BaronAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks

by Golden, Paullett

  Reading her mind, as he often did, he cupped the back of her head in his palm and tilted his head to cover her mouth with his. When his lips met hers, partially open, soft and moist, she inhaled deeply the scent of sweat, earth, and man, the heady aroma of a gentleman who had worked in a garden to show his devotion to her. She ran her hands up his muscled chest and over his shoulders, combing her fingers through his curls, the edges of his scalp damp from sweat.

  Walter brushed her lips with his. With a touch of his tongue to the inside of her lips, he tasted her. If she tasted like him, then he would be savoring the sweet flavor of cinnamon biscuit.

  As quickly as it began, he leaned away from her, his hand slipping from the back of her head to cup her cheek. He took a larger step back, freeing himself from her embrace.

  Her body ached.

  “You’re exquisite, Lilith. Inside and out, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He gazed at her with adoration. “Don’t take another step in my direction, or I’ll have to kiss you again.”

  She took the step.

  With a groan, he wrapped his arms about her waist and lifted her against him until she stood on her tip toes. His mouth met hers, open and needy. His tongue thrust between her lips in hungry exploration, and she matched his fervor with her own. As his tongue suckled and caressed hers, her hands roamed his torso to feel the muscles of his arms, the muscles of a Corinthian who enjoyed manly sports. She trailed her fingers over the top of his chest. The hair in the vee of his shirt tickled her fingertips before her hand moved to explore his back and down to his tapered waist.

  Walter’s kiss moved from her mouth to her jaw line and down to her throat where he brushed his lips against her skin, then licked from the hollow of her throat up to her earlobe. She gasped and inched backwards until her back met the wall.

  Pulling him to her, she nestled herself between his straddled legs, surprised to feel a hardness at the apex of her thighs. How silly of her to be surprised. She may be innocent, but she was not ignorant. And yet, his desire surprised her.

  His mouth found her neck again. She turned her head to give easier access, digging her fingers into his scalp. In his arms, she felt that belonging for which she dreamed. With him, she was secure, valued, needed. She did not have to prove herself to him or earn his respect. She simply was. He desired her for who she was.

  Desiring him in return, wanting them to belong to each other, she boldly arched herself against his hardness.

  He resisted, moving back far enough to create a gap between their bodies.

  A brief hesitation and he returned to kiss her lips. Softly. Gently. Then with increased passion.

  His hand slid from her waist up until he cupped her breast. She suckled his tongue as he rubbed a thumb over her nipple. Though the fabric of her dress covered her bosom, she wore no stays. The sensation of his thumb circling and rubbing her nipple to tautness had her gasping for breath.

  She began to whimper against him, unsure what she wanted or how far he would go, but knowing she wanted more, knowing she wanted him, wanted to belong, needed to belong. Her throbbing ache wanted to be satiated.

  As she had done moments ago to him, he rubbed his hardness between her legs, teasing them both.

  And then his whimpering echoed hers.

  As if startled by his own reaction, Walter leaned away, moving the hand from her breast to the wall next to her head. He looked into her eyes, his green orbs dark with desire. He whimpered again.

  Leaning back further, he looked down between them and laughed a single ha.

  Her gaze followed his.

  Jasper was upright with his paws on Walter’s leg, whimpering for attention. She laughed to realize it had been Jasper whimpering, not Walter.

  He took a step back further still and reached down to scoop up the puppy. “I think this pup is far wiser than either of us,” he said.

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks, the reality of the moment settling into a deep embarrassment. What had come over them? What had come over her?

  He took one look at the forgotten kettle that never made it to the kitchen grate and shook his head. “As ridiculous as I’ve thought some rules, I do believe there’s something to be said about a courting couple never being left unchaperoned. I can’t apologize enough for my behavior. Uncouth of me. And I claim myself to be a gentleman.”

  He laughed as though making a joke, but she could tell from the redness of his ears and neck that he was as embarrassed as she.

  “I’m a grown woman,” she defended, “and if I want to kiss my suitor, I will.”

  Jasper licked Walter’s hand as he tried to pet the pup.

  “I’ve no complaints,” he said. “Believe me. That said, I don’t want to put either of us in a situation where we’re forced to make a decision rather than letting it be a choice.”

  Lilith crossed her arms over her chest. “Nothing will force my decision. Nothing.”

  Walter stared back at her, frowning.

  “Right,” he said. “I need to leave, Lilith. And we both know it. Will you have dinner with Roddam and me at the inn tonight?”

  She nodded, taking Jasper from him when the puppy tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

  Walter made for the parlor to put on his waistcoat. When he struggled with his coat, Lilith set Jasper on a chair and held Walter’s coat for him to slip his arms into one at a time.

  “Dash it all!” he said as she straightened his coat and brushed the dust from the sleeves, feeling like a proper valet. “I forgot to tell you. The innkeeper, Mr. Hill, mentioned this morning that the village is to host a fête in our honor.”

  “Our honor?” Lilith said, dismayed.

  “Well, our being Roddam and me.”

  “Ah. Yes, that makes sense,” she said in relief.

  “There’s to be a dance after the festivities. Mr. Hill let it slip that this has been in the works since Roddam sent the missive to book the suites, so nearly a month in the making. Sly of you not to mention it, Lilith.”

  She had not mentioned it because she had not known about it. That fact surprised her. Why would she have been excluded from the planning? She had not even been invited to join the committee. The stab of exclusion hurt. Not only was this in honor of her brother and beau, but it was her village hosting the fête and dance.

  “Your guilt is in your silence,” he said, turning to face her and donning his tricorn. “Save me a set at the dance?”

  She grinned. “It’s good you ask now because I’m sure my dance card will fill before the day ends.”

  In a swift movement, he leaned in to kiss her cheek then marched out the door.

  She followed, closing the bottom door behind him and leaning against it. As she watched him walk through the garden, she spotted two figures paused outside the gate.

  Miss Tolkey frowned, her hand on Mr. Sands’ arm. Their eyes roved from her to Walter and back again. She thanked her good luck that they had not approached the cottage during the torrid scene in the kitchen, for the kitchen was partially visible from the door. So recklessly stupid of her.

  Assuming they had come to pay her a call before the walk to Miss Tolkey’s home, Lilith waved to them. They did not wave back.

  Before Walter reached the gate, they turned and scurried down the road.

  Shrugging, she faced Jasper who remained seated, staring expectantly back at her. What was she supposed to do with a dog?

  He tucked his head between his paws, gazing up at her with round eyes and wagging tail.

  Lilith sat in the opposite chair and said, “Well, come on, then.”

  He leapt to its feet, tail vibrating. She expected he would curl up in her lap and be petted. How gravely she miscalculated. In an awkward tumble, Jasper half jumped and half fell off the chair, bounded over to her, pawed his way up her leg until she lifted him, then pranced circle
s on her lap, licked her face, gummed her knuckles, and fought the fabric of her dress.

  “If we’re going to get along, you must learn your place in the world, little one.”

  She stretched out his paws to encourage him to sit still and be petted. He fought her, gnawing on her fingers and alternately growling at her hands and licking them.

  “So, I see you will define your own place in the world. I have much to learn from you, Jasper. Well, go on, then, do whatever you’d like.”

  Jasper circled in her lap three times, and then flopped on his side and fell asleep.

  Obstinate.

  Chapter 17

  The coastal weather finally caught up to Walter, bringing with it two days of a torrential downpour to end all downpours along with a chill that seeped into his bones.

  Two wasted days. While he and Roddam had not set a definitive leave date, the plan was not to stay long. Roddam was anxious about leaving Lizbeth and his new baby, even if they were in good hands with Walter’s mother and Uncle Cuthbert. Walter had more time on his hands since his family need not return to Devon until late autumn, but he could not stay behind and court Lilith unchaperoned, especially when the narrative for visiting was to oversee the progress of the hospital, something Walter had no connection to aside from curiosity.

  His hope was for a brief courtship. It need only be long enough to convince Lilith to take the leap. They could then leave Allshire together. Perhaps a wedding near the castle for all to attend before he took her home to Trelowen. Was it too wistful for him to dream of the wedding? He hoped not.

  Ever since the heated moment they shared, he had thought of little but wedded bliss.

  One thing was for certain. He could not be left alone with her. However well he had been able to control his needs in the past, he found it difficult to do so with Lilith. Yes, in part, that inability was due to having never felt such a strong desire for someone. But it was more than that. No amount of discipline could have prepared him for how uninhibited she expressed her attraction and desire for him, not in a wanton manner, but with an innocent curiosity, a woman who knew what happened between a man and a woman but did not know what happened. And wanted to find out. With him.

  The trouble was, if she would not draw the line between them, he would have to, though he did not want to. She may have professed nothing would force her into marriage, but he worried their actions would compromise them, and he would be honor-bound to marry her. He did not want her to feel obligated. Either she wanted to marry him, or she did not. How humiliating for her hand to be forced if she did not want him as a husband.

  He scoffed. He was worried about compromising her.

  His best laid plans were foiled the second the sun shone again. While he was careful not to be alone with her or be seen again leaving her cottage unaccompanied, three moments of shared intimacy found them.

  One such moment occurred under the cypress tree on the edge of Sir Gene’s property. The two stood out of sight of her patient’s home, concealed by low-hanging branches and foliage, but the brief kiss before parting should not have happened, certainly not in so public a place.

  The second kiss happened behind the inn, an even riskier moment when Mr. Hill disappeared into the barn to collect supplies for Jasper. The moment took Walter quite by surprise. Lilith turned to snake her arm about his neck and steal a kiss, her tongue darting teasingly between his lips. Only just in time did she slide back to her place a few feet from him.

  The third kiss was in the paddock behind her cottage. Roddam remained indoors, a neglectful chaperone, while Walter and Lilith took Jasper to the back to run free, or rather to wobble free, for his puppy legs bore the unsteady gait of youth.

  It would seem they could not be trusted together, alone or chaperoned.

  Walter looked forward to the distraction of the fête. Such a place would be far too public for either of them to get into trouble. The fête would bring its own kind of enjoyment, for with it would be the evening dance. He counted down the hours until he could dance with Lilith, something he longed to do.

  For the week between the first rainy day and the day of the fête, Walter kept busy with more than just kissing Lilith. A few hours each day, he escorted her about the village or took tea or shared dinner with Roddam and her. The remaining hours of the day were his to do as he wished since she taught during the morning and completed her rounds in the afternoon. His time was spent more frivolously.

  Namely, rowing, fencing, and tea.

  Sir Gene had given Walter permission to use the lake at his discretion. Not a single morning passed when he did not take advantage of the access. His shoulders burned during the first stretch of rowing. Goodness, he was out of shape.

  One afternoon, Carmichael invited him for a bout of fencing. However much he found Carmichael a dull dog, he would not turn down the opportunity to wield a sabre. Had he known such an invitation would include tea with the sisters, he would have declined. During tea, they invited him to use their given names, Lacy and Lynda. He indulged them but did not reciprocate. Only a single touch of his arm with their slender fingers was enough to pump his blood. With ice, that was.

  What had changed since London? He recalled he had enjoyed dancing with them. Until recently, he had not known them to be cruel. But it was more than that. For all their giggles, there was nothing behind their blue eyes. Politeness still required he reserve a set each for the assembly.

  It was a good week, all in all, and Walter felt he had made progress in the courtship. All in the village knew by now his attentions were honorable, and she gave him nothing but sunny and flirtatious smiles, a far cry from the Lilith he met in July.

  The day before the fête, he was enjoying a quiet moment in the inn’s public parlor, savoring the remnants of one of Mrs. Hill’s prized pies while reading the paper.

  Mr. Sands appeared in the doorway, tugging his forelock in an embarrassingly obsequious manner.

  Dash it all.

  The man had harassed Roddam the previous morning. Walter had hoped to be spared the bother. The rector was kind enough, but there was something about him that smacked of desperation.

  This would teach Walter to sit in the public parlor rather than private dining.

  “Lord Collingwood!” the rector exclaimed, ignoring the strategically raised newspaper shielding Walter’s face. “What a splendid coincidence I should meet you here.”

  Coincidence his left foot, thought Walter.

  He had never been the type to use a quizzing glass. Not only was his eyesight impeccable, but he disliked the lofty image it afforded the wearer. Now, he wished he had a quizzing glass. Alas.

  With a grim smile, Walter folded the newspaper and set it aside, stood, and shook the man’s limp hand.

  “How do you do, Mr. Sands? Join me? I could have Mrs. Hill bring something over for you. Coffee? Tea?”

  “Lord Collingwood, you are kindness personified,” he said as he took a seat. “I would not dream of imposing, but since you are so thoughtful to think of my parched throat, it would only be courteous to accept. Tea, please. And do call me Harold. My dearest friends call me Harry, if you’d prefer.”

  Walter waved over Mrs. Hill who was all too eager to oblige, even bringing a second pie.

  The rector smiled too widely, an affectation that did not reach his hazel eyes. It was a shame the man oozed duplicity, Walter thought, not for the first time. For he could be a good looking chap otherwise.

  When Mrs. Hill brought the fresh pie for Walter and tea for two, she added enough sugar to Mr. Sands’ cup to turn the tea into liquid candy. Walter grimaced. From the worshipful gaze she cast the man, he understood the rector enjoyed his tea sweet, and she knew it. His good looks were not lost after all. Or perhaps he charmed women better than he did titled men.

  “How do you find our humble parish, my lord?” Mr. Sands asked, leaning back in
his seat, two friends sharing a coze.

  “It’s not unlike the villages in my barony. A great place to escape the hubbub of the city, to be sure.” Walter sampled a hearty helping of the pie.

  If there was one thing he had learned about Allshire, it was that the villagers were blessed with England’s greatest pie maker. Mrs. Hill knew what she was about.

  “It is to my understanding that you wish to open an orphanage,” said the rector after noisily slurping his tea.

  “I do. And possibly a foundling hospital. I’ve come, as you know, with Roddam to see the progress. Mrs. Copeland’s done impressive work.”

  “Yes, yes, all so interesting.” Mr. Sands waved a dismissive hand. “Allow me to be of service. I am the overseer of just such a facility.”

  Walter spooned another bite of pie, chewing slowly, in no hurry to respond. An exaggerated showing of silently drinking his own tea, he leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Thank you for the offer of service, but I’ve interviewed Mrs. Copeland at length. I feel confident I am well armed for the task and can think of nothing you have to offer that I need.”

  The rector’s smile tightened.

  “Yes, yes, Mrs. Copeland is a bright woman, but she hasn’t the experience I do.”

  Walter arched a brow.

  “My lord, I offer you the cunning intellect of a businessman. Planning, building, staffing, monitoring, etc. etc. a facility of this size is laborious, not to mention beneath your respected station. A man such as yourself need never sully boots or reputation by associating with the riff-raff such a facility can attract. Let the humble people worry of such things. Let a man of God whose reputation cannot be tarnished be the one to do the work on your behalf.”

  Frowning, Walter asked, “What exactly are you proposing?”

  “Instead of spending the exorbitant amount of money it would take to start from the ground up, consider joining your cousin-in-law, the revered Lord Roddam, in his patronage. I would oversee all here, and you would have the honor of knowing you’ve done right for God’s children.”