Starcross Lovers: A Silver Foxes of Westminster Novella (Starcross Castle Book 1)

by Merry Farmer

  “Indeed.”

  They walked on, Mr. Adler sharing everything he knew about the flora and fauna of Australia. Ginny found it fascinating that the seasons were reversed, that August was the cool part of the year and Christmas came in the middle of summer. She drank in Mr. Adler’s descriptions of exotic birds of every color that were as common as starlings in England. She was even interested in his explanation of the expansion of settlements on the continent from Queensland and New South Wales inward to the inhospitable outback.

  But by the time they’d reached the rolling hills and cliff side where signs of construction and digging marked the new mine site, Ginny was growing impatient.

  “Shall we make our picnic here?” Mr. Adler asked. He turned to her with a smile that made her wonder if there were any blood in the man’s veins or if he was all talk.

  “This looks like a lovely spot,” she said, leaning closer to him. She touched his arm, giving him her best inviting look.

  “Capital,” he said, then pulled away from her. He set the basket down, opened it to take out a thin, folded blanket, then shook it out to spread it.

  Ginny sighed, hoping he didn’t catch the gesture or what it meant. Harry would have understood her gesture and look in an instant. He would have thrown the basket aside, taken her in his arms, and kissed her until she was panting and giggling. The thought of that had her core tightening, whereas watching Mr. Adler spread the blanket then take her hand to help her sit left her uninspired.

  “I hope you don’t mind cold mince pies,” he said, spreading packets, plates, and bottles from the basket across the blanket. “The innkeeper where I’m staying insisted that pies and lemonade were the perfect lunch for a good Cornish girl.”

  Ginny raised a hand to her mouth to hide her smirk. “They’re fine,” she said, reaching for one of the bottles of lemonade before she snorted, or told him just how wrong he was about her being good.

  He unwrapped one of the pies and transferred it to a plate, handing it to her. “That’s where the mine will be,” he said, nodding past her to a small, natural cave gaping out of the rocky landscape across the way.

  “Oh.” Ginny accepted the plate with a smile, deliberately brushing his hand as she did.

  He didn’t seem to notice at all. “We thought about trying near that cave there or closer to the cliff’s edge, but in the end, Lord Dunsford decided it would be safer for all if the mine entrance was well away from the cliff.”

  “Yes, cliffs in Cornwall can be dangerous,” she said, shifting how she sat to lean closer to him. She took a bite of her pie, closing her mouth around the corner the way she had once when she’d sucked on Harry’s fingers to tease him.

  Harry had groaned in delight and loosened his trousers. Mr. Adler saluted her with his pie and took a bite, chewing away merrily.

  “You can see there and there that we’ve already laid the foundation for two smelting buildings,” he said. “Because tin ore doesn’t come out of the ground in pure form, of course. It takes quite a lot of pulverizing and heat to extract it from the rock.”

  “Does it?” Ginny nodded, sagging in disappointment. “How interesting.”

  It was anything but. Her spirits sank like a rock dropped in the ocean as Mr. Adler droned on about roasting the mineral casseterite with carbon and then leeching it with acids. Pretending to find those things fascinating killed her appetite, but still he rambled on. It boggled Ginny’s mind that a man could be so taken with ore and extraction while being completely immune to anything else that had to do with heat and melting. She had to do something to prove that he wasn’t completely bloodless.

  “Tell me more about smelting,” she said, setting her plate aside and scooting up to his side. She touched his arm, running her fingers from his shoulder to his elbow. Harry’s arms were much more muscular than Mr. Adler’s, but the man wasn’t entirely without his merits. “How hot does it need to be?” she murmured, staring at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted.

  “Well, ideally over twenty-five hundred degrees Fahrenheit,” Mr. Adler said.

  “So hot?” She leaned so heavily into him that only a fool would mistake her eagerness for a kiss.

  “Yes, it’s—oh!” At last, he caught on. He stared at her with wide eyes, a flush spreading across his face. “Oh.” His tone changed to one of interest, and he jerked subtly toward her, his eyes dropping to her lips. “I see.”

  With a slowness that would try the patience of a saint, he inched closer. Ginny tilted her head up, touching her tongue to her lips. He caught his breath, but still he didn’t kiss her. So she rested her hand on his thigh, giving it a subtle squeeze.

  He gulped in a breath and yanked back. “I’m so sorry,” he said, blinking fast and clearing his throat. “I don’t know where my manners are. It’s highly inappropriate of me to even think of taking such liberties. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Ginny could have screamed. Instead, she schooled her face to what she thought would pass for maidenly politeness and said, “Of course I can forgive you. It was nothing.”

  And it certainly was nothing. Not a single spark, not a hint of passion. The only thing that stopped her from feeling completely miserable was the way Mr. Adler shifted how he was sitting and subtly rested his plate on his lap to hide the effects of almost being kissed. At least he had some sort of baser instinct in him.

  “So how does one go about turning a little cave like that into a mine?” she asked, pretending that nothing had happened.

  “It’s a delicate process,” Mr. Adler said, an uncomfortable squeak in his voice. “There’s no easy way to grow a mine to the proportions of a mature production overnight.”

  “I suppose not.” Ginny arched an eyebrow. Her mature production with Harry hadn’t happened overnight either.

  It’d started with a flirtatious look here, a wink there, when she’d first taken a position at Starcross Castle. Jane, one of the other maids who was as mean as the day was long, had told her not to bother, that Harry had a girl on one of the farms. But if that had been true, it wasn’t when he tugged her into a secluded alcove at the corner of the kitchen courtyard to steal a kiss. That kiss had taken her completely by surprise, but instead of slapping him and rushing off like she should have, she’d given in fully and kissed him back.

  Perhaps that’s where she had gone wrong. With one kiss three years ago, she’d ruined her chances of anything more than what had developed between her and Harry in the years since. And while she hadn’t quite given away the milk so that he didn’t need to buy the cow, she certainly had let him play with the udders.

  “Perhaps that’s Lord Dunsford now,” Mr. Adler was in the middle of saying.

  “Hmm?” Ginny blinked herself back to attention, turning to look off in the direction Mr. Adler had just pointed. She raised a hand to her forehead to shield it from the sun, then gasped and dropped it when she spotted Harry riding Charger toward them across the hills. “What does he want?”

  “Oh. It’s not Lord Dunsford.” Mr. Adler sagged in disappointment.

  A second set of hoof beats drew Ginny’s attention to the other rider, Jimmy. The two of them didn’t seem to be riding anywhere in particular, but they certainly were making a show of it. Harry was in his shirt-sleeves, standing up in the stirrups and letting Charger gallop for all he was worth.

  “Slow down, Harry,” Jimmy called after him, just audible across the distance. “I’m not used to going that fast.”

  Harry galloped closer to where Ginny and Mr. Adler sat. The wind whipped his hair and tugged at his shirt, which was apparently unbuttoned at the top, showing off more of his tanned skin than was strictly proper. Even with a hundred yards between them, Ginny’s body reacted with shivers and tension.

  At last, Harry sat and pulled Charger to a stop. Only an expert horseman could have managed the move with such smooth grace. He wheeled Charger around, then looked straight across the distance to Ginny. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he reached up and subtly un
did another button on his shirt.

  “Why you cheeky devil,” she whispered, heart thumping. “What in hell’s name are you doing?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Mr. Adler asked, blinking as though he truly hadn’t heard her.

  “I’m just wondering what Harry and his nephew, Jimmy, are doing out here,” she said out loud.

  Mr. Adler stared at them with a mild frown and hummed. “Perhaps they’re exercising Lord Dunsford’s horses? I’ve heard that sort of thing is necessary.”

  “It is,” Ginny agreed, raising her hand to shield her eyes again as she continued to watch Harry.

  Her gesture must have been what Harry needed to confirm she was watching. He nudged Charger into action, trotting toward them with a pace that was fast enough to close the distance quickly, but slow enough to give her an almighty eyeful as he grew near. He sat up straight in the saddle and was panting with exertion, just the right amount of sweat showing at his unbuttoned neck and sticking his shirt to his back. Ginny wasn’t sure if she wanted to lick her lips and do something about the maddening ache in her core or shout at him to leave her to her lunch in peace.

  “Good afternoon, Ginny, Mr. Adler,” he said in a deep voice with a charming smile as he pulled Charger to a stop in front of him.

  “Mr. Pond.” Mr. Adler nodded to him, scrambling to stand. “What brings you out this way? No, don’t get up,” he snapped to Ginny when she moved to stand as well.

  Annoyed, Ginny pursed her lips and stood anyhow. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Harry. “Yes, what are you doing here?”

  Harry shrugged. “I was just showing Jimmy how to exercise the horses and I saw the two of you enjoying the afternoon.”

  “Ah. I was right,” Mr. Adler said in a terse tone. “Miss Davis and I have been enjoying a pleasant picnic,” he went on.

  “I can see that,” Harry said, barely hiding a grin as he glanced to a frowning Ginny.

  “You don’t usually ride the horses out this way,” she said, although what she really wanted to ask why he felt it was a good idea to interrupt the first chance of a legitimate courtship that she’d had in years. It wasn’t like he would be willing to take Mr. Adler’s place.

  Although men didn’t ride out with their shirts unbuttoned to interrupt picnics without very specific reasons. That thought left Ginny bristling with hope and impatience.

  “I wanted to get a look at the mines,” Harry said with a casual shrug. “Since my brothers and cousins will be working here soon. I figured if it’s a close enough ride, I could come out and visit them sometimes.”

  “While they’re working?” Ginny arched an eyebrow.

  “What a kind thought,” Mr. Adler said, his jaw tight. “Now if you will excuse us, we were enjoying a lovely afternoon together. Alone.”

  “My apologies,” Harry said, then turned Charger so that he blocked Mr. Adler from his sight while also giving Ginny an even better view of his powerful torso and open shirt. She couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight of his chest and one hardened nipple. Her own nipples responded in kind. What was the daft fool doing?

  “What did you bring for pudding?” Ginny asked Mr. Adler, sitting and pretending to ignore Harry.

  Mr. Adler glanced between the two of them with an irritated frown before following Ginny’s lead and resuming his seat. “The innkeeper prepared lemon tarts.”

  Harry snorted.

  Ginny snapped a glare up to him. “Is there something funny about lemon tarts?”

  “Not at all.” Harry shrugged. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

  He tapped Charger into motion, and when he was a few yards away, leaned over the horse’s neck and let him gallop once more. As furious as Ginny was with him—she was certain his snort had been an implication that she, as well as dessert, was a tart—she couldn’t catch her breath. The ache between her legs was so maddening that she squirmed and wriggled in her attempt to find a comfortable way to sit.

  “Is there something between the two of you?” Mr. Adler asked.

  “No,” Ginny said in a short, angry clip. “And there never will be.”

  Mr. Adler eyed her as if he didn’t quite believe her assertion.

  Whether he did or not, the rest of their afternoon was spoiled. Try as she did, Ginny couldn’t concentrate on any of the mundane, unimaginative things Mr. Adler talked about. He must have sensed her change in mood as well, and at last he gave up. They packed the remnants of the picnic away, then took a direct route back to Starcross Castle.

  “In spite of the interruption,” Mr. Adler said when they reached the edge of the kitchen courtyard, “I had a very nice afternoon and would like to see you again.”

  “That would be lovely, Mr. Adler,” Ginny replied with a halfhearted smile, searching the courtyard for signs of Harry.

  Mr. Adler cleared his throat, and Ginny focused on him. “I do wish that you’d call me Stephen,” he said, taking both of her hands in his, as awkward as that was with the picnic basket over one of his arms.

  “Oh,” she said. She should have been excited about the prospect of a man wanting to make their association more intimate. And logic told her to grab onto the chance for something more than a casual flirtation. But nothing about the situation sparked a bit of excitement in her. “Thank you, Stephen. I will. And you may call me Ginny.”

  He smiled, seemingly relieved. “I will, Ginny.” He hesitated, his smile almost childish it was so pleased, and yet so unsure. He leaned closer, pulled back, shuffled his feet, and leaned in closer again, but ended up humming and raising one of her hands to his lips. “Until next time, Ginny.”

  “Until then,” she said.

  He pulled away, took a step back, then turned and marched off, heading toward the road into town.

  Ginny let her shoulders drop and let out a growl of frustration. All she was trying to do was settle a life for herself that presented the possibility of travel, children, and more, and Harry had ruined every second of it, whether he was there or not. She wasn’t going to stand for it.

  She turned and marched toward the stable. “Harry Pond,” she called as she entered the long, dim building. “You have some explaining to do.”

  Harry popped his head around the corner of his office before she reached the door. His shirt was still unbuttoned, and his hair still had a rakish, windswept look. “Ginny. You’re finished with your romantic rendezvous, I assume?”

  He backed up into his office as she stormed toward him. “How dare you interrupt me like that?” she shouted.

  When she was within feet of him, she raised her hand to slap him. He caught her wrist before she could make contact with his face. She tried to pull away, but he held her tight.

  “Let go of me,” she hissed.

  “And let you smack me? I don’t think so.”

  She huffed out a breath, relaxing her arms even as the tension coiling inside of her doubled. Harry nodded and let her hand go, but he didn’t back away. The two of them stood face to face and toe to toe, glaring at each other. The heat rippling off of him was enough to scramble her mind and set her skin on fire. She wanted to demand that he reconsider loving her, that he see her as more than a loose woman to play with. At the same time, she wanted to throw herself at him, hike her leg over his hip, and kiss him until they were both dizzy with desire. The two contradictory needs pulled at each other until she was near tears.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” she whispered at last, hoarse and panting.

  “Then don’t step out with that limp fish again,” he challenged her.

  She balled her hands into fists at her side. “What makes you think you have the right to tell me who I should be with and how to live my life?”

  The air between them bristled. She would have given anything for him to say he had the right because he loved her, but his mouth remained firmly shut. He would never say it. Because it wasn’t true.

  “Leave me alone,” she whispered, almost sobbing, then turned and dashed from
the room.

  The sooner she saw Stephen again and convinced him to marry her and take her away to Australia the better. Even Australia might not be far enough to run from the love she knew she could never have.

  Chapter 5

  Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. No, if he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been wrong. There was no possible way, after their confrontation in his office at the stables, that Ginny was completely indifferent to him. The fire in her eyes as she’d told him off said as much. As well as the restlessness that had her near panting, and the heat that radiated off of her.

  But she’d stormed out, and days later, she stepped out with Stephen Adler for a trip into Truro for ice cream. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so frustrated.

  “Maybe she’s trying to make you jealous,” Nick suggested after Ginny’s third date with Adler, as Harry helped him unload a wagon of peat in the rose garden.

  “Ginny’s not the sort to play coy to get what she wants,” Harry grumbled, hoisting a heavy sack of foul-smelling dirt to his shoulder. He needed the flex and burn in his muscles that only hard work could provide.

  “Making a bloke jealous and playing coy aren’t always the same things,” Nick said.

  “Ginny wouldn’t do that,” Harry snapped, dropping the sack in a row with the others.

  “All right.” Nick followed him back to the wagon, shaking his head. “Although, if you ask me, you’d be saving yourself a heap of trouble if you just asked Ginny what she wanted.”

  “I didn’t ask you,” Harry grunted, lifting another sack. “And I know what she wants. She wants adventure, Australia. She wants to improve herself.”

  Nick hummed and shrugged as though he agreed.

  “She doesn’t want to be stuck with an ordinary Cornishman who has already risen as high on the social ladder as he wants to.” Harry marched back to the row of sacks, the weight on his heart as heavy as the load in his arms.

  “And she said that to you,” Nick said. “In as many words. She said, ‘Harry Pond, I don’t want to marry you and spend my nights doing very naughty things in your bed and bearing you a dozen strapping Cornish sons, because I’d rather explore Australia’?”