“Are you all right?” he asked her, and she just stared at him for a moment, facing him now, her uninjured hand coming to grip his upper arm as she held on tightly as though he were her anchor to maintaining control.
“Yes. No. I… I’m not entirely sure.”
She paused for a moment, her gaze on the sea before it returned to him.
“Lord Westwood…”
“August.”
“August, then. Thank you… for coming when you did. Ernest has always been a rather arrogant sort, but I never thought he would do… would try… what he did.”
“Sometimes one never knows the true nature of a man until it is too late.”
She wiped a hand over her face, though he hadn’t seen any tears trickle down.
“It was my fault.”
“Your fault?”
“I flirted with him, made him think I was interested.”
“But you told him no, did you not, when it came to…?”
“Of course!” she exclaimed with wide eyes, and he looked intently at her.
“Then Iris, it was not your fault,” he said. “A man should never take a woman unwillingly.”
She nodded, but he wasn’t entirely sure that she believed him.
“August…” she said, her voice just above a whisper now. “Will you… will you hold me?”
“Gladly,” he said, and then without pausing to think he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
She fit perfectly in his arms and when he leaned in, he could smell the lavender in her hair, the lemon soap she must use radiating up from her body. He was glad, at that moment, that it was him offering her comfort and no one else.
And then he realized the truth. He wanted her to be his. Possessiveness filled him as he held her in his arms, and he longed to tilt her head up and take her lips, but after what she had just been through, now certainly wasn’t the time.
She seemed so delicate wrapped in his arms, and despite how perfect she felt within them, after a minute or so had passed, he knew he should let her go. And yet still she clung to him in equal measure.
“Iris?” he finally said, hearing the huskiness of his own voice, and he cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”
“I am,” she said, leaning back away from him but not quite letting go. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked this of you.”
“I am happy you did.”
They stood there, looking at one another, her crystal-blue eyes piercing into his. What was he doing? He had told himself that he would never trust another woman, that it would be wrong to allow anyone else into his heart. So why did this feel so right?
She tentatively reached an arm up, her fingers coming to his cheek, ever so lightly brushing against it before she reached her other hand up to cup his face.
“Iris,” he said again, though this time more in question than anything else. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but he couldn’t be the one to initiate it, he wouldn’t. He would wait, as long as she wanted him to, so that she would know this time, he wouldn’t turn her away.
She stood on the tips of her toes, her face lifting to his, and he leaned in ever so slightly. When their lips were but a breath away from one another, he paused, resting his forehead against hers.
“Are you sure?” he asked, and she nodded against his head.
“I’ve never been more sure,” she said, and then she closed the gap between them, her soft, pillowy lips coming to his.
August nearly fell backward at the contact. It was as though a shock of lightning had streaked down from the sky, hitting him and sending a jolt of energy through his entire being. He’d thought he had loved Amelia, but never had her touch left him feeling quite like this. It was thrilling, it was shocking, it was — terrifying.
For it was opening himself up to the potential of being rejected once more. This was a woman who had more than likely broken a few hearts in her time, and he had no wish to be her latest conquest. Before Amelia he would never have doubted himself; he would have been sure that a woman could never reject a man like him — he was the one who’d had his selection of women prior to Amelia. But now everything had changed and he was filled with doubt.
But that doubt was becoming overrun with his feelings for Iris. Now that he had her, he didn’t know how he could be without her.
What had begun as an innocent kiss, their lips lightly teasing one another, was now deepening, though whether he initiated it or she, he had no idea. It was as though they were of one mind, on the same level. His lips moved over hers in abandon, and then his tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting, teasing, as they came to know one another somehow more intimately than if they were actually making love.
This was madness. But madness that he never wanted to end.
Finally, however, they eased back away from one another, and it seemed as though her eyes were glistening.
“I’m sorry,” he managed.
“Whatever for?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “I believe I was the one who sought this out… sought you out. Perhaps I shouldn’t have…”
She bit her lip, and for just a moment she displayed the slightest bit of hesitation, of the same worry, perhaps, that he was feeling, and he quickly put her concerns to rest.
“You certainly should have,” he said, one corner of his lips quirking into a smile as he stared at her flushed cheeks and now red lips, knowing he was the one who had caused her to look as she did. “I simply did not want to cause you any further distress.”
“Far from it,” she assured him, her lips now turning up in a sultry smile. “You have overcome his touch and instead left me with the memory of yours. Thank you.”
He chuckled then, soft and low. “Happy to oblige, love.”
The word slipped off his tongue before he even realized it, and while her eyes flew up to meet his when she heard it, she said nothing to acknowledge it, for which he was grateful.
“I best be returning now,” she said softly, though August sensed that she longed to remain here as much as he did. She stepped away from him, but he didn’t let go.
“Iris,” he said, retaining his hold on her hand.
“Yes?”
He didn’t exactly know what to say, only that he didn’t want her to leave him.
“Promise me you’ll be careful?” he settled for instead. “Do not allow yourself to be alone… especially when Abernathy might be about.”
For some reason, she looked somewhat disappointed, but she nodded. “Of course,” she said, “I can look after myself.”
Which was entirely what he was afraid of — that she would be far too confident and let her guard down.
“Please?” he said, knowing he sounded somewhat desperate, but she nodded.
“Very well,” she said with a slight smile, “I promise not to be alone.”
He wished he could be the one who would always be with her, who would ensure that she was always protected. But to allow her in, to open his heart to her once more… he wasn’t entirely sure if he could.
* * *
As much as she wanted to break into a run, Iris forced herself to walk slowly back to the house, a wave of both euphoria and exhaustion overcoming her after the swing of emotions she had experienced throughout the day. She brought a hand to her lips, still feeling the pressure of August’s upon hers. Oh, what had she done? She could tell herself that she had simply needed comfort, that she had to wash away Ernest’s touch with another’s, but she knew she was lying.
When August had entered the apothecary’s shop, relief beyond anything she had ever felt had flooded through her. For it was not just the fact that he had helped rescue her; it was the knowledge that his presence brought about such comfort, such assurance that all would be fine. That as long as he was there, she didn’t have to worry.
Which was ridiculous. She hardly knew the man. Yet… she loved him. How she could, she had no idea, but it was a sensation beyond just the superficial. She had been attract
ed to others before, of course, had loved to flirt and tease and attract men of all sorts. But with August, she knew if — when — he left, her entire world would fall apart.
Which was exactly why she should never have allowed this to be.
She sighed as she entered the inn, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, as though drawing strength from the wood of the building that was both her home and her prison. For she had longed to escape for years but now the thought was daunting. What was she to do? What was she to say to August? If she told him how she felt, it was just as likely he would reject her as he had before. She was sure he had simply felt sorry for her, that he had returned her kiss because to deny her again after her experience with Ernest would be an ultimate rejection.
Iris wiped her hand over her face and pushed away from the door, hearing a low murmur of voices. Where was it coming from? She should really forget it, should see to her duties, should concentrate on all of her own worries, including not only August but the fact that the Abernathys were prominent in town and Ernest lived just down the street.
But old habits were difficult to overcome. And so she continued down the hall on her tiptoes, ears alert. If she happened to overhear something as she walked by a door, it wasn’t her fault, was it?
12
August slowly followed Iris back to the inn, wanting to give her time to enter before him. Goodness, he had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He had no thought as to how much longer he would remain here at the inn. And how was he supposed to treat her after all that had happened? Would she expect more from him? Would she tell her family of what had happened? He ran his hand through his hair. He would be worried that Tavners might ask him to leave, but from what he knew of the man, it was more likely he would be hoping that August would marry this daughter as well.
As for whether he ever could… if she betrayed him, as could very likely happen, then he would have to spend the rest of his life attached to her, which he didn’t think he could ever manage.
The worst part about it was that this was all his own doing.
He pushed open the door of the inn, wandering down toward his sitting room until it was time for the late dinner. It had been a long day, and he could use a drink. He was just passing by a small alcove near the front entryway when he nearly ran into something — or someone.
“Ouch!” came a soft cry from his feet, and he leaned down, confused.
“Iris?”
“Shh,” she hissed, before waving him down to crouch next to her.
“What are you doing?” he asked, but she placed a hand over his mouth. He surprised her by kissing it, and when her eyes widened he winked — he just couldn’t help himself.
“I’m listening,” she whispered and pressed her ear back against the keyhole.
He stared at her, shocked.
“Who are you spying on?” he asked, not wanting to let her see how intrigued he was. He didn’t want to admit it, but he rather liked learning what happened behind closed doors. It was part of why he had enjoyed his role.
“Violet,” she whispered. “And Thomas Cooper.”
Well, that was interesting. Violet had struck him as a bit of a wallflower, and he wondered at Cooper’s interest in her. But everyone had a preference, and he was glad the man hadn’t set his sights on Iris.
“What are they doing?” he asked, and she put a finger to her lips once more. Suddenly her eyes grew large and she stood abruptly, grabbing his hand and pulling her with him as she tugged him down the hallway and into the sitting room.
She shut the door and turned to August, giggling.
“That was close!” she exclaimed, and he raised an eyebrow.
“Do you make it a habit of listening at keyholes?”
Her cheeks reddened.
“I, ah, have tried to lessen the practice as of late,” she said, biting her lip, and he longed to lean in and kiss it. “My father says I have always been far too curious.”
“Curiosity can be both an admirable trait as well as one to watch out for.”
“Yes, well…” She shrugged. “My father has never been one to share much with us, so I began to discover things on my own.”
“But it was not your father you were spying on this evening.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “In fact—”
But her words were cut short when the door opened behind her, nearly knocking into her, and Thomas Cooper walked in.
Damn. August had actually been somewhat interested in what she would have to say about the man, but he supposed he would have to wait until another time to learn more.
“Lord Westwood, Miss Iris,” the blond man greeted them, looking from one of them to the other, as though questioning what they might be doing here together — which was rather ironic considering he had previously been ensconced with another Tavners daughter. “Quite an interesting day today, was it not?”
“It was,” Iris nodded. Then, in a manner that was not at all usual for her, she said, “Please excuse me,” and was out the door without a backward glance.
Cooper leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest with a knowing smile on his face as he looked at August.
“Do you have an interest in this particular Tavners woman, then? I can see why. She’s a beauty. But a might too… brash for my liking.”
August stiffened at the insult.
“She is friendly, is all. If you find her brash it is simply because she is attempting to make you feel welcome here.”
Cooper chuckled.
“Does she do that with all of the gentlemen guests?”
“Now, listen here—”
“Not to worry, Westwood, I have no interest in stealing your woman. In fact, I find the other Tavners girl much more to my liking. Now, tell me, you’ve been here a time or two before. What is one to do for amusement around here?”
August shrugged. “Walking, card games, reading. It’s a quiet village, that is for certain.”
“Perhaps one day you can show me some of the sights.”
“Very well,” August said, though he found it somewhat of an odd request, “though I’m sure Miss Violet may be interested in accompanying you.”
“I thought you and I could get to know one another better seeing as how we could be here for some time,” Cooper responded. “Tell me of your effort in the war. What brings you here?”
August walked to the sideboard and poured himself a drink to give himself a moment to determine just what he should tell Cooper. The man had obviously been a soldier of some type himself, but August had no idea what his role had been.
“I was intelligence,” he finally said, pouring a drink for Cooper now and handing it to him, “and yourself?”
“The same,” Cooper said, which August found surprising. “Where did you find yourself?”
“In France,” August said, not interested in sharing anything further until he knew more about Cooper, “and you?”
“I was in the enemy camp in Portugal,” Cooper said, clearly not having such inhibitions himself. “I came across a piece of vital information that I must guard with my life.”
“I see,” August said. “That is why you are in hiding?”
“In hiding?”
“Yes,” August said slowly, wondering at why the man would sound somewhat surprised. “That is why we are all at The Wild Rose Inn, is it not?”
“Of course,” Cooper responded smoothly, taking a sip of his drink, “what has caused you to hide?”
“It seems that I may know something I am not supposed to,” August said pointedly. “Which, I do not. All I managed to do was have myself some fun.”
“Were you at court then? How intriguing. You must have a good story or two.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint, but there is not much to tell.”
Cooper eyed him shrewdly but said nothing else, and a sense of unease began to crawl up August’s spine.
“I think I am going in for that cold dinner we
were promised,” August said. “I find myself rather hungry.”
Cooper nodded and tipped his drink to August, who responded in kind and continued on his way.
* * *
“Violet?” Iris stepped into the kitchen, where Violet was laying out the previously prepared food for that night’s late dinner.
“There you are,” Violet said, turning her head to Iris. “I was wondering if you had decided to leave everything to me while you were off with your lord.”
Iris raised her eyebrows at the slight abrasiveness to her sister’s tone.
“I hardly think that is fair,” she said, and Violet shrugged.
“You have been spending a fair bit of time with him as of late.”
“I still see to all of my duties,” Iris defended herself. “Besides that, you and Mr. Cooper seem to be awfully friendly as well.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“No?” Iris asked with a raised eyebrow. “Has he not found stolen moments alone with you? Asked you all sorts of things about the inn, the family, or guests?”
Violet whirled around, narrowing her eyes at Iris.
“You’ve been spying on me.”
“I wouldn’t call it spying,” Iris said carefully. “I am simply looking out for you.”
“Listening in at keyholes is not looking out for someone,” Violet responded, and Iris was shocked at her usually mild-mannered sister. “Really, Iris, it is time you grew up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I do not follow you and Lord Westwood around. Why can you not allow me the same privilege of privacy?”
“I do not mean to fight with you, Violet, nor to spy on you,” Iris said with a sigh as she wrapped a cool wet cloth around her hand. “It is just that… there is something about Mr. Cooper. Something that I do not trust. I only want to make sure he doesn’t take advantage of you.”
An Earl for Iris Page 7
