Did he suggest taking you for a walk in the moonlight?"
"How did you know?"
Virginia sighed. "That's what he does. I think it's a kind of challenge for him-to see if he can get young women to let him steal a kiss. If he succeeds..." She trailed off with a frown.
"If he succeeds, then what?" Celia prodded.
"Frankly, I'm not sure. That's as far as the girls ever get in complaining to me about him. First, they tell me he kissed them and it was like communing on some 'ethereal plane.'" She snorted. "Then they protest that they were sure he loved them. And then they start crying. It all goes downhill from there."
"You don't think he actually-"
"No!" She chewed on her lip. "That is, I don't think so. It's hard to know with Pierce. He's so unpredictable." Her gaze met Celia's. "But I'd hate to think of him getting you off alone and attempting-"
"You needn't worry about that," Celia said. "That's what I have Betty for."
"Betty?"
Celia reached into her reticule and pulled out her ladies' pocket pistol.
Virginia leapt back. "Oh, my word! Does your family know you carry that around?"
"I doubt it. I don't think they'd approve."
"I should say not!" Virginia surveyed it curiously. "Is it loaded?"
"Only with powder. There's no ball."
"Thank heaven for that. Still, aren't you worried it will go off by itself?"
"No. It has two protections to keep it from firing accidentally. I made sure of that when I purchased it." She hefted the pistol. "I've been told that ladies of the evening use this sort of gun to frighten customers who try to hurt them."
"Told by whom?"
"My gunsmith, of course."
"How on earth did you find a gunsmith?"
Celia shrugged. "Gabe introduced me to his."
Virginia rolled her eyes. "You and my husband are mad, I swear."
"I suppose we are." With a faint smile, she stroked the pearl handle. "I learned how to shoot from him.
The sight of the duke taking liberties had made something boil up inside Jackson that he couldn't suppress. He'd uncharacteristically acted on impulse, and already regretted it.
Because the duke now pulled back with the languid motion of all such men of high rank to fix him with a contemptuous stare. "I don't believe we've met, sir."
Jackson fought to rein in the wild emotions careening through him. Lady Celia was glaring at him, and the duke was clearly irritated. But now that Jackson had stuck his nose in this, he would see it out.
"I'm Jackson Pinter of the Bow Street Office. This lady's brother has hired me to...to..." If he said he'd been hired to investigate suitors, Lady Celia would probably murder him on the spot.
"Mr. Pinter is investigating our parents' deaths," she explained in a silky voice that didn't fool Jackson. She was furious. "And apparently he thinks that such a position allows him the right to interfere in more personal matters."
When Jackson met her hot gaze, he couldn't resist baiting her. "Your brother also hired me to protect you from fortune hunters. I'm doing my job."
Outrage filled the duke's face. "Do you know who I am?"
An imminently eligible suitor for her ladyship, damn your eyes. "A man kissing a young, innocent lady without the knowledge or permission of her family."
Lady Celia looked fit to be tied. "Mr. Pinter, this is His Grace, the Duke of Lyons. He is no fortune hunter. And this is none of your concern. I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself."
Jackson stared her down. "As I said the other day, madam, there isn't enough money in all the world for that."
The duke cast him a considering glance. "So what do you plan to do about what you saw, sir?"
Jackson tore his gaze from Lady Celia. "That depends upon you, Your Grace, if you both return to the ballroom right now, I don't plan to do anything."
Was the relief or chagrin he saw on the duke's face? It was hard to tell in this bad light.
"As long as you behave yourself with propriety around Lady Celia in the future," Jackson went on, "I see no reason for any of this to pass beyond this room."
"That's good of you." The duke offered Lady Celia his arm. "Shall we, my lady?"
"You go on," she said coolly. "I need to speak to Mr. Pinter alone."
Glancing from her to Jackson, the duke nodded. "I'll expect a dance from you later, my dear," he said with a smile that rubbed Jackson raw.
"Of course." Her gaze locked with Jackson's. "I'd be delighted.
Shall we, my lady?"
"You go on," she said coolly. "I need to speak to Mr. Pinter alone."
Glancing from her to Jackson, the duke nodded. "I'll expect a dance from you later, my dear," he said with a smile that rubbed Jackson raw.
"Of course." Her gaze locked with Jackson's. "I'd be delighted."
The minute the duke was gone, however, any "delight" she was feeling apparently vanished. "How dare you interfere! You should be upstairs searching my suitors' rooms or speaking to their servants or something useful instead of-"
"Do you realize what could have happened if I hadn't come along?" he snapped. "This room is private and secluded, with a nice hot stove keeping it cozy. All he would have had to do was lay you down on one of those damned benches that are everywhere and-"
He caught himself. But not quickly enough.
"And what?" she prodded. "I would have let him ravish me like the wanton I am?"
Confound it all. "I wasn't saying that."
"That's what it sounded like. Apparently you have some notion that I have no restraint, no ability to resist the attentions of a man I've known since childhood."
"You have no idea what a man can do to a woman!" Jackson shouted.
She paled. "It was just a kiss."
He strode up to her, driven by a madness he couldn't control. "That's how it begins. A man like him coaxes you into a kiss, then a caress, then..."
"I would never let it go beyond a kiss," she said in outrage. "What sort of woman do you think I am?"
He backed her toward the wall. "The sort who is too trusting to realize what some men are really after. You can't control every situation, my lady. Some men take what they want, and there isn't a damned thing you can do about it."
"I know more about the true nature of men than you think." She stopped short as she came up against the wall. "I can take care of myself."
"Can you?" He thrust his hands against the wall on either side of her, trapping her.
He thought of his mother and the heartbreak she'd endured because some nobleman had taken a fancy to her. A roiling sickness swamped him at the idea of Lady Celia ever suffering such a thing because she was too reckless and naïve to recognize that she was not invincible.
Bending in close, he lowered his voice. "You really believe you can stop any man who wants to hurt you, no matter how strong and determined he is?"
Challenge shone in her eyes. "Absolutely."
It was time someone made her realize he vulnerability. "Prove it," he growled. Then he brought his mouth down on hers.
Celia froze. She couldn't believe it-Proper Pinter was kissing her. Hard, boldly, with more feeling than the duke.
Good heavens.
Stung by the challenge he'd laid down, she fumbled for the pistol in her reticule, but she'd just got it in her hand when he whispered hoarsely against her lips, "Sweet God, Celia..."
He'd never called her by only her Christian name. He'd certainly never said it so...desperately. It made her hesitate with the pistol in her hand.
He took her mouth once more, and her world shifted on its axis as his kiss became wilder, more consuming. This wasn't about a challenge anymore-not when he kissed her is if her mouth held the secret to eternity. Such lovely, drugging kisses made her blood dance through her veins.
His mouth slanted over hers, and his tongue swept the seam of her lips with an urgency that made her throat ache. Remembering how Ned had kissed her, she parted her lips for him.
He went still for the briefest instant. Then with a groan, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Ohhh, that was amazing. When Ned had done it she'd found it messy and disgusting, but Mr. Pinter's kiss was as opposite to Ned's as sun was to rain.
Slow and sensual, he dove inside with hot strokes that had her eager for more. How could this be happening to her? With him? Who could ever have guessed that the passionless Mr. Pinter could kiss so very passionately?
Scarcely aware of what she did, she slipper her free hand up to clutch his neck. He pressed into her, flattening her against the wall as he ravished her mouth with no remorse. His whiskers abraded her chin, his mouth tasted of champagne, and the smell of orange trees sweetened the air around them.
It was delicious...it was intoxicating. Paradise.
She forgot the pistol in her other hand, forgot that they were in full view of anyone who might be outside the orangery windows, forgot that he'd just been lecturing her as if she were some ninnyhammer. Because he was kissing her now as if she were an angel. His angel. And Lord help her, but she wanted him to keep kissing her like that forever.
But a noise from the nearby stove-the crackle of a log as it settled-seemed to jerk him to his senses. He tore his lips from hers and stared down at her a moment, his eyes wild, his breathing heavy.
A change came over his face, turning his expression to cold stone. "You see, Lady Celia?" he said in his harsh rasp. "A man can do anything he wants if he has a woman alone.
You see, Lady Celia?" he said in his harsh rasp. "A man can do anything he wants if he has a woman alone."
Her pleasure died instantly. Had this just been about teaching her a lesson?
Anger roared up in her. How dare he? Remembering the pistol, she shoved it up under his chin and cocked the hammer. "And if he does, the woman has a right to defend herself. Don't you agree?"
The surprise on his face was immensely gratifying, but it didn't last long. Eyes narrowing, he leaned closer to hiss, "Go ahead then. Fire."
She swallowed. Though there was no ball, the powder alone would do serious damage. She could never...
While she hesitated, he removed the pistol from her numb fingers. His glittering gaze bore into her. "Never brandish a gun unless you're prepared to use it."
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly exposed. "Most men would be cowed by the very sight of a pistol," she muttered.
"I wasn't."
"You're not most men," she said tightly.
He acknowledged that with a curt nod. Then he walked over to one of the pots, aimed down at the dirt, and fired. When the smoke cleared from the muzzle flash, he noted the lack of a hole in the dirt and faced her.
"Powder." He glared at her. "Did it occur to you that unless you fired at point-blank range, you might merely anger the man you're aiming for?"
"I only need it for men who get close to me," she bit out.
"All the same, the next time you need to protect yourself, forget the pistol and bring your knee up between the man's legs as hard as you can. It'll make your point just as effectively and give you plenty of time to escape."
Color flooded her cheeks. Since she had brothers, she knew what he meant, but it wasn't something she would ever have thought to do. A pity, for it would have served her well with Ned. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I want you to know how to defend yourself if someone's taking liberties."
"Even if the someone is you?"
A strange light glinted in his eyes as he pocketed her pistol. "Especially if it's me."
What did he mean by that? "Mr. Pinter, about our kiss..."
"I was making a point," he said tersely. "Nothing more. Complain to your brothers about it and get me dismissed if you must, but don't worry-regardless of what you do, it won't happen again.
I want my pistol back," she snapped.
"You'll get it tomorrow. Given your foolish belief that carrying it will protect you in any circumstance, it's better that you don't have it to hide behind. Perhaps then you won't be tempted into private encounters with randy gentlemen."
A hot blush seared her cheeks. "The only randy gentleman I need protection from is you. Next time I have you in my sights, I will shoot you."
"Then you'd better not miss," he drawled. "Because if you ever aim a gun at me again, I'll have you arrested for assaulting an officer of the law."
While she was still gasping, he strode from the orangery. She picked up her reticule and flung it at the door just as it closed. He was a beast! A monster! And he'd even made her forget to ask him if he'd learned anything about her suitors!
Tears started in her eyes. It was so...typical of him to rattle her by saying such an awful thing. She would swear he did it on purpose. He was always riding roughshod over her. Kissing her passionately one minute and threatening to have her arrested the next-the unnatural devil!
She collapsed onto a bench, struggling to hold back her tears. She would not cry over him. She would not! Men were dreadful creatures. And Gran wanted her to marry one of them?
What an idiot he was! Had he really thought he could get away with kissing a marquess's daughter?
And not just any marquess's daughter, either. Celia looking oh so tempting in her sumptuous purple gown. Lovely, angry Celia.
Lady Celia, he reminded himself. But he'd never be able to think of her like that again, not when the taste and smell of her still filled his senses.
Hearing voices behind him, he slipped into an empty room to wrangle his emotions into some semblance of control. But it was no use. He could still feel her body yielding to his, still hear her rapid breathing as he'd taken every advantage.
Damn her and her soft mouth and her delicate sighs and her fingers curling into the nape of his neck so that all he wanted to do was press her down onto a bench...
"Hell and blazes!" He thrust his hands through his hair. What in thunder was he supposed to do about her?
And why had she let him kiss her, anyway? Why had she waited until he'd made a complete fool of himself before she'd drawn that damned pistol?
Oh. Right. That was why. To make a fool of him herself. To lull him into a false sense of security so she could prove she could control any situation.
Well, he'd stymied that, but it was little consolation. He'd behaved like a damned mooncalf, devouring her mouth as if he were a wolf and she were supper. If he'd allowed her to speak of their kiss, she probably would have pointed out exactly how insolent he'd been. Would have warned him never to do anything so impudent again.
She didn't need to tell him. He'd learned his lesson.
Yes. He had.
The memory of her mouth opening beneath his surged up inside him, and he balled his hands into fists.
No. He hadn't. All he'd learned was that he wanted her more intensely now than ever. He wanted to kiss her again, and not just her mouth but her elegant throat and her delicate shoulder and the soft, tender mounds of her breasts...
A curse exploded out of him. This was insanity! He had to stop making himself mad by thinking about her as if-
"There you are, sir," said a voice behind him.
I thought that might have been you who came in here."
"What the hell is it?" he growled as he rounded on whoever had been fool enough to run him to ground.
Only one thing had her balking: his cool kiss. Especially when compared to Mr. Pinter's hot ones.
Curse that man. No matter how much she told herself his kisses hadn't meant anything, her wounded pride wanted to believe otherwise. Her wounded pride insisted they'd been too passionate to be meant only as a lesson.
Her wounded pride was a blasted nuisance.
I can’t imagine how I could help you in that regard, my lady.”
The “my lady” particularly hurt. She’d thought that they’d moved past his acting like Proud Pinter, and her hurt made her peevish. “Well, you kept insisting when I hired you that there must be some suitable gentlemen out there who would marry me. So go find some, blast you. So far, all you’ve done is criticize the ones I found for myself.”
He flashed her a small smile. “Excellent point.”
“I know,” she shot back.
Though now it occurred to her that his vehement protests over her choice of suitors were odd. Given his heated caresses yesterday, his behavior smacked of jealousy. So if he cared enough to be jealous of the other men, why didn’t he care enough to court her himself?
I told her that there was nothing between us.
Was that just his way of soothing Grans fears and protecting his pride? Or had their encounter yesterday truly been only a dalliance?
“For a man whose task is to solve problems,” she grumbled, “you create more than you solve.”
“In my defense , I’m not used to matchmaking work,” he pointed out.
“Clearly.
Suppose he really is in love. What about her? She never has anything good to say about him.”
“Yet she blushes whenever he enters a room. And she stares at him a good deal. Or hadn’t you noticed that, either?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.” Gazing up at him, she softened her tone. “But I do not want her hurt, Isaac. I must be sure she is desired for herself and not her fortune. Her siblings had a chance of not gaining their inheritance unless the others married, so I always knew that their mates loved them, but she…” She shook her head. “I had to find a way to remove her fortune from the equation.”
“I still say you’re taking a big risk.” He glanced beyond her to where Celia was talking to the duke. “Do yo really think she’d be better off with Lyons?”
But she doesn’t love him…If you’d just give her a chance-
“I do not know,” Hetty said with a sigh. “I do not know anything anymore.”
“Then you shouldn’t meddle. Because there’s another outcome you haven’t considered. If you try to manipulate matters to your satisfaction, she may balk entirely. Then you’ll find yourself in the sticky position of having to choose between disinheriting them all or backing down on your ultimatum. Personally, I think you should have given up that nonsense long ago, but I know only too well how stubborn you can be when you’ve got the bit between your teeth.”
“Oh?” she said archly. “Have I been stubborn with you?”
He gazed down at her. “You haven’t agreed to marry me yet.”
Her heart flipped over in her chest. It was not the first time he had mentioned marriage, but she had refused to take him seriously.
Until now. It was clear he would not be put off any longer. He looked solemnly in earnest. “Isaac…”
“Are you worried that I am a fortune hunter?”
“Do not be absurd.”
“Because I’ve already told you that I’ll sign any marriage settlement you have your solicitor draw up. I don’t want your brewery or your vast fortune. I know it’s going to your grandchildren. I only want you.”
The tender words made her sigh like a foolish girl. “I realize that. But why not merely continue as we have been?”
His voice lowered. “Because I want to make you mine in every way.”
A sweet shiver swept along her spine. “We do not need to marry for that.”
“So all you want from me is an affair?”
“No! But-“
“I want more than that. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms and wake with you in my bed. I want the right to be with you whenever I please, night or day.” His tone deepened. “I love you, Hetty. And when a man loves a woman, he wants to spend his life with her.”
“But at our age, people will say-“
“Our age is an argument for marriage. We might not have much time left. Why not live it to the fullest, together, while we’re still in good health? Who cares about what people say? Life is too short to let other people dictate one’s choices.”
She leaned heavily on his arm as they reached the steps leading up to the dais at the front of the ballroom. He did have a point. She had been balking at marrying him because she was sure people would think her a silly old fool.
But then, she had always been out of step with everyone else. Why should this be any different? “I shall think about it,” she murmured as they headed to the center of the dais, where the family was gathering.
“I suppose I’ll have to settle for that. For now.” He cast her a heated glance. “But later this evening, once we have the chance to be alone, I shall try more effective methods to persuade you. Because I’m not giving up on this. I can be as stubborn as you, my dear.”
She bit back a smile. Thank God for that.
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