The Midnight Rake (22 page)

“It does sound lovely. I’ve never been past the western end of Piccadilly, nor into Mayfair. I would enjoy seeing the scenery.” Her cheerful reply erased any hesitation on his part.

By damn, she looked beautiful. At least she was not consumed with her missing person of late. Did he dare hope she’d forgotten her intention?

“Then it’s settled. We’ll leave in one half hour.” Victoria rose and hurried to the door. “I will need to change my gown and select my most ornate bonnet. Dorothy has a discerning eye.”

She muttered her way out of the room much to Phin’s amusement.

Exactly thirty minutes later, the three of them rumbled down the cobblestone streets and the conversation within the coach flowed with ease. Phineas had no difficulty whatsoever imaging a life shared with many coach rides where Penny sat across from him looking as delightful as she did now in her pale pink day gown and matching silk gloves.
Very fine gloves indeed.

And if he allowed his imagination free rein, she was not always primly in place, but sometimes astride him, naughtily entangled atop his lap, scantily clad, her luscious body strewn against the velvet bolster. Rioting images of innocence and sensuality, the two of them wrapped wildly in bed sheets bombarded his mind. He clamped them down with effort.

He glanced to his left, one look to his mother seated alongside effective in stifling his desire to pounce upon Penny. Better to save the luscious fantasies for later when he was alone in his bedchamber.

Chapter Seventeen

The carriage let them out at the corner of Richmond Park and Phin helped Penny descend the coach steps as the midmorning rain scattered puddles along the path. Doing his best to steer clear of any mishap, they joined the promenade circling the greens. Already past four, the dandies supplied amusing conversation as did the beaus and bucks who vied for attention of every passing female. They fell into a companionable silence and again he considered the contentment felt with Penelope by his side. How wonderful it would be to take her hand, remove her pretty silk glove and bring her palm to his lips.
Or
pull her behind a thick hedgerow and ravish her under the waning sun
. He had no doubt she would taste wonderful. He would start at her lips and work his way downward.

By damn, he needed to cool his ardor.

“Would you like a flavored ice?” He indicated the vendor on the side of the path with a purposeful nod. Yes, something cold. Ice. Good idea.

“I’ve never had one. That sounds—”

A hard sounding crack jerked their attention to a bend in the walkway. Hearing her alarmed gasp, Phin gripped Penny’s hand where she held his elbow and anchored her to him. Before them a small group of children practiced cricket in a clearing of grass too close to the path to be considered safe. Several boys cheered and ran with reckless abandon, their cricket sticks in tow. Recognizing Vicar James from St. Anthony’s Orphanage seated on a wooden bench on the far side of the field, Phin waved in greeting and debated if he should stride over to politely suggest the children practice farther from the promenade. He enjoyed cricket as a lad and had received his share of knocks during the game.

Having depositing Penny below a magnolia tree laden with pink blossoms the exact color of her lips, Phin went to purchase their ice. As he placed the order, a young lad with bright red hair lowered his bat and struck the ball with an off-center shot toward the wicket. It pitched high into the air and veered in a direct line with Penelope. Phineas called a warning, but not chancing her safety he leapt sharply into the path of the ball and snatched it out of the air one-handed.

The children remained frozen in awe, but Penelope reached him in less time than it took to register the stinging pain in his palm.

“Oh, are you alright?”

Her concerned tone brought a reluctant smile to his face regardless his hand burned wickedly. Without hesitation, she removed her gloves and tucked them into her pocket before she brought his hand to her waist. She opened the two-buttoned closure at his wrist with an assertive gesture and removed his leather glove. Preoccupied with watching her fingers as they swept over his skin, he almost missed her tender expression. Were it not for her sharp intake of breath at seeing the redness of his palm, he may never have glanced to her lovely face. The touch of her slender fingers wrapping around his hand did much to assuage the pain and his heart thudded with the immediate concern she demonstrated for his welfare. Perhaps she was not so consumed by the blackguard that a small sliver of her heart remained open to his affection.

He’d dropped the cricket ball as soon as she’d hurried to his side and as the young lads filed over to where they stood, he bent to retrieve it and simultaneously noticed the complete ruin of Penelope’s kidskin walking boots. The tips and sides were caked high with mud from the rain-sodden field. There would be no saving them.

And then a smaller pair of boots entered his line of sight. He stood and held the ball out to the child, no more than seven years of age, his grin absent of two front teeth. The lad accepted the ball with caution, his head bent low as if to await a harsh scolding.

“I am sorry, milord.”

His repentant apology tugged firmly at the heartstrings. It would be difficult not to dismiss the incident when faced with the immediate charm of the urchin, albeit a lesson needed to be learned. The children must play farther from the promenade.

“It is not I who deserves the apology.” He crouched on a level with the lad. A quick nod over his shoulder indicated the apology would be better served if presented to the lady beside him.

The child looked to Penelope. His solemn expression softened before he glanced back with a question in his eyes. “Is she your wife?”

Phin meant to remain stern, but a smile forced its way through. Beside him, Penelope stifled a giggle.

Oddly enough, the words didn’t evoke the repellant emotions expected. Straightened to his full height, he returned Penny’s hand to his elbow with a possessive purpose. “No, young man, my lovely companion is not my wife. May I introduce Miss Penelope Rosebery. She is my friend.” The explanation seemed to disrupt the child’s understanding of the world.

“But she’s a girl.” The lad’s objection coupled with his disbelieving look was utterly endearing.

Phin cleared his throat to avoid chuckling. “Yes. I’ve noticed. A very pretty one at that, wouldn’t you agree? It would serve you well to make your apology directly to the lady as your ball would have struck her had I not interceded.” His words were meant to admonish, although he allowed a hint of amusement to seep through.

“Yes, milord.” With repentant brown eyes turned upward, the child continued. “I am sorry, miss.”

“It’s quite alright.” She favored him with a kind smile. “A lady need not worry about wayward cricket strikes if she walks with as fine a gentleman as Viscount Fenhurst.”

Phineas straightened his shoulders and absorbed the compliment with pleasure. “Go on now, you little scoundrel, and play further in the field.”

The lad needed no other encouragement and bounded away, returning to the friends who surrounded him, anxious to hear of the adventure that had transpired near the walking path. Phineas led Penelope the few paces required to reach the promenade and fell into compatible step as if the near miss episode hadn’t just happened.

“I don’t know what I will do without you forever rescuing me.”

Something in her voice spoke directly to his heart. Still her words implied a time would come when he would not be beside her.

Damn it all to hell.

He fought all reaction and tried with effort to resurrect the familiar comfort of his central belief.

No wife, happy life.

Why did he bother? His words lacked all conviction, hollow of the emotion that once motivated him in his vow to avoid meaningful relationships. Natalie had been controlling and unfaithful. She’d been hurtful and driven by selfishness and altogether nothing like Penelope. Sweet Penny, motivated by survival and willing to sacrifice everything to ensure the betterment of her sister’s future.

They continued along, lost in individual considerations, and the path wound through a small grove of trees, then led to a footbridge that arched over a narrow brook.

“Look!”

Penelope’s gleeful exclamation banished his reflective thoughts and he followed her extended arm to where she pointed at the horizon near the far end of a grassy slope. A hot air balloon, white as the clouds dotting the sky, ascended with grace over the tall oaks. He glanced at the balloon and then back again, more interested in viewing the spectacle of Penny’s appreciative expression, her head tilted to the side, a serene smile on her petal-soft lips.

“Have you ever seen anything so lovely?”

Never.

“Oh, to be so weightless, unbound and free…”

The wistful tone of her voice caused him to consider her words carefully.

“I take it you haven’t experienced it then?” He aligned himself under the guise of observing the balloon, but in truth wished to get closer still.

“Oh no, we could never afford anything as grand.”

He regretted the question upon hearing her response. So pleased by the scene on the horizon, he would not allow his words to ruin the spectacle.

“You always smell so good.” He voiced the low murmur against his better judgment, even though it rang true. She did smell wonderful.

It took every fiber of his being not to lean in and kiss the silky wisps of hair that graced the curve of her neck. Instead he satisfied himself with moving closer, hovering near disrespectability with the action, unable to stop. She adjusted her shoulders in an infinitesimal gesture. Did she offer him more opportune access or ready herself to deflect his advance?

“It’s vanilla bean. My father could not abide fancy flower waters which dramatically reduced our choice in fragrance. I was never fond of lemons.”

“You are much too sweet for that,
chère amie
.” His murmured observation was for her ears only. “A delightful confection impossible to resist.” His breath whispered past her ear, a delicate shell with the daintiest lobe, the perfect size for a nibble.

She turned and her nose brushed against his, he’d moved so scandalously close during their conversation. His eyes fell upon her freckles and he was lost.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She raised her hand and touched her cheek, her expression self-conscious. “Is my face dirty? Is something amiss?” Her questions were punctuated with hesitation.

He almost chuckled, except the desire to kiss her rose with such strength, the fleeting humor dissipated. He adored her, truly, but he would die before he voiced such a lovesick admission.

“It’s my freckles, isn’t it?” She sounded terribly dismayed. “I try every morning to cover them with rice powder—”

“You do what?” He had never heard anything so appalling, having spent countless evenings wondering where else she had the precious marks. How dare she attempt to cover them? “I’m going to kiss you now and there is little you can do to convince me otherwise.”

A glimmer of apprehension lit her eyes and a soft gasp escaped as she comprehended his words. The tip of her tongue darted out and coasted over her lips so quickly he almost missed the motion. Then she turned her shy gaze back to the horizon.

“They have floated so high. I would be afraid of falling.”

Falling, yes, he was falling. Falling in love. And there was no stopping it and he did not want to stop it and that existed as the most peculiar realization of all, because he’d avowed he was not the marrying kind, that he would never open his heart to the fickle emotion ever again; that he would never allow any woman to hold exacting control over his mind and body.
Over his heart.

Yet here he stood in the middle of Richmond Park breaking every promise he’d ever made and finding it excruciatingly difficult to breathe from the effect of how tightly his heart squeezed whenever he laid eyes on Penelope’s beautiful face.

He let the realization take hold on his soul before he grasped her slender shoulders and turned her to face him. His pulse thrummed, his heart thundered, and he hadn’t a single care if King George advanced down the path and saw them on the bridge as he lowered his mouth to capture hers.

She was worth the risk. He would declare his feelings and offer his devotion, and with a low growl of desire and the decision made, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping in for a pleasure caress, his arms wrapping tight to bring her softness against the wall of his chest. Her body arched against his and he needed no further encouragement, the fine thread of his control strained to the breaking point.

“I could kiss you forever.” His husky whisper barely escaped before he dipped his head and captured her lips in another glorious open-mouthed embrace.

“Yes.”

Breathless and erotic, her utterance shot straight to his groin. He captured her mouth, anxious to drink more kisses from her lips. He possessed enough sense to realize they stood in broad daylight in a public park yet his body grew harder, unwilling to listen to the lonely voice of reason resonating in his head.

“We should…”

He turned her ready objection into a deep lingering kiss, his wicked imagination completing her sentence myriad ways as he nuzzled a hot path down the side of her neck. He found a sensitive spot and she melted in his arms, her pliant body offered in complete surrender.

He struggled to check his desire as she withdrew from his embrace.

“I want to kiss you, I do.” Her voice, rich with emotion, wavered halfway toward plea. “But until I resolve my problems from the past and find the gentleman I seek…”

Her voice trailed off as she disentangled from his grasp. Releasing his hold, anger replaced passion. Whenever he opened his heart to her, the glory was short-lived.

“Goddammit. Are you always thinking of him? Is he on your mind as you return my kiss?” His voice sounded strange and disappointment challenged her reply though Penelope’s face offered him the answer. He stepped across the footbridge putting distance between them.