by Darcy Burke
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, having joined him at the end of the table.
He glanced up at her, encouraged that she’d followed him. “Making a hat.”
“With glue?”
He blinked up at her. “Is there a better way? Perhaps you would like to show me?”
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “No.”
“I shall continue, then.” Determined to engage her, he got up and fetched a few more items for his basket hat: pigeon feathers, a small fan, and a rosebud.
“Wherever did you find that fan?” she asked as he considered where to attach it.
“No idea. I asked the staff to bring me a variety of things, and this was one of them. I think there’s an old stocking somewhere in the pile.” He set the fan on top of the hat to give it height, but it didn’t look right. Next, he tried putting it on sideways so that it looked like a fin on the side of the hat. “Oh yes, this will do,” he murmured, slapping a dollop of glue onto the basket and then pressing the fan on top of it.
“That looks ridiculous.”
Felix looked up at her in faux innocence. “Does it? And here I was hoping to persuade you to wear it.”
She rolled her eyes. “What is your true intent here?”
“The same as always: to have a good time. Would you rather scowl at my pathetic efforts or join me? I am confident you will create something far finer than I.”
She arched a brow at him. “Is that a challenge?”
Oh yes, this was the Sarah he was hoping to provoke. “It is.”
“I bet I can make something worse than yours.”
That was not what he’d expected, but it was far, far better. He laughed. “Just you try.”
She spun on her heel and walked around the table picking up various items. Then she returned to his end and sat down as she began to quietly assemble her hat. The first thing she did was open her own jar of glue. Using a newspaper as the base, she attached a variety of ribbons to the sides.
“See how helpful the glue is?” he asked.
“For my project, yes. For your basket, no. I am confident the glue leaked through the weave. Aside from creating a mess, it may make the basket uncomfortable for the wearer.”
He stared at her in mock surprise. “Comfort goes into your design?”
She ignored him as she finished gluing her ribbons. Felix picked up the basket and saw there were indeed dried dollops of glue on the tablecloth. Thankfully, the staff had possessed the foresight to cover the table. He peered into the basket and saw clumps of glue in a few places.
“You could sew the moss on,” she suggested. “Unless you’re done with that.”
He had no desire to sew anything. Picking up the brush once more, he dabbed glue on the base of the open fan and carefully stuck the pigeon feathers on.
“You should sew those too,” she said.
“I can’t sew.”
“You can’t make hats either, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping you.”
He grinned, but she didn’t look up from her work. She’d glued a teacup to the top of the newspaper.
He surveyed his hat. God, it was hideous. It needed ribbon, for function as much as form. If the objective was to make it as awful as possible, perhaps he should use the old stocking. He stood and went in search of it but couldn’t find it. Glancing back toward Sarah, he saw her gently gluing the edge of it—she’d torn it in half—to another edge of the paper.
Blast.
He didn’t want to use ribbons. They were too obvious. But what if he altered the ribbons? He found several that didn’t match and then set to work gluing moss, small leaves, and rose petals on each of them. Rather than glue them to the hat, he wound them through the basket weave.
“Finished!” he declared.
“I am too,” she said, sitting back to survey her handiwork. It didn’t even really look like a hat. “How shall we determine the winner?”
“A panel of judges seems in order,” Felix said.
“Who?”
“Let me see who I can find.” He stood and went to fetch the first three members of the staff he could find. He returned with the butler, Seales, a maid, and a footman and arranged them to stand near the end of the table where she and Felix had assembled their ghastly headwear.
“Your job is to vote for the ugliest hat,” Felix said. “Are you ready?”
“Where are the hats, my lord?” Seales asked, appearing to take his assignment very seriously.
“Right here.” Felix picked up his hat and set the basket on his head. Then he attempted to tie the collection of ribbons beneath his chin. A clump of moss dropped to the floor, as did a rose petal.
He looked to the side as Sarah rounded the end of the table. She’d put on her hat, and he knew he was sunk.
She’d tied two of the ribbons beneath her chin and the rest dangled free, like some sort of wild, multi-colored hairstyle. Due to tying the ribbons, the newspaper curved around her head like an actual straw hat might have done, and the teacup sat in the place of prominence atop her crown. It almost invited one to pour tea into the vessel. Or perhaps she was collecting rainwater. Damn, her hat was both comfortable—if she was to be believed—and functional, if entirely ugly. Finally, the stocking covered her face like a veil, lending a somber appearance to the most absurd piece of headwear he’d ever seen.
“Whose hat is the most atrocious?” Felix asked, already knowing the answer.
All three retainers looked toward Sarah. “Miss Colton’s,” they each said.
Through the veil, she smiled beatifically and Felix had no choice but to howl with laughter. How he wished he were skilled at art, for he would have sketched a picture of her to remember the moment.
“I should let the lot of you go,” Felix said, smiling. “Thank you, you’re dismissed.”
The maid’s eyes grew wide. “From our employment?”
Felix shook his head in horror. “No! You’re dismissed from here.”
Her body relaxed, and she responded with a smile. “Shall I clean this up, my lord?”
“Later,” he said.
The trio left the dining room, and Felix turned to Sarah as she removed her hat. “You’re taking it off?” he asked.
“Should I wear it into town?” She laughed. “You look ridiculous.”
“Thank you. I had no chance with you. Your hat was hideous, comfortable, and functional.”
“Because it would keep the sun off my face? Yours would not,” she noted.
“Doubly functional, then. I was thinking you could collect rainwater to drink.”
She looked at the hat and giggled. The teacup promptly fell off, and Felix moved quickly to catch it. She gave him an apologetic smile, widening her eyes slightly, and he placed the cup on the table.
Felix then untied the ribbon beneath his chin and tried to pull the basket off, but pain shot through his scalp. “Ow!”
She set her hat on the table beside the teacup and stepped toward him. “What’s wrong?”
“I think it’s stuck. You were right about the glue.”
Stifling a laugh, she moved closer. “Let me help you.” She gently pushed at the hat, and he winced. “Sit down.”
He sat in the chair he’d vacated earlier, and she turned the basket around on his head. He flinched again. “Just pull it off. I’ll deal with the bald spot.”
She tugged harder, and off it came. A sharp pain stabbed his scalp and he reached up to rub the area. His hand found hers as she smoothed at his hair.
The connection shot through him like a lightning bolt. He looked up at her to find her staring down at him. She was so close, standing just between his knees, and her breasts would be at eye level right in front of him if he lowered his head.
A powerful spell of awareness and desire wove between them. He skimmed his fingers along her hand atop his head and stared into the alluring blue of her eyes. This was what he’d missed when he’d kissed her—the anticipation of knowing it wa
s her before their lips met.
Would he have even had anticipation before that night? He would never have considered kissing her, not without Fate stepping in and making it happen.
She drew her hand away and took a step back, breaking the spell. The air felt suddenly cooler, and Felix suppressed a shiver.
She put the basket on the table and wiped her hands against her skirt. “I still don’t want to make hats. At least not as an enterprise. I shall always trim my own headwear.”
He exhaled, struggling with the desire still pulsing through him and trying to focus on what she said. Today was a success, then—she at least wanted to trim her own hats. “That’s a start. There are real hat-making supplies in the sitting room upstairs for when you change your mind.” He stood. “Did you at least enjoy yourself?”
“I did.” Her smile was small but infectious, sparking a heat inside him that banished the chill of the broken moment. “Thank you. But really, Felix, how long can you keep this up? Entertaining us, I mean.”
“As long as necessary. It’s what I do. In fact, I wondered if I should invite Beck and Lavinia to come visit.”
“Oh yes, please!” Her eyes fairly glowed with excitement, and Felix grinned with pleasure.
“I’ll send a messenger to them posthaste,” he said.
“They’re at Huntwell with Fanny and David, at least for a few more days.”
“Shall I invite them too?”
“I don’t know if they’ll come. They are newlyweds, after all.”
“I’ll extend the offer,” Felix said. “Are you sure you don’t want to make another hat? We have plenty of supplies.”
“No, thank you. I’ve a horrid novel to finish—thank you for those.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Everything you do is for your pleasure,” she said softly. “And everyone else’s.”
She was more right about the latter than the former. “Pleasing others, seeing to their enjoyment is what gives me joy.” He hadn’t meant to sound seductive or provocative, but saying those words to her, he realized he would like to please her—in every way possible.
But that was never going to happen. She was on the hunt for a husband, and she was not a woman with whom he could dally.
She didn’t break eye contact with him for a long moment, and the air between them seemed to heat once more. At last, she pivoted. But before she left, she picked up her abominable hat and took it with her.
Felix had given her joy, if only for a while, and that would have to be enough.
Chapter 9
The horrid novels held no appeal for Sarah that night. After dinner, Anthony and Felix had left again, but this time, they hadn’t revealed their destination. She could well imagine where they’d gone, however.
It was late when she found herself in the sitting room adjacent to her bedchamber. Several crates full of hat-making supplies stood against the wall. Kneeling in front of them, she looked through the forms and ribbons and fabric. There were a few flowers, but nothing that inspired her. She’d begun to fashion her own blossoms and wondered if she might be able to use the glue to create something interesting.
She sat back on the floor and pulled out a length of ribbon. She twirled it around her finger to make the bud of a rose. Yes, glue could work nicely. She began to think of the things she could make, and then she began to think of Dolly and her expertise and how together, they could create the most beautiful hats in London.
“You can’t do that!” Her mother’s voice intruded on her fantasy.
“Why not?” Sarah said to the empty room. The shop would make her happy, just as it would have disappointed her parents. And now there was no one to stand in her way. Her parents’ death had made it possible for her to pursue the life she wanted—her shop and marriage to a man she loved, if she loved one.
The realization stole her breath for a moment. She couldn’t be glad they were gone. Of course, she wasn’t. And she refused to benefit from them being gone.
Hot tears tracked down her cheeks as anger and frustration boiled inside her. She threw the ribbon back into the crate and wiped at her face.
“Sarah?”
The sound of Felix’s voice cooled her emotions.
He came into the sitting room and sat down beside her. “Contemplating your next creation?”
He smelled a bit like whisky, but not overly so. His cravat looked as though it had been loosened and retied. She could imagine why that had been necessary.
She sniffed. “No.”
He turned toward her. “Sarah, have you been crying?” The concern in his voice could have broken her, but she wouldn’t allow it.
“No.”
He frowned. “I can see you have.” He reached for her hand, but she stood up and stalked away from him.
She turned her back to him. “Save your concern. I don’t want it.”
“Nevertheless, you shall have it.” He’d come up behind her. She could hear his proximity—she could feel it too.
She spun about. “I said, I don’t want it. You are not my brother, Felix. You are not my husband. You are nothing to me.”
He moved closer. “Am I?” His voice was low, seductive, so tempting. This was not the way to pretend they’d never kissed.
She glanced at his rumpled cravat. “Don’t you dare flirt with me. Save that for your women. And especially don’t do that after you’ve just been with one.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Where do you think I’ve been?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not stupid.”
“I have never for a moment thought you were. You think I was with a woman?”
“Where else would you and Anthony go?” She uncrossed her arms as emotion welled inside her. Tears threatened once more, and damn it, she was tired of crying. She wanted to leave, but the only way out was past him. “Never mind, I don’t care.”
She tried to walk by him, but he curled his arm around her and drew her into his arms.
“I know how it feels to be so overwhelmed by helplessness that you can hardly see straight.”
She’d wanted to push him away, but his words froze her in place. He sounded small and young and so unlike the Felix she knew. She let herself relax against him. He stroked her back, his hand moving gently up and down her spine. Suddenly, she didn’t want to cry anymore.
His lips grazed her temple, and she closed her eyes. She lifted one hand and placed it next to her face against his chest. His heart beat strong and sure beneath her palm, a song to ease the agitation inside her.
They stood together for what seemed forever, and Sarah thought she could go on like that for another eternity. She looked up at him, grateful for his presence. Standing on her toes, she kissed his cheek.
His hand stopped moving along her back, instead flattening against the middle of her spine. The movement kept her on her toes, and he returned her gesture, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss on her face.
It felt so nice, so…right. She moved her hand up to his collarbone, steadying herself to brush her mouth against his. She shouldn’t, but he was right there. And he was…kissing her back.
He brought his other hand up and cupped her cheek, holding her tenderly as their mouths moved together. It was gentle and careful and not at all like their kiss at Darent Hall.
Until it was.
She was suddenly aware of the hardness of his body and his crisp, masculine scent. She remembered it from that dark closet, and the memory sparked a need she’d tried to forget.
His thumb traced from the corner of her mouth along her jaw to the sensitive spot just in front of her ear. His touch took the kiss from comfort to something far more dangerous. She should step away, but she couldn’t. Nor did she want to.
She wanted more, not less. She wanted him.
Curling one arm around his back, she pushed the other up along his collar until she found his nape. She flattened her palm against the warmth of his flesh. She parted her lips as he did
the same. Their tongues met, coming together with heat and passion. She gripped him tightly, never wanting to let go.
His hands moved over her, stroking her back, her neck, her cheek, awakening her senses. She mirrored his eagerness, touching him everywhere she could but never feeling a moment’s satisfaction. She’d never experienced such a need, such a hunger.
Because she wore only her night rail and a dressing gown, she felt him more than she had in the closet. But it wasn’t enough. She brought her hands down between them and pushed at the front of his coat.
He helped her cause, shrugging his shoulders from the garment as she shoved it down his arms. He tossed it away behind him and put his hands on her the moment he was free, caressing her shoulders, her side, her hip. It seemed he meant to explore every part of her. Good, she wanted to do the same.
She grasped his cravat, searching for the ends. But then she recalled its rumpled state, and finally had a moment’s lucidity. She pulled back and looked up into his familiar face that suddenly appeared very different than she’d ever seen it. His eyes were impossibly dark, the lids drooping low with seductive promise. His lips were red, his cheeks flushed.
“Was there really no other woman tonight?” she asked softly, her voice a bare whisper between them.
“There hasn’t been another woman since Darent Hall.”
Her knees wobbled, and her insides melted. He held her fast as she found his cravat and plucked the knot apart.
She gripped the ends of the silk and pulled his head down to her. “Good.” She closed her eyes and kissed him again, using every bit of skill he’d unwittingly taught her.
He groaned into her mouth and swept her against him, practically lifting her from the floor. Her pelvis pressed into his, and she could feel his erection. The hard length pushed into her sex, and pleasure radiated from where they touched. She rotated her hips, wanting more. She felt helpless and desperate.
He unsealed his mouth from hers and kissed along her throat, forcing her to cast her head back and open herself to his attention. It was glorious. His tongue and lips tantalizing her flesh as his hand came up and cupped her breast. He’d briefly done that in the closet, and the sensation of it crashed into her again. That was when they’d had to stop, when reality had rudely interrupted.