by Meara Platt
He raked a hand through his hair. “He liked men.”
She nodded. “Yes, he had two very good friends who joined us for supper quite often. They usually stayed until well after I had retired. One of them was a lifelong friend. They were inseparable.”
“No, Holly. He liked men.”
“You just said that. I still don’t understand what you mean.” Her lips began to quiver. “I’m not trying to be dense. Obviously, I am missing something important. Will you please just come out and say whatever it is you’re thinking?”
“Did you never wonder why he would not sleep with you? It was because he slept with his gentlemen friends. He didn’t have sexual relations with you because those urges were satisfied by them.”
She wanted to slap Joshua. She truly did. But something held her back, perhaps the realization he was speaking the truth.
She had tried to deny it to herself, tried to bury it in the deepest recesses of her heart. She had suspected it, then set her suspicions aside because everyone around her had done such a good job of pretending it was not so, especially his parents who would go to their graves denying his predilections. Walter had done everything possible to hide the truth, and she’d gone right along with it.
She closed her eyes as a shudder ran through her. “I couldn’t bring myself to think it, never to believe it.”
“To be caught with another man would have meant his ruin,” he continued softly. “At the very least, his father would have cut him off without a shilling. It’s obvious that bastard is the unforgiving sort.”
She nodded. “Indeed, he is. Not even time has mellowed him. In truth, he was always very hard on Walter.”
“This is why Walter married you, a naïve, seventeen-year-old girl. A quiet, obedient girl who showed traits of loyalty, duty, and compassion.”
“We’d known each other for years. York may be one of England’s larger cities, but our social circle was quite small.”
“This is how he came to choose you. Quiet and loyal, as I said. More importantly, he knew you had a tendency to keep things to yourself. You did not run to others with your troubles. He trusted you would not complain about him to anyone.”
She felt like a nail being pounded into a block of wood, and Joshua was wielding the hammer. Naïve, he’d said with the first pound of his hammer. Quiet. Obedient. Allowed her worries to eat at her gut rather than share them with anyone. Pound. Pound. Pound.
Joshua understood her better than she understood herself. So had Walter, obviously. She had been an unwitting part of his masquerade. “You must think I’m an idiot.”
“Not at all. You were raised in a genteel household. Only sisters, and younger ones at that. No brothers. Such things were never discussed.”
“Nothing concerning intimate relations was ever discussed. Not even a talk before my wedding. My mother was too embarrassed to speak of the wedding night. I had no idea what was supposed to happen, but even I knew his not visiting my bedchamber was wrong. Perhaps I should have spoken of it to my mother. But she hadn’t been very helpful before the wedding, and I was afraid she would shrug it off and blame me.”
“This is precisely why Walter chose you for his wife. He had it all planned very carefully. His father was his sole means of support. He wasn’t going to do anything to ruin the charade. At times, if he feared his father was on the scent, he’d make up some lie about your failures and toss you in the old man’s path. Am I right?”
She hesitated a moment but finally nodded. “He was happiest when among his friends, so I often invited them to supper. I just wanted Walter to be happy. He often thanked me, but nothing changed in our marriage. However, he never took his friends up to his bedchamber. If he did, then he was very discreet about it. I never heard anyone but him or his valet in his room.”
She sank into her chair. “This is why he joined the army. He wanted to be with his best friend. Stanford was his name. Stanford’s father had bought him a commission. It was to make a man of him. He’d told Walter the day he came by wearing his uniform. Walter was crazed when he learned of it. He joined as well.”
Holly felt tears form in her eyes again, but she did not want to cry. How many tears had she already spilled over a man who had never loved her? Over a man who was not capable of ever loving her.
She let out her breath in a long exhale. “They marched off in the same regiment and drowned when the ship transporting them to the Continent was attacked and blown apart. They were on their way to battle but died before ever reaching the war front.”
“Is this why the Gleasons detest you? They blame you for chasing their precious son into the army.”
“Yes, I think so. Although they were never kind to me.” Her hands began to tremble. “If Walter and Stanford had to die, I’m glad they were together. We all deserve to be with those we love in our last moments.”
Joshua said nothing, merely watched her. She could not read his expression. “I suppose you’d rather not have anything to do with me now. It’s all right, Joshua. All I ask is that you keep what I’ve told you to yourself. But thank you for listening to me…and for sharing a waltz with me. It meant more to me than you can ever know.”
“Blessed saints,” he said harshly. “Don’t go, Holly.”
“I must. In truth, I’m completely done in. I’ll fall to pieces in another moment. I can’t talk about Walter anymore. I feel as though I’ve been in a nightmare for the past five years. It’s best that I just go. Thank you again for everything. I shall not soon forget your kindness.”
He surprised her by taking her in his arms. Well, not so much an embrace, as to gently keep her from walking out the door. “I want to see you tomorrow.”
“Why?” She stared into the emerald depths of his eyes.
Her cousin Rose, the artist, often thought of people by their colors. Joshua’s colors were green and gold. The green of his eyes and the gold of his hair. On impulse, she reached up to touch those soft, thick curls.
The late afternoon sun shone into his office, its rays highlighting the golden hues of his hair. He did not stop her from touching him, nor did he encourage her. It seemed he was just going to let her do whatever it was she wanted to do.
“Why would I not wish to see you tomorrow?”
She shook her head in wonderment. “After what I’ve just told you?”
“You’ve told me you were loyal to your husband and tried your best to make him happy.”
“I put blinders on because I refused to admit the truth. I played the cooperative dupe.”
“How old were you when he died?”
“Nineteen. We were married for about two years at the time. That was three years ago.”
She caught the flicker of surprise in his gaze.
“Of course. Five-year nightmare. You’re only twenty-two?”
She eyed him curiously. “Did you think I was older?”
“Your sort of beauty is timeless and ageless,” he said, groaning lightly.
Despite her turmoil, she laughed. “You did think I was older! How old?”
He cleared his throat. “Twenty-four or twenty-five, but only because someone had mentioned this was your age. In truth, I never gave it a thought. I knew…never mind.”
“What did you know?”
“I suppose confession is good for the soul,” he muttered, releasing her to run a hand across the nape of his neck. “When we were in Oxford a few months ago, and I’d just met you.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry I almost cracked your skull open. I thought you were an intruder trying to break into my uncle’s study. I had no idea you were helping Belle and Honey.”
“Yes, well. You pack a mighty wallop for a slender, little thing, did you know that?”
“I thought I was protecting my uncle’s home.”
He rolled his eyes. “When I grabbed you to stop you from hitting me again and had you up against my body, I could tell you were young by the feel of you. I had been told your age, misinformed to be more
accurate. But if I had not been told and had to guess, I would have thought you were barely twenty.”
“Well done, Captain Brayden. You certainly smooth-talked your way out of that one.”
“The point I am making, rather dreadfully it appears, is that I felt something when I held you in my arms.”
“Dizzy? Bolts of pain shooting through your temples?” She wasn’t certain what he meant by the comment. Perhaps he was trying to flatter her. He’d have to do better. She was quite incompetent at understanding men. This was something she needed to work on.
“That, too,” he said with a wince and gingerly touched his head at the spot where she’d injured him. “But mostly I felt…no, I think I’ll save my answer for tomorrow’s discussion.”
She frowned. “You still want to see me? You’re certain.”
“Of course, I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“The better question is, why would you? I’ve made every possible mistake there is to make about love, about men, and about myself.”
He glanced up at the ceiling and sighed. “You really are dense as a rock, aren’t you? Perhaps this will enlighten you.”
He circled one arm around her waist and cupped a finger under her chin with the other. “Close your eyes, Holly.”
“Why?”
“Blessed saints, you’re denser than a rock. Because this,” he said and crushed his lips to hers.
Chapter Seven
Kissing Holly was among the stupidest ideas he’d ever had. But this wasn’t about Holly as much as it was about him. He’d wanted to kiss her ever since they’d first met in Oxford a few months ago.
Seeing her now, looking so beautiful in the gown borrowed from her sister, and yet so completely lost and unsure, had ignited his protective instincts as well as fired his every low brain, possessive urge.
Taste this girl. Mate with her. Protect her.
Of course, the mating part was not going to happen…not today, anyway.
He expected her to push him away.
Instead, she gave a whispered moan and slid her hands up his chest to clasp his shoulders. “Joshua?”
He lost himself in the soft give of her lips.
He hadn’t intended for this to happen. Not at this moment. Yet, here he was, swallowing her in his arms, his lips planted on hers, and no intention of coming up for air anytime soon.
He couldn’t help himself. The more she spoke of her marriage, the more his heart twisted in knots for this innocent, trusting girl.
He wanted to show her that she was desirable.
He’d never met a more desirable woman in his life.
Yet, she had no idea just how perfect she was, for her spirit had been thoroughly crushed.
A nightmare is what she’d called the last five years of her life. He understood and could never blame her for the damage it had done to her soul. Soldiers in battle suffered similar scars, some of these men, sadly, never able to wake from their bad dream and carry on with productive lives.
He deepened the kiss.
She offered no resistance when he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and parted them for him to delve in. She tasted of mint, perhaps the mint tea she would have had with her midday meal. He knew it was her favorite.
He also liked that he knew this about her.
He breathed her in, recognizing the honey scent of her skin. It was the fragrance of the perfumed soaps she used. But on her, the scent was natural, subtle, and merely enhanced the sweet scent of her body.
The taste, the touch, the feel of her set his blood on fire.
He feared he was lost.
Was there anything he did not find charming about her? Even her prim and proper manner aroused him. There was something devastatingly attractive about the simmering sensuality that lay beneath her buttoned-up exterior.
He wanted to do so much more than kiss and probe her yielding mouth, but forced himself to ease away instead. He needed to douse the heat, not stoke it…not yet. “Holly, are you all right?”
He saw the warring emotions reflected in her eyes.
His gaze settled on her lips, now pink and sultry. Her mouth dipped slightly at the corners, giving her that alluring pout.
She nodded, still holding on to him, and then she cast him an achingly sweet smile. “I think I am very well indeed, Joshua.”
But he wasn’t. His gaze drifted discreetly down her body, still feeling her against him although they were no longer pasted to each other. He allowed her to ease back, so they were now standing apart.
He studied her, trying to be discreet, despite his rampaging senses. She had yet to regain her composure. He noticed the light heave of her breasts. She was slender and delicate, but her breasts were full and round and would be heaven to cup in his hands.
He tore his gaze away.
What had he been thinking to kiss her?
This intense feeling for Holly was unexpected. He understood the physical part, for she was beautiful. But he’d read the book she was determined to ignore and understood what was happening to him.
Lord, help him.
He was falling in love with her.
He didn’t think too hard about it. Braydens never did. They just knew. This girl. This is the one I will protect and love for the rest of my days.
But he dared not mention love to her yet. First, she had to trust herself and stand on her own before jumping into a second marriage.
She stared down at her toes. “What did you think of the kiss, Joshua?”
He tucked a finger under her chin and raised her gaze to his. “I liked it very much. I liked it exceedingly well.”
Her eyes were threaded with pain and trepidation. “Then you thought it was a good kiss?”
“Among the hundreds I’ve given and received? I would say it was the best.”
She shook her head and laughed. “You needn’t flatter me.” Her laughter died as she gazed at him in earnest. “This is important to me. I’ve never been kissed like this before. I need to hear the truth. How was it for you?”
He caressed her cheek. “Nor will I ever lie to you. It was the best by far. Do you wish to know why?”
She nodded. “Yes, very much.”
“Because it was with you.”
When she gasped, he worried that he might have said the wrong thing, pushed matters along too fast. She was not on steady footing yet. Comments he would merely accept or even shrug off could send her tumbling to the ground. “There is a connection between us, Holly. Do you not feel it? Let’s call it friendship for now.”
“Yes, friends.” She eyed him warily, but her smile was genuine. “Friends who like to kiss each other.”
He did not know whether to laugh or groan. “I won’t deny it, but this is not what I want us to become. Friends, yes. Perhaps more as we get to know each other better. That’s the part I’d rather explore right now.”
“Same for me, Joshua. You make me feel things, wonderful things I never thought were possible. But I don’t understand these feelings yet. More important, I don’t ever want our meetings to be awkward.”
She must have remembered their encounter the other night, for her face suddenly turned to fire. He arched an eyebrow and chuckled softly. “Yes, there was that little mix-up. Let’s just think of it as a memorable experience, shall we?”
She laughed, and for a moment, he caught the sparkle in her eyes. Blessed saints. How did any man defend his heart against that?
“No, no. It cannot be called memorable. I am trying to expunge it from my recollection. However, I fear I never shall. You are quite…magnificent to look at. I suppose all the women tell you that.”
“I only care to hear it from you. I’m glad you find my looks pleasing.”
She turned away and walked over to the window to look out upon the Thames. He gave her a moment before he came to stand beside her. “What are you thinking, Holly?”
“How smoothly these boats sail upon the river. How splendid and right they look, as though they bel
ong on the water. I think this is how marriage should be, two people who belong together. Water is just water without these boats it carries on its current. A boat has no reason to be without the water. They enhance each other, are better because of the purpose they serve together.”
She shrugged. “You felt it, too, apparently. We are connected, but I don’t understand why. I knew it in my soul the moment we met in Oxford. Does that book explain the reasons why? Should I read it on my own, and only afterward meet to talk about it?”
“I want us to do this together, Holly.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “But you’ve already read the book.”
“I have, and I don’t mind going over it again with you. I feel it is important that we do. There’s a lot to take in all at once, perhaps too much in one reading. Also, what the Gleasons did to you left you damaged. I think you might have difficulty seeing yourself for the woman you truly are. I don’t want you to come away with the wrong conclusions about yourself. But I think it is something you will do because your judgment is impacted by your experiences of the past few years.”
He did not want her denigrating herself, but he understood how these hidden scars could be insidious, how they could easily slip into her thoughts, and skew the meaning of what was written.
His cousin James, Earl of Exmoor, had suffered similarly upon his return from war. His face was left scarred and his leg badly lamed, but it was the internal scarring that had done the most harm.
They spoke no more when a knock came at his door.
He crossed the office to open it. “Come in, Violet.”
She blushed. “I thought I had better chaperone the two of you. Not that I doubted your honor, Joshua.”
He laughed. “Of course, you did. I would doubt me as well.” Violet had read The Book of Love. She knew all about the male, simple brain. His own cousin Romulus had taken one look at her and gone into a low brain frenzy.