Forbidden Kisses

by Laurel O'Donnell

  His eyes were a bright, sparkling blue as he spoke to the beautiful appendage hanging on his arm. Lady Heloise.

  What was she doing here?

  That little dollop of jealousy swelled to behemoth proportions. There could be only one reason for her unexpected presence. She was marking her territory, namely Lucien, and making certain no other young woman of marriageable age came near him.

  Lucien looked up just then and their gazes locked.

  Heat rose in Mallory’s cheeks.

  Not a gentle blush, of course. No, she wouldn’t be that fortunate. Her cheeks were flushed and her forehead began to sweat.

  Lady Heloise cast her a cold, imperious sneer which turned into robust laughter when Mallory accidentally backed into a passing footman and knocked over the tray he was carrying. On the tray had been a dozen crystal glasses filled with champagne that were to be used to toast her special day.

  Perhaps they ought to have waited until she turned nineteen to celebrate.

  “Stanfield, I’m so sorry.” She knelt to assist the footman in gathering the shards of glass before any of their guests accidentally stepped on them. As she did so, her knees sank into a puddle of champagne.

  Her father came to her side and unceremoniously lifted her to her feet, at the same time whispering, “Mallory, get up at once.”

  Although her father maintained a stiff smile on his lips, she could tell that he was humiliated and furious. Indeed, seething. After all, he was a viscount and had high hopes for his youngest daughter. Hopes that she had just dashed to bits along with their finest, ancestral champagne flutes. “And change out of your soiled gown.”

  As her guests stared at her in shocked silence, she made polite apologies and bussed her father’s cheek before retreating from the parlor. She held back her tears as she hurried up the stairs, but her humiliation and sorrow were overwhelming. She released a flood of them once she’d made it to her room and closed the door behind her. “Oh, Bridey,” she wailed, collapsing onto her bed and calling to her maid who had been tidying up in her absence, “I’ve made a complete fool of myself. He’s here with Lady Heloise. Why didn’t my parents tell me that she’s staying with him at Hawthorn Hall?”

  “Are ye referring to His Grace? I’m sure they didn’t mean to keep it from you. But Lady Heloise and her aunt, and I do believe a few friends of theirs, only arrived late yesterday.” She lumbered over to Mallory to wrapped her in her beefy arms and give her a motherly hug, something Mallory’s own mother ought to have done, but rarely did. “Your mother sent word to His Grace this morning that his friends would be welcome.”

  “She knew?” And yet, she’d kept the news from Mallory while admonishing her moments earlier.

  “It was the neighborly thing to do. But they sent their regrets.”

  Mallory sat up and wiped away her tears using the back of her hands. “Not all of them declined. Lady Heloise is here with him.”

  “Of course, she is. She ain’t lettin’ that man out of her sight.” Bridey gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder before releasing her to cross to her bureau and withdraw a handkerchief from the top drawer. “Here, dry your tears.” She withdrew another handkerchief and moistened it with water. “Put this one over your eyes. I won’t have ye marching down there with yer eyes all red. Ye’re going to change out of that gown and put on the one yer mother laid out for ye earlier.”

  “I can’t.” Mallory’s heart beat faster and her stomach began to churn violently. “Lady Heloise is wearing that color. I can’t compete with her.”

  “Ye can and ye must.” Bridey frowned at her. “I didn’t raise a coward, did I? Besides, I hear she’s a snooty one and deserves a good comeuppance.”

  Mallory shook her head and laughed at the stubborn Yorkshire woman who had been in service to her family since before Mallory was born. “How do you know all this? Lady Heloise and her party have been here less than a day.”

  “News travels fast. She insulted Hutchins and–”

  Mallory’s hands balled into fists. “What could she possibly have to say about that dear man?”

  “He took too long to bring up her trunks.”

  Mallory grinned. “Did he do it on purpose?”

  Bridey arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps. She complained about Mrs. Clarke, too. Apparently, she put Lady Heloise and her aunt at the opposite end of the hall from His Grace. The grand lady wasn’t happy about that, but I think His Grace was relieved.”

  “Why would he be relieved?” Mallory permitted herself a moment’s satisfaction before her grin faded. “His staff must be careful about vexing her. She’ll soon be duchess at Hawthorn Hall. I’d hate for them to be discharged and she seems petty enough to do it. She sneered at me when I walked downstairs.”

  “She has predatory instincts, that one. She senses ye’re the enemy.”

  “How can I be? His Grace needs to marry her. She only needs to worry about young women with wealth to rival hers, and I doubt there can be more than one or two such women in all of England.” Mallory stood up and began to unfasten her champagne-soaked gown.

  Bridey smiled indulgently. “Let me help ye, lamb.”

  “Thank you, Bridey.”

  “But ye must wear the pink silk. Despite yer protests, ye look stunning in it. Ye want to catch the duke’s attention, don’t you?”

  She winced. “I already did, but not in any good way.”

  “He’ll forget all about the spilled champagne when he sees you in this gown. This is your party, after all. Don’t you want to set Lady Heloise down a notch?”

  “Bridey! That’s an awful suggestion.” But Mallory grinned. “Yes, I do.”

  Chapter Four

  “To Mallory,” her father declared, raising his champagne glass in toast to his daughter. “And to no more disasters,” he added, tossing her a warning glance as their guests stood in a circle around her and her parents.

  Mallory had returned to the parlor with her head held high, determined to make a better impression this second time around, but her confidence was already fading.

  “To no more disasters,” one of their neighbors repeated, earning nods, chuckles, and “here, here” from several of their other friends.

  Well, she’d hoped to make a better impression. No one said it would be easy.

  Heat rose in Mallory’s cheeks and she began to fidget with the lacy cuffs of her gown. She’d donned it for the pleasure of vexing Lady Heloise. Was it working? Or was it simply an itchy waste of time?

  Dueling pinks.

  Why had she allowed Bridey to convince her that it was a good idea? She was not in competition with the Society diamond. It had escaped no one’s notice that they were wearing similar gowns. Similar lacy bows and ribbons.

  But Lady Heloise had the confidence to pull it off.

  Mallory did not.

  “Mallory,” Lucien said, approaching her on the sunny terrace as the afternoon endlessly wore on and she was desperate to make her escape. However, he would not allow her to quietly slip out of sight. He intercepted her as she attempted to dart into the garden where she had been headed for a moment of quiet. “What’s wrong?”

  “Besides everything?” She pursed her lips to halt their quiver, for she was distraught and ready to burst into tears again. “I’ve heard the whispers. I’ve been compared to your Heloise and found lacking in every respect.”

  “By whom?” he asked, appearing genuinely surprised.

  Hadn’t he noticed?

  She gave a mirthless laugh. “By my parents. By their friends. By your blonde and perfect soon-to-be duchess. In short, by everyone.”

  “No one asked for my opinion. Want to know it?” He raised his glass and smiled at her, one of his lopsided, boyish smiles that shot tingles of delight through her body. Of course, the sun chose that moment to glint on his hair so that he looked, as ever, like the golden warrior who filled her dreams.

  She groaned and shook her head. “Only if you will lie convincingly and tell me I’m th
e most beautiful young woman you’ve ever set eyes upon.”

  His smile faded and he motioned for her to accompany him down the terrace stairs into the garden. “There is nothing wrong with you, Mallory,” he insisted after they’d taken only two steps. “Stop thinking that there is. You are your own worst enemy. Why do you fear being the center of attention?”

  She began to fidget with her lace cuffs, as she always did when she felt uncomfortable. “I don’t fear it. I simply don’t like it. This is me, remember? Mallory, the often-forgotten youngest daughter. I’m not used to having all eyes upon me.”

  “You’ll have to get used to it. You are going to turn heads in London.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Hopefully not by tipping over a tray filled with champagne glasses.”

  “You are going to turn heads, because… just because that is what you will do. Trust in my judgement.” He reached out and neatly tucked a stray curl behind her ear. There was a gentle, welcoming breeze out here, and he’d no sooner secured that wayward strand than it blew astray once more. “You will soak up everyone’s attention like a sponge.”

  He tucked it behind her ear again, his thumb giving her cheek a light caress along the way. Accidentally, of course. He would not have done it on purpose.

  Still, his touch felt nice.

  Her body began to tingle.

  She cleared her throat. “But speaking of those who soak up attention like a sponge, where is the charming Lady Heloise? I thought she’d taken out her mortar and pestle and pasted herself to your side.”

  “She does cling a bit, doesn’t she?”

  Mallory grinned. “Like a barnacle to the hull of a boat.”

  He drank the last of his champagne and then set aside his glass on the balustrade before continuing into the garden with her. “The charming Heloise,” he said with a surprising note of sarcasm, “is taking a tour of your home with her aunt and your mother. No doubt, checking out the quality of your silver and artwork.”

  Mallory opened her mouth to comment and then snapped it shut. But his unexpectedly caustic remark intrigued her. “You make her sound quite mercenary.”

  “Competitive is a better description. She wants to be sure no one has a finer home, or a finer set of silver, or a finer deer park” He studied her with those crystal blue eyes of his. “Or a prettier pink gown than hers.”

  “She needn’t have worried. I’m hardly competition for her.” She gave a sad shake of her head.

  He paused a moment in thought, and then she caught the hint of a smile on his nicely formed lips. “Do you want the truth?”

  She nodded. “Always.”

  “You had her seething.” That hint of a smile turned broad and deliciously wicked. “Well done, Mallory. I never thought you had the spine to challenge her.”

  She blushed. “I wasn’t trying to, but after I soaked my first gown, I had no choice. My mother had set the pink one out on my bed and threatened to box my ears when I refused to wear it. So, there was the gown, staring back at me and about to have its revenge on me for not choosing it. I had to wear it. I wish I hadn’t.”

  “No, Heloise deserved the comeuppance. Her behavior toward you was condescending and rude. She did not know you or your family. Still, you graciously invited her into your home. In return, she laughed loudest when...”

  “When I took my champagne bath?” Mallory pointed to her gown. “I suppose justice was served. This is the one my mother had wanted me to wear all along. She got her wish.”

  “Your mother has a good sense of style. The gown is elegant and suits you to perfection. Had we been casting votes, mine would have been on you.”

  “It would?” Mallory laughed. “Thank you for making me feel like a princess. I appreciate the gesture, but it is quite unnecessary.”

  He was not laughing along with her. Indeed, he looked quite splendid as he studied her in all seriousness. “There will be a line of beaus outside your door the moment you arrive in London for the start of your Season. I’m sorry I’ll have to miss it, but I promise to read up on your adventures in the gossip rags. The divine Lady M. has broken yet another heart.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Nonsense. I’m more likely to break vases than hearts. I suppose you’ll be married by then.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Hawthorn Hall needs a lot of work. Roarke and Aidan help out when they can, but they have their own estates to run. Besides–”

  “You’re the older brother and a duke,” she said, knowing his thoughts. “It irks you to have to ask for their assistance. Don’t be too proud to ask. They love you and want to contribute. I’ll help, too. I do nothing around here but endure endless frivolous lessons on how to hold a fan, how to smile prettily, how to walk. How to dance. How to charm a gentleman with fascinating conversation.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Ah, that’s the part I’ll miss the least about the London Season. All those young ladies batting their eyelashes and flapping their fans at me while engaging in insipid conversation.”

  Mallory nodded. “But you mustn’t blame the young ladies. They’ve spent their lives sheltered and chaperoned and never allowed to roll up their sleeves and work hard, never permitted to experience the struggles of life. So they’re unprepared when their lives take an unexpected turn for the worse. How are they to learn to make their own way or contribute something important when no one will teach them? Young men are permitted to go to school and fight for their country, but we ladies are always left behind.”

  She’d run on at length, but Lucien didn’t seem to mind. He was listening to her. That is what made him so special to her. Any other gentleman would have made up some excuse to walk away, but he always had the patience to endure her chattering. “Your turn, Your Grace. We’ve spent far too much time talking about my petty concerns. Tell me what occupies your thoughts these days.”

  “Hawthorn Hall and the other ducal properties, of course. I could do nothing while my father was alive.”

  “I know.” She wanted to reach out and put her arms around him, for it was common knowledge how badly his father had treated him. Indeed, how badly he’d treated all of his sons. Lucien, being the eldest, had taken it upon himself to shelter his younger brothers as much as possible. “There were times I wanted to give him a good kick in the shins, but I held back for worry that he’d take it out on you or Roarke or Aidan. Why was he such an angry man?”

  “Because the Good Lord had not seen fit to make him immortal. He was a duke and believed himself above everything and everyone, so why should he have to die like any commoner? Perhaps it was fear. Perhaps it was frustration. I don’t know what it was, but it twisted his mind. He set about squandering everything our family had built over the centuries. He did an effective job of it.” Lucien clasped his hands behind him as they continued to stroll.

  “But Lady Heloise and her dowry will fix all, won’t it? Why are you still so troubled? Don’t deny it. I can see that you are.”

  “I’m not troubled.”

  “Fine, be that way.”

  He said nothing for the longest moment, simply scowled at her.

  She wanted to put her arms around him again, but his dark scowl put her off and she didn’t dare touch him. He affected her too deeply. She was already aching over him. Not to mention her body tingled whenever he drew near. She caught the subtle scent of sandalwood along his throat as she took a step closer to him. It mingled with his male heat and the scent of roses that climbed the trellised garden walls. Her heart began to race. “I should not have said anything. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You can tell me anything, Mallory. I like your honesty. What I don’t like is the choice I have to make.”

  She studied his expression, trying to understand what he meant by it. “What choice? Isn’t the outcome certain? You marry your beautiful heiress and live happily ever after in your magnificently restored estate.”

  “Yes, I thought it would be that simple. Most pe
ople look upon marriage as a business arrangement. Few hold out for love.”

  Mallory smiled at him. “I wish to hold out for love. I want this.”

  He quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “This?”

  “What we’re doing just now,” she said with a nod. “I want someone who can be a friend to me as well as a husband. I want to be able to walk in the garden beside him and talk about whatever is on my mind. I want him to respect me and think of me as more than a bank account or brood mare. I want him to confide his concerns. I want this,” she repeated. “This is the best gift anyone has ever given me.”

  He waved his hand as though to dismiss her, but she knew he’d taken in her words and appreciated them. “Most girls would have preferred a new handkerchief or a string of pearls. Or lace gloves.”

  “I am not most girls.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  His gaze flicked to her ample bosom, or was he simply looking at her arms folded just beneath them? She wasn’t quite sure. Had he taken notice of the way she’d filled out? Had she been mistaken about that appreciative glance?

  He ran a hand through his hair and laughed. “Indeed not. You are Mallory, a girl like no other. An impudent little baggage.”

  “Although you do not mean it as a compliment, I shall take it as such.” She tried to make light of their conversation, but it suddenly felt charged and dangerous. She had known Lucien all of her life, and for the longest time, he hadn’t been merely Lucien, but the divine and unreachable Lucien. He’d always been the duke who deserved to be put up on a pedestal, the one who melted her heart and turned her legs to pudding.

  But something had changed between them.

  She felt it as surely as she felt the sun beating down upon her head.

  She’d always wanted to kiss him.

  But today, she could not shake the feeling that he wanted to kiss her.

  She knew nothing about men.

  She was likely wrong about his feelings.