“You didn’t offend me. That’s the problem. You held me in your arms for much of the journey and...” Her eyes filled with tears and her fingers wrapped within his, the sensation so right and natural, it felt as though their hands were designed to fit together. “Please, I can’t talk about it.”
He shook his head and sighed. “I know what you’re feeling. My sister and I went through it, too. Only we had each other to turn to when things were bad, when we were feeling quite alone and discarded. But you had no one. No one to take you into their arms and comfort you.”
She nodded. “That’s all I could think of while you held me, how snug and protected I felt with you, and at the same time, how empty these last ten years have been for me. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”
“You won’t. I’ll speak to Evie and George when we reach London. They’ll invite you to stay with them for as long as you wish. Same for all your Farthingale relations. They won’t allow your father to send you back to the abbey no matter what happens between you and Mr. Postings.”
She glanced up, startled. “Why are we speaking of Mr. Postings again? This isn’t about him. He’ll propose to me and I’ll become his wife.”
“Seriously?” A muscle in his jaw twitched as he fought to suppress his irritation. That bull’s pizzle was not getting his hands on Adelaide. “You’ll accept someone who only desires you for your father’s business?” Desmond was getting angry just thinking of the man, but he ought to have kept his mouth shut, for he was merely adding salt to her open and festering wound.
Despite her obvious anguish, she tipped her chin up in defiance. “It’ll make my father happy. And if it makes him happy, then it shall make me happy, too.”
He released her hands and muttered an oath under his breath. “In a pig’s eye. If you truly felt that way, you wouldn’t be crying.”
She stiffened her shoulders and frowned at him. “I’m not crying.” She swiped at a tear. “And why must everything be about Mr. Postings anyway? There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a decent man. And I’m sure he’d take me in his arms if I asked him to.”
“As I said, if you believed it, you wouldn’t be in tears.” Why did he care anyway? He had no business getting involved. Why was the girl’s happiness so important to him? She hadn’t asked for his opinion. In truth, he was behaving like a Farthingale and meddling.
Her frown was now a scowl. “I liked you better when you were simply holding me in your arms and not passing judgement. I mean... that isn’t what I meant to say. I appreciate your securing me to the seat while the carriage was in rocky motion, that’s all. I’m not suggesting that I wanted to be in your arms. Only that it felt... perfect... as in perfectly comfortable and helpful.” She sighed. “And nice, too. I liked not having to struggle on my own for once. Although I’m quite capable of standing up for myself if I had to, which I’ve had to do for most of my life.”
She lowered her gaze to her plate and groaned. “Stop me whenever you wish. I’m obviously jabbering nonsensically.”
“It isn’t nonsensical.”
She eyed him quizzically. “You understood most of that blather?”
He nodded. She was angry and hurt by her father’s actions, yet still determined to gain his approval. She stubbornly believed sacrificing herself to Postings was the magical key that would open the door to her father’s love. It wouldn’t. In truth, her father probably did love her, but he wasn’t enough of a man to stand up to Adelaide’s stepmother. Perhaps there were other family burdens placed on her father. “Get some rest, Sparkles. We’ll be in Coventry tomorrow and I intend to show you as much of the town as your delicate feet can manage.”
***
Desmond breathed a sigh of relief when they turned onto a main road and the church spires of Coventry came into view. Adelaide had tied her hair back with a worn and slightly frayed ribbon that blended with the reds and golds of her hair.
It was a simple, unfashionable style, and yet she looked spectacular. Would there ever come a time when he thought her plain? He hoped it would happen soon.
It certainly wasn’t happening now.
Within the hour they were in the center of town and settled at Greer House, one of the most fashionable inns in England and certainly the most exclusive in this fair city. Since today was Wednesday, Desmond had Adelaide all to himself. Rupert expected to be engaged in important meetings that would consume his entire day and possibly into tomorrow as well.
Adelaide. All to himself.
He refused to admit just how much he was looking forward to it. That it might possibly be one of the most enjoyable days of his life was of no moment. He was merely accepting to escort her about town as a favor to Rupert.
Only, it felt as though Rupert was doing him the favor.
They visited a local church first, then walked toward the square where Lady Godiva had taken her memorable ride. Adelaide’s eyes were wide as she took in all the sights. “Do you think Lady Godiva was beautiful?”
Desmond paused to gaze at Adelaide, pretending to give it serious thought when all he really cared to do was look upon her. She had a lovely, expressive face that fascinated him to no end.
Their time together would soon end and he meant to make the most of it. He wanted it to end before his heart was drawn in too deeply, but another day or two in her company wouldn’t make that much difference, would it? “It’s reputed she was. I believe she had ginger hair, similar to yours, and big blue eyes. Farthingale blue–”
She cuffed him playfully. “She did not. Her hair was blonde.”
“How do you know? It could have been a mix of blonde and copper. She might have been an ancestor of yours. Independent, spirited, and quick to leap to the defense of the weak. Sounds like a Farthingale to me. We ought to trace your family lineage and find out.”
“How are we to do that? I know very little about my family. In truth, you probably know more about the Farthingales than I do. Will you tell me more about them?”
“If you wish. We’ll have plenty of time to talk at supper.” He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow as they resumed their stroll around the square. “We’ll be alone again tonight. Since your uncle’s back is still sore, he’s already bowed out of joining us. Once he’s finished with his pressing business, he intends to retire to his room and have his supper brought up there.”
“Oh, dear. I do worry about him.” She cast Desmond an anxious gaze. “I hope his injury isn’t more serious than he lets on.”
“It isn’t,” he assured. “He managed the stairs with little difficulty and that’s a sure sign he’s on the mend. George will have a look at him when we reach London. There’s no better physician in England.”
“Ah, Uncle George. He’s wonderful, isn’t he? At least we can boast of one honorable Farthingale in the bloodline. I shudder to think what we’d find if we dug deeper into my ancestry. A pirate or two? A horse thief?” Adelaide shook her head and laughed with gentle glee.
The sun’s rays caught the reds and golds of her hair and reflected off her vivid blue eyes. Lord, he was going to miss her. She was sunshine and starlight and fairy dust, all things curmudgeons weren’t supposed to like. “If my cousin Lily is to be believed,” she continued with an impish grin, “we’d probably find a mountain ape or three-toed sloth in our ancestry, too.”
Desmond chuckled. “I’m sure I have some of those in my background as well. Indeed, I can point to some living today.” His mouth ached from the smiles she brought out in him. He wasn’t used to smiling ever and was not quite comfortable with the way she made him feel.
In truth, because she made him feel.
She made him ache physically to have her. She made him yearn for something more permanent than his usual dalliances. The ladies he chose were never a danger to his heart and his enjoyment was purely physical, convenient tumbles in the sack and no expectations afterward.
He didn’t like losing control of his heart, nor did he intend to give it over so easily. But every m
oment spent with Adelaide caused his control to slip a little more.
They left the square where Lady Godiva had made her famous ride and strolled to the shopping district. Desmond had yet to buy the girl anything and meant to amend the oversight today. Supper at the Greer House was an elegant affair and Adelaide’s clothes were simply not up to society’s standards. He wasn’t about to take her shopping for new gowns, for that would really set tongues wagging if word ever leaked out. But he could purchase a scarf or silk shawl that she could drape over her slender shoulders.
He found the perfect haberdashers a short walk from the square and suggested they go inside and browse. Adelaide nibbled her fleshy lower lip again in that absently seductive way that sent his heart leaping into his throat. “I couldn’t.”
“You certainly can.”
“No, you don’t understand–”
He put a finger to her lips. “My gift to you.”
Her eyes brightened for a moment, but their gleam quickly faded and she took a small step back. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
He sighed and dropped his hand to his side. “Very well, your uncle and I will settle up accounts afterward. Were he not so preoccupied with business affairs and his aching back, he would have taken you shopping himself.”
Desmond was never one to discuss finances with a lady, but he knew Adelaide hadn’t the funds to purchase the goods on her own nor would she accept the gift from him. He had no intention of asking for reimbursement from Rupert, but she didn’t have to know that. “You’ll require a new wardrobe when you’re in London. Your family intends to supply it, so consider this an early start.”
“But–”
He raised a finger in teasing caution again. “I’m a marquis. I can have you clapped in irons for defying me.” He arched an eyebrow and cast her a wicked grin that caused her to giggle. “And to refuse my offer would be an outrage and an insult.”
She shook her head as she once again took his offered arm, and although she tried to appear stern, her expression was radiant. “You know what you just said is all stuff and nonsense.”
He led her inside. “Choose something and don’t you dare ask prices.”
He hung back and allowed her to wander about the shop, finally joining her when she’d selected a colorful wool shawl that was more practical than elegant. “I think this will do nicely,” she said, obviously excited about her find.
Desmond nodded and then turned to the haberdasher and asked to see a selection of silks. Adelaide opened her mouth to protest but an arch of his eyebrow stopped her. “Des,” she said in an urgent whisper, “what are you doing? I’ve made my selection.”
“And now I’ll make mine.” The shop’s manager scampered out from the back room where the merchandise was stored carrying an armload of exquisite scarves and shawls. Adelaide’s eyes widened and she gasped.
Desmond paid no attention, instead instructing the manager to pull out several that might suit. “Of course, my lord. Your wife deserves the very best.”
“She does indeed.” He grinned at Adelaide who was too appalled to respond, but she subtly kicked his foot as they stood beside the counter. The merchant had an excellent eye for fashion and suggested three exquisite designs. The first was in shades of ginger and copper that picked up the shades of Adelaide’s hair. The second was an azure blue that matched the color of her eyes. The third was a floral print on a background of forest green chosen by Desmond simply because Adelaide’s eyes took on that incandescent gleam when she saw it.
He paid for the wares and then tucked the wrapped packages under his arm. “Which one will you wear this evening, Sparkles?”
“You’re obviously the fashion expert. Which one do you suggest?” She shook her head and tucked her hand back in the crook of his elbow as they slowly made their way to the inn. However Adelaide’s happiness was palpable and it heightened his enjoyment of their day together.
“They’re all beautiful,” he replied, knowing she could wear the coarsest linen and still look spectacular. He wondered at the effect she had on him, for he’d never spent hours shopping with any female before. Indeed, it was one of his least favorite activities and he usually found it as appealing as a dyspeptic stomach. His time with Adelaide was anything but that.
“I’ll wear the green,” she decided and lightly squeezed his arm to convey her pleasure. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”
He grinned to signal his approval, wondering how he was going to survive another evening keeping his hands off her. Fortunately, their rooms were once again across the hall from each other and several doors down. He preferred the arrangement, for he’d barely survived that first night when they were in side by side rooms with an adjoining door between them and a woefully inadequate lock that he could have broken with the tap of his hand.
A servant came forward to take their cloaks and packages as soon as they entered Greer House. “Tea will be served in the library shortly, my lord.”
“Miss Farthingale,” he said with a nod, referring to her formally, “would you care to join me?”
“I’d love to.” She smiled at the servant as she handed over her cloak, and when they were once more alone, she casually glanced around the entry hall and let out a sigh. “I feel as though I’ve been asleep these past ten years and am only now waking up. Yet, when I look around and take in all this grandeur, I know I must still be dreaming.”
He nodded. “Greer House is quite impressive.”
Suddenly, her eyes grew wide as saucers. “Des! Look!” She hurried into the elegant parlor and spun around with glee, pausing only to take deep breaths that attracted his eye to her nicely shaped breasts. He didn’t understand what she was doing, only that he was in no hurry to divert his gaze.
She spun around again, this time more slowly. “Come in here, Des. They’ve decorated for the holidays. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
He took a step closer, but stopped at the threshold and casually rested his shoulder against the doorway. The festive scent of pine and cinnamon filled his nostrils. “Quiet beautiful.” He folded his arms across his chest and watched her as she marveled at the transformed parlor, his comment referring to her and not the pine boughs, red velvet bows, and other decorations adorning the room.
She smiled at him and then glanced above his head. “You’re standing under mistletoe,” she said with a mirthful twinkle in her eyes. “Do you know the lore?”
He arched an eyebrow as she approached to stand in the doorway with him, her head only reaching to his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in all that stuff and nonsense?”
“Of course, I do. Who doesn’t love a tale about kisses stolen under the mistletoe?” She gazed at him with a look of such hopeful innocence that he knew it was about to spell disaster for him. Of course, he’d heard of the mistletoe lore and understood what she wanted.
No, he wasn’t going to kiss her, that would be too dangerous for both of them, especially since he knew it would be her first kiss.
Her first ever.
“Everyone knows it,” she insisted with a slight tremor to her voice that revealed her confidence was slipping. She began to nibble her lip, her dismay growing as she realized he wasn’t about to take the hint. “It’s said that a young woman who refuses a kiss will not be married in the following year. But I suppose if said young woman is never asked for a kiss, there’s nothing to refuse.”
She sighed and shook her head, looking like a kitten who had just been kicked and he was the despicable knave who’d just kicked her.
He took hold of her hand and drew her into his arms. “Are you suggesting I ask you?”
Her cheeks turned crimson. “No, of course not. I... I shouldn’t have... I didn’t mean...”
Her first kiss ought to be memorable and although he knew he was making a big mistake, he couldn’t allow that bull’s pizzle, Postings, to have the honor. He’d kiss her if only to deprive the man of that pleasure. More important, Adelaide needed a kiss
to remind her that she ought to marry for love. He was just the possessive ass to provide that reminder, even though it was the worst thing he could do. And the wrong thing to do. Completely foolish, dangerous, and idiotic. “I’m asking now. Close your eyes, Sparkles.”
“What?” She gasped the moment she realized his intent and began to sputter that she really and truly didn’t need to be kissed, especially by him. “My fault entirely. I’ve put you in an awkward position. So there’s nothing for–”
He lowered his mouth over hers, intending to be gentle and knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening, for a cannon burst went off within his chest the moment he pressed his mouth against her soft lips and felt their velvet warmth, felt her shudder of pleasure.
Another cannon burst went off within him, this time dangerously lower.
Hell’s bells.
He purposely strained to hold back, for there were so many reasons to maintain his control. Public parlor. Virgin in his arms. Love not an option. Love with a Farthingale definitely not an option.
Her arms slid around his neck and he inhaled the subtle scent of lavender as her sweet body molded to his hard frame. She gave herself over to him with such open trust, she shook him to his core.
Love is not an option.
He repeated the thought over and over, but it did no good. He was still swallowed up in an avalanche of desire, a massive force that crashed and pounded against the thick stone walls surrounding his heart.
Hold back. Don’t let her in.
But his defenses were down and his body was in fiery torment. Avalanche and fire. This was the havoc wreaked upon his body by this sheltered virgin in his arms. He felt her move against him and knew she was on fire too, wanting more and not understanding what it was she wanted, but she gave with her whole heart.
She overwhelmed him with this one, simple kiss.
He lifted her and crushed her up against him, his mouth pressed so tightly against hers that nothing filtered in between them. She kissed him back with a splendid innocent ardor, and his heart began to fill, his emptiness began to melt away like snowflakes under a vibrant sun.
Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas Page 88