Regency Collection 2013 Part 1. Louise Allen

my proposition to them. I did not wish to approach them, so your intervention was quite unnecessary. You wasted their time, you have put yourself to no little trouble to no purpose and, I have to say, I do not appreciate having my private papers ransacked.’

      ‘I did not ransack them!’ She was instantly indignant. ‘I put them back exactly how I had found them.’

      ‘Lily, they are my private papers.’

      ‘If there had been anything personal, of course I would not have read it.’

      She still did not understand what he was angry about—he could see the bafflement on her face. ‘Lily, I realise that I am so poor that you do not consider it of any more account than you would scrutinising your servants’ wages, but I do not relish having my personal finances investigated and the results discussed with a number of persons unknown to me.’

      ‘Oh, you are so wretchedly starched up about this!’ she flared at him, not at all repentant. ‘Why cannot you ask my trustees for money when you will happily advertise to all and sundry in the newspapers?’

      ‘It is risky. It is not an investment for a woman.’

      ‘But you do not need much; it is a trifle as far as I am concerned. I could lose it all and it would not matter.’

      ‘It would matter to me, and it is not a trifle for me.’ He tried again. Somehow he had to get her out of his room before the feelings that were battering at him won and he did what he was aching to do and took her in his arms, kissed her until she could only whimper, and told her that he could not take her money because he loved her. How could he make her understand? ‘Lily, this is futile. Even if I would borrow money from you, your trustees will not allow it, so there is nothing more to be said.’ He half-turned away from her as he added quietly, ‘Not that this is about money.’

      Lily stared at him, baffled, hurt and wounded that Jack was angry with her for trying to help him, glimpsing through the fog of anger that was swirling about them that she had badly misjudged his reactions. But what was it about, if it was not about money?

      ‘Jack—’ She held out a hand and he moved abruptly. ‘Please do not do that. Please do not hate me.’

      ‘Hate you?’ He took two jerky strides then, fetching up with one hand on the mantelshelf, his back to her. ‘I do not hate you.’

      ‘Good,’ she said shakily, looking at the figure in front of her, wondering how she could ever have thought any other man handsome, how she could ever have contemplated living with anyone less intelligent, less virile, less interesting.

      ‘Lily, I do not think we speak the same language. I do not think we even inhabit the same country sometimes. We do not understand each other and we are hurting each other as a result. I am leaving London tomorrow.’

      What does he mean? Lily shook her head in frustration. Of course we speak the same language! It is just pride, that is all. But Adrian Randall, a man with a barony, a man consumed with pride in his name and his status—he had had no qualms about marrying me. Marriage? Was that it?

      ‘Jack.’ She stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. It was rigid. ‘Jack …’

      ‘Lily, please go away.’

      ‘No. I think I see. You need to be master, I understand that. You need to be in control of … of everything. Well, marry me then, and you will control one-third of my fortune.’

      ‘Marry you?’ He turned then and Lily took a step backwards, suddenly afraid of what she had done. ‘You want to marry a title, do you not?’

      ‘I am sure you will have one,’ she stammered, too aghast at the anger in Jack’s eyes to think what she was saying. ‘You will be a great man, I know it. I can see it all, the mine will be a success, you will stand for Parliament, build steam railways …’

      ‘And be knighted?’ he enquired, his voice so chill she shivered. ‘But that will not do, will it, Lily? If I recall, nothing but a baron will do for you. Still, I hear say that Prinny is in need of funds, perhaps you can buy me a title.

      ‘And what do I have to do in return? Provide one little coal mine for you to play with? Oh, yes, and father your children. And pleasure you in bed, Lady Lovell? That, at least, will not be a hardship.’

      Recalling her daydream, Lily felt her face burn with shame. Lady Lovell. Jack was so angry—could she tell him she loved him? That he did not understand?

      ‘Is this what you want for your money, Miss France?’ His hand on her wrist was like iron, but Lily did not try to resist as Jack pulled her into his arms.

      ‘Yes,’ was all she could manage before his mouth crushed down on hers. Not money, just love, Jack. Please understand, just love …

      He had aroused and pleasured her before; now, angry and demanding, he excited her almost beyond bearing. Lily strained against the hard body, revelling in the sensation of being mastered, ready to match him wherever he took her. She was not afraid of him, despite the anger she could almost taste; if she said no, she knew he would leave her. Everything she said was wrong, she could not find the words to reach him or the understanding to comprehend him, but in this thing at least, despite her ignorance and her innocence, they could communicate.

      He was claiming and taking, his tongue invading in a way that flooded her with an almost unbearable longing. The room seemed to be moving, then she realised he had lifted her, shouldered aside the screen across the bed and laid her down.

      Through the thin silk of her afternoon gown his hand burned on her breast and she arched into it, the nipple hard and aching. Then her skin was exposed to the air, to the rough heat of his palm and he bent his head to take her in his mouth, sending wild sensation lancing through her belly.

      Lily writhed beneath him, her hands frantic to touch him as he touched her, pulling at his neckcloth, tearing at shirt buttons until her fingertips met skin, yanking at the linen until she could flatten her palm on the springing curls of his chest.

      Instinctively she shifted beneath his weight, adjusting her body to the length and weight of his and suddenly aware of the strength of his arousal and where this was leading. And, she realised, she did not care what the consequences were, despite the ripple of fear that ran through her at the thought of joining with that much maleness. She loved Jack—this was the one thing she could give him that had nothing to do with money.

      His lips trailed upwards, up her throat, to her temple, to kiss her closed lids. And his hands were no longer restraining her, but lifting her to hold her against his chest as he sat up.

      ‘Oh, God, Lily. My cursed temper.’

      ‘Jack?’ She wriggled in his hold.

      ‘Just sit still, please, while I still have some control left.’ His voice sounded muffled, she could feel the warmth of his breath in her hair. Then she was sitting by herself on the bed and he was pulling the screen back to shield her.

      ‘Is your gown torn?’

      Shaken, Lily glanced down, her fingers fumbling with buttons. ‘No, not torn. Jack—’

      ‘Lily, for once in your life, just listen. I am going down to the stable yard now and I will not come back until you have gone. There is a brush near the mirror and a cloak over the back of the chair if your gown is too crushed.’

      ‘But Jack, what is wrong? I wanted you to make love to me.’ Through the crack in the screen she could see him stripping off his torn shirt. The sight of his naked torso took the breath from her lungs.

      ‘For heaven’s sake, woman—accept this is the one thing you know nothing about! This is not the price of tea, or the weather in India or import duties at the docks or the latest fashion in bonnets! I should never have touched you, never have kissed you. I am no better than that lout Randall or his friend Dovercourt.’

      ‘Yes, you are,’ she cried, her hand on the screen. ‘I