All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  “I may have a few worries over how your attentions might affect my reputation as a widow,” she told him. “Or rather, how your reputation with widows might affect mine.”

  Laughter lit his mossy green eyes, a dimple slashing deep into his left cheek. “I’m sure you’ve nothing to fret over.” He leaned closer, his brogue dropping to a husky whisper. “As long as none of them can read my mind, that is.”

  Such an outrageous thing to say, but it flooded her thoughts with the kiss that might have happened again. Snapping out her fan, Prim set off a few quick flicks to cool her cheeks before anyone might notice her rising blush and comment on it.

  “They needn’t see into your mind,” she scolded. “Only into your past. Before this evening, I hadn’t thought about how the gossips might link us by something more scandalous than serious courtship.”

  “I swear, I will do nothing to damage your reputation in any way,” he assured her. “Now, are you ready to begin?”

  Over his shoulder, Prim shot a look at her escorts, still lingering near the door she’d departed from. Jeremy had disappeared but Shane had arrived. He and Leachman were engrossed in what could only have been an argument of some sort. Probably about her.

  She’d had enough of it.

  At the risk of her reputation or not, she needed to find the same faith James had for her in herself.

  “Quite ready.” Her nod was firm. “Where do we start?”

  “A dance or two,” he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “We’ll see where it goes from there.”

  Chapter 15

  It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretense of being asked, of being given a choice, and the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to so the very thing—whatever it be!

  ~ Jane Austen from Mansfield Park

  Driven in part by fashion, bared arms and nearly bared bosom abounded in the Harknesses’ ballroom. Women aged from debutante to matron flaunted what gifts God had given them in varying degrees of exposure. Whether it be for the benefit of a specific man, the gender as a whole, or their own vanity. It was the way it’d always been regardless the continent James was upon.

  Except for Prim. Her gown of forest green silk moiré was more suitable to a dinner party than a ball. It didn’t even have a ready loop on the skirt for her to circle around her wrist as they danced. She had to hold her skirts out with her free hand. Oh, the dress was fashionable enough with its voluminous sleeves covered in netting and ornate trim of jet beads, and the swags of black fringe along the bodice and around her skirts, but the neckline barely revealed even a hint of collarbone. From there up, any expanse of flesh was concealed beneath the draping jet and amber strands of her choker.

  She dressed as a proper widow, deserving of the reputation she’d gained. He’d meant it when he said he’d do nothing to risk it.

  Still, she looked so lovely, that first glimpse of her when she’d spoken had nearly made a stuttering fool of him. Her expressive amethyst eyes, made all the more vivid by her green gown, filled him with pleasure. How had he ever thought her plain?

  She waltzed beautifully as well, with far more polish than she’d shown on the ice rink. Since her hand was light on his shoulder rather than clinging to him as she had on ice skates, he mourned her skill.

  Deviously, he put some variation into his Viennese Waltz, rotating her this way and that until her hand tightened on his arm. Her beguiling eyes lit with pleasure.

  She was so easy to please. Too easy. Such a shame her life contained so little joy that the tiniest dose thrilled her so.

  He was definitely doing the right thing.

  Besides that mission, James was discovering some delight of his own in her company. He’d grown restless of late, weary of the mind-numbing droning of society blather. In business, he was comfortable, happy even. The more he’d been around people in a social setting, the more isolated he became.

  Then along came Prim, possessing a broad repertoire of tangible knowledge on a great many subjects, some trivial, some profound. She kept up with national and world news, politics, and business reading the papers. She also read journals and magazines by the dozens. Her knowledge of recent inventions and of automobiles was almost greater than his own. Her curiosity insatiable.

  He liked that about her.

  His charitable, self-serving proposition seemed far more personal than it should. He wanted her more than he should. His anticipation for the kiss that might have been the previous day had proven that. But it was curiosity that drove him. Only that, he was sure. Curiosity over what he would find simmering at Prim’s core when he unwrapped all her fascinating layers.

  * * *

  “You’ve an odd look in your eye,” Prim said as James spun her yet again into a series of tight, alternating turns she’d never imagined one could add to the waltz. Or it might be she hadn’t thought him adroit enough to perform. Like Leachman, he was a big man, but unlike her would-be beaux, he was proving himself adept and graceful. She was nearly breathless with exhilaration. “What are you thinking?”

  He chuckled. “You keep asking questions like that yet when I answer, you’re always in a blush.”

  Warmth crept upward from her collarbone to the tips of her ears. She fought to keep it under control lest she confirm his teasing words. So absorbed in the joy of their dance, she’d nearly forgotten where she was and the scrutiny they’d be under. Now, she was uncomfortably aware of the many curious eyes following them around the room.

  “You’ve an odd sort of flirtation,” she scolded. “You’re impossibly flattering yet inappropriate.”

  “Thank you.”

  That with a wink and a sly grin. The irreverent reply. He was an unbelievable rogue. He played his part in this whole deception beautifully. She had to remind herself she couldn’t credit a thing he said when it came to such outrageous flirtation.

  But Prim knew she could take his words regarding her inner strength to heart. His support in that, at least, was sincere.

  He was doing so much for her, helping her. Bringing laughter back into her life, confidence. His belief that she had the gumption to surmount her current difficulties gave her real hope for the future. Prim wished she could help him as well.

  Much was hidden behind his roguish wit and wicked smirks. More too beneath his confident exterior. She’d seen it. At times, sensed it. She wondered if he missed his family back in Scotland and had asked him about it but he’d laughed it off.

  Prim tilted her head to the side, studying him as he whirled her around the floor. “Are you all right? You seemed a trifle lonely earlier.”

  His chuckle sounded strained to her ears. “Nonsense. How could I be lonely when in such wonderful company?”

  “You are only just in company, wonderful or not,” she pointed out.

  “Either way, it’s nonsense I should be lonely, surrounded by so many.” James laughed again. “Besides, I’ve told you before, I have siblings. Ten of them, in fact. Born right in the midst of them. You think you haven’t known a moment’s peace in your life?”

  He was prepared to laugh it away, but Prim wasn’t willing to let it go just yet.

  “I have three children and as many brothers, yet sometimes feel incredibly lonesome. You’ll find no recrimination from me by admitting the same.”

  For a moment, she caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Pity? Grief? She wasn’t certain.

  “Do you miss them?”

  “Absent family is always missed, aren’t they?”

  His dismissal was clear so rather than press him, Prim took the subject more broadly. “Eleven children? That is a large family. Tell me about them.”

  “Tell me about yours,” he countered, searching around the room. “I saw amongst your usual entourage another younger man with similar coloring as yours. Another brother? I might have met him, I think.”

  Prim didn’t need to look around to know who he was referring to. “Jeremy, yes. The youngest of the thre
e of them. Just a year older than I in years, though I’m still a young girl in all their eyes. He said he’d met you yachting last summer.”

  James nodded at the memory. “That’s right. It was at Station Number Six in Newport to watch the racing of the Corsair Cup, right?”

  She nodded again. “I was there as well.”

  He frowned, trying to place her. “Were you?”

  “Yes, it was right before Fletcher died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “As my brothers are constantly reminding me, it’s been well over a year.” She shrugged, licking her lips.

  His gaze flicked downward, lingering before finding hers again. His eyes a shade darker than they’d been before.

  James cleared his throat. “I’m familiar with the eldest, Shane, isn’t it? From the other night. Who’s the third?”

  “Dennis. You probably haven’t met him. He recently returned from a trip to Italy,” she told him. “I overheard Shane telling Jeremy he’d followed an opera singer there.”

  “Well, a man has to follow something, right?”

  The corner of his lips kicked up attractively, prompting a rush of heat to accompany the amusement his teasing provoked.

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  With a chuckle, James rotated her about with a deep sweeping turn. His knee dipping between her thighs, the friction of her petticoats against silk stockings sending a sizzle of pleasure down her legs. His grin turned devilish as if he could sense her surprise and he did it again, the breadth of his hard thigh between hers.

  “James,” she hissed, “I don’t believe that is at all proper.”

  “Sometimes a man has to follow his instincts instead of opera singers,” he said, a hint of a dimple slashing his cheek. He drew her closer through another turn and her breasts grazed his chest.

  It was difficult not to be exhilarated by his attentions. To not have those fantasies she’d pushed aside earlier reignite and enflame her all over. Prim silently reminded herself again and again. James wasn’t courting her, merely playing at it. He might toy with her and tease her but he would never marry a woman like her.

  His reaction when she’d so awkwardly made her proposal of courtship and he’d thought her in earnest showed the truth in that.

  Which was fine with her. She didn’t want marriage.

  But there were those other fantasies encroaching into her thoughts as well. Ones not so proper. What might it be like to have a man like James in her arms? In her bed?

  In her heart?

  Her heart beat hard against her chest, the jolt set her atremble. She knew he noticed it, too. His arms tightened around her. His eyes no longer amused but glittering intensely.

  Afraid she was making a fool of herself, Prim stepped out of his arms when the waltz ended. She dropped a proper curtsy. “Thank you for the dance.”

  “Dismissing me already?” he asked. “We’ve only just begun.”

  Taking her hand, he tucked it into the crook of his arm. He turned her away from her entourage and led her toward the far end of the ballroom.

  His attentiveness garnered notice, even more since he didn’t abandon her after the dance. Prim could see the speculative looks here and there as they passed among the throng surrounding the dance floor. The raised fans concealing murmured gossip as he kept her by his side or guided her with a solicitous hand rested on the small of her back.

  She’d never been subjected to such scrutiny. Even when Fletcher had wooed her a decade before. The attention was disconcerting, but Prim squared her shoulders, reminding herself she had nothing to be ashamed of. For his part, James was a perfect gentleman. There was nothing furtive about him, nothing that cried out an illicit entanglement.

  But every brush of his hand on her arm, on her back…every whisper tickling her ear when he leaned in to murmur teasing commentary in her ear, set her nerves on edge. Some part of her told her she was treading where she ought not go. An awareness like an explorer might have climbing a volcano that was about to blow.

  Primal instinct told her to take what she wanted.

  Another pleaded with her to run.

  Like startled prey. She’d sensed the danger before. questioned the prudence of taking up with someone like James.

  While he tempted her to do so much she longed to, he also lured her into so much more. But admitting she might want him wasn’t so large a step as making it so. So much more than her reputation was at stake.

  They worked their way across the room, stopping along every so often. They made small talk here and there. James introduced her to a few businessmen she didn’t know. She presented him to some of her friends.

  He charmed them as easily as he’d charmed her. But his focus never wavered from her. All his warm looks, his smiles were for her, appearing for all the world like a man besotted.

  Someone like him with his seductive words of praise and encouragement would be so easy to love.

  As easy as it would be to end up heartbroken when he grew bored by her dilemma and went on his way once more.

  “Are you all right?” His breath brushed against her ear. “You’ve grown quiet.”

  “I’m quite all right,” she croaked. “A tad thirsty, I think.”

  James excused them from the ladies they were talking to and led her out of the crowded ballroom. Only stopping to snatch up a pair of champagne flutes from a passing waiter’s tray, he ushered her through a series of open reception rooms. The crush lessened with each one until they reached the conservatory at the rear of the mansion. Only a few couples wandered here, in and out of the stone pathways winding around the profuse greenery. The air cooled with only the ornate stained glass of the walls and ceiling between them and the cold December night.

  “Better?” James asked kindly, handing her a glass of the bubbly. “Harkness is a fool to have so many of the fireplaces lit with such a crowd here.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “Good.” He clinked his glass lightly on the edge of hers. “To our courtship. Things appear to be going well, I think.”

  Prim nodded. “They are.”

  So well she was forgetting her purpose. But she couldn’t rid her mind of that moment in her drawing room. Save for her butler’s untimely interruption, she might have seized the moment. Taken what she desired, just as James had urged her to.

  Not only for the sake of her personal quest but because she wanted to. She wanted to see if his kiss held even a fraction of the thrill she imagined it would.

  Whatever else she wanted for herself, even knowing James had no more inclination toward marriage than she, Prim wanted that kiss. This might be the moment. Their idle stroll had taken them beyond a grouping of palm fronds at the back of the conservatory.

  She tipped back her glass, taking not a sip but a healthy swig of the champagne before setting it aside. Courage. To take, just as he demanded. He would not do it for her.

  Inching forward, she entered the circle of warmth his huge body generated. It surrounded her, enveloped her. Like a moth to the flame, it drew her in. His shirtfront was just inches away, his bare neck above his collar and white tie darkly tanned in contrast. She could see the dark growth of his beard. See his pulse beating as she inhaled the scent of him, musk and spice.

  His chest swelled as he inhaled sharply. “Mrs. Eames? What are you about?”

  Chapter 16

  Independence is happiness

  ~ Susan B. Anthony

  Prim tilted back her head to look up at James, towering over her. His expression was far more serious than she’d yet seen from him, his eyes dark as the deepest emerald.

  She absorbed the masculine beauty of his features. His hair, usually the darkest brown, lit with fiery strands in candlelight from the chandelier above, was swept back from his broad forehead. Sharp cheekbones and a squared jaw, not overly sculpted but rugged perfection. His deep green eyes, so often filled with humor, glinted with something more as he waited, studying her in return.
/>   Every spot his eyes lit upon flamed as if his gaze were a physical touch. It spread like wildfire, setting her nerves ablaze. Her limbs trembling, her pulse erratic.

  Did she want him? Yes.

  She’d never known such desire. It flowed over her like hot lava, burning…almost painful in its intensity. The urge to touch more of him gnawed at her like a rapacious hunger.

  But did he like what he saw in return? Was his dare issued because he desired her kiss or was he merely aiding her in overcoming her inability to stand up for herself? Did he want her?

  Prim discovered it mattered.

  She gnawed her lip indecisively and watched his eyes drop and darken. He drew a short breath and held it, the muscles in his jaw tensed. Though he didn’t move visibly, James stilled, like a lion she’d once seen at the zoo. Ready to pounce.

  * * *

  This bargain he made wasn’t coming around entirely how he planned. Prim wasn’t at all what he’d anticipated. Assisting her might turn out to be the dumbest thing he’d ever done.

  But then, the evening was early.

  James held his breath as Prim inched toward him, a heretofore unknown anticipation holding him in its grip.

  Fighting an unbearable compulsion to drag her to him, to consume her lips with the desire that’d been simmering in him for days, he tensed. Waiting.

  The need to see her seize the moment, to let her passion drive her to take action, stilled him. The displays he’d witnessed of her confidence and verve over the past week were incredibly arousing. The fire in her sparking a corresponding heat in him.

  The naked yearning he saw in her eyes for her cause…for him…it only served to fuel the flames. Astonishing since he hadn’t even the merest taste of her lips to spur him onward. Barely more than the proper touch of her hand.

  Bloody hell, but he was hard pressed not to act. It was only the unfolding carnal fantasy of his timid, reserved Prim taking what she wanted, unrestrained by stricture or convention, giving him the strength to resist. His hands fisted at his sides.