Her Secret Fantasy

by Gaelen Foley

  Escaping the crush in the ladies’ lounge a moment later, she drifted over to the gallery railing along the top of the stairs and gazed down at the colorful crowd. She spotted her party and knew that Bess would not be chased away anytime soon, now that she had cornered Edward.

  Her gaze wandered to the line of French doors that opened off the ballroom to the terrace beyond. Perhaps this was the perfect time to sneak out and visit the garden folly…

  Longing to explore the moonlit garden and the grounds, with a sudden surge of boldness, she decided to chance it. She lifted the hem of her sparkly pink skirts a bit and hurried down the crowded marble staircase. She employed all the stealth she could muster, determined that none of her party should spy her and stop her from sneaking away.

  But then, as she was escaping, a ripple of excited murmurs spread through the ranks of the female guests clustered on the staircase and lined up along the railing.

  “No, that can’t be true. He made her weep with pleasure?”

  “I heard that her servants couldn’t decide if they should leave the pair their privacy or call the constable, what with all the screaming coming from upstairs!”

  “Screaming? My word!”

  “She told me he broke her bed.”

  “How very—energetic!”

  “He’s welcome to break mine,” another purred, staring down into the ballroom.

  “Better not let your husband hear you say that.”

  “As if he’d care. He still thinks I don’t know about his latest mistress, fool.”

  Lily tiptoed past them in shock, trying not to let the ladies notice she was eavesdropping on their indecent gossip.

  Who on earth were they talking about?

  “Did you hear about his tryst with Lady Campbell?”

  “What? No!”

  “Tell!”

  “Poor dear, she couldn’t even go riding with us in Hyde Park last week because of that delicious pagan.”

  “You don’t mean—?”

  “Indeed. I don’t know what he did to her, but she could barely walk, let alone sit her mount that afternoon.”

  “Good heavens!”

  Scandalized laughter.

  “Trust me, dear, she didn’t seem to mind it.”

  Astounded by their wicked talk, Lily followed the direction of the ladies’ collective gaze down to the center of the ballroom, and when she spotted the source of their excitement, she halted abruptly on the stairs.

  Oh—!

  Oh, my.

  Lifting her fingertips to her lips, Lily stood mesmerized by the dangerous-looking man who had arrived, staring right along with all the other ladies.

  No wonder all the women had gone mad.

  He was…beautiful.

  Sun-browned and raven-haired, over six feet tall with an iron physique, he wore his resplendent uniform with such pride that it was clear this was no costume for the masked ball. He carried himself like a military man, too—spine erect, chest out, shoulders back, his square chin high. And the self-assurance in the way he walked—a wary glide, part strut, part saunter—seemed to suggest that, indeed, he was master of more than one kind of conquest.

  “Who is he, Mary?” some woman asked her friend.

  Having walked in a sort of trance down a few more of the stairs, Lily now overheard the fevered conversation of another knot of gossiping women.

  “La, dear, don’t you know? He’s only the stud of the Season.”

  Giggles followed, giddy and girlish.

  “Shh! Do you want the world to hear you?”

  “He’s Major Derek Knight,” the first woman revealed in satisfaction. “The Duke of Hawkscliffe’s cousin, newly arrived from India.”

  India? Lily’s attention was captured all over again. That cursed place that had taken her father away from her?

  “Ah, the Knight family, of course.”

  “Gorgeous, that lot. Yes, now that you’ve said it, I can see the resemblance. Aren’t there two of them—brothers?”

  “Yes, he is the younger. The elder one never comes into Society. I’ve heard they are both entirely fearless, though. Countless battles.”

  “What is their regiment?”

  “I do not know, but they’re in the cavalry.”

  Cavalry? Lily thought with a gulp. Oh, those cavalry boys had a wild reputation. Many of them were the younger sons of aristocratic houses, well educated and chivalrous, high-living and hot-blooded, eager to do battle over any point of honor. She knew that with its bounty of blue-blooded officers, the cavalry was deemed the most glamorous of the armed forces, England’s military crème de la crème.

  As Major Derek Knight moved through the ballroom, everyone seemed to want to know him, drawn in by the effortless charisma he seemed to exude. Men pumped his hand enthusiastically, while women here and there bent him down to greet him with worshipful kisses on his clean-shaved cheeks. He didn’t seem to mind the adulation, but he appeared a bit distracted.

  His restless gaze continuously scanned the crowd with an air of single-minded intensity, like a man on the hunt, but what was the prey he sought? Lily wondered. Then quite without warning, he looked up and saw her, and she found herself captured in his steel-blue gaze.

  The moment his frank stare picked her out of the crowd, Lily went motionless.

  She could not move, could barely breathe.

  Pinned in his watchful study, she shivered at the force of unbridled sensuality in his magnetic eyes. From halfway across the room, the heat of him seemed to engulf her. Then the hint of a devilish smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, and she felt her knees go weak.

  Good God! She stiffened, appalled at herself and her thumping heart. She had never experienced such an immediate, visceral reaction to a man before. This was entirely bewildering and more than a little unpleasant.

  She decided on the spot she did not like it. Who did he think he was to smile at her? It was not proper. He added insult to injury then, offering her a discreet bow from across the room.

  Her heart lurched, but her demeanor turned instantly frosty—a habit, a knee-jerk reaction.

  How forward! Mother would have been appalled, and so was Lily. At least that’s what she told herself. She tossed her chin, but could not quite bring herself to look away.

  Her heart pounded hectically.

  I do not need this, she warned herself. “Younger son” equaled “no money.” She had come to London for the express purpose of finding a wealthy husband—rich and stupid!—not to be seduced by a handsome soldier whose all-too-cunning smile made no secret of what was on his wicked mind.

  Don’t you smile at me, she warned Major Derek Knight in silent defiance, gathering up all her hard-won morals. You’re not going to break my bed, I can promise you that. Not in a million years.

  Oh, no, you won’t.

  His knowing smile widened, his stare staying fixed on her even as another woman sidled up to him and draped her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear.

  His thickly muscled arm slid around the woman’s slender waist, but he went on watching Lily with a patient, brooding gaze. As if he could see through her and her disciplined charade of virginal propriety.

  As if he had all the time in the world to get to her.

  And he could. She knew it the moment she looked at him. She had a weakness, and if the gossip was true, he was an expert seducer. Her heart slammed behind her ribs as a doomful warning within told her this man could ruin everything for her. He was dangerous.

  Dangerous, immoral, and bad.

  Deliciously so.

  Completely unnerved, she pulled her stare away from his and took cover in the throng of guests, fleeing toward the row of French doors that opened out onto the terrace.

  Really, boots to a ball! What a barbarian! Even Edward knew that much, she thought, casting about for any reason to find fault with the “stud of the Season” and reject him.

  All the while, he continued watching her with a sort of detached amusement. />
  Nobody else at the masked ball paid her the slightest mind as she slipped out quietly, escaping the major’s keen study. Her chest heaved. She gulped great lungfuls of the chill night air, relieved to be free of his stare, and yet strangely exhilarated by it.

  It was as if no one had truly seen her in years until moments ago, when Derek Knight had looked at her. Truly looked at her.

  For how many years had she made it her policy to try to stay safely invisible, hiding at home at Balfour Manor behind her iron-willed mother? Why? Simply from shame?

  His stare had confused her. It seemed to pierce into the very core of her and find nothing that she should be ashamed of—ah, but this skittish overreaction was utterly absurd! He didn’t even know her, nor she him.

  And that was for the best.

  That was how it must stay.

  In seconds, she had crossed the terrace and sped away into the garden, reveling in the darkness, the solitude, the cool black stillness of the night.

  Hurrying past parterres and flower beds and rustling stands of trees, she sought the little garden folly that had first attracted her attention, while patchy clouds above her veiled the moon.

  What a funny little person, Derek mused, but the fetching blonde had vanished into the crowd, much to his perplexity. Women running away from him was not exactly the reaction he was used to.

  Nevertheless, he put the mysterious girl out of his mind for the moment. Lady Amherst had wrapped herself around him and was demanding his attention.

  “Good evening, Major,” she breathed in his ear. “You’re looking…healthy.”

  “Why, thank you, my dear. I am feeling full of vigor,” he murmured, flicking a mischievous glance over her well-endowed figure. She giggled, and Derek bent to accept her lingering kiss on his cheek.

  From behind her pale gold half-mask, her hazy-eyed stare devoured him. The woman was practically panting.

  “So, what are you supposed to be tonight?” he asked, lifting the elegant young widow’s hand and taking a step back to inspect her costume, a frothy, pale confection of a gown with a plunging neckline that drew his gaze to her finest attractions.

  “What do you think?” she exclaimed, nodding toward the tall, hooked staff that she carried in her other hand.

  Derek shrugged indifferently.

  “I’m a shepherdess, you dolt.”

  “I don’t see any sheep.”

  “I brought one, a toy, but I grew bored of carrying it around.”

  “You might as well put this aside, then, too.” He removed the tall shepherd’s hook from her hand and leaned it against the nearby column. He bent closer, lowering his voice. “I’ve got another staff for you to play with.”

  She suppressed a burst of laughter, her lovely face turning red beneath its dusting of white powder. “You are so wicked!”

  “That’s why you love me.”

  “You’re a heartless flirt, Major.”

  “Dance with me,” he ordered, taking both her hands.

  “No—wait. I’ve a better idea.” With a naughty smile, she crooked her finger at him.

  Derek raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He leaned down, listening as she whispered in his ear.

  “Ah, yes. Capital notion,” he murmured.

  “I thought you’d like it.” She tugged on his shoulder and whispered again, this time flicking his earlobe with the tip of her tongue after she had given him his instructions.

  Derek quivered. “When?”

  “Now, silly. You go first,” she added in a sly whisper. “I’ll follow you out in a few minutes. That way, no one ought to notice that we’re gone.”

  “Oh, they’ll notice,” he assured her, but she tossed her head.

  “I don’t care! Let them talk.”

  Derek smiled, amused by her brash independence.

  “Go,” she urged him, clearly eager for her private lesson in the exotic Eastern arts of love.

  Far be it from him to keep a countess waiting. Happy to oblige, Derek gave her a discreet bow and withdrew.

  Marching out onto the terrace, Derek paused and scanned the night-clad grounds, then jogged down the few shallow steps to the main graveled walkway, flanked by quaint topiaries. From there, he set out to find this garden folly that his latest paramour had named as the location for their rendezvous…

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  Jasmine vines had scaled the dark-green boxwood walls of the garden maze and gave off sweet perfume as Lily ran past, her steps light and fleeting over the cool, silken grass. The distant sounds of tinkling music and revelers’ laughter from the ball floated out over the gardens from the sprawling manor house, but she did not look back.

  Slipping through the shadows, she raced across the rolling parklands with a breathless sense of liberty.

  The black velvet sky brimmed with stars, and the sound of the pond’s center fountain lilted in the night as she neared. By the reedy shore, a graceful little gondola bobbed gently.

  There.

  To her right, she spotted the garden folly silhouetted against the starry sky. Her smile grew as she ran toward it, lifting the hem of her gown to skim the grass. Reaching the structure, she stopped abruptly, heart pounding, and stood before it, slowly tipping her pale satin half-mask up over her brow to reveal an expression of childlike wonder and delight.

  Magical. The garden folly had been made in the shape of a giant pineapple.

  How perfectly silly!

  Delightful. She shook her head to herself in pure enchantment and walked on. To be sure, the folly was very different from the one she had played in as a child—ah, but the feeling was the same. Her own little secret world.

  A time of dreams and innocence…

  Laying her hand on the railing, Lily went up its three low steps in silent, effervescent joy. Inside, she took a turn about the wood-planked floor, her sparkly pink skirts swirling about her.

  All of a sudden she threw her head back and laughed aloud. The sound was light. She whirled over to the delicate railing and gazed out at the vista of the man-made lake. She thought of her father calling her “Princess Lily” and for once, the memory of him did not hurt.

  Leaning wistfully against one of the columns that supported the pineapple roof, she let herself soak in the pleasure of this stolen moment, simply enjoying the lavish gardens, the sweetness of the summer night, and the tranquil solitude.

  Soon enough she’d have to be getting back to Edward, but not yet.

  With a pensive smile, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the railing. As an afterthought, she pulled her mask back down into place across her eyes in case anyone came along, but her thoughts lingered in the past, lost in nostalgic reverie. What a little silly-head she had been, she mused, a dreamer just like her father.

  Her imagination in those days could turn a well-situated boulder into her own Camelot, a toad into a fire-breathing dragon, and a row of acorns into a cavalry of brave knights sent out to chase the beast away. Back then, she had still believed in heroes, and had known at least three magic ways to make a wish come true.

  But these had proved false, bitterly so, when they had failed to bring her father back. Broken-hearted, she had put her dreams and her wishing powers away. By now, she had forgotten her made-up incantations, and as for heroes, she had come to learn that they were even scarcer than real dragons.

  No, she thought with a sigh as she gazed out over the dark landscape, the cavalry wasn’t coming. No one was going to ride to her rescue. It was up to her to save her clan.

  An image of Edward the Minotaur rose in her mind with a surge of distress. Oh, if any of those silly old spells still worked…

  Knowing it was sheer foolishness, she closed her eyes and for one moment—just for old times’ sake—made a wish with all her might.

  Perhaps her need floated up to the stars and out across the ornamental water, as insubstantial as dandelion fluff, but you never knew. You just never knew…

  She listened.<
br />
  She waited.

  She held her breath.

  Nothing.

  Well, naturally.

  But then—her eyes still closed—she went stock-still, suddenly sensing a presence.

  Her straining ears detected the scarcely audible creaking of the floorboards behind her.

  “How did you get here before me?” a deep voice asked in a playful murmur that was all of a sudden right by her ear. Her jaw dropped as warm, strong arms smoothly encircled her waist.

  Her eyes flew open and she looked down in wonder. Big, sun-tanned hands had wrapped around her with a tender motion, sturdy forearms sheathed in smart sleeves with handsome, gold-trimmed cuffs.

  She stared down at them, slack-jawed.

  How can this be?

  Her wish could not possibly have come true. She wasn’t even sure what she had wished for! Is this real?

  Can this be happening? The tall male form behind her certainly felt solid and powerful, radiating warmth; she leaned back slightly against him, just to make sure.

  Egads, there was a man behind her!

  She was in somebody’s arms! And it wasn’t Edward.

  The air in her lungs fairly evaporated from her astonishment. She started to turn around with great indignation and then stopped abruptly, afraid the dream might dissipate. For it was then that the greatest shock of all came: the realization that it felt splendid, achingly wonderful to be held this way.

  How many years had it been since someone had held her?

  “You were supposed to wait, my girl,” he chided in a teasing whisper, leaning down to brush his lips along the curve of her ear. “But I suppose you couldn’t contain yourself, hm?”

  Lily tensed, tongue-tied and quite baffled. Her heart was slamming in her chest, just above the cloud of butterflies dancing in her belly.

  Oh, dear.

  It struck her with some nervous hilarity that her visitor obviously had the wrong lady and hadn’t quite noticed it yet. Ah, yes—costume ball. Oh, how exceedingly awkward. Perhaps she should have been outraged, but his touch felt so, so good.