Living London

chapter Thirteen



The ballroom was all abuzz with the news of Amelia's engagement to Lord Heath. There was no way I could keep the smile off my face whenever I gazed at them, which was often.

"They make a handsome couple," said Morgan's voice from behind me. Barely resisting the temptation to lean into his hard body, I turned to look at his face instead.

"They do; I couldn't be happier for them," I commented, looking again at the happy couple.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Heath settled down." He shook his head in amusement. "A true rogue, that one."

"Ah, I know. I gave him a nickname immediately. Amelia and I found it quite amusing."

"Oh? What was it?"

"Lord Rake."

"Good heavens. It fits."

"I know. He took it as a compliment."

"He would." He nodded and then squinted his eyes. "Wait, you called him 'Lord Rake' to his face?" he asked, amazed.

"Of course."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned."

"Impressed, be impressed."

He smiled and shook his head at me.

"Whatever are you going to do with me?" I teased, giving him a saucy smile.

His eyes lost their merriment and took on a predatory glint. They fixed on my lips, and he licked his slowly and raised his eyebrow. "Oh, I can think of a great many things."

"Now who should be called Lord Rake?" I whispered.

"Should I take it as a compliment as well?

"As long as your roguish charm is only aimed at me, then yes. You most certainly can." I lowered my eyelashes with my bold comment.

"As you wish, Miss Westin." He bent and picked up my hand, kissing it, not the air above it. After an overly long moment, I felt my skin flush and prickle. "Care for a dance?"

"With you? Always." I tried to keep my voice from sounding breathy, but failed. The spark in Morgan's eyes told me he was aware of the effect he had on me.

The reel was fun, and I ended up dancing part of it as Lord Heath's partner, adding to the merriment. After our final bow — or curtsey in my case — Morgan escorted me to the balcony overlooking the Wingshire's garden and maze. The evening was young, at least by ton standards, and the moon had just risen over the horizon. Miraculously the sky was clear for the moment, giving us the perfect view.

"This way." Morgan tugged on my gloved hand as I turned my attention from the night sky to where he pulled me gently to a small spiral staircase.

"Do you know where you're going?" I asked, noticing how dark it had become.

"Of course."

"Ah, you've taken many ladies this direction, hmm?" I half teased, half tested.

"Not so many, and most were of the six-year-old variety, so no reason to be jealous," he countered back, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Six-year-old variety, hmm? I'm told they are the worst," I joked, thankful.

"Yes, well, I was only eight at the time, so I really can't be held responsible for my actions."

"I'm sure you caused quite the scandal."

"Oh, I did," he affirmed with a laugh. "I was here with my mother, God rest her soul, and was to stay in the nursery with the Wingshires' twin girls. Not where an eight-year-old wants to be. So we snuck out, made our way down here, and looked for our mothers."

"Did you find them?" I asked as I took another step down into the darkness.

"Er, no."

"Oh, find something else?" I guessed.

"We came upon the Viscount of Brooke in an — embrace, shall we say — with the oldest Wingshire girl. She was almost twenty and having an illicit rendezvous with a suitor, unbeknownst to her family."

Ah, the gossip of the ton. "What did you do?"

"I promptly made a gagging noise and coughed. I wasn't inclined to believing all the lies that I would one day like kissing girls. Positively disgusting," he teased. "The twin girls followed my lead with 'eww's and gasps that quickly broke the shocked couple apart. The Viscount was angry, so we ran away, found our mothers and, well, needless to say they were married shortly after."

Laughter burst out and I forgot to dim it down to a polite chuckle. Morgan joined me, and soon we descended to the soft grass below the balcony.

"Did you get in trouble?"

"No, not really. It would have been difficult for them to punish me without them answering some of the questions I voiced when telling my mother about our discovery."

"What questions?" My words were still full of laughter.

"Oh, why the Viscount was licking her neck."

I gasped, thinking of what the poor lady's reaction would be learning that type of intimate information from an eight-year-old boy.

"Mother got flustered, to say the least, and didn't want to explain the — mechanics, shall we say — of lovemaking, and therefore I was acquitted of all wrongdoing."

"I see. Your poor mother."

"Yes, it was quite shocking for her, but she recovered nicely. A few years later, I overheard her and Lady Wingshire talking about it and laughing."

"I'm glad to know it caused no lasting damage," I joked.

"Oh, but it did!"

"Really?" I replied, unbelieving.

"To this day I still cannot look at the Viscount."

"I don't believe you."

"You shouldn't," he replied honestly. "He and I actually are good friends. He thanked me for snitching on them because he was afraid of being turned down in asking for her hand. Solved the problem for him beautifully."

I pushed his shoulder as we walked along the garden under the soft moonlight. "How unromantic."

"No," he argued, his tone soft. He pulled me beside a tree and wrapped his arms around my waist. "You have no idea how difficult it is to watch a woman, find her captivating, alluring, enchanting."

He paused, leaning forward and rubbing my cheek with the bridge of his nose, causing my skin to tingle. "And wonder if you'll ever get the chance to do this." And he kissed me softly, pulling my lower lip gently between his teeth. "And then," he continued to whisper, a breath away from my mouth, "once you do, you feel lost without her and your fears double, because… what if?"

He leaned down and kissed my collarbone. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes in response. His breath tickled the sensitive skin along my neckline. "What if she refuses you, what if…?"He kissed my neck, slowly making his way up to my ear, whispering in it gently. "What if she ends up marrying someone else, and her kisses, the very kisses that brought you to the brink of insanity, belong to someone else?" He pulled back and looked into my eyes. "I could never survive that."

Breathless, I stared into his eyes, silver in the moonlight, reading their sincerity. My heart pounded with the realization of what he was saying. Each heartbeat echoed his words, affirming that I returned those same powerful emotions. Nanna's word's came back to me — the words Grandpa Jakob would whisper to Nanna when he thought I wasn't looking.

Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned.

And at once, I understood.

Leaning forward slightly, I rose up on my tiptoes and gently caressed his lower lip with my gloved finger, feeling its heat in my core. "Don't be afraid. You have nothing to fear, Morgan, nothing." And kissed him, but he met me halfway. His warm lips opened mine as he ran his tongue along my own, causing me to shiver at the intimate exchange. He pushed me gently backwards till I was supported by the tree and placed his hands on either side of me, pressing his solid body into my own.

I caressed his shoulders, but it wasn't enough. Hanging propriety, I pulled off my gloves and sighed as my skin came in contact with his thick, tousled hair. In response, Morgan pressed me farther back, his arms circling around my waist but never remaining still — caressing my arms, my hips, and finally plunging into my hair as he demanded more and more from my kiss.

Feeling bolder, I pressed myself against his hardened body and gasped for breath as his hands squeezed and kneaded my hips. Delicious sensations of heat licked through my body, and I didn't know if I could stop the whirlwind of desire. I wasn't sure if I was strong enough, or if I even wanted to be.

"Jocelyn, please," he begged, leaving my ravished lips and trailing his moist and demanding kisses down my neck and to my collarbone.

"Morgan," I whimpered, lost, unable to form any other thought.

"No," he said, then growled fiercely as he pulled himself away with a savage movement. "No, Jocelyn. I can't. You mustn't let me," he whispered hoarsely.

Suspicion wove its way into my heart as sensed the loss of heat from his body. Feeling insecure, I gazed down, noticing how my hair tumbled around my face. How am I going to fix that? I thought distractedly as I chanced a glance at Morgan.

"Please understand that I never meant to…" His words trailed off and my blood went cold. "It was never my intention to compromise you in such a way," he began again.

Compromise? He'd never meant to compromise me? He didn't… No. No, no, no, no. I refused to believe it. Hadn't he just admitted to being afraid he'd have to watch me marry someone else?

"I have to leave." He spoke suddenly, breaking my confusion.

"What?" I asked, fear growing and doubt blossoming in my heart.

"I have to go; I have… business to attend to at my estate in Derbyshire."

"Oh" I spoke softly, searching his eyes in hope for more of an explanation.

He dropped his chin to his chest and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm doing this all wrong. Forgive me?" he asked, desperation obvious in his gaze.

"For what?" I whispered.

A lady's giggle and man's laughter broke our intense conversation. Morgan pressed me once again into the tree. "Shhh," he whispered. He stayed perfectly still till the couple went far enough out of sight. His anxiety was evident. Gone was the passion, replacing it was a stoic self-control. As he checked the scenery for other amorous couples, shivers overtook my body.

"Come, Jocelyn, let's get you inside. You're shaking, love."

Silently, we walked back to the house. "I'll fix this," he promised. I wanted so badly to ask what he was referring to, but I didn't get a chance to speak. He began giving me directions to a secluded ladies' washroom to clean up. Leaning down, he brushed my lips with a chaste kiss that made me want to cry. How had the evening gone from stellar in the romance department to me feeling depressed enough to cry myself to sleep for a month?

Morgan escorted me to the hall before promising to see me in a few days. Hope flickered at his affirmation of his return, but why was he leaving in the first place? What did it have to do with me? Afraid to ask and suddenly fighting tears, I nodded numbly and all but ran to the washroom. After cleaning up the considerable damage Morgan had so deliciously inflicted upon my hair and gown, I skirted my way into the ballroom.

"You can clean up all you want, scrub yourself clean, but you'll never be good enough," said the last voice I ever wanted to hear.

"Arynna." I spoke through clenched teeth as I turned around.

"Jocelyn," she countered with a syrupy smile that set my teeth on edge. "It's over. You might as well go home. He compromised you and is leaving. You are officially ruined." She smiled with unabashed triumph.

Unwilling to let her see how her words affected me, I glared at her and tried to pass, but she wouldn't let me. "I don't think you understand." She spoke in lofty tones as she circled me like a lioness stalking her prey, her eyes full of hatred I didn't deserve. "Your reign as a darling of the ton is now over. The very people who flocked to invite you to parties will cut you in the streets. They will gossip behind your back, and worse, directly to your face — pointing, laughing and staring at your folly."

"Why would you wish that on any one?" I asked.

She smirked and walked away, glancing once over her shoulder. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. It's the last one you'll enjoy for a long time to come." She turned, and she sashayed away, leaving me fuming and confused.

I went to notify the footman to ready my carriage. I simply wanted to go home.