Heart of Honor (15 page)

She would be his, body and soul.

It surprised him to realize how much he wanted that to happen.

I
t took far longer to finish dressing than Krista intended. Returning to the bathing room, she dipped a cloth into the basin of water and used it to cool her flushed skin. She washed away Leif’s scent—not the perfume of a fancy gentlemen’s cologne, but the uncomplicated, far more intoxicating fragrance of soap and virile man.

Even as she went back to her bedroom and Priscilla used the heated iron to style her hair, then helped her into her gown, Krista thought of Leif and the wicked, delicious things he had done to her body. Her eyes slid closed at a memory of his mouth on her breasts, his big hand stroking between her legs.

Dear God in heaven, she had never felt anything like it!

Time and again she had allowed him liberties she knew she should not, allowed him to kiss her, touch her, when she knew it was wrong. Even when she had been pledged to Matthew Carlton, she’d found herself unable to resist the potent drug of Leif’s masculinity.

But she was no longer affianced to Matthew, no longer owed him the loyalty, the chastity, she should have reserved for him and had not. Her life was her own once more, and though her grandfather would soon begin to press her again to fulfill her duty, marry and produce an heir, for the moment she was free.

She thought of the months she had spent in company with Matthew. Never once had he made her feel the desire Leif did. Never once had she known passion when he kissed her. Eventually, she would be forced to wed, but she didn’t believe she would ever know true passion again. There was no other man like Leif and none who would be able to make her feel the way he did.

Krista sighed as she picked up her shot-silver reticule and drifted out of the bedroom. She could never have Leif, the man she truly wanted. She understood that, was resigned to it. He would be returning to his home, while her home was here in London.

Would it really be so bad, just for this brief moment in time, to experience life as she would never be able to again? Would it truly be such a sin to enjoy a bit of forbidden fruit?

She descended the curving staircase, her mind spinning with thoughts of him. Her footsteps began to slow as she spotted him in his black evening clothes, waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. With his golden hair, finely carved features and stunning blue eyes, he was so handsome it made her heart clench.

He looked up at her and smiled. “You are beautiful,
honning….
” The words, spoken in that deep, seductive voice, made her stomach contract. His gaze swept over her, and the heat there said he was remembering the intimate way he had touched her, the way her body had responded.

Warm color washed into her cheeks. “You shouldn’t call me that, Leif. At least not in public. It is far too intimate. People will think—”

“That you are mine.”

“I told you—”

“Come. Your father awaits us in the carriage.”

Krista said no more. Whatever Leif thought, in the end it would not matter. When the time came, he would recognize the truth for what it was.

But that time was some distance away, and a little voice said,
What would it hurt to pretend you were his just for a while? How would it feel to belong to a potent, utterly masculine man like Leif?

The thought stayed with her as the two of them left the house.

Crockford’s, Curzon Street, Mayfair, had been established more than a decade earlier by a man named William Crockford, a fishmonger who won a sizable fortune one night at the hazard table. With its Venetian glass chandeliers and gold-leaf marquetry ceilings, it was known as the most exclusive gaming establishment in London. Having never been to such a place, Krista grew more and more excited as the carriage drew near.

In a gown of turquoise silk overlaid with silver tulle, the décolletage lowered to show more of her bosom in accordance with the evening ahead, she walked in on Leif’s arm, her father beside them, acting as chaperone. Though the professor had frowned when he had seen the changes she’d had Priscilla make in her dress, it was hardly indecent. Krista was, after all, one and twenty, a modern woman who owned her own business, and she deemed the gown entirely appropriate for the occasion.

Escorting her inside as if he was actually the gentleman he appeared, devastatingly handsome in his fashionable black evening clothes, Leif led them past the hazard tables, pausing at the refreshment counter long enough for each of them to obtain a drink. Leif ordered an ale, though it was hardly fashionable, while Krista and her father chose champagne.

“I believe I see a friend,” the professor said. “If you two will excuse me a moment…”

“Of course, Father,” she murmured. Krista and Leif wandered a bit, passing elegantly garbed patrons, men in embroidered waistcoats and white silk cravats, women in gowns of taffeta and brocaded silk carrying painted or feathered fans, wearing jeweled headbands or feathers in their hair.

Proceeding toward the green baize tables at the rear of the main salon, they made their way to the area where the card games were played. Being the tallest couple in the room, Leif and Krista began to attract attention. Heads swiveled in their direction, and Krista watched as one pair of feminine eyes after another studied Leif, followed by smiles of blatant appreciation.

As Krista sipped her champagne, she was surprised to discover how much those come-hither glances bothered her, though Leif seemed not to notice. Instead, his gaze strayed again and again to her bosom, where the shadowy valley between her breasts was revealed as it never had been before.

“I like this gown you wear,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning the nape of her neck. “But so does every other man in the room. They dream of your pretty breasts, but they can only guess how soft and full they are. Soon I will know the feel of them in my hands.”

Her knees wobbled beneath the skirt of her turquoise silk gown. “F-for heaven sake, Leif, you have to stop saying things like that. It isn’t proper to speak to a lady in such a manner.”
To say nothing of what those words did to her insides.

He arched a golden eyebrow. “This is another of your rules?”

She flipped open her feathered fan and waved it back and forth to cool her heated face. “One you are sorely in need of learning.”

“I will try to remember…” he looked pointedly at the plump swells rising above her bodice “…if you will.”

Her stomach tightened. How could she possibly forget? The man was a veritable bundle of masculinity. She just prayed he could control himself long enough to get through the evening.

They strolled the room for a time, giving Leif a chance to accustom himself to the sights and sounds, the way people moved and spoke. Across the room, she noticed her father in conversation with Phillip Carlton, Lord Argyle, Matthew’s older brother, and wondered if the professor was trying to smooth over his daughter’s broken engagement and somehow salvage her slightly tarnished reputation.

Determined not to dwell on the notion tonight, she turned back to Leif and noticed something she had missed before. Always when she went out in society, her unusual height made her feel ungainly and unattractive. But now she stood next to a gentleman far taller than she, a blond, blue-eyed man who was, in truth, the handsomest man in the room.

The fact seemed to alter the situation, and instead of being the object of speculation and pity, she began to receive the same appreciative glances from the men that Leif was receiving from the women.

“They are jealous,” he said. “The fools did not recognize the prize they could have had. Now they see they are too late.”

Krista wasn’t quite sure what to say. It did seem as if the men were casting her far different glances than she had ever received before. She felt a little curl of warmth that, in escorting her tonight, in behaving with such a possessive air, Leif had given her this gift.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.” Diana Cormack, Viscountess Wimby, strolled up on the arm of a handsome, black-haired man who seemed to be her escort.

“Viscountess,” Krista said, dropping into a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“You, as well, my dear.” She flicked a glance at the man accompanying her. “This is Marcus Lamb, a close acquaintance of my husband’s. We’re here with Lord and Lady Paisley. As a favor to Arthur, Marcus was kind enough to offer his escort for the evening.”

“A pleasure, Miss Hart.” The gentleman bowed formally over her hand.

“May I present Leif Draugr, a close friend of my father’s who is here visiting from Norway.”

Diana’s keen blue eyes skimmed over Leif’s powerful body and her mouth curved into a provocative smile. “Well, it is certainly clear why you suddenly decided that you and Matthew would not suit.”

Krista flushed.

“Krista is a woman of strong passions,” Leif said. “She requires a man who can take care of her needs. Carlton is not the man for her.”

Diana’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it closed again. Krista wished the floor would simply open up and swallow her.

She forced herself to smile. “I—I’m sorry, my lady. Leif is unfamiliar with our customs. Sometimes he misunderstands the meaning of certain words or speaks more bluntly than he should.”

Diana’s gaze swept over him, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his chest, his long legs and powerful thighs.

Her smile was almost feral. “I like a man who speaks his mind. I shall talk to Arthur. Perhaps you and Mr. Draugr would care to join us for a night at the opera.”

Krista could scarcely believe she was hearing correctly.

Leif just smiled, a flash of white so potently male it made something flutter in her stomach. “I have never seen an opera. I have read some of the stories, though. I think I would like to see such a thing.”

Diana’s pretty lips curved again. She was dressed in the height of fashion, her black-and-gold evening gown cut so low her breasts threatened to spill out of the bodice. “As I said, I’ll speak to Arthur.”

Leif’s gaze moved over the tempting swells of flesh, but he didn’t seem unduly impressed. His attention returned to Krista and she felt an unexpected sweep of relief. Just then, she spotted her father returning, and could have kissed him for his timely arrival. Introductions were made, then Diana and her companion left to return to their party, who were busy tossing dice at the hazard tables.

“It is time I played,” Leif said, his gaze going to the back of the room. Krista had already given him the money he needed to try his luck—or skill, as the case might be. It was a relatively modest sum, considering Leif’s intention to win enough to buy himself a ship.

A ship.
Krista looked up at him and her chest squeezed. Once he owned a sailing vessel—and she was certain he would find a way to get one—he would leave.

She found herself praying with all her heart that Leif would lose.

Leif did not win.

Unfortunately, he did not lose, either.

Sitting behind the desk in her office, Krista yawned. The hour had been late when they returned home from Crockford’s last night. Though he had played for some time, had lost some and won some, Leif had ended the evening within a few gold sovereigns of where he had started.

And he had been exuberant with hope.

“I see now what I did wrong,” he had said as the carriage rolled through the dark streets. “There is more to the game than counting cards and figuring the odds of what will fall next. I do not know the word for it—a way of trying to guess what your opponents will do. It can make a difference in how much you win or lose.”

He had been playing loo against five other men, a high-stakes game that had been known to beggar even very wealthy gentlemen.

“From what little I know,” Krista told him, “you watch their expressions. If you can learn to read their faces, you can guess what they might have in their hands.”

“That is what I thought.”

“One thing is certain, Leif. If it were easy, everyone would win.”

He nodded. “I am going back tonight by myself. Tonight I will only watch. Tomorrow night, I will play again.”

“Even if you’re very good at all the different aspects of the game, you still may not win. Skill at gambling is always tempered by luck.”

He seemed resigned to that, though it didn’t discourage him, and even in the faint light of the brass lantern inside the carriage, she could tell his mind was whirling, examining what he would need to do in order to be successful.

As Krista sat at her desk recalling the events of last night, she sighed. Leif was relentless in whatever he pursued—including her. She had to admit it felt good, for once, to be the object of a man’s determined pursuit.

“You are smiling.” Dressed simply but elegantly in a day dress of printed apricot muslin, Coralee Whitmore walked through the door of Krista’s office, which was most always left open. “If I didn’t know you better, I would believe you were thinking very wicked thoughts.”

Krista laughed. “Not at precisely this moment, though lately some of the things we read in that book we found in the basement at Briarhill have begun to return to my mind.”