Page 7

K AT CARED NOT THAT WHISPERS flew around them.

The Tarlington Club was exquisite. Great sheets of stained glass covered the windows, blocking the view of the inner sanctum from the streets of London beyond. Only the most elite of London’s society strode through the doors—the cost of membership was very high.

Chairs were of the finest leather. The scent of tobacco smoke was everywhere, even in the tea room, slipping in from the bar beyond the elegant tables. The silver was polished and gleaming, and the teacups were the most delicate. And those sitting at the tables munching on tiny, elegant sandwiches were dressed in the latest fashions.

Kat was barely aware of the stylish extravagance around her, so focused was she on the young man before her. She was laughing. Now and then, because they were at tea, she would nibble on a sandwich. Mostly, however, she just watched David, listened to his stories about life at school. Listened to tales about his friends, including Alfred Daws, Allan Beckensdale and Robert Stewart.

She had seldom felt so intimate with another human being, and her heart was racing. She felt beautiful, truly beautiful. She knew that she had drawn the appreciative stares of many a man in the room. And she knew that David was proud to be in her company. It was exhilarating. She might have been soaring in the clouds. The way that he looked at her—

“Ah, David! And this must be the incredible Miss Adair!”

Kat looked up to see a tall, striking young man standing by their table. He had dark eyes, his light hair an arresting contrast. His build was lean and wiry.

There was something familiar about him.

“Why, Alfred!” David stood and extended his hand. As they shook, the fellow looked at her with keen interest.

“Sorry,” David said. “Miss Adair, Lord Alfred Daws. Alfred, Miss Katherine Adair.”

Alfred Daws took her hand, met her gaze, then made an elaborate show of planting a light kiss on her flesh. “How do you do? This is a pleasure I hadn’t begun to imagine for the afternoon.” His smile did not reach his eyes. “I understand that you are acquainted with my father’s widow.”

Kat realized then why he looked familiar—she had seen his picture in the social pages of the newspaper. And it was evident that he didn’t care for Isabella Daws. She noticed that he didn’t refer to her as his stepmother, but rather as his father’s widow. She also recalled Eliza’s telling her that they didn’t get along.

“How do you do,” she murmured. “And, yes, I am acquainted with…your father’s widow,” she said, answering in kind.

His smile warmed. “May I?” he asked David, indicating one of the other chairs at the table.

“I suppose,” David replied less than graciously.

But Alfred Daws ignored the hint. He sat, his eyes on Kat. “How very strange, Miss Adair, that you should be the one to fish old David from the sea. You leave us all humbled! We were running about, thinking to get the small boat and search…but you! You dived straight in. Then to discover that your father is the mysterious artist whose magnificent pieces good old Isabella has been flogging…well, ’tis extraordinary!”

“It’s a small world,” David murmured.

“Apparently,” Kat said. It had never seemed so before!

“Will you have tea, Alfred?” David asked.

Alfred waved a hand in the air. “Tea? I’d say it’s time for sherry. Or champagne. David, where are you manners? We must have champagne to salute this heroine.”

“No, no, please…” Kat protested.

“Kat is made quite uncomfortable by too much ado,” David said.

“Then you must join David and me for champagne simply to be social,” Alfred said. His gaze swung to David. “We’re school chums, you know, and I’m afraid that we’re students who sometimes distress our professors. Living a bit on the wild side. Yet I hardly think it would be out of line to order champagne now?”

Their waiter, seeing the young swain who had joined the table, moved closer. Alfred looked at him. “Why, it’s Humphrey!” he said.

“Lord Daws,” Humphrey acknowledged.

“Champagne, I think. Something very fine for Miss Adair.”

“As you wish.”

“So, tell me, how well do you know Isabella?” he demanded.

Kat shrugged. Well enough to know that she is a witch! she longed to say. But despite her loathing for the woman, she was uneasy. She didn’t know this man.

And sadly, he had interrupted the incredible magic of this precious time she’d had with David!

“As you said, she is acquainted with my father,” Kat allowed.

“Egad, but that is kind!” Alfred said with a derisive laugh.

“Alfred!” David warned. “Your title does not make up for your lack of manners!”

But Alfred was undaunted. His smiled deepened. “Miss Adair is not some aging battle-ax!” he protested. “And she knows my dear old stepmum! And ah, here’s the champagne.”

Humphrey had uncorked the bubbly brew. Alfred took a taste and nodded. “Delicious. Dry, smooth, lovely. Please, Humphrey, do pour.”

Humphrey handed Kat a delicate flute and she thanked him. She sipped it, thinking it rather awful herself. But then, she’d never had champagne before.

“To you, Miss Adair!” Alfred said.

She lowered her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“So! You are to accompany us to the desert,” Alfred said.

“Yes, I will be working for Sir Hunter.”

“Ah, the dear girl has been sold into slavery!” Alfred said, chuckling.

“We’re all sold into slavery for the expedition,” David said.

“True enough.” Alfred swallowed down his glass. “Drink up, my friends. May I call you my friend, Miss Adair?”

“Certainly,” she murmured.

“How is it that you’ve escaped this afternoon?” Alfred demanded.

“I’m not sure,” she replied.

He tapped her glass again. “Drink up, Miss Adair.” He leaned closer. “I dare say, you might as well! Every nasty matron in the town is watching this table.”

“They’re wondering that I am here,” Kat said simply.

“Ah! Indeed, they’re gossiping disgracefully, and why? The daughter of the artist is far more beautiful than their debutante daughters! Well, we should let them envy you, and talk their evil little hearts out!”

He was outrageous, but Kat liked him.

And she was probably able to excuse his devil-may-care attitude because they certainly did have one thing in common—an acute dislike for Isabella Daws!

She swallowed more champagne, realizing that the more she drank, the better it tasted. It also made her feel very light-headed.

“I am embarrassing you. I’m sorry,” Alfred said.

“I’m fine,” she murmured.

“I’m not!” David said irritably. “Alfred, you’ve got the entire place looking at us!”

“You honestly think that they weren’t looking before?” Alfred demanded, refilling their glasses from the bottle that rested in ice at a stand by the table.

“You should lower your voice,” David pleaded.

“Are you afraid that your presence will be noted?” Alfred demanded, winking at Kat.

“Heavens, no!” David snapped back. But something in his voice suggested that he might have grown uneasy.

“We could leave,” Alfred said.

“Yes, I should go home,” Kat said, heartily sorry.

“I didn’t say that you should go home. In fact, you shouldn’t go home. But we should leave. We must finish up this champagne—it’s frightfully expensive and not to be wasted—and leave, letting all their tongues wag!”

David swallowed down his champagne and glanced at Kat. She did the same. David appeared anxious now to leave, and she wanted to make him happy.

“Humphrey, please add all this to my bill,” Alfred called cheerfully, then he rose, pulling out Kat’s chair so that she could rise, as well.

She did so.

The world wobbled slightly, but she quickly gained her balance. She felt like smiling. Yes, there were people in the room frowning at them. She didn’t care. Lord Daws had a prestigious title. And he didn’t care about the silly scowls of the matrons he called battle-axes! And David…

David had her arm. He was touching her. And he seemed to be aware that being on her feet was a bit difficult for her.

He led her from the tea room. Out front on the sidewalk, in the growing darkness, he looked around, then turned to Alfred.

“My carriage is gone.”

“Of course, I sent it away. We’ll travel in mine.”

Despite the slightly askew world around her, Kat knew that the hour was getting late. “I do need to get home,” she said softly.

“Of course,” David replied gently.

She could not have drunk so much of the champagne! But when the second man came to her other side and offered a supporting arm, it seemed quite natural. And moments later, barely aware of exactly how she had gotten there, she found herself in an elegant carriage. Now she did smile.

For David was sitting next to her, a dream come true. In fact life was a dream now, as sweet as anyone could hope. Except, of course, when she was with Hunter. But Hunter wasn’t around right now, and both young men were so handsome and attentive.

“Miss Adair, forgive me for staring,” Alfred said. “But you are truly and exquisitely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, her face heating. She felt David move closer to her. A protective gesture, she thought, warmed.

“And you will accompany us to Egypt! It is a marvel,” Alfred continued.

“Alfred,” David said a little sharply.

Alfred gave him a strange look. He lifted his hands. “David, dear friend…I am on your side, you know.”

Kat glanced out the window. “Pardon me, but I believe that we should have taken that turn.”

Alfred leaned forward. “We can turn around immediately, of course. But I thought that perhaps I might show you some of the Egyptian treasures in my apartment in Kew Gardens.”

“I’m afraid that I really need to go home. If my father has returned, he will be worried,” Kat said.

“I believe,” David said, sounding slightly uneasy, “that your father will be occupied until late.”

“Oh?” Kat said, startled.

“Oh, yes, he’s with Lord Avery and my father’s widow,” Alfred said. He stared at her. “Lord Avery, did you know, has commissioned him to do a painting of Lady Margaret. He was most impressed by those portraits William has done of you and your sister.”

“Ah. But I really must go home.”

“Please, Kat,” David said at her side. “We might have a few minutes away from the stares of others if we take a trip to Alfred’s lodgings. And it’s also true that Alfred has been on expedition before and can show you more of what to expect. Perhaps a brief exploration of his maps, books and study will help you.”

“I’ve worked with Sir Hunter,” Alfred explained. “And he is indeed a slave driver!”

“Well… You’re certain my father will be some time?” she asked worriedly.

“Quite certain.” Her hand lay on her lap, and now David’s covered it. It suddenly occurred to her that the encounter with Alfred had been planned. David had only pretended to resent Alfred’s intrusion at the club. He had no lodgings of his own here in London; he was staying with Lord Avery. But Alfred Daws had his own apartments. A place for them…

It was wrong. She was taking a terrible chance.

But she couldn’t resist. She needed to make David fall in love with her. So in love that he would forget Lady Margaret. Before it was too late. Before their engagement was official.

“I would cherish any bit of time with you,” David said, looking at her.

She sat up straighter and stared at Alfred across the carriage. “I cannot stay long. But since we are headed toward your residence, I suppose it would do no harm to spend a few moments there.”

“Splendid!” Alfred said. Then his eyes fell on David, and she felt a slight ripple of unease. David squeezed her hand reassuringly.

She glanced out the window again. They had come down an elegant street, and the carriage was turning into an entrance heavily guarded by foliage, bushes that rose high on either side of the drive. They reached an arbor covered thickly with vines, and there they stopped. Alfred exited first, and David helped Kat from the carriage.

A few steps took them to the house, where Alfred used a key to open the door. The entry brought them into an elegant entryway, where Alfred offered to take Kat’s jacket.

“I cannot stay long, thank you. I will keep it.”

“Well, then, come into the parlor,” Alfred invited, and with David’s hand at the small of her back she followed him down a hallway. By the time they reached the parlor, she thought that Isabella must have been angry indeed that all this wealth had gone to Alfred and not herself. Every stick of furniture gleamed, the lamps were elegantly shaded, fine artwork graced the walls. Alfred hadn’t lied about his Egyptian treasures, either, for across the room, artistically placed by the side of a sofa, was an inner sarcophagus. It was elaborately painted, and thanks to her hours at the museum, she could read some of what was written on it.

“Nasheeba,” she said aloud. “Wife of the great pharaoh, mother of Thutmos, prince of the temple.”

“You do know what you’re doing!” Alfred exclaimed.

“Not really. I’ve simply learned a few symbols.”

“Beautiful. Ah, well, I think I should make us all some Egyptian tea!” Alfred said. “Excuse me. I shall leave the two of you alone for a few minutes.”

He walked out of the elegant parlor, leaving her there, facing David.

“Katherine…” David said softly, then stepped forward.

She was so surprised that she hadn’t the least idea of what he was doing at first. Before she knew it, he had taken her into his arms.

His eyes seemed to pour into hers, and he said her name again. “Katherine…the beautiful, the magnificent, the brave!”

And then he kissed her.

She felt his lips, soft on her own, ever so slightly awkward. His hands, planted on her back, pressed her hard against him.

It was her dream, she thought. David. Wanting her. Kissing her.

But something was not quite right. His kiss wasn’t how she had imagined it. She wanted it, yes…

But not this way.

She placed her hands on his chest and pushed. He seemed to take her action as merely a token protest and held her more tightly, his lips growing harder against hers.

She twisted her face from his. “David!”

“What?” he whispered huskily. “Oh, Kat, I need you. You’re truly what I need…what I want. When I saw you…you had saved my life. And you were gone…and then you were back. And more beautiful, more desirable…I dream about you breathing, about your eyes, about the way you looked. And I know you care about me, I know it.”

“Yes, I do, but…”

“But?”

“This isn’t right…being here.”

“But, Kat, where else could we be? We’d be seen. Alfred is my friend. He would protect us. Kat, we could steal hours and hours here.”

David had relaxed his hold. He stroked her face gently, looking into her eyes. There was an honesty in his words. Pain, craving. He cared about her, wanted her.

The world should have been on fire.

She felt a chill.

“Why should we steal hours?” she asked.

He groaned, pulling her against him again. “Oh, Kat! If only you had remained but a poor waif! But now your father might well become famous and wealthy…. But then, artists are Bohemian, avant garde…. No, he still wouldn’t understand. You…you wouldn’t want him to know. And then, of course, there’s Lord Avery. And Margaret.”

She stiffened. Her mouth wouldn’t quite work correctly. “You want me…to be your mistress.”

He looked at her in apparent puzzlement. “Kat, I would always care for you!”

“But you wouldn’t marry me,” she said.

“Kat, I’m the son of Baron Rothchild Turnberry!”

She had never felt so cold in her life. “Younger son,” she reminded him.

“Yes, yes, but, Kat, I truly love you.”

“And Margaret?”

“Well, of course, there is a difference. You must understand. You are not so naive not to know the way of the world. Please, don’t stare at me so. You’ve wanted this. I thought you’d must know that…we’d have to be secret.”

His fingers were still moving over her face. Knuckles stroking her chin. His expression now was that of a kindly tutor explaining a piece of learning that every child should know. Then he bent to kiss her again. His lips were more forceful this time, trying to wedge open her lips. And his hands upon her were stronger, moving, creeping around her ribs, rising to her breasts.

She made a sound of protest and pushed hard against his chest. She was ice now, but love died hard.

He broke from her again. “Kat, I must have you!” His whisper was frantic. “You are such fire! And…and my intended bride is ice! You are the passion, Kat. A man needs passion in his life.”

He wasn’t letting go of her, and he pushed her suddenly, so that she fell backward onto a sofa. And then he was on top of her. “Kat…you must understand.”

She shoved hard, but he was too heavy to dislodge. She twisted her head, and he caught her chin between his thumb and fingers. “Kat, I love you!” he said, and the words were real, as if torn from his heart. His lips found hers again.

Kat, I love you!

For a moment, the words were a sweet echo in her heart. And the feel of his kiss was not painful, but bittersweet, less than stirring, perhaps, but searching and sweet, his quest, a dream perhaps, similar to her own and yet…crucially different.

Then truth sliced bitterly into her heart. He wanted her. And she was made for desire, carnal, a woman to be a mistress, but never a wife for so highborn a person.

She ripped her mouth away. “Get off me, David, please.”

He went still. He stared at her, then frowned, and she could see that his temper was growing. “You have teased like the worst, cheapest whore in the East End!” he said hoarsely.

She stared at him, stunned, gaping. “Get off me. Now.”

“Kat!” The anger faded from his features. “You don’t understand. God, I am so sorry! You see, I must have you!” he repeated.

“Let me go!” she enunciated.

“You’re not listening. I really love you!” Again, the whisper was so heartfelt, the look in his eyes so earnest, that her heart skipped a beat. She forgot the base cruelty of his earlier words.

“I love you!” he whispered.

She stared at him. “Love is not enough,” she said softly.

“Kat!” He still did not release her. He buried his head against her. She struggled to free herself from his hold, but he was like a deadweight. She considered her options. Screaming, scratching, kicking.

“David, you must get off!” she tried again, and shoved him with all her might. This time she succeeded in dislodging him and she struggled to her feet. She would have stayed there, but he caught her dress and pulled her back down. Now, however, she was on top of him.

And that was when Hunter barged into the room.

“What the devil…?” David demanded.

“Let go of her,” Hunter snapped. “Now!”

Instantly, David grasped her, arms around her, manner protective. He struggled awkwardly to rise with Kat in his arms.

He didn’t have much time. Hunter was across the room. He caught Kat around the midriff and lifted her, disentangling David’s hold at the same time. For several seconds, Kat found herself dangling in Hunter’s arms like an errant schoolchild.

“Get up, David,” Hunter said, his voice low and threatening.

Kat was entirely indignant. “Sir Hunter, please put me down.”

“Hunter!” David protested, rising as told. “We are both of age!”

“She has a father who is worried sick about her,” Hunter said.

“Could you please put me down!” Kat said again.

“How dare you, sir!” David protested, and he flushed with a dark discomfort. “You have scores of mistresses!”

“I do not prey on the innocent, filling them with champagne and taking a detour to a friend’s house where the servants have mysteriously disappeared for the day,” Hunter thundered back.

“She wants to be with me!” David protested. “Kat, tell him!”

“Would you please put me down!” Kat again said to Hunter.

And he did. Naturally, she staggered, and he put his hand out to steady her, a hand that remained hard on her arm. He glared at her with such sharp anger and disappointment that she was left speechless.

“She wants to be with me!” David repeated.

Hunter’s eyes raked over her in a way that was almost physically painful. And then his hand fell from her arm and he stepped back.

“You and Alfred tricked her into coming here,” Hunter accused.

“She wants to be with me,” David said once again.

“I see. So it was her idea to come here.”

“She wanted to see me again, alone, and I knew it!” David protested.

Kat’s cheeks flamed, for what he said was true. She had wanted to be alone with him. But things shouldn’t have gone so quickly. He should have spent days seeing her, falling in love. Needing the sound of her voice, as she had come to yearn for his. Needing the look in her eyes, the sound of her laughter. And then, somewhere, there should have been the lightest touches. And at last…a kiss. For which he should have apologized, and…

And then, of course, he should have said that he loved her—in a way that defied all else. That he loved her and wanted to marry her. He would forsake all others. He would defy his father, if need be! For that was love.

“Were you tricked into coming here?” Hunter asked Kat. “Or,” he asked pointedly, “was this your intention?”

She gasped, far more ready to slap him than David. Tears threatened. She had no intention of spilling them before either man. She would not, however, dignify Hunter’s question with an answer.

She straightened to the most regal height she could manage. “I’ll see myself home, thank you, gentlemen!”

Head high, she started out of the room.

But at that moment, Alfred Daws came racing in, making a beeline for Hunter, in an apparent fury, ready to tackle him.

She was amazed at the deftness with which Hunter sidestepped his opponent. Alfred crashed onto the couch, rose again and turned. Hunter raised a fist, caught Alfred in the jaw, and the man went down.

Kat stared at Hunter. “You are all truly animals,” she said very softly. And she walked from the room and out of the entrance they’d come in.

She realized that the pins were cascading from her hair and that her neat and proper attire was scarcely together. She tried to catch the escaping strands of her hair, but the effort was fruitless, and so, still hidden behind the high bushes on Lord Daws’s property, she tried to straighten her skirt.

She didn’t hear Hunter’s approach, but somehow he was there, right behind her, a hand on her back. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” she cried.

“Indeed, you are.”

“I am not—”

“Your father is frantic.”

She went still, no longer angry, but dismayed. “It can’t be so late!”

“Lord Avery tried to reach David at the club. He was to bring you back to his, Lord Avery’s, house. But you all were not at the club, and you were not at home. I had a fair idea of where you might be when I discovered that Alfred Daws had joined you. Luckily, I followed, and you may feel free to thank me at any time.”

“Thank you?”

“So you did intend to let him bed you?” Hunter demanded coldly.

She stared at him, choking with fury. Then she found action. She drew back her arm, ready to slap him for all she was worth. He caught her wrist before the blow could find its mark.

“No, Miss Adair, because I don’t deserve that. Not the way that I found you.”

“I didn’t intend to let him bed me,” she said icily, “but neither did I need you to rescue me! I could have taken care of myself.”

He arched a brow. “Ah! So that’s what I saw.” His tone was dry.

She wrenched her arm free of his grasp. “I was trying to rise!”

“You were not doing very well.”

“I didn’t have time!”

She was stunned when he suddenly let out an oath and gripped her shoulders. “You little fool. Do you really think that a pair of arrogant college boys, who think themselves superior to others, would have hesitated to rape you?”

She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I don’t believe…I won’t believe…that he wouldn’t have accepted my refusal!”

His fingers tightened on her flesh. “You are far too pathetically naive to be on the streets!” he informed her. He released her, stepping back, shaking his head angrily. “Fix yourself,” he suggested, his tone so soft it was menacing. “You’re going to see your father.”

She tried to muster what dignity she could to adjust her clothing, difficult with his eyes on her with such condemnation. But he turned away before she was done, heading out to the street where Ethan and his carriage awaited. Ethan, ever polite, offered her an encouraging smile when she emerged. “Good evening, Miss Adair.”

“Evening, Ethan,” she returned, and managed a smile. She accepted his help into the carriage. A moment later, Hunter climbed in.

She couldn’t see a thing out of the window. The light from the street lamps seemed to swim before her, and all else was a haze. She continued to look out the window, anyway.

He didn’t speak. She felt heated in his presence, as if she sat near the burning coals of a chestnut dealer. His arms were folded over his chest. As his team of horses clopped through the streets, she knew that his eyes remained on her. He didn’t touch her. His knees didn’t brush hers.

They’d been riding some time before he said, “You might want to do something with your hair.”

Self-consciously, she tried to capture and restrain the escaping tendrils as best she could. He crossed over to the seat beside her.

“Turn,” he ordered, and she did so, her back and shoulders stiff as he first collected pins, then straightened the wild tendrils and repinned them with an expertise that could only have come from practice.

The brush of his fingers sent tremors along her spine. She was painfully aware of his slightest movement.

But he didn’t stay by her side. He shifted back to the seat opposite the minute he was done.

“Unless you are truly willing to become the man’s mistress and nothing more, I might suggest that you keep your distance from the Right Honorable David Turnberry for the time being,” he suggested from the darkness within the carriage.

“He would have listened to me,” she said.

Hunter snorted derisively. “It did not so appear.”

“Well, we’ll never know, will we?”

“A thank-you for the rescue,” he said next, “might be a courteous gesture,” he said again.

“Once again, Sir Hunter, I don’t believe that I needed to be rescued! And…did you have to resort to such violence with Alfred?”

“No. I could have let him beat me to a pulp.”

She lowered her head, feeling the urge to burst into tears again.

“Will there be repercussions?” she asked him after a moment.

“For what?”

“For…what you did to Alfred?”

“I’m rather certain neither of the young men will ever mention what happened there. Though you are convinced otherwise, you were a victim tonight. And it could have been far worse.”

“But…”

“But what?”

She looked out the window again, very hurt.

Dreams, she realized, died hard.

“Are your intentions so much more honorable?” she asked.

She wished she had never spoken. She could feel his anger sweep off him in waves.

He leaned forward, still not touching her. “I have been accused of many things, Miss Adair. And of some, I was guilty. But seduction and rape of an innocent? That is one sin that does not sit upon my conscience.”

She was startled when the door of the carriage suddenly opened. He had so held her attention that she hadn’t realized the carriage had come to a halt outside Lord Avery’s.

She exhaled, aware that Ethan, courteous as ever, was waiting to assist her from the carriage.

Aware she had been holding her breath.

Aware…that she was sorry, and that she might well have been in trouble. Though she would never really know.

“Miss Adair?”

She accepted Ethan’s hand and stepped down from the carriage. Hunter followed. She swallowed hard, knowing that she had been wrong and that the pain in her heart had refused to allow her to admit it.

She turned, ready to offer Hunter an apology.

But he was sweeping by her. The door to the house had opened, and Margaret came rushing down the steps.

She paused by Hunter, smiling, rising on tiptoe, kissing his cheek, then turning to Kat.

“Ah, there you are! Hunter, you found our missing Kat. Ah, dear Kat! Come in, come in! You must see what your father has done! Come, come!”

As she dragged her into the house, Kat looked back.

He was watching her. And for some strange reason, the disappointment in his eyes seem to tear at her, like salt upon the abrasion that was her heart.

I’m sorry, truly sorry!

But she could no longer say the words. And she was afraid, very afraid, that a door had closed that might never open again.