"Every moment," she read, "the view without grew more and more de-so-la--"
"Desolate. Do you know what that means?"
"Scary?"
"Yes, in a way. Deserted. Forbidding."
She nodded and continued. The young husband of the ghost tale bade his wife come away from the glass, but she refused. When finally she turned away, her face was pale, her nerves unstrung.
"Darling," said the wife of the tale. "Isn't there a superstition--of course it's only a superstition--that when somebody is walking over your grave, you shudder invo-lun--"
"Involuntarily."
"Tonight," Lily read on, "somebody is walking over my grave--and somehow, somehow, I feel as if it will not be long before I fill it."
James chuckled softly. How charming she was, getting into the spirit of the reading, voicing the disquieted wife with perfect drama.
"Nonsense," the husband replied on the page. She did the husband's voice with a hilariously gruff tone he sincerely hoped was not based on him. "Your nerves are unstrung, dearest. Come away now."
At that point in the story, the wife began to stagger around and tremble in quite the most frightening way. The husband rushed from the room and the possessed wife gave a shriek and cry. James could feel Lily's own nerves draw up tight as she read the chilling prose. She was fully engrossed in the story when some imp inside him decided to use a dangling ribbon from her hair to tickle the back of her arm. Lily gave her own shriek, one that no doubt rivaled the shriek of the unfortunate woman in the story, and leaped headlong into James' lap. He caught her, quaking with laughter, as Hanover came running in ready to take arms. He took one look at the entangled pair and his expression changed from alarm to embarrassment.
"Er…pardon me, sir and miss, I'll just be--"
"No, Hanover," James said with a grin. "Come in and light the lamps, please. All of them. We have been reading ghost stories and I'm afraid Lily is quite spooked."
She pushed away from his lap with a frown. "I was not at all spooked until you played that silly trick on me. I thought it was a ghoul come to breathe down my neck."
"A ghoul? You wound me."
A giggle finally escaped as she smoothed the skirts of her gown. "You are a rascal, James. You pretend you are not, but you are through and through, and it's a true farce to put forward your stern, serious face when you are nothing but a lark underneath."
James looked at her thoughtfully in the new lamplight, barely noticing as Hanover left and closed the door behind him. He was captured by the glow of her skin, the twinkle in her eye. She flirted with him. More than that, she had figured him true. The sober man who was a secret rogue and profligate.
He pretended pique. "My stern, serious face is supposed to impress you."
She snorted inelegantly. "Each day it impresses me less. You are not the hard man you pretend to be." She slid a look at him. "I mean, well…I do not mean to speak disrespectfully."
He knew he was staring, unnerving her, probably. He couldn't help it. She spoke so candidly for once, it completely undid his reserve. He wanted to do the same before the moment passed, before the walls went up again between them. "I want you to speak openly, even disrespectfully if you wish, Lily. Tell me what type of man I am, if you know it."
She swallowed and looked away, blushing.
"I…I do not know. I do not pretend to know. I was just teasing. I'm sorry."
"No." He took her bare hand in his, an impulsive gesture that he could see shocked her, but she didn't pull away. "No, I am not chastising you. It is only that you are right. I am not a hard man. There is a lot in my--my heart--" He stopped. Would he start spouting poetry now? He felt wildly out of control. At any moment he feared she would pull away and bolt, but she didn't.
"I know," she said instead, quietly. "I can tell there is a lot in your heart. There is a lot in my heart too. I only wish…"
She looked down, biting her lip. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her close and embrace her. Her hand tightened in his.
"What do you wish, Lily?"
"I cannot say. I cannot."
"Tell me, please."
"I only wish… I wish truly, in my heart, that she--that she would never come back. And that her unfortunate sister will take years and years to marry." She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. "I know it is a terrible thing to say. I wish you happiness and a resolution to this snarl you're in, but I can't stop feeling that way, I just can't--"
Her words cut off, smothered by his impulsive kiss. He tasted salty tears as he pressed his lips to hers with the intensity of desire too long denied. He held her close, slanting his head over hers, kissing her and then parting her lips gently to tease her. She melted against him, so sweet and trusting. He drank in her soft gasps and felt the small tremble before she pulled away. She looked down at her lap in silence. He still held her hand, finding it too difficult to let go.
He leaned away with a regretful sigh. "I am terribly sorry. To force myself on you that way--it was grossly inappropriate. Forgive me."
"Please..."
She touched her lips. He swallowed hard. "Please what?"
"Please, would you…would you kiss me again? I've never experienced anything quite like that--"
He silenced her with a finger on her lips and took her lovely face between his hands, just staring down at the openness and beauty of her gaze. Her lips were slightly parted, ripe like cherries. He lowered his mouth to hers, tasting her, encouraging her to respond to him. She grew braver, almost eager.
Over time, the kiss deepened and her hands crept up his front, her arms around his neck. He pulled her back into his lap, marveling at the feel of her, so solid and responsive in his grasp. He was devouring her now, feeding on her lovely trust and curiosity. He wished to carry her off to bed, possess her like a spirit, like the woman of the story. He wanted to bite her neck and bury his hands in her hair. He wanted to ravish her, and by the feel of her hips pressing forward, she wished to be ravished too--
"Dinner is served, my lord and lady," Hanover announced as the library door swung open again. They sprang apart, but not quickly enough. Hanover looked over at them and for the second time looked embarrassed, but not nearly as embarrassed as they.
* * * * *
Lily had no idea how she ate. Her heart was hammering so she could barely focus on the food on her plate. She tasted nothing and flushed crimson whenever the servants entered the room to bring another course. James ate with good appetite, again the stern and serious lord of the manor. Lily, however, wasn't sure how to go on from here.
When he'd taken her in his arms, all the curious fantasies and vague longings she'd harbored on his behalf had coalesced into something much more tangible and…arousing. She'd become aware of him as more than a refined gentleman, more than an interesting companion. He was a man--a very attractive man--and she was a woman. And now that he'd held her, she wished for more. More kissing, more embraces. More of that chaos and longing that he had brought to life within her. But how could she say such a thing?
Her lips felt bruised and her skirts, no matter how many times she set them to rights, still felt askew. No doubt there were still tearstains on her cheeks from when she had begun crying and spilling the secrets of her heart. She wondered what might have happened if Hanover had not come to call them to dinner. Most of all, she wondered what was going to happen next, in the following moments and hours. Would he continue on as if nothing at all had transpired between them? Would he invite her to a more private location to continue what they'd started? In either case, how would she respond? What would she do, now that everything had changed between them? She kept her eyes on her plate until he leaned forward during the second course and gazed at her with an expression she couldn't read.
"I would like you to answer me honestly, Lily. Were you made uncomfortable by our encounter in the library?"
Lily bit her lip, unable to return his gaze directly. "In a way I was. But in a way I was not. T
hat is, I enjoyed kissing you very much. But now I feel…much less at ease."
He took another bite of Cornish hen and seemed to consider that. He gave her a look of fondness tinged with regret. "You are a wondrous woman. I do not wish to make you uneasy. Truly, I would give almost anything to--to become less of a stranger to you."
Silly, serious man. She supposed "become less of a stranger to you" was an appropriately restrained way of saying "kiss you some more," which was exactly what she wanted. She gave him an equivocal look and lifted her shoulders in a small shrug, although what she really wanted to do was sit in his lap again. It was maddening, the way he tore off a piece of bun and calmly chewed it while she was all stirred up inside.
"The problem is that…" Chew, chew, chew. She waited anxiously to hear what the problem was. He finally swallowed and looked at her with gravity. "The problem is that while the enjoyment of such pleasurable diversions would be, certainly, quite satisfying to us both, it is not my right to…to besmirch your sensibilities, as you are not actually my wife."
"Besmirch my sensibilities?" Lily watched him tear off another piece of bun and put it in his mouth. What on earth was he going on about? "If you are speaking of becoming lovers, do not fear for my sensibilities. I've already been ruined."
James choked slightly, then reached for his wine and took a huge swallow.
"You've been what? Ruined?"
Lily squared her shoulders, flushing. Of all the things to come out and say! It was too late to take the words back. "Yes, if you must know. It was the reason my father lost that account, and the reason I was driven away. It was a terrible mistake."
She looked down, ashamed, but glad also to have finally revealed the truth. She didn't know what to expect in his reply. Rebuke? Disgust?
"Did you enjoy it?"
She looked back up at him. She hadn't expected that question. "No," she said in a clipped voice, remembering Lord Horace's grunts and the horridness of his breath. "I hated every moment of it. I just stared off at the bushes until he finished, and got away as soon as I could afterward."
"You 'got away?' This encounter was not with a paramour?"
"No. I was too busy in my work to ever dally with paramours. It was with the son of the manor my father tended."
James' lips twitched and drew into a hard line. His gaze darkened as he stabbed at the hen on his plate. "So you were not so much ruined as raped, then."
"What do you mean, raped?"
"Raped. Forced. Taken advantage of without your consent."
"Well, I…I agreed to go for a walk with him in the back garden. I just didn't realize what I was consenting to."
His heavy sigh silenced her. "What is the house you speak of? Who is the son?"
Lily swallowed and considered refusing to answer. But he looked so angry she was afraid to test his patience. "Halstead Manor. The youngest son, Horace. I should never have agreed to walk with him."
"He should never have asked you. Rape was his purpose from the start. I've half a mind to ride to London this night and call him out at dawn."
Lily felt a strange warmth overtake her, strong feelings of gratitude and…relief. James said it wasn't her fault. He didn't rebuke or blame her as her own father had. He actually wanted to call out Lord Horace on her behalf.
"You would do that for me?" Her voice sounded tight. She had a lump in her throat. "I mean, I don't want you to, but… You would?"
"I still may. You have no idea how greatly this angers me."
Lily had some idea from the way he was ripping the hen on his plate to veriest shreds, and the way his jaw tensed and his eyes flashed icy blue. "I am… Sir, it means a lot to me…that you don't think me… I mean…"
He put down his fork and touched her hand where it lay fiddling with the pleats in her lap.
"Lily, I already know you quite well. I know you are not a lady of careless morals, nor one who would hand over her chastity to a man she didn't love."
"I have never been in love," she said softly as he stroked her hand. "Have you?"
He looked at her long and hard. "To be honest, I don't know. There have been times I have imagined myself in love. I think love can be so many different things, and over the course of a lifetime… But I have very strong feelings for you. I don't know if it comes from a sense of appreciation for what you're doing for me, from the enjoyment of your companionship, or just…the way you are."
Lily looked over at him. "What way am I?"
"You're fresh like those flowers you tend in my garden. Delicate and beautiful and completely original. You're true and not false. Perhaps I'm falling in love with you." His hand still held hers. She wanted to kiss him again. She stared at his lips.
"You…you mustn't fall in love with me," she said. "And I mustn't fall in love with you. You are a lord with an absent wife, and I am a commoner."
"She's not my wife," he retorted quickly. "The marriage was annulled."
James frowned, then released her hand and looked down at the ransacked contents of his plate. "But of course you are right. My emotions overpower my reason. Perhaps we might disperse these passionate and inappropriate humors over a rousing game of chess."
"Chess, sir?" Her voice betrayed her disappointment only too clearly. He would think her shameless. She flushed hot as his gaze flew back to hers.
"Well, we needn't play chess," he said in a carefully moderate tone.
Lily stared at him, her throat tight with embarrassment and something more. Hope. Desire. Craving. What on earth was driving her to play this game? She would be ruined all over again, and this time she knew very well what she invited. She wanted him anyway. Somehow she knew it would not be the same. It's not as if she had any future remaining to her anyway, any hope of a marriage and children with her past and her circumstances. If he didn't kiss her again, if he didn't hold her close…the ache inside her would never be silent. He stared back at her, controlled and proper as ever, but she saw it all there in his eyes.
"We can do what you like," she said, lifting her chin a little. She tried on a coquettish smile. "If not chess, then perhaps something different."
"Something like…ghost stories in the library?" He said it gently, not lasciviously.
She nodded and swallowed hard. "Or perhaps ghost stories in some more…private location. Where you can hold me close and chase my fears away."
"Oh, Lily." He took her hand and rubbed a thumb across her trembling fingers. "Yes, if you wish it. I would love nothing more."
"Only…" She turned her hand in his, and shrugged. "Only if you didn't want the ghost stories… If you just wanted to hold me close and kiss me, and even ruin me a little more…that would be fine too."
He made a soft sound, something between a laugh and a sigh, and lifted her hand to kiss her palm. "Ruin you? You will destroy me long before I manage to ruin you. Such a thing cannot be possible with a heart like yours."
She shook her head, mesmerized by his gaze. "I would never destroy you."
"And I would never ruin you. I would die first. We cannot have love, but we will not have ruin either. Truly, you want this? I will protect you, I swear."
She thought but a moment, and nodded. She believed he would protect her. There would be no ruin between them. "I want it," she said. I want you.
"Dearest Lily," he said, rising and offering his arm. "Let us retire for the night."
Chapter Four: A New World
His arm was so solid, so steady. She hoped he couldn't tell from the light touch of her fingertips how she trembled from head to toe. She didn't think she was afraid, although she knew that men could be unpleasant in the throes of passion. She rather trusted that James would make up for it in other ways.
James. For so long she had only been able to think of him as Lord Ashbourne. When had everything changed? Their easy connection had happened so gradually, over quiet days and weeks, that the idea of this illicit trysting with him seemed almost natural, like a foregone conclusion. For so long she had adm
ired his integrity, his intelligence. And, to be honest, his body and physicality too. When he had held her in the library and kissed her, the world had changed for her. Something existed for Lily that had never existed before--desire.
She had no idea what was going to go on behind the door of his chamber, she only knew she wanted to experience it. And, perhaps most importantly, she knew she would enjoy it, if only because it would bring her closer to him.
Hanover appeared at the door before they even arrived, believing James to be retiring for bed. At a look, the man seemed to understand and he quickly took himself off. Lily blushed and gathered her courage as James ushered her inside and shut and locked the door. He looked at her, and there was a new softness and openness to his expression. "Lily," he said quietly, just once.
She flew into his embrace, or perhaps he grasped her first. All she knew was the feel of his arms like bands of iron closing around her. He kissed her, pressing against her so she felt his firm member nudging through the silk of her dress. His wild intensity alarmed her suddenly, recalling her to another uncontrolled encounter, and she stiffened. He let her pull away and gazed down at her in patient understanding.
"No, do not fear. I will not be as he was." He trailed his fingertips down her cheek, then down the bare skin over her gown's plunging bodice. "Carnal pleasures are no brutal and mindless exercise for me. There can be so much more to it than that."
Her breath was coming in shallow gasps. "Can there be?"
He leaned down and dropped tender kisses across her cheeks, at the corners of her lips. "There is an entire new world I intend to show you, my beauty. It will be my pleasure to do so. But you must be brave and bold. None of this blushing and fearful distaste. Promise me."
"I…I promise."
He took his time undressing her. Each tie, each lace, each button was undone with a caress or kiss. He knelt to remove her slippers and undo her stockings with firm fingers. She gasped softly as he stroked the inside of each thigh.
Lily Mine Page 6
