Her Lady's Whims and Fancies

by Jen Geigle Johnson

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He lifted her as though she weighed nothing and then slipped up on the horse behind her. She rode sidesaddle, and the fit was very tight behind her, but his arms came forward as he held the reins to her front, and she smiled.

  His words in her ear were breathy, enticing, his deep voice rumbling through her. “Is this acceptable?”

  She nodded.

  “Is it . . . nice?”

  Her cheeks flamed. She wondered if her neck felt as hot. But she nodded again.

  His lips, so close to her ear, so near her skin, whispered again, “Then I shall continue.” He adjusted the reins.

  She leaned back more of her weight against him, and he guided the horse down the path.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kate in his arms. Kate putting her trust in him. Miss Kate, Logan corrected, but went right back to calling her Kate in his mind. Her soft arms, the lovely smell of violets that filled the air around them, the gooseflesh on her skin that he doubted she knew he could see all combined to do things to him he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Not even with Olivia had he been so captivated. Loved her, he had, but that love had felt so juvenile compared to this new rush of interest, respect, and plenty of desire he felt for the intriguing woman in his arms.

  The horse stepped carefully, surefooted, though the path was steep in places.

  Kate gripped his arms at times and shifted her weight farther back into him.

  When they finally reached the bottom of the path, he was well on his way to complete fascination with a woman he knew little about. He’d done the same with Olivia, and he could not do any more damage to his heart. Was Kate as intrigued in him as he her? He had no way of knowing. Was she a decent sort of person? She seemed so, but again, he had no way of knowing. Olivia had seemed all those things, and with the death of that relationship had died his confidence in his ability to read a person.

  He dismounted off the horse and handed Kate down, and then led his stallion to wander in the grasses. “The rocks aren’t good for his hooves.”

  She nodded. “He’s a beautiful animal.”

  The horse’s black coat shone in the sunlight.

  “He is. We’ve been through a lot together.”

  Logan held his arm for Kate to take, and when she leaned on him as they made their way down the rocky shore, he found himself standing taller, feeling more protective, wanting to be important to her. “Shall we talk about our dreams?”

  “Our dreams?” She frowned, a tiny, delicate arc to her brows, her lips pushed forward in the smallest pout. “You first.”

  “Dreams change, don’t they? How about we start with those from our youth?”

  This seemed the most agreeable choice to Kate. Was she reluctant to share about herself? “How about we take turns asking questions?” Logan continued. “To be fair, each question has to have a complete answer.”

  Her face went white for a moment, but then she nodded, a slight, brazen glint in her eye. “I am willing. How about I ask the first question?”

  “Excellent.” He held up a finger. “But this new, daring face you are making . . . remember that I will retaliate with an equally bold question if that is the direction you choose.”

  “I understand.”

  Her calculating smile made him laugh. What was she going to be to him? He didn’t know. But he was sure enjoying finding out. They moved along closer to the water. “While you are thinking, today really is a delectable day. Perfect in all regards,” Logan said.

  “I quite agree. Now stop. I know my question. Tell me the most daring thing you did as a child.”

  “Oh, that is simple but you might consider me a danger to myself and my family.”

  “This does sound interesting.”

  “Thank heavens you are not the editor for Whims and Fancies. I’d have a devil of a time if this story got out to all and sundry.”

  Kate stumbled on the rocks.

  “Careful. If you wish, we can move more slowly.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She took a moment more, perhaps to compose herself. And then she looked up at him, one hand on top of her bonnet, which was blowing in the wind. “Are you going to share?”

  “Yes, of course.” He stood taller. “My tutor.” He grimaced. “I loathed the man, but he pushed me to greatness every day.” He eyed her, not attempting to show any remorse. “Should I be grateful to him now that I’m older and wiser, as they say?”

  “The answer to that depends entirely on what you are about to tell me, I’d imagine.”

  “Too true. So the day came and went that I was to have the entirety of one particular Shakespearean sonnet memorized.”

  “Dreadful.”

  “Yes. My nine-year-old self had decided once and for all to have none of it. Julia had no such assignment. She was coddled and pampered, her main tasks learning the fashions of the day and how best to present herself.”

  “Sounds like the beginning of your cravat fascination.”

  Logan stopped and stared, knowing his mouth was dropping open but ignoring the inclination to shut it. “I’ve never once given the reasons any thought, but I do believe you are correct. Spending all of one’s childhood wishing your life to be as easy as your twin’s could do that to a fellow.”

  “Yes, perhaps. I interrupted. Do continue.”

  “You seem so interested in the failings of a lad. Have you something to gain from my exploits?”

  “What? No. How could I?” Kate’s laugh sounded forced, nervous, and he studied her for a moment. She shook her head. “I have nothing to gain. Would you like me to answer a question first?”

  “No, I wish to answer. If someone on this beach would allow?”

  “Certainly. I allow. We are all allowing.” She waved her hand around at the empty space around them.

  “As I was saying . . .” He winked. “I grew tired of my assignments, the rote memorization, the grueling math, all of it.”

  “As most young lads do.”

  “Precisely.” Logan meant to simply pat Kate’s hand, which rested on his arm, but as his fingers came to rest over hers, he let his hand remain. The gentle pressure, the simple feeling of companionship stayed his hand, and if he had anything to say about it, would have kept him there forever. He cleared his throat. “I decided I would show my tutor who was really in control of our lessons.” He stared out at the sea, deliberately pausing.

  “And?”

  Then he grinned. “You are fun to tell a story to, I must admit. And I wrote a sonnet myself. Dedicated to his odious lessons, to the odious nature of the man himself, the odious idea that I would have to study at all when most boys my age were playing by the creek, and anything odious in general.”

  She laughed. “That would have been way more work than simply memorizing Shakespeare.”

  “But much more fun. And would you like to know what I titled it?”

  “Let me guess . . . Ode to the Odious?”

  “Oh, that is clever. Not quite. I called it simply Odious.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did. And I still have it memorized. If someday, I feel we are close enough friends, I shall recite it to you.”

  “Oh, that would be too good. Yes. I shall await the day we have grown intimate enough.”

  Logan studied Kate, waiting for her to correct herself, but she seemed perfectly comfortable with the idea that they would grow closer . . . and in intimate ways.

  They walked along, close enough to the water to jump away now and again as a stray waved rolled higher up on the shore than the others. “And now my question for you,” Logan said.

  The eyes she turned up to him suddenly begged to be closer to him. Suddenly, his whole body wished it so, and he had to physically force himself to stay put on the sand, walking calmly at her side. How could one woman have such a hold on a man? Olivia did not have this same power.

  Now that he was beginning to know what it felt like to know Kate, he was beginning to
question what he felt for Olivia. But there was no denying the hurt and pain of Olivia’s refusal.

  He considered Kate. “What is the most shameful thing you have ever done?”

  She teetered, and Logan steadied her on the rocks. “Though rocks are not as dirty as sand, they are certainly much more cumbersome,” he said.

  “They certainly are.” She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “I shall speak of my youth as you have.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I call this The Tale of the Missing Slippers.”

  “Oh, will it be a sonnet?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Excellent. Continue.”

  “June, the eldest of my sisters, always had the nicest things.” Kate looked up into his face, and suddenly, years of pain and worry were obvious marks he was surprised not to have noticed before now. “When we still had our parents and many nice things, she was gifted a new pair of slippers.”

  “Naturally, this story will have something to do with slippers.”

  “Oh, too true. As you know our joint affinity for fine shoes.”

  “Too true.”

  “I envied those slippers. I wanted them so badly, my toes hurt.”

  “Your . . . toes?”

  “Yes, from longing.”

  Logan half-nodded, delighted in the tale.

  “And so one day, while she was out on a walk . . .”

  “Not wearing her new slippers.”

  “Precisely. I borrowed them.”

  “Of course. So far, I’m almost disappointed that this is the most shameful thing you have done.”

  Guilt crossed Kate’s face, and Logan was reminded of the moment in the cardroom where she had looked the same. Her empathy knew no bounds. He squeezed the hand that rested beneath his.

  “There is more.”

  “Ho, ho!”

  “I wore them around the house to complete my lessons.” She sighed. “They were more beautiful than anything I owned, I was certain of it. When the governess was looking elsewhere, I would poke the toe out from underneath my dress so that I might admire them.”

  “Naturally.”

  “But soon, lessons were over, and I was dismissed, and I forgot I was wearing them. I took to the outdoors.”

  “Oh, dear. I suddenly know where this is going.”

  “And ruined them.”

  Logan nodded, sadly. “Death to all good slippers in just such a way.”

  “And then I returned them to her closet without a word.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  He waited. When she said nothing, he asked, “And what came of it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “No. June never complained. Of course, she never wore them again, but I don’t think anyone knew.”

  “Did June suspect?”

  “I’m certain, but she said nothing, and true to her nature, sacrificed any thought she might have had of revenge, justice, or even a replacement pair of slippers.”

  “I would have grown up a heathen with such a woman as my sister.”

  Kate laughed. “You can be sure many times I’ve felt so.”

  Her nose wiggled when she laughed. Realizing such a thing was wreaking pleasant war on Logan’s insides. What else could he say to see such an exquisite expression on her face?

  They approached a thick log. “Shall we sit?” Logan asked. He slipped off his jacket and laid it down on the wood for her.

  “What? No. Your jacket.”

  He shook his head. “I care not for such things.”

  When she stared with open-mouthed disbelief, he shook his head. “I don’t. It is more a façade than anything.” Why was he admitting such a thing?

  “If you’re certain . . .” She stepped closer. Had she? Or had he? They were so close, he could count the freckles on her creamy skin. Three. And so perfectly placed.

  He reached out to aid with a stray hair in the wind. “I’m certain.”

  “Me, too.”

  The certainty of something seemed to flow between them. A solid, sure path. But Logan couldn’t resist the tease. “You’re certain, are you?”

  Kate blinked, and then swatted him. “Oh, stop. See, I shall sit upon your jacket, ruining it.” She approached. Then shook her head. “I cannot.”

  He laughed. “I have no cares for this jacket,” he amended. “I care more for your comfort than I do the bit of clothing. Please. Sit. Ruin.”

  Gingerly, she placed a bit of her weight on it. “It does feel nice to rest my feet.”

  “I’ve been a dunce of the highest form. I forgot. You’d been walking for hours before I happened upon you.”

  She waved as though it were nothing. “I could walk hours more, but the rocks make a difference, don’t they?”

  “They do.” How singular to walk with a woman who complained not once, about anything, who enjoyed his conversation, who laughed easily, and who, in all her memory, carried the misuse of slippers as her most shameful moment. He studied her.

  “What?” Kate asked.

  “What, what?”

  “You’re staring. Your smile. I’m beginning to wonder what is racing about in your thoughts.”

  “If you must know, I was merely considering on the singular pleasure of having you all to myself on this deserted beach.”

  Her cheeks colored prettily.

  “And now, I am further pleased to have created this lovely effect. But never fear. Though I will sit beside you, I have no designs on your propriety.”

  “Not even a small design?” Her eyebrow raised in a daring challenge, and Logan couldn’t make her out.

  “Are you . . .” He studied her. “No. You’re not. You’re teasing.”

  She tipped her head and laughed. “I’m teasing . . .” But her expression and her voice trailed off, and he wondered.

  Chapter Twelve

  What was Kate thinking? Was she inviting scandal? Absolutely not. Heaven help them. She prayed that he would not take her comments as invitation to do anything untoward. She shook her head. He wouldn’t. Somehow, she knew Lord Dennison to be the perfect gentleman.

  Too perfect.

  What was wrong with her? Thank the stars that one’s thoughts were not paraded about in the air. Especially during this conversation. How many times had guilt nearly overtaken her?

  Too many.

  He must never know. At one time, she thought to come clean, apologize, but now, after this stretch of sand in their past, she couldn’t let him ever know. The admiration that had so quickly overtaken his expression would be replaced by disappointment, hurt, betrayal.

  No.

  He must never know.

  Keeping things secret should be simple enough. Her own sisters didn’t know. Though she suspected Amelia knew. She wouldn’t let on. And as soon as she could, Kate would quit her work for Whims and Fancies.

  Could she? No.

  What if she were ever in a situation again with no money or food or place to live except provided by others?

  While this turmoil ran through her mind, she tried to place the calmest and most congenial expression on her face.

  Lord Dennison sat beside her and lifted her hand with his. “May I?”

  She nodded.

  “I find I am quite charmed by this whole conversation. Should we ask another question?” he said.

  “Certainly. It’s my turn.” She pushed unpleasant thoughts from her mind. “Now, I would like to know what you hope to be, when you’re settled and . . . established in your life?”

  “Married?”

  “Yes, or, I don’t know, older.”

  “Ah, the question of where do I see myself when we’re all grown?” He laughed. “Though it is a bit rough on a chap to realize that even though he does very little of substance with his life, he is well and truly already grown.”

  “Not at all. How many of our associates are the same? I’m interested to hear where you see yourself . . . event
ually.”

  “Fair question.” He tapped his fingers on her palm, and she enjoyed every sensation that raced up her arm. “We have an estate in the north of England. It abuts the ocean.” He waved his hand out to the grand blue to their front. “The water is not as calm. The beach is full of large rocks. But the view is the most beautiful in the world. The house has gardens and trees and a beautiful situation. But everything else around is rugged and full of energy. I love it up there. I would like to be settled in our rooms, my wife and I, with our children in theirs, looking out over the wide expanse of ocean every morning with our breakfast trays.”

  Kate couldn’t swallow. No bit of moisture remained in her mouth. What a beautiful dream. Breakfast. Simple. Perfect. That’s my dream. Had it been her dream before she arrived on the beach that morning? Not that she knew of. But now that it had been spoken aloud, she could only yearn for such a moment every day of her life until it came to be. After a moment, Lord Dennison turned to her. “Perhaps that is too simple, too boring a life for some.” His voice trailed off.

  She forced herself to gain some semblance of use of her voice. “Not at all. I am speechless with wonder at such a plan. I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought such a thing could be so beautiful.” She couldn’t even hide the yearning in her voice. “I would love that dream to be mine.” Before she could suck back in her words, she froze.

  But he put his hand behind her on the old trunk and leaned closer. “Would you?”

  She nodded, once again without a single word. Her mouth was so incredibly dry. She licked her lips. His eyes dropped to her mouth immediately. She swallowed again, feeling the motion large and forced, but his mouth, his lips, were soft and thick, his jaw strong, and he was suddenly so very close.

  His lashes waved across his eyes, which crinkled in the corners, his smile spreading happiness through her. He lifted another strand of wayward hair and ran his fingers along the side of her face. “Perhaps.” The words sent rumbles of pleasure through her. Perhaps. Then he lifted his chin and placed one soft kiss on her forehead.