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“You could start by telling me who that man was you were speaking with in the garden.” Jack slumped into the yellow chair across from her. He might need brandy to get through this evening, not tea.
“Malcom Engleton. He just inherited some cousin’s title so he’s Baron...” She paused and frowned. “Well, he is baron something. He never told me his exact title.”
“And how exactly do you know him?”
“We grew up in Cornwall together.”
“And yet, everyone says you’re the daughter of a London banker. So how did you ‘grow up’ with this man in Cornwall?”
Before she could answer, a footman brought in a bottle of wine and two glasses. The younger man glanced over at Tessa and then seemed unable to look away.
“Thank you, Finn.”
The footman shook his head. “The tea will be ready in a few more minutes, sir.”
“Forget the tea, I will have some brandy.”
“As you wish, sir,” Finn said before quietly leaving the room.
Jack reached over to the table and poured her a large glass of wine. “For you, my dear.”
“Thank you,” she said as she stretched for the glass.
The lithe movement of her leaning over displayed the beautiful curve of her breasts to him. He wondered if she had done that on purpose. He rose and walked to the corner cabinet to pour a large snifter of brandy. When he returned, she was sitting back against the sofa sipping her wine in what appeared to be complete oblivion to the condition she’d put him in.
“I believe I asked you a question,” he reminded her.
“So you did.” She twirled the burgundy liquid in her glass, staring at it as if the wine would divine her an appropriate answer. “I don’t believe I ever said that my family came from London.”
“You certainly don’t sound like you come from Cornwall.”
She smiled into her wine glass before sipping it. “My mother was from London and made certain we spoke perfect English.”
“I see. And your father?”
Her smile faded into a deep scowl. “He was banker but in Cornwall.”
Jack sensed there was more to this story than the little she’d told him so far. “So, your father was a banker until his death eight years ago. But not in London as everyone believes, but in Cornwall.”
She hesitated a bit too long before whispering, “Yes.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Tessa?” he urged her softly. “I know you’re hiding something but I don’t understand why. I thought we were friends, no, more than friends.”
“That is all there is to say about my father,” she answered in a frigid tone. She took a long swallow of wine and placed the glass on the table. “I believe you should take me home now.”
“Not yet, Tessa.”
She rose and walked unsteadily toward the door as if to leave. “Then I shall have your footman arrange a hackney for me.”
Before she could reach the door, he scrambled out of his seat and moved between her and freedom. “Not yet, Tessa,” he whispered again.
“What more can I tell you?” she muttered. “I have told you everything.”
“I know.” He pulled her into his embrace and stared down at her. “I believe you,” he said even as he doubted his own words. He cupped her soft cheeks and then kissed her slowly letting the heat between them rise.
Just as he thought she would never give in to his kiss, her lips softened and responded to him. She trailed her hands up his chest until they wound around his neck and she clung to him, as if desperate for contact. He skimmed his tongue across her lips until she opened to him, allowing him access to her sweetness. As their tongues met and wrapped around each other, desire shot to his cock. She tasted sweet from the wine she’d been drinking. He pressed her body tightly against his until she gasped at the fullness nestled between them.
He broke away from the allure of her mouth to kiss her jaw and then up to her earlobe. Nibbling around her ear, he heard her moan sweetly. “Come upstairs with me,” he breathed into her ear.
