by Lauren Royal
“You’re so worried about everyone else’s happiness, I think you forget about seeing to your own. Stop being so nice, and I think you’ll be happier.” Frowning, Judith glanced out the window. Her eyes widened. “There he is now.”
“Who?”
“Rand.” Judith blushed. “Lord Randal, I mean. Lord, he’s handsome. What happened to his hair?”
“Did you not hear our barn burned? While he was rescuing my animals, his hair caught fire, and he had to cut it.” Lily rose and went to the window, just in time to see Rand slide off his horse—and be greeted by her sister.
“He saved your animals? Oh, Lily, that’s so romantic.”
“It was very kind.” She watched Rose laugh and take Rand by the hand, leading him toward the small redbrick summerhouse. Though he looked confused, he shrugged and went along.
Lily froze for a moment, feeling betrayed. By Rose? By Rand? Then she told herself not to be silly—Rose probably just wanted to show him something. Perhaps she was working on some flower arrangements in the summerhouse. And Rand certainly had no obligation to avoid Rose—not after Lily had repeatedly refused his suit.
Then Rose turned to say something to Rand, and Lily saw her face. Animated. Too animated for languid Rose.
“Something’s up,” Judith said beside her.
Exactly what Lily had been thinking.
“Come along.” Judith took her by the arm. Firmly. “We’re going to investigate.”
“Investigate?” Lily stared at her friend. “You mean spy on my sister?”
“She would spy on you in a heartbeat.” When Lily didn’t budge, Judith turned her to face the window. “Look. They’re both gone. She’s taken him into the summerhouse.” She pulled on Lily’s arm. “Come along. You cannot tell me you don’t want to hear what’s happening.”
Since Lily couldn’t honestly tell her that, she went. She felt like a sorry excuse for a sister, spying on Rose, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
By the time they made it outside, they were both running. When they stopped before one of the round summerhouse’s four doors and Lily reached for the latch, Judith closed a hand over her fingers. “Wait,” she whispered. “Listen.”
“Judith!” Lily protested, her voice hushed but fierce. “There’s spying, and then there is spying. I refuse to—”
And then she was spying, after all—riveted in place by the conversation that drifted from inside.
Twenty-Four
“I’M FLATTERED, my lady,” Rand’s wry voice came through the door. “But as it happens, I’ve set my sights elsewhere.” He sneezed. “Pardon me. I seem to be coming down with something. Where are those flowers you wanted to show me?”
“Gemini! They seem to have disappeared.” Lily heard Rose’s practiced laugh, a tinkling, feminine sound. “Perhaps a kiss might compensate for the loss?”
On the other side of the door, Lily was so aghast she could find no words to express her feelings. “Poor Rand has caught my illness,” she whispered irrelevantly.
“How is that?” Judith whispered back. As Lily blushed, her friend’s pale blue eyes widened. “Oh, my Lord. He kissed you, didn’t he?”
“It’s not a crime. Besides, what makes you think he kissed me? I caught your illness without kissing you.”
“I can see it in your face,” Judith declared. “You—”
“Hush. I cannot hear.” Lily wondered if Rand and Rose were kissing.
No. Rose was talking. “I wonder,” she mused in a speculative tone, “if the lady you’ve set your sights on has ten thousand pounds to bring to a marriage. It seems to me a mere professor could use that sort of money. A windfall like that would allow you to live the gentlemanly life you were born to.”
Judith’s mouth dropped open. “Lord, she must be desperate,” she said over whatever Rand replied. “I cannot imagine—”
“Hush!”
“And I wonder…” When Rose paused, Lily imagined her running a seductive hand down Rand’s arm. Or worse. She was relieved when her sister continued talking. “I wonder what my father, who is out in his gardens as always, would do if he found us alone in here together, hmm?”
Lily gasped. “That’s so unfair to Rand, threatening to trap him like that! She’s the one who lured him in there!”
“Unfair to him?” Judith’s whisper came through gritted teeth. “How about you, Lily? Is Rose not being unfair to you?”
“Goodness, Rose would never hurt me on purpose! We love each other. But she’s so focused on herself I doubt she’s even considered I might be seriously interested in Rand.”
“Well, then, it’s about time she found out,” Judith said, and with that, she flung open the door.
Since Rand was opening it at the same time, Judith fell into his arms, landing with a thud against his chest. He took the time to steady her before stepping away. “Pardon me, my lady. I was just leaving.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Judith said dreamily.
And a little inanely, Lily thought. She stepped into the summerhouse to join them. “This is my best friend,” she told Rand, “Lady Judith Carrington.” She turned to Judith, not at all sure she liked the dazed look in her friend’s eyes. “And this is Lord Randal Nesbitt.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Rand told Judith pleasantly. “But I’m afraid I must take my leave.”
“No.” Judith seemed to regain her senses, casting a glance to where Rose stood in the shadows. “It’s Rose who’s leaving.” She marched over and took Rose by the arm. “Come along, Rose.”
Rose planted her feet. “I’m not finished talking to Lord Randal.”
Slender Rose was no match for Judith’s solid build. “Oh, yes, you are.” Undeterred, Judith tugged her through the door.
“You’re supposed to be my friend,” Rose protested loudly as she found herself dragged through the gardens.
“I am your friend.” Judith’s voice was getting fainter. “And as your friend, I insist on saving you from further embarrassing yourself.”
Their voices faded. Lily and Rand were left alone. The cool, shaded summerhouse seemed filled with an expectant silence.
Rand sneezed.
“I’m sorry,” they both said together.
He cracked a smile. “What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry you had to put up with my sister’s nonsense.”
“I’m sorry you had to overhear it.”
“I’m sorry I made you ill.”
His smile widened. “Ah, but I’m not sorry I kissed you.”
“I’m sorry you’re not kissing me now.”
“I’m sor—what?”
He blinked and took a step closer, and she rushed into his arms.
Whatever had been holding her back had suddenly vanished, like the moon on a cloudy night. Promise or no, Rose didn’t deserve Rand, not after she’d called him a mere professor. Not after she’d tried to bribe him and then trick him into marriage. If Lily had thought she was angry with her sister before, now she was really learning the depths of that emotion.
But she didn’t want to think about Rose now. Not when Rand was right here, holding her close, not when she finally felt free to touch him without feeling like she was betraying her sister.
She raised her hands to his face, feeling the slight roughness on his cheeks. She slid her fingers into his hair, the short strands soft and slippery as silk. He wore no fragrance but just smelled like Rand. Clean and warm. His scent made her head swim, more enticing than the costliest perfume.
She went on her toes to press her lips to his, but couldn’t quite reach. He was so tall, and she was too short.
“I never dreamed you would ever come to me for a kiss,” Rand said, sounding stunned. “Shall I meet you halfway?”
She laughed, the noise joyous to her own ears. Her heart felt light enough to escape her chest and float away. Rose had put Rand in a very awkward position, and Lily had overheard it, and somehow, that had changed everything.
When their lips finally met, the moment felt like a gift, an instant that would live in her heart forever. The kiss sang through her veins, and Lily knew for certain she was in love.
She could no longer deny that she wanted this man more than she’d wanted anything else, ever.
She parted her lips, inviting him in, sinking into the velvet warmth of his caress. What started out sweet and tender turned reckless and hungry, his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue sweeping inside, making her dizzy. A happiness burst in her—a happiness that made her feel as though she could touch the stars in the sky.
He kissed her eyes and her cheeks and her chin, the wild pulse in her throat, the skin revealed by the wide neckline of her silver-trimmed gown. Her hands sneaked beneath his midnight blue surcoat and around him, skimming his thin cambric shirt to feel the sleek muscles she’d seen yesterday. Her legs threatened to buckle under her, and she pressed herself closer, wanting more.
She’d felt something, a magical something, from the first time this man had touched her. Now, suddenly, the kisses weren’t enough. Her heart beat madly, and she ached for more of his touch. When he began easing down her bodice, instead of protesting, she arched, wordlessly offering herself to him like some forbidden fruit.
Rand knew the moment she gave herself over. He sensed desire singing through her body, heard need in the soft moan that escaped her lips. At that moment, he suspected she’d let him take her right there on the hard brick floor.
And at that moment, he also knew he couldn’t do this. He dropped his hands and stepped back.
They gazed at each other, their unsteady breathing the only sound in the small, round building.
He wanted her. He wanted her so much that he hurt. But he would wait. Because his need for her now went beyond the physical—even more than he wanted her body, he wanted her heart.
Love. Ford was right, this had to be love. It wasn’t a comfortable emotion, but it was there, and it wouldn’t be going away. Rand needed Lily—her sweetness, her faith in him, the way she made him feel—more than he needed to breathe. And he wanted, more than anything, to make her feel cherished in return.
He couldn’t remember ever putting anyone else first, before himself. It could only be love, no matter that he’d believed it would never happen for him.
Never say never, he thought with a rueful laugh.
Readjusting her gown, Lily looked flushed and beautiful—and disconcerted. “Why are you laughing? Why did you stop kissing me?”
He couldn’t explain it. The plan had been working. He and Lily were bound by a certain something—magnetism, Ford would call it—that he’d never felt with any other woman. He could win her, he knew, with the plan.
With seduction.
He was glad it had worked for Ford. But the plan, both times, had been conceived in a drunken haze. And the sobering reality was that no matter how much Rand’s body begged him otherwise, seduction was not the way he wanted to win Lily.
Strong as it might be, there was so much more between them than lust. When she agreed to be part of his life, he wanted that decision to be made with her head and her heart, not just her body.
He moved closer but kept some necessary distance by placing his hands on her shoulders. “I want you to play a song for me.”
“Pardon?” Unsure she’d heard right, Lily searched his intense gray eyes. Her senses were still spinning. Her knees were still weak.
“I want you to play a song. On the harpsichord. And I’ll sing.”
“Now?”
“Now. Right now. In your family’s drawing room. Will you do that for me, Lily?”
She nodded, too confused to bother asking why. Right now, there was little he could ask for that she would refuse.
He took her hand to leave, but before she could even register how good it felt to have his fingers linked with hers—before they cleared the door—her father walked in.
“Have you seen my ironclad spade?”
Struggling to control her heart rate, Lily took a deep breath and quickly scanned the dim summerhouse. There was no spade. There wasn’t anything in here, in fact, save the narrow wooden benches attached to the circular wall.
“It’s not here, Father. Why don’t you ask the head gardener?”
“Hmm,” he said. “I was hoping it would be in here. Perhaps I should ask the head gardener.” Muttering to himself, he turned and left.
Rand sneezed, using his free hand to block it. “Pardon me,” he said.
“You are falling ill.”
He shrugged. “Your father didn’t hear your suggestion.”
“I never expect him to hear anything. If he does, I consider myself lucky.”
“He wouldn’t have said a thing had he found me alone with Rose, would he?” Sounding incredulous, Rand raised their still-joined hands. “He didn’t even notice I was here.”
“Well, what did you expect?” Lily grinned. “You’re not a flower.”
Twenty-Five
IN THE FICKLE way of summer, the sky had clouded up while Rand and Lily were in the summerhouse. Beatrix, Lady, and Jasper appeared and followed them back to the house. Claiming he didn’t want an audience, Rand maneuvered to get through the door without allowing them inside.
The animals went around and entered through one of the drawing room’s windows instead.
Lily sat at the harpsichord and arched her fingers over the keys, then hesitated. Her nose was dripping. She pulled the handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed.
“Go ahead,” Rand said. “Blow.”
Love, she supposed, meant being able to blow your nose in front of the man. So she did, even though she was no timid nose-blower.
It didn’t seem to scare him away. In fact, in the middle of her blow, he sneezed again, and then he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his own nose, too.
“We’re wrecks,” Lily said, thinking it felt strangely wonderful to comfortably share an illness. She faced the keyboard again. “What do you want me to play?” She suspected the tune she’d been practicing for him wasn’t what he had in mind.
He thought for a moment. “Do you know the one that starts ‘Let’s love and let’s laugh’?”
Like so many popular songs, it had no title, but she did know it. She nodded.
He leaned against the harpsichord. “Then play it, please.”
When she did, his gaze locked on hers as he began to sing.
“Let’s love and let’s laugh,
Let’s dance and let’s sing;
While shrill echoes ring;
Our wishes agree,
And from care we are free,
Then who is so happy, so happy as we?”
Although there were three more verses, he stopped singing, still holding her gaze. She played a few more bars and then stopped, too.
For a moment, the room was so quiet she could hear the clock ticking on the mantel.
“Did you hear that, Lily?”
He wasn’t referring to the clock. “The words?” she wondered. Let’s love. Could he mean…
Her heart skipped a beat, and she nearly missed what he said next.
“The words fit us, don’t they? But no, I didn’t mean the words. What did you hear?”
“What did I hear?” she echoed faintly, feeling confused. But her heart began pumping a little faster. “It sounded good. You sound good. You have a wonderful voice.”
He stepped closer. “But my voice doesn’t sound nearly as good alone as it does together with your music. It doesn’t sound as complete.” His gaze still held hers in thrall. She could lose herself in those eyes. “I want that with you, Lily. I want you to provide the melody for my songs. And I, the words to your tunes.”
He seemed to be talking about more than music. Her blood rushed even faster. Did she dare to hope she could hold on to this newfound happiness?
“Don’t say anything,” he said, still watching her. “Not yet.”
Lady chirped in the window, a
nd Jasper chattered, and Beatrix wound around Rand’s legs.
Yet he had eyes only for Lily.
“I’m just a professor,” he said.
Rose’s thoughtless words had affected him. Hurt him. For a moment, Lily felt a degree of anger toward her sister she hadn’t thought possible. “Rand, you aren’t just anything. Not to me.”
He slid onto the harpsichord’s bench and shifted to face her, taking her hands. “I want you to listen. I am just a professor. I live in a house. Once it’s finished it will be a very nice house, but just a house all the same, not a mansion like Trentingham. And it isn’t perched on land that stretches as far as the eye can see. It sits in the middle of a town with other buildings all around it.”
Was he asking her to marry him, or explaining why he couldn’t? “I don’t care—” she started.
He stopped her by squeezing her hands. “I’m a second son. I may have the word Lord in front of my name, but that’s only a courtesy title. I’ll never sit in the House of Lords like your father. I could attend court if I wished, and London balls, but the fact is, I don’t. Or I haven’t,” he corrected himself. “I’m willing to go to such events if doing so would please you, as long as it’s not during term time.”
This was a prelude to a proposal. Her breath caught, and she coughed in reaction. “I don’t care,” she repeated. “Rand, I—”
“I’m not finished.” He coughed, too, then furrowed his brow, as though he was trying hard to remember everything he wanted to say. “You should know that I earn a nice living. But you should also know that it’s been years since the marquess supplemented my income.”
“The marquess?”
“My father. But like I said, I do well enough.” When his gaze swept her gown, she felt as though he were disrobing her with his eyes. “I expect I can afford to dress you in the lovely manner to which you’re accustomed,” he added with a grin.
She smoothed her periwinkle skirts. “I’d wear sackcloth to be with you,” she said quietly. “You just sang of love and laughter. Money cannot buy that. Besides, I do have a marriage portion. Three thousand pounds.”