‘Y ou seem mightily distracted this evening, old fellow,’ Ross Marney said, ushering his friend Richard Kestrel into his study and closing the door firmly behind them. ‘Never seen you lose so badly at whist. Lucky the ladies only play for pennies or you’d be in River Tick by now.’ He gave Richard a searching look. ‘Is there anything that I can help with? Anything that a glass of brandy could improve?’
Richard laughed and accepted the invitation, taking one of the wing chairs set before the fire and waiting whilst his friend poured for both of them. He had attended Olivia Marney’s card party that evening more in the hope of seeing Deb than in anything else, but in the event she had not been there and Richard had found himself bored and inattentive. He had lost badly, to the great pleasure of all the ladies, who had fleeced him mercilessly.
He had also known that he had to talk to Ross. His friend had been more generous than he had deserved earlier in the day, when Richard had turned up at the Customs House under the guise of Lord Scandal. Had it not been for the long history between them, Ross might well have called him to account. The least he deserved was an explanation.
Richard looked up with a smile of thanks as Ross passed him the drink before settling himself in the other chair. For a while there was the companionable silence that often existed between old friends. Richard and Ross had served together on the Valiant and had shared more mess room debates than either cared to remember, both in and out of their cups. When Richard had come to Midwinter, the slight formality remaining from their professional relationship had deepened into friendship. Never before, however, had Richard proposed to marry Ross’s sister-in-law, and whilst he hesitated on how to broach the topic, Ross looked at him directly and said, ‘It is to do with Deborah, I suppose. Can it be that you wish to marry her?’
Richard jumped and spilled his brandy. ‘Devil take it, Ross, can you not give me due warning before you pull such a trick? This brandy is too good to waste.’
Ross laughed. ‘Sorry, old chap. Thought I’d move the conversation along a bit as you seemed lost for words. Do I take it that my wild stab in the dark was somewhere near the mark?’
Richard did not answer immediately. He turned the brandy glass round in his palm. ‘Pretty close,’ he said. ‘Mrs Stratton and I pledged our troth today.’
Now it was Ross’s turn to choke. When he had recovered his breath he said mildly, ‘Didn’t think you’d be able to persuade her. Nor did I think you were the marrying kind, Richard. Thought that you proved that when the betrothal to Lady Diana Elliot went awry?’
Richard pulled a face. In his long and frequently reprehensible history as a rake there was no episode more discreditable than the engagement to a duke’s daughter that had ended almost as soon as it had begun, when she had discovered him pleasuring a Cyprian on the terrace at their betrothal party. It was many years ago, but Richard could not remember the episode without a wince of shame because he could see, with the benefit of hindsight, that it had been an act that had shown contempt towards a lady who had done him no wrong. Lady Diana had given him his congé in arctic terms:
‘You are clearly unsuited to the state of matrimony and I am not so desperate for a husband that I would bind myself to a man who shows me so little respect…’
God help him, at the time he had thought it amusing. The incident had confirmed his outrageous reputation and he had played on it to the full. Yet after a couple of years the empty life of a rake about town had become too barren to sustain him and he had chosen to join the Navy, to his father’s utter fury. He had enjoyed life at sea and had acquitted himself with valour, but when he had been invalided out, his old way of life had beckoned him as surely as a devil tempting him from the path of virtue. Until he had come to Midwinter and seen Deborah Stratton, and felt his heart seize in his chest. In one second she had achieved what the French had failed to do, and shot him down. It was rich retribution for a rake.
He did not intend to make any further mistakes. Deb had given him the advantage now and he would not let her escape him. It was marriage-or naught.
Richard stretched his long legs out to the warmth of the fire. He had already decided to tell Ross the whole truth, for he could see no way that he and Deb could sustain a masquerade beneath the noses of his friend and her sister. He rested his chin on his hand and sighed.
‘I shall tell you the whole matter, Ross, and then you may have me horsewhipped from the house if you please.’
Ross paused. ‘Is that a likely outcome?’
Richard sighed again. ‘I cannot be certain. Suffice it to say that your sister-in-law recently advertised for a gentleman of honour to come to her assistance.’ He saw the arrested look in Ross’s eyes and added hastily, ‘I need hardly tell you, Ross, that I am relating this in confidence. I have no wish to make further difficulties for Mrs Stratton. She was in urgent need of a fiancé and I offered my services.’
There was a very long silence.
‘What form did this advertisement take?’ Ross said, after a while.
‘It was a notice placed in the Suffolk Chronicle.’ Richard looked at him. ‘Under a pseudonym, of course.’
‘And you answered it,’ Ross said.
‘I did.’
‘And you also paid to suppress all the other replies?’
Richard grinned at that. ‘I did. How well you know me.’
‘Hmm,’ Ross said. ‘Did you know from the start that it was Deb who had placed the notice?’
Richard hesitated. ‘I…guessed.’
‘Extraordinary,’ Ross opined.
Richard smiled ruefully. ‘I do have rather a strong instinct where your sister-in-law is concerned, Ross.’
‘My dear fellow, we have all observed it,’ Ross said. He reached for the decanter and topped up Richard’s glass. ‘I suppose it is the nature of your impulses towards Deb that have always concerned me. I have to admit that I had not expected chivalry to be one of them.’
Richard’s mouth twisted wryly. ‘Thank you, Ross.’
‘I beg your pardon.’ Ross laughed. ‘I do not mean to imply that you would seduce Deb, merely that you might want to.’
‘You give me too much credit.’ Richard’s conscience stirred. ‘Until recently I would have seduced Deborah with the greatest of pleasure had she encouraged me to do so.’
Ross’s eyes narrowed. He looked torn between amusement and disapproval. In the end he merely said, ‘And now?’
Richard shifted. He was thinking of the incident the previous year when he had asked Deb to be his mistress. He had mistaken her then. Misled by her widowed status and also by her vivacious nature, he had assumed her to be a high-flyer like Lily Benedict, or, if not that, at least an experienced woman of the world such as Lady Sally Saltire. He had also assumed that once he had made love to her, her power over him would wane. Now he could see that both assumptions were groundless, for Deb was an innocent in matters of love and that very innocence captured and held him as surely as if he were bound with silken ties. He could ignore what was on offer from a practised flirt like Lady Benedict and prefer the infinitely more difficult prospect of wooing Deborah Stratton.
And that wooing would lead to marriage. If he wished to keep the friendship and respect of Ross Marney he could not simply take Deb to his bed. He did not even want to. He wanted Deb, but he did not wish to make her his mistress. Somehow that had become insufficient. He wanted to protect Deb and gain her trust. He was acting on an instinct that had never previously stirred in his relationships with women. He wanted more. He wanted everything. Once she was his, he would never let her go.
He spoke slowly. ‘Now I want to marry her. Genuinely marry her, I mean. Not connive at a pretence.’
Ross nodded and moved on to another difficult question. ‘What was it that prompted you to assist Deborah in this matter, Richard?’
Richard smiled. ‘I felt that she had presented me with a perfect opportunity to woo her.’
Ross looked thoughtful. ‘That is true, of course. She has played into your hands. But what of your other, more altruistic motives?’
Richard shifted a little uncomfortably again. Ross could never accept things at face value and he was usually correct.
He spoke slowly. ‘I had the distinct impression that Mrs Stratton’s need was acute. She tells me that her father is insisting that she return to live under his roof, and that she feels unable to comply.’ His took another mouthful of brandy. ‘She also implied that Lord Walton intended to marry her off to her cousin and that she had no desire to wed ever again. She seemed very distressed by the entire matter, which was one of the reasons why I offered my aid.’
Ross nodded. He hesitated. ‘It is certainly true that Deb is set against marriage. She was very unhappy with Neil Stratton. She has frequently expressed the view that she would rather starve than marry again. It seems a shame, but she is quite adamant.’ He gave Richard a look of acute perception. ‘I should warn you that there are matters there which are very painful to her.’ Ross looked away. ‘But that is Deb’s story to tell, not mine. Suffice it to say that I would have killed Stratton if the fever had not beaten me to it.’
Richard’s head snapped up sharply. ‘That bad?’
‘Worse.’ Ross took a moody sip of his drink. ‘The man was beneath contempt.’ He looked up again, his mouth a hard line. ‘And as such, he gave Deb such a disgust of men in general that I believe you will have your work cut out to make her change her mind and accept you in earnest.’
Richard frowned. ‘You do not think that I could persuade her?’
Ross looked rueful. ‘I cannot say for sure, but I feel it only fair that you should be forewarned.’
‘Deborah is not in a strong position to oppose her father alone,’ Richard said thoughtfully. ‘She needs some protection. I understand that her husband left her without much substance?’
‘Penniless,’ Ross confirmed. His mouth thinned. ‘Though that was the least of his sins.’
Richard grimaced at the confirmation. It was no wonder that Deb Stratton was wary of men if her only experience of love had been with a man like that. The memory of the unhappiness he had seen in her eyes made him feel angry.
‘So Mrs Stratton is dependent on the allowance her father makes her and…’ he looked at Ross shrewdly ‘…your generosity, I suspect.’
Ross shifted in his chair. ‘I help her a little.’
Richard let that pass. He knew that Ross’s liberality to his sister-in-law was likely to be far greater than that but his friend would not thank him for prying.
‘I know that you cannot like this temporary arrangement, Ross,’ he said feelingly. ‘God knows, if it was my sister Bella or Henrietta, I would feel much the same.’ He looked up and gave Ross a very straight look. ‘I can only give you my word that I shall do nothing to hurt Deborah.’ He smiled wryly. ‘My intentions are all that is honourable, damnable as it is for a rake to admit such a fact!’
Ross moved the decanter in a precise circle. ‘I wish you luck,’ he said, a little bitterly. ‘And if you succeed, I hope that you find more joy in your marriage than I have in mine. How odd that Deb and Olivia look so very similar and yet temperamentally they could not be more different.’
Richard hesitated. He sensed that Ross needed to talk but in his experience, passing comment on another man’s wife was fraught with danger. One always said the wrong thing and gave offence. He was prepared to take a risk though, for Olivia and Ross. If there was anything that he could do to help their situation, then he was willing to try.
‘I think that both Lady Marney and Mrs Stratton may have some of the same spirit,’ he said carefully.
Ross looked horrified. ‘Good God, do you think so?’
‘I did not mean,’ Richard qualified hastily, ‘that Lady Marney is as impulsive as her sister.’
‘Thank the lord!’
‘But from something that Mrs Stratton told me, I do believe that it may be a question of Lady Marney hiding her real feelings under what she sees as her duty. Parents are notoriously more strict with the elder than the younger daughter,’ Richard continued, feeling his way and half-expecting an explosion at any moment. ‘I have seen it myself with Bella and Henrietta. Bella always complained that Henrietta could get away with everything and she with nothing.’
Ross looked intrigued. ‘You mean that Olivia might behave the way she does because Lord and Lady Walton expected it of her and so she conformed?’
Richard nodded. ‘Precisely, old fellow. Deborah told me that Olivia and her brothers always did as they were told and never dissented, whilst she was the rebel. How would it be if Olivia secretly wished it to be different?’
He saw a flash of expression in Ross’s eyes, the unmistakable sign that Viscount Marney thought the idea of a secretly rebellious wife to be rather fascinating.
‘By George!’ Ross said. ‘What a thought!’
Richard hid his smile. Ross Marney had always had a short fuse, but in other respects he was steady, reliable and the antithesis of a rake. Who would have guessed that he wished for a show of spirit from his bride rather than cool compliance? Certainly Olivia was unlikely to have known. Most young ladies of aristocratic lineage were told that their husbands would expect conformity, not originality. It took a rebel like Deborah to break through those restraints and tell the world to go hang.
‘Thank you for your tolerance in the matter of my betrothal to Mrs Stratton,’ Richard said now, his thought returning with warmth to his temporary fiancée. ‘I appreciate your support, Ross.’
‘What? Oh…’ Ross waved his hand vaguely. ‘You are very welcome, Richard.’
Richard could tell that his thoughts were still on Olivia and he had no idea what they were talking about. Smiling a little, he thanked his host, excused himself and showed himself out, noting with interest that Ross went straight to the card room, where Olivia was hosting her party, as though he wished to test Richard’s theory immediately. The night air held a chill edge of autumn and the faint scent of wood smoke. Richard breathed it in and realised that he felt more alive than he had done in months. No boredom dogged his steps now, no painted devil tempted him back to his old life and its debauchery.
He was to call on Deborah in the morning and discuss the details of their betrothal. His lips curved into a smile at the thought of seeing her again. So far matters were progressing with pleasing smoothness. He had persuaded Deb to give him a chance and he had gained Ross’s support for his suit. Now all he needed to do was to proceed gently towards his goal and make sure that he did not frighten Deb into reneging on the plan. He had to woo her carefully. He was sure it would be a pleasure. Whistling softly under his breath, Richard drove his hands into his pockets and walked off into the night.
As soon as they met the following morning, Richard could tell that he had given Deb too much time to think and that those thoughts were not positive. She was looking pale and nervous, and much of her natural good spirits seemed depressed. Richard had a horrid suspicion that she was about to call the entire betrothal off.
Remembering his resolution to woo her gently, he decided to proceed with the utmost caution. She might well be regretting her frankness the previous day and have her defences firmly in place. So instead of kissing her properly he kissed her hand with deference and allowed her to usher him into the drawing room. The house seemed very quiet. She did not send for a servant and poured his glass of sweet sherry herself. She was drinking a cup of tea, which she was gripping so tightly he feared the china would crack.
‘I have been thinking about this betrothal and I believe that we should change some of the terms,’ Deb began. From the faint violet shadows underneath her eyes Richard suspected that she might have been thinking about it all night. ‘This was not at all what I had planned. This is…’ she gestured a little wildly and the tea slopped ‘…becoming quite out of hand.’
Richard had been expecting something of the sort, but although he was prepared to be soothing he had no intention of allowing Deb to back out now. If he did there was no guarantee she would not end up asking some other gentleman to act the role of protector, and Richard disliked that thought intensely.
‘You cannot change your mind about the betrothal now,’ he said. ‘Last night I asked Ross’s permission to pay my addresses to you.’
Deb’s eyes flew to his face. She looked shocked. ‘Was that necessary?’
‘If I am to do this,’ Richard said, ‘I do it properly. As Ross was present at our meeting at the Custom House, I thought that he deserved a full explanation.’
‘Yes, but…’ Deb looked confused. ‘You told Ross the truth? About it being a temporary engagement?’
Richard made a split-second decision. ‘I explained the situation to him.’ He saw the relief vivid in her face and smiled ruefully to himself. Mrs Stratton’s reluctance to countenance his suit was not flattering. It had obviously not occurred to her that many young ladies would use this opportunity to persuade him into making the pretend betrothal a real one. Her instinct was to do the reverse, and escape him as quickly as possible.
‘Please do not worry,’ he said soothingly, taking her hand in his. ‘Ross understands. Before I left, he suggested that you visit Olivia this afternoon to discuss the matter with her. Then we may announce our betrothal formally tonight at Lady Benedict’s ball.’
He felt Deborah’s hand tremble in his. She tried to withdraw it, but he held on to her, rubbing his fingers gently over the back of her hand. Her head was bent, a tiny frown wrinkling the skin between her brows. She looked very young.
‘I had not anticipated that we would make a public announcement,’ she said. ‘Surely that is not necessary? This was to be for my family’s benefit only.’
Richard nodded. ‘I understand that, but consider for a moment the questions that might arise if your parents were to have an acquaintance in this neighbourhood.’
Deb’s frown deepened. ‘I am sure that they do not.’
‘You cannot know for certain,’ Richard pointed out. ‘It is better not to take the risk. If everyone hereabouts is aware of our engagement, then there is no difficulty.’
He sensed that he was pushing too hard. A flame of resistance burned in Deb’s eyes. ‘I am sure that there is no such necessity,’ she said. ‘I would prefer to keep the matter secret.’
Richard let go of her hand and sat back in his chair, feigning unconcern. ‘If you wish. I should tell you though, Deborah, that one of the first things that I learned when I was involved in counter-espionage work was to prepare the ground carefully. If you do not, something is bound to go wrong.’
He saw that the frown was back in her eyes. ‘I suppose so. Yes, I can see that there is always the possibility of something going awry.’
It was a minor victory and Richard followed it up at once. ‘That being the case, I believe we should spend a great deal of time together over the next few weeks,’ he said. ‘We need to make it apparent to everyone that we are comfortable in each other’s company. No one will believe our betrothal otherwise.’
Deb’s brow was still puckered. ‘You have decided a great many things,’ she said.
Richard smiled impudently. ‘Did you expect me not to do so?’ he asked.
‘Oh, no,’ Deb said, ‘I expected it. It was just…not as I had planned.’
‘And you will spend time with me?’ Richard pressed. ‘I thought that we could go riding tomorrow afternoon.’
He saw by the flicker in her blue eyes that the idea held appeal.
‘I own that it will be pleasant to ride with someone who is so good at it,’ she said, with a small smile.
‘Good,’ Richard said. He kissed her hand. ‘Unfortunately I am engaged for the rest of the day or I would certainly ask you to spend it with me. I will see you this evening at Lady Benedict’s ball?’
Deb nodded. He had seen from the slight droop to her shoulders that she was disappointed they would not be spending the day together. The knowledge encouraged him. Although she had been initially resistant to his plans, he could feel her softening with each step. He allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic that with time and careful wooing he might persuade her to his point of view and gain her agreement to their marriage. He drew her a little closer and after an initial hesitation, she came. Richard scanned her face, noting the shadow that was still reflected in Deb’s pansy-blue eyes.
‘Are you in agreement that we announce our betrothal tonight?’ he asked softly.
Her lashes swept her cheek for a moment as she looked away. Richard fought a strong urge to kiss her. Repressing his most fundamental urges, he tried to concentrate. He knew that he could override her resistance, knew that she would respond to him, for she had been scrupulously honest about her attraction to him. That was not the way to succeed, however, for whilst he might gain a response from her body, emotionally she would slip further away from him. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes locked on hers and in a moment she looked up at him again.
‘I…yes, I am in agreement,’ she said.
Richard gave a silent sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. I am honoured.’
A shy smile lit her eyes. The urge to kiss her became stronger, so powerful that Richard had to take a step back.
‘I shall see you this evening,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how I look forward to it.’
He saw Deb take a breath as though she were about to speak. Richard frowned. He could sense some tension in her, some unresolved problem.
‘Is there something else that you wished to discuss?’ he asked.
Deb moved away from him and picked up her teacup. It rattled in her hands. Her face was averted from him, pink and feverish.
‘There is something that I wish to say but I find-’ she glanced at him, a fleeting look from those lavender blue eyes ‘-it is a little difficult…’
Richard took the teacup from her-she had not drunk any of it anyway-and placed it gently on the table before leading her back to the sofa and taking both her hands in his. Deb’s blue eyes were huge and apprehensive now and he leaned closer.
‘You are trembling,’ he said gently, ‘and you look terrified.’
‘That is because…’ she licked her lips nervously ‘…there is something I need to say to you and I am not accustomed to being in such close proximity to a gentleman.’
Ridiculous pleasure coursed through Richard at her words. He did not seem able to help himself. But the nervousness in her eyes puzzled him. He wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her. He wanted to kiss her. Richard tried to concentrate.
‘Deborah,’ he said, ‘if you are wanting to change your mind because you still do not trust me, then I must remind you that I promised to do nothing that you did not desire and I will keep to that.’ His voice came out more roughly than he had intended and her gaze flew to his. Had she realised the difficulty he was having controlling his impulses? If she even guessed at the iron control he was exercising, then she would probably be so nervous she would not come near him again. He moderated his tone. ‘You have not reacted to my presence like this before,’ he said. ‘What is the matter?’
Her gaze touched his face and skittered away. ‘You do not understand,’ she said.
‘Then tell me,’ Richard said bluntly. ‘What is it?’
He was still touching her and now she looked down at their joined hands and swiftly away. There was high colour in her cheeks.
‘I have been trying to pluck up the courage to tell you,’ she said. ‘When I said that I wished to change the terms of our betrothal you misunderstood me-’
She broke off.
‘Yes?’ Richard said.
Her gaze met his with all the straightness of a sword thrust.
‘I want you to make love to me,’ she said. ‘For the duration of our betrothal, I want you to be my lover.’
As soon as the words were out Deb was ready to sink with mortification, but she also felt a huge relief. She could scarce believe what she had just done. She had spent the entire night plagued with erotic thoughts and dreams until in the pale morning light she had finally admitted that matters could not carry on as they were. She wanted Richard Kestrel desperately. She wanted to give herself to him and experience the sensual bliss of physical love with him. She had starved herself of love and desire for so long that she was burning up. And if that made her a wanton who gave herself up to a man without the blessings of the church, then so be it. She had gone far beyond modesty and moral principle. She could not help herself.
Nevertheless, she was terrified. She knew that all the pretty phrases she had devised beforehand had deserted her and she had ended up speaking baldly and without finesse. It was no wonder that Richard was looking so stunned.
‘No.’
He got to his feet abruptly, dropping her hands in her lap. He thrust his fingers through his hair violently, then strode over to the window, where he turned and looked at her with incredulous eyes.
Deb drew on all her courage.
‘Do you mean no you will not do it?’ She asked.
‘No.’ Richard shook his head slightly. ‘I mean no, I do not believe this.’
‘Oh.’ A small smile touched Deb’s lips. He had not rejected the idea out of hand, then. There was still a chance.
She noted that Richard’s face was grim. Perhaps there was not a chance after all. Perhaps she had made a dreadful error and also made a complete fool of herself. She hoped not. She looked at him, her brow puckered. ‘I thought that you would agree,’ she ventured.
Now he looked absolutely furious and sounded cuttingly sarcastic. ‘Did you? You thought that I would agree to teach you about love for the duration of our betrothal only?’
Deb’s breathing caught. She did not dare explain that if she let him closer than that, if she let him into her heart, she was afraid that she would never be able to let him go again.
‘I thought that if it was for that short while only then I might understand about the pleasures of physical love without any further obligation,’ she said. ‘I had no wish to constrain you in a relationship when our association is to be so fleeting…’
Richard looked suitably disgusted. ‘So you thought to order me up for a few weeks, like a servant? Good God, you have it all worked out!’
Deb got to her feet. She could feel the whole thing slipping away from her. This was not how she had imagined it at all. Perhaps she had been naïve, but she had thought that a rake like Richard Kestrel would not need much encouragement. But then, she did not know a great deal about rakes and she had clearly misunderstood this one.
‘It was not like that!’ She got to her feet and put a hand on his arm, desperate to ease the situation. ‘I do not understand…I thought that you wanted me.’
She saw him draw a sharp breath. His gaze searched her face, hard and furious. Behind the anger she saw the desire and felt her heart flip. So he did want her, but for some reason this had all gone wrong. She put a hand to her head. She was starting to feel humiliated. ‘Oh, dear. I think I have made a mistake.’
‘I think you have.’
Now he sounded as stuffy as a church elder. It made Deb quite annoyed. She forgot the embarrassment in a wash of anger.
‘Well, it is not surprising if I mistook you!’ she said, firing up. ‘You are experienced and you have made no secret of your attraction to me.’
‘That is true, but I prefer to do the asking myself.’
Deb felt another rush of annoyance. ‘I see that I have offended your male pride! That is what this is about!’ She made a gesture of disgust. ‘If it comes to that, you did ask me. You asked me to be your mistress a year ago!’
‘Yes, and you turned me down.’ Richard’s tone was clipped. He came across to her and seized her arms above the elbow. ‘You have been fighting your attraction to me every step of the way, Deborah. Why change your mind now?’
Deb stared up into his face. There was a pain lodged inside her, but there was also a shimmering need. She could see the reflection of it in his eyes. ‘I have been fighting myself every step of the way, not you,’ she whispered. ‘I wanted to know-’
‘What you were missing?’
He still sounded angry, but she sensed that he was weakening. She shook her head.
‘No, not that. I told you that I was…married…but a short time and that it was unhappy.’ She blushed slightly. ‘I had never experienced passion. I thought that I should never want to, but with you I am forced to admit that the possibility intrigues me…’
Richard shook his head, as though trying to clear his mind. He was still holding her, but lightly now. Even so, she could sense the tension in him, tight as a spring.
‘You are not thinking straight,’ he said. ‘What you need is a fiancé, not a lover. You need someone who can protect you from your father’s plans and act the role of your betrothed, not someone to acquaint you with the delights of love.’
Deb took a step closer, until her body was touching his. Her heart was hammering. ‘Perhaps I need both,’ she said.
She raised her hand and rubbed her fingers gently against Richard’s cheek. She saw him close his eyes as though to blot out the effect of her touch.
‘So what do you say?’ she whispered.
When Deb had first spoken, Richard had thought that he had misheard her request. His mind had been full of the pretend betrothal, the strategy they should adopt, and the necessity of persuading Deb that they should spend considerable time in each other’s company. He had noted her reluctance to his suggestions and had assumed that she had had second thoughts about their engagement. It had never occurred to him that her nervousness had sprung from a completely different source. And when she had propositioned him, told him that she wanted him to be her lover, it had seemed absurd, outrageous. He was certain that he had misunderstood.
Once he was over the initial shock, however, Richard’s second feeling was one of disbelief. He considered himself a good judge of character, but evidently he had been sorely misguided over Mrs Deborah Stratton. She was as brazen as all the rest. She had been playing a game with him and for once his finely-honed instincts had let him down. He had thought her innocent. He had been deceived.
Such reflections did not stand up to one moment of observation. He had looked at Deb and seen that her nervousness had not dissipated. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, a mannerism he had noticed she affected only when extremely disturbed. There was a stricken look in those pansy-blue eyes. Only a fool could imagine that she was an experienced woman. He had felt a savage, purely male satisfaction as he realised the stunning truth. Deborah Stratton had never done this before. She was petrified.
Her utter vulnerability filled him with tenderness as well as desire. Although her invitation was terribly tempting, he knew that he could not take her up on it, at least not yet. When she had said that she had never experienced passion, he had felt a huge gentleness as well as a strengthening of desire. He wanted to take her and show her all the things that she asked, teach her the truth about love with a sweetness and a fervour that was as intense as it was unexpected. But there was a problem and it was an ironic one for a rake to confront. He wanted to marry her before he took her to his bed. And she was about as receptive to the idea of marriage as oil was to mixing with water.
She was so close to him now that he could smell the scent of her skin. Her gentle touch against the roughness of his cheek was disturbing. It distracted him at the moment that he most wanted to keep a clear head.
‘I still say that what you need is a fiancé, not a lover,’ he said.
‘And I still say that I want both,’ she said.
His arms came about her and this time he did not even try to resist his feelings. He raised one hand to skim her jaw, running his fingers into her hair as he tilted her head to kiss her fiercely. Hunger and desire slammed through him with devastating power as soon as their lips touched. The heat raged through his veins. He wanted to take her there and then on the velvet sofa. For long, shattering moments they stood locked in each other’s arms, Richard plundering her mouth with his kisses, Deb responding with all the fervour of long denial.
He felt her shudder slightly and eased back, tracing his thumb over the fullness of her lower lip, swollen from the violence of his kisses. Her eyes were dark inky blue and full of longing as he bent to kiss her again, gently this time.
‘Deborah…’ he said.
Her eyes widened as they held his. ‘Does that mean…can that possibly mean…yes?’ she asked.
Richard scanned her face. She looked innocent and hopeful and utterly desirable. His stomach clenched. He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Yes.’
He felt the shock go through her. She blinked. ‘I thought that you would refuse,’ she said.
Richard sat down on the sofa and drew her down on to his knee. ‘Deborah…’ he said again.
‘Mmm?’ She sounded dazed. He wanted to keep her that way because he was not at all sure that he could refuse her if she turned demanding. He sprinkled tiny kisses across the soft skin of her face. Immediately she turned more fully to him, tilting her face up like a flower to the sun. Her eyes were closed, the lashes fanned across her cheeks. Richard was stunned by the latent passion in her. It made it incredibly difficult for him to concentrate. Tracing a path of kisses down her throat, he spoke softly. ‘Deborah, you still require a fiancé.’
‘Uhuh…’ She sounded intoxicated. Richard smiled against her throat.
‘So,’ he said, ‘I accept both your commissions. I will act the role of your fiancé and I shall also be your lover.’ And your husband, he added silently, in the fullness of time.
Deb opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘Thank you, Richard,’ she said sweetly.
She sounded as though he had just picked up her glove for him rather than agreed to be her lover, but he knew that that was because she was so adrift with sensual longing that she scarcely knew what she did. He also knew that this was not the time and the place for such an encounter. If-when-he became Deborah Stratton’s lover, he wanted all the time in the world to introduce her to those passionate delights that she so longed for. He wanted to bind her to him heart and soul, so that she would never want him to let her go. He moved slightly.
‘I do not wish us to hurry matters, however,’ he said. ‘We must wait a little.’
‘I do not understand,’ she said.
‘You will find,’ Richard said, deliberately blunt, ‘that anticipation heightens one’s pleasure enormously.’
He smiled inwardly as he saw the colour fizz beneath her skin. ‘I see,’ she said slowly.
Richard smiled gently. ‘I have to leave you now,’ he said regretfully. ‘I am sorry, but I really do have another appointment.’
Deb made a soft little noise in her throat that conveyed regret and disappointment. She pressed her yielding body closer against his. Richard’s senses tightened. Unable to resist, he bent his head and took her parted lips with his once more. She pressed closer still, her breasts soft against the hard wall of his chest. Richard was within an inch of forgetting all his good intentions and carrying her upstairs to bed. With a huge effort, he pulled back from the brink.
‘Deborah, we must not. Not here, not now.’ He tilted up her chin so that he could look at her properly. ‘When I make love to you for the first time, I want it to be perfect.’
Her lips turned down again in a disappointed moue and her lashes fluttered. She pressed a soft kiss on his lips and he felt it all the way through the rest of his body. She was naturally passionate and Richard thought ruefully that she was learning rather too quickly for his comfort. His breeches were so tight he was afraid he might burst. He got to his feet with a wince of pain.
‘Sweetheart…’ He kept an arm about her waist and drew her towards the door. ‘You will go to visit Olivia later?’
‘Mmm,’ Deb agreed. She sounded sleepy.
‘And I shall see you this evening at Lady Benedict’s ball, when we shall announce our engagement.’
Richard held her at arm’s length, scanning her face. She was waking up now, the dazed light fading from her eyes, but she still looked charmingly ruffled and frighteningly seductive. Richard summoned every ounce of self-control he possessed and put her firmly away from him.
‘I must go,’ he said again.
‘You said that already,’ Deb pointed out. A very feminine and satisfied smile touched her lips. ‘Can you not tear yourself away?’
It was too true. Richard sighed sharply and pressed a kiss on her hand before going quickly outside and running down the steps to retrieve Merlin from the mounting block. He swung himself up into the saddle. He found that that was painful too. And even when he was halfway down the drive he could not help but look back at the house. Deb was still standing in the doorway, watching him. He could have sworn that she was smiling.
Richard kicked Merlin to a gallop. Deb had tasted her power now, and he had a sudden suspicion that, for all her inexperience, this would not be so easy a business to manage as he had hoped. He had set out to control the situation and had almost ended in losing his head. She was too tempting, too seductive, and he wanted her too much. But the one thing that their encounter had confirmed was that he had to marry her. Nothing less would do. He was not yet her lover, but he would be before he was finished. And not merely for the duration of the betrothal. He would prove to her that a few weeks were nowhere near enough and a lifetime would barely suffice.
He would be her husband. Of that he was determined.