Page 63 of Heiress Gone Wild

“Call me Hetty,” she said without batting an eyelash and turned to Marjorie, holding out her hand. “You must be Miss McGann. What a smashing dress.”

“Thank you.”

Hetty returned her attention to Jonathan and grinned, an impish grin in a pretty, rakish face. “Back from the wilds, Mr. Deverill, so I hear. We shall expect stories over tea.”

He was given no time to respond.

“Marjorie?”

All of them turned, watching as a dark-haired young woman in green silk approached their party, a pale blonde in blue following her.

“Dulci! Jenna!” Marjorie cried, rushing to meet them. “Oh, it is so good to see you.”

She wrapped an arm around each of her friends in an uninhibited embrace, too delighted to notice their uncomfortable glances around the lobby, but Jonathan noticed. He also saw the way some of the hotel patrons were staring at her askance, and he wondered how long it would be before her American joie de vivre was snuffed out by his own nation’s staid sensibilities. That would be for the best if she was going to adapt to life here, a fact he’d been trying to make her see all along, but as he looked at her face, so radiant and happy, he was rather glad he hadn’t succeeded.

Paul leaned closer to him. “You devil,” he murmured. “How in hell did you manage to become guardian to that stunning lovely?”

Jonathan drew a deep breath. “Just lucky, I suppose.”

“And she’s not engaged, or attached, or mooning over some chap back in America?”

Jonathan set his jaw and did the honorable thing. “No.”

“So, once she’s out of mourning, I’ve got a chance?”

“You?” Jonathan turned, smiling, and honor went to the wall. “Not a chance in hell.”

Chapter 16

Marjorie’s reunion with her friends seemed a smashing success. But then, why shouldn’t it be? Jonathan thought, watching her with her friends across the tearoom’s large round table. This was the life she wanted.

I am going to laugh and dance and enjoy myself and wear whatever colors I please. I’m going to do the season, meet young men, fall in love, and get married.

What a blessing, he thought, to know what you wanted. To be so certain of your course and your future. He envied her that. He hadn’t felt that way about his own life for over a decade.

This was the world she would move in, marry in, live in. She found some things about British life incomprehensible, but that wouldn’t last. With Irene’s help, she would soon find her place here, like a piece fitting into place in a jigsaw puzzle.

He, on the other hand, was more like a stray puzzle piece accidently tossed in the wrong box. Or maybe he didn’t have a box. Maybe he didn’t fit in anywhere, and no matter where he went, he never would.

What do I want?he thought, glancing around the tearoom, exasperated by his own discontent.For God’s sake, what do I want?

Even as he asked himself that question, his gaze swerved to Marjorie again, pulled to her by the same magnetic forces that had pulled him through the doors of Claridge’s a short time ago—impossible forces of desire and need, the same forces that had caused him to take her into his bedroom aboard ship and wrap jewels around her throat, that had impelled him to haul her into his arms and kiss her. The same need he desperately wanted to deny because he knew it could lead nowhere.

Nonetheless, as he remembered those passionate moments aboard theNeptune, arousal began thrumming through his body as impossible fantasies ran through his mind—of taking down her hair and running his fingers through the fiery strands. Of undoing all the black jet buttons down her back and pulling that frothy gown down her hips. Of finding and kissing every inch of her creamy skin, from the tip of her nose to the soles of her feet.

Here, in the elegant ambiance of Claridge’s tearoom, he let his imagination run wild. He touched that magnificent body, shaping the exquisite fullness of her breasts and the lush curves of her hips. He caressed her, the cries of her pleasure echoing through his head and drowning out all the civilized sounds of crystal and china and polite conversation around him.

As if sensing his scrutiny, she turned her head in his direction, and as their gazes met, he strove to keep his face impassive and his torrid thoughts hidden, but when her eyes widened, her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, he knew he’d failed, and he felt every bit as naked as he’d been in his imagination.

Desperate, he tore his gaze away. Reminding himself of the safe middle ground that was supposed to be between them now, he strove to regain his control, but even after he’d accomplished that feat, he still felt as transparent as glass, and he knew he had to get out of here.

Thankfully, fate decided to take pity on him. Rex chose that moment to say something about having business matters to attend to, and when he excused himself from the group and stood up, Jonathan did the same.

“Going to Deverill Publishing?” Jonathan asked, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. “Mind if I come along,” he went on as the other man nodded, “and have a look at the new premises?”

“Not at all. I did offer you a tour, after all.”

Relieved, Jonathan bowed to the ladies, agreed with Paul that they needed to meet for a drink soon, and followed Rex out of the tearoom.

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