by Liz Tyner
‘I can help you if she returns. I’ve been on the inside of a scandal.’
‘For a few years.’
‘My father had been careful his whole life—as far as I know. But then he bought a new town coach and a phaeton, too, so he could race the younger men. He would have the valet prepare all sorts of scalp mixtures for his hair and he began taking Fowler’s Solution from the apothecary. I only noticed when I saw the valet carrying an empty bottle and I questioned it.’
‘You could reason with him, though.’
Edge snorted and shook his head. ‘No. Not after—Not when—He changed completely.’
‘She’s coming back, you know. My father told me so. I swore, after she left, I’d never have her in my life again like that. You cannot keep ingesting poison and not expect damage.’
‘I can keep it from you.’
Her head shuddered in disagreement and he had to take the lost look from her eyes.
He closed the distance and put his arms on her waist. ‘I’ll line the servants up elbow to elbow around the house if I have to. And I’ll keep the supply lines open.’
Her lips turned up. ‘The general has spoken.’
Sadness lingered on her face. She didn’t believe him. He could tell.
He bumped his forehead against hers and turned so that his face pressed at the top of her head. He savoured the wisps of her hair tickling him in a way that cascaded into him better than any hug he’d ever had.
‘I wish you’d not burned yourself, but I’m pleased you’re here,’ he said.
His arms tightened and this time it melded them together, and he swept her backwards with him. He relaxed into the chair at his back, taking her along, moving his head enough so he could rest against the upholstery while savouring the flowery aroma of some hair mixture she wore that he could breathe in every moment of the rest of his life and never grow tired of.
He was having his first attic adventure. His first in his whole life. Lily took away the rules and structure and gave him a softness, but not everywhere. Just in the places he’d never felt soft before and he enjoyed the pulses of arousal mixing against the delicateness of her.
He hugged her close again, savouring.
‘How is your hand?’ he asked.
‘It’s fine now.’
‘Let me see.’
She held up her hand.
‘Closer,’ he said.
She moved it. He shut his eyes.
‘Against my face.’
Fingertips, softer than lace, touched his cheek. He could not imagine a bird having a softer wing tip. They stilled.
His hands tightened on her just enough to bring the feel of her completely into his body.
‘I should have shaved.’ He spoke aloud, both to himself and an apology to her.
‘No.’ Just a wisp of sound.
Then she touched his lips, following the outline, but the sensation strengthened beyond her caress. Her hands traced his whole body without leaving his face. He swallowed, opening his lips, and her fingernail gently grazed the skin.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Because it feels better to me than to you.’
‘It could not.’
He had botched the first proposal terribly, but he’d not been trained in it nor expected any resistance. But he wasn’t going to botch the first real kiss. This was one he intended to remember longer than any orange biscuit.
He moved her slightly, turning her so he could savour every second and give her a feeling she would cherish.
‘This is how it starts,’ she said, whispering, shaking her head, turning away. ‘It’s not safe.’
‘Yes. It is.’
He released her, but she didn’t stand.
‘One kiss,’ he said, knowing it was likely the biggest lie of his life.
‘No.’
But she didn’t push away. She didn’t move to her feet—she just sat and leaned closer against him.
‘Half a dozen, then.’ He didn’t smile, again letting her hair brush his face. ‘Twenty. And that’s my final offer.’
He moved, seeing the grief flooding her eyes, or maybe it was fear.
‘It’s not—I just can’t—’
He understood and he used the control that he’d demanded of himself so many times. He’d not botch the first kiss. The ones in the carriage had just been hints of what they could have together. ‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’ He clasped his hand over her fingers and touched them again to his lips, and loosened his hold on her.
She slid to her feet, much in the same way a person might slide uphill.
He followed, sliding uphill, too, but with her in front of him, it was no struggle. Their bodies remained as close as when they were sitting.
‘You would like—’ He caught her eyes and communicated in his gaze just how certain he was that it would be a pleasurable experience.
‘I’m sure... But I might not want to stop.’
‘You won’t.’
Looking into the brown eyes, he saw sadness and all the feelings he felt at thinking he might never kiss her the way he wanted; might never again be alone with her. But he remembered how serious she’d seemed as a child, taking care that Abigail didn’t hurt herself and playing the games her sister wanted to play. She’d even whispered to Abigail once not to bother him because he would have to go to university some day and it was full of lessons. Yet he’d never left his studies to talk with her. He’d only batted her away and she’d still drawn his name on the bench. Lion Owl. It made him smile, even now, to think of the moment he’d found it, scratched in pencil in her shaky, unpractised hand.
He cupped one hand to the back of her head and with the lightest touch, and the barest contact necessary so they could both have the utmost of control and no regrets for her—so he wouldn’t have regrets—he pulled her so close their lips touched and then he just brushed against her.
‘We’ll talk again soon,’ he reassured, trying to take the longing from her eyes and wish away the sadness.
She moved to the door and he stepped ahead, opening it for her.
She rushed out, running, he suspected, from her own feelings. She collided right into Fox’s arms, knocking him against the wall and her stumbling along with him and, in true Fox-like fashion, he managed to land with both arms around her.
In one swoop, Edge pulled Lily from his cousin’s grasp. ‘Keep. Your hands. Off her.’ Edge slammed the words out.
Fox raised his palms in surrender, eyes wide. ‘She grabbed me first.’
‘I did not.’ She slapped him square across the face. Then her mouth made an O and she put both hands on her cheeks and ran to the stairs.
‘One word to anyone and I will kill you,’ Edge snapped to Fox, then Edge bounded after Lily.
‘The path of true love is never smooth,’ Fox called out in one of those mother-knows-best voices. ‘I am available for advice.’ The words faded from Edge’s hearing and he hoped that Fox didn’t say anything before figuring out it didn’t matter whether he did or not because Edge was going to pound him anyway.
* * *
Lily almost made it through his garden when she remembered the lamp and turned back.
Edge rushed outside as she reached the bench.
‘The lamp,’ she called softly and ran, but her direction changed in mid-stride. She hurled herself against him, hugging him close. ‘I’m ruined.’
‘Fox will never say a word.’ Edge’s voice held command and reassurance.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, raising her face, looking at him, surrounded by a monument to strength. ‘I’m ruined,’ she whispered.
His eyes transferred something into her body, stilling her. The one look reassured and comforted. Erased everything that had ever happ
ened to her. Gave her one moment of life that stretched eons.
His lips closed over hers in the kiss she craved, thundering her heart against her ribs. Her body woke, burned and soared.
She needed him so that she could stay alive. She needed his breath so she could breathe.
He pulled her against him and nothing hurt anywhere, ever, in her whole life. Then everything chilled.
He pulled back, leaving her standing alone. He stood in front of her, but she was alone.
‘I have to let you go,’ he said. ‘For now. Foxworthy has his nose to the window and the moonlight is bright.’
Thoughts were fragmenting before they could find their way in or out of her brain. She pushed herself to think of what Edge had just said and taught her lips to speak again.
‘I’ve never liked Fox.’
‘I imagine he figured that out when you slapped him.’
Edge stood motionless, a breeze teasing her with the scent of wool and leather, and tempting her to move closer so she could again smell his shaving soap from the morning. On another person the soap might seem floral, but on him, blended with his skin, the scent had a masculinity that pulled her. She couldn’t step away because the air, without currents, held her, trapped, in place.
Edge moved. He calmly reached to the bench and took the extinguished lamp. Seemingly no different for their kiss, he indicated he would follow and walked her to the door. He handed her the lamp. Just handed it to her.
Irritation blasted, again fighting with the weakness that made words impossible.
He should kiss her again. Didn’t he realise?
She stared at him. Feeling helpless.
‘Goodnight, Lily.’ His voice didn’t sound the same.
Then she understood. The words came from the boy who’d sat all those years ago in the garden, unable to play and forced to remain at his studies.
He bent and kissed her again, his lips grazing her lips. ‘Think of me tonight,’ he whispered, and walked away.
* * *
‘You were with Edge.’ Abigail’s voice jarred into Lily. Abigail stood at the top of the stairs, holding her own lamp, and effectively evaporating all the melty feelings inside Lily.
Lily stopped, staring upward. ‘You were watching?’
‘No. Fox heard you screech. He was on the way to see me and told me what he heard.’ She crossed her arms. ‘We waited and waited for you and when you didn’t come out, I sent him to see if you were badly injured.’ Her lips turned up in one of those nabbed you red-handed smiles.
Lily’s chin firmed and she wondered what they’d heard. ‘As you may have guessed,’ she bit out the words and held up her hand, hoping she moved the one with the blister on it, ‘I was injured.’ She clasped her wrist, rotating the injured hand. ‘And it hurts. Badly.’
Abigail clasped her own hand in a similar movement. ‘I will remember to use that when I am courting.’
‘Abigail, you can’t ruin your reputation. You plan to wed and have a family.’
‘And the sooner, the better.’ Abigail fluttered her wrist. ‘It probably wouldn’t work on Fox, though. He’s...’ she laughed ‘...cunning.’ Her eyes turned wistful. ‘But if I married Foxworthy, I’d be a countess and you could wed Edge and you’d be a duchess. We’d both have children born into the peerage. Father would be in the clouds.’
‘You’d better be the one to marry a peer if you intend for Father to be that happy.’
‘You don’t plan to marry the Duke?’ She gasped. ‘Lily. You’re just—meeting him—privately. You’ve always hated—You know, people who act like—’
Lily brushed by her, moving up the stairway, but stopping as she moved even with her sister. ‘I am not a woman like that. I am only friends with him and we have been acquainted since childhood.’
‘You weren’t friends. You said he was uppity. And he is. At least Foxworthy is human. I’m not so sure about the Duke.’
‘I slapped him.’ They stood side by side on the stair.
‘The Duke?’ Abigail gasped, mouth staying open.
‘Foxworthy. My hand. It was as if I had no control. I’d been alone with the Duke and it was—I started turning into Mother. Just as I always feared. I’m like her. I slapped Foxworthy.’
Abigail’s eyes widened. ‘What did he do?’
‘I stumbled against him and he caught me, but it was—I just—I was shocked and he had his arms around me.’
‘Fox. Are you sure?’ Abigail asked, her head moving turtle-like. ‘Are you sure you didn’t get them mixed up in the darkness?’
‘No. No. No. I rushed out the door. I knocked him backwards and when he caught me, I didn’t know what to do. I was not myself. The hall was dark and I just reacted. As Mother would have. With no thought.’
‘Fox is adorable.’
Lily rolled her eyes. ‘He says things he shouldn’t, met you in the darkness, has too much fondness for married ladies and the only thing about him that’s tolerable is his smile and his handsomeness, which he is quite proud of and makes him unattractive.’
‘But that smile. It’s perfect.’
‘You can’t let a weaselly little smirk be enough reason to be fascinated with him.’
Lily followed Abigail into her room and moved the newspaper aside so she could sit on Abigail’s bed. Lily’s recipe book still lay on Abigail’s night table.
‘Fox is handsome. I could kiss him all night.’
‘I’m afraid to leave you alone in case you might sneak back out to visit Fox,’ Lily said.
‘No. You’re afraid to leave me because otherwise you might trot back over to His Grace’s house to ask him to kiss that burn better.’ She peered across to her sister. ‘I will remember to use that ploy. I bet I can end up with a marriage proposal within the hour.’
‘I hope so. The sooner you’re away and in someone else’s care the happier I’ll be.’
She couldn’t read the recipe book in front of Abigail, so she slid from the bed and collected one of the lamps, lit it from the other one and put it on the table beside the bed. She picked up the newspaper.
Abigail moved to the mirror and touched the clasp of her jewellery case. She pulled out a necklace and held it in front of her. ‘Perhaps I should spend more time with Foxworthy.’ She turned to her sister. ‘He is fascinating.’
‘Go ahead,’ she said to Abigail. ‘Ruin yourself.’ But she glanced at the mirror when she said those words.
‘You’re right about him, though.’ Abigail smiled, admiring herself in the mirror. ‘Fox is a rake.’ She held the necklace closer. ‘So, what were you and the Duke discussing?’
‘I really think you should try to meet Foxworthy again,’ Lily said. ‘Now that I think of it, he has many admirable qualities.’
‘I don’t know that he’s the one for me.’
Lily noticed that the necklace Abigail held wasn’t her own.
Abigail put the emeralds to her neck. ‘I like Foxworthy, but I don’t feel close to him. He’s so flattering, but he keeps me at a distance—even when he is kissing me.’
‘He should.’
‘I could be any woman in his arms and he’d be just as content to kiss. I do like him, though. It’s impossible not to. He’s like one of your recipes that is quite good, but a person couldn’t have it every day without getting sick of it.’ Abigail laughed. ‘Fox and I are getting to know each other better, but as we do, the chance of marriage gets more distant. I don’t know what that says about us.’
‘That you are thinking instead of following emotions?’
Abigail nodded. ‘I’m not as emotional as you are.’
Lily sputtered. ‘No.’
‘It’s true. Mother’s outbursts bothered you more. You had to keep everything as correct as you could because it would upset
you so.’
‘Well, I’m not like Mother. She didn’t keep anything correct and was always upset.’
‘You don’t like the outward explosions she liked. But you just keep them inside. You were always more upset than me. One orange biscuit would make everything fine for me and I’d forget about it. Not you.’
‘I am not like Mother.’ Lily ground out the words.
‘Fine. You’re not like her. You. Are. Not. Like. Her.’
‘Don’t say it like that.’ Lily put her hands to her head.
‘I could always fall asleep after our parents fought. But you’d try to get her to calm down, and really, it didn’t matter that much. You even said to me it didn’t because she’d put herself right back in a kettle of hot water every time. But you couldn’t help soothing her because you felt you must.’
Abigail was wrong. But Lily knew she’d never slapped anyone in her life. Not anyone. Ever. But then she was being held by the Duke and her control was slipping away. When she saw Fox and he touched her, she’d just exploded.
Next she’d be throwing things. Like the time she threw the orange biscuit.
Abigail smiled. ‘Don’t look so distressed. It’s been entertaining to discover what courting is like. We’ve both had our romance with a peer. We can casually mention some day how I broke Foxworthy’s heart before he became an earl and you broke the Duke’s heart. It’ll be a reminiscence we can have enjoyment with.’
‘No.’ Lily stood, took the necklace from her sister’s hands and had Abigail turn so she faced the mirror while Lily fastened the jewellery. ‘I don’t ever want to jest about this. It’s horrible. I am like Mother. The Duke makes me feel like her. No stronger than a butterfly and not able to do anything but flutter inside. I hate that. I am strong. Just not enough. Nothing makes sense in my thoughts when he is around.’
Abigail whirled around, eyes bright and beaming. ‘Oh. I knew it. I could tell.’ She grabbed her sister’s arms. ‘You truly like him and he is a peer, even if he is a bit distant. And he put the handkerchief out for you, didn’t he?’