“I say, Hawthorne, I am perfectly capable of helping Lady Lauren,” Sanderson stuttered in outraged surprise.
Theodore shot him a savage glare. “No.”
Just a single word. That was all. Nothing more, but it was enough for Sanderson to shrink back as though punched. Scrambling up, he took a seat beside Melanie, who looked infuriated to see her skates being placed on Lauren’s feet.
Lauren’s pulse raced as Theodore’s fingers trailed over the fine bones of her ankles while the straps of the skates were tightened. She was too stunned to voice an objection as he took her mug of cider, placed it aside, and pulled her upright.
When she wobbled like a newborn foal on spindly legs, his arm snaked around her waist as she’d seen him do with Melanie.
“It is a short distance to the pond, Lauren,” Theodore said in a low voice, and while she’d been shivering just moments before, she was definitely warm now with the heat of his body pressed against hers. “Lean against my shoulder if you need to.”
He was daring her to defy him, although, in her current mood, she wasn’t sure she could manage it. With a stubborn tilt of her chin, she braved a few tentative steps, his muscled arms acting as a brace. A quick glance at Melanie revealed the lady watching them with narrowed eyes, a glint of jealousy evident in their depths.
In a matter of seconds, Theodore had pulled her onto the pond, and Lauren experienced a stab of fear when her feet quickly slid independently of her wishes. She clutched at him.
“Theodore!” Her terrified squeak drew a reassuring grin from him. Other skaters wisely gave them a wide berth, and Theodore kept along the edges of the pond.
“Hold on to me, sweetheart.” He steadied her once more, his body something akin to a sturdy oak. “Now, the most important rule of ice skating is you must never look at your feet.”
“What?” Lauren frowned. “That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.” Immediately, she glanced down and suffered a quick wobble that made Theodore tighten his hold even more.
Placing a forefinger beneath her chin, he lifted it until their gazes locked. “See? Eyes up. In fact, keep them on me, Lauren.”
“I don’t want to fall,” she whispered, staring at him while fighting the urge to look at their feet. Were they actually moving, and were they still discussing ice skating? “It will hurt, and I’m frightened.”
“I know.” Theodore was calm, maneuvering her in a way that should have been disturbing but somehow put her at ease. She relaxed the tiniest bit against his side as he murmured, “But if you fall, I fall as well. All right?”
Lauren slowly nodded, keeping her eyes on him.
“Now, do you trust me?” he asked, and when she hesitated, he gave her that smile that never failed to make her head fuzzy. The one that made his sky-blue eyes sparkle like diamonds and was both wicked and mischievous. When he smiled at her like that, she thought she might agree with just about anything he asked of her. “Do you trust me, Lauren?” he prodded.
“Yes.”
There was no time to overthink her surrender. Withdrawing his arm from her waist, he rotated so they faced one another and took both her hands within his own gloved ones. Using strong pushes of his thighs, Theodore moved backward in a move oddly similar to dancing.
“Eyes on me. Hold on to my hands. I’ll pull you… Now, move your feet a little, side to side. Tiny, alternating movements. There. Just like that, sweetheart. You are doing amazing. You’re nearly skating by yourself.”
Concentrating on Theodore’s features made it easy to forget her fear of falling. Basking in the warmth of his smile made her wish he would always look at her like this. The cold air stung her cheeks, and Lauren wondered if, without the skates, perhaps he might have pulled her closer to his body, held her so she could feel his breath on her neck. Maybe even brush his lips against her ear. Or press his mouth upon hers.
I want him to kiss me. But unless he carried that blasted mistletoe in his pocket, there was no good reason he would.
Longing for something so dangerous buckled Lauren’s knees.
Her hands ripped free from Theodore’s. Landing with a thump, the pain at first knocked the breath from her lungs. Thrown off balance, Theodore fell to the ice as well.
A helpless giggle tumbled from Lauren at the comical sight of the fiercely elegant and habitually proper earl sprawled on his bum beside her. That quickly morphed into a chuckle, and before she knew it, she was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
Theodore stared at her for a long moment, concern for her safety obvious in the way his eyes traveled over her. Then, his lips twitched with the hint of a grin. Moving closer, his hand slid up to cup her jaw, the leather of his glove surprisingly warm as though his skin radiated heat beneath the material. Lauren fought the urge to nestle into his touch even while she laughed.
Finally, a reluctant chuckle broke free from Theodore, his eyes roaming over her curved mouth until she licked her lips self-consciously. When he spoke, the words were a husky rasp of familiarity and restrained desire.
“God, how I’ve missed your laughter. Hearing it now makes up for my bruised posterior.”
“Are you truly injured, or is it only your ego that has suffered?” she teased, almost forgetting they sat on a frozen pond in a jumble of skirts and legs and sharp, steel skates while people glided past, throwing them curious stares. It was quite scandalous they’d not made a single effort to rise from the ice. “I told you I was afraid of falling.”
“And I told you I’d go down as well.”
Suddenly sober, Theodore eased forward until their noses nearly touched, until Lauren thought he might actually kiss her.
“Let me in, Lauren, and you’ll never fall alone.”
Chapter 7
They lagged behind the others during the walk back to the manor.
Lauren was oddly quiet, but Theodore could not stop thinking how completely her laughter entranced him. How it left him more determined than ever to capture and claim her for his own.
When he stopped short on the pathway, she did not protest but merely regarded him with such calm Theodore wanted to shake her.
“Leave your door unlocked tonight, Lauren.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Why would you not? We’ve matters between us unsettled from this morning. Remember?” Theodore said in a low voice.
Lauren appeared disconcerted for a moment, then her mouth tightened. “I will remind you again; you are not my betrothed.”
“Damn it all, Lauren.” His words came out in a growl. Pulling her off the path so no one could witness his actions, he backed her against an English yew tree, his hands tight on her shoulders. “Why do you fight what is between us? Jesus Christ, I’m willing to give you anything your heart desires just to have you.”
Lauren shoved him, although the effort proved ineffective. Her chin jerked up, bringing Theodore’s attention to a bit of wild mistletoe tangled in the branches above their heads. “Give me a truth, Theo. Why did you not tell me what was done before I confronted you with it? Why didn’t you tell me I’d been bought for my inheritance?”
“Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to take care of my estates, to provide for my mother and all those dependent upon me once you voided our engagement contract? Do you?” Theodore countered angrily. “And to keep it all secret on top of that?
Lauren remained stubbornly silent until he rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his gloved thumb. She let out a tiny gasp as he gruffly spoke. “I would not have used your inheritance; however, the idea it was available carried tremendous weight with my father’s creditors.”
Tears built in her eyes until they shone like diamonds in the weak winter sunshine. “I was so happy when you asked me to marry you. I truly thought you loved me.”
“I did,” Theodore swore. “Goddamnit, I still do.”
“You used me. Perhaps not intentionally, but you did, and you would have continued using me had I not severed our relat
ionship. It’s just as awful as my father using your family to gain his daughter a title.” Lauren pushed him away when his hands abruptly dropped to his sides. Ducking past him, she shook out her skirts and gave him what could only be considered a pitying look. “That is our truth, Theodore.”
That is our truth, Theodore.
Lauren’s words needled Theodore. Through the rest of that afternoon, into the evening, through the night and into the next day, as she evaded his company and surrounded herself with the few single men her cousin invited to the house party, those words taunted and prodded him.
So, she believed she’d been used for his own gain. He squirmed uncomfortably, knowing she suffered under that disillusion. His motives for remaining silent on the terms of their engagement were oddly enough to spare Lauren both pain and embarrassment. No one needed to know his family bought themselves a rich bride, and inheritance or no, once he met Lauren, he was determined to have her, no matter what.
As his valet tied his cravat, preparing him for the evening meal, Theodore remembered the night he asked Lauren for her hand in marriage.
It was at the Pettiman Ball. They’d stepped onto the terrace for a bit of fresh air after a rousing Scottish reel. Slipping his arms around Lauren’s tiny waist, he kissed her until she was breathless. Then, with the moonlight reflecting in her eyes, he told her he loved her and asked her to be his wife.
An instant “Yes!” and arms thrown around his neck was Lauren’s immediate response. Their engagement was announced that very evening, just before the last waltz. It was incredibly romantic, the talk of the society pages for weeks, and completely staged by their fathers for maximum effect.
He and Lauren enjoyed a whirlwind courtship of stolen kisses and increasingly passionate embraces before his father finally succumbed to wasting disease. Theodore was saddened but not broken. Now, there was a chance to repair things his own way.
The promise of Lauren’s inheritance eased the way. Creditors ready to call for his head backed off, willing to give Theodore a chance to work on alternative measures when it came to repaying the debts.
But that only lasted until Lauren’s own father died unexpectedly three months later. When she broke off their engagement, all hell broke loose.
The overwhelming mountain of liabilities, the pressure in caring for his mother, the estates, the tenants, had Theodore solving issues the only way he knew how. By using his own wits and calling in favors from everyone who owed him. Through cunning and incredible luck, he rebuilt his family’s fortune until it was richer than before his father lost it all.
But Lauren didn’t know about that. She only knew he agreed to marry her for her money. No matter how often he claimed otherwise, she wouldn’t believe him until he proved her wrong.
Theodore sighed, waving the valet away with an impatient gesture.
He would work harder at convincing Lauren. Think of some way of demonstrating his devotion and love for her.
But what could he do when she already had everything she needed?
Following supper, Penelope and George gathered all the guests in the main salon.
“Gentlemen, we have games of chance for your pleasure,” George announced. “Ladies, there is whist if you are so inclined. Or you may watch from the sidelines.”
Theodore made his way to Lauren’s side. She was ravishing in a deep, emerald green gown, beaded ebony jets decorating the low-cut bodice. Again, her hair was swept up into a chignon, with wispy ends fluttering around her ears and leaving her nape enticingly exposed. Black satin, elbow-length gloves completed her ensemble.
“Will you play?” he asked, devouring her in the flattering light cast by the chandeliers overhead.
“Perhaps.” Lauren’s attention remained on her cousin as Penelope floated from table to table, ensuring the games were ready for play. The excitement level rose by several degrees, conversations growing louder and more boisterous as wine and spirits began flowing. “Wouldn’t you prefer a game of baccarat?”
“I prefer a turn of cards, so my fortunes are in my own hands rather than the capricious spin of a wheel.”
Her gaze cut to him, stormy rainclouds that never failed to remind Theodore of drowning. “Your father was fond of baccarat. Or so I heard.”
It was the first time Lauren had broached the root cause of his family’s financial ruin. Theodore’s teeth clenched with embarrassment. He’d known one day this particular subject would raise its head.
Why he had needed an heiress.
“That’s true. My father gambled his holdings, my future, everything my mother brought to the marriage. He wasted it all, then stood amongst the ruins and begged that I marry well enough to overcome his losses.”
It nearly killed him to see Lauren’s bottom lip tremble with his statement. Before he could soothe her, a servant stepped up, handing them two glasses of wine.
Lauren took the glass with a murmured ‘thank you’ while Theodore wanted to dash his to the floor, gather the woman before him into his arms, and kiss her until she forgot her anger with him. Forgot his arrogance when she confronted him so many months ago. Forgot his culpability in concealing their fathers’ plan. Most of all, he wanted her to forget he’d not trusted her to still love him once she learned the truth.
Theodore stared at her, struck by all the things he suddenly wished to say. But as if entangled in a web, the words jammed in his throat, refusing to advance.
He took Lauren’s elbow in his hand.
“Lauren…”
“Ah-ah,” she scolded under her breath, pulling free of his grasp. “There’s no mistletoe where I’m standing. Which is surprising because this entire house is dripping in the stuff.”
“Would you consider having a conversation where we would have more privacy?”
Lauren glanced in the direction Theodore indicated, a window alcove where a single kissing ball hung, and gave him a fierce scowl. “Are you serious?”
“We must talk…”
“Must we?” Her words were sweet enough, but her eyes flashed at him.
“Yes. We must.” Before he could elaborate, Lady Melanie sidled up to him.
“Lord Hawthorne, there you are. Would you partner me in a game of whist? I’m quite good at it. There is no fear we shall lose.”
Cutting the lady a brief glance, Theodore bit out, “My apologies, my lady. I’m otherwise occupied.”
Melanie pouted, which may have had the desired effect on another man. It only left Theodore feeling irritated, especially when her attention allowed Lauren to edge away. And blast it all, Sanderson was waiting nearby, ready to pounce on Lauren the moment Theodore’s back was turned. Lords Jenkins and Harland stood alongside him, their eyes trained on the woman he intended on marrying.
Theodore’s blood grew hotter as it traveled the path of his veins. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to attack all the scoundrels and beat them to a pulp for even daring to look at Lauren. They were practically stripping her clothes from her body; they stared so intently. The scowl he sent them was so fierce the three men hastily averted their eyes, turned their bodies in the opposite direction of Lauren, and promptly stumbled into each other like bumbling fools.
“Oh, please, Lord Hawthorne! You simply must help me…” Melanie pleaded, mouth pursed into a pout.
“You cannot mean to make a lady beg your mercy, Hawthorne,” Lauren cut in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “That would be most cruel.”
Theodore choked back a response. He had every intention of making Lauren beg for his mercy. Preferably in the privacy of her room. Away from anyone who might think to rescue her.
Melanie latched onto his arm. Without making a scene, Theodore knew he could not dislodge the woman.
“Oh, Penelope has need of me,” Lauren said, her gaze landing somewhere beyond Theodore and Melanie. “I do wish you luck at whist.”
Before Theodore could stop her, she glided away.
Chapter 8
Lauren watched until she could t
ake no more.
Jealousy twisted her insides as Melanie hung on Theodore’s every word, as well as his arm. At one point, she even draped herself on his shoulder, laughing.
“You must say one thing for her.” Penelope pressed a second glass of wine into Lauren’s hand with a chuckle. “She is persistent.”
“And beautiful.” Lauren sighed.
“If it is any consolation, Hawthorne has avoided her. He’s not provided escort to any lady as far as I am aware. It’s been a source of gossip. Especially considering you broke off your engagement and he was technically free to pursue another.”
“I would not care if he did pursue another.” Lauren shifted her feet. She fought the urge to glance at the couple again when Melanie’s trill of laughter drifted over the saloon. It was just a touch louder than the three-piece stringed quartet hired from the village. “Our association is over.”
Penelope tilted her blonde head, regarding Lauren with a perceptive eye. “Is it, my dear? It does not appear so. I think you are not quite at ease with another woman’s interest in your former fiancé.” Theodore’s form was subjected to a calculating assessment. “One cannot fault the ladies for it, however. He is a fine specimen of a man, and with his title and fortune, well, it’s easy to see why they adore him so.” Adjusting a few baubles on the Christmas tree, Penelope smiled. “I’m glad you are not still cross with me, cousin.”
“The reasons for my anger were selfish.” Lauren desperately ignored the leap in her pulse at the reminder of Theodore’s darkly dangerous good looks. How many times had she nearly drowned in his winter blue eyes the afternoon before? Far more than she wished to count. “After all, it is not my place to dictate your guest list. I would know, however, whether the earl was invited before or after I accepted your invitation.”
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 109