Michael could tell from the expression on her face that Aria did not much care for that idea. “Then we will deal with that issue if it arises,” she replied, sounding very much as he had on the subject of marriage. “If it arises. My cousin is extremely thrifty and if retrieving me becomes too costly, he will likely give up. Eventually.”
“Or not, especially if he is determined to have your sugar plantation and the wealth he would gain from it,” Michael countered. “I only meant to make you aware that it is not safe for you outside of these walls just yet. Not frighten you. So enough of that for now. And you are correct. We shall deal with that eventuality if and when it arises.” He rather hoped it never would but in the back of his mind, something told him that Lord Felton Bowles would not give up his prize so easily. Especially if he hoped to take Aria as his unwilling mistress as well.
“So what shall we speak about then?” she inquired as she quirked an eyebrow at him. “For my despicable cousin is the reason I am here after all.”
Michael shrugged. “What would you like to speak about?”
“You.” Aria pinned him with that hazel gaze of hers.
Damn, but the chit was curious. Possibly too curious. Then again, depending on what she was curious about, that might not be a bad thing.
“What of me?” There was no way on this earth that Michael would tell her everything about himself but there was plenty that he could reveal. Especially if he hoped to tempt her into his bed – something his cock was very much arguing for as it had risen to stiff attention the moment she walked into the room. If Aria was ruined in practice, why not be ruined in truth? If she was amenable, of course. And once she had recovered her health.
Aria tapped a finger on the table as she studied him. “You said that you grew up in Italy. What was that like?”
Ah. This was a question Michael could answer easily. “Different from here, most likely. As I said, when my mother’s family discovered she was with child, they cast her out, but, as I later came to learn, did not cut her off entirely. Her father, who had a much softer heart than his wife, directed funds to Mama to help pay for her living expenses. He was an Italian count of enormous wealth and the funds he sent our way were not missed.”
“But they were appreciated,” Aria correctly guessed.
Michael nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “We wanted for very little, actually, though it was not until I was older that I understood that my mother’s business selling herbal remedies to the locals could not possibly have raised enough coin to support us in the style that we lived.”
Aria cocked her head, pausing her fork over the tender pheasant they were enjoying for dinner. “So your mother was interested in medicine as well?”
“She was,” Michael confirmed. “That was how she met my father actually. He was English, the son of a vicar who had a very firm belief that old, traditional methods of healing, such as those developed by the ancient Greeks, Chinese and Egyptians, should not simply be tossed aside in favor of new methods. He felt, as I do that they held some degree of value and went to Italy to further his education on the matter.”
“Where he met your mother, fell in love, and,” she waved in his general direction, “had a son.”
Michael nodded. “The only problem was, he was already married when he left England, though he and his wife were living separate lives at the time. He would have stayed in Italy, I think, had my mother’s family not chased him out of the country. They never approved of my father in the least. Besides the obvious problem of his marriage, he was also not of noble blood, even if he had been eligible to wed my mother. Which he was not. Still, despite everything, he remained in Italy. For a time.”
“And?” Aria questioned as her dinner was removed and dessert brought in for her to enjoy. “For I am certain there is an ‘and’ in there somewhere. I can hear it, though you do not speak it.”
Laughing, Michael took a bite of the raspberry tart on his plate. “And then his wife back here in England sent my father a letter informing him that he was going to be a father. My half-brother, Nathaniel, was born only six months after I was.”
“And you knew nothing of either your father or your brother until your mother passed, correct?” Aria paused to wipe her lips with her napkin and Michael’s eyes followed her movements with a hunger that surprised him.
With a shake of his head, he turned his attention back to her question. “Sadly, no. I rather wish I had, as it was lonely growing up an only child, one not allowed to associate with other children for the same reason my father was unacceptable. Because my blood, while tainted, was still too noble for the peasants we lived among.”
“That is terrible,” Aria agreed as she bit into the tart. “Oh! Oh, my! This is heavenly! Simply divine!” She sounded as if she was in ecstasy.
Once more, Michael felt his lips start to twitch and his cock began to throb anew. He wondered how long he could convince this beguiling creature to remain with him, for the darkness did not seem so close when she was near. Rather, he found himself enthralled by her and focused all of his attentions on her and making certain she had whatever she needed or desired. Not to mention that his body craved hers in a way he had not desired a woman in quite some time.
“I shall pass the compliment along to Mrs. Adams. It had been some time since anyone has gushed so profusely over her baking talents.” Michael was pleased that his voice was steady and even rather than betraying the desire she had awoken in him.
“She came with you from the war, I take it?” Aria asked as she took another bite of tart, moaning again as she did so. Good God! If she kept up those sounds much longer, he would take her on the table this very moment!
Michael swallowed hard. “She did. She grew up in an earl’s household as a kitchen assistant. After she wed her husband, she followed him when he shipped out to the Continent. Like many in my regiment, he was killed during the fighting and when the war ended? She had nowhere to go. Fortunately, I had a place where I could offer refuge or hoped to in the near future. She trusted me enough to follow me back here where, as fate would have it, it did not take long for Thornfield Grange to land in my lap, as it were.”
“And a lovely home it is.” He was pleased with the way Aria’s eyes took in the small details of the room. It meant she appreciated the history of this stately old pile as much as he did. “Though it does have an abysmal lack of clocks. Why is that?”
Here, finally, was a question that Michael both could not and would not answer. How could he make her understand what the ticking of a clock represented to him when he could barely explain it to himself without sounding utterly mad?
“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” he asked, hoping that she would not notice he had avoided her question.
From the look on her face, she had noticed, but she was kind enough not to say anything – or press for information he was not ready to give.
Instead, she simply nodded. “I would love to.”
Abandoning their dessert, Michael rose and then helped Aria to her feet. He could not help but notice that she clung to him perhaps a bit more than was strictly necessary, though he understood it was because she was still unsteady on her feet. How she had not died during her nearly month-long ordeal through the English countryside, he did not know. Apparently, she was made of far sterner stuff than he had first thought. He was also quite certain another woman would have barely made it a week on her own, if that long. That Aria had made it nearly three was saying something indeed.
As they strolled the corridors arm in arm, Michael pointed out particular pieces of architecture he admired or repairs he had made over the last few months he had owned Thornhill Grange. He took her through the portrait gallery where the images of previous dukes and duchesses had once hung before being removed, one of the few things the Bloody Duke had allowed Fairbourne to remove from the home.
To Michael’s surprise, the conservatory and orangey had been a delight to Aria and she had spent several minute
s simply inhaling the warm, moist, citrus-scented air. She told him that it reminded her of home and he could well believe it. He had been to the West Indies once and remained only for a month, but he well remembered how very different the air there was. How warm the sun and how sweet the breeze. It was little wonder that she felt at home here.
In the music room, he discovered that she played the pianoforte passably well and could carry a decent tune, though she was a much better dancer than he had anticipated. She confessed that she adored the waltz, even though her cousin had made certain her voucher for Almack’s had been revoked so she could not dance “in such a scandalous fashion” any longer.
Yet he would scandalize me even worse by selling my virginity to one of his lecherous friends, she had snapped, making Michael want to hit something. Hard. Preferably Felton Bowels’ face.
Michael had no idea where this aggression was coming from. Once the war had ended, he had tucked that part of himself away, hoping never to see it again, for he was not a violent man by nature. How one or two comments from this slip of a woman brought out all of that aggression once more was both puzzling and troubling. He also prayed this did not portend a bad night of slumber as well. He was sleeping decently as of late and had no wish to repeat the seemingly endless nights he had endured a few months back in the heat of a particularly muggy fall.
Finally, as he led her back into the main hall, Michael pulled Aria to a stop even though he knew she must be exhausted. After all, she had only woken up yesterday.
“Before you depart for your chambers for the night, I find that I must know what you think of Thornfield Grange.” Michael could not say why it was important that she love this place as much as he did. It simply was.
“It is lovely,” she replied, her gaze skimming over the ornately carved main staircase next to them.
“But? For I can hear that word, even though it is unspoken.” As a rule, Michael did not like unspoken words.
Aria gestured around her. “But it is also rather empty. It needs a family. Why Lord Fairbourne thought this suitable only for a hunting lodge escapes me. It should be a family’s home.”
Michael felt something die within him just then. “Well, it is only me here and likely will be for some time. I am not currently in the market for a wife, as you know.” However, he might be forced to take one anyway, though he did not say that.
Perhaps there was something to be said for unspoken words after all. Still, he would not dwell upon the matter. He was enjoying himself far too much just now.
“That does not mean it cannot be a home anyway,” Aria countered, running her hand along the banister in what he thought was a loving fashion. That did not bode well for him. “When I returned to the West Indies plantation after my brief time in London, my parents did not return with me. Like you, I was alone, and though I only spent one Christmastide season there, I did my best to take that empty, cavernous house and make it into a home.”
“Let me guess,” he teased, refusing to worry about what might or might not happen in the future. “You decorated with palm fronds and the like.”
“Something like that.” Aria smiled up and him and just then, Michael would have handed her the moon if she had asked. What a dolt he was. Then again, he had not been with a woman in months, so perhaps his addled brains could be excused.
Taking her hands in his, Michael led her to the steps, prepared to escort her upstairs and then bid her a good evening. Before the situation got out of hand. Which it might if she kept smiling at him like that. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, Aria, but I am fresh out of palm fronds.”
“But there is plenty of greenery about.” She gestured out a nearby window.
Frowning, Michael paused, her meaning suddenly clear. “You want me to decorate for Christmastide? Why?” He had not celebrated the holiday in years, truth told. He saw no reason to start now.
“Why not?” she challenged, her eyes sparkling again, and immediately he found himself weakening. “Do you have something against the holiday?”
“No.” Truly he didn’t. It was just a lot of bother for one person in his opinion, especially since, as a Catholic, he would not be able to keep the season the way his mother had. It felt disloyal to her somehow to change their traditions simply because he lived in England. “I just…don’t.”
Aria tossed her head, the saucy minx, and Michael had to stop himself from grabbing her and kissing her. “Well, I do celebrate. Every year since I was a child. Moreover, I have endured a truly wretched year. I would like a little cheer in my life. Not to mention that if Felton’s men are out looking for me, I might very well be spending the holiday here with you whether either of us likes it or not.”
“Christmas is nearly two weeks away!” Michael protested weakly, as he already knew he was going to lose this battle. Not that he was fighting all that hard to win it, either. Still, he did not want the impertinent chit to think he was agreeable to everything she suggested. Just most of her suggestions, in all probability.
Oh, bloody hell. At this point, Michael would do whatever Aria asked. Even without the promise of her in his bed. He was that fascinated by her for no reason that he could determine.
Unable to read his mind – thankfully – Aria rushed on with her plans. “And in two weeks, if my cousin is still looking for me, then I have a bigger problem than I imagined and will have to send to Bath for assistance, provided my aunt still lives.”
“Which I am not yet certain of but hope to be soon,” Michael cautioned. “It has not even been a day yet since my men went out in search of her.”
Aria tightened her hand around his, her earlier cheer fading. “Then this might likely be the last Christmas I truly enjoy. My future is uncertain, Michael. Please allow me this, for I have no idea when I might celebrate again. Or if I ever will again. Especially if Felton finds me before help of any kind arrives. If I am merely ruined? My future will be different than the past. I know this. But if my cousin finds me and I cannot escape him? Then I might not have any future at all. This is my Christmas wish, Michael. Please.”
He would have relented well before her heartfelt plea, but her words simply pushed him over the edge. “Very well, Aria. Have your Christmas. Have it however you like. Thornfield Grange is yours to decorate as you like. My staff is at your command.”
“And you will help, too?” There was that piercing gaze of hers again. Damn it all anyway.
“If you insist.” Though Michael had a feeling assisting her would be no great hardship.
“I do.” Aria crossed her arms over her chest and he had to believe she truly had no idea how alluring she appeared when she did so. Else she would not be so free with her movements.
However, now was not the time for that. Instead, Michael sighed and offered her his arm, willing his body back into submission. But not without one last hint at exactly what he was offering her when she was ready. “Very well, Aria. I am yours to command. Any way you like. At any time of the day. Or night.”
He could tell she read the double meaning in his words by the way she flushed a bright red. Excellent. For Michael had Christmas wishes of his own – and they all included Aria naked in his bed. Preferably sooner rather than later.
Chapter Eight
Rolling over in bed, Aria sighed and peered out the nearby window, noticing that it was still dark. Then again, it was near the winter solstice, and it was snowing so she was not surprised to see darkness, even at what she presumed to be an early morning hour. At least she hoped it was morning so she could finally rise and begin her day. She had not slept well, or at least not as well as she wished.
All because of one dratted Dr. Michael Longford.
And those words he had uttered as he escorted her upstairs for the night the previous evening.
I am yours to command. At any time of the day. Or night.
He had known exactly what he said while he was saying it, drat the man again for good measure!
The attraction between them h
ad been instant. Aria could not deny that. From the moment she had opened her eyes to see Michael sitting there next to her bed, she had felt something odd leap in her chest, a desire to know more about the strange man watching her through dark eyes. She had felt…desire. She could give that odd feeling that fluttered up within her a name now, her brain far less muddled than it had been a scant day ago.
Last evening, she had also taken note of the way he watched her when he thought she was not paying attention. She had noted the hunger in his eyes and the way his gaze trailed the length of her body. It had been all the more maddening because she had been doing precisely the same thing to him. And he had known it.
Just because Aria had not given much thought to marriage or the bedchamber, she was no green girl. She had felt the flare of attraction before – rare though it had been.
With Michael, however, the attraction was different, or perhaps more intense was the word she was searching for. He was certainly the most handsome man she had ever met and while not exactly the most charming, she found his humor and wit, not to mention his intelligence, extremely captivating.
And he obviously found her enticing as well, at least on the physical level.
So what should she do about this attraction?
Nothing, she decided. At least not at the moment. It was too soon.
After what Michael had told her last night, Aria would be here for some time, at least until her cousin gave up trying to find her – however long that might be. So if she gave in to this attraction flaring between them too soon – for she wasn’t stupid and knew that it would likely lead directly to his bedchamber in time – then what would happen if he tired of her after only a night or two? Then where would they be? More specifically, where would she be, for Thornfield was his home, not hers?
Christmas With a Scoundrel Page 9
