Page 83 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

“That, too,” she agreed. “Good with children.”

“Also, an excellent rider,” he added.

She grinned. “And most of all, humble.”

He laughed heartily. “Well, there is that. I hadn’t thought you’d noticed.”

“I think I’ve noticed most everything about you, Lord Merrifield—and then some.”

His eyes gleamed at her. “I like hearing that, Rachel. Very much.”

She noticed the use of her Christian name as the music came to an end. He led her into supper.

“I think tonight I’d like you all to myself,” he told her and maneuvered her to a table for two. Seating her, he said, “I’ll bring back something for both of us.”

As Merrifield walked away, Rachel tamped down her panic. She was alone. If Merrick were going to approach her, this would be when it occurred. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for him.

He stood in the doorway on the opposite side of the room. Their gazes locked and he held hers hostage, as if she had no will of her own. Then he nodded deferentially and turned from the room.

Was he leaving? Without speaking to her? She glanced about and found Jeremy and Catherine. They were engaged in conversation with another couple. If her brother had spotted Merrick, he would have confronted him.

Should she go after him? No. She was with Merrifield. She’d already decided she’d done nothing wrong. She and Merrick had nothing more to say to each other. She waited patiently for the earl to return.

He brought back plates heaping with food. Rachel looked at it and thought she might be sick.

“I know how much you enjoy eating,” he teased.

“Actually, I had a larger than usual dinner. I’m not as hungry tonight.”

She attempted to eat something so he wouldn’t press her and succeeded, even allowing him to feed her a few strawberries.

“I’m looking forward to the last dance tonight,” he said, his voice husky.

“You are an excellent dancer. It’s always a pleasure to partner with you.”

Somehow, Rachel made it through supper and parted from Merrifield. She danced with several other partners and did her best not to look over their shoulders for Merrick. He had to be gone by now. He probably had spied Jeremy and decided it wasn’t worth staying.

He hadn’t looked drunk or disheveled. In fact, Merrick looked the exact opposite—the picture of health in finely tailored evening clothes. She should never have listened to the Three B’s and their vicious gossip. Now, she doubted everything she’d heard from them. Merrick might spend some time at his club. He might play the occasional hand of cards for money. He certainly must see other women. It was sad that he was the object of such vile rumors.

Merrifield claimed her as the final dance of the night arrived. The strains of the waltz started as they took their places and began the dance.

The music was only a few measures old when Merrifield halted. Rachel looked to her left and saw why.

Merrick stood there, interrupting them.

“I must speak with Rachel.”

Merrifield hesitated and then said, “A gentleman always avoids a scene in public.” He slipped away and Merrick seized her, sweeping her into the dance.

The scent of his sandalwood soap struck her first. Then the warmth that radiated from him. Her body knew his touch and immediately ached for it. She wanted to fling herself at him and had to stiffen her resolve to keep from doing so.

“You need to release me,” she said. “This is embarrassing. I want to leave.”

“No. I won’t let you go.”

Stonily, she stared over his shoulder, not wishing to look at his face. He drew her a bit closer, enough so her breasts brushed against his muscled chest. She remembered his mouth on them, sucking at them, nipping, teasing, bringing shivers of delight.

Rachel sucked in her breath and held it, angry that her body was betraying her so. Then she made the mistake of looking at him—and the entire world faded away. She was caught up in the dance, in the arms of the man she loved. If only she could move heaven and earth and change things between them. Marrying Merrifield was out of the question now. She would have to wed the unsuspecting Scot and never cross the border into England again. She couldn’t trust herself to be in the same country with Merrick. Ever.

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