Kissed at Midnight (19 page)

August traced the tiny bumps of her spine, up and down
like piano keys. “Sing to me,” he said.

She twisted her head on the
pillow and smiled. “I’ve been singing all month. Why, you even had me sing in
front of Mrs Cartwright and Tilly. Surely you’re tiring of my voice?”

“Never.” He skimmed a finger
over her bare back and down to the dip above her rear that was just covered by her
chemise that had been lazily flung over them both. Firelight flickered over her
skin, casting it in gold. A temptation to be sure. He didn’t think he’d ever
tire of her. Not of her voice or her body or her company.

Ivy rolled over. “Well I’m
tired of singing.” She pushed his shoulder, flattening him against the rug
before glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s too late for singing.”

“It is. You should go to
bed.”

He prayed she didn’t. It was
wrong in so many ways, but he couldn’t help himself. Almost every night since
her failed performance, she had joined him in his bed. If the staff had guessed
she was sharing his bed, then they said not a word. His cold, straight-laced
housekeeper had certainly taken a shine to the young woman. He’d noticed it
when Ivy performed in front of them. Perhaps she knew the truth and hoped for something
more between them.

Perhaps she felt as he did.
Ivy belonged in their lives.

He drew in a heavy breath.
It couldn’t be. Her confidence was growing and Manchester society was eager to
hear her. Her swoon had merely whetted their appetite for the mysterious,
exotic woman. She was almost ready, he was sure. And then she’d be gone,
leaving him alone with Elsie once more, waiting on his cousin—who might be dead
for all the communication he had received from her—or forcing him to look for a
wife.

Ivy straddled him and her
swaying breasts distracted him from his maudlin thoughts. Palms to her back, he
drew her near and took one nipple into his mouth. She sighed and scraped her
nails down his chest. The sharp sting spurred him into action, like a whip to a
horse. He was hard, she was wet. They’d only made love moments ago but they
were both ready again. He grasped her hips and thrust up into her, releasing
her breast to watch her lips part in ecstasy.

Ivy’s hair tumbled down her
back when she tilted her head back. He had no patience, no ability to slow down
and appreciate her. Every move was governed by instinct and pure, burning
desire. Shifting his thumb between them, he moved it over her sex. After nearly
a month of love-making, he was able to read every sigh, every cry and every
gasp. He knew how to bring her to the brink—fast.

Convulsing and crying out,
she came apart as he drove up into her. There had never been a more glorious
sight. Never a more glorious woman, if the truth be told. She eased away his troubles,
she allowed him to be something other than August Avery, the railway engineer.
She had taught him to be a father to Elsie. The day Ivy Davis landed on his
doorstep had been the most blessed day of his life.

He loved her. It had been
sneaking up on him. Really, he had known it for a while but the words rattled
through his skull and begged to be released when she flopped against his chest,
spent and sated.

August continued to thrust
but slowed the pace to treasure each moment of being buried inside this
glorious woman. He inhaled her floral scent and felt the blissful sensations
build in increments until he could hold back no longer. Lifting her away, he
used his hand to draw himself completely over the edge.

God, how he loved her.

Mrs Cartwright handed Ivy a newspaper as she finished
preparing Elsie’s bottle. “You may wish to look at the advertisements, dear.”

Ivy frowned and flipped to
the page. She scanned down and couldn’t help but smile when she saw one circled
with charcoal. “Are you trying to find me a new job, Mrs Cartwright?”

The woman bristled and thin,
grey brow rose. “Hardly. When you’re gone, I doubt Elsie shall be as
well-behaved and she’ll be keeping me up at night again, but you have a
gift...”

She peered at the writing
properly. “An audition?”

“Yes, in Sheffield. And they
want female singers.”

It always surprised her Mrs
Cartwright had become so supportive of her singing. She had thought the
housekeeper would never warm to her. Now she was insisting she go to Sheffield
to audition for theatre?

“I’ll think about it. It’s
fairly soon by the looks of it. I do not know if I’ll be able to go.”

“You really should,” Mrs
Cartwright said firmly.

Ivy nodded vaguely. The
housekeeper was right. She had grown in confidence so much recently. It wouldn’t
take much for her to sing in front of a few strangers now, she suspected, but
if she left, where would that leave August and Elsie?

Where would that leave her?
A jarring pain jabbed at her heart when she thought of leaving them.

She scooped up the bottle
and made her way upstairs to give it to Elsie. The child had only just woken
up, such was their routine now, and she was standing against the bars, her face
pressed to them. The beaming smile she greeted Ivy with made her chest feel too
full. Tears singed the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away.

“Good morning, sweeting.
Here is your milk.” She handed the child the bottle, coaxing her to lie down in
the crib.

Ivy couldn’t help but smile
at how capable Elsie had become. She took the bottle from her and propped it on
her two chubby hands. Her hair was a messy halo around her head and there were
red creases in her cheeks from where she’d been pressed against the blanket
that she always seemed to bundle up beneath her.

Busying herself with getting
her cloth and pins ready and drawing out a clean shift for her, she listened
for the clank of the glass bottle against the side of the crib that signified
little Miss Elsie was done with her breakfast.

The tell-tale sound that the
infant was done made her turn around and scoop up the bottle and child. She
pressed a kiss to her soft cheek and held her close for a moment, inhaling the
warm scent of her.

“You smell delicious,” she
said. “I could eat you up.” Elsie offered a smile and burbled back while she
laid her down to change her and get her dressed. “We shall have to bath you
tonight. Do you like the sound of a nice warm splash in the tub?”

“Can I join in?” A male
voice came from the door.

Ivy twisted to view August.
Her heart did that ridiculous leap that it always did whenever she saw him. He
hadn’t put on his jacket yet but he wore an emerald green waistcoat with
matching necktie. Gold cufflinks glinted in the sleeves and the chain of his pocket
watch hung out of one waistcoat pocket. With an arm rested against the door, she
could appreciate the strength of his arms against the white cotton of his
shirt. It took all her willpower not to sigh.

“The tub isn’t big enough
for you.”

He stepped in and gave a disappointed
look before dropping a kiss to Elsie’s cheek and then hers. He dropped his
voice low and leaned in towards her. “I’d like to get you in the tub. All wet
and soapy.”

“August,” she admonished.

He chuckled and took one of
Elsie’s flailing hands. “She’s no fun is she?”

Elsie babbled in agreement
while Ivy finished fastening her gown. When she lifted her into her arms, the
child fisted her hair in one hand. “Mamamamamama.”

Ivy stilled at the sound. It
could have been nonsense words. She didn’t think Elsie had even heard the word
mama
before. When she glanced at August, she noticed his teasing expression had
dropped.

“Well, shall we go down to
breakfast?” she asked brightly, wishing desperately to dispel the uncomfortable
sensation swirling about the air.

“Yes, lets.”

With Elsie in her arms, she
followed August downstairs and walked into the dining room. The morning meal
was waiting for them as usual, with a small plate set up for Elsie. Ivy sat and
propped her on her lap before handing her a piece of toast which would keep her
quiet for a while.

“We ought to get her a chair
of her own. I’ve seen high chairs in some of the furniture stores.”

August forked up some eggs
and paused. “I suppose you’re right. It all seems a bit unnecessary though.
She’ll be sitting on her own before long.”

“That won’t be for some
time, August, and she can’t sit on my lap forever.”

His expression took another
downturn. “No, she cannot.”

He stuffed the eggs in his
mouth and contemplated her while he chewed. The intense look in his eyes made
her stomach want to flip over and over like an acrobat. But she wasn’t excited.
There was something sad and resigned to that look. As though he knew about the
audition and the potential for her leaving. But he couldn’t know. And she
wasn’t sure she even wanted to tell him. Couldn’t even be sure she wanted to
go.

A noose of apprehension
blocked her throat while she took in their familial setting. She had grown used
to their breakfasts together, to her walks with Elsie and to the evenings with
August. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to let it go but August had made noises
about finding a wife and how could she give up something they’d worked so hard
on? For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted to sing. If she stopped,
would she regret it?

In all likelihood, yes.
Singing was as necessary as breathing to her and singing to herself or Elsie or
even Mrs Cartwright simply didn’t bring the satisfaction she needed. She wanted
to share her voice.

“Shall I take her?”

Ivy stared at him for a
moment. “Pardon?”

“Shall I take her from you
for a moment?”

Ivy shook her head,
unwilling to part with the soft little bundle on her lap, in spite of her
dropping crumbs all over her lap. “No, thank you. We’re just fine.”

Deftly dropping sugar into
her cup and adding milk, she sipped her coffee while holding Elsie. The infant
giggled when August made a face at her and the noose around her throat
tightened.

It was almost a relief when
Mr Jamieson shuffled in with a fresh pot of coffee. He placed the tray down on
the bureau and carried over the silver pot. He also passed over the newspaper
and August flicked it open. Ivy didn’t think he’d bother looking at the
advertisements thank goodness. Foolish of her perhaps, to want to draw...
whatever it was between them out but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from
wanting to cling on.

“There’s an audition in Sheffield,
sir,” Mr Jamieson said. “Miss Davis will be going, will you not?”

Ivy’s shoulders sagged.
Inwardly she groaned. The butler likely thought he was being helpful, prompting
August to allow her time off to go. August’s brows rose and he flicked through
the paper until he found the page with the circled advertisement on it.

He scanned it and Ivy held
the air in her lungs. Mr Jamieson picked up the empty coffee pot and made his
way out of the room at a deathly slow pace. She watched the door swing shut and
forced out a shaky breath.

Finally August glanced up at
her, his gaze frank and assessing. “This is the day of the tunnel opening. Are
you going to go?”

“I-I do not know. I thought
I’d come to the opening.” There was to be a grand opening with the mayor in
attendance. Ivy was looking forward to seeing what had consumed August for so
long.

“No, you should go to the
audition.”

Her stomach felt weighted
down and the tang of coffee in her throat grew bitter. He wanted her to go
then. “I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

“You are,” he said firmly.

“You think I should go?”

“Yes. It’s a reputable
company and it could be a good start for you. They would be fools not to want
you.”

But
he
didn’t want
her, did he? Not if he was so keen for her to go. Likely she was just a nice
distraction and soon enough he’d be happy with another woman—a more refined,
less capricious woman. Maybe even someone like Mrs Pepperwhite with her disapproving
stares and her turned up nose. Ivy might have a thimbleful of noble blood in
her but compared with Mrs Pepperwhite, she might as well be a street urchin for
all her airs and graces.

“I suppose I will go then.”
Her voice sounded hollow to her ears.

“Yes.” He lifted the paper.
“Excellent,” he said from behind it.

Ivy studied her breakfast
for several minutes. Appetite gone, the crispy bacon and steaming porridge no
longer held appeal. She snatched up another piece of toast for Elsie—after all,
just because she was no longer hungry didn’t mean the child should miss out—and
rose. The newspaper lowered.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes.” Now her voice was
husky. If only she could control it. “I have a busy day ahead and preparations
to make. That audition is in a week. Not long.” She tried to add a bright note
to her tone but failed miserably.

Before her composure
cracked, she fled the room and hurried upstairs. Clutching Elsie to her, she
let loose a sob and buried her face against her soft head. August didn’t want
her. And it shouldn’t matter. She had a life to lead and a plan to follow.

Falling for her master had certainly
never been part of it.

She inhaled deeply and
kissed the child’s cheek, making her giggle. Ivy smiled. Since leaving home,
her life had rarely gone as planned. She had survived before and she’d survive
again, even if it broke her heart to leave Elsie and August.

***

August awoke before Ivy did. The morning was bright
enough that he could view her sleeping. He’d grown so used to sleeping next to
her. He rolled carefully so as not to disturb her and watched her. She sprawled
most nights, her cold feet prodding him in the back of his legs, but this
morning she had curled herself up like a little ball, one hand tucked under her
face.

For many moments, he watched
her sleep. Was it an odd thing to do? Perhaps. But everything about Ivy fascinated
him. He didn’t think he would ever grow tired of watching her. Funny, because
women—people even—never interested him before. He couldn’t recall the face of the
woman to whom he’d last made love. Now all his memories were filled with
Ivy—with her scent, her taste, her sound.

And he’d have to give that
all up today.

The audition would go
perfectly, he felt it in his bones and if they accepted her then and there,
she’d have to find a place to live locally and before he knew it, she would be
gone. Really he should have been advertising for her replacement but he
couldn’t bring himself to.

Unable to resist, he pushed
her hair from her face and watched her lids flutter. She slept on thankfully.
He did not wish her to wake and see him looking at her with what he imagined
was a God-awful lovesick expression. August Avery would not be the one to hold
Ivy Davis back, and deep in his gut he suspected she’d stay if he confessed his
love to her.

But in years to come, she’d
hate him for it. He would continue to be busy with work and she would become a
mother and continue to raise Elsie. And that would be the sum of her life. He
loved her too much to do that to her.

With his gaze, he traced the
bow of her lips and recalled the soft touch of them to his skin. In Ivy he’d
met his match. Eager, excitable, fun. She was simply amazing. Too good to be
kept to one person. Whether she realised he had been making love to her last
night, he didn’t know.

August supposed she had
nothing with which to compare but in every movement, in every kiss, he’d been
trying to demonstrate his love to her. Perhaps when life took her to exotic
places and the far reaches of the world, she’d remember last night as he did.

Perhaps she’d remember the
night he said goodbye with his lovemaking.

August laid back and tucked
an arm behind his head. Looking at her was becoming too painful. Listening to
her breathe in his ear was bloody bad enough. Today was meant to be his day of
triumph. The tunnel was completed, on time and within budget. He closed his
eyes.

The next time he opened
them, Ivy was stumbling out of bed. He blinked at her as she drew up her
stockings and snatched her chemise from the carpet. Unable to prevent a lazy
grin from skimming over his lips, he took in the sight of her beautiful legs in
translucent silk and the curves of her hips and breasts—breasts he longed to
taste and hold and watch move above him.

She yanked on the chemise,
spoiling his view and flicked a look his way. “August, get out of bed. With
haste.” She wriggled her chemise down her hips. “We’re late.”