He knew he should retreat, or wrap a blanket around her, or do something, but he couldn’t move.
She stopped in front of him and whispered, “Show me your scars, Kim. I guarantee there will be nothing worse than the thought of losing you.” She raised both hands and drew his head down for a kiss.
At the touch of her sweet, warm mouth, the last of his resistance disintegrated as the connection between them blazed into passionate life. He fell into the essence of her and found not only her strength and love, but her loneliness and vulnerability. What a damnable fool he was! In trying to save her pain, he had caused her greater anguish.
Awed by her courage, he said hoarsely, “Ah, Roxie, my love, I surrender! Marrying me may not be the best thing for you, but it’s the greatest blessing imaginable for me.”
He embraced her, and found more strength in his right arm than he’d believed he possessed. Later, he could never remember the details of how they ended up naked together in his narrow bed, but the joy and rightness of coming together seared him to his soul.
Their youthful explorations of each other’s bodies made this final intimacy as easy as it was wondrous. Roxie was lithely curved and perfect, as lovely as a woman could be. He was imperfect, scarred, and weakened and very different from the young man who’d kissed and caressed her by the soft flowing river. But she didn’t seem to mind.
She kissed his scars tenderly and by that simple act made them mundane, merely part of who he was rather than a reminder of unspeakable despair. And as she accepted him, he accepted himself and started to become the man he wanted to be for her.
After, as they lay twined together, firelight flickering golden over Roxie’s skin, she murmured, “Does this mean you’re finally going to marry me?”
“I think we just married ourselves, my love.” He kissed her temple, feeling whole and happy in ways he’d imagined forever lost. “But for the sake of the family and the law, we can start the reading of the banns this Sunday.”
“Good!” Roxie tilted her head and gazed up at him.
She’d also changed in the last years as the strength and warmth that had always been part of her deepened and matured. She’d lost both the grandparents she loved, and Kim hadn’t been here for her. She’d taken control of her family estate and ruled it with skill and fairness. “You were the most beautiful girl,” he whispered, “and you’ve become the most amazing woman. What have I done to deserve you?”
She smiled mischievously. “You’re just very lucky, Kimball. Speaking of your family, do you feel well enough to make an appearance at the ball? It would make everyone so happy.”
He froze. Yet, when he considered, he realized that the panic he’d felt at facing family and friends had faded. The prospect was still deeply unnerving, but now that Roxie had broken through his fear and despair, he could deal with any other reactions. “I can do that as long as you’re beside me.”
“Where else would I be?” She swung from the bed, graceful in the firelight. “Do you have your scarlet regimentals here? You look so dazzling in uniform that no one will even notice your scars.”
“Not true.” He climbed from the bed with much less grace, wincing at the pains in his right leg, though overall, he felt amazingly well. “But at least the uniform justifies the way I look.”
They helped each other dress, Roxie matter-of-factly assisting him with fastenings that he had trouble managing with his damaged hand. As she twisted her hair up and pinned it into place, he said ruefully, “In spite of your best efforts, you look like you’ve just been tumbled.”
“Well, I have,” she said with grin. “Since we’ll be married in less than a month, I don’t think it matters if my reputation is tarnished.”
He laughed and caught her hand up for a kiss. “Anyone who looks askance at you will have to deal with me. I may be battered, but I’m a fierce veteran of the Peninsula, and I’m armed with a cane.”
“When we announce that we’re going to marry, our friends and neighbors will just smile indulgently and ignore all signs of misbehavior.” She tweaked his sleeves and brushed a bit of lint from his chest with delightful wifeliness. “You’re too thin, but the uniform makes up for all such shortcomings.”
A thought struck that should have occurred to him earlier. “Before we make any announcements, do you need to speak with Edward? Even if you weren’t officially betrothed, he did offer marriage and you didn’t refuse him.”
“Edward told me he couldn’t lose because he’d be equally happy if I married him, or if I lured you back to the world,” Roxie said seriously. “He may have a few regrets, but he won’t be heartbroken.”
He hoped she was right. For all Edward’s quiet reserve, his feelings ran deep, and how could he not love Roxie?
Kim ushered her out the door to the steps. On the long descent, she carried his cane so he could use his left hand on the railing. In the last fortnight, he’d added going down and up these steps to his exercise routine, but even so, by the time they reached the bottom of the tower he was panting.
“How are you managing?” Roxie asked, her brow furrowed. “You don’t need to do this tonight.”
“I must face my world, and now is the right time.” He exhaled roughly. “But I do need to catch my breath and prepare myself before I enter a ballroom full of people, most of whom knew me . . . before.”
“Knew and loved you and will be incredibly happy to see you again,” she said. “But after months of you seeing no one but Jamie Welles, I’m sure it will be rather overpowering.” She gestured to the door on the right. “Let’s stop in your father’s study. It’s a calming place.”
He followed Roxie into the small, cozy room and sank onto the leather upholstered sofa. A single lamp cast warm light on the desk, furnishings, and bookshelves, and a faint scent of tobacco lingered from his father’s pipe. The earl had deliberately chosen this location because it was far from the household bustle, but when the weather was bad, he sometimes welcomed his sons. Kim would play quietly with his toy soldiers while Edward read and their father worked on accounts or studied proposed legislation.
Kim smiled fondly as he remembered those times. “This is one of my favorite spots in the Abbey.”
“It’s very inviting,” Roxie agreed as she sat beside him so close that their thighs touched. “But my very favorite place is the conservatory.”
A brilliant thought struck Kim. “Shall I build you a conservatory at the grange?”
Roxie blinked. “I’ve never considered having one of my own! But that would be splendid. I’ve always wanted to grow pineapples.”
Pleased that he could please her, he said, “Then you shall have a conservatory, my lady.” He bowed with what grace he could muster. “My father built the Holbourne conservatory for my mother, so it’s only right that I build one as my wedding present to you. Pineapples for my bride!”
With her fair redhead’s complexion, Roxie blushed adorably. He curved his left arm around her. As she sighed happily and rested her head on his shoulder, he felt not only joy, but deep contentment. He’d come home for good and all.
But the sound of dance music drifting down the corridor was a reminder of what must be done next. “Shall we storm the ballroom? I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Roxie frowned as she got to her feet. “I need to speak with Edward first. How about if I go into the ballroom while you wait outside? After he knows, we can make our announcement to the world.”
“That’s only fair,” he agreed.
As they stepped into the corridor, Roxie said, “They’re playing a slow waltz. Shall we see if you can still dance?”
“I seriously doubt it!” But he’d managed other things the doctors had thought unlikely. “Well, a reel would be impossible, but maybe I could manage a slow dance where I can hold on to you for balance. Shall we give it a try?”
Roxie smiled and moved into his arms. “If you stumble, fall on me. I’m soft.”
“Please, my love!” he exclaimed.
“Allow me this gallantry. If I trip over my feet and drag you down with me, I’ll cushion your fall.”
But they didn’t fall, though there were a couple of near misses. He found that he could laugh at his own clumsiness, and since there was no one to see, they could hold each other wickedly close.
As he led Roxie into a slow turn, she asked softly, “Those years in the army, the pain you suffered—has it all been worth it?”
She’s never been one to avoid the hard questions. A dozen measures of the music passed before he replied. “Yes, it was worth it even though the cost was high. Stopping Napoleon mattered, and I’m proud that I contributed to victory in some small way. I’ve seen many things I’d never have seen if I stayed home, and I’ve learned tolerance and patience.”
“Patience? You?” she asked incredulously.
“You should talk!” he said with a laugh. “I may be damaged goods, but I think I’m a better man for my experiences.” His gaze caught hers. “And I hope I’ll be a better husband.” He bent for a kiss.
Time disappeared for long moments. When they surfaced to breathe, he said softly, “I’m ready now to face my family and half of Northumberland.”
Together, they headed toward the ballroom, but the closer Kim came, the harder his heart hammered. He felt as if he was going into battle.
His grip must have tightened on Roxie because she looked up, her eyes warm with confidence in him, and in their future. “You’ll do splendidly, my love,” she murmured.
His fear dissolved. He was home, and he and Roxie were finally together as they were meant to be. “I should call you Saint Roxanne because you work miracles on me.”
She grinned. “You more than anyone know how far from sainthood I am!”
Head high and his hold on Roxie unbreakable, Kim straightened his shoulders as they turned the corner. Mentally, he prepared himself for anything. There would be surprise, of course. And revulsion and anger, but also genuine welcome. He deserved the anger and accepted the revulsion. That would be a fair price for emerging from the shadows where he’d hidden himself.
But Roxie’s plan to leave him outside while she searched for Edward was thwarted when they turned the corner and found that the double doors had been thrown open to let the heat out. Startled, they halted in the doorway.
To Kim’s astonishment, his brother was dancing with a tawny beauty in the middle of the ballroom. The other guests had drawn back to watch, leaving a wide open space around Edward and his partner. The two of them gazed at each other as if they were the only two people in the world.
Roxie said gleefully, “I believe it’s safe to say that Edward is not going to be heartbroken at my defection!”
The dance ended. Edward murmured something to his blushing partner, then raised his gaze. He was facing the open doorway and his face froze with shock as he saw his brother. His expression turned to blazing happiness. “Kim!”
On impulse, Kim raised his left hand and gave his brother a vigorous thumbs-up. It was the signal they’d used as boys to say that all was well. Laughing, Edward returned the gesture.
There was a rustling of surprise as people turned to follow Edward’s gaze. Kim’s mother saw the newcomers and gasped, raising her hand to her mouth in shock. “Kimball!” she cried out as she rushed toward him.
A moment later a tidal wave of jubilant people swarmed toward Kim and Roxie, blocking Edward from view. Lord Holbourne’s usual calm expression fractured with emotion as he strode forcefully through the throng a few steps behind his wife. Lady Holly’s jaw dropped and she was for once speechless. Kim’s friends Ivo and Lord Gabriel, both almost as close to him as brothers, lit up with delighted smiles as they saw him.
Kim saw shock, but no anger or revulsion. Only glad welcome. His throat tightened as Roxie whispered, “I’m not the only one who loves you, my darling.”
As Kim took a firmer grip on his beloved, the old chaplain who’d lived at Holbourne for many years said in a hushed, reverent voice, “Unto us a son is given!”
OLD FLAMES DANCE
Cara Elliott
In the darkest hours of winter, old flames slowly dance to life . . .
CHAPTER ONE
December 26, two days before the ball
Memories. Keeping her snow-cold hands fisted deep in the folds of her heavy traveling cloak, Lily Tremaine glanced around the cavernous entrance hall, taking in the ancestral portraits, the ancient weapons, the stag head paying homage to the hunting prowess of a long-dead Earl of Holbourne. She had forgotten how the trappings of tradition hung so very heavily in the grand houses of England. Ten years in India had hazed her recollections. Life had been so different there—blazing colors, exotic customs, piquant spices, searing heat....
Her fingers curled in the blessedly thick wool, seeking a whisper of warmth. Oh, what she wouldn’t give at this moment for blade of tropical sunlight to cut through the chill of a northern winter.
Had it been a mistake to come here? Some memories were best left buried in the past.
A discreet cough drew her from her reveries.
“Her ladyship will be with you shortly, madam,” intoned the portly butler, who just now had returned from informing the countess of her arrival.
“Thank you.” She drew a deep breath, hoping the traditional Christmas scents of fresh-cut evergreens would help loosen the clench in her chest. But despite the festive garlands of pine and holly decorating the walls—
Hearing the sound of rapidly approaching steps, Lily turned to see a flutter of pale silk emerge from the corridor behind the butler.
“Welcome to the Abbey, Mrs. Tremaine! I am much relieved that you have finally arrived.” Lady Holbourne gave a graceful wave of her hand, punctuating her cluck of concern. “What beastly weather. I am so sorry your carriage was delayed by a broken spoke.”
“Thank you,” she responded. “The inn provided a very comfortable parlor for the wait. And it was kind of them to send a post boy on horseback to alert you to the delay.”
“Mr. Fowlkes is an old friend of the family. He has tended to many of our traveling guests over the years. But enough on the travails of your journey. Now that you are finally here, we must get you comfortably settled.”
Holding back a wry smile, Lily murmured a polite reply. Clearly, the countess did not recognize her face or her surname. A decade of sun had darkened her complexion to a very un-English hue, and time had dulled the first bloom of youth. As for her name, she had been twice widowed, so Tremaine meant nothing to any of the Holbournes, save for her elderly godmother, the dowager....
“My mother-in-law will be upset that she’s missed your arrival, but she was feeling a trifle fatigued after dinner and chose to retire early.”
“I do hope Lady Holly is in good health,” said Lily.
“Be assured she is as sturdy as an ox,” replied the countess dryly. She gestured for the footmen who had just entered with Lily’s trunks to proceed up the stairs. “And greatly looking forward to having a houseful of guests for the Christmas ball. She adores watching the young people dance, so the music will be swirling until close to dawn.”
“It sounds like it will be a very festive evening.”
“Indeed,” agreed the countess. “And it may be made even more festive by some happy news. My children are being exceedingly coy about things, but there have been hints that my eldest son will be announcing his betrothal.”
Lily’s hands, which had become pleasantly warm, suddenly turned to ice. “My congratulations,” she replied, hoping any tremor in her voice would be put down to fatigue.
“Yes, we are all in alt—assuming, of course, that there is any truth to the rumors. I confess, I had all but given up on . . .” The countess clasped her hands together. “But here I am, prosing on when you must be famished and thirsty from such a long day. Some of the guests have retired, and some are enjoying postprandial refreshments and a game of cards in the drawing room. I shall have a table set up for you and ask cook to send out a
selection of dishes from the evening repast—”
“Oh, please,” interrupted Lily. “That is very kind of you, but to be truthful, the rigors of the road have been a bit grueling and I would just as soon retire to my quarters. A simple supper tray—a cold collation and a pot of hot tea—sent up to the room would be wonderful.”
“But of course. You must be exhausted,” exclaimed Lady Holbourne. “Munton will escort you upstairs while I see to your refreshments.”
“I am very grateful,” said Lily, barely able to muster more than a whisper.
“I hope you enjoy a good night’s rest,” replied the countess. “Sleep as late as you like, and we will go through all the introductions on the morrow. There will be many activities, both indoors and outdoors, to choose from. Do you like to ride?”
“Very much so.”
“Excellent! We have a prime stable, and many of the younger set love a good gallop. The grooms will saddle you a suitable mount whenever you wish to go out.” Lady Holbourne gave a motherly pat to her arm. “I shall see you in the morning.”
Forcing a wan smile, Lily nodded and then turned to follow the butler to the massive staircase, whose age-dark stone curled up into the shadows. Only the flickering branch of candles softened the angular shapes half-hidden in the nighttime stillness.
Their steps silenced by the thick Turkey runner, they wound their way through several turns. Brief flashes of gold sparked as the wavering light caught on the gilt-framed paintings, illuminating for just an instant the family faces. An imperious lady, a pair of laughing boys . . .
Lily quickly averted her eyes.
“This way, madam,” said Munton, his hushed tone further muffled by the chilly gloom. He crossed the landing and led the way down a long, dimly lit corridor. “You will be staying in the Turquoise Room.”
Another turn, and the glow from the wall sconces grew even more muted. Drawing her cloak a bit tighter around her shoulders, Lily quickened her pace, anxious for the solitude of her quarters in which to reorder her unsettled emotions. Up ahead a door was half ajar, allowing a pool of warm light to spill out over the patterned carpet. As she passed, she cast a quick look inside—and for an instant her feet froze.
The Last Chance Christmas Ball Page 19
