My Fair Lover (Legendary Lovers 5)

“What do you see?” Kate asked suspiciously.

“Thank you for the warning, sweetheart. Your concern is duly noted.” When she started earnestly to explain further, however, Deverill interrupted. “Enough about Lady Dalton. What do you say we simply enjoy the dance?”

/> As he swept her into the lilting rhythm, Kate found herself locking eyes with him again. And just like that, she became keenly aware of the tingling warmth Deverill aroused in her with his one large hand cradling hers, his other pressing lightly at her waist.

He steadily held her gaze, and when she fell silent, his faint smile of approval did strange things to her insides, reminding her vividly of his seductive kisses in her drawing room that morning.

Suddenly feeling flushed and overheated, Kate was glad to blame the exertion of the dance for her riotous physical state.

When he expertly whirled her around, she gave herself up to the music and the pleasure of having Deverill hold her. It was foolish to let that witch ruin her evening. No doubt she was the envy of every woman there, including Julia Dalton. Deverill was a swoon-worthy partner. Like everything else he attempted, he waltzed superbly.

And so Kate determinedly tamped down her jealousy and tried very, very hard to ignore the thrill of being in his arms again.

—

By the time Brandon returned to his hotel, the hour was well after midnight, but with sleep eluding him, he lay in his bed, recalling his recent encounters with Kate. Kissing her ripe lips this morning, touching her breasts, suckling her nipples, even through layers of fabric, had sent his erotic fantasies soaring. He was fortunate that he hadn’t exploded then and there.

After being so long without female companionship, he wasn’t surprised that his lust had gotten the better of him. Yet lust alone didn’t explain his physical hunger for her.

No, it was Kate herself.

Dispassionately, Brandon reached beneath his nightshirt and took his cock in his hand, determined to see to his needs so that the next time he was with her, he would be able to maintain some semblance of restraint. However, a cold, perfunctory sexual release failed to quiet his persistent thoughts of her or prevent him from reflecting on his evolution.

He relished the fiery version of Kate from this evening. The passionate free-spirited woman who was ready to challenge the world. The same lovely, vibrant girl who had captured his attention so decisively seven years ago.

But his desire for her now went deeper than he had ever admitted. In Kent, he’d counted the days till he could complete his duty visit and return to her. A remarkable change in his long-held perspective, Brandon realized. He was accustomed to being alone and, until lately, content to stay that way. Yet now he was willingly, even eagerly, contemplating ending his bachelorhood.

The simple truth was, he wanted Kate for his wife. No other woman would do. Certainly not the two tiresome society misses he’d met this evening, or any of the other young ladies on her list, either.

The trouble was, however, Kate was too fixated on the elusive notion of ideal love. He’d always known he wouldn’t readily fall victim to love. In fact, he doubted that any woman could have such an effect on him, even Kate.

Unlike her, he’d witnessed few examples of loving relationships, seen precious little joy. His own parents had been callous and unfeeling, their marriage a cold business arrangement, their procreation of children a mere duty. As for himself, the closest he’d come to experiencing any sort of emotional intensity was getting lost in a pair of vivid green eyes and a warm, sensual smile.

But that was before the war. Since then, he felt as if something inside him was missing. He’d hated killing and maiming, and the experience had left him a little scarred inside, Brandon suspected. Perhaps that was why the idea of marrying Kate had an irrefutable appeal. She could fill up the empty corners of his life.

For years, he’d had nothing but obligations and duty to look forward to. No one to make him smile, to warm him at night. No one to come home to, or even to care if he came home at all.

Kate could be that someone.

There was a strong bond between them already, even if it would never blossom into anything more ardent than friendship and affection. His challenge would be to make her recognize that bond and accept his limitations. If she wanted him badly enough, she wouldn’t insist on love.

He had already succeeded to some degree; she wanted him but didn’t like it. But he needed to press his advantage.

Kate was a handful under any circumstances, and although he preferred forthrightness and honesty, he couldn’t reveal his ulterior motive or she would bolt. At minimum, he had to pretend to go through the motions of searching for a bride—which was why he’d proposed that she tutor him. So he could learn what she wanted in a suitor, how she wanted to be wooed. He would use her own counsel against her and compel her to let down her guard.

In short, he intended to pursue Kate with every means at his disposal, conventional or not. Even if he pushed the boundaries of fairness, or violated the accepted mating and marriage rituals, he would win her.

With his decision, Brandon was finally able to close his eyes and relax enough to let sleep overtake him. And just before he dozed off, he smiled faintly in satisfaction.

He had chosen Kate. Now he just had to convince her of the inevitable.

When Kate reached home late that evening, her temper was still simmering from her clash with Lady Dalton. She spent the night tossing and turning and woke with fresh determination to find Deverill a worthy bride. Obviously, she had been too desultory in her search thus far and needed to reconsider her strategy. No more tame, mousy girls for him. He needed someone much better.

Therefore, she would move up her plan to introduce him to her first choice, Daphne Farnwell. Daphne could be an excellent match for him. She was intelligent, beautiful, talented, a good conversationalist, and as the daughter of a baron, she held a respected position in society.

Indeed, Kate decided as she dressed for the day, she should be glad for her nemesis’s warning shot since it had brought out her fighting instincts. Yes, jealousy played a role in her renewed resolve, but mostly she was thinking of Deverill. She would do everything in her power to keep him safe from the clutches of that witch.

This was no longer merely a favor for her aunt, or a means to persuade him to escort her to France. This was a battle for his future.