Cicely walked briskly to him. John grabbed her hand and pulled her to run down the adjoining hall that led away from the most occupied parts of the abbey. They laughed as if they were children again, especially when they nearly ran into one of the maids.
John gave the girl a wink and a shilling to forget they were ever seen.
They continued running and laughing until Cicely was nearly out of breath. When they reached the conservatory, John opened the doors, and the warm, scented air enveloped her. It had been some time since she had been in the conservatory, and the change was remarkable. The once-small trees nearly reached the glass ceiling, where the moon bathed them in light. It truly looked like they were outdoors were it not for the winter landscapes outside the large windows, which made the sight equally unsettling and fascinating. Green vines climbed up the walls to wrap around the metal rafters. The paths were polished white marble with green vines that all led to a lily-covered pond in the center.
Cicely gasped. “This is so beautiful.”
Still holding hands, they explored every pathway and discussed every sculpture, most of which were whimsical creatures such as fairies, satyrs, or animals dressed in human clothing. But occasionally, they ran across a statue that made Cicely blush.
It started with the centaur that was endowed like a stallion. The creature made her face burn. She could barely look at it. It was no different than the horses in Uncle’s field, but somehow, having the upper body of a man made her feel as if she should not be looking at it.
John’s only reply to her discomfort was to make it worse. “I assure you that though many men may wish it, none are similarly attributed.”
Her hand covered her mouth in shock, and she tried even harder not to imagine what exactly a man’s attributes did look like, which only made her look at John and consider his physique with scandalous interest.
As children, they used to swim in a pond on John’s estate, and since they were not allowed to go swimming, they had simply done so without clothing. She had seen him undressed before, but that was long ago, when their bodies were more alike than not. It was reasonable to expect that John’s attributes had grown as he had, but there was a huge difference between what she remembered and that centaur.
Then came the bare-chested mermaid. Clearly, she had seen breasts before, but observing them with John beside her made her very aware of her own, which ached in a way she had never experienced before. When she looked at him, she wondered if he was thinking of her in the way that she had been thinking of him.
“You are blushing again,” he exclaimed.
She frowned, which only made him laugh harder. “Stop,” she said.
His mirth changed to full-on laughter, and his eyes began to water. “You are so delightful,” he spat out between bouts, grabbing at his sides.
“I am not.” She glared at him, hands on hips. “Stop,” she said again, not as harshly, as she struggled to keep the corners of her mouth from rising.
“How will you ever be a true artist and study the greats if you cannot appreciate the beauty of the human form?”
“It is not the form that bothers me. It is the company I keep whilst viewing the form.” Frustrated, she pretended she would shove him into the pond.
He wobbled for a minute then grabbed her. “If I go in, you are coming with me.”
“No.” She pulled away, afraid that he would follow through on his threat.
He picked her up and spun her until her feet dangled over the pond.
“Do not even… I will never forgive you,” she stammered in genuine horror.
A flash of something crossed over his face, but it was too quick for her to read. “I guess my little bird does not like to fly anymore.”
She was surprised that he remembered her nickname from so long ago, earned due to her daring and love of heights. “And I am becoming reacquainted with my friend John or Lord Popinjay?”
“Touché.” He laughed and began to lower her to the ground.
Her body slid along his, and her breath caught as she became even more aware of the man he was. Her hands felt the muscles beneath his coat. Her breasts reacted to the warmth and closeness of his chest pressed to hers, her nipples tightening painfully. Her toes touched the ground. She looked up at him to find that all the laughter had left his face. What remained was an intensity that equally scared and excited her. She inhaled, trying to understand all the conflicting feelings she was having, but his woodsy pine scent only made her want to pull him closer.
Her mouth was dry, and she parted her lips. In moments, his mouth was on hers, rough and demanding. She could feel his hunger, and her own reacted to it. His lips devoured hers. Her stomach whirled, and her hands slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It was better than she ever imagined.
His tongue teased into her mouth, brushing her own, and it was like fire through her being. She had never known that such a feeling was even possible. She pressed her chest to his, wanting and needing more. His tongue brushed hers again, lingering longer with each pass. Her body ached in places where she did not know aching was possible. She pulled at his hair as if trying to communicate what she wanted, though she was not even certain herself. Instead, he pulled back with a growl of frustration.
She did not want to open her eyes, afraid that it would end the delicious daze she was in. Her chest was heaving, and each breath burned. When she finally looked at him, the hunger in his gaze made her melt even more. He searched her face as if waiting for something. She did not know what to say or do. So she kissed him, asking for what she wanted the only way she knew how.
A groan rumbled in his throat as he seemed to rededicate himself to kissing her insensible. The maddening pace of their tongues made her heart nearly burst from her chest. She was so hot that she was ready to take off her clothes or jump in the pond—something, anything. Their bodies were pressed together, and she felt his hard attribute against her leg, which excited her. She never imagined having such power over him. His lips moved to her cheek in a soft caress. She gasped for air, needing the coolness to lessen the heat, but it did not help. Nothing did.
His lips brushed her neck, igniting shivers over her. She trembled in his arms and wanted more. “Please,” she moaned.
His teeth gently nipped at her collarbone, and her head tipped back. His hand cupped her breast through the bodice of her dress. She groaned, arching into his touch. His thumb circled her nipple through the fabric, but all she wanted was to feel his skin against hers. Somehow, he knew and dragged the neckline down until her bare breast rested in his palm. His thumb drew lazy, maddening circles around her nipple. It was delightful torture. The pleasure was so great she thought she would… she did not know, but she knew it would be something.
His lips continued their downward trail until the tip of his tongue reached out to flick across her nipple, making it harden even more. The pain was excruciating and wonderful. She did not understand how she could ache so much but still want more. He cupped her other breast, playing with the nipple as his tongue continued to tease the first. Her hands were entangled in his hair, holding his head in place. His mouth closed over her nipple, and his teeth raked the tip. Her knees buckled, and if he had not been holding her up, she would have collapsed.
“What are you doing to me?” she mumbled in a husky, breathless voice that sounded nothing like her own.
He lifted his head and his gaze met her. “Lord Popinjay is showing you one of the many reasons that you should appreciate him.”
“I am convinced. Do not stop, Lord Popinjay.”
He laughed a throaty laugh and kissed her again as he replaced the bodice of her dress and smoothed the fabric back into place.
She pulled out of the kiss. “What? Why?”
His hands slid to her hips and gripped her. “We cannot go any further. In truth, we have gone too far already.” The pain in his voice caused her to pause.
“We have not even begun. I have wanted you for so long,” she replied.
&n
bsp; “As I want you.”
“Then why did you leave me for so long? You forgot about me.” The passion of the moment faded as the pain of abandonment and confusion rose to the forefront. She had not realized how much he had hurt her until the emotions choked her and brought tears to her eyes. She dropped her gaze to hide the pain.
“I am so sorry.” He kissed her gently. “I should never have been gone so long. Can you ever forgive me?”
She sniffled.
“I will make it up to you. I promise.”
“And how will you do that?”
“I can think of a few ways.” He kissed her again, tenderly, and slowly, making the warmth in her begin to grow again.
They spent the next few hours kissing and talking until he walked her to her room, making sure to avoid anyone else. If they had been found together, it would have caused a scandal.
At her door, she leaned and stared up at him.
He pressed his body to hers and whispered in her ear, “If I asked you to invite me in, would you?”
“I would, but you will not ask me, will you?”
“No,” he sighed, and it was full of frustration. “You should go.”
“I should.”
He kissed her one final time, slowly and thoroughly.
Chapter 5
“Cici.”
A hushed whisper awoke Cicely, and she rolled away from the sound.
“Cici.”
She heard it again but ignored it even though the tone was more demanding.
And then something soft hit her on the head.
Cicely opened one eye to find her older sister, Georgie, perched on the side of her bed. Her sister was dressed like a proper London lady in a pale-pink walking dress trimmed with white fur. Her dark-brown curls cascaded around her face, and the back was styled in an intricate pattern that left her neck bare.
“Good, you are awake.” Georgie smiled as if she were not the one who had awakened her.
“Georgie,” she said in slumber-filled confusion. “When did you arrive?”
“Last evening, with Lady Brinley. Sadly, we were too late to join you for dinner.” Georgie frowned and stood. “And you retired early. Are you well?”
Cicely did not have time to answer.
“I hope that you are well. I have the best news.” Georgie paused only to take a breath.
Cicely blinked to adjust to the morning light. Thankfully, the room was warm, and she was able to sit up in the bed.
“Have you seen John? Of course you have. Isn’t he so handsome? I just—” She gasped, seeming to run out of words.
“I saw him yesterday.”
Georgie grabbed Cicely’s hand, her eyes wide and full of excitement. “Did he mention me?”
Cicely had to think about it for a moment. “No.”
Georgie glared at her, and her lower lip stuck out. “You must not have talked to him much, then.”
Cicely was going to answer her, but Georgie kept going. “I am certain if you had, he would have mentioned me. I see him all the time in London, and he takes me to Gunther's for ice. I am certain he came to ask Papa for my hand.”
The confidence in Georgie’s voice made Cicely’s stomach clench. “He cannot be here for that,” she exclaimed in a rush of words. It was not possible, not after… last night. Cicely swallowed hard, and her cheeks burned.
“Why else why would he be here?” Georgie stood and spun in a circle with her arms outstretched. “I shall be the Duchess of Ainsley. Can you believe it? Everyone will call me ‘Your Grace.’”
Cicely did not believe it. Dread began to overwhelm her. She was going to have to tell Georgie something. “I don’t think that is why he came, Georgie,” she responded sharply, too annoyed to bother softening her words.
Georgie turned quickly to stare at her. Her green eyes flashed with anger. “Then why did he come? It was not to see you. He has never mentioned or even asked me about you. Please tell me that you have not deluded yourself into thinking that the future Duke of Ainsley would want you? You have nothing to offer him.”
Cicely climbed from her bed and shivered in her thin nightdress, unsure whether it was from the temperature or from her sister’s cold assessment. “And you do?”
“I do. Uncle has promised to dower me, and I, unlike you, am the belle of London. I have had no less than five offers this season alone. Not even a pig herder has offered for you.”
Cicely opened her mouth to reply, but Georgie was right. She had no dowry and nothing to offer John. Nothing but herself.
“Do you imagine that you could ever be a duchess? You have never been to a London ball, let alone organized one. You know nothing about what to wear or what to say in polite society. You could not even sing at church without being ill in front of everyone. How do you imagine that you would even be able to have everyone looking at you? You would embarrass him.” Georgie’s words were cruel but not untrue.
To be a part of society and all that it entailed had never interested Cicely. She preferred the country to London’s dirty, overcrowded streets. All she ever cared for was her art, her family, and John.
Georgie sighed, and the anger drained from her face. Her shoulders relaxed. “Dearest Cici, I do not say these things to hurt you. You must understand that though you and John were close when you were young, he is not that boy anymore. I know that you care for him deeply, but it is the love of one motherless child for another, not a love like John and I share, the love of a husband and wife.”
Cicely felt as if Georgie had slapped her. Is John here to ask for Georgie’s hand, as Georgie assumed? Cicely knew he was not here to see her, at least based on his surprise the day before.
“Can you be my sister for me just this once? I love him so much that I cannot bear to be without him!” Georgie’s voice was as sincere as Cicely had ever heard it.
Perhaps Cicely had interfered with John’s proposal. She covered her mouth and sat on the bed. No, she could not have. Pain for herself and for Georgie swirled inside her because one of them would be hurt by all of this.
Cicely could not be the source of her sister’s pain. Georgie might have been older, but after Mama died, it was Cicely who had dried Georgie’s tears and calmed her when she had nightmares. Cicely made sure that everyone ate, and that Father did not give all their food to the poor. She traded Mama’s clothes to a woman in the village to watch baby Amelia when she could not. She was the only one who could get William, their older brother, to respond when he grew despondent over Mama’s death.
Georgie grabbed Cicely’s hand. Her brows drew together in an agonized expression. “Please, Cici. I love him.”
Her mind whirled. Georgie was asking her to leave John alone, and for her sister, she would. Cicely nodded, unable to say the words aloud.
“I love you, Cici.” Georgie squealed and hugged her while Cicely’s heart broke.
Cicely hid in her room all morning until her maid came to let her know that John, Georgie, and a few others had gone to town. She took her time dressing and gathered her composure—“donning her armor,” as Emily called it.
When she descended the stairs to have breakfast, only Lord Brinley was in the morning room.
She was relieved and disappointed. Part of her longed to see whether John still looked at her the same way or whether his gaze would drift to Georgie instead.
“Good day, Lord Brinley.” She inclined her head.
“Good morning, Miss Cicely.” He jumped to his feet, which was comical given his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He was more intelligent than most men. Having met his mother and sister, Cicely imagined a keen wit was necessary to survive in their household.
“Please, sit. I am not here to disturb you,” she insisted.
He returned to his seat, and she went to the sideboard to peruse what was available. She settled on kippers, kidney pie, toast, and a cup of tea.
They ate in silence. Lord Brinley returned to the sideboard twice to fill his plate, and she watched
him covertly. He was quite dashing in his black breeches and navy coat. His white cravat was tied in a simple style unlike the more intricate patterns preferred by her brother. It was said that Lord Brinley had recently been jilted by a beautiful woman, and Cicely thought the girl must have been a fool.
As if he sensed her thoughts, he looked at her and smiled. “I am heading into the village to join the others. If you would like to come, I would be honored to escort you.”
Cicely frowned. It would be impossible to completely avoid John for the next three days, and she did want to get gifts for her brothers and sisters. She sighed, resigned to get through the confrontation with as little fuss as possible. “Thank you. I would love to join you.”
When Brinley’s arms were close to overflowing with packages, she said, “I have everything that I came for. Do you?”
He paused.
She imagined he was running through a list in his head.
“Yes, I have everything I wanted to purchase. Would you join me for some tea before we head back?” He nodded to a little tea shop a few doors down, just ahead of where their carriage was parked.
“I would love to.” She pulled her cloak closed around her, more acutely feeling the chill since relief had been mentioned.
He walked her to the tea shop and insisted she wait for him there while he stored their packages in the carriage.
As she waited, she heard someone call her name from across the street. She turned toward the sound and straight into a man’s hard body. Strong hands grabbed her waist to steady her and keep her from disgracing herself with a fall.
She gasped and looked up to find the most beautiful green eyes that she had ever seen. “Pardon me.”
“No, please, it is all my fault. I really should be more careful,” the man replied.
It was difficult to focus on his words when she was so absorbed with staring at the beautiful man. She would have loved to sketch his perfectly chiseled face. Wisps of his pale blond hair fell over his forehead, and her fingers itched to brush them away. He was dressed in a black jacket and dark-gray breeches, the height of London men’s fashion.
Christmas Surprise (Regency Holiday Surprise Book 1) Page 3