by Conkle, Gina
One hand on the cold stone wall, he swallowed a hard truth. He was good at hanging in the periphery. Not quite present for those in need. Quick to hold his feelings in check and quick to leave when a storm of emotions kicked up. He’d never mastered the fine art of understanding the outer reaches of feelings. Perhaps that’s why he and Lord Edward, Earl of Greenwich, got on so famously. Neither truly understood women or emotions well.
But, even the reclusive Earl of Greenwich had found love.
Jonas’s fingertips dug into the ancient stone wall. Would he ever find love?
“You don’t need to worry about improprieties, Mother. Everyone thinks Father and I are working here. Jonas visiting the tower will have no social consequence.” Livvy sniffled, her voice a touch amused. “He still regards me as the bothersome girl in braids.”
“You can’t know that,” her mother chided.
A knowing laugh echoed above his head. “Yes, I can. I kissed him yesterday and he didn’t kiss me back. It was awkward.”
“Olivia,” her mother groaned.
“You could have another governess watch over me,” Livvy teased. “But it’s a bit late at my ripe age of twenty-four.”
“You are not a child, my dear, I know this.”
“Then you will trust me working with Jonas.”
“I’d feel better if you called him Mr. Braithwaite.” A tolerant, motherly sigh drifted through the tower. “At least Mr. Haggerty will be here soon. He promises to come once the roads are clear enough for travel.”
Standing in the shadows, a pang of conscience pinched Jonas for eavesdropping. He pushed loudly up the stairs, his boots heavy on each step as he called out, “Good morning to the tower.”
He breached the upper floor’s light to the startled Halsey women. Mrs. Halsey stood as tall as Livvy, her brown eyes flaring wide, the mildly exotic tilt of her eyes a gift from mother to daughter. Lines etched their outer corners, and a faint pallor marked her features. Dressed in deep purple, her graying auburn hair swept high off her forehead. She was rustic elegance, though not of English stock. Rumor had it she hailed from the Commonwealth of Lithuania, the daughter of an antiquarian.
Livvy smiled at him, her thick copper-colored braid curving over her shoulder, the tip dangling where black lacing nipped her waist. A very pleasant, very male bolt shot through him, beginning at his heart and landing in the placket of his breeches.
“Good morning, Jonas. You are looking hale and hearty,” Mrs. Halsey said, one brow arching. “And with a gold earring no less.”
He removed his tricorne and sketched a bow. “A necessary evil when I took to the seas.”
“Then, you weren’t a pirate.” She smiled, folding both hands before her.
He flashed a chaste grin at Livvy and removed his coat. “No, ma’am.”
“The people of Plumtree entertained themselves with tales of your plunders on the high seas. At least until the Captain disabused them.” Head canting to one side, she studied him. “This renown matters not to you, I think.”
“It does not, ma’am.”
Livvy tucked both hands behind her back, smiling boldly at him. “I think Mr. Braithwaite looks like a gentleman of fortune.”
Her voice did things to him, made him want to listen to her for the pure joy of hearing her voice. How had he missed that yesterday? Livvy Halsey trod a different path than London’s frothy misses. Would any of those well-bred young women don breeches and climb trees to give their father a token of comfort in his last days? Livvy Halsey was all heart, a woman who wore her keen mind and adventurous spirit well.
Clamping both hands behind his back, he stood ramrod straight. “I was third mate on the Carlotta for Sanford Shipping Company. Simple as that. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Carlotta? It was the Earl of Greenwich’s ship for his naturalist voyage.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Halsey eyed the gold earring. “I’ve read his pamphlets on the healing properties of African plants.”
Her refined manners wouldn’t allow probing questions about the gold on his ear. He decided to save her the trouble of stewing over the odd gold piece.
“If you’re wondering about the earring…the lot of us had our ears pierced at a port in the West Indies.” He grinned, his chin dipping a fraction. “You could say there was much whiskey involved…that and the fear of God that should our bodies wash ashore from a shipwreck, the gold would pay for a proper Christian burial.”
Mrs. Halsey smiled back. “The same reasoning pirates give.”
“Very true, ma’am. Your knowledge of the seas shouldn’t surprise me given your experience with other topics.”
“I was a young woman once,” she said archly. “The appeal of a dashing man is not lost on me.”
“Age has no bearing with you, ma’am. Little slips past your notice.”
Mrs. Halsey’s laughter tinkled like a bell. “Jonas Braithwaite, you have come into your own. What a fine gentleman you are.” She looked askance between Livvy and Jonas, her tone knowing. “It is a good thing you are not long for Plumtree, or I would have to play chaperone.”
“Your daughter’s honor is safe with me.”
A kind glow lit her eyes. “As I believe it always has been.”
“I am standing beside you, Mother,” Livvy piped up.
Mrs. Halsey kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I know, dear, but I will always be your mother.” Looking to Jonas, she gave a regal nod to the curule chair sitting on a table. “Do you think you can bring life into the chair? Olivia says she informed you of its tremendous historic value.” She paused as if choosing her words with care. “You understand. We need a good…outcome in the sale of this artifact.”
He patted the satchel he’d dropped beside his coat and strode the long way around the table. “Yes, ma’am. I am up to the challenge—” He set the leather bag down “—and I am aware of the chair’s importance.”
Livvy met him at the table and opened book set near the chair. “I found these diagrams of other curule chairs. I thought they’d help.”
Her ink-stained fingers smoothed a faded forest green gown, this one free of lacey elbows.
“Olivia tells me you graciously returned Mr. Halsey’s old watch,” Mrs. Halsey said, her eyes glossy and bright. “For that, I am most grateful.”
“I’m pleased to bring some comfort to your family.” Jonas felt his ears warm from the admiration in her eyes. He swallowed the knot in his throat and untied the satchel. The Halsey family had always been kind to him. “I shall get to work, then.”
“I brought food.” She motioned to a basket covered with a red and white checked cloth. “Should you need anything else, please come to the house. Otherwise, I’ll take my leave and let the two of you get to work.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Jonas unrolled the cloth full of chisels and set them on the table in order from smallest to largest.
Livvy wrapped her black shawl around her shoulders and took her place at the desk. She pulled a pen knife from her desk and shaved the tip of a new quill, the scrape a gentle noise in the tower. The hearth’s fire crackled and Mrs. Halsey’s heel strikes sounded on the floors. Jonas picked up the smallest chisel, his thumb testing its sharpness.
Quaint stillness settled around him. Touching the tools was another step into the better parts of his past. Though Jonas loathed admitting it, he liked working with his hands. The wood, the tools satisfied him.
Mrs. Halsey’s tinkling laughter rose to the rafters. “I truly have nothing to worry about here, do I?”
Livvy swiveled in her chair. “Mother, please.”
“Do not forget the crate outside.” She smiled benignly. “If the two of you make good progress, you should reward yourselves with a night of fun.”
Jonas set down the chisel and walked to the window. He’d forgotten about the crate.
“What fun?” At the window, warmth and sunshine blasted him, the feel of it good on his skin as he grabbed the rope. Or was it being in the tower with Livvy?
“The Captain mentioned an invitation but I hadn’t thought about it,” he said, hauling up the crate.
“It’s a costume party, Mother. I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Nor do I.” He hefted the light crate through the window.
Mrs. Halsey tapped her steepled fingers. “The two of you are clever. You could come up with something.”
Jonas set the straw-filled crate on the floor. “I’m of a mind to spend a quiet night at home.”
“Nonsense,” the older woman retorted. “You are both young. You would do me a great favor, Mr. Braithwaite, if you made certain my daughter has a night of frivolity. She has labored too long in here…she’ll turn into one of these relics if she’s not careful.”
Livvy groaned and turned back to her desk.
Jonas dusted off both hands. “I’ll see what I can do to convince her, ma’am.”
“Very good.” Mrs. Halsey smiled and slipped out of sight, her footsteps echoing her departure.
Livvy kicked off one shoe and tucked her foot under her bottom. She dipped a nib on the ink and began writing. Her other foot swung back and forth as if keeping time with her flow of words. Finding his way to the chair, Jonas was once again tongue-tied. The idea of a night with Livvy settled on him. He knew Livvy the girl, but Olivia Halsey, the woman? He couldn’t say.
Did she want him to know her? There was the matter of their kisses. The first night, hot and salacious. The second afternoon, tentative and flat.
He wanted another try.
Standing at the table, he set out the rest of his tools. Work was an elixir. It gave him purpose and pride. To be the one to help save the Halseys from imminent disaster satisfied him. A night of fun with Livvy would too.
They worked in silence, the time measured by Livvy’s quiet scratches on paper. An hour or two or three passed with the hearth’s fire at this back. He etched his chisel through one decorative carving after another on the chair’s top arch. Slivers of wood dropped onto the table around the ivory legs. He stepped back and ran a finger across fresh wood, contentment swelling in his chest.
“There’s something satisfactory in saving a piece of history.” Livvy’s voice broke the silence.
He glanced over his shoulder. Livvy set one hand at her back and stretched like a cat, the shawl falling off her shoulders. Black lacing cinched her tiny waist between lush upper and lower curves. How easily he could untie it…set her hourglass shape free. He’d rub the small of her back with attentive circles, make her feel better, and then he’d let his carnal nature take command.
“Jonas?” Her head cocked.
He snapped out of his lustful haze and massaged his nape. “Getting hungry.”
Livvy slipped from her chair and padded over to the basket. She set out a feast of bread, dried apples, cheese, and ham all while chattering about her progress with the manuscript and his progress with the chair. He stared hungrily at her. Yes, there was something satisfactory in uncovering the chair’s beauty. Staring at Livvy’s plump lips and soft-skinned face, there was deeper satisfaction in discovering a woman’s beauty. Livvy Halsey was a beauty by any man’s standards.
Had he been too busy being her friend to give adequate tribute to her?
Or was Livvy content to stay in the safe parameters of friendship after their disastrous kiss?
Tonight’s festivities at the Sheep’s Head would be the perfect foil to laugh again and have fun. He’d convince her to attend the village entertainment and, when the time was right, he’d test the bounds of friendship.
Chapter Five
“He’s rather like my favorite hunting hound. Nose at attention, ready for action. Question is who does he wait for?” Mr. Goodspeak doled out this insight while sizing up the Sheep Head’s newest dartboard.
“Hard to say with the black mask on.” Mr. Littlewood peered at Jonas from the pine wood settle tucked into their section of the Sheep’s Head.
Jonas leaned a casual shoulder against the wall, the Sheep’s Head door in his sight line. A slender tavern maid dressed like a shepherdess plunked four cups brimming with mulled wine on the table. Jonas fished out the necessary shillings and dropped them into her outstretched hand. She brushed a panniered hip against his thighs, eyeing him over her shoulder as she sashayed to the bar rife with pine boughs.
Mr. Meakin held his cup to his bottom lip. “Methinks our boy just got an invitation from the shepherdess.”
Mr. Goodspeak hummed thoughtfully, one eye squinting at the dartboard. “My money’s not on the shepherdess.” He lobbed the dart and missed the board entirely.
“With luck like that you won’t have money to wager a’tall my good man,” Mr. Meakin said, chortling in his cup.
Mr. Littlefield removed a clove floating in his wine. “Whoever it is, she hasn’t arrived yet.”
“You realize, gentlemen, I am right here,” Jonas said in good humor.
Mr. Meakin’s knees cracked as he rose from his chair to take his turn at the dartboard. “Just a spot of fun m’boy, enjoying what we can of Plumtree’s den of iniquity.”
Jonas took a long swallow of his wine, the spicy cinnamon and clove flavors rich in his throat. He’d held this spot for the better part of an hour. The Sheep’s Head was a far cry from a den of iniquity, but Plumtree’s normally staid residents were out in full force, pushing the bounds of decorum. One man pinched a serving maid’s bottom. She yelped and gave him a tongue lashing. Another woman lolled on the lap of a strapping man dressed as a plague doctor. Throngs milled the smoky room, laughter bouncing off timbered rafters. Men and women alike slurped pints of ale and mulled wine. Half the comers wore elaborate costumes from the new blacksmith dressed as a medieval Welsh archer to his friend boasting a Henry the Eighth doublet. The rest of the revelers brushed off their garb and wore their best smiles.
The Captain was conspicuously absent, claiming an ailing head. Jonas was glad his grandfather wasn’t here. The Captain’s shrewd eyes would see Jonas dancing attendance on Livvy Halsey, and the old man would sing the praises of Plumtree’s finest maid. He slid two fingers inside his cravat as if the marital noose had settled around his throat.
He would leave Plumtree. But a night of fun with Livvy—
The door opened and four bodies stumbled in, their heads tipped with frivolity. He locked onto one familiar face masked in black lace. The woman’s eyes scanned the public house. He waited. His body tensed. He could hear himself breathe while he waited for her to see him. Livvy searched the room, her fingers unhooking her cloak’s frogs under her chin until her stare touched his.
His belly clenched. Her hands stilled. The moment was perfect, taut with expectation. A promise of what could happen hung between them. Livvy felt it. Her plump, flesh pink lips parted, and he’d swear he could see the diminutive dark space between them—a small soft part, begging to be kissed.
For his kiss.
The power of it.
The desire. It cast a lure between them.
The rush inside his body breathed new life into him. There’d be no bad kisses tonight. With Livvy, even thoughts of their awkward kiss made him smile. Only a woman like her could make a man think that.
He pushed off the wall. This potent connection with Livvy sent a slow burn through his chest. Carnal sensations landed in the skin between his legs…teased his balls…played havoc with flesh tucked deep in his placket. The twinge was as pleasant as it was painful.
Holding Livvy’s attention across the room, he told the Captain’s friends, “Don’t bother to wait for me tonight, gentlemen.”
Did the men mumble at his back? Jonas couldn’t say. He advanced on the newcomers, his focus locked on the copper-haired woman staring at him. A laughing woman in a gold mask pulled Livvy’s cloak from her shoulders, and his step faltered.
Livvy wore homespun breeches, a gentleman’s bottle green coat, and f
amiliar scrubby, black boots.
Was she sending him a saucy message with her choice of costume?
A smile split his face. Above the sea of revelers, he gave her a knowing nod and descended on the newest arrivals. The corners of Livvy’s mouth curled with a cat-like smile. A game was afoot, one as old as time. Friendship and flirtation would blur tonight.
Her chin tipped a degree. She breathed deeply thrusting out her breasts, showing part of her costume was not the same. A black waistcoat covered Livvy’s spectacular bosom. He was sure a proper corset did too under each mannish layer of clothes. A hearty clap on his shoulder shook him out of his Livvy-induced trance.
“Jonas Braithwaite, I’d heard you’d come home.” Will Hastings plucked off his gloves in rapid order. “It is good to see you, old boy.”
“Hastings.” Jonas gave a quick bow. “Good to see you.”
“It has been a long time.”
“Ten years.”
“Truly? That long?” Will fisted a glove-filled hand on his hip, his eyes clouding as if he counted the years. “Hmmm…I suppose it has. You’ll remember my sister, Miss Emma Hastings. Last you saw her, she was playing with dolls under the watchful eye of her nurse.”
Miss Hastings rolled her eyes and sketched a curtsey.
“Allow me to introduce you to her friend, Lady Rowena Gage.” Hastings pivoted to Livvy. “Of course you remember Miss Olivia Halsey…all grown up now.”
“I remember,” he said, stiffening. He’d forgotten that no one must know about his visits to her tower.
“Mr. Braithwaite. It’s good to see you again, all hale and hearty, sir.” Livvy’s voice was a smoky promise.
“Hale and hearty, indeed. Big Ox. Isn’t that what I called you when we were boys swimming the River Trent?”
Jonas smiled, gritting his teeth. No doubt Will thought Big Ox a fun boyhood name. “I can’t recall.”
Livvy frowned at Mr. Hastings but the jocular man was too busy stuffing his gloves in his coat pocket to notice. Did she find the childhood sobriquet distasteful? Her eyes expanded within her mask as if chiding Jonas, Tell him not to call you that!
