Married to the Lord (The Wallflower Brides Book 2)

by Samantha Holt

  How many times had he thought of taking Augustus in his arms?

  How many times had he tried to deny he’d suffered such thoughts?

  There was no denying this moment, however.

  “Miles?” she said again, the word whispering into the light breeze. The moon’s cold rays cast over her skin and his heart thudded heavily in his ears at the sight she offered. He released her wrist with every intention of turning away.

  But she remained there, damn it. Lips still parted, eyes still wide. A picture of innocence and perfection that he wanted to get his sullied hands on.

  “Christ,” he muttered as he took her face in his hands, vaguely aware of the softness of her skin before he dipped his head and captured her lips with his. She uttered a gasp but he swallowed the sound swiftly, all the pain and frustration of never having been able to touch her before being channeled into his movements.

  He kissed her fiercely. Hard. Desperately. She tasted of sweet wine and sugar. Her fingers curled into his shoulders and her hips swayed into his. Fire unfurled through him at these tiny responses. With a groan, he kissed her again and again, heedless as to their proximity to the drawing room, uncaring for whether they could be caught or not. One desire drove him—his need for Augustus.

  Laughter shattered the air. Miles broke away even though she showed no sign of wishing to end the kiss and the laughter was some distance away. He kept a hold of her face, letting her warm, ragged breaths wash over his lips. His chest rose and fell as he gulped down air. He rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks, looking into eyes that were clouded with confusion and—dare he believe it—desire.

  “Gus,” he murmured, resting his forehead briefly on hers before dropping his hand from her face. He should probably beg for forgiveness. Get on his knees and offer her penance. But how the hell could such a moment be wrong?

  He shook his head, more at himself than anything. How did he let himself get in this situation in the first place? He should have known he would not be able to control himself once alone with her.

  Her fingers came to her lips, touching them as though he had singed her with his kiss. She opened her mouth then shut it. He did not blame her. There was nothing that could be said. He dipped his head briefly and headed inside, fighting the desire to turn back and look at her…or worse, take her in his arms once more.

  Chapter Five

  Augusta blinked, the hazy light of dusk casting an eerie gray hush over the estate land—an unwelcome change from the warm lamplight from inside Charlecote House to her tired eyes. Her father handed her up into the open carriage and she greedily snatched the woolen blanket there, tucking it around her body and allowing her head to loll back against the soft leather interior. Smothering a yawn with the back of her hand, she lifted her head up long enough to look at the house then to Lady Ashwick.

  Her parents offered their thank yous for her so there was no need for anything more than a polite smile, but she should not have been hungrily hunting the windows for any sign of Miles.

  She let her head drop back again and hitched the blankets up around her neck to keep out the morning chill. Was it her imagination or did her lips still feel hot? She resisted the urge to touch them for the hundredth time that night. She had done it so many times that her mother had asked her if there was something wrong. No, she had said, shaking her head vigorously and adopting a careful smile while lacing her fingers firmly together, ensuring that they remained prisoner and could not betray her again.

  It was a lie, of course. There was most certainly something wrong. That sense of it fluttered there, like a trapped bird in her breast, thudding hard in her ears and against her rib cage. Wrong, wrong, wrong. She should never have responded to Miles’s kiss. Should not have even stayed out there unaccompanied with him. It would be slightly less than scandalous that she was alone with her fiancé’s brother but there would be no saving her from ruin if anyone had spotted them.

  Oh Lord. She pressed both hands to her stomach but the tension would not be suppressed. They really could have been caught too. While they were surrounded by friends and family who cared for them, there had been enough people in attendance who would probably enjoy the scandal that followed from such a moment. They would pretend that they were shocked and terribly sorry for her parents that she had been caught acting so wantonly but they would be quick to ensure everyone—especially Henry—knew of the act.

  Her mother slid into the carriage beside her, offering a warm body to lean against. Wrapping an arm about her, her Mama added another blanket and brushed a soft kiss against her head. Augusta’s heart panged and she guiltily snuggled into the offered embrace. Her parents would be utterly appalled if they knew what she had done. Why, oh why had she not turned away? Why had she kissed him back? Miles was a gentleman and would never have forced a kiss upon her. All it would have taken was one word, one small action. All these years of waiting and she had nearly ruined everything with her fiancé’s brother!

  The carriage rocked and creaked on its suspension as her father climbed into the barouche. Through half-lowered lids, she watched him wave vigorously while the vehicle jolted forward and crunched its way down the road out of the estate. Augusta eyed the sky lazily, watching it give way to morning. She would retreat to bed for a few hours once she was home though she was not certain she would be able to sleep. Not while her lips still tingled and certain little spots on her body were hot with remembrance.

  Trees came into view and the crunching beneath the wheels gave way to the smooth sound of metal gliding over dry mud. Birds chittered in the trees above, excited to start a new day. She wished she could feel the same. She should feel excited—after all Miles had said nothing of the engagement being called off. She was not ruined and left on the wayside.

  She must have dozed as they reached home far quicker than she had anticipated. Rubbing her eyes then stretching, she reluctantly gave up the blankets in exchange for her father’s hand. She yawned and yawned again as she clumsily climbed down from the vehicle. Her mother gave her a quick squeeze. “Go and rest a while but do not forget we have a few people coming over for an ‘at home’ today.”

  Augusta peered at her mother. “How is it you look as though you have rested a good twelve hours, Mama?”

  “Because I have much more practice at dinner parties than you do, my dear, and I know when to conserve my energy.” She smiled. “But that does not mean I will not take to my bed immediately, and no doubt your Papa shall be snoring to the high heavens in his study chair before long.”

  Too tired to summon a response, Augusta nodded and took the few steps up to the house, grateful for the warmth that wrapped about her as she stepped into the long entranceway. Built in the Elizabethan era, the walls were lined with dark wood paneling and each door was fashioned out of the same dark-stained oak. It was no dramatic Georgian entranceway like that of Charlecote House but she appreciated the comfort the smaller room brought. When she stepped into the main room, light spilled through the one huge window, casting colored patterns on the stairway as it simmered through the stained glass that edged the top of the glass. She grumbled her discontent at the invasion of daytime. “Can you not stay away a little longer?” she muttered as she made her way upstairs and ducked through the low doorway into her room. At least then she would not have to face what she had done.

  Only bothering to remove her gloves and fling aside a few pins from her hair, she tumbled into bed and wrapped a sheet around her body, cocooning herself as though that would somehow prevent her from thinking of Miles. But, of course, nothing could cease her rambling, slightly crazed thoughts of that kiss.

  Sweet Mary, even thinking of that word...kiss...it was too much. It made heat flow to her cheeks and her limbs turn to liquid. She had never received anything more than a chaste peck from Henry as he bid her farewell before his travels. It had been a wonderful moment, she had thought, and had kept that memory close for some time. Now she felt silly for thinking of it as anything other than
a little dull. Miles’s lips upon hers had banished all thoughts of Henry’s.

  She tossed onto her front and buried her face into the welcome feathery softness of the pillow. It did little to comfort her. Every slide of cotton against her skin, every touch of fabric, and she was reliving how Miles held her face, recalling the taste of his lips, remembering how hard his body had felt against hers. How hard and yet...how wonderful. How protected and cherished she had felt. How out of control and wild it had been and yet whenever she felt she could lose her footing, she would find his arms there, holding her just so and ensuring nothing happened to her, preventing her from being carried away.

  Though so much of her had wanted to be carried away.

  This was so, so terribly wrong.

  As she closed her eyes, she could not help revel in it and take herself through every moment all over again. She let herself be back on that balcony, feeling the thrill of their fingers entwined together, seeing the intensity in his eyes and not knowing quite why it was there but wanting to know what was behind it anyway. She let his fingers slide over her face again, allowed him to hold her so that she could not get away. Augusta watched him lower his mouth to hers and did nothing to escape it.

  She knew, without doubt, that if he tried to kiss her again, she might very well allow it.

  Sleeping fitfully, she arose with a dry mouth and gritty eyes. She looked at the clock on her mantelpiece, blinking several times to clear the fatigue from her eyes before she could make out the time. She only had an hour to prepare for visitors and Joanna would be there so she wanted to be punctual. A far too talkative maid aided her in dressing and doing her hair but Augusta welcomed the brutal tug of a brush through her hair, making her scalp tingle and rousing her to her senses a little more. She grimaced when she spotted the dark shadows under her eyes, made all the more stark by her dark hair. Still, at least she was not seeing anyone who would care if she looked a little worse for wear.

  At least she was not seeing Miles.

  Goodness gracious, why did his name have to be summoned into her mind at every interval? He had not even bid her farewell. Clearly he knew it had been a huge mistake too. She was not even certain why he had kissed her. He was far too interesting and experienced to want to kiss her, surely?

  Precisely. So that was another excellent reason to put it out of her mind. Why he had kissed her, she did not know, but there was no doubting it was a mistake on both of their ends. Better to forget it and think on how exciting it would be for Henry to come home. With any luck, the renewed pressure from his brother would ensure his return by winter and they could set a date. How very, very exciting.

  She forced a wide smile once the maid left her bedroom and gave a little curtsey to herself in the mirror. “Mrs. Henry Stanton,” she murmured experimentally. “Mrs. Henry Stanton.” She made a face at her reflection. It did not seem nearly so wonderful as it once had. “Mrs. M—”

  No! That was not acceptable.

  Spinning away from the mirror, she left her room and headed downstairs to the parlor room. Two of her mother’s friends had arrived early but there was no sign of Joanna yet. She joined the ladies and listened in silence as they discussed the gossip that was surrounding a particular young woman who was rumored to be having a dalliance with a stable hand. Augusta had little interest in such gossip so she contented herself with drinking as much tea as possible to quench her tired and dry mouth until Joanna arrived.

  Though she should not be envious of her friend, it was hard not to. No signs of the late night marred Joanna and her perfect skin practically glowed as though she had slept beautifully for a whole night. Augusta rose to greet her and they seated themselves away from the growing crowd of older ladies.

  “How is it you never look tired?” Augusta asked, picking at a slice of fruit cake and discarding the sultanas on the plate.

  “I am exhausted,” Joanna groaned. “Utterly, bonelessly tired.” She grimaced. “In fact, I genuinely cannot tell you the last time I felt this tired. Once I returned home, I fell into such a deep sleep that I forgot what day it was.”

  Augusta was not certain whether her friend was trying to make her feel better or not so she turned her attention back to the remnants of her cake.

  “Augusta,” Joanna said.

  She lifted her head. “Yes?”

  “Is there a reason you have barely a word to say to me?”

  Augusta glanced into Joanna’s knowing eyes. How she could appear knowing was beyond Augusta. There was certainly no chance Joanna really had any inkling of what occurred but her friend always proved extremely intuitive. After all, she had been the one to recognize that Chloe was in love with Brook while Augusta had not known such a thing until Chloe had admitted it herself.

  Augusta blew out a breath. If she did not say something, she might very well explode, and she had little desire to lie to a friend. But would Joanna judge her poorly for her behavior? She had to hope not.

  “Augusta?” Joanna prompted.

  “I kissed Lord Ashwick,” she whispered, the words hurried.

  “Pardon?”

  Glancing around, Augusta patted her mouth with a napkin to mask the words. “I. Kissed. Miles.”

  “Good Lord.”

  Several heads spun in their direction and Joanna patted Augusta vigorously on the back. “Not to worry,” she said gaily, “just a little crumb. Scared us both.” Joanna leaned in toward her, keeping her voice low. “Of all the people to do such a thing, I never expected it to be you.”

  “I never expected it to be me either,” Augusta muttered.

  “When? How? Why?”

  Augusta lifted a shoulder. “Out on the balcony. I do not really know how. Nor do I know why.”

  “Good Lord,” Joanna repeated, albeit quietly this time. She pursed her lips. “Was it a good kiss?”

  Augusta very nearly did choke on her cake this time. “Joanna!”

  “Well, it seems a sensible question to ask. If it was not good, I would hardly think you would be sitting here, squirming as though you have a scandalous secret.”

  “It is a scandalous secret and it would be even if the kiss was terrible.”

  “So it was not terrible?” Joanna waggled her eyebrows.

  “Oh Lord…I should never have said a word.”

  “Do not say that.” Joanna grasped Augusta’s hand. “Tell me, how was it? And how do you feel now?”

  “It was…spectacular,” she admitted on a sigh. “And I feel terrible.”

  “Spectacular,” Joanna echoed. “How wonderful.”

  “It is not wonderful. I’m engaged to his brother for Goodness sakes,” she hissed.

  “Well, if Henry did not want you kissing other men, he should be here, claiming you for himself.” Joanna pressed a finger to her lips. “Though, Lord Ashwick does have quite the reputation for being a naughty chap.”

  “I do not think he is so naughty these days…”

  “Still, it has to be more fun than waiting around for Henry.”

  Augusta eyed her friend. “I really thought you would have something useful to say to me.”

  Joanna laughed. “It seems that kiss has made you quite spirited. I rather like it.”

  Augusta groaned and Joanna laughed again. “It is all very well for you to laugh. You did not do something utterly scandalous.”

  “No one saw you and I am certain Lord Ashwick would never tarnish your reputation by speaking on it. Anyone can see he holds you in high regard.”

  Augusta frowned. “Do you think so?”

  “Oh certainly.” Joanna plucked up a slice of cake and took a sizable bite. “What a shame you fell for the younger brother because the older one is quite attractive in a brooding way. A shame he is such a naughty chap too.”

  “I do not think he is naughty…” Augusta protested half-heartedly again.

  Though she could not argue with Joanna. She was beginning to wonder why she had ever fallen for Henry when a man like Miles even existed. However
, it was no lie that Miles had been engaged in quite reckless behavior in his past life. She never knew all the details but had heard rumblings of disapproval from some of the older members of society.

  Tearing another sultana from her slice of cake, she blew out a breath. Her best hope was to put the kiss from her mind and continue with her scheme to live her life a little less…dully.

  Well, she supposed she had already achieved that. Just not in the way she had expected.

  Chapter Six

  Miles could count on one hand how many garden parties he’d attended. They’d certainly never interested him when he was younger when gaming tables, women, and drinking had been more his style, and he forever felt out of place at them now. However, he’d spent over a week avoiding anything that Augusta might be attending and was beginning to feel foolish.

  Or more like an ass.

  Either way, he had to face her at some point.

  When he spotted her, he knew he had not been wrong to come. She was wearing a light lemon-yellow dress and had flowers in her hair. She perfectly matched what was turning into a fine day and seeing her was like a damned punch to the gut. Somehow, he’d pushed that kiss out of his mind, burying it in work and the occasional whiskey. Now it came back to him, sucker punching him with all the force of a heavyweight opponent. He could taste her lips, feel her lithe body, recall the little noises she made. His fingers itched to press into her hair and pull it down around her shoulders.

  He’d have a fight on his hands, though, even if she were not bloody engaged to his brother. Apparently, he was not the only one to appreciate her dress and delicate hairstyle. Three men surrounded her as she stood by the fountain. Miles noticed her two friends keeping their distance though watching with interest. Damn them both. They should be protecting her, not watching these blasted men fall all over themselves to speak with her.