Dahlia ended the lullaby and turned back towards James to get the candle. Rory now seemed to sense the intruder for the first time and ran towards James with a short bark that might have been a hello. Dahlia paused and tried to see the presence at the other end of the barn in the shadow. James stepped into the light and Rory immediate started wagging his tail, approaching James happily. He put a hand out to the little Border Terrier, a movement which was rewarded with enthusiastic licks.
“Some watchdog you are, Rory,” said Dahlia.
“He had no cause for alarm,” said James. “Nor do you,” he said, noting that Dahlia had not moved. He therefore walked towards her, closing the gap between them swiftly.
“And what do you do out here so late?”
“It was an…exciting….evening,” he said carefully. “I thought to clear my head a bit before retiring.”
“In a barn?” Dahlia smiled. “And have you found the serenity you seek?” she asked.
“Your lullaby did the trick to all in your presence,” he answered.
“Ah, my singing puts you to sleep?” she queried, feigning indignation.
“Your singing leads me wherever you wish me to go, Miss Talbot.” She did not expect this answer, nor did she understand it.
“What do you mean by that, Mr. Kent?”
“I mean that you sing with such emotion that the listener is obliged to feel whatever you convey with your music. To try and avoid the feeling that fills the air with your voice is to go against the tide. It is a struggle best not attempted since it is immeasurably more pleasant to go with the flow of the sensations you portray.” His turquoise-blue eyes gazed intently at her, and there was no hint of irony or teasing in his delivery of this speech. He was in earnest, and the honesty of what he said touched her. He stepped closer to her and slowly raised a hand under her chin.
“The beauty of your music reflects a beautiful soul, Dahlia, and God certainly bestowed a most beautiful face to deliver your gift to the world.”
Dahlia searched his face, so close to hers, for any hint that he was merely teasing her, but she found none. Her scrutiny of that handsome face locked her pale green eyes on his brilliantly blue eyes and she found herself leaning towards him slowly, as if those eyes were deep whirlpools drawing her in with their gravity. She was so close to him that she could not focus any longer and she closed her eyes, feeling slightly dizzy. She felt the soft, warm lips touch hers and her mind flashed back to the first night they met and he had kissed her on the cheek. That beautiful pressure of skin on skin she had felt that evening now covered her mouth and the sensation was like none she had ever known. The hand under her chin extended towards her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw line. It was an excruciatingly slow movement that she felt with every cell along its path. His fingers slowly wrapped around the base of her neck while the lips on hers parted, opening her mouth. His hand tilted her head up slightly and she felt his warm tongue touch hers as his other hand appeared at the small of her back. She had no sense of time and thought perhaps it had stopped altogether, along with her breathing.
James was deliberate and tender in his actions. He, too, remembered their first meeting and the sound slap that had followed his first attempt to kiss Dahlia. He would not make the same mistake again of catching her off guard. The tentative response to his kiss quelled his fear of rejection – or retaliation. His hand on her back exerted gentle pressure to pull her closer to him and there was no resistance. His hand encircled her waist and he could feel her slight body touching his from her breasts to her knees. The excitement of holding her so closely, after imagining it for so long, gave him the confidence to draw her deeper into the kiss. His fingers crept into her hair and, thus cradling her head, he drove his tongue deeper into her inviting mouth. His expectation that she would withdraw was not realized. Instead, she instinctively returned pressure with pressure.
Dahlia leaned her weight against him, her hands on his chest. A maelstrom of thoughts and emotions swirled inside her and she could scarcely recognize them. She felt exhilarated, yet calm. She felt safe in his arms, yet scared of the unknown reactions of her body to his. Music was flitting through her mind as each thought and emotion intersected and disappeared, only to be replaced by another. It was not a song, there was no rhyme to it, but it had a distinct rhythm. She realized the rhythm kept time to her heart, beating strong and fast. She finally remembered to breath and took a deep breath through her nose since she did not want to break the kiss that so engaged her mouth. She was content to spend eternity in this blissful embrace. She slid a hand up James’ chest to his shoulder, his neck, then weaved her slender fingers in his thick curly hair. Instead of him gently pulling her to him, she pulled his head down to her quite decidedly.
She heard a small sound escape from James’ throat and felt an immediate reaction to her movement. All of the sudden she realized what she was doing. She had never experienced such a kiss, and wanted to continue the innocent experimentation. But, awakening from her happy delirium of such an intimate embrace, she realized she had definitely overstepped the bounds of propriety and decency, pulled her head back, and broke the kiss.
James’ hand behind her head yielded, but his arm around her waist did not. Their bodies created the silhouette of a Y against the light of Dahlia’s candle.
“That was your first real kiss?” James stated more than asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, quite out of breath.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said, tenderly stroking her cheek like she had stroked the velvet nose of her horse earlier. “I will not dare go further than a passionate kiss and risk offending you.” He smiled wanly. “Or getting slapped.”
Dahlia stared up at his face, once again searching it for some sign that he was teasing her, something that would give her a reason to believe he was not telling the truth. “Then release me,” she said to test him. His arm slid slowly around her body, his fingers trailing across her back as he released her. She regretted the test immediately and was disappointed he had passed it.
James saw the little frown line appear between her brows and knew what she had asked, what he had acquiesced, was not what she wanted. His next words surprised him as much as they surprised her.
“I’m in love with you, Dahlia. I have loved you since the first time I saw you when you were but a girl. But you do not know what you want yet, and I am content to wait for you to realize it is me you want.” He stepped backwards, bowed, and said, “Good night, Dahlia.” Then he turned and left the barn.
Dahlia was left standing there, bewildered. One moment, she was in heaven itself, experiencing feelings she had never imagined existed. In the next moment she wondered if she had been used, inexperienced as she was in such matters. The next moment she convinced herself he was quite sincere, given his consistent attentions to her over the last two years and particularly on this visit. She had only to lament the fact that she was now left alone wanting another kiss and could only blame herself for James’ departure. She grabbed the hurricane and quickly left the barn to catch up with him. The night was clear, but only a sliver of moon was left and gave little light. He had not brought a candle, and she saw no movement that would indicate where he was. She therefore turned towards the house.
“Come Rory,” she said to the little dog, who stayed behind and gave a growl. Dahlia turned abruptly at the sound. Again, she could see nothing, but knew whatever the little dog sensed was not James. “Come Rory,” she said again, then hurriedly made her way back to the house.
Two sets of eyes followed her path until the light of her candle disappeared behind the grand front door. One set of blue eyes followed her with love and concern, having heard little Rory’s growl of alarm. James leaned against one of the posts of the paddock fence to watch her safely to the house.
The other set of eyes watched her with lust and envy. When the darkness swallowed her up behind the façade of the great house, they turned in the direction that James had gone and an evil gli
nt of hatred flared in the dim moonlight.
Chapter 45
While the majority of the inhabitants of Talbot Hall and those camped out on its grounds slept deeply from a contented indulgence in wine, food, and dance, James lay in bed awake thinking of Dahlia. She was likewise robbed of sleep thinking of him. Since his arrival, James had dreaded the end of his stay and the trip back to London that would take him away from his ideal of a cheerful home in the country and drop him back into the cold reality of life under his uncle’s roof. Now on the eve of his departure, James felt something akin to relief. The ease with which he could put the passionate child prodigy to the recesses of his mind was gone forever. Dahlia was a child no longer, and the passion he saw in her from the start had been translated – by means of that one kiss – into a physical desire that would not be easily held at bay. To be so near her on a daily basis, but unable to touch her, would be painful. His architect’s mind laid out a plan of the house and he calculated the distance between their very beds to be but a few dozen meters apart. His mental map also developed a pulsing red dot where Squire Talbot’s bed chamber was situated, flaring like a warning signal. He liked and respected Peter Talbot a great deal, and the Squire’s conduct towards him reciprocated those sentiments. As much as James respected her father, he doubted her father would consider the passion he felt towards his daughter very respectful at all. He imagined a conversation with the Squire in which the incongruous statements ‘I’m dying to bed your daughter, sir’ and ‘but not to fear, I will retain every respect for her afterwards’ ended with Peter Talbot laying him flat out with a single punch to his face. Such would be the end to his short reprieves from the city and every hope of seeing Dahlia if he let his passion overcome his reason.
Laying there, torn by his dichotomous thoughts of wants and restraints, James wished he could be like his uncle – with no love or passion whatsoever for anyone or anything. He saw evidence that was a dismal life indeed. Perhaps a wish for the complete lack of morals and conscience would be a more apt hope, for that would allow him all of the pleasure with none of the guilt. What an easy life that would be! Trying to imagine such a life was not possible for more than a fleeting moment, however. His well-developed conscience was cloaked in the well-mannered morals of his upbringing, and the warmth quickly eased out the coldness of contrary thoughts.
Dahlia was having her own contrary thoughts. She relived the tender sensuality of James’ kiss, and the forbidden excitement she had felt all over her body. She remembered returning the kiss, and felt ashamed – no doubt Lady Sweet would consider that wanton behavior. The shame was short-lived, replaced with thoughts of her next opportunity alone with James – the next opportunity for another kiss. She had always wondered at the weakness of women in the novels she read; had always wondered why they simply did not refuse the advances of their lovers. She had never understood why a simple kiss should destroy their resolve. She knew on reading about these women that she was stronger than they. Her mind would not go daft or her knees to jelly because of a single kiss. Dahlia giggled, remembering her ire at the audacity of the male authors to belittle her sex so consistently. Now, she understood. With one kiss, she understood how the reason of the mind gave way to corporeal demands. She understood how duty, propriety, and the strength in one’s legs dissolved like butter on a hot griddle. She understood the scores of poets over the centuries who went on and on about love’s glories, sentiments she had previously considered folly. How right they were, she now knew.
She was so excited about this revelation that she couldn’t wait to tell someone else. But who to tell? Heretofore, she had told Lady Sweet nearly everything she felt or thought or did. Could she share this with her? What would Lady Sweet think of her? Lady Sweet had said she married for love, so surely she knew this feeling? Doubt crept into her thinking. Proper as Lady Sweet was, would she have shared a kiss with Sir Sweet before their wedding night? Perhaps, but only after becoming betrothed. That was acceptable. Dahlia was not engaged, and at fifteen it was not likely she would become so anytime soon.
Matty. Matty had been in love in Ireland. She had recounted her story of falling in love with her employer’s son. She had said she kissed him and “knew temptation.” She would understand, and not judge her harshly for letting James kiss her. Not that she ‘let’ him kiss her – it just sort of…happened. She imagined telling her father that. It didn’t seem like much of an excuse. How had it happened? One moment she was just looking at James, the next moment she had been locked in an embrace with him. And then he had told her she didn’t know what she wanted! She knew what she wanted. She wanted James to kiss her again. She wanted James to marry her and for it to be respectable for them to kiss any time they wanted. Curse him for knowing what she wanted before she did. Arrogant, cheeky bastard, she thought.
Dahlia sat up straight in bed. She had just cursed. Granted, she had not said it aloud, but she had thought it clearly enough. This was how it started. One kiss because she hadn’t been on her guard and the next she was swearing. A slippery slope from respectability to completely unladylike behavior – and thoughts!
“Damn you James Kent!” she said aloud in the darkness. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she realized had just cursed again. She looked left and right, expecting someone to call her out, but the house was still. She slowly lay back down, smiling at her own foolishness. James would be leaving in several hours, and she would regain her sanity. She thought of when she might see him again, and could find no definitive occasion on which to focus. Perhaps at Christmas. The thought of not having a kiss again for nearly a year was awful. The thought of him kissing another woman while he was away from her was even worse.
Her thoughts turned round and round until she alighted on something else he had said. He had said he was in love with her. The solid drum beats of James’ music resounded in her mind. He had said he wanted to marry her. The drums beat steadily, in time with her heartbeat. He had declared himself to her. The glorious Scottish pipes joined the drums in her mind. For now, that would have to be enough. Dahlia finally fell asleep to the sounds of James’ music chasing all doubts and consternation from her thoughts.
-----
Dahlia woke with sunshine bathing her face, a flood of memories from the night before streaming through her mind. She sat up and hugged her knees, smiling.
She heard a knock on the door, followed by Matty entering the room with a tray topped with a small tea service. “Good morning, miss!” she said cheerfully, setting the tray on the bed table next to Dahlia and moving swiftly to the windows to draw back the curtains.
“Good morning, Matty,” she returned, blushing slightly as if Matty could read her thoughts and see the memories there.
Matty went about her business as if nothing were different between yesterday and today. Dahlia had the perfect opportunity to talk to Matty about her first kiss, but surprised herself to find she wanted to savor the secret and keep it to herself a bit longer. Matty bobbed a curtsy, told her she’d be back shortly to help her with her hair, then left the room. Dahlia smiled again, then jumped out of bed. She was eager to dress and go down to breakfast with the others so she could see James.
When she arrived at the dining room, however, only Michael was there. “Where is everyone?” asked Dahlia, disappointed.
The disappointment must have shown on her face since Michael laughed and replied, “And I am no one? Tom went early to see Steven at the Roma camp and Miss McElroy insisted she go with him so Isabel could read her palm. ‘Don’t laugh, my boy,’ she said. ‘I’m still young enough to have plenty of future yet to read.’” Michael laughed, remembering the singer’s parting words.
“And father? Mr. Kent?”
“Both in the study.”
Dahlia wasn’t sure what to make of that. Her father only used the study for work or business. Michael watched her standing in the doorway, amused. He remembered the little girl who spun herself silly under the piano. “You are still the oddest c
reature,” he said.
“What?”
“Are you going to have breakfast or not?”
Dahlia looked at her brother as if she had forgotten he was there. “Er, no,” she said and quickly left the room. She walked into the hallway and saw the study door was closed. Why Mr. Kent and her father would be behind closed doors was a perplexing question. Certainly Mr. Kent would not be telling him what happened in the barn? No, that would put neither of them in a good light. Could her father have found out another way? Dahlia remembered Rory barking – someone or something had been out by the barn the night before.
Suddenly the study door opened, making Dahlia jump. Her father came out first. “Good morning, Dahlia,” he said, just as he did every day. He passed her and went out the front door. Dahlia watched him go, then turned to Mr. Kent.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.” She wasn’t sure what to say, and was embarrassed that he should think she was standing there in the hallway to eavesdrop on his discussion with her father.
“I’m going to take my leave of the Roma. Will you walk over with me?”
Dahlia blinked. She had almost forgotten he was leaving today. “Yes, of course.”
James extended an arm, and Dahlia walked out the front door, little Rory trotting after her. James followed and they walked a good ways from the house in silence, both collecting their thoughts before speaking. Then, they both spoke at once. Laughing at their cross-fired questions, James said, “Please, go ahead.”
“You must be excited about returning to London,” Dahlia began, hesitant to comment on what had transpired the night before though that was foremost in her mind.
James chuckled, looking at her sideways, trying to decide whether or not she was playing coy. “Do I take by your question that you are eager for me to be away?”
“No!”
Dahlia's Music Page 31