“What are you thinking about, Beau?” Dinah asked as they climbed the stairs toward the attic.
“Christmas.” Which was sort of the truth, if one used a rather twisted bit of logic he supposed.
She squeezed his hand warmly, another smile gracing her lovely face. “I was thinking of the holidays earlier when I was decorating the banister.”
“It is lovely.” Everything about Dinah was lovely, but Beau couldn’t exactly tell her that, could he? Maybe? Ah, this should not be so difficult!
“You don’t think it too much or overdone? Papa always said I tended to over-do things.” She seemed almost embarrassed by the admission.
Beau would have liked to strangle her Papa just then. “Not at all, Dinah. It is perfect.” Just as she was, though he could not tell her that, either. Now was not the time. Perhaps later.
When they reached the attic, Beau allowed Dinah to enter first. He watched her eyes widen at the sheer number of items strewn about everywhere. Though there was an order to the chaos, if one could but see it. He suspected Dinah might be able to do so. She was rather clever like that.
“It is like a whole other house up here!” she exclaimed as she moved to place her hand on a fully made – and immaculately dusted – bed, complete with counterpane and fresh sheets.
Beau slowly picked his way through the mess, following his usual path. “Did I not say that my mother had grand plans for Grayfield? She simply never completed them. Much of this is the fruit of her follies.”
Growing up, Beau had often wondered why his mother spent great amounts of money to decorate and furnish a home that she knew she was not likely to spend more than a fortnight in throughout the course of an entire year. As he grew older, he had come to the conclusion that she wanted to return here, for she also wanted to be the sort of mother who could look past her own child’s “deformities” as she called them and be at peace with who and what he was. After all, Margaret McCandless was regarded as being kind and compassionate to everyone. Except to her own son. However, she had never quite been able to walk through Grayfield’s massive, ornately carved front door and intend to stay. At least not as long as Beau resided here as well. And as the future Marquess of Kingsford, there really wasn’t any place else Beau could reside. At least not without raising plenty of unanswerable questions.
For his mother, Beau was the visible sign of her greatest failure – that of a peer’s wife who was unable to bear a perfect heir for her wealthy, titled husband. And no matter how much money she applied to the situation, she could not fix it. She could not fix him. There was nothing she could do to change Beau or his appearance. Much as she wanted to do just that each time she saw him. Much as she prayed for that very thing.
Beau supposed he should have hated his mother for her actions and he did hate the fact that she had abandoned him. However he had long since forgiven her as well. His mother had been raised in another time and in a different era. She had been tasked with one job and, in the eyes of her peers, she had failed. That was not her fault. It was the fault of her circumstances and, like his, they could not have been changed by all of the prayers in the world.
But enough of the maudlin thoughts. Beau was here with Dinah now, and he had no idea how much time he had left with her either. So he planned to enjoy every moment he could and send up his own prayers Heavenward that he might find some way to convince her to stay – because she wanted to stay and not because she was with child.
“By your feet, you will find whatever is left of the Christmastide items. They came from Germany the last year she was alive.” Beau stepped around a set of mismatched chairs that did not seem to go with anything either upstairs or down as Dinah began to rummage in the boxes. “I’ve no idea what you do with them. I hope you do.”
Dinah spun around, a beautiful smile on her face. In her hands, she held a lovely glass angel, which seemed, like her, to have glorious golden hair. “They are decorations for the tree, silly. You mother was planning a Christmas tree.”
“So I had assumed,” Beau responded dryly, doing his best to keep his gaze from raking over Dinah’s delightfully rounded backside. “I simply did not know what one did with them.”
She slid her fingertips almost lovingly over the glass figure. “Liar. You knew exactly what these trinkets were meant for. You are a genius inventor. Surely you know what tree decorations are for, of all things.”
Dinah had him there. “Very well. I know perfectly well what one does with those. I selected the ornaments for my mother, after all.” Beau stalked towards Dinah, more than a little aroused – as he always was around her these days. “A man came by with a trunk full of those things. He was trying to sell them with little success. I bought them all. I did not even ask the price for I did not care. I knew my mother wanted a tree and had hoped to surprise her with them. I had no idea she wasn’t coming back, but I suppose I should have.”
“Oh, Beau.” Dinah cupped his cheek with her free hand. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He smiled down at her. “I was able to enjoy them myself for a time that final year and now? You may enjoy them as well. And I have no doubt that you will treasure them far more than she ever would have.”
Dinah put the angel aside and placed a second hand on his cheek. “Just as I treasure you, Beau McCandless.”
Beau’s heart leaped in his throat but he pushed his optimism back down for now. He could not get ahead of himself. That was not wise in the least. In fact, that was the surest way to get his heart broken again. No, it was best to stick to what he knew where Dinah was concerned. And what he knew with her was fucking. At least that much, he was certain of.
Slowly, he began backing her towards the bed. “I did have another reason for bringing you up here, you know.”
Beau watched her pulse jump in her throat and knew she was nearly as excited at the prospect of a coupling here in the attic as he was. “What was that?” she asked, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.
“So that I could fuck you. In private.” His words were a growl. Dinah’s lovely face lit up with a smile he had come to know and adore over the last few weeks. “I am tired of being interrupted, sweeting. And of being forced to rush things as we were yesterday in the conservatory.”
“Do you honestly believe the staff won’t guess what we’re about up here?” Dinah teased. “They are rather clever after all.”
“Of course they know. They all know every blasted thing we do, especially Nathaniel. He also knows that this is my space and when I am here, I am to be left alone.” By this time, Beau had Dinah backed against the old bed. It was up here because his mother had purchased it long ago and then decided it didn’t match the décor. That was the only reason. However there were times when Beau needed to be alone. To rest and think in private. So he made certain that the maids kept the bed clean and fresh at all times. And that everyone knew he was not to be disturbed when he was in here.
“They think you are trying to get me with child,” Dinah whispered and for once she wasn’t teasing. “And doing a rather good job of it, might I add.”
“Would it be a problem if you were?” Oh Lord, Beau prayed that it would not be.
Dinah shook her head, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. “No. Not at all.”
Her words were not an admission of anything. Beau understood that. However it was an admission that she would not mind bearing his child. He didn’t know her reasons why, nor did he want to know. All he cared about was that she would not run away from him, would not abandon him if she was carrying his babe.
“Then why don’t you allow me to try again? If you are truly that unconcerned about the possibility of bearing my child, that is.” Beau held his breath and waited. Her answer, even if it were not a declaration of love, would at least give him some small hint as to how she felt – about him and about remaining at Grayfield. Possibly even becoming his marchioness in time.
Dinah’s legs were resting against the bed now, but in
stead of falling backward, she turned around slowly and offered him her back. “Undress me, Beau. Please. For I think these activities you describe may take some time. All of the activities, if you take my meaning. I also find that I am rather interested in sorting through all of these decorations up here as well. In fact, I fear it may take until supper until we conclude. If not later.”
Finally! He had hope!
Beau wanted to roar with male satisfaction but he held himself back. Instead, he quickly undid the row of buttons running down the back of Dinah’s dress. Thankfully, they were large buttons since his mother hadn’t always wanted the lengthy assistance of a maid. They made stripping off Dinah’s clothes ever so much easier.
When he slid the gown off of her shoulders to bare her breasts, she sighed with unabashed delight. “I love the way it feels when you touch me, Beau. I need you to know that.”
Again, that was not exactly an admission or declaration of anything, but Beau didn’t care. All he cared about was getting his hands on her again. About doing his best to make her fall in love with him.
“Do you like it when I do this, Dinah?” he asked as he undid her corset so that he could pull her back against him and cup her breasts in his hands.
“Very much.” Her head fell back against his shoulder and he had no doubt that if he spread her legs, she would be dripping with desire for him. Even after all this time, it astounded him that she could still desire him that much, but she did. And she showed no signs of stopping. Then, surprising him, she reached back and cupped him through his breeches. “I also adore it when you are inside of me. Particularly then. When I can feel you spilling inside of me.”
That was all it took. Beau had Dinah stripped naked in mere moments before pushing her back onto the bed. Once on her back, he trapped her legs between his as he began to strip for her.
The other night Beau had come to the realization that Dinah enjoyed looking at his naked body. She wasn’t afraid of him. Instead, she was aroused. She had spent nearly a quarter hour tracing the line that marked one side of his body from the other with her fingers, never hesitating, and always exploring. As if she craved more. She also enjoyed herself even more when Beau removed his clothes and allowed her to watch. Just as he was doing now.
“Temptress,” he said but she simply laughed in response.
“It was you who tempted me first, remember?” she teased. “What with your delightful muscles and strong, strapping chest.”
Beau doubted that he was as perfect as Dinah claimed but at present he wasn’t about to care either. Especially not with the way her eyes widened in appreciation as he stripped off his smalls and his cock sprang free, hot and thick, ready to sink into her honeyed depths.
When he was naked before her, Beau looked down and he could not help but trace the outline of her stomach with his fingertips, imagining what she would look like swollen with his child. She would be beautiful, he decided, and he would likely desire her just as much.
“My Christmas angel,” he sighed, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. “Oh, Dinah. How you undo me.”
She opened her arms to him. “Then let me love you, Beau. Here. Away from prying eyes. Let me love you as you like. However you like. As often as you like. No convention. No barriers. No holding back. Just us.”
Dinah’s words undid the rest of him. She likely hadn’t meant them the way she had uttered them, but they were out and she could not take them back. Beau would not have wanted her to, either.
Slowly, he lowered himself to the bed and rolled them both over so that she was straddling his hips. Then he raised her up and brought her down hard on his swollen, aching cock, filling her with a single, powerful thrust. Claiming her as his. “Mine,” he growled. “You are mine Dinah Crestfield. You will belong to no other man.” Then he lifted her up and brought her back down on his rigid member again, thrusting up once more as he did so.
“Yours,” Dinah agreed with a gasp as Beau took her hard before rolling her beneath him, as if unable to get deep enough within her to satisfy himself. “I am yours, Beau. I swear it! For as long as you want me!”
Despite the tender words, there was nothing sweet about their coupling this time. It was hard and fast and sweaty. When Beau took her again, from behind this time as he pinned her to the wall, there was no tenderness in that action either. It was raw and emotional, but it was not tender.
Beau didn’t care. Whether Dinah had realized it or not, she had given herself to him completely. He intended to keep her. Someway, he would convince her to marry him. Even if she didn’t love him – yet.
And when he placed her on her hands and knees on the bed so that he could slide in far deeper than he had ever gone before, so deep that they both cried out in passion, he knew that no matter what, he would love her forever.
For Dinah had unfrozen Beau’s frigid, gnarled heart. She had healed him – at least to any degree that he was likely to ever be healed. Assuming such a thing was even possible. And in return, he would give her all of the love that he had. He simply prayed that she was willing to accept such a gift from a man like him. He also did not know what he would do if she refused what he offered her.
Chapter Nine
After the magical afternoon in the attic, Dinah had to admit that her lovemaking – for that was what she chose to believe their couplings now were – with Beau was different. There was a depth and hunger to their shared passion that hadn’t been there before. As if each of them was trying rather desperately to say something that they did not quite know how to say with words.
At least that was how things seemed to Dinah, anyway.
By the time Christmas Eve arrived, she knew that leaving Grayfield would tear her apart inside. Beau hadn’t asked her to leave yet, though. If anything, he seemed to be doing everything within his power to convince her to stay. Except, of course, ask her to marry him.
Was he afraid or was she – of both the question and the answer?
Dinah honestly wasn’t certain, but that day in the attic, she had committed herself to Beau McCandless forever, even if she had not said the words. She had, however, tried to show him that commitment every day since, in particular, every time they coupled, but Dinah wasn’t certain that would be enough.
If Twelfth Night came and went without any sort of resolution to this madness? Well, then she would be brave and confess her feelings to Beau. Perhaps he would make her his mistress, at best. If he cast her out instead? So be it. At least she would have her memories, which was part of the reason why she encouraged him to bed her whenever he liked. As often as he liked.
Also, more than anything else, Dinah wished to give Beau a child. That alone would tie her to him in some way and even if he could never love her, she was certain he would love their child. Love was something Beau had known far too little of in his life, but a child? A child would provide him a love stronger than he could ever imagine. Before she left Grayfield, Dinah was determined to gift Beau that precious gift if nothing else.
She was also determined to have this one Christmas here, as well. In some ways, Dinah craved that almost as much as she craved Beau – and his love.
The last few days had sped by in a flurry of holiday activity, which, Dinah reasoned as she dressed for dinner, was a good thing. Sleigh rides, skating, decorating the tree, and those sorts of things helped her forget, if only for a bit, that this was a singular moment out of time. Grayfield was not her home. Beau was not her husband. None of this really belonged to her. She was simply borrowing all of it for a time.
That would have to be enough.
No matter what came next.
Now as she sat at the dressing table that also did not belong to her, wearing clothes that were not hers, Dinah wondered where she would go from here. Or how long Beau would ask her to stay. Probably long enough to see if she was with child, though given that they had yet to stop coming together, who could say when that would be?
Dinah had given some thought to the notion of si
mply asking Beau if she could remain here as his mistress and not pressure him to marry her at all. They were alone here in Suffolk, or very nearly so. Any gossip that might arise could likely be squashed by fear of Beau’s reputation alone if by no other means.
But was that enough for her? Dinah didn’t think so, for she wanted all of Beau and not simply part of him. For to her dismay, she found that she wanted him both in public and in private, not just an affair hidden in the shadows – even though she knew she did not deserve that much from him,
And if the answer to that question truly was no, was Dinah then little better of a person than she had been before? If she loved Beau, truly loved him – and she believed that she did – should she not accept him as he was and what he was willing to give of himself? Should she not simply take the part of him that she could have and be thankful?
Dinah had no idea and the fretting over things was giving her a megrim. She had not suffered one of those ailments since her first day here when her head was pounding from her dunking in the frigid river.
When a knock came at her door, she was glad for the interruption. It would give her something else to occupy her mind, at least for a time.
“A gift for you, my lady.” Cecily entered holding a flat rectangular box. The maid had taken to treating Dinah as if she truly was the lady of the house. Dinah had no wish to make the sweet woman unhappy by correcting her, so she had allowed it. After all, Cecily, like everyone else at Grayfield, believed that one day, Dinah would be the mistress of Grayfield. “It is from his lordship.”
As if Dinah couldn’t guess. “Thank you, Cecily.” She took the box from the maid. “Please inform Lord Kingsford that I will be down to join him shortly.”
A Season For Romance (The Seldon Park Christmas Novella Book 5) Page 10
