A Hero for Lady Abigail

by Dallen, Maggie

  “You did.” Without meaning too, he pulled her closer. It may have only been a fraction of an inch but with the move, he could feel her heat seep through his clothes even as her scent wrapped around him.

  “Regardless of my feelings about Charlotte, I feel for her position. The need to be the best, to outshine all the others.” She gave her head a little shake at whatever memories she was facing. “Don’t be fooled by a young lady’s pretty smiles, Major, but try not to judge their bad behavior too harshly either. Behind the smiles and the fans, there’s a fierce competition underway.” Her smile was wry. “I should know. I succumbed to the pressure more than once and it wasn’t the most attractive look. In fact, many might tell you that I’m rather hard and cold.”

  He drew in a deep breath even as he dropped his head closer to see the look in her eyes. Didn’t she understand that her very admittance proved to him that she wasn’t cold or hard in the least? The fact that she understood her transgressions, regretted them, showed Alex that she was not only capable of change but that she was transforming already. “Really, you feel quite warm to me.”

  She gave a small laugh, and he bent even closer, his nose brushing the tip of hers.

  She gasped, her hands tightening on his shoulders. “Major.”

  His lips were only a breath away from hers and he wanted to kiss her but not with his title on her lips. “Alex. My given name is Alexander, but all my friends and family call me just Alex.”

  She softened further into his embrace, her torso brushing his. “Alex.”

  It was his name on her lips that finally did it. He leaned closer and, if he wasn’t mistaken, she did as well, their chins slowly tilting until their lips brushed.

  Sensation coursed through him at the small touch and he drew back only to press his lips to hers again. Her lips were achingly soft and her breath sweet as it mingled with his.

  Alex had never experienced the like, and something in that moment shifted. Everything he’d told himself he wanted fell to the wayside, the dreams of a wounded warrior. The touch of this woman’s lips, the feel of her hands clasping him tight—this was the home he craved. This right here was the passion and the joy, the laughter and the connection, the understanding and the partnership.

  He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, staking his claim and reveling in the feel of her answering kiss as her lips clung to his, seeking more. With her it would always be more. She would challenge them both to strive harder, to be better. That was who she was.

  She was his home. His second chance at life. And she belonged with him, here in his arms.

  He wrapped his arms around her tighter, crushing her to him as if he might never let go. She was his and he was hers, he had no doubt about it.

  Now he just had to make sure she knew it.

  10

  Sweet warmth flooded Abigail’s veins and her mind was a delicious blank. For the first time in forever there was no plan, no scheme, no tactics.

  Abigail forgot how to think.

  Her world was only filled with sensations. Intoxicating, thrilling sensations that made her limbs feel weak and her belly heavy. His arms were so tight about her, the heat of his body wrapping around her in a heady cocoon. Never in her life had she felt so safe. So cherished. The way his lips moved over hers, it was as though she were precious.

  She’d never been kissed like this, and to be honest she was fairly certain she’d never been kissed at all. Those quick stolen pecks she’d received from suitors past could hardly compare to this.

  His lips were warm and firm as he guided her deeper into the embrace, his grip on her sure and tight. The kiss was like their dances together. Effortless. Perfect.

  I wish it would never end.

  The thought broke through her mindless state, and like a spell being broken in a child’s tale, the moment ended abruptly.

  “Alex?” A voice called his name and he froze. His muscles tensed beneath her hands and then he was turning, tucking her behind him. “Alex, is that you? Whatever are you doing on the side of the woods—” Lord Arundel’s voice came to an abrupt halt. “Oh. I, uh...I did not realize you had a companion.”

  “Lady Abigail?” Marigold’s voice was awash with shock.

  Abigail closed her eyes against a wave of embarrassment. Not only had Lord Arundel witnessed her kiss, but his wife, Lily’s best friend, had also seen their stolen kiss.

  “Max. Marigold.” Alex’s voice was tight as he greeted them. “Lady Abigail was kindly assisting me with an errand.”

  Abigail stepped out from behind Alex, a small smile plastered to her face out of sheer habit. Caught kissing a man who was not even courting her. How very amusing, she hoped her smile said as her mind replayed two words over and over. An errand. Abigail was helping him with an errand. The words sounded so ludicrous she nearly winced.

  Why on earth would he have hidden her from view if this were a simple errand? No one with half a lick of sense would take this scene to be anything other than what it was. A stolen embrace.

  That was surely what Lord Arundel and his wife were thinking. Indeed, Marigold’s thoughts gave her away in a heartbeat. Her eyes wide, her lips parted, her cheeks pink—she looked positively scandalized.

  Well, at least I’m not boring. It seemed even when attempting to be on her best behavior, Abigail still had the ability to make a wallflower blush. The thought did little to assuage her pride and embarrassment still slithered through her like snakes.

  “I thought you were meant to be escorting Miss Charlotte this morning,” Max said, confusion and something insultingly close to horror in his eyes at the sight of his friend with Abigail.

  She stiffened, her shoulders going back and her chin coming up high. She was a duke’s daughter, for heaven’s sake. Certainly Major Mayfield could have done worse.

  Marigold’s still-horrified expression seemed to belie the thought. Her gaze screamed, mistake! Clearly in Marigold’s opinion Major Mayfield had made an egregious error.

  Really, the girl was as good as an open book.

  Abigail took a step back toward the calm safety of her horse as she half-listened to Alex explain about the ripped gown and her offer of assistance.

  “That’s very sporting of you, Lady Abigail.” Lord Arundel’s’s voice was filled with suspicion.

  Abigail turned to her horse and pulled the cloak from her saddle bag. With little else to do, she made a show of adjusting the side saddle so she could get back to riding. Preferably her ride would take her far, far away. To another country, perhaps.

  Silence filled the air, but she wasn’t about to justify her actions to Lord Arundel. But no one else stepped in to fill the silence either.

  “Yes, well, it seems my good deed has been done for the day,” she said, turning back with a feigned calm, as she handed Alex the cloak, that smile brittle but fixed in place. She could feel Alex’s eyes on her, but she kept her smile aimed at their host and hostess who were now staring at her like she was a viper about to strike. “If you’ll excuse me…”

  She turned back to her horse, but Alex caught her arm. “Don’t go just yet,” he murmured.

  She spoke to him through that frozen smile. Afraid that if she let it go she’d never be able to summon it again. Terrified that if she let her emotions off the tight leash she was holding, she’d lose her composure entirely. “I hardly think you need my assistance delivering the cloak, Major.”

  “Abigail—”

  “You’d best hurry, Major Mayfield.” She kept her voice loud enough for the others to hear.

  Now that her mind was functioning again, it was working hard to make up for lost time. Each realization was worse than the last and if Alex didn’t let her ride off soon, she would very definitely lose her composure.

  As it was, her hands on the reins shook as she accepted his assistance back into the saddle. How much had Lord Arundel and his wife seen? What must they be thinking? Why had he kissed her?

  Or had it been she who kissed him? S
he couldn’t remember now who had leaned in first and a panicky sensation in her chest made it hard to catch her breath.

  “Abigail?” His voice was soft, the question clear. “Are you all right?”

  But what could she say? No? She was all too aware of their audience, and no matter which way she turned this in her mind, it always looked the same.

  Their hosts must have known they’d shared a kiss—an intimate moment, at the very least. All while he was supposed to be escorting another young lady. A good, proper girl who Alex intended to court. Even now she could hear them talking softly to one another.

  It didn’t take much imagination to know what they were saying.

  He wasn’t hers. He was meant for another. And the manipulative, beastly Lady Abigail had come along and snared him.

  Her heart gave a violent kick, and her inhale was embarrassingly audible as she gasped for air. She needed space. Distance. If she was going to sort this out, she needed to get far, far away from the confusing presence of Major Mayfield. Alex.

  “Abigail, please, don’t rush off. Let me deliver the cloak and then—”

  “I will not sit here and wait for you,” she said in a low voice. “It’s bad enough that they think I—that we—that you—”

  “That I kissed you?” He leaned forward until his face was directly underneath hers so she was forced to meet his gaze. His warm, wonderful, laughing gaze. “I can think of worse fates.”

  “Yes, well, you’re a man,” she said. Her voice sounded hard and cold. It was this or fall apart weeping and she was not one to weep. Ever. Lady Abigail did not cry.

  “I’ll explain matters to them,” he said, his voice growing more gentle, which only made her want to cry that much more. “You have nothing to fear.”

  “How shall you explain that the dreadful, manipulative duke’s daughter kissed you while you were off being the gallant knight for a damsel in distress?”

  “Abigail.” His voice hitched with laughter and his tone was gently chiding. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

  Do I? She looked away. This conversation would do no good. It changed nothing. Appearances aside, her insides twisted mercilessly every time she thought of the fact that he was courting another.

  She might have her faults—all right, fine, she had many. But stealing other ladies’ suitors was not one of them. She swallowed as she looked down at her still-shaking hands. Or it hadn’t been until just now.

  “Abigail, please, about Charlotte—”

  “Alex, shall we take the cloak back to Miss Charlotte for you?” Marigold called out. “It seems we’re interrupting and—”

  “You are not interrupting,” she said, far harsher than intended. All three of them blinked at her in surprise.

  She supposed the sweet, kind, mousy Marigold didn’t get snapped at often.

  One more strike against Lady Abigail.

  “I’ll be off,” she said, speaking loudly enough for all to hear. “Major, you’d best get that cloak to Miss Charlotte. She’s waiting on you.”

  He opened his mouth as if to protest but one look at her expression had him nodding. He lowered his voice for only her to hear. “We need to finish this conversation, Abigail. Meet me later. Please.”

  She drew in a deep breath, her insides trembling as badly as her hands.

  “Please,” he said again.

  She felt her heart soften at the tone. “Fine. I’ll be in the library before dinner.”

  He nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

  Abigail took off like the hounds of hell were chasing her. She rode until the sun began to set and the air turned crisp and her hands frigid. If only that insipid Miss Charlotte wasn’t currently wearing her cloak, she might have stayed out even longer.

  As it was, the sun was low in the sky when she reached the stables, and the grounds of the manor were cast in a purple hue. The shadows outside the stables were so long when she left it, she nearly bumped right into Marigold.

  Oh no. Of all the people she least wished to see.

  “I was hoping I hadn’t missed you,” Marigold said softly.

  Of course she’d said it softly. Abigail just barely held back a sigh. Everything about Marigold was soft, from the look in her eyes to the tone of her voice to her oh-so-tender heart.

  It was an effort not to roll her eyes. Heaven spare her from sweet and gentle wallflowers. They were as different a breed from Abigail as a fellow lady could be.

  “To what do I owe the honor?” she managed with a rueful smile.

  They both knew why Marigold sought her out. There could only be one reason a quiet little thing like Marigold would go out of her way to confront the villain.

  “It’s just…” Marigold wrung her hands together, her pretty brow furrowed. “I’m concerned about Major Mayfield, is all.”

  And there it was. Marigold had summoned up her courage in an effort to save her friend from the likes of Abigail.

  Abigail let out a long sigh as she started toward the main house, Marigold falling into step beside her. “How very kind of you, Lady Arundel.”

  Marigold gave a little unladylike snort. “I feel quite certain we are well acquainted enough for you to call me Marigold.”

  “Well acquainted.” Abigail repeated the words slowly, rolling them on her tongue, a touch of amusement flickering despite the gloom that had fallen over her as her long ride had helped her come to a rather grim conclusion. She cast Marigold a sidelong glance. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

  Marigold didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I know that there is a lot of...history between us. Or rather, between you and Lily—”

  Now it was Abigail’s turn to give an unladylike snort of amusement at the understatement.

  “And I’ll admit that those bad feelings have led to some...tensions between us,” she continued.

  “My goodness, Marigold, you truly are a wonderful diplomat. Perhaps you missed your calling by marrying the marquess.”

  She laughed and the sound was shockingly genuine. “Trust me, being the wife of marquess requires more diplomacy than I could have ever imagined.”

  Abigail smiled at the rare display of candor. “I imagine you’re right.” With another sidelong glance, she added, “He’s fortunate to have you.”

  Marigold blinked over at her owlishly.

  “What is it?”

  “That sounded almost...sincere,” Marigold said.

  “It was.”

  “Oh.”

  Abigail’s posture felt absurdly stiff under Marigold’s watchful gaze, but really...was it so very difficult to imagine that she might be capable of a kind word now and again?

  Apparently so.

  She came to a sudden stop and turned to face Marigold. Weary exhaustion had her out of patience. The ride had been taxing, yes, but mostly it was her thoughts that had left her feeling worn and ragged.

  “Coming here was a mistake,” she said now. “I understand this, and I apologize for adding any stress to the lovely weekend you had planned for your guests.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. She just wanted this conversation over with. The sooner she ended any speculations, the better. “I understand completely why you sought me out, Marigold.” Her gaze met the other woman’s evenly and she nearly flinched at the gentle kindness there. This was the type of woman Alex ought to be with.

  She forced a smile she did not feel. “You need not fret, Marigold. I understand that Major Mayfield has intentions toward Miss Charlotte, and I will not stand in the way.”

  Marigold frowned. “You won’t?”

  She lifted a shoulder as if the thought of Alex with Charlotte was not ripping her insides to shreds. “He deserves the very best.” She pursed her lips a bit as she thought of Charlotte. “Perhaps Charlotte will be the sort of woman he deserves, with some guidance and maturity. But if not her, then I am sure he will choose wisely.”

  Her smile was determinedly b
rilliant when she met Marigold’s wary gaze again. “So, I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me.”

  “Oh.” Marigold’s furrowed brow remained furrowed and she made no move to start walking again. “Lady Abigail—”

  “I thought we’d agreed titles were not necessary.”

  “Very well,” Marigold said. “Abigail. I did not come out here to lecture you on Major Mayfield. I merely wanted to make sure your intentions were good.”

  Abigail cut her off with a short, humorless laugh. “Isn’t that normally the line of a young lady’s father?”

  Marigold shrugged, undeterred. “Perhaps. But Alex has always been so good to me, and he is such a dear friend to Max…” She wet her lips and Abigail could see her brain at work, searching for the right words. “I know it is not my place to intervene in his...pursuits.”

  Abigail arched a brow in amusement at the word. Truly, the marquess had found himself quite the tactful partner. And for a shy little mouse, she was displaying an impressive amount of spine this evening.

  “But the thing is,” Marigold said on a rush of air. “Alex is so very...good. I’m certain he’s only capable of seeing the good in others. Which is a wonderful trait, of course, but I do fear that perhaps it could be a detriment if he were to place his heart in the wrong hands.”

  Abigail studied the other woman, temporarily torn between irritation on Alex’s behalf, indignation on her own, and admiration at Marigold’s temerity.

  Marigold met her gaze evenly, and that gentle kindness was tempered with a steely determination Abigail had never noticed before. “I do not wish to see him hurt, Abigail.”

  Abigail nodded, her heart swelling dangerously as the thought of Alex. Of him being hurt by the likes of her.

  No. She did not wish that either. And that was what would happen, because Marigold was right. Oh, not about everything. Alex was far stronger and more perceptive to a person’s true character than she gave him credit. But she was right about how kind he was. How very good.

  And she was right to fear Abigail. If that encounter over the cloak earlier had proven anything it was that she could not be trusted. Had he initiated the kiss or had she? Had she flirted too much or said too many unkind words about Charlotte?