A Scorching Dilemma

by Shereen Vedam

  A blush heated Faith’s cheeks. Before her first Season, her mother had given her a graphic description of the mating act, and it had not sounded pleasant in the least. For months after, Faith had the hardest time looking any man in the eye.

  However, the idea of her rescuer joining her in bed stirred hot longing in her belly.

  “My dear, you were born to be a wealthy and powerful man’s wife,” her mother said in a gentle tone. “Bow to the life God has set before you. Only then will you find happiness.”

  “Is that what you did, Mama?”

  “I grew to love your father, Faith. Where once I obeyed him out of respect, these days I do so because it pleases me. Now, this meeting has tired me, so I am going to rest. We shall speak more about Morton later.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” Faith said.

  After her mother left the room, Faith wandered through the French doors into the back garden, deep in thought.

  Her mother had never steered her wrong. Could she be right now? Was it possible Faith was mistaken in Mr. Granger’s character? After all, many from her society might have reacted as he had when encountering a filthy stray. He might have simply been worried about Faith. And her father seemed to like him. Perhaps he had not been following her on Bond Street at all? He could simply have been shopping this morning.

  When she ran away, he might have followed her to ensure her safety. London was a dangerous place and, in her fear for the kitten’s welfare, Faith had foolishly strayed away from Mrs. Hutchinson’s side.

  All around the garden, the lilacs were finishing their season, while the roses were beginning to bud. Would her life be like that? Childhood ending as married life began? Different blooms, for different seasons.

  Faith gently brushed the stem of a white rosebud and bent to inhale its heady fragrance. Could she bring herself to accede to her parent’s wishes and marry Morton?

  She remembered Granger fondling the flower on the center table, and her hand clenched the stem. Pain pierced her palm and drops of blood oozed out. Cringing, she licked her wound. She should go inside and apply an ointment. It would be the sensible thing to do. As sensible as accepting the man her father had chosen for her to marry?

  Not yet!

  Picking up her skirts, she ran through the back garden and into the field beyond. She had spent her childhood playing in and around her father’s extensive park in Richmond, running among the trees and swimming in the nearby lake. Perhaps there, where she had been most happy in the first season of her life, she would find the courage to face the next.

  Chapter Four

  DANIEL STOLE A ride on the back of a hackney cab, then a town carriage, and so on until he arrived closer to his destination in the southwest section of London, where his green-eyed lady resided. It was far from the downtown streets where he had grown up.

  Spotlessly maintained streets and landscaped grounds marked this area as belonging to the fashionable world. He skirted main thoroughfares, preferring the unpaved back roads. A half hour after leaving the last house, he arrived at an imposing gatehouse guarding the entrance of the home he sought.

  Over the arched entry gate, a long tree-lined cobblestone pathway led to a tall stone mansion. Numerous massive chimneys rose high, every one of them intricately carved in brick. He scaled the bars of the gate and, hiding behind bordering ancient chestnut trees, skulked toward the house. While Lady Roselyn’s townhouse was impressive, this one left him amazed by its vast rolling lawns, giant fountains, and Roman statuary. The house itself had row upon row of tall narrow windows, all perfectly lined upward and across. It was a dazzling display of wealth. Daniel only had one word to describe it. Magnificent.

  Every sharp right angle of the mansion left him in awe. Seeing gardeners and servants about the place, he avoided the front and skirted to the back of the property where there was an orange grove on one side and on the other, a beautifully maintained garden, this one walled. The back end of the property extended into a park continued for as far as he could see.

  Seeing where his green-eyed lady lived only proved to Daniel how preposterous his assumption was that she would even remember him. He should never have come. Yet, he had to warn her about the man in black.

  He climbed a walnut tree outside her back garden, hoping for a glimpse of his angel. And there she was. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her stroll among carefully tended rose bushes. She wore a morning dress, again all in white. Then she turned and raced through the gate. She passed below him and out onto the meadow backing the garden wall where wild grasses waved in the wind. She was running off again. Alone!

  His worry rose, until he remembered that in this district of London, within this vast parkland that her father probably owned, she was unlikely to run into serious trouble. He, on the other hand, had to be careful. The groundskeeper with a loaded fowling piece could come by at any moment on his patrol, ready to chase Daniel off. Or shoot him.

  This was not Seven Dials. His lady was safe here. But he wished her steps were aimed anywhere but toward the woods. He dropped to the ground and followed her.

  No longer racing pell-mell, she had slowed to an amble along a well-beaten path through the field. Head down, her restless fingers skimmed the tall grass. At the edge of the woods, less than two dozen feet ahead, she plucked a wildflower to sniff. At any moment, she could turn and see him.

  She did not, however. He followed her through a strand of fat ancient oak trees. He was not sure when a fear other than worry about the lady being in these woods gripped him. He froze in place, frantically searching around for the source of a disturbing new noise.

  Everywhere, the sound of rushing water thrummed. The urge to run away was overwhelming, but how could he leave his lady here alone, undefended? He leaned a hand on a nearby trunk and wished his legs would quit threatening to collapse. “My lady!”

  She turned back, and then hurried closer. “Why, it is my Red Knight. Are you all right, sir? You look pale.”

  “I am fine. You should not wander alone in the woods.”

  She laughed. “I have nothing to worry on that score. Not here. I have played among these trees all my life.” Her head tilted. “Why are you here?”

  Now that they were face-to-face, saying he had come to warn her about the man who chased her on Bond Street seemed unnecessary. Of course she knew he was after her, she had been running away from him when she met Daniel. Instead, he said, “I came to tell you how the kitten fares.”

  She clapped her hands. “Come with me to my favorite spot. You can tell me all about the little creature there.” She ran off before he could object.

  Daniel automatically followed her. While speaking to her, he had tuned out the thrum of running water. Now, however, it returned with a roar as he approached a secluded area by a lake. He gulped past throat muscles constricting his windpipe.

  “Is it not beautiful?” Standing far too close to the shoreline, the lady twirled with her arms wide beneath a giant willow whose long slender branches overhung the water.

  This was not a little shallow stream or pond. It had depth enough to drown a man. At its far end, a little waterfall spilled, the thunder’s source. Sweat beaded his forehead.

  Leaving the waterfall’s hypnotic rumbling, his gaze settled on the lady in white. He sank into her green eyes and a little of her pleasure encroached on his fear. His throat unclenched. “I dislike water,” he said, cautiously. “It can hurt.”

  “I love it.” With a stubborn tilt of her head, she sat beneath the willow and faced the lake. “It can heal.”

  Daniel stood stiff-kneed, wanting to approach her, but hesitant to step closer to that bank. Finally, unwilling to admit to his cowardice, he went over and sat at her left. Not five feet away was the water’s edge.

  He tucked his trembling hands under his legs and glanced around, pretending he was not petri
fied by the lake’s depth. “It is quiet.” Menacing. Especially that waterfall.

  “Quiet? Not at all, sir.” She pointed. “Look, between those branches. Do you see the bird with the red mask? That is a goldfinch. The forest is alive with sounds of birds. Sparrow and blackbird wings beat and leaves rustle in the wind. That splash? Probably a fish catching a dragonfly.”

  He had not heard the splash. He looked to where she indicated. The ripple on the lake’s surface set his heart to hammering. “I prefer horses’ hoofs pounding on cobblestone, town criers calling out their wares, and the constant chatter of people.”

  “Each to his own, I suppose,” she said, sounding doubtful. “So, how does the kitten fare, sir?”

  Immensely relieved to talk about anything but the body of water that was so ominously close, he said, “Depends on your perspective. If you ask the kitten, I doubt it considers being given a bath much better than being flung into dung.”

  She laughed, a melodious sound. “Did it complain loudly?”

  “To be honest, I have no notion. The moment I brought it home, the ladies of the house took custody of the little animal. I am sure the kitten is fine, for young Hope, who is all of six now, was immediately enamored with the filthy furball.”

  “Oh, I am glad someone cares for it.”

  He plucked a blade of grass. “You seemed troubled earlier.”

  “Was I?”

  “Why else would you walk alone?” What could trouble a lady who could have anything her heart desired?

  She shook her head, without responding.

  Her worried look was back. He recognized it from Bond Street, and his nerves suddenly stood on end. “If you cannot speak to me of your troubles, why not discuss it with your family?”

  “I prefer to sit here. How long have you disliked lakes?”

  Adroit change of subject. And onto a topic he did not wish to discuss. But if he wanted her to unburden herself about what was troubling her, should he not be willing to do the same? “Since I was found in the Thames, I suppose.”

  “However do you mean?”

  “As a child, a woman discovered me in a wooded area much like this, floating face up in the river.”

  “How terrible. How old were you?”

  He was bemused by her sweet concern. “Six. She had been fishing, no doubt unlawfully. She dragged me to shore and, instead of leaving me for dead, half carried, half dragged me home. She had probably been hoping to gain some reward for finding me. However, when I awoke, I had a bloody bruise on the back of my head and no memory of where I came from. So they decided to keep me.”

  “Oh, how kind of the woman to take care of you.”

  In her world, perhaps. In his, he had become a slave who did hard chores about the house and, once he was old enough to want more food than they could spare, he had been abandoned at a workhouse. There, he had been beaten for the slightest infraction, and then farmed out as an apprentice to a cloth factory. Then one day, he’d set fire to his cell’s door and was finally free to scratch out a living in the alleyways of St. Giles. That was, until he picked Mr. Randolph Trenton’s pocket. Daniel’s wrist twitched where his mentor had once gripped him.

  He shook off that heart-wrenching memory. At least now, she was aware of the disparity between their lifestyles. He was a slum child of London. What she spent on pin money in a month, he could live on for years. Grabbing a fistful of grass, he plucked the blades up and then let them fall. He should never have come here. So why was he not leaving?

  FAITH CAUGHT THE pieces of grass as they fell out of her Red Knight’s hand. Covertly, she took in his broad shoulders, strong jaw, aquiline nose, deep dreamy blue eyes, and inky black hair. Something about him was so familiar, as if she had met him somewhere before. She also had the strongest urge to kiss him, and she did not even know his name.

  She glanced away lest he read her unruly thoughts. A stray breeze blew across the water and cooled her hot face.

  She trailed her fingers along his long strong ones as they rested on the ground between them, remembering his strength and agility in catching the kitten.

  He clasped her hand. “Why do I not frighten you?”

  His touch made her pulse race, but his question surprised her. “Should you frighten me?” Did he intend to kiss her?

  He released her and stared glumly at the lake. “You do not even know my name.”

  Though she had thought that very same thing, the words spoken aloud bothered her. Did he not feel their connection? “Sir, kindly refrain from telling me again that you are dangerous, for I sense otherwise. In fact, I am quite certain that you could never hurt anyone intentionally.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, as if frustrated.

  “Shall I prove it?” At her challenging look, a crooked smile curved his lips.

  She looked away, pushing aside thoughts of those lips pressing against hers. “If you were of a violent nature, then you would not have rescued the kitten. Nor would you have taken it home.” She faced him. “And here we are, in these ‘dangerous’ woods, with no one to gainsay you if you were to take advantage of me, and what do you do? You reprimand me for being foolish enough to be in your presence alone.”

  He would never understand, but at this moment, she felt safer with him than with her father.

  IN STUNNED SILENCE, Daniel watched as her playful smile turn sorrowful. It tore him to see her in pain. “Who upset you?”

  She took a while to speak and then blurted out, “My father has arranged a marriage for me!”

  He went ice cold. Fool! Of course she would be getting married. To a proper gentleman. Had he expected that just because she had flirted with him, and showed interest in his past, her thoughts would not be on her future? She acted like a lady. She dressed like a lady. And she lived in a house fit for a princess. He knew all this and still he had hoped for what?

  Nothing. He had hoped for nothing.

  He jumped up, wanting to leave her, this place and his impossible desires. A glance at her bleak expression halted him. He felt aggravated and disheartened, but she looked terribly unhappy. He knelt on one knee and fingered a tendril of her silky red hair. “Do you not like the man your parents have chosen for you?”

  “My mother says I will grow to love him,” she said, glancing morosely at the lake.

  “She is right,” he said in a tight voice, releasing her curl. “Do not fight your destiny and it will fit better.”

  She swung around to pierce him with a glare. “Is that what you have learned to do, sir?”

  She was too close. Her bosom rose with each breath, her cheeks were pink, and her lashes were moist. He wanted to trail kisses over her tremulous lips until they responded to his touch.

  He tilted forward until their lips brushed. Her eyes widened. He waited for her to shove him away. Crouched precariously as he was, it would take little to unbalance him.

  Instead, she leaned into him. Pleased, he tilted her face to deepen their kiss, tasting her sweetness and delving for more. She gasped and clutched at his shirt, pulling him near, turning his mind to mush and his body to flames. He lost his balance and they fell, rolling down the slope.

  He stopped the motion and pulled them both onto their feet. The ground was so soft that his boots sank into the mud, allowing moisture to seep in through the hole at the top of his right boot to wet his toes. Heart hammering in terror, he tugged her toward higher ground. Then he brushed himself down in an attempt to recover and to allow her a chance to compose herself. Her reaction to his kiss had been as shocking as the fact that they had almost fallen into the water.

  Her gown had been pulled askew during their embrace and now revealed a tempting mound of her bosom. Watching her straighten her clothing trapped his breath in his throat and heated other regions. Her lips looked lush, red, and well kissed. H
e swallowed, fighting to control his baser impulses. He wanted to be the gallant she believed him to be instead of the rogue he knew he was. “I should not have done that.”

  “Thank you for doing so.”

  He groaned. “Why do you say such things? Have I not shown you the different worlds we come from?”

  “Yes.” She reached out to straighten his coat.

  He moved her hands away. “Then why do you continue to treat me as an equal?”

  Laughter sparked in her eyes like fairy light. What game did she play with him?

  “Sir, we have kissed, yet we have not been introduced.” With a raised eyebrow, she waited.

  “My name is Daniel Trenton,” he said in a harsh voice. “I am Lady Roselyn Jones’s butler.”

  “How do you do?” She curtsied, apparently not in the least daunted by his lowly position. “I am Lady Faith Rosemary Went. My father is the Duke of Burley.”

  What remained of Daniel’s equilibrium vanished. He had kissed a duke’s daughter? Then another piece of information sank in. Burley? One of the men Sir Phillip planned to investigate for the theft of those royal buckles?”

  “Have you heard of my father?”

  “It is time you returned home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you should not tarry alone in woods, and certainly not with a man. It is dangerous here. My advice to you, my lady, is that you accept your father’s arrangement. The sooner you are married, the better.” He offered his arm to escort her back.

  She stood her ground, unmoving. “Better for whom?”

  “Myself, for one. Come, I shall walk you to the start of the meadow, and then you must make your own way home.”

  “But I have not yet resolved what I came here to do.”

  “And what would that be?”

  The question seemed to stump her. She looked at her feet and mumbled, “I do not know if I am ready for marriage.”