Regency Collection 2013 Part 1. Louise Allen

the freedom men have.’

      ‘Thank God for that! I shudder to think what the result would be if you were given free rein.’

      ‘You are just upset because you had successfully hidden the fact you were wounded from your family and I let the cat out of the bag. I am sorry about that, I would not have done it, truly, only I could not imagine how you could hide such a nasty gash.’

      ‘Just how close were you that morning?’ Jack asked softly. When he wanted to he could move like a cat, Lily had not realised he had come so near. She turned and cut around him, pretending to be intrigued by a group of smaller pictures hanging together further along the wall.

      ‘I was in the tangled knot of undergrowth on the lip of the depression. Very close.’

      ‘Close enough to be killed by a stray bullet, you little idiot!’ The next thing Lily knew, she was flat up against the wall again, this time with Jack’s hands one each side of her head, effectively caging her with his arms. Cautiously she ran a hand over the lumpy linen-fold panelling behind her; no convenient door handle this time.

      ‘I never thought about that,’ she confessed, shaken. If Adrian’s shot had been angled upwards, it would have whistled past her head. If she had been lucky.

      ‘No, of course you did not. Do you ever think through consequences, you maddening woman?’

      The honest answer was, Not often enough, but Jack was perfectly capable of supplying that response for himself. Lily hung her head.

      ‘Did you enjoy it?’ Jack asked softly.

      ‘What? Watching the duel?’ Lily looked up abruptly. ‘I was worried to death before and I was physically sick afterwards.’

      ‘But did you enjoy it?’ There was a huskiness in his voice that stirred something deep and hot inside Lily. She was very aware of his closeness, his warmth, the male scent of him. With a burst of insight she realised that, under his anger with her, and his anxiety for her, he was aroused by the thought that she had been there and had seen him defending her honour.

      ‘I …’ She could not tear her eyes away from the heat in his. Their bodies were not touching, but she knew her skirts brushed against his legs, could almost feel the friction of the superfine cloth of his coat where his arms were only inches from her face.

      ‘Did you, Lily?’ Oh, yes. Looking back, she knew she had been stirred, immodestly, shamefully, stirred by the sight of him, the pistol in his hand, his naked, powerful torso, his control, his courage. The fact that two men fought over her.

      ‘Yes,’ she whispered, defeated by his will and her own honesty. ‘I am not proud of it, but, yes.’

      Jack did not move his hands, only leaned forward into her, bending his head until his mouth covered hers, pinning her between the breadth of his chest and the unyielding wall.

      Trapped, Lily did not try to move, or want to. Her hands spread open on the oak and she lifted her face to him. She was learning now, learning the taste of him, the way his lips felt on hers, hot and shocking. And more heated, more shocking, the response of her own body, of her own tongue tangling with his, of her breasts, peaking and thrusting against his chest, of the way her hips arched against him so that she could feel the pressure of his arousal against her belly.

      Jack’s hands came away from the wall, one cupping the back of her head, holding her against the force of his kiss, as though she needed any restraint, the other moulding the curve of her buttock.

      He was growling, deep in his throat, a sound that she felt almost more than she heard, a male anthem of possession. What was he seeing in his mind? What was he feeling? The cold air on his naked skin, the heat of fear in his belly, turned by courage into a steely determination? The weight of the pistol butt in his hand? Had he thought of her as he waited to kill or be killed?

      Lily knew what she could see in her mind’s eye, what she felt. The movement of hard muscle under bare skin. The strength and breadth of his shoulders, the power of those narrow hips, the unflinching stance, the fear in her stomach and the pride and love in her heart.

      She twisted her head against his hand, broke away from his kiss. ‘No. Stop it. This is wrong.’

      ‘You want me.’ His other hand still cupped her buttock, still held her against his aroused body.

      ‘Yes. I am not proud of it, but, yes, I want you. Are you satisfied now I have admitted it?’ Lily was panting with churning emotion; frustration, desire, anger, shame, love, all mixed and spun through her. ‘You are very attractive Jack Lovell. Very male. But you do not need me to tell you that, do you? Why should I minister to your self-esteem?’

      ‘Why not minister to it even more?’ His teeth gleamed white in the shadowed room. From a great distance she could hear rain against glass. ‘Do I need to tell you how much you arouse me, Lily? How much I want you? And you want me. Why fight it?’

      Yes, why fight it? It seems so simple—let what we both want to happen, make love with Jack. Lily let her hands spread open on his chest, her head tip back again so she was looking up into his face again. Under her right palm she could feel Jack’s heart racing. His face seemed more sharply defined to her, etched into lines of strength and of arrogance. He was watching her like a hawk while he waited for her answer, with all the focus and intensity he had shown on the duelling ground.

      And this was a duel. He was bending her to his will with no doubt that she would yield to him. It simply was not in his breeding, in his pride, to believe she would deny him. She could feel her will wavering in the face of his dominance, just as Adrian had trembled as he faced him on the heath.

      She could give in to him, and give in to her own desire. But the need to make love to him was not all there was. She loved him. She could not tell him, ever, and to be his mistress, for however long that lasted, however wonderful it was, felt like a betrayal of that emotion. She would be lying to both of them.

      The force with which Lily launched herself away from the wall broke his hold and sent her several steps clear of him. She could not explain, all she could do was to defend herself with thoughtless, hurtful words.

      ‘Oh, no! Oh, no, I am not going to fall into that trap, let my emotions be dazzled by what I think I want now, only to discover soon after that I was wrong. So wrong. I humiliated myself with Adrian Randall, thinking all I wanted was marriage and a title. I made a fool of myself by proposing to you, thinking that a business arrangement could sit with physical desire. Well, I have learned my lesson the hard way, my lord.

      ‘If I need a stud stallion, if I want a lover, I will find one with no complications, and if I need a husband to be a father to my heirs, I will find one who can bring his own fortune with him. And for none of those roles do I need impoverished aristocrats who cannot even look after their own inheritance.’

      For a moment she thought Jack was going to reach out and yank her back into his arms. It was almost too dark in the room now to see his face, but she could hear his breathing, echoing her own panting breaths. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out, leaving the door to swing back on its hinges.

      Jack did not stop until he reached his own chamber. He was breathing heavily as he entered it, but not from the winding flight of stairs he had just taken two at a time.

      ‘Stud stallion!’ Lily had a tongue like an adder. And she made him feel ashamed of himself, of what he felt naturally because he was a man, because he desired her. Loved her.

      Stallion! Damn it, he could certainly fulfil that role for her. Just now he felt he could service every single doxy at Nell’s, Newcastle’s most notorious and largest brothel, and still be unsatisfied. When had he last had a woman? God knows, and all he was doing was working himself up into an unsatisfied lather over an acid-tongued little tease. Impoverished aristocrats indeed. What had possessed him to demand they become lovers? She excited him almost beyond reason and this was the result. Now, even if he tried to tell her the truth, that he loved her, he doubted she would believe him.

      ‘My