This particular nephew had recently outgrown the tendency to babble incoherently, but he remained still a very small child and, as a rule, very small children were loud, clingy, sticky, needy, wet, and--perhaps worst of all--terrifyingly breakable.
He glanced down the hall and wondered if there was any way he could shout for his sister without completely unmanning himself in front of Patience.
He rather doubted it.
Resigned to handling the situation, he crouched down, hesitated, then reached up to gently ruffle the boy’s hair. “Lose a tooth, did you?”
Patience frowned as the boy nodded. “Isn’t he a trifle young to be losing his teeth?”
“I imagine he had assistance.” William pointed at the boy’s chin. “Did you hit your mouth on something, Will?”
“Felix.”
“Felix struck you?”
Will shook his head and patted his elbow.
“Ah. You caught his elbow with your mouth,” William translated. “An accident?”
Will nodded, and once again prodded the space with his tongue.
Patience averted her eyes. “Oh, dear.”
“Not in front of the lady, if you please,” William admonished. He withdrew a handkerchief and used it to stop the small amount of blood that was still oozing from the wound. “Let’s find your nanny and get you cleaned up a bit.”
“Or a lot,” Patience suggested.
William chuckled and stood, then very carefully reached out to pick the boy up, only to have Will back away and point at Patience.
“You want Miss Byerly to accompany you?”
Will nodded.
Excellent plan, young man.
“Me?” Patience took a sudden step back. “Oh, I can’t, I’m afraid. Caroline has torn her gown, and—“
William cut her off with a chiding tone. “Patience.”
“She has,” she informed him. “In earnest, for a change. I need to find a maid with thread and needle.”
William nodded. “Right. I’ll find the maid. You take Will to his nanny.”
“I. . .” She bit her bottom lip. “I. . Er. . .Won’t they be in the family portion of the house? I don’t wish to intrude.”
“They’re in the orangery at the end of the hall. You won’t be intruding,” he assured her.
Only she didn’t appear reassured in the least. Her fingers began to rub at a velvet ribbon on her gown. “But. . .Couldn’t you take him?”
William looked to Will. “Do you want me to take you?”
The boy shook his head.
“It appears I cannot.” He smiled at Patience. “He wants you.”
“Oh. . .Er. . .”
“Is something the matter?”
“No. Yes. I’m not certain. I. . .” She eyed Will a little nervously. “I am fond of children, but to be honest,” she leaned towards William and whispered, “I’ve very little experience with them. I’ve never been responsible for one.”
“I see.” Was he going to have to take Will himself, after all? He sincerely hoped not. “I imagine I’ve not much more experience than you.” He leaned towards her and whispered, “I avoid them whenever possible.”
“Will is your nephew.”
“Yes, but you’re a woman. Women are born with the instinct to. . .” he waved his hand about, searching for the right word. “. . .To nurture. . .Or what have you.”
She rolled her eyes, but knelt down and smiled at Will. “You are adorable …Even though you’re messy.”
Will grinned at her.
William grinned wider. “There you go.” He gave her a gentle but bolstering pat on the back. “Just scoop him up and bring him down the hall.”
Patience straightened and took a step forward. . .Then a step back. “What if I should drop him?”
William shook his head. “You’ll not drop him. A firm grip is part of the womanly instinct.”
She sent him a withering look. “And I suppose men are born with a natural urge to toss them about like sacks of flour?”
“We’re a stupid lot.”
She laughed and offered Will her hand. “We’ll walk, if it’s all the same to you, Will.”
It was all the same to William, as long as she took the child. “Nanny’s in the orangery,” he reminded her as he began to back away, intending to make good his escape. “End of the hall.”
* * *
The nanny, Patience soon discovered, was not to be found in the orangery. Oddly enough, neither was a single plant. Apparently, it had been some time since the orangery had been used for its intended purpose. The large stone and glass room was empty except for one rather harassed looking maid cleaning up what appeared to have been an exceedingly active game of Bob-Apple. She seemed more than happy to set aside the chore in favor of taking charge of little Will.
“Nanny sent the others to the nursery after the mishap,” she explained to Patience before smiling at Will. “She’s been looking for you. Perhaps we’ll find her first. Shall we make a game of it?”
In an instant Will let go of Patience’s hand and dashed to the maid.
Patience sighed and smiled as the maid led him from the room. She’d worried herself over nothing. The little darling had been no trouble at all. He’d kept his hand in hers, and William’s handkerchief in his mouth for the duration of their walk. And aside from a few garbled comments that hadn’t seemed to require any response from her, he’d been quiet as a mouse.
Feeling decidedly smug with her competent handling of Will— she’d managed to spend a bit of time with the child without acquiring any bite marks—Patience sighed once more then glanced about at the remnants of the Bob-Apple game. She noted that one of the barrels had a sizable puddle of water around the base and a number of scraped, nicked, and otherwise mauled looking apples inside. But the second barrel looked to have gone unused.
The sides were dry, and the handful of floating apples looked free of blemishes. Apparently, the children had wanted to all try their skill on the same apples.
Curious, she reached out to poke at one of the unmarred apples, and watched as it dipped below the water before softly popping back to the surface. The game couldn’t be too difficult, she mused. It was not as if the slightest touch would send the apples sloshing about willy-nilly. . .She poked again just to make sure.
She eyed a stack of drying cloths neatly folded on a nearby chair.
She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.
Then again, when was she likely to have the chance ever again? She couldn’t very well go home and ask the staff to put apples in a barrel for her. They’d think her as batty as her father.
With a giggle tickling her throat, she took up position in front of the barrel and began to lean forward. She felt wonderfully absurd, and a bubble of laughter escaped before she could help it, then another as she bent further down. By the time she was in position to actually begin the game, she was laughing hard enough to lose her balance. To steady herself, she reached out to catch at the sides of the barrel.
“You’re supposed to keep your hands behind your back.”
If she had been keeping her hands behind her back, she likely would have toppled in at the surprise of William’s voice coming from the door.
Still laughing, she straightened and looked up. From his amused tone, she rather thought to find him leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, a knowing sort of smirk on his face. Silly of her, really--the military officer in him would never allow for leaning, or smirking for that matter. He stood straight-backed with his hands gripped behind him, a bright twinkle in his dark eyes.
She smiled back at him and wondered a little that she didn’t feel foolish at having been caught. Then again, he knew she wanted to try the game. And he had witnessed her stuffing an entire slice of cake in her mouth. In comparison to that unfortunate spectacle, a game of Bob-Apple seemed fairly decorous.
She planted her hands on her hips and nodded toward the barrel. “If I don’t hold on, I’ll fall in.”
&
nbsp; “Ah.” He walked into the room and peered into the barrel. “We can’t have that. Go on, then. I’ll not tell anyone you cheated.”
“Cheated?” She schooled her face into a haughty look—a difficult endeavor when one found it nearly impossible to stop smiling—and pointedly caught her hands behind her back.
“Much better,” William informed her. “If you’re going to do the thing, you may as well do it properly.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Any other rules or suggestions you care to impart?”
“No, I believe that’s all of it.” He motioned at the barrel. “Have at it.”
Feeling both silly and delighted, she stepped forward, picked out a nice apple at the edge and began to lean forward. She straightened again and sent a narrowed eyed glance at William. “You’re not going to play the part of sibling and assist, are you?”
“Assist…? Ah, the head dunking.” His lips twitched. “Wouldn’t you like the full Bob-Apple experience?”
“I’d like to experience it as an only child.”
“Suit yourself.”
She nodded and returned her attention to the barrel. Then sent a wary glance at the door. “What if someone were to come in?”
Really, she should have considered that earlier, but she’d been so excited at the notion of finally having the opportunity to play. . .
“The polite thing to do would be to issue an invitation to play,” William drawled. “Go on, Patience. The door’s open and it’s just a silly and innocent game. They’d have no cause for censure.”
“Right.” Of course he was right.
Breathless with amusement, she leaned over the barrel and began her first attempt at Bob-Apple. After a bit of maneuvering, she managed to catch an apple with her chin, and even succeeded in scraping her two front teeth in a little before the fruit popped free of her grip and bobbed up to smack her in the nose.
“Blast.”
Next to her, William’s chuckled. “You’ll never catch one that way.”
She wiped her nose and straightened. “Which way would you recommend?”
“Grip the apple at the top and bottom.”
“How?”
“Open your mouth wider.” He ran his tongue across his teeth. “If anyone can manage that, you can.”
She frowned at him. “You agreed to forget that.”
“Forget what?”
She snorted and motioned over the barrel opening. “You seem very sure of yourself. Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You said it was an innocent game.”
“I also said it was silly.”
She felt her brows raise. “Are you above being silly?”
“Naturally. I’m an earl.” He eyed the barrel, his jaw tensing a little. She was beginning to suspect that occurred whenever one of his plans threatened to go awry. As if to confirm that suspicion, he said, “I’d planned to watch, not play.”
“Well then, change your plans so you may provide me with a bit of instruction.”
“Thank you, no.”
“Very well.” She shrugged and bit the inside of her cheek. “If you wish to be stodgy about it.”
“I am not stodgy.”
“My apologies. Can’t imagine what I was thinking.” She turned her back and said in a barely perceptible voice. “Except that you won’t play an innocent—“
“Step aside.”
He moved to stand in front of the barrel, casting her a warning glance.
“There will be no dunking.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Not now, anyway.
“And no laughing.”
“What?” She gaped at him. “You can’t possibly be serious.“
“I am merely providing you with a lesson in the most effective method--”
“Lesson or not, you’ll be an earl with his head stuck in a barrel of water.”
He considered that, then the barrel, and then her. Suddenly, his face lit with a grin. “There is that. I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
* * *
William truly couldn’t believe it. Even as he leaned over he found it difficult to grasp that he was actually putting his head into a barrel of water to demonstrate how best to go about catching a floating apple with one’s teeth. It was beyond his scope. He was a grown man, an earl, engaged in a ridiculous child’s game. And, he was forced to admit as the first apple bobbed out his reach, enjoying it immensely.
He’d forgotten the fun of it, the challenge, and yes, the sheer ridiculousness of it. He’d also forgotten what it was like to take a spot of water up the nose, but he didn’t let that unwelcome reminder ruin his fun, nor his concentration.
To his satisfaction, considerable pride, and what he rather hoped was Patience’s impressed amazement, he caught the next apple he went after.
Stodgy, was he? He’d like to see her find success so quickly. He took the apple out of his mouth, set it aside, and used one of the cloths to dry his face. “There you are. Nothing to it.”
There appeared to be a great deal to it for Patience. She was nearly doubled over with laughter.
“Oh, heavens,” she gasped out, pushing her spectacles up. “Heavens, that was enormously silly.”
“Delighted to have amused you.” He motioned to the barrel. “If you would be so kind as to return the favor?”
* * *
William listened to the sound of Patience’s continued laughter as took her turn at the barrel and decided that “silly” did not accurately describe the scene before him. Charming, endearing, and oddly arousing were a far better fit.
Watching Patience Byerly try to catch an apple with her mouth was, without doubt, one of the most delightful things he’d ever witnessed, and not only because the game required she spend a considerable amount of time bent at the waist. Although that did, naturally, captured a substantial portion of his attention.
It was her obvious determination to enjoy herself, however, that captured his heart. It was the same eagerness he’d seen at Hyde Park and heard in her voice every time she spoke of trying something new, or going somewhere different, or meeting someone she didn’t know. The woman seemed to have a boundless supply of enthusiasm.
A supply she drew on now as she followed her apple as it moved about in the barrel, shuffling her feet and stretching her form across the water. She angled her head one way and then another, tried a variety of tactics and then finally succeeded in biting into her apple.
“Ha!” She straightened, took a hardy bite out of the apple and grinned at him. “I did it.”
“So you did,” he said, or at least that’s what he thought he said. He wasn’t really paying attention to what came out of his mouth. It was her mouth that suddenly held his interest. That wide mouth now damp with water and juice from the apple. It was an unholy temptation. She was an unholy temptation. He couldn’t look away as she chewed, swallowed, and reached up to wipe away a small drop of apple juice from the corner of her lips.
Without thought, he stepped forward and took the apple from her hand. He caught the flash of nerves and excitement in her eyes. Fearing the nerves might get the better of her, he tossed the apple aside, closed the remaining distance between them, and pulled her into his arms.
She made a small feminine sound he sincerely hoped was surprise and not protest, and then he bent his head and took his first taste of Patience Byerly.
He meant to keep the kiss sweet and light, a gentle meeting of lips. A woman’s first kiss should be gentle and sweet, shouldn’t it? And that it was her first kiss, there could be no doubt. She was the very picture of innocence. Her face tilted straight up, her eyes squeezed tight, and her lips firmly clamped together. She looked nearly as naive as she did charming.
She didn’t taste like either. She tasted like sin.
He should have expected it. Hadn’t the majority of his decidedly sinful fantasies over the last week been centered on that incredible mouth?
<
br /> But even as he berated himself for being unprepared, he realized that the reality of kissing Patience Byerly was far more vivid than anything his imagination could have created. Nothing could have prepared him for his body’s reaction to her taste—the wave of heat, the sharp stab of desire. He wanted more. He wanted everything. And absolutely nothing that could be reasonably described as sweet and light.
As her mouth relaxed and began to move beneath his, his hands began to explore of their own accord—up her back, across her shoulders, down to mold her waist. She made a soft sound and arched closer, her fingers flittering along the back of his neck and into his hair.
The sound, the movement, the feel of her body molded to his was overwhelming. Dimly, he wondered how something so simple as a kiss could feel so monumental, how it could stir a desire in him more powerful than any he’d ever known. He marveled at it, reveled in it, even as he--the most disciplined of men--felt his control begin to slip. Though it took an enormous act of will— and, in truth, more than one attempt-- eventually he succeeded in pulling away before he lost himself completely.
For several long moments he could do little more than stare at her as their breath mingled in pants. When he was certain he could touch her without pulling her close and starting the kiss all over again, he lifted his hand to gently cup her face. “Perhaps—“ He had to pause and clear the gruffness from his voice. “Perhaps there is one Holiday tradition I wouldn’t mind adhering to.”
She blinked very slowly. “Bob-Apple?”
Laughing softly, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Kissing you.”
Chapter 7
The morning following Virginia Higgs’ dinner party, Patience woke, dressed, sat down for a spot of early breakfast and came to the sudden and rather disturbing realization that she had no clear memory of what had happened at the party after she had kissed William in the orangery.
How very odd.
Vaguely, she recalled returning to the ladies’ retiring room and then being accompanied by Caroline back to the parlor. She knew she had eaten, drank, and spoke with the other guests during the dinner, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what she’d dined on, who she’d spoken to, or what she had said.
A Christmas Dance Page 6
