Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Miss Walsh! I had hoped to have the pleasure of seeing you again, but I did not think to find you here.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you did. For myself, your presence has also taken me by surprise.’

  ‘You are so beautiful tonight,’ he said with a husky undertone. ‘Your cheeks are pink. Your eyes are gleaming. You look radiant. I am happy to see you are still smiling at me.’

  ‘How could I not? You have done nothing wrong. The fact that you could not help me—I understand perfectly and do not hold it against you. It was wrong of me to approach you. It was extremely stupid of me. I certainly should not have asked you to take me to France. It was presumptuous of me.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. I deeply regret I could not be of help and I am sorry,’ he said, his voice edged with harsh remorse. ‘I’m relieved to get you alone at last. You are a popular young lady among the young set. You have no shortage of partners.’

  ‘Will you not ask me to dance?’ she said as the lilting notes of the waltz floated around her. ‘And quickly before my stepmother comes back.’

  ‘I would be honoured.’

  Completely disregarding what Sofia had said to her earlier that she was not to dance with Captain Wilding and taking immense satisfaction in disobeying her, she smiled and allowed him to lead her on to the dancefloor. She walked into his arms and felt his arm slide around her waist, bringing her close against the solid strength of his body. His free hand closed around her fingers and suddenly she was being whirled gently around the floor.

  For a man who had spent most of his adult life at sea he was a superb dancer with an amazing sense of timing. His step was light. He took charge of the dance and she went where she was led. It was like dancing on air. For several moments they did not speak. Lucy enjoyed the wonderful sensation of being twirled around as though they both had wings, their bodies moving with perfect rhythm. Beneath her gloved hand she felt the strength of his shoulder and the arm encircling her waist like a band of steel was holding her much closer than was proper. She should have felt overpowered, but she felt safe and protected instead. The dance seemed to free her from the weight of her body. If only her mind could be freed of its burdens as easily.

  ‘You dance divinely,’ Captain Wilding breathed softly, a slow, admiring smile sweeping across his features.

  ‘I love the waltz,’ she said, feeling a little giddy and reckless and wonderful, wishing the dance would never end. ‘Although Miss Brody is of the opinion that it is not proper for young ladies to dance the waltz.’

  ‘They do in France. All the time.’

  ‘Sadly, this is not France. How I wish it were, then I could find my godmother—Aunt Caroline.’

  ‘Is she really your aunt?’

  ‘No. She is my godmother and was my mother’s closest friend. She insisted I addressed her as Aunt Caroline when I was very young.’

  He twirled her round once more before capturing her eyes, a lazy smile sweeping across his face. ‘Are you pleased to see me?’

  ‘I hadn’t expected to.’

  ‘Surprises are pleasant, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘I am sure your escort would not be pleased to see you dancing with me. He should know better than to leave you to the mercy of all these unattended young men.’

  ‘I am of the opinion that we are not as fragile as some would try to pretend.’

  ‘Do you believe that?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, tilting her head to his, laughter in her soft brown eyes. ‘It’s a masculine idea—meant to show the superiority of the male sex.’

  ‘And do you believe that also?’

  ‘Believe what?’

  ‘In the superiority of the man.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘So you are saying men are inferior, then.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘No, but that is what you meant.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘That is gracious of you.’

  ‘Not really. It’s common sense. I believe the sexes should be equal, that men and women should complement each other.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s some school you went to. I’m sure it is written somewhere that there are occasions where a woman’s role is subservient.’

  ‘Probably written by arrogant males who find females a temptation they can’t resist,’ she quipped. He held her so close she could feel the warmth of his body and smell the spicy scent of his cologne. She was suddenly conscious of his close proximity. His eyes, with their lowered lids, had never left her face. She had never realised before how seductive those eyes were making her feel—so female and fragile.

  Her cheeks flushed and she seemed to be having trouble breathing. Her breasts strained against their silken prison and her nipples were strangely taut, feeling the gaze of his lazy, indolent eyes like a subtle caress.

  ‘So, they transfer the blame for that on the women rather than their own weakness.’

  Looking up at him as he twirled her round again, Lucy saw the indolence in his eyes had been replaced by a mischievous twinkle and laughed. ‘Stop teasing me and enjoy the dance before you have to return me to my stepmother.’

  After a moment, on a more serious note, he said, ‘You are betrothed to Mark Barrington. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Her face fell, the carefree feelings of a moment before melting away. ‘First, I am not betrothed to anyone—especially not to Mr Barrington, however much he likes to think so—and second, I saw no reason to tell you his name. It didn’t seem to be important and it never occurred to me that you would know him.’

  ‘He is still intent on marrying you. Indeed, he has introduced you as his betrothed to anyone who will listen.’

  ‘I know. There is nothing I can do about that without causing a scene. But be assured, I have no intention of marrying him. I would rather kill myself.’

  Captain Wilding averted his gaze, but not before Lucy had seen the sudden pain that entered his eyes. It was as if her words had resurrected a time and an image he did not want to be reminded of.

  ‘The more I resist,’ Lucy went on, ‘Sofia is very quick to remind me of my duty and obligation to my father. But the more I have come to know them, the more certain I am that my father doesn’t want this. But what am I to do? I am quite alone and at their mercy. I am fearful of the future, which is as yet uncertain.’

  ‘Had I known I would have whisked you away to a place of safety to avoid his clutches.’

  ‘You know him, don’t you? You recognised him. I suspected as much when he reacted to your encounter when we arrived.’

  The sound he made, half-laugh, half-curse, made him turn from her. ‘Dear God in heaven! Do I know him? I wish I’d never set eyes on the blackguard. Yes, I know him. We know each other from way back. He is a man of questionable suitability for the young and innocent. Are you quite certain that your father consented to your marriage to Barrington?’

  ‘No—no, I’m not. I have reason to have strong doubts about it now. This is all very difficult for me. Sofia is beautiful and clever enough to have captured my ageing and lonely father—and young enough to find herself a lover. That is what Mr Barrington and Sofia are—lovers.’

  ‘Are you certain about that?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Had I not heard them together...’ she paused and blushed before continuing determinedly ‘...in her bedroom, I would not have believed it. But what can I do about it? I was so angry that I considered facing them with it, but I considered it prudent for the time being to keep what I witnessed to myself, to bide my time until Aunt Caroline comes back from France.’

  ‘You have heard nothing from her?’

  ‘No. She’s probably travelling. She did mention that she might go to Milan.’

  He was silent as he whirled her round in the dance. Seeing an opening in the tall Fre
nch windows, he deftly waltzed her through them on to a terrace that dropped down into a lantern-lit garden. Lucy stood beside a stone balustrade, breathing heavily from her exertions and appreciating the feel of the cool air on her face. Budding jasmine and honeysuckle climbing the walls around the garden gave off a heady and intoxicating scent. Warning bells began ringing inside her head, telling her of the impropriety of being on the terrace alone with this man, but she felt safe for the first time since she’d left the academy, and far too happy just being with him to listen to them.

  Her companion was so utterly relaxed, so confident. Most women would have felt a thrill of anticipation were he to gaze at them as he gazed at her now. ‘I don’t know what you hope to achieve by waltzing me out here in the middle of a dance—unless it is to catch your breath.’ With his hands clasped behind his back, he stood looking down at her. Despite her firm resolve to remain calm and unmoved by him, Lucy felt her heart give a sudden leap on being alone with him.

  ‘Oh, I can think of plenty of things that would interest me, Miss Walsh, and catching my breath is certainly not one of them.’ He boldly stared his appreciation until Lucy had the distinct feeling that his imagination went further than the material of her gown. A treacherous warmth was slowly beginning to seep up her arms and down her legs and she fought the weakness with all her might.

  She stood quite still when he reached out and traced her cheek and along her jaw with his finger. ‘But I did want to speak to you privately,’ he said on a more serious note. ‘It’s Mr Barrington and your stepmother that concerns me right now. They are up to no good. You have to get away from them.’

  ‘I know, but I am quite helpless. I won’t be bargained off like a piece of merchandise. I hate him. I hate them both.’ The words burst from her and she did not try to stop them. She looked at his face and something in its hard expression made her draw in her breath sharply. His eyes darkened and his expression tightened in a way that left her in no doubt of the anger he himself felt towards Mr Barrington. ‘What has he done to cause such ill feeling between the two of you?’

  ‘It’s a long and terribly sad tale, but I knew that one day, when I got my hands on him, I would make him wish he had never been born.’

  There was a note in his voice that Lucy had not heard before and it sent a cold shiver down her spine. ‘Why, what is he guilty of?’

  Staring straight ahead, he thought for a moment and then shook his head. ‘I’d rather not say—at least not now.’ Sighing deeply he turned to her. ‘I’d much rather talk of something else. I’d much rather talk about you,’ he said quietly.

  Lucy asked herself why she suddenly felt nervous standing alone with Captain Wilding and, to her consternation, found the answer. It was because he encroached too closely upon her and because she was afraid he would come even closer.

  ‘You are flushed,’ he said softly. ‘Are you all right? Not too warm?’

  She stared up at him and shook her head. She wasn’t sure she could speak without betraying the emotions that filled her with a sweet, unfamiliar torment. She wanted nothing more than to melt against him and assuage the feelings consuming her. She was unable to believe her reaction to this man. With always something to say for herself, she was now as awkward and inarticulate as the adolescent girl she was.

  They stood in silence for a moment and she knew he was as aware as she was of the combustible nature of their relationship. It was disturbing, an awareness that was uncomfortable. He was standing perfectly still, watching her. Those hooded, seductive eyes glowed darkly and told her things she had only ever been able to dream of. Something in his expression made her catch her breath and the spell was broken, but the effect of that warmly intimate look in his eyes was vibrantly, alarmingly alive, and the full import of the risk she was taking by being alone with him made her begin to quake inside. This was only the third time they had met and already Captain Wilding had established himself in her mind and she was troubled by her own susceptibility.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked after a moment.

  ‘I was thinking how lovely both the night and the scent coming from the flowers in the garden are,’ she answered truthfully.

  ‘And you are enjoying the ball—which, I assume, is your first.’

  ‘Yes, it is and I am enjoying the experience.’

  ‘You will enjoy many more balls in the future.’ He paused, looking at her appraisingly as she gazed into the garden. ‘Have you any idea how lovely you look tonight?’ he murmured.

  There was a soft, caressing note in his voice which should have caused Lucy to take flight, but instead she merely looked at him enquiringly and smiled. ‘If I do, then it is more to do with the expertise of my maid than anything else. Believe me, I am exactly the same person you met at the fair.’

  He laughed, his strong white teeth flashing in the dim light, and Lucy realised that when he did that he seemed much younger than his twenty-eight or thirty years.

  ‘Of course you are and you were just as lovely then—and I remember how it felt when I saved you from that stampeding horse and held you in my arms.’

  A warm flush crept over Lucy’s cheeks and through her veins when she remembered how he had held her close, his warm breath on her neck. ‘I think you recall too much,’ she chided gently, smiling up at him obliquely.

  ‘Where you are concerned, Miss Walsh, I cannot help it.’ A lazy smile swept over his handsome face and the force of that white smile did treacherous things to Lucy’s heart rate. ‘Come, admit it. You like being out here with me.’

  ‘I do?’ He nodded. Lucy looked at him, despite her desire not to, not for the first time finding herself at a loss to understand him.

  ‘Admit it, Miss Walsh. Admit that you are here with me because you want to be. Because you find yourself irresistibly drawn to me—as I am to you.’

  With slightly raised eyebrows he glanced down at her, his gaze and his crooked smile drenching her in its sexuality and bringing an attractive flush to her cheeks. ‘I don’t know what it is or how you do it, but you make me feel uneasy when you speak to me like this and look at me the way you are doing now. There is nothing between us.’

  ‘There isn’t?’

  ‘No—and I have given you no reason to suppose there is.’ She looked at him helplessly. ‘I don’t understand you. I don’t understand what it is you want.’

  Lucy was too innocent and naive not to let her emotions show on her face. For a long moment Captain Wilding’s gaze held hers with penetrating intensity, not having missed the emotions flitting over her expressive features. The clear silver-grey of his eyes were as enigmatic as they were silently challenging and unexpectedly Lucy felt an answering thrill of excitement. The darkening in Captain Wilding’s eyes warned her he was aware of that brief response.

  ‘I think you do, Lucy,’ he said softly.

  The music, the scent of the flowers, quickened her heartbeat as a thick, ready awareness heated the air between them. For a moment Lucy was thrown into such a panic she could not think coherently. He was standing so very close that she suddenly wanted to escape, to return to the dancing. Yet, at the same time, she could not move and allowed Captain Wilding to draw her against his chest, her eyes wide open as he bent his head and placed his mouth over her own, plucking the breath from between her parted lips, his mouth warm and searching. She sighed against him, sweet splendour blossoming inside.

  They both felt the sudden excitement of physical contact. Lucy had never been kissed in her life and she could not have imagined how pleasurable it could be. Too innocent and naive to know how to hide her feelings, she followed his lead and instinctively yielded her mouth to his. The moment Captain Wilding felt her response his arms tightened around her, circling and possessive, desire, primitive and potent, pouring through his veins.

  His lips left her mouth and trailed a path across her cheek to her ear, bushing back and forth, the
n his tongue touched the lobe and began delicately tracing each curve, slowly probing each crevice, until Lucy shivered with the waves of tension shooting through her.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he murmured, his lips against hers. ‘I’ll stop whenever you tell me to.’

  Imprisoned by his protective embrace and reassured by his words, Lucy allowed him to take her lips once more. The sweet offering drew a half-groan from him and his lips seized hers in a kiss of melting hunger that deepened to scorching demand. Lucy felt a glorious ache inside her that slowly spread and she found herself sliding into a dark abyss of desire. He pressed his hips to hers and she could feel the hardness of his body. She trembled against him as waves of pleasure shot through her. Raising his hand, he caressed the nape of her neck, his lips leaving hers and tracing a line down the column of her throat, his hands warm on her flesh, before finding her lips once more and tasting their champagne-flavoured softness.

  To Lucy, absolutely seduced by his kiss, what he was doing to her was like being wrapped in a cocoon of dangerous, pleasurable sensuality, where she had no control over anything. When Captain Wilding at last removed his mouth from hers he drew a long, shuddering breath, meeting her gaze and seeing that her eyes were naked and defenceless. His tanned features were hard with desire, and, aware that someone could appear at any moment, he knew he must keep their passion under control.

  Lucy trembled in the aftermath of his kiss, unable to believe what had happened or that she desperately wanted him to repeat the kiss that had stunned her senses with its wild sweetness. Captain Wilding was still holding her gaze and she looked with longing at his lips.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that unless you want me to kiss you again, Lucy,’ he murmured huskily, his eyes dark with passion.