by Cheryl Bolen
“I— He wants...” She clenched her fists and a sound of frustration rumbled deep in her throat. "Why are you carrying on about this? No one is asking you to marry Sir Edmund."
"I don't trust him,” Phillip said, “and I will not leave Orion in your care when I am called to duty if you marry him."
A furious blush had invaded her cheeks, and her eyes appeared nearly black. If he could recall his words, he would do so immediately. The ultimatum had been an act of impulsivity.
She narrowed her eyes. "If you truly cared about your Orion, you wouldn't take him to an army camp. It is too dangerous for a little dog. You are only thinking of yourself. Why am I arguing with you? You are impossible.”
She pushed from the chair and tripped over his legs in her haste. He bolted from the footstool and caught her around the waist before she fell. Her weight settled against him, her breasts flattened on his chest. His hand rested on the small of her back; his fingers unintentionally splayed on the swell of her bottom.
A familiar tightening invaded his lower belly. He'd have a raging cockstand in a matter of seconds. She didn't pull away; he didn't release her.
Her lips were very close. If he tilted his head, he could taste them. Her gaze was locked with his, her breath ragged.
Desire for her thrummed in his ears, through his veins, pumping hard in his chest. He placed his mouth to her ear, longing to capture the velvet button lobe gently between his teeth and coax a sigh of pleasure from her. "I could give it up for you," he murmured. "Sell my commission to keep from worrying you."
His suggestion startled him, but as soon as he heard himself speak the words, he knew it was true. The heaviness he always carried inside him lifted. He was weary of war and ready to make a home with a beautiful, spirited woman like the one he held in his arms.
He heard her swallow hard. A slight pressure from her fingertips cooled his ardor. He eased away and released her.
"It is late," he said. "I shouldn’t keep you. "
She wet her lips. "Will you be joining us for breakfast again?"
Perhaps she dreaded facing him in the light of day, or maybe she feared her mother seeing them together and realizing something improper had occurred tonight. A need to protect her welled inside him.
"I am accustomed to lighter fare," he said. "I had planned to break my fast in my chamber."
She exhaled as if she'd been holding her breath waiting for his reply. He imagined a shadow of disappointment pass across her eyes, but it had to be a trick of the light. She tightened the sash of her wrapper. When she spoke, her tone was clipped. "Tomorrow in the meadow then. We agreed to nine o'clock."
Do you want to see me again? The question stuck in his throat. If he asked it, he must accept her answer, and he wasn't prepared for an end to their association.
He busied himself with removing the lamp chimney to light her candle. When he opened the secret door to escort her to her bedchamber, she reached for the candleholder. He relinquished it.
"I know the way." She stepped into the tunnel, closed the door, and slid the lock into place.
Chapter 8
Ammie slept poorly after her midnight adventure with Major Rowland. Disorienting images and a sense of urgency had hounded her in her dreams. She'd climbed from bed that morning in a drowsy haze with just as many unanswered questions as she'd had after fleeing his chamber.
He offered to give up his career for me.
No matter how many times she had relived the moment word for word, she couldn’t make sense of it. If he sold his commission, she would no longer have a reason to protest him taking Mr. Perkins away. Perhaps she would never see her dog again. Major Rowland had rendered her only weapon useless with the ease of a whisper.
He had won the battle.
Why, then, had he held her close, gazing at her as if only she could quench a thirst in him she couldn't fully comprehend? Was everything a tactic designed to lower her guard, a type of emotional warfare? Surely, he wouldn't be so coldhearted and cruel.
Please, let his intentions be pure. Please.
Last night she had discovered that she had no defenses against a man who caused her pulse to race with his nearness, and being wedged into the back seat of a six-person sleigh with him currently wasn't helping.
"Yaw!" Her older brother Julius snapped the reins, driving the horse faster.
The sleigh flew over a snowy hill, and for a terrifying moment, Ammie and Mr. Perkins were airborne. She squealed, hugging the dog against her chest. Her bum landed hard on the seat.
Major Rowland's scowl was as fierce as she'd ever seen. "Have a care, or I will commandeer the sleigh." He barked the order like a man accustomed to being obeyed, but Julius had been born with a reckless and wild streak that refused be tamed by anyone.
Her older brother flicked a glanced over the seat and smirked. "Calm yourself, Major. I am in full control."
Laurel shared the front seat with Julius; Hugh was tucked between them. Ammie's twin reached around their youngest brother and pinched Julius's ear.
"Faith, Laurel!" He jerked free of her punishing grip. "Do you want us to wreck? You are worse than Mrs. Turner."
"And you learned nothing from our contrary nanny," Laurel shot back. "Show some respect for your elders and slow down."
Not one to be left out of any ruckus, Hugh tugged off his mitten and grabbed for his older brother's hat, knocking it askew.
"Watch it, runt." Julius resettled his hat. "I have no qualms about leaving you behind."
Ammie’s siblings bickered in the front seat, but Julius eased back on the reins.
The major's scowl faded as he scratched behind the dog's ears. When he lifted his gaze toward Ammie, his indigo blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "Was your sister implying I am old?"
Her mouth was dry, and her lips didn't want to work properly.
"How old are you, Major?" Hugh asked, saving Ammie from having to respond.
William, who sat on Ammie's right, leaned forward to see around her, his jaw working back and forth while he studied the major. "I think old enough to have a wife," he said eventually. "Why haven't you married yet?"
Major Rowland's eyes twinkled with a hint of good humor. "Perhaps answering questions posed by nosy lads has left me no time for courting."
Ammie was too distracted by the thrilling swoop in her belly anytime the major looked at her to join in the playful banter. Since they had set off from Everly Manor, she'd been teetering between wanting to dance with joy and a fear of tossing up her accounts. It really could go either way. Had her parents known about her budding attraction to Major Rowland, she doubted they would have planned this morning’s outing.
Yesterday, someone had seen her and the major together, so their daily walks had been cancelled. Mama and Papa were determined to silence any rumors of an agreement existing between Ammie and Major Rowland before her real suitors became discouraged. Nevertheless, her parents were sympathetic to her plight and wished to help, which is how Ammie, the major, and her four siblings came to be spending the day at the cottage by the lake—a quarter of an hour ride from the manor house.
Hidden from prying eyes, Mama had said with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows.
In her parents’ minds, they were allowing Ammie one last chance to persuade the major to leave Mr. Perkins with her. She looked at it as an opportunity to find clarity, and she was looking forward to spending the day away from Everly Manor.
The lake cottage had always been Ammie’s favorite among her father’s properties. She often spent summer days reading or dreaming up her own stories on the grassy bank beneath an ancient Ash tree. Over the years, the house had provided refuge from the chaos that often erupted at the family home with too many occupants and not enough space to breathe. Papa seemed to understand Ammie's need for solitude best, and often kept her siblings from disturbing her when she wished for time alone.
As soon as Julius stopped the sleigh in front of the cottage, Hugh scrambled over Laurel an
d raced toward the front door. “I’ll find the skates.”
“He cannot find the nose on his face,” William said before sauntering after him.
Ammie lowered Mr. Perkins to the floor, and he leapt from the sleigh. As he dashed around the snow-covered lawn, he stopped every few feet to sniff a bush or tree stump. He was a regular visitor to the cottage and followed the same routine every time.
“I think he loves this place as much as I,” she said to the major. “I will miss it when I leave home.”
He smiled kindly. “I hope you will be allowed to return often.”
With the manor house full of guests, every servant had been called to duty, leaving the small stable unmanned. Major Rowland’s training and comfort with horses was evident as he unharnessed the mare from the sleigh.
“I will see to her now,” Julius said and led the mare toward the barn.
Ammie and her sister were left alone with the major. Laurel exchanged a look with her, silently coaxing Ammie to take the lead. She mentally grappled with finding something clever to say, but words failed her. When the silence was becoming awkward, Laurel rescued her.
“Do you know how to skate, sir?”
“I did when I was a boy, but I haven’t been on the ice for years.”
Ammie piped up. “Skating is a skill you never forget.” She felt proud of her ability to string several words together without them sounding like gibberish.
“I hope that is true, Lady Ambrosia. A broken leg would pose a problem at the Christmas ball.”
“Balderdash! You don’t need two good legs to brood at the back of the room, sir.”
"Me, brood? Never."
"Hmm, I must have mistaken another gentleman for you at charades last night. The poor man looked miserable."
He grinned. "Perhaps he has no skill for charades and didn’t wish to embarrass himself. I expect he is an accomplished dancer, though. I imagine his mother made certain he received the best instruction available."
She laughed softly, the erratic flutters in her belly lessening as they settled into a comfortable banter. "In that case, I hope he asks to sign my dance card. It is often a challenge to find a gentleman with any skill for dancing."
"How could he resist? I suspect it has been a long time since he has stood up with a lady, and he intends to make the most of the opportunity."
Ammie lapsed into silence. She didn’t much like the thought of him dancing with other ladies.
Laurel picked up the conversation. “Here they come—William and Hugh. Shall we put your skill on the ice to the test, Major?”
After the heavy snowfall two nights earlier, the servants had cleared a large circle on the ice. Hugh and William loved skating, and it was in everyone's best interests to encourage their passion. Tired younger brothers became well-behaved younger brothers.
Julius returned from the stable when Ammie, Laurel, and the major were moving onto the ice. William and Hugh had hurried through strapping the blades to their boots and were chasing each other around the circle.
Major Rowland seemed a little unsure on skates at first. When his feet tried to get away from him, he thrust out his arms to regain his balance. "Whoa!"
She chuckled. "You are not on a horse, sir."
"I am well aware, fairy."
Ammie skated a wide circle around him to avoid their skates becoming tangled if he took a spill. "Surely, you are not too old to remember what you are doing."
His glower was comical given he was as unsure on his feet as a newborn colt. "I am one and thirty. You tell me, does that make me too old for you?"
Her body flushed with heat. She had wondered at their age difference, although she had only meant to goad him into trying harder. "You are doing a fine job," she murmured.
He was gentlemanly enough not to draw notice to her change of subject. Soon his body seemed to recall the feel of balancing on the thin blades. She took his hands when it appeared he was no longer in danger of falling and skated backwards slowly, providing instruction and praise as he grew more accustomed to the movement.
Hugh and William flew by several times while leaving enough space for Ammie to teach the major without fear of a collision. Even Laurel and Julius kept their distance.
After completing a lap around the circle, Major Rowland was steadier on his feet. "I think I am ready to try it on my own," he said.
"Perhaps it is better if I stay close for a couple of turns to guard against that broken leg."
"Very wise, my lady."
She spun so they were facing the same direction. "Last night you were calling me Ambrosia. Are you having second thoughts about our friendship?"
He must feel it, too—this electric current tethering them to one another. To call it a friendship sounded like a mockery, but she lacked the courage to acknowledge the truth.
He slanted a wary look in her direction. “About last night...”
Oh, dear. She placed her hand over her thumping heart to keep it from breaking free of her body.
“Faith, Ambrosia.” He forcefully exhaled and removed his hat to push his hand through his hair. “My behavior was unacceptable. I never should have said what I did about Sir Edmund or thrown down the gauntlet. I might not like the gent for you, but I will not keep your Mr. Perkins from you if you choose Sir Edmund.”
She reached out to stop his forward momentum and turned to face him. "I’m sorry, too. I overreacted, and you were right to call my attention to what Sir Edmund was doing. It was sneaky and dishonest of him, although I do not believe he meant any harm.”
His eyes shuttered. "As I said, I will not stand in the way of your happiness.”
A lump formed in her throat. Was he trying to tell her to look elsewhere for love? It certainly felt as if he was pushing her away.
"I thought maybe." She swallowed around the hard knot crowding her throat and tried to gather her courage. She lost it at the last second. "It is Christmas. Perhaps we can enjoy one another's company for an afternoon without discussing our dog."
"I think it is possible." An easy smile spread across his face, the warmth of it filtering into his eyes. "My friends call me Phillip. Perhaps you would do me the honor of using my given name, too."
“Yes, Phillip, I will.”
Chapter 9
An ache had taken up residence in the middle of Phillip's chest after the small ice skating party returned to Everly Manor, and he said good-bye to Ambrosia. After spending the entire day together yesterday, he felt the loss of her company more keenly.
He only had himself to blame for her parents curtailing their daily walks to exercise the dog, but he had taken the honorable path. His conscience had demanded he shield Ambrosia from any unpleasantness or speculation, so he'd warned her parents about them having been seen together. Lord and Lady Seabrook's decision hadn't come as a surprise, but it was a blow all the same.
And he truly ached.
The hurt was soul deep and steeped in urgency, as if he couldn't be near her again—now—he might come apart. Therefore, he'd pushed aside his discomfort with large gatherings to join a group of carolers intent on serenading the neighbors.
He’d counted thirty-four singers brave enough to venture into the cold night before they set off from Everly Manor.
Ambrosia was the only one who mattered.
He walked alongside her, the sound of crisp snow crunching beneath thirty-four sets of boots underscoring happy chatter. Servants walked alongside the guests with lanterns raised to light the way.
"I wouldn't have pegged you for a songbird, Major Rowland," Sir Edmund piped up from his place at Ambrosia's other side.
Phillip tempered his response. Instead of telling the intruder to shut his trap so Phillip could forget he was there, he said, "I am a man of hidden talents."
He didn't have a voice to make angels weep, but he'd been told it was pleasant enough.
Sir Edmund's laugh held a hint of mockery. "Do enlighten us, Major. What gifts do you possess aside from your obviou
s talent for warfare? You are a war hero, are you not?"
Phillip's spine stiffened. Inevitably, someone who had no sense of what it meant to fight for England wanted to make light of war. He'd been the same at one time, romanticizing patriotism and acts of heroism.
Ambrosia turned toward Sir Edmund. "I believe Major Rowland used the word hidden, because he doesn't reveal his talents to everyone. Do you have any special skills, sir?"
Sir Edmund puffed out his chest. "I am a member of the Four Horse Club."
"A useful skill, indeed," Ambrosia said. "I wouldn't know the first thing about driving a barouche. Well done, sir."
Phillip clamped his lips tightly, stewing. Must she sound so admiring?
"My brother Julius is a member."
"I have seen him at meetings." Sir Edmund practically crowed over stealing her attention. "His bays are exquisite. Their strong trot is enviable. I would give my left arm for an introduction to the breeder."
Ambrosia tittered as if he was the cleverest man she had ever met. Phillip's scowl deepened.
"An appendage will not be necessary, Sir Edmund. Julius would be happy to provide a letter of introduction." She called her brother's name. "May I intrude a moment?"
Lord Julius, who had been engrossed in flirting with a seasoned widow, kissed her hand and promised to find her later. His easy smile appeared genuine as he approached. "How may I be of service, dear sister?"
"Sir Edmund was admiring your horses. I understand you and he belong to the same driving club. Perhaps you could tell him more about your breeder now."
"Splendid. Shall we?" Her brother clapped a strong arm around Sir Edmund’s shoulders and dragged him away. "Nothing gets my blood flowing faster than talk of horseflesh."
Phillip detected a note of sarcasm from him, most likely aimed at his sister and her inopportune timing. Nevertheless, Lord Julius obliged her request and ignored Sir Edmund's subtle protest.
"Should we discuss this later, my lord?"
"No no, you aren't a bother in the least." Lord Julius spoke quickly, making it impossible for Sir Edmund to interject without appearing rude, and widened the gap between his sister and her suitor.
