A Night of Angels
Page 8
“Are you talking about me or you?”
“I’m talking about both of us. We called out to each other, you when you were feverish and crying out in your delirium, and me as I thought I lay dying on the night I was shot.”
She swallowed hard, for she’d been unprepared for his stubborn determination and hefty dose of frustrated rage. She did not know how to mollify him and still get her kiss.
“You came to me and spoke the words I needed to hear, the words I needed to heal me. The words I won’t allow you to take back.” His manner gentled so that she knew he was raging at the Fates that had left her barren. He wasn’t angry about the kiss. He was angry that she would give him no more than one kiss before sending him away. In truth, the idea was sounding less and less appealing by the moment. But she had to do it. She was thinking of him.
He traced his finger gently along the line of her jaw again. “Do you know what you said to me that night in the mountains while I lay bleeding?”
She shook her head. “No. You wouldn’t tell me before. Tell me now.”
“That lovely Scottish lilt of yours burned through the haze of my pain. William, I need you, is what you said. My heart is forever bound to yours. If you die, then my beloved, I shall die, too. Come back to me and let me live.”
“I never said any such thing.”
“You’re pouting again. And yes, you did. I heard the call of your heart as it cried out for mine. We are bound to each other, Megs. Don’t do this foolish thing.”
“Do what? Secure your future? Make certain you have a chance at a full, rich life? Perhaps we did call out to each other, but don’t make that coincidence out to be more than it was. You experienced the delusional dreams of an injured man, nothing more.”
He shook his head and gave a groaning laugh before taking her back into his arms so that she melted against his body that still felt deliciously warm and perfect. “Don’t dismiss what we felt for each other even while a thousand miles apart, Megs,” he said, his voice a ragged whisper against her ear. “Don’t ignore what we still feel for each other. I don’t want a goodbye kiss. I want a forever kiss. I want to fight for you. I want you to fight for me.”
He eased her back slightly so that he could look at her face as he spoke to her. “I don’t want to hold Meggie the Martyr in my arms. I don’t want to see your Joan-of-Arc-sacrificial smile as you pat me on the head and send me on my way. I want the real Meggie Cameron, the passionate beauty who loves me. The Meggie who wants to claw the shirt off my back and rip it off my body because she can’t get enough of me.”
Oh, goodness.
She did want that. Could he tell by the way she was clinging to him?
In truth, she was practically climbing his body. That’s how desperately she wanted him. Did she dare give in to her desire?
They’d be happy for the first few years, then what? Would he grow to resent her?
“I want the Meggie who will share my bed every night of her life. The Meggie who will build a lifetime of memories with me.” One of his hands was now splayed across her back and the other rested with open palm against her cheek. “The one who will be by my side when I take my last, dying breath. That’s the Meggie I want. I don’t want the bleeding, martyred saint.”
“Joan of Arc isn’t officially a saint.”
“Nor are you.” He dipped his head to hers. “I want this.”
His mouth crushed down on hers, the pressure of his warm, possessive lips exquisite against her own lips that had parted slightly in surprise. He was devouring her with the force of his need, yet taking great care not to hurt her. In truth, the demanding press of his mouth on hers felt so good, so right. So perfect. So did the entangled twine of their bodies, for their arms were wrapped around each other like vines clinging to tree trunks. Her legs were somehow poised between his so that he had to lean against the balustrade to keep them from falling atop each other in a mangle of body parts.
They were groping and seeking each other’s heat. This wasn’t a kiss so much as an acknowledgment that they were two hearts, two souls bound to each other eternally. The realization elated her and overwhelmed her. Her heart was soaring and also breaking, for the hot passion they felt for each other would one day come to an end. Not for her, but for him. It had to, for she could give him nothing more than her imperfect self.
How could it possibly be enough for him?
His tongue licked softly against her lower lip, coaxing her lips apart once again when she began to purse them closed. “Don’t, Megs. Open yourself to me,” William whispered, his voice taut and strained. “Don’t deny me this.”
How could she deny him anything?
She wanted this man with all her heart and being.
His tongue delved into her mouth, gently probing and entwining with hers the moment she eased her lips to allow him entrance. A fluid warmth filled her despite the chill breeze that swirled around them, and although both her feet were firmly planted on the ground, she felt herself floating in a splendid bubble of air.
“Oh, William.” He was her moonlight and starlight and magic.
Did she have the strength to let him go?
Chapter Nine
The party was at its full height and Lotheil Court was packed with guests in all their jeweled splendor by the time Meggie managed to draw her grandfather aside for a quiet chat. “Why did you tell William where I was? I thought you were determined to keep us apart.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his thick head of silver hair. “I was. But an old boar can realize his mistake and attempt to fix it, can’t he?”
She shook her head in confusion. “What changed your mind?”
“Your brother and Lily. Des and Adelaide. Evie and George. They smile when they look at each other. Not merely smile, they beam with happiness. But you haven’t been smiling for months now. I’m sorry it took me this long to notice.” He patted her hand. “You’ve had a very rough go of it this year, my dearest. We almost lost you.”
She nodded. “But I pulled through.”
“Did you? Merely managing to exist in one’s space is not the same as regaining one’s health. I never realized how unhappy you were until I saw the change come over you upon William’s return. You are like a radiant star whenever in his company.” He cleared his throat that had suddenly gone hoarse with feelings that he rarely showed. “But what matters most to me is how he responds to you. I saw the truth in his eyes tonight. That boy loves you, Meggie.”
“Perhaps, Grandfather. He hasn’t told me so, but he kissed me when we were alone on the terrace.” She cast him a wry smile. “Where you sent him after me. So, I suppose I ought to thank you for giving me my few minutes of magic.”
He frowned lightly. “Is that all you wish for? Just a few minutes with William? I thought you wanted a lifetime with him.”
“More than anything,” she said, casting her gaze to her feet so that her grandfather would not notice her struggling against the tears gathering in her eyes. “But you won’t allow it. And I’m not certain William is the right choice for me.”
“Meggie, what’s this?” He tucked a finger under her chin and forced her gaze to his. “I may be old, but I’m no fool. Your chin is wobbling and you are blinking back tears. You love that boy. Why is he not the right choice for you? Because I’ve been pounding it into your head that you must marry a man with a title?”
“No,” she said, finally giving in and brushing away a lone tear that had fallen onto her cheek. “You know I’d disobey you if it ever came to that. I will not marry a man I don’t love.”
He frowned. “And yet, you love William. But it seems as though you will not accept his proposal. Is it because you think I will not give my blessing?”
She tucked her arm in his and nestled against him. “I know you love me, Grandfather. I could have wheedled a consent out of you if I had to. But to be clear on this, are you giving me your consent to marry William?”
“Are you asking for it?”
He sighed. “Perhaps I am getting too old. You have me utterly confused, Meggie. Do you wish to marry him or not?”
“I do, with all my heart.” But wishing to marry him and deciding to marry him were not at all the same thing.
“Then he will have my blessing when he comes to me to ask for your hand in marriage. I’m sure Ewan will have no objection either. He’s always been too soft and indulgent with you.”
Had she heard him correctly? He was giving up without a fuss? Not even a whimper of objection?
“My dear, you have only to look around the ballroom to understand why I am allowing it.” She followed his gaze as he scanned the crowd. “Look there, Meggie. Do you see the Duke of Edgeware and Dillie?”
“Yes.”
“The man cannot take his eyes off his own wife. He adores her. She adores him. The same can be said for all of these Farthingale girls and their husbands. They are happy. Now look at Lord Fenwyck and his wife. Or the Duke of Norland and his wife. I could point out at least a dozen other titled couples who cannot stand the sight of each other. Yes, all have their superior titles. All have their fine homes and splendid possessions. And every last one of them is utterly miserable in their marriage. I don’t want that for you, Meggie. Not for you, my precious girl. Not for your fragile, loving heart.”
She kissed him on the cheek and began to make her way across the room to where Lady Eloise was seated. The fourth set of the evening had just ended when she suddenly heard a whoop from her brother. In his typically uncivilized Highlander fashion, he swept Lily into his arms, cradling her as he twirled her. But Lily was laughing as she clung to his shoulders and did not appear to mind at all when Ewan planted a possessive kiss on her lips.
Well, they were husband and wife. But it was still a most shocking and improper display. Then Ewan spotted her standing at the edge of the dance floor and he strode with Lily in his arms toward her. “Megs, don’t berate me. I know I’m a big, Scottish oaf.” He set Lily down gently beside him and placed her arm within his, the act possessive and at the same time sweetly protective. “I’m going to be a father, Meggie. Can you believe it? I should have realized it about two months ago. That’s when Jasper stopped jumping on Lily. I’m a dolt, but what can I say? I’m an ecstatic dolt.”
How was it possible for one’s heart to be elated and at the same time shattering in pieces? No! This was her brother’s joy and she was not going to cast the slightest cloud over it. “Ewan, this is incredible news! I’m overjoyed for both of you.” She shook her head and laughed, then gave him and Lily effusive hugs to seal her congratulations. “Jasper must be overjoyed as well. More Camerons for him to herd and protect.”
“Thank you, Meggie.” Lily returned her hug with enthusiasm. “It is early days yet, and we’ll be going home to Scotland after the new year. But Ewan insists on our returning to London when the time approaches. He wants to be sure Uncle George is close by if the need arises.”
They had no more time for comments as friends and family began to swarm around her brother and Lily. This gave Meggie the opportunity to quietly back away. If anyone caught her crying, she would tell them that she was shedding tears of joy.
In truth, she would be.
Mostly.
But she hadn’t taken more than two steps back before bumping into a man’s solid chest. “Megs,” William whispered in her ear. “Are you all right?”
Unable to speak for the knot that seized her throat, she merely nodded.
He sighed and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “Come with me.”
She was eager to have him lead her out of the ballroom and into the music room that had been cleared of all the concert chairs and put back to normal. The harpist and opera singer were in the ballroom mingling with the other guests. The harp had been moved out of the way into the far corner where no drunken guests could accidently fall into it. Only the Lotheil pianoforte had been moved back in its proper place, the shining ebony instrument taking up the center of the room.
She glanced around to make certain she and William were alone, then breathed a sigh of relief. No other guests or servants were there. She could allow herself to crumble for a moment without being caught by others.
William slipped the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and handed it to her. She took it with a muttered thanks and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you. I’m happy for them. So very happy. I can’t wait to meet my little niece or nephew.”
“I know, Megs.”
“I don’t want my heart to ache. I’m ashamed that it is aching, but I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“There are no easy answers.” He took her in his arms and held her as delicately as one might hold a fragile newborn lamb. He kissed the top of her head and lightly stroked his knuckles across her cheek.
She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest.
Only two more days until they exchanged their miracle cards.
What was she to do?
What was she going to write?
William patted the now filled out miracle card tucked in the breast pocket of his dinner jacket and then strode into the Farthingale townhouse on Chipping Way in time for the family’s traditional Christmas supper. It appeared he was the last to arrive. All his cousins and their husbands were gathered in the parlor. Lady Eloise and the Duke of Lotheil were seated on the settee having an animated chat. His father and Evie were engaged in conversation with John and Sophie.
Presents had been piled high on a side table, so he tossed his gift for Graelem atop the pile. It was a stickpin for Graelem’s tie, but he’d had the jeweler embellish it with a stone of Chinese jade he’d brought back from his travels.
That was the easy gift.
Meggie’s miracle gift was the hardest part, but no longer. Not for him. He had no doubts or qualms. But he wasn’t certain how Meggie would respond to what he’d written in his card.
Meggie, who looked ethereally beautiful in a gown of ivory silk, was standing alone by the window that overlooked the garden. Her back was turned to the doorway as she peered out toward the garden, lost in her thoughts as she watched Jasper romping in the lightly falling snow, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue. William quickly made his way through the family greetings and came to her side. “Happy Christmas, Meggie.”
She turned to him with a smile. “Jasper has been keeping me quite entertained. He’s the clumsiest lump of a dog ever to exist, but he’s so full of life and approaches everything with unbridled joy. Look at him taking such delight in a melting snowflake.”
“Shall we join him? See who can catch the most snowflakes on their tongue?”
“Perhaps after supper,” she said, laughing softly. “Pruitt is about to ring the dinner bell.”
After a moment, her expression turned thoughtful.
William hoped she’d say something to him, but she remained silent and lost in her own reflections. What was she thinking? What had she written in her miracle card?
He wasn’t the only curious one, he realized, sensing the sudden air of excitement as the family took pains to watch him and Meggie without appearing to be watching them at all. But one would have to be dull as a dust cloth not to notice that all eyes were upon them and would remain so for the entire evening. He was worried that the attention might cause Meggie to withdraw further into herself.
As for him, he was fully prepared to make a complete and utter donkey of himself if that was what it took to win Meggie’s heart. “Did you bring your card, Megs?”
She smiled up at him again, but he couldn’t make out whether her smile was an I’m-kissing-you-goodbye wistful smile or an I surrender, I’m yours, you hairy-arsed-devil smile. He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
“I have it right here,” she said, patting the band of silk ribbon that rested just below her bosom. “I’ve filled it out.”
He leaned his frame lightly against the window p
ane and felt a hint of the outdoor chill seep onto his jacket. He wanted to read her card now, but held back asking. He wasn’t certain what was in it and knew he wouldn’t take it well if she did not give him the hoped-for answer.
Since he had demanded that Meggie trust in miracles, he supposed that he could do no less.
He escorted Meggie in to supper when Pruitt rang the dinner bell. He and Meggie were placed at opposite ends of the table, although if John and Sophie were following the protocols of rank, she would have been placed closer to him. But they knew something was afoot and were not about to have him ruin their Christmas supper by saying something to overset Meggie while everyone was eating their meal.
So, he sat through the first course and absently sipped his leek and potato soup while Hortensia droned on about the pains in her knees and elbows. By the next course, Hortensia had moved on to describing the bunions on her misshapen toes. “Fascinating, Aunt Hortensia.”
He barely touched the roast goose in an apricot glaze, for his attention was fixed on Meggie who was engaged in quiet conversation with her brother and, to his frustration, not sparing him a single sidelong glance or intimate smile. Christmas goose was his favorite dish and he usually devoured half the platter before any of his cousins ever got a piece of it, but he hardly noticed the game meat now. Nor did he touch the pheasant in plum juices or the smoked trout or the jellied eels – those eels always made his skin crawl anyway.
He peered down the table at the feast set out before them, his gaze casually scanning the jelly molds of green and orange, blood pudding, quail eggs, and silver salvers and crystal glasses shining in the glow of candlelight.
The room was warm.
Everyone chattered at once.