by Meara Platt
He caught her hand and held it lightly. “Stop, Sparkles. I’m worried about you.”
“You needn’t be. A girl can only take so much disappointment before she stops believing in rainbows and moonbeams and learns to toughen her heart. So don’t call me Sparkles. I’m Adelaide. That’s all. A girl nobody wants.” She leaned close to the fireplace and began to break apart the bough. “I don’t need my father. I don’t need Mr. Postings. And I especially don’t need you.” She tugged at the bough when it proved harder to tear apart than she expected.
“Bollocks,” she muttered, repeating his mild oath. “You haunted my dreams again last night, Des. So much for sleeping with this stupid thing under my pillow. It doesn’t work. It’s made a mockery of the ancient lore.”
“How so?” he asked, the hint of a smile crossing his lips, but she couldn’t be certain because tears still clouded her eyes and she couldn’t see his face clearly. All the better. He was too handsome by far.
She frowned at him. “I just told you. My dreams keep showing me you, even though Mr. Postings is the man I’m supposed to marry. Assuming he still wants me, which I doubt. Stupid lore. Stupid shattered hopes and dreams.”
“Give me that.” Desmond took the bough out of her hands and set it on a nearby table. “Let me see your hands. You’ve cut them.” He gave her no chance to protest before he withdrew his handkerchief and pressed it to one palm and then the other. “I’ll have the innkeeper bring in soap, water, and a clean cloth.”
Adelaide rolled her eyes. “Stop making a fuss. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Be quiet, Sparkles. Nobody likes a marchioness who whines.” He continued to dab at the bloody cuts on her palms.
“I told you not to call me Sparkles. And I’m not whining. Most of all, I’m most definitely not a marchioness. I’d have to be married to a marquis for–” She gasped. “But I’m not married to one. The only marquis I know made it very clear last night that he has no use for me.”
“That marquis is an idiot.”
She gazed at him in confusion. “You do realize I was referring to you.”
He nodded. “I do. I’m trying to make amends and beg your forgiveness,” he said with a wince. “That Yuletide bough doesn’t lie, so if your dreams were truly of me, then who am I to tempt fate?”
Her heart was beating so fast, she feared it might burst. “Oh, Des. It’s all right. I forgive you, but you don’t owe me marriage for hurting my feelings. I’ve been hurt by those closest to me and managed to endure. I will admit to feeling wretched right now, but I’ll recover.”
“I hope so, Sparkles. Because there’s nothing so beautiful as your smile or the glow in your eyes, and I’d never forgive myself if I was to blame for crushing that precious light out of you.” He shook his head and sighed. “A mere four days. I suppose that’s how long it takes to know one’s heart. I knew it long before that, but didn’t want to trust it or believe that I could fall hopelessly in love so fast. I never thought I would find love.”
She stopped sniffling and cast him a smile. “I don’t think it took me longer than a minute to know I’d fallen in love with you. I was smitten by the time you pulled me out of the overturned carriage and helped me down.” She stared into his wickedly appealing eyes. “But I don’t want you to marry me out of pity or a sense of duty. It doesn’t matter what the yule bough says. It doesn’t matter that you fill my dreams. What does your heart say?”
“Lots of things.” He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her shockingly close, but there was no one about, so she decided it was all right. Besides, she loved the seductively musky scent of his body and the protective strength of his muscled arms. “First, my heart is shouting that I’m the greatest fool who ever existed.” He bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips. “Second, it’s berating me for behaving like a knave and a coward toward you. What I did to you last night was unpardonable, but in my own defense, you scared the hell out of me.”
“I did?”
He nodded. “My stubborn pride wouldn’t allow me to admit to you or myself how desperately I need you in my life. So I pushed you away and hurt you instead.”
She nibbled her lip in thought. “Is that what you were doing? I didn’t understand. I thought you didn’t like me.”
“In that moment, I didn’t like myself very much. But I knew that I would deserve to burn in the fires of hell if I let that bull’s pizzle Postings claim you for himself. I could go on listing all the mistakes I’ve made, but the point is that I love you and wish to spend the rest of my life proving it to you. What do you say?”
She pinched herself to make certain she wasn’t dreaming.
Desmond continued when she didn’t immediately respond. “You hit me like a bolt of lightning. I fell in love with you the moment you flew onto my lap as we journeyed to the inn that first day. I’ve been in agony over you ever since, fighting to deny my feelings and losing every damn battle.”
He took her hands and drew her under the mistletoe. “Marry me, Sparkles. I love you.” He kissed her with all his heart and soul because nothing less would do. “I want you in my life. I want you in my arms for the rest of our lives. Will you have me?”
“Oh, Des. Yes! You know you’re the man of my dreams.” She put her arms around his neck and simply melted against him. “This is where I want to be. With you. Always.” She gazed up at him and frowned lightly. “What’s a bull’s pizzle?”
He grinned. “You’re still too innocent to know, but I’ll fix that as soon as we’re married.” He kissed her on the lips once more, his expression serious. “You’ll be my wife and under my protection. No one will ever hurt you again.”
“Des, you’re the best Christmas present a girl ever had.”
“You have it backwards, Sparkles.” They were still standing under the mistletoe, surrounded by red velvet bows and sprigs of holly in joyful display around the parlor. Snow began to fall outside the tall windows. The smell of hot cocoa wafted in from the dining room. Winter was upon them, but Desmond’s heart felt warm. He gave Adelaide a deep and tender kiss. “You’re the best gift a marquis ever had. I’m glad you love me.”
THE END
THE FARTHINGALE SERIES
BY MEARA PLATT
My Fair Lily (Regency Romance) Ewan Cameron, estranged grandson of the Duke of Lotheil, is in London because of a deathbed promise made to his father and has no intention of staying beyond his three month obligation. Nothing can tempt him to remain, not even Lily, the beautiful bluestocking determined not only to restore relations between him and his grandfather, but to turn Ewan into a proper gentleman. Ewan, proud of his Scottish heritage, refuses to admit that Lily, a blue-eyed, English girl, has claimed his heart. It doesn’t matter that his big lump of a sheepdog is madly in love with her. Nor is it significant that Ewan can always tell Lily apart from her identical twin sister. Always.
The Duke I’m Going To Marry (Regency Romance) Daffodil Farthingale is horrified to learn the man she has just rescued from ruffians outside her townhouse is none other than the notorious Duke of Edgeware. If the Chipping Way curse holds true, she’s doomed to marry the wretched rakehell. Determined to break the curse, she hastily leaves town, little knowing that the duke, equally determined to remain a bachelor, has just left town as well. With the Farthingale family and the duke’s assailants on their trail, the pair find themselves trapped in the same charming inn during a torrential rainstorm… and wind up falling in love.
Rules For Reforming A Rake (Regency Romance) Daisy Farthingale loves her family and desperately wants to make them proud of her by marrying well; however, her heart refuses to cooperate and keeps leading her to Gabriel Dayne, a man she believes is a wastrel and notorious rake. Gabriel has spent years creating his dissolute image in order to spy on Napoleon’s agents, and he isn’t about to destroy all those years of important work for a snip of a girl who’s somehow stolen his heart. We know that Daisy will find true love only by following her heart and believing in
Gabriel. However, in Regency England, a young woman had little chance to succeed on her own merits. Often, the only way to gain the respect of her family was to achieve a brilliant marriage. Daisy will be forced to make that choice, for the handsome heir to one of England’s most powerful families has offered for her hand in marriage and Daisy is feeling tremendous pressure to accept.
A Midsummer’s Kiss (Regency Romance) Sometimes love happens at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected places. Sometimes it quietly sneaks up on you, and sometimes it knocks you over on a London street, just as it happens to Lord Graelem Dayne when Laurel Farthingale’s horse runs him over and breaks his leg. Graelem has until Midsummer’s Day, a mere thirty days away to find a wife or lose a large inheritance, so when a remorseful Laurel begs his forgiveness and promises to do anything for him, he takes her up on that promise and insists that she marry him. Laurel Farthingale has no intention of becoming Graelem Dayne’s biddable bride and is furious that he’s tricked her into a betrothal. She plans to marry another, her long-time friend and childhood infatuation who is now in London to propose to her, for she’s a Farthingale and everyone knows that Farthingales only marry for love. But as she comes to know Graelem, she realizes that he may very well be the man she’s destined to love. Can he ever love her above his desire to secure his baronial fortune?
The Viscount’s Rose (Regency Romance) When Rose Farthingale is saved from the rubble of her pottery workshop, she knows that she must repay this debt to her handsome rescuer by abducting him (at his family’s desperate urging) in order to save him from the clutches of the scheming woman he is presently courting and intending to marry. But Rose never expects to be abducted with him, or to fall in love with him over the course of their captivity. Viscount Julian Emory is a secret agent of the Crown on an important mission to destroy the spy ring Napoleon has established in London. The woman he’s pretending to court is one of Napoleon’s most important spies, for only she knows the identity of the traitor within the royal inner circle. He’s purposely encouraged the courtship and marriage rumors in the hope she will make a slip and disclose the traitor’s identity, but his meddlesome family has just ruined his plans. By forcing him into close quarters with Rose Farthingale, they’ve put both his mission and this delectable innocent in danger. Can he keep himself from falling in love with Rose long enough to bring down Napoleon’s spy organization?
SNEAK PEEK
MY FAIR LILY
CHAPTER 1
Mayfair District, London
April 1818
“JASPER, YE BOLLIX! No!”
Lily Farthingale had just passed through the front gate of her family’s fashionable townhouse to turn onto Chipping Way when she heard a deep, rumbling bark, followed closely by a repeat of the man’s frantic shout. In the next moment, she was knocked to the ground by the biggest, hairiest excuse for a dog she’d ever set eyes upon, more of a muddy brown carpet with legs and a playfully wagging tail.
“Ugh! Get off me!” Lily cried, but the dog paid no heed, too excited and happy to contain his joy. He stared down at her as though she were his favorite person in the world, even though she was now flat on her back in one of the many puddles left by the morning’s rain, her spectacles dangling off her nose. “I said, get—ew!”
The slobbering beast had begun licking her face, his tongue leaving a trail of drool across her cheek, her chin, and even more disgustingly, on her mouth.
She was still spitting his drool from her lips when the owner reached her side and unceremoniously lifted Jasper out of the way. “Och, lass! Are ye hurt?”
Only my pride. “I don’t think so. But I’ve lost my book.” More precisely, she’d lost the book she had borrowed from her elderly neighbor, Lady Eloise Dayne, and was on her way to return when attacked by the playful beast. It had flown out of her hands, and she had no idea where it might have landed.
“I’m that sorry, lass. My fault entirely.” The burly Scotsman knelt beside her, looming quite large, or so he seemed to her slightly dazed eyes—for he was broad in the shoulders and almost as shaggy as his dog. His reddish-brown hair was as thick and unkempt as his companion’s. His bushy growth of beard made him appear as daunting as a pirate.
“I’ll pay for the damage, of course.” He tried to straighten the spectacles on her nose, but then simply removed them when he couldn’t. “Ewan Cameron’s the name, and I’m in residence at… och, I’m not sure o’ that yet, but you can contact me through Eloise Dayne.”
“You know Lady Dayne?” Lily gazed at him in surprise, wondering how and where a man such as he might have met her respectable neighbor.
“That I do, lass,” he said with an engaging smile.
His lips were nicely shaped, and so was his jaw, what Lily could see of it beneath his beard. She ought to have been more than a little intimidated, perhaps afraid of this rugged stranger, but he’d mentioned Eloise, which meant he was no ruffian, though he quite looked the part.
He took gentle hold of her hand. “Can ye move?”
She nodded. “I’m sure I can.”
“Good. Be careful now. Put your arms about my neck, and I’ll help ye out of this puddle.” He spoke in a deep, rumbling brogue that she found surprisingly comforting. “Poor little thing, ye must be soaked to the skin.”
Up close, practically nose to nose, Lily could not help but notice his darkly sensual eyes, a deep, forest green with flecks of gray swirling within their depths. Mercy! “You mustn’t concern yourself, sir.” A little “eep” escaped her lips as his rough hands now circled her waist and his keen, assessing gaze locked onto hers. “I’m fine… truly.”
“Can’t say as much for your frock,” he muttered, helping her to her unsteady feet, which must have been the reason he held on to her a moment longer than was necessary. He released her when she regained her footing, then retrieved his handkerchief, and was about to use it to dab the mud off her gown when he suddenly stopped and let out a short, strangled laugh. “Ah…er…och, lass,” he said, his hands hovering precariously over her breasts, “ye’d better… I can’t… no, I definitely can’t—”
Lily followed his gaze as it swept the front of her gown.
Jasper’s muddy paws had left a perfect imprint on each of her lightly heaving breasts—like an officious clerk with his itchy fingers on a new ink stamp. Stamp! Stamp! The delicate lemon silk just delivered yesterday, which she had worn for all of ten minutes, was ruined.
Oh, crumpets!
The noticeable paw prints on her front were bad enough, but there were also splotches of mud along the length of the expensive fabric, and cold, murky water from the puddle in which she’d landed now seeped down her back.
Jasper, obviously feeling contrite, whimpered as he came forward and rubbed his head against her knees. Tufts of his hair ground into the ruined fabric, leaving it not only wet and muddy but now adorned with dog hairs.
Oh, perfect! What more can go wrong today?
And where were her spectacles? She recalled Ewan Cameron had taken them off her nose before he put his arms around her…and then she’d gazed into his eyes and simply forgotten about everything.
“Can ye walk on your own, lass? Shall I help ye into the house?”
“Thank you, Mr. Cameron. I can manage the rest of the way.” She couldn’t very well say it had been a pleasure to meet him, since it hadn’t been. Anyway, they hadn’t been properly introduced. “It was a most unusual… well, unexpected… encounter. I don’t suppose we shall ever meet again. Goodbye.”
She turned to walk back into the house, took a step, and squished. Took another halting step, then another. Squish, squish.
Her humiliation was now complete.
“Lass, I had better go with ye,” he said, clearing his throat and once again smothering the laughter Lily knew was desperate to burst out of him. “I can explain to your father. It wouldn’t sit right with me if ye were punished for something that was entirely my fault.”
“It isn’t ne
cessary,” she insisted, holding her head up proudly even as droplets of water dripped off her nose. She wished he would stop acting kindly and simply go away.
The sooner this embarrassment was forgotten, the better.
Jasper, now standing between her and the Farthingale entry gate, began to whimper again.
“That’s right. Ye ought to be ashamed, ye great beastie,” his owner muttered. “Look at the mess ye’ve made of the pretty girl.”
As though understanding his every word, the dog gazed at Lily with the softest, most innocent brown eyes. His tail wagged hesitantly, once… twice. Oh, his big chocolate eyes! Too adorable to resist. Lily succumbed with a sigh. “You’re forgiven, Jasper. Now, to find my book—”
Jasper was off in a shot and back in a trice with the volume, a work written by the Scottish scientist Colin MacLaurin about sixty years ago on the theory of fluxions. Tail wagging, eyes gleaming with pride, he dropped it at her feet…and into the puddle from which she’d just emerged.
His owner let out an agonized groan. “Lass, I’ll pay for that, too.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Cameron. It was an accident and nothing more.”
Ewan Cameron stared at the girl with the prettiest blue eyes he’d seen in an age while she assured him that he was not responsible for his dog’s actions. Of course, he was. However, he held his tongue, preferring to replace the book and stylish gown—a yellow confection that made him think of lemon sweets—as soon as possible, rather than waste time arguing about it with the young thing who was soaking wet and probably shaken from the jolt.
He retrieved the book from the puddle while she busied herself wringing water out of her obviously ruined gown. He also noticed her spectacles on the ground where he’d earlier set them aside, so he reached down and stuck them in his pocket before turning his attention back to her. “Ma… Mac… lau…” he murmured, examining the book’s spine for the title. But he found it hard to make out the words, for they were smeared with mud and water stains.
