Chapter 7

She hid the uncertainty and misgivings so well that he did not suspect anything. After the conversation with Ronald, she returned and did her job to the best of her ability. She loved her career, and explaining the merits of the paintings and the other artworks came naturally to her.

She almost cried off going to dinner with him, but some perverse need to be with him, to spend the time they had together, had her going. He was charming, engaging her in conversation after he had ordered for her. And the filet mignon was tasty, not to mention the wine he had chosen to go with it.

He never had to worry about money. He was entitled and possibly titled. He had been brought up being waited on hand and foot. He was seeing people around him, and picking up after him came naturally.

But to her, he was simply a very handsome man with a distinctive accent, and she was enjoying him. When it came time for her to say goodbye, she would try her best to be sophisticated about it.

"Hey."

Mentally shaking her miserable thoughts aside, she forced herself to concentrate on him.

"Yes?"

"If I were less than confident, I would begin to think you have lost interest."

"But you happen to be very confident." He had ordered mango mousse, and she was forcing herself to eat it.

"I am." His jade green eyes searched her face, a frown crossing his brow. "Care to tell me what's going on?"

"I had a hard day at the gallery." She said evasively, which did not fool him one bit.

"Want to take that to go?" He nodded at the pastry.

"I-" With a distracted frown, she looked down at the discarded dessert. "No."

"Then, shall we?" He was already pushing back his chair and calling for the check.

"You are not finished." She pointed out.

"I have lost my appetite." His tone had become calm and distant, sending a warning into her brain.

"Did you drive?"

"No."

"We will catch a taxi." Holding his hand out, he waited while a vehicle slid to a stop at their feet. The short journey was done in silence. Getting out of the car, he came around to open her door, and they made their way to the building.

"Drink?" He asked, moving toward the cabinet in the living room.

"White wine, please."

Tessa stood by the mantle after dropping her tote on the burgundy sofa. Her chest was tight with tension, and the need to give in tears was more than she could bear. Handing her the glass of wine, he moved over to the opposite sofa and stood there, his glass of scotch in one hand. "Let's hear it."

"Hear what?"

Lifting his glass, he sipped his drink and eyed her over the rim. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I told you-"

"Trying day at the gallery, yes. I heard you the first time. Only, I don't believe you. Try again."

"I already told you-"

"Are you going to make me pry it out of you?"

"How?"

"I have my ways. What is it?"

"Nothing." She closed her eyes at the determined expression on his handsome face and knew he was not about to let it go.

"It's my boss."

"Has he done something to upset you?"

"No." Sinking, she shoved the tote onto the carpeted floor. "He knows who you are."

"And that's a problem because…"

"He was eager to regale me with the fact that you are related to the king and spoke about the photos you took with the princes. Oh, and the fact that you are with me, a common African American woman, is going to upset your family." She looked away from him.

"You already knew who I was." He pointed out softly. He had sensed that something was off when she came to dinner and had an idea that it had to do with his identity.

"Yes. Stupid of me, isn't it? Because this is just a fling. A diversion for when you leave this country to resume your life includes getting married."

Landen stood where he was for a few pulsing seconds. Tossing back the rest of the drink, he knelt before her.

"Look at me," he ordered quietly. "Please." When she did, he took the glass of untouched wine from her and placed it on the table. Taking her hands in his, he studied the tear-brightened dark brown eyes, his heart hammering inside his chest.

He would never want to hurt her and had not expected to feel this way. It complicated things, and he had no idea how to sort it out.

"I am not getting married." He did not know what would happen, but he knew he could never return to life as it was, not now, not after what they shared.

"What?"

"It's an arrangement." His hands tightened on hers. "Something that has been a tradition in our family for generations."

"And you are going to break that tradition?" Her skeptical expression almost made him smile.

"Absolutely."

"Why?" She demanded. "And please don't tell me it's because of me-"

"It's because of me," he said somberly. "I cannot enter into a loveless match after this…"

"What are you saying?" She whispered.

"I have to go back."

"I know."

"My home is there, and I have responsibilities-" He broke off and heaved a harsh sigh. "It's times like these that I wished I was ordinary."

"Do you?" She teased.

"Yes."

"I am not asking you to make a promise, Landen." She took a deep breath. "I just want to enjoy what time we have left together. This was just supposed to be a fling-"

"Only, we are past that."

"We can't be any more than that." Firming her lips, she attempted a smile. "I am fine with that." Tugging her hands away, she rose and moved away. "Let's go upstairs."

"Tessa-"

"No." She shook her head wildly. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

He watched as she made her way out of the room and came to a sudden decision.

He watched as she changed out of her dress and donned a silky nightie she had brought with her. Hurriedly removing his clothes, he did not bother with a robe as he slid into bed beside her. Instead of reaching for her as she thought he would, he folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

Sliding back down on the pillows, she waited for him to speak or do something.

A few minutes had elapsed before he turned to stare at her. "My name is Landen Niall Chapman," he recited tonelessly, an inscrutable expression on his handsome face. "My last birthday was January twenty-second, and I turned thirty."

"I already knew that." She did not understand what he was trying to do.

"It's public knowledge. I was sent to an all-boys exclusive boarding school in London at the age of six until I turned sixteen. Then, I was enrolled in another exclusive high school. I graduated from Cambridge and Oxford, where my father selected courses for me."

His expression had not changed, but a cynical twist to his sensuous lips told her how much he hated it. "I was brought up to know my responsibilities and to take them seriously.

I am Landen Niall Chapman, and I am supposed to be scandal-free. Which means that I am supposed to be discreet." He turned his head to stare up at the ceiling. "I am supposed to marry Sara Pendleton-"

"You don't have to."

"I am supposed to marry Sara Pendleton-" There was an implacable quality to his deep voice that warned her he was determined to have his say. "Before I left home, I had decided that I was not going to allow them to do to me what they did to my sister."

Pulling his hands from behind his head, he drew himself up and sat back against the pillows. "I met you." A smile tugged at his lips. "I met you and decided that you would prove a welcome distraction to what I had to do when I returned home." He shook his head. "But then I kissed you, and everything changed."

Tessa went still at that, and she could feel the breath backing up inside her throat.

"What are you saying?" She whispered.

"I had a rigid childhood where my friends were chosen for me." He turned his head to look at her and felt his heart knocking against his ribs. "I have never met anyone like you before, and I-" Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes. "I don't know how I could say goodbye to you, Tessa. That's what I am saying."

"And?"

He turned to look at her and felt the lust surging through his body. The robe was black, and he could see her nipples through the material. "And I think I am on the way to falling in love with you."

She could not breathe, and for one second, she wondered if she was about to have a heart attack.

"Landen-" She turned toward him, and the rest of the words failed her at the intense expression on his face. "We can't…" her voice trailed away as he pulled her roughly in his arms and crushed his lips to hers.

Hope flared inside her chest, and had her opening her lips beneath his to allow his tongue to drive into her mouth. He had not told her about marriage, but she did not care. He was falling in love with her! Nothing else matters but those profound words.

*****

After a restless night, he was no closer to a solution the following day. He was up in front of her and sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. He had told her he was falling in love with her, which was true. But he hadn't said that his parents would never accept her.

He smiled grimly into the cup of tea.

They constantly said how accepting they were of ‘people of color.' They were generous to their charities. His mother was the queen of lost causes, referring to the various children's homes and homeless shelters.

His father had been forced to accept that the club he had been a member of for generations and his ancestors before him had become lax in its membership. No longer was the membership open to only men who were ‘pure' in their bloodlines, but anyone wealthy enough to afford the horrendously expensive dues could become a member.

Not to mention that most of the members were marrying women of color. He had scathingly remarked that it was a disgrace how far down the club had fallen from its usual stellar standard.

He was forced to accept the new rules and standards, but Landen was sure he would never accept Tessa. She was a woman of color and an American, and her bloodline was not pure. Pushing aside the tea, he lunged to wander over to the window.

He would have to leave and go home in two weeks, or he would not hear the end. The thought of leaving her was making him insane. Dragging restless fingers through his hair, he stared out the window at the pink-tinted sky heralding the new day"s arrival. He had no appetite and was restless with the image of impending doom.

He could make her his mistress and lavishly provide for her. He had enough resources to buy her several galleries so she did not have to work for anyone. He would set up an account for her and put her in this apartment or one like it.

He would work on it so that he could visit her every weekend. The company has business dealings in this country and wants to expand into different markets.

And what? The voice taunted him. Marry Sara and lead a respectable life. Would your parents approve of it? Even now, Tessa might be carrying your baby inside her womb. The thought of it made his knees tremble.

Returning to the counter, he sat heavily, a moody expression on his face. He could never hurt her like that, could never demean her by making her his mistress, and - a smile touched his lips. Knowing her as he was starting to, she would tell him where to shove his offer.

Or he could go to them and tell them outright that he had met someone and was in love with her. They could shun him, which was the only thing they could do. They did not have the power to disinherit him.

As soon as he reached thirty, the company"s controlling interest had been signed over to him. It was a family generation for centuries. The eldest son, or, in his case, the only son, gets to inherit the bulk of the company. Aside from that, he had inherited a fortune from his grandparents on both sides.

He could set up shop here. His parents could not cut him off financially, but they had enough influence in the UK to make things decidedly uncomfortable for Tessa. They would tolerate him because he was their son, but they would never accept her. Besides, he could never see himself living here.

London was his home. The wild, untamed beauty, the gently rolling hills, even the constant rain and the cold that could seep into one's skin and chill the blood. He had been worldwide, and nowhere had ever felt like home. Living elsewhere was out of the question.

Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes and deeply breathed. His thoughts were running around in circles. And he was nowhere nearer to a solution than when he first started.

He wanted drugs; hard liquor was not going to cut it. When he was fifteen, he had rebelled against the rigid upbringing and had sneaked out of his dorm room with several other fellows and found someone selling dope on the street corner.

In hindsight, it had been a bloody foolish thing to do. They could have been kidnapped and held for ransom, or the drugs could have been laced. He had done it that first time and decided it was not for him.

Besides, it had made him feel like crap, as if he was floating out of his damned body. It was a sensation he never wanted to experience again!

A sound just inside the doorway had his head jerking up. She was standing inside the doorway wearing nothing but the robe, her dark brown eyes still sleepy.

"What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing." She wandered into the room and would have gone to the opposite side of the counter if he had not snagged her wrist and lifted her onto his lap.

"What are you doing?"

"Just thinking." He nuzzled the side of her neck, breathing in her subtle scent. "Do you have to go in today?"

"I have to." Her body arched as he released the thin string of her robe and cupped her breasts.

"I was thinking of buying you a gallery," he murmured, feathering his thumbs and forefingers over the hard nipples.

"What?"

"I was thinking-"

"I heard you the first time." Her mind was getting clouded by his sensuous stroking, and she had to struggle to concentrate. "You are not doing that."

"I want to. And don't tell me that's not something you have thought about."

"It is, but I am quite comfortable where I am. Landen-" She moaned when his hand drifted between her thighs. A groan escaped him when he realized she was not wearing anything else.

"You read my mind."

"I was about to take a shower. Please tell me you are not buying me a gallery."

"I am thinking of it." He dipped a finger in and felt the jolt shoot through his body in the moistness. "Oh, good Christ!" He whispered. Bending his head, he nibbled at her neck and had her squirming on his lap.

Plucking her off him, he placed her on the stool and released his swollen shaft. "Wrap your legs around my waist, darling." He breathed. When she did, he drove into her, pushing her back against the counter.

"You are going to be the death of me," he whispered against her mouth.

*****

He made his way to the club after she left. Heading straight to one of the card rooms, he surveyed the men already playing poker and roulette and went to a table where he could study the rest of the room. A waiter materialized almost by magic and placed a glass of bourbon at his elbow. With a curt nod of thanks, he dismissed the man.

Leaning back in his chair, he picked up the drink and took a sip. He wanted to eliminate his troubles, at least for a few hours. He was taking Tessa to the opera. He had asked if she fancied that, and she said yes.

To hell with everything else. It was time to get her out of hiding. So be it if a reporter or two sees them and snaps a picture. He was sick to death of being cautious. She was his girl. It remains as if she would ever be his wife, but she was his, and he would take her out.

She did not deserve to be hidden in some damned flat. She was like a diamond, and diamonds were made to sparkle. Speaking of which, he was going to buy her a diamond necklace and some earrings to go with it.

"Are you playing cards or just watching everyone else play?"

"I was contemplating my next move." A smile crossed his lips as Liam pulled out a chair and picked up the deck. "What are you doing here?"

"I happen to be a member, same as you." His friend reminded him blandly. "You look like you were deep in thought."

"I was." Landen nodded. "I was thinking of the opera."

"Ah. Things are progressing?"

"Yes." Landen took another sip of the liquor. "You and Amani…."

"What about us?" Liam shuffled the cards expertly, snapping and sliding them rapidly.

"When you married her, it caused quite a scandal."

Liam grinned in remembrance as he dealt the cards. "She robbed me of a costly painting meant for the museum, and I fell in love with her." His eyes lifted to his friend's face soberly. "Yours is not going to be quite so easy. Rigid standards and traditions did not tie me down. I have met your parents, who will never welcome her into the family."

"No." Taking another swallow of the liquor, he gestured for the hovering waiter to bring him another. "They already have someone picked out for me. A beautiful, colorless, polite young woman with an impeccable lineage."

"Who would give you the required heirs to Chapman"s name."

"Precisely." He thanked the man as he placed the glass before him. " 'I must perform' has been drummed in my head since I could form words. I am a Chapman, and I have to be discreet. Several hundred years of pure breeding must be carried forward." Picking up the glass, he stared moodily into the amber liquor. "A tradition I don't give a damn about."

"You could always start a new one," Liam suggested as he shoved the cards toward him. "One where you choose your damn wife and to hell with your parents."

A smile ghosted his lips as Landen picked up his deck and studied the hand he had been given. "I suppose I could. I was thinking about that very thing this morning."

"And?" Liam displayed his hand, sweeping it on the table.

Grinning at his friend, Landen showed his winning hand. "And I refuse to think about it now as I am about to divest you a huge sum of money."