The Kiss of Love (The Book of Love 6)

by Meara Platt

  “Yes,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “They’ve deepened. Turned into something so much more. I didn’t think it possible, because I already loved you so much.”

  He laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s hit me much the same.”

  “Truly?”

  He put his arms around her and began to run his fingers lightly through her hair, seeming not to mind as the long strands spilled over his forearm. “In my university years, I was a bit of a hound. My wicked reputation lingers to this day, most of the gossip false. I’ve long ago stopped feeling the need to…pollinate every flower I come across.”

  She snorted. “Sorry. Is that what you were doing? Pollinating me?”

  He gave a chuckling groan. “I’m trying to be polite here. Are you in any doubt about what I was doing?”

  She shook her head, knowing her smile was still impertinent. She eeped when he suddenly drew her onto his lap. The sheet had slipped off her chest and was barely hiding anything of her body now. She tried to shift in order to wrap it more securely around herself, but he did not appear to be inclined to help.

  He dipped his head and kissed the swell of her breast. “As soon as we are back in London, I’ll obtain the special license. Every organ in my body will rupture if I have to wait beyond tomorrow to call you my wife. What I felt last night…I truly don’t know how to describe this intensity of feeling. Despite my years of experience, nothing prepared me for it. I knew I loved you. But last night…our coupling…added an entirely new aspect.”

  She nodded. “The book called it a shared intimacy. One of the many threads that connect us.”

  He caressed her cheek. “All I want to do is roll you back under me and keep connecting us until we are wrapped up tight in our own cocoon. No point waiting even another day to obtain the special license. I’ll go right now.”

  “And abandon your other guests?” She laughed. “Now I’ve learned something new about you. You are most impatient when you’re starved for sex.”

  “Only with you, love. Only ever with you.” He kissed her on the lips and sighed as he eased her off his lap. “Nathaniel will bludgeon me if he finds me in here. He and Poppy trusted me to behave myself.”

  She winced. “They trusted me, too.”

  He rose to hunt for her nightrail that had been tossed aside in haste last night. He found it lodged in a rumpled ball between the mattress and the footboard. “Here, sweetheart. Put this on, or I’ll never have the strength to leave.”

  Honey quickly donned it, but the thin cotton was no substitute for Tom’s warm body. “Yes, do go. Poor Lottie. She’ll shriek if she finds you in here.”

  “Blessed saints, even when you’re covered up, I can’t resist you.”

  She gave a mirthful gasp and held up her hand when he started toward her again. “Oh, no. Get out of here, my wicked lord. The entire household will be stirring soon.”

  Once he was gone, she made up the bed, straightening it just enough to make it look slept in by one person. Right now, it looked as though a jousting match had taken place on it. She also opened her window to allow in the cool, autumn air.

  The scent of sandalwood, his scent, was on the bed and in the room. Probably on her skin as well. She washed reluctantly. But she had to. It wouldn’t do for his servants to know she had been with him outside of marriage.

  Her respectability was already in question because of the circumstances surrounding her birth.

  She inhaled lightly.

  Goodness! She hadn’t given it a thought last night when asking him to join her in bed. What must he think of her? Illegitimate and wanton.

  But she knew he thought no such thing, and this made her love him all the more.

  She was washed and dressed by the time Lottie came up to draw her curtains aside to wake her. “Oh, Miss Honey. You’re up bright and early.”

  She nodded. “Most of Lord Wycke’s guests are leaving today. I thought I’d rise early to wish them a good journey. Some have quite a distance to go. They might have taken off already.”

  “Yes, a few have. Most will leave right after breakfast. But you’re to stay until tomorrow and return to London with his lordship and Lady Wycke, is that not right, Miss Honey?” She glanced around as though the wall might have ears and whispered. “It isn’t my place to say, but he seems quite taken with you.”

  She could have denied it or merely shrugged and claimed she hadn’t noticed. But Lottie, although not book smart, was sharp when it came to people. Also, she was a terrible liar, and Lottie would know it at once. “I’m quite taken with him, too.”

  That seemed to please the young maid to no end. “We all could tell by the way he looked at you whenever he thought no one was watching. No one important, that is. We could see it, but we’re just his staff, here to serve his lordship. A good maid ought to be invisible to her betters. So, we go about our jobs, unseen.”

  Honey frowned. “But your good work is noticed. This house is beautifully maintained, and none of us has lacked for anything throughout our stay. That’s a tribute to all of you. I planned to thank Mrs. Finch personally.”

  “Oh, she’ll be thrilled. Few guests think to praise her. They simply partake of all that’s offered and then just take themselves off.”

  “I understand how much effort it takes to make things run smoothly.”

  Lottie nodded. “Miss, shall I style your hair?”

  “Yes, please do.” She sat on a chair by the window, listening to the girl chatter while she fussed with her hair, first drawing it back and braiding it, then twisting the braid in a fashionable knot at the nape of her neck. A few, curling wisps framed her face.

  “There, Miss Honey. Don’t you look lovely?”

  “Thank you, Lottie.” Although the hour was still early, she decided to stop in next door to see how Lady Wycke had fared. She had been too tired to join in the festivities last night. The door was slightly ajar, so she nudged it open a little more and peeked inside.

  Oh, dear.

  Dora and the maid assigned to tend Tom’s mother were both at her side, trying to calm her. “He’ll be right back, m’lady. Have a cup of tea, won’t you? He’ll pop his head in by the time you’ve finished it.”

  “Why are you lying to me? I know he’s gone. Where is he?”

  Honey’s heart sank as she heard the poor woman utter this often-repeated refrain. She’d heard it often over the course of the weekend. “Where’s Tom? Where’s my Tom?”

  Honey ran to Tom’s door and knocked on it. “Lord Wycke, are you in there?”

  His valet, Merrick, appeared. “May I help you, Miss Farthingale?”

  “It’s his mother. She is asking for him.” She began to wring her hands. Tom’s valet slept in a side room off the earl’s elegantly appointed quarters. Did he know where Tom had been last night? Not that he would ever comment upon it if he did. But heat crept into her cheeks anyway. She hoped he would attribute it to concern over Lady Wycke. “She’s quite agitated. I think he ought to come right away.”

  His expression turned to one of worry. “I believe his lordship is in the dining room. I shall fetch him at once.”

  “Thank you. In the meanwhile, I’ll see if I can do anything to help her.” She ran back to the dowager’s quarters but did not know what she could possibly do if Dora and the maid had failed. Still, she had to try.

  She approached quietly and drew up a chair beside her. “Lady Wycke, what is the matter? Is there something I can get for you?”

  Her eyes had narrowed, her pupils darting back and forth in an attempt to keep her gaze on all of them at once. There was a slightly frightening aspect to her look, as though she saw them as people who meant to do her harm.

  Honey wanted to take her hand but dared not. “Ah, I see you have several books on your night table. May I read you one of them?”

  She pulled one off the pile and opened it without awaiting her answer. “Oh, this is one of the legends of King Arthur. I do enjoy these stories. Do
you remember the wizard, Merlin? And young Arthur pulling the sword out of the stone?”

  Tom’s mother was still eyeing her suspiciously.

  She began to read anyway but hadn’t gotten beyond the first page when his mother interrupted. “You were with my Tom last night. I heard you.”

  Her eyes rounded in horror, and her breath caught. “I…I…”

  Dora and the maid came to her defense, no doubt believing the woman was referring to Tom’s father, who was long since dead. “Nonsense, m’lady,” the maid said. “You’re quite mistaken. This is Miss Farthingale. Lady Poppy’s cousin. She doesn’t know your husband.”

  Dora chimed in. “Your son had a party last night. What you heard was music and chatter. Everyone had a lovely time.”

  Tom strode into the room and knelt before his mother. “What’s the matter, my darling?”

  Relief washed over her. “There you are, Tom. Where have you been?”

  Honey’s stomach twisted in a knot when she saw the pain in his eyes. “Downstairs. Our guests are leaving today. I must see them off.”

  His mother struggled to rise from her bed. “Oh, I ought to be by your side.”

  He didn’t look pleased, but he nodded. “Yes, if you feel up to it. They’ll understand if you aren’t.”

  She seemed confused, as though she’d already forgotten why she’d risen. “No, no. Where’s my tea? My bones are aching, and I’m feeling quite poorly today.”

  Tom took her aged, shaking hand. “Dora will pour you a cup. I’ll come see you again in a little while. As soon as our guests are safely on their way.”

  He tried to rise, but she wouldn’t let go of him. “Promise me.”

  He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “I will.”

  “Because I must speak to you about our son. He’s brought a…Cyprian…into our home. I will not have it. He was with her last night. I heard them.”

  Honey wanted to crawl into a hiding hole and never come out.

  Tom was much cooler about it than she ever could be. “I can assure you, there is no Cyprian under this roof.”

  Dora was ashen. “Oh, Lord Wycke. I don’t know what’s got into her today. She’s never been this bad. First accusing sweet Miss Farthingale of entertaining your father in her room and now accusing you of bringing a woman of ill repute into this house. She isn’t well.”

  “I’ll come back and spend a little time with her once our guests are gone. Do what you can, Dora. I know this isn’t easy for you or any of us. Miss Farthingale,” he said, offering her his arm. “Come down to breakfast. You must be hungry as well as overset.”

  She nodded and allowed him to guide her out of the room. “Oh, Tom,” she whispered. “She heard us. I’m so ashamed.”

  “For what we did last night?” His expression darkened.

  “I don’t regret it. But now everyone thinks she’s delusional when we know she isn’t.”

  He placed a comforting hand over hers. “She is, Honey. She mistakes me for my father. She believes he’s still alive. As we walked out, you heard her talking about my sister and the big man who stole her away. Malcolm MacLauren. He is Anne’s husband. Just as you will soon be my wife.”

  She knew he was right, but it still gnawed at her insides, particularly because she was sensitive to her birth circumstances. Illegitimate and wanton. Could she overlook the scandal if the truth of either was ever found out?

  More important, could Tom overlook the scandal?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Honey knew the return trip to London would not be an easy one for Tom or for herself. His mother had not been well since yesterday morning. This was unusual and troubling. Until now, there had always been moments in the day when Lady Wycke had been her old self, cheerful and charming. To lose even that had all of them worried, and Tom most of all.

  The sky was overcast, matching the pall over their hearts as they all climbed in the carriage for the journey back to town. Even though it was not raining, Tom had chosen to ride in the carriage with them.

  Honey knew at once it was a mistake, for she could see he was in quiet torment.

  He was a man used to being in charge and in control, able to fix things as soon as they broke. But he could not fix his mother’s fading luster.

  Their only moment of joy since yesterday had been when they’d told Poppy and Nathaniel of their betrothal. Poppy had hugged her and said, “I knew it. I’d hoped for it. May you be as happy as Nathaniel and I.”

  Nathaniel had expressed similar sentiments.

  This was the last time she’d seen Tom smile, and she could see that he was now straining within the confines of the carriage, no doubt feeling it was more of a tomb than an elegant conveyance. “Lord Wycke, I think you ought to ride your horse the rest of the way.”

  He cast her a wry smile. “Looking to be rid of me already, Miss Farthingale?”

  “Yes, my lord.” She arched an eyebrow impudently. “You are too big and are hogging all the space. I’m squeezed into a corner.”

  He knew she was teasing him. “Very well, I shall do so after our next stop.”

  That stop came soon afterward when they drew into the courtyard of the Four Roses Inn. The innkeeper and his wife hurried out to greet them. Tom hopped down and arranged for a private dining room, ordering a hearty meal for all of them even though the hour was still early.

  A moment later, he helped her down the carriage steps. “You are the only debutante in London who would object to my proximity,” he whispered, keeping hold of her far longer than necessary and surely catching the notice of anyone watching.

  She cupped his cheek, only a brief touch before she drew her hand away. “No objection, my lord. As you well know, considering our…proximity the other night. I can’t bear to see you in pain. You were suffocating in the carriage and tormenting yourself.”

  He sighed as he released her. “I thought my presence would help.”

  “Ride alongside the carriage when we resume the journey. She’ll see you, and it will comfort her just as much as if you were seated beside her. Truly, there is nothing any of us can do at the moment. But I will ask my uncle, do you know him? George Farthingale? He’s a brilliant doctor. There may be nothing he can do for your mother’s condition, either. But he can help us to understand what is going on, and what we can do to comfort her best.”

  “We? I like the sound of that.” His smile was no longer mirthless.

  Honey breathed a sigh of relief, noting a trace of lightness in his eyes that had been dulled by worry until now. The situation was not a happy one, but knowing they would deal with whatever came next together took a weight off his shoulders.

  They helped Dora and his mother down and settled them in the private room. Once tea and apricot tarts had been set out for them to nibble while waiting for their meal, Tom offered her his arm. “Walk with me?”

  She nodded, for both of them needed a dose of fresh air.

  They strolled to the edge of the garden marked by a stone wall. Tom leaned against it and folded his arms over his chest as he faced her. “I’m trying to keep my mind off her, but it’s impossible. She’s deteriorating so rapidly. It’s hard to believe only a few months ago she was herself, perhaps a little forgetful and dithering. But nothing like this.”

  “Her scattered thoughts might have been going on longer than you know, only she was able to hide it until now.”

  He cast her a wistful smile. “You would have picked up on the cues immediately. I ignored and denied them. I think this is another difference between men and women. You nurture, and we fight. But how does one fight an invisible enemy? You can’t pound it with your fists. You can’t fight it with a weapon.”

  “You can only lend comfort and assistance when needed.”

  “Ha! In this, I would likely earn failing marks. I’m impatient. Need to get things done and see the results come to fruition. Sitting helplessly by a bedside is not something I can do for more than a few minutes.”

  “That�
��s because you view it as being helpless. But it is a huge relief for the person who is in need of comfort. It isn’t about you. It’s about them.”

  He chuckled. “Nathaniel often remarks that Poppy has the sweetest way of kicking his arse to the Antipodes and back. I think you have that same quality, politely telling me I’m an arse, and I should get over my own petty gripes.”

  “Oh, Tom. They aren’t petty. Just misguided.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Have I asked you to marry me yet, Miss Farthingale? Just want to be sure I have because I am never letting you get away. This is another thing I realized the book spoke about. Connections. These threads we weave that bind us over time. We aren’t weaving the same threads. My colors will be different from yours. But put together, they create the beautiful tapestry of our life.”

  “You are waxing poetic.”

  “Hardly.” He leaned forward and stole another kiss. “But I’m noticing that your strengths are perfectly compatible with my weaknesses.”

  “Just as your strengths are a good match for my weaknesses.” She took his arm when they turned back toward the dining room. “The Book of Love says it is our brains that make these connections, but I’m not certain I agree. We knew it, felt it before we’d ever spoken to each other. Our hearts were drawn together. Perhaps this was the unconscious part of our brain already at work and gathering all these bits of information in the blink of an eye and sending it to our heart.”

  He opened the door to lead her back inside the inn. “Like an officious, but very efficient clerk checking off a list. Ah, here’s a girl. Let’s see what we like about her. Beautiful smile. Stamp. Glittering eyes. Stamp. Stunning body. Stamp, stamp, stamp. Because that’s worth three. Charming voice. Clever, too. Every line now stamped. Ah, this one. Move her along to his heart. Damn lazy organ. About time it awoke.”

  Honey laughed. “Oh, yes. I’m sure it is exactly like that.”

  He smiled at her with great affection, but she had her hand on his arm and felt his tension return as they drew nearer to their table.