“Yes, Papa.”
She turned toward the clearing, her world narrowing with every step she took toward her “new husband.”
Chapter Eight
Alison’s entire body was numb. It was not time yet. She and Jonathan were becoming closer by the day, and she was enjoying their conversations immensely. She couldn’t possibly agree to the duke. Not yet. Her life was exactly what she’d always hoped, yet never dared to dream, it would be. Honest and intelligent conversations with a man who made her heart beat in an irregular pattern and her breathing thin. She wasn’t ready to give him up and marry some lord who’d taken a fancy to her dowry—not even if he were a duke.
But she couldn’t explain that to Papa.
She wandered in a daze across the grass. The sounds of the sparring pair in the ring barely penetrated her thoughts. Alison passed Vallie, trying to hide the heaviness in her chest. The duke was a little arrogant and they didn’t have sparkling conversations, but he was handsome. He might not have the soulful and intelligent eyes or the scientific mind Jonathan did, but . . . he had other qualities. She just didn’t know him. Perhaps after a few years, and a couple of children, they would find a happy companionability. Her chest welled and her stomach rebelled.
A hand tapped lightly against her shoulder, and Valera fell into step beside her. “What has happened, Alison?”
“My father said I am finally going to marry.” She forced the word past a blockage in her throat and it came out as a soft sob.
“That’s grand.” Valera’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s that awful gypsy and her cruel sense of humor. The pendant didn’t lead any of you to the heart of a duke, though you wanted that heart.” It had led her to the heart of a duke she never truly wanted. Alison wanted to kick out in frustration. This was all the blasted pendant’s fault. “No, I know it’s just a necklace. Deep down I know that. Still, what other explanation could there be? Perhaps if I take it off, he won’t care for me any longer.”
“Why wouldn’t you want him to care for you? I thought you cared for him.”
“The duke?”
Valera lifted her chin. “The duke? No, Mr. Foster. I know you two will be happy together. I see it whenever you speak to him.”
Alison’s eyes burned, but she held the tears, covering them with a wide smile. “Yes.” Emotion choked her word and she swallowed. “Yes, but that doesn’t matter because he won’t ask me. He wants to develop some great invention to be worthy of marriage. He wants the fame of being well known in his field, but I don’t care about that. I just want him.”
“Does he know that?”
She nodded. “I’ve shown him in every way I could, but it doesn’t matter. And now father insists I speak to the duke, who is waiting for me in the clearing beyond the trees. Papa made it clear I wasn’t to refuse him. This horrid pendant is to blame.”
“Oh Allie.” A soft frown curved Valera’s lips. “I’m sorry.”
Alison almost jerked the pendant from her throat, then her stomach dropped. “Wait. What if the pendant is the reason I’ve had such wonderful conversations with Jonathan . . . I mean, Mr. Foster? I’ve never been able to speak with him this way before. What if I remove it and he doesn’t even look at me again?”
Vallie laughed and took Alison’s arm in hers. “You silly thing. The necklace didn’t do this, and you don’t need it. You can give it to your sister safe in the knowledge that you are the reason he loves you. You finally allowed him to see the beautiful person we’ve all seen, and now he is helpless to do anything but love you as we do.”
She held the pendant in a shaking hand. Half of her wanted to throw it and the other half wanted to clutch it in a closed fist, because all of her wanted Jonathan. Yet she could never truly trust in her heart, or his, until she rid herself of it. She could never be worthy of him while she held on to the idea of magic and superstition. She lifted it over her head. “Give this to Charlotte for me. It is hers now.”
“A fine idea.”
“Whatever happens, I don’t need the pendant. I’m about to see what my future will hold without magic.” And possibly without science or love.
Valera smiled brightly and held out her hand, gazing at the pendant as it fell into her palm, then she nodded. “Yes, you are strong, brave, and beautiful enough. And perhaps, if there is a little magic in this world, things might turn out well after all. You’re brilliant and, when the time comes, I have no doubt you will know exactly what to do.”
Could she dare to refuse him? She had never defied her father intentionally before, so he might forgive her this one time. She cringed. Probably not.
Alison nodded, moving toward the clearing where the duke waited, either to win her hand . . . or not.
The crowd parted to allow another pair to spar. Disappointment washed over Jonathan when he saw Alison engaged in intense conversation with the countess. He’d hoped to speak with her. She always made the most interesting observations when he surprised her. He wondered what she would think of his fencing skill. It wasn’t precisely something that would distinguish him in the world of science, but he was rather proud of his abilities.
“You did very well, Mr. Foster.” Lady Charlotte offered a demure smile. “I wasn’t aware you could fence.”
Jonathan lifted an eyebrow. Lady Charlotte, much like her sister, was more often than not, a quiet wallflower. She’d only spoken to him directly a handful of times in all the years he’d visited her father’s estate. “Yes. I had some training in school, and my fencing instructor took an interest in my natural ability. He once said I was a menace without a sword, but with one, I was a hero.”
In actual fact, his father had said the words. His instructor had only said he had talent beyond the others he taught—a comment which had enticed his father to insist he train harder than any man alive, and possibly the dead ones too.
“Oh.” She glanced down at her slippers, probably uncertain how to respond.
Jonathan decided to save her the embarrassment of trying. “He spent a fair amount of his spare time tutoring me in the finer points of the sport.”
“And why did you choose science?” She glanced toward where Alison stood with her friend, gripping the pendant she’d worn every day of the party in a white knuckled grip. He hoped nothing was wrong. “It is not an obvious choice. I would have thought, with your father being a knight and having your skill with a sword, you would enter into the army.”
“I’ve never had much of a liking for violence.” Except perhaps for the sharp desire he’d had to thrash Langley a number of times during the party.
Alison walked away from the countess, eyes downcast, and Charlotte faced him. “A practical decision, indeed. I’ve often told Alison that she must have a sensible idea of her life. Her talk of science and being able to read and study all those ideas is a dream. She must be realistic, which is why I’m so happy the Duke of Langley is offering for her.”
Jonathan gripped his makeshift sword as if it were a rope on a storm-tossed ship, which from the way his body reacted to her words, he might well have been. “Oh?”
“Yes. Isn’t it lovely? She will be a duchess.” Charlotte studied him. “He’s waiting in the clearing beyond the sparring match right now. It will afford them a little privacy. Isn’t that romantic?”
“No.” Jonathan’s vision blurred into a red haze. He’d allowed so much in life to be taken from him. He’d allowed his father to take his pride and make him feel less of a man for choosing science over the army. He’d allowed Humphry Davy to take his spirit and make him believe he was not a scientist unless he could outwit Davy. Now he was allowing the Duke of Langley to steal the one woman who truly understood him. The one woman who thought he was something, even when he’d been questioning his own value.
Well, no more. This time he wouldn’t allow any man or woman to take what he wanted. This time, he was going to charge ahead and become the General his father had always wanted him to be.
<
br /> Chapter Nine
Alison trudged toward her fate. If she refused the duke, it would mean a lifetime of spinsterhood. Yet even if Jonathan finally felt himself worthy of her, how could she admit what she’d done to make him care for her? And what would he think of a silly woman who believed that a chunk of metal could hold sway on the real world? He wanted a woman of science and logic and she’d allowed herself to believe in the power of a pendant. Her mind was weak.
Still, she loved him. With everything in her soul and everything in her heart, she loved him.
As she neared the clearing, the sounds of the fight fading into the background, strong hands grabbed her shoulders. She cried out as they whirled her around.
“Jonathan? What are you doing?”
Her words faded away when she saw the fire in his eyes. He was touching her in a way he’d never really touched her before—not by accident. Her toes curled and she ran her tongue over her lower lip. She watched his eyes move, as he concentrated on the tip of her tongue.
Her body trembled as her skin tingled beneath his fingers. “Did you . . . need anything?”
“Yes. Yes, I definitely need . . .” His jaw muscles jumped. “You have something of mine, and you will not go off and marry the duke while you still possess it.”
He crushed her to him, his mouth covering hers, and the world narrowed to the space of two humans, two beating hearts, two sets of lips. At first, his kiss was soft and gentle, as she’d always suspected it would be. Yet the soft motion of his lips sweeping over hers mesmerized her and her body became a liquid. She melted against him, wanting to feel him, even if only through the layers of their clothing.
He inhaled sharply, let out a soft growl, and gathered her closer. His tongue prodded gently at her lower lips, sliding along the tingling flesh and a thrill ran through her. Her lips parted on a sigh and his tongue slipped in to explore the newfound territory. He tasted of the spiced pudding they’d had for breakfast and ever so slightly of ink, which seemed right in so many ways. The taste of him, the feel of his hard chest beneath her hands, and his singular scent made her dizzy. She ran her hands up his shoulders to cling to his neck. He softened the kiss, then ran his lips in a gentle graze along her cheek, stopping with his cheek pressed to hers. For a moment, he just stayed there and she turned her nose into his neck, inhaling his scent and enfolding herself in him with every sense she possessed, as if somehow she could become a part of him by sheer will.
“I’ve dreamed of this moment so many times.” Her breath hadn’t yet returned so her words were a whisper. “Of you taking me in your arms and kissing me.”
“Me too.” His words were a harsh gasp that made her insides squeeze tight.
She did affect him as strongly as he affected her. Her heart lurched. “Have you truly?”
Her breath refused to leave her chest, awaiting his reply.
Though his muscles resisted every bit of air that moved between them, he pulled back to look down into her eyes, his palms rubbing over her upper arms. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done to me?”
Her brow furrowed. “Have I done anything wrong?”
“Yes, you’ve stolen my soul. You’ve transformed me. I’ve always known you were special. There is a chemical reaction when we come together—a change in both of us that is palpable.”
“I feel it too. It sends shivers across my skin and makes my insides melt.”
His body tightened at her admission, but he fought away his desire. He had to convince her to choose him. “It is something the duke can never give you. It’s something only we can have together.”
Her eyes surveyed his chest, as if she searched for something written across the fabric. “It is an inexplicable explosion of light. A thousand invisible fireflies floating through the ether.”
He smiled. “I couldn’t have put it better.”
“What about your inventions? I thought you wanted to wait until you invented something great.”
“Someone brilliant once told me I was someone when I thought I was someone.” He moved his hands down her arms, taking her fingers in his. “Well, I feel like someone when I’m with you, and even if I don’t succeed in inventing or discovering anything original, as long as I have you, I’ll know I must be special.”
Her eyes shone and she pressed a hand to her lips.
“And if you will have me, I shall spend every moment of my life letting you know how special you are.”
“I want desperately to say yes.” Her fingers trembled. “But I don’t think I can.”
Jonathan let his head fall forward, his muscles tightening as his chest constricted and the all-too-familiar fire began to rage inside him. “Because of your father? Or the duke?”
“It has nothing to do with either of them.”
“What other reason could there be for your refusal?” Refusal, such an ugly word.
“I have to tell you everything. I can’t allow you to marry me without knowing the truth.” She stepped back, pulling from his grip. “Because I’m not the woman you think I am.”
He ran his thumbs over his fingers, missing the feel of her beneath them. “What do you mean? How could you possibly think I don’t know who you are?”
She held her breath for a moment, then released it with a whoosh. “I’ve been pretending to be something I’m not. I’m not a woman of science.”
He furrowed his brow. What could she possibly be on about?
Alison pursed her lips. “You want a woman who is brilliant, or at least competently academic. I’m afraid I don’t meet the qualification.”
He smiled. She must be teasing him. Her mouth wasn’t curved and her eyes weren’t shining. She wasn’t teasing. “Why would you believe yourself anything but my intellectual equal?”
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Because I can’t seem to help myself. I don’t want to be a silly girl, but I am.”
“Are what? Help yourself what?”
“I believe in magic. I tried to stop myself, but I can’t help it. I have since I was a girl. I know it’s ridiculous, because the world is made of tangible things, but when my father said I must marry, I wore the pendant,” she said. “A gypsy sold my friends and I a pendant when we were girls and said it would lead to the heart of a duke. I believed it would.”
His face became hard a stone. “You wanted to marry the Duke of Langley?”
Chapter Ten
Alison pressed her other hand to her forehead too. This was all wrong.
“No. You don’t understand.” She held up a hand, moving away and trusting distance to protect her heart. “I never wanted to marry the Duke of Langley, but Papa had said I must choose a husband. I have wished for you to show me some sign of interest for years, but I wasn’t certain it would ever happen. Even when I began to think my feelings were mutual, you said you wanted to distinguish yourself first. I didn’t know what else to do.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I understand. I can hardly hold you responsible for a choice you made before I arrived.”
“I put on the necklace because I was faced with a choice I couldn’t stand to make, and I wanted that choice taken from me because I had no power to choose what I wanted. You see. That is why I had to tell you. I believed the pendant would help me, and I don’t want you to marry me and be disappointed because I’m such a silly thing.”
“Well, Newton’s apple.” Jonathan grinned as he used her favorite exclamation. “You are silly, if you believe that’s ridiculous. Science is magic. The first man who thought to rub two sticks together to create fire was making magic, and the force that brought us together, whether scientific or not, was and is magic.”
“Do you mean it?”
“The magic of science is what I love most about it.”
She flew into his arms and kissed his cheeks and nose.
He grinned, pulling back. “Does this mean you will marry me?”
“Yes.” She laughed. “I would never have chosen another.”
> “Neither would I.”
His eyes suddenly burned, and her skin warmed in response. In fact, parts of her body tingled and tightened that she would never have expected to react to his closeness. It was science and magic all rolled into one—some chemical reaction delivered by a fat baby with a bow and magic arrow. Jonathan leaned in, his deep brown eyes on her lips. For the first time ever her nervous energy faded.
This time, when his lips pressed hers, soft and full, the world finally felt right. She pressed a hand to his stubble-covered cheek and let her eyes flutter closed. The touch of his mouth was feather light, as if he were reveling in the touch of her lips to his. She took in a deep breath and his scent filled her, surrounded her like the brightest clouds and the best daydreams. She let it out in a tiny whimper.
Then everything changed. His arms slid over her shoulders and down her back. As he drew her in, he deepened the kiss, taking her lower lip gently between his. Her breathing came faster, and the world charged with electricity. Propriety, nervousness, her family beyond the trees, everything faded behind the passion of his embrace, the wild abandon of his tongue as it found its way back into her mouth to touch her own.
After a moment of this passionate frenzy, he slowed the kiss, pulling back. He pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, as if he couldn’t bear to release her. The thought sent a thrill through her. He gazed into her eyes, his forehead still against hers. “We must be careful. Your family is waiting just beyond the trees.”
Nervous, loud laughter bubbled up in her throat.
He smiled, wider and wider, then he laughed, a rich, throaty laugh. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to feel worthy of you?”
She gazed deep into those eyes, so full of humor and intelligence. “And you always have been.”
His shoulders released forward, as if he’d held some tension that had finally released. “Come, my bride. Let’s inform your family of your answer. The sooner we tell them, the sooner we can wed and finish that kiss.”
The Heart of a Duke Page 29
