“Trying to make Paul jealous?” In a spurious attempt at insouciance, he stood and leaned one elbow on the mantelpiece. “Good move. Machiavellian. At this rate, you won’t need too many more lessons before you’ve mastered the game of flirtation.”
When her gray eyes darkened with hurt, he wanted to kick himself. It wasn’t her fault that she preferred another man. During those rare moments when he rose above his jealousy, he could even admit Paul had every chance of making her happy.
“You’re being horrid. Why?”
Because he struggled to preserve a scrap of pride when he teetered on the edge of humiliation. But that didn’t mean she deserved his spite. “I’m sorry. A case of the seasonal megrims.”
Serena studied him with a troubled expression, her hands loosely linked at her waist. She wore a light blue dress in some floaty material that made him think of summer instead of the depths of winter. “Will you come back and dance with me?”
Stand before all the people he loved and pretend he felt nothing stronger than mild friendship for Serena Talbot? He’d rather have all his teeth knocked out with a hammer. “I don’t like dancing.”
His surliness should chase off a sensible girl. Clearly Serena wasn’t sensible. She drifted further into the room, curse her. “You used to.”
“I’ve changed.”
“That’s true.” The color in her cheeks intensified. “You’ve grown very handsome.”
Heat turned his own cheeks red. And didn’t that make him a soppy sod? In London, he did a fair job of playing the man of the world. Here with Serena, he felt like the awkward schoolboy who had arrived at Torver eighteen years ago. “Doing it too brown, Serena. I’ve always been an odd-looking beggar.”
“You certainly were as a boy.” To his surprise, fondness curved her lips. “Nothing seemed to fit. Your nose was too large, your legs were too long—”
“My feet were too big.”
“Yes. Yet even then, you danced.”
He shot her a narrow-eyed look. “What’s this about, Serena? Requests for my company. Compliments on my appearance. You mean some mischief, or I’m a Dutchman.”
Trailing her hand along the edge of a gilt and mahogany table, she stepped closer. Every hair on his body stood up in alarm—and forbidden longing. “I liked what we did this afternoon.”
“So did I,” he said, before he had a chance to question the wisdom of reminiscing about kisses, when they were alone together and at imminent risk of discovery.
“I’d like another lesson.”
Her frankness felt like a punch to the stomach. He straightened and struggled for a coherent reply. “There’s no mistletoe in here.”
“You could kiss me under the kissing bough in the hall. Nobody would look twice.”
A grunt of unamused laughter escaped. “They would, if I kissed you the way I did this afternoon.”
She bit her lip. “You could kiss me here and pretend there’s mistletoe.”
“I thought you were in love with another man.” The words felt like a blow to a bruise, but they had to be said.
Instead of taking offense, she stopped at the end of the table and regarded him with an enigmatic expression. Which was odd. He’d spent years observing Serena. He thought he knew her as well as he knew himself.
Tonight proved him wrong.
A prudent man would send her packing. But he’d been hungry for her company for so long, he couldn’t yet bring himself to banish her back to the family—and that ass Paul.
“Perhaps I’m flighty.”
Another grim laugh. “Not you. You’re the faithful type.” Unfortunately so was he, damn it. “You’ve always adored the eligible Sir Paul. You’ve never wavered.”
She looked annoyed. “It’s so embarrassing to discover that everybody has been speculating about my affections.”
Giles leaned back more naturally, starting to enjoy himself, despite everything. In the long, desolate years ahead, he’d recall every moment of this encounter when Serena had taken the trouble to seek him out. The candlelight on her skin and hair. The distant sounds of the packed house. Having her to himself when for once, she didn’t seem to want to be elsewhere.
Even if she still wittered on about Paul Garside.
Oh, well, real life was rarely perfect. Otherwise, how would a man know he’d made it to heaven? “If you mean to turn into a flighty piece, you’ll have to learn to dissemble.”
“I can dissemble,” she said in a cranky voice that made him want to hug her.
By now, she was mere feet away. One small step, and he’d be close enough to touch her.
He stayed where he was. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
“I can learn.”
“That would be a pity.”
She frowned. “Is that why you won’t give me more lessons? Because you think I’ll give the game away?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s because I’m not sure what you’re playing at. I thought I knew, but now I’m puzzled. And I never said I wouldn’t give you another lesson.”
Her body sagged with relief. He was shocked to realize that whatever went on in that busy mind, she hadn’t come after him on a whim. This was important to her. Although for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why. They both knew that she should concentrate on winning Paul, not on kissing Paul’s best friend.
“I’m so glad,” she admitted. “When you avoided me tonight, I thought I must have done something wrong this afternoon.”
“You did. You kissed me when you intend to marry another man.” If he kept saying it, he might have some chance of retaining a shred of control.
One pale hand waved in dismissal. “It’s in a good cause.”
“I doubt anyone else would agree.”
“Nobody else has to know. I feared I’d given you a dislike of me. You didn’t look at me at dinner.” The sweet earnestness in her regard pierced his heart. “And when the dancing started, you scuttled away like a rat from the light.”
He snorted in self-derision. “Not flattering.”
“But true. So you’ll kiss me again?”
“You seem deuced occupied with kisses.” He bent to stoke the fire. If he kept looking at her, he hadn’t a hope in hell of keeping his hands to himself. “I don’t want to spoil your chances with Paul.”
More lies.
“Perhaps I want to sow a few wild oats before I settle down.”
“Respectable ladies don’t sow oats, my darling.”
The endearment slipped out before he could catch it. As he stood upright, he saw her stiffen, but she still hovered too bloody close.
“Perhaps they should.” She tilted her chin with familiar defiance. “I’ve never felt so alive as I did in your arms. I’m happy you enjoyed it, too.”
Giles bit back a groan. “Leave me alone, Serena.”
“Why?” She dared another step closer.
His hand closed so hard around the poker that it hurt. “Because anyone could walk through that door.”
She looked directly at him, and at last he realized what his habitual self-denial had kept concealed. Although her kisses this afternoon should have hinted that things had changed.
His heart slammed into the wall of his chest. A universe of possibilities opened before him, possibilities a man of honor would resist.
She might love Paul—she did love Paul, everyone knew that. But right now, she wanted Giles Farraday.
“I’m not sure I care,” she said in a low, urgent voice.
Setting the poker back in the basket, he fought the unworthy impulse to take her at her word. “You would tomorrow.”
When he faced her, such disappointment darkened her eyes that he almost abandoned principle and good sense—even the hope of his next breath—to kiss her. To do more than kiss her. But he’d lived with desire much longer than she had. He’d counted the consequences of surrendering to impulse.
That lush mouth turned down in displeasure. “So you won’t kiss me?”
“N
o.”
Because he feared where kisses would lead. And he had no right to take that journey with her when scandal loomed so close.
“Ever?”
The blood thundering in his ears made it hard to hear. “What?”
“Will you ever kiss me again?”
Oh, hell. She made a mockery of scruples. “It wouldn’t be wise.”
She shrugged. “I told you—I’m not going to be wise this Christmas. Will you come riding tomorrow morning?”
He arched his eyebrows. “And find a secluded glade? You’re playing with fire, Serena.”
Her sensual smile astonished him. She’d come a long way since this afternoon, when she’d stood like a doll and let him lay siege to resolutely closed lips. “I hope so.”
“What about Paul?” he asked, as much to remind himself what she had at stake as to stir her conscience.
That delicate jaw firmed into a stubborn line. “Paul takes me too much for granted.”
Ah, now he understood. While she might want Giles, this invitation wasn’t about him, but about Paul. “So I’m a means to an end?”
“Do you mind?”
He damn well should. He was proud to a fault. As an orphan flung into a ruthless and alien environment, pride had helped him survive. Before answering, he examined his feelings. He should send her away with a flea in her ear and a strict warning about gambling with her reputation.
He should.
Giles spoke slowly. “You know, I’m not sure I do.”
Satisfaction glowed in her blue eyes. “So you’ll kiss me?”
“Not now.”
“Tomorrow?”
In the long run, he’d suffer for this agreement. But how the devil could he resist her? “I’ll meet you in the stables at dawn.”
“Good.” She didn’t retreat, although she’d got her way. “Now come back to the hall and dance with me.”
He couldn’t help smiling. Dear God, she’d been created to torment him. “You’re a demanding wench.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a no.”
She raised her arms. “Then dance with me here.”
“There’s no music.”
“I’ll hum.”
“Serena…” he said helplessly, although he took her hand and slipped his arm around her supple waist.
“A waltz?”
Self-mockery edged his laugh. “What else?”
When Serena sang, he found the husky catch in each note ineffably moving. As his feet found the rhythm, they moved in perfect time.
He thought he’d been smart to evade another kiss, but this dance proved just as perilous. Especially now he knew how it felt to hold her even closer. He drew her near and tucked her head under his chin. Her flowery scent fed his senses.
“Should you hold me so tight?” she whispered.
“Probably not.”
“I like it.”
With no music, they faltered to a stop. He rubbed his chin on the soft hair at her crown. “I’m beginning to think that you like a lot of things that aren’t good for you.”
“Aren’t you good for me?” she murmured, and her hand slid along his shoulder to curl around his neck.
Desire surged, hot and invincible. He swallowed to moisten a dry mouth and told himself to push her away.
He didn’t.
For a sweet interval, they embraced like lovers.
“Start singing,” he growled. “Or take the consequences.”
She lifted her head and for one sizzling second, he thought all his dreams might come true. That she’d say she wanted him and not Paul Garside. And that she didn’t give a rat’s arse if the whole world knew it.
Her eyes flickered down, and she picked up the inane little tune again. Hesitant, but true. And he went back to circling her around the room.
“So this is where you are,” Lady Talbot said from near the door.
Serena gasped and tugged free of Giles. She looked so guilty, one might think she’d been committing murder instead of dancing with an old friend. “Mamma…”
Giles pretended a nonchalance he didn’t feel. Over the years, he’d learned a little about dalliance. The appearance of innocence counted for much when caught in a compromising position. “Lady Talbot, Serena was showing me how she waltzes.”
Serena’s mother, blond and slender like her daughter, leveled an unreadable gaze upon him. “So I see.”
Serena had gathered her poise. “Giles was being unsociable, so I came looking for him.”
That was true, as far as it went. A girl’s mother didn’t need to know about kissing lessons and dawn rendezvous.
“It’s time you both rejoined the party. We missed you.”
Giles heard no hint of criticism, just the acceptance he always received at Torver House. Or, a less welcome theory, perhaps like everyone else, Lady Talbot was so used to her daughter pining after Paul that she saw no harm in Serena dancing with Giles.
Much less welcome.
“Of course, Lady Talbot.” He presented his arm to Serena, but she gave a minuscule shake of her head. He glanced between mother and daughter and made his exit with a bow.
He paused outside, worried that Serena’s mother intended to scold. If she did, he’d step in to defend his beloved.
“Mamma, I’m sorry for deserting the party,” Serena said.
“No matter, darling girl. It’s Christmas, and nobody’s standing on ceremony. If you hadn’t come to fetch Giles, I would have. He doesn’t understand that he’s one of the family.”
“I really like him, Mamma. Frederick is lucky to have such a friend.”
He winced at the word “like.” But pique couldn’t dampen his gratitude and affection for this remarkable family.
“I’ve always thought so. Paul arrives sure of a welcome, whereas Giles hangs back because he doesn’t want to impose.”
“Paul’s a good man, too,” Serena said sharply.
The warmth in Giles’s heart cooled. Although she was right. Paul was a good man, damn it. And he’d make her a fine husband.
“Indeed he is, sweetheart. And he’s desperate to dance with you again, so don’t keep him waiting.”
Giles had heard enough. He turned and trudged toward the great hall and an evening that promised to be pure torture.
Chapter 6
As soon as Serena returned to the great hall, her sisters commandeered her to play the piano. Belinda and Mary had both taken their turns, and now they joined the dancing as if they were carefree girls, instead of wives and mothers.
Luckily Serena’s fingers were so familiar with the quadrilles and cotillions and reels that they didn’t betray her distraction. After those disturbing moments in Giles’s arms, she welcomed a chance to restore her composure. Moments as disturbing in their way as this afternoon’s passionate kisses.
During recent days, she’d felt like a stranger in her own skin. Dancing with Giles, she’d felt as if at last she was in the right place.
Then her mother had interrupted them, and Giles had left her, and she was back to feeling lost and unhappy.
After far too long, she felt enough herself to glance up from her music. Under the boughs of Christmas greenery that decorated the hall, her parents were dancing together, looking like April and May despite over thirty years of marriage. Frederick and the bailiff’s pretty daughter made eyes at each other over the punchbowl. Belinda and Mary and their husbands had paused for breath near the refreshments table.
Inevitably her eyes found Giles. He swung the vicar’s plump chatterbox of a wife in a wild circle that left her gasping, before he set her under the kissing bough for a peck on the cheek. Since he’d returned to the party, Giles had made a point of partnering the older women and shy girls. She began to suspect that a wide streak of kindness lurked beneath Giles Farraday’s worldly ennui.
As she played the end of the reel, Serena smiled at him. When he smiled back, her heart took a disconcerting swoop, and the breath jammed in her throat. Her
fingers stumbled, and she blushed at her clumsiness.
“How’s my girl tonight?” Paul slid onto the long piano bench beside her.
Usually when Paul singled her out, she was overjoyed. He was such a golden god of a man, any mere mortal felt blessed in his presence. So why tonight did his self-assurance strike a false note? As though the words were right, but the man speaking them was not.
“Am I your girl?” she asked in a cool tone, beginning a jig and hitting true notes from one end of the keyboard to the other.
“Of course you are.” He put his arm around her. “You’ve always been my girl, and you always will be.”
She twisted her shoulders, finding his touch oppressive and his confidence grating. Although nowhere near as grating as the sight of Giles dancing with that hussy Letty Duggan.
“I’m trying to play the piano, Paul.” She struggled to hide her irritation.
She must have succeeded. Paul didn’t notice. Nor did he take his arm away. “I’ve hardly seen you since I arrived.”
“You know what pandemonium it is when everyone’s here for Christmas.”
Giles smiled at Letty as if she shone brighter than the stars. Serena struck a sour note. She quickly brought the piece to an end—and felt like cheering when Giles escorted Letty back to her mother and sister.
“I’ll take over, if you like,” Mary said, bustling across. “You’re getting tired.”
“You mean I’m playing as if I’ve got ten thumbs.”
“I didn’t like to say that.” Her sister cast Paul an approving glance. “It’s time you two danced. No need to take your duties to extremes, Serena.”
“I do like your sister,” Paul said with a laugh, as he drew Serena to her feet and onto the floor.
It shouldn’t rankle that he hadn’t asked her if she wanted to dance. Nor should it rankle that Giles lingered chatting with the Duggans. When Letty’s tinkling laugh rang out, Serena hid a scowl. The local belle wore a dress Serena hadn’t seen before. That shade of green didn’t suit Letty’s complexion. In fact, her color was quite muddy.
“Serena, I’m saying I like your sister,” Paul said, and Serena realized she was woolgathering. Which had never happened before in his company.
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