Her and Harry and this delicious, delicious kiss. She was starting to understand all the epic love in Greek myths. If some of the characters kissed like this, no wonder they all did ridiculous things in the name of love.
Merry pushed her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and felt the softness of the strands. In response, he held her closer, forming her body to his. She fit him like oil pouring into a bottle, filling every curve and nook. She could not be quite sure where she started, and he ended anymore, only that it felt too right to be here, wrapped in his embrace and drinking in the taste of him.
A ripple of wind riffled her hair. It whispered to her, taking the place of her sensible inner voice. But she could not break away quite yet. She drew back slowly, loosening her hands from around his neck then letting him ease the kiss to a gentler one until he pressed one tender one upon her lips. Merry opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his pupils dark.
“Merry, we should be together. You cannot deny you want me.”
The words were a cold, stark shock, as though a wave had reached up from the sea and swept her away. Of course, she wanted him. Physically. But how could she have been so foolish to give the man an inch? The smug smile quirking on his lips made her push away from him.
He released her.
“You think this is a game?” Her hands shook, so she clenched them at her side. “Anyone could have seen us.”
“I think we were both aware of that,” he drawled. “And I do not think this is a game. If it is, I am losing sorely.”
“How so? You can get away with kissing any woman you like at any moment. I, on the other hand, certainly cannot kiss a man without consequence.”
Damn him, why did he have to look at her in that way? With that sort of wry amusement that warmed his eyes and sent them digging straight down into her soul. If she let those voices dictate to her again, she’d be back in his arms before long.
Remember your friends. Yes, remember them. Remember the pains they had been through at the expense of men. And she could not forget Harry’s history. She never thought he’d be the sort of man to play games with a woman he purported to respect so she could only conclude that he was bored, and his mind had tricked him into thinking he had feelings for her. Perhaps he did have some, but they would be minor and fleeting.
Unlike hers. It would be all too easy to fall entirely for Harry, and where would that leave her when he tired of her?
Much like her friends—heartbroken and aggravated by the world of men.
“I am losing, Merry, because it is utter agony to be around you and not be allowed to touch you or kiss you. I am losing because you keep denying what is between us and what it could—what it would—become.” He took off his hat and swept a hand through his hair. “I have cared for you for a long time, Merry. I should like to do that for the rest of my life too.”
The words struck her hard in the chest. How easy it would be to believe that. To fall into his arms with promises of being cared for by him for the rest of her days. But it was all a lie, it had to be.
“You are lying to yourself, Harry. I could not keep you content for long. You are not a foolish man, you must know that.”
“You are right. I am not a foolish man. I know myself and I know what I want.” He put his hat back on. “What I want is you.”
She folded her arms over her chest as if she could prevent the words beating into her heart. “You will see that you are wrong soon enough.”
He shook his head. “No, you shall see that you are wrong, Merry. It is only a matter of time.”
“You will be waiting an eternity I fear.”
He shrugged. “You’re worth the wait.”
Oh lord, how was she meant to keep her defenses up against such words? She turned away and eyed the horizon, picturing her friends and their vows. She recalled Arabella’s recent hurt. Even if she could survive such heartbreak, what sort of friend would she be if she turned on her vows to them? No, he could say all the honeyed words he wanted but she would not give in.
Harry came to her side, leaning in and making her skin prickle. “Are you going to the kite festival tomorrow?”
She frowned. Why had he gone from declarations of...well, something...to the kite festival?
“Um, yes.”
“I shall see you there then.” He eyed her for a moment. “Be careful, Merry. something strange has been going on at the house, I’m certain of it. I would not wish you to come to harm.”
She shook her head. A bit of wind and a broken door did not add up to danger, not to her mind. Still, she turned to face him. “I will be cautious,” she promised. Why she even owed him such a promise, she did not know.
“Good. I could not live with myself if anything happened to you.”
She tightened her arms about herself. “Stop.”
“Stop?”
“Stop with your words. Your-your nice words. I cannot stand them.”
“I had no idea nice words were so offensive.” Harry chuckled. “I shall see you tomorrow, Merry, but I cannot guarantee what sort of words I will use.”
Merry avoided watching him as he left her on the hilltop. Tomorrow was the annual kite festival where all the villagers and some visitors from surrounding towns would bring their kites to the beach and fly them for everyone to see. It had always been something she looked forward to—it was the sort of socializing she quite enjoyed. There was no need for polite conversation or silly rules that she could never quite get her head around.
Now, however, she could not decide whether she was looking forward to it or dreading it.
You cannot wait to see Harry again. She rolled her eyes at herself. That voice needed to go.
Chapter Thirteen
“I can find nothing of note, my lord.” The grizzled-faced fellow chewed on a lump of tobacco, swilling it about his mouth. The private investigator had a hard look in his dark eyes that told Harcourt he’d seen too much of life. Regardless of his appearance or tobacco habit, the investigator was one of the finest in the country, highly recommended by Harcourt’s lawyer.
Harcourt nodded and pushed a hand through his hair. “You are certain?”
The man nodded. “Her father had no untoward dealings, no angry ex-lovers, and the brother is just as clean. This family has nothing to hide and no reason for anyone to harm them.”
Harcourt let out the breath he’d been holding. So he was being paranoid. Perhaps the chap who’d been stalking around the house was merely curious. After all, the house had been empty for some time. He probably wanted to see what all the activity was about. And the broken door and open windows really had been due to the wind.
Merry was safe.
Standing, he offered the investigator his hand. “My lawyer shall see to your fee.”
The investigator nodded. “Have a good day, my lord.”
After the investigator left his study, Harcourt sank down onto the chair and rubbed a hand across his mouth. A smile curved his lips. Merry might not be in danger but it did not mean he was planning to ignore her now. Not after that kiss. Why she was so insistent on denying everything she felt, he did not know. He’d felt the damned thing all the way down to his toes. When she kissed, she poured herself into it, and had been as swept away as he had. Passion like that did not come along every day. He just needed to convince the stubborn woman as much.
“Has he gone?”
His mother thrust her head around the door to the study.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good.” She stepped into the room and smoothed down her elegant gown of purple silk. Feathers bobbed in her hair. “He had a frightful look to him. I do not think you should spend time with such men.”
“He was an investigator, Mother. There was nothing untoward about our meeting.”
She did a loop of the room, running her finger along the fireplace then over the spines of several books. “Why do you need an investigator?”
“A business matter, that’s all,”
he said vaguely. If there really was nothing to be concerned about with regards to Merry, he did not need his mother worrying too.
She came to a stop in front of him and ran her gaze over him. “Are you coming to the kite festival?”
“Of course. It would be rather remiss of the Earl of Langley to miss the most looked-forward to event in Lulworth.”
Creases appeared between her brows and she perched on the desk in front of him and began tugging at his cravat. “Be sure to be nice to any ladies present.”
“I am always nice,” he drawled.
“Well, be extra nice.” She tutted. “Your cravat is not straight.”
“Don’t tell my valet that.”
“Men are never the best judge of these things. Even ones supposedly trained in the art of dressing gentlemen. I always think valets should be women. We have an eye for these things.”
“I cannot image there are many women who would wish to earn their living dressing men.”
His mother chuckled. “A handsome man like you? I should imagine you would have hundreds of women clamoring to dress you.” She slid off the desk. “Just as there will be many looking to spend time with you today.”
He managed not to roll his eyes. His mother had been trying to marry him off since the day he inherited the title. She meant well, but no man needed their mother thrusting women their way every second of the day.
“I shall try my best not to disappoint you, but do not expect a marriage proposal today, Mother.”
“Does that mean there might be one in the future?”
He smiled. “I shall try my best.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “You are just saying that to appease me. I swear, I do not know what men have against marriage these days. It is getting harder and harder for women to gain a proposal. You are all too busy enjoying bachelorhood.”
“You would rather I was married miserably then?” he teased.
“Of course not. You know what I mean. There are many lovely girls who would make excellent wives. You are not getting any younger, and neither am I for that matter.”
“Ah, so this is all about your desire for grandchildren.”
She sucked in a breath. “Well, of course it is, Harry! You need an heir, and fast.” Her expression softened. “But I would so like to see you happy. Your father and I might not have had as much time together as I would have liked, but I will treasure the years we had together. I want the same for you.”
“If you want the same for me, stop thrusting poor, unsuspecting women my way.”
His mother huffed and lifted her chin. “I do not see what you have against the women I pick. They are all charming.”
Charming, yes. Beautiful too, usually. Sweet, kind, and polite. All the traits one might want from a wife.
But none were like Merry. None had the fiery personality and the quick wit of her. No one would ever compare.
“How about this, Mother...let me worry about which women I wish to talk to today, and I promise I shall attend your next at home and be nothing but charming and lovely to whichever ladies attend.”
She pursed her lips and eyed him. “I suppose that would be agreeable.”
“Excellent. Do not forget you have Lord Thornford to find a wife for, too.”
She grinned. “Yes, he is quite a catch. And far more amenable to my attempts.” Poor Griff. Still he supposed Griff was at least enjoying all the attention. He couldn’t quite fathom why his friend had yet to leave for London. Harcourt had hardly had a moment to spend with the man, but he was damned good at occupying himself and establishing a better social life than Harcourt had.
He offered his mother his arm. “Come then, Mother. I assume the carriage is ready.”
She gave his cravat one last tug, then took his arm.
Griff joined them in the carriage. “So what is this kite festival all about?”
Harcourt shrugged. “It’s been happening for as long as I can remember. I am certain there was some reason for it, but I have little idea why.”
“I think it was something to do with one of the wars,” his mother muttered. “We probably saw off invaders on the beach with kites or some such.”
Griff’s expression grew bemused. “What a quaint tradition.”
“What of Miss Arabella Pemberton,” Harcourt’s mother declared. “She’s a sweet thing with respectable parents. A little shy perhaps but there is nothing wrong with timidity. Far better to be shy than outrageous.”
He should probably put his mother out of her misery and tell him that he’d already found the woman for him, but the last thing he needed was his mother forcing him upon Merry. His mother would scare her entirely and ruin any slight progress he had made.
“Outrageous like you, you mean?”
She gave a gasp. “I am certainly not outrageous.”
“You are hardly prone to timidity,” he said dryly.
“Just because one is not shy does not mean one is outrageous.” She paused and waved a hand. “Anyway, I am an old widow. I can do what I wish. No one minds if an older woman is outrageous.”
“Oh look, we’re here.”
“You do not need to sound so glad about it.”
Harcourt chuckled and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun, Mother. Leave the courting to me.”
She snorted. “If I leave it to you, there shall be no courting whatsoever.”
“You promised.”
She sighed. “Yes, I know.”
Stepping out of the carriage, he handed his mother down and straightened his hat.
“Oh, there is Mrs. Georgeson.” His mother unlatched her hand from his. “Be good,” she warned.
Harcourt grinned. “I am always more than good.”
With a tut, his mother left them. The kite festival had been happening in Lulworth Cove for as long as he could remember. He had never been sure why it had started but as the local nobility, he was always obliged to attend. In his younger years, he’d found it tiresome. There would be few women to entertain—none that he could truly enjoy the company of without expectations anyway—and most of his friends resided in London, even Daniel for the most part of the year.
Last years had been different, though. He could still recall Merry, the wind riffling her hair with a flush on her cheeks. Her laughter skittered across the sand, drawing his attention. It had not been the first time he’d noticed she had grown into an attractive woman, but it was one of the more prominent moments. One that had etched itself into his mind and built up until he could deny it no longer—his feelings for her had changed.
“Well, all the ladies are here.” Griff grinned. “And quite a fine selection too.”
“You’re enjoying the countryside now then?”
“All these untouched, sweet country women. I can almost see why you were so keen to return home. Though I suspect only one woman was responsible for that.”
Harcourt sought her out now, scanning the crowds of children and adults gathered on the beach. Kites already filled the sky—some rudimentary and made from little more than twigs and paper while there were other larger silk ones, filling the sky with color. Thankfully the day promised to be clear and sunny, but the breeze filled the cove as though lingering especially for the festival.
He took the time to walk amongst the kite-flyers, greeting many of the villagers and stopping to converse with the prominent businessmen of the area. He introduced Griff to a few of the people he had not met yet but most already knew of him, particularly the young women who all sent flirtatious looks his way. It was not often they had another titled man in their midst after all.
The whole time, however, he had a target in mind.
Merry stood on the outskirts of the group with her three friends. Her kite was at odds with her mourning wear—a bright purple and green diamond that she flew quite masterfully. He could not help stealing glances her way, admiring the color in her cheeks and her wide smile as she concentrated on keeping the kite aloft.
Gr
iff leaned in. “Go on then. I can occupy myself. As I seem to be doing with increasing regularity.”
“You invited yourself here,” Harcourt pointed out. “You will not make me feel guilty.”
As he neared Merry, she met his gaze. Her smile dropped as did the kite, swooping down. Harcourt ducked at the last minute, barely avoiding a collision with the kite. He picked it up from the sand and carried it over to her.
“If I did not know better, I would think you were aiming for me.”
The color in her cheeks remained and darkened. She bit down on her bottom lip and took the kite from him. He had no doubt she was recalling the last time they were together. And if she was anything like him, she was thinking about whether there would be a repeat of the moment. Of course, Merry would be battling the instinct whereas he was more than happy to give in. If only he could teach her to let go of control a little.
“The wind caught it,” she blurted out. “I had no control, I—”
“Miss Arabella, what a fine kite you have.” He turned his attention to Arabella. “As do you all. I am grateful you did not try to take my head off too.”
Arabella blushed. “I would never attempt such a thing, my lord.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Merry glower at him. He had to fight hard to mask a triumphant smile. For a woman who claimed she wanted nothing to do with him, she played the jealous lover well.
“Shall I help you fly them?” he asked the ladies.
Bella hoisted hers into the sky with the help of Sophia. “No need, my lord. I’m an excellent kite-flier.”
He turned his attention back to Arabella. “Miss Arabella?”
“Oh, no. Please do not bother yourself. Sophia can help.” She eased away.
“What are you doing?” hissed Merry.
“Offering my help, I believe.”
“Arabella is shy, you know that.”
“I do not think I did anything wrong, Merry. I was merely offering my help to a lady in need.”
Creases appeared between her brows. “None of us are in need, Harry. We are quite capable.”
Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club Book 1) Page 10
