Reese's Bride. Kat Martin

was asking her to explain. She doubted he would understand. She didn’t entirely understand herself.

      “My father refused to let us marry, Reese. He insisted I marry the earl.”

      “Funny, I seem to remember you saying that you would gain his approval and you would marry me.”

      She tried not to flinch beneath his cold regard. “We were never officially engaged. In time, I thought my father would give us his blessing. He refused. After you were gone, it wasn’t so easy to fight him. I wasn’t as strong as I am now.”

      And I was pregnant and frightened and only eighteen. But she could hardly say that.

      “And there was Aldridge,” he said darkly, “right there knocking on your door. Writing you poetry, always solicitous, always full of flattery.”

      “He was nothing at all what he seemed. He fooled my father completely. At first he even fooled me.”

      “Still, you are a countess, your son an earl.”

      She looked down at her empty glass, wishing she had more sherry, wishing she had let him pour her some more. “I am wealthy in my own right. My father left his fortune to me. It is returned to me now that Aldridge is dead.”

      “Lucky for you.” He had moved closer, she realized, and now stood right behind her. She could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck. “Have you thought about what happened in the music room?”

      She swallowed. She could scarcely get those moments out of her head. Slowly, she turned to face him. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve never been kissed in that way.”

      He frowned. “Surely Aldridge proved a satisfactory lover.”

      Her stomach rolled. She couldn’t bear to think of the nights Edmund had pressed himself on her. “Please, I would rather not discuss my late husband.”

      His hands came to rest at her waist. “You’re right, of course. I would rather discuss what might be arranged between the two of us.” She stiffened as he bent toward her, pressed his lips against the side of her neck. Gooseflesh raced over her skin and her heart set up a clatter.

      “What … what are you doing?”

      “I am kissing you, Elizabeth.” And then he did, his mouth claiming hers as if he had every right. He took her with abandon, a deep, drugging, possessive kiss that should have frightened her but instead left her light-headed and yearning.

      The kiss deepened, grew more fierce. His tongue was hot and slick over hers and he tasted of the brandy he had been drinking. She couldn’t think, could barely stay on her feet. Her hands slid up the lapels of his black dinner jacket and she clung to him, breathed him in.

      “You wanted me before, Elizabeth,” he whispered against her ear. “Apparently, you still do. And believe me, I want you.”

      He held her so closely she could feel his powerful erection pressing against her. She should have been repulsed but she wasn’t. His body was lean and fit, his chest wide and hard, and the feel of his arms around her made her knees feel weak.

      She forced herself to pull away. “You don’t … don’t even like me.”

      He shrugged those broad shoulders. “Like has little to do with desire.” He leaned toward her, bent his dark head and kissed the place below her ear, and her stomach quivered.

      “It’s obvious the attraction between us remains,” he went on. “You’re a widow. We could please each other, Elizabeth.”

      She moved a little away, desperate to save herself. He didn’t like her, but he desired her. He was a man, after all, no different from any other. “I’m not … not interested in some illicit affair. I have a son to consider. And I refuse to be the victim of another man’s lust.”

      One of his sleek black eyebrows went up. “That’s all there was? Edmund and his lust?”

      Tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked them away before he could see. “I don’t want to think about it. Please, Reese …”

      At the sound of his name and the plea in her voice, he straightened. He studied her a moment and she wished she knew what he was thinking.

      “All right, if that is the way you want it. Just remember, the offer remains open. Think about it, Elizabeth. I can give you the pleasure he couldn’t.”

      She only shook her head. She enjoyed Reese’s kisses, the featherlight touches that made her feel like the woman she had once been, but the thought of making love was utterly unbearable.

      “I—I’ll be leaving here soon,” she said. “I haven’t got the arrangements entirely worked out, but I’m certain I’ll be able to see it done very shortly.”

      Reese said nothing.

      Elizabeth moistened her lips. “Good night, my lord.” His blue eyes darkened for an instant, before she turned away. Elizabeth hurried out of the drawing room, headed upstairs. She couldn’t wait to reach her bedroom.

      And she couldn’t understand why Reese’s offer made the blood pump so furiously through her veins.

      Reese paced the floor of his bedroom. The scene in the withdrawing room had been completely unplanned. But sometime during the course of the evening, watching Elizabeth beneath the glow of the candles, admiring the gleam of her raven hair, the pale smoothness of her skin, the subtle rise and fall of her breasts, desire had begun to burn inside him, along with the notion of having her in his bed.

      He kept thinking of the kisses they had shared, remembering the way she had responded. He wanted her and apparently she wanted him.

      He owed her nothing.

      If he wanted her, why shouldn’t he have her?

      Discovering how little she knew of passion made his desire for her even greater. Clearly, Edmund Holloway had been an inept lover. The sort of husband who took his pleasure and gave nothing in return. As Reese looked back on the kiss in the music room, he had sensed an innocence he hadn’t expected. It was there in her untutored kisses tonight.

      He could teach her, give her the pleasure she had missed in the course of her marriage. And in doing so, relieve his need for a woman, unsatisfied since his arrival at Briarwood.

      In a way, taking Elizabeth as his temporary mistress would be gaining an odd sort of revenge. He didn’t love her. Not anymore. But he desired her. More, perhaps, because he’d had her only once and had never gotten his fill.

      He wanted her and she wanted him and only Elizabeth’s conscience stood in the way.

      A hard smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Considering the ease with which she had jilted him for another man, whatever minor amount of conscience she possessed shouldn’t be much of a problem.

      Shrugging out of his coat, Reese tossed it onto the bed. His leg throbbed as he walked over to the bellpull to summon Timothy and began to plan his strategy. He’d been an officer in the army. He knew how to mount a campaign.

      With very little effort, Reese believed, he would have Elizabeth Holloway in his bed.

      Elizabeth sent a note to Lady Tavistock, requesting a meeting at her earliest convenience. The dowager’s reply suggested they meet in the garden at two o’clock that afternoon.

      Elizabeth paced nervously back and forth across her bedroom, wishing the time would pass. At one o’clock, she summoned Gilda to help her change into a walking dress and coif her dark hair. The chambermaid acting as her temporary ladies’ maid was tall and thin, with very curly blond hair. The girl didn’t know much about a lady’s toilette, but she was willing to do whatever Elizabeth asked.

      Gilda opened the door of the armoire. “Which one, milady?”

      Elizabeth bit her lip. Several days ago, she had sent Gilda to Aldridge Park with instructions to get Sophie’s help in packing more of Elizabeth’s clothes.