“And you are not angry?” she ventured hesitantly.
He pushed away from the wall and stepped forward, crowding her back against the brick. It felt warm against her exposed neck, but the warmth of the sun drenched wall was nothing compared to heat rapidly pooling in her belly.
“Furious,” he whispered. Their eyes met and held a second before he tilted his head to the side and claimed her mouth with his.
The kiss was long and lingering and so brutally passionate it left Lily gasping for breath even after James stepped back. He stood in the middle of the alley, his shadow flung up over her left shoulder. His expression was impossible to read, his body taut.
“What… what was that for?” she gasped.
“A test,” he said.
She fought the urge to grind her teeth. Getting the man to say more than three words was the equivalent of prying a rusty nail from a hard knot of wood. “What kind of test?”
“One to see if what we had before was real or feigned.”
Oh. “And?”
“I believe it was real.” He rubbed the side of his face where her fingers had pressed while they kissed. “Why tell me everything now? You could have gotten away with it, and I would never have been the wiser.”
Lily shook her head. “I do not want you to want me because you feel obligated or… or honor bound.”
“And if I wanted you for you?”
She regarded him sadly. Perhaps, in another time, in another place, they could have been perfect for each other. She liked to think what she felt for him was not born of desperation, but how could she ever know for certain? Despite having shared their bodies they were still strangers. They’d really only met twice, at the ball and then on the road that ultimately led to the cottage. “How could you? I just admitted that I wanted to trick you into marrying me.” The shame of it brought a rush of color to her cheeks. “You deserve someone far better than I. You are a good man, James Rigby.” She ached to touch him, and burrowed her hands deep into the pockets of her cloak, her hands curling into fists so tight it caused her nails to bite into her palms. “An honorable man. Even a kind one, beneath all your gruffness.” She managed a smile. “You need a woman who is quiet and soft and gentle. I am none of those things, nor do I fear will I ever be.
Something flickered across James’ face. Surprise? Anger? Regret? Lily could not be certain. She began to say goodbye, but the words remained locked inside her throat. Realizing she was perilously close to tears she let her body say what her voice could not.
The embrace was painfully quick. Her arms, wrapped around his neck. Her lips, pressed against his cheek. Inhaling the scent of him. Memorizing the feel of him. One last, longing stare.
And then she ran.
You deserve someone far better than I.
Lily’s voice played back in James’ mind as he watched her hurry away. He kept his gaze trained on her dark blue cloak for as long as he could, but when she went behind a vendor’s cart he lost her to the crowd.
The bloody woman thought she wasn’t good enough for him.
Clearly, she was a bit mad.
Yet still he wanted her in a way he’d never wanted anything in his entire life. It consumed him, this want, until he could not think of anything else. The taste of her lingered on his lips and he stared at the place where she’d been far longer than he should have.
When the sounds of the holiday fair finally began to wind down and the sun was heavy in the sky James returned home. The house was empty – Natalie was staying the night at a friend’s – and, for the first time in a very long time, he yearned for sound. He needed light and laughter to fill the carnivorous hole inside of him, a hole forged by death and decay and dark things no man should ever bear witness. He needed someone loud and boisterous. Someone who wasn’t afraid to tell him when he was being an ass or, he thought with a smile, a bacon-brained fatwit.
He wanted to hear the house ring with the sounds of children laughing, James realized as he sat heavily behind his desk. And he wanted Natalie to have a woman she could speak to. Someone strong she could admire and trust. Someone to help her face the demons that haunted her.
His fingers began to drum on the hard wood of the desk. If given the choice, he would have preferred to take his time. To court Lily as she deserved to be courted. To woo her and love her and whisper sweet nothings in her air as they danced in the moonlight. But he wasn’t that man anymore, and she didn’t have the patience to be that woman.
Would it work? Christmas was little more than three weeks away. He knew the strain of it must have been hanging over Lily’s head like a guillotine, and he did not begrudge her her actions, nor condemn her for them. She’d been willing to risk all for her family, but even with the solution to all of her problems right in front of her she had not gone through with it. There must have been a reason above and beyond her moral conscience. He liked to think that reason was him, but he could not know until he did what needed to be done.
Resting his elbow on the table, James buried his face in the hard, leather skin of his palm and for the first time since his return, murmured a prayer.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Christmas Eve
Eight hours. That was all that stood between her and complete financial ruin. Standing to back of a caroling group, hidden in shadow and half-heartedly mouthing along the words to a song she knew by heart, Lily could not help but think of her many failures.
If she’d only listened to her father more and argued with her mother less. Paid attention during her tutoring sessions. Learned how to sew a decent stitch. Feigned interest in a man when he was talking to her, even if he was terribly boring. Played the pianoforte with grace. Bitten her tongue instead of blurting out the first thought that entered her head. So many little things she’d been too stubborn to fix and now here she was without a prayer of finding a husband.
And still, even after everything, she thought of James.
It had been twenty four long, lonely days since the holiday fair. Twenty four mornings of waking up and racing downstairs to see if any note had been delivered during the night. Twenty four afternoons spent at home on the offhand chance he happened by to see her. Twenty four nights spent dreaming of him.
She was absolutely miserable, and she knew her misery was born of a broken heart. The stupid man had made her fall in love with him and then she’d mucked it all up. At first she tried to convince herself it was simply a passing fancy. After all, he was her first. But she knew, deep in her soul, that no matter if one man or a hundred came after him, he would always be her only.
The only one to make her laugh.
The only one to make her yearn.
The only one to touch her heart.
This is what happens when you fall in love with broken men, she thought darkly. You end up being the one broken in the end.
The carolers, immersed in their songs and feelings of goodwill, moved onwards down the lane towards the next house, lighting the way with candles and torches decorated with ribbons and holly. Lily stayed in the shadows, letting her mother and Elsa go on without her. She was not fit for company, and she did not want her mood to ruin the night for anyone else.
“I thought the point of caroling was to sing,” a deep, achingly familiar voice drawled from the shadows.
Lily jumped and whirled, kicking out a spray of snow. She squinted into the darkness, trying to decipher shape from shadow, and could not help but gasp aloud when James stepped forward from beneath the eves of a shed. He held a single candle, the light from it illuminating his face.
“What… what are you doing here?”
He stepped closer and the circle of light enveloped her in its rosy glow. “I asked Lady Heathcliff where I could find you. She was very helpful.”
Sarah, who had begged off the evening’s festivities because of a head cold. Sarah, who had known James would come looking for her. Sarah, who was not long for this world once Lily got her hands on her.
She shook her head. “I do not unde
rstand.”
“I know,” James said softly. “It should not make sense, but it does.”
“What does?”
He held her gaze, his dark, soulful eyes unblinking and for once she could read the emotion swirling behind the wall of stone. It struck a chord in her heart, pulling her towards him even as she dug in her heels and did her best to resist. “You. Me. Us. We make sense,” he said. “I do not now how, or why, but we bloody well do. You know it as well. I know you do.”
Lily bit her lip and looked away. In the distance she could hear the joyful notes of a familiar Christmas ballad and she was reminded of the date, and all the implications it carried with it. She twisted away, giving him her shoulder. “You are only saying this because you feel obligated. You shouldn’t,” she said, more sharply than she intended. “There will be no… no complications from our time spent together and it was as much my fault as it was yours, so do not think you have ruined me. I ruined myself.”
“Lily.”
She tensed at the sound of her name on his lips. Had he ever spoken it aloud before? She didn’t know. She could not remember. “If you are here out of pity or some foolish sense of—”
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them in one long, loping stride. His hand fell heavily on her arm and he spun her around. Yanked her tight against his chest. “I came here for you,” he said fiercely.
She tilted her head back, searching for the truth in his eyes. What she saw left her breathless. Still, she dared not believe what was right in front of her. Dared not believe such a thing was even possible. “If that is true, where have you been?”
“In Edinburgh and London and every other bloody place I could think of to secure a special marriage license.”
At that, Lily’s vocal chords quite simply stopped working. Her lips parted, but no sound came out save a squeak that James seemed to find quite amusing if his sudden grin was any indication. It was there and gone again before she had time to blink, but the trace of it lingered in his eyes and touched something deep inside her heart.
“I’ve been granted one from the archbishop,” he said, answering her unspoken question, “and the parish priest is ready to marry us. We can be wed tonight, if you wish it, and you need never worry again for the future of your family. Between myself and your father’s will, they shall be well provided for.”
“T-tonight?” Lily croaked. “But… but it is all happening so quickly.”
James steadied her against his chest when she would have pulled back. His arm tightened around the curve of her hip, holding her against him, refusing to let go. “Do you think my feelings will be any less a month from now? Or a year? For the first time in a long time I know exactly what I want, Lily Kincaid. And nothing will change that.”
“You barely know me.” Lily didn’t know why she was resisting. This was what she wanted. What she’d dreamed of. But to wish for something wondrous to happen and then to actually be granted such a wish were two very different things entirely. How could James possibly want her? She’d been rude to him. Tricked him. Called him names. And loved him, a softer voice intruded. Listened to him. Held him while he slept. Treated him as a man, not a monster. Seen him as he is now, not who he used to be.
James slowly slid his arm from around her back. He cupped her jaw, his thumb reaching up to trace along the delicate curve of her cheekbone. “I know you are intelligent. I know you are witty. I know you are beautiful. I know you are brave and strong and stubborn to a fault. I know you make me want to be a better man.” He took a deep breath. “I am not healed, Lily. I have scars on the outside and within. I am not perfect, but I know we are perfect for each other. We may have only known each other for a short time, but my soul knows you, Lily. I know you.”
Her lips parted. She scrambled to think of the right thing to say but her heart was melting, and her mind was quickly following suit. In the end, she said what she felt in the depths of her soul. Staring up into James’ eyes, seeing the love shining through as bright as the stars in the sky, she whispered, “I know you.”
And she did.
EPILOGUE
In the end, they were not married on Christmas Eve.
Lily did not want James to think the only reason she was marrying him was to preserve the inheritance, and even though he was adamant to the contrary, she stood firm.
“Stubborn brat,” he told her with great affection.
“Goose livered nincompoop,” she replied before she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him senseless.
They told Lily’s mother on Christmas morning. She wept, and declared it was the best present she had ever received. The two families dined together, and Natalie and Elsa were already on their way to becoming the very closest of friends.
The only damper on an otherwise perfect evening was the arrival of Cousin Eustace and Venetia, who came uninvited while dessert was being served. Lily still wasn’t certain what James said to her cousin; all she knew was Eustace vowed not to lay a finger on her dowry and left with all haste, dragging his squabbling wife behind him.
They were married the day after Christmas. True to his word James had been able to procure a special license and the parish priest, a short, bald man with twinkling blue eyes and a ready smile, wed them before their closest family and loved ones.
When Lily and James emerged from the church shoes were thrown – for luck – and as if on cue snow began to fall from the sky. Tipping her head back, Lily caught a flake on her tongue. With her face tilted up towards the heavens she saw, for an instant, a bright flash of light. Warmth spread over her, and she tightened her grip on her husband’s arm. He gazed down at her, and she knew the love in his eyes was echoed in her own.
Lily still wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, or how. She only knew she loved the man standing beside her with all her heart, and she was blessed to be able to spend the rest of her life with him. To keep a home with him. To raise a family with him. To love him unconditionally, until her last breath was taken.
Their future together would not be an easy one, Lily knew that as well. They would argue and fight – they were both too stubborn not to. But through all the trials and tribulations she knew their love would shine like a beacon, brightening their lives and always bringing them back to each other in the end.
Again she looked to the sky, this time with understanding. “Thank you Father,” she whispered, “and Merry Christmas.”
READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM JILLIAN EATON’S HISTORICAL ROMANCE NOVELLA
THE SPINSTER AND THE DUKE
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THE SPINSTER & THE DUKE
PROLOGUE
June, 1785
Ashburn Estate
The ring felt heavy on her finger.
Staring down at the thick gold band with the Ashburn family crest engraved into the middle, Abigail blinked back tears. Do not cry in front of him, she ordered herself silently. Don’t you dare.
“Abby, I… I am sorry.” Looking supremely uncomfortable, Rocky – better known to his peers as Reginald Browning the Third, Marquess of Rutherford and future Duke of Ashburn – ran his fingers through his thick brown hair and scowled down at the floor. “I never wanted it to end like this.”
Abigail never wanted it to end at all, even though some small part of her knew – had always known, perhaps – that it would. She was the daughter of a baron. Rocky was the sole heir to a dukedom. Their love was never meant to last.
“I want you to take the ring,” she said softly.
“No, Abby, you keep—”
But it was already off her finger. She clenched it tight in her fist, feeling the weight of it, the smoothness. It had felt so right on her hand that she’d let herself believe… but no. Some things were simply not meant to be, no matter how much you wished it otherwise.
“It was never mine to keep.” She opened her fingers and the ring fell with a quiet plink onto the table between them. Straightening in her chair Abi
gail gazed past Rocky to the window. It was partially open, allowing a warm breeze to flutter through the stuffy parlor. She pulled at the high collar of her gown and took a deep, steadying breath. “I should be going now.”
For one fleeting moment she thought Rocky was going to change his mind. A tiny flame of hope flickered within her, only to be abruptly extinguished when he stood up and formerly offered his arm as though she was a passing acquaintance instead of the girl he had pledged his heart to.
Do not cry. Whatever you do, do not cry.
Her chest aching with the force it took to hold her tears at bay, Abigail walked beside him in stiff legged silence. When they reached the grand foyer she hesitated, her gaze trained on the door that would not only take her outside to the carriage that waited to take her home, but out of Rocky’s life forever.
“Abby…”
She detested the quiet plea in his voice. He wanted her to leave without a fuss so he could go on with his life as though she never existed. So he could sweep the memory of her beneath the rug as though she were dust.
Abigail lifted her chin. She may not have been the woman the Dowager Duchess of Ashburn wanted her eldest son and heir to marry, but that did not make her dirt. She was not some secret mistress or scandalous affair. She was Rocky’s fiancée – or at least she had been, before she took his ring off her finger and put it on the table.
“I am going to live with my sister in Leeds,” she informed him. “She has a young daughter and is need of a governess.”
Reggie’s blue eyes went wide. “I do not want you to leave.”
Abigail regarded him steadily, schooling her countenance to hide the fact that she was perilously close to tears. “But you do not love me enough to want me to stay.”
He dropped her arm and stepped back, his jaw tightening and clenching as he fought to disguise his own emotions. At twenty-two, Reggie was a boy on the verge of manhood. He was undeniably handsome with dark hair, piercing eyes the same color of the sky on a cold winter’s day, and chiseled features. He would be handsomer still in time, and Abigail felt a renewed sense of loss as she realized she would never know the man he would one day grow to be.
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