by Lauren Royal
He was surprised when Lady Trentingham came to meet him, carrying one of the new umbrellas imported from France. As he climbed down, she stepped closer than he would have expected and held the contraption over both of their heads. “Come along!” she said. “My skirts are getting wet.”
Obediently he walked beside her, feeling silly under the expanse of oiled canvas. Only women carried umbrellas—only wealthy women, come to that. Rich or poor, men wore hats and got drenched. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“To the picnic, of course.” Both her hands clenched on the curved ebony handle, she hurried him through the gardens. “Lily was so disappointed that it was raining, I decided to set up the picnic in the summerhouse. I was nearly finished when I heard your carriage arrive. Here we are.” She stopped before one of the four arched oak doors.
He opened it, blinking at the dimness beneath the dome. It was empty—of people, in any case. Though it was a bit hard to tell in the gloom of the dreary day, there seemed to be items inside that hadn’t been there the day before.
“Go on in,” she told him, shifting the umbrella to one hand to fish a little paper package out of her pocket with the other. She gave it to him. “Light the candles. I’ll go fetch Lily.”
As she went back through the gardens, almost but not quite running in her fashionable Louis heels, he unfolded the package and found a few more of Mr. Boyle’s fire-making things. He drew one of the sulfured sticks through a fold of the paper and began lighting candles.
There seemed to be dozens of them spaced out on the benches along the wall. After nearly tripping over something in the center of the summerhouse, he decided to skirt the perimeter instead.
When he was finished, the little circular chamber was alight with a cheerful glow. Plenty enough to illuminate the “picnic” Lady Trentingham had set out on the benches. Platters of fruit, bread, sliced cheese, and sweets. A bottle of champagne and two goblets.
Only two?
And the thing that had almost tripped him turned out to be a pallet set in the center of the brick floor. He stared at it, dumbfounded, until Lily blew in through the door, wearing a summery apricot gown that belied the rainy day.
Lady Trentingham stood on the threshold, the front of her umbrella dripping onto the bricks. “Well, then, I’ll leave you two to enjoy your picnic.”
Rand glanced at Lily, but she looked as confused as he felt. “Where is everyone else?” he asked.
Lady Trentingham waved a hand. “Unfortunately, there’s not enough room.” She didn’t look particularly sad about that. “I didn’t want you and Lily to miss your betrothal picnic, but the summerhouse is rather cramped, don’t you think?”
“We could take everything into the house,” Rand suggested. “Or we could get rid of this.” He indicated the pallet, which covered most of the floor.
“Heavens, no. It wouldn’t be a picnic in the house. Nor if you’re sitting upright on a bench, now, would it? And unlike the grass in Joseph’s gardens, the bricks are entirely too hard to make do with a blanket or rug.”
While that was true enough, Rand eyed the pallet warily. Although there were no covers or pillows, it reminded him too much of a bed.
A bed he’d be tempted to use.
Lily was an earl’s daughter, a sheltered country girl. He respected that. He respected himself for doing the right thing yesterday. For not seducing her before they were wed.
“Don’t you think we should have a chaperone?” he asked her mother.
“Of course not.” Her laughter sounded a bit forced. “You’re betrothed, and it’s the middle of the day. Besides, you have Lily’s menagerie to watch over you.”
He hadn’t noticed them wander in after her, but now he looked around. Lady was perched up in the rafters, Jasper was under a bench, and Beatrix was winding between his feet.
They would likely make very good chaperones, Rand thought wryly.
Since he had run out of protests, Lady Trentingham wished them a good picnic again and took her leave. When the door banged shut behind her, all was quiet save for the sound of the rain on the copper that capped the domed roof.
For a moment Rand just gazed at Lily. “Were you that disappointed to miss the picnic?”
“What are you talking about? Mum said you were disappointed.”
They both began laughing.
It felt good to laugh, Rand thought. His life had been all too serious up until now.
He removed his wide-brimmed hat and set it on a bench. “So, do you picnic in here often?” he asked, reaching for a strawberry. He popped it into his mouth and moved the platter to the pallet.
“Never.” She pulled a grape off a bunch, but stood rooted in place. “It really is too small, as Mum said. When we entertain in the garden, though, we sometimes use it to shelter the food. And my sisters and I like to come out here in the summertime. It’s a nice place to sit and read or play a game. If you open all four doors, the breeze flows through, yet it keeps the sun off our faces.”
He moved the platters of cheeses and sweets. “Preserves your lily-white complexion, does it?”
She smiled at his play on words. “When we were young, Violet and Rose and I could spend days in here. We used to take playing cards and lay them out end-to-end on the floor to divide the space into pretend rooms. Then we’d play house.”
“Divide it into rooms?” He stopped setting up the picnic in order to eye the small area. “They must have been minuscule.”
“When you’re tiny, even little spaces feel large.” Her grin widened, but she looked awkward, tracing the scars on the back of her hand as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.
“Come and sit by me,” he said, drawing her down beside him on the pallet. She tucked her legs beneath her, her movements graceful as a swan.
Lady Trentingham had neglected to supply any tableware, so he broke an apple slice in two and fed half to Lily, enjoying the way her eyes widened as his fingers brushed her mouth. “It sounds as though you had a happy childhood here at Trentingham.”
“I did.” She swallowed, concern darkening her eyes. “Was there no happiness in your childhood at all?”
“Oh, yes, until I was six. Then my mother died and my father changed. Or maybe he’d been that way all along, but I hadn’t noticed. Mother had always been there for me, perhaps taking my part…I was young…I don’t remember.” He shook his head. “I remember only how it felt after she was gone.”
“Lonely,” Lily said softly.
He nodded, thinking that loneliness was a feeling he’d carried with him for far too long. But now, with her, it was gone. “I don’t feel lonely now.”
Her smile was a little bit sad. “Do you never see them, then?” she asked. “Your father and your brother? Or hear from them? Ever?”
“Not in the last eight years.” He’d thought that if he forgot about them the anger would disappear, but there were others at Hawkridge he’d done an all-too-good job of ignoring as well. Like his endearing foster sister, who had followed him around with hero worship in her eyes. “But my father has a ward, a girl named Margery Maybanks who was brought to our home as an infant. She writes to me sometimes.”
Not nearly often enough, and he missed her. Of course, that was his fault. Reading news of his family made ripples in the nice calm life he’d made for himself—so much so that he often went months before answering Margery’s letters.
“Does she tell them about you, then? Does your father know you’re now a professor?”
“Oh, he knows. According to Margery, he said that just went to prove I never belonged in his privileged world.”
Her heart leapt into her eyes. “I cannot imagine what it would be like if my parents weren’t proud of my accomplishments. And my sisters and brother, too. That’s what family is all about, why we need them around us.”
“I’ve done all right without family.”
“Because you didn’t have one,” she said stoutly. “But you will now.”
Rand’s throat seemed to tighten. Her support meant the world to him. Although he’d decided long ago that his father and brother could go to the devil, he’d never realized how important it was to have someone who cared.
Lily crumbled some bread for the bird and the squirrel and broke up some cheese for the cat. “I thought you’d be deathly ill today. I was certain you’d send your regrets, and here you are, all recovered it seems.”
“I’m surprised I fell ill at all. You’ll find I’m of a strong constitution—perhaps it’s all the running.”
Rand watched warily as the animals came closer to claim their portions. When Beatrix climbed right over him, Lily laughed.
“How is Rose doing?” he asked, pouring more champagne. He dropped a strawberry into Lily’s. Watching the drink fizz, he remembered the first time he’d tried this new beverage, at Ford and Violet’s wedding.
Lily sobered and took a big gulp of the bubbly wine. “Rose is very angry with me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Violet told Ford you’d never consent to wed me, for fear of hurting your sister.” He raised his goblet in a toast. “I’m glad she was wrong.”
They drank, solemnly, gazing at each other over the goblets’ rims—and Rand’s heart seemed to swell with unaccustomed emotion. Setting down both their goblets, he gathered Lily into his arms.
She surprised him by pressing her lips to his in a kiss both sweet and seductive. He wondered if he’d ever get used to her coming to him for kisses. His heart melted as he kissed her back, thanking the Fates for sending her to him.
Rain pattered on the roof far above. “I love you,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he returned, his voice filled with husky wonder. Until now, he’d never realized that love could make him whole. Never realized a part of him had been missing.
She filled that gap, making him complete. And now he wanted to show her how very grateful he was that she’d come into his life to make that incredible difference.
He shrugged out of his surcoat before easing her back on the pallet, snuggling his body over hers. When he kissed her again, she released a blissful sigh. He kissed her mouth and her forehead and her throat, trailing his lips over her soft, fragrant skin. The scent of lilies. For the past few weeks, just a whiff of that scent had sent his pulse to racing, and now he could hardly fathom that he was here all alone in a summerhouse with his sweet Lily.
Well, nearly alone. Midkiss, he cracked open an eye to find three creatures watching. As though daring him, Lady pecked at more bread and then took flight, landing right on his head.
He jerked up, breaking the kiss and sending the bird fluttering to a bench. “Do you think we could put them outside?”
“Hmm?” Lily’s lids fluttered open, the blue of her eyes hazy, dreamy.
“Your animals.” He swept them with an uneasy glance. “Could we just…lock them outside for a while?”
She blinked. “It’s raining. They’ll get wet.”
“They’re animals, for heaven’s sake. So what if they get wet?” But she looked determined, so he added, “Never mind.”
Maybe if he closed his eyes he could ignore the fact that they were there. He did that and went back to kissing Lily. She felt so warm against him, and so soft, her curves melding to his body, her mouth tasting so right. He wished he could kiss her forever.
Or at least his head wished he could kiss her forever. Other parts were telling him that would never be enough.
“When shall we be married?” he asked the next time he came up for air.
Looking flushed and a little bit flustered, Lily levered herself back to a sitting position. “Violet and Ford were wed two weeks after they became betrothed, and—”
“Two weeks?” Still lying on his side, Rand leaned up on an elbow. He propped his head on one hand and reached to play with a lock of her hair. “It won’t be easy, but I suppose I can survive that long.”
“That long? Mum has been complaining about that rushed wedding ever since. She wishes to make a proper job of it this time. Six months, she said—”
“Six months! I cannot wait six months.”
She smiled. “Neither can I. That is why I talked her into six weeks.”
“Oh. I suppose six weeks is survivable.”
“It will pass quickly enough. I’ll be busy with wedding plans, and you with your house. We’ll be married before Michaelmas term starts in mid-October. And I hope that in the meantime Rose will come around…”
Her voice trailed off sadly.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
She took a minute to answer, a minute during which he held his breath. “No,” she said at last. “Not really.”
The words had come too slowly, too reluctantly. Rand’s heart hitched. “Lily—”
“I’m not having second thoughts,” she repeated and then launched herself at him, knocking him back to the pallet as she crushed her mouth to his.
He kissed her and laughed, sheer joy mixed with relief. But something inside him had shifted. All at once, even more than he wanted to show her how grateful he was that she’d come into his life, he wanted to make her his. Permanently.
Six weeks suddenly seemed a long, long time.
With a wistful sigh, he pulled away before things could go any further. Lily’s little sound of frustrated disappointment matched his own feelings all too well. He sat and reached for another strawberry. “Does she always hiccup so much?” he asked, indicating the cat.
“No. Or at least she didn’t used to. It’s odd the way she’s been doing that lately.” She pulled off her shoes and reached beneath her skirts to untie a garter.
Rand blinked. “What are you doing?”
She rolled down a stocking. “Do you usually wear shoes to picnic?”
“I don’t usually picnic,” he said dryly. He’d allowed little time for idleness in his life. As her other stocking came off, he swallowed hard. “You’re not going to take anything else off, are you?”
“No,” she said quickly; then her eyes glittered. “Unless you want me to.”
Oh, he wanted her to, all right. He forced a laugh. “Your mother shouldn’t have left us here alone.”
“Perhaps not.” She looked down, then raised her lashes slowly, revealing a steadfast blue gaze that pierced him to his soul. “But I’m glad for it,” she added in a breathy whisper.
Rand was finding it hard to breathe. He sipped more champagne and watched her stretch her bare feet out before her, fluffing her skirts over her legs and allowing him a glimpse of slim ankles.
Her actions were innocent, he was sure. But innocently seductive.
She wiggled her pretty toes. “Oh, that feels so much better.” Leaning forward, she smiled. “Let me help you with your boots.”
Not sure he could stand her help, he tugged them off before she had a chance. She smiled knowingly, as though she were aware of her own allure and his resulting discomfort.
Maybe Lily wasn’t as innocent as he’d thought.
“Have a nun’s biscuit,” she said. “They’re my favorites.” She handed him one of the round treats. “You look hungry.”
He was, but not for almonds and lemon. A nun’s biscuit, of all things. Just what he needed: a vision of chaste nuns while the woman he loved was tempting him to sin.
He bit into the sweet, crisp biscuit, then tensed when she reached to wipe stray crumbs from his mouth before replacing her fingers with her lips.
Lily’s mouth was sweeter than any biscuit he’d ever tasted. It was all he could do to keep from tearing her gown off then and there. As it was, he found himself drawing her down to the pallet again.
Or maybe she drew him down. He wasn’t sure. And lost in the moment, in the pleasure of her mouth on his, he didn’t care. For several long, heady minutes, his world was he and Lily and the incredible wonder of two people made for each other.
Until he felt sandpaper rubbing his toes. “What the devil—”
> She laughed, a sound of pure merriment that drowned out the rain. “Beatrix, stop licking Rand’s feet.” Leaning on an elbow, she held up a bite of cheese, and the cat wandered over to take it with its delicate pink tongue.
At least it looked delicate. “I thought it would feel wet,” he said. “And soft.”
“Has a cat never licked you?” Lily laughed again. “Beatrix seemed to find you so delicious, I’m tempted to taste your toes myself.”
That would be his undoing. Just imagining that scenario made the aforementioned toes—and other parts of him—prickle with awareness.
He sat up and shoved the rest of the nun’s biscuit into his mouth, and then, for good measure, began humming a distracting tune.
Only it wasn’t nearly distracting enough.
Twenty-Nine
LILY SMILED to herself. That song again. She’d almost worked out how to play it, and she looked forward to the surprise.
But not right now. Now she only wanted more kisses.
Rain beat on the roof above, blending with the tune that wafted from Rand’s throat. The sounds combined to create a rhythm that went right through her, mirroring the excitement that thrummed through her body.
Despite the wetness outside, the summerhouse was warm and snug. Candles flickered all around them like stars, seemingly working magic. Although, in all honesty, she wasn’t sure whether this cozy wonderland was Rand’s doing or her mother’s, the romantic ambience worked on her all the same.
Or maybe it was just Rand. Ever since he’d first touched her, she’d burned for more. For everything. For weeks she’d denied it, but now they were going to be wed.
Everything had happened so fast. Only yesterday she’d thought of Rand as Rose’s, but now, miraculously, he was hers. And she wanted him with a fierceness she’d never even imagined. A fierceness that completely took her by surprise.
Six weeks. It seemed like forever. She moved closer again and pressed her lips to his.
