A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4)

by Meara Platt

  “A heartbroken horse?” Graelem paused and arched his eyebrow. “Possibly. I sure as hell would miss you if I were Brutus.”

  “You would?” She leapt at the opportunity to ask about his own true feelings. “And if you were you? Would you miss me if we were apart and you didn’t have to marry me? Would you think of me at all?”

  He stared at her, his expression revealing nothing for the longest moment, and then the corners of his lips curved upward in the softest smile. “Och, lass. Every day,” he said with a deep, rumbling brogue that caused her insides to warm and the little butterflies in her stomach to flutter their wings in giddy excitement. “Every moment of every day.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. Although he’d agreed to her terms of their marriage and been content with the requirements in her list, this was the closest he’d ever come to a declaration of love. “I’d miss you too.”

  He reached out and tucked a finger under her chin. “What’s this about, Laurel?”

  “I’ll tell you after we’ve seen Brutus.” She was eager to tell him that she loved him, but also wanted to make a quick escape if his response wasn’t what she’d hoped. She couldn’t escape before making certain Brutus was fit.

  She eased away and began to walk ahead of him, but he quickly caught up to her.

  They walked in silence the rest of the way, turning the corner and entering the mews, which contained a large carriage house, two smaller ones, and a row of stalls to accommodate the assorted conveyances, riding equipment, sturdy carriage horses, and high-stepping mounts owned by the residents of Chipping Way.

  The largest carriage house belonged to the Farthingales. One of the smaller houses belonged to Graelem’s grandmother, and the smallest belonged to the reclusive and slightly curmudgeonly General Allworthy, who resided at Number 1 Chipping Way.

  Laurel noticed Amos standing beside Brutus and soothingly stroking his nose. “Oh, dear. Amos, what do you think is wrong with him?”

  “I can’t put my finger on it, Miss Laurel. He just isn’t himself.”

  As Amos drew back, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck. Brutus immediately responded with a neigh and a soft snort of air against her ear. “How are you, Brutus, my love? Have you missed me?”

  She gave him a few more strokes, ran her hands expertly up and down his forelegs, and then began to walk him out of the stable. “His gait seems fine. I don’t notice a limp.” She blushed as the words left her mouth, for Graelem stood beside her, leaning on his crutches. Once he was off them, he’d still have a limp, possibly for the rest of his life. “I mean… perhaps you ought to ride him up and down the street, Amos. I’ll watch his movements as you do.”

  “I have a better idea,” Graelem said. “You do it, and if he still appears to be out of sorts, then we’ll know for certain that something is wrong.”

  Her eyes widened and her heart began to beat a little faster. “You’d allow me to ride Brutus?”

  Graelem nodded. “He’s yours, Laurel. I’ve already told you that I won’t take him from you.”

  In that moment, she wanted to throw her arms around Graelem’s neck and tell him that she loved him. If ever she’d had a doubt that she could be happily married to him, it was now erased. She smiled at him and was met with a warm smile in response. There was a gleam of affection in his dark eyes. Was it love? “Besides,” he said, “it’s a perfect day for a leisurely ride in Hyde Park.”

  She gasped. “Truly?”

  He tweaked her nose. “If I recall the terms of your punishment, you’re confined to your home so long as I’m confined. And now that I’m able to get around, so are you. I’m sure you’ve missed your daily jaunts to the park.”

  “I have,” she admitted.

  “Then go change into your riding habit. I’ll wait for you here.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Once again the urge to throw her arms around him and admit that she loved him seemed most appropriate. However, Amos stood beside them and although he was no gossip, Laurel didn’t wish for an audience when she handed her heart to Graelem. “Thank you,” she said in a ragged whisper.

  Graelem laughed and nudged her toward the house.

  She hurried off, Graelem remaining foremost on her mind. She simply had to find the right moment to tell him how she felt. He’d be pleased, and if he were inclined to kiss her long and hard, she wouldn’t resist.

  Indeed, she wanted his hot, hungry lips on hers.

  She ached for his big, capable hands on her body.

  Gladys was in her bedchamber, merrily humming a country lilt as she dusted furniture. “Back already, Miss Laurel? Was his lordship not at home? Well, it’s a lovely day, isn’t it? He might have gone out. Can’t blame him, being trapped inside for weeks with a busted leg.”

  “The loveliest day,” she agreed. “I met him on his way to the mews. Will you help me into my riding habit? Lord Moray and I are going for a ride in the park.”

  Gladys smiled. “Oh, what a nice idea.”

  She nodded. “The nicest. Something spooked Brutus this morning, but he appears fine now. Nonetheless, Lord Moray insisted we take him out for a trot. It’s more for my benefit, I think. He knows how eager I am to get out again.”

  Gladys laughed. “We all know it. You haven’t let any of us forget it since the day you were punished.”

  Laurel winced. “I suppose I have been insufferable these past few weeks. My apologies if I was rude to you.”

  Her eyes rounded in horror. “Dear me, no! You’re never one take your anger out on others.” She shook her head and tsked. “You’re always much harder on yourself than on anyone else. But no more talk of that when you have a handsome baron waiting for you.”

  “He is quite good-looking, isn’t he?”

  “He’s a catch, to be sure. So don’t let him slip through your fingers. Stop dawdling and get about your business.”

  With a little help from Gladys, Laurel quickly changed out of her morning gown and into her green velvet riding habit, the one she had worn on the fateful day Brutus had knocked down Graelem. Goodness, it seemed forever ago. So much had happened in these few weeks.

  Tomorrow would mark the end of the third week.

  Tomorrow her father would expect her decision, although by now he had to be fairly certain of her answer. She was never any good at hiding her feelings, and she’d already admitted to her family that she loved Graelem.

  It was time she admitted it to him.

  She hurried back to the mews. Graelem was waiting for her, already mounted on one of the Farthingale horses by the time she returned. He sat astride Galileo, a magnificent roan gelding. He looked very much like a brave Scottish warrior and very much at ease in the saddle, even though his injured leg was out of the stirrup and left to hang down stiffly.

  Gladys had referred to him as a handsome baron. Indeed, he was. The handsomest ever. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

  “Not at all, lass. Brutus and I were getting better acquainted.” Brutus had been saddled and was now pawing the ground, impatient to trot off. Graelem held out the reins that were loosely clasped in his hand. Her fingers grazed his as she took them from him.

  Her body immediately began to tingle at his touch.

  She blushed and quickly drew her hand away.

  He grinned, no doubt noticing the fire in her cheeks that was now spreading down her body and heating the most inappropriately intimate places. Thankfully, those were primly covered by the green velvet of her riding habit.

  She quickly mounted Brutus, requiring no assistance as she hooked one leg atop the saddle and settled herself comfortably in the seat. “Shall we go?”

  She stared at the back of Brutus’ head as she spoke, desperate to avoid Graelem’s knowing gaze. What was wrong with her? Couldn’t she contain her wanton impulses long enough to attend to her skittish horse? “Thank you for saddling him, Amos.”

  “I didn’t do it, Miss Laurel.”

 
She turned to Graelem in surprise. “You?”

  He nodded.

  She laughed lightly. “Brutus allowed you near him? I suppose he still feels badly about injuring you.”

  “I doubt he has any such sentiments. But he senses your ease around me, so he accepts me. Galileo’s a fine horse, too,” he said, glancing down at his mount. “Let me guess, Lily named him.”

  Laurel nodded and pointed to another roan gelding in a nearby stall. “She also named his brother, Copernicus.”

  Graelem shook his head and chuckled. “Of course.”

  They rode in comfortable silence to Hyde Park and ambled through the park gate, Laurel concentrating on Brutus and his every step. “I wonder what happened this morning to overset him. He seems perfectly fine now.” Just to be sure, she spurred him to a canter as they turned onto Rotten Row. His strides were long and sure, with no hint of any discomfort.

  Graelem rode alongside her, his gaze also on Brutus.

  But as they turned toward the Serpentine, he suddenly motioned for Laurel to halt. She drew back on the reins and turned to him, worried. “What’s wrong? Did you notice something amiss with Brutus?”

  When he didn’t immediately respond, she followed his gaze to a small group of riders stopped just ahead of them. “Oh, dear. Is that your cousin, Jordan? Crumpets, he’s with Anne and Devlin. I wonder what they’re talking about.”

  “Us, no doubt. Nothing good, I’ll wager.”

  “What shall we do?”

  “Turn back, I think. I won’t have you or Brutus injured in a confrontation.” He clamped his big hand over hers, capturing it and the reins she was holding, as though to keep her from charging at the three scoundrels. “I mean it, Laurel. I know what you plan to do, that fire in your eyes gives you away.”

  “So what if I was going to run them down? Those wretches deserve it.”

  His laughter was more of a groan. “Save that fiery passion for me when I kiss you, which I plan to do as soon as we return to the stables.”

  His gaze was a most distracting smolder, one purposely designed to scramble her thoughts and make her heart beat wildly in anticipation. Unfortunately, it worked. Now he was grinning at her. She tried her best to look indignant, but was doing a very poor job of it. “What makes you think I will allow it?”

  His thumb gently stroked along the hand he was still holding, evoking shivers of delight from her. “Graelem, you’re a wretch and an oaf. You know that, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “But I’m still going to kiss you.”

  She glanced around and sighed. He’d distracted her long enough so that the deceitful threesome had ridden off their separate ways. There would be no battle charge. A pity. She and Brutus would have enjoyed knocking those elegant scoundrels to the ground, or better, into the fountain. “Aren’t you worried about what they might be planning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes? That’s it? I deserve a better answer than that.” She drew her hand out of his grasp.

  He took it back and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Lass, the best solution is for us to marry as soon as possible. I have the special license. I’ve had it burning a hole in my pocket ever since I arrived in London. But since you’re taking a deucedly long time coming around to the idea of marriage—and you’re the only debutante in London who seems to have any standards in that regard, to my misfortune—I’ve had to come up with other means to protect you from that toad you thought you loved, and from my wastrel cousin.”

  “Such as?”

  “I have Bow Street runners watching them, following their movements and reporting back to me daily.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Are they watching me, too?”

  “No, I’ve always trusted you. It’s them I’m worried about.”

  She had been trying to tug free of his grasp, but stopped. “Always? I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” It was almost as good as telling her that he loved her. Almost.

  Still, that he’d trusted her from the first was very special. He’d said it so casually, the words slipping from his nicely formed lips with a natural ease, heartfelt and not at all glib or pandering. Perhaps it was the only way he knew how to tell her that he loved her. “Let’s go back to the stable, Graelem. You owe me a kiss.”

  * * *

  Graelem had been aching to plant his lips on Laurel’s lush mouth again, driven mad by the memory of her arousal and glorious climax at his hands. He longed to touch her, to run his hands along her soft skin and kiss his way down her delectable body. He put action to the thought the moment they returned to the stable and he saw that they were alone.

  In one quick motion, he managed to tether the horses and catch Laurel in his arms as she slid off the saddle. Ignoring the hot jabs of pain that tore up his leg with each step, as any mindless, idiot male would, he carried Laurel to an empty stall. His leg was already in spasms by the time they reached it, and he scattered hay and smacked his shoulders against the wooden boards as he fell against them for support.

  He didn’t care, only needing the one good leg to stand on anyway.

  “Graelem, I—”

  His lips closed on hers and his hands cupped her buttocks to draw her firmly up against his arousal, so that she knew how hot and hungry he was for her, how desperate he was to drink her in, to devour her.

  She gasped against his mouth. “Oh, Graelem.”

  He loved the sound of his name on her lips, loved everything about her. His hand moved up to cup her breast, his fingers teasing the already hardened nipple through the thick velvet fabric. “Oh, my goodness! Graelem!”

  “Goodness has nothing to do with it, sweetheart.” He would have stopped had she flinched or tensed, but she was grabbing at his jacket to shove it off him and he knew in the next moment she would be ripping at his shirt, sending studs and buttons flying everywhere as she tore it off him to touch his bare skin.

  He’d be doomed if she actually knew what she was doing, but there was no seductive art or finesse to her actions. This was Laurel, the wanton innocent who responded with all the passion in her heart.

  “Lass,” he said, grunting and panting as he kissed her, almost exploding as she kissed him back with a breathless, moaning ardor and began to rub her hip against his hard, throbbing heat. She’d stopped tackling his shirt, the studs too stiff to manage while her fingers trembled, and was now tugging at his breeches.

  He was aroused beyond measure by this innocent girl who still didn’t know what she was doing and didn’t understand the sensations she roused each time her fingers grazed his erect tip—which they did quite often as she fumbled in exasperation with the buttons of his breeches, unaware that her haphazard strokes were driving him over the edge.

  He caught her hands in one of his and turned their bodies so that her back was now leaning against the boards of the stall, her arms pinned over her head, trapped in one of his big hands. He used his other hand to explore her body, his fingers sweeping across the lush curves hidden beneath the soft velvet. He traced every sweet swell and curve.

  Laurel, as ever, didn’t hold back. Instead she responded with a breathless eagerness to each caress, grinding her soft, generous lips against his mouth with ardent desperation.

  “Graelem,” she said in a whisper, closing her eyes and arching her back so that the hardened tips of her breasts pressed against his chest, the sensation so exquisitely hot and intense that he forgot that his leg was still in spasms and there were still layers of velvet and crisp cotton lawn between them. “Release my hands, I want to touch you.”

  This was the clumsiest sex he’d ever had, standing off balance and in pain while an inept but exquisitely passionate virgin struggled to get in his pants, and—damn it—couldn’t seem to manage it on her own. In her own defense, she couldn’t manage to do anything but breathlessly moan his name while she writhed between his legs and he ground his throbbing member against her hip.

  Lord, everything about this moment was awkward and perf
ect. Laurel made it so.

  Despite the numerous layers of fabric between them, she still managed to stir him to a roaring heat, one that bubbled his blood and brewed within him until he could bear no more. His pleasure was heightened by Laurel’s soft cries as she climaxed, her eyes closed and kissable mouth slightly open as she absorbed the powerful sensations flowing through her body in hot waves of pleasure to match his own.

  He drew her shuddering body against his and caressed her until she calmed.

  She splayed her hand across his chest, resting it against his heart as it throbbed to a steady beat. He felt hers still beating out of control as she leaned against him. “I love you, Graelem.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled up at him, a sweet, gentle smile that he didn’t deserve, for he had yet to respond to this startling admission just sprung from her lips. In truth, he’d known how Laurel felt about him for a while now, but to hear her say it openly had him raising his eyes heavenward and giving thanks for this miracle.

  She felt incredibly good, even though they stood together, both hot and panting and disheveled. He swallowed her in his embrace. “I don’t want it to be like this any longer, Laurel. I don’t want to be stealing kisses in a stable or in a stately parlor, worried about your reputation if we were to be discovered. I want the right to kiss you, to take you into my arms and carry you to bed. Our bed. Every night. Marry me, lass. Now. Today.”

  Her smile stole his breath away, as did the sparkle in her eyes. “Is that your lust speaking?”

  He laughed and lowered his forehead to hers. “Hell, yes… and no. You set me on fire, you have from the first. I can’t look at you without aching or burning, or turning hot and hard. But at the same time, I can’t look at you without wishing you were mine forever. I can’t look at you without thinking how hopeless and empty my life would be if I could not wake to find your beautiful eyes, the color of a tropical sea, gazing back at me, or not feel your hand gently resting on my shoulder. This is about starting our lives together.” He eased back and ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “I’ve never forgiven my father for abandoning me, but I’m beginning to understand how he might have felt when losing my mother.”