My Fair Lily (19 page)

She started past him, her head held high and fingers crossed that he wouldn’t see through her bluster and bravado. He reached around her and shut the library door, pinning her against it as he set his hands on each side of the door and leaned in close so that their noses... and lips... were almost touching.
Oh, crumpets.
Speaking of noses, she inhaled his scent as she took a deep breath. He smelled nice. Horse and
leather and pine trees nice.

“You think I’m a man in need of civilizing?”

She let out a small
eep
. “Yes, a little. Only a little. On the more trivial subjects such as fashion, etiquette, and dance. Not the important ones. You seem to have mastered those. You’re awfully
close, Ewan.”

“I know.”

She licked her lips.

He groaned. “And you think you’re just the woman capable of civilizing me?”

She wasn’t certain, but she relished the opportunity to mold this
raw being into a sophisticated man of substance, a man worthy of inheriting his grandfather’s title, a respected duke of the realm. It couldn’t be very hard to accomplish. He already had the substance. He merely lacked the air of elegance. Well, he was elegant, if one
dismissed that
gruff, protect-my-woman arrogance about him. Not that she would
ever dismiss it. She loved that about him.

Had she thought
loved
?

She meant
like
. She liked that about him.

Love could never factor into the Ewan equation.

She wished he were not standing so close, staring at her with his smoldering, dark eyes.

“You’re
eeping
again. I’ll take that last
eep
as a yes.” His expression was even darker and more dangerous than the smolder in his eyes. “I won’t make it easy for you, Lily. I’m not some lump of clay—”

“Of course not.” Had he just read her mind? How did he do that? “You’re not lumpy at all. Quite the opposite. You’re hard and muscled. Goodness, I couldn’t get my hands around your biceps if I
tried. It’s awfully warm in here. Don’t you think so?”

“No.”

“Hot, actually. May I go now?”

He nodded but didn’t move away.

She put her hands on his chest to nudge him away. A mistake. Unbidden, her hands slid up his chest and circled the nape of his neck. “What are you doing, Lily?”

“I’m not sure. I think I’m about to kiss you again.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” he said, drawing her up against his body and closing his mouth over hers before she had the chance to reconsider.
His mouth felt warm, delicious. She yielded to his exquisite conquest. He felt her slight surrender and deepened his kiss.

All of her senses exploded at once, as did her bodily organs, every
traitorous, last one of them, exploding again and again in volcanic turmoil as his lips explored hers with possessive urgency and his big hands roamed everywhere they shouldn’t be. Not that she was
complaining. She wasn’t at all.

He cupped a hand over her breast and teased her nipple with his thumb.

“Hot, sugared crumpets,” she whispered. “What are you doing to me?”

He answered with the hot dip of his tongue between her lips, an exquisite invasion that shattered her resistance... again, not complaining. Not resisting either. No. Not a whit.

She arched into his hand, loving the feel of his fingers teasing her hardened bud against the fabric. She wanted to feel his rough fingers on her skin. “So many damned layers,” he murmured, kissing her again, his tongue parting her lips with ease, plunging deep into her mouth, soft and deep, in a rhythmic urgency that annihilated her resistance, what little she’d had to begin with. Assuming she’d ever had any desire to resist him.

Blood rushed to her head in a pounding roar. “Oh, my goodness. Ewan, please. More.”

The pounding persisted.

Ewan drew away with a slow, tortured groan. “Damn it,” he said
under his breath, “someone’s at the door.” He waited for her to regain her composure, a task made impossible while he stood so close, the male heat radiating off his body and wreaking havoc with her senses. He—the villainous epitome of male perfection—stood beside her, completely unaffected, as though they hadn’t been swallowing each
other’s tongues or pillaging each other’s bodies a mere moment ago.

Blessed saints and burnt crumpets.
That was far too much fun to be anything but sinful.

“Open up, Lily.” She recognized Dillie’s voice on the opposite side of the door.

Still a little dazed, she reached for the knob, but Ewan stopped
her. “Take a deep breath. A few deep breaths to calm yourself.”

“I hate you. You know that, don’t you?”

He grinned. A smug, dominant baboon male grin.

“I definitely hate you,” she insisted, opening the door.

“Took you long enough,” Dillie muttered. “What were you doing in there?” Then she spotted Ewan standing behind her. No doubt still
grinning behind her. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I’m far too young and innocent. Not that I wish to remain that way, but I haven’t found
my
dominant baboon male yet.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why were you
pounding on the door?”

“Daisy’s having her baby. Come on. We’re needed over there.”

As Dillie left, Lily turned to Ewan, not sure why she wanted another glance at him before she followed her sister out. His smile turned tender. He raised his hand to her cheek and gave it a light
caress. “Go on, lass. Don’t keep her waiting.”

She nodded.

Did he like the kiss? He seemed to, but he’d regained his control awfully quickly. Perhaps he’d never lost it.

“Lily,” he said as she turned to walk away, “the answer is yes.”

“I didn’t ask a question.”

“You did, lass. It’s there in the uncertain, blue pools of your
eyes. I did like the kiss. Now, for your second question—”

“I haven’t asked it either.”

“The answer is I liked it a lot. It was a damn great kiss.”

She smiled an openhearted smile. “I thought so, too.”

“And to answer your last question, no one else.”

She laughed. “What? No one else can kiss you into raptures as I did?”

“No, lass.” His voice was tender and husky, and his brogue more pronounced as it often was when he was other than calm. “No
one else can kiss
you
into raptures as
I
did.”

***

Rose and Laurel were already in Daisy’s bedchamber assisting
the midwife by the time Lily and her twin arrived. After giving Daisy a hug and a kiss, she and Dillie remained in the background, running whatever errands were requested of them, then quietly returning to the bedchamber. They simply wanted to be close to
Daisy, all five sisters together, as though the strength of their love would make everything turn out right.

“Where’s Gabriel? How is he holding up?” Daisy asked,
obviously
worried about her husband as her contractions continued into the evening.

“He’s pacing downstairs. Graelem’s with him to lend support.
So
are Mother, Father, and Uncle George. He’ll be fine,” Laurel said, her
words more reassuring for the hell she had survived during her first childbirth last year. Her husband, Graelem, had been mad with fear,
as had the entire Farthingale clan. Even now, Lily wanted to reach
out and hug Laurel, just to be sure she was alive and well, and not a ghostly vision.

When the midwife stepped out of the room during a quiet moment, Rose turned to Lily. “You’ve been distracted all evening. Out with it. What’s on your mind?”

Lily knew she ought to keep silent, for this was Daisy’s moment and nothing should distract them from that. But Farthingales never seemed able to keep quiet on any topic, even ones they knew very little about. It was the family curse. Except for Uncle George, who always knew precisely the right thing to say... or not to say... and at just the right time. But Uncle George wasn’t here to stop her, and she wasn’t used to being this confused. She simply hated the feeling. Hadn’t experienced it since she was a toddler. “Ewan kissed me.”

Even Daisy sat up with a start. “He did?”

Lily winced. “I started it, but he took over rather quickly.”

Rose and Laurel were grinning. Smug, womanly grins. Obviously, they understood what she was talking about. Good. She needed help to sort this out. Daisy broke the smiling silence with a sharp gasp. All eyes turned to her. “Forget it. Just a contraction. Go on, Lily. Tell us more.”

“Tell us
everything
,” Rose added.

Well, she wasn’t going to do that. Just the confusing details.
“He’s very good at kissing. He was quite thorough about it.”

Ugh, her sisters were all grinning at her again.
“And how did it feel to you?” Laurel asked.

Amazing. Breathtaking. “Good.”

Laurel persisted. “Just good? Or spectacular-knock-your-
stockings-off good?”

Lily felt her face heating. “Yes, the latter choice. Spectacular. Better-get-a-chaperone-into-the-room-fast good. If Dillie hadn’t knocked on the library door just then... well, thank goodness she
did.”

The grins now stretched so broadly across her sisters’ faces, one would think they were fillies at a horse auction, waiting to have their teeth inspected by potential bidders. “Oh, Lily! Don’t you realize what this means?”

“If I did, Daisy,” she said, trying not to sound as irritated as she felt, “I wouldn’t be asking all of you.”

Rose reached out and hugged her. “You’re in love.”

Lily shook her head and laughed. “Oh, no. No, no, no. At best I’m infatuated. Interested. Moderately attracted.”

“Love,” Laurel insisted.

She glanced at her twin. “Dillie, please rescue me. I feel outnumbered.”

“What can I do? I’m still young and innocent. But it seems as though our older and wiser sisters know what they’re talking about.”

“They don’t. It isn’t the same at all.” She placed her hands on each side of her waist and stared at her three married sisters in accusation. They were in love with their husbands and wanted the same for her, no doubt. Being in love was likely a wonderful feeling if the other party reciprocated. “Your husbands love you back. Ewan doesn’t love me.”

Rose gave her another quick hug. “Are you sure?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He’s going to marry a beautiful Scottish woman. No pale-haired, weepy-eyed English girls for him.”

Dillie stepped forward. “Might I point out that you are neither pale haired nor weepy eyed. I ought to know. I look like you. And that’s another thing. He
never
mistakes me for you. Don’t you find that interesting?”

“No,” Lily said. “The Duke of Edgeware never mistakes me for you either. Not ever. And he doesn’t like me in that way... he... oh, crumpets! Dillie, it’s you he’s after!”

Dillie’s face turned the brightest shade of red she’d ever seen on a person. “He isn’t. Don’t be ridiculous, Lily. We’re speaking of you, anyway. Oh, look what you’ve done. Now you’ve got everyone looking at me. Stop it. Concentrate on Lily. She raised the topic. She’s the young innocent who was kissed by the big, bad wolf.”

“He isn’t bad. Well, perhaps bad in a
good
way,” Lily admitted. “No man has kissed me like that before. Not ever. I think I ought to run some more tests, make certain my response was unique to him.”

Dillie looked at her askance. “More tests? Do you mean that you’re going to kiss other men?”

“Why not? He practically challenged me to it. He said that no one else can kiss me into raptures as he did. Awfully smug of him, I thought. What if he’s wrong?”

Rose, Laurel, and Daisy groaned. “He isn’t wrong,” Rose said. “However, I’m not opposed to your plan. But I’d like to suggest
some minor modifications.”

“Such as?”

“Make certain that Ewan is close by when you decide to let another man kiss you.”

“Why?” Lily was trying her best to follow Rose’s logic, but it was difficult. It was also a little humbling to see that her other sisters seemed to grasp the advice so easily.

Rose eyed her with infuriating patience and indulgence.
“Because
it’s Ewan’s response that matters most, not your response to the
clunch you intend to kiss, or that clunch’s response to you. For the record, if you and your hapless clunch happen to consummate that
kiss, you’ll hate it. At best you’ll feel indifferent. But it’ll never get to that point because Ewan won’t let it.”

“Are you sure? What if he doesn’t step in to stop us?”

Daisy shook her head. “I will admit, that’s bad. But he will step in. How could he not? You’re wonderful, Lily.”

“You’re perfect,” Rose added.

“You’re kind and caring,” Laurel chimed in.

Dillie cast her a wicked grin. “You’re beautiful. The most
beautiful young woman in all of England.”

Lily would take that comment— spoken by her identical twin—with a grain of salt.

But that’s why she loved her sisters so much. They were blind to her faults, always caring and supportive. They were the best sisters in the world.