Nothing But Time (23 page)

But again, even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. 
Though he fought against it effectively, she had seen the desire in Brand’s eyes.  He wanted her as well.  There
was a temptation in the attraction between them that Brand was determined to resist but she couldn’t seem to help herself.  She wanted to see him again, wanted to feel those strong arms embrace her once more.

With little adult company beyond Janice’s and the other nannies in the nursery and the stiff conversation at the upper end of the servant’s table during meals, Kate admitted that she was lonely these days, starved for intelligent conversation and entertainment.  Was it simple loneliness that pulled her toward Brand?  Maybe, but Kate didn’t think that was all there was to it.

She’d had
known
enough men in her life to recognize attraction when it happened and had already acknowledged that this particular attraction was unlike any she’d ever known.  It was no adolescent crush or hormonal urge.  No, it was honest desire, womanly desire.  Perhaps the first she’d ever known in her life.

There was nothing Kate wanted more than to spend days at a time curled within Brand’s warm embrace, to feel the heat of his body radiating into hers.  And
,
where the idea of dating
David
more than once had sent a shudder of dismay up her spine making her feel as if she simply wasn’t ready for a relationship of any kind, Kate also knew that, were it possible to start such a relationship with Brand, she would rush to jump in with both feet.

She was completely losing it,
Kate snorted as she took the last flight of stairs. 
But what woman wouldn’t when presente
d with an opportunity like this?
  Brandon Ryder was
a man, all man in a way that no other male she’d ever known was. 
It wasn’t just the godly body he possessed that made him so. 
Or even
the softer side she wit
nessed in him from time to time.
Brand was confident, authoritative… aristocratic.

Kate laughed then realizing that even if Brand thought that Kate liked him
in spite
of the fact that he was an earl, perhaps it was exactly why she found him so appealing.

Wouldn’t that just be ironic?

“
So,
I guess that’s
still just business you’re working on so intently
there
?” Kate asked after standing in the doorway of Brand’s study for nearly ten minutes watching
him write
furiously on the papers before him.  His gorgeous brow was wrinkled in concentration as the pen darted out again and again to dip into the
inkbottle
he held at the ready in his left hand.
  It seemed that a pause in progress as long as it would take him to reach the inkwell was too long.

Brand’s head jerked up in surprise finding her poised in the doorway and, though a slight flush colored his cheeks, once again the papers were swept into a drawer and hidden away.  “Kate, what brings you here this evening?  Is something amiss?”

“Everything’s fine.
”
Kate waved her hand as she strolled into the room
, closing the door firmly behind her
.  As it had been the last time she’d been here, the study was lit only by a single oil lamp on the desk.  He sat like a beacon in the dark room.  Unlike the last time she was there, Brand had taken off his coat and tie, unbuttoned his waistcoat and even unbuttoned several buttons on his white shirt.  He looked splendidly rumpled and approachable cast in the
glow
as if the light came from him rather than the lamp. 
He was her earl from the library once more. 
“I think the better question is what are you up to
in here when all your guests are out there
?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s a mighty involved sounding nothing,” she teased
, coming around the desk to prop her backside against it while Brand leaned back in the chair to meet her gaze
.  “C
’m
on! 
It must be pretty big if you’re avoiding everyone for it. 
What was it?  A love-letter?  Poetry?”

The earl
leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and
raised an aristocratic brow. 
“Do I look like the sort of man who writes poetry?”

“No, but neither does Walt Whitman
with that bushy beard
,” she told him.  “People can surprise you.”

Harrowby
sat silently staring
up at her
.
How could Kate know that he felt that way each time he looked at her?  Continually taken aback, wondering what intriguing facet would be revealed next. 
He was in a losing battle against her, against the lure of everything she represented to him.  Kate seemed to live a life that was the complete antithesis of his own.  She
was carefree where he was structured, merry where he was solemn.  Passionate about life when it seemed that life itself seemed to leech the passion from him.

Even when circumstances took from her the purpose and fulfillment of a job she enjoyed, Kate still seemed to embrace the life before her.  He envied her that, envied her the ability to thumb her nose and do things her own way.

The moment stretched out between them, silence hanging in the air.
His mind was ticking away, she could almost hear the wheels spinning. 
Just when Kate was certain that he wasn’t going to reply, he
exhaled slowly.
“You asked me once if I had ever had something that I was passionate about.”

“I did,
” she said encouragingly.  “And…?
”

Brand
felt his
cheeks
flush
as he shifted uncomfortably on his seat.  “I write… sometimes.”

“
I could see that… and you write very fast, too.  But
what
do you write? 
Poetry?”
she asked again with
that
teasing smile.

“Novels.”

“
Really? 
What kind of novels?” Kate asked
expectantly. 
“Dickens kind of stories?”

“Well, no,” Brand hedged. 
“Are you familiar with the works of
Carroll
?”

“
Lewis Carroll
?” 
Now it was Kate’s turn to be surprised
, her brows r
ising nearly to her hairline.
 
The Earl of Harrowby certainly didn’t look like the sort to write
fantasy
. 
“Really?  Brandon Ryder, you are a man of unexpected depths.
  You write
children’s
books
?
”

“Children’s books?  No, not at all!” 
Again,
Brand
seemed very uncomfortable.  “It’s hard to explain really but the stories I produce tend to present such bizarre scenarios I am usually uncertain as to what inspires them.”

“Like what?”

“In this particular tale, one of my characters has been… well,
lost within a world he thought to be only a creation of his imagination.  It is difficult to explain but he
finds himself within a world that is of this earth but not.  A world a
pace with but
outs
ide of his own
,”
he answered
, his gaze sliding away from hers as if he didn’t want to be witness to her reaction at his admission.

“
Alternate reality? 
Parallel universes?” Kate realized with surprise.  If that was what Brand was writing about, he was way before his time.  “
Are you serious?  You write sci-fi?  Er, science fiction?”

“Science fiction?  I believe I may have heard that term before,” Brand said with a frown, then shook his head. 
“But what is a parallel universe?”

“
There is a theory that a person can exist in different place
s
at the same time… uh, for example, let’s say
Wellington never beat Napoleon at Waterloo.  There might exist a world where France rules Britain in a
parallel universe
,”
Kate explained
quickly then changed the subject before he might ask more questions.
Such a concept was surely before his time. 
“I’d love to read
your book
sometime.
  It’d be interesting to get a peek into your mind.”

Harrowby looked up at these words to find honest interest in Kate’s eyes.  To say that it
stunned
him would have been an understatement, but then even he had to wonder at that.  This woman’s reaction to every situation she was placed in was
unlike
what
one might expe
ct.  Why would
this moment to be any different?

Perhaps he might let her read his tales then.

He’d never shown his work to anyone since his
mother
had caught him writing one
holiday when he had been home from school
. 
It had been just before he’d become acknowledged as the Harrowby heir and just after he’d read a book by a new author, Lewis Carroll.  The story had been similar in styling to those Harrowby had been writing since childhood, though perhaps more tame.  It had given him reason to believe that there might be a market interested in the peculiar tales that rattled about in his mind. 
Harrowby had explained the
novels
to his
mother
, explained to h
er
how he dreamed of becoming a novelist
.

His
mother
had read only a few pages before throwing them down with accusations that h
er
son must be sick in the mind to create such lunacy.  H
er
recriminations had been so vile that
a sickened
Harrowby had never again shown those pages to another.  They were for
his sole
enjoyment now
;
all thoughts of becoming a published author
were
forever vanquished.

Would Kate
feel the same as his mo
ther if she read his pages, he wondered.  Or would she, as she did in so many situations, surprise him once more? 
Was it worth taking the risk?

For a moment
,
he wondered at himself for that last question.  Worth the risk of what?  But an instant later, Harrowby knew.  He didn’t want this unusual woman to think him mad or
strange.  He didn’t want to see that look of admiration that warmed her gaze each time she looked at him fade away.

“Perhaps it would be for the best if you didn’t read them,” he said.

“Oh, c
’m
on!” Kate begged.  “I’m curious.  I
love good science fiction
.”

Harrowby groaned.  “I doubt you will be pleased with what you find.”

“I bet I will be,” she cajoled him.  “Please?  I promise only positive feedback, okay?”

“Kate, Kate,” Harrowby shook his head with a
reluctant
chuckle
after s
p
ending a moment attempting to dissect her words
.  “How
can you
possibly befuddle
me any more than I already am
?
”

“I like to befuddle you,” she said, reaching out to stroke his cheek. 

Harrowby felt the touch like a lightning bolt, felt lust shoot straight through him
pushing aside thoughts of other worlds.  No one had ever been able to draw him so quickly, so thoroughly
from the stories in his mind. 
Usually, the
next plot line was always lingering on the edge of his
thoughts
, but in Kate’s presence, there was only her
.  Without
thought,
his hand came up to cover hers.  “You do it v
ery well.” 
His voice emerged huskily, filled with the desire he knew that he shoul
d be tempering, not stoking.  Harrowby
cleared his throat and dropped his hand.  “Sometimes it’s a
wonder I can even interpret
your meaning.”

“Don’t do that,” Kate whispered.

“Don’t do what?” he returned, idly straightening the pens on his desk blotter.

“I like the earl in you, Brand, I really do.  But
I think
sometimes
it might be okay if you just put him away for a while.”

“I am always an earl,” he replied stiffly.

“Not always.”

W
hat happened next so stunned Harrowby that it took him a full minute to recover from the shock.

Reaching down, Kate boldly grabbed her skirts and lifted them high until they were at her knees.  Moving forward, she slid one knee next to him in the chair before swinging the other over the
opposite
side until she was straddling him.  Hands on his shoulders, she sank down onto his lap until their faces were just inches apart.

She knew that she was rattling him to the core.  The look of utter surprise stated that clearly, but Kate couldn’t help herself.  Memories of the night they had first kissed in the library haunted her dreams and lingered constantly in the corners of her mind.  There was another man in Harrowby.  The man she had met that night who was seductive and charming, who made her tremble
by
the simple reverberations of his voice alone.  He had peeked out a couple times since only to be pushed aside by the
staid
,
noble façade
of Harrowby
. 

Brand was in there.  Her Brand.

She wanted to see him again.

“What do you think you are doing?” he asked gruffly, his hands tightly gripping the arms of his chair in such a way that Kate felt optimistically was to keep himself from holding her instead.

“What do you think I am doing?” 
The words were softly whispered as Kate leaned in, brushing her lips across his.

“This is entirely inappropriate.”

The words were ground out harshly and Kate felt a surge of satisfaction.  “You bet it is.”

“Kate…”

“Brand,” she cooed teasingly before brushing her lips across his once more.

“Good God, woman, you will drive me insane!”

“
Join the club
.”

With that, Kate finally got from Brand what she’d been hoping for.  With a groan of surrender, his fingers dove into her hair pulling her roughly forward to meet his lips in a
fiery
kiss.  His lips parted hers and his tongue joined the melee, sweeping deeply before withdrawing so that his lips could draw upon hers, so that his teeth could pull at them.