“But I doubt you would somehow, not in front of me.”
She’d struck a nerve—she could tell it well-enough from the way a small muscle twitched in his cheek. “I have some pride,” he responded, “so you’re undoubtedly correct.”
He probably had no idea how attractive he looked, gilded by moonlight like some wounded fallen angel, his chiseled features washed to planes and shadows, the beautiful silver of his eyes veiled by long, thick lashes. Forcing herself to walk forward, Alicia sat down next to him. Close. So close her thigh was snug against his, her skirts cascading over the material of his tailored breeches and spilling across his boots. He carried the faint tang of fine whiskey, tobacco, and something indefinable but completely his—the scent devastatingly male.
Courage.
Arthur stiffened and shifted away a little, which certainly didn’t help bolster her nerve. However, she’d come this far, so she gazed up at him and whispered, “I have never been kissed.”
“I beg your pardon?” His stunned expression would have been comical if her entire future didn’t hang in the balance.
“A few times someone has tried,” she continued reflectively, her trembling hands folded in her lap. “I mean, when we were in Edinburgh this spring and attending so many parties—”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Arthur interrupted abruptly. “Where the devil was your chaperone?”
Was this working? Alicia held his gaze with what she hoped was a limpid, innocent stare. “Why doesn’t it surprise you?”
“Because … young men have a weakness for wanting to kiss pretty girls.”
The compliment pleased her, a faint heat climbing into her cheeks. “I … thank you. Do you?”
For just a moment, a heartbeat, his gaze dropped to her mouth. Then it jerked back up, his face taking on that typical guarded distance. “Did you truly crawl out your window and waylay me here, my lady, to ask me if I like kissing pretty girls? If so, I am afraid I have to decline participation in this conversation. It’s rather late, I am quite tired, and you should be properly in bed, where your father expects you to be.”
“I loathe it when you speak to me like that, as if I were still a child.” Alicia felt a small spark of anger and frustration. Did this have to be so difficult? Did he have to be so infernally stubborn and obtuse? Lifting her chin, she said, “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a woman.”
The man sitting next to her said nothing, the silence suddenly loud, punctuated by the low buzzing of insects in the trees.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Alicia finally said in irritated defeat. “Fine! If what you want is for me to totally humiliate myself, I will. I want you to kiss me, Arthur. Is that plain enough? Right now … here … this moment … before I leave in the morning and have to wait another year to see you again.”
* * * *
What must have happened, Arthur decided with all due logic, was that the unpredictable Eros had gone berserk in his stall and kicked him in the head. Now, due to that injury, he was having a hallucination of the first order, complete with a breathtakingly lovely young woman begging for his kiss.
He had one hell of an imagination; he could say that for himself.
In the wash of the luminous light, Alicia’s face looked a little pale, the oval perfect and unblemished, accented by long-lashed dark eyes, a straight small nose, and that soft, pink … very tempting mouth. Blonde hair shimmered, caught at her nape in a thick shining coil. She wore a rose colored gown, the same one that had distracted him all through dinner, the neckline just low enough he could see the ivory swell of her bosom. With her slender thigh against his and the elusive scent of her delicate perfume mingling with the overblown fragrance of the garden, he was so deeply immersed in the fantasy that he could almost believe it was real.
Almost.
“Your father would skin me alive,” he managed to mumble ridiculously. “Look, please…”
“Don’t you dare make me think of my father at this moment, Arthur Cameron,” Alicia said firmly, and to his utter amazement, she turned, one slim hand coming up to clasp his neck and tug him downward toward her upturned face.
Refusing that gentle urgent demand was hardly an option. After all, he wasn’t fashioned from iron, was he? He let his head drift lower, wondering when exactly he was going to wake up, and finally touched his mouth to hers.
Soft lips, warm breath, her slender body trembling slightly as he slid his arm around her waist … all coherent thought flew out of his head and in moments, Arthur found that he had lifted her so she sat on his lap, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, gently coaxing inside, exploring heat and satin softness with an urgency that replaced any doubts over the lucidity of the moment.
She felt light and perfect in his arms—her bottom nestled across his thighs, the enticing weight of her breasts against his chest as they kissed. Arousal tightened his lower body, making it difficult to breathe. It was summer magic, he decided with the drift of the breeze through his hair and Alicia’s sigh in his ear as he grazed his mouth across her smooth cheek. The legendary sensation a man could only feel once in a blue moon. “God help me, lass, you beguile me.”
Her laugh was breathless, throaty, and she whispered, “Oh, Arthur.”
Their mouths melded again, his fingers drifting across her nape and into her hair, finding the pins and pulling them free until it tumbled across his hand and arm and down her back in a lustrous fall. In turn, she began to unbutton his shirt, sliding each fastening free until it was nearly undone to his waist, then moved one hand inside and across his bare chest, skimming heated flesh with a light touch.
It felt as if his body had ignited, going up in a blaze of pure desire. Arthur crushed her closer, kissing the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the tip of her nose, the elegant line of her jaw, and then taking her mouth again and again. With one arm he held her close, the other hand tentatively exploring the firm smoothness of her arm, across the fragile contour of her collarbone, and finally along the bodice of her gown, tracing the bared upper curves of her breasts, dipping into the warm valley between…
“I suggest you remove your hand, Cameron, before I rip your arm off.”
The command, given in an icy staccato voice, unmistakably hostile even without the threat, made Arthur jerk slightly and tear his mouth from Alicia’s. Seeing the tall silhouette of Ian McCray’s impressively large form with a twinge of wry resignation, Arthur realized this was where the dream turned into a nightmare.
“Don’t be medieval.” Still sitting on his lap, Alicia gave her father a clearly defiant look, her hand still resting against Arthur’s chest, the palm cool and small. Disheveled, her golden hair loose and flowing, her mouth damp and rosy, she looked every inch the ravished maiden, even if she hadn’t actually been more than thoroughly kissed. She added, “This isn’t Arthur’s fault.”
“The devil it isn’t.” Her father glowered at them, feet planted solidly in the middle of the path. “Let me give you some information. It is always the fault of the blackguard who tries to take advantage of an innocent girl.”
“He didn’t try to take advantage of me,” Alicia shot back, not budging an inch as Arthur tried gently to remove her arm from around his neck. “Father, I was the one who—”
“Go to bed,” the earl ordered his daughter, interrupting abruptly. “And this time actually stay there. Young Cameron and I have a thing or two to discuss.”
“I will not.”
“Alicia…” With firm intention, Arthur lifted her away, lightly setting her back on the bench. “I can fight my own battles, lass. Your father is protective of you and that’s understandable.”
Her eyes were dark and unfathomable, gazing up at him. “If my future is in the balance, shouldn’t I be allowed to stay?”
“No,” her father snapped. “I will deal with your less than demure behavior in the morning. You’d better hope the weather is fair and I can ride outside the carriage, otherwise you are in for a lecture from here to the Uplands.”
>
Standing up and carefully balancing against the stone bench, Arthur offered his hand, surprised when she allowed him to pull her to her feet. She left, squaring her shoulders and going down the path toward the house. Glancing at Alicia’s father, Arthur braced himself for, at the very least, a dressing down he deserved, and at the most, perhaps a challenge, which could be a real problem. McCray was one of the best swordsmen in all of Scotland, and if there was one thing a man could not do well, it was engage in a battle with a blade while able to stand on only one foot.
To his utter surprise, once his daughter was well out of sight, McCray shook his head and sighed. “You didn’t stand a chance, lad.”
“What?” Incredulous over the change in the man’s demeanor, Arthur blinked.
“That,” Ian crooked a finger at the house, “is one very stubborn, very determined young woman.” Walking over, he picked up the crutch from where it sat against the little tree and brought it back, offering it with a chuckle. “What did she do, steal it away from you so you were trapped?”
The truth was a little embarrassing and Arthur took the crutch with a curt thanks, feeling whole again with it under his arm. He said haltingly, “I have been trying to avoid Alicia, sir, out of deference for your understandable objections. I fear she’s too young to see the … disadvantages of a relationship with someone like me.”
In response, Ian McCray lifted his brows. “She’s nineteen and every bit as intelligent as she is beautiful, Cameron. Unfortunately, she knows her own mind only too well. Last year I could see she was infatuated with you—and you with her. Apparently the feeling has lasted. And what the devil do you mean ‘someone like you’?”
“I am not … whole.” Damned if it wasn’t humiliating to discuss, but Arthur felt honor bound to point out he wasn’t the best man for any woman to wed, much less someone like Alicia with the world at her feet. “And God knows,” he added painfully, “if my children might bear the same defect.”
“Because it has so thoroughly ruined your life?” McCray laughed, his dark gaze speculative. “Let’s see, if I’m not mistaken you’re successful at something you love to do, your horse-breeding business being both profitable and rewarding. You have a nice home, good family, and unless my eyesight is going, a very lovely young woman was doing her best a few moments ago to seduce you. Now, the question in my mind, as a father who wants the very best for his child, is will you make a decent husband and loving father? Whether you can walk across the room doesn’t matter to me, Alicia’s happiness does. She’s been miserable all week, with you avoiding her like a plague-ridden rat. I’ve stifled the urge to beat some sense into you for her sake, but my patience is wearing thin, lad.”
With the dressing down ended, McCray nodded and turned away, striding purposefully down the path.
Arthur stared after him, feeling both dazed and unwillingly amused.
This dream got more interesting all the time.
* * * *
After those passionate kisses, their ardent embrace, and his soft whispered moonlit words, the blasted man didn’t even bother to say goodbye. To make matters worse, as if she wasn’t wretched enough, it had begun to rain.
Fighting back the sting of unwanted tears, Alicia sat very upright on the seat as the carriage rolled along, her spine stiff, her gaze averted from her father’s set face. Dressed in bright yellow summer muslin, her attire was infinitely more cheery than her spirits. She fully realized she had acted wantonly. Her cheeks heated when she recalled the way Arthur’s well-muscled torso had felt under the exploration of her fingers—hard but smooth and male. His mouth had been deliciously warm and insistent, their kisses every bit as wonderful as any of her romantic imaginings.
He’d said she beguiled him.
Yet he’d let her leave.
To her horror, despite her best efforts, a lone tear treacherously escaped and trailed down her cheek. All hopes her father wouldn’t notice were dashed when he suddenly snarled, “That’s it! I should have skewered him posthaste last night, which was my first reaction, believe me, when I saw his hands and mouth all over you.”
Though she certainly had expected a lecture, so far she’d been grateful her father had kept unusually silent. At the outburst, Alicia shook her head. “I think my hands were pretty much all over him,” she admitted in a small, desolate voice. “And I asked him to kiss me, Papa. I guess I thought if I could get him to let down his defenses, he wouldn’t be able to ignore how he feels any longer and do something. Mrs. McCreary encouraged me, for she swears Arthur is madly in love with me. Last night in his arms, I thought so, too. I guess we were both wrong.”
Large and formidable, her father gave her a grim smile, his broad shoulders tense against the upholstery, his long, booted legs extended. “I can easily make him change his mind at the point of my sword, sweetheart. If you want Cameron, then you shall have him. Dry your tears and think about what you wish to wear for your wedding.”
All her life her father had been her hero, both protective … and at times, overbearing … but always loving and supportive. Alicia laughed, a small dismal hiccup. “Thanks, but I believe I’ll decline you forcing him to the altar like some Scottish brigand. I love Arthur, but he has to make up his mind he wants me all on his own.”
“I’ll have a drop of his blood for every tear I see you cry,” her father declared, looking very much the Laird of the fearsome McCray’s with his glittering dark gaze and affronted expression.
“It would hardly make me happy,” Alicia pointed out with gloomy practicality. “Though I must admit, even with his self-conscious awareness of his deformity, I did not think he would eschew happiness for pride. His foot does not matter to me, whatever its shape and function. And I counted on his intelligence and sensitive nature to see that.”
“Truthfully, so did I. He’s more stubborn than I thought.”
Looking up, Alicia blinked, putting her hands down on the seat as they rolled over a rough patch of road. “You thought so?”
“I expected a marriage agreement to be reached upon this trip.” Her father looked slightly uncomfortable and vaguely guilty. “Why do you think I suggested we come? None of the young dandies who’ve besieged me endlessly for permission to court you have drawn even a glimmer of interest from you, as far as I can tell. But,” his tone grew gruff, “you look at Cameron the way your mother once looked at me. I’m not so old as to have forgotten it.”
A distant shout made her start, as did the sudden slowing of the carriage. The roads were generally safe, but travelers were wise to be armed. Her father eased a dirk out of his boot, lifting the flap covering the side window. Curious, Alicia craned her neck to also peer out, a fine mist of warm moisture touching her face.
“Halt!”
The pounding of hoof beats on the wet road approached dully, the horse and rider coming clearly at a reckless pace. “Damn fool,” her father said, but a faint smile touched his mouth. “However, I think he just saved his worthless hide and I won’t run him through after all.”
“Hey, ahead, halt the carriage!”
Suddenly, her heart pounded with every bit as much wild unruliness as the approaching rider’s frantic pace and Alicia blinked through the rain, the sight of Arthur on his huge, black horse making her throat clog with joyous hope. Before their vehicle even rocked to a stop, he was alongside, wet, wind-lashed and looking more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. Snorting, the stallion tossed his head and stamped, and when her father opened the door of the carriage, Arthur looked straight past him to where she sat transfixed on the seat.
“Marry me,” Arthur said breathlessly, holding her gaze and controlling the restive horse with an expert hand, his dark hair clinging in wet black tendrils to his neck and cheeks.
“It would serve you right if I said no,” Alicia retorted, but she was already off the seat and scrambling out despite the weather, almost tripping down the step in her long skirts, caught and balanced by her father’s firm hand.
&n
bsp; “It would,” Arthur agreed, his expression hauntingly poignant as he leaned forward and balanced in the stirrup with his good foot, sweeping her up in front of him. He whispered against her temple, “But then you’d be turning away the man who gave you your first kiss.”
Warm, wet droplets caught on her lashes and dampened her hair as she looked into his eyes and clasped her arms around his neck. “This morning,” she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder, “I thought you didn’t want me after all.”
“This morning,” he said almost roughly, “I woke after falling asleep on that damned bench in the garden, soaking wet and stiff as a board. I had a few things to work out last eve … for myself, and for us, so I sat there thinking in the moonlight for a long, long time and must have finally dozed off.”
“And what did you work out?” Her hand lifted to lightly touch his cheek.
“That my love for you has nothing to do with what I am outside.” His smile was tender, but also rueful. “And that I was making myself just as crippled on the inside, where it matters. When I realized it was so late and you’d gone, I saddled Eros and came after you.”
“I’m so happy,” Alicia said shyly, but there was nothing coy about the way she opened her mouth for his sudden possessive kiss.
“I take it,” her father’s voice broke in, “we need to turn around and go back to Castle Cameron and discuss a few things.”
Lifting his head, Arthur grinned. “Absolutely, sir.” Then he wheeled the horse, holding her protectively, his mouth close to her ear. “I may never be able to lead you in a waltz, my lady, but if you’d find a gallop across the Scottish hills in the summer rain romantic, I’d be glad to oblige.”
“That,” Alicia told her future husband with a brilliant smile, “will be a dream come true.”
* * * *
Visit Katherine’s website at
www.katherinesmith.net
Ember’s Desire
by Meagan Hatfield
Alternate Northern England—1750
Ember Galenorn lit the last candle with a trembling hand. It seemed the moment the wick caught to burn, the words of the spell left her mind. She clenched her eyes tight and tried to concentrate.
Blue Moon Magic Page 8