The Lady Most Likely... by Julia Quinn & Eloisa James & Connie Brockway

Author:Julia Quinn & Eloisa James & Connie Brockway [Quinn, Julia & James, Eloisa & Brockway, Connie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance
ISBN: 9780062037411
Published: 2011-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14 You have been pressed into service by your hostess and must to take me to town,” Kate announced the next morning.

Neill, breakfasting on the terrace as he read the morning posts from London, set down his cup, folded his newspaper, and looked up. Kate stood over him, a vision of elegance in a rouge-colored sarcenet spencer that fit closely over her lithe curves. A decidedly provocative little dark blue torque perched at a jaunty angle atop her white blond curls, its fringed satin trim flirting with her pink cheek.

His heart catapulted in his chest, reacting in a way it never had four years ago. But four years ago her smile hadn’t been filled with such female deviltry, nor had her eyes held so much amusement. Four years ago she hadn’t been a woman, he realized. The casual, unconscious sway of her hips, the silvery laughter, the elegant brow that arched so … archly, the way her eyes danced a second before her full lips formed a smile, the tilt of her head, the fleeting arabesque of her fingertips as she illustrated some point she was trying to make, all of it conspired to make her mysterious and fascinating and utterly captivating.

She really was not his Kate. Not as he remembered her. Not that it mattered in the least when it came to wanting her. If anything, he wanted her more. The last four days had been torturous. He begrudged every man there her most incidental touch, coveted every smile she offered another, whether it be boy or man, footman or duke. He prowled the perimeter of whatever room she occupied, covertly watching the men there for any hint of over-familiarity toward her, quick to caution against further transgressions.

He told himself it was his duty to do so, his obligation, a matter of honor. In truth, he knew it to be because he wanted to claim her for his own, and he couldn’t. Until they left here, he couldn’t even court her; he was her bloody chaperone.

It took all his effort to keep his expression bland now, but he managed to do so as he stood up and gestured for her to take a seat. She shook her head.

“No, we haven’t time to dally. We have to go to town this morning,” she said.

“We do?” he asked politely.

“Yes, in order that I can buy some ribbons and return in time to trim my bonnet for this afternoon’s picnic.”

He was torn. Part of him very much wanted the opportunity for a few private hours in her company. The other part resented being thrust into the role of doyen, like some toothless old uncle. Once again, he consigned Tom Peyton to perdition.

“I am sure Lady Finchley will lend you the use of her carriage and a footman to take you.”

“Were you not listening, Neill?” She shook her head impatiently. “All the footmen are currently employed setting up the marquee for the picnic or going about other errands.”

“Perhaps one of the other guests can drive you?” he suggested.

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