Chapter 2

Noah had no reason to hang around after the cake had been cut and the evening celebrations were under way. He had staff who were more than capable of running things. Yet, he felt a responsibility both personally and professionally to stay on. If there were improvements to be made for future events, he would take note and add it to the list of things he had to do.

It was in his best interests to ensure the estate was generating enough revenue to secure the future for everyone at the castle. Since he’d left university, he’d worked hard to repair the financial damage his father had done over the years. It wasn’t that the Earl had been reckless with money, rather he’d been too neglectful. Content to sit and watch the world go by instead of taking an active role, his father had let the castle fall into disrepair. Along with his finances and his marriage.

The investments he’d made in the past were no longer worth the paper they were written on in the current economic climate. It had been left to Noah to find a way to pay the overheads and keep the castle running. After four years away and planning his own future, he’d been forced to return to put the family business in order.

A business was how they had to look at the house now instead of a home. That was easier for Noah to do than his father, when it was full of bad memories. His father, the dreamer tended to only see the good in the place—the history and picturesque landscape—not a sobbing mother. From the day she’d left, his father had retreated further into his study and denial.

The business degree Noah had counted on for his escape now sealed his fate here, imprisoned in the castle for the foreseeable future. Against his father’s wishes, he’d opened the castle to the public. Although the west wing remained a private residence for the family, the rest was a museum showpiece.

Of course, it had taken more money and investment to make the much needed repairs and refurbishment. They’d had to add toilet facilities and a bar to make the conservatory a viable venue for functions. The beautiful surroundings and magnificence of the nineteenth century stately home meant it wasn’t long before they were flooded with requests from hopeful brides.

Given Noah’s attitude to marriage, it was a huge step to take, but a profitable one. And, when Lucy was here with her clients, an enjoyable one. On days when demanding brides and rowing families could send him running for the hills, Lucy was a breath of fresh air. Her enthusiasm for these nuptials, albeit misplaced in his opinion, was charming.

When she walked prospective clients through the grounds, regaling them with the castle’s history she could hardly contain her child like excitement. It was catnip to an old cynic like him. He thrived on the back and forth of their opposing views on love and romance.

By no means did he mean to belittle or diminish her beliefs. It was simply a novelty to find a woman who didn’t bow and scrape to him in an attempt to utilise his position in society. Not that the Ravenhills did much socialising with the elite these days. He’d long grown tired of people only interested in what he could do for them. Equally, those same people drifted away when the family name became associated with failure.

He liked Lucy for a variety of reasons. One of which being that he would never actually act on his attraction to her. Ms. Honeywell was a cling-on. She’d made no qualms about wanting a husband and kids. And, until recently, she had been engaged. She wasn’t a threat. They wouldn’t be right for each other in a million years. She thought love could change the world, when he knew only money held that power.

However, he could not simply stand back and watch her saddle herself with a loser for the rest of her life. One day in a meringue dress didn’t mean a lifetime of hearts and flowers. In his experience it was merely a sentence of heartbreak and tears.

He hoped tonight’s enforced attendance would loosen her up and help her enjoy herself. There was no need for someone so young and beautiful to be so damned serious all the time.

As he watched her drain another glass of wine after picking at her meal, he knew his plan had backfired.

The elderly women who’d been at the table had long gone, leaving her with Cousin Alan, and a young couple too busy swapping saliva to pay her any attention. Lucy was half-slumped in her chair, her eyes not quite focusing on the band on the stage. Her bird-print chiffon dress had ridden up to reveal a little too much of her slender legs. Wait, is that creepy cousin Alan’s hand on her thigh?

Noah crossed the room in three strides to take the seat next to her. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” The unguarded smile told him all he needed to know about her current state of sobriety.

Noah sent an unspoken warning to her companion, scowling until the offending hand was removed from her person. He wanted to get her away from any potential trouble, be it unwanted advances, or damaging her professional reputation.

“Would you like to dance?” Perhaps if he could get her to her feet, he could subtly manoeuvre her towards the exit.

“With you?” She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Unless you’d rather dance with Alan, here?” He got to his feet and waited for her to choose.

Lucy looked at the grinning Alan beside her and back at Noah. She leaned on Alan’s shoulder as she got up, and gave him a pat. “Sorry, Alan.”

Some of the tension left Noah’s body as he took to the dance floor as the victor. He didn’t know what he would have done if she’d gone with the moustachioed, seventies-style alternative. In terms of getting her from harm’s way of course, not for the sake of his ego.

The band slowed the pace until all the couples on the floor were swaying in each other’s arms. Noah had no choice but to take Lucy into his. Although there was probably enough room between their bodies to drive a bus through, such was his reluctance to get close.

“Why didn’t you want to dance with me?” he asked when curiosity finally got the better of him.

“You hate me.” Lucy pouted with the sadness of an abandoned puppy.

Noah through his head back and laughed. “I do not hate you. What gave you that impression? I rather like you as it happens.”

It was the truth. Noah didn’t believe in telling lies or hiding facts. Life would be better if people were more honest with each other.

Lucy’s expression changed to excitable puppy. “Really?”

“Really.” Noah attempted to move her across the floor.

“Then why are you so mean to me?” Lucy stubbornly refused to go along with him and dug her kitten heels in.

“I don’t mean to be. I guess it’s my warped sense of humour.” He would have to remember not to take the joke too far with her in future. It was never his intention for his banter to be taken as a personal attack.

Lucy sighed and closed the space between them to lay her head against his chest. It was a shock to him, mentally and physically, to finally cross that invisible line from enemies to friends.

She moved her feet again taking Noah with her, their bodies too close for his comfort. He could feel her warmth and softness through that sheer slip of material she called a dress. Thankfully, her yawn gave him the perfect excuse to call a halt to whatever this was.

“Would you like me to call a taxi for you?” He would have driven her home himself except he’d had a couple of whiskeys himself during the course of the evening.

She nodded against his shirt, roughing the fabric up and down his skin and causing goose bumps everywhere she touched. Taxi. Now.

As he took her hand and led her away, it was like watching a newborn lamb take its first steps.

“How much did you have to drink?” He moved one hand around her waist to keep her upright and steered her back to the table.

She unhooked her handbag from the chair with one hand. “Night, Alan.”

The still single cousin scowled as she patted him on the head.

“I only had a couple of glasses of wine. I swear.” She made the sign of a cross over her heart and began to stagger sideways, almost missing the exit entirely.

“That’s all it takes if you haven’t eaten.” Noah knew she’d regret it come tomorrow morning.

“Promise not to be cross with me.” Lucy bit her lip and reaffirmed the idea that perhaps he’d been too harsh with her in the past.

Excess alcohol usually brought out the worst in people, but somehow it made Lucy even more beguiling.

“I’m not cross at you, but I can’t send you home in this state.” There was no way his conscience would let him dump her in the back of a taxi and hope she got home in one piece.

“Maybe I’ll just sleep here.” She made for one of the settees dotted throughout the halls for the comfort of the guests.

Noah pulled her back before she could settle in for the night. “You can stay in one of our spare rooms in the west wing.”

“Ooh, the west wing. I’ve always wanted to see what you keep back there. Do you have a mad ex-wife locked away from the public?” The very notion of exploring further afield got her animated again, making the job of corralling her even harder.

“Just my father.” Why did the house seem so much bigger when he was trying to get an inebriated wedding planner to bed?

Eventually he got her within swaying distance of where he wanted her. He unlocked the door and switched on the light, all with Lucy hanging from his shoulder. With some difficulty he backed her over to the four poster bed dominating the room.

Lucy plopped down on the mattress, the momentum carrying Noah down on top of her. He levered himself up so he was looking into those big baby blues of hers, all doe-eyed and wanting. He told himself it was only the alcohol making her look at him that way. She worried her lip with her teeth, drawing attention to her mouth. Noah was suddenly curious to find out if she tasted as delicious as she looked.

He captured her lip between his and kissed her slowly. She was soft and comfortable and everything he expected. At first. As he dipped his tongue into her mouth to sample her sweetness, Lucy wrapped herself around him from tongue to toe. Her hands wound into his hair pulling him closer, her legs tangled with his until their bodies were unbearably close. She kissed him like a woman robbed of passion for too long.

Noah’s heart raced and his breath hitched as all the blood in his veins rushed south. As much as he wanted her right now, he couldn’t do this. Not here, not now, not ever. This evening had started off because she deserved more than a useless fiancé. More than him.

With one last lingering perusal of her lips, he reluctantly broke away. “I have to go.”

The look of burgeoning desire darkened her eyes to glittering sapphires.

“You’re very good looking, Noah. Almost the perfect man.” Her voice was husky enough to turn any man to stone.

She sighed. “If only you didn’t insist on speaking.”