by Cheryl Bolen
“May I?” he asked, holding out one hand.
Meg placed the book in his hand and watched the viscount skim through the early pages. He easily found her place midway through the book and turned it towards the light from the window.
Lord Clement began to read to her, his voice ringing out strongly in the quiet of the library.
And she was transported into the world that her father and her had once inhabited together. It really was a dreadful book, but fascinating all the same.
Lord Clement continued to read, turning two more pages before he finally looked up. “How far along did your father read before you took your turn?” he asked.
“We each took a chapter,” she confessed, hoping he would not mind.
Lord Clement returned to the story, and Meg could not stop watching his expressive face.
She had not expected such kindness from him or his interest in her. He was unexpected. He was the last person Meg ever thought would do something just to make her happy. Her father had been like that. Always ready with a smile. Forever willing to lift her up when she was cast down.
It was hard to believe that the man sitting across from her was the same one she had dreaded spending Christmas with.
Meg felt peace wash over her at last and, for a moment, she stopped grieving for what was gone. But then she remembered so quick and so painfully that her eyes filled with tears. She looked away, and Lord Clement’s voice died away slowly.
“I say, Margaret, are you all right?”
She nodded but she could not stop the tears that began to flow down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, but Lord Clement suddenly pressed his handkerchief into her hands.
“Here, use this instead,” he whispered. “Can’t have your fingers getting frostbite now, can we?”
“It’s not quite that cold,” she told him, and he laughed, his rich, deep voice filling the room with happiness. And she was cured of her melancholy for the moment. She found the strength to laugh along with him, too. Meg dabbed at her cheeks, and then she turned to face him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re very welcome,” he promised.
His eyes were still kind, and she saw in him at last the young boy she had once known. She had called the boy by his given name—Otis. She did not remember when exactly she had stopped. But the pair were not so different. Both had made her laugh. She glanced at the handkerchief she was twisting in her hands, the one she’d been crying her tears over.
“Please keep it,” Otis whispered. “You might need to use it to block your ears when my voice becomes intolerably hoarse.”
He smiled as he turned the page to a new chapter and crossed his long legs and began to read again.
She leaned toward him and placed her hand on his arm. “You don’t have to continue reading. You’ve done enough,” she suggested.
“I need to find out what happens at the end of the story now,” he told her, covering her hand with his. “I’ve already missed half the book. To stop now when there is more to go would be intolerable. I always like to know how a story ends.”
Assured he meant it, Meg let him keep the book and sat back, resting her head against the wall behind her. Otis told a wonderful story, and she was soon enthralled in that world once more, but this time with none of the sadness she had experienced since her father’s passing.
She could not account for how different she felt with Otis sitting beside her. Meg clutched the blanket closer around her body and lay her cheek upon her knees and was soon swept away by the soothing quality of his voice. There were so few men with such patience for storytelling. Hector had none. She appreciated Otis for his generous spirit more than words could say.
“My siblings routinely fall asleep when I read to them,” Otis murmured with a quick glance in her direction. “I hope you’re not in danger of doing the same.”
“I’m not sleepy,” she replied quickly, lest he stop altogether.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“I was just resting my eyes,” she promised as she sat up straight. “See. Wide awake.”
Determined not to succumb to the lull of his voice, she took the book from him, found the last words he’d spoken, and commenced to read aloud to him.
Otis inched closer, watching the page as she finished the chapter.
Continuing the story had felt better, too. Easier. She was not assailed by memories of Father reading to her that last final time he’d had the strength for it. Now she could remember Otis’ voice and the comfort his kindness had brought her.
Otis sighed heavily. “Is that better?”
Meg nodded quickly and placed a scrap of paper inside the book to mark the place she had stopped and set it aside. “I can’t thank you enough,” she whispered. “I think I can continue on my own now.”
Otis smiled widely, and captured her hands. His grip was firm, reassuring. “Oh, don’t say you won’t have my company again. I really must know what happens next. Perhaps after our walk with my siblings tomorrow, we can continue to read the next chapter. I’m quite eager to discover what happens next.”
He sounded so sincere, Meg smiled. “Me too.”
“It really is quite a dreadful book,” he said suddenly. “I cannot thank you enough for allowing me the privilege of reading it with you.”
Meg giggled, turning her hand over in Otis’ grip. “You’re welcome. I never really thought you had an interest in books. Hector has no patience to visit our small library.”
“Oh, I am interested in quite a number of things. I dare say you will be pleasantly surprised once we become reacquainted properly,” he promised. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple suddenly. “It’s good to see you smiling at last.”
Meg shivered as he drew back. She met his gaze and saw shock in his. He was sitting so close that her breath faltered.
Otis cleared his throat. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“It meant nothing, I know,” she assured him, looking down at their joined hands. He had kissed her as if she was one of his sisters. The women of his family were so lucky to have a warm man like this in their lives. But the last thing Meg wanted was awkwardness between them.
She lifted her gaze slowly. Otis was watching her face with a half smile playing over his lips. His grip on her fingers eased and then his fingers stroked over her palm. Meg’s heart began to beat a little faster. She should push him away, but she couldn’t seem to do what was expected of her. She wet her lips. “You should go,” she suggested to him. “Before someone sees us together and misunderstands.”
“I suppose I should.”
Yet, Otis did not get up to leave. His fingers toyed with hers, gently stroking them until her face grew quite warm. “What are you doing,” Meg asked softly. Otis confused her.
“I have no idea,” he confessed. “You are my best friend’s younger sister,” he said finally as his light touch slid upward to her wrist, and then her arm. “Do you know I am not supposed to think of my friend’s sister’s as women, or,” he smiled slowly as his eyes drifted over her features and down across her body before he looked up, “or to find them as attractive as I do you.”
Meg’s blush grew hotter until she was sure she couldn’t blush any harder.
There was a strange tension between them now—and then Otis suddenly darted towards her and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was sweet, soft, and oh so gentle. His fingertips lingered on her cheek, warm but gentle as he cupped her skull. A lingering pleasure that curled her toes in her slippers and made her senses soar to incredible heights. She leaned into the kiss, delighting in the forbidden thrill of attraction and desire, hoping it would never end.
She had been kissed before, but she did not remember enjoying those as much as she did Otis’. She was sorry when he drew back with a heavy sigh.
Meg frowned at him. “Why did you kiss me that time?”
Otis shook his head. “I don’t know. I swear it will not happen again.” H
e frowned so hard that deep lines appeared on his brow. “Um, excuse me. I had better go arrange for you to have that maid I promised. It’s probably best you not be alone with me again.”
“You might be right, my lord.” Meg nodded, still a bit stunned by his kisses and how she felt about them. She was not offended or even upset with him. She wouldn’t mind another too but Lord Clement quickly got to his feet and moved away.
He walked toward the door, but looked back over his shoulder a few times before he got there.
Meg noticed that he seemed unsettled by his actions. It made her like him even more. She would never have believed a rogue or a scoundrel would be ill at ease after kissing anyone. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all.
He finally slipped from the room with one last lingering glance in her direction. Meg wrapped her arms about the book and laughed softly as she looked outside. A shaft of sunlight had fought through the clouds above The Vynes at last, and the estate was instantly warmer than it had once seemed.
Chapter 6
If he just pretended everything was normal, he would survive his latest indiscretion unscathed. That is what Otis told himself from the moment he woke the next morning until he faced Lady Margaret over breakfast. And when he saw her smile his way, Otis imagined any number of completely inappropriate thoughts revolving around kissing his friend’s sister again.
Before his completely unprovoked kiss, he could have gone weeks and months without giving Lady Margaret Stockwick a second or even first thought. Before he’d kissed Margaret, he’d never imagined his best friend’s sister might be worth risking a friendship over just so he could have the pleasure of kissing her again.
But as the breakfast progressed, and her eyes sought his time and again, he considered renewing his acquaintance with her a most intriguing opportunity. It had certainly been a while since he’d done anything without thinking the matter through properly. Considering the consequences and the needs of the family first had become second nature up until yesterday.
“I think I’ve had enough, thank you,” Otis decided and allowed a servant to remove his breakfast plate. He sat back, noting Margaret requested more tea but ate little.
She looked so pretty that morning, dressed all in green velvet. She looked as if she had rested well last night, too, and she was smiling whenever Hector spoke to her.
Otis wished he could say he’d passed as good a night. He had been keenly aware that her bedchamber was not so very far away from his, and that he found her terribly attractive. He buried his nose in his teacup again, and scolded himself roundly. He would not kiss Margaret again—not without her permission or invitation.
Hector gobbled up one last slice of ham and glanced his way. “A word, Clement.”
Otis nodded, wondering if Hector had already seen that he was paying attention to Margaret and meant to warn him off.
He drained the dregs of his tea, casting a casual eye over the waiting table as he rose. Mother seemed happy, but she always was when Father absented himself from dining with them. His siblings were content for the moment and not squabbling. His eyes were drawn back to Margaret but her expression filled him with unease. Would she have told Hector what he’d done with her lips yesterday?
Hector threw aside his napkin and strode out.
Fearing the worst, Otis joined him in the hall. “Where were you last night?”
“Renewing my acquaintance with George Moore,” Hector said with a sly smile.
“And his sister too, I suppose,” Otis murmured quietly. “She’s trouble.”
“After the year I’ve had, I enjoy that sort of trouble.” Hector scowled. “For heaven’s sake, don’t go all Meg on me.”
“What does that mean?”
“One mustn’t have any fun. One must mourn forever,” Hector said with an exaggerated feminine tone that might have been a poor attempt to imitate his sister.
Otis checked that the hall was still empty. He had no experience with losing a member of his family but he hoped he displayed more compassion to his loved ones than Hector seemed to. “Just a friendly warning.”
“Anyone would think our father was a saint,” Hector grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He had a woman the year Mother fell ill.”
Otis was surprised to hear it. Lady Stockwick had been very ill for a long time but he had thought the couple had been closer than ever. Margaret seemed to idolize her late father. She would be shattered to know he had not been faithful. “I assume your sister has no idea?”
“None. She’d never believe me.”
Thank heavens for small mercies. “Telling her now would be cruel. Women tend to become emotional upon hearing about betrayals of that nature.”
“And knowing my luck, it would turn her forever away from the idea of marriage. I’ll never be rid of her if she found out.” Hector smiled suddenly. “I was wondering if I might borrow a few pounds from you.”
“What do you need money for?”
“George Moore.”
“Why couldn’t you leave it alone?” Otis murmured quietly. Hector gambled too often and recklessly for his taste. It was one of the reasons he was happy not to be in London with him very often.
“I have to try to win my money back.” Hector nodded. “The bastard cheated me out of my money.”
“If you didn’t gamble while drinking it wouldn’t be so easy.” George Moore had a temper when there were winnings owed to him. Otis dug in his pocket to see what change he carried, hoping it would be enough. A few notes and a handful of coins was all he had right now. He held them out and Hector took all of it with a grin.
“I’ll pay you back of course but I really must be on my way.”
“So soon?”
“Meg seems to be settled in now with your mother and really doesn’t need me,” Hector announced.
“Of course Margaret needs you,” Otis insisted, remembering yesterday’s conversation. “You are her brother. The most important man in her life right now.”
“She needs the company of other women. She also needs to prepare for her season and marriage. I cannot help with that. Lady Vyne has consented to take Mother’s role in educating her on such matters. So I am going to absent myself until Christmas Day. After Twelfth Night, we’ll head for London and I’ll start introducing her around Town. With the dowry I’m prepared to bestow, I’m sure she will attract sufficient interest to find herself a husband.”
Otis recoiled from Hector a little. There were days Otis did not understand Hector at all. He would never treat one of his sisters with so little consideration.
But Hector was right about the interest Margaret could stir up in London. She was pretty and bright and dowered, but she was not looking forward to the season the way many women did. He wished Mother could be in London with her then. She would keep any scoundrels away from her and steer her toward a good man.
If Otis found himself in London at that time, he could introduce her to any good men he knew.
After the emotional few years she’d experienced, she might need good friends as she made the most important decision of her life. Otis studied Hector warily. She clearly couldn’t count on her brother to be patient. Otis was almost afraid Hector might just approve the first man who asked for her hand to be rid of her.
If Hector learned they had kissed, he might insist Otis marry Margaret, whether she wished to or not.
Although…if Otis did offer for Margaret, and was accepted, he would win the bet with his father with time to spare.
Otis turned at the sound of raised voices. His mother and sisters were finally leaving the morning room, while the boy was being dragged back upstairs by his nurse. Margaret was bringing up the rear.
Otis glanced around but found only empty air where Hector had stood.
“For heaven’s sake,” he cursed under his breath, and then smiled as the ladies joined him. He clapped his hands together once and rubbed them briskly. “So are we all ready to brave the outdoors at last?”
&nbs
p; He looked at each of them. His sisters and mother exclaimed that they were. Margaret was quieter in her response, but she too agreed she was ready to face the outdoors. He was glad she could be coaxed outside with them at last.
“Well, then hurry up and get your coats,” he told them all, moving as if he was about to rush outside without them. His siblings were usually quick, so they rushed for the waiting servants and began to rug up.
Margaret was first dressed and slid past him in the narrow hall without meeting his gaze. The sweet scent of honeysuckle left in her wake was utterly intoxicating. He’d found the scent on her skin most distracting yesterday, too.
Otis allowed everyone to file from the house ahead of him.
Mother was slowest, which ensured she and Otis brought up the rear together. Meg was swept away by the girls up the garden path, and that was for the best. He needed to talk to Mother without being overheard. “Stockwick intends to leave Margaret entirely to your care. He’s slipped away again and won’t be back until Christmas Day.”
“Good.”
He looked at his mother in surprise. “Good?”
Mother huffed. “She spent the whole of last night and this morning waiting to talk to him. If I can convince her he’ll be gone for a few days, she might consent to having a little fun, or considering the future. Perhaps you can help with that.”
He glanced at her with suspicion. “What did you have in mind?”
“Be attentive. Boost her confidence. Every woman wants to be admired by a gentleman of taste.”
“I’m sure she knows her value.”
“I’m not so sure anymore,” Mother warned. “Did you know Meg once had a suitor?”
“Hector never mentioned that.”
“Local lad. Hector introduced them. The fellow had ambitions that included leaving England. Meg was devastated when it was proved he was only interested in her for her dowry and planned to leave her behind as soon as their vows were spoken.”
Knowing Margaret had been disappointed in love before did explain why she might be reluctant to venture onto the marriage mart. He would be, too, under those circumstances. “Is that why she never married, because her heart was broken?”