When You Wish Read online

  “Halt,” he shouted, signaling the driver to stop, then quickly leaping back as the carriage wheels kissed the toes of his favorite boots.

  “Devil take the woman,” he muttered, spitting gravel. Furious, he swung into his saddle and galloped after them. As he drew abreast, he again called for them to stop, this time backing up the command by wresting the reins from a feisty Esmerelda and steering the team to the side of the road.

  “Are you deaf, woman?” he demanded.

  “My aunt hears fine,” responded the boy riding postilion. “We just don’t take orders from you.”

  Christian recognized the little bugger as the one who’d picked his pocket the night before. He honed his gaze on him. “Would you care to wager on that?”

  The kid didn’t flinch, which was more than many grown men who’d been on the receiving end of Christian’s icy glare could claim.

  “Gentlemen don’t bet with suckers,” the boy retorted.

  “Why, you little—”

  The carriage door opened and Delilah leaned out.

  “What is it, Esmerelda?” she asked. “Why are we stopping …” She caught sight of Christian and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  The boy cried out, “He’s accosting us, Lady Moon. I can run for help, if you want.”

  Christian edged his horse closer, coming within reach of the boy. “You move and I’ll—”

  Delilah cut him off. “That won’t be necessary, Dare. I can handle Lord Blackmoor. Well?” she prodded, turning to him once more.

  He draped one hand carelessly over the saddle pommel and smiled at Delilah. She looked ravishing in sapphire silk. “I was in the mood for a romantic moonlight drive,” he said, surprised to find that the idea held tremendous appeal.

  “Are you daft?”

  “Obviously. As are you,” he added dryly as he dismounted and hitched his horse to the back of the carriage. “Move over.”

  She complied by sliding as far away from him as possible, her arms stiffly folded across her chest, her mouth arranged in a soft, utterly distracting pout.

  “Drive on,” he called.

  Nothing.

  “Please proceed, Esmerelda,” Delilah said.

  “By way of the park,” Christian added. He cut off Delilah’s protest by adding, “You do want this to appear an amorous assignation, do you not?”

  “By way of the park,” she called to Esmerelda, and like magic there was forward movement.

  “I waited for you to come to my box,” she said as he stripped off his gloves and tossed them on the seat opposite.

  “I told you I don’t take directions.”

  “I still thought you’d come.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I tried, but I was detained by Lady Hoppinworth. She was intent on catching me up on every last detail of the time I’ve been gone.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Old Lady Hoppinworth, what awful luck you have.”

  Christian just smiled.

  “Still, you could have made some excuse and stopped by just for a moment. Everyone was there this evening and the news that we shared a private moment in my box would have quickly reached my brother and Remmley.”

  “I decided to take a more direct route.”

  “You call this direct? Who can see us here?”

  “No one. And everyone. That’s why it’s so perfect. Rest assured, someone will have noticed me climbing in and my horse is adorning your rear flank like a flag of occupation. It will be all the more tantalizing because they can only imagine what’s transpiring behind these curtains,” he said, drawing them.

  “Which is nothing.”

  “Is it?”

  Their gazes met and clung. The air inside the carriage heated and stilled.

  “Don’t do that,” he warned quietly.

  “Do what?”

  “Look at me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. It gives rise to an overpowering urge to do this.”

  HE WAS going to kiss her. The realization exploded inside Delilah as she watched him slowly lower his head, giving her time to protest if she wanted to. She didn’t. Then his mouth was claiming hers in a kiss that was exciting and familiar.

  Familiar because it was the kiss she had dreamed of countless times, asleep and awake, during that long-ago spring when she had believed in him and in love and in happy endings. She recognized the rough scrape of his jaw, where dark whiskers shaved that morning were already beginning to reappear. She recognized the smell of his skin and the warmth of his open mouth. Most acutely, however, she recognized the hunger in him, in the urgent thrusts of tongue and the fierce possessiveness of his embrace. It was exactly like her dreams.

  She leaned into him, letting old memories stir and old hungers awaken and stretch. Her fingers moved through the thick waves of his hair and over his face, relearning the curve of his ear and the hard angle of his cheekbone, her fingertips brushing gently over his eye patch.

  His lips moved slowly across her cheek, heating a path to her ear and nibbling gently on the lobe. Just as she was adjusting to that jolting new sensation his tongue began to trace the curve, exploring each tender crevice, until she trembled from the waves of tension radiating through her. As soon as he felt her response, Christian’s arm tightened around her, while his tongue thrust boldly into her ear.

  The excitement he sent rushing through her was almost unbearable. As if knowing that, he curled his hand around her nape, holding her still for his fiery caress, then scattering kisses down her throat and back again. His warm breath rustled her hair and his whisper was achingly gentle as he brought his mouth close to her ear once more.

  “Oh, Delilah, you have no idea what you do to me.”

  Delilah rather suspected that she did. A very good idea at that, since his touch aroused a blinding desire in her. They would have to be blind, and dumb, to fall into each other’s arms again after what had happened last time.

  On second thought, perhaps their desires were not so similar after all, now or in the past. The difference last time was that her need had been both physical and emotional, whereas everyone knew that Blackmoor was interested only in easy conquests of the flesh. The difference now was that she was old enough and wise enough to see through him.

  “Perhaps I don’t know what I do to you,” she said, disengaging herself from his embrace. “But I do know what I am not going to do. I am not going to toss my heart under your bootheel a second time.”

  He gave a bleak, tight-lipped smile. “I suppose I deserve that.”

  “And worse.”

  “Damn it, woman,” he muttered, shifting restlessly, as if the padded seat were a bed of tacks. “You make me ache.”

  Delilah applauded, her smile teasing. “Bravo, Blackmoor. You do give a wonderfully credible impression of a man intent on compromising a lady’s reputation.”

  “What if I told you it wasn’t an impression?”

  “I’d ask if you’re always so easily overpowered by your urges.”

  “Where you are concerned? Always. Regrettably.”

  In spite of her good intentions Delilah’s heart leaped as he once more reached for her and bent his head. His mouth had barely brushed hers when the carriage rocked to a halt with a violent wrenching sound.

  She grabbed his arm as they listed sharply to the right. “What’s happening?”

  “It would seem you’ve lost a wheel.”

  “Oh, no. What now?”

  “Putting it back on is the usual approach.”

  “I’m not certain Esmerelda and Dare will be able to manage that on their own.”

  “An excellent reason for employing a male coachman,” he pointed out.

  Ignoring him, she reached to open the door. “Is it the wheel, Dare?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Fell clean off the axle for no reason I can see. I checked all four before we left, same as always.”

  She climbed down to inspect the damage for herself and Christian followed. “Why on earth would
it just fall off that way?” she wondered out loud.

  “Fate,” Christian suggested, eyeing the stripped axle with surprising contempt.

  “Maybe there was a rut in the road,” she said, glancing around without seeing any ruts.

  Christian sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “No. It was fate. Mine. The least I can do is fix it for you, if you have tools.”

  “You’ll ruin your clothes,” she protested.

  “I have other clothes. You don’t have another carriage handy.”

  “There’s a toolbox in the back,” Dare volunteered.

  “Good. I’ll also need you to lend a hand,” Christian said to him.

  Dare nodded. “I’d do anything for Lady Moon.”

  “Yes, I’m in a unique position to vouch for the extremes you’re willing to go to on your mistress’s behalf,” Christian said dryly. “All right, let’s have at it, young man. This will give you a chance to make amends for last night.”

  Delilah held his jacket as he went to work. To her surprise, he seemed to know precisely what he was doing and exhibited more patience than she would have expected in showing Dare what to do each step of the way. In preparation for future mishaps, he explained, though it would be years before Dare had Christian’s strength, she thought, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath his sweat-dampened shirt as he strained at the lever in order to lift the carriage enough for Dare to slide the wheel into place.

  This was certainly a side of Blackmoor she had never seen before. She’d venture to say few people had. His reputation as a rake, a blackguard, and a débaucher preceded him through life and—in Christian’s own words—he had always done his best to live down to it. Delilah had to admit that it was his infamous reputation that had first attracted her, appealing to her reckless side.

  It was later, as they wandered the meadows and woods near her house alone, that his guard had slipped and she had gotten to know his gentler, more vulnerable side, the part of him that yearned for more out of life than swashbuckling across continents and winning wars. She had gotten to know him. Or thought she had, she reminded herself ruefully. How naive she had been. She certainly had not known, or liked, the Christian who had emerged that night in the summerhouse, tossing her aside as carelessly as if she were a penny novel he had started, but had no interest in finishing.

  He was truly a chameleon. No, she thought, a chameleon changed as a matter of survival. The reasons for Christian’s shifts of personality had more to do with manipulation and self-indulgence, and that made him far more dangerous. She would do well to remember that when he was near, she reminded herself, touching her lips where his kiss still burned.

  “A job well done,” he said at last, slapping Dare on the back as they admired the results of their labor. “You were an extraordinary help. Are you sure you’ve never before mounted a carriage wheel?”

  “I’m sure. Though I’ve helped to lift a few off in my time.”

  “No doubt,” Christian responded, his expression sardonic.

  Delilah hurried forward before he could explore Dare’s colorful past too deeply. “Dare, see if you can find a rag for Lord Blackmoor to wipe his hands on, will you? I’m afraid you have grease everywhere,” she said regretfully.

  “Which, I suppose, means our romantic ride is over for the night.” He lifted his hands as if to touch her, caught sight of the black grime covering them, and dropped them to his side with what sounded like a growl “Delilah, I…”

  The sound of an approaching carriage drew their attention. It pulled up beside them and the door, with its elaborate Hoppinworth crest, opened.

  “Lady Hoppinworth,” Delilah said, nodding deeply. At her side, Christian bowed in greeting.

  “I saw your predicament from the top of the hill. I’d offer my man’s assistance, but it appears you have the situation under control.”

  “Thank you,” said Delilah. “My carriage lost a wheel, but luckily Lord Blackmoor happened by and was able to fix it for me … much to the detriment of his evening clothes, I fear.”

  The elderly woman turned to Christian. “You are a good, decent gentleman, Blackmoor. I don’t care what everyone else says. You stopped to help Lady Moon out of sheer, unselfish concern for her safety and I shall make it a point to see to it that everyone understands that. Anyone who dares to suggest otherwise shall have to answer to me.” She winked at Delilah. “Rest assured that your reputation is safe, my dear.”

  “Thank you,” replied Delilah, her teeth clenching as Lady Hoppinworth’s carriage pulled away. “Wonderful. The dragon lady herself, the biggest gossip in all of London, happens by and sees us together. It’s an absolutely perfect opportunity to launch all sorts of juicy innuendo and speculation about our relationship and what does she decide to do instead? Why, defend my reputation, of course. What wretched luck.”

  “I tried,” Christian said with a shrug.

  Delilah paused on her way into the carriage and patted her skirts where the bottle was hidden. “Try harder, Blackmoor.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  THREE DAYS LATER Christian was summoned back to Delilah’s drawing room. He checked his watch again. He’d been wearing a path in the rug for over a half hour and couldn’t decide if his annoyance had more to do with her lapse in manners or his own impatience. Since leaving her last evening he had thought of little else but seeing her again. Her early-morning note requiring a meeting to discuss strategy had spared him from having to come up with an excuse of his own

  He told himself he was simply eager to put an end to this, retrieve the bottle, and get on with his life. It was an eminently reasonable explanation for his mood, even if it didn’t quite explain why he couldn’t get thoughts of kissing Delilah off his mind. To his own surprise, since inheriting the title, a sensible and hitherto totally unknown side of him had slowly begun to emerge

  His new responsibilities and obligations had a sobering, even calming effect that he was gradually coming to terms with and finding not as distasteful as he’d once feared. At odd moments he even found himself thinking of the future in terms of possibilities rather than duty alone. Currently the family lands and holdings were being managed by trusted solicitors, with orders to maintain the status quo established by his brother. But that might change, he thought. Who knows? He might someday become as ambitious and accomplished a gentleman as Charles had been. Once this hex business was behind him, that is

  In large measure the curse stopped him from living, but it hadn’t stopped him from thinking and he found himself forced to contemplate a future quite different from any he had ever imagined or desired. While once he’d thought never to marry, convinced it was as lethal to a man as a noose around his neck, he now conceded that it might have its advantages. In fact, from time to time, the notion quite intrigued him

  What would it be like to have one person with whom you could share everything and care for unconditionally, and who would care for you the same way in return? What would it be like to have someone waiting to welcome you when you came home? What would it be like to come home to Delilah?

  He grinned, thinking of Delilah’s headstrong, often impulsive nature. It would be interesting, that was certain. Not to mention unpredictable

  He shook himself. What was wrong with him? He was mad even to include her and marriage in the same thought. The woman was spoiled and scheming and obviously dedicated to being outrageously unconventional at any cost. In short, she was exactly what he didn’t need and shouldn’t want in a countess. And yet, he couldn’t deny that ever since he had kissed her and held her in his arms again, he wanted her desperately.

  The sudden sound of laughter and clapping was a welcome intrusion on his conflicted thoughts, drawing him to the window that overlooked a pretty side garden with a birdbath and an ornate white iron bench. Seated on the bench was a small girl with dark hair and the biggest blue eyes he had ever seen.

  Or perhaps, Christian amended, they just appeared unusually large as she gazed in wide-eyed
wonder at the performance being given for her benefit alone. He joined her in watching as Dare tossed three red balls in the air and juggled them. Suddenly, with no explanatory movement that Christian could spot from his vantage point at the window, there were two red balls and one yellow. A few seconds later there were two yellow and one red, then all yellow. It went on like that with colors coming and going until Dare was juggling all six balls at once. This time when the girl broke into applause, Christian joined in.

  Immediately Dare stopped and turned, snatching the balls from the air.

  “Bravo,” said Christian. “That’s quite an impressive feat, Dare, even for someone as nimble-fingered as I know you to be.”

  The boy had the grace to look sheepish at the subtle reference to his handiwork in Christian’s pocket a few nights ago.

  “Least I left you your gold snuffbox,” he offered defensively.

  Christian paused, digesting the fact that in order to know the snuffbox was gold Dare must have managed a look at it while he was lifting the bottle. He laughed out loud.

  “Yes, you did, and I can see now that I should be grateful for that, and probably for the fact that I made it home with my straps intact as well.”

  Dare shrugged. “They weren’t gold.”

  He laughed again, liking the little beggar in spite of himself. “May I ask who your young admirer is?”

  “My sister,” Dare replied. “Her name’s Jane.” He tugged on the little girl’s sleeve until she stood beside him. “Jane, this here is Lord Blackmoor. Curtsy,” he prompted in a whisper, helping her along with a little shove from behind.

  “Don’t push,” Jane said, shooting her big brother a fierce look. “I ’membered all by myself.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did so.”