Lavinia peered at her sister. She was right. And it was about time their mother saw that Lavinia was not perfect either. She didn’t want a rich duke or some other titled gentleman. She wanted a Scotsman in a kilt who liked books and always had rough hands.
“Emma, have you seen Mama this afternoon?”
Emma didn’t turn to look at her. “In her room, I think. She said she had a bit of a headache after visiting Mrs. Barnes. No doubt her shrill voice hurt Mama’s head. She gives me a headache every time I see her too.”
Straightening her spine, Lavinia gripped the slightly too long gown and headed upstairs. Her heart thudding against her rib cage. It was silly really. What would her mother do? Ban her from seeing him? Fall over in a faint? There were plenty of women who went against their parents’ wishes and married whoever they wanted these days. Admittedly those people were usually wealthy and could do whatever they wanted but this was the nineteenth century! People were marrying for love a lot more often than their parents were.
Love.
The word echoed her footsteps up the stairs. Love, love, love. She’d told Niall she liked him because she’d been scared. It wasn’t true. She did like him, very much. But she loved him too. She had never met anyone like him and she never would again. This was her one chance and a little fear of Mama’s reaction was not going to get in the way of them.
Lavinia swallowed the knot in her throat and stopped outside her parent’s bedroom. She allowed herself one long breath then rapped her knuckles on the door. “Mama?”
“Yes, dear?” Her voice was muffled through the door but Lavinia heard the fragile note to it.
Easing open the door, Lavinia stepped in and shut it behind her. The curtains were closed, blanketing the room in gloom, and her mother was sitting at the dressing table, struggling to tug off her hat.
Lavinia strode over and plucked the hat pins from her mother’s head and set the hat aside. Her mother smiled at her in the mirror.
“Thank you, dear. I have the most frightful headache.” She stood and scowled, pressing fingers to either side of her head. “Did you want something?”
Lavinia scowled. For her age, her mother had always looked quite vibrant, but today she appeared ashen and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“Yes, Mama, I—”
Her mother wavered, her eyes rolling backward. She collapsed.
Lavinia rushed forward and took the weight of her mother’s body before she fell off the stool and to the floor. She held her for a moment. What had just happened? She glanced down at her mother’s ashen face and closed eyes and a dart of sickness shot through her and coiled tight in her stomach.
“Help.” The word came out stretched and useless. “Help!” she tried again, throwing what little energy she seemed to have left in her.
Mama was never sick. Never. What could be wrong with her? Oh Lord, she wasn’t certain how she’d survive if something happened to her. Their mother might drive them all mad but they needed her—she was the one element that bound them all together.
“Help!” Lavinia cried again when no one came.
Footsteps thudded up the stairs and the door to the bedroom exploded open. Catherine barreled in. “What the bl—” Her face fell. “Oh no.”
“Help me get her to bed, then tell Amelia we need the doctor. Right now.”
Chapter Twelve
“Oh, my laird, have you met my daughter?” A young woman was shoved toward Niall, nearly knocking the drink from his hand.
The young lady—who could barely be sixteen at best—eyed the floor while her mother boasted of the lass’ many assets. Niall nodded but could not stop his gaze from scanning the crowds. There was nothing to say she would even be here. With her mother sick, the chances were all of the Chadwick sisters would remain home. He wasn’t even sure he would get to see her before he left.
He eyed the half-empty glass of lemonade and deposited it on a nearby table. Though the food and drink was excellent, he had no taste for it. It all tasted like ashes in his mouth. If only he could figure out how to see Lavinia one last time—to reassure her he’d come back for her or search her out in Town if she ever came.
From what he had heard, Mrs. Chadwick was horribly ill from a cough and they feared she would not recover. Because he had not seen any of the Chadwicks out and about, he had only received this knowledge secondhand but he daren’t arrive on their doorstep, particularly when Mrs. Chadwick did not approve of him one bit—he didn’t want to be responsible for worsening her condition.
“You have not danced much tonight, my laird. Are you unwell?” The woman in front of him inquired.
“Not at all. But us Scots are better at Highland jigs than English country dances. I fear I would step on everyone’s toes.”
“I am certain no one would mind. My Maisie could teach you a thing or two, is that not right, my dear?” She jabbed her daughter in the side with an elbow.
Maisie scowled and rubbed her side, muttering something that could have been a yes or a no.
“Of course, my April is an excellent dancer,” put in one of the other mothers surrounding him. “She has such lightness of foot. Everyone says as much.”
“If you think everyone means just you then yes,” said Maisie’s mother snippily.
“Forgive me ladies, I must go and speak to my aunt. It is my last evening here and it would be remiss of me to neglect her.” He backed away, deaf to their protests. He’d already spent plenty of time with his aunt and while she enjoyed the company, he had to go to London. His meeting with the palace could not be delayed, no matter how much he’d like to stay.
A small hand pulled on his arm. He prepared a polite smile and another reason not to remain and talk but that smile fell when he set eyes on Catherine. Though her eyes were ringed with shadows, her smile was wide and she had that perpetually vivacious twinkle in her eyes.
“Miss Catherine, I did not expect to see you here.” He peered around and spotted a few redheads bobbing about the crowds.
“We are all here. Including Lavinia,” she confided.
His heart gave a jolt. He attempted to keep the anticipation from his face and likely failed given Catherine’s knowing look.
“Come with me.” She tugged his arm.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re awfully dense for a well-read man.” Catherine chuckled. “To see Lavinia of course!”
Following Catherine through the crowds, she led him to the opposite side of the ballroom where a long corridor led away from the vast room. A fresh swirl of air broke through the scent of cigars and perfume. He’d regretted coming tonight—succumbing to the pull of duty. Not anymore, though. Not if Lavinia is here.
“Down there.” Catherine jerked her thumb toward the corridor. “Third door on the left.”
He eyed Catherine.
“What?”
“You are encouraging me to be alone with your sister. Is this some trick?”
Catherine frowned at him. “I like you, Niall. Have I ever given you any indication otherwise?”
“No, but—”
“I do not like many men. Most are pompous and silly and deserve a good kicking. You, however, are good for my sister. She laughs more since meeting you and cares less about what everyone else thinks. Go and see her before you leave for London or you shall regret it.”
He could not help but chuckle. “Well, do not go about kicking too many men, little lass.”
Hands to her hips, she glowered at him. “I might change my mind if you keep calling me ‘little lass.’”
“Duly noted.”
Niall slipped down the hallway and counted the doors along. He held his breath as he pushed open the door and checked no one was watching before slipping in. Lit by a lone candle and the torches from outside glimmering through the windows, Lavinia stood by the large glass pane, peering out over the front lawns.
She turned when he shut the door gently and opened her mouth but no sound came out. Niall c
ould find no words either. With the soft golden light smoothing across her features, and the wispy gown elongating her figure and highlighting her curves, he found himself speechless.
He could act, however. His legs apparently knew exactly what to do and before he could register what was happening, he strode across the study room, hauled her against his body and kissed her.
She gasped against his mouth and softened immediately into him. He kissed her hard and fast, making up for the time apart and how he’d thought of nothing else but her.
It took every ounce of control to break the kiss. He kept her face in his hands, and he stroked her cheek with a thumb.
“I didn’t think you would be here tonight,” he murmured.
“My aunt travelled up from London to look after Mama and is acting as escort.”
He gave a low chuckle. “She’s not a very good escort if you were able to slip away unnoticed.”
Lavinia smiled and shook her head. “My sisters are doing an excellent job of distracting her. She would rather have stayed at my mother’s side but Mama insisted that everyone would be missing me.” She rolled her eyes.
“Well, I was missing you.” He lowered his hands from her face and skipped them down her spine so he could hold her close. “How is your mother?”
The smile slipped. “Not well at all. We have sent for my father but he is in Manchester and has likely just received our message. I only hope he makes it back before—” Her voice cracked and she blew out a breath. “I am certain Mama will defeat this. She would never let anything happen to her before at least one of her daughters is wed.”
“Aye, that is true. Is there anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “No, just hold me.”
He did as she bid, wrapping his arms about her and letting her rest her head against his chest.
“I could not tell Mama about us, Niall. I’m sorry, I—”
“Shhh.” He smoothed a hand up and down her back. “You have had enough to worry about.”
“Did you tell your aunt?” She lifted her head to look at him.
“Not yet. I was waiting for you to tell your mother first.”
“We should keep it quiet. At least until Mama is better,” Lavinia said.
He knew as much but he nodded. The last thing he wanted to do was to aggravate a sick woman. And unfortunately their match would. Mrs. Chadwick wanted more for her daughter than a rough Scotsman with a castle. Maybe if he had a daughter, he’d feel the same, but he’d rather die than let some stiff-backed English earl have Lavinia. She belonged with him, Scottish barbarian or not.
“I’ll return for you, lass,” he vowed. “As soon as she is well, we’ll be wed, I swear it.”
Her lips curved. “Good.”
He glanced at the doorway. “Will your aunt not be looking for you?”
“No, my sisters will keep her occupied.”
“Should we not—”
Lavinia put a hand to his face and forced his attention on her. Not that she needed to. With tiny blossoms in her hair and curls artfully coiled around her face and neck, she could hold his attention for days—no months—on end.
“Niall, I want to stay here. With you.” Her words were weighted with meaning.
He searched her gaze. Surely he had to be wrong? “Lavinia—”
“For once in my life, I want to do something selfish and imperfect. I want to do something for me. Who knows when we shall see each other again?” She rocked her hips against him and fluttered her lips over his neck.
Biting back a groan, he eased her back with his hands to her arms. “Lass, you’ll be the death of me.”
He sealed his mouth over hers. She moaned as his lips trailed down her throat and then back up to her ear. He breathed into her ear and she shuddered as he nipped at her lobe. Heat flared through every inch of him, flaming and burning at his very soul. He could not be worthy of this woman, could he? This had to be some sort of dream.
Lavinia tugged his cravat free and tossed it aside so she could trail a path across his exposed collar bone with her fingers. He shuddered, her fingers cool and smooth against his scorching skin. No, this was no dream. He could not have imagined this.
She found the edge of his shirt and pulled it from his kilt. A rumble escaped his throat as she stroked his flesh, causing his stomach muscles to contract.
Bunching her skirts up in his hands, he found flesh. The soft, sumptuous flesh of her thigh. He dug his fingers into it and Lavinia sucked in a shuddery breath.
Tearing her lips away from his, she brushed kisses down the bristled length of his jaw until she reached his exposed chest. He tightened his grip on her thigh as she pressed fervent, open-mouthed kisses to his skin, while he silently prayed for control.
He fumbled with the back of her gown while he kissed her until her breaths were ragged. Niall pressed his body against hers, backing her up to the wall. She stared up at him. Her breasts were crushed to his chest and he put his hands to either side of her head, effectively trapping her. He felt her heart thud rapidly against his body.
Letting one hand remain on the wall, he traced the curve of her side, following it down until he reached the swell of her hip. He gripped there before coming around to cup her bottom. He moved into her and watched her eyes flare at the feel of him before lowering his mouth to hers.
Their kisses became more frenzied and Niall stopped massaging her bottom, bringing his hand up between them so he could cup her breasts. She cried out.
“I can’t control myself, lassie,” he murmured.
Lavinia shook her head. “You do not need to. Touch me again, Niall.”
He cursed and gripped her impatiently once more. Niall tugged clumsily at her gown, bunching the cloth in his hands. They locked gazes while his hand slid up her thigh then around. He felt the heat of her inviting him further and laid the flat of his palm against the juncture of her thighs, pressing but remaining still. Lavinia gasped and moved into his touch.
Raucous laughter from outside made them freeze. Niall pressed his face to the side of hers, drawing in the scent of her and savoring the soft feel of her cheek against his mouth until the voices were gone. He eased out a breath. No one was planning on interrupting them.
Using a light teasing touch, Niall explored her body, watching her face as he teased and enticed.
“Niall!”
He chuckled and pressed a finger deeply into her, causing her back to lift from the wall. “I’ve never met a lass so beautiful.” The words came out gritty and tight.
Lavinia’s eyes widened as he dropped to his knees. Who knew when he would see her again and he’d be damned if he didn’t take this chance to savor every inch of her. He eased himself under her skirts and touched his tongue to her sex. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Niall swept over her responsive center, teasing at it before taking it in his teeth.
She jerked her hips in time with his licks and sucks. Her body began to fold into itself but Niall kept hold of her hips, forcing her to accept the onslaught of his tongue. He dipped in again and ruthlessly sucked at her until she came apart, her legs shuddering around him.
As she drew in breaths, Niall came to his feet, letting a smug smile stretch across his face. He leant over, pressing his arm underneath her back and kissing her gently.
“Goodness that was...”
He nodded. “For me too.”
Smoothing his hands over her body, he cupped her rear and flattened her against him. She could have no idea how much he needed her. He hardly comprehended it himself. He had been offered many women in his life and resisted them with ease. Not tonight, though.
“Lavinia...” He swallowed, his dry throat making his words gritty. “You should know...I’ve never been with a lass.”
She blinked at him. Seconds ticked on, punctuated by the clock in the study.
“Lass?”
“But how is that possible?”
“With ease I assure you. The estate keeps me busy and I’d not found
a lass who interested me.” He tipped his head forward and leant his forehead to hers. “Until now.”
She looped her hands around his neck and kissed him gently on the lips. “Thank you for telling me.”
“If I hurt you at all...”
Pressing herself against him, she shook her head. “I do not think you’re capable of that, Niall.”
With a groan, he boosted her onto the table and pushed her skirts up her thighs. He kissed her firmly, drinking in the sweet taste of her and allowing himself to get lost in the warmth of her body, the delicate scent of her, the way she felt wrapped around him. He’d never been with a lass, aye, but he knew what to do. Nothing with Lavinia felt unnatural or forced.
Drawing her close, he lifted his kilt with one hand and met the heat of her. He clenched his teeth and drew in a long breath through his nostrils. He wouldn’t rush this but damn it was going to be hard to maintain control—especially when she looked up at him as though he was the only man on earth.
A hand curled around the back of her neck, the other on her thigh, he eased forward. Her eyes flared and he worked his jaw, his breaths feeling hot.
“Christ,” he hissed.
She gripped his arms and her fingers tightened on his muscles as he moved deeper. Inch by inch, he sank into her. Her body stiffened and he waited for her to relax before moving forward again until there was not a whisper of air between them.
Swallowing hard, he met her gaze. All control fled. The desire burning bright in her eyes was the undoing of him. He rocked into her and she gasped his name.
Both hands to her hips, he maneuvered her to get a deeper angle. Her legs wrapped around him. His breaths grew ragged as he thrust deep and she panted and made little noises that fisted around his heart.
“Oh, Niall.”
He kissed her, swallowing her desperate cries and masking his own. The table creaked and objects spilled to the floor. Pleasure boiled in his veins. Her body stiffened and she shuddered, becoming limp in his arms while she gasped his name. Niall followed her over, closing his eyes tight and kissing her shakily.
Lavinia and the Laird (Bluestocking Brides Book 0) Page 9