Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere

by Regina Jeffers

  Wellston handed Sonali over to the boy, instructing Daniel to not permit Sonali go any further into the water, and then he slugged his way to the shore. “Come join us, Miss Cashé.” Marcus extended his hand to offer his support.

  Cashé automatically took a step backward, shying away from the contact. “I could not, Your Lordship,” she protested.

  Marcus did not withdraw his hand. “Miss Cashé, the children and I would enjoy your company. Have you ever fished?” He did not understand why he did not just permit her to return to the house alone. He could handle the children if she chose to leave Sonali in his care.

  He smiled again and heard her breathing quickened. “No. No, I have never held a fishing pole,” she stammered.

  Marcus motioned to the children. “Even a child can do it, Miss Cashé. I promise I will not allow you to fall in the water.”

  “Take off your shoes,” Sonali encouraged. “The water tickles your toes.”

  Marcus extended his hand further. “I promise.”

  She bit her bottom lip in hesitation. “Are you certain, Your Lordship?”

  “Absolutely,” he assured.

  She found a rock upon which to sit to remove her shoes, and then turned her back on them to remove her every day stockings. When she stood, after hiding her footwear behind the rock, she finally accepted Marcus’s hand.

  “You may want to tuck in your skirt tail,” he warned.

  Cashé bristled, “I think not, Lord Yardley.”

  Marcus chuckled. “As you wish, Miss Cashé.” He picked up the extra pole and handed it to her. Then he led Cashé some fifteen feet into the water. “Do you wish my assistance?” he asked. Her wet skirt floated about her legs, and Marcus found he enjoyed peeks of her bare feet and ankles.

  “I will be fine, Lord Yardley.” Although she had no idea what to do, she attempted confidence.

  Reluctantly, Marcus stepped away from her and moved to where Sonali tried again to cast her line directly before her and failed. “You have your pole too up and down,” he told the girl as he adjusted her hand on the rod. “Try again.”

  Cashé wondered how she had gotten herself into this situation. The water had looked so inviting, and, in truth, it was quite cool on her feet and legs. However, the pebbled bank had been rougher than she had expected. She had told the earl that she could handle the pole and line, but as she caught the rod in her dominant hand, she realized how foolish she had been not to accept Lord Yardley’s assistance. “Here goes nothing,” she mumbled as she raised her arm above her head and whipped the line behind her with the intention of bringing it forward, but it was not to be.

  Cashé’s arm jerked hard, but the pole flew from her grip as the hook caught on a low tree line behind her, leaving the wooden pole swinging from the tree like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. She screeched as the tree wrenched the pole from her grasp. Spinning to see what happened, the water splashed the front of her day dress, taking her breath with the surge.

  Marcus lurched at the sound but was too late to catch the pole before the line wrapped itself about a river birch. When the water splashed into her face and chest, Marcus could not stifle the laugh that burst forth. “It appears our Miss Cashé has caught herself a big one,” he teased.

  “A big tree,” Sonali corrected.

  “I never guaranteed anyone would catch a fish,” Marcus good-naturedly sloshed through the water toward the shoreline. “I believe Miss Cashé has won the day,” he said as he reached for the tangled line.

  The girl, at first, had resented his taunt, but she quickly forgave the jest at her detriment. “I did not see you do as well, Your Lordship,” she charged, as a bit of sarcasm laced her tone.

  Dutifully, he broke the tree limb and unwrapped the line. “I am not in your class, Miss Cashé.”

  The children continued to laugh at their banter, and Cashé joined in, having never experienced this type of personal embarrassment before. From the time she was a small child; she had striven for perfection. Today, she relished her mistakes.

  Marcus looked up as the sound of her laughter drifted to where he stood. Observing the girl enjoying herself standing in mid-calf water, he had the strangest feeling that he was seeing her for the first time, and Cashé Aldridge was beautiful: She, literally, took his breath away. For a moment, he froze–no longer unwrapping the string.

  “What is wrong, Uncle Marcus?” Sonali called, noting his strange behavior.

  Marcus dropped his gaze quickly. “Nothing, Pumpkin,” he mumbled as he loosened the line from the last twig holding it. He motioned to Daniel to assist Cashé in pulling in the line and to reset her hold on the pole. Marcus did not trust himself too close to her at the moment.

  “I am ready, Lord Yardley,” she teased from the water line. “You may wish to move, Your Lordship. I believe I will try to catch myself a larger branch this time.”

  Without thinking, Marcus stepped to the side. Cashé’s teasing and laughter cast a spell on his sensibility: His breathing became shallow, and his heart raced. An image of a nude Cashémere Aldridge danced in his head. He glanced up to see her bring the rod back to cast it once again. “No!” he called, impulsively striding forward to stop her. However, before he realized what he did, he caught Cashé from behind–his left hand coming about her narrow waist and splaying his open palm upon her lower abdomen to hold her in place and his right hand cupping hers with his on the pole. Effectively, he spooned her body with his–the same as he had done with both Daniel and Sonali, but Cashé Aldridge was not a child. She was a woman, and her slim figure blanketed his chest and upper thighs. Marcus’s breath caught in his chest for the second time in less than ten minutes. The smell of sunshine and sweat and female filled his nostrils with the scent of her, and, automatically, he turned his head slightly to bury his nose in her hair–to catch the scent of jasmine. It was a moment he would remember later as exquisite hell.

  “Lord Yardley, what do you think you are doing?” she hissed, bringing him from his musings.

  Marcus felt her embarrassment heat her skin. “Noth...nothing,” he stammered. “I did not think before I moved.” He spoke softly to her ear, and Marcus made no move to release her. Her lithe body belonged in his embrace.

  “Then release me,” she ordered under her breath. “Remove your hand from my person.”

  Minutely, Marcus tightened his hold. “If we jump apart as if we have completed an indiscretion, the children will tell everyone of our error in judgment.” He paused briefly to allow his words to register. “Let me assist you with the rod, and then I will casually step away.” Marcus repositioned her hand on the pole, but no other muscles in his body responded to his need to move. It was as if his body took satisfaction in the feel of her without his mind agreeing to the embrace. “Otherwise, we are embroiled in scandal.” He breathed the words. Finally, she nodded her agreement. “That is correct, Miss Cashé,” he said for the children’s benefits. “If you lock your wrist, the rod’s tip falls away to the ground.” Marcus physically moved Cashé’s arm, locking her grip with his and placing the bait some twenty feet before them. “Did you feel the difference?” He released the pressure and stepped away from her, but her heat still clung to his body, and he knew that he absolutely could feel the difference.

  Cashé still flushed, but she forced herself to turn and face him. “Thank you, Lord Yardley. I did feel it.” Her words echoed in her head. She most certainly felt his hardness up and down her back, but to her surprise, she wanted to feel it again.

  Marcus observed the color rising to her cheeks, and desire sparked in her eyes. He rasped, “I believe it is time to pack up, Daniel.” He took a deep breath to control the racing of his heart. “Your father will have my head if you miss your afternoon lesson with Mr. Weston.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Unsurprisingly, the boy did the chivalrous thing. He caught Sonali’s hand to lead the girl to the shoreline.

  Marcus swallowed hard. He was grateful to the tarn’s cold water on his legs. It
kept him from showing his unanswered desire to the world. “May I assist you, Miss Cashé?” He extended his hand, but silently prayed she would not take it. He did not want to touch her again so soon.

  Aghast, Cashé looked at his hand, but she recognized the need to not create a scene, so she reluctantly placed her fingers in the earl’s palm. His long fingers closed about hers, and Cashé took her first step along the pebbly up slope. The weight of her wet skirt tail slowed her progress as she paid more attention to the man bracing her than to her actual footing.

  And then it happened. An unpredictable combination: Some sort of fish bumped her left ankle. With a shriek of surprise, she abruptly shifted her weight just as her right foot slipped on the smooth surface of one of the larger rocks lining the gentle slope. As if in slow motion, both of Cashé’s feet flew in the air as her skirt tails wrapped about her legs. Her arms windmilled as she fell backwards. Then he was there, scooping her up in his strong arms, lifting her from the impending soaking. For a split second she fought him, but then Cashé’s instincts told her this was where she belonged. She wrapped her arms about Wellston’s neck.

  He had moved automatically when her footing slipped. Marcus had not thought about the ramifications of touching her again so soon. He caught her as her feet became tangled within her soaked day dress, and she stumbled backwards. One arm had encircled her small waist and the other had come under her knees, and he cradled Cashé.

  “Lord Yardley!” she gasped, but she did not fight him. Instead, she had clung to his neck, their faces only inches apart. Marcus could see the incredibly long length of her lashes, thick and black with golden tips.

  He pushed the renewed desire away. “I have you, Miss Cashé,” he assured her as he waded through the shallow water, making his way to the grassy slope. So close, he again filled his lungs with the scent of her and his eyes with her image. For the longest time, Marcus just held her close, then he realized the impropriety and started to place her on dry ground; but a beauty mark caught his eye, and he spontaneously remarked, “I have never noticed the mark on the back of your neck. It resembles a star.”

  “Both Satiné and I have one. However, hers is on her shoulder where she can hide it from prying eyes,” she sniped.

  Noting the uncomfortable flush of her cheeks and the censure in her tone, he, finally, sat her before him. “Are you...are you hurt?” he asked softly.

  “No, Sir,” she mumbled and looked quickly away, adjusting her clothing with the turn of her back to him.

  Marcus swallowed hard. “Why do you not take the children to the house? Daniel can carry the basket. I will secure the fishing equipment and follow you.” It seemed important to separate himself from her: He needed time to think. Without looking back, he sloshed into the water to retrieve the abandoned pole, making a show of capturing the line and giving himself time enough for Cashé and the children to don their shoes and make their ways to the manor house.

  She followed the children at a leisurely pace. Sonali danced and twirled, her floral crown and necklace swaying with her. Daniel chased her in circles as he swung the basket freely, both of them giggling and playful as children tend to be when left alone. And, today, Cashé had no intention of interfering with their amusements. Her mind rested on the irascible earl and the lingering excitement she had felt when he had lifted her so easily into his arms.

  She did not want to think of Marcus Wellston; she had fought the good fight in that matter, but it was to no avail. She had thought of him often of late–too often for her own sanity. Of course, such ruminations served no purpose. The earl affected her sister Satiné, and his friend Lord Lexford had offered his attentions to her. Yet, Cashé held no affection for the viscount–no more than she had done for Lachlan Charters.

  “Neither stirs my interest,” she murmured. Only the earl’s heat remained. “Could I undermine my own sister?” she asked herself as the house came into view.

  Marcus paused as he gathered the fishing lines for the three poles. The day had taken an unexpected turn. All along, Marcus had detested everything about the lady. He had considered Cashé a spoiled, self-centered woman, but today he observed the softer side of her.

  He actually felt an erection when he had embraced her, which definitely vexed him because he had convinced himself that he had wanted nothing to do with her. “It is because she is identical to her sister. It happened only because I had Miss Satiné on my mind.” However, he knew better. Miss Cashé’s presence had shaken his world.

  “Damn!” he cursed aloud. “I cannot be attracted to Cashé Aldridge,” he growled. “And if I am, what of Kimbolt?” Marcus had suffered through the viscount’s depression when Shepherd had separated Kimbolt from Miss Cashé by sending them to Calcutta. Lexford had made them all miserable because he had pined for the girl. Obviously, he could not come between Aidan and Miss Cashémere. He credited his friendship an important link to his current peace of mind–something for which he had struggled for many years after Maggie’s death. “This is all a fluke,” he said the words out loud, trying to make them so. “It is Miss Satiné who stirs my blood.”

  *

  During the evening, Marcus made a concerted effort to ignore Miss Cashé by doubling his attentions to Satiné, but try as he may, he could not withdraw his eyes from the lady. Satiné was everything he thought he had needed in his life, and, at first glance, a person could not tell the sisters apart, but there were distinct differences. Charles Morton had guided Satiné in the niceties of Society. Bred as a genteel lady, the woman possessed nothing but admirable qualities: good manners, ladylike accomplishments, and acceptable opinions. Yet, was Miss Satiné’s perfection settling for the boring–something he had never done in his life?

  Then there was the entity known as Cashémere. Equally as beautiful as her two sisters, Cashé posed no problems in that manner. Difficulties occurred in other areas, however. She often spewed prejudice and offending remarks, but she possessed an appealing vulnerability, which had made him want to protect her, even from herself. She was admittedly one of the most vexing females he had ever encountered. She was impetuous and unpredictable and strong-willed, and the woman knew exactly how to bait him into saying and doing things he would not normally do.

  “Would you care to walk in the garden, Miss Cashé?” Lord Lexford extended his hand.

  Cashé had considered refusing, but a quick glance at Lord Yardley told her that the earl danced attendance on Satiné. “That would be pleasant.” She placed her hand in his and allowed the viscount to lead her through the open patio doors.

  “Lord Yardley speaks of providing fishing tips for you today.” Lexford turned his head in her direction.

  The fact that Yardley had spoken of her sent a shiver down her spine, but that he had found it necessary to tell Lexford of their encounter said he did not feel what she did today. She could tell no one of it, not even her own reflection in the mirror. Cashé glanced away, again remembering the brief intimacy she had shared with the earl. “It was a spontaneous thing. Lord Yardley had taken Daniel to the tarn, while I entertained Sonali. We came across each other quite by accident.”

  “Should I be jealous?” Lexford teased.

  Cashé thought, if only, but she said, “I must protest, Lord Lexford. We do not have that type of relationship.”

  The viscount stopped under a shadowy rose arbor. “Miss Cashémere, you must be aware of my interest. It would please me greatly if you would allow me to call upon you while you are with the baron.”

  Cashé kept her eyes downcast. “You must understand, Lord Lexford, that this is all very new. In Edinburgh, Uncle Samuel had come to an informal agreement with Mr. Charters. Now, I am to live with Uncle Charles, and everything has changed. The baron has indicated that he will bring both Satiné and me out into Society. That allows me six months to learn a whole new way of thinking.”

  Lexford took her hand in his. “I understand your reticence, and I am sympathetic to your dilemma. You are being ripped fro
m the only life you have ever known, but the baron only has your best interests at heart...as do I. If it suits you, I will temper my needs with the understanding that I will make my suit known when the Season begins.”

  Cashé hushed an overwhelming urge to run from him and to find solace in the strong arms, which had held her earlier today. “Your suggestion appears prudent, Your Lordship.” She forced herself to smile at him. “I appreciate your understanding.” It was not that the viscount was a bad choice. She knew women who would think her a complete idiot to lead the viscount on. He was very handsome; yet, Lord Lexford’s affections were not reciprocated.

  The viscount either could not or would not recognize her indecision as a stalling technique. He lifted her chin with his fingertips and lowered his head to lightly kiss her lips.

  Cashé flushed in embarrassment. This was her first kiss ever, and she hated that it was with him. It lasted but a few seconds. He had placed no pressure upon her nor had he taken her into his arms. It was nothing more than a brushing of his lips across hers–no passion–simply a common regard.

  Like most young girls, Cashé had always thought that if she married, it would be for love. She realized she had not loved Mr. Charters, but she had held him in highest respect, and she always assumed that love would follow once they had had time to know each other more fully. She wanted someone who would love only her. When she allowed herself feminine dreams, she had imagined a man who would cherish her even if she were sometimes outspoken or had broken with propriety; he would love her because he had chosen her. She had never known anyone who preferred her above all others. Even Uncle Samuel’s love had come with its own limitations: She had been thrust upon him after her parents’ freak accident. Her uncle “had to” love her. She may not have been raised as Velvet was, but Cashé shared one thing with her sister: She wanted her own “happily ever after.”

  “Very nice,” the viscount whispered.

  Cashé opened her eyes, a bit shocked that she had not resisted the intimacy, although she certainly could not count it as an immodest act. However, she would have to dissuade the viscount from escalating the relationship. “Lord Lexford, you must accept the fact that I cannot allow you such liberties. It would not be proper,” she chided.