More Than Willing (8 page)

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said through clenched teeth as she stared into the blazing flames.

“I have to admit that I am. But only because you’re always so serious.”

“Which is totally opposite
to your approach to everything,” she said, darting an angry glance in his direction. “Do you even know how to take anything seriously?”

“Oh, I know how. I’ve just never found that it does any good.” He cocked his head in her direction and smiled. He couldn’t help himself. “You have to learn to enjoy life, Maggie. There’s enough to fret over without adding to the list.”

She dropped her head back against the chair cushion and breathed a deep sigh. “Do you know how much you remind me of my father?”

Gray wasn’t sure he appreciated the comparison. “Do I?”

“Yes. Father often teased my mother about that very same thing. He’d always laughed at her because it was in her nature to look at every task as a problem, and in her nature to get to the heart of every problem and anticipate every possibility so that nothing could take her by surprise.”

“And your father?”

“He refused to believe there was anything that a sense of humor and a drink or two couldn’t fix.”

“Worrying won’t help this at all.”

She bolted forward. “Just how do you think I should react when there’s a possibility that what I’m doing could destroy my sisters’ futures?”

“Oh, my. That is a weighty problem, my sweet. I can see where you might want to fret a
mite.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your sweet.”

“Are you telling me you don’t want to be?”

“Stop it!” she said, bounding to her feet.

“Oh, very well. I should have realized that a person of your nature can’t adjust to a little light humor at the turn of the screw. And going without sleep has more than likely put you out of sorts.”

Gray rose from his chair and added another small piece of wood to the fire. When he turned, he looked at her and smiled. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of that fine Bradford ale by chance, would you?”

“Of course. A drink is always the answer to everything, isn’t it?”

Even if the room
had been pitch dark it wouldn’t have hidden the effect her words had on him. “Careful, my sweet. It’s not wise to show your claws.”

Her cheeks turned a bright scarlet and Gray knew she was aware she’d overstepped her bounds. If he were in a magnanimous mood he’d mark her biting remark up to the fact that it was after three in the morning and he had pushed her rather hard. Then she looked at him with her big, dark eyes shimmering and Gray knew he could forgive her anything.

“I apologize,” she whispered. “That was uncalled for. It’s just that—”

She stopped on a heavy sigh and walked to the wooden cupboard behind her desk. Gray watched her fill one glass nearly to the top with Bradford’s excellent ale, and another with just a swallow in it. She turned and when she reached him she held the full glass out to him.

Gray lifted his arm, but instead of taking the glass, he wrapped his fingers around hers and held steady. For several long seconds their gazes locked, as if neither of them wanted to be the first to break the hold. The room grew warmer, the heat that passed between them turned to a raging fire, and Gray knew it would only be a moment more before he burst into flames. “Briars is interested in selling.”

Her eyes popped open and her mouth dropped. “What?”

“He wants to sell.”

“Are you sure?”

Gray nodded. “As sure as I can be without having anything in writing. But like any wise man he asked for a little time, no doubt to talk my offer over with his wife.”

“How much did you offer him?”

“Nothing, yet. I just listened to him tell me how hard it was to own an inn, and tried to keep up with him while he drank tankard after tankard of very inferior ale.”

“And he offered to sell you the inn?” she asked, pulling her hand away from his.

Gray’s hand felt strangely cold without her skin touching his and he took a swallow of the liquor in his glass although he barely tasted it. “Not exactly. He told me that his daughter had married well and had a cottage waiting for him and his wife where they could live out their lives in comfort. I asked him why he hadn’t moved and he said he couldn’t until he found a buyer for his inn.”

He
watched as Maggie’s face turned a warm pink and he fought the urge to brush his fingers down her rose-tipped cheeks. “I told him Bradford Brewery might be interested in buying the King’s Crown.”

“What did he say?”

Gray took a larger swallow of the liquor in his glass, this time hoping it would dull his senses and soften her reaction to what he had to tell her.

“What did he say?”
She repeated her question and this time her voice sounded more anxious.

Gray emptied his glass in one swallow. “He asked who’d given me the authority to speak for Bradford Brewery. He said everyone knows your father’s been gone for months already and there’s no one in charge but you.”

“And of course it’s impossible to take any offer a woman makes seriously.”

Gray
saw Maggie’s temper rise and refrained from telling her Briars said a great deal more than that.

“So how did you convince him to consider your offer?”

“I told him that you weren’t making the offer. I was.”

“He took an offer from a common brewery worker seriously? I can’t believe it.”

Gray cleared his throat. “Well, he doesn’t think I’m a common brewery worker— exactly.”

“Then what – exactly – does he think you are?”

“Exactly who I am,” Gray said with more confidence than he felt at that moment. “The Earl of Camden’s second son.”

“And that made your offer more credible? Didn’t he want to know what connection you had to the brewery that enabled you to make such an offer?”

“Well…yes he did,” Gray hedged, wishing at that moment that she weren’t so astute when it came to business matters. “That seemed to be important to him.”

Gray didn’t wait for her to offer to refill his glass but
walked to the cupboard and poured another inch into his glass.

“I’m sure it was. So what did you tell him?” she asked, foolishly stepping over to the cupboard.

Gray turned around and she was there, close enough to notice that the frown on her forehead lowered her dark brows nearer her beautiful dark eyes, and that her pretty mouth seemed deliciously kissable when it puckered in frustration. For a moment he couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything but stare into her face and wonder what it would be like to kiss her.

“What did you tell him?” she repeated, taking the glass from his hand and setting it on the edge of the cupboard.

“That we were getting married.”

Maggie made several attempts to speak but no words came out. When she finally managed to talk, all she uttered was, “What did you just say?”

“I told Geordie Briars that we were engaged to be married.”

“Why?”

Maggie waited for him to answer but instead he took a step closer and stared down at her with a hungry smile on his face. The anger that started to build inside her was quickly replaced by
an emotion she couldn’t explain. A rush of overly warm liquid flowed through her veins, warming her from the inside out.

“It seemed the wisest course to take,” he said slowly, his gaze moving from her eyes to her lips, “considering what I was trying to accomplish.
”

“Wise?” She struggled to give the impression that she had the upper hand in their conversation, when she wasn’t sure she had control of anything, including her knees that wanted to buckle. “There was nothing wise in telling Mr. Briars that we
were betrothed.”

“Wasn’t there?” He backed her into the corner of the room. “How far do you thi
nk I would have gotten if I’d have kept my identity a secret and let him believe I was nothing more than one of your employees?”

Maggie wasn’t
sure about the answer to that, or if there was one she couldn’t find it because he stood so close to her she couldn’t think.

“I’m sure with your experience you could have thought of something to convince him I’d sent you in my stead.”

“I can be a very convincing fellow, my sweet.” He braced one of his hands on the wall beside her head. “But I usually have more success charming women into what I want them to do than men.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she said, gloating as if she’d scored a hit with her caustic remark. “But what if Mr. Briars tells someone that you and I are…” Maggie swallowed hard. “…betrothed, and it becomes common knowledge?”

Grayson Delaney lifted one of his thick, dark brows and leaned closer so his face was mere inches from hers. “I imagine we’ll have to get married.”

“Don’t even tease about something like that.”

Maggie pushed at his chest and he stumbled backward. She took the opportunity to escape.

“Would marriage to me be so distasteful?”
The corners of his mouth turned upward to form the most beguiling smile she’d ever seen. “I’ve been considered to be an above average catch by more than one marriage-minded mama.”

“Those were obviously the ones pushed past the point of desperation to find a match for their aging spinster daughters.”

“You wouldn’t consider me a good match?”

“I would consider you the worst possible of matches,
if
I were interested in making a match.”

“Which you’re not,” he said with a hint of doubt in his voice.

“Which I’m absolutely, unequivocally not! And I especially wouldn’t look in your direction even if I were.”

“Oh, you do have a low impression of me, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.” Maggie walked to the other side of the room and let her mother’s big oak desk separate them. “Now, please explain exactly what transpired between you and Mr. Briars.”

He propped one shoulder against the wall where she’d escaped from him and crossed his arms over his chest. “As I told you, we shared a few glasses
of the inn’s very inferior ale—”

“A few dozen, you mean,” Maggie interrupted, unable to keep her thoughts to herself.

“Hardly that many, Maggie, my dear. But perhaps it was a few more than one or two.”

Maggie rolled her eyes which elicited a smile from the man across the room.

“Anyway, I explained as tactfully as I could my reason for coming to see him. Mr. Briars was clearly interested from the beginning, and when I explained that Bradford Brewery might want to buy his fine establishment, he became even more interested. He understandably wanted to know what position I held to be able to make such an inquiry. At that point, I realized I had to make my status at the brewery as lofty as possible. And what loftier a position than the future son-in-law of the present owner?”

“And he believed you?”

“As you mentioned before,” he answered with a wink, “I can be very persuasive with the right motivation.”

Maggie wanted to argue but couldn’t. “Did Mr. Briars give you any indication as to what price he might ask for the
King’s Crown?”

Delaney merely smiled at that. “Before we could discuss any monetary issues, he made a point of informing me that his inn was the finest in the county, visited by gentry and nobility from far and wide. I think he was going to indicate an amount he’d be willing to part with his establishment, but I stopped him.”

“Why?” Maggie stepped around the desk. “Why did you stop him?”

“Because whatever price he stated would be a bargai
ning point from his advantage—not mine. I’d rather be the one to make the first offer and have to raise it to meet his expectations, than anger him by forcing him to accept far less than he’d asked as a starting price.”

Maggie saw the advantage in such a strategy but was amazed that Grayson Delaney had thought of it. “And how will you determine what to offer him? The only way we have of knowing what profits to expect from the
King’s Crown is to see the account books for the last few years.”

“Which of course you’re sure I didn’t think to do.”

“Please don’t put words in my mouth. You’ve hardly had experience in negotiations of this sort. I hardly expected you to think to ask for them.”

“Of course
.” He pushed himself away from the wall. “Being an irresponsible squanderer, I’ve never had to concern myself with accounting for the money I’ve spent.” He stepped toward her. “Except that at times I have been known to do the unexpected.” He patted his jacket pocket.

“You have them?” She couldn’t believe it. “You thought to ask for them?”

Maggie threw caution to the wind and darted across the room. He smiled when she reached him and he took the last step toward her to close the narrow distance she’d left between them. He was suddenly near enough that their toes touched.

He chucked her under the chin. “Did you want to see them?”

She swatted away his hand. “Of course I want to see them.”

He shook his head. “It’s too late to look at them tonight, Maggie, dear.”

“But I just want to—”

“We’ll look at them first thing in the morning after we’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

“We!”

“Of course. You don’t expect me to negotiate with Briars without knowing his business inside and out, do you?”

“No, but—”

He placed his hands on her shoulders
and sent a thousand spikes of molten need shooting to her core.

“Sometimes you amaze me, Maggie. You have a brilliant head for business, but unless you expect your father to return within the next few days, you’d better resign yourself to the fact that from now on you and I are in this together.”

Maggie didn’t want to think of herself connected to Gray Delaney in any way, especially in something that might bring them into constant contact with each other. Something in the way he looked at her made her realize just how vulnerable she was when he came near. And the way she reacted to him warned her how much of a threat he was to her.

“What are you worried about now?” he asked, moving one hand to the nape of her neck.

She tried to pull away, but his hand held its firm grasp and he wouldn’t release her. “What is there that’s happening that I shouldn’t worry about? I’m being forced to risk the money I’ve saved for my sisters’ futures. I’ve aligned myself with a man whose reputation as a scoundrel and a spendthrift is known far and wide. And I’m here alone in the middle of the night with one of the most well-known rakes in all of England. Isn’t that enough to worry about for one day?”

He smiled, then brushed the palm of his hand down her hair. “You should wear your hair down more often.”

Maggie felt the warmth of his nearness and shivered, even though she told herself she wouldn’t let him affect her. But when he raked his fingers through her hair, then cupped the back of her head in the palm of his hand it was all she could do to keep her legs steady beneath her.

She wanted to push him away
, but that would mean she’d have to reach out to him and touch him, and her body was already on fire just standing that close to him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, finding her voice.

“I’m getting ready to kiss you.”

“You can’t.”

“I can’t?”

“No. You said you’d never kiss a woman if she wasn’t willing.”

“That’s right, Maggie, my dear.” He slowly lowered his head. “I said I’d never kissed a woman who wasn’t willing.”

Before Maggie
found the words to tell him he was wrong if he thought she’d allow him to make her another of his conquests, he brought his mouth down over hers and kissed her.

His lips were firm and warm and moist and fit perfectly with hers. Maggie’s mind screamed a warning that she didn’t want to know what his kisses were like. But something deep inside her ignored every warning her mind issued. Something deep inside her
was desperate to know.

Once or twice during her London Seasons she allowed an admirer to kiss her, and each time their kisses left her cold and unemotional. Since she’d been resolute in her determination to never marry, she’d been relieved to find that the few kisses she’d allowed hadn’t affected her.

Until now.

The touch of Grayson Delaney’s lips against hers transformed her body into a spineless, boneless mass with no muscles to give strength to her arms or legs. Only her heart seemed to work with amazing ability, thundering inside her breast as loud as the grinders that mashed the grain. And her body heat soared to a raging inferno from the inside out, as hot as the mash brewed in the hop-boil.

She didn’t want to know that only this man’s kisses could make her heart race as if she’d run a thousand miles. She didn’t want to know that only this man’s arms enveloping her could set her flesh on fire. Now that Grayson Delaney had shown her what she’d missed, she was doomed to live the rest of her life cursed with an empty, hollow ache filled with regret.

Her mind ordered her to step out of his embrace before it was too late, but her body did just the opposite. She pressed herself closer as if she could somehow become a part of him. Then, as if her arms had movement of their own, they tightened around him to bring him closer to her.

She knew she should tell him to stop, but the only sound she uttered was a moan that sounded more like a plea than a refusal.

A
stranger seemed to control her. Grayson Delaney seemed the only man in the universe who possessed what she’d gone without her whole life and she couldn’t exist another second without experiencing what he alone could give her.

His kisses were hard yet gentle, demanding yet giving. His touch was comforting and exciting while at the same time insistent and satisfying. Even though she was probably far more inexperienced than any woman he’d ever kissed before, he made her feel like she was the most skilled lover in the world.

She was sure he’d had countless women more beautiful than she, yet he made her feel like the most desirable woman on earth.

But more amazing than anything, he made her feel like he truly wanted to kiss her.

And that emotion was a headier feeling than anything she’d ever experienced before.

He pulled her closer and deepened his kiss. She didn’t know what parameters there were to sharing a first kiss, or what guidelines should be observed, but she was sure they’d exceeded all boundaries. If there were any rules to sharing a proper kiss, she knew they’d shattered them. And when she thought there wasn’t another level to which he could take her, he pressed his thumb against her chin until she opened to allow him entrance.

A heavy moan escaped from deep within her and a thousand stars exploded inside her head. His tongue touched hers and she reached to meet him, to explore the strangeness, to revel in the euphoric sensation sharing something so intimate caused. She wanted there to be something more. She desired to give him more, impatient to be connected to him in a more cherished way. Yet her mind wasn’t clear enough to know what that might be. Nor was she experienced enough to know what her body was telling her.

“Grayson?” she said on a breathless gasp when he lifted his mouth from hers. “Gray?”

“Ah, Maggie, my love.” He firmly covered her lips again.

He deepened his kiss while moving his hands over her flesh from her shoulders down her arms and back up again. She felt a warm pressure at her waist, then that warmth slid beneath her cloak and covered her breast. She sighed a soft moan then arched her back to press
more firmly into the palm of his hand.

Time seemed to stop. None of the familiar brewery sounds sifted through the rushing roar echoing in her head. Not even the chiming of the
mantel clock on the shelf made it above the pounding of her heart in her breast. Nothing except the faraway sound of a voice calling her name.