Miss George's Second Chance (9 page)

“Remember what I told you on your return. She doesn’t believe in passionless marriages. You will have to convince her the right way.” Walter pursed his lips and then dug in his waistcoat pocket. He glanced at his hand a long moment then slid a key, his front door key judging by the shape, across the polished wood. “Mind if Merton and I continue to play in your absence?”

He gulped at the surprising boon he was being offered. Could it really be that simple to go to Imogen tonight and convince her to give him a second chance to prove he did find her attractive? Very desirable in fact. The idea of having her all to himself was too good an opportunity to pass up. “Not at all. Lock the front door as you leave. I have my key.”

He stood, amazed at his luck but ecstatic at the thought of being completely alone with Imogen. When he’d visited with her earlier, her housekeeper and butler had lingered beyond the door making him rather conscious that they were listening in. He didn’t think they disapproved; he’d spotted their happy smiles as he’d left. It was just that some things were best kept between himself and Imogen. Peter swiftly left his house, hurried to her door and used Walter’s key to let himself into the dark terrace house before he was seen.

As the door closed behind him soundlessly, he hesitated. He should lock the door behind him but then how would Walter return to his own home later that night. In the end, he concluded he had no choice except to leave the door unlatched. He didn’t know how long he had to speak with Imogen alone and he shouldn’t waste time. He snuck up the staircase hoping any servants would assume he was Walter returning from his evening out. He stopped at the doorway to the bedchamber he believed Imogen rested in and listened carefully. When he heard nothing he set his trembling hand to the door handle and slowly let himself inside.

CHAPTER TEN

Imogen jerked upright when her door opened and a floorboard creaked with the weight of a footstep. She held still and listened hard. “Who’s there? Walter?”

“Hello Imogen.”

Peter’s voice shocked her and she clutched her sheets against her chest. He shouldn’t be in her house at this hour of the night let alone standing at her bedchamber door.

The door closed softly and Imogen’s heart really began to thump in panic. “What the devil are you doing in my room?”

His footsteps grew closer. “I wanted to talk to you and since you never go out, I had no choice but to come in.”

Imogen wished she could see. It must be close to midnight. “How did you get in the house?”

Metal thudded against wood. “Key.”

The sheet tumbled from her hands. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Where’s Walter? What have you done? Did you win the key from my brother or stoop to steal it from him?”

“Neither.” The bed dipped as he sat at her side. “Lost all interest in gambling when you tossed me aside. Deuced unlucky of me. Would you believe Walter handed over the key to me with his best wishes?”

“No.” She swallowed the hard lump lodged in her throat. “He would never do such a thing.”

“Wrong. He’s not completely under your thumb as you imagine, for which I must say I am extremely grateful. Walter has been surprisingly helpful in my wish to speak with you privately.”

A heavy weight settled on her legs. His hand? Imogen fought to breathe as she shook off the sensation she’d lost control of her relationship with Peter. The man she remembered was so lacking in passion he would never dream of risking her reputation. “We’ve already spoken several times since your return. I’ve told you we do not suit.”

He swept his hand up to her hip and she trembled at the storm of sensations his caress caused in her. She slapped her hand over his, holding his wandering fingers in place.

“If you recall our final conversation a year ago I disagreed.” He touched her jaw with his fingertips so lightly she held her breath. “I should have fought harder. When you had no reason to pity me you couldn’t get out of the engagement fast enough, discounting any future we might have had together. I gather you wanted a malleable husband and a man with a title and money of his own would never do. The day my inheritance was confirmed you ended us.”

She huffed at his claims. “There was hardly any us.”

“No.” He dropped his hand to her shoulder and skimmed the skin of her neck above her nightgown. “I should apologize for being too much of a gentleman before, I suppose. I never laid more than a finger on you to prove otherwise and I find I regret not being clearer the first time very much.”

Imogen clenched her hands together to control her shaking. What had happened to the carefully polite gentleman of last night? “Hardly the behavior of an ardent suitor.”

Peter brushed her cheek with his lips. His hot breath fanned over her skin to give her gooseflesh down her arms. “So, it’s true you would have had me be wicked and steal a kiss or two before we married?”

Imogen shifted back against the headboard and crossed her arms over her chest. Her breath came in a rush and she couldn’t calm it. “If the idea had occurred to you I’m sure you would have done something about it long before now.”

His wide palm cupped the side of her head and eased her toward him. “Imogen, the idea occurred to me. I just didn’t want to make a mess of yet another situation. But that was a year ago and I’m no longer a patient man.”

As she took her next breath, Peter’s lips crashed against hers, tossing her theory he wasn’t attracted to her out the window. His arms encased her in warmth. Desire flooded her senses. She struggled to know how to respond as Peter took command of the kiss. He tugged at her lips, the tip of his tongue danced across the tender skin until she gasped.

A groan left him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth and tangled with hers. He pulled her closer, into his arms, freeing her from the barrier of the sheets that stood between them. He cupped her face as he softened the embrace, pressing kisses gentler than she had ever expected to her lips. “Should have done that long ago,” he whispered when he drew back momentarily.

The next instant he kissed her fiercely and her limbs turned to butter. She melted and threaded her fingers in his hair, anchoring herself to him so she didn’t fall. But she was already falling. Falling straight into a desire she had dreamed about, written about, but never experienced or expected to. Peter. She had not imagined such passion from him. The man was full of surprises. Being alone with him in the dark was more intimate than she’d thought possible.

He released her mouth and kissed along her jaw.

Imogen took a moment to gather her scattered wits. Peter was in her bedchamber making love to her neck as if he had the right to. As if they hadn’t spent an entire year apart from each other and were even greater strangers now than a year ago. Never mind his kisses were lovely, so thrilling they made her blush to the soles of her feet. If they were found together her reputation would be ruined. The gossip would be brutal and Peter might feel honor bound to propose to her. She couldn’t allow him to sacrifice his freedom just because he might be lonely.

She pushed at his shoulders. “Stop. You must stop.”

He drew back. Urgency threaded into his breathing, the pant of it fast over her cheek. “Why must we? It’s very clear we both desire each other.”

“Because it’s wrong.”

“Oh, Imogen. Kissing you is the most right thing I’ve ever done. Accepting the end of our engagement last year was a mistake I don’t intend to make again.”

She shook her head. The man couldn’t mean that. “If it was a mistake then why did you not come back sooner?”

“Because you told me you could never love me and I was fool enough to believe that was the only reason you ended it,” he whispered against her neck. “I planned to return the second the title was bestowed, but I confess I was still bitter about how things ended between us. I attended balls and parties, the opera and even a house party or two with new acquaintances. Do you know what I thought at each one? I wondered whether I would have enjoyed them more if I’d had you at my side.”

“I wouldn’t have seen any of it. My eyesight had failed well before Christmas.” A bitter pain pierced her chest. “I woke one morning and couldn’t see even my hand when I held it before my face. Poor Walter. I cried for days and he didn’t know what to do to comfort me.”

Peter kissed her again. “I wish I had been here to comfort you. I would have held you in my arms, wiped away your tears and promised to never leave your side.”

It was good to know she hadn’t underestimated his character. She’d believed he would stay, would have allowed their marriage to occur out of a sense of responsibility. She knew him well and had made the right decision then as she would now. “That’s no life for you, Peter. You deserve so much more.”

He shifted on the bed until she lay comfortably over his lap. The position was one she’d never been in before. She felt cosseted and wanted yet free of restraint. He nipped at the skin of her throat. “What I deserve is a lifetime of your kisses and a first look at the next K. D Brahms novel before anyone else.”

“If only that were possible.” She sighed and arched her neck so Peter could continue if he was inclined. To her delight he devoted several more minutes to her throat before he stopped and simply held her against his chest. This side of Peter she wished she’d experienced when she’d been able to see the passion in his eyes. “I cannot write.”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted as he settled a warm hand on her waist. The thin barrier of her nightgown proved little impediment to knowing where each one of his finger lay. “I’ll be your eyes, fingers, and your willing assistant to do whatever your heart desires.”

She froze as his hand drifted along her side, coming to rest below her breast. “I cannot ask that of you.”

“You didn’t. I offered. The same as you offered your fortune and delightful self to save my worthless hide from debtor’s prison. My life is here, Imogen. I’ve wandered aimlessly for the past year and I want a chance to prove to you we belong together. Your lack of sight makes no difference to the way I feel. Let me prove I can be everything you need.”

His mouth descended on her neck again, teasing and setting her senses on fire. His hand rose to cup one breast. She jumped as the overwhelming desire struck her that Peter really did intend to demolish all her false notions of his character. She gasped while his fingers teased her nipple to a hard point through her clothing. For a formerly proper man he was showing a side of himself that was remarkably wicked. She wriggled in his lap. If she was going to stop him from going further then she’d have to speak up soon.

The problem was that his hands were far better than her fantasies had imagined any man could be. She rubbed the soles of her feet on the mattress and the next moment, Peter caught her foot gently and held it still. The touch had her squirming madly. To her surprise, Peter started to laugh softly. “You’re so unbelievably sweet.”

“No one has ever accused me of that.” Imogen tried to free her foot, but he held firm. What a strange thing for Peter to do.

He brushed his lips across hers once more. “Then I’ll consider it a secret and tell no one but you.”

Her struggles stopped as he began to caress along the outside of her leg, lifting her nightgown far higher than it was supposed to be in the presence of a man not her husband. His fingers teased her knee and then he pressed her knees apart.

The sound of a slamming door on the floor below caught her by surprise and she jerked upright on Peter’s lap.

A groan issued from Peter’s throat and he buried his face at her neck. “Forgive me for saying this aloud, but your brother is an utter bastard to come home so soon.” He wrapped his arms about her body and hugged her tightly. “I have to go.”

Imogen turned, rather disappointed by that. “I suspect you should too.”

His lips brushed hers, pressing sweet kisses to her lips that hinted he’d rather not leave her at all. “I will be back tomorrow and the next day until you see sense. This time, I’ll not give up so easy. Sweet dreams, my lady.”

He eased her from his lap, kissed her one last time, before he slipped out of the room and down the stairs. If Peter saw Walter on his way out, she didn’t hear a word of their conversation. She couldn’t imagine what the pair could say to one another at a time like this. Even Imogen didn’t know what to think. She wriggled beneath her bedding and sighed at the situation she found herself in. Peter was mad to want her and to her surprise, she might just be mad enough to want him too.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Peter whistled tunelessly as he took a turn around his back garden. Normally he didn’t torture the neighborhood with his whistling but Imogen stood at the window of her room in the sunlight, staring sightlessly out at the Brighton morning. He wanted her to know he was there and could see her. When she smiled, he ceased his noise, his heart tumbling like mad in his chest. She lit up like the brightest ballroom in London when she smiled. He should remember to tell her that.

“She’s a brave girl.”

Peter glanced at his housekeeper where she foraged in his kitchen garden to his left. “She is.”

Mrs. Simpson shook the dirt from the carrots and wiped her hands on a bit of rag. “Clear broke our hearts to see her suffering all on her own.”