Chapter 7
Horrible, insufferable, ungentlemanly, unbearable . . . handsome, arousing, tempting . . . blast! Kate halted the direction her thoughts were traveling. She would not dwell kindly on the coercing scoundrel, however sorely her body craved more of his touch.
Two simple meetings and everything she knew had begun to spin backward. In a fortnight, she and Blackthorn would announce their engagement and she would finally gain her father’s approval. She had no time to waste, consorting with a man who had zero interest in being a gentleman.
If Blackthorn ever discovered her sneaking about to meet another man, regardless of the reasoning behind such action, he would never marry her. Her father would undoubtedly disown her.
Why, then, take the risk? Though irreplaceable, the ring was hardly a reason to jeopardize her future. If alive, her aunt would understand the loss.
Having already dismissed her maid, Kate studied her reflection in her dressing table mirror. She still possessed the same brown stands of hair, the same deep but unremarkable brown eyes, and attractive yet unassuming facial features she’d had before the Mosley’s ball . . . but she felt different.
Despite his handsomeness, Blackthorn never engaged all her senses. The touch of his hand aroused no quivers throughout her body. To preserve her sanity, she pushed aside how the idea of spending every day of her existence as his wife—and bed partner—did nothing but bore her.
She knew she’d have no complaints being his duchess. Patient and kind, he wouldn’t mistreat her.
It wasn’t his fault he didn’t stir her desire.
Desires unknown until Jackson’s firm lips had moved steadily against hers.
If he hadn’t pulled away, she feared his kiss would have drowned her in pleasure . . . and she would have welcomed every moment.
Scrutinizing her reflection, she shook her head, trying to erase the far-off haze looking back at her, brought about by thoughts of Jackson Cooper who was nothing but a scoundrel bent on tempting her into reckless behavior.
Why had she strayed into the grove? Everything would have remained simple if she hadn’t stumbled upon the mystical tree. Nothing had been the same since the rush pulsing through her when she’d palmed the smooth trunk, dotted with coarse bark.
The same awareness that heated her blood whenever Jackson touched her.
“You’re being foolish,” Kate mumbled to the empty room. “It was just a tree. He is just a man. And you will not fall for his trickery.”
Finding no answer staring back at her, Kate stood and retrieved her spencer from the bed. She had less than an hour to escape her maid, depart the house, and meet Jackson at his appointed time.
A sleepless night, plagued with thoughts of his challenge—and kiss—hadn’t put Kate in an accommodating mood. When she’d finally awoken from a fitful sleep, she’d had every notion of not obeying his request. It would serve the man right to be left waiting.
But she feared what he’d do with her ring if she didn’t show. She’d no doubt the man was scandalous enough to appear on her father’s doorstep with her jewelry in hand. The last thing she needed was to explain to her father how it came to be in Jackson’s possession. It would ruin everything.
Until she reclaimed her ring, Mr. Jackson Cooper controlled her future.
Now, if only her body would cease tingling at the thought.
~ ~ ~
Jackson pulled his watch from his pocket. She was late. Yet he’d have been more surprised if she’d appeared on time. Kate was too strongminded to succumb easily, even if he had the upper hand.
He replaced the timepiece, a smile twitching his lips. Oh, how he would love to tussle with her feisty spirit in the comfort of his bed. He’d no doubt if he allowed it, Kate’s passion would burn him alive.
Just his luck he would never experience it. As much as he teased her, he would not be partaking in the sensual delights of Lady Katherine Baxton.
Despite hungering for her beyond reason, Jackson retained enough sense to know where such a liaison would end . . . in front of a pastor. Especially with his father on his heels about finding a wife.
After their parting, it had been an easy feat to discover her full name—with title—and the fact that she was the daughter of a duke. Two displeasing details, but neither were enough to sway his longing to see her again.
Jackson had only a sennight until he sailed away from England. And, lust aside, he planned to get his fill of Kate by then.
Standing beside the water, Jackson scanned the pristine grass, waiting for his wood nymph to appear from the trees peeking through the morning fog.
Despite her sputtering denial at the garden party, she would come. Just as he’d been powerless to keep from enticing her into meeting him—even knowing she’d be married soon—something drove them to be reckless.
According to his brother, the betrothal had yet to be announced. After he’d parted ways with Kate—or more accurately, after she spouted a very unladylike insult at him and raced back to the gathering—he’d tracked down Edward with some important questions.
While giving Jackson a knowing look as to why he’d be interested, Edward had divulged that, official or not, everyone reckoned it was simply a matter of time before the Duke of Blackthorn and Lady Katherine announced their engagement.
An unfamiliar burn flaring in his gut at the news had sent Jackson storming from the festivities. It had taken several snifters of brandy to douse the fire.
While still in his cups he’d concluded her association with Blackthorn didn’t concern him. He had no desire to have her as his wife. What he wanted from Kate was far more straightforward. And since he couldn’t have what he truly craved, he would settle for more of her, any way he could get it.
If tricking her into spending a few hours with him until he departed England was what it took, he was enough of a rogue to do it.
A pair of ducks splashing along the shore of the glistening pond broke into his thoughts.
“Couldn’t you have picked somewhere less . . . visible?” Distracted by the fowl, he’d missed her approach but there was no overlooking the arousal Kate’s elegant voice triggered.
His lips pulled into a grin at her clear irritation. Knowing it would ruffle her feathers, he allowed a long second to pass upon his acknowledgement of her.
When he did, he almost lost his breath.
How had he forgotten how stunningly beautiful she was? Not even the scowl marring her pink mouth diminished her loveliness. Her temper only enhanced her allure. He liked knowing she wasn’t the delicate lady she portrayed herself as . . . and he was probably the only one privy to her secret.
“Good morning, Kate,” he teased.
“Why are we here?” The line of her lips eased but her features were far from inviting.
“To enjoy ourselves.” He gestured to the wooden rowboat behind him.
Her eyes grew wide in horror. “You want me to get in that rickety thing? You must be joking.”
“I wouldn’t allow you to drown. Though having your wet body clinging to me as I come to your rescue does sound promising.”
Her gaze locked on his. “I’m glad to see you are staying true to yourself and your lack of gentlemanly behavior.”
A deep laugh tumbled from his chest, knowing her outrage was feigned. She hid it well but he saw it, as clearly as a spring morning. She longed for adventure as much as he wanted to give it to her.
“You, my dear, make the morning so much brighter.” He swept his arm toward the deceptively sturdy boat. “Shall we?”
“I can’t be seen with you.”
His excitement lost its fine edge as he remembered the reason why. Multiple reasons why, he amended. Mostly, her approaching wedding and his wish to avoid being leg-shackled. Well, he wouldn’t permit any of that to ruin the moments he’d planned for them.
So as not to alarm her, he approached her slowly. “It is early. Too early for anyone to be about. I come here often and I’m never bothered. I promise, you are safe with me.”
As the words left his mouth, he silently vowed each one to be true. Though he longed to tumble her to the ground and find his pleasure between her legs, he’d place her wellbeing above any, or all. Surely an unaccustomed sentiment for him.
Her eyes flickered across his face, most likely looking for a hint of dishonesty. She wouldn’t find any. A more serious promise had never been offered.
When he held out his hand, not even a heartbeat passed before her palm slid against his. At her touch, the soggy ground beneath his boots shifted. Just as it had the night of the ball, something drew him toward her.
And rendered him defenseless.