A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4) (11 page)

Because heaven knows, only Farthingales are permitted to do so.

Since Daisy wasn’t really looking for an answer, she wasted no time in continuing. “Hortensia described the kiss as wanton. Now, Laurel is too embarrassed to come out of her room.” She glanced at Graelem again. “She and I share a bedchamber now that Rose moved out. I’m Daisy, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Moray.”

As an afterthought, she bobbed a curtsy.

“I’ll have a word with your father. None of this is her fault.”
Bloody hell.
He should have been pleased that Laurel was well and truly trapped, but he felt no joy in making matters worse. He didn’t want her to be sad or humiliated. He just wanted
her
.

One of his crutches fell to the floor with a resounding clatter.

No, he didn’t want
her
. He wanted the properties that were not entailed and ought to have come with the barony of Moray.

Love and commitment had nothing to do with this arrangement. However, he was no ogre. Unlike Devlin Kirwood, he’d never use Laurel as his lending bank and he was willing to put into the marriage whatever Laurel needed to make her happy.

Rose cast him a wry smile. “Wanton? How delicious! Of course, you were completely at fault because my sister doesn’t know the first thing about… well, you know.”

“I just said I was solely at fault.” He frowned at Rose’s smug expression. Dillie was smirking, and Lily was gazing at him so intently he thought she might be plotting to dissect him like a frog and report her findings to the medical societies.
Nothing found between his ears, just a vast, empty cavity where a brain ought to have been.

The muscles in his jaw tensed. Laurel didn’t deserve any of the treatment she was receiving from him or her family. Yet, he couldn’t let her go.

Their marriage would stop all the gossip. However, Laurel would be the unhappiest bride ever to walk down a church aisle.

The twins were staring at him as though about to utter more words of wisdom. He wasn’t about to take advice from a pair of fifteen-year-olds who looked so much alike they gave him a headache. Nor was he going to take advice from Rose who was… what? Maybe a year or two older than Laurel and had pretty much made a wreck of her own courtship, if what Laurel had told him was true about Rose abducting her husband… or had Julian abducted her?

Graelem had been in pain and not paying close attention.

“What is it about men that makes them reluctant to take advice?” Lily wondered aloud. “Especially from women.” She perched on the edge of her seat and began to kick her feet out like a child on a swing.

Graelem sighed and shook his head. “Some of the smartest people I know are women. Most are much smarter than men, for they don’t allow pride and arrogance to get in their way.”

“See, Daisy,” Dillie said with a grin, “We told you he was worthy. That’s why we must help him. No promises, of course. The choice is ultimately Laurel’s, and we must respect her decision.”

“We just hope to nudge it in the proper direction,” Lily said.

Rose laughed. “You’d better get used to having a large, meddlesome family around, Graelem. If Laurel chooses you, she’ll bring all of us along with her.” But her laughter soon faded and she grew serious. “You have competition for Laurel’s affections.”

“I know. Devlin Kirwood.”

“We’ve known him a long time. Our families have known each other for years.” Lily frowned lightly. “He’s a ‘gentleman’. He and Laurel have had a sort of understanding for several years now.”

Graelem noticed the emphasis Lily put on the word as though she considered him anything but a gentleman. “Lily, don’t you care for him?”

She swung her feet out again, a hint of her consternation. “There’s something cold about Devlin.”

Daisy shook her head and frowned. “No, he’s very nice.”

“Oh, he’s nice enough to you and Laurel,” Lily replied before turning her attention back to Graelem. “He dotes on the two of them, particularly Laurel. He’s polite enough to Rose as well. At least, he was until she married, and now he hardly pays her any attention.”

“Because I’m married now,” Rose said. “It wouldn’t be proper for him to take more than polite notice of me.”

Lily pursed her lips. “I don’t understand these rules of society. Seems to me that friends should be permitted to remain friends, no matter the circumstances. Isn’t that what friendship is all about?”

Dillie shook her head. “You’re being logical again, Lily. Unfortunately, society does not work on logic, but on status. Wealth, title, and appearances are all that matter. We’ve gotten off the point.” She turned to Graelem and frowned lightly. “Laurel doesn’t care for society’s rules either, but she feels a sense of responsibility toward Devlin and won’t betray him by marrying you.”

Graelem arched an eyebrow. “So we’re back to where we started.”

“Not at all,” Rose said. “But you won’t like what you’ll have to do to win her over.”

Graelem didn’t like any of it. Damn Silas and his terms of inheritance and damn himself for wanting Moray so badly that he was willing to force Laurel into marriage over it. Was he that much of an unfeeling brute? He didn’t like to think so, but he was. Moray was his and he wasn’t about to give it up.

Nor was he about to give up Laurel… not after the way she’d kissed him.

He leaned forward. “Very well, I’m listening. What must I do?”

LAUREL SLEPT
FITFULLY
and awoke the next morning dreading the stares she was certain to receive from the family members when she walked into the dining room for breakfast. In truth, she had no appetite, and since she was fast discovering that she was a coward, she remained in her bedchamber and rang for Gladys to bring up some tea and biscuits for her.

She also dreaded seeing Graelem this afternoon, not only because of the kiss she’d instigated for a second time, but because she feared Graelem was right. Why had Devlin never kissed her? Why had she never tried to kiss him? Was it because they’d known each other so long that changing the terms of their friendship was awkward?

She really needed to speak to Devlin and was about to write him another note when the door opened and Daisy walked into the room they shared. “Oh, good. You’re finally awake. Laurel, are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, scrambling to sit up and giving her sister a quick hug as Daisy sat on the bed beside her. “But I need your help. Did you see Devlin yesterday?”

Daisy nodded. “No one suspects that I’ve been handing him your letters. He misses you and can’t wait until your punishment is over.”

“Did he write back to me?”

“No, he was afraid one of our maids might find where you hid his letters and tattle to Mother and Father. He thought it wiser to convey his sentiments through me.”

“Nothing in writing to trace back to him.” Laurel frowned. “I suppose it makes sense.” Yet it felt as though he were ashamed of his feelings for her, or being too coy about revealing them. She didn’t think Graelem would have responded in the same manner had the roles been reversed and she obligated to marry Devlin instead of him.

“Laurel, may I ask you something?” Daisy seemed troubled, which only made Laurel feel worse for involving her in something that might end badly. She didn’t want Daisy punished or somehow hurt for helping her out.

“Of course you can.” She motioned for her sister to follow her to the cushioned window bench where they could sit more comfortably. Laurel tucked her legs under her and leaned against the window pane that had warmed under the sun’s glare now that the rain had stopped. “What do you wish to ask me?”

“If you’re so wildly in love with Devlin, then why did you kiss Lord Moray? Rose and the twins are certain that you prefer him to Devlin.”

Laurel lowered her gaze and proceeded to smooth her nightgown, concentrating on removing a crease that did not exist. “What do you think, Daisy?”

“I’m not sure.” She sighed and shook her head. “I adore Dev. We all do. But I also like Lord Moray… Graelem. I can see why you couldn’t help but kiss him. He’s awfully good-looking. But it isn’t just that he’s exceptionally handsome. There appears to be more to him than that. I don’t know him really. But you’ve spent quite a bit of time in his company. Are my instincts about him wrong?”

“No, they’re quite on the mark. He’s clever, but doesn’t make you feel inferior. He’s big, but doesn’t make you feel small. He’s strong, but never makes you feel intimidated. Quite the opposite, one feels immediately comfortable and accepted when with him.” She sighed again. “I don’t know if what I’m saying makes any sense.”

Daisy smiled. “It does.”

She had to be honest with Daisy, indeed with all her sisters. “There is definitely something about him that… I don’t know. The first time I kissed him, I did it to prove that I would hate it. But I didn’t,” she said in a tremulous whisper. “So I had to try again, just to prove that first time had been a mistake.”

Daisy leaned closer, awaiting her answer. “And?”

Laurel covered her face with her hands and groaned. “I loved it. But that doesn’t mean I
like
him. I certainly don’t love him. How can I when he tricked me into this betrothal and now won’t let me out of it?” She dropped her hands and met Daisy’s gaze. “Rakes are known to be excellent at kissing, but it doesn’t mean they care about the girl they’re kissing. They never do, which is why they earn the reputation as rakes.”

Daisy nodded earnestly. “He didn’t strike me as the sort to have casual affairs. So you think he’s one of those horrid rakehells?”

“Well, no.” Laurel took Daisy’s hands in hers. “I’m not sure what he is. Or why I like his kisses. I think I’d like Devlin’s kisses even more, but he’s never tried to kiss me. Does that mean there’s something wrong? Am I worrying over nothing?”

“I know less about such matters than you. There’s no help for it, you’ll have to ask Rose. She’s the only one of us with any experience around men.”

“Her only experience is with her husband. No, I have to find a way to sneak out of the house and see Devlin. He and I have been best friends forever. I love him. I do love him… it must be love. Will you help me?”

She noted the shadow of concern in Daisy’s eyes, but after a long moment Daisy nodded. “Of course I’ll help you. But you must be honest with me, Laurel. Are you forcing yourself to love Devlin out of loyalty to him? Or are you falling in love with Lord Moray?”

Laurel drew a deep breath. “I can never love a man who will force me into an unwanted marriage. I will admit that I’m attracted to him. Very attracted,” she said as heat stole up her cheeks, “but I’m sorry I kissed him.”
Twice.
“I’m sorry that I liked his kisses.”
Loved them.
“But I refuse to be coerced into marriage. I’d rather die a ruined spinster.”

Daisy let out the breath she’d been holding. “Don’t be silly, that won’t happen. Devlin adores you. He’ll marry you no matter what you’ve done.”

That didn’t feel right either.

She wanted a husband, not a toady who would accept all manner of outrageous behavior simply to remain in her favor.

Daisy gave her hands a little squeeze. “Very well, I’ll help you and Devlin. It’s time you sorted out your true feelings for him. You and he must be honest with each other. It may be that you are only meant to be friends and nothing more. Where and when should he meet you?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll come up with a plan.”

* * *

Graelem’s heart shot into his throat as Laurel entered Eloise’s parlor escorted by Watling. Two days had passed since he’d last seen her, and to say that he’d missed her was an understatement. Every minute of their time apart had passed with agonizing slowness, the girl haunting his inappropriately hot, lewd dreams each night, leaving him a hard, tortured wreck by morning.

Yes, damn it. He’d missed her, even though he’d filled much of these two days reviewing contracts and corresponding on Moray affairs.

He refused to consider that he might lose all of it because he hadn’t married by Midsummer’s Day.

He arched an eyebrow in surprise as she elegantly glided to his side, looking outrageously beautiful in a simple tea gown that picked up the rose blush in her cheeks. The girl usually bounded in with her eyes ablaze and hands curled into fists at her sides, but today she was the model of propriety.

Proper and demure were not words he’d ever associate with Laurel, but he liked this softer aspect to her temperament. He hoped it boded well, but expected it was merely the calm before the storm, for he had agreed to meet eligible young ladies and this afternoon’s tea was to be his first introduction to them and others in London society.

Laurel and her uncle George had been invited, and there were to be three other young ladies and their families in attendance, carefully chosen by Laurel and his grandmother, although he suspected that his grandmother had taken the lead in selecting them. The slight description he’d received of these prospects roused his cautious instincts. They did not seem the sort of girls that Laurel would befriend. More to the point, since these girls came from noble ranks, he didn’t think they were the sort to accept Laurel, a merchant’s daughter, as their friend.

He disliked them already and would have gladly sacrificed his other leg to avoid this party, for he knew who he wanted and was content with his choice of bride, even if London’s elegant society found her lacking.

“Blessed saints,” he said in a raw whisper, setting down his delicate teacup with a clatter as Laurel settled in the chair beside his and cast him a petulant smile. What was wrong now? Hadn’t he agreed to meet young women of marriageable age even though he hadn’t wanted to? She had forced it on him. Was she regretting her decision? “You look beautiful, lass.”

Watling had set out refreshments in expectation of the arrival of their guests, a display designed to impress Prinny himself, but Graelem didn’t really give a damn about the food or the impending company.

Laurel was all that mattered to him.

He’d come down early to avoid being seen limping in and had bided his time by munching on scones and lemon cake. Although he preferred to wash them down with a smooth, aged whiskey, he knew tea was the safer choice. “Truly, lass. You take my breath away.”

The compliment appeared to disconcert her, heightening the rose blush in her cheeks that matched the color of her delicate pink gown. Her golden hair was done up in a prim bun adorned with a matching pink ribbon.

She looked angelic.

In contrast, his thoughts were decidedly wicked.

That pea-sized brain of his was dreaming up exquisite erotic pleasures again, all having to do with Laurel. Naked. Beneath him.

Damn.
What was wrong with him? He knew that his tortured dreams would be of her again tonight.

“Care for some tea?” he asked casually. Not that he cared for anything but her… naked. Beneath him. She could keep that pink ribbon in her hair if she wished. “Or a scone?”

He imagined himself slowly untying the prim ribbon and watching her golden hair cascade over her shoulders and spill down her back in splendid waves. His favorite fantasy was of spending the afternoon with his hands buried in her glorious curls and himself buried between her thighs.

Watling cleared his throat to regain his attention. The old butler was usually discreet, never showing his thoughts, but he shot Graelem a disapproving glance that warned he’d better behave himself around Laurel or face dire consequences.

Was he that obvious?

He had better get himself under control before the others arrived. But it was so hard to behave when all he wanted to do was plant his lips, tongue,
and
hands on the girl. He had no need of tea or cakes—he only wished to gorge himself on Laurel. “You may go, Watling.”

The old goat nodded and, still frowning, quietly disappeared.

Graelem struggled to his feet and moved across from Laurel’s chair to put some distance between them. He sank onto Eloise’s dainty settee, taking up most of it. “How are you feeling today, lass? You look overset.”

She was frowning at him, too. “I thought you said I stole your breath away.”

“You do. Always. But you’re angry and I don’t know why. Your lips are pursed in an adorable pout that makes me want to—”
Take your fleshy lower lip between my teeth and kiss the anger out of you, kiss you until I coax a hot moan out of you.
“Never mind, my thoughts are not meant for your innocent ears.”

“Just as I am not meant for you. You’re a beast. Which is why I’ve been miserable ever since the day I met you.” She tipped her chin up and turned her gaze away.

“Ah, that kiss still bothers you.” Obviously, it bothered him as well. He was hungrier for the girl than ever. He wanted to do something about it, but wasn’t going to. He could see that Laurel was a powder keg of mixed feelings. One wrong step and he would set her off. “You’re safe enough with me. Watling’s got his ear to the door. Right, Watling,” he called out and heard the old man mutter as he hastily shuffled in.

“Did you call for me, my lord?”

Graelem laughed. “No, just testing the waters.”

Watling arched an eyebrow. “I’ll be
close
by if you require my services, my lord.”

“What was that about?” Laurel asked when they were once more alone.

“Nothing.” He eased forward on the settee. “Let me pour you a cup of tea. How about a slice of cake? Or do you prefer a scone? They’re quite good. I’ve had three.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I wondered why the plate looked bare.”

“I needed a bite after my ordeal.”

“Ordeal?” A look of concern immediately crossed her face. “What happened? Are you all right?”

He nodded, amazed by how easily she forgot her anger whenever she believed he might be hurt. “I am now,” he assured, “but it took me forever to make my way downstairs. I finally gave up and slid down the banister.”

Laurel, her heart already softened with concern, couldn’t help but laugh. Graelem watched her changing expressions with fascination. She wanted to frown and remain irritated with him, but simply couldn’t. Her pretty eyes glistened with amusement and that kissable mouth of hers curled into a grin. “You did what?”

“I slid down. Wasn’t too comfortable hitting the newel post when I reached the bottom,” he said with a wince, “but serves me right for going down too fast.”

“Oh, dear!” Laurel gave up all attempt to remain distant and indignant. He liked that about her. She couldn’t seem to hold onto anger. She’d told him before that she was the forgiving sort. Good thing, for he was an ass in so many ways.

He’d forced her into an unwanted betrothal, couldn’t look at her without having impure and carnal thoughts, had no intention of giving her up for any of the young ladies he was about to meet, and also intended to have a few words with Devlin Kirwood.

He needed to confront the man.

They were bound to meet eventually, but he would rather it were sooner. His leg was not yet healed, but he didn’t care. If there was to be a fight… two cocks fighting over the prettiest hen… he’d rather have done with it now.

Devlin was going to lose.

The sooner he realized it and disappeared from Laurel’s life, the better.

Graelem felt his blood heat, and all manner of churlish, possessive feelings began to war within him. Laurel was his and he wasn’t going to give her up.

Laurel would never approve of a confrontation between him and Devlin.