Always (ALWAYS trilogy Book 1)

by Cheryl Holt

  He couldn’t guess how he might have embarrassed himself in Trevor’s presence, but he was saved from humiliation by Miss Drummond blundering in and interrupting them.

  “Lord Selby!” She grinned her imp’s grin. “There you are. I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

  “Hello, Miss Drummond.” He pushed himself to his feet, and Trevor jumped up too. Nathan gestured to him. “Have you met my cousin, Trevor?”

  “Yes, we’re terrific chums.”

  Nathan snorted at that and told Trevor, “You poor boy. She’s such a nuisance. How can you abide it?”

  “Nell,” Trevor said, irking Nathan when he used her Christian name, “look at this article in the newspaper! Nathan has been declared to be deceased!”

  “What? No!” Trevor shoved the paper at her, and she quickly read the story. Then her pretty green eyes focused on Nathan in a stunning way. “You’re not deceased! Why would they believe you are?”

  He shrugged. “Someone must have provided rank gossip.”

  “You must write them immediately and demand a retraction.”

  “Maybe I’ll let myself be dead for a bit. It might be amusing. I could pretend I’m a ghost.”

  “You are horrid,” she scolded.

  He’d been trying to figure out how to bump into her again without having to stumble down to a family event like supper or a party. By her barging into the parlor, she’d given him the perfect opportunity to steal her away.

  Since the prior evening out at the gazebo, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on any topic but her. Considering how morbid his musings were these days, that was an interesting development. She was like fresh air and sunshine and flowers all rolled into one. He needed to dawdle by her side so her luminous, cheery demeanor could wash him clean and make him feel saner.

  “Trevor,” he said to his cousin, “would you excuse us? I’ve been waiting for Miss Drummond to arrive. I promised to show her something.”

  “Of course, Nathan. Don’t mind me. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “Come, Miss Drummond. I’m glad you finally found me. I hate people who are tardy, so in the future, please be more punctual.”

  “Well, pardon me.” She scowled ferociously, knowing he hadn’t been waiting for her and wondering what scheme was fomenting.

  He wasn’t sure himself. He was simply anxious to be alone with her.

  He took her arm and escorted her out, then he guided her down several rear halls. It was a wing of the house that wasn’t used for much and was usually deserted.

  “Where are we going,” she asked, “and what are you up to?”

  He peeked both ways, then said, “We’re going in here.”

  He opened a door, and in a swift, sly move, he urged her inside. He followed and shut the door, sealing them in. It was a room that was mostly utilized for storage. Stacked items were covered with sheets, and the drapes were pulled so no one passing by out in the park could peer in and observe him lurking in a place he definitely shouldn’t be.

  “I repeat”—she whirled to face him—“what are you up to?”

  Before she could complain, argue, or refuse to be sequestered with him, he dipped in and kissed her. She hadn’t expected such a brazen advance and was too astonished to prevent it from occurring.

  “Oh!” she murmured as he drew away.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he told her.

  “You have not.”

  “I have actually.”

  Because he’d gotten away with it the first time, he dipped in and did it again. The element of surprise had evaporated, so in case she came to her senses and thought not to let him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled her to his torso, crushing her to him for a lengthy period while he behaved like a lunatic.

  He’d been in residence for forty-eight hours. During that short interval, he hadn’t socialized with his relatives, hadn’t chatted with the servants or visited any of his tenants or neighbors. He barely knew Miss Drummond, and he was a complete mess—both mentally and physically—so what was he thinking?

  He had no business loafing in an isolated parlor with a young lady who was a stranger. He was an unreliable cad, and she was much too naïve and nice to be involved with him.

  When he’d kissed her in the gazebo, she’d panicked and had skittered out of reach. But she wasn’t shocked now—or panicking.

  She was participating with a thrilling amount of vigor and enthusiasm, and he couldn’t remember when he’d ever enjoyed kissing a female as much as he enjoyed kissing her. Of course it had been an eternity since he’d dabbled with a British girl. His options and tastes ran to doxies in port towns.

  She was a delightful mix of inexperience and eagerness, and he was overcome by how lovely it was to trifle with her. He wished he never had to leave the secluded room. He wished he could loiter in it—with her—forever.

  Eventually, she ended it. As their lips parted, she was leaned into him, the entire front of her body stretched out and pressed to his. She was clutching the lapels of his coat, holding on for dear life, acting as if—should she let go—she might collapse to the floor in a stunned heap.

  He sighed. “My goodness, but you are sweet.”

  “Sweet, hm?” She chuckled. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been described as sweet before.”

  “How are you described?”

  “I’m declared to be bossy and annoying, and I talk too much.”

  “I agree with all of that, but I was much too polite to tell you.”

  She sighed too and nestled even closer. He was riveted by how perfectly she fit against him, as if she’d been created for cuddling with him and no other purpose at all.

  “I’ve now been kissed three times,” she said, “and all of them were by you.”

  “Just so you know, I’m not the sort of man who trots about kissing every woman he sees.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “Nor am I normally inclined to drag them into dark, deserted parlors. You simply bring out the worst in me.”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

  He buried his face at her nape, inhaling her delicious scent. There was an aroma that emanated from her, and he couldn’t define what it was, but it tantalized him to an insane degree. It was a type of magical elixir that—if he wasn’t careful—might lure him to his doom.

  “Are you wearing a perfume?” he asked.

  “No, never.”

  “I like how you smell.”

  “If you keep flattering me like that, I’ll get a big head.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  He nibbled at her nape, where a bit of skin was visible outside her gown, and the sensation proved too much for her. She staggered away and glared up at him, her expression exasperated.

  “You are dangerous to me,” she said.

  “Not yet, but I might intend to be.”

  “I’m not sure I know how to behave around you.”

  “I can teach you how.”

  “I’ll just bet you could. I’ve only been secluded with you for a few minutes, and I’m already contemplating a dozen things I have no business contemplating.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Could we go out into the hall?”

  “No.”

  She reached for the doorknob anyway, and he clasped her wrist and pulled her away.

  “Am I to be your prisoner in here?” she asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “I’d tell you you’re scaring me, but it would simply stroke your vanity.”

  He scoffed. “I don’t scare you. Don’t be absurd.”

  “Perhaps scare is the wrong word. If I was caught with you, there’s no predicting what would happen to me.”

  “Yes, I imagine it would stir quite a brouhaha. Your reputation would be shredded. Mrs. Middleton would probably lock you in a convent.”

  “Don’t joke about it. You can flirt and seduce all you want, but you’re a man. I’m a woman,
so I’m not allowed such liberties.”

  “If I let you out, will you promise to kiss me in the future?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  She flashed a look that was part vixen, part schoolgirl. It was clear she had lusty proclivities, and if she ever learned how to use them, she’d likely kill him with temptation.

  “You’re scowling,” she said.

  “You fascinate me, and I’m trying to figure out why.”

  “Well, I’m a fascinating person,” she facetiously stated, and he laughed.

  “Yes, that must be it.”

  “May we leave now?”

  “I suppose—but only if you tell me you’ll sneak off with me again.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re too much man for me to handle, and there would be no benefit for me to sneak off.”

  “The benefit is that you’d get to fraternize with me in private places.”

  “Aren’t there some housemaids you can harass instead?”

  He laughed again, stunned to realize that she made him happy. When was the last time he’d been happy? He couldn’t recollect.

  She went to the door and peeked out. Seeing no one, she walked into the hall, and she waved for him to follow her. He dawdled though, for a moment, then a moment more, not eager to abandon the silent spot, and his reticence was a tad alarming.

  He’d lost many, many things during his final, ill-fated trip to Africa: his mentor, his best friend, his health and stamina, his life’s work. But mostly, he wondered if he hadn’t lost his mind. He was often so befuddled. He couldn’t bear to speak to anyone or socialize. He yearned to roll himself into a cocoon, like a moth or a butterfly, and stay there forever.

  Miss Drummond—and his odd interest in her—was the sole thing that had lit any kind of emotional spark in months. He had no idea why he was enthralled. It was bizarre, and he didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t about to ignore what was transpiring. She was forcing him to remember he was still alive.

  For months, he hadn’t been sure.

  She studied him, worry in her gaze, and she gestured for him to move out into the hall too, as if she recognized it to be a difficult step for him to take.

  “Come,” she gently said, and she added, “It’s all right.”

  He snorted with disgust, at himself, at the peculiar quirks he couldn’t tamp down. He’d never previously been reserved or reluctant. He’d been a boy, then a man who’d blustered through the world, seizing what he craved. Anymore though, he didn’t crave much of anything. He merely wanted peace and quiet.

  He emerged to tarry beside her, but he behaved himself, not linking their fingers as he was dying to do.

  “Why were you searching for me a bit ago?” he asked. “When you originally found me in the parlor, what did you need?”

  “I was missing you,” she blatantly admitted.

  “I might have been missing you too.”

  “And I was brazenly trying to manufacture a reason to bump into you. There was an event I’d have liked you to attend with me, but it was stupid and pathetic, and I’m certain you’d have refused.”

  “What was it?”

  “Your cousin, Trevor, is having a picnic out by the lake with the bride-to-be, Susan.”

  Nathan frowned. “Trevor is? Not Percy?”

  “He had to ride to town.”

  “That’s rude of him when he has guests.”

  “I thought so. Anyway, Trevor and Susan invited me. And…I’d like you to join us.”

  “Me? Sit and loaf at a picnic?”

  “See? I knew you’d declare it to be stupid.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He stared down at her, and she was just so pretty. It occurred to him he might be in trouble with her. He was in no condition to trifle with a female, and currently, he couldn’t make a good decision to save his life. He should leave her alone, but he couldn’t recall ever having gone on a picnic before. If he had, when might it have been?

  He opened his mouth to decline, but the words that spilled out were, “I would love to come.”

  She smiled such an alluring smile that he told himself the whole bloody thing would be worth it simply to have had her look at him like that.

  “You will?” she said.

  “Yes, and I better not be bored silly. If I am, I’ll blame you.”

  “You won’t be bored. I won’t let you be.”

  She patted a palm on his chest, directly over the spot where his heart beat under his ribs. They froze, perched on the precipice of a terrifyingly splendid relationship exploding between them.

  Then she glanced down the hall and asked, “Where am I in this monstrosity of a house? How do I find my way back to the front foyer?”

  “I’ll escort you.”

  “Are you joking? I’m not about to be observed strolling along with you. It might stir gossip that we’ve been engaged in mischief. Where would I be then?”

  She flitted off, vanishing around a corner so quickly that she might never have been there at all. He stood in the quiet, the silence settling in, her essence washing over him, then gradually fading away.

  Why was he encouraging her? He had absolutely no idea.

  He shook his head and traipsed after her. Apparently, he had a picnic to attend, and to his great surprise, he couldn’t wait for it to begin.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “There you are!”

  Nell waved at Lord Selby who was finally approaching down the garden path. She was seated on a blanket, loafing in the sun, a bonnet shielding her face. Trevor and Susan were strolling around the lake, chatting animatedly in a way that didn’t exactly look wrong, but probably wasn’t exactly appropriate either.

  Trevor was very nice—handsome, polite, charming—and Nell comprehended why a girl—Susan for instance—might find him intriguing. But Susan wasn’t in a position to engage in a flirtation, and Trevor was pushing the limits of what was allowed.

  Even though they were off enjoying a slow amble, Nell wasn’t alone. As with everything at the estate, the picnic had turned out to be very grand. Tables and chairs had been brought out and arranged in the grass. The tables were covered with the finest linen cloths, with the finest china and silver.

  An entire buffet was set up, complete with three entrees, five desserts, and fruit platters with strawberries from the hot house. There was punch in a bowl, several decanters of wine, and a brandy bottle discreetly tucked behind the punch in case anyone wanted to add a little excitement to their beverage.

  Six servants were present too. They were standing at attention, watching with bored expressions, and waiting to be necessary. Nell had tried to send them back to the manor, but they’d refused to depart. Apparently, the butler, Mr. Dobbs, would have an apoplexy if Trevor Blake had to lift a single spoon on his own. The fact that the Earl might appear too had added to the importance of the occasion.

  To all of them, Nathan Blake was an infamous stranger, like an angel who had flown down from Heaven. They were anxious to make him happy, to let him see how well they did their jobs.

  She thought the whole event was silly, the overindulgence needlessly excessive, but she kept that opinion to herself.

  “I’d about given up on you,” she said as he walked up.

  “I’ve been hiding in my room and dithering. I wasn’t going to come.”

  She tsked with offense. “And after you promised! I’m glad you didn’t disappoint me.”

  “Would you have been disappointed?”

  “I would have wasted away with regret.”

  He smiled down at her in an affectionate manner that was thrilling. She wished she could figure out how to get him to gaze at her like that forever.

  A few hours earlier, she’d been trapped in a deserted parlor with him, and he’d kissed her senseless. The interval had left her weak in the knees. She wasn’t the sort of female to sneak into quiet corners with a man. She definitely wasn’t the sort who carried on with an earl. What was she thinking? Whe
re would it lead?

  She had no answers to any of those questions.

  “Will you sit with me in the grass?” She gestured to the spot next to her on the blanket. “It is a picnic after all. Or are you too exalted for that? Shall we move to the chairs?”

  He studied her, then the blanket, and he scowled. Just when she decided he’d decline to join her, he said, “I guess I can sit in the grass.”

  “I’m delighted that you’ll lower yourself, Your Royal Highness.”

  She offered the remark sarcastically, assuming he was being a snob, but as he eased down, he grimaced as if he was in pain. Once he was seated, he muttered, “That wasn’t as bad as I expected it would be.”

  “What do you mean? Are you hurt? Are you injured? What?”

  “It’s just my wounds.” She glared, not understanding, and he said, “I told you about them. They were inflicted during my recent trip. On occasion, they plague me.”

  She leaned nearer and murmured, “Where are you wounded? How were you wounded? When you talked about it previously, you didn’t provide any details, and I demand to be apprised.”

  “It’s just on my chest and my stomach.”

  “Your chest and stomach? How many are there?”

  She was aghast, and she voiced the words much too loudly so the servants heard her. They were in awe of him, and they viewed him as a great curiosity. He was being meticulously scrutinized, and her outburst only heightened their potent focus.

  He waved away her query. “It’s nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “Are you mad? I can’t forget it!” She turned toward him. “You deranged warrior! I can see you’re in agony. Don’t pretend you’re fine.”

  “All right, I won’t. I’m not fine, but I’m not critical either. I’m limping along without too much trouble.”

  “Have you been to a doctor? Should we summon one?”

  He sighed and patted her hand. “I’m fine, Miss Drummond. Please, could we drop it?”

  She assessed him, wishing they were still in that secluded parlor so she could wrap her arms around him and hug him tight. He looked very forlorn, as if he hadn’t received many hugs in his life. The realization had her eager to tend him, to fuss over him, to spoil him rotten.