“My lady,” Lamont said, “I have every confidence you will succeed in that endeavor.”
Laura blushed. Lowering her lashes, she shyly thanked him for the compliment.
“What I especially liked was the plot,” Chadwick continued, this time looking at Laura.
“The idea of two longtime friends discovering they are in love with each other?” Laura asked. She glanced at Fiona, who immediately felt her cheeks flame with awareness.
“It was an interesting premise,” Chadwick said, “though I wonder why it took them so long to recognize their feelings.”
“Perhaps because there wouldn’t have been a book if they’d figured it all out in the first chapter,” Fiona pointed out, in an effort to dismiss the subject entirely. It was far too close to her own predicament for comfort, and the longer they lingered on it, the more likely it was that Chadwick might see straight through her.
His smile faltered. He knit his brow and quietly said, “You make an excellent point, Fiona.” The carriage drew to a halt, and he glanced out the window. “Looks like we’re here.”
They alit in quick succession, reuniting with the rest of their party on the pavement. “Shall we visit the haberdashery first?” Emily asked. “I should like to buy some ribbon if I may.”
“I’ll escort you,” Montsmouth said, quickly stepping up beside her and offering his arm.
Fiona watched her sister smile at the earl with stars in her eyes. He looked equally besotted, and Fiona couldn’t quite stop the ache that started to form in her chest. Especially when he lowered his head to whisper something in Emily’s ear. Emily laughed, and they started across the street with Laura and Lamont, Rachel and Belgrave following behind.
“Do you wish to join them?” Chadwick asked.
With little interest in any of the items the shop had to offer, Fiona shook her head. “I would rather stop by the cobbler, if there is one, so I can look for a new pair of walking boots. Furlined ones, if possible.”
“I’ll go with you.” He called across to the others so they knew where he and Fiona were headed.
“I’d hate to keep you from your own interests,” she said. Going alone in a village she wasn’t familiar with was probably not the best of ideas, yet she felt a distinct need to add some distance between them.
“My only interest right now is in keeping you company, Fiona.”
“Oh.” They started along at a moderate pace. An unusual silence fell between them, and for the first time in her life, Fiona had no idea of what to say.
“The weather is pleasant,” Chadwick finally murmured.
“Yes,” she agreed.
Reaching the cobbler, Chadwick opened the door so she could enter. He followed her inside the moderately sized space, keeping close while she spoke to the clerk – a middle aged man who introduced himself as Mr. Smith.
“I believe I have precisely what you’re looking for,” Mr. Smith said. He asked them to wait a moment before disappearing into another room. Returning, he placed a lovely pair of light brown boots lined with rabbit fur on the counter. “These should keep your feet nice and warm.”
“May I try them on?”
“Of course. Allow me to—”
“I’ll help her ladyship if she requires assistance,” Chadwick cut in.
“Of course,” Mr. Smith agreed, politely handing the boots over to him. “I’ll be in the back, so ring the bell if you need me.”
Blinking, Fiona tried to comprehend what had just transpired. She gave her attention to Chadwick, who’d obviously taken complete control of her shoe shopping. “May I?” she asked, attempting to reach for the boots he was holding.
He drew them away from her, walked toward a chair, and crouched down beside it. “Come have a seat, will you?”
She stared at him. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Ensuring these boots fit you properly.” Looking up at her, he produced a boyish grin that instantly turned her insides to mush.
She couldn’t let him help her, she realized. It wouldn’t be proper or even survivable, given the sparks that were presently jumping about in her belly at the idea of him doing so. “You will not be touching my feet, Chadwick. I am perfectly capable of trying those boots on my own.”
“Stop protesting, will you?” He waved her closer, and she blew out a breath of pure exasperation. Reluctantly, she crossed the floor and took a seat. “There. That wasn’t so difficult. Was it?”
“No,” she lied. She dropped a look at his upturned face and saw nothing but amicable friendship in the depths of his eyes. Pushing aside her jittery emotions with pure force of will, she held out her hand. “Now hand me the boots.”
He laughed up at her with the same sort of playfulness that had always made her appreciate his company. “Do you plan on putting them on over your other pair?”
Before she could answer, he’d snatched up her right foot and placed it upon his bended knee. She instinctively squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you get these things off.” He went to work on the laces.
His head was bowed to the task, so she could no longer see his expression, for which she was glad since it meant he could not see hers either. Heavens, she probably looked like a dumbfounded fool in danger of combusting at the prospect of what was to follow.
Her pulse leapt when the boot eased around her ankle, and then it was carefully pulled away and…oh dear God! She felt her heel resting against the palm of his hand, his thumb and ring-finger cradling her ankle, and her heart almost seized in response to the wave of desire that followed. Her breaths were shallow. All she could do was stare down at the top of his head, quite unable to utter a word while he crouched there, his hand shifting ever so slightly against her silk stocking. It was enough to send darts of pleasure shooting straight up her legs.
Drawing a sharp breath, she willed him to move. Except he didn’t. Why wasn’t he moving?
She shook her foot. “Chadwick.” She finally managed to get one word out of her dry mouth.
With a start, he reached for one of the new boots, slid it carefully into place, and did up the laces. “How does it fit?” Looking up, he met her gaze.
His brown eyes conveyed an element of warmth that told her he truly cared for her answer. Still, there was nothing to suggest he’d been any bit as affected by touching her foot as she had been. In fact, he didn’t look bothered at all, which naturally bothered her all the more.
“Perfectly,” she told him succinctly. She wiggled her toes back and forth inside the boot.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you sound annoyed.”
She expelled a breath and did her best to calm herself. It wasn’t his fault she was turning into an imbecile in his presence. Only that it was his fault. Of course it was. Entirely. Curse him for looking so devilishly handsome and curse her for noticing.
“Forgive me,” she said as she tugged her foot out of his hold and set it on the floor, “but I don’t think you ought to help me with this any further.”
“I’ve upset you.”
He stood and turned his attention on a display shelf, though not fast enough for her to miss the distinct look of pain in his eyes. For reasons she couldn’t understand, she’d hurt him. Which made no sense. Chadwick was not easily hurt by anyone. He always brushed words off with a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders. All she’d done was prevent him from doing something that would have been considered monumentally inappropriate if any other man, besides a relation, had offered to do it.
So perhaps that was it then? Perhaps he was able to feel her withdrawal from him, even though she’d tried her best to hide it. And since the last thing she wanted was to slight him in any way, she carefully told him, “No. I appreciate everything you do for me, Chadwick.” He turned to face her with the sort of hopefulness that lifted her spirits. “Everything you’ve always done for me. You know this, surely.”
“I do, and y
et I cannot help but feel as though things have changed between us.” He took a step forward, his intense brown eyes boring into the center of her soul. “Would you tell me if they have, Fiona?”
Swallowing, she did her best to remain as still as possible while her heart bounced about in her throat. “Nothing has changed, Chadwick.” She managed to speak the words with an element of certainty that impressed even her. “I consider you a brother, and I always will. You must never doubt that.”
His jaw flexed, and for a second she was certain she’d offended him yet again. But then he seemed to relax, and his fingers shot out to nudge her beneath her chin. A smile followed as he said, “I’m so glad to hear it, Fiona.” Bending down, he quickly helped her replace the left boot she wore with the new one. “Now then, stand up and take a turn of the room, will you? We need to make sure they’re a good fit before purchasing them.”
She did what he suggested, all the while feeling as though she’d sacrificed part of herself and perhaps even part of him. The lie had been necessary though, because to confess the truth would have ruined everything she’d ever held dear. “They’re good,” she told him after a few paces back and forth.
He rang the bell for the clerk to return, and five minutes later they were back outside on the pavement, with a package containing her old boots tucked under Chadwick’s arm and her growing love for him buried inside her miserable heart.
Chapter 14
“Do you want to continue searching for the jewelry box?” Edward asked Fiona when they returned to Thorncliff later.
He watched her hesitate for a moment – long enough to convey her reluctance and make his heart bleed – but then she smiled as if all was as it should be between them. “I would like that a great deal.”
While common sense told him to leave her alone, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from craving any small amount of time he might have left in her company. After all, Christmas would soon be over, and then they would part ways again – this time for much longer than ever before since he meant to add more distance between them. It was the only way for him to survive the truth she’d delivered with such painful accuracy, he’d felt his heart torn in two.
I consider you a brother, and I always will.
All hope had crumpled in an instant. And yet, while they were both still here, he would bask in her presence, absorbing each moment so it might be preserved to memory. This would be all he’d have left of her later, because staying near her and watching her marry another…that was not the sort of torture he planned to endure.
“Has Emily told you Montsmouth came here looking for the same thing as you?” he asked, once she’d handed over her packages to a footman and told her sisters she’d see them later.
They crossed the foyer and headed down a hallway, arriving in the Turkish salon shortly after. “Not the exact same thing,” Fiona said. She started running her hands across the wall in search of any inconsistencies. “He looks for paintings and books. I look for a family heirloom.”
Edward studied a painting that hung on the wall. It portrayed a scene from a harem with women lounging on mounds of cushions, veils shrouding their faces. “True. I was thinking it might be an idea for us all to work together – get your sisters and the other gentlemen involved. We’d cover more ground and… Hmm…Look at this.”
“What is it?”
She came to stand beside him, and her shoulder grazed his arm as she looked at where he was pointing. A sharp pang of need shot straight through his limbs. Stilling, he did his best to suppress the urge to pull her into his arms and do what he’d wanted to do for so long – to kiss her senseless. In the shop earlier, holding her delicate foot in his hand, he’d been rendered both speechless and insensible, the urge to slide his hand higher and offer a more intimate caress so potent, all he’d been able to do was stay perfectly still lest he act on that urge.
Thankfully, he’d managed to restrain himself, and he would continue to do so now while she leaned in slightly, her citrusy scent assailing his senses and luring him closer until—
“Is that a peep hole?” she asked.
“Ahem…” He straightened himself and gave a stiff nod. “Yes. I believe so.” It was tiny and extremely well hidden next to the frame. He never would have spotted it if he hadn’t been searching.
“So then one of the secret passageways ought to be right behind here.” Her voice held an edge of excitement that managed to ease Edward’s tension. “Richard says he used them frequently when he was here. So did Chloe and her husband.” She turned with bright enthusiasm. “Do you think we might explore it?”
“I don’t see why not as long as we’re able to find a way into it.” He pressed his palm firmly against the wall. When it failed to give way, he slid his gaze toward the corner of the room where a beautifully carved cabinet stood. He walked toward it.
“You don’t suppose there’s a door behind there?” Fiona followed directly behind him, her excitement rolling off her in waves.
“It’s as good a guess as any. Unless the entrance to the passageway is from somewhere else, but considering the peephole, I believe there must be some means of access from this room.” He stood in front of the cabinet, studying it for a moment before applying a bit of pressure to the front of it. It remained where it was.
“Perhaps if you pull?”
He tried that next but it still didn’t budge, so he opened the top door and searched the interior, reaching behind some candles that stood like soldiers in their holders and running his fingers across the wood in the back. When he touched a knob jutting out from the side, he stopped and took a deep breath.
“What is it?” Fiona asked. She moved nearer, trying to see.
It was more than he could bear. “Perhaps if you step back a bit, I’ll be better able to figure that out,” he said. His voice was as strained as he was, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. As it was, he was balancing on a thin line that threatened to break at any second.
“Very well.”
She sounded disgruntled, which almost made him laugh. If either of them had cause for such emotion, it was surely he. But he was intent on maintaining his composure, so he focused on moving the knob, fumbling slightly until the slippery piece of metal gave way, and he heard a distinct click. The cabinet moved – not much, but enough for him to know he’d met with success.
Pulling his arm back, he grabbed one of the candles, along with an available tinderbox. Then he closed the door to the cabinet and pulled the entire piece of furniture back from the wall to reveal a dark entrance.
“Oh my goodness,” Fiona murmured, brushing right past him to peer inside. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “It smells a bit musty.”
“I’m sure it does.” Stepping up behind her, he gave the space some consideration. “It’s probably full of spiders too, and we both know how much you hate those.”
“Yes. I really do, but I’m determined to see this through, Chadwick.” Her voice was firm and unyielding.
“Very well then.” He opened the tinderbox, struck a piece of flint, and lit the candle. “Follow me, Fiona.”
She did so without argument, closing the hidden doorway behind them until the candle remained their only source of light. The space was narrower than he’d expected, his shoulders almost brushing against either side of it as they made their way forward. Fiona’s warmth radiated against his back in her effort to stay as close as possible without actually climbing onto him. A grim smile captured his lips. If he’d only refrained from mentioning the spiders, she might have kept her distance, and he might have managed to keep his sanity.
The thought had barely formed before he felt a bit of thin and sticky film clinging snugly to his forehead. He wiped it away with his free hand right before Fiona let out a squeal and grabbed hold of his arm. “Get it off, get it off, get it off!” She clutched at him, and he almost dropped the candle as he turned toward her, illuminating her terrified face and the spindly spider that crawled
across her forehead, desperately thwarting her flapping hand.
“Hold still,” he said, applying his most commanding tone in an effort to make her comply.
She immediately stopped moving, her eyes squeezed tightly together while her rapid breaths conveyed her anxiety and she waited for him to save her. Reaching out, he snatched the arachnid between his fingers and tossed it aside. “There. It’s gone.” He prepared to turn back around and continue walking when she suddenly launched herself forward, straight into his arms.
Holy hell!
“Thank you,” she murmured against his shoulder, her face pressed firmly into his brushed wool jacket. Her hands gripped at his shoulders as though he offered some safe escape from her frightening surroundings.
“Perhaps we ought to go back. The Turkish salon isn’t far.”
“No.” She shook her head against him, and he could feel heat penetrating every layer of clothing he wore when she expelled each breath.
Rigidly, he lowered his free arm, allowing the limb to fall loosely around her waist. “It was only a spider, Fiona. Nothing more.”
“I know, Edward. I…I just hate them so much.”
He couldn’t form a response. Not when she’d used his given name for the second time in her life. And the way she’d said it – as if he and he alone offered every bit of security she’d require— made his chest tighten until a ragged breath was squeezed from his lungs.
Unable to stop himself, he allowed his palm to rest against the small of her back, to revel in the feel of her luscious body pressed up against his. Oh, he would likely rot in hell for taking advantage of her innocent need for reassurance like this. But to not do so would lead to regret later. So he held her close until he felt her relax.
“Fiona?”
“Hmm?”
The way she murmured and pressed slightly closer made him wonder if… Perhaps… He shook his head. No. There was no point in dreaming when she’d given him no reason to hope. Quite the contrary. So he lowered his arm and asked her seriously, “Shall we continue?”
Christmas At Thorncliff Manor Page 11