Page 35

“Ahh, but we seldom get what we deserve in life, do we, Trevor?” He felt a warm caress of air as she blew out her breath.

Meredith’s foot began tapping an impatient rhythm, and her expression became pensive.

“You have overlooked the obvious. There are practical reasons for having marital relations.”

“Are you referring to children? You never mentioned them before.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully, trying to imagine her slender form swollen with his babe. The notion brought on a tender, pleasant feeling. “Do you have an overwhelming desire to be a mother?”

“It would please the duke to have an heir,” Meredith answered.

The marquess’s hands clenched into fists. “An excellent reason to remain childless.”

“For once I quite agree. The one child we already have in the household is sufficient.”

“I assume you mean me, madame?”

She raised a haughty brow. “How very astute you are, Trevor.”

He had no witty reply. She was right. He was acting childish, but the riff between him and his father went back many years.

She did not understand the complexity of the issues nor the degree of his hurt.

“I must commend you for your expert handling of my father. You two have become rather cozy in a short period of time.”

Meredith sighed. “Though your tone implies you believe otherwise, I can assure you I have not done this to make you angry. Or to garner your attention.” An ironic smile flitted uncertainly across her lips. “The duke has been kind and attentive toward me. I appreciate his company.”

“He can be most charming when the occasion or circumstances suit him. But I warn you, his favor can be quickly lost and his wrath a monumental fury.”

“Rather like his son?” she remarked with innocent sweetness.

“I am a mere amateur compared to the duke.”

Meredith’s lips pressed together in a line. “I recall a time when you and your father were good friends. What is the reason for this great quarrel, this constant friction between you?”

“Lavinia.”

Meredith frowned. “But the duke adored her. It was common knowledge among those of Society. I cannot imagine her ever doing anything to displease him.”

Trevor felt the familiar surge of pain overtake him at the stirring of this long-buried memory.

“The morning of her funeral we quarreled bitterly. He demanded I remove her wedding band, informing me it was a family heirloom that had been worn by the wives of the dukes of Warwick for six generations. It was far too valuable and rare to rot in a crypt.”

Meredith gasped. He saw her glance down at her gloved left hand, then nervously hide it beneath her reticule. “I am sure he did not mean to sound so brutal. Yet his actions prove that the duke can be a hard, unsentimental man. He was wrong to deny you in your time of sorrow.”

Some of the coldness inside the marquess evoked by this bitter memory began to slowly fade. He had been crazed, nearly out of his mind with grief, and his father’s words had pushed him beyond civility. He had said unspeakable things, had vowed never to forgive and never to forget.

Yet perhaps it was time to consider letting go of the past, to look forward instead of back.

Trevor peered from beneath slightly lowered lids and watched Meredith fiddling with the elegant band of gold and diamonds she wore beneath her glove. “You need not worry. The ring you now wear was purchased from a jeweler on Bond Street the morning of our wedding.”

“And the other ring? The great heirloom?”

“Rests on Lavinia’s hand for all eternity, as it should.”

“I’m glad.”

He felt vindicated by her response. The battle with the duke had been one worth fighting and winning.

A bit more of the pain of the past subsided, and Trevor’s mood changed.

In the soft light that filtered through the carriage window, Meredith’s face took on an ethereal glow.

She did not cast her eyes away or try to hide from the emotions he was sharing.

Her gaze was direct and steady and intelligent.

She was also exceedingly attractive. She had worn a modest gown, appropriate for the manner of their morning call, with a high scooped neckline. The temptation was strong, oh so strong, to reach across and draw her into his lap, then settle her bottom on his thighs.

He would next bend his head and touch the tip of his tongue to the bare skin at the top of her cleavage, slowly stroking downward until her breasts swelled and firmed, until she lifted her head back and offered herself to him like a pagan goddess.

All manner of thoughts raced through Trevor’s head as a thick rope of desire twisted deep inside his gut. He fought the hunger, determined to master himself, to prove he could control the passion.

She blushed and smiled fleetingly, as if she somehow knew the lustful direction of his thoughts. He shifted his gaze, overcome with a sudden wave of protective feeling for her—and completely disgusted with himself when he realized he was still the one she needed protecting from.