by Dayna Quince
“Perhaps I don’t have any daring truths to tell?”
“Nonsense. I can tell that you are full of them.”
She laughed lightly, a light pink filling her cheeks.
He exhaled slowly. He was dying to touch her. He wanted to caress those cheeks, feel the effects of her blush under his hands.
“A secret for a secret,” he said.
He could see the indecision on her face, but then she nodded.
“My brother was not my father’s son.”
Her eyes widened. “Did your father know?”
“I think he suspected, but he raised him as his own. My mother was supposed to marry some young lord, but he broke it off, and she was left with the consequences. My father having known her most of his life and I think, had been in love with her, offered to rescue her from shame.”
“Oh, my.”
“Are you thoroughly scandalized?”
Her lips twisted, and she looked to the side. “It sounds rather romantic. Did they love each other?”
Felton thought of his mother. They weren’t an expressive family, but they had been kind to one another. “They respected each other.”
“Oh.”
“Now it is your turn.”
She rolled her eyes heaven ward and sighed. “I will have to think about it. Most of my life has been woefully dull.”
“That I refuse to believe. You could not have become friends with such characters as Lucy and Winchester if that were true.”
“Perhaps…”
He gave her a moment to think.
She turned to him, and he raised an expectant brow.
“I’ve ridden astride in breeches, and I found it very enjoyable,” she blurted.
She looked very pleased with herself. He tried very hard to picture it, but couldn’t.
“I don’t believe it.”
“What!” She gasped. “You don’t believe me?”
“I must see this heathenry for myself if I am to believe it.”
She stood angrily. “Fine.”
She stomped from the room but returned immediately. “Come with me.”
He jumped to his feet and followed her upstairs. He followed her into her room with a jolt of excitement. Heaven help him.
She closed the door, and he waited beside it, refusing to take a step further.
She went to her dresser and opened the bottom drawer. Out came an obvious pair of boy’s breeches.
“Where the devil did you get those?” He grumbled and strode forward, taking them and inspecting them himself. He tried to picture her petite body stuffed inside them.
“Lord Rigsby—Lucy’s brother.”
“He must be a small fellow.” Felton felt an irrational pang of jealousy.
“He was much younger when he wore them.”
“And has he seen you wear them?”
She smiled and nodded. “And Winchester.”
Felton’s vision turned a hazy red. Was she baiting him into jealousy? It was working.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not a bit. You, my dear, are as innocent as a spring daisy. There is no conceivable possibility you wore those breeches and strode around two gentlemen as well as sat a horse.” He prayed his baiting would work. He had to see it for himself. No sight on this earth would be as thrilling except perhaps Thea naked and moaning underneath him. He groaned inwardly as soon as he finished the thought. He turned away and strode towards the door. He had to get out of here, or he was going to do something reckless.
“Fine. I’ll show you.”
He froze. He hesitantly turned, but she’d gone behind the dressing screen. All his muscles tensed at once. A blazing lust filled him from crown to boot.
“Just a moment.” She called from behind the screen.
He didn’t trust himself to speak or move. He pulled his eyes from the screen willing himself not to imagine her there and stared out the window. Snow was falling steadily.
From his periphery, he saw her come out from behind the screen. He almost didn’t look, but in the end, he had to. He could not resist her.
She had her dress bunched around her waist. He swallowed. Below it, her sumptuous curves filled every seam of the buckskin breeches to aching perfection from her hip to calf. Her calves and feet were covered in dainty pink silk stockings. That did it.
He slowly stalked toward her, his eyes eating every inch of her exposed body. He circled around her, coming behind her to view her perfect heart shaped rear that begged for him to touch, to cup and hold tightly against him. He was hard as a rock in his breeches, his body begging for the soft cradle of hers.
“Thea…” he said it low and dangerous.
She glanced at him over her shoulder.
He stepped behind her, bringing one hand to her hip. He couldn’t stop himself from slowly gliding his hand over the curve, exploring her womanly edges just a little.
It was too much. The damn broke. He pulled her back against him, one hand on her hip, one coming to her face to turn her head towards him. He stole a kiss, tasting her surprise. To his astonishment, she didn’t pull away. He deepened the kiss, using his height to his advantage, slipping past the seam of her lips to taste the treasure beyond. Warm, sweet, velvety. He turned her to face him without breaking the kiss, his hands swirling over her hips, unwilling to let go.
He couldn’t believe he was here, at this moment. Bright joy infused him. He’d stumbled upon a rare gem in the middle of England, an unfound treasure of untold fortune, and for whatever reason—it didn’t matter—she was here as if fate had been waiting for him to arrive and claim her. He very much wanted to claim her. Marriage was never in his plans. He hadn’t purposefully avoided the state, but nor had he given it much thought. As a military man, having spent most of his adulthood surrounded by other military men and very few women, it just wasn’t part of his life.
But as he stood here, kissing her, he knew he would claim her. This was always meant to be. From the moment the tiger tore his flesh to the thieves who left him to die in the cold he was meant to arrive here, at this moment. He’d never been more certain of anything.
He pulled back and took a breath, reining in his overflowing emotions.
“Thea…I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it. You’ve taken hold of something in me.”
She shivered. “I have?”
“You’ve bewitched me. I don’t want to frighten you with my ardor.”
She brought her hands to his face, her first reciprocation. “You haven’t frightened me.”
He let his hands roam up to her back, the skirt of her dress falling to hide the breeches that had undone him. It was already too late. Now that he’d kissed her, nothing would stop him from doing so again. The fuse of his desire had been lit, an explosion was imminent.
“You can tell me to leave, you can tell me to never touch you again, and I will abide by your choice. My only want is your happiness.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes searched his.
“You can say no if you wish or you can say nothing, and I will kiss you again.”
She bit her lip and smiled. Her cheeks bloomed with a lovely pink, and her eyes sparkled dreamily. She removed her glasses. He took it as consent and let his head drop to hers, their lips coming together in a soft melding of mutual desire.
She kissed like an innocent, soft and hesitant. He began to doubt his previous theory of a botched betrothal. No man has touched, or at least, no man has woken her passion. He could feel it now. She opened slowly like a rose bud, her confidence gently unfurling like petals until she was kissing him back, her tongue toying with his, her body pressing against his.
He would never forget this. This was her first real kiss, her first taste of need. Triumph roared inside him, and he knew, in an instant, he would be her first everything. He couldn’t wait. This would be a gift greater than anything he could imagine.
He pu
lled himself back, intent to let her forge her own discoveries. She’d already mastered the art of kissing in one go.
He broke the kiss. There was no need to rush this moment. They would have many more to come.
She opened her eyes and looked down. He tipped up her chin, meeting her eyes and smiling. “You’ve given me the greatest gift.”
“How so?”
“I do not have sufficient words to say, so I will have to trust that in time, I can show you. Come now. We shouldn’t tempt discovery by Mrs. Hale.”
Chapter 6
Thea stayed in her room, and Felton went in search of Mr. Hale. Felton had said he had questions about the area. She stared out her window overlooking the back of the cottage but not seeing the weary winter landscape. Her cheeks burned, and her body felt like it was filled with thousands of tiny popping sparks.
She’d done it. She’d had her first kiss.
She couldn’t believe this strange yet glorious turn her life had taken. Just when she thought she’d moved beyond the reach of romance, here she was, living her own fairy tale. If only Lucy was here to advise her, yet it was better she wasn’t. Lucy would tell her exactly what she should do, what Lucy would do—but as it was, Thea could do this completely on her own. This was her moment, her experience to have without anyone looking over her shoulder, except for Mrs. Hale. But Mrs. Hale was often too busy to be completely aware of Thea’s doings.
She was unchaperoned, untethered, and finally free to feel and do as she wished. There were no rules for her to follow, not now that she was hidden away from the eyes of society, already an outcast. So what did she wish to do?
She definitely wanted to do more kissing, but now she was nervous. What did one do after a kiss? Have tea? What happened after kissing? Thea was aware that she was woefully ignorant of these things. Even with Lucy to guide her into wider circles these past seasons, she hadn’t been exposed to situations like this. She had dance partners and more friends, but there was always a reticence she sensed from men regarding her. She was still the spectacled wallflower with no dowry.
So what did Felton want with her?
She sobered. Some of her giddiness faded, and rationale returned. What was she doing? Her situation was even worse than before. Instead of a respectable young lady, she was now… She didn’t know what she was. She was just Thea, and he was Felton. She didn’t want to know beyond that for today. She’d spent years trying and failing to be something others needed her to be—marriageable, despite not having a dowry and desirable to marriage-minded gentlemen of wealth, despite her spectacles and unfashionable gowns. She was doomed to fail in the London season from the very beginning, and yet her family had exploited every contact, every available charitable hostess to turn Thea into something she clearly was not. She’d known it, society knew it, but her family had stubbornly refused to believe it. Now they all suffered the consequences. The truth was Thea didn’t know what her family was doing now. She didn’t know if they missed her if they felt bad for trying to manipulate her. She was afraid to know.
None of that mattered. She would soon reach her majority and after that, she really would be on her own. She would have nothing but her name and her friends to shelter her, but she would be free. There was a price for freedom, and it was steep.
She thought of Felton again, of their kiss. What did he want with her? They knew so very little of each other.
That needed to change. If she wanted more kisses—which she did, then she needed to know the truth about him and he her. Expectations, even little ones, were best kept in the light.
She saw him again that night across the dining table. They shared a secret smile, and she was filled with expectation and anticipation. She’d never been so alone with a man, even with Jacobs milling about uncovering plates. Her reality shrunk to just the two of them. She could almost pretend that they were married, sharing a private dinner together as a newlywed couple. This must be what Lucy felt like every moment—a sweet anticipation, her nerves always waiting with baited breath for the next brush of his hand, the next meaningful glance.
How exhausting and yet enthralling it was to be in love—wait—no. She mentally shook her head and stared down at her soup. That wasn’t possible. Smitten, yes. What woman wouldn’t be…but in love? That was unchartered territory. She couldn’t be in love. She didn’t know how to be in love. She’d known him only a week now. Such things only happened in books. It was rubbish. Pure rubbish.
But…Lucy had fallen in love the moment she’d set eyes on Winchester.
That was Lucy and Thea was Thea. Lucy was brave and Thea was not. There would be no sudden certainty for Thea. If she were to recognize love, what little she understood of it, it would be a slow understanding, a methodical breakdown of rational thought. Yes. She couldn’t be in love, not with Felton. What she must be is simply smitten. Infatuation. That was all. This was a new and exciting experience for her.
“Is the soup not to your liking?”
Felton’s voice brought her out of her musings.
“Beg pardon?” She looked up at him. Just meeting his eyes caused a tingly shiver to roll down her spine.
“You’ve been scowling at your soup. Is there something wrong with it?”
Jacob stepped forward to await her. Heat filled Thea’s face and neck.
“Oh, no. It’s fine. I was just…thinking.” She waved Jacobs away. He retreated from the room.
“It must have been something serious and unpleasant.”
“Well… no.”
He raised a brow. He was waiting for her to enlighten him. What was she to say? ‘I thought I was in love with you a moment ago, but I’m certain that can’t be possible.’ It was laughable.
Her lips twitched. “It’s of no concern.”
He smiled and resumed his meal. “The soup is excellent, I dare say.”
She dipped her spoon and tasted the asparagus soup. It was divine. Everything Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Croft cooked together was exceptional.
“It is,” she agreed. They were silent once more as they ate until Jacob brought in the main course. He uncovered the plates and retreated again.
“I keep forgetting this is Winchester’s household.”
“How so?” Thea cocked her head.
“He never settled anywhere, one could say. He lived out of hotels or as a guest. He never had servants to tend him. He was like a wild bird.”
“That’s funny. I used to call Lucy a beautiful wild bird. It was hard for others to understand her. She always felt caged.”
“Caged?”
“Don’t do this, don’t say that. Don’t read this, don’t frown like that. Don’t talk about this, don’t move so much. Being a young woman can feel like being a prisoner.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
“It is true, though. We must conform to some ideal all in the name of—” Thea caught her breath, “marriage.”
“Do you not see men do the same? We must present ourselves as gentlemen of means in order to gain a bride.”
“Yes, but no one stops you from living while you pursue your bride. You go to university, you travel, you meet interesting people and no one thinks worse of you for it.”
“I suppose.”
“Winchester thought because of his different lifestyle that he would not be suitable for Lucy because of her very correct upbringing, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He was a peer and wealthy. Therefore, he could have anything he wanted.” She saw his slight frown.
“Winchester is a good man.”
“I know. I could tell the moment we met him.”
“What of your family?” he asked. He set his fork down. He’d already finished his meal.
Thea stilled. “My family?”
“We’ve spoken a great deal about Lucy’s, but what of yours? Are you an orphan?”
“No. I have family. My parents both passed five years ago, and my two aunts, my mother’s sisters, took guardianship of me.”
> “I’m sorry about your parents.”
“It’s…it’s in the past. Why do you wish to know about my family?”
“I wish to know about you, Thea. That is all.”
“Oh.” Warmth flooded her. She was never more aware of her lack of education regarding men than she was right now. “There isn’t much to say, I suppose.”
He raised a brow, and she blushed. It was obvious there was something she was hiding.
“Do they know you are here?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Thea didn’t want to discuss them. Thinking of them only brought her pain and fear. “It isn’t something I wish to talk about.”
He was silent for a moment. “Very well. Are you finished?”
Thea looked down at her plate. She didn’t have much of an appetite now. She nodded and rose to pull out her chair.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she stood and faced him. “It pains me to speak of them.”
He frowned in concern. “It is I who am sorry. I don’t wish to do anything to cause you pain. Let’s forget about it and have a game of chess in the parlor. I haven’t played in years.”
“Winchester likes to play.”
“Yes, he does. We played quite often during our time in India.”
“What did he do there?”
“He indulged himself.”
Thea looked up at him with raised brows. “What does that mean?”
“I won’t begin to tell you. You’d be blushing for days.”
Thea laughed, and the tension she had felt after he asked about her family slipped away. How did he do that? How did he make her feel better so easily?
“Tell me more of India,” she said as they entered the parlor and took their places across the chess board.
“What do you wish to know?”
“Are the people very different?”
“Yes, everything is different. Even the air feels different.”
“How so?”
“It rains a lot in England, but India has a monsoon season that would put an English storm to shame. Great winds come from the Bay of Bengal and with it, heavy rains that flood the land. The heat is like a living thing. It swallows you up.”