Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

"And yet you aspire to win the favor of a viscountess."

"You know as well as I that Carolyn isn't like the other women in there." He jerked his chin toward the drawing room. "She only married into that title and has, thank God, retained the goodness from her more humble beginnings."

Daniel's hands fisted at Jennsen's familiar use of her first name. "Which makes her far too good for you."

"And perfect for you, I suppose."

"That is none of your business. Suffice it to say the lady is not available."

"Surely that is for her to decide." Jennsen narrowed his eyes. "Are you betrothed?" Before Daniel could answer, Jennsen added quickly, "No, of course you're not. Your aversion to marriage is well known." His lips curved upward in a slow smile. "I myself harbor no such aversion. I merely need to find the right woman."

"I assure you that woman is not Lady Wingate." He stepped closer to Jennsen and took satisfaction that he stood just a bit taller than the American. "The lady has made her choice, and it's not you."

Jennsen regarded him steadily. Finally he said, "I'm aware of that."

Daniel barely managed to hide his surprise at Jennsen's capitulation. He wanted to ask Jennsen how he knew-right after he planted the bastard a facer-but thought better of it. It didn't matter how he knew so long as he knew. A bit of the tension eased from his shoulders.

"Nor, as it happens," Jennsen continued, "is she my choice."

Another layer of tension dissipated. "Excellent."

"But know-the only reason I told you is because I've no wish to cause Carolyn any difficulties." His gaze flicked over Daniel. "If she had to choose someone else, I'm glad it's you."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's very clear you care for her. And she deserves to be cared for."

Daniel kept his expression impassive, but only with an effort. Bloody hell, first Matthew, now Jennsen. When had he become so transparent? Well, of course he cared for her. He'd desired her since the first moment he saw her. And even though Jennsen's assessment vaguely annoyed him, he appreciated the man's honesty. In fact it occurred to him that so long as Jennsen stayed away from Carolyn, he could possibly, maybe, perhaps, someday actually come to like the man. Just a little.

He cleared his throat. "As for you finding the right woman, Jennsen, for all your disparaging remarks about us aristocrats, I wager you'll fall arse over heels for an English girl." A laugh escaped him. "Oh, the irony of that."

Jennsen made a scoffing sound. "If I do, you can bet your arse she won't be some nose-in-the-air Society chit. I'd rather marry a barmaid."

"And yet at Matthew's house party you cast your eye upon Lady Wingate's sister, and then toward Lady Wingate."

"Neither of whom were 'to the manor born.'"

Daniel pondered for several seconds then asked, "Care to make it interesting?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've fifty pounds that says you'll fall in love with a Society chit."

"Done," said Jennsen without an instant's hesitation. "Easiest fifty pounds I'll ever earn. Care to make it even more interesting?"

"You'd prefer to lose one hundred pounds?"

"Oh, I have no intention of losing. I meant another fifty-pound wager. That you, too, will fall in love with a Society chit."

Daniel inwardly chuckled. Since he'd already made nearly the identical bet with Matthew, why not collect twice? Jennsen had no way of knowing that having reached the age of three and thirty without falling prey to the manacles of love, he was obviously quite impervious. While Carolyn might have managed to steal a tiny piece of his previously untouched heart, that hardly meant she owned it all. Or that he'd allow himself to get leg-shackled. His heart, as always, remained his-albeit with the minuscule nick currently in it.

"Agreed." He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I'm going to enjoy relieving you of your hundred pounds, Jennsen."

Jennsen chuckled and shook his head. "You'll never see it. There will be no Society chit for me, and your neck is already in the noose, Surbrooke, with the hangman's hand on the trapdoor lever. But still, I wish you luck." Still chuckling, Jennsen walked away, disappearing into the drawing room.

Annoyed yet not quite certain way, Daniel looked through the French doors into the drawing room. His gaze found Carolyn, and as if she felt the weight of his stare, she turned toward him. Their gazes met through the glass, and it felt as if the flagstones beneath his feet shifted.

Both Matthew and Jennsen had wished him luck, and he suddenly didn't doubt that he'd need it.

Dressed in an ice blue, lace trimmed negligee and matching robe, Carolyn paced the confines of her foyer. She paused to glance at the clock on the corner table. Just past two a.m. She'd last seen Daniel an hour earlier in Lord Exbury's foyer as she'd departed the soiree. I'll see you very soon, he'd murmured. Before she could ask him to clarify what "very soon" meant, he'd vanished into the crowd.

Hopeful that he meant later that night, she'd sent Nelson off to bed as soon as she arrived home, raced up to her bedchamber and changed into her finest negligee. For the past half hour she'd kept up her vigil in the foyer, praying for the front gate bell to jingle, indicating he'd come.

She pressed her hands to her midriff to calm her inner flutters, and anticipation quickened her breathing, the same sense of expectation that had heightened her senses all evening. She'd spent very little actual time with Daniel at the Exbury soiree. They'd shared one waltz, during which she'd barely been able to speak, what with the inferno consuming her as he'd undressed her with his eyes. Indeed, about all she'd managed was to ask him if he'd received her gift. His eyes had blazed and he answered yes. And then he spoke the words that had whispered through her brain the rest of the evening: I want to give you all that, Carolyn. And more.

After that, they'd had only a brief conversation, and numerous glances across the room, ending with his cryptic, I'll see you very soon.

Yet their lack of actual contact had only served to elevate her yearning for him. She'd been painfully aware of Daniel every second, barely able to concentrate on anything or anyone other than him. And found herself more than a little jealous every time a woman claimed his attention. Lady Walsh, Lady Balsam, and Lady Margate-all beautiful women.

She'd wanted to slap every one of them.

After another quarter hour of pacing the foyer, she finally accepted the disappointing realization that "very soon" had not meant "later tonight." Heaving a sigh, she climbed the stairs and headed for her bedchamber, even though she knew sleep would elude her.

She entered her room and closed the door behind her. Tipping back her head, she closed her eyes and leaned her shoulders against the wood panel, every fiber of her being torn between missing Daniel and fervently wishing she didn't. Finally, she listlessly raised her head and opened her eyes. And stilled. And stared.

At Daniel, who lay atop her counterpane, his back propped up against the headboard cushioned by her lace-trimmed pillows, his arms raised and casually linked behind his head.

Daniel, who wore nothing except skin.

And who was obviously very happy to see her.

"You should probably lock the door," he said softly.

Unable to take her gaze off him, she reached behind her and fumbled with the lock. As soon as it clicked into place, he slowly rose from the bed and walked toward her, reminding her of a dark jungle cat who'd spotted its prey.

She couldn't have moved or spoken had her life depended on it. Her breath caught at the sight of him, so strong, muscular, and so very aroused. The heat smoldering in his gaze threatened to incinerate her where she stood.

The fire burning in the grate cast the room in a warm, golden glow that illuminated his body in a captivating pattern of shadows and light. When he reached her, he drew her into his arms and lowered his head. The feel of his body pressing against hers, of his bare skin beneath her hands as she ran them up his chest to encircle his neck, rendered her lightheaded. Their lips met and hers parted on a sigh of pleasure. Unlike their last kiss, which had been wild and frantic, this one was slow. Deliberate. Deep. Intoxicating. And liquefied her knees.

He lifted his head, ending the kiss as slowly as he'd initiated it, leaving her breathless for more. His gaze simmered with an intensity she hadn't seen before, one that made her wish she could read his thoughts. One that sizzled a heated tremor to her core.

Brushing his fingers gently along her jaw, he said softly, "Carolyn."

In response, she whispered the one word that had trembled on her lips all evening. "Daniel." Then she swallowed and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you. For what seemed like forever, by the way. Where have you been?"

A sheepish grin quirked one corner of her mouth. "In the foyer."

His gaze swept over her attire. "Wearing a negligee?"

"I was waiting for you, as I'd hoped your 'I'll see you very soon' comment meant I'd see you tonight. How did you get in here?"

"I couldn't possibly tell you. After all, a man must have his secrets."

Realizing he'd repeated the exact words she'd said to him earlier, she tossed his own reply back at him. "You realize you're enticing me to find out."