by Meara Platt
He sighed. “That isn’t going to happen.”
“You can’t do this to me, Beast. You can’t kiss me and walk away. You can’t kiss me and pretend it didn’t happen. Or pretend I am not affected by it.”
“You’re right. I can’t.” He was beginning to develop a new respect for the prime ministers charged with running a country. He’d been a miserable failure at the simple task of guiding Goose. Hah! He’d led her straight down the path of ruin.
But she’d ruined him as well, for she hadn’t been the only one stunned by these sensations. They were new to her, but not to him. However, he’d been unprepared for the impact they’d had on him. The look of her, with her big blue eyes and red hair and the light dusting of freckles across her pert nose. The honey sweetness of her lips. The scent of lavender on her silken skin.
He was as aroused as a rutting boar, wanting to explore every curve and hollow of her sinfully beautiful body with his hands and lips.
He stopped himself right there.
He was supposed to be the one calm and in control. Instead, he was hot and throbbing and dreaming up wild fantasies about his next taste of her. It wasn’t going to happen. There would be no dallying with Goose. Either he resolved to marry her or keep his hands off her and help her find a proper husband. There was no middle ground.
Right now, it would have to be hands off.
He was just home from war.
He had yet to decide on the path his life was meant to take. What if that path had no place for Goose? She’d hardly been in his life before he’d bumped into her in the bookshop a few days ago. He’d once rescued her from drowning, but he would have done that for anyone. It was not enough to toss caution to the wind and allow himself to be ruled by an unexpectedly hot desire for this girl. Lava-flowing, volcanically explosive desire that he didn’t understand nor could he explain.
He would protect her from her vile guardian, of course.
But he would not give his heart free rein.
He withdrew his handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. “Dry your tears.”
“I told you, I’m not crying.”
Perhaps not, but her chin was wobbling and her eyes were filling with tears. He sat close but said nothing as she sighed and dabbed the cloth gently over her eyes. “I don’t want to face anyone yet.”
“We don’t have to go back inside. We can stay out here all day if you wish. We’ve only gone through chapter one. Why don’t you read the next few chapters to me? It’s quite pleasant out here. There’s a light breeze off the pond and we’re sitting under a shade tree. We can stay out here into the evening, if you like.”
He saw the glint of hope in her eyes. “We’ll be summoned to lunch at midday.”
He shrugged. “We’ll come back out here afterward. Nothing untoward about that. Anyone can see us from the house and know we are simply reading.”
This log and most of the pond were visible from the house. Poppy and Penelope probably had their faces pasted to the window right now. Perhaps Thad and Nathaniel were peering out as well.
Lord help him if Matilda and Lavinia were looking out from their bedchamber windows. What would they make of his spending hours in the company of Goose?
He’d come to Sherbourne Manor for the purpose of avoiding prying eyes, but it seemed this was to be his fate no matter where he went.
“Thank you, Beast.”
He nodded, but her simple words of gratitude, which he did not deserve, managed to convey a wealth of emotion. He’d always felt protective of the girl, but now he felt possessive of her, too. Mine. I want this girl. I want to mate with this girl. She’d spoken of a man’s simple brain. His was working furiously at the moment, for all he could think about was the desire to spill his seed inside of her.
Which would not happen, he was civilized enough to know better. But his brain was locked into that one simple thought. She is mine. Mine.
The beast in him wanted to claim her, to chase away any male who dared approach her. How was this helping Goose? How was this not going to leave him in agony every night?
“I think we must set aside the senses of touch and taste,” she said. “They are obviously too dangerous to explore further.”
He emitted a soft, beastly rumble. “Agreed.”
She smiled at him.
Mine. Will kill any interlopers.
“The sense of sight is what I’d like to work on. After all, it is the first impression that is most important. Let’s read that chapter first and then we can discuss how I might make a good first impression on a potential suitor.”
Easy. You’re beautiful.
“And about my gowns. I’d like a man’s point of view on what colors might look most attractive on me.”
Doesn’t matter. The man will be wondering how best to take the gown off you.
“Do you think the style of my hair matters?”
No. The man will be looking at your breasts.
“Beast, what do you think?”
That he needed an ice bath. That he needed lightning to strike him and fry his brain. Goose was not an object. She was not an urn or vessel. And he was not a simpleton who thought of nothing but sex. And yet, here he was, thinking of Goose and the incredible sex he knew they would have if her response to his kiss was any indication.
Of course, it was that damn jest this morning. Breast of goose carried in on a silver salver and set before him. His brain had made the connection and it was forever branded into his skull. Was there something to this book? “A splendid idea. Let’s concentrate on the look of love.”
*
“Shall I read or would you prefer to read?” Olivia asked Beast, who was once more stretched out on the grass, his hands propped behind his head. One leg was bent at the knee, so that he looked quite casual as he prepared to learn all about the next chapter.
“You read it, Goose.” His eyes were closed, and she worried he might fall asleep as she droned on about the differences in what males and females looked for in a mate. As for her, she’d found the topic fascinating and knew it would never put her to sleep.
She settled on the grass beside him, sitting next to his big, prone body. Although it was still early morning, the sun had already warmed the grass beneath them, and she felt it seep through her gown. She also felt the delicious heat emanating from his body, but she forced herself not to think about that.
“The description we form in our minds of our perfect mate begins early in our lives, even before we’ve made the distinction between parental love, friendship, and romantic love. It is not unusual for a young girl to look at her father, the giver of love and protection, and decide she wants to marry him.”
Beast grinned. “Did you do that, Goose?”
“Yes.” She shook her head and laughed lightly. “I thought my father was the most wonderful man in the world. But as I matured, I realized he was not mine to have, nor would I want him in any romantic way.”
“I should hope not.”
She gave a little shudder. “Thankfully, the process of distinguishing between blood relations and suitable marriage prospects is something our brain seems to naturally protect against.” She sighed and read on. “At five years old, we adore our fathers, but at ten years old, we understand we must search elsewhere for the man of our dreams.” She paused to smile at Beast. “This is about the time I found my knight in shining armor. You.”
“Me?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Is that why you, Poppy, and Penelope were always trailing after us when you were little girls?”
“Yes, although we did not understand what we were doing at the time. To us, you were these strange and splendid creatures. We were fascinated by the three of you. Your behavior, your freedom, your natural confidence. We were always chaperoned and admonished to behave as proper young ladies. But you were wild and reckless young men. The world was open to you and you took full advantage. We had no such opportunity. We were confined to the parlor and forced to take lessons on
needlepoint and etiquette.”
“That sounds boring.”
“It was. So we watched you, and giggled when you drank to the point that you crawled home too drunk to make it up the stairs. But somehow, you three always managed to make it back home in one piece. You were big and muscled and seemed to grasp life with both hands. On occasion, one of you would be sporting a black eye, but we knew that whichever taproom drunkard had attacked you, he would have wound up on the losing end of the fight.”
Beast winced. “We did some stupid things back then.”
“But you were happy. You laughed heartily. You ate just as heartily. We were taught to pick at our food, that young ladies should always be dainty. But you three were like feasting wolves.”
“We were growing boys.”
Olivia laughed. “And we noticed. We used to spy on you sometimes when you went to the pond to swim.”
He sat upright, but seemed more embarrassed than surprised. “Bollocks, we only knew of that one time when Poppy and Penelope stole Nathaniel and Thad’s clothes. How often were you by the pond and how much did you see?”
She blushed. “Not very often. We were little girls and watched closely. But occasionally we managed to sneak away. At those times we saw… everything.”
“Everything?” He appeared to be deciding whether to laugh or scold her.
“Yes,” she said in a rush before he decided on the latter. “Every blessed thing. You were muscled and naked and not built like us, but we didn’t understand what we were looking at back then, or the purpose for the differences in our bodies.”
He sank back and groaned. “And now you do?”
Her cheeks suddenly felt as though they’d caught fire. “Well… yes. One does not forget such a sight. And one occasionally comes across farm animals doing…” Her voice trailed off. She’d said quite enough.
Probably too much.
He stayed silent for a long, uncomfortable moment, so Olivia decided to fill in the void by continuing to prattle. “It was innocent. No one was harmed. And it served an important function in the formation of our ideas of the perfect man. In this respect, women also make instinctive assessments of a suitable mate. Since we need you to love and protect not only us but our offspring, we look for more than a beautiful body. We look for strength and power. We want a man with muscles. But we are also realistic. The more power a man has, the less important his muscles. So, a wealthy and powerful duke can be weak and puny, can be wizened and drooling, and he will still be attractive to women.”
Beast snorted in disdain. “Greedy women.”
“Perhaps, some. But even a weak and wizened duke can be genuinely attractive to those women who are in desperate need of protection and want their offspring to survive what would otherwise be a very harsh life.”
He sat up again. “Are you that desperate, Goose?”
She arched an eyebrow. “No. At least, not yet. Hopefully, I never will be. But I’m not all that realistic, am I? I still believe in holding out for romantic love, no matter how desperate my circumstances may become. I want to marry for love. But I don’t know, Beast.” She set the book down as her hands began to shake. “Lord Gosling has brought some rather unpleasant men around to our townhouse. All of them gentlemen in the ton sense of the word. But they are not gentlemen in my eyes. Some of them look at me in a slimy way.”
All mirth fled his features and he suddenly became the protective beast she’d grown to admire. “Goose, promise me you will come to me at the first hint of trouble. I don’t want you to be brave and try to handle this alone. There’s no need. I’m willing to help you. Promise you’ll come to me first.”
“Beast–”
“I don’t want you to be worried you might impose on me. You won’t ever make yourself a nuisance to me. I’ll never forgive myself if any harm befell you. Just say the word, and I’ll set you up as companion to Matilda. I’ll do it right now. You never have to go back to your guardian again.”
“No, Beast. The scandal would ruin you.”
He gave a soft, lion growl. “Do you think I care?”
She nodded. “You should. Setting me up as companion to your aunt would ruin your chances for the great career everyone believes you will have. All you have to do is avoid scandal. But if you do this for me, malicious tongues will wag. No, your reputation must remain untarnished and you must marry the right girl.”
“And who says you are not that girl?”
“Everyone.” She shook her head and emitted a mirthless laugh. “I’m a penniless ward. I have no powerful connections. I don’t even have a suitable wardrobe for the Season.”
“I’ll buy you a new wardrobe.” He was up and prowling in front of her again. “The best silks and satins. What else do you need?”
She rose and put out a hand to hold him still. “Stop it, Beast. Then no one will wonder whether or not I’m your aunt’s companion. They’ll know I’m not. They’ll believe you’ve taken me on as your mistress.”
“Damn it, Goose.”
“There’s no sense fretting about it. But this is why you’re my knight in shining armor. You’re big and powerful and protective. You’re the man who has filled my dreams ever since I was a little girl. I just didn’t understand the significance until I’d read this book. But what I am interested in now is making myself the object of a suitable husband’s dreams. How do I do that, Beast? What sort of man do you think will want me?”
Chapter Ten
Merciful heaven.
What sort of man would want Goose?
The question plagued Beast that night and into the following day as he and his friends, and Olivia and her friends, and Pip walked into the quaint village of Wellesford. It was late morning, the sun was shining, and a light breeze rustled through the silvery-green leaves that shaded the road.
Any man in his right mind would want her. He wanted her, to his dismay. What was wrong with him? He was no untried boy excited for his first taste of a woman. But there was a quiet allure about Goose that could not be denied and it had nothing to do with the irksome book she held so dear.
He was relieved that she, Poppy, and Penelope were walking ahead of him and his friends. Pip walked with the men, behaving for the most part because he did not want to irritate them and be foisted back on the women who seemed far more capable of taking care of the boy. Not that they did not look out for Pip or include him in their conversation, they did.
But Goose, Poppy, and Penelope seemed to have eyes in the back of their heads and knew the moment Pip began to stray off the road or pause to poke a stick into a foxhole.
Nathaniel caught Beast studying Goose’s backside when she bent over Pip to draw him away from his latest misadventure, a nest of garden snakes amid the underbrush along the side of the road.
Nathaniel cast him a smug grin. “Enjoying the scenery, Beast? She has very pretty tail feathers, hasn’t she?”
“Shut up,” he grumbled. “Just making sure Goose did not get herself caught up in something dangerous while rescuing Pip.”
His friend’s grin broadened. “Are you sure you’re not the one in need of rescuing?”
Beast shook his head and sighed. “From Goose? I think I’m safe enough.” He winked at her when she strode back to their side with Pip in tow, looking like a victorious army general.
She cast him a dimpled smile.
A few of her curls had come loose in the breeze. One dangled over her forehead. Beast reached out to brush it back in place. His hand grazed her cheek as he did so, his knuckles skimming along her warm skin.
“Oh, dear. I should have pinned it better.” She put her hands to her hair and began to fuss with it. “I had better fix it before we reach town.”
“You look fine. Just needs a tuck behind your ears.”
She had asked for his help in making her the object of a man’s dreams. In truth, she needed no help at all.
What man could resist her? She’d worried about the fashion of her gown and style of her hair.
All irrelevant. In his dreams, he’d be slipping the gown off her body within seconds of getting her alone. As for the style of her hair, he’d be pulling the pins out of that lush mane and running his fingers through her cascade of curls.
He might notice her inviting smile or the sparkle in her eyes, but mostly, he’d be taking in her naked body and hoping he could hold himself together long enough to pleasure her instead of succumbing to his own release.
He shook out of the wayward thought.
He should not dream of Goose in that way. He dared not dream of her at all. He could not afford to when he still had to think of his future. She had admonished him about it yesterday. Still, he did not like to think it would be one in which she had no place.
The sun had shifted and was now glistening on Goose’s hair. She’d started out wearing a bonnet, as had Poppy and Penelope, but all three had removed them once out of sight of the house, claiming they preferred the feel of the sun and wind in their hair. “Move into the shade, Goose. I don’t think sunburned is a good look for you, not to mention, it is painful.”
She scrambled closer to him and gave him a playful poke. “Move over. I’ll walk in your big, hulking shadow.”
He grinned as she fell into step beside him, but he switched sides so she mostly walked in the shade of the trees that stood along the road’s edge. She had a light spring in her step, and it warmed his heart to see her happy. He worried about what next week would bring for her, but he still had several days to think about that and come up with a workable plan.
They reached town without further incident, although Pip had picked up a rock and tried to knock a bird’s nest out of a tree in front of the magistrate’s house. Fortunately, he missed and the rock sailed over the branch, clattering harmlessly against the whitewashed wall. A little more to the right and it would have broken Magistrate Baldridge’s parlor window.
Goose rolled her big blue eyes and shook her head in dismay. “At least there was no beehive in that tree or we’d all be running for our lives, chased by a swarm of angry bees.”