Once Upon a Kiss (Book Club Belles Society)

by Jayne Fresina

  He croaked out her name, hips raised off the bed, his entire body coated in sweat.

  ***

  She was surprised to find she liked the taste of him. Although, really, why it should startle her she couldn’t say. She’d enjoyed his kisses and the taste of his tongue, so why should his body be any less pleasing?

  As he lay sprawled naked across the sheet, apparently speechless, she climbed off the bed, adjusted her garments, replaced her stocking, and then said good night. She kissed his brow and tucked him in, like a good nurse.

  Like the very best of nurses, she thought proudly and rather wickedly.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow. Get plenty of rest.”

  “Justina.”

  “Yes?” She paused.

  He just looked at her, his eyes dazed. Finally he said, “Come tomorrow. Early.”

  “I’ll be here sometime after breakfast and my daily chores.”

  “When?” he demanded.

  “I just told you. Don’t you listen?”

  “It had better be before noon.”

  She ought to remove all the blasted clocks from his room, she mused. “I’ll try.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “I’ll try,” she repeated. Lord, he was a sulker.

  It was more proof of why a man only got in the way. He wanted her when and where it suited him, and she had other things to do with her day.

  But the anticipation of her next visit to Darius Wainwright’s bedchamber was enough to make her perspire on that chilly October day. She might have other things to do, but she’d rush through them as fast as she could to be back there with him. No need to let him know that, though, was there?

  ***

  That evening, lying in bed beside her innocent, sleeping sister, she read more of Phineas Hawke’s letters to his mystery lady. She was in that sort of mood, she supposed. Writing in her diary was out of the question, for what could she say about her time spent at Midwitch that day? So instead, she sat quietly and enjoyed her other secret treasure.

  I have watched the way you lick your lips and it reminds me of the taste, intoxicating, sublime. When will I have that pleasure again?

  At night I cannot sleep. My head is filled with thoughts of you and schemes to place you at my side, where you do not desire to be, it seems.

  Like a bird you fly about, sometimes venturing close to see if I have crumbs for you. At other times you keep a nervous distance, fearing I might try to trap you.

  If I did, my love, it would never be to keep you in a cage. You would fly freely if you were mine. As long as I knew you sang for me alone.

  She had worked her way from the aged sheets to the newer letters, and these seemed far sadder than the earlier ones.

  Once you asked me what I did for pleasure.

  Well, this is it, I give you treasure.

  Beside her in the bed, Cathy turned over, murmuring softly in her dreams. Justina stared at the words on the paper and after a moment she began to read all the letters again from the beginning, this time with newly opened eyes.

  ***

  He woke from a nap later when Miles came in.

  “The ladies have retired to bed, so you have my company, old chap.”

  “How lucky for me.”

  Miles pulled up a chair to sit at his bedside. “Mary is most unhappy about your nurse. I think I have heard the phrase I shall only say at least twenty times this evening.”

  “I’m sorry you are left to listen to it.”

  His friend laughed. “Don’t fret about me. I am adept at turning a deaf ear, as you know, and I am delighted to see you falling in love again. I had begun to think it would never happen.”

  Darius looked at his friend’s open and merry face. There was no point trying to deny what had happened to him. Miles had seen his fascination with Justina almost immediately. Of course, these things were easy for his charming friend. He was not afraid to let himself love unguardedly.

  Suddenly Miles, who had been fidgeting in the chair, said, “I wanted to ask you what you thought of Miss Catherine Penny.”

  He replied carefully, “She appears to be a very pleasant young lady. Very demure.” He added wryly, “Quite a departure for you.”

  “Yes.” Miles got up and began to pace around the bed. “I think so too.”

  This was nothing new for Miles Forester. He always enjoyed the company of a pretty face. But Darius perceived his friend to be considerably more restless than usual.

  “I think I might be in love with her.” Miles stood at the foot of the bed and had a very determined look on his face for once. “I might ask her…to marry me.”

  Darius stared. “I see.”

  “I suppose you will tell me I’m being impulsive and a fool, and a lot of other things, no doubt. That I have not known her long enough. That I cannot possibly be in love so quickly. That she is not the sort of girl I should marry. That her father is only a country doctor and she has very little dowry. Go on, you may as well say all those things.”

  There was a pause. “Do you want me to dissuade you from it, Forester?”

  “I suppose you will try.” Miles squared his shoulders. “I am prepared. Continue…do your worst, Wainwright. Tell me of all the disadvantages.”

  Slowly Darius shook his head. “I cannot think of any.”

  “But the things I just said—”

  “Are meaningless. If you are in love, the only foolish thing to do would be to walk away from her.”

  “But you always say love is messy and uncouth and an excuse for people to misbehave.”

  “It is all that and more. Unfortunately there is no stopping it from setting root and flourishing. Strong men can be rendered powerless by it. If you are in love with Miss Catherine Penny, then marry her. Presuming she accepts you, of course. She might just be silly and addled enough to do so.”

  The other man’s shoulders sagged. He looked forlorn. “Damn it all, Wainwright! I thought that you of all people would talk me out of it.”

  Finally, he allowed his lips to bend in a smile. “Try my stepsister. I’m sure she will oblige you. If that’s what you want.”

  Miles looked sideways. “Why the devil are you being so bloody genial tonight?”

  “I really couldn’t say, Forester. Perhaps I’m feeling better.”

  “Your nurse must work miracles.”

  “Oh, yes.” He grinned. He couldn’t help himself.

  Thirty-two

  Breakfast passed as it always did. Some things, she reflected, never did change. Her family sat around that table and shared all their usual chatter. Dr. Penny was absorbed in a pamphlet advertising an exhibition of Egyptian artifacts and only listening with one ear to his wife’s dissertation on the price of good lace and how the quality was not what it used to be. She had, it seemed, become involved in a squabble over a card of lace at the haberdasher’s and insults were thrown. Now she retold the entire story, including every detail, from the time she placed her hand on the door of the shop, until the time she swept out again. Through all this, Catherine mused aloud on the tragedy of a dead hedgehog she’d seen in the lane—expressing hope that it had not left babies behind, waiting to be fed. Meanwhile, Clara slopped in and out with jugs and plates, banging each one down as if it had offended her and protesting that someone had been nibbling at the cheese again. And it wasn’t a mouse.

  Justina sipped her hot chocolate and watched her family, imagining what they would all say and do if she told them of her plans for that day. Perhaps they would merely ignore her, as usual, and assume it was another of her stories.

  Dr. Penny finally put down his pamphlet and asked his wife what on earth she was talking about, prompting her to gasp impatiently and then begin her story all over again. Fortunately for her, she hadn’t yet got all the bitterness out of her spleen and she was willing to was
te more breath in the hopes of finally achieving a satisfying reaction of outrage from her husband. Catherine continued to worry about the deceased hedgehog and a possible nest of orphaned babies. Sometimes Justina wondered how her sister got through the day with so many tragedies—real and imagined—to fret over.

  But for all their faults they were her family and she was lucky to have them. They must tolerate her eccentricities just as she put up with theirs, and despite their occasional quarrels, in the face of an enemy they were united, loyal. That was love.

  “You’re quiet today, Jussy,” her father said eventually. “Thinking about your patient, perhaps?”

  “Yes, Papa.” She got up and pushed back her chair. “I had better go to Midwitch early and see how he is.”

  “Indeed, my dear! I’m sure you won’t be easy until you know how he fares. We don’t want to lose our wealthiest client. Not before he pays his bill, in any case.”

  She hurried out to get her coat, blood racing through her veins.

  When she arrived at Midwitch, she entered through the kitchen, hoping to avoid his female guests, but as she passed along the dark hallway, she heard their voices in the drawing room.

  “I am shocked the affair is so openly tolerated, and even the father seems complicit.”

  “Do not concern yourself, Augusta. He will be made to give her up.”

  “Well, I do not know that I would want a man who is forced to like me, my lady.”

  “All men have to be forced. They never know what they need, what is good for them.”

  “Oh, but…I do not feel I am so desperate. I’m sure I will have other chances. I would much rather marry a gentleman for whom I could truly be of service.”

  “Really, Augusta, you are being most ungrateful! What has come over you? Don’t tell me the country air has ruined you too?”

  Smiling to herself, Justina continued up the stairs.

  ***

  “You took your time,” he exclaimed when she came in.

  “I told you, I would come when I could.”

  “And I told you before, I do not know what else of more import you would have to do than come here to me.”

  She closed the door and he saw her bolt it. He thus decided quickly to forgive her for keeping him waiting. Her coat soon discarded, along with her crumpled bonnet, she came to his bed and proceeded to test his forehead, look at his tongue, examine his eyes, and check his pulse. Darius sat meekly and waited for her judgment.

  “You seem much improved today, but you should not go out in this weather until you are fully recovered.”

  “Thank you, nurse. I shall heed your advice.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He laughed softly. “How long can you stay with me?”

  She pondered his face for a moment. “For as long as you feel inclined to entertain me.”

  “Good. Because you are needed here, and as your father said, you should be where you are most needed.”

  Justina sat on the edge of his bed. She seemed solemn today. He hoped he had not frightened her yesterday. She licked her lips and said, “It was you who wrote those letters, was it not?”

  “Letters?”

  “The letters I found in your great-uncle’s papers and in the dresser that day.” She raised her hand to his cheek and caressed it gently with her small fingers, then that same hand lowered to his chest and she pressed it there, over his heart. “You wrote them to me.”

  His pulse slowed. Breathe, he told himself. “I began the letters before I made the monumentally humiliating mistake of trying to propose marriage.”

  She looked down at her hand on his chest. “It was not a mistake as far as intentions go. It merely lacked in the execution. In fact, so poorly did it lack finesse that I had no idea that’s what you came to do that morning.”

  “How could you not have known?”

  “You thrust some abused flowers at me and told me I read too much romance. Goodness, how could I not have known your purpose there?” she exclaimed drily.

  “I found I could not say the words aloud.” He expected her to ask why, to make scornful fun of him for the inability to express his feelings.

  But she nodded. “I don’t suppose anyone has ever encouraged you.”

  She continually surprised him, but he no longer felt that to be a bad thing. “I wrote those letters because I wanted you to find that treasure which so intrigued you,” he said.

  Her eyes shone warmly. “It is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. And romantic too.”

  “Romantic? What a dreadful thought.”

  She chuckled, leaned over, and kissed him on the lips. “I believe you really are just a romantic old fool, beneath your stern and proud exterior.”

  Darius returned her kiss, sweeping his hand up to hold the back of her head, to tangle his fingers again in those silky curls. He was overbrimming with need for her.

  Fortunately she felt the same, it seemed.

  Two minutes later she had removed her walking boots and wriggled under the covers with him, muddy petticoats and all. “I have some more questions for you, Darius Wainwright.”

  “Good Lord, then I’d better answer them.”

  ***

  Her gown, chemise, corset, and drawers were cast aside after some inelegant tugging and impatient cursing from both parties. And then with most barriers removed they could explore to their hearts’ content.

  How happy she was that it was him and not Captain Sherringham to whom she would give her maidenhead. “It was a lucky mistake I made when I leapt upon you,” she whispered.

  “I should have taken the opportunity you so brazenly presented at the time,” he muttered, nuzzling the side of her neck. “Had you not landed on me in the dead of night as if shot from a trebuchet, I might have had more wits about me.”

  “But then we would never have had the chance to despise one another, before we fell in love.”

  He raised his head. “Is that a necessity, then?”

  “Of course. Any good romance worth its salt must have a hero and heroine at odds in the beginning.”

  “I see.” He bent his head again and ran his tongue over her proud nipple. And then, when he sucked gently upon it, she moaned softly, completely forgetting the path of her thoughts, or that there had even been any ill feelings between them.

  “You do know how to do it, I presume?”

  Again he looked up. “I…believe so.”

  “You know where everything goes and such?”

  He blew gently on her dampened nipple. “I can give an educated guess.”

  She sighed. “I’m sure! My sister assures me men know everything.”

  Darius chuckled, shifted forward, and kissed her on the mouth. “True.”

  “Of course, men have more opportunity to learn.” She writhed, feeling his hardened manhood against her thigh.

  “Are you going to chatter continually throughout?” He nibbled gently on her earlobe.

  “Am I supposed to be completely silent?”

  “I would never ask the impossible,” he muttered wryly, licking his way down her neck.

  “Were your other lovers quiet?”

  He stilled, lifted his head again and looked at her. “There was only one.”

  She bit her lip. “Only one?”

  “Only one with whom I thought myself in love. She left me for another.”

  This must be the woman Cathy had told her about. Justina decided swiftly that she didn’t want to know any more about it. In his eyes there was a lingering shadow cast by the pain of a bad memory, and she was sorry she ever raised the subject.

  “Long ago,” he muttered, wrapping one of her curls around his finger. “I wasn’t much more than a boy. Only nineteen.”

  The age she was now. Justina steadily regarded his face. “But it cure
d you of seeking out love again, I suppose.”

  He smiled. “Oh, it was not love. I know that now. My pride was wounded more than my heart. When I overheard you once talk of wanting love, I remembered how I was once your age—when I thought I knew all about love and how it felt.” Darius paused, his finger still wrapped in her curl. “But there was more to my story. More than misplaced calf-love.”

  “Tell me,” she urged.

  For once he did not sink again behind the wall of reserve. “It was my brother with whom she ran off. Lucius took her with him to India. I never saw either of them again.”

  Shocked, she was silent for a moment.

  “In truth, you are the first woman I really wanted to kiss since then. You reawakened something inside me that I thought was long gone.”

  Overcome with love, she could only nod a little and murmur a gentle “I’m glad.”

  His large hands were incredibly tender with her. Far more so than they had been the first time they kissed, and she sensed he made an effort to restrain his strength. As for his mouth—he did remarkable things with it. Justina began to think she would never again be capable of watching him eat without the yearning of a distinctly unmaidenly palsy making itself felt in her belly and lower. Indeed, throughout her whole body.

  “You wore your pink silk garters,” he observed, his voice deepened further still with desire as he made his way down to her thighs.

  “Of course. You were so disappointed yesterday, I had to make it up to you today.”

  He kissed each ribbon, but did not untie them.

  Her garters and stockings—some of the most expensive articles of clothing she’d ever purchased with her allowance—were left in place as he parted her legs, slid forward slowly, and penetrated her at last.

  There was no one in existence then but the two of them. The outside world had vanished in a mist, and she gave herself to him with a soaring, unbound happiness. She did not know how long they might have together or what would happen the next day. But of one thing she was sure: She loved him and she would never regret what they shared.

  ***

  Her soft, satin warmth enclosed him tightly. For several moments he could barely breathe, such was the sheer driving force of his need. He shook with it, holding back the wild desire coursing through him, knowing he must be gentle.