Brandon held up her list of merchants. “I appreciate your efforts and will upgrade my wardrobe as you instruct. In fact, I shall display admirable forbearance in all your dictates. When I return from Kent, I intend to impress you with my sartorial splendor.”
Kate seemed relieved by his genial response and glad to return to their former easy friendship, for her tone lightened. “And I shall gamely carry on while you are away. Meanwhile, if you fix your interest on any specific lady, you should inform me at once so that I can revise my strategy.”
“I doubt that will happen. I am unlikely to find a suitable bride on my own. I told you, I will need your expertise.”
“And I told you, I will do my best.”
“I am all gratitude.” Bowing over her hand, Brandon brought her fingers to his lips for a lingering kiss, apparently startling her. She was flustered by his gesture and keenly a
ware of the intimate physical contact, if the fresh bloom in her cheeks was any indication.
“See, I can feign gentlemanly behavior if pressed,” he pointed out, flashing a slow smile.
With a visible effort at composure, she smiled back and allowed her amusement to show. “I only pray you can continue your sham for several weeks, Deverill.”
Chuckling, Brandon turned toward the door. He could feel Kate’s gaze following him as a footman let him out the front entrance.
As he descended the steps to the drive, Brandon felt satisfied overall with this second meeting. Obviously Kate was still angry at him for leaving England, perhaps even for spurning her all those years ago, but her ire was mellowing.
As for his own feelings toward her…Kate was just as captivating as ever, with her endearing charm and ability to laugh at herself. Indeed, she seemed even more special now because she had matured. She was no longer a girl, but a fully grown, infinitely desirable woman.
After directing his newly hired coachman to Bond Street and climbing into his rented carriage, Brandon sat back against the leather squabs and contemplated his dilemma: what to do about Kate.
Not only was she more mature and seasoned, she was far more controlled now. More guarded. Less trusting. She’d once looked at him as if he were the most fascinating, desirable man alive—and he badly wanted that look back.
Moreover, he wanted her. He relished her spirit and how she challenged him. Admittedly, he would rather fight with Lady Katharine Wilde than make love to any other woman.
Which settled the question for him. He wanted a future with Kate. The prospect of taking her to wive felt…right. Even more profound, he knew he would be the best husband for her.
Love or no love, they would make a fine match.
Yet he couldn’t just waltz back into her life and claim her after rejecting her and being absent for years. No, he would first have to make up for hurting her, for wounding her pride and her heart.
He could start by showing her how utterly desirable he found her. Kate was rightly gun-shy with him now. And clearly, she intended to use her chaperone as a piece of her defensive armor.
Brandon’s brow furrowed as a strategy began to take shape in his mind. He would have to woo Kate without being overt about it. Which meant he needed to maintain the pretense of relying on her matchmaking skills to seek some other genteel lady to wed.
And of course, he couldn’t conduct a seduction under the watchful eye of her companion.
A bemused smile curved Brandon’s mouth. He looked forward to finally getting Kate alone upon his return to London. In the interim, he would plot ways to separate her from her chaperone.
With luck, the next time he saw Kate, he would put his plan into action.
—
Woefully flustered, Kate made her way back to the drawing room, her hand tingling, her body hot, her thoughts bordering on dismay. Deverill had only to kiss her fingers and she felt sparks deep in her core.
And that sensual smile of his…The impact had left her reeling, as did his easy mastery over her physical responses. He was fully in control, effortlessly using his masculine powers to beguile her. When she was younger, she had often employed her feminine wiles to her own end, and now he was employing similar methods on her, blast him. He knew how deeply his mere touch affected her.
“I must say,” Nell observed in an admiring voice, “Lord Valmere is…an overwhelming sort of man.” She fanned her face in mock heat. “A handsome pirate figure whom a heroine in my novel might wish to ravish her.”
I would like to be ravished by him also.
Although Kate lamented the unbidden thought, such a risqué observation coming from her companion surprised a smile out of her. And silently, she heartily concurred with the sentiment. She had dreamed of Deverill last night, reliving her most cherished, long-held fantasies of becoming his lover. Her imagination had grown more powerful after seeing him wearing only breeches yesterday, baring his strong, sinewed body.
A few moments ago, when a lock of raven hair stubbornly fell into his eyes, she had fiercely resisted the urge to push it back. That disheveled look became him, as if he’d just risen from his bed after a long, lustful night of passion.
“I could almost envy you,” Nell said in a dreamy voice. “Although Valmere will undoubtedly prove very difficult to handle.”