Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2), Maggi Andersen [best short novels of all time TXT] 📗

be here in the country with scant entertainment on offer. And indoors for most of the time.”

“I don’t need to be entertained. I’ll keep Bella and Jeremy company. That will free you to do whatever you need to. Surely you must agree that is helpful?”

He stood and held out his hands to her. “It will be. We are pleased you are here with us, Carrie.”

Carrie gazed up at him as she came to her feet. She wanted to slip her hands around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. She wetted her lips with her tongue.

His gaze settled on her mouth before he turned away. His voice sounded strained when he said, “I don’t believe I’ve made a secret of enjoying your company.”

She sighed and picked up her shawl from the sofa. “No, you have not.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I must take Chester for a walk.”

“Then I’ll go to bed. Enjoy your walk, but please be careful. You are special to us. We are all very fond of you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and, up on her toes, kissed his cheek.

Nicholas’s arm slipped around her waist, and he pulled her into a hug. Before she could enjoy his strong arm around her, he released her and stepped away. “As I am fond of all the Leeming family. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

She climbed up the stairs, deeply frustrated with the memory of his spicy male smell, his smooth cheek against her lips. Every tread on the stairway made her want to stop and go back and demand him to be honest with himself. With her. Even if he never wished to marry her, he wanted her as a man wants a woman. Carrie knew it. She yearned to hear him say he cared for her. Because she was sure, he did. But was it the mad passion she felt for him? The passion which kept her awake had her staring out the window at the stars and foolishly wishing for the moon?

Chapter Nineteen

Nicholas called his dog, and they went outside into the quiet night air. The fragrance from the gardens made him think of Carrie. Her womanly scent and curvaceous body held so briefly against his. Her soft lips on his cheek. He wasn’t sure if he’d survive another week of this. Keeping his hands off her and behaving as he should. What would Lady Penelope make of him if her sharp gaze saw desire in his eyes when he looked at Carrie? He could not guess. The lady constantly surprised him. While she had accepted his offer of protection from Simon, he suspected she came out of interest and was not one to defer to any man.

He strolled along the path toward his footman, who waited a few yards from the house in the shadows. “See anything untoward, Jerry?”

“No, milord.”

“Keep alert. A dangerous scoundrel might roam the estate. I don’t want anyone hurt. I will relieve you in a couple of hours so that you can get some rest. You’ll be called again in the morning. I’m afraid this could go on for a while.”

“Yes, milord.”

Nicholas turned away as Chester disappeared into the bushes and barked loudly. He followed the dog but could see or hear nothing beyond the scrambling and rustling Chester made. Probably after a squirrel.

When he whistled, the whippet ran back to him, tongue lolling. “Inside to bed, Chester.” They returned to the house. As the dog obediently scampered through the open front door, Nicholas stood for a moment gazing up at Carrie’s window. He didn’t want to think about her tonight. If only she hadn’t come back. He was just a man. She’d been dismantling his defenses for weeks, and tonight, filled with desire and the need to protect her, his fortifications threatened to crumble.

Did she fancy herself in love with him? Or was she merely infatuated? Should he ask her and bring the matter into the light? And what then? He wasn’t right for her. She deserved better. He groaned as he made his way back to the library. He must keep what was best for her in the forefront of his mind, what Max wanted for her.

Nicholas dozed in his chair in the library for several hours, then went outside to take over from his footman. A nightingale’s song filled the quiet air. Nicholas would have liked Carrie to hear it.

Jerry was nowhere in sight.

Nicholas searched for him. The braziers burning along the lake set the water alight. Their fiery blaze lit up the lawns but failed to reach as far as the house where the candlelight in the entry hall fell away beyond the porch. That left a large area beneath the trees in total darkness. He crossed the lawns, still wet from an early shower. The darkness hampered him, forcing him to slow his steps so as not to trip himself until he stepped onto the path leading into the shrubbery.

“Jerry?” He kept his voice low, for sound carried at night. He didn’t want to wake those whose windows opened onto this side of the house. It would alarm them.

The footman didn’t answer—neither a murmur nor a whisper. Growing more concerned, Nicholas picked up his pace along the garden paths he knew so well. Jerry was a good lad, very reliable. He would not leave his post. An uneasy feeling tightened Nicholas’s chest. Had something happened to him? Two footmen patrolled the west and north aspects of the house and Warren, the east.

Gun in hand, Nicholas continued soft-footed toward the eastern wing. Shadows leapt out menacingly as he walked. The stillness and quiet became more oppressive. A kind of breathless silence. Nothing but the breeze ruffling the leaves and the occasional rustle from some small animal among the bushes. No sign of Jerry. Turning the corner, a light from a bedchamber window above fell