BaronAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks

by Golden, Paullett

  Lilith shook her head, setting her teacup and saucer on the side table. “I will. I must.” With a half-smile, she rose from her chair. “For now, you must rest. You can barely stay awake.”

  Her sister-in-law did not argue, merely nodded sleepily. Lilith leaned over and kissed her cheek before settling her into a comfortable slumber.

  When Lilith returned to her room, she called for Hannah to help her change. She had not worn one of her old dresses in a week. To be quite honest, she did not want to wear one now. She had only a short time remaining before she returned to Allshire, to her old life. Though she was not fond of the stays, she had grown accustomed to the new dresses. Well, only one was new, the others being Lizbeth’s old dresses, but they had been worn so rarely, they were practically new, and certainly new to Lilith. She liked them all the same.

  Walter looked at her differently when she wore them.

  No, that was not right. He looked at her the same no matter what she wore, but there was a certain brightness in his eyes, an appreciation, perhaps, when she stepped into the parlor with a new dress and coiffure. She enjoyed seeing his face brighten at her appearance.

  How silly of her. Never in her life had she been vain or given to fripperies.

  Hannah helped her out of the mussed dress and into a worn, sprigged dress of dandelion yellow. Lilith’s hair was simply styled, up, but not as fanciful as Hannah was wont to do. Much like the dresses, Lilith would miss the updos when she returned home. At first, she had felt bald without hair against her neck, but once she realized how much lighter it felt, how much cooler, she really did prefer the coiled styles, though she would never be able to replicate them on her own.

  The family was not in the parlor when she ventured downstairs. The obliging butler met her in the hallway and escorted her through the morning room to the east side of the castle grounds.

  A table had been set up outside with sweets, savories, and tea. Hazel and Mr. Trethow sat with their backs to the morning room doors and their chairs facing the lawn. Sebastian and Walter were already in play.

  As Lilith stepped out, Hazel heckled Walter about his bowl rolling a good two feet beyond Sebastian’s. Walter paid no mind. He had spotted Lilith. Though he wore a tricorn, his hand met his brow to shield against the glare of the sun. With that bright and contagious smile of his, he abandoned the green to approach her.

  All heads turned her way.

  As soon as Hazel spotted her, she stood and clapped her hands, “At last! I daren’t challenge these men without you present. Together, we shall show them never to wager against a woman. You do play, my dear?”

  Lilith returned Walter’s smile as he came to her with a bow, an enticing whiff of cologne, and a proffered arm. Taking his arm, she looked to Hazel, “I do indeed. However, you might regret having me on your team when you realize how poorly I play.”

  “Fiddlesticks! We shall make these men weak in the knees.” Hazel led the way to the green, waving over her brother.

  Mr. Trethow and Walter paired against Lilith and Hazel. Sebastian served as umpire.

  Bowls at the ready, the game commenced.

  Walter’s skill exceeded everyone present. He did not boast, rather danced a jig and flexed a forearm when each of his bowls stopped close to the jack. Mr. Trethow was a fair player, but he made a showing of faking his sneezes every time his sister released her bowl. Hazel sought revenge by poking him with the end of her lorgnette each time he lined up his shot. With such fierce competition, Lilith had no choice other than to strike their bowls with her own to give Hazel a chance to win for their team.

  Never could she recall having this delightful of a time. If this was what having a family was like, she wanted one. She wanted this family. However much of an impossibility it was, she wanted it.

  If only they never had to face the real world.

  She watched Walter throughout the game. He, in turn, watched her. The first time he caught her gaze, he appeared surprised—his eyebrows raising, posture straightening, body turning to her as though expecting to hear her speak. The second time, he flushed. The third time, his eyelids drooped, slumberous, as he eyed her curiously with a half-smile. The next time he waggled his eyebrows.

  Before long, it became a game, each outdoing the other with silly expressions. Perhaps, she should have been more genteel about her admiration of him, turning her head away as though denying she had been looking at him. Perhaps, she ought to have cast him a quick, polite, and tight-lipped smile before turning her attention to the game. Perhaps, she saw no point in doing either since she was neither genteel nor polite. And why should she not openly admire him?

  It would all come to an end when she confessed the true nature of her birth anyway, so she might as well enjoy herself.

  They played for nearly two hours, by which time the gentlemen had made a showing not only of their skill but also of their chivalry to let the women win. Between Hazel and Mr. Trethow’s antics, and her and Walter’s unusual flirtations, it would have come as a shock to her to learn anyone had concentrated on the game.

  Before offering his arm to Lilith for the return to the table, Walter removed his tricorn to sweep a hand through his curls. Such a simple movement, but Lilith’s breath caught. She wanted to run her own hand through those curls. She wagered they were soft. Ah, how could she tell him what she was when there was so much she still wanted to do and talk about with him? The longer she delayed, the more deceitful her omission would seem, but she could not bring herself to do it quite yet.

  Once back at the table, they sat to enjoy the fresh brew the butler brought. Walter polished off three sandwiches in the time it took Lilith to pour the tea.

  Mr. Trethow accepted his cuppa from Lilith and said to Walter in a heavy Cornish accent, “If ye keep eatin’ like a horse, me boy, ye’ll be as round in the middle as yer uncle.” He patted his girth for emphasis, causing Hazel to titter before hitting his arm with her fan.

  “I say, you’d better hide the sandwiches, then,” Walter joked. “If I prove myself a glutton in front of Lilith, she’ll never have me!”

  He laughed heartily until the realization of his words dawned. All at the table stilled.

  Good heavens.

  An awkward silence ensued. Walter rubbed the back of his neck, his smile now a grimace. Lilith smoothed her dress, avoiding eye contact.

  Sebastian finally spoke, his chair scraping against stone as he stood. “Anyone fancy a walk along the beach?”

  Following a collective sigh at having the silence broken, Hazel said, “If I spend another minute outdoors, I shall melt.”

  “Ye owe me a game of piquet anyway,” Mr. Trethow said to his sister. “Don’t think I’ll let ye win this round.”

  Hazel tutted.

  “I’ll join you, Roddam,” Walter said.

  Although no one looked at her, she knew their ears were perked, listening intently for her response.

  Lifting her chin, she turned to her brother. “A walk would be divine.”

  Chagrined from the verbal slip, Walter followed behind Roddam and Lilith down to the beach.

  Dash it all. There would have been no finer way to make an arse of himself. The whole family would now expect a declaration. They all knew he fancied her, but he had never spoken so presumptuously, much less in front of her or to her.

  If she was embarrassed by his words, she gave no indication, thankfully.

  He ought to take her aside, if given the opportunity, and apologize, but he was not certain he wanted to. If she was not aware of his intentions at this point, she was not very perceptive. Had she not been subtly encouraging him, he would feel far more embarrassed than he did. The point was, though, she had been encouraging him.

  Over the three weeks and odd days since her first arrival, he had had the chance to observe her, really get to know her, far and beyond the prim façade she donned. No
t that he would admit this even under interrogation, but he had wondered if they would suit. Love at first sight because of handsome features and a certain depth to one’s eyes did not mean two people would suit. In the beginning, he had so desperately wanted them to suit that he searched for every sign, every indication that they were right for each other, to the point of ignoring her harsher characteristics, namely her blunt dismissiveness of his initial advances. Had he not been attracted to her, he never would have pursued her beyond such behavior. He would have found her brusque, rude even, and certainly uninterested in him. But he had been attracted. And so, he had looked further. He was glad he did.

  Walter suspected not many saw beyond her somewhat prickly exterior or proud chin to meet the soft-hearted and good-natured woman beneath. She had a sense of humor he did not expect, and no one, after seeing her with Freya, could say she did not possess a depth of love rare in polite society. Never did she disguise the love she felt for her niece or her family. Undoubtedly, she was a rare bird. Whether it was because she grew up in an orphanage away from the strict training of ladylike behaviors, or because this was who she was in her core, he could not say. He only knew she was a rarity in a world of deceptive ennui.

  He was not so naïve to believe she shared his views in all things. He knew they saw the world differently, but that did not make them opposites. They complemented each other. He was sure she realized that as well. He may be an idealist, but that did not mean he was blind to reality, merely willing to find a way to make his dreams reality. With her at his side, no dream was beyond reach.

  As the trio walked the beach, the gap between Walter and the siblings widened, Lilith and Roddam deep in conversation.

  They should have thought to bring a shawl or cloak, for surely, she was chilled by the wind. Should he see so much as a single shiver, he would run back to the castle to fetch her wrap. He watched for indications of her feeling cold. Of their own accord, his eyes roamed her figure beneath the flimsy dress. He felt naughty to eye her outline, framed pleasingly by the practically thread-bare garment. The gold coloring of the dress shielded her body from view, but he could make out easily the slope of her waist to her hips, wide and supple hips hugged by the clinging fabric.

  She glanced back to him and stuck out her tongue before turning back to her brother.

  By Jupiter, she was flirting! Had she known the direction of his thoughts, she might not have felt it wise to flirt.

  He hastened his steps to catch up to them, searching his mind for something witty to say, something that would have her in peals of laughter. Oh, he did love her laugh. And how its velvet huskiness sent warm shivers up his spine.

  Just as he reached them, she did laugh, but not as he expected. A shriek pierced the air as Roddam lunged and tackled his sister, lifting Lilith off her feet and slinging her unceremoniously over his shoulder.

  Walter stood slack-jawed.

  “Help!” Lilith cried between laughs, her fists pummeling her brother’s back. “Walter! Save me from this brute!”

  Roddam jogged to the water, Lilith struggling against his shoulder. Before Walter had taken so much as a step forward, Roddam waded into the ocean and tossed his sister into an incoming wave.

  Walter panicked. He stripped off his boots and coat with haste and set off to rescue her. But then she surfaced, sputtering with a bark of laughter, and steadied herself in barely waist-deep water. Wet hair clumped to her face and shoulders, her coiffure undone. She splashed her brother and set off on a mission to pull Roddam into the water with her.

  Walter stood rooted, dumbfounded.

  Realizing his heroics were unnecessary, he circled back for his boots, which were now doused in sand. Instead of dressing, he carried his coat to one of the dunes and sat, one leg stretched, one bent, an arm hooked over his knee. What else was he to do? Join them? He was not so—what had she called him? Raw? Yes, that was it. He was not so raw he could leap head first into an ocean fully clothed. Call him stiff and formal, but that was not his style.

  From this vantage point, however, he could enjoy the show of Lilith and Roddam taking turns pulling and pushing each other into the waves. Had someone told him on the first day he met her that he would witness such a carefree scene, he would have called them out as a fibber. Her guard had noticeably lowered as she had stripped so many metaphoric layers since that first day.

  Removing his hat, he shook the sweat from his hair. Aside from the coastal winds, the day was warm. The sun shone high in the sky, deceptive to the rain likely to come in the afternoon. But what of the water; it must be freezing. He dared not find out for himself.

  Lilith shrieked, rising from the sea foam as Aphrodite. The pair had drifted farther up the beach, the currents leading them adrift. In a moment of lucidity, they looked back to Walter and waved. He raised his hat.

  They were both a hideous sight of clinging clothes and sopping hair. Roddam’s hair tie had come undone, and his unfashionably long mane whipped about him, making him look ferocious and feral. Lilith looked a fright. Part of her hair still clung to her head from resolute hair pins, but the rest splayed about her body like black seaweed, her straw bonnet sodden and limp, hanging sideways, held only by a determined and knotted ribbon. She wiped the locks from her eyes, pushing strands behind her ears.

  And then she was wading towards Walter, a smile stretched across her features.

  Tearing his eyes from her, he donned his hat, struggled to wedge his feet back into the sandy boots, and then hastened to stand, tossing his coat over his forearm.

  By Jove. His eyes widened. He cleared his throat.

  Her dress might as well have been transparent for how it clung to her body. As much as he wanted to gape, he averted his eyes, holding fast to her own steady gaze as she came towards him, oblivious to the irresistible temptation she presented in such a state. What he would not give to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. He would be damned if he cared that her brother looked on from afar, the heathen still splashing about in the water.

  “Only a stiff toff would look on without joining us!” She called as she approached, her eyes twinkling with merriment.

  He nearly choked on her choice of words. Stiff. Did it show? Was it obvious? He moved his arm ever so slightly to shield with his coat any possible view of his, er, stiffness.

  “Good heavens,” she said. “Relax. I was only poking fun. You look positively morose.”

  He cleared his throat and strained a smile. “I thought for a moment I might have to save you.”

  “From what? Sebastian or the water?”

  “Both.”

  She chuckled, wrapping her arms around her torso. What a daft fool he was! Her teeth were practically chattering! Here he was worried she might notice his arousal when she was freezing to death in nothing but a soaked bit of fabric.

  Without another moment’s hesitation, he held out his coat for her. Her smile slid as she studied his expression, as though questioning his kindness, and then she held out her arms so he could wrap the coat about her shoulders. It was a good thing for them both that the coat covered her—for modesty and warmth.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft, no longer jovial.

  “Planning more sea bathing, or shall I escort you to the castle?” he asked.

  “Yes, do. My shoes are ruined, and my toes are cold. My brother is mad, don’t you think, to swim in that ocean? How he doesn’t catch his death is anyone’s guess.” She slipped her arm through his and leaned against him. “I hope I don’t ruin your coat.”

  “Nonsense. It is honored to serve you.”

  “Silly. Do you know what sounds perfect right now? A warm fire and a good book. Will you join me after I’ve dried and changed?” She looked sidelong at him, those wet strands of hair clinging in enticing ways to her cheeks.

  “I would be honored,” he said.

  “As honored as
your coat? What a pair the two of you make.”

  He laughed, wishing he were the coat at that moment considering it was embracing her curves, hugging her skin, warming her soul.

  “Walter,” she said in nigh a whisper. “I have a confession to make.”

  He looked over at her in surprise.

  “Before I make it, I want you to know I value your kindness. You have proven to me not all aristocrats are heartless. However, I’m afraid once I make this confession, our friendship will change. We are friends, are we not?”

  His heart thudded against his ribcage. He had never thought of her making declarations of affection before he did, but this seemed to him a prelude to just such a declaration.

  “Yes, I hope you consider me a friend, Lilith. You must know I esteem you.”

  She walked quietly for a moment, then looked at him askance again, her eyes darkening and her expression more maudlin than he would have expected from someone about to confess attraction or love.

  “Let’s stop here, please.” She tugged at his arm, pulling him to a halt.

  He only then noticed they had reached the doorway to the curtain wall where she had kissed his cheek that early morning nearly two weeks ago. Was the door a sign? Were they about to cross a threshold wherein the rest of their lives awaited on the other side?

  Walter braced his heart for her confession, relaxing his features to reveal his hope and adoration.

  When she released his arm and turned to face him, her expression somber, he reached out to take her hand in his. It was cold to the touch, ice cold. He rubbed it between his own to warm her, hoping his liberties with her person were welcome in light of her coming confession. She did not pull her hand free, only stared at him, frowning.

  “Walter, I—” She paused, her brows furrowing.

  Her expression was not what he would expect from someone about to confess undying love. In fact, her expression worried him. His smile slipped, his own brows furrowing.