A Tip of the Cap (London League, Book 3)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “The chair,” he finished, sounding as though he had turned to look elsewhere. He made an irritated humming sound. “I should have suspected you would do something like that. I should have removed the obstacles. I didn’t even think about the complication it would raise for you in moving into my quarters. You don’t even know this room. Of course, you would not know how to navigate it.”

  She stared where she imagined he was, trying desperately to recall every detail of his face and how it would look. “You’re not angry?” she managed to ask, her voice breaking slightly.

  A rustling sound told her he had turned back to her, and his hold on her hand tightened again. “Why would I be angry? You’re a bold and independent woman, a fairy creature who needs room to fly. Why shouldn’t you try to explore your new world and surroundings? I’m only upset that I didn’t think to help you, that I didn’t think of you with my actions, and that so many of your poor toes were injured in your efforts!”

  She tried to laugh at his obvious attempt at teasing, but the slight laugh turned into a watery sob as the ache in her heart intensified tenfold.

  “Oh, Beth,” Malcolm murmured, wiping the tears from her face and taking her hands. “What is it?”

  Beth hiccupped softly, squeezing his hands in return. “I miss you,” she whispered as another sob escaped her.

  Malcolm groaned a little, his hold on her hands growing tighter still. Then he brought her hands to his face. “I’m right here,” he rasped, his breath tickling her fingers a little.

  “I wish I could see you,” Beth said through her tears as her fingers stroked against his skin.

  He turned his face and pressed a warm kiss into one palm. “I’m right here, Beth,” he told her again. “See with your hands. I am right here.”

  Her fingers wandered across his face, tracing the shape of his lips, the angle of his jaw, the line of his brows, the bridge of his nose… The bristle of whiskers scraped along her palms as she slid her hands back down his jaw, his breath was the slightest bit unsteady as her exploration went on.

  Almost… She could almost picture him. And it almost was enough.

  Beth shook her head, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks as she cupped his face, drawing him closer. He brought a hand to her face, and she leaned into it.

  “I miss you,” she whispered again as he touched his brow to hers.

  Malcolm’s hand moved to the back of her neck, and he lifted his head to gently kiss her nose.

  Exhaling sharply, Beth tilted her face up and pulled him to her, pressing her lips to his, forgoing any hesitation. Malcolm responded gently, his hold on her neck increasing as he pulled her in, his free arm wrapping around her back. His lips slowly devoured her, churning something within her into a fervent fire. She slid her hands into his hair, threading her fingers through the locks, eliciting a moan of approval from Malcolm, who tugged her more fully into his grasp.

  That night in the hallway was nothing compared to this heat building between them now. That had been sheer desire. This was something far more emotional, far more evocative, and far less simple.

  And this was what she had always wanted.

  “I miss you,” she said against his lips, pulling at them again and again.

  Malcolm captured her lips again, caressing them in an easy pattern. “I’m here, love. I’ll always be here.”

  Beth sighed, her head beginning to swim in a pleasant way, and she rather thought she could get used to this particular sensation. The darkness might have terrified her, but so long as Malcolm was there to hold her, she could endure it. Particularly when he kissed her with such tenderness. She wrapped her arms around Malcolm’s neck, collapsing against him, letting him hold her against him, scattering kisses and words against her hair and face.

  “Don’t leave me, Malcolm,” she told him sleepily, nuzzling against his throat.

  “Never,” he vowed as he pulled her somehow closer, kissing her yet again.

  Beth nodded against him, running her fingers through his hair absently. “I need you with me, Malcolm. I can’t do this alone.”

  She felt Malcolm’s breath catch and held hers until he tenderly kissed her brow. “You’re not alone.” He dusted his lips over hers once, then took them with an almost fierce edge. “I’m right here, love. You’re not alone.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Malcolm stayed with her that night and every night since.

  After their extraordinary kisses the other day, he’d been true to his word. Beth hadn’t been alone for a moment, it seemed. Malcolm spent more time checking on Beth than with any of his duties, or with their children. She’d had to send him away multiple times just to get him to accomplish anything.

  But she was also rather enjoying it, which Malcolm knew all too well.

  He was more at ease and talkative than she had ever known him to be, and far more charming than he had a right to be. He would come in multiple times a day and give her a report of what he was doing, what the children were doing, and even though the children came in to talk to her and say goodnight, he would tell the stories again with such detail that she felt as though she had been there. He always took great care to be more descriptive with her to help her see things in her mind, and she would never be able to tell him how much that meant to her.

  The children had picked up on that hint and were focusing on being more descriptive, as well, Jane and Archer especially. They made concentrated efforts to help the other two to describe things more clearly by prodding them with questions, which never failed to make Beth smile. They had ceased to be as gentle with her, bounding up onto the bed and crowding in around her, and she loved their energy and what it brought to her days. They had begun to help her navigate the room, first with their hand in hers, and then talking her through the endeavor. They were not perfect doing so, and neither was she, but at least now there was laughter when she met an obstacle instead of tears.

  Malcolm always humored her with one more round of navigation before bed every night, and he was a far better guide than the children, though he laughed less. But he praised her every accomplishment with sincerity and enthusiasm. The night before, when she had made a circuit of the entire room, he had whooped in delight and picked her up, swinging her around and telling her how proud he was of her. They had shared enthusiastic kisses before he had tucked her into bed, joining her moments later and pulling her into his arms before falling asleep.

  Every night, she had been held in his arms as they slept, cradled in his hold as though she were fragile and precious. As though she would break.

  She didn’t mind being treasured, but…

  This morning, he had lingered in bed beside her, talking about rather trivial things, making her smile and even blush as he praised the way she looked in the mornings.

  She was well aware that mornings were not a good look for her, but it was sweet that he pretended otherwise.

  He had taken her hand and played with it a little, running his fingers over hers, through hers. He rubbed them gently, pressing his palm to hers, and anything else that was destined to drive her mad before finally speaking. “I find,” he’d murmured in a low tone, “that I have very little desire to be anywhere else today.” This, he followed with feather-light kisses to her fingers, and just when she thought the burning within her might rouse itself into flames, a servant knocked at the door to remind him of an appointment.

  Beth had groaned in disappointment, and she hadn’t been alone. Malcolm had been gone with a kiss to her brow, and she hadn’t seen him since.

  She sat contemplating in the bed now as Dr. Durham continued his examination of her. He praised her venturing out of bed and the progress she had made there, encouraging her to do even more, if she could bear it. She was making great strides in her recovery, and he was very pleased with that. Her sight, however, had not progressed at all.

  “It might not return, my lady,” he reminded her gently.

  “I know,” she sighed, plucking at the covers
moodily. “I just wish we would know. I could move on if I knew for certain, but not knowing… It makes me hope, and hope is painful.”

  He made a conciliatory noise and patted her hand. “I understand. But Lady Montgomery, think of what is improving. Your headaches are much improved. You are no longer dizzy or forgetful. You are far more oriented to your place and situation. None of your activity seems to exacerbate any symptoms, and the only thing I could say you truly need to improve would be your appetite.”

  Beth scowled and looked where she thought he was. “You and my husband both,” she muttered. “He is always telling me to eat more. And treating me with the utmost gentleness.”

  Too much gentleness, really.

  Dr. Durham chuckled in his good-natured way. “Then I will not say anything more.”

  He patted her hand once more, then moved away, and she could hear him gathering his things together. “Doctor…” she began slowly.

  She heard him still. “My lady?”

  “When you say that I should do more by way of activity, what exactly do you have in mind?” She bit her lip and blushed, wondering if the thought was too bold. “For example, should I leave this room?”

  “By all means,” he replied at once, his voice booming slightly. “Get out of this room, get outside, get some fresh air.”

  “Run wild on the grounds?” she teased with a half-smile.

  He laughed again. “Only with supervision, or I shall be treating a turned ankle for you. Do all that you can to return to normal activities, Lady Montgomery. You are strong enough now for that.”

  “So, you mean…?”

  “Any normal activity,” he emphasized clearly, and she thought she could hear a smile in his voice. “Except, perhaps, for riding a horse. I would avoid that for the foreseeable future.”

  Beth barked a laugh, leaning her head back against the pillow. “I can assure you, I have no desire to be on a horse again for a very long time.”

  “I am happy to hear it. Good day, my lady.” His footsteps moved across the room, the door opened, and then they faded down the hall.

  That was odd, she considered with a frown towards the door. Why would he not have closed it?

  “And how did the good doctor find our patient today?”

  She started slightly at the sound of Malcolm’s voice, then scowled playfully. “He just left, as you know, why not ask him? If you run, you can catch him.”

  His footsteps moved into the room, and the door closed. “I could. But I want to hear it from you.”

  Beth sighed, ignoring the twinge in the pit of her stomach at the dip in his voice. “I am the picture of health,” she replied in a voice dripping with cynicism. “Everything about me is absolutely perfect. Oh, except that I can’t see.”

  “Yet,” Malcolm replied firmly.

  She rolled her useless eyes and ducked her chin, pretending she could see her fingers playing with each other. “There’s no way to know if I will see again, Malcolm. Dr. Durham confirmed that for me. We just don’t know.”

  “You might see again.”

  “I might not.”

  “But you might.”

  “And that doesn’t help me!” she cried, slapping the bed. “I need to know, one way or the other. I can’t sit around waiting for my eyesight to come back! I could adjust if I knew I would be blind forever, and I could bear it if I knew it would return, but not knowing? It’s torment.”

  There was silence in the room, and Beth closed her eyes, not that it would help, wishing she hadn’t let herself lash out. She needed to be positive and strong, not succumb to the discouragement that was pressing in on her.

  “I’m sorry,” Malcolm said quietly, sounding pained himself.

  That didn’t help, it only increased her guilt. She tried for a smile. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not the best version of myself right now. If you’d like to come back in a few minutes, I’ll be much better.”

  “No, I think I’m all right,” he replied easily. Then there was a jostling beside her as he climbed up onto the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Beth cried, giggling.

  “Spending quality time with my wife,” he quipped, settling in beside her. He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers.

  Beth laughed again, trying to tug her hand away half-heartedly. “In the middle of the day?”

  He held her firmly. “Why not?”

  “Malcolm!” She tried to push at him, but he wouldn’t budge. “You have things to do!”

  “Visiting my wife is a thing to do,” Malcolm insisted. “Seeing after her welfare is a thing to do. Having a meaningful conversation and improving our relationship is a thing to do. I’m the earl, so I can decide what I do with my time. And I am spending the next little while lying here beside you because I can.”

  Beth shook her head, unable to keep from smiling. “Very well,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “But don’t blame me when you don’t accomplish anything today.”

  “Everything else can wait.”

  It couldn’t. She knew there were dozens of things to do, all of them important and requiring Malcolm’s attention. There were always things to do, and they couldn’t wait.

  But if that’s what he wanted, she would pretend they could wait.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling when he immediately kissed her hair. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

  He scoffed softly. “I beg your pardon, I am a very skilled liar.”

  “I may not be able to see your face,” she said, poking his leg, “but I can hear it in your voice. You have a great deal to do.”

  “I always have a great deal to do.” He kissed her hair again, lingering this time. “All of it stressful and important and pressing. None of it needs to be done at this moment, trust me. I need to be here with you. This is my haven. You are my haven.”

  Tears sprang into her eyes and she turned to kiss his shoulder. “And you are mine. I don’t know how I would do this without you, Malcolm. You are my rock, the only thing I can cling to. All that I have.”

  He shifted suddenly and cupped her face, kissing her with a blend of tenderness and fierceness that robbed her of sense and thought. She tried in vain to match his fervor, but fell woefully short, gripping his arms as tightly as she dared.

  Malcolm broke off and touched his brow and nose to hers. “You have no idea how incredible you are, Beth. I am humbled every day by what I see in you, and I find words singularly lacking to describe my feelings.” He stroked her jaw gently, igniting a fire within her. “You were perfectly right. Everything about you is absolutely perfect.”

  “I’m nothing of the kind,” she whispered, shaking her head against him. “I’m a perfectly ordinary girl from Abingdon, and that is all.”

  He kissed her again, with all the fierceness and far less of the tenderness. There was a wild edge to his kiss, and she felt it clawing at her, stirring up emotions and sensations she’d never expected. “Don’t contradict me,” Malcolm ordered roughly, once he’d managed a breath. “If I say you’re perfect, the only thing I want to hear from you is ‘Yes, Malcolm,’ ‘Thank you, Malcolm,’ or ‘If you say so, Malcolm.’ Do you understand me?”

  Beth slid her hands up her husband’s arms and latched them around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss, this time thorough and lingering. There was no haste, no frenzy, and a deep, poignant edge that made her heart pound almost painfully.

  “Yes, Malcolm,” she whispered against his lips.

  He sighed and ran his lips across her cheeks and down her jawline.

  “Thank you, Malcolm,” she managed as his mouth danced along her throat. “If you say so, Malcolm.”

  He chuckled against her skin, pressing a sound kiss where her pulse throbbed frantically at the base of her throat. “I do say so, sweetheart. I very much say so.”

  “Malcolm,” Beth moaned weakly, her fingers gripping in his hair. “You should know…”

  He pulled back and cupped her face once more. �
�What should I know, love?”

  She offered him a brilliant smile. “I find you absolutely perfect, too.”

  She would have given a fortune to see his face at that moment, but she felt his breath catch, and then his lips were on hers again, somehow more passionate and almost desperate in their madness. He murmured against her lips and her skin, wordless praises that sank into her bones and set her aflame, stoking whatever fever was rising into an absolute inferno. She kissed him with an intensity she didn’t know she possessed, with a single-minded determination to claim him as hers now and for always, no matter the cost or consequence.

  Malcolm was hers, and she gave herself up to the knowledge that she was his, utterly and completely.

  “I don’t want to overwhelm you,” Malcolm gasped, as Beth sank further onto the bed and he suddenly loomed over her. “Not in this state.”

  Beth shook her head, stroking his hair. “You won’t.” She pulled him down to kiss her again, and she felt his hesitation, almost resistance, though it was wavering.

  “Tell me to stop,” he whispered even as he continued to kiss her. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

  There was no way she would say anything of the kind, and she seized his lips hungrily to tell him so in the most convincing way she knew how.

  Malcolm groaned as his lips molded to hers more fully, more perfectly. “Sweetheart,” he rasped, their lips grazing, “tell me to stop. Tell me…”

  “No,” Beth whispered, cupping the back of his head and pulling him towards her.

  Any and all resistance vanished between them, and no one said much of anything for quite some time.

  Malcolm’s days fell into a rather pleasant ritual after that. Mornings were devoted to work and the children, luncheon was spent reviewing letters and reports from the League, and afternoon hours were spent with Beth. In bed. Without disturbance.

  He was as giddy and reckless as a young man, which was odd, as he had never been giddy and reckless even when was he was a young man, but Beth brought life and light and vigor to his soul. He counted down the seconds until he could be with her, even though their nights were filled with passion and tenderness, and he’d only left their bed scant hours before.