The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5)

by Meara Platt

  Even so, that’s all it was.

  She would never give her heart to one who did not love her in return.

  “No, I doubt I can. Too much work to attend to while I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “A couple of days at most and then I’ll be off for London, probably by the day after tomorrow.”

  Rose once again lost herself in his sober green gaze. Why did he seem so troubled? No matter, she was also troubled and already missing him even though they’d just arrived and she had two whole days to spend with him, assuming he didn’t bury himself in the cottage’s study all day long.

  “Julian, will you never let go of my friend’s hand so that I may take her inside? Come along, Rolf. I’ll show you to our quarters and once you’re settled I’ll give you a tour of the house.” Nicola wriggled her way between the two of them. Goodness, Rose hadn’t noticed that they were still holding hands. Had he realized it?

  His thumb blazed a trail of heat across her palm as he casually released her.

  Heart not engaged.

  She silently repeated the thought several times to make certain she’d remember, but there was no avoiding his presence in the beautiful cottage, which was as grand as any manor house she’d ever seen. It contained no less than a dozen elegantly appointed guest rooms, a music room, a breakfast parlor, a large entry hall, an even larger dining hall, a smaller dining room, a study, a library, a cozy ladies’ parlor, and much more. “Cottage, indeed,” she muttered under her breath, quite taken by the magnificence of this country home.

  “We’ll have to work hard to keep him here all week,” Nicola said the moment they’d finished touring the house and were alone in the guest quarters they were to share for the week. Their bags had been brought up and they had been requested to change out of their dusty clothes, wash up, and return downstairs for a light meal. It was late, and after being trapped in their carriages all day, no one other than the boys had much of an appetite.

  Rose followed Nicola’s lead and changed into an informal tea gown, a pale pink confection. Tomorrow’s supper would require a more formal attire, but tonight was a simple family affair. The children were to dine with them this evening, but otherwise only she, Nicola, and Lord Emory would join the earl and countess at the supper table.

  Rose quickly understood why. The boys gobbled down their meals as though they were wolves coming out of hibernation. They inhaled the generous servings of cold duck, seeming to suck the meat down their throats without so much as chewing on it, not even once.

  Lord Emory grimaced.

  The earl and countess harrumphed to mark their displeasure, but it fell on deaf little ears.

  Emily began to cry.

  Since Rose was seated next to her, she naturally took on the role of tending to her. “What’s the matter, sweetling?”

  “I don’t like duck.”

  Callum dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. “Well, I’m sure the duck doesn’t like you much either. Here, give me your plate. I’ll eat it.”

  Emily began to cry harder.

  The girl was little and slender, so Rose simply plucked Emily off her chair and set her on her lap. “Sometimes my stomach is delicate. Nothing looks appetizing to me at those times either. I usually settle for some hot bread fresh out of the oven and I slather it with marmalade. That holds me over until my stomach settles. How does that sound to you, Emily? Would you like me to scoop some onto a slice of warm bread for you?”

  The girl whimpered a yes and nodded.

  Rose gave her a hug of encouragement. “Would you like to stay on my lap as you eat it?”

  She nodded again.

  Lord Emory leaned back in his chair and gave her a soft smile. “Thank you,” he silently mouthed.

  Heart not engaged.

  But she knew it was. Every time he looked at her, she felt a stirring in her blood. A tingling sensation in her limbs. A flutter in her belly.

  An ache in her heart.

  She smiled in response, but couldn’t wait for the meal to end. Lord Emory was looking at her as though she was filling his heart, and she knew it couldn’t be true. His heart belonged to Countess Deschanel.

  Perhaps Robert was as eager to be done with it as she was, because he startled them all by spilling his water glass on the table linens.

  Lord Emory growled softly and pushed back his chair as he rose and attempted to sop up the spreading flood with his own napkin. “All right, boys. Upstairs before I mount your heads over the mantel beside that of the wild boar.”

  Nicola and the governesses took the children upstairs while the earl ordered port wine and glasses to be brought out onto the terrace. The task was promptly attended to, as though the staff had anticipated their desires. Rose realized this must be a nightly ritual for them. “Care to join us, Julian?”

  He nodded with a boyish grin. “Just promise me you won’t spill that splendid port, Uncle.”

  The earl chortled. “Don’t be too hard on your brother. He was excited to be dining with us and managed to behave throughout most of the meal. If memory serves me correctly, you never lasted through the soup course before wreaking havoc.”

  Lord Emory laughed heartily. “I’m sure you have me confused with someone else. I was the perfect child.”

  The earl turned to Rose. “He was a terror. I remember it well!” He nodded toward the glass doors leading onto the terrace. “My wife and I enjoy a fine port before retiring for the evening. Care to join us as well?”

  “I’ve never had port,” Rose admitted.

  “Then we must ply you with some,” Lord Emory teased.

  “Pay no attention to my wicked nephew. You shall not be corrupted while under my care. I’ll order lemonade for you,” Lady Darnley kindly assured her.

  Rose politely declined and commented that she would retire to bed. She didn’t trust herself in her nephew’s daunting presence and certainly didn’t trust herself while drunk. She kissed the earl and his countess goodnight and watched as they sauntered outdoors arm in arm. The older couple, so obviously in love with each other, picked up their wine glasses and leaned against the balustrade while enjoying each other’s company in the warm night breeze.

  “I’ll join you in a moment, Uncle,” Lord Emory called out and circled the table to intercept Rose as she was about to leave. “Don’t go yet.”

  “All right.” She shrugged her shoulders and waited for him to explain his request. They were now alone in the dining room, the candlelight casting shadows of them along the wall. The shadows blended as Lord Emory leaned a muscular shoulder against the door frame very close to where she stood.

  He studied her, saying nothing, so she spoke up to fill the silence. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took Emily onto my lap. She isn’t an infant, but is still a sensitive girl and—”

  “I didn’t mind. She misses our mother and needs a good cuddle every once in a while.” He shifted closer, so close that she could feel his warm breath teasing her ear. Her limbs began to tingle again. “Rose, aren’t you going to ask me?”

  She swallowed hard, for he was standing divinely close and she felt as though they were the only two people who existed at this moment. He overwhelmed her with his mere presence and she had to lean against the wall for support. His eyes were expressively steamy. She’d never had a man look at her with such fire and heat in eyes before. She swallowed hard again. “Ask you what?”

  “Ask me to kiss you,” he said in a husky rumble.

  Heart not engaged.

  Heart not engaged!

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Would you—”

  That’s as far as she got before he groaned out a yes and lowered his lips to hers with glorious urgency. She’d only meant to ask if he truly meant it or was merely teasing her, but he captured her mouth before she managed to utter another word. Heavens! His lips were warm and gentle and probing, his body hard and straining as he gathered her into his exquisite arms—they were indeed exquisite—and without breaking contact, drew he
r up against him in one smooth, sweeping motion so that there was no mistaking what he was doing.

  He was kissing her!

  Kissing her!

  She circled her arms around his neck and leaned into him, loving the feel of his body against hers. Loving the heat of his mouth on hers as he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue between her slightly parted lips. Then his tongue gently invaded and sweetly plundered, moving in and out in slow, languid thrusts.

  His arms tightened about her waist to hold her securely against his body, as though fearing she might draw away.

  “Julian,” she said in a breathless whisper, clinging to him and hoping he would never let her go.

  He chuckled against her mouth. “Finally. I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

  She felt the beat of his heart thrumming against her chest, for he was holding her off the ground and she was still pressed against him so that their hearts were aligned. Even though he stood a foot taller than she, at this moment they were eye to eye and shoulder to shoulder. Her heart was wildly pounding in rhythm to his, and she felt every hungry throb of both hearts.

  Her eyes fluttered closed when their lips met again, the better to experience each fiery sensation, to feel his straining muscles, to taste the hint of wine on his breath and revel in the heat of his body aching for hers. “I’ll never forget you,” she whispered, knowing he wasn’t hers to keep beyond this intoxicating moment.

  He groaned again and set her down gently so that her back rested against the wall she desperately needed for support. Her hands splayed against it to hold herself up so she wouldn’t simply melt into a puddle of wanton desires. Of course, she was already deeply aching for him, but she dared not let on. She knew he was a handsome rogue who only meant to steal a kiss.

  She was the only one in danger of turning it into something more. Her thoughts were so muddled she couldn’t put two words together, much less use her two feet to walk out. “Hell and damnation, Rose,” he said with a groan that seemed to tear from the depths of his soul. “This isn’t what it seems.”

  She opened her eyes to study him. What was he talking about? “This wasn’t a kiss? My first kiss. It certainly felt like one.”

  He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “Your first? Your very first? Have you never been kissed by any man before?”

  She didn’t understand why he suddenly seemed irritated with her. “No. Not a one. Should I have been?”

  “Hell, no. Of course not. It isn’t your fault. That’s how my luck has been running lately.” He muttered something under his breath, but she couldn’t make it out. However, it couldn’t have been too awful, for his gaze grew tender and he tipped a finger under her chin to nudge her face upward slightly. “Yes, it was a kiss. One hell of a great kiss.”

  She couldn’t help but nod in agreement because she was still reveling in its afterglow.

  However, he wasn’t quite so cheerful now. “But you must be wondering why I chose to kiss you.”

  In truth, he’d rendered her senseless and she wasn’t thinking at all. She managed to smile up at him. “No, not at all. I was too busy taking in all these new sensations and liking them very much.”

  He ran a hand through his hair again. “Bloody nuisance. When I’m… this isn’t supposed to happen… you’re… and I’m… damn it, I’m a blasted fool.”

  “We both got carried away. You needn’t worry that I’ll expect more, much as I do hope for more. As I said, I rather enjoyed it.”

  “No, Rose. You can’t. And I can’t.”

  She put a hand to his cheek, his earlier tenderness toward her emboldening her. “But we just did.”

  He groaned once more and leaned his forehead lightly against hers. “I know. My apologies, but this can’t be happening. Not now.”

  “You needn’t worry that you’ve led me on or hurt me.” She ignored the ache to her heart. Although she knew little about men, she’d been warned about their carnal needs. Did a hungry kiss count as carnal? His lips hadn’t felt base or dirty or insincere. Quite the opposite, it felt as though he’d put more of his heart into this kiss than she had. Of course, this was her first time and she didn’t know what she was doing. But he knew.

  He wasn’t happy about what he’d done, but didn’t seem regretful.

  In truth, he appeared to be at war with himself. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he wanted to kiss her again. But that was impossible. He’d appeased his curiosity and would now return to Countess Deschanel, the true Lorelei, for that sophisticated beauty was experienced in the art of seducing a man and keeping him under her spell.

  So why was Lord Emory still standing so close to her?

  And why was his gaze on her still smoldering?

  CHAPTER 6

  JULIAN FORCED HIMSELF to turn away from the golden-haired innocent with lush, kissable lips and the biggest blue eyes. He needed to regain hold of his senses, which always seemed to careen out of control the moment Rose was near. He knew he had to stay away from her, but it was more easily said than done. “I’m sorry I detained you, Rose. You may go.”

  “You didn’t merely detain me,” she said with a soft laugh that trickled over him like warm sunshine. She ought to have been shocked, remorseful, and certainly offended, for he’d not only overstepped the proper bounds, he’d trampled them.

  She merely sounded amused.

  She set her hand gently on his arm to draw his attention back to her. Hah! If only she knew how completely she had him rapt! Not even turning away from her had helped, for his gaze was now on his aunt and uncle sharing a port wine on the balcony, every movement of their aged bodies as they leaned toward each other an indication of the loving devotion each held for the other. “Lord Emory—”

  “Julian,” he insisted with a quiet growl, another impulsive mistake on his part. He ought to be drawing away from the girl, not insisting on more intimacy.

  She sighed. “Very well… Julian. Isn’t it beautiful the way the earl and his wife get along? They’re so obviously in love with each other. That’s what I wish for myself. I know it is something that you’re not willing to give me, so I’m quite satisfied to treasure the memory of my first kiss and leave it at that. I’m glad it was with you, a man with a good, caring heart toward his family and perhaps a little fondness for me. I’m most flattered, although quite surprised, that I managed to pique your interest in any way.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “Rose, do you have any notion how beautiful you are? Not only outwardly, but deep inside where it counts most?”

  “You’re flattering me again. I must warn you that I’m quite susceptible to it, especially from you. Perhaps I had better retire before I say something I’ll truly regret.” Her hand slid off his arm. “Good night, Julian.”

  He nodded. “I may not see you tomorrow. I’ll probably ride out early.”

  She stopped in mid step. “Ride out?

  He nodded again. “Yes, back to London.”

  “Back to London?” Her eyes rounded in surprise, and other feelings that he couldn’t quite make out seemed to be roiling within her all at once. “You can’t! Not now!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… er…” The poor girl suddenly appeared bereft and he began to understand why. Her facade of calm had been just that. No doubt he’d stirred her innocent passion and she didn’t understand the heat and turmoil now bubbling within her. “Er… what about sharing breakfast with your siblings? You can’t disappoint them. It would be cruel.”

  What had he done? And how was he to undo the damage?

  “They’ll be heartbroken,” she continued, seeming to be desperately groping for reasons to hold him here. In truth, he wanted to stay, but it wasn’t safe to remain so close to her when he hadn’t mastered control over his own feelings yet. “And… and… weren’t you supposed to stay for at least another day? You can’t change your mind now. The little ones will think you broke a promise to them. They might never forgive you.”

&nb
sp; He frowned lightly. “My aunt and uncle will explain my absence to them. Nicola and Callum will certainly understand. You needn’t fret. I’ll see you all when you return to London next week.”

  Her blue-violet irises were in a turbulent swirl. “Next week will be too late.”

  “For what?” He rubbed the nape of his neck, now worried that he’d overstepped quite badly and overset Rose far more than expected. It was all his fault, of course. Damn it, he shouldn’t have kissed her. “I’m quite certain my brothers had enough of me on the carriage ride here. And Emily has you as her new best friend so she won’t miss me in the least. Kendra might, but Nicola will entertain her.”

  She still appeared to be groping for reasons to keep him here. Was she in love with him? Deeply and helplessly so? He liked Rose well enough. Indeed, as soon as Valentina gave up that last important name, he and the others of Prinny’s agents would sweep down on that spy ring and toss them all in prison. Perhaps it would all take place this week and he’d be free to court Rose by the time she returned to London.

  Merciful heavens! Had he just considered courting Rose?

  All the more reason to leave as soon as possible.

  He needed to sort out his feelings for her. Bloody nuisance. She was his sister’s best friend. Once he began to court her, assuming he decided to do so, there would be no turning back. It would have to end in marriage, not only because she was Nicola’s best friend but because he knew that once he wooed her in earnest, there was no way he’d keep his hands off the luscious girl.

  Or his lips.

  Or his tongue.

  He cleared his throat. “I hope to have news of importance to convey to you by next week. Rose, I—”

  “Oh!” She shoved away from him and ran upstairs, her shapely derriere wiggling delightfully as she hastened up the steps. “No, no, no. Oh, dear!”

  He scratched his head as he watched her run off like a scared rabbit. Women considered him handsome and often praised his seductive prowess, but he’d dismissed their claims as silly sexual flirtation.

  Had he been wrong all this time?