Her Accidental Groom

by Nadine Millard

  He continued to stare at her, holding her gaze with his own mesmerising, golden one.

  Finally, he answered.

  “Blue.”

  ***

  The truth was that Ben had never had a favourite colour until just now. It wasn’t the sort of thing he usually thought about.

  Staring into her eyes like a moonstruck puppy, however, changed things. Now he couldn’t think of a single colour he preferred to an icy, coolly beautiful blue.

  He watched, hypnotised, as a becoming blush stained her cheeks.

  Perhaps he favoured pink.

  Ben’s thoughts were as incoherent as he would expect having just kissed the living daylights out of Natalia Soronsky.

  Later, he would berate himself. Later, he would wonder at the sheer stupidity and madness of his actions.

  Right now though, he couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the taste of her. The feel of her. The beauty of her.

  “Are you listening?”

  Her waspish question cut through the haze of desire and bafflement he’d been drowning in, and he frowned at her icy scowl, feeling more than a little insulted that she seemed unaffected by their kiss while he felt like the entire earth had shifted.

  “Of course, I’m listening,” he lied smoothly.

  “What’s my favourite colour then?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips and raising that disdainful brow that drove him mad.

  Damn it.

  “Er – green?”

  It was as good a guess as any. Besides, today she was in a gown of light sage and she looked stunning, so she should like the colour green since it was so good to her.

  The narrowed eyes were a fairly good indication that he’d gotten it wrong.

  Ben couldn’t imagine what had come over him of a sudden, but he stepped forward until only inches separated them, delighting in the hitch in her breathing, intoxicated by the scent of her.

  “What is it, then?” he asked.

  She gazed up at him, peering into his eyes with an intensity that affected him more than he liked, and he found himself holding his breath.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “Gold,” she whispered breathily.

  And then what could he do, but kiss her again?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Your sister Harriet has two girls; Althea and Jemima?”

  “Correct. And your younger brothers Petr and Andrei will be arriving with your parents next week.”

  “Exactly.”

  Natalia drew to an awkward silence, her eyes darting around the frosty grounds stretched before her, focusing anywhere but on the man beside her.

  Aunt Mary had thought her quite mad this morning when she’d swept into the dining room in her navy-blue riding habit.

  “Natalia,” her aunt had gasped, dropping the morsel of eggs on her fork. “You cannot mean to go riding today. Why, you’ll freeze.”

  Natalia had waved off her aunt’s concerns, assuring the older lady that she’d be quite well.

  Standing here now, however, she began to feel the cold seep into her very bones.

  It had seemed like such a good idea when she’d suggested that she and Lord Staunton meet away from prying eyes this morning.

  Though part of her was uncommonly nervous given what had happened the last time they’d been alone, sense and logic dictated that they not be seen during these meetings.

  Of course, being seen together would lend credence to their claim that they were betrothed.

  But should his lordship kiss her again, and get caught doing it, there would be nothing false about their engagement. And they’d be stuck with each other forever.

  Natalia was horrified to realise that the idea wasn’t as repulsive to her as it had been only two days ago.

  Two days ago, she’d happily despised the tall, broad-shouldered earl frowning down at her.

  Now, she couldn’t even hold his gaze for more than two seconds without remembering how it felt to be locked in his arms, her mouth at the mercy of his own.

  Her heart stumbled at the memory of their embrace, and she swiftly turned away from him to gaze out over the icy vista below their current vantage point on a hill between both properties.

  This wouldn’t do! She couldn’t keep running over that kiss again and again.

  For one thing, it was keeping her from sleeping. For another, it was too dangerous. She was quite sure that the encounter had meant next to nothing to a worldly gentleman like Benjamin Trafford.

  No doubt he had some mischievous reason for doing it in the first place. And of course, he’d have forgotten all about it by now.

  But Natalia – well, Natalia had never been kissed before that moment. And if she were given to flights of fancy, she might well imagine that it had meant something special.

  Unbidden, the memory of that kiss flashed through her mind again, and Natalia shivered, not with the cold, which was no longer a problem given her heated thoughts, but with impossible to repress desire.

  “You’re freezing.”

  Lord Staunton’s voice sounded in her ear, his breath tickling her neck from where he stood only inches from her back.

  “I-I’m fine,” she argued, refusing to turn and look at him.

  He was mercifully silent while Natalia gave herself an extremely stern talking to.

  He is just a man. An annoying man, she told herself. And you will not be doing anything ridiculous like begin to care for him. You will just be engaged. Not in love.

  Feeling slightly better and more equipped to deal with the confusing maelstrom of her emotions, she took a steadying breath and prepared to turn and face him.

  Before she moved however, she was suddenly swamped in a heavy, warm material that smelt of sandalwood and Lord Staunton.

  A swift and potent desire licked her veins as she inhaled the scent, and she turned to stare at him in amazement, her emotions once again threatening to overwhelm her.

  A terrifying tenderness washed over her as Lord Staunton reached out and fixed the collar of the great coat he’d just placed round her shoulders.

  He fussed at the material before finally looking up and locking gazes with her, pinning her with a golden stare heated enough to melt the very ground on which they stood.

  After an age, he spoke.

  “How do you do it?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “D-do what?” Natalia managed to stammer.

  His smile was positively wicked as he ran that gaze over her.

  “Look good enough to eat,” he answered. “Even drowning in my coat.”

  ***

  He was getting better at controlling himself.

  He was.

  Ben had spent the last two days telling himself over and over again that it had been a mistake to kiss Natalia Soronsky.

  That it was foolish to be enchanted by her jet-black curls, her impossibly blue eyes, her biting, wicked humour.

  But the image of her wearing his coat was a test on his resolve that he never could have imagined.

  Beyond the sudden, visceral attraction to her that he’d discovered only days ago, this feeling was deeper, more tender, and infinitely more confusing. He felt protective of her, like he wanted to fight all her demons and keep her safe, always.

  It was ridiculous.

  And more than a little terrifying.

  Much as he wanted to close the distance between them and kiss her again, Ben made a herculean effort to step away from her.

  “I think we’ve learned enough about each other to see this thing through,” he said, forcing his voice to sound calm and even.

  “Y-yes, I suppose we do,” she answered.

  An icy wind bit into Ben’s skin, and he felt suddenly concerned at having Natalia out in this cold for so long.

  “Come, let us return before it grows colder still,” he said softly.

  He watched as Natalia’s eyes widened and she reached up to remove his great coat from her shoulders.

  “Take this back,” she sai
d. “You’ll freeze without it, my lord.”

  Ben reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, halting her attempts to remove the garment.

  “I’m fine,” he assured her. “And I’d much rather you have it.”

  She blushed prettily and nodded her consent.

  “This ‘my lord’ business will never do, you know.” He kept his tone conversational even as confusing emotions rioted around inside him. “If we are to be engaged, surely you must call me Ben?”

  He watched, fascinated as her blush deepened.

  “Very well,” she said softly. “Ben. Then you should call me Talia.”

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Hearing his name on her lips did something strange to his heart.

  “Come,” she said brusquely, sounding much more like herself. “We’ll both freeze if we stay out here much longer. Let’s return to your aunt’s. I gave Bea the recipe for a Russian tea that you can try.”

  Ben couldn’t contain his grimace at the mention of tea, and Natalia laughed softly as he escorted her to her mount and helped her into the saddle.

  “Don’t worry,” she quipped. “It’s not as bad as you might think. And it’s the fastest way I can think of to warm you up.”

  Ben almost groaned aloud as he climbed onto his stallion and followed Natalia’s gelding down the hillside toward Aunt Elizabeth’s.

  He could think of faster, and far more pleasurable, ways for them both to warm up.

  Ways he really shouldn’t be thinking of at all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Are you sure you’re quite well, Ben? I’ve never seen you fidget so.”

  Ben smiled down at his younger cousin, trying desperately to appear outwardly calm when inwardly, he was anything but.

  This was it. The first day of the scheme. The first time he’d meet Natalia’s family.

  “I told you, I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Beatrice said airily. “Perhaps because you’re about to meet Talia’s family and lie to them, and everyone else, about wanting to marry her?”

  Ben’s smile turned to a frown.

  He hated hearing the censure in his cousin’s tone. She’d always looked up to him the way his sisters had. And it pained him that this madcap scheme meant he’d gone down in her estimation.

  “It was her idea,” he said weakly, knowing he sounded like a petulant child.

  Bea sighed and turned to face him fully.

  “Of course it was her idea. It’s Talia,” she said with the exasperation that only the beautiful Lady Natalia could evoke in a person. “But you should know better, Ben.”

  Ben felt the beginnings of a headache press against his skull. It would appear that he only had to be talking about the chit now to get a headache, rather than be in her company.

  Although, shocking though it was to him, spending this past week in her company had been far more pleasant than he’d imagined it would be.

  Perhaps that was just because she tasted as good as she looked.

  Ben had to steal himself not to groan aloud as he remembered for the thousandth time just what it was like to kiss Natalia Soronsky.

  “Don’t you want your friend to stay in England?” he asked, dragging his mind from the gutter and back to the conversation, or rather lecture, at hand.

  “Obviously I want her to stay.” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “It’s the only reason I agreed to keep your dirty little secret.”

  “I feel it’s only fair to point out that I didn’t tell you about our ‘dirty little secret’ Bea, just as I didn’t come up with it in the first place.”

  “Well, someone has to lend credibility to your happy news,” she answered sarcastically. “And being Natalia’s best friend, it makes sense that I would know about it.”

  A sudden commotion at the door brought both Ben’s and Beatrice’s attention to the front of the drawing room, and there was Natalia looking impossibly lovely in ice blue silk, the exact colour of those eyes.

  Ben allowed his eyes to travel slowly over every part of her until he finally reached her face and saw a hint of pink staining her cheeks.

  Before he could react to that tell-tale sign, however, his attention was caught by a man who was as close to a giant in both size and stature as Ben had ever seen. The man was glaring at Ben with eyes the same shade as Natalia’s. Eyes that bored into him.

  “Oh dear,” Bea whispered most unhelpfully. “It seems you’ve managed to upset her father, and you’ve yet to speak a word.”

  “Yes, I can see that, thank you,” he snapped back.

  As Ben watched, Count Soronsky bent his head to speak to Natalia. She nodded subserviently. She, who had never been subservient in her life.

  After a moment or two, the entire Soronsky family, along with Lady Mulberry, Natalia’s aunt, made their way toward where he stood with Beatrice.

  “I’d start praying to Our Lord, Ben,” Beatrice whispered, her hazel eyes widening as the army of Russians marched toward them.

  “Why is that?” he whispered back, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

  “Because as you well know, Natalia is a crack shot.”

  Ben frowned in confusion before she spoke again with a really quite inappropriate smile.

  “And she got her talent from her father.”

  ***

  Natalia resisted the urge to fidget as she made her way over to where Ben stood.

  Perhaps she had over done it a bit in her gushing about the earl to her father.

  She and Ben had discussed what they would do; spend this house party ‘slowly falling in love’ in front of their respective families, then announce their betrothal.

  Natalia had insisted that Beatrice be informed. For one thing, Natalia had said, Beatrice could help them make the whole charade believable. And for another, Talia had never kept anything from Bea before.

  When Ben had pointed out that Natalia hadn’t told Bea about them kissing, Natalia had stopped talking to him.

  It was that sort of odious behaviour that had her despising the man. Kisses and peculiar longings notwithstanding, he was still a thorn in her side.

  But she had waxed lyrical about him nonetheless, and now her father was most anxious to meet the man.

  Papa’s disapproval was coming off him in waves. And Natalia was worried that this scheme of hers might not work after all.

  She had convinced herself that a betrothal to an earl would mollify her father enough that he’d give up on this plan to drag her back to Russia in order to marry a stranger.

  But what if he still insisted that she go?

  The first thing he’d said to her when he’d arrived at Aunt Mary’s was that he’d found two princes and a count for her to choose from.

  There’d been no emotional reunion after eight years apart. No declarations of love or affection. Just a list of men to whom she could shackle herself.

  The Christmas Eve ball was to be held in two weeks, where Ben and Natalia had planned to make their official announcement.

  That meant Ben had two weeks to charm her father. And since he hadn’t managed to charm her in eight years, Natalia had her doubts about his capabilities.

  But that’s not entirely true, an irritating voice whispered in her head. You’ve been more than a little charmed by him this past week.

  She chose to ignore that voice.

  Natalia and her family stopped before Ben and Beatrice, and Natalia couldn’t help but notice how handsome the young earl looked in the flickering candlelight.

  How had she never noticed how unusually beautiful his eyes were? Probably because they were nearly always narrowed disapprovingly when looking at her.

  “Mama, Papa, may I introduce Lady Beatrice Trafford, the daughter of our host? Beatrice, my parents, the Count and Countess Soronsky, and my brothers, Petr and Andrei.”

  Beatrice and her parents and siblings made all the appropriate noises, bowing and curtseying and doing everything just as they should.


  “May I introduce my cousin, the Earl of Staunton?”

  Natalia watched nervously as Ben met her parents and brothers.

  To her amazement, within moments Mama was blushing and beaming, the twins were grinning ear to ear, and even Papa ended the short conversation with a friendly clap on Ben’s back.

  The bell rang for dinner and her family dispersed, leaving Ben to hold an arm out to her, a smug smile on his face.

  “Did you see that?” he whispered.

  “Yes, I did,” she answered.

  “Quite the charmer, wasn’t I?” he asked arrogantly.

  Natalia turned a sickly-sweet smile on him.

  “Indeed you were, my lord.”

  They reached the dining room, and Ben pulled out Natalia’s chair, waiting until she was seated before taking his own seat.

  “I admit, I was impressed,” she continued. “Considering you’ve had so little practice.”

  Ben uttered a muffled oath under his breath.

  “Wench,” he muttered, and Natalia found herself responding to his grin with one of her own.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Mama is beside herself, of course. Desperate to impress your family. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her fawn so much over anybody or anything in my whole life.”

  Natalia laughed at Bea’s description of Lady Fortescue’s behaviour. It was true, however. The lady practically salivated telling each new arrival to her house party that they were in the company of Russian nobility.

  It made Natalia feel quite isolated from those whom she had previously thought of as within her sphere.

  Now, she wasn’t just Lady Natalia. She was Lady Natalia Soronsky. The Russian. The outsider.

  Not that anyone was impolite about it, of course. If anything, they were most interested in her company, even though she’d been attending these Christmas house parties for years and nobody had ever taken this much interest in her before.

  Her family conversed in Russian when chatting amongst themselves, and Natalia supposed that had something to do with the intrigue surrounding them. And her.