by Platt, Meara
She nodded. “So am I. But I never wanted to push him into it.”
Gavin kissed her on the mouth, a deep kiss that filled her with warmth. “The lad is so in love with ye, ’tis a good thing he’s too young to be my competition or I fear I’d be kicked out into the cold.”
She laughed and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Gavin. I love you so much.”
He surprised her by lifting her into his arms. “How much do ye love me, lass? Enough to come upstairs with me?”
“In the middle of the afternoon?”
He had a deliciously wicked grin on his face as he kissed her again. “Why no’? Rafe is with his grandda. No one else is about. And I’m missing yer lovely body something desperate.”
She burrowed her head against his neck. “Yes, my love. I seem to have developed a liking for your body as well. An unquenchable thirst, it seems.”
He took her upstairs to the bedchamber they shared and shut the door behind them. He was quite adept at removing her gown by now, and it took him little time to dispense with the rest of her garments. Gown, corset, chemise, and stockings.
He removed his clothes with equal speed and skill.
“This is very wicked,” she said, unable to contain her grin. “The two of us with all our clothes shed in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Och, lass. Love is never wicked.” He caressed her cheek. “Have ye had yer fill yet of gawking at my magnificent body? I dinna think I’ll ever have my fill of yers.” She still had a scar on her shoulder from the stab wound, but he did not seem to mind it or ever look at it as though it was an ugly imperfection.
“This is nice, Gavin.” They’d been married six months and his beautifully chiseled form was still a marvel to her.
“Aye, lass. Verra nice. I still canno’ believe ye’re mine.”
“Blessed saints,” she said, repeating one of his favorite expressions. “Who else’s would I ever be?”
He carried her to their bed and set her down atop it. “I love ye, lass.” He settled over her and dipped his head to claim her breast with his lips and tongue. He caressed her body, slipping his hand between her legs and stroking her there until she was ready to take him in.
Then he thrust into her body with a slow intensity that never failed to make her wild. She loved the look of him as he claimed her and experienced his own exhilarating crest, loved the dark curls of his hair and the ocean blue gleam of his eyes. She loved the size of him and the solid weight of him atop her.
She loved his rugged scent, sandalwood and Highlands salty air.
Her body sang whenever he touched her.
Most of all, she loved his soft brogue and the way he was always so direct with her. I love ye, lass. I want ye, lass. Ye fill my heart with joy, lass.
When they finished coupling and he’d teased and suckled his fill of her breasts – a particular favorite of his – she nestled in his arms and closed her eyes while he skimmed his hand softly along the length of her body. “I have something to tell ye, Taffy.”
She kissed his chest. “What is it, my love?”
“Mr. Barrow sent me his report.”
“About my parents?” She turned in his arms to look at him. “Did he find them? Does he know who they are?”
But she could tell by the protective way Gavin held her that the news would not be to her liking. She wanted to tell him it no longer mattered. She did not need to hear the rest of it, but knew it troubled him because he loved her and thought the news would break her heart. “What did he say, Gavin?”
“He could no’ find out who they are. All leads proved to be dead ends. We knew it was improbable given the amount of time and how little information we had to go on.”
“I know.” She buried her head against his shoulder, surprised by her sudden urge to cry. She wasn’t sad. She did not need them, really. She had so much love from Gavin and young Rafe. Even from the Duke of Inverness who’d accepted her as though she were his own daughter. Gavin’s brothers had been just as kind. Even Vera’s father had welcomed her, and it could not have been an easy thing for him to do, for this happiness is what he’d hoped for his own daughter.
“Love, they aren’t worth the heartache.”
“I know. I am not heartbroken. But it seems my body needs to mourn them. Just give me a moment to shed my tears. I will admit to being curious about my real name, assuming they’d ever bothered to give me one. Something more refined than Taffy.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “There’s nothing wrong yer name, lass. Ye’re the sweetest, most tempting Taffy I’ve ever been privileged to know.”
She laid her hand upon his chest. His skin always felt so warm. “I’m the only one you know.”
He shrugged and wrapped his big arms around her body to draw her closer. “They could have called ye Lars, for all I care. It isn’t yer name I love…it’s yer big, round breasts.”
She swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t make me laugh when I am determined to sulk.”
“Verra well.” He kissed her softly on the mouth. “Then I shall simply tell ye I love ye, my tempting Taffy. And I’ll keep telling ye that until I take my last breath.”
“Thank you, my love. I think that’s a fine idea.”
“Fine enough to earn me points?”
She laughed, giving up on the idea of feeling morose. Her husband was not going to allow it. Nor did she really want to be unhappy. How could she be when she was in the arms of the most wonderful man in the world? “I hereby award you a hundred points.”
“Blessed saints, a hundred points. Ye must love me. How many does Rafe have?”
She couldn’t help but laugh again. “Oh, I believe he’s up to about a thousand now.”
“What? That many? Has he used any of them up?”
“No, not a one.” They were both laughing now. “He just likes to collect them. I don’t know why.”
Gavin caressed her cheek. “I do, lass.”
“You do? Then tell me why? What use are they if he won’t trade them in for anything?”
“They represent his happiness, a feeling he never experienced until the day he met ye.” Gavin suddenly turned serious. “What value can ye put on happiness? What value can ye put on a mother’s love, a love that is pure and unconditional? Ye’re his mama now. Ye are priceless to him. He won’t ever trade in his points.”
“And you, Gavin?”
“Och, lass. I’ll never trade mine in either.”
THE END
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Taffy, Gavin, and Rafe and their adventures in Hartland Abbey. Gavin’s younger brother, Vicar Adam Carstairs, is everyone’s heartthrob in my Book of Love series. If you are interested in more of my books, I’ve included a list of them right after this sneak peek of Ellie St. Clair’s contribution to this House of Devon connected series, A Touch of Temptation by Ellie St. Clair. We hope you enjoy these House of Devon romances, each story written by a well known historical romance author, as we bring you love below stairs.
With love,
Meara
A Touch of Temptation
Chapter 1
March, 1818
CHARLOTTE SIGHED AS she stared dreamily at Abigail practically floating out of the small chapel.
She was stunning today, it was true, in her pale-yellow gown with her hair intricately designed by Delilah, the duchess’ lady’s maid, but it was more than that. There was a glow about her. A glow of love that transformed her.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Charlotte said, leaning over to whisper in Ellen’s ear. The other maid nodded with a small smile, though she said nothing, respecting the silence of the ceremony much more than Charlotte did. But she couldn’t help herself.
She had loved Abigail ever since she had joined the House of Devon. The housekeeper – soon-to-be former housekeeper now – was friendly, fair, and a pleasure.
Charlotte was happy that her friend had found love – and Rex Ableman was ever so handsome.
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br /> When the happy couple passed through the chapel, Charlotte found her gaze connecting with another – with mischievous chocolate brown eyes that she knew nearly as well as she knew her own. Then one of them winked at her, as though their owner knew her thoughts, and she rolled her eyes back at him.
She had known Philip Webster since she was a child, and often she found that he still treated her like one, despite the fact he was but two years older than her – two years to the day in fact, for they shared the same birthday.
As they filed out of the chapel to resume their duties, she met him in the center aisle.
“Are you jealous, Lottie?” he asked, reaching out to tweak her nose, and she swatted his hand away as Ellen snorted beside them. Raine, one of the newer maids, said nothing, although she looked down at her hands with a small smile on her face.
“Of course not!” she exclaimed, looking around to make sure no one else had heard. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“I could sense you pining away from across the chapel,” he said, laughter in his eyes as she glared at him. “Ableman is a good-looking man, if you like that sort of thing. The blue eyes, dark hair, muscular stature. Too bad Abigail caught his eye first.”
“I have no feelings for Mr. Ableman!” she insisted in a low voice, looking around to make sure no one else heard Philip’s teasing and might make assumptions they shouldn’t. She knew that she was only allowing Philip to goad her, but she was unable to resist responding. “I am happy for Abigail, that is all. They are so in love,” she continued dreamily.
“And now Abigail no longer has to work as a servant,” Philip remarked.
“Do you have no romance within you at all?” she asked with a sigh, and he shrugged.
“Not really. No need for it.”
They walked out into the sunshine of the beautiful summer day. Charlotte took a deep breath of the fresh air and the delicious scents wafting through the air from the flower gardens just beyond the hedgerow of beeches.
She tilted her head up to feel the warmth on her face.
Philip reached out and tugged at her Sunday bonnet to bring her head back down.
“You’re a maid, Charlotte. Where are you going to find any romance around here?”
“Romance can be found anywhere, Philip. It just takes finding the right person.”
“Like you would know.”
“I do!”
“How?”
“My parents found love.”
His face twisted somewhat as he likely thought of his own beginnings. While Charlotte’s parents had worked at Hartland Abbey for years until their recent retirement, Philip’s mother was still in their employ as the Cook. She always said what else would she do? She had no husband, no other children, and she was still able-bodied.
“I suppose,” he finally relented, before beginning to whistle as he strode jauntily along to where cake and breakfast treats were laid out for the servants. Charlotte had to nearly break into a run to keep up with him and she rued her short stature.
“Speaking of parents…” he said, tilting his head forward toward his mother, who was hustling as fast as her larger frame could take her back to the kitchen after preparing the breakfast for the rest of them. “I’m going to see if my mother still has any of the good stuff in the kitchen for the family.”
“Philip, you can’t,” Charlotte said, shaking her head at him. “We should join the others.”
But he just winked at her again.
“Are you coming?”
“Of course not.”
“I heard a little rumor that Mother made raspberry scones for the duke and duchess.”
Charlotte bit her lip, assessing him. Raspberry scones were her favorite, but she wondered whether he was telling the truth, or if he was simply saying what he knew would entice her.
“I have much to do this morning,” she hesitated. “With the wedding, we were able to cut our duties short, but now—”
“It’ll just take a moment.”
“Fine,” she sighed, finally relenting. It wasn’t the first time Philip had shaken her from her responsibilities, and she had a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last. “Let’s go.”
PHILIP LAUGHED AS he watched Charlotte close her eyes when she bit into the scone. It was easy to tempt her. He was well aware of what could make her leave her duties behind, though he hoped they wouldn’t get in too much trouble. But everyone was otherwise occupied so no one should miss them. He hadn’t liked the sorrow in her eyes at her wish for her own romance and had wanted to distract her.
“Philip,” she said, opening her eyes, her tongue darting out to catch a crumb that remained on the side of her lip, “do you think…”
“Do I think…”
“Do you think there’s any chance that I might be assigned a new position?” she asked, her eyes lighting up, though he could sense the uncertainty in her question. “If Abigail is leaving, then the housekeeper position is open. I know I’m a bit young for that, but perhaps one of the lady’s maids might be moved, making room for me? You know how much I would love to be a lady’s maid myself. What do you think?”
He leaned his hip back against the counter as he bit into his own scone, tilting his head as he considered her question. He hadn’t put much thought into it, but he supposed she had a point.
“I don’t see why not,” he mused. “The family knows you better than any other servant, and you’ve certainly shown your loyalty over the years.”
Loyalty, yes. He didn’t tell her that she wasn’t entirely the most proficient maid in the house, though she wasn’t overly terrible either. It was simply that her head was too often lost in daydreams or she was more inclined to be chattering on with another maid than giving her actual duties their full attention.
Of course, he would never, ever, say such a thing to her. His mother eyed him from across the kitchen as though warning him not to, and he gave her a slight nod. He wouldn’t be so stupid.
He returned his attention to Charlotte, who was now looking at him imploringly.
“What is it?” he asked with some hesitation. He didn’t like that look. It meant she had something on her mind, something that she wanted him to help her with.
“Do you think… that you could maybe help me?” she asked.
“How?” he said somewhat warily.
“By putting in a good word.”
“With who?”
“With William.”
“Lord William.”
“Right. Lord William.”
It had been a strange transition for all of them, going from calling their childhood friend by his given name to his honorary title. While all of the family spent their summers at their estate near Yorkshire, William was the one who had snuck out to spend much of his time with children outside of the family. Over the years, they had slowly lost the closeness they’d once had as children, but Charlotte would always see him in a different light.
“I can try to mention it,” he said, not wanting to promise her anything but also unable to deny her request. She’d been Philip’s closest friend for as long as he could remember. How could he?
“Charlotte?”
Philip breathed a sigh of relief when their topic of conversation was interrupted by Ellen.
“Oh, there you are!” Ellen said, peeking her fair head around the doorway. “Reeves is looking for you. Wondered where the two of you went off to. I don’t think he trusts you.”
“Who, us?” Philip said, flashing a charming smile at her. “What would give him the idea we aren’t trustworthy?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes, although they were both well aware that their longtime connection to the family had likely saved their positions on more than one occasion.
“You have talked me into far too many schemes and practical jokes,” she hissed at Philip just before he saw her swallow the evidence of her scone and rush past him to follow Ellen out the door to join the party in the gardens.
He smiled to himself as
he pushed off the counter, kissed his mother on the cheek, and then quickly closed the distance to reach Charlotte. He tugged on an errant lock of her dark curls that were just visible beneath her bonnet as he passed by her, before finding the rest of the servants around the tables in the garden.
“Lovely ceremony, wasn’t it, Reeves?” he asked, clapping a hand on the butler’s shoulder. Reeves looked down at it with some distaste, although Philip knew the longtime servant was all bluster. He loved them all like his own children, though he was sometimes as cross as any long-suffering father – or grandfather – might be.
“Of course, Webster,” he said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Where have you been off to?”
“Just a quick hello to my mother,” he said, turning to Charlotte with a smile.
“I don’t know what has Reeves in such a mood,” he said to Charlotte as she took a sip of punch.
“Perhaps he’s remembering the time the two of you hid in the shadows and scared him half to death. Or when you stole his timepiece,” Thomas, one of the footmen said with a laugh.
“Perhaps,” Philip shrugged, just as the coachman joined them. “Hello, John.”
“Hello,” he returned, saying nothing more, which was usual. He was a man of few words, his origin unknown to the lot of them, and he didn’t seem to have any desire to share it.
“If Ableman is done here, does this mean Frederickson is returning?” Philip asked, wondering about their former stablemaster who had been laid up with an ankle injury – the entire reason Rex Ableman had joined their staff for a time.
“Should be, in about a month or so,” John said. “There will be other staff joining us soon, too.”
“There will?” Charlotte said, turning to the coachman, her curiosity obviously piqued. “Who? When?”
John shrugged. “I only know there are plans for me to fetch them from Yorkshire in a few weeks. Don’t know who they are or anything else about them.”
“How very interesting,” Charlotte said, her eyes shining. “I shall hardly be able to wait.”
Philip inwardly winced. What Charlotte hadn’t yet realized was that new servants likely meant positions had probably been filled – including the one that she had apparently set her hopes on.
