* * *
The sight in front of him was so wholly unexpected Edward found he couldn’t speak.
The woman who peered up at him, half uncertain, half challenging, was the picture of a born lady. Her raven hair sparkled with golden accessories, the empire cut of her satin gown showcased the lissom lines of her figure and the square neck allowed the most tantalising glimpse of what lay beneath.
The cream of the fabric contrasted beautifully with the deep shade of her flawless skin and lent a radiance to her complexion—the finest that Edward had ever laid eyes on. Selina’s back was straight and her chin held high, and it was only because he knew her, had studied her despite his every rational or sensible thought, that he could see the discomfort with which she wore what to her must only feel like a costume.
‘You look—’ Edward could almost feel the watching eyes of the delighted assistants boring into him as he struggled to form a coherent sentence. Even Selina’s eyes were uncomfortably intent on his own, although for a very different reason. He roused himself with a small bow. ‘You look wonderful.’
‘Do I?’ Selina’s tone was doubtful, her insecurity plain. ‘I feel...somewhat strange.’
‘You don’t look it. Here, see for yourself.’
Edward stepped to one side, revealing an elaborate mirror standing against a wall behind him. He watched as Selina approached it slowly, cautiously—and then couldn’t hide his smile as her mouth dropped open in naked shock.
‘That cannot be me!’ She gaped at her reflection, standing stock-still in front of the glass. ‘That doesn’t look anything like me!’ She stared, a combination of wonder and horror mingling in a vivid expression that lit up her face as though the sun shone behind it.
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘I—I’m not sure.’ Selina turned slowly, tracking her movement in the mirror. ‘It’s just so strange!’
She had never looked more beautiful. That was the only thought that rang through Edward’s mind as he watched her turn this way and that, surrounded by a ring of entranced dressmaker’s assistants. The loveliness of her face and the exquisite shape of her in the luminous cream gown eclipsed them all.
He could scarcely speak, and he certainly couldn’t look away. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him, muttering some kind of warning—but against what? Falling for the charms of this Roma girl who had, quite accidentally, charmed him already? He was powerless to resist, and now he was powerless to deny it.
It happened before he could stop himself. One moment he was merely standing in front of Selina, having stepped forward to help her with the fastening of a gilt bracelet around one wrist, the next her hand had found its way into his own and he had lifted it to his lips. And then he had pressed a kiss to the smooth skin of her knuckles and she hadn’t pulled away.
The rest of the room seemed to fall back as they gazed at each other. Selina’s lips were parted on a tiny gasp that sang in Edward’s ears and her eyes were round, the shock in them reflecting Edward’s own. For a moment there was no other reaction, and then her cheeks were suffused with a rosy blush that crept up her neck and spread across her skin, stealing over her as he stared down into her face.
Get a hold of yourself, man!
That nagging warning growled again. His heart had begun to thump a rapid tattoo against his ribs and the warmth of her slender fingers beneath his own was scalding. He was on a dangerous path, and every second that he touched her was a second closer to the weakness he had always feared.
He released her hand. She drew it back to the safety of her body, holding it against herself with the other. But it hadn’t been the lightning-fast movement of rejection, as it had been when he’d proposed and she had ripped her hand from his as though his touch were made of flame, and the horror of that night was missing from the complex expression he now saw dancing in her eyes.
There was no disgust there, he realised with a start; only the kind of half shy, half daring look any young woman might turn upon the face of her favourite, he having acted so boldly, and Edward felt his own eyes widen in surprise.
She was not displeased by his rash action?
Even as Selina was hustled away by the ring of delighted women Edward’s mind raced with questions. He should not have kissed her, but never in his wildest dreams would it have occurred to him she would like it. The look on her face had imprinted itself into his mind, and the silks and satins of the dressmaker’s shop dissolved into nothingness as he stood, dazed, with only the vision of Selina’s open-mouthed expression in front of his eyes.
Why had she not flinched away from him? Wasn’t his touch repulsive to her now, thanks to the intervention of her grandmother? There was no sense to be made of it, of her dizzying contrariness, and Edward cursed inwardly at his own lack of self-control. Had he not just made an already confusing situation a hundred times more unclear?
It was bad enough that he had lost his head and kissed her once before, in the quiet grandeur of Blackwell’s ballroom. He’d reprimanded himself repeatedly since then, and used it as a lesson to guard himself against venturing any further. But now he had once again been foolish, and this time it was worse. His need for Selina to feel the same rush of desire for him as he felt for her had increased tenfold, and his confusion at the intensity of that need was almost breathtaking.
The rise and fall of too many excited voices grated on his ear, adding to the cacophony of thoughts that spun through his mind, and Edward felt a sudden need to escape into silence. He wanted to think, to process what in blazes had just passed between himself and his wife, and he could no more do that surrounded by birdlike chatter than he could join in with it himself.
A handful of blind strides took him to the door, and his last glimpse of Selina as he stepped through to take a deep lungful of crisp winter air was of her blank face, still mute with the shock of his thoughtless action.
Chapter Eleven
Sweeping boughs of winter greenery were spread across every available surface in Blackwell’s entrance hall, and as Selina descended the curving staircase she saw balls of ivy hung in each of the doorways that led from it. A closer look at the little white berries that studded each one showed them to be mistletoe, and Selina felt the colour rise in her cheeks at the implication of what that implied.
Not that Edward needed one of these Christmas kissing balls to make his mark on her; that much she’d learnt already and it had been a damnably confusing lesson.
She allowed the thought to rise up in her mind for a moment as she reached the bottom of the stairs, before pushing it aside and moving through the huge front door into the snow-covered wonderland beyond. She and Edward had agreed she would spend part of the day with her people, before returning to Blackwell to take Christmas dinner with him and Ophelia, and Selina felt a curious sense of anticipation at the thought.
The weight of the small box in the pocket of her cloak acted as a constant reminder of its giver, gently knocking against her thigh as she rode in the direction of the Roma camp. With every movement her desire to know what lay within grew stronger, but she urged Djali on, watching the horse’s breath blowing out in clouds that matched the white-covered ground.
Christmas Day had dawned bright and chill, the pale sunlight powerless to thaw the icy tendrils that had hung from Selina’s window ledge as she’d looked out at the bleached beyond.
Edward had caught her just as she’d been leaving her rooms. She had clutched her gift for him under cover of her cloak and felt her palms prickle at the prospect of presenting it to him. Nerves coiling in her stomach, she avoided his gaze as they swapped parcels, hers looking so clumsily wrapped next to the neat blue box he’d deposited carefully in her hand. She had heard the note of surprise in his voice as he’d thanked her, and she had muttered a swift pleasantry of her own before escaping, feeling his eyes on her back all the way down the long corridor to the stairs.
But he has already given you the gift you truly want, hasn’t he, Lina? Another kiss. Only you would have preferred it to have been on your lips, rather than your hand...
The voice in her ear made her grimace, and she gripped Djali’s reins a little tighter. It was a low, mean thought, and she wouldn’t entertain it. And yet...
Even now, with the cold December air stinging the tips of them, she could feel the warmth that had blossomed in her fingers at the first touch of Edward’s lips, gently brushing them in a sensation so sweet it had taken her breath away. Selina could still see his head bent over her hand, low enough that she could have stroked the golden thatch of his hair, and feel the flames that had licked up her spine burst into a conflagration upon reaching her chest.
It had been as though somebody had dropped a lighted match into the bonfire of her heart.
Cantering through fields and past quaint workers’ cottages, Selina felt it again, jumping against her breastbone as though trying to break free from the cage of her ribs, the memory of Edward’s mouth against her skin the cause.
Edward’s expression had reflected what she imagined her own had shown as she’d stood, speechless, staring up into his face. He had seemed entirely taken aback by his own actions, and Selina had been able to do nothing but watch as he released her hand quickly, as though suddenly coming to his senses, and shot her a hurried, uncertain smile before retreating outside, away from her and the cluster of captivated women who surrounded her.
Had her breathless wonder shown on her face? The very idea made her burn hot with mortification. Had Edward seen the effect his kiss had had on her? Perhaps heard the gasp he had dragged from her lips or felt her sway at the sensation of his mouth on her?
He couldn’t know—he mustn’t. It was one thing to confess the truth to herself...quite another for him to be party to the maelstrom of emotion he roused in her with his touch.
But why did he behave so? the voice whispered to her again.
Selina shook her head to dispel it. There was nothing to be gained in asking why. For all that Edward’s gesture had shocked her, delighted her, robbed her of all rational thought, there could be no deeper meaning. It could not have signified so much to him as it had to her, and Selina knew it. It had surely been a spur-of-the-moment act, kindly meant, no doubt, to reassure her in what he must have known she found an uncomfortable situation.
If only she could persuade herself to listen to reason and cease replaying the moment in her mind time and time again. The pointless exercise made her chest ache with the knowledge that his kiss had meant so little to him, at the same time as it had meant so much to herself. It was a senseless torture, and one she knew she should not endure.
The line of trees that camouflaged the Roma camp hove into view and Selina took a deep breath in. She was almost there. Zillah would be waiting for her—although perhaps ‘lying in wait’ was a better phrase to describe the old woman’s watchful welcome.
The air was so cold it burned her lungs as she inhaled, long and hard, but she held it there as she approached, narrowing the distance between herself and what had once been all she’d ever known.
* * *
Edward twitched a blanket across to cover Ophelia’s sleeping form. She mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch, her arm tightening its grip on her new woollen bear, but she slept on without interruption and he smiled to himself as he moved away from the sofa in front of the drawing room fire.
In truth, he’d been waiting for this moment ever since Selina had placed the parcel in his hands early that morning, with something like shyness in her eye as she had avoided his gaze. She’d left immediately afterwards, and the whirlwind that was his sister on Christmas Day had taken all his attention since.
Now she had finally collapsed into an over-excited stupor he could retrieve the intriguing bundle from his desk drawer and take a peep beneath the inelegantly wrapped paper.
He withdrew the parcel from the desk, wondering at the soft weight of it. Whatever was contained within seemed fluid, pliable, and he half frowned in puzzlement. I didn’t think she would give me a Christmas gift. How could she afford such a thing? As far as he knew she hadn’t come into any new riches—so what had she handed to him so uncertainly?
One of his many letter openers lay on the desk top, and he slit the twine that bound the paper with its sharp edge. The printed wrapping fell open and Edward stared down at the objects in his hand with brows raised in surprise.
Four crisp white handkerchiefs nestled among the paper folds. Each was edged with intricate embroidery of a kind he had never seen before, curling into a decoration of vines and leaves, and the sides were hemmed with a slim border of fine lace. Picking one up to hold it up to the light, Edward saw as it unfolded that his initials had been carefully worked in one corner, the letters picked out in scarlet thread to gleam against snowy fabric.
The embroidered leaves glinted in the light of the fire as Edward stared at this most unexpected Christmas gift. When had Selina crafted these for him—and why?
Across the room Ophelia murmured in her sleep. Edward glanced at her, but she didn’t wake, and he propped his elbows onto the leather top of the desk. A picture of Selina sitting in her little drawing room, her face pinched in concentration as she bent over her task, rose up in Edward’s mind.
Had she worked by candlelight? he wondered. Or had she sat at the window, placing each stitch as snow had fallen the other side of the glass, her work serving to keep her slender fingers warm? Had she taken a secret pleasure in knowing she would take him by surprise with her gift? And was she even now smiling as she rode back to Blackwell in time to take Christmas dinner with him and Ophelia as they had agreed?
Edward passed a hand across his face. I thought all the progress we’d made had been ruined. Perhaps I was wrong.
He stared down at his initials, worked red on white, and traced the neat stitches with his fingers. A small bubble of hope, fragile but tentatively holding its own against the doubts that attempted to crowd it out, rose within him.
This would have taken her hours. Surely if she disliked me she wouldn’t have taken the trouble?
A sudden desire to see her washed over him and he rose quickly to his feet. She would be back soon, fresh-faced and windswept from her cold ride down to the Roma camp, and his mind buzzed with the questions he wanted her to answer.
What does this mean, Selina? Has your opinion of me changed?
Of his own feelings he was now sure. His reluctant wife had somehow, despite all the obstacles he had placed in her way, worked herself deep into the fortresses of his heart and mind, breaking down the walls he had constructed as though they were no more substantial than paper. Her face had been the head of the arrow that had first pierced his defences, but her wit, defiance and kindness had forced it through, and now he found himself vulnerable, unprotected by the armour of indifference he had cultivated for so long.
Another thought struck him and he sank back into his chair. You know you can’t really ask her any of those things. The glimmer of hope within him dimmed a little, some of its sparkle fading to grey. Even if this means she likes you a little more than before, that is still a far cry from the kind of feelings you would be a fool to believe she could ever have for you.
Edward closed his eyes briefly. The little voice inside him could be right. Even if Selina did have some small regard for him, how could it ever match the depth of feeling he would only now truly accept burned within him?
It was a painful p
rospect, and one that made him grit his teeth—but it was true, nonetheless.
How long he sat, his head cradled in his hand and staring blindly down at Selina’s gift, Edward couldn’t tell. All he knew was that for a long while the only sounds were the crackling of the flames in the grate and Ophelia’s gentle breathing, occasionally punctuated by the rustle of her new dress as she fidgeted in her sleep. His only company was his own confusing thoughts.
* * *
The little blue box had felt as though it was burning into Selina’s skin like a brand the entire time she had spent with Zillah and the other Romani, and she could hardly bear it a second longer as she rode back up the sweeping drive to Blackwell Hall.
She’d been right not to open it before. Even as the rest of the Romani had surrounded Selina, blessing her safe return and exchanging the season’s greetings, Zillah had hung back slightly, watching with all the keenness of a knowing old cat.
She had asked the question, exactly as Selina had known she would, and had looked thoughtful at the reply. Edward had not been mentioned again, although the atmosphere between the two generations of Agres women had been tense throughout their modest Christmas feast. Even now, as she cantered into the stable yard and dismounted from Djali’s wide back with the ease of many years’ practice, Selina was aware of the uncomfortable mixture of defiance and guilt that circled in the pit of her stomach at her deliberate deception.
She found Edward in his cosy drawing room, with Ophelia tucked up beneath a blanket in front of the hearth, still clutching the crimson bear Selina had knitted for her with wool unravelled from one of her own shawls. Diamanda had made Selina a similar creature when she was young, and it was a bittersweet memory that echoed now as Edward looked up from his desk at her entrance to the room.
The Marriage Rescue Page 17
