Page 22 of Forever Her Bachelor

Jealousy.

Deciding it was best for her to at last visit the lady’s retiring room rather than stand in the hall pressed against the door, Pippa started toward the staircase. From the moment she stepped into the parlor, Pippa had tried to ignore the barrage of questions about her and St. Clara’s relationship, though they had none to speak of.

How long were you two friends?

When did this friendship begin?

I didn’t realize you two lived next to each other.

Obviously you two are still acquainted.

The insistent questions were the most interaction that Pippa had ever received from both Lady Florentia and the Dowager Marchioness Heartford. Usually, Florentia made cruel comments towards Pippa, which she often ignored, while the Dowager Marchioness Heartford simply did not acknowledge her existence.

Trying not to think about Florentia or St. Clara, Pippa closed her eyes, centering herself. She had been a whirl of emotions since she walked through the doors to find Florentia Vaughn sitting there laughing with St. Clara as if he were her Prince Charming. Pippa had read the tale of Prince Charming inChildren and Household Tales, a German collection of fairy tales by the Grimm brothers. She had purchased the book from one of her favorite booksellers, Halles on Piccadilly. At that time in her life, she had desperately needed to engage her mind on something other than her situation. But Cinderella’s tale was so much like her own life, except her own version of Prince Charming had broken her heart. Though she and St. Clara had only shared a kiss once in their past, she trusted him more than anyone in the world. To Pippa, that had meant everything.

Holding the skirts of her gown up, Pippa took the irrevocable step to the landing, rounding the corner and stumbling into a hard chest. His scent was the first thing she noticed. Breathing deeply, she noted the slight difference in his scent, this time noting sandalwood as the base with a hint of lemon, but underneath it all, she could still smell him.

Long arms encircled her waist, ensuring that she wouldn’t fall. She looked up into deep-brown eyes, the ones that had haunted her for years. They no longer held the happiness of a free young boy.

“Be careful, Kitten.” Soft lips brushed against her forehead. His hot breath forced her eyes closed, emanating a shiver that slid down Pippa’s spine. She tried to ignore the heat that pooled low in her abdomen, traveling to the apex of her thighs.

Goodness.

She needed to breathe, to be free of the spell he had on her. Pippa freed herself from him, gently stepping out of his embrace, causing his hands to fall from her side.

Taking several steps back, she breathed deeply, the clean air of the townhouse clearing her mind of him. When she was close to him, it was difficult for her to remember the past nine years or why she was upset.

“Are you going to marry her?” she asked heatedly, not able to contain her curiosity on the subject.

The cheeky smile that graced his lips was familiar and showed the usual St. Clara arrogance. “No.”

It was a definitive answer. Relief filled her, threatening to bubble up inside her and spill over.

“T-then why did you escort her and her parents here if you will not marry her?” The shaking in her voice revealed just how affected she was by the prospect of him marrying Lady Florentia Vaughn.

“I was going to marry her.” The harsh statement caused Pippa to flinch as if he had hit her. “I need to marry her, but I cannot stop thinking about you.” Closing the distance between them, his large hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. She went willingly, her body no longer under her own control. “Don’t marry him, Pippa.”

Speechless, Pippa stood with her mouth agape, unable to comprehend what was happening. She could hear the pounding of her own heart, and she suddenly felt lightheaded, gripping his waistcoat to prevent herself from falling. She had dreamed of this exact moment many times at sixteen, but now, as a woman grown, she simply did not know how to respond.

Before she could say another word, St. Clara pulled her into a room to the right of them, effortlessly ensconcing them into Heartford’s dark office with nothing but the moonlight shining through the large window. The office was scarcely furnished like the rest of the townhouse, but it still had signs of the marquess. The desk was littered with papers, and there were several paintings hanging on the walls, all done by his marchioness. Onewas a painting of the sunset, the other a self-portrait of Julia herself.

St. Clara gently cupped Pippa’s cheek, leaning in so close that his nose brushed up against hers. All she had to do was tilt up just another millimeter, and their lips would touch. Two muscular arms caged her against the door, officially trapping her.

Pippa could comprehend nothing other than him. Her mind was blank; her heart was banging a chorus against her heaving chest. Dark eyes commanded her to pay attention, but hers had a mind of their own and occasionally wandered to his lips. They were exquisite, full, and evenly proportioned. She had never before felt the desperate urge to feel them against her own. God, how she longed to savor every moment with him.

“Don’t marry Summerset,” he commanded, more forcibly. The rumble in his smooth, deep voice nearly caused her knees to buckle underneath her.

Pippa was thankful that she was caged against the wall, for she knew she would surely collapse to the floor if she wasn’t. “I-I have no choice. My aunt will be ruined and destitute because of my uncle’s poor choices.”

Leaning in, he brushed a single finger down her cheek. Pippa licked her dry lips, needing to do anything to distract herself from him. “You always have a choice.” His words hovered over them, a cloud of truth and vulnerability.

One of his hands wrapped around her nape, pulling her closer to him. He leaned into her body, his warmth invading her senses. She couldn’t think or function. There was nothing but the heady scent and sweltering heat of him.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes so dark they appeared black and needy. The air in the office was thick and filled with lust; it was palpable and heady. Her lips parted, needing to breathe lest she suffocate from the intensity. Hisfingers widened on her nape, the glide of them causing liquid fire to pool in her abdomen.

“I miss you,” he whispered, the confession causing his lips to brush hers. The heat of his mouth hot and inviting. “… I’ve missed you for nine years.”

She couldn’t take another confession. Her lips crashed against his, firm and demanding. Her eyes closed as his sensual lips led her into a passionate kiss. With each brush of his warm mouth against hers, her knees shook. Pippa feared she would fall to the ground like a silly debutante. His grip tightened around her, and in that moment, she only had one thought.