her for several moments before he spoke. “I wish I could disagree with your father, but I can’t.”
“You don’t like him, do you?”
Mr. Murdock rose to his feet. “We should get back before you’re missed.”
Polly rose, but when she took her first step, she turned her ankle and pivoted forward.
Briggs Murdock reached for her and pulled her against him.
Polly wasn’t sure what happened when her body touched his. Her flesh tingled everywhere they connected. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Blood pounded inside her head, and she found it difficult to find enough air to breathe.
He held her for several long moments and instead of calming, the effect of being held in his arms intensified.
She’d never felt like this. Never realized that a man’s touch could cause such turmoil to rage inside her.
She lifted her chin and looked into his dark eyes. They’d been a dark brown before, but now they seemed black. She couldn’t imagine why his expression seemed so intense.
Her gaze moved to his lips, and she suddenly wondered what it might feel like if he kissed her.
His gaze followed hers and focused on her lips. For a moment Polly thought he might.
But he shook his head and whispered. “We can’t. I want nothing more. But we can’t.”
And he took her back to the bench and helped her sit.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Was it your ankle?”
“It was, but it’s all right. I just lost my balance.”
He knelt in front of her and wrapped his fingers around her ankle. “It seems all right.”
“It is,” she assured him. “Thank you.”
He helped her to her feet and they walked back to the house.
Polly looked up when they reached the terrace and stopped. Her father stood at the edge of the cement. His expression wasn’t one of pleasure.
“Hello, Father. We were—”
“Go to the house, Pauline.”
“But, Father, I—”
“Now.”
“Yes, Father.”
She stepped past Briggs, then past her father, then across the terrace to the house. The last words she heard were those spoken by her father.
“I’ll expect you to call on me tomorrow morning, Mr. Murdock. Early.”
CHAPTER 3
Briggs dismounted from the hack he’d hired to take him to Stepmoore’s town house and looked up at the impressive brick home. It was grand in both size and stature. But he knew it would be. Stepmoore was a very wealthy man.
Briggs opened the gate that lined the edge of the property, and walked to the house. The door opened before he lifted the knocker.
“His lordship is expecting you,” an austere-looking butler informed him. “If you’ll follow me.”
Briggs followed the man down a hallway on the right. He stopped before the third door and knocked.
“Come,” Stepmoore said from behind the closed door.
The butler opened the door and Briggs entered.
Briggs wasn’t sure what he expected, but the open spaciousness of Stepmoore’s study surprised him. So did the general décor. It wasn’t the dark, overly masculine look of so many rooms used by the males of a household. There was a n orderly, understated elegance and most surprising, a welcoming air about the place.
“Come in, Murdock.”
Stepmoore rose from behind his desk and pointed to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Briggs sat in the opposite chair.
Stepmoore acknowledged his defiance with a lift of his brows.
A maid followed the butler back into the room and poured tea. After she served them, she left the room. The butler followed, then closed the door behind him.
They were alone.
“I find this difficult, Murdock,” Stepmoore said after he’d taken a sip of his tea, then set his cup and saucer on the desk.
“What exactly do you find difficult, my lord? Facing the son of the man whose life you ruined? Being in the same room with a man you know despises you above all other men? Or, speaking with a man with whom you cannot abide seeing your daughter associate?”
Stepmoore sat back in his chair. “You’re a very
“You don’t like him, do you?”
Mr. Murdock rose to his feet. “We should get back before you’re missed.”
Polly rose, but when she took her first step, she turned her ankle and pivoted forward.
Briggs Murdock reached for her and pulled her against him.
Polly wasn’t sure what happened when her body touched his. Her flesh tingled everywhere they connected. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Blood pounded inside her head, and she found it difficult to find enough air to breathe.
He held her for several long moments and instead of calming, the effect of being held in his arms intensified.
She’d never felt like this. Never realized that a man’s touch could cause such turmoil to rage inside her.
She lifted her chin and looked into his dark eyes. They’d been a dark brown before, but now they seemed black. She couldn’t imagine why his expression seemed so intense.
Her gaze moved to his lips, and she suddenly wondered what it might feel like if he kissed her.
His gaze followed hers and focused on her lips. For a moment Polly thought he might.
But he shook his head and whispered. “We can’t. I want nothing more. But we can’t.”
And he took her back to the bench and helped her sit.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Was it your ankle?”
“It was, but it’s all right. I just lost my balance.”
He knelt in front of her and wrapped his fingers around her ankle. “It seems all right.”
“It is,” she assured him. “Thank you.”
He helped her to her feet and they walked back to the house.
Polly looked up when they reached the terrace and stopped. Her father stood at the edge of the cement. His expression wasn’t one of pleasure.
“Hello, Father. We were—”
“Go to the house, Pauline.”
“But, Father, I—”
“Now.”
“Yes, Father.”
She stepped past Briggs, then past her father, then across the terrace to the house. The last words she heard were those spoken by her father.
“I’ll expect you to call on me tomorrow morning, Mr. Murdock. Early.”
CHAPTER 3
Briggs dismounted from the hack he’d hired to take him to Stepmoore’s town house and looked up at the impressive brick home. It was grand in both size and stature. But he knew it would be. Stepmoore was a very wealthy man.
Briggs opened the gate that lined the edge of the property, and walked to the house. The door opened before he lifted the knocker.
“His lordship is expecting you,” an austere-looking butler informed him. “If you’ll follow me.”
Briggs followed the man down a hallway on the right. He stopped before the third door and knocked.
“Come,” Stepmoore said from behind the closed door.
The butler opened the door and Briggs entered.
Briggs wasn’t sure what he expected, but the open spaciousness of Stepmoore’s study surprised him. So did the general décor. It wasn’t the dark, overly masculine look of so many rooms used by the males of a household. There was a n orderly, understated elegance and most surprising, a welcoming air about the place.
“Come in, Murdock.”
Stepmoore rose from behind his desk and pointed to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Briggs sat in the opposite chair.
Stepmoore acknowledged his defiance with a lift of his brows.
A maid followed the butler back into the room and poured tea. After she served them, she left the room. The butler followed, then closed the door behind him.
They were alone.
“I find this difficult, Murdock,” Stepmoore said after he’d taken a sip of his tea, then set his cup and saucer on the desk.
“What exactly do you find difficult, my lord? Facing the son of the man whose life you ruined? Being in the same room with a man you know despises you above all other men? Or, speaking with a man with whom you cannot abide seeing your daughter associate?”
Stepmoore sat back in his chair. “You’re a very
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