Who Will Take This Man?

It took several seconds for his meaning to penetrate through Meredith’s racing thoughts and budding panic. Then the full import of his words dawned. Damnation, what sort of game was he playing?

Raising her chin, she folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot against the thick carpet. “No one else is coming?”

“No.”

“No one accepted your invitation?”

“No.”

Her toe-tapping ceased, her annoyance tempered by confusion and sympathy. “Good gracious, what is wrong with these young women? From all accounts the guests enjoyed themselves at your soiree. Perhaps the you know what problem was not solved as successfully as we’d thought?”

“I couldn’t say.”

Sudden suspicion narrowed her eyes. “Did you indicate your, er, dinner theme to them?”

“I did not.”

Perplexed, she pursed her lips. “Then I cannot imagine why they all refused. Perhaps one, or even two of them, but all six?”

“Actually, there’s a very logical explanation.”

“Indeed? And what is that?”

“They never received invitations.”

She simply stared. “You said you would write the invitations yourself.”

“And so I did.”

“Then how do you know they did not receive them?”

“I never sent them.”

“Never sent them! I-”

He stepped closer to her, effectively silencing her outraged reply with his disturbing nearness. She surreptitiously pressed her back more firmly against the door, but to little good. He settled one hand against the jamb, near her head, then leaned closer. So close she could see the subtle amber flecks in his eyes. So close she could feel the heat of his body surrounding her. She drew in what she’d meant as a slow, calming breath, but it did nothing but fill her head with his delightful scent.

“Do you want to know why I never sent the invitations, Meredith?” His warm breath brushed over her face, tingling all her nerve endings into instant awareness. The urge to touch him was so overpowering, she was forced to grip the sides of her gown to keep her hands to herself. When she didn’t reply, he whispered, “I didn’t send the invitations because I didn’t want anyone else to come. I only wanted you here. I did this for you. Only you.”

She swallowed, hard, and looked heavenward for strength. Dear God, where had her anger disappeared to? Why was she not appalled? Where was the outrage at his temerity for tricking her? She cast about in her mind, desperately trying to find some inkling of umbrage, a whiff of annoyance, a thimbleful of irritation, and failed. Utterly. Instead, the myriad emotions battering her were a disturbing combination she did not want to feel: Flattered and excited by the obvious thought and effort he’d gone to on her behalf. Curious and filled with anticipation to experience an evening with him in such lush, exotic surroundings.

And worst of all, relieved that his affections were not otherwise engaged. I did this for you. Only you.

A tremor shook her, a shudder she recognized as cold, stark fear. Fear, because she wanted, so very badly, to stay. Because she doubted her ability to resist him. And because she wanted, so very badly, not to resist him.

“Philip, I cannot stay.”

“Please don’t say that. I know this was presumptuous of me, but I wanted to share with you the flavors of the cultures I have known. I thought you would enjoy the food and atmosphere of a distant land.”

“I would, but-”

“Then stay. If not for me, then as a courtesy to Bakari, who went to a great deal of trouble to prepare the room and the meal. You have to eat.” He leaned closer, until his lips almost touched her ear. “Please.”

That single whispered word brushed against her ear, crumbling her already unsteady resolve. Her mind shouted a dozen warnings, reminding her that any relationship other than that of matchmaker and client was impossible with this man, that she needed to strongly discourage his obvious interest in her, admonishing her that this evening could result in consequences disastrous to both their reputations, but her heart refused to listen. To leave after such effort had been expended would be inexcusably rude, her heart rationalized. He’d shown kindness not only to her, but to Albert as well. She could not repay that kindness with ungraciousness. Besides, Bakari and no doubt numerous other servants remained in the house, so it wasn’t as if they were truly alone.

And really, while she found Philip undeniably attractive, it was ridiculous to imagine that she would not be able to control herself-should the need to even arise. Her inner voice made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an incredulous, Ha! She managed, with a great deal of effort, to ignore it.

He leaned back and looked at her. His dark brown gaze met hers-serious, and compelling. Yet it was the unmistakable flash of worry that pulled at her heart. Clearly he was afraid she would turn down his invitation. The fact that this strong, masculine, brave man would fear such a thing tugged at something deep and feminine inside her.

Offering him a smile that felt more wobbly than the confident, coolly impersonal effect she strove for, she said, “In view of the considerable effort made on my behalf, it would be churlish of me not to taste the food.”

Unmistakable relief relaxed his features, and he smiled. Clasping her hand, he led her toward the table. Warmth from where his palm pressed against hers seeped into her, and she involuntarily squeezed his fingers. He squeezed back, his smile growing broader. Indeed, his eyes practically glowed with such excitement, she could not help but chuckle.

“What is funny?”

“You. Your expression reminds me of the time when Albert, at age eleven, surprised me with a poem he’d composed in my honor. Even though I was the recipient of the gift, he was more excited than me-”

Her words cut off in dismay as she realized what she’d just inadvertently revealed-that she’d known Albert when he was a child. Except for Charlotte, she’d never told anyone how Albert had come to live with her. It was no one’s concern, and she had no desire to entertain questions on the subject, especially as they might lead to other topics she refused to discuss. Perhaps Philip had not noticed her slip of the tongue. Did her disconcertment show?

Clearly it did, for he gave her a searching look, then said, “It’s all right, Meredith. I know about Albert’s childhood as a chimney boy. And how you rescued him. How he’s lived with you ever since.”

A chill snaked down her spine. Dear God, how had he learned that? And if he knew about Albert, could he also know about her past as well? Her mind instantly conjured an image of Philip, with his inquisitive nature, unearthing information about her as he might dig up artifacts on an antiquarian expedition. Part of her deemed such a concern a stretch, but fear of someone finding out about her past was a worry that constantly lurked in the back of her mind, like a demon waiting to spring from the recesses of hell and pounce.

Forcing a calm into her voice she was far from feeling, she asked, “How did you happen upon that information?”

He appeared surprised by her question. “Albert told me.”

“He did?” She shook her head, relieved that he obviously hadn’t been making inquiries and didn’t know about her past, yet utterly stunned. Albert never spoke of the horrors of his childhood. “When? And why would he tell you something so… personal?”

“We spoke the other day at the warehouse. As for his reasons, he was motivated by his deep caring for you. He wanted me to understand exactly what sort of woman you are: Kind. Generous. Giving. Not the sort of woman to be trifled with.”

“I… I see.” Dear Albert. He’d shared something deeply painful to himself with a man who was all but a stranger to him, shared something that could easily make him the object of ridicule or pity. All in the name of protecting her. “I hope you won’t judge him harshly. He cannot help his unfortunate childhood.” None of us can.