A Lady of His Own

Whatever was going on would be properly and appropriately dealt with; actively contributing to that end would help soothe her lacerated family pride.

Forty hours before, she’d been lost and uncertain; now she felt confident, all because she’d joined forces with Charles.

She glanced at him.

He caught her gaze. Arched a brow. “What?”

She was tempted to look away; instead, she held his gaze as she said, “It seems I made the right choice in confiding in you.”

Three heartbeats passed; he didn’t release her gaze.

Then he caught her hand, halted, waited until she did the same, then smoothly drew her to him.

All the way to him. He bent his head and kissed her.

She hadn’t been expecting it-her lungs locked, her senses froze, her very heart seemed to stop…but he’d kissed her before. Even starved of breath and with her senses reeling, she recognized the feel of his lips against hers.

Clung to the sensation. Found memories pouring in. Found reassurance in the familiar, no matter that it had been years.

She found herself drifting on a familiar tide, one of subtle warmth, simple pleasure, gentle waves of delight.

Then…something changed.

He shifted closer, angled his head, and what had started as a simple exchange became more-much more. More complex, more complicated, infinitely more absorbing. His lips moved on hers, compelling, hungry but not ravenous, not frightening in any way. He supped, sipped, as if needing to explore her lips again, needing to taste them. He’d always excelled at kissing, but now…it seemed as if he felt the leaping of her heart, felt and understood the sudden upwelling of yearning that, entirely unbidden, totally against her will, filled her soul.

She kissed him back-raised her free hand to his shoulder and pressed her lips to his. She hadn’t meant to, yet was incapable of denying not him but herself. It had been a long time since she’d kissed any man, but it wasn’t only that that impelled her to want and take what he offered.

Just a kiss, or so it seemed. No reason not to part her lips and invite him in, as she had so long ago…

He accepted, not as if he took her offer for granted, yet not as if he’d forgotten their past either. The languid surge of his tongue against hers made her bones melt. What followed demonstrated beyond all doubt that he’d learned volumes in the years since they’d last indulged, acquired skills and talents far beyond those he’d had.

Lips, tongues, and hot, wet pleasure; her starved senses whirled, giddily luxuriating as she savored the long- forgotten delight. Let him and the moment be reason enough.

When he lifted his head with a reluctance she knew wasn’t feigned-a reluctance echoed in her veins-she was breathless, her heart thudding in her throat, one hand still locked in his, the other fisted in his lapel as she leaned close to boneless against him.

Just a kiss, and he could still reduce her to that nearly swooning state where nothing in the world seemed to matter-just them, and what they made each other feel.

She drew a shaky breath, blinked up at him. “Why did you do that?”

His midnight gaze roamed her face, then settled on her eyes. He studied them before replying, “Because I wanted to. Because I’ve been wanting to since the first moment I saw you again.”

She searched his eyes; he wasn’t lying, prevaricating, or evading. His simple words were the simple truth.

Clearing her throat, she eased back. Conscious of the whirlpool of potent sensuality that lurked beneath his surface, and hers, too. That had always been her problem with him; the desire that burned so readily between them had never been his alone. She drew in another breath, felt her wits steady. “That wasn’t very wise.”

His shoulders lifted in a Gallic shrug. He let her step away, but retained his hold on her hand; he caught her gaze. “When were we ever wise?”

A valid point, one she wasn’t about to attempt to answer.

When she said nothing more, he turned her, and they walked on to the house, her father’s book of maps under his arm, her hand still locked in his.

CHAPTER 5

IMMEDIATELY AFTER LUNCH WAS OVER, CHARLES INVOKED the specter of estate business and took refuge in his study. He was the one who now needed time to think.

His steward, Matthews, had left various documents prominently displayed on his desk; he forced himself to attend to the most urgent, but left all the rest. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the volume of maps he’d carried in. Abruptly, he swiveled the chair so its back was to the desk, and he was facing the window and the undemanding view.

He had to find his mental footing, determine where he was and where he wanted to be-and then work out how to get there. Not, as he’d supposed, solely in terms of his investigation, but, it now seemed, with his personal quest, too.

He’d arrived at the Abbey three days ago with two goals before him, both needing to be urgently addressed- one professional goal, his investigation, and his personal goal, his search for a wife. It had been unsettling to discover that his way forward with both involved Penny.

Of all the potential ladies in the ton, he hadn’t considered her, because he hadn’t believed she would consider him. He’d always known that she could be his wife, that she could fill all aspects of the position without effort- if she would. He hadn’t imagined after the way they’d parted thirteen years ago that she might, but after kissing her an hour ago, he now knew beyond question that the possibility was there, and he wasn’t about to pass up the chance of turning that possibility into reality.

Possibility. He wouldn’t, yet, rate it as more. From the moment he’d stepped close to her in the upstairs corridor at midnight, he’d been aware of her response to him, that it was as it had been all those years ago-intense, immediate, always there. Over the past days, he’d known every time her senses had flared; he wasn’t sure she knew how acutely his senses spiked at her reaction, how sensually attuned to her he was.

Yet none knew better than he and she that that connection wasn’t, of itself, enough. It hadn’t been years ago; he doubted it would be now.

He needed to build on it, to pursue it and her, explore what lay between them, what might evolve from that, and where it might lead them.

In between pursuing his investigation.

That wasn’t very wise. Indeed. She remained his most direct link to the Selbornes’ scheme; he now had to deal with her on two different levels simultaneously, juggling the investigation and his personal pursuit of her.

Yet he couldn’t regret kissing her; he’d had to learn whether the possibility was there. He’d been tempted to kiss her in the courtyard at Wallingham, but it hadn’t been the right time or place. He’d pulled back, but when on their way from the stables she’d smiled at him and acknowledged she’d been right to trust him with her family’s secret, he’d been buoyed and encouraged enough to seize the moment, to learn if she would trust him in that other sphere, too. Whether there was a chance he could mend their fences even if he wasn’t sure what had flattened them in the first place.

Such uncertainty, unfortunately, was his norm with her. He was an expert with women; he’d studied them for years, understood their minds, and was adept at managing them-all except Penny. She…he was never sure how to deal with her, had never succeeded in managing her, and had long ago given up attempting to manipulate her-the result had never been worth the price. For one of his ilk, such complete and utter failure with a woman was hard to stomach, and somewhat unnerving; he was always alert and watchful with her.

But that kiss had answered his question. Not only had she allowed him to kiss her, she’d enjoyed it and kissed him back, deliberately and considerably prolonging the interlude.

Well and good. He’d cleared the first hurdle, but he knew her too well to presume too much. All he’d gained was a chance to progress to the next stage, to determine how real the possibility that she might consent to be his