by Meara Platt
“What?” She gasped and planted her hands over her eyes. “You are a horrible man. How did we get in this ridiculous situation anyway? Never mind, don’t answer that. Just keep that book safe, and get me over the wall without killing me in the process.”
“Right, let’s try this again.” He secured the towel around himself and then made a foothold for her with his hands. “Put one hand on my shoulder, and as I slowly lift you, take hold of the top of my head to steady yourself.” He raised her a little higher. “Now, grab hold of the wall with one hand.”
“I’m afraid to let go of you.”
“Bollocks, don’t start this again. You can do it. I have you. I won’t let you fall.”
“All right, but don’t move.”
“I won’t. Good. Now put the other hand on the wall. Excellent. Keep hold of the wall.”
He slowly raised her a little higher, meaning to issue more instructions, but her body fell against his mouth at just that moment. He almost expired when he realized his lips were resting against the junction of her thighs.
Was she purposely trying to kill him?
Thank goodness there were two layers of fabric between her pearl and his lips.
His jaw began to twitch.
Was it possible she was doing this on purpose? Teasing him? Arousing him?
Then she accidentally kicked him in the face as she swung her legs over.
Did Hannibal have such logistical problems when crossing the Alps with his elephants? “Holly, are you all right? Did you make it over safely?”
She cried out softly and then grunted. “Yes, fine. Just slipped off the bench. Landed on my backside.”
“Are you hurt. I’ll come over and—”
“Don’t you dare! Stay on your side of the wall. I’ll climb back into my room now.”
“Climb?” He leaped up onto the wall just as she struggled to her feet. Waving to him to hold him back, she tiptoed over to an oak tree whose branches were spread wide and extended quite close to the house. One could easily sneak in and out of that upper-floor bedchamber from those branches without being noticed.
He watched her lift her nightclothes to her thighs as she began to climb. His heart shot into his throat. Her legs were magnificent by moonlight. But he was worried because she did not have a lot of upper body strength. Lord help him, she was soft and slight. He didn’t want her falling.
He remained watching her, wanting to scale the wall and help her up the tree, but it would not do to be caught with Holly in his arms. She wasn’t used to stealing about in the night, but she made it safely in through the window in a headfirst tumble. He hoped she had not bruised her lovely body too severely.
He waited several moments longer to be sure she had not awakened the entire Farthingale household. All remained quiet, so he eased himself down from the wall and returned inside the house.
The book was sitting atop the table.
He growled at it. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
The book sat silent.
He continued to stare at it.
“Bollocks,” he said, running a hand through his wet hair. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
He could have sworn the book laughed at him.
Chapter Two
Holly’s heart pounded wildly as she removed her slippers and robe and crept back into bed. Oh. My. Heavens. She settled on her back and gazed up at the ceiling, hoping to see nothing but blackness. Unfortunately, Joshua’s magnificently naked body had been etched into her still throbbing eyeballs, so this is what she saw looking back at her from the ceiling.
His sculptured splendor.
She turned her face to the wall, but he was there as well, his muscled torso wet and glistening in the amber glow of firelight.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
No. Still there.
But as humiliating as her midnight adventure had been, it had served an important purpose. She now knew what a man’s body looked like.
All of it.
From the broad shoulders, muscled arms, and dusting of dark gold hair across his firm chest. Taut leanness of his waist and chiseled contours of his legs. But it was that part of him between his legs that she had been most curious about.
Now she knew what a man looked like there.
Knew it and could not stop thinking about it.
She had also felt him because she’d been so clumsy trying to scale the wall. But touching Joshua had proved to be her undoing, putting her hand to his warm, wet skin and feeling the ripple of his muscles as she clung to his shoulders while he tried to raise her.
Then she’d accidentally slid down the front of him.
Her body had come alive at that moment.
This is what a man felt like.
Hard and warm.
The scent of him was also intoxicating, for he’d just come out of his bath. She’d inhaled when he’d stepped close, taking in the scent of sandalwood soap and steaming water. But beneath those scents was Joshua’s own clean and rugged essence.
She thought she’d expire when those glistening droplets of water began to trail down his chest. She wanted to lick them off him. Of course, he would have considered her a lunatic and pushed her away.
“Holly, is something wrong? You’re tossing and turning quite furiously. Were you having a bad dream?”
“No, Violet. I’m fine. Just a little restless.” Her cousin was sharing a guest bedchamber with her since Romulus was away, and Violet did not like to be alone next door in that big house. Also, she had expected to be in Plymouth with Romulus, but her plans had changed. They had arranged weeks ago for Joshua to stay at their house upon his return to London.
But now that their plans had changed and Joshua had no way of knowing, Violet had made herself comfortable here. “All right. Just wake me if you think you’re falling ill. You don’t sound quite yourself.”
Crumpets.
“Good night, Violet. I’m feeling better now.” As well as one could feel with a naked man still etched into one’s eyeballs.
By morning, Holly was much calmer.
Or so she hoped.
She’d washed, then dressed in an ecru morning gown trimmed with copper-brown ribbon. She allowed her maid, a pretty girl by the name of Agnes, to style her hair in a twisted braid that gathered at the nape of her neck. She often wore her hair this way, for it was simple and yet, elegant.
Much of the family was already in the dining room, having their breakfast. The silver salvers were set out across the massive buffet, and the delightful aroma of warm bread, oeufs a la coque, kippers, and glazed ham tickled her nostrils and heightened her appetite.
Seated at each end of the table were her aunt and uncle, Sophie and John. Also seated at the table was their prune-faced, maiden aunt, Hortensia, who would be quite pretty for an older woman if she ever smiled. She had a cutting wit and a no-nonsense way about her, but despite being a bit of a curmudgeon, they all adored her.
Heather and Dahlia, the sisters Holly had been assigned to chaperone, had just finished ladling food onto their plates and took seats beside Violet, who was slathering apricot jam on her bread.
“Good morning,” Holly said, taking up a plate and placing one kipper, one egg, and one slice of bread on it. When she sat, a footman came over to pour her a cup of tea.
Violet turned to her. “Are you feeling any better this morning?”
“What’s wrong, Holly? Did you not sleep well? Are you ill?” Her sisters tossed the questions at her at the same time.
“Oh, dear,” Sophie said. “John, perhaps you ought to send for George.”
“This London chill cuts through one’s bones,” Hortensia intoned. “I do hope you aren’t feverish. You do look a bit flush.”
“I’m fine. No need to send for Uncle George.” He was John’s brother and one of London’s most brilliant doctors. Perhaps the most brilliant doctor in all of England. “Not feverish either.”
Until Joshua was announced by the family butler
, Pruitt, and balls of fire shot into her cheeks. “Captain Joshua Brayden.”
He strode in like a golden-haired warrior, utterly magnificent in his neatly pressed uniform and highly polished Hessians. He had shining medals pinned to his broad chest.
Even dressed, he took one’s breath away.
He also wore a smile that could melt a glacier. “Good morning. Mr. Farthingale, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but I arrived late last night and wished to let Violet know I am here.” He turned to Holly’s cousin. “I did not realize your plans had changed, but I wanted to assure you that I will move out immediately.”
“Oh, no. Please stay.” Violet cast him a cheerful smile. “You are more than welcome to the run of the house. I shall pop in and out throughout the day to gather one thing or another, but you are to treat the house as yours. I’ve moved back in with Uncle John and Aunt Sophie for the next week because my cousins are here, and it is so much more fun to be with them than alone in that big, rattling house. Besides, I shall be off to Plymouth within the week. No point upsetting the plans.”
“Well, let me know if you have a change of heart. It’s your home, and I wish to respect that.”
“Thank you, but I’m perfect right here. Holly and I are sharing a room. Heather and Dahlia are right next door.”
“Have a seat, Joshua,” John said. “Join us for breakfast.”
His chuckle was rich and hearty. “I’d like that.”
Of course, a man his size needed to be fed.
Holly watched as he went to the buffet and filled his plate.
When he turned and pinned her with a steady gaze, she realized the chair next to hers was unoccupied, and he meant to take it. No, no, no! There were several other empty seats around the table.
Don’t sit next to me.
Don’t sit here.
Don’t.
“How are you, Holly?” he asked, drawing out the chair next to hers and settling his large frame into it. He grazed her shoulder as he did so. Had he done it on purpose? Or was he simply a big man and took up more space?
“Coffee, please,” he said to the footman attending him but immediately turned back to her. “Have you been enjoying London?”
Gad, these Braydens were the size of gladiators. Big and gloriously muscled. “Yes, very much.”
Dahlia frowned at her. “She’s hardly gone out.”
“Not so! I go out all the time with you and Heather. We visit our other cousins, stop over at Lady Dayen’s home almost every day, and make regular stops at the modiste. We’ve visited museums and attended teas, musicales, and other evening parties.”
Dahlia rolled her eyes. “You sit with the old ladies at every affair, and where there’s dancing, you never dance.”
All eyes were on her, including those of the man beside her. She felt as though she were a criminal brought in for questioning. Why couldn’t they leave her alone and let her shrink into the background? “I’m your chaperone, Dahlia. Not one of the debutantes.”
Joshua regarded her thoughtfully. “We’ll have to remedy that. Save me a waltz at Lord Milford’s tonight. It’s hardly a grand ball in the style of Lord Forster’s, but it should be quite merry.” He turned to her sisters. “Well, I’ve claimed a dance from Holly. Now I’ll claim one from each of you.”
Dahlia and Heather giggled like two peahens.
“Thank you, Captain Brayden,” Heather said. “We’d be delighted.”
“Holly, are you certain you’re not feverish?” Hortensia intoned. “Your face looks like it is on fire.”
“Perhaps she’s overcome by Captain Brayden’s nearness,” Violet teased.
Holly choked on her tea, her fit of coughing rendering her unable to reply, which she would have done with priggish indignation. Perhaps it was better not to say anything. Her sisters and cousin would only subject her to more teasing.
Now Joshua’s arm was around her shoulders, warm and comforting as he offered his handkerchief. “Here, Holly. Take this.”
He appeared to be genuinely concerned.
The cad.
She knew deep down he had to be laughing at her.
But she took his handkerchief and blew into it, hoping to calm herself.
“Better?” he asked as her coughs died down.
She nodded, although she wasn’t really. This new awareness had come upon her so suddenly and with stunning force. She didn’t know what to make of it or of Joshua. They’d met only a short while ago in Oxford when he’d gone there with his brother to help her Oxford cousins defend their perfume business against some very nasty villains.
She liked him, of course.
And did feel quite badly about almost killing him…well, almost knocking him unconscious at their first meeting. Obviously, he’d recovered fully.
Thank goodness.
She wasn’t one for violence. However, the roiling feeling in her stomach and fire coursing through her body could only be described as almost that, certainly reckless and tumultuous. Was this what her cousins meant when they spoke of passion?
“No, not quite better, are you?” Joshua said quietly against her ear.
“No,” she whispered back, unable to say more.
She’d had no passion in her marriage to Walter Gleason, a young man from one of York’s finest families. They’d known each other since childhood and always got along well. She was surprised when he’d offered marriage, for she was only seventeen at the time. He was pleasant company but had never shown her any particular preference.
Perhaps she and her parents were so taken with her good fortune, they didn’t give his offer sufficient consideration. Her father had given his consent immediately. She was almost eighteen by the time their wedding ceremony was held.
In all those months leading up to the wedding, her mother had never talked to her about the wedding night or what a husband should expect from a wife. They’d chatted circles around it, and Holly did not find any of their conversation helpful.
As it turned out, the talk wasn’t necessary.
Walter had not touched her that first night.
Nor had he touched her on any other night of their marriage.
“Please excuse me.” She knocked over her chair in her haste to get away, almost tripping over it had Joshua not caught her. Wordlessly, he set the chair upright and drew it away to give her passage.
She ran out of the dining room.
Her first thought was to return to her bedchamber, but then she’d be trapped if Violet and her sisters came up after her. She ran outside instead, intending only to sit in the garden until she regained her composure.
But the day was cool, and she hadn’t thought to bring a shawl.
No matter, she wouldn’t remain out here very long, and the bite to the breeze was refreshing. She glanced down at her hands and realized she still held Joshua’s handkerchief. Having used it to wipe her dripping nose, she could not simply hand it back to him. She used the sleeve of her gown to wipe her tears. Not that she was crying, but her eyes had watered while she was coughing.
She sat on the bench that stood against the wall, the one she’d used to climb over last night, and stared blankly at the garden. The trees were starting to lose their leaves, so many branches were bare. Those that were not held leaves of beautiful reds and golds.
The flower beds were sparse, only the hardier blooms surviving, the reds and golds she thought of as autumn colors. Had she made a mistake in giving that book on love away?
She’d only given it to Joshua, so it was in safe hands. He would return it to her whenever she asked. But she had to think about whether she wanted it back. Hadn’t she managed quite well all these years by suppressing all feelings?
She’d made a fool of herself at the breakfast table when those feelings had suddenly burst forth. It was humiliating, but also a little bit exhilarating. Perhaps she’d think about venturing out from her protective walls once Dahlia and Heather had made fine matches for themselves. To do so now would risk ru
ining their marriage prospects, especially if her foolish behavior occurred in public.
“Holly, there you are.” Joshua strode toward her and propped a foot on the bench rather than take the seat beside her. She was grateful for his maintaining a modest distance.
“Yes, indeed. Here I am.” She waved her hand airily, hoping to sound cheerful. But Joshua had quite the discerning gaze. Little ever seemed to get past him.
He cast her a worried frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Other than my ridiculous behavior this morning? And even more foolish behavior last night?”
He cast her an affectionate smile that melted her bones. “You were nothing of the sort. You were caught by surprise last night and are still feeling the aftereffects. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Why do you think soldiers train rigorously? It is precisely because we have to learn to overcome these natural responses when ambushed or suddenly confronted with an unexpected situation.”
She snorted. “Is this why you’ve shown nothing but calm and poise, while I’ve been flapping my wings like a demented hen?”
He chuckled. “You are hardly that. But yes, I’ve learned to overcome the instinct to freeze like a doe caught in a hunter’s line of fire. I’ve also learned to keep my wits about me instead of allowing them to scatter.”
“You were brilliant at Oxford,” she said, referring to the swift and efficient manner he and his brother had brought down those villains. While his brother Finn had been brilliant in protecting her cousin Belle, Joshua had been the one to lead his regiment into battle against the criminal elements. Their evil tentacles had spread wide throughout Oxford, and it was no easy feat to lop all those moving arms of greed, extortion, and corruption off at once.
He shrugged off the compliment. “This is what the army pays me to do.”
“Does it also pay you to dance with hopeless widows?”
“No, this I do for myself. If you don’t attend Lord Milford’s tonight, I will climb up to your bedchamber, drag you out of bed, and claim my waltz right there.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
