Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5) (10 page)

“Do you really believe an empty title a balm for an empty life? Constantly told what to do and say, kept to the side and expected to suffer it in silence? No, I would never have chosen you.”

Kit stared at her. Their marriage had been based on his need for her money and her ambition for a title. Hadn’t it? What else did she want from him?

A tap sounded on the door and Miranda turned away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had an exhausting day and I’d rather be alone than listen to your grumblings.”

When she opened the door to the footman, Kit grinned. The tray contained two cups for tea and a plate of biscuits. He wasn’t going anywhere just yet. Kit tipped the footman generously and ushered him out. For good measure, he locked the door to ensure no further interruptions were possible.

“In case you’ve forgotten, black with sugar,” he told her.

Miranda sighed and poured for them. “As I said, some things never change.”

“And some things do,” he said as she added milk but no sugar to sweeten her tea. “I remember you used to take it the same as mine once.”

Another shrug of her shoulder was all the response she offered before she sat back in her chair and looked at him. “I have my own mind and intend to use it. I’ll not turn myself inside out just to be what you want anymore.”

She’d hardly done what she claimed. Kit made himself comfortable and took a sip of his tea. After a few moments, he set the cup aside and snagged a biscuit. “Come home.”

“Why?”

Kit sniffed the biscuit—ginger. Simon would like it here. “You belong with me.”

“No, really, why? You have my dowry, doubtless you’ve already spent the bulk of it these past years. By all accounts the Taverham estate and your interests elsewhere thrive. What more can be gained from joining your household?”

“A son.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “My, we are being straightforward today. You must yearn for the rest of the fortune our marriage granted you. I don’t have to live with you to provide you with a son.”

“Miranda, you try my patience. You will do as I say.”

“That’s right. The Marchioness of Taverham must never deny her husband, no matter how ill-timed or how rude the request might be worded.” She tossed her head. “It must always be your way, and heaven forbid I deny you the opportunity to prove your masculinity.”

Heat crept up his cheeks. Perhaps he should clarify. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean I wanted to take you to bed this very moment.”

“You’ll allow me to eat and drink before you ravish me? How generous. At least this time we would be married and it wouldn’t be deemed a sin or scandalous.”

His temper burst at her insinuation. “I never ravished you.”

“Really. Well, I wouldn’t call it lovemaking, now would I? You didn’t love me even a little when we married, and I cannot imagine you care for me now. What other word fits such a situation? I confess I’ve no idea.” She lifted her cup to her lips and took a slow sip, staring at him over the rim.

Kit leaned toward her. “Are you suggesting I forced myself on you before we were married?”

“It did ensure I had no choice but to go through with the wedding. What decent man would have had me after your use?”

He stood, jerked her up out of her chair and into his arms. The teacup and saucer she held fell to shatter around their feet. “I did not plan to seduce you before we wed, but I won’t deny I needed your dowry. You knew that.”

“You do nothing without a reason.” She freed one hand and patted his coat pocket, as calm as could be. “I’m sure your little book in there will prove that you always achieve what you set out to do.”

“You’re wrong,” he insisted. But Miranda was indeed correct. Nearly everything he’d set out to do was done. Her money had restored the estate, allowing him to achieve his aims and set things right for the next generation. The only thing outstanding was Miranda, and holding his heir, their child, in his arms.

He glared down at the woman he’d rushed to marry, regret filling him. Miranda still fit snugly in his arms, and although he wanted her, her stiffness proved she would not welcome the resumption of their marriage in any form. He was not the monster she made him out to be. He had not planned to seduce her before the wedding and would never force himself on her no matter how greatly she provoked his temper.

Desire and mutual surrender to it had happened naturally between them before their marriage, despite knowing he shouldn’t have behaved so dishonorably with her before she’d taken the protection of his name. She’d made him forget himself in the heat of passion. The accusation that he’d tricked her out of her fortune stung.

He would not stand the lie.

He spun her about, holding her back tightly against his front, facing the tall looking glass across the room. Now, as had once been, they looked good together. The top of her dark head rested against his chin, his arms snaked around her lush body, which begged to be worshiped. Hell, he still wanted Miranda. He quickly reined in his amorous impulses and stared at her reflection in the looking glass. “Just so we are clear, do you believe I forced our match by seducing you and by a cunning plan spent those prior nights before our marriage in your bed just so I could claim your dowry?”

She did not even pause before answering with a resounding
yes
.

Anger filled him, and righteous outrage. He tightened his grip, but not enough to be considered cruel, and lowered his lips close to her ear while watching her every reaction. Miranda dropped her gaze from the mirror, turning her head slightly toward him.

His body responded instantly, attuned to her nearness, and the light scent she wore so achingly familiar and missed. “So I forced myself on you, did I? I never kissed you or received one in return? Never once let you decide how we would wile away those midnight hours in your bed? Our last night together, it wasn’t you seducing me to remain just a little longer?”

He skimmed his hands lightly over her body, avoiding her breasts, her most sensitive parts, to help make his point. Miranda’s breath hitched, but her body tensed against showing further response. Kit continued to touch her lightly, even while his body craved action. As before, the moment he touched Miranda, the more he wanted her. A pity she still denied his presence didn’t affect her the same way.

He lowered his eyes to her breasts, pleased to see the tips now revealed her arousal. He smiled at how her body betrayed her. “I never once cared about your pleasure. I took mine first and often. If I was such a beast, are you not in fear for your virtue now?”

Her breath panted from her lips when Kit slid his hand till it rested against her ribs and paused beneath her breasts. This desire was their undoing. The cause of his misery. He cupped her breast and her breath left her in a ragged gasp. He lightly kissed the column of her throat as she squirmed against him, pressing her bottom against his thickening length. She’d always been a temptress. Everything about her set his desires alight.

She must remember how insatiable their appetite for passion had been, but for some unfathomable reason she now meant to deny its existence. How many couples married for money and provoked each other like this? It wasn’t rational or normal. It was extraordinary. Kit brushed his arousal against Miranda just once.

Then he dropped his hands and stepped back, pleased to see she had lost her careful composure and staggered a step. She met his gaze and her eyes glowed with a lust he remembered well. “If that is what you recall, Miranda, then I challenge your memory, because all I remember is the sweetness of surrender, yours and mine. Good day to you. Don’t think you can escape me again.”

Kit snatched up his hat and Miranda’s reticule for good measure and strode out, his trousers too tight, his passions too high. He would not force Miranda, but he’d be damned if he’d let her forget the truth of how right they were together in bed while she tarred him with the brush of an utter scoundrel.

CHAPTER NINE

Three breaths into the morning, Miranda discovered she wasn’t alone. A woman’s soft steps crossed the room, approaching the bed in a stealthy manner. Her heart hammered in panic. She’d specifically told the maid she would call when she was ready for company. After the events of yesterday and her encounter with Taverham, she was feeling rather delicate and unsettled. “Have you never heard of knocking first before entering a lady’s bedchamber?”

“My husband said knocking spoils the surprise.”

Miranda levered herself to a sitting position to stare at Virginia—an old acquaintance from the days before her marriage. Since they’d last seen each other Virginia had married Lord Hallam, a man with no discernable sense of humor, and borne him a daughter. Or so her informant had told her. “Ginny.”

“Merry.” She came closer and they embraced. “What in heaven’s name are you doing in a hotel?”

“Bracing myself for Taverham’s next visit.”

“He’s outside.” Virginia smiled a little sadly. “I could not believe my ears when I heard of your return after so long with no hope. I had to come see for myself that the tales were true.”

Knowing it was beyond useless to remain abed, Miranda unwound the sheets from her body and peeled the remaining covers back from her legs to dangle them over the side. She discreetly placed her fingers over her wrist to count the pulses of her blood as doctors had suggested she do first thing in the morning and then again later in the day to see if there was any change. The beats seemed steady, at least for the present. “What is the gossip this morning?”

“That you created such embarrassment for Taverham that he’s not receiving callers.”

Miranda rubbed her wrist, then brushed her hair from her face. “Are those turned away not to be considered lucky instead to be spared his tiresome company?”

“Merry,” Virginia said, chiding her. “This doesn’t sound like the girl I knew all those years ago.”

“The Miranda you once knew trusted more. She was a fool.” Miranda stood and faced the window, noting the day was as gray as the one before. It suited her mood and the gnawing ache filling her as she thought of Christopher somewhere out there. He was the only good to come from marrying Taverham. “A simpleton with stars in her eyes and whipped cream in place of intelligence. I ought never have been persuaded to marry so young.”

Virginia frowned. “At the time, I didn’t think anything would stop you having him.”

And there was the rub. Despite the time that had passed, she had desired her husband then and she still desired him now, apparently. The annoyance of that and the manner he’d left her in, aroused and furious to be feeling so strange again, had kept her awake until all hours of the morning. The tangled state of her bedsheets was proof she’d not passed a restful night.

But she would resist his demands and not return to his house until she was free to do so with her son as leverage. There was no choice. She couldn’t become confined beneath Taverham’s roof until she had found Christopher. After she’d retrieved him, she didn’t much care what happened in her life as long as she could see her son every day. She would be at peace at last and done with hiding his existence.

Miranda began to dress. There was only so long she could count on having privacy before Taverham forgot he was supposed to be a gentleman and barged in on her unannounced. Virginia helped dress her hair without a word and then held out a ring to her. “Taverham thought you might like this returned to you.”

The ostentatious Taverham family heirloom, more emeralds and diamonds than she’d ever seen on anyone’s hand, gleamed in Virginia’s grip. Miranda had left it behind when she’d run away from her wedding day, and she’d not missed the silly, heavy thing.

She took it with a weary heart. She’d sworn never to wear it again and wouldn’t until her mission was complete. “I expect it’s merely a means of reminding me of what he brings to my life. Gilded chains. Rules and obedience. I hope for your sake your husband is in love with you.”

Virginia blushed. “He wouldn’t dare not be. Put it on so we may go?”

Miranda placed the ring into a drawer instead. All she’d had with Taverham was misguided passion and that was merely a passing sensation. Lust was fleeting. Only love lasted and they were certainly not in love and had never been. In time, she’d learn to dull her feelings about him and ignore the reminders of what she’d imagined they’d once shared. “Then you are fortunate. Where are we going?”

“Taverham wishes to spoil you and insists you need a new wardrobe.”

Miranda’s wardrobe might not be in keeping with the latest fashions, but there was nothing wrong with her gowns in the least, not for the retiring life she preferred to live. She’d not been entirely without resources these past years to be considered an object of ridicule in her manner of dressing. Taverham would have to take her as she was or go to the devil. Let Lady Brighthurst continue to delight him with her appearance. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come now. Madame du Clair will triumph if her establishment is the first business Lady Taverham choses to patronize after her return.” Virginia linked their arms. “It also gives us an excuse to send our husbands away, and you know we can talk openly before Madame. She’s been worried about you too, so expect to be completely smothered in delight by the little Frenchwoman.”

Madame du Clair had been the kindest soul during Miranda’s short and only season in London. Miranda had genuinely liked the woman and had soaked up every scrap of advice offered on how to present herself to her advantage. That advice had won her a proposal from a marquess, but her prize was a man she could never fully claim. “Very well. For Madam’s sake only, but I will not returning to Twilit House at the end of the day.”