Page 139 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
Tarkington laughed. "Hold still, and I'll remove them." He clasped her chin in his hand to hold her head steady.
Jocelyn froze. His very touch made her knees weak. She could have wept at the silence she must keep!
Tarkington's glance caught hers as he raised the rag to her cheek, and as easily as that, Jocelyn knew that the awareness they'd both felt was back. It crowded in upon her senses, threatening to overwhelm her. Her eyes flared. Panicked, she twisted away from him, afraid of what might happen next, fearful of making a fool of herself. Afraid of revealing what was in her heart.
With her eyes, she pleaded with him to understand, to let her be. His face turned to stone. He handed the rag to her. She turned away, willing tears not to fall as she scrubbed at the paint smeared across her cheek.
The gust of cold air coming into the room warned them both, as it had Tarkington the day before, that someone had come in.
Jocelyn looked around. "Mr. Bayne!"
"Hello, Charles. Be a good chap and close the door, please," Tarkington said easily.
Jocelyn glanced from him to Mr. Bayne, her cheeks flaming with the thought of what Mr. Bayne might have seen if she had not pulled away from Tarkington when she did.
"Miss Maybrey, I have been searching all over the estate for you!" Charles Bayne declared.
From his tone, Jocelyn knew what would follow would not be a pleasant interview. She sighed. "And you have found me."
"What are you doing here?"
"I have been helping Tarkington. See, I painted the face," she said, pointing to the rocking horse. "What do you think?"
He blinked and stared at the rocking horse. Patches of wet paint still glistened. A dull red crept up his neck.
"You didn't think that Tarkington and I were . . . ?" Jocelyn trailed off, afraid to finish her thought.
"Well, dash it, Miss Maybrey, Mother said—"
"I'd stop right there, Bayne, before you make a fool of yourself."
"Damn it, Tarkington! You've been alone with her for hours!"
Tarkington leaned up against a post and crossed one ankle over the other. "Are you implying that Miss Maybrey has been compromised?" he asked as casually as if he were asking after the weather.
"Yes . . . I mean, no!" Charles ran a hand through his hair. "It's just, well, what would society think?"
"What would society think? Is that all you're concerned with?" Jocelyn asked, barely contained anger raising her voice higher.
Both men looked at her with surprise at her outburst. Mr. Bayne frowned; Tarkington grinned.
"I, for one, do not care what society thinks," Jocelyn continued, her tone now coldly modulated. "I am tired of being forever lectured on what society would like or wouldn't like. I am tired of bowing before that god, and I refuse to do so anymore!"
"Miss Maybrey, only consider—I didn't mean—"
"Well, I know what I mean!" Jocelyn said.
"And she is, if you have noticed, cousin, an honest woman. She cannot help but be honest. All her thoughts and feelings are reflected in her face," Tarkington interjected.
Jocelyn glared at him. Had he seen her love reflected in his eyes? She swore he was laughing behind that rigid expression he held. She saw it in his eyes, for they were not a cold, metal gray. Mortification chilled her soul.
"Tarkington, I do wish you would leave," Bayne said.
"So you could do what I haven't? No, no, dear cousin. Now that you have pointed out the situation to me, I can see that it would not be seemly. I suggest we all leave. Let some fresh air clear our heads and cool this anger you have developed."
He took down Jocelyn's cloak from a peg on the wall and held it out to her. Jocelyn slipped into it, settled her bonnet on her dark curls, and walked past the two gentlemen. She was angry with both of them and with herself. She had been very close to making Mr. Bayne's imaginings real. But what right did he have to imagine anything of her? And to believe that what society thought was of such high importance! And Tarkington! His laughter and denying that they'd been tempted—even for a moment—toward further intimacy was hurtful. So much for a Christmas spirit.
CHAPTER7
