overtook the fever of arousal, and Isabella took her seat with them.
"I've been there only twice. I didn't realize you were that Leslie, nor that the banker who held my mortgages was your—"
"Grandfather," Isabella quickly supplied. "My goodness!" She felt as though she knew him suddenly, his recollection of their connection enough to make him not so much a stranger who took her breath away but a family friend—who took her breath away, she reflected with an inner smile.
"Isabella will be staying with us for a few days," Molly noted, offering the information as though they'd not discussed her previously over breakfast.
"Lucky for us." Dermott leaned over with a glass of champagne for Isabella, careful not to touch her fingers. Regardless Molly's presence, he couldn't guarantee his docility.
The scent of him wafted over her as he leaned close, and heady with the fragrance of maleness and fresh citron, Isabella took the glass from him and proceeded to drink a good deal of it in one swallow.
Her agitation was appealing. Of course, what about her wasn't appealing, he mused, concentrating with effort on what Molly was saying as she offered him a plate of petit fours.
"She was thinking of perhaps acquiring some additional skills while she's with us," Molly declared, putting the plate down at his refusal.
Suddenly his attention was fixed, his gaze intense. "Additional…" he murmured, his glance swinging over to take in the disconcerted Miss Leslie.
"Isabella requires safeguards… protection from an unwanted marriage."
"I see." His dark gaze held Isabella's.
"Something in the way of a denouement."
"Ah…" His voice was like velvet.
Mesmerized, charmed, warmed by the sultry heat of his regard, Isabella felt as though he might indeed be her white knight in this outlandish predicament. "I have relatives who wish my fortune," she murmured, half breathless under his spell.
"I could call them out." A strange obligation overcame him, as though he should offer her something for what he was about to receive.
"You would kill them surely." Nervously, she shook her head. "They aren't men skilled with weapons."
"Does it matter when they victimize you so cruelly?"
"I wouldn't wish their blood on my hands." The whole world knew of his expertise.
He didn't answer for a moment. "As you wish."
"Isabella wishes to discourage their avarice in a less fatal way," Mrs. Crocker interposed. "With your cooperation."
"At your service, mademoiselle." His voice was soft, low, oddly touched with compassion. Quickly setting his glass down, he slid up from his lounging pose, impatient with such sentiment.
"This is extremely awkward." Isabella twisted the stem of the goblet in her fingers and would have looked completely artless save for her voluptuous breasts about to burst from her low décolletage.
Awkward indeed, he thought, not sure he was capable of taking what she was offering with such guileless naivete. Equally sure he couldn't long resist her bounteous pulchritude. "Please," he gently said. "I believe I know what you're about to say, and there's no need. I willing accede to your wishes, whatever they may be. You decide what and where and let me know."
She looked up from the goblet in her hands and exhaled in relief. "You're most kind, sir."
"I'm most fortunate, Miss Leslie," he replied softly.
"Perhaps in a fortnight, Dermott," Molly submitted.
Isabella blushed while the earl wondered how he could last that long. But infinitely polite, he gracefully bowed his head. "I await your pleasure, ladies."
Dermott left Molly's shortly after, and waving his driver off, walked away at a pace that indicated his deep frustration. He passed through Green Park, continuing through Hyde Park to Kensington Gardens, completely immune to his surroundings, the uncommon degree of lust Miss Leslie evoked not only torturous but disturbing, his thoughts in tumult. A considerable time later, he found himself on the banks of the Thames, the sun
"I've been there only twice. I didn't realize you were that Leslie, nor that the banker who held my mortgages was your—"
"Grandfather," Isabella quickly supplied. "My goodness!" She felt as though she knew him suddenly, his recollection of their connection enough to make him not so much a stranger who took her breath away but a family friend—who took her breath away, she reflected with an inner smile.
"Isabella will be staying with us for a few days," Molly noted, offering the information as though they'd not discussed her previously over breakfast.
"Lucky for us." Dermott leaned over with a glass of champagne for Isabella, careful not to touch her fingers. Regardless Molly's presence, he couldn't guarantee his docility.
The scent of him wafted over her as he leaned close, and heady with the fragrance of maleness and fresh citron, Isabella took the glass from him and proceeded to drink a good deal of it in one swallow.
Her agitation was appealing. Of course, what about her wasn't appealing, he mused, concentrating with effort on what Molly was saying as she offered him a plate of petit fours.
"She was thinking of perhaps acquiring some additional skills while she's with us," Molly declared, putting the plate down at his refusal.
Suddenly his attention was fixed, his gaze intense. "Additional…" he murmured, his glance swinging over to take in the disconcerted Miss Leslie.
"Isabella requires safeguards… protection from an unwanted marriage."
"I see." His dark gaze held Isabella's.
"Something in the way of a denouement."
"Ah…" His voice was like velvet.
Mesmerized, charmed, warmed by the sultry heat of his regard, Isabella felt as though he might indeed be her white knight in this outlandish predicament. "I have relatives who wish my fortune," she murmured, half breathless under his spell.
"I could call them out." A strange obligation overcame him, as though he should offer her something for what he was about to receive.
"You would kill them surely." Nervously, she shook her head. "They aren't men skilled with weapons."
"Does it matter when they victimize you so cruelly?"
"I wouldn't wish their blood on my hands." The whole world knew of his expertise.
He didn't answer for a moment. "As you wish."
"Isabella wishes to discourage their avarice in a less fatal way," Mrs. Crocker interposed. "With your cooperation."
"At your service, mademoiselle." His voice was soft, low, oddly touched with compassion. Quickly setting his glass down, he slid up from his lounging pose, impatient with such sentiment.
"This is extremely awkward." Isabella twisted the stem of the goblet in her fingers and would have looked completely artless save for her voluptuous breasts about to burst from her low décolletage.
Awkward indeed, he thought, not sure he was capable of taking what she was offering with such guileless naivete. Equally sure he couldn't long resist her bounteous pulchritude. "Please," he gently said. "I believe I know what you're about to say, and there's no need. I willing accede to your wishes, whatever they may be. You decide what and where and let me know."
She looked up from the goblet in her hands and exhaled in relief. "You're most kind, sir."
"I'm most fortunate, Miss Leslie," he replied softly.
"Perhaps in a fortnight, Dermott," Molly submitted.
Isabella blushed while the earl wondered how he could last that long. But infinitely polite, he gracefully bowed his head. "I await your pleasure, ladies."
Dermott left Molly's shortly after, and waving his driver off, walked away at a pace that indicated his deep frustration. He passed through Green Park, continuing through Hyde Park to Kensington Gardens, completely immune to his surroundings, the uncommon degree of lust Miss Leslie evoked not only torturous but disturbing, his thoughts in tumult. A considerable time later, he found himself on the banks of the Thames, the sun
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