He nodded curtly. And she noticed his compliments had ended. Actually, he barely spared her another glance, and it was all Megan could do to keep from laughing and patting herself on her back.
This matchmaking business was really much simpler than Megan had first thought it was going to be. Either that, or Lachlan and Kimberly were simply destined for each other, no matter what anyone did to aid them in figuring that out for themselves.
Lachlan did lead her straight to Kimberly the moment the music stopped. Dragged her there was nearly the case. And not a moment too soon. Megan knew the young gentleman about to escort Kimberly back onto the dance floor, and she quickly forestalled him, sending him after some refreshments instead. As for Lachlan…
“If you’ll excuse us now,” Megan told him in a no-nonsense tone, “I’m going to take Kimberly out for a quick turn on the balcony—”
“Nay, what would your husband be saying, darlin’,” he cut in, “if I didna lend you my protection for such a dangerous undertaking?”
Megan nearly snorted at such nonsense, but she was in fact glad he wanted to stay close. However, she didn’t want him to know that, so she shrugged and said, “Suit yourself, but do keep your distance.”
She didn’t wait for him to agree, but took Kimberly’s arm and led her outside, though not too far outside. Windbreaks had been set up along most of the balcony edges to keep the worst of the winter cold at bay. It allowed the guests an area to cool off without it being so cold that they couldn’t enjoy it for very long, but you still didn’t mistake what season it was.
Megan hadn’t actually planned to grill Kimberly about the men she was meeting, but with Lachlan eavesdropping on them, and he was doing just that, it was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Kimberly?” she began, her tone merely casual.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“None of that now,” Megan admonished gently. “I’d like to think we are becoming friends, you and I, and my friends call me Megan—if not worse.”
Kimberly smiled shyly, though her eyes kept drifting to where Lachlan was standing several feet away, pretending not to be paying them any mind.
“So tell me,” Megan continued. “Have you met anyone yet that you might be interested in?”
“John Kent.”
That answer came too quickly, surprising Megan. “Well, yes, a fine young man he is. Conservative. Comes from excellent—are you quite sure? Don’t misunderstand, but he seems a bit stuffy to me.”
Kimberly couldn’t help herself. She laughed at that description, which she’d noticed for herself. “Ah, but you see, I’ve lived all my life with a—how shall I put this? Highly emotional parent.”
“A bit hot-tempered, your father?”
“Yes, exactly. So for me, stuffy isn’t so bad, it’s actually refreshing.”
“Never say so,” Megan said in mock horror. “My Devlin has occasional bouts of stuffiness, nothing like he used to have, mind you, but still every once in a while that old stuffiness comes through and drives me up a wall in no time a’tall. If you want a change from hot tempers, you’ll want a quiet sort, or better yet, someone with a nice sense of humor who’ll make you laugh a lot.”
They both glanced furtively at Lachlan at that point, who was whistling quietly to himself as if he hadn’t heard a word they’d said. Kimberly was flustered as usual, having him near. And he was sinfully handsome tonight in his black formal wear, which made it even worse.
She had tried to concentrate on the gentlemen she was meeting, but it was next to impossible with Lachlan MacGregor in the same room. And she was disappointed too. For some reason, she’d actually expected him to ask her to dance—at least once. But he hadn’t. He’d been dancing with Megan or not dancing at all.
“There was also Howard Canston,” Kimberly mentioned. “I found him quite interesting.”
Megan frowned without realizing it. The trouble was, there wasn’t a single thing she could think of that was wrong with Canston. He was athletic, yet also active in the House of Lords, where he had taken over his father’s seat since old Canston had become ill. The family was wealthy, owning some prime properties right in London. No scandal had ever been associated with their name. And Howard was due to inherit the title of marquis as soon as his father passed on, which rumor had it, wouldn’t be much longer.
No, Viscount Canston was one of the prime catches of the season, ideally suited for any young miss, Kimberly included. He was also quite good-looking, if one liked those golden Adonis sorts.
Megan wished she could say something disagreeable about the chap, simply because she already had it set in her mind that Lachlan was the man for Kimberly. But she couldn’t, and to be fair, she supposed she ought to at least invite Canston to Sherring Cross in the coming weeks. And if she had to be fair, she might as well invite Lord Kent too. Actually, if she was going to go that far, she might as well give Margaret the go-ahead to invite some of the young women she had come up with who would be suitable for Lachlan.
Megan sighed to herself. There were times when fairness just went against the grain, it really did.
And this was definitely one of those times. She forced herself to say, albeit a bit tersely, “Howard will make a fine husband. Anyone else?”
It wasn’t all that surprising, at that point, that Kimberly mentioned three other names. The girl was here to get married, after all, and apparently, wasn’t going to waste any time just enjoying herself.
Megan would really like to know, though, why, with such a prime specimen of manhood on hand from the very beginning, Kimberly didn’t seem the least bit interested in Lachlan. And if she was interested and just wasn’t letting on, well then, it was certainly a well-kept secret.
But that wasn’t something that could be asked at the moment, much as she wanted to. Not with Lachlan barely pretending not to be eavesdropping on their conversation.
It was a moot point, at any rate, as the balcony doors opened again to reveal Devlin standing there, filling the space. He didn’t have to look far to find them, and he was there with a purpose. Cupping a hand to his mouth, he imitated a whisper, which in fact had no trouble reaching all three of them.
“Megan, love, I need you to rescue me from Henrietta Marks, who is determined to espouse her husband’s political views to me, which all and sundry know I don’t agree with one little bit. Be quick, she’s right on my coattails.”
He sounded huffy and expectant all in the same breath, and the expectancy won out. He didn’t give Megan a chance to answer either way, nor make the appropriate excuses to her companions. He stepped forward, gave Kimberly a generous smile, gave Lachlan no glance at all, and abruptly whisked Megan back into the ballroom.
And the first thing Megan noticed was no dragon breathing down his back, which she immediately pointed out. “I don’t see Henrietta anywhere.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he replied as he patted her hand, grinned at her, then gathered her in his arms to finish the current dance in progress. “The Markses never come to these fancy affairs.”
She was surprised for all of five seconds, then she was smiling up at him. “That was brilliant timing, if I do say so myself, allowing me to leave Kimberly and Lachlan alone out there.”
“Yes, I know,” he said rather smugly.
She raised a brow at him. “You mean you saw us go out to the balcony?”
“My dear, I am always aware of where you are and what you’re doing.”
To that she made a face. “I don’t know whether I should be extremely pleased about that, or wonder whether or not you trust me.”
“Since I trust you implicitly, I suppose you will have to settle for being pleased.”
She smiled again. “Yes, I suppose I will.”
14
Kimberly was still staring at the closed balcony door, still amazed at how quickly she had been left alone—with him—when she heard Lachlan’s deliberate cough, meant to draw her attention to hi
m. She decided to ignore him, and turned about instead to overlook the square behind the Wigginses’ townhouse. Lights flickered down there, showing plainly a mist in the air, some lonely benches, a large statue of some forgotten war hero at the center…
“It does you no good tae ignore me, lass. I am singularly unignorable.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kimberly remarked, still without looking his way. “I’m actually very good at ignoring things that don’t interest me.”
“Ouch,” Lachlan said, close enough that she realized he’d come quietly up behind her. “You wound me tae the quick, darlin’.”
“I sincerely doubt that’s possible, but on the off chance that it is, well, I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“On the off chance that you’re no’ lying, I’d expire here on the spot.” He paused before adding with feigned surprise, “Och, now, I’m still here. Fancy that.”
She almost laughed. It was very hard not to with the urge so strong. Silliness like that was what she needed in her life—but not from a man whose true interest lay elsewhere, and they both knew where.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Mac—”
“Did those stuffy English tell you how beautiful you look tonight, Kimber?”
A warm glow filled her. She had been in the process of moving away from him, but that stopped her. And yes, she had been told already, by several men tonight, that they thought she was beautiful, but it just wasn’t the same as hearing Lachlan say it.
His hand came to her arm, as if he still needed to physically detain her, when her feet had no thought of moving at the moment. She liked to think he simply wanted to touch her, albeit innocently.
“Have I embarrassed you?” he asked softly.
She wasn’t embarrassed, she was tongue-tied. She really didn’t know how to receive compliments gracefully, having had so few in her life, at least from men. So she shook her head briefly and kept her eyes lowered, but that only seemed to encourage him to further intimacy.
“I’m thinking I like this shy side o’ you. ’Tis unexpected, but verra nice.”
“I’m not—”
“Och, now, dinna get defensive. ’Tis no’ a bad thing, a wee bit o’ shyness.”
She didn’t want to argue with him tonight, but she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression about her either. “I’m really not—”
“Makes a mon want tae kiss you, and I mun confess, I’ve that urge again.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes rose up to meet his, and the moment they connected, his lips were pressing against hers. Unlike their previous kiss, this one was much more serious. He gathered her in his arms. He held her extremely close. And his tongue intruded immediately beyond her lips to forage deeply. It was the kind of kiss she should have learned nothing about until she was safely married. It was the kind of kiss designed to provoke passions, and hers were ignited quickly.
Where that kiss might have led Kimberly wasn’t to find out, however, since several other of the Wigginses’ guests chose that moment to seek some cooling on the balcony. As the doors swung open, Lachlan sprang back, putting a decent distance between them. Unfortunately, the immediate loss of his support left Kimberly swaying unsteadily on her feet, forcing him to lend an arm to her back again. And the easiest way to cover that intimacy was to lead her back inside and straight onto the dance floor.
By the time she was thinking again with any semblance of clarity, it was too late to upbraid him for what he’d done. Not that she had any true desire to do so, when she had enjoyed that kiss so thoroughly. But to say nothing was to let him assume that he could kiss her anytime he liked, which wasn’t so. She would get around to saying something, just—later, after the pleasant glow left her and he wasn’t still lavishing her with his attention.
And Lachlan was doing that.
He wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to where he was leading her in the dance, he was staring at her instead. And there was heat in his light green eyes that continued to warm her. When one of the gentlemen who had previously cut in on her partner tried to do so again, he found Lachlan willing to defy convention with his refusal.
He went so far as to snarl, “Get lost, English. She’s taken.”
Kimberly was embarrassed and thrilled at once, a difficult combination, and she made no remark at all. She simply enjoyed his hand on her back, his other hand clasping hers gently, and every so often her pulse would leap when he accidentally moved too close so that her breasts would brush against his chest.
She had no idea that these were practiced moves on his part, that he was setting her up for seduction, and succeeding very well. He was subtle about it, not even using half of his usual tactics, afraid that anything obvious would have adverse effects rather than benefits. And he couldn’t say when or why he’d made the decision to have her, come what may. It hadn’t even been a decision. There was no choice involved. He simply had to have her now, his desire was that great.
15
Kimberly returned to the St. James townhouse in a romantic haze that night. And with Lachlan in the same coach, that haze had no time to clear.
Her opinion of him, of course, had undergone some major changes tonight. In fact, she was already wondering how she might avoid the scandal when she married him, and her father disowned her for it. Not if she married him. The decision was already made as far as she was concerned.
There was simply no reason to look any further for a husband, when Lachlan MacGregor would suit her so well. The only reason she hadn’t entertained the idea before was his apparent interest in Megan St. James. But after tonight, that was obviously at an end. His attention was turned to her instead. And it would be very easy to love him, she had no doubt. Besides, his devil-may-care, nonsensical, charming manner was just what she needed in her life.
She was still smiling to herself, still daydreaming of what her future could be like with him, when she reached her room and slowly readied herself for bed. Vaguely she was aware that Lachlan had been assigned the room next to hers again, having passed him in the hall earlier. Quite a coincidence that, with the St. James townhouse another really large home. But she didn’t wonder about it. She’d changed her opinion in that too, now liking the fact that he was so close.
Mary had been told not to wait up, and Kimberly managed to get out of her gown without too much difficulty, and without really noticing how much stumbling about she was doing.
She would have liked to continue daydreaming about Lachlan—they were such thrilling fantasies. But due to the amount of champagne she had consumed at the ball, she was asleep within moments of crawling into bed. So she was quite disoriented when she awoke a while later, so disoriented that she still thought she was at the ball, still standing on that balcony being kissed by Lachlan.
All the wonderful feelings she had experienced then came immediately to life again. But they were enhanced. She was being kissed quite passionately. And where the balcony had been cool, there was now so much heat.
It took a while before she realized that Lachlan was doing more than what one might expect from a kiss. His hands weren’t just holding her, they were roaming quite freely over her limbs, and encountering skin where satin should have been. That confused her, but she never got around to questioning it, since his hands continued to roam, sometimes evoking sensations so pleasant, she couldn’t hold back her delight, the sounds of which encouraged him to explore further.
But there was something else present that had not been felt before, a vague kind of frustration she couldn’t pinpoint, but she knew, somehow, that all the wondrous things he was making her feel just weren’t going to be enough, that something even more delightful was missing and she wouldn’t be replete without it. And with that feeling a sense of urgency developed, as if her body were telling her, there is an end to this rainbow, and if you hurry, you just might find it.
The heat continued to escalate. Her gown seemed to stick to her, and yet…it no longer felt like satin. It seemed l
ike she’d grown another layer of skin and it was heavy, weighing her down, hard and unyielding where she was usually soft. But his kiss continued to bedazzle her, allowing her no time to analyze what was happening to her, much less ask questions about it. And besides, she was no doubt imagining things, an unfortunate consequence of consuming too much champagne, which she was not at all used to.
And then she felt the pain, a quite sobering effect, that. And she realized two things with crystal clarity. She wasn’t on the Wigginses’ balcony, she was in her bed, where she ought to be. But Lachlan MacGregor was lying on top of her, and that wasn’t where he ought to be.
Her mind reeled with the implications, which in her innocence, she still didn’t fully grasp. She could only think to demand, “What are you doing here?”
He leaned up, but she could barely see him in the dark room, which had only a banked fire giving off no light to speak of. “Och, now, darlin’, is that no’ obvious? I’m making love tae you.”
“The devil you are,” she said indignantly and nearly snorted, “Without my permission? I don’t think so.”
“Aye, ’tis true,” Lachlan replied. “And sorry I am for your pain, but—”
“Pain?” she cut in, and then recalled it with a gasp. “Why did you hurt me?”
“It wasna intentional…well, it was—sort of, but ’twas unavoidable, and I swear tae you, lass, it willna happen again.”
“No, it won’t, because you’re leaving,” and she stressed, “This very second.”
“Now why would I be doing that, when ’tis no’ what either of us wants?”
“Do not presume to know what I want—”
“Och, but I do know. You’ve been telling me all night that you want me, darlin’, and right now I’m wanting you something powerful as well.”
To hear him say that sent a thrill through her, but he was confusing her too. She couldn’t recall telling him any such thing, and in fact, she couldn’t imagine herself being that bold, whether it were true or not. That it was true, well, at least that she did want him, was beside the point…or was it? She was going to marry him anyway, so did it really matter if they did this lovemaking thing now, before the fact? And everything he’d been doing to her had been so very nice, until that pain had intruded.