by Dayna Quince
“Games?” Heather asked.
“A scavenger hunt then lawn bowling after luncheon.”
“Sounds delightful!” Violet smiled with excitement.
Heather smiled halfheartedly. She was happy to see Violet had regained her spirits but was having trouble finding her own. “When does the scavenger hunt begin?”
“After breakfast we will meet in the drawing room to wait for the gentlemen,” her mother replied.
“Why must we always be waiting for the gentlemen?” Primrose said in irritation.
“Now, Prim.” Her mother adopted a lecturing tone.
Heather tuned them out as she stared down at her cup of tea. Would she have to face him? If last evening was any indication, she might not have a choice. She looked around the room at the other young ladies vying for husbands. They had options she didn’t have. They could pick from the assortment of gentlemen, selecting one who fit the mold suited to them. Heather had no choice. She only had the duke, and in the duke’s place was his steward. A steward she wanted to kiss.
She looked down at her plate as her cheeks flushed shamefully. What was she thinking? Her dreams had been bad enough, and now her thoughts betrayed her. She took a few bites of egg and toast to occupy herself as pleasant chatter continued around her. When she finished, she dutifully followed her mother into the drawing room where Lady Endervale held court.
“I’ve received word that our esteemed gentlemen have returned. I’ve prepared a list of clues for each group for the scavenger hunt. Now, with Mr. Calder in the duke’s place, our numbers are splendidly even once more. Each group will have two ladies and two gentlemen.”
There were excited murmurs following this announcement.
“To keep things…proper”—Lady Endervale smiled knowingly—“there will be chaperones at stations along the hunt to offer clues and keep a watchful eye on the festivities.” Lady Endervale turned as the gentlemen entered the drawing room. “Perfect timing! I was just about to announce the pairs.” Pulling a list from her sleeve, she began to announce names, and the groups gathered together. Heather felt her name fall on the room like a knell as she was paired with—unsurprisingly—Mr. Calder. Lucy soon joined them along with Lord Draven. Violet looked mutinous as it became clear that she and Prim would be excluded from the activities.
“I’m sorry, Vi. You’ll have your turn soon enough.” Heather touched Violet’s shoulder.
“I don’t see why she cannot join us now. Would you mind, Lady Lucy and Lord Draven, if Miss Violet and Miss Primrose joined our group?” Fallon asked.
“It hardly matters to me,” Draven grumbled.
“I’d love their company.” Lucy smiled.
“I’ll just speak with Lady Endervale.” Fallon moved away.
Heather watched him with surprise as Violet grabbed her hand excitedly. “How kind of him.”
“Indeed,” Heather answered as she watched him stride over to Lady Endervale. At least she wouldn’t be alone with him. Her sisters would be a good buffer. She smiled her thanks as he returned and caught her eye. It was a tentative smile but nonetheless genuine. He had their list of clues in hand, and they gathered around him. Heather was closest to him, and as she leaned in to peer at the list, she caught a whiff of shaving soap and man. For a moment, she just stared at the paper, incognizant of the writing.
“Beware the stones across the path. If you should fall, you’ll take a bath.” Lucy frowned as she read the words.
“The folly,” Draven said from the edge of their group. He looked as interested as a toad at teatime.
“Right, the folly then.” Lucy threw a glare Draven’s way, but his eyes were on another group. “Let’s be off.”
Heather hesitated as her sisters skipped ahead with Lucy, followed by Mr. Calder. She was surprised by the looming presence behind her and turned to find Lord Draven holding out his arm. “May I escort you to the folly?”
“Yes, thank you.” She put her hand on his arm, and they followed their party out onto the terrace. Heather kept her gaze forward, her eyes pulling time and again to the broad shoulders of Mr. Calder. She was glad of her sturdy wool dress, as the late morning had yet to give way to the warm afternoon sun. The man beside her was quiet, but she didn’t mind.
“Quite diabolical of our hostess, isn’t it?”
Heather was caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?”
Lord Draven looked down at her and smiled. “To send us off hither and yonder, unchaperoned and unleashed.” He winked at her.
“There are chaperones placed throughout the grounds, from what I understand,” Heather replied.
“Ah, yes, but with so much open space interrupted by hedges, mazes, walls, and gazebos, the possibilities for an experienced rake are endless.”
Heather bit her tongue to keep a nervous laugh from escaping. She had very little experience with flirtation—if that’s what this was. “I wouldn’t know, my lord.”
“No, I suspect you wouldn’t, though you’re not exactly the target of her ladyship’s schemes, given your association with the duke and…his steward.”
Heather looked forward in what she hoped was a casual manner. Something about the set of Mr. Calder’s shoulders ahead of them made her think he could hear their words. “I suspect you’re right. These games were not designed with me in mind, but certainly an advantage for you and the other eligible guests.”
“What a shame, Miss Everly. I find you quite…eligible.”
Heather should have been flattered, but she had the distinct impression she was being toyed with. She didn’t know how to respond without encouraging him further. She almost wished she could take her arm from his sleeve. She looked up, surprised to find him looking down at her with a teasing smile as they walked. He was handsome, with his dark hair and unusual grey eyes, elegant but masculine in his clothing and size, but he was not the kind of man she could ever love. He was a predator.
“Why, thank you, Lord Draven. That is kind of you to say,” she responded lamely. She could tell by his eyes that his interest dimmed a tiny bit. She didn’t know what else to do. “But you see, I’ve set my heart on a duke, and you’re only a viscount.” She smiled teasingly to soften the insult.
He smiled wickedly in return, clearly far from insulted. “Touché, Miss Everly. Well done.” They both looked forward to where Mr. Calder had offered Lucy his arm.
“Perhaps Lady Lucy would find you acceptable,” Heather teased. She was beginning to enjoy herself now.
Lord Draven laughed. It was deep and raspy. “I am good friends with her brother. Gentlemen have rules about such things, and I don’t think I can sustain two heartbreaks in one day.” He looked down at her from the corner of his eye. “You surprise me.”
“How so?” Heather was intrigued.
“You make yourself easy to overlook by blending so well with the demure English Lady ruse.”
“Ruse?” It was Heather’s turn to laugh.
“When in fact, you are quite vibrant and lovely. It’s a shame your charms will be wasted on a stiff old man, when you could enjoy a stiff—” He stopped abruptly when a looming wall of chest appeared before them in the form of Mr. Calder.
Heather squeaked in surprise. He had a fierce look about him as he stared at Lord Draven in stony silence. Heather hadn’t realized until that moment that he was a few inches taller than Lord Draven. He turned his gaze on her, and the hardness in his eyes softened. “I have news of the duke I’d thought to share with you, Miss Everly.”
“Oh?” It was more of a breathy gasp as she removed her hand from Lord Draven’s arm.
Lord Draven smiled, as if he were enjoying Mr. Calder’s intimidating display very much. “Well, I shall take your place with Lady Lucy then.” He turned and smiled at Heather. “It was a pleasure conversing with you, Miss Everly.”
Mr. Calder stepped aside as Lord Draven passed then presented his arm to Heather. Heather looked back and forth between the men in confusion as Lord Draven offered his arm
to Lucy and they began to walk again. Mr. Calder made no move to continue walking.
“I hope he didn’t say anything to offend you, Miss Everly.”
Heather looked up at him, a little startled. For some reason, she expected him to use her given name, as he had so scandalously done last night, and she was a little disappointed he hadn’t. “No, he didn’t. We were merely chatting.”
“It didn’t sound like chatting. It sounded like flirting, and he is dangerous to you.”
Heather scoffed. “Do you mean to chase away my suitors in protection of the duke’s interest?”
“He is not a suitor, he is a rogue.”
Heather’s eyes widened as she looked forward. They were far from their group now but still visible. “We should keep up.”
He reluctantly began to move. Heather was still processing not only what he’d said, but also the way he’d said it. He’d sounded…jealous? That couldn’t be. Possessive? Perhaps. Did he view her as property of the Duke of Ablehill? She was suddenly angry. She was no man’s property, not yet anyhow. If another man had an interest in her, a younger man of suitable means to rescue her and her family, why shouldn’t she be open to that choice?
“I am under no contract with the duke. I can do as I please.”
He was silent for a moment. “That is true.”
“Then why are you acting as if I have acted dishonorably?”
“There is nothing in your actions that warrant scrutiny. It’s his actions I am concerned about, or more to the point, his motives.”
“Motives?” Heather laughed. “What motives could he possibly have toward me?”
“I’m not sure, but when I talked about you last night in the billiard room—”
Heather yanked him to a stop and turned him to face her. “Why on earth were you talking about me with other gentlemen?”
Chapter 8
And if I did?”
“What right have you to discuss me at any point—at any time?”
“Aren’t you going to finish that with a withering ‘How dare you!’?”
“Why are you discussing me with other gentlemen?” She poked his chest with a finger, hiding a wince underneath an angry huff. Was his chest made of marble?
“I was simply trying to get the lay of the land. To find out why your only option for marriage is to the duke.”
“You have humiliated me. No wonder Lord Draven thought to toy with me as he did. You’ve made a mockery of me.” Heather crossed her arms and turned away. She looked out over a hedge of dormant roses and fought against the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.
There was the sound of scuffling feet before Violet rounded the corner. “What’s become of you two?” She looked back and forth between them with a frown.
“Nothing,” Heather growled.
“Is it about the duke?” Violet asked. “Is he worse?”
“His ankle still pains him. He may not arrive for some days yet,” Mr. Calder said.
Violet’s face crumpled. “What does that mean?”
“We were going to discuss it with your mother now. Here, take the list and go on with your sister. Keep a sharp eye on Lord Draven and Lady Lucy.”
Violet took the list without question and turned. She looked back once before rounding the corner, and then they were alone again.
“I have nothing I wish to say to my mother,” Heather said with her back to him.
“I don’t think you should continue on in this state. You are upset.”
Heather spun around. “You think you know me so well? You act as if you have some claim to me. I do not belong to you or the duke, Mr. Calder. You are trying to manage me like I am some property or thing—”
“No.” He stepped closer and grabbed her arms. “I’m trying to protect you, I’m trying to understand you, and heaven above, I’m trying to resist you at all costs—though I’m failing.”
Heather’s mouth went slack. “Excuse me?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the house then took a path to the left, leading to a gazebo surrounded by dense evergreen shrubbery. He pulled her up the steps and turned to face her. “I want to kiss you again, Heather, but I won’t. Not unless you give me permission.”
“I won’t,” Heather was quick to say, though her heart was beating alarmingly fast and a burst of pleasure filled her when he said her name.
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move closer. He stayed perfectly still and just stared at her. “You don’t want me to kiss you? Truly, Heather?”
Heather shook her head weakly. “I like the way you say my name.”
His face softened and his eyes turned a vivid blue. “Heather.”
Heather had the urge to reach out and touch his coat, to walk her fingers up the lapel to his neck. She curled her fingers into her skirt instead. “What is your name?”
His lips turned up at the corners ever so slightly. “You wish to know my name?”
She nodded, her lips curving in a return smile.
“It’s Fallon.”
“Fallon,” she said, feeling the weight of it on her tongue.
“I have to kiss you right now,” he begged, and then stepped closer.
Heather put a hand on his chest to push him away, but then she became preoccupied with the feel of it, the warmth she could sense through his clothing, the obvious hard muscle underneath. She looked at her hand against his chest. Mesmerized, she spread her fingers, using various amounts of pressure to test the hardness of his flesh. She had never felt this way about a man before, never desired to kiss him or touch him as she did now. This feeling was dangerous, much more so than any teasing rogue who wished to toy with her. With him, she forgot what she was about and another part of her took over.
“Fallon,” she said again, pausing to swallow. “Why are you talking about me to the other gentlemen?”
“I was curious to see what they thought of you. If they found you as enchanting as I do.”
She spread her hand out again, sliding it slowly up to his shoulder. He inched closer to her. “What did you find out?” she asked, licking her dry lips.
“I was right. The only thing standing between you and a proper marriage is the lack of dowry and some vague suggestion of rumors.” He shrugged. “But to some here, that may not matter anymore. My attention—I mean, the duke’s attention—has spurred the interest of others.”
“What rumors?” Heather’s heart pounded against her rib cage. Rumors of what and started by whom? Heather began to panic. Lord Brightly?
He shrugged. “I didn’t care to ask.”
“No? Wouldn’t the duke care to know?”
He frowned. “He cares not about idle rumors, being the focus of many of them over the years.”
Even if they are true? Heather wanted to ask, but she bit her tongue instead. She took a deep breath. “Do you wish to dissuade their interest on the duke’s behalf?”
He had been watching her hand, but at that, he looked at her. Heather looked up to meet his eyes.
“I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I don’t know where it came from, or if it can even be satisfied, but I want you and I can’t stop it. I’m in a difficult position, Heather. I came here as a steward. I’m beneath you.”
“Don’t say such a thing,” Heather whispered. Heady desire mixed with guilt inside her. The weight of the secret she carried bore down on her. She fought it; she didn’t want to think about anything beyond this gazebo and the blue eyes that gazed down at her with fire in them.
He closed his eyes. “Please, let me kiss you.”
Heather thrilled at the need in his voice. No man had ever wanted her so badly or spoken to her with such desire. It was a new experience for her, and one she was dying to explore. Would he be the first and last man to desire her? If she married the duke, that would be a certainty. For all the interest from the other gentlemen that he spoke of, Heather knew it would never come to anything. Mr. Calder may not yet know the full extent of th
ose rumors, but it wouldn’t be long before he did, and so would the duke. She didn’t have the time to be courted. She needed a husband by the end of the party. She needed a place to go for her family. Only the duke could offer that. If he agreed at the end of the week to a marriage, they would immediately file for a special license and return with him to his home. That was her only choice, but for right now, in this gazebo, she had a muscled chest beneath her hand. A handsome and kind man begging to kiss her. Heather closed her eyes. She wished she were dreaming, so she could let him kiss her and kiss him back as she wished to.
His arms came around her and pulled her against him. She opened her eyes with a gasp but didn’t fight him. Instead, she reveled in the warmth of his body, the strength of it. He was such a large man, but he was inherently kind in almost everything he did. She wished she could have met him in another life, where he could be the man she needed to marry, or she could be a steward’s wife. She looked up at him. His eyes were examining her face tenderly. She brought a hand up to his cheek, stroking the line of his square jaw.
“Kiss me, Fallon.”
His eyes snapped to hers, and then he swooped down and stole her lips in a kiss that was vastly different from the night before. His large hands spanned her back, pulling her tightly against him. His lips were firm and demanding. All Heather could do was tip her head back and let him do as he wished. At the insistent pressure of his mouth, she opened hers and shivered as his tongue swept in triumphantly.
She clung to him, her nails digging into his coat as her mind scattered in all directions and her body took over. This was her first true kiss, her first taste of desire and dalliance. She should have been shocked into shame. Instead, she gloried in the way her heart tripped and skipped in excitement and her skin came alive. Suddenly, she could feel every part of herself, her toes curling in her slippers, the brush of her chemise against her sensitive nipples.
He pulled away and Heather took a gasp of air. His face was very stern, and his chest heaved with breaths as if he had just accomplished a great physical feat.