by Lisa Plumley
She thought of Bonita’s past—and her comments tonight—and knew she was right about that. None of them wanted to be beholden to a benefactor. All of them wanted independence.
“I don’t mind a bit of struggle,” Rosamond assured Miles with a smile. “After all, I come from humble beginnings. It doesn’t take much to make me happy. My friends are the same.”
“If you’re saying I should be content to watch you scrape by, worrying and praying…” Miles frowned. “I won’t. Not ever. You deserve more than that, Rosamond. You deserve…everything.”
“Pish posh.” She waved. “It’s not as dire as all that.”
He didn’t give in. “But it is serious.”
“It’s none of your concern.”
“Everything about you is my concern. I care about you.”
“I…” She hauled in a deep breath, wanting this conversation done. “I care about you, too.” Of course she did. She always had. Her feelings had only intensified after Miles had followed her to Morrow Creek. “But that doesn’t mean you’re supposed to—”
Catching sight of the uncommon look on Miles’s face, Rosamond stopped. She tilted her head, feeling baffled.
“Are you all right? You look…unusual.”
He looked, it occurred to her, markedly loopy. He looked the way he had while gawking at her, euphoric on laudanum, the day they’d first met in her parlor. It felt very long ago now.
He managed a crooked smile. “You care about me.”
Oh. That. Filled with joy at the truth of it, Rosamond smiled at him. Trying to tamp down her feelings, she nodded.
“Of course I do.” That was an understatement. “I do. We’ve been friends for a long time, haven’t we? Friends care about—”
“Say it again.” He didn’t seem bothered by her last-minute attempt to present her feelings for him as merely friendly.
She inhaled, slightly giddy, knowing her feelings weren’t merely friendly…but unable to risk more. “I care about you.”
Miles’s grin could have lit the room. “One more time?”
“You’re so demanding.”
“I’m not certain I heard you.”
“Then maybe I should come closer.” Wanting to laugh with sheer hopefulness and audacity, Rosamond swiveled on the settee. She leaped to her feet, knowing there was only one thing that would truly convince him. She hurried all the way until she stood toe-to-toe with Miles. She looked up at him. “I care about you.”
Gruffly, he said, “I care about you, too.”
Their exchange was a drastic understatement, given all they’d been through together. Still, joyfulness stretched between them, warm with familiarity and alive with the possibility of something more. For so long now, she and Miles had danced around the notion of being together. Romantically being together. But tonight, with so many secrets already shed…
Rosamond found herself feeling positively liberated.
“I might need to hear you say that again,” she said.
“I care about you, Rosamond. You’re in my heart all the time.”
“Well.” It wasn’t quite a formal love declaration, but it was near enough. Pleased, she blinked back a few incipient happy tears. “Isn’t that the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Wait until I get started.”
“I doubt my mutual society members could do better.”
“I know they couldn’t do better.”
“In fact, I reckon that statement might deserve a fitting reward of some kind.” Feeling her belly somersault with delight, Rosamond put her hands on Miles’s sturdy chest. Bravely, she stroked him, feeling the warmth of him through his shirtfront.
His eyebrow rose rakishly. “A reward? From you?”
Rosamond nodded. She looked at his mouth. She liked it.
Miles’s tone became suspicious. “If this is some sort of premembership test designed to gauge whether I can acquit myself with honor…” His gaze roved over her face, full of affection and yearning. “Damnation. I don’t think I can hurdle it.”
She smiled. “It’s not a test. You’re already honorable.” Rosamond knew that as surely as she knew her courage in this matter would never feel more robust. “That’s why I can do this.”
Before Miles could protest, she took aim, used her palms on his chest for leverage, then lifted herself to his level. Carefully, she pressed her lips to his. Once. Then again.
“Mmm.” She flexed her fingers against his shirtfront, holding herself a little steadier. “Interesting.”
A hoarse exhalation escaped him. “Interesting?”
“I like it. I like kissing. Your mouth is soft and your lips are nice.” Daringly, Rosamond reached up to stroke his beard. “Your beard and mustache are a little tickly, though.”
“I’ll shave right now. I’ll borrow a razor from Dylan.” Miles made a comedic face. “I doubt Judah or Seth shave yet.”
Rosamond didn’t care about her protectors or their potential lack of maturity just then. She gazed up at Miles wonderingly. “It seems a bit intrusive, though. Kissing you does. I’m not sure—”
“Believe me, I want you to do it.”
“You sound convincing.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Rosamond knew what he meant. Musingly, she tried again.
This time, Miles kissed her back. He caught her head in his palm and held her close, and he kissed her back, very sweetly.
She leaned away, feeling starry-eyed. “That was…”
“Nice?”
“Better than before. I like that we’re doing it together.”
His gaze darkened. “I would never force myself on you. I swore I’d never hurt you, and I meant it. So if you mean—”
“I don’t mean anything of the kind. If you’re thinking about me and Mr. Bouchard, please don’t.” Rosamond shook her head. “What he did to me was an attack. It was violence, plain and simple.” She looked away, shaking her head, finally feeling crystal clear on the issue. “It wasn’t what people think. It wasn’t what Mrs. Bouchard thought. It wasn’t like this, between us. It wasn’t gentleness, and it wasn’t you.” She couldn’t help adding, “It was barely even me. The whole time, I was scarcely there. I was scarcely myself.” She looked up at Miles, grateful and resilient. “I’m starting to come back together now, though.”
“I wish you hadn’t gone through that at all.” Sounding remorseful, Miles stroked her hair. He brought her closer, cradling her against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Rosamond. I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t help you! If I had—”
“It’s all right. You’re here now.” She savored his embrace, loving its warmth. Its closeness. Its burgeoning and bewitching familiarity. “That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“No.” Miles looked murderous. “Retribution matters, too.”
“Stop. I won’t hear of it.”
“I mean it. If Bouchard were here right now—”
“That name is banned from here.” Her tone allowed no argument. Miles tried anyway. She kissed him to make him stop.
He did stop. Kissing, she realized, was a handy argument winner. Thus distracted, Miles quit talking almost immediately.
“I’m still sorry,” he slipped in hastily afterward.
“Stop!” Rosamond insisted. She gave him another kiss.
“I don’t ever want to leave you again,” he went on.
Another kiss. “No one is asking you to. I like that you’re here. I like seeing you every night.” She saw him open his mouth to add another rebuttal and triumphed by kissing him before he could. She was truly starting to enjoy this. “I like you.”
“I like you. I’ve dreamed of you. My Rose.”
He stroked her face, then pulled her nearer with his other arm. It felt almost like dancing…only better. It was better because Rosamond didn’t need to think about keeping time or practicing the correct steps or begrudging the moment when the music stopped. All she had to do was be in Mile
s’s arms.
“You’re very handsome,” she said. “I’ve always thought so.”
“Humph. You hid it well enough.”
“What?” Eyes wide, Rosamond pretended to be outraged. She couldn’t sustain it. She smiled at him. She cupped his dark bearded jaw in her hand, intimately, just because she could. “I couldn’t hide a thing. Didn’t you see me blushing? Stammering? Tripping over my own feet every time you came near me?”
“I thought you were just clumsy.”
“Miles!”
“I liked it. I liked you. I wanted to tell you—”
A confirming nod. “You should have told me.”
“But I didn’t have enough for you. Not by far.” Miles glanced at the parlor’s shadowy interior, undoubtedly blind to its fancy furnishings just then. “I couldn’t give you the secure life you wanted. I couldn’t take care of you.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of. I can manage.”
It was true, Rosamond realized with a start. She could take care of herself. She’d been doing so for more than a year.
She didn’t have to be afraid. She was strong. Despite the mistakes she’d made and the regrets she had, she was strong. She had Miles partly to thank for helping her remember that.
Feeling practically invincible now, Rosamond turned Miles’s face to meet hers again. She needed to tell him something more. “I’m sorry I left you behind. I thought it was for the best.”
“I’m sorry, too. Otherwise, we could have gotten here sooner.” He dropped his gaze to her mouth. “Together.”
She grinned. “By ‘together,’ do you mean ‘kissing’?”
His eloquent gaze lifted to hers. “When you kiss me,” Miles confessed, “it feels as if everything is right in the world.”
There was nothing Rosamond could say to argue with that.
“Then let me give you the world,” she offered, broadening her smile. She brought her mouth to his again. The whole room spun. “I think kissing makes me dizzy,” she murmured.
“Hold on to me,” Miles instructed. “Don’t let go.”
Rosamond never wanted to let go. She did hold on to Miles, even as he lowered his head, even as he pulled her closer, even as he delivered the first kiss he’d initiated between them.
It was gentle. It was full of caring. It was…
“It’s as if you love me…with your mouth!” she exclaimed when they’d parted. She brought her fingers to her lips, feeling astonished and moved and very, very reassured. “I was worried that I’d be afraid, when it came right down to it. Afraid of this, of us, of being together. But now that we’re here…”
She knew this was like nothing she’d ever experienced.
“I’ll stop if you want me to.” Miles seemed concerned. Also a little dreamy-eyed for such a big, strong man. She couldn’t believe she affected him that way. “I don’t want to push you.”
“You’re not. I’m the one who kissed you first, remember?”
“Besides,” Miles continued, adding a scoundrelly lilt to his brogue, “I am loving you with my mouth. It’s trying to say what my poor addled stableman’s brain can’t manage. Like this.”
He cradled her jaw in his hands, then tilted her face upward. A heartbeat later, his mouth met hers. Gently, his tongue traced the seam of her lips. Willingly, Rosamond parted them. The kiss that followed nearly made her melt against him.
At her swoony reaction, Miles smiled. “You are innocent, Rose. You’re innocent to genuine feeling. To gentleness. To love. You deserve to know what that’s like. If I can show you—”
“If you keep on talking, I won’t be able to concentrate on what it feels like.” She smiled, too. “Let’s try again.”
“I’m pleased to indulge you.” Miles kissed her. Expertly.
Rosamond frowned. “Have you kissed very many women?”
“None who mattered. Until you.”
“Come on now, Miles. You did not become so skilled at kissing without having a little practice, did you?”
“I became skilled because I became inspired. By you.”
“Oh. That sounds nice.” She felt her cheeks heat as she blushed. “Miss Yates was right about you. You are a charmer.”
Rather than agree, Miles kissed her. That was when she realized that the conversationally diverting qualities of a kiss could serve him as readily as they had her. Caught up in Miles’s arms, in his next kiss, in the soft, low moan he gave as their mouths opened and then came together in an even more erotic fashion, sweetly and wetly and stirringly, Rosamond found that she couldn’t dredge up a solitary sensible thought. All she could do was kiss Miles back…and then hope for more.
Or abandon waiting and use Miles’s shirtfront as a pulley to draw herself upward, taking more for herself. Mmm. Kissing…
“Oh! I’ve manhandled you. Is that all right?” Suddenly worried at her own unthinking boldness, Rosamond smoothed Miles’s wrinkly shirt. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” His chuckle reassured her. “It hurt more to wait for you to kiss me than to have you climbing all over me that way.” He gave her a twinkly-eyed grin, deepening her blush. “You’re an agile climber, that’s for sure. In fact—”
He broke off, head tilted, giving her a suspicious look.
“In fact, I’d swear you never hurt your ankle at all.”
“Uh…” Trapped, Rosamond fidgeted. Maybe she could bluff her way through? She brightened. “Your kiss must have fixed it!”
Miles did not appear convinced.
“You are terribly handy at fixing things, Miles.”
“Not that handy, I’m not. A few minutes ago, I distinctly recall you throwing aside your foot-propping pillows, getting up from the settee and practically galloping over here.”
“That proves it!” Elaborately, she waved. “It’s a miracle!”
“All of that happened before I kissed you.”
“A…preemptive miracle?” Rosamond shook her head, pretending to be immensely impressed. “My, you are powerful, aren’t you?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Miles crossed his arms. “While I am powerful—”
Oh, good. Her flattery was working. Maybe because it was very close to the truth. That made it especially persuasive.
“—and every man likes to believe his kisses can work miracles, I don’t think that’s what’s going on in this case.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Rosamond gave up. “Well, I wonder where Riley is.”
She disentangled herself from Miles—for she truly had all but climbed his body in a quest to get closer to him—and crossed the parlor. Idly, she stacked her foot-propping pillows into a corner of the settee, the better to forget what she’d been using them for. She bent over, pretending to search for her puppy.
“That’s a very alluring pose,” Miles said from behind her, his voice louder as he neared her, “but I won’t be deterred.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rosamond straightened, breathlessly patting her chignon. “Do you think Riley might be in the kitchen finishing off that bone?”
“You were playacting, Rosamond.”
“I swear, that puppy has slept so much better since—”
“How long has your ankle felt better?” Miles asked. “Was it healed that very night, or did it take until the next day?”
“Be serious, Miles. Why would I pretend to be hurt?”
“To avoid going to town with me again.”
Yes. There was that. Disinclined to admit as much, Rosamond employed another tactic. “I think we should try more kissing.”
His gaze sparked with interest. Still, “Tell me the truth.”
“That is the truth! I do enjoy kissing you.”
His mouth crooked with a satisfied smile. But Miles was nothing if not persistent. “We’re going out again tomorrow.”
“I’m so sorry, but I’ll have to give you my regrets. My mutual society has a poetry rec
ital tomorrow afternoon.”
“We’ll go in the morning.”
“I have a members-only literary meeting then.”
“You might be obliged to miss it.”
“I’m not sure if Miss Yates would agree to replace me.”
“Do you remember what I told you about my patience wearing thin?”
Exasperated, Rosamond faced him. “I don’t want to go. The first time might have been a fluke. This time, I might die.”
“You won’t die.”
“Or keel over! Or scream or lose control or run away.”
Any number of awful things might happen to her.
“We’ll go as many times as you need. I’ll be there.”
“Why would you do that for the woman who purposely misled you about her injured ankle? Maybe I’m not worth it.”
“You’re worth it.”
“Maybe I’ll refuse.” She crossed her arms. “I do refuse.”
Miles came closer. His expression appeared dangerously attractive. How did he manage to keep doing that?
“After we finish shopping, I’ll show you my quarters at Owen Cooper’s livery stable,” Miles promised. “We’ll be alone. I’ll let you stroke my beard just as much as you want to.”
Oh dear. Her eyes widened. “You knew about that?”
He shrugged. “It was all I could do to hold still.”
Rosamond whirled around, deeply embarrassed. She’d thought he was conked out cold when she’d touched him. Why had she had to indulge her fascination with Miles’s beard? Why?
“Also,” he said, “I’ll let you kiss me just as much as you want to. You can kiss me all over my face. Whatever you like.”
At that, some small, traitorous part of her perked up.
“You will? As much as I want to?” Contemplatively, she eyed him. “What if I wear out your lips? I can be very curious.”
“So can I.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You won’t wear out my lips.” Smiling, Miles pulled her into his arms again. “But I’d like to see you try. I’m yours, Rose. Now and forever.”
Despite being on the cusp of losing her fight not to go outside again, Rosamond couldn’t help sighing. She liked that Miles allowed her to be in charge. It reassured her mightily.
“You’re a hard man to say no to, Miles.”