A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4) (12 page)

Neither would her father, no doubt turning apoplectic at the idea of said two cocks fighting over his innocent daughter.

But what choice did he have? He was a big oaf who didn’t know how to seduce a woman. He didn’t know how to flatter or deceive or fill a girl’s head with pretty lies. He was a hulking bear who followed his animal instincts. It was those instincts that had led him to Laurel.

Grrr.
Pretty girl. Want her as my mate.

Mostly, he wanted her in order to secure Moray. But he was growing used to the idea of having her as his wife, of holding Laurel in his arms each night and waking to the sweet warmth of her body curled against his hard frame each morning.

“I used to slide down banisters, too.” She cast him a delicious grin, all trace of anger gone for the moment. “That is, until I wound up with a backside full of splinters.”

He was growing to like the idea of marriage to Laurel immensely, even if it meant having her family about to pester him, for marrying the lass meant his house would be filled with Farthingales from sunup to sundown. Laurel’s sisters weren’t so bad—he actually liked them. “Ouch! That must have hurt. How old were you at the time?”

A slight blush crept into her cheeks. “It happened last year.”

He burst out laughing. “Surely, you jest.”

She winced. “I wish I were, but no. My parents confined me to my bedchamber for an entire week. In truth, it was no loss. I was so sore I couldn’t take Brutus for his morning run, nor could I spend my afternoons visiting friends and family. The carriage ride alone would have been excruciating. And then to sit for hours in someone’s fancy salon, sipping tea and pretending my
derriere
wasn’t throbbing? No, I accepted my punishment without complaint.”

He liked that mix of spirit and humility in Laurel. She had the ability to laugh at her antics, which only enhanced her good character in his mind.

“But I did let Father know in no uncertain terms that the banister was a hazard and had to be repaired at once.”

He liked her playful honesty, her melodic voice and gentle touch.

That he might want her beyond the marriage ceremony concerned him, but he’d be safe as long as he concentrated on his objective.

Bloody hell.
He’d never be safe around Laurel.

“But I didn’t come here to speak of splinters or faulty banisters.” She clasped her hands together and sat up stiffly so that her back was now straight as an arrow. “I’ve come to a decision.”

He arched an eyebrow. “About our marriage?” By the prim purse of her lips, he knew the decision was not in his favor.

She now had the look of a warrior, not a helpless debutante ready to surrender.

Laurel let out a determined breath and glanced toward the door to make certain they were still alone. “I’ve decided that you are never to kiss me again.”

“That’s it?” He smothered a grin. Was she still thinking about that spectacular kiss? Could she not stop thinking about it? That sounded promising. “Very well. If that is your wish.”

She had raised her teacup to her lips, but set it down with enough haste to spill some of the tea onto the saucer. “Of course it’s what I wish. Why would I wish anything else?”

“Because you seemed to enjoy that last kiss. Immensely.” He knew it was dangerous to goad her, but he did it anyway. She felt something for him and it was time she admitted it to herself, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it to him yet.

More tea spilled onto the saucer again. “I did not!”

“I see.” He stretched his arms across the settee and leaned his large frame against the seat back. “Then we have no problem. You don’t want me to kiss you again… ever.” He shrugged. “So I won’t.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “I hate it when you’re smug.”

“I know.” He edged forward and leaned closer. “Next kiss is up to you. Since you’ve just told me that it will never happen, I have no choice but to take you at your word. I know you’re not a liar.”

“Of course I’m not!” Her glorious bosom began to heave. “How dare you suggest—”

Blessed Scottish saints! Give me strength to resist temptation.
“I just said that I believed you. So let’s speak of something more productive before the other guests arrive. Guests that you demanded I see, although I’m pleased with our betrothal and have no wish to break it off. You’re the one who wants out.”

“So would you if the decision were forced on you.”

“It was,” he reminded her. “Silas left me with little time to find a wife. But you know my predicament. Did you know that your sisters called upon me yesterday?”

“They did?” She eyed him askance. “They didn’t tell me about it.”

That surprised him, for it was obvious these Farthingales were incapable of discretion. “Should they have?”

She tipped her chin up and glowered at him once again. “They’re my sisters. Of course they should have let me know.” She paused a moment as though expecting him to speak up. “Well, what did they say to you?”

“It’s private. Not for your snoopy ears, although they’re very pretty ears. The point is, unlike you Farthingales, I can keep a secret.”

Laurel shifted in her chair and edged closer so that they were practically nose to nose. Or lips to lips if she’d only tilt her head upward and… no, she had better not. “My sisters do not keep secrets from me. What did they say?”

He tweaked her nose. “You’ll have to ask them. Later. Right now I’d like you to talk to me.”

She gritted her teeth and spoke through clenched lips. “I’m trying to, but you’re not making it easy. All you do is gloat. Very well. You’ve won the day. My sisters like you. Hurrah!”

He took her hands in his and held them lightly. “No, lass. I don’t know what they think of me, only that they’re willing to give me a chance.”
And much needed help to survive today’s tea party.
He wasn’t a gentleman and didn’t know how to behave in elegant company. “But you’re not.”

Her bosom heaved again as she mustered her indignation. “Can you blame me?”

He forced his gaze from her breasts, practically feeling his eyeballs tear from the effort of ripping them away. He was depraved… in so many ways. “I need you to forget for a moment that we’re betrothed. I want you to think of these afternoons together as our courtship.”

She slipped her hands out of his. “I can’t. We
are
betrothed. Without my consent, I might add. You’re not courting me, but coldly securing your inheritance. You can pretend whatever you like, but I’m not your sweetheart. I’ll never be your sweetheart while I’m your prisoner.”

That went well.

He was relieved when his grandmother entered the parlor and soon thereafter, George and the other guests arrived. He was introduced to a beautiful brunette, Lady Jane Hardwick, whose father was the Earl of Staunton, and then a cheerful redhead by the name of Miss Dora Pertwhistle whose mother was the grandniece of a duke, and Lady Katherine Lowesby, another stunner with pale blonde hair whose father was a marquis.

Their smiles faded as they watched him struggle to his feet to greet them. Lady Jane’s mother turned to Eloise. “Will your grandson be crippled for the rest of his life?”

Damnation.

He was standing in front of the old battle-axe. She could have asked him the question directly instead of discussing him as though he weren’t in the room. He was about to respond with typical Scottish impertinence, his intent to bring this idiotic party to an end before it had ever started, when he felt Laurel move to his side.

She let out a shaky breath. “No, Lady Staunton. It’s a temporary injury. He’ll be fit in another few weeks.”

But the damage had been done. The sight of his crutches had thrown all three young ladies into a dither. As he responded to the introductions and all heard his Scottish accent, whatever might have been salvaged after Laurel’s explanation was completely destroyed. The mothers turned coldly from him and frowned at Eloise, which irrevocably sealed his poor opinion of them.

If not for the private grin Eloise cast him, he would have tossed the lot of them out immediately. But this is what his wily grandmother had expected when choosing these particular guests. She knew that a crippled Scot would never be suitable husband material for their precious daughters. He eased back and allowed himself to be ever so politely ignored for the rest of the afternoon.

Getting the cut direct did not anger Graelem in the least. He wanted to leap up and hug his grandmother for purposely inviting three of the most insufferable families among the
ton
to her party. Laurel, so innocent and trusting of his fiendish grandmother, didn’t suspect she had been tricked. At first, she looked confused. Then appalled. Then mad as blazes at the lot of them.

He grinned at his grandmother, wanting to reach over and plant a kiss on her lightly wrinkled cheek. The woman was subtly brilliant and understood precisely the effect that his rejection would have on Laurel. The girl, her protective hackles raised liked a mother bear protecting her cubs, was now seated beside him and glowering at everyone else.

“Did you expect these young lambs to flock to me, Laurel?” he said quietly so that only she would hear.

“Yes,” she admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re handsome as sin and you’ll be a wealthy baron if one of them marries you by Midsummer.”

“They don’t see me as you do.” He nodded to George as he joined their private conversation. “I was just telling your niece that these families can aim higher for their daughters. They don’t need to waste their efforts on a Scottish baron with a broken leg when their daughters have already attracted the attention of English dukes, earls, and viscounts.”

George readily agreed. “Perhaps Laurel can introduce you to some of her own friends when you join us for supper tomorrow night. I must warn you, the twins will be entertaining us with their musical talents. Dillie’s quite talented, actually. She plays the pianoforte and sings beautifully. Lily butchers the harp, evoking sounds out of that instrument that should not exist on this earth.”

Laurel grinned. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Graelem emitted a genial laugh. “I look forward to it. I’ll bring cotton to stuff in my ears.”

Laurel joined in with a merry chuckle. “Oh, you needn’t go to the bother. We provide it to all our guests.”

The party ended by late afternoon, none too soon for Graelem. His leg was throbbing and painful, and although he’d enjoyed having Laurel and her indignantly heaving breasts by his side, he was eager to remove his waistcoat and cravat and elevate his leg.

He escorted his grandmother to the front door to say their farewells to their departing guests, eager to be rid of them. However, the young ladies who had looked down their noses at him throughout the dull affair were not quite finished with him yet. Lady Jane brushed her breasts—unsavory, wrinkled plums compared to Laurel’s—against his arm and whispered in his ear. “Lady Ansell’s ball.”

Blessed Scottish saints.

She was seeking an assignation. He wasn’t good enough to marry her, just run his hands up her thighs, push up her gown and—

Miss Dora approached him. She angled herself to hide her actions from the others while she brazenly stroked his manhood. “Lady Ansell’s ball.”

Hellfire!

The touch of Dora’s hand sliding up his member ought to have excited him, but he felt nothing for the girl other than mild disgust.

Lady Katherine, to his relief, snubbed him. Or so he thought, but as he bent over her hand to convey insincere pleasantries, she whispered in his ear. “Lady Ansell’s ball.”

Bloody hell, her too?

When George joined them on the front stairs and began a conversation with his grandmother, Graelem took the opportunity to step back into the parlor. He ran a hand roughly across the nape of his neck and was about to let loose with a string of curses when he felt someone standing behind him. He turned to face the intruder and noticed Laurel staring at him. She looked stricken. “I saw them all.”

Damnation, she’d witnessed everything. “What did you expect? I’m not husband material, but apparently I’m prime stud.”

“But they snubbed you throughout the visit.”

“So? Do you find their behavior offensive and hypocritical?” He laughed bitterly. “They aren’t interested in talking to me. What did you expect, Laurel?”

She shook her head and lowered her gaze. “I don’t know,” she said in a ragged whisper, “just not this. Are you angry with me? This was my idea.”

He tucked a finger under her chin. “No, lass. Even I was surprised by their actions. Seems none of them are quite the sweet innocents their families believe them to be. The sooner they’re married off, the better. There are men who’ll gladly shackle themselves to the daughters of these
good
families, and other men who’ll gladly, er… service them after they provide their husbands an heir and spare. I doubt any of those lovelies will be faithful to their spouses.”

“Will you go to Lady Ansell’s ball?”

He let out a groaning laugh. “No, unless you’ll promise to stay by my side all evening to protect me.” He ran his thumb along her jaw. “It wouldn’t be much fun for you. I can’t dance in my present condition. Never was much of a dancer anyway. Thank you for your concern, lass. It was misguided and unnecessary, but I enjoyed having you near me, caring for me.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I seem to dig myself into a deeper hole every day.”

“No, your heart is guiding you to me, but you’re resisting. I know that I haven’t made it easy for you to like me. Nor did I wish to like you, but I find that you grow more beautiful to me with each passing day. We started off badly. Do you think we can start afresh and try to make a go of it? What do you say, love?”

Her eyes widened in surprise and her lips formed a perfect O as she considered his words. “You just complimented me. And why did you call me that?”

“Love?”
Hell.
It had just slipped out. In truth, after her tender treatment of him during this interminable tea party, the endearment felt right. “I don’t know. You were wonderful to me, and although I’m an arrogant and stubborn wretch, I appreciated all that you did for me.”