by Susanne Lord
“You can go first.”
He nodded, rubbing his big hands together. “Minnie, I was thinking you shouldn’t marry Tom with any haste. It’s peculiar, I know, after what I said before. But I don’t want you to marry him yet, on account of my still wanting to marry you.”
Oh. Oh dear.
Yes. It ached to even think the word. But yes, please…please, yes. But did he know how hard it would be with her family? How long they may have to wait? Did he love her enough to wait?
Seth’s gaze dropped for an instant, and when he looked at her again, there was wariness in his gaze. “But I can’t—ah, Minnie, I can’t ask you to marry me right now.”
The ache deepened, but she wasn’t surprised. She was too practical to be surprised. She only nodded because she’d promised not to interrupt. And really, she didn’t know what she could say. Sewing for hours had apparently deadened her brain.
“I don’t expect you to trust me on everything, not without knowing my plan, which I’m still working on. Because I know a lady like you deserves a strong plan.”
A plan?
“And Tom Grant is a good man.” Seth hurried through his words. “But I hope I can be better for you, and I just wanted to say that before you and Tom got too far along in the matrimonial arrangements. Because my plan just needs a little more time. So I’m asking you to wait on marrying Tom. Just until I can sort out my plan. Would you?”
Seth had a plan.
He searched her eyes, looking uncertain. “Would you wait for—you can talk now, Minnie. I didn’t need all my minutes.”
She blinked and fixed her smile, because, really, what could she say but, “All right.”
“All right?”
She moved closer. “All right.”
“Ah…Christ,” he groaned, staggering to the sofa.
Alarmed, she reached for him but he sat down hard, the sofa scraping on the floor to hit the wall. He bent at the waist to rest his head in his hands, clutching thick tufts of blond hair between his fingers.
“Seth?” She knelt in front of him. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
He shook his head. “Just a minute, pretty.”
She waited but stroked his shoulder, needing to touch him.
He lifted his head and smiled shakily. “I’m all right now. I didn’t know if you’d agree.” He swallowed. “You said you would wait on marrying Tom, didn’t you? Just so we’re both talking plain.”
She released the breath she’d been holding and took his face in her hands—his perfect, kind, indecently handsome face—and kissed him. She’d wanted to kiss him the moment she heard his voice through the door. “Yes, I’ll wait.”
“And you’ll wait to hear my plan?”
“I’ll wait,” she whispered. “I’ll wait for as long as you need me to wait.”
“Good…good, thank you.” Clumsily, he caught her arms, pressing them against her sides. The tremor in his hands battered her heart so she kissed his brow, his eyes, his jaw, his chin, until his grip eased.
He took a deep breath. “Minnie, do you need me to tell Tom you’re waiting? It’s awkward, I know, but—”
“Oh. No, you don’t have to tell Thomas anything.” She straightened to smile at him. “I already told him I would never marry him.”
His eyes widened. “Why would you do that, Minnie?”
“Because I want to marry you far too much.” She smiled. “I think I was waiting for your plan.”
He pulled her into a corset-crushing hug. “Ah, Minnie. I swear to you, I’ll do everything I can to marry you. I just need to sort out my plan.”
His plan. She itched to ask him what that plan was, to help him plan. But something told her he needed to do this alone.
This time, she couldn’t manage anything.
“Can I say what I wanted to say now?” she asked.
He grinned and turned her about to sit on his lap. But he rested his head on her shoulder and nuzzled her. A long breath heated her neck. “Go on and say anything you need saying, pretty.”
“I know you’ll make a good plan for us, Seth.” She took a steadying breath. “But I’m afraid I’m going to complicate it a little.”
His arms tightened but he held still.
“I love you so much. And I want to marry you”—she pulled back to look into his eyes—“but first, I have to let you know that I can’t leave my sisters just yet. We’re fine now, but the income the three of us make allows us to lease these rooms and feed ourselves. I can’t leave them yet. I can’t leave until…” Until Mary and Emma wed, or they find stable employment, or some miracle occurs. “I can’t leave them, Seth.”
He watched her, his fingers lightly drumming on her back. “Right,” he said. The word so…simple. “Right. I already knew that, pretty.”
He did?
His eyes dropped to her mouth. And the next instant, he stole her breath by gripping the nape of her neck and kissing her as if he’d just remembered they’d been apart—apart that horribly long and inexcusable time.
His lips gentled, and he was caressing her mouth so softly, so sweetly. Seth. Her gentle man. So giant and powerful and handsome. And yet it was his generosity and honor and gentleness that bound her heart to him.
She held him closer and thrilled as his kiss changed, moving more urgently on hers, growing wet. Her body was beginning to simmer everywhere their bodies melded together. She shifted on his lap, needing to relieve the untouchable yearning there.
She yanked her mouth away, needing to be able to think. “Don’t ever go to Brazil. Whatever your plan is and whatever happens, don’t go to Brazil.”
He was panting hard, the high planes of his cheekbones ruddy with color. He swallowed. “All right,” he said solemnly.
“And don’t ever sail again.”
“All right.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “All right?”
“All right, Minnie.”
He cupped her face and kissed her, his lips nudging and pleading, and she let herself enjoy the sweet attention—but only for a moment.
“And one more thing,” she said. “Take back your money so you can fix your cottage, and plant your orchard, and buy sheep.” She drew a breath. “That was four separate things, I realize now.”
His eyes narrowed—and crinkled, bless him—and at last, at last, there was a smile in them. “Minnie,” he said hoarsely. “Keep that money and buy some sugar for your tea and coffee a man can actually drink, and take a jarvey every now and again, and buy yourself some new dresses, and take Sebastian to the sweetshop.”
“But it’s not our money.”
“Settle it on your sisters for when the suitors come calling.”
“Their suitors…?” That would be wonderful, actually. He kissed her and she couldn’t argue anymore. When he lifted his head, she asked, “What will you do now?”
“Since you’re to be had, pretty”—he grinned wickedly, his lids lowering as he stared at her lips—“I’m thinking I’ll start my plan in earnest.”
His voice rumbled deep in her breast. And lower. And teased her where she was most sensitive and in need. “I’m to be had,” she whispered.
So handsome. And rugged. He must not have shaved today. Dark-blond whiskers covered his bronzed cheek. She slid her tongue against the coarse grain.
The powerful body beneath her jerked, but he tipped his head back, giving her full access to his strong neck and hard jaw. And desperate to taste him, she slid her lips over him, suckling him, reveling in the slightly salty taste of his skin and the rumbling growl of pleasure vibrating under her mouth.
“Ah…Christ,” he groaned, writhing beneath her. “I want you, but your sisters…?”
The curtains were drawn against the dark night, but the door wasn’t latched. On shaking legs, she pushed off him, pulling her skirts
from his grip so she could stand and lock the door.
Mutely, he stood to follow her, but she didn’t want him against any door again. Faint with desire, she could barely stand upright, so she was relieved it only took her hand on his chest to push him back to the sofa.
“What do you want, Minnie? What do I do?” he asked hoarsely.
She pressed him down and he sat, his knees parted wide, and her eyes latched to the jutting bulge of his trousers. “I’m to be had,” she whispered as she straddled a hard thigh and unbuttoned him. “Are you?”
His lips twitched with a grin. “When did you learn to flirt like that?”
Wanting him near, she leaned atop him, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. “I never flirted with you, remember?” She suckled his lower lip, tugging gently with her teeth, and his hard body tightened like granite. She kissed him hard, both inflamed and frustrated by his unyielding body. “Would you like me to flirt with you?” she asked, her words husky.
His eyes were closed but he nodded swiftly. “Go on, Minnie. Flirt all you want.”
No, she’d never been bold before. But Seth made her bold, made her a warrior. She yanked at the fabric of his trousers and the soft cotton drawers beneath, and dared to take the length of him into her hand. To claim him as her own.
“Ah…God.” His voice was loud, but she no longer cared if anyone could hear. Steel arms crushed her against him, and his kiss pressed and nudged and rolled in light circles. And she mirrored that rhythm with her hand on his hot flesh. He groaned his encouragement, and she learned what pleased him.
“Do you like this?” She squeezed him gently, and his heavy lids lifted.
“How did you know?” he asked in a hushed voice.
She smiled…until he shifted to sit up straight and kiss her softly.
“How did you always know, Minnie, how to love me like you do?”
His eyes were clear and intent on her, and her heart swelled with too much feeling. “It’s so easy to love you, Seth.”
He blinked, and the surprise on his face made her still with wonder. His eyes crinkled, nearly closed with emotion. And he moved her hand off him and onto his shoulder so he could maneuver her leg over his hip and position himself against her.
And she nearly swooned at the feel of him entering her so slowly.
“My…God,” he breathed, his teeth clenched as he ground into her. “Only a lady could say something that sweet to me.”
She gasped as he filled her.
“A lady from the ground up. I knew it. I knew it the instant I heard your voice, heard the way you defended your friends.”
The pleasure, the heat of him, was almost too much. “Please…” She eased from the sensation, but strong hands moved her right back in place. And a spark, like lightning, almost like pain, coursed up her spine and through every nerve of her body. “Seth…”
“Ah, pretty,” he murmured. “Easy…just like that.”
Trembling, she took a moment to recover. But he watched her, and no one had ever looked at her like that—not just with love. But a promise to take care of her. To take care of her body and her heart.
She’d never known how much she wanted that.
She hugged him hard and, giving over to the bliss of their bodies, plunged hard and firm to feel him deep inside her. “I love you so much.”
A rumbling growl vibrated in his broad chest, and he held himself still.
“I’d do anything, Minnie.” He panted hard, his breath hot on her hair. “I’ll give you more than love, I swear it.” He thrust up into her, and her body seized with pleasure. “I’ll take care of you,” he said through gritting teeth. “Like you need, like a man—”
She kissed him, needing his mouth, his tongue, and there were no more words. Wave after wave of electric pleasure coursed through her with every plunge. It didn’t end. It only grew more wonderful, more perfect—
“Ah, God!” Seth arched his powerful body under her, and she held tight to stay with him. But he gripped her hard, forcing her hips down, forcing her to come until she cried out. And then he was lifting her off him fast and crushing her higher against his chest. Something wet and slick slid down her thigh, and only then did she realize he’d spent outside of her.
And she never doubted that he would. Because he was so good and so careful with her, and he would never hurt her.
His arms loosened to let her slide back to his lap. She brushed back the damp tendrils of hair from his brow. “No matter what happens, Seth,” she whispered. “No matter”—if we can’t be together, if we can’t marry—“no matter the plan, I’m the luckiest woman in the world to be loved by you.”
The flush on Seth’s cheeks and nose deepened, and he smiled. “Always on my side.” He kissed her lips lightly, but when he raised his head to look at her, his eyes were questioning. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded hard, sorry for every hurtful thing she must have said to him. “I trust you. I do.”
“Good.” He pulled a card from his pocket. “I’m inviting you to see my flowers.”
“Your flowers?” She took the letter from his hand and unfolded it. “The Horticulture Society’s Annual Floral Fete.” She looked at him, his handsome face calm. “But this is the auction of your prizes.”
His gaze flickered away, but he nodded.
Her heart cracked for him. He must not have been able to prove any claim on them. She hugged him tight. “I can’t wait to see them. You can tell me how you found each one.”
“Each one? There’s quite a number. Can you listen to me run on nineteen to the dozen, all day long?”
She smiled wider. “All day long.”
He flushed and shifted her closer. Looking shy and pleased, even though he’d lost so much. But she’d take care of him now. And he’d take care of her. Please, God. There had to be a way…
Seth sat back and smiled at her. “Charlotte tells me Opening Day at Chiswick Gardens is a highlight of the London Season. Meaning all the Quality show in their fancy dress and hats and it’s all a fine rout. Invitation only, they tell me.”
The card she held was very white and very thick. “And we are both invited?”
He pointed with his chin at the one she was holding. “That’s my invitation. You keep it—I won’t need it to get in.”
“But—”
“Imagine me, rubbing elbows with all the Fashionables.”
“But, the invitation—”
“Wear your prettiest frock, Minnie. I like that lavender one a lot”—he frowned—“but you were wearing that when you said you wouldn’t marry me, so maybe wear something different, all right?”
He kissed her and seemed happier than she’d seen him in a very long time.
“I won’t wear the lavender.” Though, really, the lavender was her only gown for such an event.
It didn’t matter. She would be there for Seth and she would be mighty for him. Because he would be watching all his hard-won prizes auctioned from him. Not even a heart as large as his could forgive such a betrayal.
Twenty-four
Three thousand.
That was the number Seth had been chasing in his head the past week. And now that the Opening Day of the Horticulture Society’s Flower Show at Chiswick had arrived, along with the auction that would determine his future happiness, that number seemed to be echoing in every corner of his brain. Three thousand…three thousand…three thousand.
A madman’s babel. He might be brainsick. Or a lunatic. Maybe he’d drive himself to Bedlam. But three thousand was a good, round number—where twenty-six was not.
Three thousand pounds was enough to mend the cottage and outbuildings, and furnish the rooms, and plant oats and an orchard, and keep Mina, all six sisters, and Sebastian fed, clothed, and housed for twenty-six months.
And after that…hell, the rest was faith. A
nd strategy. Mostly strategy, he supposed, and he had the faith on account of Will and his man of business, Mr. Marlowe. They’d said his plan was sound. Three thousand, and he could propose to Mina. Three thousand, and he would be the happiest man in the world.
“Nervous, are you, Seth?”
Seth jerked at Will’s voice. Though why his friend’s presence would startle him was damn stupid. Will and Charlotte had been wandering the manicured lawn at Chiswick with him since he talked his way past the gatekeeper.
“Can’t tell,” he said. “Nervous or excited or on the verge of apoplexy. I can’t tell—can’t pin the feeling down in my head.”
Charlotte handed him a plate of shortbread. “Then have a biscuit. You’ll feel more yourself.”
Seth nodded and took a biscuit, but he didn’t have the stomach to eat. “Thank you.” He smiled at her gown, all frothy, yellow ruffles. “Aren’t you shaming these daffodils today, Charlotte? They might wither up seeing as how you outshine them.”
“You are full of such sweet nonsense, Seth.” She beamed, her blue eyes dancing. “Which flower do you think Mina will come dressed as?”
He didn’t let his smile droop, but Mina wouldn’t have a dress as fine as Charlotte’s. Or any of these other women’s. She had that lavender ball gown she’d worn in Bombay…and he’d asked her not to wear it. He probably shouldn’t have done that.
Someday, he’d make it up to her. He’d buy her a dress for every color flower in the world. And a lady’s maid to dress her hair, and another to press her linens, and a cook to mash her tea.
But first, three thousand. After that, he’d find a way to hire a maid for Mina.
Where was she?
He surveyed the grounds. A dozen or more white tents covered every spare patch of lawn. The ladies twirled in their wide skirts, sparkling in their pearls and gems and satins. The flowers in the conservatory weren’t any match for this level of finery. These were hothouse aristocrats. No, Mina wouldn’t have a gown like those.
“I’ve never seen so many fine ladies in my life,” he muttered.