She was all the forces of nature tossed at him at once. Heat and fire, but she was also rainbows and wildflowers and sunshine. He tore his mouth off hers and abruptly set her down. “Obligation fulfilled.”
Her eyes were still closed, but she wore an incandescent expression, as though savoring every moment of their kiss. As the import of his words sank into her brain, she opened her eyes. Her luminous smile faded. “Obligation?”
He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “You got your kiss.”
He refused to ask if she liked it, he already knew that she had.
“My very first,” she said in a reverential whisper, which made his glib remark sound all the more cruel. She was angry now, and despite her obvious hurt, she appeared ready to kick him for his arrogance. He loved that spirit in her and fully deserved the set down he was about to receive. He’d given her the kiss she wanted, the same one he’d craved with a deep, burning intensity. It wasn’t her fault that he’d liked it.
It wasn’t her fault that this one kiss would never be enough for him.
It wasn’t her fault that he ached to carry her to his bed and spend the night trailing kisses up and down her soft, pink flesh. Or that he hungered to bury his hands in her glorious ginger hair and bury himself inside her outrageously delectable body.
It wasn’t her fault that he wanted her for more than one night.
And it certainly wasn’t her fault that his bruised and battered heart wasn’t ready for a forever commitment. Not with someone like her, someone with whom he could fall desperately in love if he gave his heart free rein.
He expected angry tears and hurt feelings, for whatever good he’d intended - hell, he hadn’t intended anything good - he’d just wanted to hold her in his arms and plunder her soft, giving mouth.
“Sparkles,” he said, taking her hands in his although he knew she wasn’t really about to strike him. “I wasn’t obliged to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you and I enjoyed it. A little too much, I dare say.”
“That’s why you’re scowling?” She shook her head, now more confused than before. “Because you were surprised by how much you liked it?”
Reluctantly, he nodded.
Her soft, laughing breath let out in a whoosh. “Me too, Des. Thank you for that kiss. I’m glad it was with you. It wouldn’t have been right with anyone else. I loved it.”
IF YOU LOVED ME
CHAPTER SEVEN
Adelaide held her chin up proudly and refused to give up hope, but she believed in the mistletoe lore and knew that she would be married within the year for certain. Unfortunately, that marriage would be to Mr. Postings and not to Desmond Cameron, Marquis of Blackfell. He appeared to be growing angrier by the moment and she couldn’t understand why. “I ought to thank you for securing my future,” she said, feigning a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “And now I’m sure to wed Mr. Postings.”
His scowl grew darker. “Why are you still thinking about him? I’m the one who kissed you.”
Now she was utterly confused. “But you’re not going to offer for me, are you? So who else will have me other than Mr. Postings?”
“Hell’s bells, Sparkles,” he said with a husky growl that shot tingles of excitement through her. “Is that what you want to happen?”
Of course not! She wanted him. But he was looking at her as though she’d purposely lured him into her neatly laid trap and was about to trick him into proposing to her! If only she were capable of such guile! She wasn’t, and didn’t know how to set traps for him, neatly or otherwise. “I want to be free of the abbey. If marriage to Mr. Postings will free me, then yes. That’s what I want.”
There was a dangerous look in his eyes, an anger that sprang from deep within him. Who was he to condemn her motives? He’d considered their kiss an obligation. His precise words were ‘obligation fulfilled.’ Oh, he’d claimed to enjoy it, but not nearly enough to fall on bended knee and declare his undying love for her.
She was drowning in an ocean of love for him, and he’d merely dipped his toe into a puddle. Therein lay the problem. He wasn’t ready to give over his heart to anyone, for it had been trampled on for much of his life, and he’d erected those sturdy stone barriers to protect himself. They were now so secure, they’d never let anyone in. “Des, what makes you think I can’t be a good wife to–”
“Marrying Postings is the worst thing you can do. You’ll only be trading one form of imprisonment for another.”
She gasped. “A loving marriage is not a prison.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned so fiercely, the creases in his forehead were as deep as gulleys. “You don’t love him. You don’t even know him.”
“At least I’m willing to give love a chance to blossom. But you’re so worried someone might hurt you that you’ll deprive yourself of all joy or hope.” She inhaled a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “I’d never hurt you, Des.”
“What are you suggesting, Sparkles? I’ve only known you about three days. And you’re about to become betrothed to another man. I wasn’t planning on offering for you. My apologies if I made our kiss seem anything more than it was.”
His words were like a dagger plunged into her heart. “You didn’t,” she said, wishing that her tidal wave of love for this man would just crash already and wash out to sea. She needed to stop loving him because he obviously didn’t love her and never would. “Oh, I’m not suggesting that I’d be a proper match for you. Goodness, no. I’m not of your rank and I haven’t the foggiest notion of how to go about in Society. I’ll surely make a laughingstock of myself at my first ball. My point is, love is something wonderful. Seek it out, Des. Don’t avoid it.”
He shook his head and uncrossed his arms. “I hear the bell summoning us to tea. They must be ready for us in the library.”
Adelaide wanted to run upstairs and hide in her chamber for the rest of the afternoon, but then Desmond would know how deeply she’d been affected by his kiss. It was safest to pretend indifference and remain by his side, casually chatting while they shared afternoon tea.
However, there was nothing casual about his kiss, and she wasn’t going to deny that it was magical. A perfect first kiss, and the only imperfect thing about it was that it would never happen again.
She set down her teacup and delicately dabbed her lips with her napkin. They were seated in a quiet corner of the library, enjoying the afternoon sun streaming in through the tall windows and sharing tea and cakes set out on gleaming silver platters on a long buffet that spanned almost the length of one wall. Bookshelves covered the other walls, and there were several small tables and seating arrangements, so that the library doubled as a reading room and casual dining area.
There were a few other guests present as well, but they preferred to sit closer to the hearth to ward off the wintery chill. Adelaide liked their cozy corner and didn’t mind the breeze that filtered in through the closed windows, for she had taken one of her new shawls and wrapped it over her shoulders. Anyway, her blood had not yet cooled from the scorching kiss she and Desmond had shared earlier.
“Delicious,” she muttered, dabbing at her lips again and doing her best not to wipe away the exquisite tingle that lingered on them after Desmond had kissed her. Indeed, she might never wash her lips again. “What do you think, Des? About the cakes... that’s all I meant by the question.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Sweet. Tempting. One can’t have enough.”
“I agree completely.” Although she was thinking of his kiss because she simply could not get it out of her head. The man knew how to make a girl swoon.
They finished their tea in an uncomfortable silence. Adelaide feigned a yawn and excused herself, muttering something about taking a nap before supper. He responded with a mutter about reading the newspaper before supper and rose out of politeness to escort her out. “I’ve imposed on you enough. You needn’t walk me upstairs.”
He took light hold of her elbow, his fingers feeling like a caress. “It’s no
imposition.”
“Oh, Des. I feel as though everything has changed between us. I’m sorry I made you kiss me.” She considered taking her meal in her room this evening, for she was a coward and didn’t think she could face him while her wounded pride and disappointment remained on full display.
“Nothing’s changed, Sparkles. Let’s say no more about it.”
She nodded. “You’re right. The sooner it’s forgotten, the better.” The wondrous moment was etched into her heart forever, but he didn’t have to know it. She’d quietly treasure their kiss for the rest of her days.
Neither of them spoke as he escorted her out of the library, but as they made their way past the entry hall and started up the stairs to the guest bedchambers, Adelaide heard voices raised in heated discussion on the landing above them. A couple was complaining to the owner that their room was inadequate and they needed larger quarters.
Adelaide froze. No, it couldn’t be. “Father?” She shot Des a pained glance, relieved he was by her side, for she couldn’t think or breathe right now. Her heart was beating like a tribal war drum and her legs felt as though they were about to give out. “Des, I’d know his voice anywhere.”
“It’s been ten years. Are you certain?” He placed his hand on the small of her back to lend comfort, but it was the wealth of understanding and friendship conveyed in his simple touch and in his worried glance that gave her the strength to climb those stairs. He wasn’t in love with her, but he was willing to be a loyal and protective friend to her.
Which made her love him all the more.
She rushed upstairs and let out a sob the moment she saw her father. It was him, she’d been right. His hair was grayer and he’d put on some pounds, but otherwise, he was just as she’d remembered him. She wanted to toss her arms around his waist and hug him with all her might, but her stepmother was beside him and already moving forward to block her path.
“Helena, look who it is!” Her father sidestepped his wife and drew Adelaide into a sincere and welcoming hug. “Can it be? Oh, my sweet child!” Her father’s joy and confusion matched hers. “What are you doing here? We thought you and Rupert would be in London by now.”
“He had urgent business in Coventry,” she said through her sniffles and tears. “We’d hoped to leave tomorrow, but he has more meetings arranged so it will be a while longer.”
“We?” her stepmother intoned, gazing over Adelaide’s shoulder to where Des stood. “Who’s this? Rupert’s man of affairs?”
The innkeeper, who had been standing quietly beside her father watching their reunion, drew in a breath. “I beg your forgiveness, my lord!” His eyes widened in alarm as he gaped at Des.
“Desmond Cameron, Marquis of Blackfell, at your service,” Des said, bowing courteously over her stepmother’s hand. “You needn’t worry about your accommodations. Mr. Greer will attend to it immediately.”
The man began to furiously bob his head. “The inn is full, my lord. But I shall do my best to find your friends more suitable accommodations.”
Adelaide frowned lightly. Des was a marquis and knew how to carry himself with an air of power and authority, but there was an undercurrent of anger directed at her father that sent a shiver up her spine. On the surface, his words were polite and engaging, but the tension in his jaw and along the muscled planes of his body spoke of a cold and seething marquis, a man angry at her father and stepmother for abandoning her at the abbey.
She didn’t want his anger, most of which was no doubt directed at his own grandfather for making his own childhood unbearable, to interfere with her happy reunion. “Father, please take my room. It’s large and has a beautiful view of the gardens. You’ll make the switch, won’t you Mr. Greer? There, problem easily solved.”
“Thank you, Miss Farthingale. I’ll take care of it at once.” He pulled a cord at the top of the stairs and within moments he had a team of servants on hand to make the exchange. Apparently, they’d been given the room second from the top of the stairs, a quaint, but small room that offered no view. It held little in the way of furniture, nothing more than a bed, a small table, and two chairs.
“Hell’s bells,” Des muttered as they stood in the hall with her father and Helena watching the staff bustle back and forth.
Adelaide put a hand lightly on his arm. “It’s all right,” she said in a whisper. “I don’t mind giving up my quarters. Please don’t be angry.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not angry.”
She shook her head in confusion. “You’re not? You have the oddest expression on your face. What’s wrong?”
He wouldn’t answer.
“Adelaide, I have a wonderful idea,” her father said. “Why don’t you ride with us to London? No sense waiting here while Rupert finishes his tedious business.”
She gasped. “I’d love it. Unless... that is, assuming I won’t be imposing... I could...”
Her father cast her a broad, beaming smile. “I’ve missed you, my dear. It will give us the chance to catch up. Give us another hug.”
Adelaide eagerly complied, so happy in this moment that her heart soared. “I missed you so much, too.”
He released her with a pat on the arm and then turned to her stepmother. “Isn’t this wonderful, Helena? We’ll all be together for the next few weeks.”
Clearly not pleased, she managed an icy smile.
“Mr. Postings and his parents are already in town,” her father continued. “They’ll be holding a party in your honor within a few days.” He waggled his eyebrows to convey that it was to be more than a mere party, but the formal announcement of her betrothal.
She forced a smile, determined to appear gleeful even though she was still tingling from Desmond’s kiss. Oh, why had she asked him to kiss her?
Helena pursed her lips. “You’ll need a suitable gown for the party.” She reached forward and fingered the shawl Adelaide was wearing. “Although this is rather fine. Where did you get it?”
“Rupert purchased it for her,” Des interjected before she mentioned that he’d chosen it for her.
Her father nodded. “Rupert always had an excellent eye for fashion.”
Helena made no remark, merely glanced speculatively at her and then at Des. Once the room exchange had been completed, her father and Helena disappeared into her old quarters to rest before joining her and Desmond for supper.
The servants disappeared as well and she was once more alone in the hall with Des. She let out a ragged breath and smiled at him through water-filled eyes. “I think this is the happiest day of my life. A magical first kiss and a long lost father who hasn’t stopped loving me. Oh, Des. I was so afraid that he had.”
“I know, Sparkles,” he said with aching tenderness and drew her into his solid and protective arms.
She wanted to slide her hands up his chest and hug him fiercely, but her chin began to wobble and her chest filled with sobs that were aching to escape. Her eyes were already glistening. She didn’t want Des to see her completely fall apart, so she tore out of his gentle grasp. “I’ll see you at supper.”
She rushed inside, slammed her door shut, and threw herself onto the small bed. But she felt a prickle through her pillow as her head settled upon it. She shoved a hand beneath it and withdrew a Yuletide bough. Crumpets. One of the maids must have stuck it under there, for this was another popular folklore. If an unmarried woman placed the sprig of a Yule bough under her pillow, she’d dream of the man she would marry.
She was about to toss it onto her night stand, but changed her mind and placed it back under her pillow because the one man she did not want to dream about tonight was Des.
“Please work,” she said in a whisper, hoping that her dreams would be of the man she was expected to marry... Mr. Postings.
***
The last thing Desmond wanted to do was join the Farthingales for supper, but he was worried about Adelaide and wanted to be close at hand if her joyful family reunion turned into something ugly, a distinct possibil
ity if she were left alone with her father and stepmother. Rupert was caught up in business discussions with the town council, and although Desmond had sent him word of their arrival, he had yet to receive a message back.
Until such time as Rupert returned, Des took it upon himself to protect the girl whose innocent heart would rip to pieces at the first unkind cut from her stepmother. The woman held no love for Adelaide, that much was obvious.
He dressed for supper and walked next door to Adelaide’s room, softly knocking to gain her attention. She was dressed and ready. “Des, you look so handsome.” She appeared to have forgotten her distress over their earlier kiss and cast him a sincere, glittering smile.
Damn. It would take him longer than a day to forget that kiss. At least a month. A year. Likely never. “No one will be looking at me, Sparkles. All eyes will be on you.”
“I hope not. I’ll be the shabbiest dressed young lady at the table.” She rolled her eyes at him when he frowned at the remark. “I will be, there’s no point in denying it. My entire wardrobe consists of a blue wool gown and this green wool gown I’m wearing now. I haven’t any delicate slippers or fine jewelry. But I won’t mind because you’ll be at my side, and even though you are a self-professed curmudgeon, you never make me feel inadequate. In truth, I always feel quite... adequate when I’m with you.”
He shook his head and laughed. “You’ll turn my head with such flattery. Adequate? Now that’s a compliment, indeed.”
She playfully cuffed him on the shoulder. “You’re purposely misinterpreting my words, you wretch. You know I think you’re wonderful, but that isn’t what you wish to hear from me.” She took a deep breath and her mirth faded for a moment. “But I probably won’t see you after tonight since my father and Helena wish to get an early start to London.”
“And you’ll be going with them.” His heart was already aching over her departure.
“I’ll see you in London, though. Won’t I, Des?” She searched his face for reassurance.
Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas Page 89
