Page 52 of His Improper Lady

“I’m not lying!”

“I know. I believe you. It’s clear how much you want this to be true, how much you’d like to be connected to the Morelands, not for money but simply for your own happiness.”

Surprised, Desiree looked at him. Tom was watching her with sympathy in his eyes, and the pain in her chest receded somewhat. “Then why—”

“Because you’re building up a whole pile of hopes on what isn’t much evidence.”

“Brock’s ring,” she protested. “And Alistair ran off to America the same year our mother did. And what about that carriage? That must be the carriage that man was driving yesterday. You heard what Lord Moreland said—a carriage from New York. That’s what Wells told us.”

“There could be other carriages like that.”

“Following me?” Desiree cocked an eyebrow. “That seems most unlikely.”

“Yes, but why? Why would someone in Alistair’s old carriage be watching your house? Following you? What would it have to do with them running off years ago?”

“I don’t know, but...what if it was Alistair himself? What if my parents have come back from the United States?”

“Desiree...”

She saw the pity in Tom’s eyes, and she flared. “Why not? It wouldn’t be impossible. They could have returned. They could want to see us.” Her throat closed up, and she stopped talking, not wanting him to hear the pain in her voice.

Tom took her hand. “It’s not impossible...you’re right. But it seems more likely to me that it was this Pax fellow, whose cuff links were in the man’s pocket. It wouldn’t be too surprising if he bought his friend’s carriage, knowing that it was special to Alistair. I’m afraid you’re getting your hopes up about something that’s not real. I don’t want you to be disappointed if it turns out not to be true. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“I know it’s unlikely that it was my father in that carriage. I know I could be wrong and he isn’t even my father. And I will be disappointed if it turns out that way. I’ll be sad,” Desiree admitted. “But you can’t hold back from happiness just because it might change. What is the point in protecting yourself by limiting yourself?” She looked into his eyes. “Would you take back that kiss last night? Just because it might not be there again tomorrow?”

“No.” His voice was husky, and he shifted his hand to interlace his fingers with hers. “I’d like to keep that.” Tom’s eyes gleamed, and the dimple flashed in his cheek. “And maybe add a few more.”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of achieving that at the moment,” she teased.

“I’m not going to trade the truth for kisses, even for an exceptional kiss like that.”

“Was it exceptional?” She smiled at him, all thoughts of the Morelands or hurt melting away in the face of this topic.

“You know it was.”

Desiree could see the spark that lit his eyes, feel it in the surge of warmth in his hand.

“Perfect, do you think?”

“I don’t know. I think we might do better yet.” He leaned closer.

“Then perhaps we ought to try again.” Desiree twined her arms around his neck and kissed him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DESIREE HAD THOUGHT it might be different in the day, that moonlight and darkness might have woven a sheen of magic into their kisses. But it was that same hot flood of sensation, the same breathless need rising in her. No, perhaps Tom was right, and it was even better.

Tom pulled her closer to him, his lips sinking into hers. Her hand drifted over the bare skin of his neck, and she felt the answering surge of heat in him. Her fingers moved up into his hair, fingertips pressing against his scalp. He made a noise deep in his throat and dragged her over onto his lap, his arm supporting her back as he continued to explore her mouth. One of his hands went to her waist, his fingers digging in a little.

Desiree touched his cheek, his neck, his ear, her hand gliding over him. She wanted to hold him tighter and slide her hands over his chest and back. She wanted...oh, God, she wanted. Tom’s hand went up into her hair, knocking her hat askew, and his lips moved from her mouth across her face to take the lobe of her ear gently between his teeth and worry at it. Desiree pressed her legs together at the quiver that ran through her, bursting into heat low in her abdomen.

Tom’s mouth moved down onto her neck, and she tilted her head to give his lips more access. His hand smoothed across her stomach, stroking her, then upward until he cupped her breast. Pleasure rocketed through her.

The sway of the carriage stopped as the horses came to a halt. Tom’s body tensed, and he lifted his head. The coachman’s voice floated in through the window. “Miss Malone? We’re here.”

Tom muttered an oath and set Desiree aside. He raked his hands through his hair as Desiree tried to gather her scattered thoughts. She started to speak, but her voice came out a croak. Clearing her throat, she said, “Yes, thank you, Merriwell.”

Desiree had been so lost she had forgotten they were in a carriage, forgotten the driver, forgotten everything. Hastily she tried to straighten her hat and tuck a stray curl back into place beneath it. Desiree was sure her face was flushed, and she must look as if...well, as if she had been doing what she’d just been doing for the last few minutes.