9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  She gazed at him in convincing bewilderment.

  He wore on. “‘I am proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in or time to act them. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? Believe none of us. We are errant knaves, all. To a nunnery, go. And quickly, too,’” he urged, and covered her lips in a hard kiss.

  The taste of her was intoxicating and he drew out the feel of her mouth as long as he dared. Angry and hurt she might be, but she had no choice other than to kiss him now. His grandmother was also obligated to indulge him. For a moment.

  Heart pounding, he straightened and smoothed Julia’s cheek. “‘Farewell.’”

  It was only a part and he merely an actor in a play, but Will recoiled at the finality of that word.

  ****

  Lightning sizzled outside the low, deep-set windows and thunder rumbled through the great hall. The suddenness of the storm took Julia unprepared, though the disturbed weather suited her mood. Let the wind blow and rain fall.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate Will’s whispered apology, or his impassioned kiss. She cherished every instant his lips had pressed hers, but what was he ultimately willing to risk for them to be together? He didn’t seem prepared to stake any real trust in the sincerity of her love for him.

  Yet his eyes caressed her as he uttered that immortal line, “‘To be or not to be.’”

  She could bask in those eyes, so like Cole’s.

  He broke off his soliloquy with the next insistent boom and all heads turned toward his grandmother.

  “We ought to head on home now, Nora,” Douglas wheezed, still huffing from the vigorous rehearsal.

  With evident reluctance, Mrs. Wentworth considered his suggestion. “I suppose it’s time to break anyway, but see you’re all back here tomorrow night promptly at seven.”

  She expected daily practice? Julia wondered at the old woman’s newfound vigor. Her own reserves were waning. Perhaps all of the emotions surging inside accounted for her dazed fatigue. She stayed as she was in the center of the hall while actors of all description grabbed purses, lightweight jackets, and the few who’d heeded the weather report, umbrellas. Then, they made a rush at the back door that led to the parking lot.

  “It went very well for a first rehearsal, Nora!” Jon called as he dashed off into the intensifying rumbles.

  Charlotte had lucked out and been assigned the part of costume mistress. She only had to appear in crowd scenes during the night of the play. Likely, she was home tucked up by the hearth with a cup of tea.

  Radiating enthusiasm, Nora regarded her grandson. “We made a grand start didn’t we, sir?”

  He smiled down at his oft times exasperating relation. “Yes, Ma’am. We certainly did.”

  She took his hand and actually gave it a squeeze. “All these minor hitches will smooth out. This play will be our finest ever. You’ll see.”

  “I’m sure it will.” He helped the unpredictable woman up from her makeshift throne and closed his arm around her shoulders. “Millicent is waiting in the car and has been for the better part of an hour.”

  Nora shrugged off any concern for her faithful lackey. “I told her to bring a book. Rehearsals often run late.”

  The rain drummed harder overhead.

  “This nasty weather is settling in,” Will said. “I’d better see you both home.” He caught Julia’s eye. “I may be delayed.”

  With a nod, she watched him assist his grandmother across the long hall and out the back entrance. There was a unique bond between the striking young man and irascible matriarch that she hadn’t really appreciated until now. Will’s reluctance to oppose his dominating relation didn’t stem solely from fear of losing his inheritance. He didn’t want to disappoint the old lady in her last years.

  The realization both touched and pierced Julia’s heart. Where did that leave her? Nowhere. Unless the Queen Mother changed her mind about commoners and gave Julia the nod. And Will came to trust her sanity. She wasn’t certain she trusted herself and walked to the window. Staring out the wavy glass gave her an excuse to turn her back while deciding what to do next.

  “Julia?”

  It was Lyle. She looked around hesitantly.

  The leather jacket draped one muscular arm as he walked toward her. His boots echoed on the floor except where he crossed a corner of the plush Persian carpet. He stopped behind her so that she had to fully turn to speak to him.

  His blue eyes were teasing. “You want that ride now?”

  She gestured at the trees tossing beyond the window. “The sky is falling, Mr. McChesney.”

  “So it is. Or soon to be. Wrap your tongue around Lyle won’t you, babe? Or at least call me Laertes.”

  She smiled wanly. “Very well, Laertes. Have you come to caution me about Hamlet?”

  Lyle leaned in, one hand on the window sill, and lowered his head nearer hers. “If I thought for one minute you’d listen, I would. What is it with William Wentworth, apart from the looks, money, and posh estate, I mean?”

  “We go back a great way. It’s difficult to explain.”

  “I reckon so, seeing as you’ve only been here a couple of days.”

  Sheeting rain drummed the window pane. “I feel as if I’ve been here for years.”

  He cocked an eye at her. “Well, if you’re wearied of the wait, give old Lyle a chance. I know how to show a lady a good time.”

  “That’s the difficulty, you see. I’m not a proper lady, just a British girl with no particular connections.”

  Lifting his other hand to her face, he curled his fingers around her cheek. “You’re plenty connected for me.”

  The intimate touch on her skin triggered an awareness that this exchange was fast getting out of bounds. He’d already claimed her mouth once tonight. And though the brief sensation wasn’t unpleasant, she didn’t want him taking any liberties beyond those allowed in the play. But he’d effectively blocked her between himself and the window.

  She peered past his bulk at the hall. Empty. “I really must go to my lodgings now.”

  “Got an umbrella? I’ll walk you round,” he offered.

  “No thanks. I’ll just make a run for it.”

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “We’re siblings until after Midsummer’s Eve. It’s my duty to see you safely home.”

  Thunder crashed so loudly she jumped, and the rain flooded down over the eaves. This sort of storm could last for hours.

  “Gully washer,” Lyle said. “Duck under my jacket and I’ll walk you to your door. Then be off.”

  She weighed his offer. His eyes were friendly, his manner congenial. Maybe she’d been too hard on him, easy to do with Will so opposed to the mam. She couldn’t blame Lyle for trying to date her, as long as he didn’t carry her off. “Very well. Thanks.”

  “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all evening.”

  She smiled. “I am playing Ophelia.”

  “Oh, was that it?” he said with a grin.

  She giggled despite herself—halting when the lights flickered and went out. The hall was lost in dusky shadows, eerie with the storm raging outside. “The electric’s gone.” If she’d possessed any false bravado it would’ve gone too.

  “It’ll probably be out awhile. Got any candles back at your lodge?” he asked.

  “Charlotte left me a scented one in a glass jar and a lighter.”

  “Just the ticket. Come on, then.”

  They walked across the darkened hall toward the back entrance. It seemed as if unseen eyes followed them and not only the portraits on the walls. Hadn’t Charlotte used the plural when she’d spoken of spirits at Foxleigh? Julia didn’t want to meet with any new ones. Even the thought of old Joe waving from the stair landing, so comical before, now sent a twinge of dread through her.

  Almost against her will, she glanced over her shoulder. Was it only her heightened imagination or did a faint mist form on the stairs?


  Choking back a gasp, she quickened her pace. “It’s spooky in here.”

  Lyle scanned the murky room. “Yeah. Like someone’s watching. But who? Gives you the creeps.”

  He’d voiced the hair-raising sensation crawling down Julia’s spine. “Ooooh. Don’t say that.”

  “No worries. We’re almost through.”

  Lyle stopped at the door. With a flourish, he held out his jacket and beckoned her beneath. It was so large she might have taken shelter under a Highlander’s great kilt.

  Hand on the knob, he swung open the door. “Let’s go.”

  Rain-swept wind hit her and she hovered in the entryway. Lyle stood behind her with the jacket held over her head. The gale bent trees and drove the torrent into every crevice. Water washed over the pebbled walkway and the yard ran rivers. Lightning flashed fiery white above the oaks. She squealed as the resounding boom exploded at what seemed only a short distance away.

  “That was bloody close,” he said.

  Another bolt sliced a sizzling arch across the churning blackness. She started under his jacket. “This is the worst storm I’ve ever seen.”

  “You still want to run for it?”

  Even so, it was preferable to what lingered inside. “Yes!” she shouted, to make herself heard above the din.

  “You’ll ruin those white shoes.”

  Before she knew what had happened, Lyle swept her up and carried her down the steps. Her vision was hampered by the downpour and his coat, but she shuddered to think what would follow if Will saw them now.

  Rain stung her under the jacket as Lyle easily bore her into the yard. In seconds, his long stride had gotten them across the rushing sea to her door. He stood her on her feet, still holding the makeshift tent over her. She couldn’t possibly send him away into the teeth of the storm.

  “Come on in for a cup of tea,” she invited, with a prayer that Will wouldn’t return until Lyle had gone.

  Hurrying into the gloomy room, she made straight for the kitchen while she could still see to light the candle. The flicker of the lighter was reassuring and the scent of vanilla warmed the close room. The glow from even one single candle made her feel better.

  Lyle shook out his wrap and flung it over a chair. “Don’t know how you plan to heat water for tea, but I didn’t like to point it out.”

  “Darn. I forgot.”

  “Easy to do, unless you’ve camped out in the bush as I have. Then you get used to having no electricity.”

  She sat the candle on the kitchen table. “Well, then, bushman, what do we do now?”

  He smiled broadly. “Shouldn’t ask a man that.”

  She felt her cheeks warm. “Never mind. There’s cold tea in the fridge.”

  “Wouldn’t open that, sweetheart, unless you want all the cold air to rush out.”

  “Ohhh.” She’d done it again.

  He chuckled. “A quick peek won’t hurt.”

  “Right.” She cracked the refrigerator door and snatched two bottles of tea. A box of crackers, apples, and left over brownies rounded out the stash. Candle in hand, she walked back to the living room and set it on the coffee table.

  “Not too shabby.” Ambling behind, he carried the bulk of the take.

  Again, she spread the quilted spread on the floor and settled before the dark hearth with an impromptu picnic.

  He grunted contentedly. “This is more like it. What I call living the high life.”

  “You’re easily impressed.”

  “Bushman,” he reminded her, and settled amicably where she gestured. He unscrewed the cap of cold tea and handed it to her, then opened a second bottle for himself.

  She scrutinized him uncertainly as she sipped.

  He swallowed. “Are you waiting for me to attack you?”

  “If you did, I wouldn’t stand much of a chance.”

  “Snapping your neck holds no thrill for me and I’m not into carving up women and stuffing them into the fridge.”

  Julia’s conscience chided her. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

  “Lord Wentworth told you I was a bad egg and not to have anything to do with me?”

  “Something of the sort.”

  “Understandable,” Lyle said, a slight glint in his eyes. He looked directly at her. “That happens when two men both covet the same woman. I wouldn’t object to another kiss. I liked that one this evening real well.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “Don’t stare wide-eyed at me. I won’t force one from you. I’ll bide my time, but I assure you Laertes will continue to be a very affectionate brother,” he smiled.

  “Lyle.”

  He saluted her with the bottle. “Cheers. You actually uttered my name.”

  Admittedly, he was amusing and Julia found herself liking him more all the time, but she had to let him know friendship was all he could expect from her. “The thing is, I’m engaged.”

  “Naw,” he countered, shaking his head, red hair beaded with rain. He eyed her quizzically, and then said, “Some secret pact with Wentworth?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t think the fellow had it in him to take on the old duchess.”

  “Not Will. Cole Wentworth.”

  Lyle drew his auburn brows together and his tanned face creased in a frown. “Do you take me for a bleeding fool? That dude’s been dead nearly as long as Hamlet’s old man. Either you’re balmy, girl, or having me on.”

  “I’m perfectly serious.”

  His lips twitched and he chuckled. “What do I care if your elevator don’t go all the way to the top? As long as I get a ride.”

  “You won’t!”

  “We’ll see, Ophelia.”

  Julia didn’t hear the door open, but she felt the wind at her back. Then Will was there. Oh, how he was there, face flushed, eyes shot through with fire.

  “What in hell are you doing in here, McChesney?”

  She sprang to her feet. “Please, Will. It’s not what you think.”

  Lyle stood, casting a long shadow on the wall. “Oh, it would be if the lady were willing. But she’s holding out for some dead guy. Reckon this is my cue to be on my way. Night night all.”

  “Hold on!” Will roared. “We’re not through yet.”

  Chapter 11

  The candlelight cast a vanilla-scented glow over Lyle’s brazen cockiness and Julia’s pale apprehension. It goaded Will that his sudden appearance seemed the cause of her uneasiness, as though everything had been just fine before he’d arrived. She was disturbingly susceptible to the Aussie’s wiles, despite Will’s warning. And he was torn between wanting to clutch her to him, snarling and snapping at Lyle, and just ripping into the fellow right now.

  Will stood only a fraction shorter than the arrogant jerk. What he lacked in bulk he made up for in speed and force, but he dug his nails into his palms to stay his fists. “Before you waltz off to beddy-bye, McChesney, let me assure you I can hire another brick mason.”

  “In time to complete work on that wall by Midsummer’s Eve? And how about a Laertes who can handle a sword well enough not to cut your bloody head off,” Lyle shot back.

  “What makes you think I won’t lob off yours?”

  Lyle shrugged his linebacker shoulders with irritating nonchalance. “The old lady likes my work and wants me in her precious play, even offered me a bonus.”

  “Screw with me again and you’re out. No matter what. Don’t even think about recommendations, let alone a bonus.”

  “I can always coax them from Mrs. Wentworth.”

  A red pall of anger clouded Will’s mind. “Like hell.”

  Julia shrieked as he seized Lyle by the upper arms and hurled him back against the sprigged wallpaper.

  A potted fern crashed to the floor. Lyle’s teeth clacked together and he gaped at Will in surprise.

  “Will! Don’t!” Julia cried, scrambling onto the couch.

  He hated to upset her and thrust his jaw close to Lyle’s bristly chin. Man, he wanted to pound him, but
was forced to let him go with a warning. “My grandmother is too old to be troubled by the likes of you. Try it and I’ll come down on you like a wall. Got that?”

  The chill in that blue stare was glacial, but Lyle gave the barest nod.

  “No one’s debating your skill, McChesney,” Will hissed. “Do your job, act your part, and you’ll get what she promised. Now, it’s Nighty, night.”

  Will released him and stood back. Lyle had the audacity not to look rattled, but Julia’s eyes were enormous as she crouched on the sofa.

  “I’ll fetch your jacket,” she said haltingly, then leapt to the floor and fled the room.

  Lyle gave Will a disgusted look. “You’ve frightened the life from her, mate.”

  “Leave Miss Morrow out of this.”

  “She’s the reason for this.”

  “I figured you weren’t sticking around just to finish that brickwork or play with swords. Keep away from her.”

  Lyle ran a hand over the reddish shadow of unshaven whiskers on his chin. “Tearing into me won’t solve your main trouble. And you know it.”

  “It’ll save me another. And I really wouldn’t mind.”

  “You’re just itching for a fight, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll give you the satisfaction,” Lyle growled, jerking his head in invitation. “Outside? Away from the girl?”

  “Fine by me.” Will didn’t wait that long. He dove at the brash Aussie and cracked him in the mouth. His knuckles stung, but he reveled in the satisfaction of finally getting a crack in.

  “Stop!” Julia flew back into the room and shakily passed the sodden jacket to Lyle. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. Please. Just go now.”

  Lyle surveyed her entreating face. He wiped at the trickle of blood oozing from his bottom lip. “No worries, Ophelia. Hamlet’s a scary SOB, ain’t he?”

  Will let that last jibe pass. At least he’d shaken loose some of Lyle’s maddening complacency. He waited like a panther ready to spring as his bulk passed through the door. The instant the latch clicked, he turned to Julia. “You have nothing to apologize to him for.”

  She gestured tremulously at the room and the impromptu picnic she’d laid out on the floor. “But it’s my fault he was here. It was storming so hard I invited him in.”