by Cheryl Bolen
“I was.”
“I need not ask if you were a sought-after partner for I know that answer. I know, too, that a handsome—though obviously not wealthy—army officer captured your heart your first season.”
Her mouth gaped open. “How can you possibly know such a thing?”
“Anyone with more than a pea-sized brain would be able to deduce such facts after knowing you for four-and-twenty hours.”
“But I told you none of those things.”
“You did tell me your husband was in the army, and I believe one of your children alluded to the fact your husband was an officer. And you yourself told me you enjoyed Almack’s. You told me you were four-and-twenty. Most of the elements were there for me to piece together your story.”
“Perhaps you do just have a little better than a pea-sized brain,” she said with a flutter of laughter.
He gave a mock sigh. “That’s the best you could praise me after I gave up my warm bed for you? Ungrateful wench!” He took another swig of wine. “Back to this first season of yours. How many offers of marriage did you receive?”
“I never counted.”
“Aha! See, I was right. There were many. And I suspect you could have married a very wealthy man. Tell me, Mrs. Leeming, could you have married a man with a title?”
She shook her head. “Not a peer. Only a baronet. A Sir Richard Cordray offered for me.”
His eyes rounded. “Cordie? Well, I’ll be. We were at Eton together. Nice chap.”
“Oh, he was very nice, but I only had eyes for my Edward.”
Edward. So that was her husband’s name. Philip should have realized Eddie would have taken his father’s name. It was just another coincidence between the Leemings and Edward Hale’s poor family. It still made him feel wretched to know he hadn’t been able to help them. Especially since they had been evicted from their home.
Especially at Christmas.
“It’s admirable that you were not influenced by title or wealth.”
“But it now appears quite foolish.” The firelight cast golden and blue and orange highlights in her pale hair.
His voice softened. “You could never appear foolish.”
“That’s kind of you to say on so short an acquaintance. You don’t know me.”
“I pride myself on my ability to evaluate the men who served under me—not that I see you in any way in a subservient role—and I’m seldom wrong in my judgment of character. Your children are your best recommendation. You’ve done a splendid job. They’re exemplary in every way. Were I a father, I could not hope to have better children. Yours are intelligent, well-mannered, loving. You’ve taught them everything, and you’ve done it all by yourself. “
Her eyes danced. “Thank you. They mean everything to me.”
“You’re very fortunate.”
“Yes, I am.”
“So, Mr. Fenton, what is it that brings you joy?”
He pushed out his breath. “That’s hard to say. While a lot of people enjoy time to themselves, I have never liked solitude. That’s one of the reasons why riding to Lincolnshire with you and your family was so attractive to me. All those hours in a coach with only myself for company would drive me to the lunatic asylum. I must be around other people.”
“How singular you are. Most people would not countenance riding all those hours with a bothersome, precocious three-year-old boy who excessively pesters his traveling companions.”
“Eddie is not a pest. He’s a delight. I shall miss him exceedingly when our journey terminates.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if it ever will. Is there any sign the snow, rain, or a mixture of two will ever cease?”
He shrugged, got up, walked to the window and looked out. Lanterns in front of the inn illuminated part of the street, showing slushy, puddled ruts, but no snow banks at the roadside. He watched the adjoining rooftop for a moment to determine if snowflakes were still falling. They were not.
“No snow at present.”
“But I suppose the streets are in horrid condition,” she said in a resigned voice.
Nodding, he crossed the chamber. “It’s time for me to return to the Lamb and Staff.”
“There’s no sense in you sinking into mud up to your knees. I’ll get you a spare blanket, and you can sleep here on the sofa.”
Chapter 6
Charlotte’s invitation hadn’t really been impetuous. It had been niggling at the back of her mind while they had been talking throughout the evening. It seemed incredibly cruel to send him trekking through mud to sleep in chilling chambers after all the many kindnesses he had shown them.
And especially after the sweet things he’d done with her children and said about them.
It might be very foolish to put such trust in one she had known such a short time, but she actually trusted this man. Just as he felt he trusted his judgment about her perceived wisdom, she felt she could trust him.
She rang for the servant, and when the maid came she asked for another blanket. This maid was younger than the previous one. The frail and pale redhead could not have been more than fifteen. After she left, he stood there looking at Charlotte. “And what am I to do about my clothing?”
“I know very well about men’s sleeping habits. When I leave the chamber to go to my own bed, you will undress in your usual manner.”
He lifted a brow and grinned at her with amusement.
Her cheeks grew hot. She swallowed. “And when my children awaken in the morning and begin making the customary noises which I assure you they always make, you will quickly redress. I will keep them in our bedchamber until such time that you call out in some way that notifies me you are fit to welcome us into the parlor.”
The maid returned with a thick counterpane that appeared to be reasonably clean. “This be all we could find. It be powerfully cold, and every room’s bursting with folks.”
“Thank you,” he said. “This will do very well. Will you please tell your master we will require the same breakfast delivered at the same time tomorrow morning?”
“He will be pleased to oblige, sir.” The girl curtsied before she left.
“As much as I don’t want to spend Christmas at the White Lion, I need to be thankful I have a place in which to spend Christmas.” Her voice softened. “And we owe it all to you.”
He brushed off her gratitude. “You’d have contrived something. You’re an intelligent woman, Mrs. Leeming, but I’m inordinately happy to have helped.”
Mr. Fenton was the only man other than Edward whose appearance had attracted her in every way even though the two men were vastly different. Edward had been neither dark nor particularly tall. Mr. Fenton was both. He was possessed of the dark handsomeness that made other men look weak by comparison and made women’s hearts race whilst sending them to the nearest looking glass to improve their appearance.
She did not know if it was the firelight and the intimacy of this setting, or if it was how very appealing he looked standing there looking at her in a simmering way without intentionally doing so, or if it was the admiration she felt for this man, or if it was the memory of that kiss so many hours earlier, but she suddenly felt compelled to move to him. She wanted to touch him. She needed to feel him touching her.
For throughout the night as they were talking, she kept thinking about THAT kiss, kept watching the sensuous curve of his mouth as he spoke and wishing to feel those lips pressed against hers, kept longing to feel herself in his embrace. It had been so very long since a man had shown her any consideration, so long since her senses had been awakened, since she had felt like a woman and not a shrew worrying how she was going to keep a roof over their heads.
When she was close enough to hear his breathing, he gave her a curious look. Clearly, she had surprised him. Especially after her rejection of him that morning, after her initial hostility toward him.
“I wish to kiss you goodnight,” she murmured.
He drew in a deep breath, and then hauled her into his a
rms for a hungry kiss. It was nothing like the gentle kiss earlier that day. The pure ferocity of it would have frightened her had he been the sole initiator.
But she was as hungry as he. Lips parted. Tongues swirled. He groaned. She shuddered. Her body arched against his. His hands were everywhere. Stroking her back. Her buttocks. Cupping her buttocks.
Lips feathered along her neck, his tongue flicking inside her ear along the way.
She softly cried out. His every touch created delicious sensations that made her mad with pleasure. His head moved lower still. His mouth covered her breast and began to suckle as he pushed down the thin muslin.
Her eyes opened enough to watch as a rosy nipple slipped into his mouth. She closed her eyes, threw her head back, and thought she would go mad with pleasure.
But she wanted more. Her hand sought the bulge between his legs. As her fingers went to coil around the great, jutting organ, he stiffened and stopped pleasuring her. He covered her breast and straightened himself.
Her face turned scarlet with embarrassment. He was refusing what she was offering.
She went to spin away, but he grabbed her firmly, both his hands taking firm hold of her shoulders as he locked foreheads with hers and spoke tenderly. “It’s best that you go to your bedchamber now. I gave you a promise that I would conduct myself as a gentleman, and I’ve never broken a promise.”
She turned.
He softly touched her. “Before you go, I want to thank you for the happiness you gave me just now. You’re a remarkable, noble, beautiful woman, Charlotte Leeming, and there’s not another woman I’d rather be stranded with in a storm.”
She quietly opened the door to her bedchamber, but before she closed it, she turned around. “I believe I should like the full name of the man who has just had my breast in his mouth.”
“Philip.”
“Goodnight, Philip.”
“Goodnight, love,” he whispered.
How could a man sleep when he’d just turned down what would have been the most spectacular lovemaking of a lifetime? God, but he throbbed for Charlotte. He’d been immensely attracted to her since he’d taken a really good look at her under the bright lights at the Lamb and Staff the previous night.
It wasn’t just her undeniable beauty that had him thinking and acting like a schoolboy blindsided by his first love. It was every facet of this remarkable woman. Her affection for her children, the good manners she’d instilled in them at so young an age, her obvious good breeding, her innate intelligence, and now . . . his breath grew short just remembering the searing passion she’d unleashed. For him.
No gift had ever been more precious.
This was not a woman who bestowed such favors lightly. He’d somehow managed to win her affection, and for that he was profoundly grateful. There was nothing on earth he wouldn’t do to be worthy of her.
He lay for hours beneath the thick counterpane, the fire simmering in the grate, wind howling beyond the casements. He kept having to tuck the quilt around his feet, which hung off the sofa, owing to his height. It was a wonder he had the sense to think of any discomfort when Charlotte dominated his thoughts so thoroughly.
Above everything, he was steeped in a contentment unlike anything he had ever experienced. Knowing Charlotte, Eddie, and Susan slept peacefully just feet away filled him with deep satisfaction. He wanted to take care of them. He wanted to protect them and love them.
And before he fell asleep he thought of something he must do.
They all slept late on Christmas Eve and awakened to a sunny morning. Eddie was particularly delighted to find that Philip Fenton had stayed the night in their chambers. Charlotte was happy that her children had a man to look up to. They had few memories of their own father, and it would do Eddie good to be around a man, especially a man who’d been a soldier.
Breakfast came at half past eight, and the four of them sat around the oak table laden with offerings. She sighed when she wistfully thought it would appear to an outsider that they were a family.
She nibbled at her toast in silence. It was difficult to look at Philip. She was still embarrassed over her wantonness of the night before. What had come over her to initiate such brazen behavior? Her cheeks burned at the memory of his mouth closing over her bare breast, of the memory of her hand closing over his huge erection. Yet, even the thought made her tingle low in her torso. I cannot look at this man.
It had taken her a very long time to go to sleep. Philip was such a paradox. On one hand, his rejection had humiliated her. Then, he had done an about-face when he told her how much he admired her and that there was no other woman with whom he’d want to be stranded. She was powerless to interpret his meaning.
Yet, at the same time, she admired him. I have never broken a promise. How many men could lay claim to such a statement?
As she had lain in the bed, she admitted to herself she thought she had actually fallen in love with Philip Fenton. Which made her feel like a fool. How could one possibly know one was in love with someone after less than two days in his company?
She had known with Edward. She knew the night she met him.
The pity of it was, she trusted her instincts completely. Philip was a noble man. A pity he couldn’t love her as a man loves a woman. Had he, he would have made love to her last night. Philip was merely a good man who had taken pity on a widow with young children, a widow who happened to be in possession of beauty. Nothing more. Someone to stave off the boredom of the solitude he hated.
“So,” Philip said to no one in particular in that cheerful manner of his, “it looks as if we’re going to be spending one more day at the good ol’ White Lion Inn. What shall we do on this Christmas Eve?”
“Can I go and visit our horsies again?” Eddie asked. “I want to see if I can member how to harness them.”
“I don’t see why you can’t,” Philip answered.
“And I want to play the guessing game again,” Susan said.
Charlotte smiled upon her daughter. “But, love, you guessed everything in both chambers yesterday.”
“Your mother’s right. I shall have to think of another kind of guessing game for you. My sister was very resourceful at coming up with those games to entertain me when I was a lad.”
“What does wesourceful mean?” Eddie asked.
For once, the elder sister was unable to supply an answer but also looked to Mr. Fenton for a response.
“It means . . . well, it means she was very good at finding new things,” he answered.
“Mama is very good at everything, too.” Eddie threw a satisfied glance at his mother.
“Why, thank you, my darling.”
“Your mother is, indeed, good at everything. You children are very fortunate.”
For the first time that morning she allowed her eyes to meet Philip’s. Her heartbeat exploded at the affection in his black eyes, the softness in his voice. No caress could have been more tender. It was difficult to look away, difficult to think, certainly to respond.
Eddie spared her from having to. “I finished my bweakfast. When can I go see the horsies?”
Charlotte raised a brow. “I see unfinished toast on your plate, young man. I suggest you finish that, as well as your glass of milk before you can be permitted to go to the stables.”
He pouted.
“And,” Charlotte added, “can’t you see Mr. Fenton is still eating?”
“Mr. Fenton eats a great deal,” Susan commented, watching him with rounded eyes.
Philip and Charlotte exchanged amused expressions. “Indeed he does,” Charlotte said, “but you must have noticed, he’s a very large man.” Just thinking of that tall, handsome frame sent her heart fluttering. She hadn’t felt this way since the summer she turned eighteen. She hadn’t expected to experience anything like it ever again.
When he finished breakfast, Philip disappointed her when he told her he would take the children to the stables himself. He doesn’t want to be alone with me. More humiliation.<
br />
They were gone for more than an hour, and the coachman—not Philip—returned the children. She panicked. “Where’s Mr. Fenton?” Good lord, had she been totally wrong about him? Had he deserted them?
“He wanted to get his things from the Lamb and Staff and settle his bill there himself. He said he wants to be with the children on Christmas Eve.”
She went weak with relief.
It was noon by the time he returned to an eager welcoming party of two children happily climbing upon him, hugging his legs and wanting to be carried by him. “Mr. Fenton gave us piggy-back rides. Can we have them again?” Susan asked.
“Of course, you can. I’m your pig to command, but only one at a time.” He stooped down to one knee. “Ladies first.”
Eddie pouted.
Charlotte felt like laughing.
Piggy-back rides continued until poor Philip was exhausted. The children would never have tired of them, but Charlotte had to put a stop to the rides. “It’s time we give the poor, overgrown pig some rest. Perhaps then he can be resourceful and think of some more questioning games for you children to play.” What they might be, she could not imagine. He’d already been more resourceful than she had ever been. She most certainly owed thanks to his sister and wondered if she would ever meet Georgiana.
Philip plopped on the sofa. “Permit the pig to think.” The children giggled.
She poured him a glass of Madeira, and when she handed it to him, his hand covered hers briefly. He looked into her eyes and said, “Thank you, love.”
She could have swooned.
“I’ve got it,” Philip finally said. “I shall ask simple questions. For example, things like what barnyard animal lays eggs?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Eddie said. “Chickies.”
“You’re not sposed to answer yet, dummy. The game hasn’t started.”
“Susan!” Charlotte growled. “What did I tell you yesterday?”
The little girl eyed her brother. “I’m sowwy I called you dummy.”
Charlotte shook her head.