Page 36 of Margins of Love
She imagined him as a little boy, younger than Sammy. With his broad smile budding over his gorgeous white teeth and some… but then he looked down at her leg.
“You are not wearing any stockings?” His question interrupted her.
She was flustered. Rachel had taken off her stockings after her maid left. It had not occurred to her that anyone would notice.
“I am…” It was scandalous. “I was too hot. All these layers...” She swiveled with her head, and a curl fell out of her coiffure.
Fave sputtered and shook in laughter. “You are truly remarkable.” His hand-picked up her stray curl and tucked it behind her ear.
Rachel’s breath stopped. He had not removed his hand from under her dress and it had traveled upward.
He paused there. But only his hand. He tilted his head and wrapped his other hand behind her head. As he pulled her into a soft kiss, she let out an odd moan.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his mouth.
“For what?” he asked huskily.
“That funny noise…” She began to ramble again, and he pushed his lips closer to hers.
“Don’t apologize. Not to me.”
“Hm?” she asked against his hot lips trailing her jawline.
“If only you knew what you do to me,” he rasped, his kisses more urgent now.
And his other hand was still… no, it could not be.
“Oh,” she gasped as he reached the hooks holding her corsage. She tried to hold on to something, but her gloved hands slipped. She would have fallen, had he not caught her with both hands.
A clay flower pot fell over and shattered. Rachel flinched. Fave pulled her aside. Their pulses raced.
They held their breaths, hoping that nobody heard the commotion. Their faces were so close that she could feel his hot exhale on her mouth. He stole another kiss but did not release it in an effort to keep as still as possible. A clock ticked. But neither time nor luck were on their side.
“As I thought.”Bustle-Smith entered the room holding a candle.
Rachel closed her eyes in resignation and felt Fave letting go of her, but his hand rested on the small of her back, steadying her for the encounter.
“What have we got here? Ms. Newman and Mr. Pearler, I gather.” Bustle-Smith clapped her hands together in mock applause. Her burgundy dress trailed after her, and the cheap fabric rustled in the dark. She assumed a self-righteous stance, her hands on her wide hips. Rachel closed her eyes and exhaled when she thought about how disappointed her parents would be with her. A chill traveled along her shoulders. She felt stranded in agonizing embarrassment.
“Pssst,” Bustle-Smith spat through the gap between her plaque-coated front teeth. “How terribly inconvenient for you,dears.” Her emphasis on the last word made Rachel twitch.
Fave held her tighter. But he could not save her from the quicksand that was her ruined reputation.
Bustle-Smith inhaled and she set out to lecture when another figure swept into the orangerie.
“Hush, Carol,” Eve said.
Rachel saw Fave standing resolutely like a soldier. He looked back at her, with an expression that asked when this ordeal would be over. Rachel drew comfort from Fave’s strength.
“Fave, leave us,” Eve said.
He looked up at his mother. She nodded, then swept her head sideways, indicating that he should take Rachel along. Fave intertwined his fingers with Rachel’s and she followed him.
“But Eve!” Bustle-Smith grew shrill, like a child who was losing its toy.
And it was the last thing Rachel heard when Lady Pearler shut the door to the orangerie.
CHAPTER26
