Every Time We Kiss (16 page)

“Did you have an enjoyable morning, Lord Blackburn?” She wanted to slap her hand over her mouth.

“Very much so. I went on the hunt with several of the other men.”

“Indeed.”

“And you?” he asked softly. “Did you enjoy your morning alone?”

Hearing the sensual undertones of his voice made her wish she could give him a proper retort. Instead, all that came out of her mouth was, “Yes, thank you.”

Dinner progressed more slowly than Jennette would have preferred. Course after course left her uncomfortably full and she wanted nothing more than to leave the awkward glances of everyone behind her. Finally, Lady Aston stood and commanded all the ladies to follow her to the great salon at the front of the house.

Avis caught up to her as she walked down the long hallway to the salon. “How did that go?”

“Dreadful. Between Huntley’s thinly veiled flirtations and Blackburn’s burning gaze, I am feeling quite exhausted tonight.”

“Oh my, Huntley?”

“Yes. He complimented me on the watercolor landscape above the sofa at Elizabeth’s home.” Jennette looked over as Avis frowned.

“But that’s an oil landscape.”

Jennette smiled tightly. “Exactly.”

Avis covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a grin. “Did you correct his assumption?”

“Of course not. You know as well as I that women don’t paint in oils. That’s far too masculine a pursuit,” Jennette said scornfully.

“Just as women don’t write books that might go against the mores of the day,” Avis replied.

Jennette patted Avis’s hand. “Your book will be published. And one of my oils will end up in a museum.”

“Lady Jennette, might I have a word?”

Jennette moved to Lady Aston’s seat. “Of course.”

After Jennette sat on the sofa next to her, Lady Aston began, “My husband’s mother is getting on in years and Aston believes she should live with us. Personally, I won’t have that woman in my house. So I have decided to refurbish the dowager house on the property.”

“That sounds like a fine idea.” Jennette had no idea why Lady Aston was telling her this tale.

“I know you decorated your sister-in-law’s home. I would very much appreciate if you would take a look at the dowager’s house and make some recommendations.”

“I would be happy to.” A little thrill of excitement rushed through her. If she couldn’t paint, she loved to decorate rooms. “I will go out there first thing in the morning to have a look.”

Lady Aston gave her a condescending smile. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Jennette brushed aside the nagging sensation that something wasn’t right about her request. Instead, she excused herself to go to the ladies’ retiring room. After taking care of her business, she started to head back to the main salon. But as she passed a large window, her gaze landed on the greenhouse. A small light flickered from behind the glass.

She should not go to him.

And yet, even as she had that thought, she walked away from the salon and toward the exterior door.

Matthew paced the long gravel path of the greenhouse, passing the fall vegetables and the flowers forced to bloom out of season. All he had to do was wait for her to arrive, talk to her, and kiss her, until her mother and Somerton walked in on them.

Simple enough.

So why did his heart constrict every time he thought about compromising her?

She’d paid a heavy price for her actions five years ago. She had watched her fiancé die before her eyes. An action she’d caused. Her suffering ate at him.

And now he was going to cause her more pain.

He stopped and stared at a small red tulip almost ready to bloom. The color reminded him of John’s blood. John would despise him for even thinking about compromising her. Matthew had promised to protect her name. Ruining her would be breaking his pledge to John.

John was dead, he reminded himself.

Nonetheless, guilt washed over him. How could he do this to her? He touched the silky petal of the flower and thought about the texture of her raven hair. He yanked the bud off its stem and threw it across the room.

Why couldn’t he be the scoundrel? Why couldn’t he hurt her?

“Matthew?” her whispered voice sounded from the door.

He turned and stared at her, immediately comprehending the reason he could never see her hurt. And more importantly, why he could never be the one to wound her. The wind had whipped strands of her black hair out of its upswept style and caused them to fall upon her delicate face. Her blue eyes sparkled in the dim light of the greenhouse.

He loved her.

He could not do this to her. He wanted her willingly, not because she’d been forced out of duty to keep her name secure.

“Get out of here.”

“You asked me to come here,” she replied, slowly walking into the room. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”

“Get out, now!” Couldn’t she sense the urgency in his voice? He had to make her leave.

“Matthew…”

“Jennette, I believe someone is coming. If you don’t get out now you know what will happen.”

She licked her lips and nodded. “I see. Good night, then.”

“Don’t take the main path back to the house.”

She turned and walked to the door. After cracking the door open, she paused, and said, “Thank you for not compromising me, Matthew.”

He watched her depart and prayed no one would see her leave the greenhouse. Hearing voices, he picked up the candle and walked to the door. He headed straight for the couple walking up the path.

“Somerton,” he said with a nod. “And the ladies Selby, nice evening, isn’t it?”

The dowager Lady Selby eyed him and the greenhouse. “Yes, I believe the weather has become so much more pleasant.”

“Indeed it has.”

“I’ve heard there are some interesting plants in the greenhouse,” the younger Lady Selby commented. “Would you care to join us?”

“Actually, I am just returning from the greenhouse.” He looked up at Somerton. “There is nothing much to see.”

As the sun broke through the clouds the next morning, Matthew strode out of his room furious at himself for thinking Jennette would ever come willingly to him. She’d loved John, not him. The frustration he felt was eating at him. There was only one way to rid himself of the aggravation—a good long ride.

After walking to the stables, he waited while a lad saddled a gelding for him. He admired the horse, wishing he could afford such quality horseflesh again. At the rate this plan with Jennette was going, he might never be able to buy another horse.

He climbed into the saddle and headed down the path toward the valley. The gray November sky and cool wind chilled him but did nothing to ease his ineffective anger. With irritation nipping at his heels, he spurred the horse to a run. The brown and gray scenery flashed past.

As he crested a small knoll, the ivy-covered dowager house came into view. He slowed his horse to a canter while he examined the home. Coming nearer, he noticed a horse tied to a post in front.

Odd, there was only one horse, so he doubted it was a liaison. He wondered if a rider might have become ill or hurt and stopped there for a rest. Knowing he had better check, he reined in next to the other horse. The mare appeared to be fine.

Walking into the house, he shouted, “Hello?”

In the small parlor, dusty white cloths covered all the furniture and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Why would anyone willingly enter this old house? Walking back into the hall, he approached the staircase and shouted, “Is anyone up there?”

“I’m upstairs,” the muffled feminine voice replied.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, striding up the stairs as fear etched its way down his back. Something had to be wrong for a lady to be in this ruin all by herself. The place was all but falling down.

“Matthew?”

Just as he reached the top riser, he saw Jennette walk out of one of the bedrooms. Fear turned to anger. “What the bloody hell are you doing here? Are you meeting someone? Ancroft perhaps? Or maybe Huntley is more your taste.”

She dropped the pad she’d been holding and crossed her arms over her chest. “How dare you imply such a thing!”

He stepped closer as anger mingled with jealousy to create a dangerous combination. “Oh, I dare. Why else would a woman be in this hovel alone?”

Her eyes glittered like the icy North Sea as she took two strides toward him. Before he knew what had happened, she’d slapped his cheek. The tingling crossed his face feeling like a hundred splinters of wood.

“My maid was ill. You of all people should know I don’t take lovers,” she hissed.

Why did she bring out every bit of jealousy imaginable in him? Deflated, he replied, “You’re right. And I must apologize for my reaction.”

“Pardon me?”

Pulling her closer to him, he smiled down at her. “I said, you are right.”

“Why are you here, Matthew?”

He noticed she’d said nothing about the fact that she was up against his chest. “I saw the lone mare and thought a rider might have been hurt and sought refuge here. Why are you here?”

“Not to meet a lover.” Rosy color infused her cheeks. She retreated a step. “Lady Aston asked me to look at what it would take to refurbish the house.”

“Why would she ask you?”

“Because I love to redecorate rooms. I refurbished both my brother’s house and Avis’s before she married Banning. I also assisted Sophie with her home.”

Based on her fashion sense, he assumed her work would be wonderful. Even seeing her here in a morning gown of pale green with an apron covering her, she looked exquisite.

“Isn’t this place too far gone?” he asked, looking around at the peeling wallpaper and warped floorboards.

“No, it definitely needs quite a bit of work. But it’s not too far ruined.” She pulled at his hand and led him to the bedroom. “Look at that window.”

Matthew looked at the window and shrugged. “It’s a window.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s a Palladian window. Facing the south.”

“And?”

“And you know nothing about light or color or anything,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “The window is a beautiful Palladian, facing the south so all the sunlight comes through the glass. It warms the room and brightens everything in it. This is a perfect bedroom for an aging widow.”

Her enthusiasm infected him. He smiled at her. “It’s beautiful.”

She retrieved her pad from the hall and quickly sketched the room. “Oh, I just love this room. Now picture a pale green silk on the walls, floral curtains, and a lighter wood for the furniture.”

Matthew did his best but still couldn’t picture the room as clearly as Jennette seemed to. “But this isn’t a very big room.”

She turned to him with a grin. “Exactly!”

He shook his head in confusion. “Why would the dowager want to make this her bedroom when there is a larger bedroom?”

“Come with me.” Jennette stomped off without a glance back to him.

Matthew followed her into another bedroom and cringed. Even with the curtains open, the room appeared dark and gloomy.

“Why would anyone want to sleep in here?” she asked. “The dowager Lady Aston should have the bright and airy room. This should be a guest room.”

Looking around, he realized the room was only slightly larger than the first bedroom she liked so much. “I believe I see your point.”

Jennette sat down on the bed and her hand flew across the pad, noting everything about the room. She looked up at him with a gleam of passion in her eyes. He suddenly realized just how much she loved what she was doing here. The cobwebs hadn’t sent her shuddering away. The creaky floors and evidence of rodents hadn’t forced her to leave either.

He watched as she attempted to move a large trunk. “Wait. I shall help you.”

Together, they moved the trunk away from the wall, exposing a small hidden door. “Why is that here?” he asked.

Jennette stared at the door and pursed her lips. “I’m not sure. As I was sketching the wall, I noticed the slight indentation.”

“A secret passageway, perhaps?”

Her eyes lit with intrigue. “Maybe!”

“Shall we find out?”

“Yes!”

Matthew slid the door open and glanced inside. Pulling his head back out, he smiled up at her. “Sorry, it’s just a storage area. No secret passage, no hidden treasure.”

“Damn.” She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes opened wide.

“Damn?” He stood and laughed at the ease with which the word rolled off her tongue. “Have you always hidden this propensity to swear?”

“Yes. Banning has admonished me so many times but that’s hardly fair when every shocking word I know is because of him.”

“It’s hard to be a lady.”

Jennette laughed. “You have no idea. Men get to say anything they want and no one cares. But ladies must be proper at all times. Not a sullied word can pass these lips.”

“Except in the bedroom,” he whispered. “There lovers can be themselves, say what they desire.”

He watched her swallow as her eyes darkened.

“I am all done in this room,” she said quickly.

Point taken,
Matthew thought. He followed her as she inspected the third bedroom. Dusty crates and trunks filled this room, making it appear as though the previous owner never had moved in. Jennette slowly opened one of the trunks and gasped.

“Look at this dress,” she exclaimed. She stood and turned with an ornate gown, fashionable maybe a hundred years ago, in her hand. “Isn’t this the most beautiful dress you have ever seen?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Indeed? When have you seen a prettier gown?”

His lips tilted upward. “The night you wore that sapphire gown with the peacock embroidered at the bottom.”

“Oh,” she whispered, then glanced back down at her pad. “You don’t need to stay here while I finish.”

“I certainly do. Others might come upon you here…alone…”

“I shall make certain I lock the door after you leave.”

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman to let you stay here in this decrepit, old house that is all but falling down. You might get hurt.”

Jennette moved past him, leaving the room but her jasmine scent remained. He stalked her. She opened a door, making her way to the attic rooms.

“Oh my,” she said with a sigh when she reached the top step.

“What’s the matter?” he asked following behind her. The door shut as he walked up the steps.

“Lady Aston specifically stated that her mother-in-law would need three servants. But there is only one bedroom up here and the lowest level is a dirt-floor cellar.”

Matthew reached the top and surveyed the room. “It’s certainly big enough for three rooms. Each would be approximately the same size as the bedrooms downstairs.”

“Yes, but that will increase the costs.”

“I believe Lord Aston can afford it.” He had to admit to be taken aback by her concern for the cost of the project.

She walked around the room and shook her head. “This is much more work.”

“You can do it.”

She whipped her head around to him. She smiled shyly at him and said, “Thank you.”

“Let me see your pencil.” He held out his hand until she dropped the lead. Walking around the room, he drew lines on the walls and floors where new walls could be built. “What do you think?”

Jennette sat on the musty mattress and eyed each marking before she picked up another piece of lead from her apron. Drawing the approximate dimensions on the paper, she shook her head.

She pointed to the marking nearest the middle window and said, “That wall must go on the other side of the window. Otherwise one servant would have two windows while another servant would have none.”

He stepped back toward the bed and looked at the lines on the wall. “You’re right. I hadn’t noticed that. I was basing the walls purely on room size. Now this room will be bigger but at least there will be a window.”

She looked around the room and shivered. The idea of being alone with him in this room had set her nerves on fire. She needed to finish her work and leave before she did something completely irrational…again.

He walked back to the lines he’d drawn and her gaze wandered to his buff-colored riding breeches. The soft leather stretched across his tight derrière. Her pulse increased as she stared at his backside, remembering how it felt to have her legs wrapped around his hips.

Heat seared her cheeks when he glanced back at her. He couldn’t possibly know her thoughts. And yet, the seductive grin he sent her made her think otherwise.

“Jennette,” he said softly.

“Matthew, please…”

“May I see your ideas for the room?”

Jennette blew out a breath, thankful that he seemed to understand they could not fall into bed again. He strolled across the room and she wondered if he hadn’t felt the same pull of desire. Maybe she imagined the look of desire she thought she’d seen in his eyes. He sat next to her on the bed and glanced down at her drawing.

The man smelled of leather and horses, creating a strange swirl of emotions rolling through her. His thigh brushed against her and it took every ounce of control she had not to turn to him and kiss him.

His finger pointed to one wall she’d drawn. “I think that wall will need to be brought in a little. Otherwise, there won’t be much room in the hallway.”

“Of course,” she whispered. What happened two nights ago had been an accident. Their emotions had been overwhelmed by the Marstons’ slanderous comments. Besides, any man would have made love to a woman who so brazenly entered his room without even knocking.

He leaned in next to her, his shoulder encountering hers, his head all but touching hers. She wanted to be the upright lady, the woman who slapped her fan against his arm in protest to his close contact. Instead, she turned her head toward him.

Staring into his eyes, she lost any thought of being a proper lady. The back of his hand skimmed her cheek, drawing down to her neck. He wrapped his hand around the crook of her neck and brought her closer to him, to his lips, to the deep desire she wanted to know better.

His lips caressed hers until she opened for him. She wanted to feel the fire of passion flare between them again. She didn’t care if that made her a strumpet. She had wanted him for so long and had never dared admit it to anyone save herself.

The sound of the downstairs door slamming shut broke them apart.

“Oh God,” she whispered.

Matthew rose and raced to the steps. As if in a daze, she followed him, praying whoever might be downstairs would leave before finding them in the attic.

“No one’s here,” a deep masculine voice sounded from the second floor.

“But…” The feminine voice sounded timid.

“Come on, Annie.” Footsteps fell across the floor below them.

Matthew looked at her and shrugged. Jennette looked at him and wondered what he was thinking. The rooms below had gone silent except for the occasional creaking floorboard.

Quietly, they both tiptoed to the bed and waited for something to happen. Matthew pulled her down onto his lap. She could feel his erection rising.

“Did you hear that?” Annie said.

“Probably just a mouse in the attic. No one is here.”

“But what about the horses?”

The man groaned. “No one ever comes to this depressing place. There’s a pond just beyond the house. Most likely someone tied the horses and walked to the pond. We checked the rooms and no one is here.”

“All right.”

Matthew leaned in and whispered, “Do you know an Annie?”

Jennette shook her head and replied, “Possibly a servant.”

Soft moans echoed up through the floorboards. Moisture started to pool between Jennette’s legs with the image of what they must be doing.

“God, your tits are huge,” the man said. The sound of suckling floated up from the downstairs.

“Oh, Robert.”

“The only Robert I know at the party was Lord Aston,” Matthew whispered with a chuckle. He brought his hand up and rubbed her taut nipple.

Jennette slapped his arm. “Shh, they’ll hear us.”

“Oh, Robert!”

“Take me in your mouth, Annie.”

Jennette frowned slightly, wondering exactly what Annie was putting in her mouth. She glanced back at Matthew to see his eyes widen. Whatever they were doing, it had obviously excited him.