"I believe," commented James, his eyes twinkling with boyish delight, "that it had something to do with a toad." Then he lifted a green, slimy creature out of his pocket.
"Oh, James, put that thing away!"
"I will not." Faster than she could react, he snared her wrist and gently placed the disgusting creature in her hand. "We must duplicate the circumstances exactly."
"Then you should go away, for you were not with me the first time."
"Ah, but if I did that, I think you would throw the hapless toad to his death and run inside. I cannot allow that."
She twisted on the ledge, trying to not to squeeze the unhappy creature too tightly. "You are enjoying this!" she accused hotly.
"Yes," he said, sounding somewhat surprised. "I believe I am."
"James—"
"Come along," he interrupted. "Start walking."
"But . . ." He crowded close to her, and she took a step out of necessity. "I am out on this ledge. Why must I walk?"
He leaned close to her, tickling her ribs as he urged her forward. "Because you are returning the toad to Margaret."
Carolly squirmed away, moving another couple steps as she evaded James's mischievous fingers. "Margaret's bedroom is on the other side of the wing," she said, her voice trembling with laughter.
He grinned. "Yes, but you did not know that."
"I do now."
"It does not matter."
"James—"
"Go!"
So she walked, and he followed. In truth, the ledge was quite wide. There was even room to lie down if need be, but all she could think about was the cobblestones of the walkway below. If they fell, they would both be quite hurt.
Yet somehow she felt safe. James was with her, still holding on to her left hand. In her right, she kept the toad quiet, if not exactly content.
Suddenly she stopped, realizing this trip was much too easy. "Where is the ivy?" She heard James's chuckle and turned to look at him. "You had it cleaned off!"
"Well, you never actually promised not to walk along here again. I could not have you breaking your neck simply because I neglected a simple gardening task. Now there is plenty of room."
She tried to frown at him, but her sense of humor was returning. "You said it would serve me right if I plummeted to my death."
"And so it would," he cheerfully agreed. "But that does not mean I shall allow anything of the kind."
Finally she smiled at him, her heart warming with his words. He would not let anything happen to her. He'd been looking out for her all along. "And the nursery window?" she asked.
"Unlatched."
She grinned. "You have thought of everything."
His smile faded, and his face fell into shadow. "What about you, Carolly? Have you thought of anything? Have you remembered?”
Caroline frowned, trying to assess herself in a vague, unfocused way. She felt the same as always, but was she Carolly or Caroline? "I don't know."
"Relax. Enjoy the beautiful night."
"But..."
"Hush."
She frowned. "James . . ."
He silenced her by placing his forefinger on her lips. "Do you remember that other night?” he asked, sending a shiver of delight down her spine at his husky whisper.
“I—”
"Shhhh."
She could not disobey him, not when his eyes were so commanding, so deeply mesmerizing that they seemed to hold her still even after he removed his finger from her lips.
"Close your eyes."
She did.
"What do you remember of that night?”
"I remember inching along the ledge, that poor toad wiggling in my pocket."
She felt his fingers, long and sensuous, slide around her hand and the hapless amphibian. She relaxed her hold, thinking he would take the toad, but he didn't. Instead, he guided her arm downward and together they placed the creature into her pocket.
It was a simple movement, but her eyes were closed, her senses inflamed. She felt the long stroke of his thumb along her wrist and the slight pressure of his knuckles against her thigh as they maneuvered the creature. She gasped in reaction, especially when he lingered there, one hand against hers, the other pressed intimately high on her leg.
She felt her nipples contract and a fire begin low in her belly, but she couldn't move, not even when he withdrew his touch with deliberate slowness, taking the time to stroke her body gently, erotically.
"James . . ." she whispered.
"What else do you remember?"
She opened her eyes. "I remember seeing you in the moonlight." She reached up and touched his hair, ruffling it so it fell over his forehead. "You looked so dashing that night with the silver moonlight in your hair. I imagined you my own personal pirate come to whisk me away."
He didn't move, and Caroline wasn't even sure he breathed, but she didn't stop. Suddenly, she seemed fascinated by the smallest details of his face. She traced the harsh angles of his cheeks, eased the worry lines creasing his forehead, and even trailed along to the tip of his aristocratic nose.
"I thought I had never seen anyone so handsome."
Her fingers found his lips, caressing the edges until he opened his mouth ever so slightly and she could feel his heated breath.
"I think I first fell in love with you then."
She felt his breath catch, and she knew she had surprised him.
"Do not be alarmed," she whispered, lifting her other hand to join the first. "I know you cannot marry me—a minister's mad daughter. But I wanted to say it. Just once."
He raised his fingers to hers, touching her hands with the same care she lavished on him. "That is not true . . ."
This time she stopped his words with her forefinger. "Shhh. Don't say what we both know will never be."
"Carolly—"
"You are an earl. You cannot stoop so low as—"
"I care nothing about biddies. Tongues will wag whatever I do." His tone was forceful, almost angry, but she did not draw away.
"Yes, I suppose they will. And you would never let that sway you. But what about our children?"
He frowned, but there was a dreamy look misting his eyes. "Our children," he echoed.
"How long before you would look for madness in them?"
He stilled, and she knew she was right.
"You would be forever looking at your children, your sons especially, afraid that the slightest play, the most harmless prank, was a symptom of my madness. It would be horrible for the child, and it would rip you apart."
"No." His voice was thick with denial, but she saw the panic in his eyes.
"It would destroy us and our children."
"I would love them."
"Yes, but you would doubt them, too. What child can live with that?"
"I . . . I cannot lose you Carolly." His voice was a soft cry for help.
She lifted his face, kissing him tenderly. "You can't lose what you never had. I am to be an angel, James. I am not meant to live here on Earth."
He searched her eyes, his expression dazed. "What?"
Suddenly it all came flooding back, rushing into her mind with the force of a whirlwind. Carolly had returned. Carolly the wild, impetuous, vibrantly wonderful pre-angel soul became part of her again. And she laughed out loud with the sheer joy of it. "I remember!" she cried. "I remember all of it!" She spread her arms wide, lifting her face to the shimmering glory of the full moon on a clear summer night.
"Carolly!" He grabbed her, pulling her back against the wall. "You will fall."
She turned in his arms, feeling happiness fill her soul. "I am whole again, James." She grinned at him, leaning close to his face. "Thank you," she whispered.
Then she kissed him.
It was meant to be a chaste kiss. A touching of lips to share joy and to show appreciation. But as she lifted her mouth to his, as she inhaled the rich masculine scent of him and felt the hard muscles of his arms tighten around her, her body began to respond in ways that
had nothing to do with angels or God. Her body reacted as a woman desperately in love.
She initiated the kiss, and as their mouths touched she surrendered. His mouth slanted over hers in bold demand, and she released a small sound of surprise. It was as though he captured that sound, taking it and her within him as he pulled her deep into his embrace.
Her head fell back as he kissed her. He pushed her against the wall, flattening her between stone and his lean form, and she reveled in the hard press of his body. Her hands traveled up his chest, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath her fingertips as he abruptly pulled off his coat and tossed it aside.
"James—"
But even that soft word was not allowed to escape. He would not release her mouth, would not withdraw his kiss, and all too soon she found her own hunger matching his. She stretched upward, letting her hands roam through his hair, drawing him to her. She arched into him as he ground his pelvis against her.
His hands left her face to stroke her neck, slipping apart the buttons on the front of her gown until he could plunge a hand into the vee he created. Her shift stretched taut, and she was grateful when it finally ripped open.
She was exposed then from the waist up, and James was free to let his fingers roam over her breasts. His hands were large and strong, their caress rough as they chafed her delicate skin, but the sensation was beyond erotic, sending bursts of fire coursing through her blood.
He pinched her nipples, rolling them with his thumbs, and she cried out in ecstasy. She felt more of her buttons slip free as her gown slipped past her shoulders, pinning her arms down by her sides. She couldn't move. She could only drop her head backward, silently begging him for more.
His mouth left hers, trailing down her neck to kiss the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat. His hands cupped her breasts, lifting them higher as his mouth found one pebbled tip. He drew it into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before abruptly shifting to the other. The sensation of his kiss on one side while cool air brushed across the other left her moaning with hunger.
Her knees weakened, and he thrust his thigh between her legs, crushing her in a way that forced all reason from her mind. She spun in a maelstrom of sensation, her only thought to continue.
She began kissing him as she could, whatever she could touch. She shrugged off the restraining sleeves of her gown to finally touch him. She pulled at his shirt, slipping her hands
inside to run through the dusting of curls across his chest. Her nails found the flat disks of his nipples, scratching lightly as he gasped her name.
His touch slipped to her waist, tugging at the gown, inching his fingers lower, toward her womanly core. She moaned in response, already opening for him.
Then he stopped, his muscles tightening beneath her fingertips as he took a small step back.
"James?” Her voice was a whispered plea, but he shook his head.
"We cannot do this here." He glanced behind him, and she slowly recalled their location on the ledge. Below them, the garden remained bathed in moonlight, above them tiny wisps of clouds played hide-and-seek through the stars.
It was a beautiful sight. A night made for lovers. But they were on a ledge, and she was naked to the waist in full view of God and man.
"I. . .” She took a deep breath, the air suddenly too cold on her skin. "I. . .”
"Croak!" From somewhere deep in her pocket, the toad chose to raise its own objections.
Both Carolly and James jumped, startled by the sound.
The noise had been God-sent. Carolly was sure of it. She was supposed to become an angel. She could not afford to be swept away by the tides of passion. It simply wasn't what angels did.
Yet when she looked at the dazed hunger in James's eyes, her breath echoed the ragged edge she heard in his groan. "Inside," he urged.
She wanted to make love to him. Lord, she wanted nothing more than to do as he bade her, to open herself to him in every way a woman could. But then they might have children. Even if she did not leave as she always did, their union would only cause them both pain. He would not marry her, and she could not be happy as his mistress. And if their passion produced children . . .
"Think of the children," she whispered. "We can't. Oh God, James, I want to, but . . ." She tugged at her gown, trying to cover herself, and he looked down in surprise.
"Oh." He pulled back, and she gasped. He meant to catch her up again, but she stopped him, drawing quickly away before he could touch her.
"Carolly . . ." His word was strangled, and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They were like dark windows to a tormented soul.
Yet there was nothing she could do. There was no way to ease either of their pain. So she turned away, pulling on her gown as well as she could, fumbling with the buttons, her fingers shaking. He reached out to help her, but she stepped away, stopping him without touching him.
"I . . . I think you ought to return this poor creature to his pond." Before he could object, she lifted the toad from her pocket and placed it in his hand.
"Carolly." It seemed to be the only word he could say, and it pulled at her, tempting her to return to the madness of only a few moments ago.
"Please, James. This cannot help either of us." She didn't stay to speak with him. Her senses were still too inflamed, her will too fragile to withstand more. She slipped away, moving quickly along the ledge until she ducked into her bedroom window, closing it firmly behind her.
***
James watched Carolly leave and felt a sense of loss greater than anything he had ever before experienced. She'd left him. And worse, he'd let her go.
She had been warm and giving in his arms. Making love to her was as perfect a feeling as he had ever known. And yet, he had stopped. Yes, the location was indecent. But it would have been the work of a moment to carry her into the empty bedchamber where they had first kissed so many nights ago. He could have done it. Even with his injured leg, he could have brought her to the bed and shared ecstasy with her.
But he'd stopped. He'd withdrawn his hands and let her compose herself. Then she'd dashed away as if Satan himself pursued her.
And perhaps that was true. He was supposed to be her friend, yet he encouraged her madness. He didn't know whether he wanted the sane, sedate Caroline or the mad, vibrantly alive Carolly. He'd brought her to the ledge, forcing her to grab hold of her fantasies just after she'd recovered some sense of reality.
That was not the work of God, but of the Devil.
And when she'd meant to thank him, he'd taken advantage of her, using her body against her, reminding her of the pleasure that flesh alone could give. Her mind was aimed toward Heaven, and he'd forcibly brought her back to the flesh.
He looked over to her window, shut fast against him. His body still ached for her, eagerly urging him to go to her, to find some way into her bedroom. But he would not.
He was not her friend. The sooner she left his home, the better for her.
Yet the thought of spending the rest of his life without her was too painful to contemplate. He tightened his fists, hating himself for his sins, for his hunger for a madwoman.
"Croak!"
Startled, he looked down at the hapless toad struggling in his hand, and he abruptly eased his grip. What in Heaven's name induced him to bring this poor thing along?
God, he decided. God had planted the idea. Because without its hapless interruption, he and Carolly would now be wrapped in each other's arms. The thought was so believable, he nearly tossed the toad away and let it plummet to its death, but something stayed his hand.
After their lovemaking, there surely would have come a morning of recriminations, confusion, and heartbreak. He would feel obliged to marry her, and he would spend the rest of his life doubting her, questioning her, wondering about her sanity. She would be a countess with responsibilities and a place in society. What would he do if she spoke publicly about being a "pre-angel?” The local families would never accept her, the members of the ton
would ostracize her, and her husband would be ashamed of her.
No, she deserved someone who could accept her—madness and all. Who loved her without reservation, and who would adore their children without fear of some taint.
Carolly was right. He could not marry her. Not because she was socially beneath him, but because she deserved a man, not a coward.
With a heavy heart, James crossed the last bit of ledge to the empty bedroom next to the nursery, maneuvering himself inside. Minutes later he was down beside the pond, releasing the toad back to its lily pad.
He stood by the water a long time, his thoughts a whirling sea of self-recrimination. Then, finally, he lifted his eyes to Heaven, praying for the first time in many long years of lonely isolation.
"Please God," he whispered, "make me worthy of her."
Chapter Fifteen
"Are you sure you want to go? And with Miss Margaret? I'd be happy to go for you."
Carolly smiled at Mrs. Potherby and tried to find the words to reassure the woman. Especially since she wasn't feeling all that confident herself.
But it had to be done. There were a thousand things yet to be purchased for tomorrow's festival, and now was the time to do it. Hopefully, spending all that money in the village would diffuse some of the anger still simmering there.
Thank God James had given her free rein when it came to expenses. She carried a purse loaded with coins and bills. If she couldn't spend all of it by this evening, then she wasn't worthy of her gender.
Carolly patted the housekeeper's arm. "At least I've learned how to drive a gig. We won't get ditched this time."
"Let me have Bob drive you—"
"No, truly, Mrs. Potherby. We will be fine." Then she leaned forward, whispering into the good woman's ear: "I shall be a model of propriety, no matter what happens. I'm even wearing a corset."
The older woman frowned. "It is not your manners I worry about."
Carolly smiled and turned away, refusing to be cowed. She would meet the villagers on their own ground. And then she'd spend her last crown trying to bribe them into better humor. Or rather, Margaret would. All Carolly would do was smile and look motherly.
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