‘Oh, Miss Bissell, I’d never let you sink. Come sailing with me today,’ Louie Fenworth offered, flirting cheerfully with youthful arrogance. ‘I’ll keep you perfectly safe and your sister, too.’ Sutton stifled a groan. Had he ever been that brash? Fenworth oozed young cockiness. He hoped Fenworth knew what he was getting into. The Bissell twins weren’t for the faint-hearted.
Miss Bissell blushed and dissembled as if that hadn’t been precisely what she’d been angling for. ‘What a kind offer. We will look forward to it, won’t we, Sister?’ If she couldn’t win the man with the fortune, she’d do just as well to capture an earl’s young heir. The twins swooped upon Louie, one on each side, and looped their arms through his. Louie beamed at the girls. ‘I never can tell which of you is the most beautiful.’
Chiara’s laughter floated back to Sutton and he was stabbed with something he’d call...curiosity. What was Peckworth saying that was so amusing? Certainly he wouldn’t call the feeling jealousy. What was there to be jealous about? Jealousy assumed he coveted the Principessa, that he wanted her for himself. He already had her. He met with her each night in the privacy of the library to discuss candidates worthy of pursuit and, of course, to simply be with her. She was the most honest, most enjoyable part of his days. She wanted nothing from him but his fleeting friendship. He was happy to give it and more if she would take it. She intrigued him. But she’d made it plain on several occasions that she would not. Perhaps she was the smart one. He hadn’t time for intrigue and perhaps not the fortitude for it. Given his situation, he could not afford to invest too much in unwrapping the mystery of her.
It was for the best, he supposed. She didn’t really know him. She saw a wealthy gentleman amid the luxury of his country estate. She didn’t see the camel dairyman, the man who loved animals and science. On ordinary days he came home smelling of camel and horse and manure, with straw sticking in his hair. He couldn’t imagine a refined woman like the Principessa would find that terribly charming. And while she met the technicalities of his uncle’s will, there would be the practical logistics to work out about where to live. He doubted she’d leave her home in Italy for him and he could not contemplate leaving Newmarket. His whole life was here. That situation alone made her an impossible choice. And yet, he couldn’t resist her.
The glimmer of the lake neared and Sutton picked up his pace, wanting to catch the group ahead of him, wanting to catch Chiara before they arrived. He would have her fleeting friendship for ten more days and then she would pass from his world. He intended to make the most of those days, starting right now.
At the lake shore, white canopies were set up for lunch and for relaxing; rowboats and sailboats lined the beach waiting for sportsmen and their passengers. There was a party atmosphere among the guests as people claimed their boats and their partners. Sutton wasted no time claiming his. He approached Chiara from her other side, engaging her bluntly before Peckworth could issue an invitation. ‘Your Highness, would you sail with me?’
Chiara turned, a broad smile on her lips, looking pleasantly and honestly surprised as if sailing with him was a genuine treat. ‘I would love to, Mr Keynes.’ Then she sobered and turned back, remembering Michael Peckworth. ‘If you don’t mind?’
Peckworth made a small, gracious bow. ‘Of course not, Your Highness. I am sure I will see you later.’
‘Are you sure you want to sail with me?’ Chiara tossed him a smile as he handed her on to the little skiff. ‘The other girls will be jealous and you are losing a valuable opportunity to spend time alone with one of them.’
‘Precisely. I’d be losing a valuable opportunity to spend time alone with you.’ Sutton stooped to take off his shoes and roll up his trousers before he pushed the little boat into the water and splashed on board.
‘Shall we row for a while?’ Sutton settled himself at the rowlocks and went to work, enjoying the thrill of straining muscles. Exercise felt good. ‘I feel like I’ve been cooped up for days.’ He rowed hard, their little skiff gaining speed and distance from shore, from the party.
Chiara leaned back in the bow, the breeze of the lake toying with her hat. ‘It goes without saying that I am not your best investment for this outing. I think Miss Ellen Hines will have her feelings hurt. I have reason to believe she felt it was her turn with you.’ She reached up and undid the bow holding her hat in place and set it aside. She was stunning like this, her face exposed, the breeze ruffling her hair. Sutton almost forgot to row. When was the last time a woman had so completely stopped him in his tracks? When was the last time he couldn’t have that woman?
‘Today is too rare of a day to waste on house-party business.’ Sutton pulled at the oars, directing the boat towards an island in the middle of the lake. He grinned, feeling alive as the breeze bathed his face and rippled his shirt. ‘Besides, there’s something I want to show you, just you.’
* * *
Just her. The thought was as intoxicating and as reckless as Sutton’s grin. Too reckless. She should not have got in the boat with him, should not have taken off her hat and given herself over to the day. If she was really Princess Chiara Balare, really his advisor, she would have insisted he spend his time more wisely with a girl he could marry. But she’d done none of those things. She’d thrilled to the sound of his voice at her ear asking her to sail with him and it had all been a slippery slope to this.
They reached the little beach and Sutton splashed into the water. He pulled the boat to shore on the far side of the island where no one could see them. Then he came back for her. She was already busy shedding her stockings and shoes, leaving them beside her hat.
‘Careful!’ Sutton laughed as she stood, rocking the boat while she tied up her skirts. ‘I’ll carry you if you like.’
She tossed him a playful smile and jumped down beside him. ‘I am not afraid of a little water.’ The water came up over her ankles, cool and inviting against the sun; the pebbles on the lake bottom crunched beneath her feet.
‘A wading princess? I am surprised once more.’ Sutton gave her his hand for balance. ‘I thought princesses were indoor girls.’
‘Do you know many princesses?’ She laughed, but perhaps this had been a misstep.
‘No, I don’t,’ Sutton confessed. ‘Just you.’ They reached the shore and the sandy dirt was soft between her toes.
‘Well, a princess is just a person like anyone else.’ This was lovely. It had been ages since she’d been outside, lost in nature. London was a city full of soot and noise. Here, there was quiet, and dirt and green.
‘I am just a person, too. Don’t forget that, Chiara.’ Sutton’s voice was low, intimate, to match the silence that surrounded them. There was only the lap of small waves on the shore. She was reminded exactly how alone they were. She felt his eyes on her face. Her pulse pounded with the attention. ‘Here on this island, Chiara, you and I might be just two people together.’
‘And when we’re off the island?’ What was wrong with her? She was inviting trouble.
‘No talk of that today. I don’t want to think of any of them. Did you know Lila Partridge slipped into my bedchambers last night?’ He took her hand and led her inland.
No, she hadn’t. She supposed it wasn’t the kind of thing people wanted to have gossiped about. ‘Your guards remedied the situation?’
‘Yes, but it’s the desperation of the act that strikes me. The lengths people are willing to go to are astonishing when they feel they have nothing left to lose. That was how that poor girl felt last night, that the consequences of her action were worth the risk of being caught.’
Elidh swallowed. Oh, you don’t know the half of it. Some of us are willing to impersonate royalty to get into your party. But the rest of it was real. She wasn’t pretending anything when it came to his friendship. He could trust her advice, could trust her with his secrets whether she was Princess Chiara or Elidh Easton.
‘Careful he
re, it’s easy to turn an ankle.’ He took her hand again as they scrambled over boulders and rock, coming at last to a cave. ‘This is what I wanted to show you.’ He grinned and ducked inside. A match flared and a moment later a lantern came to life. She stepped into the cave beside him and gasped.
‘It’s amazing.’ The walls were covered in crude drawings, of men with spears, of enormous elephant-like animals.
‘They’re original. Done by people who were here before us.’ Sutton’s voice was hushed at her ear. She shared that reverence as she turned about in a circle, taking it all in. Here before them was an understatement. Millennia before them.
‘A mammoth hunt, I think,’ Sutton told her, slowly moving the lantern across the wall face for her. ‘It has a happy ending for the hunters, most of them anyway.’ The lantern light stopped on the image of a fallen hunter.
‘Not happy for him or for the mammoth,’ Elidh remarked sombrely, feeling connected to these long-gone people. I’m just a person. They’d been just people. Ordinary like her, doing the best they could to make it through life. ‘I wonder if anyone wept over him? If he left behind a wife? A family?’ She traced the fallen figure with a gentle finger. ‘I wonder what they’d think of our world. Our trains? Our cities and roads? We can travel to places in hours that would have taken them days on foot.’
‘I wonder if things like marriage were as complicated for them as it is for us? Or if we’ve deliberately overcomplicated it?’
‘If love was easy, everyone would fall. Is that it? Do you think in the modern day we’ve put ourselves beyond love?’ she asked softly, wondering what was going on behind those blue eyes as he surveyed the cave. What was he wrestling with? His own impending choice? Was it the risk of that choice or the cost of it that he grappled with? Her curiosity did not do her credit. She should not be wondering about his opinions on love and marriage, it would only breed an unproductive interest in this man she needed to avoid.
‘Are princesses “beyond love,” as you put it? Are you spoken for, Chiara? Is there a dynastic marriage waiting for you to return from your travels?’ Sutton was only half jesting. She heard the intrigue beneath the words. Apparently, she was not the only one with curiosity to satisfy. She should not encourage it from him any more than she should encourage it from herself, yet she could not drag herself away from the conversation any more than she could drag herself away from him. Both were captivating. What did a man like Sutton Keynes, a man with the world at his fingertips, think about such things?
‘Not at this time.’ If she was lucky, he’d accept the implication that a principessa was fated for such an alliance, that it was inevitable.
‘But soon?’ he pressed, choosing to ignore the implication. She didn’t believe for a minute he was obtuse enough to not understand it. ‘Is your father saving you for a grand alliance?’
‘Yes.’ There was truth in that. A grand alliance indeed, with the man standing in front of her. But she would not allow that to happen.
‘Will there be love?’ His gaze was intent on her, burning her with his eyes.
‘One never knows. It’s possible. One must always hope.’ She’d spent her life hoping. It hadn’t done her much good so far.
‘I had once thought I’d have love. Now, I am not so sure. The world has taught me differently. My uncle’s will has changed all that, taken the possibility away from me, even if the probability of it never existed.’
She heard the resignation in his voice, a resignation that indicated there might be more to that lesson than simply his uncle’s will. But to probe further would be unseemly and it would invite the sort of interested speculation on his part that she wanted to avoid. All she could do was let her heart go out to him in sympathy. Whatever his hopes might have been, whatever his thoughts on love might have once been, this whole situation was not of his making even if the party was. ‘When I met you that first night in the gallery, I wondered why a man who didn’t want a party had thrown one for himself. Have you thought of giving up the fortune? Then you could marry where you chose and when you chose.’
‘I can’t, it’s complicated. If I refuse the fortune, it goes to my cousin. He can’t be trusted with the money. But there are times when I am tempted to do that very thing.’ He stepped close to her, his hand cupping her head in his palm, her breath catching at his nearness. She could hardly think straight. Dear lord, he was going to kiss her.
‘Sutton,’ she made a breathless plea, whether for or against what came next, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps she tilted her chin up in invitation, perhaps he bent a fraction more until his mouth took hers, in a kiss that started gently, then evolved into something that lingered, that tasted, that drank from her lips, slowly, patiently, as if they had all the time in the world. She could feel his hand in her hair, drawing her closer until their bodies met.
He smiled down at her, his free hand skimming her cheek with his knuckles, his eyes soft. ‘I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you.’
She lowered her eyes, not wanting to give away all the emotion rushing through her. ‘I thought we’d decided not to try this on.’
‘We had,’ Sutton acceded. ‘But then I realised what a fleeting friendship meant. In ten days you’ll be gone and I will have a bride. I found I could not put off kissing you any longer.’ He kissed her again, hungrily this time, the strong hand behind her neck manoeuvring her to the cave wall, the press of his mouth hungry, and she answered it with a hunger of her own. Never mind her father’s plans. Never mind that time and fate were against them. They had this moment. There would be time to regroup afterwards, time to remind herself she was not who he thought he was kissing, but for the present, there was only now.
A small squawk sounded near the cave, interrupting. It came again. Elidh pulled back, holding Sutton’s face between her hands. ‘Wait, did you hear that?’ It came a third time, not a squawk exactly, but something between a cheep and a squeal. It was plaintive and alone, a singular sound. ‘Are there birds on the island?’ She was already moving past Sutton towards the cave entrance.
‘Yes, there are geese, sometimes hawks.’ Sutton blew out the lantern as they exited, and left it behind. For next time, perhaps? She didn’t want to think of who he might bring, who he might kiss in the depths of the cave. Was this just another of his planned interludes? She’d thought not at the outset because they had their rules. She was not here for his game.
Elidh squatted down on the ground, parting the tall grasses and looking between the rocks. She waddled forward in an unladylike crouch, following the sound. ‘Found him! Look, Sutton, it’s a gosling.’ The little baby cheeped and hopped, scared and trapped. ‘It’s his leg, it’s tucked under one of the rocks.’
Sutton was beside her on his knees, carefully removing the rock while she cupped the gosling in her hand. ‘He’s hurt his foot.’ Elidh held the little thing close, soothing it. ‘The poor thing is frightened. Where’s his mother?’
Sutton rose, dusting his hands on his trousers, his brow furrowed. ‘Probably on the lake with the other babies. Geese can swim almost immediately after birth.’ She heard the unspoken words: but not this one. This one, with its bad foot, wouldn’t be able to paddle through the water, wouldn’t be able to dive for insects and snails. Broken, imperfect creatures didn’t fare well in the wild.
Elidh rose, the gosling cradled against her. ‘We have to take it with us. It will starve. We’ll bring it back when its foot heals and it can stand on its own.’ She started the trek towards the skiff at the shore defiantly, daring Sutton to argue with her. Another man would. Another man would tell her it was a hopeless cause, that this was the way of the wild, how nature winnowed out the weak. But instead, Sutton scrambled over the rocks, a hand at her elbow, gently guiding her and the baby gosling to safety. On the beach, he helped her into the boat and made a nest for the baby with his jacket.
‘Thank you.’ Elidh settled herself ne
ar the gosling, ready in case it needed her. The breeze caught her hair as they rowed out from shore. He stopped to put up the sails. ‘We can take our time getting back.’
‘Do you think we’ll be missed?’ Elidh shielded her eyes against the bright afternoon, taking in the distant shore. She was in no hurry to return, although she knew she should be. When it was just the two of them, it was becoming more difficult to remember who she really was, that the Princess was a fiction.
‘Probably. I am missed if I go to the bathroom these days.’ Sutton chuckled. ‘If we’re going to be missed anyway, we might as well make it worthwhile.’ He settled into the bow beside her and the gosling, letting the wind take the skiff at its own pace. He smiled, the effort crinkling the corners of his eyes as he stroked the gosling with a finger. ‘You’ve a kind heart, Chiara.’
‘I can’t bear to see anything in distress.’ She shrugged. ‘Not when I can help it.’
‘Does that include me?’ He gave a wry smile, his eyes still hot when they looked at her.
‘Do you need rescuing?’ She should not have said it, should not have flirted or invited his confession. To know him would be to care for him. Leaving would be hard enough already without it.
‘So much more than you know.’ There was a dangerous hunger in those words.
That made two of them, then. If she didn’t push him away fast, they’d both be in over their heads in no time.
Chapter Ten
‘You shouldn’t have kissed me,’ Elidh said quietly.
‘Didn’t you like it?’
‘Not like it? There was no question of not liking it.’ If his touch made her feel like warm melted chocolate, then his kiss made her feel like chocolate lava. ‘But we’ve already agreed it’s not practical.’ To feel the thrumming urgency of his hunger and his desire up against her body had been heady indeed, but he thought he was kissing someone else. She would never entice such a response from him.
Tempted By His Secret Cinderella (Allied At The Altar Book 3) Page 9
