Between A Rake And A Hard Place [Pirates of London Book 2] (10 page)

He was afraid she would be. Beau was hardly a novice when it came to women and the attraction was mutual. She was far too innocent to be able to conceal it.

Which made this call doubly a choice in dubious judgment, of course, and he usually prided himself on being very level-headed and emotionally detached. Unfortunately, all the speculation about her charms had gotten under his skin. He unequivocally did not want other men thinking about her.

And he just as unequivocally did not want to analyze that emotion.

The door was ajar already and he looked through the opening, seeing there was only one lamp lit. She sat in the chair beside it, book open in her hands, her brow faintly knitted as she read. One hand moved gracefully to turn a page.

How can anyone think she is not the loveliest woman in England
? The light illuminated her fair hair and threw her features into a play of shadow and angles, her lashes lowered over those remarkable violet eyes. She wore a demure gown by most standards, but on her it highlighted the female contours of her luscious body because she could be clothed in the plainest of garments and there would still be no doubt she was every bit a woman.

There was a possibility she would be angry with him for his conspicuous absence since he was ostensibly supposed to be courting her, but when she glanced up to see him in the doorway, her welcoming smile was enough to humble him.

Forever.

Standing there on the threshold, he had a sinking feeling that he was doomed, that the decision had already been made somewhere in his mind. As she straightened and stood up, her expression ingenuously delighted, he knew that if she looked at him this same way the rest of his life, he would be an extremely lucky man.

However, he was not a great believer in luck.

“My lord. How lovely to see you.”

“It is late. My apologies.”

Hannah said somewhat breathlessly, “Not at all. Is there some word of my sister?”

He wished he could give her that, but he didn’t have anything from Ives yet…not a word.

“No. I’m sorry.”

She looked a trifle crestfallen, but then nodded. “I am beginning to lose hope, I’m afraid.”

Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure there should have been hope in the first place; except Ives
was
an excellent retriever of lost objects. If Lady Cassandra could be recovered, he was the one to accomplish it, but Beau hadn’t really come to talk to her about that subject.

Why the devil
had
he come?

To see her, he realized. The warmth of her smile, the glorious color of her violet eyes, the way she moved with such feminine grace.

“What are you reading?” He gestured at the book she’d set down.

How…suave.

Hannah looked just the slightest bit amused. “A romantic novel, my lord. I doubt you are acquainted with the title, but I am enjoying it.”

“I’m quite the romantic at heart, actually.” He went over and picked it up, not because he really was all that interested, but because it allowed him to stand right next to her. He read the title aloud. “
A Forbidden Tryst
.”

“A bit redundant, I know,” she said, looking up at him, her body temptingly close. “Isn’t a tryst by definition forbidden? Otherwise it would simply be a meeting. But despite that small error on the part of the author, the story is interesting.”

He held her gaze. It was remiss of him, but he’d never before noticed the length of her lashes. They were curved and lush and perfectly framed those glorious eyes.

“Perhaps when you are finished, I should read it.”

“If you wish, of course.”

What he wished for was certainly more than a gothic story about fainting heroines and improbable villains, but there was no doubt he was his own worst enemy. Drawn to her but reluctant—wary not because of her, but because of
himself
.

Hannah was not the problem.

And yet, paradoxically, she was.

The single lamp gilded her hair to a unique shade of dark honey. He had yet to state the purpose of his visit, probably because he had no idea why he’d decided to just abandon all plans for the evening and deposit himself on her doorstep. “I haven’t seen you,” he said unnecessarily.

“No.”

“It was not my intention to neglect your request of me, I’ve been quite busy.”

Being an idiot
. Thinking of her.

“I understand.” Those thick lashes lowered a fraction.

He was going to kiss her. The revelation rolled over him in a sudden wave of desire.

He’d come specifically for that purpose; he understood it now as he stood there and stared at the tempting curve of her lips. The entire week of waffling about, attending social engagements to fill his time, avoiding her…was because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he very much wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her.

It wasn’t prudent. It wasn’t wise. It, in fact, meant he was a damn fool, his promise to her aside. A man did not kiss the daughter of a prominent man unless he had honorable intentions, and he did not have them.

Unless, hell, he was more honorable than he thought.

* * * *

He wanted to kiss her.

Hannah wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. It could be the way his gaze constantly strayed to her mouth and Lord Auberville was normally a very subtle man.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t sensed his attraction to her—if she hadn’t, she would have dutifully married last season instead of holding out hope, but his reserve was formidable and she was not all that worldly. She wasn’t a first year ingénue, but still, his particular brand of sophistication was daunting.

There was an air about him that said he’d done and seen things she couldn’t even imagine, and if she had to guess, most of them had to do with the war.

So it was somewhat of a stand-off between the innocent maiden and the wicked seducer, and the remarkable part of it all was that she had the impression that perhaps she had the upper hand.

Hannah leaned forward daringly, actually touching his shoulder and giving him a very good view of her bosom. It was no secret men admired that about her; she’d spent a tiresome first season without anyone looking her in the face. It came to the point that she was so annoyed she told Cassandra that if it were possible, she would entirely redo her wardrobe so she was buttoned up to the neck.

Her sister had laughed, but also looked sympathetic. “You are just far too striking, Han.”

“Humph.”

Striking might be the word, or it might not be appropriate, but right now she did not care why Beau had decided to call.

That he was there, looking superbly handsome in tailored evening clothes, his fair hair set off by his elegant, dark attire, was enough. She wasn’t even now sure why he’d come at such a late hour, but he had and she was glad.

She’d missed him.

However she should do this—handle his restive mood—she wasn’t sure, but she was entirely sure of one thing. Her normal impulse was utter honesty and she was not inclined to argue with it.

“I’m happy you came,” she said softly, not taking the seat she’d occupied but moving one crucial step closer so her breasts almost brushed his chest. “I had wondered…well, I’d wondered if something had gone awry between us.”

“Hannah.” He caught her wrists as her hands came up, but then he pulled her closer, almost with a sort of savage grace, and his mouth lowered to hers.

For a first kiss it was perfect.

Not that it was the gentle perception young ladies had of a tender embrace but it was even better than moonlight and soft breezes. He wrapped his arm around her waist and jerked her forcibly into his embrace, muttering an imprecation against her lips. He didn’t want this, she realized as his mouth plundered hers and at once gentled. He was resistant and wary, but she was neither of those things and the minute her hands rested on his shoulders, he groaned audibly.

“I keep thinking about you,” she whispered, though the confession was probably ill-advised.

As his mouth teased her throat, he muttered, “Obviously, I have a similar problem.”

He did? A wave of joy swept through her.

“I was rather hoping…I mean since last season…I waited for you.”

That lifted his head. He stared into her eyes. “You saved yourself for me?”

It was impossible not to blush. “I don’t know as I would put it that way. I refused some offers because of you, yes.”

“You could have married someone else.” There was a distinct tone of jealousy in his voice. “When I returned to England I fully expected it.”

“But I didn’t.” And she had wondered for the entire past year if she hadn’t been cherishing a false hope, if it wasn’t her imagination at work when she thought he looked at her a certain way.

His arm tightened around her waist, pressing her even closer to his tall, hard body. “Hannah…this is hardly appropriate and I am not sure what I can promise you.”

This was the point where she could assure him she did not expect everything he could give and she didn’t respond at once. The truth was she did want everything. She wanted to share his life, his bed, give him children. Resting her head against his shoulder, she said quietly, “My lord, you have a decision to make. I accept it, whatever it is; that is what I’ve been waiting for, after all. But it is an inevitable change in your path if you choose to go a certain way, and I fully understand it.”

“I doubt that, my dear.”

He was wrong but she didn’t take exception to his tone of voice. She understood a great deal. He was reluctant to commit to anything that made him vulnerable because, if she had to guess, his secret life apart from the dandified earl meant he had enemies. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“Really? Tell me, then, what I am thinking.”

His hands were warm on her shoulders. Hannah withdrew because she really could not think with him touching her. “Feel free to correct me if I am wrong, but I am going to speculate that you find yourself attracted but not sure how committed you might be, my lord. You like me, which is even more disconcerting to you than the physical attraction, and you sense I feel the same. There is also the matter of how you are afraid you would not be able to fool me into thinking you are as you seem to the rest of the world. I am afraid, on that score, my lord, you have already failed.”

Beau looked taken off guard, but it was momentary, just a flicker, and then the usual mask was back in place. “All of that aside, I am not ready for a wife.”

“And when will you be?” she inquired, lifting her brows. “Do you expect it will come to you, like a lightning bolt from the sky?”

“No,” he admitted with a cynical quirk of his lips. “I have not yet decided the time is right.”

“Do you think any of us can choose when we fall in love?” she asked frankly. Sitting back down on the chaise in the corner, she looked at him. “Do you wish to hear how it happened to me?”

Their gazes locked. “I don’t think that is wise.”

She went on anyway. “One day I met someone. He was introduced to me at a ball and I was quite…what’s the right word? Struck might be appropriate.”

Beau said nothing.

This was a challenge. She had felt his inner turmoil when he kissed her. Fine. If she needed to be the one to make herself vulnerable, that was equitable enough considering what she wanted in return. She crossed her ankles and he
watched
her.

“He is a very attractive man.” Her smile was suitably shy and yet she hoped provocative too. She was simply telling the truth, “He tends to be quite remote, but I have hoped that he notices me.”

“I am going to venture to say he does.” His voice was raw.

“I rather wished for that, but it is so hard to tell.”

Beau regarded her with an intensity that she could not discount. “No one could possibly ignore you. I am finding this tale very fascinating.”

It was as if she was on a precipice and teetering on the edge, but she was now over twenty, unmarried and it was true what she’d told him before, her father was getting impatient. Maybe it was just as well for her to declare herself now and then deal with the ramifications later if need be. Perhaps he just didn’t want to marry ever. She couldn’t control that any more than she could have kept from falling in love with him.

“He didn’t pursue me last year.” She smiled faintly. “He went back to Spain. I wasn’t devastated…I’m made of sterner stuff, I think. I stiffened my spine and suffered through the season. But I must admit I refused to settle for anyone else. I still do.”

This truly was baring her soul. She hoped he understood it.

“He’s a fortunate man,” Beau murmured, looking impossibly handsome as he stood across the room.

“I hope he thinks so.” She took in a deep breath. “I love him, of course, because why on earth would any woman turn down respectable offers for her hand and—”

“Hannah.” In three strides he was there, pulling her to her feet again.

Being swept back into his arms was like a dream realized. He said roughly, “If you do not stop saying you love me, I swear I will turn you over my knee.”

And then he was kissing her again, every bit as passionate as her rather vivid fantasies, his hungry mouth on hers, his tongue sweeping in to taste and tantalize. She kissed him back, no doubt without much expertise, but her ardor matched his certainly, and she daringly touched his hair, running her fingers through the thick strands.

Finally he thrust her away. “Damn you.”

“Straight to hell?” she asked politely, straightening her gown.

“God no,” he muttered and sat down on a settee with a groan. “It’s going to be crowded there with me occupying most of the space and you distract me anyway. Stay away.”

He couldn’t have made her happier.

“Beau.” She sat down next to him and touched his hand. He had glorious hands. Long-fingered and yet so very masculine. She looked him in the eyes and said simply, “I can’t help how I feel.”

He muttered something under his breath.

She blinked, the word unfamiliar.

“I should take my leave.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“I should not have called this late in the first place. I am not sure what possessed me to do so.”