At the soft knock on the door, he called for her to enter. Jacob sat near the empty grate awaiting her, though Marigold hovered at the door for a moment.
“Come in, Miss Tavners.”
“Marigold is fine,” she said softly, and he remembered her words from the other night. “There are so many Miss Tavners around here, it can become rather confusing.”
“Very well. Where is your dog?”
“I left Clover downstairs with my sisters. They are preparing the mid-day meal, so he was perfectly fine with that.”
“Smart dog,” he said with a hint of a smile, and she nodded ever so slightly in return.
“He is, as it seems.”
She walked over with a small jar in her hand, placing it on a side table before removing the lid. As she did so, a foul odor rose and he recoiled.
“That smells horrid!”
“I know,” she said, wrinkling her nose as well. “It will take some time to get used to.”
“Am I to walk around smelling like that?”
“It should lessen after it’s actually on your face.”
“And if not?”
She shrugged. “Then I suppose you have a decision to make.”
He couldn’t help himself. He laughed. A true, honest-to-goodness chuckle that just… came out. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually had an occasion or the inkling to laugh. And it felt good. It felt very good. Marigold must have realized how monumental this moment was herself, for her eyes widened before she joined in with a chuckle of her own.
“Well, we shall see how it goes, anyway,” she said with a shrug, and he nodded.
“Very well, go ahead,” he said and sat still for her. He wanted to ask if it would hurt at all, but he was a tougher man than that. She dipped her hand into the ointment, and when she raised it to his face, he stiffened as he prepared for her touch. As she began to smooth the cream onto his scar, gently spreading it over his cheek, the mixture of the ointment, as disgusting as it smelled, and the softness of her fingers was rather intoxicating. Jacob hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and when her fingers began to stroke the stubble of his chin, he took a swift inhale at the tremor that coursed through him, beginning where she touched him and then spreading throughout his entire body.
She paused for a moment as she refilled her fingers with the cream and then carefully applied it to his cheek just below and above his eye. Jacob could feel her breath upon his skin, so close she was to him, though her deep-blue eyes were intent on her work. He wanted them on him, however, looking into his own eyes, and when she was finished, he reached up to capture her wrist and her attention.
When he did so, her gaze shifted to where he wanted it, and then before he could even think of what he was doing, he had a hand cupped around the back of her head, urging it down toward his own. When their lips met, the shock that coursed through him jolted him to life with greater effect than anything else ever had — much greater than the sound of a musket, or the physician’s scalpel upon him, or even his arrival here at The Wild Rose Inn.
No, this kiss, so gentle, so sweet, was an awakening. Craving more, Jacob’s arm came around her back, and Marigold sank into his lap, melting into him. Her hand came up to his chest, to the top of the linen shirt he currently wore, as he had divested himself of his jacket, happy he hadn’t felt the need to wear a waistcoat here in Southwold.
She was hesitant at first, but the more he increased the intensity of his lips upon hers, the more she responded. She finally slipped her hands inside the top of his shirt, her palms coming to rest on his chest as he held her close against him.
This was wrong, Jacob told himself. He should have no thoughts or feelings for this woman — nor any woman. But his heart was telling him something different. It was reaching out of his chest and stretching toward Marigold Tavners.
His hands roved over her back, slender and yet, somehow, so strong at the same time.
Her own palms moved ever so slightly in response, but enough that they brushed against one of the scars on his chest, and he involuntarily flinched. She pulled back immediately.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her breath coming quickly, and he nodded.
“All is fine,” he said, but then before he could stop her, she was undoing the top buttons of his shirt, taking a look at what was underneath — another scar.
“Lord Dorchester,” she exclaimed. “All is not fine. Why, the scar on your chest is worse than the one on your face!”
“I cannot say my initial surgeon was much of a surgeon at all,” he said dryly. “The next one had to reopen the chest wound to determine the extent of the injury and fix the lung. Thus my stay here, at The Wild Rose Inn.”
She nodded as he spoke, looking up at him as she did so. Before he could stop her, she was already reaching for her jar, putting ointment on this scar as well.
“Does that feel better?” she asked, and he closed his eyes tightly and nodded. For it did feel better. Everything improved with her presence, were he being honest.
“It does soothe it,” he said.
“Good,” she said, and when he opened his eyes and gazed at her, her long black eyelashes nearly rested upon her cheeks as she looked down upon his chest wound.
“It is a miracle you survived this,” she murmured, and he laughed once more, only this laugh was slightly bitter.
“You could call it that,” he said.
“Why do you not feel fortunate?” she asked, tilting her head, her gaze quizzical.
“There were much better men than me who never made it home, will never make it home,” he said. “Whereas I… I didn’t care.”
“You should care,” she affirmed. “Take the second chance you have been given, Lord Dorchester.”
“Jacob,” he muttered.
“Pardon me?” she said, leaning in even closer than she already was.
“Jacob is my name, you may as well use it,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes at him, likely not particularly pleased with how he had asked her to use his given name, but open to it, nonetheless.
“Jacob,” she repeated, and he couldn’t help the thrill that coursed through him at his name on her lips. “It’s a lovely name, and I am honored to have the opportunity to use it.”
As though sensing he’d had enough for one day, she placed one hand on his arm and gently, gracefully rose from his lap.
“I’ll leave this here,” she said, waving to her jar. “You can use it yourself as often as you’d like, or I am happy to help you with it. You only have to ask me.”
He nodded, appreciating the grace in which she always seemed to be aware of just how hard to push him, and what would be too much.
“I should be going,” she said. “Good day, Lord— Jacob.”
She smiled, and then was gone, shutting the door softly behind her.
11
Marigold’s life had always been one that was fairly routine, which she had never particularly rebelled against — it was simply how things were. Now, however, that routine had changed. She still managed to complete all of the tasks that were put to her, but she was careful to make sure she was equally distributing them to Iris and Violet, much to their chagrin.
For she still needed time to herself, whether it be with Clover, or with Jacob. The three of them were spending more and more time together and they had actually fallen into an easy routine. Jacob still didn’t have much to say — in truth, Marigold didn’t think he ever would — but more and more, he was shedding much of the darkness that seemed to surround him. In the few weeks after the first time she had heard him laugh — which she thought was likely the first time in a very long time — he had done so again at least two or three times, which she considered a win. He spent quite a bit of time walking along the beach, often with Clover by his side, and Marigold enjoyed watching from a window of the inn as the two of them seemed to be able to play fetch with a stick in the water for hours at a time. It made her smile to see them together. She was
glad the dog brought him comfort, although a part of her also hoped Clover wouldn’t get too attached, for, at some point in time, Jacob would leave.
Lord Westwood had returned to London a few days ago, and a few other soldiers had now come and gone, in addition to the odd visitor to Southwold. It made for a busy time, but Marigold had always enjoyed the summer months. There was something about the extra hours of light and the sun shining down on her that brightened her spirits.
And then there was Clover. He was growing, certainly, but she didn’t think he would ever be an overly large dog. Her father had said nothing further about the fact that he might have to leave, and Marigold was holding onto hope that meant he would be able to stay with them. Her father had once mentioned how taken the marquess was with the dog, but she explained that he already had a fair number of them at home and didn’t seem to have any wish to add to his pack. Elias had simply nodded.
The mid-day meal complete, Marigold now opened the back door of the inn to join Jacob and Clover on the beach. She was no longer able to ever sneak up on him, and he turned as she approached, a smile covering his face — a smile that warmed her very soul to see.
“And how are the two of you?” she asked as Clover barked excitedly in greeting, and she bent down to pet him.
“Perfectly well, of course,” Jacob said, and Marigold smiled up at him in return.
After that first kiss in his room, there had been the odd stolen kiss when they could manage it. Marigold had no desire for her family to become apprised of their relationship, for she had no idea how to explain it herself, let alone to anyone else. All she knew was that she enjoyed her time with Jacob, and she didn’t want anything to ruin it — including her family’s intervention. For she had a feeling of what they might think. That Daisy had gotten lucky with her duke, but the chances were much slimmer for Marigold — especially with a man like Jacob, who carried himself with such anger and resentment.
Of course, their time together had not gone unnoticed, and Marigold had already had quite enough of Iris’ questions as to what was happening between the two of them.
“I’m only looking out for you!” Iris had protested when Marigold told her to keep to herself. “Daisy asked me to.”
“I’m sorry, but I do find that hard to believe,” Marigold said, raising an eyebrow at her sister. Iris placed her hands on her hips in apparent anger.
“That Daisy would actually have some faith in me? I hardly see why that would be so difficult.”
“You and Daisy often do not see things in the same way,” Marigold said diplomatically, and Iris rolled her eyes.
“That does not mean she would never trust me.”
“Mmm, hmm,” Marigold had replied, not wanting to antagonize her sister any further. Iris simply shot her a look of annoyance before flouncing out of the room. So dramatic was Iris, Marigold thought, as her attention returned now to the beach and the man in front of her.
The truth was, it was difficult to describe what she felt for him. At first, she had only wanted to help him heal but now…. she looked forward to simply being with him, and, from time to time when they found a moment, being in his arms.
Yet she also knew that while he had opened up more than she would have originally thought possible, telling her of his past life, of his home, of a few choice war stories, he still kept much of himself closed off. Marigold was well aware that he desired her, as she did him. But neither of them had ever gone further than anything that seemed most innocent. And she wasn’t prepared to while he still held his emotions strictly in check.
She had decided, however, that for now, it might be best to simply live in the moment. If she spent her entire time with Jacob worrying about whether or not anything might come of this, then she would miss the opportunity to enjoy what they had together.
Marigold smiled up at him now, and he answered with a half-smile of his own.
“Clover has been considerably more tired since you’ve begun your daily beach excursions,” she remarked.
“As am I,” he returned.
“Was the physician right? Has all of this sea air helped your lungs?”
“You know, I believe it actually has,” he said a little incredulously.
She hoped it had helped his soul as well to be here, but she didn’t want to put that into words for fear he would retreat inside himself again.
They stood for a moment, watching Clover as he bounded through the water, which was calm today with only the slightest bit of breeze in the air, just enough for a few tendrils of her hair to blow away from her forehead.
“He’ll miss you,” she murmured, and when Jacob turned to look at her, clarified, “when you go. Whenever that might be.”
He looked back out over the ocean.
“That is something I should likely begin to think about. I have been taking advantage of your family’s hospitality for far too long.”
“It’s what we do,” she said with a soft smile. “And I have certainly enjoyed having you here.”
“Have you now?” he asked, arching an eyebrow when he tilted his head to look at her. He was so broodingly handsome. Of course, she would love to see a smile grace his face more often than it currently did, but nothing could hide his good looks. Not even the scar, which, of course would always be with him, had lost some of its painful redness with her treatment.
“I have,” she answered him, and he took a quick look around him before reaching out an arm, pulling her close, and then with his arm still crooked around her shoulders, bending to plant a kiss upon her.
It started as a quick, firm press of his lips upon hers, but when she lifted her hands to encircle his neck and melted into him, he swept his lips over hers in a much more intimate caress.
Marigold had never been kissed before Jacob, but now that she had been, it was like she couldn’t get enough. Some days she thought she could spend hours with him, their arms around each other, their lips connected, but he would always pull away before anything became too intimate.
When he caressed her tongue with his, it was as though flames shot through her body, igniting her all the way to her very center.
He did so now and she would have smiled if she could, and Marigold couldn’t help but press herself against him, longing for more.
Before anything progressed any further, however, he stepped back, breaking their connection, though he did so gently as he placed one last quick kiss on her forehead.
“We will see what the future holds when the future comes," he said cryptically, and Marigold nodded, though she had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Was she to hold out hope for him, then? Although, it was not as though she had anyone else courting her as she awaited Jacob to determine just what he was planning to do.
It was as though he was reading her thoughts as he looked down at her now.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Marigold,” he said softly, and she shrugged, offering him a soft smile.
“Then don’t.”
He gazed off into the distance, sighing as he placed his hands on his hips, and then looked back toward the inn.
“We should be getting back.”
“Oh, you’re right!” she exclaimed, as she realized she had let time get away from her. “I’m going to have to prepare dinner right away.”
“And what would be on the menu tonight?” he asked, which lightened the mood a bit, as Marigold had felt tension descend upon them as they had spoken about what was to come.
“Duck, I think,” she said, rubbing at her temple. She really despised cooking. She would never actually admit it to anyone, for it was part of her duties, but if there was one reason for her to marry and leave the inn, it was to no longer have to cook. Although she knew any husband would expect her to cook, so she supposed it didn’t make much of a difference.
She laughed when she noticed Jacob’s frown.
“Are you not a fan of duck?”
“Duck is fine,” he said, swallowing hard as Iris came out to greet t
hem.
“Marigold, Father and Mother would like to speak to us,” she said, with a glance at Jacob that didn’t hide her true feelings. “We’ve had more boarders arrive, and they think we should provide entertainment tonight.”
“Entertainment?” Marigold repeated, grimacing. “We’ve never provided entertainment before — whatever would we do?”
“Father said something about a musicale of some sort?”
Marigold stared at her sister in shock. “You cannot be serious.”
Iris shrugged. “It could be fun.”
Marigold brought a hand to her forehead. “Oh, Iris, I don’t know.”
Jacob’s hand came to the small of her back then, and she was surprised by how reassuring it was to know he was there, behind her.
“You’ll be fine, I’m sure. You’re a woman of many talents, Marigold.”
“You’ve never heard me sing,” she muttered, and Iris laughed.
“Oh, Marigold, your voice is actually quite pretty, as others would tell you if you ever let them hear it. Which you will — tonight.”
She looked over at Jacob.
“You are looking well today, Lord Dorchester.”
“As are you, Miss Tavners.”
Iris looked at him cryptically but said nothing, only nodded and returned to the inn.
“She doesn’t much like me, does she?” Jacob murmured with a look at Marigold, and she placed a hand on his arm to placate him.
“She just doesn’t know you. Now, apparently, I have some pressing matters to deal with… I shall see you later.”
She wanted to give him a kiss in farewell, but they were within view of far too many eyes — namely, Iris’ — and so instead, she gifted him with a smile and continued on her way.
12
Marigold was not smiling a few hours later as she sat next to her sisters in the boarders’ sitting room.
There were now six men filling the room in addition to her mother and father, who sat at the back with proud smiles on their faces. Why they had decided they were pleased when they hadn’t yet heard their daughters begin to perform, Marigold had no idea. She was many things, but a musician was not one of them.
A Marquess for Marigold: The Blooming Brides Book 2 Page 7