Page 50 of Deception and Desire
“When will you return?” she asked softly, still not looking at him.
“Early August.” He sat up, worry niggling at his gut. “Fenella, will ye look at me?”
Slowly, she turned those shimmering, silver pools on him. “So, what happens now?” she asked in a soft voice.
He saw pain in her eyes. She’d reverted back to an uncertain, hesitant girl again. His first instinct was to pull her against him, stroke her back, and tell her all would be well. Did she think he was saying goodbye? “Fenella, our time together has been—”
“Perfect,” she whispered.
“Aye, perfect. But I’m afraid when I leave ye”—he cupped her chin so she had to face him—“I’ll be thinking of ye, wondering what occupies yer time.”
Her eyes sought his, searching.
“Orwhowill occupy yer time.”
He lowered his head and brushed her lips with his, a whisper of a kiss. She sighed against his mouth, and he skimmed her velvet softness again before continuing. “I want ye to ken that when I return, I’d like to seriously court ye. Unless I need yer mother’s permission.”
“I’ll be one and twenty in September,” she said in a breathy voice.
“Is that a yes, then?” In normal circumstances, he would have approached her father and met her family before beginning a courtship. But since that was impossible, he would speak with Mrs. Douglas. He must do this properly.
Fenella placed her palm on his cheek and stroked the afternoon growth already appearing. She ran her fingers along his lower lip, her eyes intent on their journey. “Are you certain?”
He nodded as his blood rushed and pounded, his hardness now a sweet ache. A groan escaped him as she leaned forward and placed her trembling lips upon his.
When she sat back, tears streaked her face but a tremulous smile curved her mouth.
“Och, lass, I didna mean to upset ye.” He was on his knees, fumbling at the end of his neckcloth to dry her cheeks.
“I’m so happy. You have no idea… when I was…” She drew in a shaky breath that began as a laugh but emerged as a sob. “You’ve made me so happy.”
He cradled her in his arms, at a loss for words, his heart fracturing for this woman, this riddle he still could not solve. “Shhh…” He held her as her shoulders heaved and his shirt soaked up her tears. “Do ye want to tell me about it?”
Fenella shook her head, took in a ragged breath, then nodded her head. “It’s s-silly, I know. But I w-was the object of a cruel joke during my first come-out in London.” Another deep breath and she closed her eyes, her voice steadier now. “I’m n-not what society considers a-a typical beauty.”
“Then English men are eejits, the lot of them,” growled Lachlan.
A tiny giggle. “I’m too tall, too intelligent, my voice isn’t high enough, and I hate all the activities that determine a female as a good wife.” She sighed. “When a viscount paid attention to me, I was so relieved and… overwhelmed.”
As she recalled the venomous whispers, the horrible prank the miserable piece of cow shite had played on her, his chest tightened in fury. This was his answer to the riddle.Thiswas the reason for her lapses of self-confidence, her hesitation, her uncertainty. His fists clenched and unclenched, wishing the sniveling weasel was in front of him. How any man in his right mind could do such a thing for a wager.
Her heart must have been shattered.
Finishing her tale, she gazed at him, her breath held as she waited for his reaction. He rose to his knees, clasped her arms, drew her against his length. “If anyone ever hurts ye again, my sweet, they’ll have me to answer to.”
This time his mouth covered hers and demanded entrance. He groaned with the exquisite taste of her as his tongue swept her mouth. When they parted, her arms clasped his neck while his hands stroked her back, her sides, then settled over her firm, rounded cheeks to press her to his hardness. His lips grazed hers, back and forth, moving along her jaw, down the slender neck. Her fingers moved up and threaded in his hair, gripping his head closer, and he claimed her mouth again.
Panting, he finally broke the kiss. “Fenella.” He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her sweet vanilla scent, hearing the rasp in his voice. “This next month will be an eternity.”
She was crying again, and laughing, and nodding while she swiped at her tears. He stood and helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry, my bonnie lass, but if I dinna get ye back soon, those willna be tears of joy.”
The ride back to Grahamston was quiet. Fenella had managed to arrange her hair again, but her eyes were still red. She wore a shy smile and peeked at him from beneath her lashes several times whenever they rode side by side. “Ye dinna regret our tryst?”
Her smile was as bright as the first spring day but she said nothing, only shook her head. When they reached her house, Lachlan tied the horses and escorted her inside. Her grandmother met them at the parlor door.
“Ye’re late. It’s half past four.” She looked at her granddaughter’s eyes and glared at him. “What have ye done?”
Lachlan opened his mouth then shut it. He silently pleaded with Fenella to help him but she remained interested in the carpet. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to court her properly when I return in August. With yer permission, of course.”
