Captivated by His Kiss: A Limited Edition Boxed Set of Seven Regency Romances

by Cheryl Bolen

  The summer had been harsh and the scant grass crunched under her slippers. She quietly unlatched the rear garden gate and peered into the lane. Her heart raced, hoping no one lurked in the deep shadows. She quickly shut it behind her and then ran for the safety of Imogen’s rear garden. When she shut Imogen’s gate behind her, she pressed her hand to her belly to steady herself.

  Perhaps she was getting too old to be sneaking out of the house alone. Imogen did it all the time. Somehow Abigail never seemed to manage it without her nerves being overcome. But she was desperate tonight. She needed sensible advice.

  Striving to calm herself, she hurried to the George’s rear door and knocked. The housekeeper smiled kindly when she recognized Abigail and let her in. “Miss Imogen is in the front parlor as usual,” the woman said.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Perkins.”

  Abigail stepped through the dark house and stopped at the open parlor door, peering into the moonlit room. “Imogen?”

  “Abigail!” Imogen exclaimed. “Thank goodness you’ve come. I’ve been worried sick all evening.”

  “Why? What have I done now?”

  Imogen clucked her tongue. “Oh, you know exactly what the problem is. I saw Mr. Hawke arrive. He stopped at your house first. Was it terrible?”

  Now that her eyes had adjusted to the meager light, she saw Imogen seated near the window, peering out into the street. Abigail crossed the room. “How funny. We were both spying on our neighbors again.”

  “Well, I had nothing else to do with my evening. I finished my book a little while before Mr. Hawke strutted up the street.”

  Abigail sank into a chair opposite her friend. “Mr. Hawke does not strut and you know it. Why are you suddenly so against him? Last year you thought him nice enough and entrusted your inheritance into his keeping.”

  “Given recent events I’m reconsidering my decision. Friends should overlook debts if they want to keep people as friends. I’ve a mind to withdraw my funds and find another banker.”

  “Don’t be foolish. Mr. Hawke is an honest man.” Abigail sighed and drew out the letter she’d stolen. “It’s a lot of money, Imogen. More than Peter could hope to win in a year. Mr. Hawke has been very good, he’s given us a month before we are evicted, but what can I do? I don’t want to leave Cavendish Place.”

  Imogen patted her hand but didn’t take the offered letter. “You are pretty enough to have the option of marrying anyone you choose to avoid the unpleasantness of eviction. If no one else catches your fancy, my brother would take you on without a word of protest. He has funds enough to save even your brother.”

  Abigail laughed. Marrying pudgy Walter George was out of the question. It would be like marrying a brother. She felt nothing for him except a limp friendship. No, Walter George wasn’t the man for her.

  Imogen shrugged and glanced out the window as someone passed by on their way toward the sea shore. “I know he may not seem much to look at but he would be kind to you.”

  Abigail, feeling guilty for her laughter, covered her friend’s hand. “Walter is a nice man, a very good man, too, but I simply couldn’t put us both through that horror. I wouldn’t make him happy. I want to marry someone who loves me. Desperately, if possible.”

  “I know.” Imogen glanced at her lap and pleated her gown with her fingers. “I feel the same about loveless marriages as you. I just don’t want you to leave Cavendish Place. If you married Walter we could be sisters and never be parted.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened as a solution occurred to her. “Sisters! That’s it. Imogen, have I ever told you that you are a true genius?” She threw her arms about her friend in gratitude and hugged her. “I need to find my brother a wife. An heiress, in fact, and I know the perfect one.”

  A frown crossed Imogen’s face as Abigail released her. “The only heiress you know is Miss Melanie Merton. Would you really want to live under the same roof as that woman?”

  Imogen did have a point about Melanie. The reigning beauty of their circle possessed the largest dowry and could be very demanding of those around her. Peter had never shown any interest in Melanie, but he might if given enough encouragement. Wasn’t having him marry a harridan better than him losing everything?

  She smoothed her hands over her gown. “There is no one else unless another comes to Brighton.”

  Imogen’s expression grew skeptical. “The last man who called at Merton House to propose practically ran away afterward. Have you come to dislike your brother?”

  Abigail sat up straighter. “I love my brother. I’m doing this for his own good. Starting tomorrow I shall somehow engineer meetings between them. Who knows, maybe Peter will come around with her dowry to sweeten the deal.”

  “You’ve become very mercenary about this business, Abigail. Almost as bad as Miss Radley.” Imogen squeezed her hands. “I’m not sure I like your sudden turn of practicality. Where has your romantic heart disappeared to?”

  “I can be romantic after I save my brother from ruin,” Abigail said. “And this is nothing at all like Julia Radley’s wild schemes, thank you very much.”

  “I hear she’s set her cap on Hawke this year. I wonder if she’ll succeed.”

  Abigail was not unduly alarmed by the news. For the past three years, she had been regaled with wild plots of how one or the other of her friends thought to snare David Hawke for their own when they came of age. He had a presence that drew the eye, even if he never used it to his advantage. He was a wealthy man, too, which made his bachelor status so much more interesting to her friends. So far none of them had succeeded in catching him and Abigail couldn’t imagine Julia’s brash outgoing personality would suit him at all.

  “Well, whatever happens, I hope someone does choose Julia and soon. I love her dearly, but she’ll have no reputation left, or anyone to marry, the way she challenges the boys at every turn.” Abigail jumped to her feet as another tall shape sauntered past the window. “I think the game has ended. Mr. Radley is headed for home. I’d better return before Peter discovers I’ve slipped out of the house without a word to anyone.”

  She kissed her friend’s cheek and groped her way through the dark house for the rear entrance. Why Imogen liked the dark so much escaped her. Abigail could never manage without a candle. When she reached the rear steps, she drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Peter would marry an heiress and be saved. She just had to ensure he and Melanie Merton could be thrown together as much as possible.

  She hurried down the garden path and let herself out the rear gate. As she latched it, the sound of a boot scraping over hard earth to her right, between her and her own garden gate, reached her ears. She jumped as a large dark shape detached from the wall and moved toward her.

  Panicked, Abigail fumbled with Imogen’s gate, but she couldn’t open it again. When she turned to face the stranger as he came into view, her heart pounded in fear.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  David Hawke appeared out of the black shadows. Abigail’s heart restarted. She collapsed against the gate and sucked in the air she desperately needed. There was no danger. It was just David out for a midnight stroll.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Miss Watson.” David’s voice was a soft, dangerous growl.

  Abigail backed up a step in shock. “Really? Why?”

  He moved closer. “When you were a little girl I turned a blind eye when the fruit on our trees mysteriously disappeared overnight, only to appear again from your kitchen. My mother was very put out, but I held my tongue because I didn’t want to stir up trouble between our families. In this instance; however, I cannot be so forgiving.”

  She swallowed the lump that threatened to clog her throat. “I haven’t taken anything from your garden in years.”

  David glanced left and right as footsteps echoed in the night. He caught her arm to drag her into the shadows cast by her rear garden wall. “Do not play games with me, Miss Watson. I know you’ve taken a letter from my luggage and I demand it be returned forthwith.
”

  He tightened his hand and she gasped at the strength of his grip. “Please, Mr. Hawke—David.” She struggled against his hold. “Not yet. I have a plan to fix this but I need a little more time.”

  “Well, if thievery is part of your grand plan then my reluctance to become involved was in vain. What were you thinking?” He shook her a little. Startled, she set her hands on his chest as he drew her closer against him. It was a shock to be caught in David’s embrace. As she had observed before, he was so much bigger and warmer than she had imagined a man could be.

  The clean scent of his cologne filled her senses and she peeked up through her lashes. His eyes were dark as he glared down at her. This was not the David Hawke she knew. This was a stranger and he utterly overwhelmed her.

  His tight grip eased. “You should not have become involved in the matter, Miss Watson. There is nothing you can do. Your brother is a fool to take you into his confidence and to worry you unnecessarily.”

  Abigail gulped. “Peter tells me nothing. I worked it out for myself.”

  “You’re reading his correspondence? Women cannot help but meddle,” he grumbled. “Do you understand how bad the situation truly is? I have had to plead, cajole and insist my partner give Peter more time so you might never know how close to ruin you were. But it’s been all for nothing.”

  She nodded. It was very much in David’s nature to try to shield those less fortunate than himself from discomfort. She appreciated his attempt but discovering the truth was better than living in ignorance. “I’ve known for months and I could not stand to wait for the decision. I knew you had to make one soon.”

  David released her. “I’m sorry. Your time in London must have been tarnished by the situation. I wish you had found a husband to take you away from the mess. The matter cannot be forgotten, but Peter refuses to deal with the bank. He’s ignored my partner’s letters and I’ve come in person to settle the issue.”

  Abigail captured David’s large hand and squeezed it. “If there was an advantageous marriage in the making, Peter would have additional funds at his disposal soon and he could keep the property. The bank will get its money in the end.”

  He eased closer as he stared down at her. He gripped her hand in return. “Has he a sweetheart?”

  “Not exactly,” Abigail hedged. “But he will have soon enough. If he proposes marriage, can the bank wait until he has her dowry?”

  David nodded. “Only if there is a date set and the woman’s dowry is sufficient to clear all the debts. My partner at the bank should be satisfied with that.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. You truly are a good friend to us.” Abigail released David’s hand and then threw her arms around him. She hugged him tightly. He was wonderful to allow them the additional time to settle the debt. Impulsively, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him.

  Unfortunately, her first-ever kiss was brief because David reared back as if she’d struck him. He gaped at her, eyebrows raised in a shocked awareness of her scandalous behavior. “Why did you do that?”

  Abigail crashed back to earth as the enormity of her actions struck her. I’ve kissed a man. The extremely wealthy and unattached banker, who had, when she was very young, rescued her from the clutches of his backyard tree. Heat swept over her neck and face. She turned away. “I’m sorry.”

  After a painfully long silence, David cleared his throat. “Miss Watson,” he began. But then he cleared his throat again and started over. “Miss Watson, do not believe actions of that kind will sway me from carrying out my duties should your brother not marry after all. You will only hurt your pride and likely ruin your reputation in the process.”

  Abigail pressed her hands to her face as his words drove home how unaffected he was by her first kiss. Of all the foolish things to have done this might have been her finest folly. She may never be able to look at him without blushing again.

  After a time, he patted her shoulder. “I know these are troubling times. You’re confused and grateful for the reprieve I’ve given, but flirting with me will not help in the end. Watson must marry a woman of wealth, or you must both leave the property by month’s end.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “We will not speak of this matter again, or to Watson about the theft. May I have my letter returned to me?”

  Abigail drew the papers from her pocket and held the envelope out. Her hand shook as David took it from her and slipped it into his own pocket. “You’d best return indoors.” His tone had gentled to a soft rumble, exactly how he had been all her life. All trace of his anger and disappointment had vanished.

  She looked up at him. David was normally a civilized, reserved man, the sort you compared others to and found them wanting. Her stomach tumbled with uncertainty, her throat closed as she wished she’d done a better job of kissing him the first time. It had been her first after all, but she hadn’t planned it well enough. It wasn’t exactly the kind dreams were made of. She certainly hadn’t done it to sway him from his plans.

  He tilted his head to the side, silently observing her. Her stomach tumbled again and warmth filled her chest. David was so very handsome in his impeccable London fashions. Glossy black boots, tight fitting black trousers, and burgundy striped waistcoat, beneath a black coat. He had always drawn her eye and she felt surprisingly safe whilst alone in his company. Despite the circumstances, she was pleased he had followed after her tonight rather than confront her brother about her behavior. Now that he wasn’t angry could she claim a proper kiss—just for practice of course—without David speaking of it, too?

  Bravely, she caught the lapels of his elegant coat. The wool was smooth against her bare fingers and she pulled him down to her level, as she had once seen a woman do on the seashore with her beau, and pressed her lips against his firmly. For a moment, David froze and she feared he would draw away again. But then he skimmed her mouth with his in a delicate dance that took her breath away. He cradled her face gently with a hand as his lips molded hers to his purpose, sucking at her lips each time they parted. She sighed at how lovely he was being about indulging her. She hadn’t even had to ask.

  His tongue fluttered across her lips and she leaned into him.

  Unfortunately, David drew back at that moment and she almost fell at his feet. He regarded her warily, his breathing rough and loud in the night. “Did you not listen to me?”

  Her body hummed with delightful tremors, and Abigail nodded as she set her hand to the gate to support herself. “Gracious! Kissing can make the heart race, can’t it?” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips. “I listened. But thank heavens I ignored what you said.”

  He folded his arms over his chest, his expression stern. “I do not like the game you are playing, Miss Watson. You will only be disappointed. This business will not go away because of a few rash kisses bestowed.”

  Abigail lowered her fingers. She might have enjoyed kissing David, but he didn’t appear at all pleased. She sighed, disappointed not to have made a better impression. “Mr. Hawke, I had no sinister motives in kissing you. It was my first, but since you appear to dislike kissing me, I’ll not continue. I shall say goodnight to you. My curiosity has been satisfied about kissing—at least for now.”

  She shut the gate behind her and cast a quick glance in his direction. In the moonlight, he looked infinitely more dangerous than the crusty bachelor he claimed to be. To Abigail’s way of thinking, the gate wouldn’t prove much of a barrier should he wish to launch himself over it. Her heart fluttered at the idea.

  “First?” He stepped up to the gate and clenched the top. “Miss Watson, I fear my own curiosity has not fared so well in the exchange. Do not tempt me further.”

  She set her hand to her hip boldly. “Or what?”

  He smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving Abigail with the rush of exhilaration coursing through her veins and a burning curiosity to know what it would take to tempt him i
nto another kiss.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The cool brine of the channel supported David as he floated with the calm waves in the early morning light. This was what he’d missed most while living in London. There, he never had more than a copper tub of water to submerge in and it lacked the slight itch of salt on his skin. He scrubbed his hands over his arms, enjoying the way his skin tingled.

  Around him, his friends employed their own style of sea bathing, but Walter George was certainly a distraction. Despite Valentine’s assurance last night that Walter’s swimming had improved, their youngest companion had sputtered a great deal at the edge of their swimming party. David had been at the point of suggesting he go ashore when everyone else stilled to float along with the current.

  The first to leave the water was Valentine. He never stayed in long, preferring to rush his dip and then hurry back out again. Given the hours Val kept with his study of the constellations, he’d be keen to return to bed so he would be fresher for the evening’s celestial studies.

  Walter George followed him, grasping for a length of towel as soon as his feet hit the sand. He covered his less-than-muscular physique quickly. Modesty among men tended to slip at the seaside. David liked to dry off naked in the sun and gain a bit of color. Today his skin seemed pasty white in comparison to the others who had been swimming here every day for the past month. It had been a long time since he had been so active or outside for so long and he was feeling slightly unsteady.

  He flipped over and made his way ashore, stumbling a little as his feet readjusted to walking on the sea floor. He had grown soft in London. Brighton would toughen him up. It always did. He sat next to his clothes, a few feet from where Valentine lazed, sunning himself, and wiped his face dry. “Beautiful morning.”

  “Beautiful evening, too.” Val dragged his gaze from the sunlit heavens. “I saw a surprising new constellation last night. One I never imagined to see.”