Undone by His Kiss

by Anabelle Bryant

  He hadn’t saved her from the hostile mob in Hanover Square to see her perish here. He hadn’t made love to her, offered his heart, to end in tragedy…no matter his emotions were trampled.

  He reached her before the furious rebellion in his head ceased and knelt to lift her away from danger, a few gawking passersby pausing before continuing their well-planned day.

  She stared at him in silence, her eyes wide, as if she was stunned by his presence. At least he hoped she’d experienced more fright than harm. Still her hands trembled where she gripped his shoulders, curling into his shirt collar as he lifted her up and away. He pushed through the throng of bustling pedestrians until he reached the sheltering alcove of a nearby building and gently set her on her feet, retaining his hold in case her legs proved unsteady, reliving their close call at George Street just the other day.

  She swayed and he tightened his grip, concerned she might collapse again. “You have a penchant for falling in harm’s way, Miss Shaw. Every time I turn you’re in need of rescue.” Worry sharpened his tone to a razor’s edge and her bewildered stare reminded she’d just endured a harrowing scare. “I’m sorry.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I…” He gathered her close, needing the moment to settle his emotions as much as she, muttering the end of his apology. “I knew I couldn’t reach you in time.”

  Aware they were somewhat visible to public attention, he reluctantly withdrew. “Let’s get you home so you can rest.” He dropped the words beside her ear and purposely led her to the curb , where he hailed a hackney, barked directions and entered right after.

  The lady was in possession of his heart. He could never allow harm to fall in her path.

  Emily might have objected to Jasper’s domineering handling. Instead her heart thudded a heavy beat, overcome by the expression of stark alarm which masked his face when she’d peered up from the cobbles. His eyes were intense, his lips compressed in a grim line of concern and uncertainty and in that, she’d never felt more cherished. Unlike his gentle lovemaking, unlike his sweet caresses and tender kisses, what she saw in his eyes reflected a hundred emotions ranging from fear to anger, affection and rebellion. She would never forget his expression, no matter what the future forced upon her. She’d merely tripped, unharmed aside from her battered perspective for the future, yet he’d offered her unfathomable depths of devotion as he’d stopped to secure her in his arms.

  In that one exquisite moment lay the beauty of their relationship, the awestruck complication of the affectivity strung between them like her bracelet with many charms, all of them unique and beautiful in their own making, each one singular, a story to be told. Jasper’s eyes evoked dozens of emotions, his smile provoked myriad reactions, and in that he excelled, somehow providing her the opportunity to experience any number of feelings with a glance, a flick of his lashes, a soft spoken word. She; who’d endeavored with relentless determination to seek autonomy and control.

  They rode in silence, her eyes drawn to the scenery outside the window, her thoughts returned to their visit to the aviary when she’d intimated at her mother’s condition and found his reply free of censure. Yet what she had said, her innocuous reply, hardly comprised an explanation of her mother’s condition. She frowned, their relationship shadowed by her past and his future. Surely his brother would not approve of her. Surely to risk her heart and offer her love would provide disappointment in the end.

  Or did she invent these excuses out of fear? Would she ever erase the scar left by her father’s abandonment? That morning when she’d spied him across the street she’d possessed no real understanding of society and how the world worked. She was a child with a limited view of life, happy in her sheltered upbringing, unaware her mother had never married her father. It was not a question one would ask, most especially when one was told repeatedly how they three comprised the perfect family. Even then her mother had created an alternate truth.

  But as Emily grew older and inquired of inconsistencies, of the random visits from her father or his extended stay away from their home, she came to realize her sheltered existence was intentional, providing a convenient manner to keep her quiet, stifle her questions, no matter the truth existed there at the empty place setting on the dining room table.

  It wasn’t until he was forced that her father denied her existence. And then he’d never looked back. That truth cut the deepest. And while the pain of rejection might have dulled with time, her mother’s decline had replaced Emily’s anger with resentment and mottled emotion. While they might have progressed from her mother’s indiscretion and built a loving life, Bianca’s devastation and subsequent irrational behavior kept the wound open, the perpetual ache of rejection ever present.

  How tempting the future could be, if only to separate from that pain.

  She settled her eyes on Jasper. He offered a comforting smile in return.

  He loved her.

  What was he thinking? Why was she thinking? He made her think too much. Made her remember, want, yearn, believe a different outcome lay within reach.

  Perhaps she possessed the courage to embrace a new beginning.

  Her breath caught as a subsequent thought blossomed.

  The divine pleasure of the heat of his palm against her inner thigh.

  How he made her question the future she’d planned and avowed with meticulous care she’d never understand. Jasper encouraged her to let go, take flight and soar among the clouds. Yet if she did, she’d lose sight of everyone and everything, blinded by the brilliance of the sun, the ground a great distance away, the fall so far below no recovery seemed possible.

  The hack rattled to a stop before she could draw further conclusions. She gripped the handle instead of Jasper’s extended arm and tested her legs, once again sturdy and dependable. It was then, as she released the bar that she saw the cuff of her sleeve had torn, her charm bracelet lost. The notice brought disappointment, but she shook it away ignoring the frivolity, and grasped Jasper’s elbow as he led her to the front door.

  A flash of ivory revealed her mother in the upstairs window. Everything was about to become intricately more complicated. The door whipped open before they’d accomplished the walk. Only it was Mary on the other side, her face an asseveration of distress.

  “Miss Emily, thank heavens you’ve returned. Your mother has been very unsettled. I didn’t know what to do.” And then after a beat, “Are you all right? Has something happened?” The housekeeper stepped backward to allow them entry, her eyes running over them from head to toe. As would be expected, she didn’t mention Jasper’s lack of coat or her dusty tattered skirts, although together they must have presented quite a pair.

  “I’m home now, Mary. I apologize for leaving you in this predicament.” She noted the housekeeper’s saddened expression likely mirrored by her own. “How has my mother behaved?”

  “I heard her pacing earlier so I knocked on the door, hoping I would convince her to come downstairs. She didn’t answer, though I heard her talking inside. I couldn’t decipher what she said, but it sounded as if she repeated the same thing over and over in argument with herself. I thought if I coaxed her downstairs we might share tea or play cards to pass the time. Earlier in the day she appeared much more right minded. I’m not sure what set her into a fit this evening.”

  Emily grimaced at the words, wondering all the while what Jasper might surmise from the situation. Wasn’t it horrifying enough he knew her mother was a nobleman’s cast-off mistress? One of many, apparently. Didn’t that knowledge serve as just punishment without an additional layer of embarrassment?

  “Perhaps I will be able to calm her emotions.” Doubt, rooted in repeated failure, riddled the statement. She turned to speak to Jasper who up to this point had remained unnaturally quiet, but from shock, distaste or consideration, she couldn’t know. “I must see to my mother.” The words were said with practical finality.

  “Then I’ll wait below to affirm all is right.” He nodded, as if to imply no further discus
sion was needed.

  But there was.

  “There is no reason for you to stay on. This is a personal matter.” She pushed the words out through clenched teeth, harsher than intended and Jasper’s eyes flared at her stern reprimand.

  It took him half a moment to respond, his husky murmur meant for her ears alone. “Do you not realize the depth of my feelings? I’m here to assist if your mother’s condition proves difficult.”

  Her chest clenched at the thought he might see her mother in disarray, but then all thought evaporated as Bianca swept into the room.

  “Emily, what has happened here?” Her mother threw a critical glance from Emily’s muddied slippers to the unkempt hair trailing from her bonnet.

  “I fell, Mother, but I am quite fine. Mr. St. David kindly helped me when I might have become injured.” She strove for a soft even tone that brooked no further discussion, if that was at all possible.

  Interesting how the circumstances had reversed, her mother’s concern centered on her daughter when Emily silently prayed there would be no hysterics forthcoming.

  Bianca turned to Jasper, the same judicious speculation lighting her eyes as she took in the scene more fully. “Then I owe you my gratitude, Mr. St. David.” She came forward with her hands outstretched as if to capture one of Jasper’s in appreciation. “My daughter is my heart. Were something to happen to her I’d be devastated. I love her dearly.”

  Her mother’s unexpected and earnest divulgences struck Emily as odd, yet they filled a chasm in her soul she long ago deemed hopeless and lost. She hadn’t heard a profound expression of affection from her mother in too long ago to remember. She could only stare in her mother’s wake as she approached Jasper.

  “Then indeed we have something in common.” He smiled a broad grin which reached his eyes and enchanted any recipient lucky enough to have the gift bestowed.

  “Come, Mr. St. David.” Bianca gestured for them to enter the sitting room with haste. “I believe we have much to discuss.”

  “I agree.” He paused, his smile a sincere entreaty as he glanced in Emily’s direction.

  Mary left to prepare refreshments and they all moved into the sitting room where Jasper continued to charm Bianca as Emily watched with sagacious caution. Her mother was dressed in a prim gown of ivory and moss green, every button in place, no visible sign of discontent revealed. She sat poised on the edge of her chair, hands folded neatly in her lap, her rapt interest fixed to the conversation. Could it be all her mother needed was the attention of a gentleman to smooth her ruffled feathers this afternoon or would Emily witness this scene unravel, unable to prevent disaster because Jasper insinuated himself into their private difficulties?

  At a loss to intercede, Emily silently rejoiced with her mother’s distinct assurance that she cherished their relationship and wished to protect her daughter’s interests. It had been so long, so very long, while Bianca nursed the sorrow precipitated by her father’s abandonment, that she and her mother had grown distant, separated by a complicated wall of hurt and disappointment, neither able to reconcile the emotions which erected the division in the first place.

  And true, while Emily had attended her own misery and masked it in anger and resentment, her mother had internalized that same loss and layered it with years of distraught tension, useless hope and heart-aching rejection.

  Still where was the harm in allowing her mother this indulgence? Perhaps Jasper would come to a better understanding of the situation. As long as Bianca kept her emotions in check, and Jasper didn’t introduce a subject that displeased her mother and everyone trod with care…

  Mary entered with the tea service and a small tray of apricot tarts. Emily watched with equal measures elation and prudence as refreshments were distributed and Jasper continued to explain the accident in the thoroughfare, the result of their shambled attire and his expedient rescue. The charming scoundrel was building himself up as a hero, although the description aptly fitted. Bianca’s face displayed a shade of repletion Emily had never observed, all at once softened and if possible, almost younger, and more vivid.

  “I insist you accept.”

  Lost in reflective ruminations, Emily snapped her attention to the conversational exchange.

  “Thank you. We kindly will attend. It’s time I ventured out to a social gathering and this invitation supplies a provident excuse for a trip to the modiste, long past due for my daughter as well.” The trilling end to that sentence aptly hit home as everyone’s eyes skimmed the length of Emily’s skirts to punctuate the pronouncement at her muddied hems. Meanwhile, Bianca’s verve continued, the note of excitement building toward the end of the sentence. “One never knows who one might meet at a quality social.”

  A swift twist of dread caught Emily mid-breath. Her mother had a gleam in her eye, all too familiar as when she stood near the window in hope to see her lover’s carriage arrive. Dear lord, what had Jasper instigated? One glance at her mother’s expression had every forecast of doom shooting through Emily’s mind faster than the ability to process them. Jasper initiated the trouble with one question, one tap of the front domino which inherently struck every other in line, setting off a chain reaction that she would have to manage somehow, her mother prone to perseverate on the event until it occurred.

  “We’ll keep it small and intimate. Family, mostly.” Jasper dared a quick look in her direction and Emily turned away or else expose barely controlled anger, no matter it was misplaced. “My brother, Dashwood, and his lovely wife, Wilhelmina, have recently renovated our family estate, Kirby Park. I’m certain they’d enjoy a small dinner party to re-open the house to society and I’m equally anxious to introduce your lovely daughter.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Bianca’s voice rose, the giddiness in her reply on cue with the jump in Emily’s pulse.

  How dare he? What was he doing? He couldn’t barge into their lives like this. He had no idea of her mother’s fragility or erratic behavior, and worse, his automatic authority over the situation seemed as though a noose of control; one which Emily had vowed to avoid and now tightened around her neck with each passing minute.

  True, with prudence she might have elucidated the situation and informed Jasper in more specific terms of his mother’s delicate condition, but it was too late for regret. She had to end this charade as soon as possible.

  “Stop.” Her voice broke through the conversation and she prayed she hid the hysteria that roiled in her stomach. At first neither her mother nor Jasper heard, so she repeated the command and rose to her feet in such a rush, the tea tray rattled on the occasional table near her knees. “Stop.” She held the floor now. “We shan’t be attending a dinner party at Kirby Park.”

  The room fell silent while all attention riveted to her defiant objection.

  “Emily.” Her mother’s eyes spoke volumes, every stringent rule of female etiquette flashing in violent warning. “Please mind your tone. Whatsoever has upset you?”

  Jasper rose, more in supplication than protocol. He canted his head to the side and studied her face as if trying to read her mind or decipher her emotions; and Emily examined him in return. She saw only kindness and understanding, and a little voice inside her head canted ‘Fool, fool, don’t betray the one man who offers honest affection, who enables you to believe in true love’, but she shoved the reprimand aside, too far gone in fear and emotion and the “what ifs” that plagued her daily.

  “If I may speak to your daughter alone, I believe we will come to an understanding.” He spoke in a sincere tone and to Emily’s surprise her mother complied, making a show of leaving the door open as she left despite no one else lived in the house to worry over propriety.

  Emily launched into defense as soon as her mother’s shadow disappeared. “You can’t force your invitation upon mother and me. Don’t you understand? Why would you offer my mother this dangerous opportunity when already she struggles daily? You can’t use love to control me, Jasper. You can’t convince me that ever
ything will turn out fine. What of your family? What will they think?” She’d rushed into her deflection so quickly she’d left herself out of air and for a long moment, she struggled to find her breathing rhythm.

  Extraordinary silence enveloped them. While she’d emptied her spleen of fear and distress, Jasper had remained quiet, his expression unreadable. So silent, in fact, Emily imagined she could hear all kinds of noises within her body, her heart cracking a bit, her brain tick tick ticking away at reason, her pulse rushing through her veins in a sycophantic rhythm foolish foolish foolish. In that, silence became suffocating and she forced herself to match Jasper’s stare, whether for a lifeline or rebuttal, she couldn’t say.

  The ever-present gleam in his eyes had vanished, his lips pressed together in a firm line of disapproval or disappointment or perhaps, sympathy, yet he continued to watch her with an intensity so thick it felt as though she’d become blanketed with self-consciousness beneath his scrutiny.

  Truly, what did he expect? She’d never known the luxury of love without a handsome price. She’d never experienced unconditional lasting affection. Her father had abandoned her. Her mother, in all significant manner, had left as well. Were she to offer her heart to Jasper and he changed his mind once influenced by his brother, or worse, altered his feelings and pitied her, she would never recover from the heartache. Even a novice investor knew when a risk proved too dangerous, by sheer flaw bound to fail.

  And with his silence, shame followed most thoroughly. For he’d offered genuine emotion and she’d rejected him in acerbic undeserving fashion.