What is wrong with me he thought as he stared at this woman in front of him. She’s a lunatic who is going to try and experience everything she can for a novel? The words sickened him as he thought of this beautiful woman going to the steward’s son to ask him for a kiss and who knew what else. It was unfathomable.
Alex walked further away from her. The temptation to give her what she wanted, an actual kiss, caused a flutter in his stomach. He feared the consequences of what would happen if he did kiss her. Moreover, she was taunting him with her gaze. She had to know the power beauty had over men. The thought caused him to move even further away and had him considering the loft or the cold rain. A woman shouldn’t affect him so much after only a few hours.
“You will not convince me to kiss you.” The words sounded juvenile and ridiculous. It was very obvious by the statement he was considering the kiss.
“Is the thought of kissing me disgusting? I asked you to describe a kiss and the reasons a man would kiss a woman and you refused to answer.” In a very innocent voice, she again looked at him with her head tilted. “Why will you not kiss a willing participant?”
More than anything in that moment he wanted to pull her into his arms as he looked at her very kissable lips. What would they look like after he showed her the affection and feelings that went into such an action? He knew, he couldn’t do as she asked, because a kiss was so much more than a transaction of novel writing.
His first kiss with Margaret had been frightening yet full of meaning. As they grew closer, the kissing became more intimate. The last kiss, he didn’t want to think about it ever again. It had been the worst experience of his life. “What will you do if I describe a kiss?”
“I will be content and write about it in my novel.”
“If I continue to refuse?”
“I will have to experience a kiss.”
Taking a moment to formulate his words, he watched as she sat wide eyed pen poised for note taking as though she were in a school room.
“I prefer not to kiss you, even though you are very willing, because a kiss should be unexpected in a way. The sensation should make you shiver with excitement and fearful of loneliness if it ever ends. When you kiss someone, who does not care for you as you do for them, it is hollow and lonely.” The emotion he found in his explanation made him relive every moment he’d thought was wonderful with Margaret, and in the end, he was an empty man.
“Do you have a mistress?” She asked the question with such a casual air it was as if she were asking him if he owned a pet. It was obvious to him she was so wrapped up in her writing she hadn’t noticed his emotions.
Alex’s jaw dropped. When he recovered, he said, “Such things are inappropriate to discuss and are not a topic for a lady.”
“Why?” she asked in defiance. “Why is it men can do whatever they please, and women have to sit home in the parlor working on embroidery or some such nonsense?”
“Do your parents know you ask impertinent questions?”
“I have reserved all of my questions for you, my lord.” The innocence shining on her face nearly set him to laughing. She couldn’t be so innocent. Not with the questions she asked and the statements she made about infidelity. “My governess would not let me read Peterson’s Magazine, so I had to sneak it into my bedchamber at night. I have read all sorts of novelettes about rakes and gentlemen stepping out on their wives with the maids and mistresses.”
“And you think these stories portray reality?”
“Why would they not?”
“They are works of fiction, Love.” He pointed to the parchment in her hand. “Similar to what you are writing.”
“Well… of… course… they… are… fiction,” she said in the most condescending tone she could have mustered.
It was very evident now, there was no question in his mind as he noticed the sparkle in her eyes, the laughter in her face, and the joy she exuberated in the dingy barn; she was mocking him.
“Then what part of these novels do you think are reality?”
“The people and places are fiction, but they glean their ideas from real life circumstances. I read an article on it once.”
Completely taken aback he asked, “This novel you are writing is based on someone’s life experiences? They cannot be yours, Love, as you are only just out of the nursery.”
“Make fun of me all you want, but when I am wealthy and famous, you will be able to say you once spent an afternoon teasing me.”
Alex forced the laugh ready to burst from him back down as he accepted her dream. She was not only entertaining to speak with, but she was good company. “Keep dreaming, Love. I have no doubt you will be famous,” infamous he added to himself, “one day.”
Chapter 7
The rain and wind continued throughout the day. Alex walked to the door many times to see if it was letting up but frowned when he realized it was intensifying. To make matters worse, he was frozen and hungry. If warmth were to ever come back to his body, he’d be shocked. In a gentlemanly manner his only blanket was given to Debra and he wouldn’t ask for it back and it would be inappropriate for him to crawl under the blanket with her.
Alex walked around the barn picking up small pieces of wood for kindling. He thought about asking Debra for some of her parchment to feed the fire, but not only was he certain she’d say no, but he also didn’t want to destroy the picture he had of her. She was a wonder. Remembering the deck of cards in his bag, he decided to amuse himself with a game.
Debra hadn’t spoken to him for what seemed like ages as she continued to scribble on the parchment. His desire to read her novel increased as the storm worsened, perhaps the cards would curb his curiosity. “I do not believe we will make it to our destinations for the evening meal, Love. I am worried we will have to stay the night.” She looked up from her writing as if she’d forgotten he was there, shrugged her shoulders, and went back to writing.
Alex placed a few more bits of kindling on the fire and sat close to it with his cards to play a game of patience. He’d only played a few times, as when in company other games were more agreeable, but this game his cousin showed him on his last trip from the continent was entertaining enough.
“What are you playing?” Debra’s innocent voice rang out over the drops of rain splashing against the roof.
“It is called patience, my dear little vixen.”
Placing her parchment to the side, Debra watched in curiosity. A pang of guilt crossed his mind as he wondered what it would be like to hold the little minx. “Will you show me how it is played?”
Alex looked at her for a long searching moment. Her earlier questions threw him off balance due to the shocking and scandalous nature. When she’d asked them, he’d had to use self- control not to give her what she seemed to be asking for, but now with the innocent beautiful smile on her face, he wanted to take her into his arms and never resurface.
Clearing his throat to gather control he asked, “You have never seen the game?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Is it something I could use for my book?”
The tension left his body as he groaned. Everything has to do with that blasted manuscript! “I would imagine so, Love.”
“How is it played?”
Alex explained the reason he’d placed the cards in seven piles and the purpose of each pile, then demonstrated the game. As he played on, a lull in the instructions prompted Debra to speak.
“You have a patient way of explaining card games— not answering questions mind you— but you are good at cards.”
Ignoring the jab at his earlier reluctance to play into her hand, he decided to explain the reason. “I have a younger sister, close to your age, who is very curious as well. Fortunately,” he said the word with emphasis as he looked into her eyes, “I do not have to worry over her asking the same impertinent questions you did. Janie is far too sensible.”
“How do you know this?”
“I know my sister well.”
&nb
sp; “Lord Trenton, if you asked my brothers to explain me, they would tell you I would never behave in such a manner as you are claiming. In truth, I only need the answers to finish my novelette.”
Glaring her into silence, as he did not want her to ask the questions again, he continued to speak of his family, “I also have a younger brother, Fredrick. He is only fifteen and has taken ill.”
“What is he sick with?”
Looking into her face, he noticed the sincerity and decided it was worth speaking over. “Unfortunately for Fredrick, the doctors are not certain. One day they will tell my parents it is highly contagious, and he should be locked away from the family and the next it is only a small cough. Neither answers seem to satisfy the issue.”
“Does he live in your ancestral home?”
“Usually, yes, but a new doctor recently convinced my parents the sea air of Bath would do his body some good. So, they have sent him away.”
“Does no one go with him? They send him alone?” Her concern melted his heart. She did not even know his brother, and the sincerity within her words showed such compassion he’d rarely seen when speaking of Freddie. Most people wanted nothing to do with a sickly child.
“I have an aunt who dotes on Freddie. She stays with him so my parents can care for Janie.”
“And you?”
Alex smiled down at his cards. How could this woman’s sweetness be so intoxicating to him? A simple statement sent him spiraling back to the hormones of a teenage boy as though he had no idea how to speak with a girl. “Well yes, but I am now able to care for myself.”
Debra smiled as though she could see he was uncomfortable. Picking her papers off the ground, she went back to writing. Perplexed by the conversation, he stared at the cards in the dirt for a while before picking them up and putting them away. Unable to focus on a game, Alex lay his head against the barn wall and closed his eyes. He thought about the situation he was in, and the mess he made of it by unbuttoning her dress. His hands shook the entire time; he was surprised he successfully made it through the process of unbuttoning her gown. Then the stays! He cringed as he knew what his mother would say. Did Debra realize they would have to wed after this? As he drifted off to sleep, he thought, she’s quite the vexing woman for one so beautiful. Perhaps, if we escape the barn without any witnesses her reputation will not suffer and there will not be a forced marriage.
Alex woke with a start. Debra’s voice pulled him out of his cold restless dreams. He jumped up ready to defend her, if necessary, only to find the barn door open and wind billowing with rain into the barn.
“Stay where you are.” Alex yelled as ran to the door. The island was in the middle of a terrible storm. Alex used all his body weight to press against the door as cold hit his still wet clothing and seeped into his body. Closing his eyes as he fought against the inclement weather, Alex pushed until the door finally closed.
Weakened by his fight against the wind, hunger, and the continued chill, Alex slowly walked back to his place near the fire hoping for a small amount of warmth only to find the fire had gone out.
With dread, Alex didn’t even hear the words Debra spoke as he took hold of the flint and steel to start the fire again. With effort he saw a flame flicker and take hold of the wood. As he sat back down, he ignored everything she said as he closed his eyes and slept.
Chapter 8
Debra scrambled to her feet as Alex fell to the ground. At first, he looked as though he’d laid down, but when his eyes closed halfway to the ground, she knew there was something wrong. “My lord, are you all right?”
When he didn’t answer, she realized the situation was serious as he was fully unconscious. “My lord?” She limped to where he lay and rolled him over with effort. “Alexander?” She hadn’t received permission to use his Christian name but hoped the shock of hearing it would pull him into consciousness.
Debra shook his shoulder trying to get him to wake. She lightly slapped his face. “Alexander— Lord Trenton— wow, you are cold.” She noticed the icy feeling coming from his pale skin. “You are really cold. Why did you not say something?”
Debra shook his arm again. When he didn’t wake up, she grabbed his arms and tried to pull him closer to the fire. He was far too heavy. Crouching down, she picked his head up and laid it against her shoulder. Grabbing him under his arms, she dragged him to the fire to warm him up fighting the pain in her ankle as she went. With the blanket over and wrapped around him she shivered in the cold. You stupid man. Why did you pretend to be so tough?
When she ignored him to write, she hadn’t taken notice of him. Now he was unconscious, and in need of care, she took a long look. He was very handsome, much more than she’d originally realized. After a short time of the complete silence, Debra shivered from the eeriness of being alone. The sound of rain hitting the roof frightened her. With an overwhelming desire to speak with Lord Trenton, and have him speak back to her, tears fell from her eyes. In a moment of total solitude, she said a short prayer hoping he’d wake and take her home. She vowed to be kinder and allow his escort.
As part of the effort to be kind, Debra sat next to Alex and showed him her manuscript. “I will read it to you. But if I find out you are lying, and you are not unconscious I will never forgive you. I will make your life miserable. My sister plans to marry you, so I can keep this promise.”
“Cordelia grew up in a palace. A life full of lavish indulgences was not her idea of happiness. When she received an introduction to her future husband Antonio, the Prince of Spain, she realized it was time to leave the life she knew and discover the beauty of the world.”
Debra continued to read until her eyes drooped from exhaustion. She placed her hand on his face and noticed he was still cold. This was worrisome. If Alex stayed cold for too long, he would get sick— or worse yet— die. Not looking at the silent still man next to her, she snuggled under the blanket and laid close to him. “Cordelia would do this for Percival, for this reason I will try to keep you warm. But, if you wake and take advantage of me, my brothers and father will have you hung.” Even as the words were said, she knew he was truly unconscious. Before laying her head on his shoulder she whispered, “This is only so you do not freeze to death. I will move away once you are warm.”
As she closed her eyes, she reminded herself, this is so he does not die. I am doing this to keep him warm.
Debra did not want to move. She was warm and comfortable.
“Do you think they are alive?” It was a loud whisper from above. She knew the voice, one of her brothers.
Her father’s voice pulled her out of the fog of sleep. “Get your sister off that man.”
Before anyone could pull her up, Debra realized she hadn’t moved away from Alex as she’d planned to do the night before. Debra took a second to go through her options. She could pretend to stay asleep and let them carry her home, or she could get up and tell her father the truth. What will Lord Trenton say to my father?
With the fear of Lord Trenton saying something to get them into further trouble, Debra opened her eyes to see her brother, Samuel, leaning over her.
“Debra, are you injured?”
She pulled herself up. “Yes…only my ankle.” She shivered in the cold. “It is cold.”
“You may have my coat.” Thankful for the warmth, Debra huddled while she watched Samuel try to wake Lord Trenton. She noticed Leigh’s scandalized face and turned to her other brother.
“What is wrong with you? You look at me as though I have grown a second head.” She didn’t mean to sound harsh, but she didn’t like the look on his face.
Leigh hesitated before speaking. He looked to their father who was looking anywhere but at Debra. “Where is your dress?”
“It was wet, and it burned in the fire. I put it on the door over there.” She pointed so they could see. “It was a terrible night.” She looked down at the britches and shirt she wore realizing the reason her brother’s face was bright red.
“What happe
ned to him?” Samuel asked pulling her attention away from Leigh’s reactions.
“His clothes were wet. He gave me the only dry clothing he had.” She looked over to see if color had come back to Lord Trenton’s face, but he was pale and flushed. “Do you think he will be all right?”
“Who is he?” her father asked. Debra closed her eyes as she imagined the cozy yet shocking scene they’d walked in on. She’d been curled up next to an unconscious man.
“His name is Lord Trenton,” Samuel said as he helped Debra off the ground. She limped away so Samuel and her father could move closer to Alexander. “The Duke and Duchess of Waverly are his parents.”
“Yes, I remember.” Her father’s scowl told her was not happy.
“His parents expected his arrival to be tomorrow.” Samuel knelt next to the unconscious form that was the sassy man she’d met.
“Obviously he planned to arrive a little early,” her father continued with this angry tone she’d rarely heard.
Both men turned back to Debra. She limped backward not sure how to interpret the anger on her father’s face. She thought of possible phrases but did not think any of them would be helpful.
“How did this,” her father waved his hands around the area, “come to be?”
Debra stuttered, “I… I… I… was caught in the rain.”
Her father leaned down and picked up the papers on the ground. Debra winced as his face went from curiosity to anger yet again. This was not a time to try her father’s temper. Suddenly fear of what Lord Trenton would say didn’t plague her as she wished he would wake so he could take the brunt of the blame. Surely the man who had ruined her would be his source of animosity instead of her writing.
“We will discuss this further at home.”
Debra nodded. Staying silent was the best option as Samuel and Leigh lifted Lord Trenton off the ground. His arms dangled over Samuel’s shoulder. Debra tried not to laugh, because the situation was not funny, but he was still very unconscious, and they did look a sight.
Wit & Intrigue (An Assignation to Remember Book 1) Page 4