The Earl Not Taken Read online

  She had never been graceful, but she danced with ease and joy. His jealousy abated when she caught his eye and blushed the most stunning pink. She had not blushed when Geb admired her. Contented to watch her throughout the minuet, he realized the flaw in his plan.

  Denying it would do no good.

  He had fallen in love with Poppy Arrington.

  Somehow admitting it, if only to himself, lifted a heavy burden from inside Rhys. His heart tripped, and joy filled the space where anger and resentment had come to reside. The doubts his father pounded into him all his life didn’t matter anymore. His only worry was if she’d have him.

  The minuet ended. Geb and Poppy joined him and accepted cake from the footman.

  “Would you care for a brandy or sherry, Lady Penelope?” Geb asked.

  Her nose scrunched up in the most adorable expression of doubt. “I have never tried brandy.”

  Geb laughed. “Here you need not worry over gossips and society’s rules. Any personal choices you make shall remain our secret.”

  She giggled and accepted the glass. Sipping carefully then cocking her head, she drew one eyebrow up before sipping again. “It’s quite interesting. Nothing like wine or sherry. I like the bit of burn as it goes down.”

  “Excellent.” Geb grinned and drank down his entire glass.

  Genuine happiness rippled through Rhys while watching her experience something new. It was like tasting brandy again for the first time himself.

  Kosey played a waltz.

  Rhys stepped closer. “Poppy, will you dance with me?”

  Staring up at him, she blinked several times and swallowed before responding. “I would be delighted.”

  At some point, words spoken by her had become powerful to him. He hoped she meant her delight, not just a phrase used in company for politeness. No. This was Poppy. She wasn’t inclined to false praise or courtliness. He ordered himself to stop overthinking every word.

  Taking her in his arms, he whirled her around the small dancing area in time with the music. “That gown suits you.”

  “Mr. Arafa sent it with an apology for the mud in the cellar.” Poppy missed a step but kept her feet.

  Rhys tightened his grip to make sure she would not fall no matter how often she might stumble. “He has my thanks. You are a vision.”

  “Mother would not approve of such a daring gown.” Poppy sighed. “Nor would she have allowed this impromptu visit to a stranger.”

  It wasn’t possible to deny that their delayed return could cause a scandal, but he couldn’t regret any of it. He was tempted to make up some additional reasons why they couldn’t return to London in the morning. “Perhaps it is best to leave your good mother out of this. We came to help Faith. Only she and Aurora know we made this journey, and they will conceal your unavailability if need be. I think Mr. Arafa can be trusted to keep this visit to himself.”

  She tipped her chin up and studied him. “I would have thought you would disapprove of this type of departure from the rules of society, Rhys.”

  Leaning in close to her ear, he breathed in lavender and Poppy. His body’s reaction was both alarming and wonderful. “Perhaps you don’t know everything about me, Poppy.”

  “I have known you for many years, and you have never missed an opportunity to remind me of how inept I am at conforming.” On cue, she missed a step.

  Righting her, he pulled her against his chest. “I have been a blind ass, and I beg your forgiveness for my ignorant behavior.”

  No longer dancing, they stood in plain view staring and holding each other. Poppy’s blue eyes filled with pain and broke his heart. “I don’t know what to believe, Rhys. You and I have been at odds for so long, how can I trust any of this?”

  The music stopped.

  A low shuffle of people leaving the room filtered through his concentration.

  They were alone.

  All the years of bickering melted away, and there was only Poppy and how much he wanted her to like him. Pain burned in his chest dull and constant with the knowledge of her low opinion. “Oh, Poppy, how do I make up for disappointing you? Tell me and I will do it.”

  Reaching up, she touched his hair and ran her soft fingers along his face to his jaw. “I am not disappointed. I want to believe you. I want…”

  His heart raced. “Yes? What do you want?”

  Pink cheeked and with worry in her eyes, she soldiered on. The woman feared nothing. “I am not an expert on kissing. In fact, yours was only my third kiss. However, it did seem rather special to me.”

  Dangerous ground crumbled beneath his feet. He should hold back, but he tumbled into the abyss. “It was more than special. Kissing you was a revelation.”

  “What could it have revealed to you? I am still the same Poppy Arrington who always says the wrong thing and stumbles during the dance.” Unwavering, she met his gaze, and mixed with the familiar mistrust, he imagined a glimmer of hope.

  Comforting her was all he wanted. He kissed her cheek; soft and warm, she was everything temptation. “I find myself happy to hold you up when you misstep and looking forward to the next inappropriate comment. I don’t know how it happened, but I suspect all my angst with regard to you has been building to our current situation.”

  “What is our situation?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want you, Penelope Arrington. I’ve never desired anyone as I do you, now, in this place.” He waited for her to slap his face, but the strike never came.

  Her nose scrunched up as it did whenever she gave something a lot of thought. “Then you do not hate me.”

  Holding in a laugh that would have given away how uncomfortable he was with his behavior over the last six years, his shame swelled in his chest. “I have never hated you, Poppy. I have always thought you a beautiful, smart, incorrigible woman. I won’t deny that your antics and attitude toward me have inspired behavior I am not proud of.”

  Those sweet lips that set his blood on fire pulled down, and a crease formed between her eyes. “I have long thought you were off bedding everything in a skirt you could catch.”

  “I am not a saint. However, your assessment was a vast exaggeration.”

  She stepped back like an emerald in a room filled with every other color. Poppy shined the brightest in a room filled with jewels. “Do you remember our first meeting at George’s when you escorted me home and said you hoped I would someday tell you my wants in life?”

  While he wanted her back in his arms, he respected her personal space. The moment she spoke of had changed his presumptions about her. “I remember.”

  She toyed with the fringe on one of dozens of pillows tossed haphazardly on an oversized red chaise. All the furniture might fit nicely in a sheik’s harem. Sitting, she sighed. “I want to have a different kind of life.”

  Following her, he sat close. “Tell me about the life you dream of.”

  “My dreams do not include a husband to boss me about and keep me at his convenience.” An angry edge laced her words.

  “Is that what all husbands do?”

  The way she glared at him, he might have had three heads. “A husband owns his wife in the same way he owns a house or a dog. How is he to do anything else when the world commands he use his wife as he would any possession?”

  “You maintain a very harsh idea of men and marriage, Poppy.” A knife twisted in his gut.

  “Odin’s wolves, Rhys, I know what I’ve seen, and every marriage I know of favors the husband rather than the wife in every way. Children are the only thing to recommend the institution.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Shaking off the distraction of the low-cut gown, Rhys asked, “Do you want to have children of your own?”

  Looking him in the eye, she bit her lip. “Not enough to be under any man’s thumb.”

  “Then you will not marry?”

  “I will not.” Her lifted chin and pert nose were meant as a sign of finality, but she was adorable, and he longed to kiss the look off her face.

  “Are there no circumstances that might change your mind? Perhaps you might meet a man, fall in love, and believe he will be different.”

  She faced him, her lips twisted as if he’d spoken the most ridiculous notion. “Men are men. However, I don’t wish to remain as I am either.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, you don’t want to marry, and you said you want me. If I give my virginity to you, I won’t risk you ever telling anyone. I shall learn what all the fuss is about and there will be no consequences.”

  While his body was on fire at the prospect of making love with Poppy, what she said was soul crushing. “Good Lord, Poppy, you always say the most outrageous things.”

  She jumped up and put space between them. “You don’t want to bed me?”

  Following, he touched her elbow to stop her retreat. “That is not the point. You offering up your virginity as if it’s one of George’s pastries is beyond the pale.”

  “Perhaps, but it is also a burden I no longer wish to carry about. You would not harm me physically; therefore, you are a logical choice. I like you more than I expected. It seems to me, everyone would gain something they wanted. Is it not better to be honest in these situations?”

  Leaning in, he kissed her nose and ran his knuckles along her soft jaw. “If you had any idea what you were offering, I would not hesitate.”

  Wide blue eyes blinked up at him, and her mouth parted. “Then show me what I do not know.”

  Uncomfortably rigid, he pulled her hard against him. “A stronger man would walk away. A better man would tell you to go to bed and not mention this conversation to anyone.”

  Making tiny circles on his neck and curling her fingers into his hair, she drove him near to madness. “Is it possible you are making more of this than is necessary, Rhys? Can coupling be such a monumental notion as to punish yourself for wanting?”

  The candles guttered in the late hour. The parlor dimmed by degrees as each light went with a puff of smoke. The fire flickered to embers. Only its dim glow and the moon cast them in sensuous shadow.

  Powerless, he would challenge her assumptions later. His decision unavoidable, he stepped from her arms and bolted the parlor door.

  Returning to her, he cupped her cheek. “If you change your mind, you must tell me.”

  With a shrug she smiled, but worry filled those eyes he’d long admired. “I will not change my mind.”

  Nothing was how he imagined with this extraordinary woman. She could instill passion and frustration all in one breath. “Penelope, I want you very much in more ways than you’re desirous to hear. If at any moment you become unsure, you may stop.”

  Placing her hands on his shoulders, she bit her lip. “You mean I can ask you to stop.”

  “No, my dearest. If you stop, I will as well. This is not something I am doing to you. That is where you have been misled. We will make love together.”

  Her lips parted, and her gaze flitted from his eyes to his mouth. Lips never touching, their breath mingled. Rhys closed his eyes, wanting no distractions.

  She kissed him, forcing his eyes open. Her long, dark lashes rested against her creamy skin. Glowing in the moonlit room, her beauty took his breath away. “You are the most stunning creature, Poppy.”

  Eyes opened, she frowned. “I think I prefer when you call me Penelope.”

  He chuckled. “I thought you didn’t like that name.”

  Toying with the ends of his hair, she said, “Somehow it is different when you say it.”

  “Penelope, then.” He kissed her forehead. “Penelope, my darling.” He kissed her cheek. “Penelope, brave, Penelope.” He kissed her nose.

  She giggled. “I thought you wanted to bed me.”

  “Lovemaking is not about jumping on top of you and taking my pleasure. Are you enjoying standing here kissing?” He nibbled the side of her neck.

  “Oh yes.” It was more sighed than spoken.

  “Good, because we have all night. I suspect we will not be disturbed.” He tugged at the fastenings on the back of her gown.

  She turned, giving him her back and permission to untie the gown and stays beneath. Both fell to the floor, leaving her in just the long white underdress. The silk was very fine and nearly transparent.

  Turning, she faced him. Suddenly shy, she averted her eyes to the carpet.

  “You are beautiful, Penelope. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

  Raising her head, her eyes pierced him. “I know you would never harm me. It is only that you might not like what you see and change your mind. Mother says I’m not lithe in a way that is appealing to men.”

  Lifting her in his arms, Rhys wished his body wanted to go as slowly as his mind. He carried her to the large round cushion. “You are perfect. Whatever your mother has filled your head with has no place or meaning between us. Where she found flaws, I see only where I want to worship you with my mouth and hands.”

  “Do you always talk so pretty in such times?”

  “I promised you I would never lie to you, and I have not broken my word.” He removed his coat and cravat and knelt beside the pillow. Her calves were firm from the long walks she liked to take. He kissed her knee, rolled her stocking down, feeling the soft skin as he went, and removed the green slipper. He did the same with the other leg.

  All the while she watched, her bright blue eyes glowing. There was no fear, only excitement and curiosity. “Will you remove your clothes as well?”

  “I don’t want to frighten you.”

  Rising to her elbows, she ran her foot along his thigh. “Are you disfigured in some way since the last time I saw you shirtless?”

  “Was I shirtless?” He remembered the incident that had caused their six-year rift. Perhaps they would have come to this point sooner if Poppy hadn’t taken a walk that day or he hadn’t been so reckless. Perhaps they never would have. Without their constant bickering they might have found nothing interesting in each other.

  “You were not terrible to look at. Of course, you were much younger then. Perhaps you have gone soft in the years since,” she teased.

  He pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it to the floor. “I have not gone soft in any way, Penelope.

  “Clearly not.” Wide eyed, she turned the most alluring shade of pink.

  Chapter 9

  Poppy must have lost her mind, but she wanted him. Everything she’d said had been the complete truth. She had never wanted to marry, but she did not wish to die a virgin.

  Watching his muscles bulge and ripple under taut, tanned flesh, she longed to touch him. Sitting up, her own body clearly visible through the sheath, she ran her hand down his chest. The smattering of gold-blond hair tickled her fingers as she traced the path past his navel to where it disappeared into his breeches. “You are very beautiful, Rhys.”

  “That is something I have never been called before.” He relaxed alongside her, allowing her to explore his partial nudity.

  “Really? One would think all your women would mention it.” She skimmed her palm along his ribs, feeling each bone and muscle.

  Snatching up her hand, he held it a moment before lifting her fingers to his lips. “I do not have women. I only have you.”

  It would only ruin a perfect moment to point out that tomorrow he would move on to some mistress and she would never see him like this again. Rather than risk ending the evening too soon, she kept her thoughts to herself. “And what will you do with me?”

  Leaning over, he braced on his hands and hovered. His long hair shrouded the sharp contours of his face. “I’m going to show you how a pairing can be mutual rather than a dictatorship. I’m going to teach you about making love, if you’ll allow me.”

  She tucked his hair behind one ear, ran her hand behind his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss. His silky warm tongue met hers and sent a shock through her. It settled in anticipation between her legs and teetered between pleasure and pain.

  He pulled her bottom lip between his and then the top. Unpracticed, she struggled to keep up, but desire raced through her and she wanted more. His hand seared the skin of her hip, which she lifted to gain more contact. Kissing was too small a word for the magic he made as their lips danced together.

  Their breath mingled, and maybe a bit of her soul joined with his. The world narrowed to just them in the parlor together on the odd cushion. Rhys pressed kisses along her cheek and jaw. His mouth on her ear and neck made her long to touch her most private places. Unable to resist, she reached between her legs and pressed her fingers against the ache, hoping for some kind of relief.

  Rhys stilled and shifted to one side before covering her hand with his. “Do you pleasure yourself, sweetheart?”

  “I have never ached like this before. Have I done something wrong?”

  Tightening her grip but without moving her hand away, he kissed her neck and down her chest before sucking her nipple through the silk shift.

  As if connected by an invisible cord, his attention increased her ache. “Hades’s blood.”

  “Nothing you want or need is wrong. Shall I ease your ache or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

  Hating the barriers between them, she tugged her hand free and pulled the shift over her head before tossing it aside. “I would not mind if you touched me.”

  “Good Lord, Penelope, you do drive me mad.” He took her hand and pressed it to his shaft.

  Through his breeches, he was big and hard against her palm. The idea she had done this to him was heady and tightened her own throbbing. “I’m glad I’m not alone.”

  Rhys slid his hand along the inside of her calf, lifted her knee to an angle, and then slid his hand up her thigh.