“What do you consider your talents to be?” she asked. She wasn't sure if it was a trick of the sun, or if his gaze truly held a wicked glint, but once more her body erupted in reaction, core quivering, titillating sensations bubbling up inside her like hot lava.
“I think you know by now.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” She resisted the urge to fan herself with her sketchbook.
“Should I elaborate?”
He grinned slowly, his lips spreading over his perfect white teeth. His incisors were very pointed, reminiscent of a wolf, his gaze hungry, his intent clear. He wanted to devour her and she couldn't look away.
Josie wanted to be devoured.
No doubt it would feel as lovely as everything they had done yesterday. She couldn't wait for the next time they would meet.
“I’m waiting,” she said, her voice lower and breathier than she intended.
He kept his eyes on her as his grin slowly melted away, and he opened his sketchbook.
“Hold still,” he said. “I want to capture this.”
Josie did. She wouldn't have moved had the earth shaken her from its surface like a maid shaking and beating a rug of its impertinent dust.
His gaze darted back and forth between the paper and her. His stare was like a touch, caressing her skin, tightening the tension inside her until her nerves were stretched so taut she was afraid to breathe or even blink, or she might snap.
She didn't know what she would do, even here in the meadow surrounded by others. She wasn't in control of herself. He held the power to move her, to make her feel. She'd never been so vulnerable to someone and it frightened her. She licked her lips and then moved just to prove to herself and to him that she could. That she would not be controlled. She would never let him hold ultimate power over her.
His lips twitched into a smile, and his gaze returned to his drawing, staying there while he scribbled.
Josie picked up her own sketchbook just to prove again he was not the center of all her thoughts and feelings. She drew a little flower with a ladybug perched on the leaf. When she was finished, she took her time shading the leaves so she wouldn't have to look at him. She needed to regain some of her composure and lock away that frightening vulnerability behind a door where she was the only one who held the key. She glanced at him once more. He was looking away from her, frowning with concern.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Is your drawing not good?” she teased.
“No, it's just… Wait here a moment.”
He stood, facing the spot where Jeanie and Lord Luckfeld had been sitting. She noticed he was looking after a trail that led into the forest. But now they weren’t there.
“I'm coming with you.” She jumped to her feet.
He presented his arm as if they were taking a stroll and not looking after two people who had wandered off together. For once, Josie’s slamming heart was not because of the man beside her but worry for her sister and what they might find if the two of them were alone in the woods. Now that Josie knew the taste of passion, she could imagine it might be startling to witness others in its clutches.
Chapter 12
“You shouldn't come,” he said.
“Why? I want to protect my sister.”
“We don't know that anything untoward is happening, only that they went off alone together. It could be nothing,” he said.
But in Josie's mind, it could be something because now she had first-hand knowledge of what that could be and how dangerous and intoxicating it was. Lord Luckfeld was handsome and charming, and Jeanie could be easily swayed by such things. Jeanie frequently romanticized the idea of marriage, courtship, a season in London. Which made it entirely too easy for a rake like Lord Luckfeld to take advantage of someone like her.
“If you catch them, they might have to marry. But if we catch them together then… Well, there are more…options.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “Why wouldn't you want your sister to marry a viscount?”
Josie drew back. “His title doesn't matter. I care more for my sister's happiness and Lord Luckfeld is a rake. Am I to believe that without any previous knowledge, suddenly he's deeply in love with her and wants to marry her? Or is it more likely he is taking advantage?”
He folded his arms. “Do you think I’m taking advantage?”
“You already proposed,” Josie said. “If anything, I'm taking advantage of you.”
He snorted. “Right, well, despite Lord Luckfeld’s reputation and activities with women, your sister could do much worse than him.”
Now it was Josie's turn to snort. “Do you hear yourself? She could do much worse than him? It would be one thing if she loved him, but I won't stand by and let my sister be forced to marry a man I already suspect only cares about himself.”
“You'd be wrong about that. He cares for his brother and sister. He’s my friend and he would never intentionally hurt anyone.”
Josie didn’t have a response. A tinge of guilt filtered through her anger.
They turned and marched into the woods, not knowing which direction to go, having come from a different angle. They walked past a crop of trees, and suddenly there Lord Luckfeld and Jeanie stood, embracing, but not heatedly at least.
Josie sighed with relief, but it swiftly evaporated. Lord Luckfeld appeared as if he was moments away from kissing her.
Patrick cleared his throat and they froze. After a moment, they stepped apart.
“Jeanie come with me,” Josie said.
Jeanie hesitated, looking to Lord Luckfeld.
Josie bristled. Did he have her under his spell?
“I’m sorry,” he said to her. “I should have taken better care of you.”
“We’ve only just come upon you,” Patrick said. “Perhaps we didn’t see what we thought we saw, and this needn’t turn into a to-do.”
Josie glared at him. “Protecting your own, I see?”
“He was touching her lip, ’tis all,” Patrick argued.
The two couples moved closer together.
“Are you going to try to convince me she had a spot of jam and he was only assisting her? They were holding each other in a romantic fashion.”
“You’ve no experience with romance,” Patrick countered.
Josie clenched her teeth. No experience? What the devil had they been doing, then?
“Enough. Josie, you and I will talk privately,” Jeanie said. “I happen to agree with Lord Selhorst. There is nothing happening that needs to be discussed beyond the four of us.”
Josie snapped her mouth closed, balling her fists.
Jeanie appealed to Lord Luckfeld again. “Don’t you agree?”
“If you say so,” he said, not nearly contrite enough for Josie. She stood in appalled silence, waiting for her sister’s sanity to return.
“I can convince Josie to be quiet.”
“I am inclined to discretion myself,” Patrick said.
Lord Luckfeld nodded.
“Good. Then please let me speak with my sister privately,” Jeanie said.
It seemed good sense had abandoned them all.
“Jeanie, what are you doing?” Josie whispered as they stepped away. “That man is a rake. You cannot be alone with him. He looked as though he was about to kiss you!”
Jeanie blushed. “You can’t tell anyone.”
Josie did not like her pleading tone. This wasn’t a Jeanie she recognized. And the way she had turned to Lord Luckfeld, the emotion clear in her eyes… What if Patrick was right? What if they cared for each other?
Josie hugged herself, afraid to utter the words. “He should be made to marry you. That was the whole point of this party and the reason, I suspect, Violet invited rakes.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Josie fought the urge to shiver, the shock of finding her sister with a man wearing off, and now the weight of both their actions washing over her. But she was different, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to lose her heart,
because her heart wasn’t part of the experiment.
“No one can fall in love in a fortnight. The purpose of inviting such unsuitable gentlemen is because one of them is bound to compromise one of us and be forced to marry. It’s diabolical and not the least bit responsible as far as plans go, but I have to admit it is rather genius. None of these wealthy gentlemen would marry us otherwise, unless forced to do it.”
Jeanie exhaled, her face revealing her disappointment.
Josie touched her arm in concern. “I’m sorry. I know you dreamed of having a season somehow. But really, I don’t think it’s a season you wanted. It was the attention. You’re often lost in the mix of us louder, opinionated Marsdens. You’re too gentle, too quiet. You should be more demanding like me or Willa.”
Jeanie swallowed. “You think I just want attention?”
“Don’t be ashamed. Every flower needs sunlight to flourish. We read about those parties and Miss M. and Mr. Q. It sounds exciting, but people are the same. Even if you stood in a crowded ballroom in the finest gown, you would still be you, and you might find those people are even more obnoxious than us.”
“What the devil does this have to do with the present situation?” she asked angrily. “Never mind. Just swear to me you won’t utter a word about me and Lord Luckfeld to anyone.”
“He’s taking advantage of you, don’t you see? You’re an easy target for a man like him.” Josie didn’t know what else to say. It hurt to say such a thing to her sister.
Jeanie’s eyes grew bright. “Promise me, Josie.”
“Fine,” Josie said grudgingly
“Thank you.”
Josie wagged her finger. “But I don’t trust him and you shouldn’t either.”
Jeanie nodded but Josie didn’t think she took her warning seriously.
“Come back with me.” Josie took her hand and pulled her back to the meadow.
Patrick and Lord Luckfeld followed.
The two couples parted, returning to their respective blankets.
Uncomfortable tension settled between them as if they both stood on different sides, which they did, Josie gathered. And if Jeanie wouldn’t listen… Maybe Patrick would, and he could do something to help.
“You can’t honestly believe he has any good intentions toward my sister. Can you?”
“Why wouldn't he? I have good intentions toward you, whether or not you want to accept them,” he said, his words clipped.
Josie didn't want to think about that just now. That was entirely different. She'd approached him and she wasn't at risk of getting hurt.
“That's different,” she muttered.
“We all fall in love differently,” he said.
She sucked in a breath, staring at his back, his shoulders tense as he paged through his empty sketchbook, except for the one drawing he’d made of her and he hadn't even shown it to her. But what he'd said about falling in love had snared her, snapped around her like a trap with unrelenting metal teeth. What did he mean by that? There was no room in this experiment for love. Why would even say that word?
“That's ridiculous,” she said.
His head lifted and he snapped his sketchbook shut. “What's ridiculous?”
“The notion that he could love her. I'm not doubting my sister's lovability. I am doubting him.”
“You don't even know him,” he fired back.
“I've seen enough,” she said. “My first impressions are rarely wrong.”
“Dare I ask what your first impression of me was?”
“I don't think you'd like it,” Josie replied. Why were they arguing here in a meadow?
“I’m sure I wouldn’t.” He grumbled the words between clenched teeth.
“Are we going to meet again?” she asked. “You said you'd help me. You gave me your word.”
“Do you believe in love, Josie?”
She knew she should lie, but she couldn't because she did believe in love. She'd grown up with it, surrounded by it between her two parents—flawed, though it was and bothersome too. She knew it existed. She knew two people could love each other more than reason itself, could be so consumed by it that it infiltrated every part of their lives, their decisions, their wishes. She was one of soon to be ten children because of love's great power.
“Yes,” she said. “It is a dangerous emotion.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“Because it cannot be controlled, measured or…stopped.”
He straightened, meeting her gaze. “That is quite an apt description. Are your parents in love?”
“Yes and we’ve almost starved because of it.”
He raised a brow, and they were silent for a moment.
“My parents were in love,” he said. “I like to think they died holding each other. It makes their death not precisely bearable but a little easier to think of.”
“Why would you wish to think of how they died?”
“Because it's impossible not to. They died in a carriage accident.”
Josie gasped.
“See? You’re picturing it now.”
She envisioned a carriage falling apart around two people inside it, and yes, they were holding each other. “Who do you look like?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
She licked her lips, her mouth dry, her arms pebbled with bumps. She was afraid for the people in her vision, but she couldn’t help making the man look like Patrick, because Patrick was all she knew of them.
“Which of your parents do you look like?”
“I'm told I have my mother's hair and my father's eyes,” he said.
She made up two people in her mind and put them in the carriage. Though they were dying, a little part of her was happy they had each other. They had love. They died in love.
“I'm so sorry about your parents,” she said.
“Think nothing of it. At least they had love.”
He echoed her thoughts and the hair stood up on her arms. She shivered.
He gestured for her to step off the blanket and he folded it up. A footman came and collected it. They walked back to the waiting cart in silence. Josie's heart felt like a cold wet stone sat in her chest, out of place amongst her warmer organs. She folded her hands in her lap and couldn't meet Patrick's gaze as he sat across from her, but she could feel him watching her.
Was he questioning her ability to love? Did he doubt her? Did she doubt herself? Of all the things she'd cared to know, she'd never wondered if she herself was capable or incapable of loving someone or being loved. Not the way her parents loved her, but of loving someone the way Juliet loved Romeo, the way Benedict loved Beatrice. She suddenly realized out of everything she could learn in the known world, love might be the one thing that she couldn’t experiment with. The one thing she may never learn.
Chapter 13
Josie waited on the chaise lounge in the library in her favorite corner, but today she did not find comfort there. The afternoon had left her feeling…shaken, as if she didn't recognize the world she was living in anymore. Her whole life, her older sister Jeanie had always been the calm one, never wild, never impetuous, like she or Bernie or Georgie. But she would have been an idiot to assume that meant Jeanie couldn’t be swept away by desire just as easy as Josie had. Her perceptions about her own goals for this experiment had been altered. She’d embarked on this journey to understand desire, passion, and pleasure but without the protection of marriage.
If Jeanie had been caught by anyone else, would she truly marry Lord Luckfeld after so little acquaintance? Could a person fall in love so easily? Josie didn't know and that uncertainty frightened her, as did the notion of love. She felt like she was spinning, her thoughts spiraling the way a hawk dives toward the ground before snatching up a mouse. For that brief moment, the hawk is moving so fast, a blur through the sky, and one wonders how can it possibly stop in time. The hawk defies what she knows of physics, and yet the hawk does it every day.
And people fall in love every day.
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She needed stability and for her that meant a space she could control—this chair in a room that gave her comfort, the library. But now she waited for Patrick because for some reason, he also made the world stand still. He made it smaller with just his presence and quieter, driving out all distraction. As much as it frightened her to need him like this—as vulnerable as it made her feel—she couldn't stop it.
So now she waited, unsure if he would come. His mood on the way back to the castle after discovering Lord Luckfeld and Jeanie had been difficult to decipher. Would he go back on his word now? Was he spooked? He couldn't be. He’d made his position on marriage clear.
She hugged herself, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as if she could contain all these feelings inside her if only she squeezed herself a little harder. The click of the door below was so loud and sharp she jerked in surprise. She leapt off the chair and peered over the railing, her heart skipping at the site of his ruby head. He closed the door and locked it. He didn't look up, but he climbed the spiral stairs. Josie stepped away from the railing, waiting for him by her chair, too anxious to sit or prevaricate that she wasn't as nervous about this afternoon as a cornered rabbit. His gaze met hers as he reached the upper floor and held it until he stopped right before her.
“I wasn't sure you'd come,” she said.
“I wasn't sure I should,” he replied coolly.
“Then why did you?”
“I can’t stay away.”
She took a deep breath. “Do you think… They…”
He shook his head. “I don't want to talk about them. We only have a small window of time for us.”
She nodded but she needed to talk about it. She needed to purge herself of all this uncertainty, but she agreed anyway because just maybe he was right. Not thinking about it would be better than overanalyzing it.
“Do you have a plan?” he asked.
“What?”
“A plan for this so-called experiment,” he repeated, adding an extra dose of sarcasm to his tone.
“I didn't think there was a way to formulate a plan.”
The Five Second Rule For Kissing: The Northumberland Nine Series Page 10