“No?” he asked, as he lifted his hand toward her cheek and then tucked one of her curls behind her ear, making her belly flutter all the while. “How would you describe me?”
Magnetic. Engaging. Devastatingly handsome. But none of those would do. So she tipped her head back and said, “Scandalous,” instead.
The edges of his lips turned up to a smile. “You promised you’d still speak to me. Have you changed your mind?”
Speaking with him was more than dangerous. But instead of saying as much, Ivy asked, “Why are you going into trade?” Because knowing the answer to that was of the upmost importance.
“To make a fortune,” he returned evenly, and his light blue gaze seemed to search her countenance just as he had back in the Gypsy camp.
Fortunes were lovely when they were inherited. Of course he would never do as such, not being the third son. “To make a fortune doing what?”
“Running a copper mine in Wales.”
Goodness. Mining! Never in a million years would she have come up with mining!
Lord Michael’s usual smile faded away and he seemed rather serious about the entire thing. “The Admiralty is sheathing all of our ships in copper. Keeping our sailors safe, or safer, really.” Then he shrugged. “My brother captains one of those naval ships. And I’d like to make certain he and all the others like him remain as safe as can be during these perilous times.”
Indeed, it seemed the war would never end, and keeping those safe who were keeping England safe did seem noble. “So you’re patriotic?”
“To some extent,” he replied with a nod. “But to say that was my sole goal would be a complete fabrication, Lady Ivy, and make me seem more altruistic than I am. The truth of the matter is that there is nothing to be done about birth order. I will not inherit my father’s title nor his lands, not shy of murdering my older brothers in any event. And while killing Anthony might be tempting from time to time, I do like Harry quite a bit. So since fratricide is not an option, if I want a fortune of my own, I’m going to have to make it myself. There is no other way.”
He actually made it sound the tiniest bit admirable. But mining? “It sounds like a rather dirty profession, does it not?”
“Well, I won’t be one of the fellows doing the mining, my dear.” And then he laughed. “I have every intention of looking just as dashing in the future as I do right this moment.”
“Good,” she breathed out, before she thought the better of it.
His golden brow lifted at that, and he said, “I do hope that means you find me dashing now?”
“I find you the slightest bit arrogant, if we’re being honest.”
And then his eyes twinkled a bit devilishly and his rakish smile heated her anew. How in the world did he do that? “As long as you find me somewhat dashing too, I can live with arrogance.”
“Well, when one is arrogant, I suppose one must live with it.”
And then he was even closer to her, and she hadn’t even realized when he’d done that. “Am I arrogant enough to think I can get away with kissing you?” His gaze dropped to her lips.
“You wouldn’t dare.” She swallowed a bit nervously, part of her hoping that he might dare.
“I am arrogant enough to think you’d enjoy it.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek, which sent frissons of something racing through Ivy. Goodness, there was something so magical about his touch. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
And then he dipped his head down and pressed his lips against hers.
Ivy’s eyes fluttered closed as she’d never experienced anything more heavenly in her life. Oh! The warmness of his lips moving against hers, causing the most delightful pressure as awareness of him washed over every single part of her. Ivy breathed him in as she clutched his arms to keep from falling into a puddle at his feet, because that would never do.
After a moment, Lord Michael broke their kiss. Ivy sighed as her eyes slowly opened once more. She could have kissed him for quite a bit longer, so why in the world had he stopped kissing her? The slow smile that spread across his lips made heat pool low in her belly, and she wasn’t sure what to think about anything.
“I want to court you, Ivy Dallimore.”
She wasn’t sure if she wanted that. Of course, the courting usually came before the kissing, but…
He tipped her chin upward with his fingers so she had to meet his gaze. “And I want you to promise me something.”
“Another promise?” She frowned slightly.
He nodded just barely. “For the first time in your life, listen to your heart.”
She was not about to promise anything of the like. What a completely ridiculous thing to suggest. “I’ve seen the ruin that lies down that path, Lord Michael.”
He shook his head, those blue eyes of his boring into her. “And don’t Lord Michael me. Just Michael from now on, Ivy.”
Goodness! She gulped at his familiarity. But then he had just been kissing her and she had more than enjoyed it. “I’m not certain if I should even speak to you at all, let alone call you Michael.”
He chuckled slightly. “You’ll talk to me, and you’ll even kiss me again.” And though she would love for him to kiss her again right then, he took a step away from her instead. “But I’ve a long journey through a darkened path back to the Gypsy camp at the moment.”
“Oh,” she breathed out, because losing him suddenly was more than disappointing.
“Save me a dance tomorrow night?”
“I’m sure that would only encourage you, and I don’t think I should do that.”
He laughed again. “I’m encouraged enough as it is. Save me a dance, Ivy?”
She felt the tiniest of smiles tugging on her lips, and she foolishly agreed with a nod. Heaven help her if she was already listening to her heart. She might as well be done for.
He captured her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss across her knuckles. “Until tomorrow, then, my dear.”
And then he was gone and Ivy was alone in the corridor. She touched a hand to her lips, remembering how his kiss had felt. She couldn’t help it, she sighed. But then she shook the thought away and resigned herself to think with a clear head. Kissing Michael Beck was a foolish thing to do, and now he wanted to court her, which was even more foolish. There was no reason to let a fellow she would not marry court her. And she couldn’t consider marrying Michael Beck, not really. Even Ophelia had done better than a third son who was going into trade.
Ivy turned back on her heel, prepared to retire to her chambers when…
Well, she wasn’t really alone, was she?
That ghost was still there, watching her! Had he witnessed the whole thing between her and Michael? Ivy heaved an irritated sigh and narrowed her eyes on the nautical spirit. “Honestly! Don’t you have anything else better to do?”
Of course, being dead, he probably didn’t. But that was beside the point. Skulking around corners, spying on Ivy. He was a blasted nuisance.
“Be gone!” She brushed her hand in the air toward him. “Go aw—” But a sudden sound behind her, quickened Ivy’s heart. Had Michael come back? Had he come to kiss her again? Had he—
She spun around, but her hopes were instantly dashed.
After all, Lord Hayfield was hardly the things dreams were made of, and a very far cry from Michael Beck.
Unfortunately, that particular fortune hunter was headed straight in her direction.
“My dear Lady Ivy,” Hayfield gushed. “I had hoped we’d get the chance to speak. How fortuitous to stumble upon you this evening.”
Alone. That was the word he hadn’t said. But it hovered over Ivy’s head just the same. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be caught alone with Lord Hayfield. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling at all well, my lord. You should keep your distance.”
But her words didn’t slow his gait in the least. In fact, it was almost as though they had the opposite affect. It seemed that he increased his pace, almost as t
hough he was afraid he might lose such an opportunity if he slowed even a little, and that struck more than a bit of terror in Ivy’s heart. How in the world had she gotten herself into this situation?
“You should let me escort you to your chambers if you’re not feeling well,” he said, sounding rather jovial and not concerned about her wellbeing in the least.
And then he lunged for her.
Ivy gasped in surprise as the earl pulled her into his arms. “Unhand me!”
But his grasp only tightened, nearly bruising her as his hold was so strong. “My darling, you are distraught,” he crooned as he leaned down as though he meant to kiss her, the alcohol on his breath turning her stomach as fear gripped her heart.
She had to get away!
“My lord!” Ivy struggled, trying her hardest to push the earl away before he could press his lips to hers. But he was much larger than her, much stronger, even as foxed as it seemed he was, but then…
An unholy roar sounded from behind Ivy. It was the single most frightening sound she’d ever heard, almost as though the gates of Hell had opened just a few feet away. She shivered.
Hayfield released her at once and he stumbled backward, an expression of true terror across his face. “Oh dear God!” he screamed. “Stay back. Stay away from me.” He slipped slightly as he turned on his heel and then bolted down the corridor without even a glance back over his shoulder to see how Ivy fared.
Rooted to the ground, Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest and her breathing came out in short puffs as she tentatively glanced over her shoulder to find…
The ghostly pirate was still hovering slightly off the ground, but instead of his usual glare, she was quite certain he sported a smug look of satisfaction.
She brought a trembling hand to her lips, trying to make sense of everything that had just transpired. She managed to shake her head in surprise as she asked, “Did you do that?”
But the nautical apparition vanished right before her eyes.
Michael had been a bit surprised to see a dusting of snow littering the ground when he’d left Keyvnor. When had that even happened? It had been clear earlier in the day, cold but clear. God help him if more snow was in his future. He might very likely freeze to death, sleeping in a dilapidated vardo if that was the case. Of course, the memory of kissing Ivy could certainly keep him warm all night, he supposed. What he wouldn’t give to still be at Keyvnor with Ivy in his arms. He smiled at the thought her, fitting so perfectly against him, the sweetness of her lips, the softness of her breasts, the lilac scent of her that had swirled around him. If he could just hold her forever, he’d want for nothing else.
Thunder rolled overhead as Michael made his way down the forest path. Damn it. He glanced upward at the sound, but he couldn’t see the sky from under the cover of the treetops. The last thing he needed was rain. Even snow would have been better.
Michael quickened his pace toward the Gypsy camp, hoping to make it to his borrowed vardo before the rain started. He spotted the clearing up ahead, just as a bolt of lighting arced across the sky, quickly followed by another crack of thunder.
He raced to his vardo as the first drop of rain plopped onto his nose. Michael rushed inside, closed the door behind him, and sagged against it in relief. That was close.
Little piles of snow on the wagon floor caught Michael’s attention. How had it snowed inside the vardo? Then the sky lit up once more and then a deluge of rainwater came crashing into the vardo through a number of holes in the top of the broken wagon.
Damn it all!
It looked like the bed was properly covered, which was a blessing, all things considered. He spotted his trunk on the floor and hefted it up in his arms. After all, the last thing he needed was for his clothes to be soaked in rainwater all night.
Michael rushed across the wagon as quickly as he was able with his heavy trunk in his arms, and then collapsed onto the bed which was dry. Thank God.
Another bolt of lightning and another crack of thunder. Michael huddled onto the bed with his trunk, his breaths coming out in quick pants. Honest to God, if Ivy wasn’t at Keyvnor he would abandon this corner of Cornwall and never look back. But she was at Keyvnor and she’d let him kiss her, and—Michael glanced around at his shabby surroundings—he’d endure nearly anything to be this close to her.
Chapter 9
Goodness! Michael did not look well. Ivy frowned slightly at him as he entered the Great Hall. Greenery and ribbons of red and white adorned the edges of the hall, which was filled quite to the brim with wedding guests. She had just been thinking how festive and lovely the place was until he arrived, looking more than a little tired. Had he not slept well in that borrowed Gypsy wagon? She couldn’t imagine how sleeping in such a thing would ever be comfortable for anyone.
When he saw her, his eyes brightened a bit, and that slow smile of his spread across his face, warming Ivy from the inside out. He touched a hand to his hat in a silent greeting before finding a spot beside his family across the makeshift aisle from Ivy, Ethan, and their family.
Ivy shifted a bit uncomfortably in her spot, wishing – for some reason – that Michael was beside her instead of across the great hall at Keyvnor. Good heavens, what was wrong with her?
Ethan must have thought the same thing because he glanced down at Ivy with his usual frown perfectly in place. “Are you all right?”
She pasted on a smile and said, “Of course, I adore weddings, don’t you?”
Though, Ivy suspected she hadn’t fooled her brother in the least as his frown deepened just a bit. “You don’t seem like yourself.”
Well, she didn’t quite feel like herself. But she shrugged slightly and said, “While you, of course, seem exactly as you always do.”
Ethan blew out a breath and turned his attention to the reverend at the front of the assembled crowd as the man was just about to start his wedding sermon; and Ivy glanced across the way to find Michael Beck’s gaze directly on her. A delicious set of tingles washed over her, but she refused to respond in any sort of way as her brother would be certain to notice such a thing if she did.
So Ivy folded her arms across her chest and tried her hardest to focus on the clergyman and the two couples before him. Though she would have been hard pressed to report what either bride was wearing or what the reverend had said as her attention kept drifting back to Michael. Her cheeks were warm, there was a tightness in her chest as though her day gown had suddenly become too small, and all she could think about was the earth-shattering kiss Michael had given her the night before. Goodness, there was something wrong with her. Perhaps they should send for the village doctor after all.
Eventually, the reverend finished his words, both couples repeated their vows and were then pronounced husbands and wives. As the crowd began milling about to wish the couples well, Michael made a direct path for Ivy. For the first time in her life, she felt a bit tongue-tied.
“My lady,” he began as he lifted her fingers to his lips just as he had the night before.
“My lord,” she returned softly, meeting his light blue gaze directly and contemplating how easy it would be to fall completely under his spell, future tradesman or not. Good heavens, she was losing her mind to even entertain such a thought.
And then Michael reached his hand out to Ethan and said, “Westbury, I would appreciate an audience if you have a moment.”
An audience with Ethan? Michael didn’t truly mean to ask permission to court her, did he? He’d mentioned that last night, but Ivy hadn’t agreed to that and…
Ethan’s brow furrowed just a bit as his gaze darted from Michael to Ivy and back. “Indeed?”
“Lord Michael,” she breathed out, “I hardly think—”
“My lady,” he said, “I did not request an audience with you.”
And at hearing those words, the tiniest of smiles tipped Ethan’s lips. The traitor. “As luck would have it, Beck, I do have a few moments to spare right now.”
“Ethan!” Ivy re
ached for her brother’s arm, but he moved before she could make contact.
Her brother narrowed his icy blue eyes on her and said rather coolly, “If you would like an audience with me, Ivy, you’ll have to wait your turn.”
An audience with her own brother! Of all the—
“After you, Beck.” Ethan gestured to the opposite side of the Great Hall.
And Ivy watched in horror as the two of them made their way to a far away corner.
Westbury wasn’t a short man, but he was shorter than Michael; and there was something reassuring in that and it gave Michael a bit of confidence.
“I would like permission to court your sister,” he said, standing his tallest, before he lost his nerve. After all, if Westbury rejected his request, Michael wasn’t certain what he would do.
However, the duke did not seem surprised in the least. He did heave a sigh, though, before he replied, “I could grant you my permission, but she’ll never accept an offer from you. You must know that.”
Michael’s heart twisted just a bit as the truth of Westbury’s words echoed in his ears. “She might have me,” he said, softer than he’d spoken a moment before as uncertainty started to swirl within him. She had tried to stop him from speaking with her brother—
“And the sun might burn purple in the sky tomorrow instead of its usual yellow, but the odds are that it won’t.” He shook his head slightly. “You are simply not the sort of fellow she has her heart set on. I’d hate to see you think otherwise.”
But she had let Michael kiss her, and he was arrogant enough to believe she enjoyed it. He nodded once. “As long as I have your permission, Westbury, I will do my best to acquire hers.”
The duke snorted. “You have more fortitude than I would have suspected.”
Michael wasn’t certain how to take that. Had Westbury thought he had no fortitude at all until now? It wasn’t exactly a compliment. Even still, taking offense would hardly help his position with the duke. And neither would it help him if the man thought Michael hadn’t been honest with him. “In the interest of full disclosure, I feel I should tell you that I am going into trade. I do hope that won’t change your mind on the matter.”
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