Page 33 of When She Loved Me
These, then, he was sure, were likely the most heartbreaking words he’d ever heard.
I cannot... not know you, he thought, knowing this was what had driven him back to her.
She shifted on her feet and he knew she was going to leave him again.
Trevor blocked her escape, his eyes on hers. She stared back, undaunted, not the girl he’d married anymore, he was reminded again.
“I’ll leave, Nicki.” He was sorry to see the relief she bothered not to hide. “On one condition.”
Her eyes narrowed, but he wouldn’t have said she was wary.
“On the condition that you kiss me—or rather, allow me to kiss you.” Ah, here was a response finally. She drew in her breath. He was aware of her chest rising and falling noticeably. A good sign, it seemed. “You must allow me to kiss you. If you do not respond, if you truly feel nothing at all, I will leave.” He let that sink in, was quite sure her mind whirred just now, surely wondering how difficult it could truly be to have no response at all to only a kiss. “If you do respond, if you feel anything, I remain. And we’re going to do things my way.”
“I-I don’t need to play little games—”
“But you’ve said you don’t even want to know me,” he challenged. “Surely one little kiss can have no effect on you. I could be out of this house today.”
Her chin raised, and he was just fiend enough to happily note that her eyes lit for the briefest of seconds upon his mouth, mayhap recalling their too-long-ago bewitching kisses.
“One kiss, Nicki.”
She was torn, he could quite plainly see. She cried, “Why won’t you just return to London? Can’t we just continue as we were? I’m happy here. I could be happy here for years, maybe forever. It’s all right that you didn’t want me as a wife. I mean that—I’m over it. Why do you even want to be here?”
He said nothing.
Before his eyes, she composed herself, recovering from her almost frantic outburst, and again presented a rigid demeanor. And some spark entered her gaze just then. If Trevor read it correctly, she was thinking just now that her present fury would protect her from the tempest of any coming kiss. Her stormy green eyes lit with a calculating gleam; he knew he read her correctly, that she believed her anger would make her impervious to his kiss. “I’ll give you one minute. And I want you gone before supper.”
He knew his smile then was both predatory and gloating. He couldn’t help it.
“Remember,” he said softly, taking one step closer, “we’re going to do things my way from now on.”
Now her brow lifted in haughty rebuke. “You can do as you please when you’re returned to London.”
He took another step and saw that she worked hard to not retreat. He placed one hand on her hip, listened to her breathe through her nose. He stared into her beautiful green eyes, brightened now—finally—with wariness. The hand at her hip slid slowly around her back, drawing her near, bringing her chest to his. Her hands lifted, but touched nothing, just floated next to his arms. She bent her face away from him and closed her eyes. Trevor lowered his head, his lips hovering just near her turned cheek, waiting, breathing softly onto her. The hand at her back flexed, pressing her more fully against his chest and thighs. Her breathing intensified. He slid his hand down over her bottom, pushing her into his groin. He urged his head forward until his mouth touched her, just breezing his unmoving lips along her cheek toward her mouth at a tantalizingly slow pace. Her breath came hot and fast now. Her lips parted but he held back yet. Herhands now touched his arms, gripping the fabric of his sleeves. He moved his mouth again across her lips, provoking a sound so slight as to be almost unheard from deep within her chest, and only then did Trevor finally capture her lips fully, bringing his other hand to wrap around her and crush her to him. He thrust his tongue deep within her mouth, twisting and turning while he ground his growing erection against her.
She tried to resist him, he knew, felt her hands on his arms pushing him away even as she began to kiss him back. And then she cried as she surrendered, her fingers digging into his biceps then, slanting her head to receive him and return his kiss, pushing her tongue back at him.
They were frantic and noisy and sloppy and neither one of them cared. Her hands moved up, stealing into his hair, holding him close while her hips, of their own accord, swayed against him. Trevor brought one hand between them, sliding upward to cup the fullness of her breast, then his fingers curled around the nipple hardening beneath the light fabric. Every muscle in his body was tensed with expectation and heightened awareness. He caught her shiver, relished it, and continued to kiss her senseless as he gripped the shoulder of her gown to get the blasted thing out of his way.
But his hand stilled, caught just there at the neckline.
“No,” he growled thickly against her lips. “Not like this.” He put his hands at her hips and held her at arms’ length. She whimpered, her confusion vital between them, the sound solely in response to his pulling away. “Jesus, not like this.” Trevor was hardly able to comprehend his own words, wanting to cry as well for what he denied them just now. He lowered his head, trying to make his breathing normal.
When he lifted his eyes to her, he saw only her tortured desire, though her lips trembled. Faintly, slowly, her head moved side to side, her eyes pleading with him not to stop. Her hand found his, pressing her fingers into his palm though not drawing him back to her.
There wasn’t any part of him that wanted to exult now in this triumph. He wanted only to bury himself deep inside her. But he knew it wasn’t the manner in which he wanted to advance with her, not like this, not after what he’d done to her.
“I will communicate to Mrs. Abercorn to have dinner ready at seven,” he said, endeavoring to keep his tone even, “in the blue dining room.” He gave her hand a tender squeeze and then released her and removed himself from the room, from her still-longing gaze.
HE FOUND THE SERVANTSgathered now in the kitchens, all save Ian, which was perfect, as he hoped to speak to that man separately. They stared at him with their utterly bothersome habit of making him feel unwanted in his own home. But he had come straight from the library with the feel of Nicole’s kiss still upon his lips and then was inclined to be generous. It was his intention to find with them some fine line between his own mother’s almost always autocratic and demeaning treatment of those beneath her—and in her mind, that was nearly every other breathing soul—and Nicole’s over-familiarity, her insistence that these people before him were her friends.
He addressed first Mrs. Abercorn, who stood at the counter wringing her hands in her apron, as if she’d only just washed them and now was set to give attention to the pheasants before her. “Please have dinner in the blue dining room at seven this evening—and every evening thereafter.” He turned then to Franklin, who looked up at him from his stooped position, the now emptied tea tray dangling from one hand. “Dinner shall require the provision of wine, Mr. Franklin.” He glanced at the very young footmen. “I assume these boys here can manage to accommodate us at dinner?”
“They’re learning what they need to know to serve,” the butler answered, a bit defensively.
“Let us allow them to practice this evening, attending us.” And to the very young maid— Lorelei, he thought her name might be, “My lady will require half-dress this evening—silk gown, hair dressed, fine slippers. You should be available to her at least an hour before.” He watched her eyes dart to Franklin, whom Trevor caught giving a quick little nod, and he let that go just now as the maid returned her gaze and nodded, bobbing a quick and sloppy curtsy.
And to all of them, moving his eyes from each to the next, “I appreciate that you are quite attached to the countess, as she is equally devoted to you. As such, I hope I can count on you to assist her ladyship in taking her proper and rightful place here at Hyndman Abbey and eventually in London as the Countess of Leven. She is to be addressed asmy lady. You may keep to your informal luncheon here in the kitchens and even your three o’clock tea timeen famille,but going forward, breakfast will be served precisely at nine and should be set for three people in the morning room. Is that understood?”
