by Raine Miller
He’d struck a nerve and she took him to task for it. This girl had some spirit in her. And he would so love to be the beneficiary of that spirit. Images of beds and bodies entwined flashed through his head again. He really was losing his mind he was sure. He walked up to her and took a finger to her chin. He added some gentle pressure. “Look at me.”
She opened her beautiful eyes as she lifted her face upon his command. Graham swallowed hard as she complied. Everything about her got to him - her acquiescence, her beauty, her voice, even her scent. The shape of her face was distinctive - high cheekbones and a wide mouth with beautiful lips he wanted to taste. Her eyes were brown but there was nothing dull about them. They sparkled with flecks of gold and green and amber. It was the same with her hair, not really brown, but shimmering with light throughout. He wanted his hands in her hair, pulling her against him to accept his touch and body inside hers. Oh yes. He’d had plenty of those thoughts already. He wanted Imogene in his bed, underneath him, taking him in as he made love to her.
Her eyes grew wet as he tipped her chin up to look at him. He dropped his finger.
To refrain from touching her took all of his strength. He could see her distress at being reminded of painful remembrances, and knowing a little of them already from his family, he wanted to comfort and soothe her.
Graham couldn’t help looking longingly before speaking, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. She was dressed in riding clothes. The tight jacket fitted over willowy curves that looked too damn delectable for her to be off all on her own. “But I want to know you…very much.”
She took in a sharp breath that made her breasts rise up underneath the jacket.
“If I could go with you today I would.” He should be with her, but he knew that wouldn’t be happening today. “Damn propriety!” The frustration of being unable to act, forced him to say goodbye so he could leave her to her riding. It would be best for him to take his sorry lump of flesh away from her before he did something really stupid anyway. Like try to kiss her. God, he wanted to. “I regret causing you distress just now. Please forgive me? I do hope you have a safe and pleasant ride.”
Imogene’s eyes flared at him. Frozen, she stared for a minute and then nodded an acknowledgement of his apology. He wished she’d say something more, but she stayed quiet. A blast of autumn air blew into the stables at that moment, lifting her hair and making it dance. The chill in the air made her shiver. He saw it happen as clear as day and wondered if it was really the chill, or had it been what he’d said to her.
“Miss Byron-Cole, until next time.” He bowed, turned on his heel and left her in the stables. God help me to walk away. Just get me off without some grave breech of manners. If something happens to her I don’t know what—
Graham talked in his head all the way back to the house, whipping stray stalks with his riding crop mercilessly as he went. He made it back in time to see her ride out from the window, hair streaming behind her in the cold wind. It was the longest two hours he could remember spending. He reread the same passage in his book over and over until he grew disgusted and flung it down.
Graham welcomed the relief that washed over him when he saw her ride back in. He observed her signal to Mr. Jacks that she had safely returned. The pang in his chest drilled through his body as she galloped down the drive, away from Kenilbrooke, away from where he was.
Graham was well aware of the constraints of society. Imogene was aware, too. They understood the rules. He could not go with her alone. Someone was needed who could serve as chaperone. If it weren’t for those rules she would be in his arms already and his lips would know what it felt like to be against hers. A plan began to form of a possible solution to this hindrance. Graham went in search of his sweet cousin Elle.
A week later and Graham could not remember a more pleasant time at church. The lovely view of Imogene’s profile as she sat with her family was his sole focus and he relished it gratefully. The rector’s droning message, uninspiring and condescending in tone, was put aside as he allowed himself to study her intently without too conspicuous of notice by others, or so he thought.
In the churchyard, Graham watched his cousin, Elle, approach to invite Imogene and her family to the games that had been organized at Kenilbrooke for the recreation of the young people. Imogene appeared to accept the invitation gracefully, and chatted easily with her new friend. Jules and Hargreave were watching everything transpire, too, and apparently with great amusement. Graham felt clearly on edge, not completely sure if he should approach Elle and Imogene, but it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. His self-control evaporated when it came to her. Keep talking, Elle, he begged silently. Finally, he started toward them, hat in hand.
Behind him, Hargreave and Jules were in full amusement. “He is moving in,” Hargreave whispered loud enough for him to hear.
“Yes, yes, go to her, my boy,” Jules mocked.
“Ease your beating heart, lad,” Hargreave sang. They laughed together and took sport at his expense.
Graham turned back and glared over his shoulder. “Would you two shut up!”
“Good day to you, Miss Byron-Cole, a pleasure to see you again so soon.” Jules probably thought his imitation was amusing, but Graham wanted to land him on his arse.
“Oh, Miss Byron-Cole, would you do me the honor of partnering me at croquet?” Hargreave imitated next. They collapsed into laughter then, and were so noisy that people around them were beginning to laugh as well, without even knowing of the joke.
Imogene definitely heard them and turned to look at them quizzically.
Elle looked over as well, disbelievingly.
Graham glanced back again at the idiots and thought fondly of disembowelment.
“Miss Everley, why are your brother and Mr. Hargreave laughing like schoolboys in the churchyard?” he heard Imogene ask.
Elle replied, shaking her head, “I am sure I do not know, Miss Byron-Cole, their behaviour is very odd.”
Graham went next as he pulled up into their conversation. “I know why. They are absolute, insensible idiots.” He bowed. “Miss Byron-Cole, I look forward to seeing you this afternoon at Kenilbrooke.”
“Lord Rothvale.” That was all she said. His name. It was enough for him though. Her acknowledgement and her eyes on him were enough. The husky sound of her voice at complete odds with her physical form, and utterly sensual in a way that made his mind turn wicked in an instant, and highly blasphemous for where he stood with her—in a churchyard.
“Until later then, ladies.” He tipped his hat, strode away from the girls and back toward those who took their amusement at his expense.
“What in the bloody hell are you two doing?” he said a little too loudly, palms up. The reverend, who was speaking to Mrs. Charleston, gasped and turned to deliver him a shocked, open-mouthed glare. Jules and Hargreave burst into new fits of laughter at this final humiliation. Graham winced, put his hand to his head and ground his teeth. “Many pardons, Reverend, Madam, that was regrettable, please accept my apologies.” He pointed his hand out and continued forward toward his source of harassment.
“Peace, Cousin.” Jules clapped Graham on the back affectionately as he drew up.
“Do you always behave this disgracefully in proper company and on the occasion of church? It is a miracle you both have secured the society of respectable people and brides as well. Do not ever do that again.” Graham stabbed a pointed finger at them. "You will regret it, I promise you. I’ll give you a basting you’ll not forget!”
“You’ve got your bristles all set up, Cousin.” Jules paused but then bent in laughter again. “Cursing in the churchyard, right in the parson’s ear—that was in high-ropes, Graham!” Jules and Hargreave were still lost in idiotic laughter as the three walked away.
“I cannot wait until you are married; there might be some relief then, from you cutting up my peace.”
Hargreave replied, “Well you shan’t have long to wait then. So yo
u’ll be staying on, after Jules’ wedding? Please consider Kenilbrooke open to your needs, Graham.”
“No, you moronic dolt. She’s going to her sister at Wellick after the new year. And I just happen to have the acquaintance of a certain Dr. John Brancroft of Gloucester Hospital. I do not need your help, either of you. You have done your parts, and I thank you. Now you may leave me be. By God, I mean it or I shall have to thrash you both and you will not look winsome for your wives!”
WHEN her carriage drove up he was there waiting. No other person was going to touch her as she got out but him—of that he was certain. He looked at his hand when he reached for the door handle and envisioned it was her bare skin he was touching. Graham had always been told he had big hands. Imogene’s hands were elegant and perfect. He gripped firmly when she placed her hand in his and felt the jolt down low of arousal. The merest touch and he felt stirred. He really needed to get some control over his reactions. His imagination, and his cock, had minds of their own apparently, especially when it came to Imogene, and they were in public for Christ’s sake!
Imogene offered the introductions for her family. “Lord Rothvale, I do not believe you have made the acquaintance of my cousins, Timothy Wilton, and his sister, Miss Cariss Wilton.”
“It is a pleasure, Miss Wilton. Mr. Wilton, I hear you take your studies at Cambridge. Today I shall introduce you to my brother, Colin Everley. He’s at Trinity finishing now, but it can never hurt to have further acquaintances away from home.”
Timothy Wilton thanked him and led his young sister into the party.
Now that he had her all to himself, he smiled down at the beautiful Imogene and offered his arm. When she took his arm and returned the smile he felt a burst of happiness shoot through him. “You seem to be in happier spirits than you were this morning at church, my lord.”
He nodded in agreement, and kept his expression bland on purpose. “What think you of croquet, Miss Byron-Cole? Are you any good at it?”
“I am tolerable at it, but I am told I can be devilishly competitive at sport.”
“Excellent. Do me a kindness, please. Should you encounter my cousin or Hargreave’s ball in the course of the game, at any time, be merciless and send them into oblivion.”
She seemed to find his comments hilarious. So much so that she laughed out loud. “We have a pact, my lord. On my honor I will definitely do it.”
“I have made you laugh. I love the sound of your laugh. It was worth it, this morning’s debacle, to hear you laughing just now.”
“A good laugh is always worth it,” she said, as he led her toward the games.
Graham enjoyed the game very much, the least of it being revenge upon his cousin and friend. The greatest pleasure for him was being able to watch her at liberty, mallet in hand, striking the ball with a skillful flourish, laughing and floating over the grass, dark golden hair, shifting in the wind, her smiles at amusing conversations. To him she was ethereally beautiful and he loved to look at beauty. True to her word, she sacrificed any shot in which there was the opportunity to send Hargreave or Jules.
“Well done, Cousin,” Jules whispered in his ear. “I am impressed you have gained her loyalty so quickly. Looks as if I have helped you after all, doesn’t it?” Graham put out his hand in greeting and Jules took it. Graham gripped painfully hard and was satisfied to see his cousin wince through the handshake. Jules complimented, “She is lovely, perfect for you. So she’s the one that will make you happy, eh? So fast…but I can already see a change in you.”
“Thank you for the kind sentiment. I have never known such unshakable feelings. Like it was meant to be or—well yes, I dare to hope that she will be mine. How did you get through this experience with Mina?”
Jules shook his head. “It was utterly dreadful. I wish I could say it was not. But you’ll manoeuver through just fine. You have the advantage of coming together amiably from the first. She likes you. How did you manage that so easily?”
“By smiling and asking her to dance,” Graham replied dryly.
“Ouch. I guess you have heard the stories of how it was with Mina and me at the first. I was such a stupid arse and she fairly hated me. You are much wiser than I was. My advice? Be completely honest with her and declare yourself, soon. I suspect Miss Byron-Cole would appreciate some candor in her life about now. Don’t wait too long. If you don’t offer for her, someone else will. She’s just out of her mourning and well dowered. Everyone’s giving respectable deference to you now, mostly due to your rank, but that won’t last forever.”
Graham nodded his understanding, but felt his heart ditch at the thought of another courting her. She is mine.
Both men watched Elle approach Imogene to invite her for riding the next day, hearing her say, “My cousins Colin and Graham will be accompanying me. We will call for you at Wilton Court tomorrow at ten o’clock.” They saw Imogene acknowledge the information and agree to go along.
Graham turned to Jules. “Your sister is the kindest, sweetest person I know and I owe her everything in this. I’ll not forget what she has done here for me, Jules.”
Jules smiled wistfully and nodded. “I know. She is, and I know you’ll not forget.”
It became too emotional then for the cousins to continue conversing. Too many memories of painful hurts, and children without parents, so they grew quiet.
Both of them understood.
“LORD Rothvale is in love with you.” Her friend whispered into Imogene’s ear from behind.
“Jocelyn! You just about frightened me to death. And how on earth can you say such a thing? He barely knows me.” Imogene was shocked at her friend’s candor, but could not deny the feelings of excitement that came with Jocelyn’s words. It had been so long since she had embraced the emotion she hardly recognized it.
“I realize that, Imogene, but short time or no, that man is in love with you. He asked me about you.”
“He asked about me? When was that? You were not at the ball, Jocelyn. By the way, why in the world not?”
Jocelyn ignored her last question. “Mamma and Papa invited them to dinner at our house. Jules, his sister Ellenora, and their cousins.”
“Of course they did. Julian Everley will be your brother soon when he marries Mina.” Imogene tried to divert the conversation. “What do you think of Ellenora?”
“I like her, but I was speaking of Lord Rothvale. Don’t you want to know?”
Imogene felt her face flush. She couldn’t speak, so she just nodded and waited for Jocelyn to tell it.
“When we sat to dinner, he put himself by me. Somehow he already knew that we are close friends. He told me of meeting you that day, how you brought back the lamb. Imogene, he is entranced when he speaks of you. He wanted to know what you like to read.”
“What did you say?” she whispered.
“Poetry. Lord Byron. Le Morte d'Arthur. He liked that, I think.” Jocelyn looked at her boldly. “He wanted to know your favourite colour as well?”
“And?”
“I told him it was…green. He liked that, too.”
His eyes are green. “You should not have told him, Jocelyn. It’s not right. I don’t want people speculating.”
“Too late for that, I think.” Jocelyn took up Imogene’s hands. “His eyes never leave you. If you turn and look now, you will find he is staring at your back as we speak. I think the better question for you is what do you think of him?”
He’s looking at me right now? Imogene lifted her head, her stubbornness rising up. “I like him. He is a gentleman toward me. He has done nothing to cause me to see him as anything other than that.” She dropped her eyes. “He will be in my riding party tomorrow. Would you like to join us, Jocelyn?”
“No thank you, dear. You must use your opportunity with him tomorrow to help him get to know you better. Don’t let this chance slip away, encourage him.”
Imogene pondered Jocelyn’s words. Could he really be in love with her? How could he after just a few meetings? Co
uld she love him? She had to admit, just thinking about him made her suddenly warm inside. She liked how that felt.
“YOU were magnificent today.” Graham viewed her earnestly, trying to soak in as much of her presence as he could. He found that the urge to be with her every minute was surprisingly strong. Right now he could almost feel tinges of panic at the thought of her leaving.
“I had a wonderful time. It felt good to laugh and I truly enjoyed the games. Our conspiracy against Mr. Everley and Mr. Hargreave went quite well, I daresay. They were at the bottom of the heap in scores.” Imogene’s triumphant grin easily gave away her competitiveness.
“All thanks to you. You are possessed of a wicked competitive streak. It’s true. ‘Mark and learn from Miss Byron-Cole!’ should be the cry of the day.”
She laughed again. “Miss Imogene, please. Miss Byron-Cole has too many names in it. I look forward to riding tomorrow, Lord Rothvale,” she told him easily, her eyes flashing.
He bowed, thrilled at her request that he address her by her Christian name. “Miss Imogene, as do I…very much.”
You have no idea how much, beautiful Imogene.
FOUR
Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.
William Shakespeare ~Venus and Adonis, 1593
DARK clouds exuding the threat of rain were in full force by the time Imogene’s riding party called at Wilton Court. Introductions were made all around for those who were in need of one and Lord Rothvale, looking handsome and somber as ever, gave assurance that should the weather turn, he would see her safely home. When assisting her in mounting Terra, the feel of his big hands around her waist burned right through her clothes. “All set?” he asked.
