A Matter of Choice (9 page)

Fingers of dread clenched around her heart, squeezing until she could not breathe. She paced the room like a caged tiger. She could feel Montfort’s trap closing around her, feel her circle of freedom shrinking by the minute.

A wide smile lifted the corners of his lips, his eyes twinkled with the rakish teasing she’d battled before. This was the marquess she’d kissed in the garden. The man who’d hounded her at every ball. The rogue who invaded her dreams each night.

“Think on the bright side, my lady. Perhaps some unfortunate accident will befall me. Perhaps I will be shot by an irate husband or jealous lover and you will be left a widow. Then you will have the best of all worlds. All your wealth and mine, free and clear, and no husband to bother you.”

“Don’t even tease about something like that.” She sensed his devil-may-care attitude and it frightened her.

“You have to admit that would be an answer to your problems. Unfortunately for you, I do not intend to give you cause to get rid of me. We will probably be forced to spend our lives together, me content with you and you tolerating me.”

Allison turned her head away from him. She did not want to think of anything beyond today.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss before I summon your brother to break the joyful news?”

“You could ask him once more if he will reconsider the Earl of Archbite.”

The marquess’s expression turned hard. “Even I would not let you marry the earl.” He set the glass he had in his hand onto the table and walked up to her. He stopped when they stood toe to toe and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You may not believe this,” he said, moving one hand to cup the side of her cheek. “But as lacking as you find me, Archbite would be the worse choice in the end.”

With effortless ease, he placed his finger beneath her chin and tipped her face upward. Before he finished the last word, his mouth covered hers.

She thought to fight him, but didn’t. Couldn’t. Some part of her wanted him to kiss her. Another part of her knew that once she yielded, she would be lost to him.

She was.

His lips were firm and warm, pressing against hers with a gentle possessiveness that stole her breath. She stiffened in his arms and he kissed her lightly again, as if coaxing her to give in to him. Slowly and ever so gently he repeated his kisses until she could fight him no longer. On a heavy sigh, he deepened the kiss...

...and she yielded.

His mouth moved over hers, drinking deeply. His tongue outlined her lips, making demands she wasn’t quite sure she understood.

“Open for me,” he whispered, and she did.

He deepened his kiss until she wasn’t sure where her breaths ended and his began. They were one. Then he invaded her mouth with all the mastery of an experienced lover.

Allison knew they should stop now, that she should pull away from him, but she couldn’t.

He held her closer and let his tongue brush against hers.

White-hot, fiery shards spiraled all through her body. Through her chest and down to her fingertips. To her stomach then lower, churning with a turmoil that was almost an ache. She was on fire, burning with a heat that was all-consuming.

Allison slid her hands between them and pushed back the front of his jacket. She wanted to touch him, feel him against her. With her palms pressed against the silky material at his chest, she let her fingers mold to the hardened ridges beneath her touch. His flesh was warm, alive, his heart thundered so violently she could feel it. Every second in his arms was a new experience, a daring step she’d never taken before. On a loud moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to him.

She didn’t think it was possible, but he kissed her with more passion than before. His tongue renewed its frantic search and with each thrust she met him, battled him, yielded to him. Their tongues mated with a ferocity that stole her breath, his very nearness a force so powerful it was almost a threat. She didn’t know a kiss could be like this. Didn’t know it was possible to lose herself so completely. It was suddenly too much.

He must have felt it too. On a moan filled with torturous agony, he lifted his mouth from hers.

She gasped when they separated. His release was painful and she clung to him as if he were a lifeline that could save her instead of a danger that could destroy her. The void, the emptiness when he was gone was indescribable.

She couldn’t think, could barely stand on her own.

As if he realized what had happened to her, he pulled her against him, pressed her close, held her tight.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his chest. His heart thundered beneath her ear, beating in a rhythm as desperate as her own. His arms gripped like iron clasps. Both their breaths came in ragged gasps and she closed her eyes to wait until the turmoil inside her calmed.

Time went by as if spinning in circles around them. Her cheeks burned and her lips throbbed. She knew if she looked into a mirror, her eyes would hold a wild look, a frantic look. That he could do this to her frightened her, and yet…

If he took her in his arms again, she would do it all over again. Gladly.

Allison finally found the strength to step out of his embrace. It took another second to find the courage to look him in the eyes. Her gaze met with the most heart stopping grin she’d ever seen. A smile that took her breath.

“I doubt the earl could kiss you like that,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper. He touched his finger to the tip of her nose. “You will do well, my lady. Both as a wife. And as a lover. I can’t imagine being tempted to find my pleasures anywhere else.”

Her cheeks turned hot and her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. The man she was about to marry was a rake through and through.

Her choice of a husband was no better than the choice any of her sisters had made.

For two days,
she lived her worst nightmare. For two days, she’d been the object of gossip that seemed to grow instead of diminish.

News of her betrothal to the Marquess of Montfort spread through Society with the speed the plague traveled through London. And was received with the same welcoming.

Most who heard the news doubted the accuracy of something so unbelievable. Some even openly repudiated its validity. All were clearly shocked when the rumor refused to die.

From every corner of the city a great wailing and lamentation could be heard because one of the most sought-after bachelors was no longer available.

A great sucking of air always followed the announcement when Allison’s name was mentioned as the proposed bride.

Then, last night, the shock became a reality.

Conversation came to a deafening halt when she and Montfort stood arm in arm at the top of the stairs at the Countess of Courtland’s ball.

The looks of stunned disbelief would have been humorous if they’d been directed at someone else. Mouths dropped and whispered comments behind cupped hands followed her the entire evening.

If Montfort felt the same unease, he showed no sign of it. He was his usual jovial self, showering her with attention; playing the part of the devoted fiancé to perfection; already living up to the terms of an agreement he hadn’t signed as of yet. Not once did he show the slightest indication that he wanted to escape the
ton’s
attention. She, however, couldn’t wait for the evening to end.

Today was no different. He insisted they go for a ride through Hyde Park. He assumed the more they were on exhibition, the sooner Society would become accustomed to seeing them together and find some other unsuspecting couple on which to concentrate. He also had the mistaken idea that their upcoming marriage would not be nearly so shocking if at least outwardly they seemed enamored of each other.

What was obvious to her was that it would take an insurmountable amount of convincing for Society to believe that she had brought the renowned Marquess of Montfort to his knees to propose marriage. It would take even longer to convince them that theirs was truly a love match. She breathed a shaky sigh as another wave of regret washed over her.

“You might look as if you were enjoying my company, my dear. That will go a long way in convincing observers that you find the prospect of marrying me enjoyable.”

She couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. Nor could she hide her doubts. The marquess only laughed and moved closer.

Every time he touched her, her flesh sang with awareness. The hand he held in his grasp tingled with excitement.

“Smile, my dear. The Countess of Overton is approaching with her two daughters. She is without a doubt the last person we want to start the rumor that our upcoming marriage is not a mutually happy event.”

She looked ahead to the countess’s shiny black carriage, then turned back to find herself mere inches from the marquess’s incredibly deep blue eyes. A touch away from the rugged planes and contours of his face. A whispered breath away from his lips. Her heart gave a leap. Then he touched her. Cupped a hand to her cheek and held it there.

Allison pulled back from him as if she’d been burned and he and laughed. “Smile,” he whispered, and rubbed her lips with his thumb. She did.

He waited until the carriage stopped, then greeted the occupants. “Good day, Lady Overton. Ladies.”

The countess leaned forward to extend her greetings. Her two daughters were too busy fluttering their lashes in the marquess’s direction to notice Allison.

“Good day, Lord Montfort. Lady Allison,” the countess said. “I must say. The rumors of your betrothal must be true.” She patted a plump hand over her well-endowed bosom. “At first I didn’t believe it, but here you are. Living proof.”

The marquess reached over and placed his hand over hers.

Warm, vibrant shivers raced up and down her spine. She did not want his touch to affect her. But it did. More than she wanted to admit. She fought not to pull her hand from his grasp. Instead, she smiled sweetly at the countess’s intense glare then lifted her smile to Montfort’s.

“As you can see,” he said, lifting Allison’s hand to his lips and kissing her gloved knuckles, “the rumors are true. I am the most fortunate of men. Never did I think I would be so lucky.”

The marquess leaned his face closer to hers and gave her a seductive glance that stole her breath. Her cheeks turned uncomfortably hot.

The countess studied Allison with a penetrating look that was filled with doubt. “You can imagine everyone’s surprise when your betrothal was announced. No one realized you and Lord Montfort were so familiar with one another.”

Allison kept a smile on her face. “We’ve been acquainted for quite some time.”

“How surprising. No one in Society suspected the two of you were enamored.”

“Then we are to be congratulated,” Montfort said, smiling first at the countess, then leveling a purely wicked grin in her direction. “
Lady Allison and I have been drawn to each other ever so long now. I am surprised we were able to keep it a secret from such knowing eyes as yours, my lady. It is not every day anything escapes your notice.”

The smile on the countess’s face faded. It was obvious she didn’t know how to take the marquess’s comment.

Always on the alert for any bit of gossip to spread, Lady Overton’s gaze turned sharper. Allison felt as if she were on exhibition, as if the countess were waiting for any hint of a strained relationship that indicated not all was as it seemed between the two.

“All of us thought you had sworn off marriage,” she said to Allison. “It is rumored you have had a number of offers in the past and refused them all.”

Allison placed her free hand on the marquess’s arm and leaned closer to his powerful body. “Obviously I was waiting for the right offer.” She looked up into his smiling face — and froze. The look in his eyes was not what she expected. It held a sincerity she hadn’t expected to see. With a slight nod, he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips.

“Did I not tell you I was indeed fortunate?” he said. “I only regret it took me so long to notice such a rare find. Now if you will excuse us.” He tapped the seat behind his driver. “I am loathe to share my betrothed for more than a few moments.”

The marquess nodded politely to the countess and her daughters, then tucked Allison’s hand close to him as the carriage moved forward again. Neither of them breathed until they were far enough away to not be overheard.

“We’ll never fool them.” She remembered the look on the countess’s face. “She’ll never in a million years believe you did not marry me for any other reason than my dowry.”

The marquess laughed as if her fears were inconsequential. “Then we will make a greater effort to prove everyone wrong.”

Allison rolled her eyes. She knew how impossible it was to change Society’s mind once it was made up.

He laughed again and patted her hand. “Fenton,” he said to the driver. “Stop the carriage. The lady and I would like to walk.”

She shot him a glance of surprise but he only winked at her. Sometimes she didn’t think he allowed himself a serious concern in the world. Other times, she was convinced of it.

Fenton brought the carriage to a halt and the marquess stepped out onto the grassy lawn of Hyde Park. He lifted his hand to help her down and looked at her with a heart-stopping smile.

Every nerve in her body reacted to him. She reached for him, letting him swallow her small hand in his large grasp. Fiery explosions shot from the tips of her fingertips to deep inside her. It was this way every time. Just his touch was enough to make her tremble.

The minute her feet reached the ground, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and smiled. Without speaking, they walked at a leisurely pace down a long, shady path. Anyone who saw them would think they were indeed lovers sharing a quiet stroll through the Park.

“I have obtained a special license,” he said finally, his tone as nonchalant as if talking about the weather. “We can be married as soon as you are ready.”

“I didn’t think it was possible to acquire one so quickly.” She felt her muscles tighten.

He answered her reaction by sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her even closer to him. “You forget. You are marrying the future Duke of Ashbury. My father’s title affords me a few privileges.”

Allison lifted her gaze to his face and for a fleeting second saw a coldness she didn’t quite understand. Was it the title that caused such a reaction, or their upcoming marriage?