The 12th Kiss

by Laura Hogg

  Lord Whittingham walked up to them and narrowed his eyes.

  "What is this all about?"

  Lord Cheltham smiled softly. “I have news."

  He gave Relief's hand a quick squeeze. Silence hung in the air like thick curtains on a hot day. No one moved.

  "Everyone, I would like to announce the forthcoming nuptials of myself to my dearest Miss Relief Moore."

  His face glowed. Relief quivered when she saw the degree of happiness that sparkled in his eyes.

  Several people gasped, and then applause went up with happy congratulations. For the next hour, people made their way to them to share their glad feelings for them. Relief squirmed the entire time, imagining escaping London in the night.

  When finally the Viscount saw Relief and Honora to the front door of their home, he took Relief's hand in his own. He drew her fingertips to his lips and kissed each of her fingers slowly. Her heart jolted with an unanticipated rush of desire. She nearly gripped his lapels and yanked him into a kiss. Then she recovered her whit and stiffened her posture. Honora entered the house alone.

  "I bid you goodnight, Viscount.” Relief said, with sadness.

  "Relief, my sweet love, I am mad about you. Please darling, see this as a miracle. Our future together,” He swallowed what appeared to be deep emotion, “will be filled with joy.” His eyes brimmed with longing. “Oh darling, you will be cherished in my arms."

  She lifted her chin and gazed at him. Resentment heated her blood. “I do not want you, Lord Cheltham."

  He straightened his back and contemplated her with a squint of disapproval. “I do not believe that."

  "And do not expect Raphael to meet you either.” Do not cry, Relief, she thought and pulled away from him.

  A hurt look crossed over his features.

  "He and I are friends, Relief. He may be happy for us. He may have something to say, such as ‘congratulations.’”

  "I doubt it, Lord Cheltham. You have no right to do this to me.” She turned aside to spurn him, her lips tight, her eyes burning with angry tears.

  "Relief, oh Relief,” he sighed. “I will not ... be your husband, in the physical sense until you agree.” He put his fingertips under her chin and directed her gaze onto his face. “But darling, I know you love me. I know you want to be with me. You refuse my protection. The long and the short of it is that I have no choice. I must protect you.” He dropped his hand, took hers in his and stroked her hand with his. She tried to pull from his grasp but with no success.

  "You do not do this for me. You do this selfishly because you want me."

  She thought of her skill, and then inhaled sharply.

  This would never have happened if I didn't want it too, deep down. She quickly shook off any signs of this epiphany.

  He obviously missed it. “I do want you, Relief. But one can not wonder that I want you safe. You will not allow me to keep you so. I must be your husband to have this power."

  "I used to dream of marrying for other reasons. Not to be under a man's power."

  "Relief, even if you were in no immediate danger, and I was not so afraid for you, I would still go crazy with wanting to be your husband. I was entranced from the first moment I saw you in New York. Sometimes I feel ill, and sometimes I feel light and alive. I grow cold all over, and then I'm burning up with fever. I find myself up all night thinking about you. I am so in love with you. You, my dear, are the one who has power over me.” He bowed over her hand with reverence, as if she were his queen.

  He took her hand, flipped it over and placed a soft kiss on her wrist.

  The touch of his lips on her bare flesh drew that terrible sharp desire from her again. She covered it with a scoff and tore her hand away. She turned, and without looking back, she pushed her front door open.

  "I will come to take you for a drive on the morrow, sweet love,” he announced, in a tone of dominance. She slammed the door behind herself.

  * * * *

  In the morning Honora and Relief were shopping in a charming little linen-draper's shop on Bond Street. It was early, so the typical crowds of women were not yet walking about the counters. The sisters were browsing, looking at the folds of different materials and in particular, the muslins in a rainbow of colors. Relief was admiring two sky blue shades and held them one up against the other. A smiling, middle-aged woman with gray streaks in her hair approached her.

  "Miss, the first one you hold is azure and the second clarence. Which do you prefer?"

  Honora chimed in. “The Barbel enjoys popularity right now."

  "You ladies prefer blue?"

  "Yes,” they said together.

  "This muslin...” Relief admired the material.

  "It is alliballi, Indian muslin."

  "I like it."

  The merchant smiled. “I have others."

  "I would love to see them."

  Suddenly they heard an interesting conversation. Two young women about Relief's age, accompanied by a footman clothed in various colors, chatted while looking at a nice Pomona sea green batiste, a dressed cotton muslin.

  Honora tapped her sister on the shoulder.

  "Sister, a knight of the rainbow!” Honora giggled tipping her head toward the brightly dressed footman.

  Relief smirked.

  The red-haired lady wore a Devonshire brown gown, and her blonde friend, wore a violet dress. The blonde sighed in admiration. They did not have a clear view of Honora and Relief.

  "Have you heard?” she said dreamily. “Lord Cheltham is to be married."

  The red-haired lady touched her chest. “No! What a shame. Are you quite certain, Catherine?"

  "Yes, Cassandra, I was with my father at the jewelers shopping for an anniversary gift for my mother. He walked in, on a cloud, I tell you. He practically danced into the shop, dreamy-eyed. ‘I'm so happy!’ he said exuberantly. My father and I laughed and inquired the reason for his high cheer. He told us he is to marry Miss Relief Moore, the American heiress."

  "Miss Moore, really?"

  "Yes. The Viscount is entirely in love with her."

  They both sighed. “That's so romantic. I do hope that my future husband will prance around that way, smiling, anxiously anticipating the exchange of our vows."

  "If we lived a few hundred years ago, he would be slaying dragons for her. I told him so, and he agreed."

  They both sighed again and left the shop.

  Honora picked up the cloth that Relief had dropped and waved it in front of her face.

  "Hello, hello, you, up there in the heavens, what is the latest news from the saints? Hello?"

  Relief shook her head. “Uh, I'm sorry Honora. I was just imagining Lord Cheltham in a suit of armor holding a sword."

  Honora chuckled. “He would be a dashing figure. He is now. We'd better get back. He will be arriving soon to take you riding."

  "I suppose so,” she said, as conflicting emotions tore through her. Defiance was at the forefront, but in the back of her mind, unbelievable joy tried to poke out, failing.

  "We should leave London."

  "He would hunt me down, and I would be running from two men.” Relief absentmindedly fingered red velvet on a table before her. “No,” she sighed. “I have decided that it will be best to just stay here and face my situation.” She shoved aside the velvet and made her way for the front door of the shop.

  Honora chased after her. “Relief, you are imagining him in his wedding suit, in your chambers, kissing you passionately, are you not? You are imagining yourself falling, falling, falling down a large black hole, forever lost in the feelings you have for him."

  Relief said nothing. Tears made her eyes sting. Then at last she muttered, “Yes. But I will not live long enough to feel the unhindered bliss of the fulfillment of my feelings for him. And if I do, it won't matter because if I somehow survive my would-be killer, my love for my husband will fade under the resentment of his taking away half of my identity."

  Honora said nothing else on the way hom
e. Relief knew she had stunned the poor girl with empathy for her situation.

  * * * *

  The sisters were discussing the weather in the front parlor when the Viscount arrived. Honora mumbled under her breath.

  "Leafy, he's so handsome."

  Relief grinned wickedly. “Do you want him?"

  Honora raised her brow.

  "Ah, what did my charming sister-to-be mutter this time, beloved?” Lord Cheltham took a step in her direction. His lips turned up into an infectious smile. Relief could not help but to curve the corner of her lips up, too. “She said that you are devilishly handsome!"

  Honora smacked her arm.

  "Ow!"

  He chuckled.

  "She said that she wants you, my lord, so I am informing you of a change of brides."

  He laughed harder now and walked up to Relief with his arms extended. When he was before her, he touched her shoulders and gave her a deeply endearing look.

  "Oh, my darling, I prefer brunettes."

  "Miss lavender dress was not a brunette."

  He chuckled again. “She was also my second choice, by a long way. You're jealous!"

  "I am not!"

  He pulled her into a passionate kiss. She moaned, drowning in desire, fully against her will. He pulled away, still grasping her arms, and grinning like a devil. He touched Relief's chin with his fingertips.

  "Your eyes are wide, sweet. Why are you surprised?"

  "You're a nobleman, but you are acting like a wild American."

  He placed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “Blame the time I spent there. Blame Raphael for reminding me."

  She pursed her lips, trying to suppress a smile, but mirth overcame her. Damn you are handsome and charming.

  Images of him laughing exuberantly on the streets with her dressed as Raphael, after taking out a criminal, rushed her mind.

  Oh, how they had celebrated! Drinking and laughing, singing and celebrating life together. God, I love you, Benjamin. She flushed from sudden need.

  "The way you respond to me, Relief, I greatly anticipate the day you make my most wicked fantasies come true."

  "That will never happen.” Her body cooled.

  He smiled widely. “No matter. I still want to marry you."

  "Without love-making?"

  "You two have no shame. You stop at nothing to achieve your ends. Your future will be filled with heroic escapades. I can only imagine—” Honora walked out of the room, blushing.

  Grinning, he eyed Relief mischievously. “Even without love-making, Relief, I still want you. I want to dance with you at our fiftieth wedding anniversary even if you are still a maiden and not a deeply satisfied lusty wench who tears my clothes off whenever I dare to enter the same room she's in."

  "You're mad."

  He shook his head slowly. “No, just quite in love."

  "I may call on you to prove it."

  "What do you have in mind, Relief?"

  "I will let you know."

  "I will prove true love to you."

  "You will prove just the opposite."

  He frowned. “Come with me.” He reached a hand to escort her.

  She lifted her chin and walked out the door, past him. He darted ahead, out to the front entrance, and held the door open for her. She exited without looking at him.

  She saw Honora sitting in the carriage and leapt into the Viscount's vehicle like a boy, like Raphael, one hand on the seat, body following, and then burned with regret at it. He had the grace not to mention her unladylike motion but instead gave her his insufferable smile.

  "Ladies, we are going to go for a scenic ride, to enjoy the air."

  They said nothing.

  Before they knew it, the three of them were traveling around on a ride in the country, and he turned to her. “Relief, I do not want to lose Raphael's friendship. Tell the lad to meet me in town tonight."

  "Oh, he will be there. You two are to compete against each other."

  "I do not want you there. It's dangerous. I want you home under protection."

  "As you wish, my lord."

  He raised his brows high. “Compliance?"

  "Do not get used to it."

  He grinned.

  "My family will be here from New York soon. They are due to visit. My brother will soon join us as well. He had to leave on business again."

  "I will be very happy to make their acquaintance. They can join us for my sister's wedding. She has been in the country with our parents."

  "I will beg my father not to allow our wedding, my lord."

  Sixteen

  They rode east, past London then over gently undulating terrain. Relief and her sister studied the countryside. Relief's heart found comfort in the patches of ancient woodland, the far-away church towers, the farmhouses, and the clear blue sky. New York and London buzzed with activity, but this was peaceful. She settled into a quiet afternoon, and even felt a little grateful for the opportunity to see such ancient and quaint beauty.

  "Relief."

  She turned to face him at the sound of his voice. He gazed sadly into her eyes.

  "Your eyes are the color of the sky,” he stated simply.

  The sky is so beautiful, she thought.

  He sighed before looking away, watching the passing landscape. “Your words alarmed me. During this ride, I have thought of how I would handle this. I will convince your father otherwise. I will win him over and assure him that I will be a most loving husband who will protect you with my life."

  "What are you going to do about your sister?” Relief asked annoyed, wishing to discuss something else.

  He returned his attention to her face. “Has Raphael informed you fully of the situation?"

  "Of course."

  He rubbed his face. “It is somewhat tricky having to protect two women at once."

  "Then protect her, not me.” She sat back.

  "You come first, always, Relief."

  The poor little girl cannot protect herself. I can.

  "You owe her. You do not owe me.” She glanced at Honora, who turned her head, nodded in agreement, and then looked back out the window with a contemplative expression.

  "What a lovely cottage,” Honora said and pointed outside.

  Relief returned her gaze to Lord Cheltham.

  "I said it was tricky, but not impossible.” He bent over; his arms perched on his thighs, and clasped his hands together.

  "What are you going to do?” She raised a brow.

  "I can not let her go with strangers.” He unlaced his hands and opened his palms for emphasis, his brow creased with unease.

  "You promised her."

  "I do not trust them, even if they may be her natural family."

  "So you are going to force another woman to marry a man she does not wish to be wed to?” Anger stuck in her throat, choking her.

  "Relief—"

  "Release me, Lord Cheltham.” The chilly words came out low and evenly.

  "Oh, Relief, why?” He pressed a hot hand to her forearm. “Don't you want to be with me? Look into my eyes and deny it."

  She stared at him, ready to shout it. Something held her back from saying the words.

  He smiled.

  * * * *

  That evening a rowdy crowd had gathered for the fight in the merchant's basement. Raphael was to face off against the newcomer, Mr. Wright. Money exchanged hands. Lord Cheltham bowed slightly in greeting to his opponent.

  "Raph, my friend, take no offense when I wipe the floor with you!” he said cheerfully.

  "You will be the one being wiped on the floor, Mr. Wright,” Relief said, in her vilest male tone.

  Several people raised their brows at the sound of that. She stood in a relaxed position, only moving when Lord Cheltham did. She swayed forward, arms coming up, hands formed into claws, like a tiger. With fluid motions, she dodged Lord Cheltham's fists and snapped her hand. Lord Cheltham surprised her and ducked the maneuver.

  "Good move, Cheltham."<
br />
  He smiled. “You taught me that!"

  She went at him again, this time knocking him to the floor with a flat-handed strike to the chest, knocking the wind out of him. One inch to the left, and just a little harder, and he'd have been dead. He lay on the floor, gasping.

  "You'll be all right in sixty seconds,” she offered amongst several concerned comments.

  Relief looked down into his face. His temporary agony struck her at heart. He gulped for air, eyes panic-stricken. Tender love washed over her, and she wanted to fall to her knees, cup his head in her lap, and stroke his brow in comfort. She didn't move. He sighed, and closed his eyes, recovered. The great signs of relief on his face made her sigh with joy. She imagined herself as Relief in her silky chemise with her hair falling to the side as she slowly lowered her head and put her lips to his as he lay on their wedding bed. The candlelight would be flickering, allowing her to see the passion that she inspired in him in his eyes. How she loved his smiling eyes.

  What would those wicked fantasies he mentioned earlier entail anyway? His hand would slowly skim up her thigh, and she would breathe out, audibly. He would roll her over and press his body into hers. She would feel his heat physically, and then his love emotionally. She sighed audibly.

  Lord Cheltham used this moment to overcome her. He grabbed her arm, flipped her over and jumped up. When Relief pulled herself up, blinking in surprise, still reeling in lust, he punched her hard in the gut. She doubled over. If only he knew he had just hit his fiancée. He would be appalled. She smiled. Lord Cheltham snatched the opportunity and punched her in the face, knocking her out cold.

  Her eyes fluttered open. He was above her saying, “Raphael, what has overcome you lately? You are a far better fighter than me."

  She glanced around. The room had emptied, except for a few stranglers. He held a small statue in his hand—first place. He had beaten the best fighter there that day. When she had knocked him to the ground, he had been conscious, after all.