It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(81)

“I am never pompous,” Marcus said, drawing the edge of her gown away from the vulnerable curve of her throat.

Her breath hitched as he began to kiss the wing of her collarbone. “What would you call it when you carry on as if you always know best, and anyone who disagrees with you is an idiot?”

“Most of the time, the people who disagree with me do happen to be idiots. I can’t help that.”

A breathless laugh escaped her, and she let her head rest back on his arm as his mouth traveled to the side of her neck. “When shall we negotiate?” she asked, surprised by the throatiness of her own voice.

“Tonight. You’ll come to my room.”

She gave him a skeptical glance. “This wouldn’t be a ruse to lure me into a situation in which you would take unscrupulous advantage of me?”

Drawing back to look at her, Marcus answered gravely. “Of course not. I intend to have a meaningful discussion that will put to rest any doubts you may have about marrying me.”

“Oh.”

“And then I’m going to take unscrupulous advantage of you.”

Lillian’s smile was compressed between their lips as he kissed her. She realized that it was the first time she had ever heard Marcus make a rakish remark. He was usually too straitlaced to exhibit the kind of irreverence that came so naturally to her. Perhaps this was a small sign of her influence on him.

“But for now…” Marcus said, “I have a logistical problem to solve.”

“What problem?” she asked, shifting a little as she became aware of the aroused tension of his body beneath her.

He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her lips, lightly massaging, shaping her mouth. As if he couldn’t help himself, he stole one last kiss. The deep, yearning strokes of his mouth caused her lips to tingle, sensation spilling and sliding all through her, and she was left breathless and weak in his arms. “The problem is how to take you back upstairs,” Marcus whispered, “before anyone else sees you in your nightgown.”

CHAPTER 20

It was unclear whether Daisy had been the one to “spill the beans,” as they said in New York, or whether the news had come from Annabelle, who had perhaps been informed by her husband of the scene in the study. All Lillian could be certain of, as she joined the other wallflowers for a mid-morning nuncheon in the breakfast room, was that they knew. She could see it in their faces—in Evie’s abashed smile, and Daisy’s conspiratorial air, and Annabelle’s studied casualness. Lillian blushed and avoided their collective gaze as she sat at the table. She had always maintained a cynical facade, using it as a defense against embarrassment, fear, loneliness…but at the moment she felt unusually vulnerable.

Annabelle was the first to break the silence. “What a dull morning it’s been so far.” She lifted her hand to her mouth with a gracefully manufactured yawn. “I do hope someone can manage to enliven the conversation. Any gossip to share, by chance?” Her teasing gaze arrowed to Lillian’s discomfited expression. A footman approached to fill Lillian’s teacup, and Annabelle waited until he had left the table before continuing. “You’ve made rather a late appearance this morning, dear. Didn’t you sleep well?”

Lillian slitted her eyes as she stared at her gleefully mocking friend, while she heard Evie choke on a mouthful of tea. “As a matter of fact, no.”

Annabelle grinned, looking entirely too cheerful. “Why don’t you tell us your news, Lillian, and then I’ll share mine? Though I doubt that mine will be half as interesting.”

“You seem to know everything already,” Lillian muttered, trying to drown her embarrassment with a large draft of tea. Succeeding only in burning her tongue, she set her cup down and forced herself to meet Annabelle’s gaze, which had softened in amused sympathy.

“Are you all right, dear?” Annabelle asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Lillian admitted. “I don’t feel at all like myself. I’m excited and glad, but also somewhat…”

“Afraid?” Annabelle murmured.

The Lillian of a month ago would have died by slow torture rather than admit to one moment of fear…but she found herself nodding. “I don’t like being vulnerable to a man who is not generally known for his sensitivity or soft heartedness. It’s fairly obvious that we’re not well-suited in temperament.”

“But you are attracted to him physically?” Annabelle asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why is that a misfortune?”

“Because it would be so much easier to marry a man with whom one shared a detached friendship, rather than…than…”

All three young women leaned toward her intently. “R-rather than what?” Evie asked, wide-eyed.

“Rather than flaming, clawing, lurid, positively indecent passion.”

“Oh my,” Evie said faintly, drawing back in her chair, while Annabelle grinned and Daisy stared at her with enraptured curiosity.

“This from a man whose kisses were ‘merely tolerable’?” Annabelle asked.

A grin tugged at Lillian’s lips as she looked down into the steaming depths of her tea. “Who would have guessed that such a starched and buttoned-up sort could be so different in the bedroom?”

“With you, I imagine he can’t help himself,” Annabelle remarked.