Kasey Michaels - The Dangerous Debutante

But Morgan, he suspected, could prove to be his torment if he let her, if he indulged himself in her luscious body, her active mind. Could he afford to find himself thinking of her as more than a titillating diversion, an added confusion to anyone who might look at him and suspect him of being anything more than he’d carefully taught them to believe?

Was nothing simple in these trying times? Not even bedding this incredible beauty he felt sure he could quickly convince to become a willing partner, no matter that she’d all but challenged him to believe he could tame her?

As their horses slowly walked along the cobbled street beside the park, as if even their mounts were reluctant to put an end to this fairly intimate interlude in the midst of the metropolis, Ethan said, “Perhaps we should part ways once I’ve safely delivered you to your brother’s door.”

Morgan turned startled eyes on him, shocked to think she could win so easily. Was having him go away winning? She didn’t think so.

“Why? What did I say? I thought we were going to be friends, enjoy London together.” Then her gaze dropped, and all she felt was disappointment to learn that Ethan wasn’t the man she’d begun to believe he was. “It’s because I told you that we Beckets aren’t very important, isn’t it? You say you don’t care what anyone thinks of you, that you even go out of your way to be outrageous, but when it comes straight down to it, you’re still the earl, and you still want to be accepted by…by your peers.”

“Not accepted, Morgan. Tolerated is all I’ve ever aspired to over the years. I’m more surprised than I can tell you, but it’s your reputation I’m thinking of now. And now we turn onto Upper Brook Street and your brother’s residence, which may be all that will save my life, considering the way you’re staring daggers at me.”

She did long to slap his face. “My reputation? So how had you planned for our association to play out, Aylesford, before this attack of conscience, or perhaps vanity? Or, because of what I’ve told you, are you simply afraid Chance will see me as compromised and demand you marry me, see your title as a real coup for his sister?”

“So many questions. Depending on my answers, I would have to be a hardened seducer, a socially conscious twit or a bloody coward. Why not all three?”

Belatedly, Morgan realized that, while she had been testing him, he had been testing her. And, damn his eyes, she was fairly certain she had been bested in their contest to see which of them was the worst, the most unsuitable—or which of the two of them was to be in charge of their association.

Well, he might have put her down, but she was far from out, and was more than ready to begin again. “Why not, indeed. All three. Since that’s what you want me to believe.”

“Added to all the things you want me to believe about you,” Ethan told her as he motioned for her to turn toward the flagway. He quickly dismounted, and took Berengaria’s reins in one hand as he stood on the cobblestones, looking up at Morgan.

Yet again, Ethan understood, she’d seen through him, judged him correctly.

And she knew. She knew, just as he knew. They’d been going round and round since the first moment they’d looked at each other. And all to no effect. They could never be friends. They would have to be so much more than friends, or nothing at all.

“You’ve warned me away. I’ve warned you away. And now we’re here, at your brother’s door. What next, Morgan? We can’t keep on fencing like this, or we’ll exhaust each other. So, does it end here? Do you believe we should end here? We’ve both certainly given each other enough reasons to have it end here, whatever in hell it is we seem to have begun between us.”

Morgan fought back the urge to run her gloved fingers through Ethan’s dark blond hair. She’d known, from the first moment she’d seen him. And he’d known, as well. She wasn’t congratulating herself, being prideful in thinking that. He’d also known, from that first moment.

Dangerous Ethan. Dangerous Morgan.

Like recognizes like.

She wet her lips, spoke carefully. “Together, we could be very dangerous, to society, to each other. Mostly to each other. Couldn’t we, Ethan?”

He put a hand on hers as Alejandro gracefully stepped to his right, bumping up against his master, pushing him closer to Morgan.

“Damn horse,” Ethan said mildly, near enough now to see the deeper gray rings around Morgan’s pale gray irises. “I swear, he’s worse than my mother.”

She relaxed, only then realizing how frightened she’d been that this man, this so very different, so very intriguing man, had almost walked out of her life as quickly as he’d walked into it. Giving in, just this once, couldn’t be called total defeat.

She leaned down, her face within scant inches of his, and whispered, “You won’t leave now. Will you? Please.”

“I was only fooling myself if I thought I could. No, I’m not going anywhere, unless we go to hell together.” Ethan’s attention was now fixed on her full, slightly smiling mouth. “If I were to kiss you right now, could you promise Saul won’t loose Bessie on me?”

Something inside Morgan relaxed. Lose a battle, win a war. “I can’t promise that, my lord Aylesford. I suppose you’ll simply have to decide if the kiss would be worth taking that chance.”

Ethan’s slow, knowing smile served to curl her toes inside her riding boots. He cupped his hand around the back of her neck and gently pulled her closer. “Oh, that decision was made long ago, on the road to Tanner’s Roost. By both of us. Bessie, do your worst….”

Morgan allowed her eyelids to flutter closed as she waited for the touch of Ethan’s mouth against hers. Not her first kiss, but she knew this one would be different. She didn’t know how it would be different…but she was eager to learn.

“Experiencing some difficulty in dismounting, Morgan? That isn’t like you.”

At the sound of Chance’s deadly calm voice, Morgan sat up straight on Berengaria once more, sparing a quick smile and shrug of her shoulders for Ethan before saying, “Peeking out from behind curtains now, Chance? That isn’t like you. Or is that, Lord forbid, what marriage does to people?”

“Hush, Morgan,” Ethan warned her quietly. “Your brother’s attempting to pretend he doesn’t have grounds to call me out. Be grateful, even if you can’t be gracious.”

“Call you out? Don’t be ridiculous. We Beckets aren’t that civilized. He’d just knock you down, right here in the street. Several times.”

“Don’t sound so delighted, imp,” Ethan said, then left her still atop Berengaria, and mounted the flagway, his right hand outstretched, the most recent shock in a day littered with them carefully hidden behind a genially smiling face.

How could he have known, even though Morgan had told him that her brother worked at the War Office? The War Office was immense. And yet, at this moment, the world seemed dangerously small.

Amazingly, either Chance Becket didn’t recognize him, or he was as accomplished at concealing his emotions as was Ethan himself.

“Mr. Becket, please allow an explanation if you will. Your sister and I came upon each other out on the road, and I offered my services in escorting her into London once I ascertained that she had planned to abandon her coach and insist upon riding into the city. Ah, and I am Ethan Tanner, Earl of Aylesford, and I extend my sympathies, sir, as your sister would appear to be a rare handful with a mind very much her own.”

Chance Becket accepted Ethan’s hand, squeezed his around it with more force than a gentleman would consider necessary, and held on, drew Ethan closer.

Ethan considered returning that pressure, but what point would it serve? He had been caught out, about to kiss the man’s sister. Besides, if either of them physically pressed the matter, the situation could vault above the uncomfortable and into recklessness that would serve neither.