Somewhere deep in her heart, Chloe ached for him – this man who had so much to give, and had yet had that opportunity ripped from him so cruelly. Without thinking, she reached forward and laid her hand on his, and felt his warmth.
“Surely, ‘tis better to live alone,” he said, voice dark, “as that is my fate.”
4
Chloe tried to breathe and forced cool air into her lungs.
“It does not have to be your fate,” she managed to say, withdrawing her hand from his as his gaze lifted to hers and she felt the searing heat of what she was doing. “You … you live in a large and beautiful home, Sir Moses. Even staying inside here would give you a better life than many others.”
What was she gabbling now, such nonsense! Attempting to console a baronet with the fact that he lives in his ancestral home? And yet she had to say something, anything to take away his attention from the fact that she had touched him, that their hands had touched, that something happened as her skin met his.
“I barely see any of it now,” he said nonchalantly, throwing up his hands. “I have spent so much time within it with my anger and sadness inside me that all I see is the bitterness on the walls, the hatred I had for my life then, and how trapped I felt. I see no beauty in it.”
A spark of curiosity lit in Chloe’s mind, and she leaned forward unconsciously as she said, “Well, I do. The little that I have seen of your home tells me that a person of true taste once decorated it, and I would very much like to see more of it, in the morning.”
“Why not now?”
Sir Moses seemed to have spoken without first consulting his face, for as Chloe looked at him, a look of astonishment overtook him.
“I mean,” he said hastily, “if you would like to.”
“Now?” Chloe repeated, attempting to calm her rising heartbeat at the thought of wandering through this dark and mysterious place with this handsome man.
Sir Moses smiled. “Now.”
A roll of thunder echoed overhead making them both jolt with surprise. The storm that had seemed to be moving away from them had evidently decided to alter its course and was now right over them once more.
If Chloe had believed in fate, or destiny, or any such nonsense, she may have changed her mind. She would probably have apologised, claimed tiredness, and asked to be shown to her room. And likely enough, Sir Moses would have acquiesced, rung the bell pull, and it would have been Baxter that had taken her upstairs and left her to sleep. And that would have been the end of it.
But Chloe did not believe in fate, or destiny, or luck. She did believe in chance, and the chance to see more of the Wandorne estate, and in the company of Sir Moses Wandorne, mysterious recluse, was more than she could bear.
“I would love to see more of the house,” she admitted with a smile, her head turning slightly and her earrings moving against her neck. “But are you sure … you would not rather give me the tour in the morning?”
Her heart was thumping loudly now, and it was only good manners that offered him this way to escape her. Every part of her longed to walk with him now, to see him in the darkness, to perhaps take his arm, and then he would take her hand, and –
“You will be gone in the morning,” Sir Moses said brusquely as he stood up. “Now is the best time, I think. The question is, where to start?”
Chloe mirrored his movement with a heaviness in her chest. Of course, she would be gone within a few hours of waking tomorrow; there was nothing to keep her here, and it was likely that there would be some sort of outcry if she did not appear outside The Beeches before luncheon.
So why was sadness overwhelming her at the thought of leaving him?
“I think the hall would be best.” Sir Moses moved to the doorway, and looked back at her over his shoulder. “Miss Vaughn, are you not coming?”
Chloe had almost forgotten just how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, the tilt of his head as he questioned her. She may have attempted to deny it to anyone who had asked her about it at that very moment, but at least with herself she could be honest.
There was an attraction there, between them, that she could not deny. A part of her did not want to deny it, wanted to revel in it, wanted to explore it.
But the door opened, and Sir Moses asked again, “Miss Vaughn?”
She flushed, and moved without answering – and found to her shame that she was swaying her hips a little more, arching her spine slightly to show off the movement, leaning forward ever so slightly to let the curve of her breasts show.
What was this wanton behaviour! The flush deepened as she looked for some sort of response in Sir Moses, hoping in her secret heart that he had noticed, that he felt something too, that she was not the only one here sensing something that could be –
But he had already stepped through into the corridor, and was saying, “It was the hall, of course, that set the whole tone of the architecture here, as you have no doubt noticed. It was built …”
Chloe swallowed as she strode forward a little faster now. It was time to get a grip on herself, she told herself. Poor Sir Moses is still grieving for his fiancée, and you think that a little movement of your body will be enough to tempt him to – to what? What are you even hoping for?
Her cheeks blushed even darker as she caught up with him. Ah, but she knew. She knew the way that a woman and a man could be together, and though she be innocent of the practice, the theory was something she was well aware of.
And wanted. Wanted with Sir Moses. Wanted very badly.
“…colours reminiscent of Turner, do not you think?”
He was looking at her now, expectantly, and she smiled.
“It is a most elegant painting.”
And it was. A landscape, Italian by the look of the trees reaching out to touch the sky, with a lake in the foreground and ripples pooling out from the side as though a dragonfly had just landed on it.
“Cupressus sempervirens, the Mediterranean fir,” Chloe said quietly, reaching out her fingers as though to touch the paint, but holding well back.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sir Moses look at her strangely. Perhaps it was the candle he now held that flickered, giving the impression of deep longing, for when she turned to look at him more directly, it was gone.
“And here amongst the ferns, a sculpture by Anne Seymour Damer,” he said, indicating with a lazy finger.
Chloe saw the statue – a small Madonna – but was far more captivated by the ferns.
“Cyatheales,” she said, brushing them gently with her fingertips. “I have rarely seen such good specimens indoors. Does Baxter or another servant water them regularly? I have experimented with watering cycles, and I find daily the most useful to spark flowering in summer.”
There was silence, and she raised her eyes to look at him. “Did I say something amiss?”
“No, not at all,” Sir Moses said finally with a shake of his head. “I was just wondering whether you had read about the Chelsea Physic Garden?”
“Oh, yes,” she enthused, slowly meandering down the corridor with him as he picked up the pace once more. “I have been a great admirer of the Physic Garden for some time, and I ordered the monograph on it as soon as it was printed. Did you know that the grounds are still forbidden for women to enter – even now?”
He laughed again, but there was no malice in his words as they turned a corner and entered a dining room, all decked out in red velvet carpet.
“Miss Vaughn, you are a very unusual woman.”
Chloe blushed, and then a smile broadened out onto her face. “You know, I do believe that you said that as a compliment, rather than a complaint.”
“And so I did,” replied Sir Moses, slowing at the table but making no move to explain its wood, its maker, or its history.
Chloe could not help but smile at such words from such a man. “Few appreciate the way that I am, I must say.”
“And why is that?” Sir Moses pushed open a set of double doors on the opposite
side of the dining room, and revealed what could only be a ballroom – but Chloe had long lost interest in the rooms that they were moving through. There was only one artefact within the Wandorne estate that she had any true interest in, and he was walking slowly into the ballroom with an inviting smile on his face.
“I … I wish to go to university,” Chloe said finally, wincing at the echoes of her steps as she moved onto the wooden floor. Lining the walls were mirrors after mirrors, with candelabra every few feet, empty now, and covered in cobwebs. “I wish to study, to drive forward learning in the sciences – perhaps author a paper, or a monograph myself. I want to explore the world, and discover truths that no one else knows, and … and more, I suppose. I have not yet given the matter serious thought, as I have been refused.”
He was several feet away from her now, but the candle that he held shed light around him, bouncing off the mirrors and Chloe could see the surprise on his face.
“Refused?”
She nodded. “Only men should learn,” she said in a mock voice, her bitterness in no way hidden. “Only men can be natural philosophers. Only men can be intelligent, it seems, though I have to say it feels like stupidity to me.”
Sir Moses was nodding, and it rankled in her very soul that he should agree with such barbaric ideals. “‘Tis a difficult one.”
“I see no difficulty,” Chloe said curtly, readying herself for the fight, but then he spoke once more, in a softer voice, and she could not help but move closer to hear him.
“You remind me of my mother. She was absolutely frustrated that when she wanted to study mathematics, she was instructed to turn her interest to painting, instead of algebra.”
Her mouth broke into a smile. “Truly?”
Sir Moses inclined his head, and started to move towards another door in the ballroom. “My poor mother never realised her dream to study mathematics as she wanted, although it is thanks to her that the section in our family library is so extensive. Instead, she raised me to be respectful of a woman’s ability, and that ability could be in anything, as long as she was determined.”
Incredulity was not a sufficient word for Chloe’s feelings, and she said so. “Sir Moses, you completely astonish me – I have not the words to say how much!”
They were walking down another corridor now, and if she had been asked to find her way back to the hallway, she would have been unable to do so.
Sir Moses laughed. “Just because I have shut myself away in this house for a year, that does not mean that I am completely devoid of modern ideas!”
She looked over at him curiously and smiled. She had not considered it possible to find Sir Moses even more intriguing after he had revealed his tragic story to her, but it was so. Now as she looked at the rugged jawline and those sparkling eyes, she saw not just his physical appearance, but the intelligence, the wit, and the generosity within them.
Another door opened, and they stepped into another room – but Sir Moses stopped suddenly, as though he had not realised where they were.
“Ah,” he said quietly. “Yes, well, along this corridor here you can see – ”
He had moved as though to return to the corridor from whence they had just come, but Chloe put out her hand to stop him.
“What is this place?” She whispered.
Sir Moses said nothing, and in time her eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Though there were windows, they had been boarded up from the inside, and cobwebs covered the small table that made the centrepiece to the room. Around it, small chairs, and books covered one wall. There was a telescope in one corner, but small, much smaller than it should be. There was paper stacked on a side table, with a crusty bottle of ink and several broken quills beside it.
“It … it is a schoolroom,” said Sir Moses quietly. “A schoolroom intended for the next generation of Wandornes.”
Now that Chloe knew what she was looking for, she could see the signs all around her; for was that not a chalkboard leaning against one wall, as though someone had paused in the process of affixing it? Were there not there several toys, and counter games, and even a small abacus with red and blue beads?
“I had once hoped to fill it with a family.” Sir Moses was still speaking, and in some ways Chloe wished that he would stop, and at the same time she willed him to continue. “Sons, daughters, heirs to the baronetcy. But of course, that … that never happened.”
There was sadness there, but there was also hope, Chloe thought.
She smiled at him mischievously, her hand still touching his arm. “And was it intended for girls as well as boys?”
He laughed, and it were as though she had been dipped in hot water, such a rush of joy it gave her. “I suppose that any child of yours would undoubtedly receive the best possible education, no matter who they were.”
Chloe nodded as her eyes took in the implements on learning all around them. “Our children certainly would.”
Her mortification at her words, said without thought, without breath it seemed, just pouring from her soul, was complete and absolute.
5
Every syllable that Miss Chloe Vaughn had just uttered was echoed in his ears like bells, but Moses did everything he could to pretend that he had not caught the thoughtless words.
And yet heat was rushing through his body: heat longing to meet her own body, and possess it, and make life. His mind went wild, considering what their children would be like: golden haired of course, and mayhaps tall, like him. Brave and intelligent, like her. Stubborn, with his strength of character. Perhaps dimples, perhaps not, you could never tell.
Moses swallowed. If he was completely honest with himself, he desired her far more than he could ever have realised – more than he thought possible.
He wanted her...her with nothing covering that delicious skin, everything taken off except those diamond earrings. The question was, did she?
“Oh, ceremonial bedchambers!”
For a moment, Moses was sure that he had misheard her, but Miss Vaughn repeated herself with a wild look and pink cheeks.
“Ceremonial bedchambers! You must have some, sir, a house as fine and as large as this, and I have a great mind to see them. After all, where was a king or a duke to spend the night when they visit if not in the grandest beds in the place! This way, are they?”
Without a backward glance, Miss Vaughn strode out of the room. Moses smiled at the whip of her skirts as she turned the corner. Well, it was all to the good that she was embarrassed, he supposed. A slip of the tongue like that, it was bound to lead somewhere ill if his instincts had been left completely alone.
“Sir Moses, are the bedchambers this way?”
Moses stiffened slightly as the thought of Miss Chloe Vaughn lying on one of the ceremonial bedchambers, completely naked and begging for his touch, struck his mind. Oh God, but to see her thus, to reach out and touch her, knowing that she wanted it as much as him, knowing that she was craving him as he was aching for her …
“Sir Moses?” Miss Vaughn’s head had appeared in the doorway, and she looked a little concerned.
Moses realised that he had not answered. “Why yes, Miss Vaughn. They are just up this staircase here.”
It took a great deal of effort for Moses to force his feet forwards, but once he started moving, he found himself almost immediately at Miss Vaughn’s side, walking up the broad staircase together.
Her hand was mere inches from his own, hanging loose, within grasping distance. Moses felt a prickle on his neck as he attempted not to notice, but he could not help but be conscious of every element of her body. She was so close and so beautiful – and so fiery, and so intelligent.
All he had to do was reach out. It could be an accident: a sway of his body, and their hands would graze each other. Just an inch between them, and he could feel the touch of her skin on his own and put himself out of this delicious misery.
Do it, he willed himself. Do it!
The moment that he finally decided to reach out and touch he
r, Miss Vaughn gave a cry as the gown that she had borrowed, slightly too long for her as it was, became tangled around one foot and caused her to stumble. Arms outstretched in an attempt to break her fall, Moses acted instinctively, reaching out his arms and catching her around her waist, drawing her to him and balancing her upright.
Oh, but she was warm, and close, and Moses could feel his heart thundering in his chest but then realised that it was not just his own heart, but hers as well, pounding through her chest and into his own, and her face was mere inches from his and there was a look on it – astonishment of a kind, relief at not having fallen, but something else, something he could not decipher, and she was close, and beautiful, and every molecule in his body was crying out to kiss her and taste those soft pink lips.
Moses was just a man. Unable to fight temptation any longer, he lowered his lips to hers and bestowed upon her a gentle kiss.
It did not stay gentle for long – the softness of her lips, the way she trembled in his arms, sparked something in him which pressed his lips on hers and they parted, willingly, welcoming him in.
He thought he had gone too far, dismayed for her honour, but instead Miss Vaughn responded: her tongue crept to meet his, timidly at first, and then matched his passion with surprising sweetness and warmth. Her hands were in his hair, and he could not remember how they got there but he revelled in the feel of her pulling him towards her, hungry, wanting him, needing him.
Moses’ own hands had moved – first clutching her to safety, then pulling her into his embrace, they now were cupped around her buttocks, bringing her closer, closer still as his mouth utterly possessed her.
Eventually he lifted his head and looked down at her. Chloe – Miss Vaughn, that is – was lazily smiling, her eyes filled with lust, her lips still parted, pink with the pressure of his passion.
Ravishing Regencies- The Complete Series Page 48