She’d deliberately chosen this bend in the stream because many years before a storm had toppled a tree, leaving in its wake a stump that rain and wind had somewhat smoothed. Now she led her horse over to it, stepped onto it, and pulled herself, not as elegantly or gracefully as she would have liked, into the saddle. Without bothering to look at Knightly, she set her horse into a trot.
She’d been wrong. Knowing when the last kiss would be hadn’t made anything any better. All it had accomplished was to leave her longing for one more.
Chapter 11
His mouth returned to mine with a fervor and hunger that stole my breath and probably should have frightened me. Instead, I welcomed him, knowing it would be impossible to ever have enough of him.
—Anonymous,My Secret Desires, A Memoir
June 15, 1875
Sitting at the Twin Dragons while his mates had carried on a conversation regarding an investment opportunity with an American firearms manufacturer, Knight had been unable to stop contemplating the time he’d spent that afternoon with Regina. Every word uttered, every glance, every touch, and then that damned kiss.
He’d fully expected her not to respond to the kiss, to rebuke him by not reacting at all. Instead, she’d poured all she was into it, and by doing so, although it might not have been her intention, she’d punished him tenfold by reminding him of what he’d never again fully possess. He’d been like the character inher book, willing to do anything Miss Regina Leyland asked of him. What she asked—nay, demanded—was that he never touch her again.
Which he’d never intended to begin with. To ever touch her again. But having done it that afternoon, the thought of never having that particular pleasure for the remainder of his life was pure torment, the pain most assuredly deserved.
“You mentioned you had a favor to ask of me?” King prodded.
Knight glanced over at his friend. When the others had begun to take their leave, he’d asked King to remain behind for a few minutes, and as he’d settled back into place, so Knight’s thoughts had begun to drift into the occurrences that afternoon instead of remaining transfixed on the reason he’d asked King to stay. He fought to refocus his attention on the matter at hand. “Yes. I’d like you to invite Miss Regina Leyland to your ball.”
King released the tiniest huff of disbelief before leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his thighs. “You’re no fool, Knight. You must know that particular woman from your past is most likely the one who penned the book that is now on everyone’s tongue. I swear, since we were last here, I’ve not had a single conversation with a solitary person in which that damned tome has not come up and I’ve not been asked if Lord K is my firm friend Lord Knightly. It’s deuced irritating.”
“How do you respond to such impertinence?”
“I tell them I haven’t a bloody clue.” Looking abashedly guilty, he glanced around before levelinghis gaze back on Knight. “However, my Penelope managed to obtain a copy—”
“I thought the book had become available only in a shop’s secret rooms reserved for pornographic materials.”
“My Penelope is exceedingly resourceful. Why do you think she made such a superb secretary? But more importantly, she’s been reading it aloud after we’ve retired to bed.” He cleared his throat. “It is quite titillating. That aside, the descriptions of this Lord K—both his physical appearance and mannerisms—it’s as though you stepped onto the page in all your arrogant glory.”
Knight chuckled low. “Arrogant? Why not merely confident?”
“That as well.”
Knight shrugged. “The author could be a lady who merely lusted after me from afar and simply penned her fantasies. I’ve had many admirers over the years.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
He trusted no man more than he did King, but still was reluctant to confirm the author’s identity to anyone. “Chidding has an interest in Regina. She deserves a good man and happiness. I’m striving to provide an avenue that will lead her toward the altar with someone worthy of her.”
With an insolent grunt, King settled back against the thick leather cushion. “You obviously still have some feelings for her. Why not marry her now?”
“I vowed never to marry. We’ll leave it at that. Will you invite her to your ball?” He fought not to squirm under his friend’s intense scrutiny.
Finally, King shoved himself to his feet. “Consider it done. Now, if you’ll be kind enough to excuse me, my wife and chapter four awaits.”
Knight laughed low and darkly as his friend took his leave. He didn’t know whether to be chagrined or elated with pride at what that particular chapter would reveal about him. The author hadn’t gone into minute detail, but she had admitted how much she’d enjoyed his mouth gliding over her skin. However, threaded throughout the tale were the hints that none of it had been real, that it had been seduction with no substance.
Which made it fiction.
Although she didn’t realize it. Her perception, in hindsight, of what had transpired between them from start to finish could have been nothing other than devastating, believing he’d made a fool of her. She’d not heard his keening wail when he’d realized he couldn’t have her for eternity. She’d not seen the gaping hole his fist had battered into the wall. She’d not brushed the tears from his cheeks. She’d not been witness to his despair—not only for what it had cost him, but more for what it had cost her.
“My lord?”
He glanced up to find himself staring at her brother, hovering, slightly bent, like a troll lurking beneath a bridge. “Bremsford.”
“May I join you?”
