattering.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She wrung her hands together. “This is so confusing and it’s not coming out at all as I intended it.”
“Just tell me what you have to say.”
“I am trying. I’m, well, every time I see you . . .” I’m terrified that you will break my heart. “I’m embarrassed.” Yes, that was good and not a complete lie either. “After all, you and I . . . Horribly, horribly embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?”
“Well, yes. You . . .” She drew a deep breath. “You have seen me . . . naked.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Goodness, Samuel, I would think not, you’re a man. No doubt many women have seen you . . . naked.”
“I wouldn’t say many but some.”
“I’ve never been seen completely naked by anyone.” Indeed, it was decidedly awkward even to say the word aloud. “And therefore every time I look at you—”
“Not even by your husband?” Surprise widened his eyes.
“That’s really none of your concern.”
“I believe you’ve made it my concern.”
“Yes, I suppose I have.” She paused. “My husband was a very proper man.”
“I see.” He studied her for a moment. “And something of a fool as well. A smart man would have your clothes off at every opportunity.”
“Nonsense.” She tried to ignore the heat that washed up her face. “My husband was . . .” She struggled to find the right word. “Perfect.” Yes, that was it. “He was perfect. Exactly the type of man I had always planned to marry.”
“And I am not.”
“No, you’re not.” She shook her head. “We don’t suit at all.”
“Then it’s fortunate I have not asked you to marry me.”
“I never should have raised the subject of marriage with you. I have no idea why I did, although I suppose marriage has been on my mind of late.”
“Probably because you are determined to find another perfect husband.”
“Yes, well that would explain it.”
“Which has nothing to do with me.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She shook her head. “It seems the one thing we do agree on is that we don’t agree on anything. It’s in our natures really. You’re American, so very American, and I’m British. You believe in progress and I am rooted in tradition. You are nouveau riche and I am—”
“Penniless?”
“Only at the moment,” she said sharply, then drew a calming breath. “When you look at it in a practical, rational way, we have nothing in common.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” he said under his breath.
She was not going to rise to that bait, not again. “And obviously, as whenever we’re together, I am not disciplined enough to pretend nothing has ever happened between us.”
“Because I’ve seen you naked.”
“Well, yes.”
“Or maybe it’s because you’ve seen me naked.”
She stared. “Possibly.”
He studied her closely. “Do you think every time I look at you I see you naked?”
“No, of course not.” She drew her brows together.
“Do you?”
His gaze skimmed over her and he shrugged.
She gasped. “Do you?”
“More to the point, do you see me naked every time you look at me?”
“I don’t think that’s the point at all and don’t be absurd.” She huffed. “Not every time.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
A slight smile played on his lips. “Then I would say we have a problem.”
“We wouldn’t if you would do the . . . the gentlemanly thing and leave.”
“I have already said I have no intention of leaving before the wedding.”
“But as an intelligent man surely you’re open to logic and reason.”
“I do love having my own words thrown back at me.”
“They were very good words,” she said quickly.
“I will be at the wedding, however . . .” He thought for a moment. “Gray and I talked about spending some time taking the motorwagon around the country, visiting friends of his family’s, to gauge interest. If we decide to do so, we will be gone most days, probably until late in the evening. He says he’s really not needed here.”
“Oh, he isn’t,” she said eagerly.
“Which means there will be days when you and I don’t see each other at all.” He met her gaze directly. “Will that do?”
“Yes.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s something of a compromise and I’ve never been good at compromise—”
He snorted.
“But the fact that you are willing to make a concession in view of my feelings, it’s very gallant of you. That will do quite nicely, thank you.”
“Then we are agreed.” He straightened. “I will determine a schedule with Gray in the morning.”
“Excellent.” She thrust her hand out toward him. “Isn’t it customary to shake hands now?”
“It is.” He stepped closer, took her hand, and gazed into her eyes. A shiver ran through her at his touch. “As this seems to be a night of confessions, might I make one of my own?”
“Don’t you think there’s been enough confession for one night?”
“Probably, but I may never get another opportunity.” He pulled her closer, his gaze never leaving hers. “I wasn’t entirely truthful with you earlier.”
“Oh?” She swallowed hard. Why, the man practically radiated heat. Not that she had forgotten.
“When I said I had been thinking about you a lot, that wasn’t quite true.”
“No?”
“A lot was not entirely accurate. I never forgot so much as a moment with you.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “I thought about you nearly every day and dreamed of you almost every night.”
“That does sound like a lot,” she said weakly.
“It seemed pointless, though.” His lips moved to her wrist and her breath caught. “You said you never wanted to see me again.”
“I said it would be . . . best.” She could barely choke out the words. What was he doing to her?
“That’s right, it would be best, I remember.” His lips whispered across her wrist. His free arm encircled her waist. “And so I did nothing but dream.”
“Did you?” She should push him away, right now, and end this. Only a fool would fail to see what was happening.
“I did.” His gaze bored into hers. “Did you?”
Or perhaps only a fool would push him away. “I might have. Possibly. Once. Or twice.” Or every night.
“And in your dreams, were my lips on yours?” He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers and she wondered that she didn’t melt at his feet.
“Perhaps,” she whispered.
He dropped her hand and wrapped his other arm around her. “And were you in my arms?”
“Possibly.” Her heart thudded hard in her chest.
“Was your body pressed against mine?”
“It might have been . . .” As if of their own accord, her arms slipped around his neck and she gazed up at him.
“Could you feel my heart beating against yours?”
“I thought it was my heart. Oh, God.” She gazed into his eyes. “You’re seducing me again, aren’t you?”
“I thought we agreed that it was a mutual seduction.”
“In New York but now . . .”
“I was not the one who came to your room.”
“I only came to talk.”
“Did you?” His gaze locked with hers.
“That was my plan.” She didn’t sound the least bit convincing even to her own ears. She wasn’t a fool. Somewhere in the back of her mind hadn’t she known how their talk would end? Hadn’t she wanted this to end in his bed?
“And you are one for plans.”
She nodded. “Excellent plans for the most part.”
“But even the best plans don’t always work as expected.”
“Apparently.”
“Did you plan this?” He pressed his lips to hers, softly but insistently.
“No,” her lips murmured against his. For a moment, a dozen reasons why this would be yet another mistake raced through her mind. She discarded them all. “Perhaps.”
His kiss deepened, her mouth opened to his. He tasted as she remembered. Of heat and desire and wonder. Lord help her, she was indeed a fool. This was another mistake. Or maybe it was simply . . . right. Or fate. Or magic. She didn’t know. Didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save the heat of him, the feel of him pressed against her, the passion in his kiss. The desire in her own.
His arms tightened around her. Her breasts pressed against his chest. The beat of his heart echoed the beat of her own. Hunger surged within her. Desire. Need. Truth. And fear. She’d lost herself in him once before and she would again. Whether it was wrong or right or simply mad, she wanted him. And had from the moment she’d left him. She angled her head, reveling in the feel of his tongue dueling with hers. The heat of his body wrapped around her. How could something so obviously wrong be so very right?
She pulled her lips from his and gazed into his eyes. “Not a plan but . . . dear Lord, Sam, yes.” She swallowed hard. “I haven’t forgotten anything.” Her lips again met his. “Not for a moment. . . .”
His mouth crushed hers and every doubt, every fear vanished in the feel of his mouth pillaging hers. She responded in kind, her kiss as hard, as hungry as his. Months of denying the magic between them vanished, swept aside by aching desire and frantic need. She tugged at the sash of his dressing grown and pushed the cool silk off his shoulders. Her mouth still clung to his, his hands roamed over her shoulders, her back, her derriere. Her wrapper slipped to the floor followed almost at once by her nightclothes. She hadn’t noticed his clothes were gone as well until she felt the hard, hot muscles of his chest against her breasts. And she shivered with the heat of his naked body pressed against hers. No, she hadn’t forgotten so much as a moment....
The instant the hotel door closed behind them, a dam of restraint between them burst. Her lips crushed to his. His hands, her hands were everywhere at once. They undressed one another with an urgency born of desire and need. She scarcely noticed when the shepherdess costume crumpled at her feet or when his pirate attire joined her discarded clothes. All she knew was the heat of him pressed against her, escalating her desire, searing her soul....
She wrenched her lips from his and ran kisses down the slope of his neck and lower. His head fell back and he moaned. She rained kisses on his chest, catching a hard nipple in her mouth to tease and toy. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands skimming over her heated flesh, over her back and lower to cup her buttocks and pull her tighter against him. She couldn’t touch him enough. Couldn’t get enough of the taste of him. . . .
He tasted of heat and desire and man. She explored him with her tongue and her mouth and her hands, reveling in the hard, strong planes and valleys of his chest and his shoulders and his legs. Aching for more....
Her body pressed against his and she wanted more. So much more. She raised her leg and hooked it around his, and the hard length of his arousal slipped between her legs. She felt the strength of him, demanding and insistent, and gloried in the feel of her own slick desire on him. . . .
They tumbled together onto the bed, a tangle of lips and limbs and passion. She’d never known, never so much as suspected, such unrelenting need could claim her and wondered in a small part of her mind not clouded by desire how something so intense, so all consuming could happen with a stranger. A man she scarcely knew. It was wrong, certainly a sin. And nothing in her life had ever felt so right....
Together they twisted and stumbled toward the bed, her body and his, her mouth and his, her hands, his hands never losing the contact between them. As if parting for so much as an instant would drive them both mad. They fell onto the bed, frantic with the need to touch and taste and feel. The need for more. His hands, his lips were everywhere at once. He sucked at her breast and she heard an odd, whimpering sound and realized it was her. She tunneled her fingers through his hair. Her legs wrapped around him and he slid down her body, his mouth blazing a trail between her breasts and lower to her stomach and lower still....
He buried his head between her legs and she held her breath, resisting the urge to push him away. This was not . . . She had never . . . Phillip had never . . . Panic welled within her. She couldn’t possibly . . . She gasped. He tasted her and all hesitation fled, washed away by exquisite sensation and the deepest intimacy. Surely she would die of the sweet torture he inflicted with his tongue and his teeth. And she knew as well it would be a glorious way to die. . . .
Her breath came faster and she writhed beneath him, urging him on. She distinctly recalled a moment of shock at this sinful intimacy in New York. Now, she ached for his touch. Ached for him. She raised her hips. His fingers parted her, his breath whispered over her. She cried out at the first touch of his tongue, dissolving onto a being of sheer sensation. Knowing nothing but his caress. Existing only in the feel of his touch. The touch that threatened to be her undoing. Her hands fisted in the bedclothes. His tongue teased and stroked and carried her closer and closer to that place only he had brought her....
Tension coiled tighter and tighter within her, straining and reaching until at last her body shook in waves of unexpected, unimagined pure pleasure. For no more than a fleeting instant, Phillip flashed through her mind and she hated him for never sharing this and never caring. The thought vanished at once, dashed aside by rising need. And she wanted more....
“No,” she murmured and shifted beneath him, sliding lower until his erection nudged her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gazed into his dark eyes, glazed with passion, reflecting her own. “I want . . .”
“You,” he said, his voice hoarse with passion. “Always, only you . . .”
Her hand slipped between them and her fingers curled around the hot length of him and he moaned. She arched her hips upward and guided him into her. He gasped and slid deeper, stretching her, filling her, claiming her once again as his....
“Delilah,” he murmured against her ear. “Oh, God.”
“Samuel . . .” She struggled for breath. “Please, now . . .”
He positioned himself between her legs and entered her slowly, carefully. As if she were fragile and precious and valued. Until he filled her and she knew with blinding clarity, for this moment, she was his. And he was hers....
She rocked her hips against him, urging him on. Faster and harder. He thrust into her again and again, burying himself deeper and deeper. Hard and hot, and slick and wet. Pleasure and the joy of being one with him gripped her, filled her, devoured her. With every stroke, the past and the present, the dreams and the memories twisted, entwining together like vines of desire and passion and wonder. Had it been months? Or forever? Or only yesterday? His slick body slid against hers, every movement urging her on, taking her higher. Her blood pounded in her ears. His heart thudded in tandem with her own. Her body throbbed around him, aching, yearning, reaching for more. Always, ever more . . .
And when release again caught her unawares, she wondered if this was the stuff adventures were made of. Or dreams . . .
He groaned and his muscles tightened and he shuddered against her. He stroked into her once more and again until she cried out and her back arched and her body exploded. And ecstasy washed through her and curled her toes and caught at her soul.
When at last she could breathe again, she propped herself up on her elbow, gazed into his brown eyes, and smiled in a most sinful, wicked manner.
His brow rose. “Why, Mrs. Hargate, if I didn’t know better I’d think you have another plan.”
“My dear American.” Her hand drifted over his stomach and lower to his still hard erection. “I believe I do.”
He laughed and caught her hand, drawing her palm to his lips. “Good.”
He pulled her back into his arms and in that moment before she lost herself again in the joy of being with him, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her head.
Perhaps one adventure was not nearly enough.