“I understand that, but Roth’s nature doesn’t suit your own.”
“I wasn’t aware that needed to be a prerequisite for marriage.” She arched a brow, her chin lifting as she met his gaze. “You know as well as I do that ladies wed for far more important reasons than that.”
“Yes, but what exactly is your reason for agreeing to this marriage?”
“Duty to my family.”
“Be truthful with me.”
“I was.” A huff, her lips pouting prettily.
“Then be more truthful.” He’d get the answer out of her.
“If I tell you exactly why, then you’ll blab to my brother. Your friendship with him overrides any friendship you’ve ever had with me.” Her blue-green eyes held a spirited flare he’d always admired, and they flared with golden sparks right now.
“So there is more to the betrothal than what you’ve so far alluded to?”
“Of course there is, not that I intend on telling you.” She pulled her hand from his arm and marched toward the picnic blanket.
He marched after her. She had such incredible fight, although so did he, and he wasn’t leaving until he’d gotten his answer.
Chapter 3
Rosamonde stormed toward the forest-green and white tartan blanket laid out underneath the large willow, her father’s footman standing nearby. “Thank you, Heathcoat, but you may return to the house now that my brother and the Earl of Winterly have arrived. Perhaps return in another hour with the dessert basket.”
“Yes, my lady.” Heathcoat acknowledged her with a short bow then clipped his heels together and strode through the trees toward the rolling fields where Hillhurst Hall rose tall and stately on the hilly rise a half mile distant.
“Are you angry with me?” Winterly caught up to her.
“Yes. And no. It is difficult enough knowing my future path is now decided without having to explain why. I need you to offer your support with my upcoming marriage, just as I need my brother’s support.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t offer my support, and neither has Avery.”
“The insinuation is there since you both clearly disagree with my decision.” She plopped down onto the blanket, rather ungracefully. Winterly towered over top of her, so she leaned back a few inches and gave him her most determined look. “So, you’re saying you’ll visit me at Rothgale Manor once I’m wed?”
“For what reason would a single gentleman have to visit a married woman?”
“You could bring Olivia with you when you visit. A brother chaperoning his sister would be most acceptable, his sister being one of my dearest friends.”
“The fact that you’re not yet Roth’s wife, but are already feeling fearful over not seeing your family and friends is a clear sign that you’re well aware you’re about to lose your freedom. Roth rarely allowed his first three wives to leave his home, and it’s doubtful he’ll allow you to either. He is a tyrant, aggressive and dominating, not that you don’t already know that.”
“I’m aware of his nature, although I can be quite resourceful myself.” She kept a stiff upper lip, although the blood still drained from her face and when she touched her cheeks, they were icy-cold. “Did you ever meet any of Roth’s previous wives?”
“No, and you clearly need a drink. So do I.” Winterly eased down beside her, plucked a bottle of her father’s finest white wine from the basket and angled his head at her, his jaw firm, the arch of his brow high, and his long lashes rimming blue eyes which reflected the warm blue of the sky above. “Glasses,” he whispered, “if you please?”
“My apologies. I’m not sure where my head is today.” She rummaged through the basket and gathered two of the fluted glasses which had been wrapped in yellow and white striped cloth. She held them toward him. “I don’t mean to bicker with you.”
“I don’t mean to either. Perhaps I’ve lost my head a little today too.” He removed the cork with a soft pop, poured, then set the bottle back inside the basket. He shuffled closer then gently touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek while she still held the glasses. “Don’t hide from me, Rosamonde. We’ve known each other a long time, far too long for you and me not to be open and honest with each other about such an important matter. Do you believe you’ll be happy in your marriage with Roth?”
“I shall be happy enough, simply because I shall be able to visit my mother as often as I would like to. What more could a daughter ask for?” She truly didn’t wish to get into this subject with him, but to instead enjoy the bright and sunny day. She passed him one of the glasses and sipped from her own. “Please, allow us to converse on a different subject. The cook has prepared a wonderful picnic and now that the sun is no longer hiding behind stormy clouds as it has for most of the week, we should embrace this moment.”
“I would embrace it more if I was assured of your happiness.” He sipped his wine, set his glass down then reached past her and plucked a yellow-and-white flower nodding its head within the grass. Waving it in front of her nose, he raised a brow. “Do you know what this flower is called?”
“Cowslip, from the primrose family.”
“Correct.” He plucked a purplish-blue flower from the patch next to the cowslip and handed both flowers to her. “And this one?”
“Sweet violet.” She’d always adored the sweet scent of the violet flower and brought this pretty bud to her nose and breathed deep. With a smile, she murmured, “They’re beautiful, so dainty and sweet smelling.”
“What of that flower over there?” He gestured to several tall stalks of pink tubular flowers rising from within a patch of leaves, directly beside the trunk of the tree across from them.
“That’s foxglove, but one must be careful with that flower since it can be poisonous to dogs, cats, and even humans.” She arranged her skirts a little better to cover her ankles more adequately, then tucked the flowers he’d given her inside the basket, so she could press them between the pages of a book later. Keeping dried flowers was a hobby of hers.
“Yes, it is, yet look at how close the poisonous flowers of the foxglove are to us, and we are both quite at ease.” He removed his greatcoat, raised one knee and loosely draped his arm over it. Another sip as he added, “The foxglove flower is deceptive. It looks attractive and is appealing, but we must learn to take all care around it. There are many things in life which can deceive the eye just as that flower does.”
“I didn’t realize you had such an interest in the study of plants, Winterly.”
“My papa enjoyed experimenting in botany. He passed along that joy to me.” He undid the lowest button on his blue silk waistcoat, where it pulled across his lap due to his raised knee, the fabric flowing over his white shirt, his gold cufflinks gleaming.
“I have an herbal garden and I enjoy pottering away in it.” She tried not to ogle his strong fingers as he played with the next button on his waistcoat.
“Your mother used to enjoy pottering away in the garden too, if I remember correctly.” He indeed flicked another waistcoat button open.
“She still does. We often set a blanket out in the garden and she sits and weeds around her beloved plants. The gardener always leaves a small patch of weeds for her to remove here and there throughout the gardens, not that any of us have ever told Mother that. She thinks he has bad eyesight since he keeps missing the weeds.” With the draping branches shading her, she tugged the ribbons holding her bonnet in place and set her hat beside her. The breeze whistled through, so refreshing and delightful as it lifted one of her golden locks and tickled it across her cheek. She tucked the strands back behind her ear as Olivia’s giggles and the distinctive splash of a line hitting the water floated to them.
“Rosamonde.” Winterly eyed her, his eyes sparkling as he gently swirled his wine in his glass. “Let’s make a toast. May our friendship grow forever stronger, no matter who you’re wed to.”
“Yes, may it grow forever stronger.” Her throat clogged up at his profound and thoughtful toast. She cl
inked her glass against his, then sipped slowly from the rim, the stemmed flute shaking a little in her fingers. “Mmm, this wine is delicious and glides smoothly over the tongue.”
“It certainly does.” He sipped his own wine, his gaze moving over her lips, his brow furrowing heavily before he snapped his gaze away.
“Is something wrong?” she asked and patted her lips to be sure she hadn’t caught dirt or grit on them while fishing.
“No. Yes. No.” He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts then gulped his wine before setting the empty glass on the grass and lying down. Resting his head on the blanket, he idly crossed his legs at the ankle and stared at the canopy overhead where the sun sprinkled through here and there. “Roth is like the foxglove flower. You’ll need to take all care around him, my sweet Rosamonde.”
“Roth would never endanger my life, not when he wishes for me to provide him with an heir.”
“If he ever endangered your life, I’d kill him.” He moved swiftly, plucking her glass from her hand then toppling her onto her back. Planting a hand over her mouth, he caught her surprised shriek with his palm.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled through his fingers. “Let me up.”
“Not yet. You are bringing all my protective instincts to the fore.” Half-covering her body with his, he suddenly smiled as if he’d won some kind of game between them, a secretive kind of smile lifting his lips. “Good heavens, but you have grown into a beautiful woman these past few years.”
“I am a lady, sir, and you are squishing me.” She plucked his fingers from her mouth. “Did you catch that mumble?”
“I did, and you’re a beautiful woman with a sassy tongue and a feisty nature. I’ve always respected and admired that trait within you.” He brushed aside tendrils of her hair sweeping across her cheeks, his touch so gentle. “Your beauty shines not only from the outside, but from deep within your heart. You have cared for your mother, been her constant companion since she lost the use of her legs, and now you intend on marrying a man who would take advantage of you. You need a husband who will appreciate your inner beauty.”
“And do you know of such a man?”
“If you were permitted to enjoy a Season, you might find him without any issue at all and dare I say it, all on your own terms, without anyone else interfering in the matter.” He let out a long breath, the air warm and sultry as it fanned across her cheek.
“I am out of time, Winterly.” Butterflies swarmed in her belly, barely a breath whistling past her lips. He had never been so bold with her before, but oh my, as the afternoon sunshine caught on the longer ends of his chestnut brown hair and lit them a golden hue, he completely captivated her.
“Rosamonde, my sweet Rosamonde.” He rubbed his cheek against her cheek, his eyes closing. “You’re suddenly evoking new feelings within me which are rather unusual.”
“Unusual in what way?”
“You’re my best friend’s little sister.” He opened his eyes, his sooty lashes framing his indecently beautiful eyes.
“That doesn’t explain your unusual feelings.”
“Maybe my actions will.” He pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks, then drew her swiftly to her feet and holding her hand, tugged her through the copse of trees. They crunched leaves and twigs beneath their feet then abruptly he pinned her against the wide trunk of a tree quite some distance from the others, his head dipping toward hers. “I need to kiss you.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” Without hesitation, he covered her mouth with his, and in what was certainly a defining moment, Winterly kissed her, slowly and surely.
Her heart almost catapulted from her chest and her legs certainly wobbled. She speared her fingers deep into his hair and returned his kiss with all the longing she’d always held within her heart for him. This was the man who had rescued her from a band of brigands and who had saved her and her kitten from high within the branches of a tree. As he deepened their kiss, she couldn’t halt the sensuous tremor which skittered delightfully down her spine, an intriguing sensation she’d never experienced when kissing a man before. It caused a flutter to take flight low in her belly, one which pulsed through with a vivid heat that curled her toes. Nothing had ever felt so wondrously perfect, and when he slipped his tongue between her lips, even more heat flared through her, making her moan with need. Oh goodness. This was all too much, all too soon. She couldn’t allow him to send her remaining good senses from her mind. She was set to wed another man, and unfortunately, not this one.
Pressing against his chest, she pushed him back. “My lord, you are not behaving as a proper gentleman should, and I’m not acting as a lady should. I do apologize if I’ve—”
“Don’t apologize to me.” He pressed one finger against her lips. “Where did you learn to kiss so beautifully?”
“I’ve kissed the odd man here and there, but not quite as we just kissed.”
“Who exactly were these men?” He narrowed his gaze.
“Men I danced with at country balls and such. We do have gatherings out here in the wilderness, just as you have them in London, although to a much smaller degree of course.”
“I’m well aware you do, but you surprised me is all.” He stepped back, his brow quirking high. “So, have I now expressed to you exactly how unusual my feelings for you have suddenly become?”
“They are not feelings I can return. I am—”
The pounding of hooves drummed and the Marquess of Roth appeared atop his horse as he rode through the trees, his thinning gray hair hidden underneath his hat, his cane lying across his lap. He shot her a very narrow-eyed look as he brought his mount to a halt only a few feet away.
Winterly moved quickly in front of her and blocked her from Roth’s sight.
Roth cleared his throat. “Lord Winterly, how unusual to find you here at Hillhurst Hall, and with my betrothed no less.”
“I’m here for the earl and countess’s house party, a yearly invitation my family receives. We are close, of course, our families that is.” Winterly clasped his hands behind his back, his shoulders stiff.
From behind him, she couldn’t help but touch her fingers to his clasped fingers, the slightest brush, which eased both her fear a little and his sudden stiffness. He rolled his shoulders as he eyed Roth. “I wasn’t aware you were attending the party, Roth.”
“Of course I am, although I’m still rather surprised at finding you here alone with my betrothed.” Roth’s horse snorted and reared back a step, although the marquess brought his mount quickly back under control, the reins firm in his gloved hands.
“Lady Rosamonde and I have known each other since childhood. She is a friend of mine, just as her brother is. I’ve now pointed out the closeness between her family and my family twice. Do I need to do so again?”
“Single gentlemen do not befriend young ladies, no matter whether their families are close or not. To do so would cause an unnecessary stir within Society and I for one am certain that the Countess of Hillhurst would never condone such a relationship between you and her daughter, a relationship whereby you feel as if you can wander about the countryside alone with her. Neither shall I condone it myself once Lady Rosamonde and I are wed.” A low growl rumbled from Roth as he tried to peer around Winterly to catch her gaze. “Step forward, my lady. I wish to see you, to make certain you are well.”
“My sister is very well,” Avery huffed as he stepped clear of the trees and joined them, Olivia two steps behind him, Olivia’s hand on her bonnet as she caught her breath.
Relief filled her and she sent her brother and Olivia a grateful smile.
“Good day, Lord Roth,” Olivia said with bright eyes. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“It doesn’t appear that way to me.” Roth fisted his cane.
“Oh, pfft.” Olivia linked one arm with Rosamonde. “Come, my dear friend. The picnic awaits us, and we shall serve these gentleman some delicious food.”
“Yes, we shall.” Rosamon
de ducked her head as she allowed Olivia to walk her back through the trees toward their picnic. Good grief, what had she been thinking? Of allowing Winterly’s kisses and risking Roth’s ire?
Chapter 4
“It appears I was right.” Avery stared into the picnic basket where he sat on the tartan blanket. “There are roast beef sandwiches in here, pickled eggs, and ham and egg pie.”
“There will be dessert too. Our cook made raspberry tarts and apple pie,” Rosamonde assured her brother. “Heathcoat is bringing the dessert basket from the house as we speak. He shouldn’t be long.”
“Wonderful.” Avery winked at Rosamonde.
Winterly eased down onto the blanket, directly across from Rosamonde, while Roth secured his horse near the water’s edge. The marquess knotted his reins to a low branch of a willow then strode toward them, the man sending him a very dark look as he sat next to Rosamonde.
It appeared Roth wasn’t all that thrilled about having such a large party present at his proposed picnic with his betrothed. Well, too bad. And damn it, this was a frustrating time for Winterly to suddenly have such confusing feelings about a lady he’d considered Avery’s little sister. She’d completely knocked him senseless with her tantalizing desirability this day.
Rosamonde set out plates of food for everyone, her blond locks rippling with soft and bright shades of gold, and when she snuck a quick look at him from under her eyelashes, he almost lost his breath. Never had he been struck silent before, but he had been now.
“This was a lovely idea of yours, Lord Roth.” Rosamonde switched her gaze to Roth as she passed the marquess a plate.
“My express instructions were that you and I would enjoy a picnic.” A harrumph as Roth snatched the plate from her hands. “I did not expect the rest of your house guests to accompany us.”
As always the marquess was being damned rude, and Rosamonde’s cheeks had flared a bright red at his crude words. Perhaps it was best if Winterly didn’t look at her. Forcing himself not to say a word in response, he instead selected one of the roast beef sandwiches and allowed the hum of conversation from the others to fade into the distance, his gaze moving toward the lake.
The Earl's Secret Bride Page 4
