“Indeed!” she cried. She did not flinch, not one whit, but remained standing before him as she always did when she came to Aldershaw, as though she owned every square inch of the property and all the inhabitants within. He never understood where her supreme confidence came from, save that he believed Lucy’s sire had been of a similar temper.
The deuced fellow could command a room merely by raising an eyebrow, his father had once said.
Well, if Lucy Stiles thought to pass off such tricks today or any other day during her present sojourn beneath his roof, she was greatly mistaken. “I suppose you mean now to stare me down,” he said, folding his arms over his chest.
“And now you are on your high horse because I told you why it is you are not married? I daresay you never even kiss one of your flirts except by permission.”
This was going beyond the pale, but to his credit Robert held his temper strongly in check. “If you think to get a rise out of me this morning, Cousin—”
“We are not cousins,” she cried, interrupting him. “I would never, not even if sorely pressed, claim the smallest relationship with you.”
“As I was saying, Cousin, you shan’t get a rise out of me today.”
“I did not wish for any such thing. I was hoping for a kiss.”
He was dumbstruck and saw the provoking, challenging light in her sparkling blue eyes. “You were hoping for a kiss?” he queried, stupefied. Some part of him knew she was playing at her games again, but the mere mention of a kiss rattled his ability to be the habitually rational creature he knew himself to be.
“Yes, you ought to be kissed, you know,” she responded sagely. “Then you would not be so peevish most of the time, always hurrying to find fault. I begin to remember now why it was you and I brangled so much. You know, Robert, you should have had a wife long before this. You would have been a much more reasonable creature had you married, although I daresay you would have plagued the life out of her!”
“Much you know about it,” he retorted hotly. He realized vaguely she had hooked him into another fruitless argument, yet he felt powerless to resist engaging the battle. “There is not a lady of my acquaintance who would not be an impossible burden to bear were we to wed. ‘Why are we not in London this season? Why do I not have more jewels? Why cannot we purchase a townhouse in Brighton, Bath, Cheltenham, and . . . and York, for God’s sake!’ ”
“York? Of all the absurd starts!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “And may I inquire if this is a mimicry of your stepmama?” She also folded her arms across her chest.
“I was not referring to Lady Sandifort,” he said. He released his arms but could not keep his hands from clenching into fists. “I was merely referring to the vast array of those ladies with whom I am acquainted.”
“Then I am very sorry for you if you truly believe what you say.”
“You are no different.”
These words served to drop the smile from her lips. Her arms fell to her sides as well and she, too, made a neat pair of fists. “I beg your pardon?”
“How many times have I heard you proclaim that you intend to marry a very wealthy man for only such a man could make you happy.”
“Oh, yes, just so,” she admitted, but she began to smile again, and her hands relaxed. “Oh, Robert, what a ridiculous fellow you are. I was very young when I said such things, and besides, I did not know precisely the nature of my own fortune at that time. But here, the day is too fine to be brangling and that so early, for it is not even ten o’clock! Instead, let me cheer you up.” With that, she took sudden hold of the front of his coat, pulled him down to her, and quite brazenly kissed him full on the lips. “Better?” she asked, drawing back.
He could not help himself. Something about Lucy always brought the challenging beast out of him. The kiss had been a rather wonderful greeting, but he could not say as much. Instead, he lifted a cool brow. “I have had better kisses from my pointer, Tess, but I thank you anyway.”
She rose to the bait. Her blue eyes flashed wildly once more and with her intentions sublimely clear, she untied the ribbons of her bonnet, removed the silly creation from her head, and dropped it to the weed-ridden grass below. She then took a stronger hold of his coat and even slung her other arm about his neck. She kissed him hard on the lips for a very long moment and he found himself a little more than intrigued.
When she drew back, she cried, “There! You cannot possibly complain about that!”
She released his coat and was sliding her arm away from his neck, but he caught her firmly about the waist and did not let her disengage. At the same time, he tossed his own hat on the ground. “This is a very interesting game you have chosen to begin this morning, Cousin, only I wonder how deeply you are willing to play?”
She gasped. “Let me go,” she commanded. For the first time since he had known her, she appeared out of her depth. He did not, however, release her but instead kissed her, intent on proving that he was not hers to do with as she pleased.
Lucy was as mad as fire. How dare he hold her captive! She struggled against him for a very long time, realizing she had erred, that she had begun a wicked game she ought not to have and now she was suffering for it. She knew Robert as well as she knew her own thoughts and feelings. He was as stubborn as she but far less temperate in any of his thoughts or actions. She should not have kissed him even if her initial reasons had been quite harmless. Now, as she pushed against his arms trying to disengage herself from his strong hold about her waist, she could not conceive what had prompted her to so reckless a course.
The more she struggled, however, the tighter his hold became. At last she wearied, and realizing she had lost the battle she surrendered, allowing him to seek her mouth and give her the kiss she had been evading.
His lips were surprisingly tender, even though his arms were still a vice about her waist. As his tongue touched her lips, sending a shiver down her neck, she realized he was not going to be content with a simple kiss. No, his intentions became quickly obvious and she regretted anew that she had so brazenly kissed him in the first place.
She allowed him what he sought, parting her lips and allowing him to touch the deepest recesses of her mouth. How very wicked he was! She counted the seconds waiting for him to desist and leave her in peace, but he was clearly in no hurry to release her. She wanted to protest but she knew such protest was useless. There was only one thing to be done—she put her arm about his neck and returned his kiss, pretending to enjoy his horrid assault.
Robert felt so sweet a sensation of satisfaction and victory at the feel of her arm about his neck that he knew the moment had arrived in which he could end the silly charade, except that suddenly, and for no comprehensible reason, he did not desire to end the absurd tug of wills. He was holding a beautiful young woman in his arms. She was kissing him warmly, even passionately, and for this moment all his cares seemed to vanish like chaff in the wind, swept away forever. What a tender peace filled him, something he had not experienced in a very long time, not for years.
He did not realize until this moment just how harried he felt. For a long time, extending at least two years before his father’s death, he had watched the estate decline without the smallest power to prevent its disintegration. Lady Sandifort had ruled his father and she had spent the Sandifort fortune, having collected a fine array of jewels while at the same time letting the estate take on the appearance of a neglected ruin. Though he now held the purse strings, every spare groat went not into his own house but rather into the estate farms, for repairs and improvements that the rent rolls might be enlarged. And still Lady Sandifort remained!
How glad he was that Lucy had come for all her games, trickery, and mischief. How happy he was to be kissing her!
Lucy had thought he would let her go but he did not, though she felt his arm about her waist slacken considerably. She could, then, withdraw, but some deviltry was working within her, and the knowledge that he had somehow become engaged in the kiss in a way th
at rather shocked her, spurred her on.
Only . . . she began to enjoy kissing Robert as well! So much so that she forgot just how much she was used to quarrel with the man kissing her so . . . well, passionately.
Her mind became fixed on the softness of his lips as he drifted them over hers. She thought of nothing else except perhaps that she had begun to feel warm all the way to her toes! How was it she had never known how pleasant Robert’s lips could be? The same lips that released so many sardonic words now seemed to be enchanting her heart. But how was that possible when Robert had no heart?
Awareness that she ought not to be kissing Robert dawned quite suddenly and she flew back from him as though he had just breathed fire. She gasped and did not close her mouth for staring at him. He did not speak either, for he was staring at her in return, his mouth equally agape.
“Lucy,” he whispered suddenly, reaching for her.
She recoiled. “Good God!” she cried. “What on earth was that?”
His expression altered instantly and once more he was the arrogant creature she had known since she was a little girl. She did not want to hear what he might next say to her so she whirled about, caught up her bonnet quickly in hand, and ran in the direction of the maze. She had not gone far when she caught sight of Henry approaching from the direction of the stables, to the east.
“Lucy!” he called after her. “Whatever is the matter? You appear as though you have seen a ghost! Lucy, is anything wrong?”
She could not answer him. Everything in this moment seemed wrong. Her thoughts were so jumbled that her brain felt as though a whirlwind had taken up residence in the middle of it.
You are in love with him. Her mind began to betray her with such thoughts and she had only one fixed intention of the moment: to escape.
She shook her head at Henry and turned the other direction, moving into the tangled depths of the maze.
“Lucy, wait!” he called after her. “There is something I would say to you. It is of very great importance!”
She did not stop to give him answer but continued wending her way through one uneven path of yew branches after another.
CHAPTER TWO
Some time later, after she had calmed her mind, Lucy emerged from the maze only to find Henry sitting on a patch of uneven lawn not twenty feet away.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured, moving quickly in his direction as she made a loop of her ribbons and slung her bonnet over her arm. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Of course.” He smiled crookedly as he rose to his feet. “I saw Robert walking quite briskly in the direction of the house, his expression severe, so I knew that something had gone amiss. Shall I escort you back to the house?”
“If it pleases you.”
“Very much, only do tell me what has my wretched brother done this time to so overset you, although I must say I am not in the least surprised?”
“It is not worth mentioning,” she responded, happily taking the arm he proffered and moving with him in the direction of the terrace. She had spent at least half an hour composing her thoughts and had concluded that the bizarre and quite shockingly passionate kiss she had just shared with Robert had evolved because of her own foolish conduct. She was resolved, therefore, never again to engage him in such a manner. To Henry she added, “So, let us not speak of Robert. Instead, tell me how you go on? You always were one of my favorites, you know.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” he said, giving her arm a friendly squeeze. “And I must say that since you have come I have every confidence I shall go on very well, indeed!”
She giggled. “I see you have not changed. I will always remember Henry Sandifort as the most charming, the most beautiful of the Sandifort brothers.” She looked up at him wondering how he would receive such compliments.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning deep regard. “How you warm my heart with such words. You have no notion!”
She could only laugh again. Henry was indeed an exceedingly charming gentleman who was, as Robert had said, one and thirty, just two years Robert’s junior. He was, just as she had said, quite beautiful but so opposite from Robert in coloring that it seemed impossible the two men could actually be brothers. While Robert favored his mother’s dark looks, Henry, and George as well, resembled their father. Henry’s hair was blond and wavy and his eyes the most unusual green. His features were perfection, large eyes, arched brows, a straight nose, and lips that she knew had kissed a score of damsels, perhaps more. Presently he was dressed in riding gear and with a lean athletic body appeared quite to advantage. He may not have settled on a profession, but he certainly knew how to do the pretty in a drawing room, or in an unkempt garden for that matter, as he was now.
She realized his gentle demeanor and calm society were precisely what she needed after her most recent encounter with Robert. She had always been at ease in Henry’s company. “Well, I must say,” she began, swinging her bonnet, “you have not changed one whit in three years and how happy I am to see you again. Robert tells me you were to have taken holy orders in May, only you did not.”
“That is because, my dear Lucy, I was waiting for you.”
“What a very sweet thing to say,” she remarked. “Do you mean to do so now?”
“Not yet,” he mused. “I believe there is something wanting, but I hope by the end of the summer that lack shall be rectified.”
“I have every confidence it will be,” she stated reassuringly, though she did not have the faintest idea to what he referred. “So tell me, are you still writing poetry?”
She saw the surprised look in his eyes when he glanced down at her. “A little,” he responded.
“I remember enjoying your poems very much. I recall one line in particular, a garden beauteous where dreams abound, life’s pleasure dawns a rose clustered crown. I believe that to be true.”
“Good God,” he murmured. “You have quoted it exactly. How did you recall it so perfectly to mind?”
She shrugged. “I cannot say. I just thought it exquisite. I always thought your poems exquisite.”
“Lucy, my dear Lucinda! I am so happy you have come to Aldershaw.”
“So you have said,” she cried. Remembering, however, the recent sad events at Aldershaw, she said very softly, “So much has changed here. You must miss your father exceedingly.”
He nodded. “And as usual, you seem to know my thoughts as well. Yes, I miss him very much.”
“I cannot believe an entire year has passed, can you?” She stopped swinging her bonnet.
He shook his head.
“I remember when I last saw your father. I believe he already knew he was ill. I can recall him to mind so perfectly in this moment. He squeezed my fingers and there were tears in his eyes. I thought he meant it as affection, but now I believe he knew he was not well. I am sorry for you, Henry, sorry for you all, that you had to suffer, that he suffered for so many years and long, long months until the end.”
“What of your father? Did he linger long?”
“No, not really, I suppose. He had an inflammation of the lungs in July following the riding accident. He could not walk, you see, and the doctor said his immobility made the illness worse for him. He succumbed in a very short time, far too short.” She sighed heavily but then gave herself a shake. It would not do in the least to dwell overly much on her sadness. “I buried him in the churchyard next to mama.”
“I wish I could have been there for you.”
“And I for you, for all of you. It seems so odd to think that our fathers, as good friends as they were, passed within such a short time of each other, scarcely a fortnight.”
“Almost as though it had been destined.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
On this sad note, conversation dimmed and nothing further was said until together they mounted the stone steps of the terrace. “I was hoping to speak with George. Do you know where he might be at this hour?”
Crossing the terrace, Henry reach
ed the large carved wooden door that led into the back entrance hall and held it wide for her. Lucy passed through, then moved into an adjoining chamber, a very fine, long room called the armory, completely paneled in wood. The walls were mounted with centuries of weaponry, from shields to crossbows to even a collection of firearms. A suit of armor stood like a sentinel in the far west corner. She had always been fascinated with this chamber, for in addition to the antiquities were several portraits of Sandifort ancestors all glaring down upon the chamber in Elizabethan splendor, their expressions haughty and proud. A doorway at the end of the chamber led to an antechamber and after that to the west wing of the ground floor. Two northern windows overlooked the terrace and what had been in more glorious days a beautiful garden.
Lucy moved to the window nearest the door and looked out. The vista, regardless of the unhappy state of the garden, was quite magnificent, for the land sloped gently upward from the terrace to the maze nearly a hundred and fifty yards from the house and rose to the home wood of fully leafed beeches.
Henry drew near. “I believe you may find George and Rosamunde in the small sitting room on the first floor. Rosamunde takes to her chaise longue most every day, you see. Eugenia has been with her aunts and uncle in the schoolroom since her arrival two years past.”
At that, Lucy laughed. “So Eugenia is ten but were she pressed she would be required to address five-year-old Violet as ‘Aunt Sandifort.’ ”
Henry chuckled. “It is very amusing. Of course they are like siblings now and Eugenia is very attentive to all three of the younger children, behaving just as an elder sister ought.” He glanced at the mantel upon which a clock was stationed. “However, I see by the time that I must leave you now. I am promised elsewhere for nuncheon, but I shall certainly see you at dinner.”
When she turned toward him and again expressed her happiness at seeing him, he took her hand in his and kissed her fingers quite sweetly. Yes, Henry was, indeed, a most charming gentleman.
Valerie King Page 2
