___
From his hiding place deep in a copse of lush linden trees he had a perfect view of everything that happened inside the open summerhouse. His fondest hope was that Cassie would refuse to let Fellingsdown join her.
She didn’t. But neither was she overly friendly.
His gaze remained riveted on the pair as they stared out onto the lake. Neither of them spoke to the other and the smile on his face broadened.
Give him the cut
, he found himself urging her.
Tell him to go away and leave you alone.
But she didn’t. Now the two of them were talking.
He couldn’t see their faces, of course, but that wasn’t necessary to tell that Cassie and Fellingsdown’s topic of conversation was far more intense than a discussion about the weather.
His blood boiled when Fellingsdown reached out for her and Cassie let him hold her. And touch her.
And kiss her.
Then she kissed him back.
White lights exploded behind his tightly-squeezed eyes. Damn her.
Damn her!
He couldn’t watch more. He spun on his heels and made his way back to the house, making sure no one saw him. He had plans to make.
She was his.
His!
And no one would take her away from him.
The sun shone brightly the following afternoon and Elly sat alone on one of the comfortable wooden benches placed throughout the park. Everyone had gone on the planned trip to town to watch Mr. Devon make his crystal pieces. It was a fascinating process so she knew they’d be gone a long while. Much longer than she wanted to be on her feet. She’d stayed home and had come outdoors to enjoy the sunshine.
She leaned her back against the bench’s white-painted railings and stretched out her crippled leg. She’d overcome many of the nightmarish events from her accident. She’d even learned to walk again, though every doctor her parents took her to told them she wouldn’t. But the panic that engulfed her after she fell through the rotten boards covering the abandoned well was something she’d never been able to conquer.
The long, terrifying hours she spent in the dark, her unanswered screams, the cold, the unbearable pain, and most of all, her disability, everything resulting from the fall still remained.
Elly slowly pulled up the hem of her green muslin skirt and looked at her deformed ankle and foot. She seldom allowed herself to look at it. The odd angle of her foot and the unnatural tilt of her ankle wasn’t a pleasant sight.
It no longer pained her as it did when she was younger and still growing, but there were times when she tired more easily. Times when her limp was more pronounced. She hated those times. Especially during the cold winter months if she stayed in the damp too long.
She tried to turn her foot, tried to force her ankle to move enough so her toes were straight ahead of her, the way her toes on her left foot were. But her foot refused to move.
It was just as well she’d stayed home today while her siblings and the rest of their guests went to the village.
Besides, it would be good for Charfield to partner someone else for a change. She didn’t know why, but he seemed content – no, almost
eager
to escort her in to dinner each evening. And for the three days since he’d arrived, he’d met her early each morning so they could race. And yesterday afternoon—
Elly’s thoughts spun back to the hours they’d spent together admiring the view of the lake from inside the open summerhouse. They’d talked of any number of things and she’d shared thoughts with him she’d never shared with anyone else. Not even George. Or her sisters.
All the while she’d been with him she felt...beautiful.
She looked back to her foot. Oh, if things were different she might let herself believe...
But things were not different. She possessed nothing to draw his affection. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
She examined her foot one more time, then quickly dropped her skirts over her ankle when she heard a noise behind her.
“Fitzhugh said I’d find you here,” the Earl of Charfield said as he walked toward her.
Elly turned on the bench to watch him approach. A warmth wrapped around her heart and she was even more aware of how perfect he was.
How imperfect she was.
“I thought you went with the others.” She made sure her ankle was completely covered. “You’re going to miss seeing Mr. Devon’s crystal creations. They’re quite remarkable, you know.”
“I’m sure they are. But as long as I am near, your brother and Lady Lathamton ignore each other as if the other doesn’t exist. Without my presence, your brother has no choice but to step up as escort. He and Lady Lathamton now have no choice but to be cordial to each other. At least in public.”
She giggled. “Oh, that’s marvelous.” She smiled broadly, realizing he’d played right into Aunt Gussie and Aunt Esther’s plan without even knowing it. She looked at his hands and saw the wooden croquet mallets he’d used the other day. “What are you doing with those?” She nodded toward his hand.
“These? They’re the mallets one uses when one plays croquet.”
“I know
what
they are. I asked what you were doing with them.”
“I’m going to play croquet.”
“Did some of the others remain behind?” She looked around for any of the other guests.
He smiled a heart-stopping smile that shifted her heart in her breast.
“No. You and I are going to play.”
She felt her cheeks warm. “I don’t play croquet.”
He took a step toward her and held out his hand. “Then it’s time you learned.”
She lifted her chin and gathered all the fortitude she needed to hold her position. She was never surprised when people who didn’t know her well expected things from her she couldn’t do. But she thought he would have realized by now what she was capable of and what she was not.
Croquet was something she was
not
capable of doing. She needed her cane to balance herself and she couldn’t hold a cane and swing the mallet at the same time. Besides, she wasn’t about to risk falling to the ground just to prove to him how physically impossible playing was for her.
She didn’t move. Neither did he. He simply stood before her with his hand extended and that perfect smile on his face.
“I
can’t
play,” she said more forcefully than before. “It is something I cannot do.”
“That’s because you didn’t have me to help you.”
He said the words with such nonchalance Elly had to blink to make sure he was serious. “Do you think that just because you’re here to give me instructions I’ll suddenly be able to do something I’ve never been able to do before?”
He broadened his smile. “Are you brave enough to find out?”
He issued a challenge as if he knew there was little she wouldn’t try if challenged.
She took the arm he held out to her and rose to her feet. “What I am,” she said, shifting her cane to her other hand until she regained her balance, “is brainless enough to make a fool of myself to prove you wrong.”
“What you are,” he said, swinging the mallets in one hand while they walked down the terrace steps and toward the open lawn, “is one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”
Elly was at a loss for words. There was nothing brave about her. And he’d find that out when she swung the mallet the first time and landed on the ground.
She walked at his side, trying not to let him see how apprehensive she was. The stakes and metal wickets were still up from their match two days ago. Or perhaps he’d asked one of the footmen to put them back. She wasn’t sure.
He led her to the starting spot and placed two wooden balls on the ground. One was red, the other green.
“Which color would you like?” he asked.
“The color isn’t important.”
“Good. Then you take the red. Green is my lucky color.”
“Any color would be your lucky color with me as your challenger.”
“Where is your confidence?” he said as if she were a child who needed scolding.
“I lost it, along with my common sense.” She snatched one of the mallets out of his hand, then leaned on her cane to position herself behind the red ball. She debated whether to keep her cane in her hand to steady herself as she hit the ball, knowing a one-handed swing would be well off the mark. Or whether she should hook the cane over her arm and swing the mallet with both hands. Swinging the mallet with only one hand would limit her power but at least she had a chance to stay on her feet.
She opted to swing one-handed to save her dignity.
“What are you doing?” he said, stopping her from swinging her mallet.
She lowered her mallet and glared at him. “I am showing you why I do not join in lawn games.”
“Have you forgotten that I said I would help you?”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the ball. Help her what? Help pick her up from the ground? She leaned on her cane again and prepared to swing.
“Give me your cane,” he said from behind her.
She ignored him and concentrated on how hard she could swing without toppling over. The feel of his hand on her arm stopped her.
“Give me your cane.”
She stared at him. His expression told her he was serious. He held out his hand as if he expected her to give her cane over.
“I need my cane for support,” she whispered, hating how weak the words made her sound. “My foot is not strong enough to hold me.”
“I will be your strength.”
She lowered her gaze to the hand he held out. He expected her to trust him to hold her steady. He expected her to trust that he would not let her fall.
Her heart raced in her chest. Even her brothers hadn’t asked her to trust them so completely. She was suddenly terrified. And at the same time, excited beyond words.
She took a deep breath and slowly handed her cane over to him.
Before he took it, he stepped behind her and placed his free arm around her waist. She didn’t have time to react before he took her cane from her and hooked it over his forearm. Then, he stood directly behind her and placed his hands on either side of her waist.
“What do you think?” His face was so close to her cheek she could feel his warm breath against her skin.
“I’m frightened.” She stood without the fingers of her right hand clamped around her cane for the first time since she was eleven years old.
“Don’t be. I won’t let you fall.”
“But—”
“Trust me.”
Trust me.
She’d never stood this close to a man who made her blood race through her veins like someone had opened the floodgates and there was nothing to stop the rush of emotion from flowing to every part of her body. She’d never felt so alive in her life.
Every nerve in her body sang in celebration.
“What do you think?” he said.
She held out her empty right hand and smiled. “I don’t know what to do with it.” She was aware of how useless it felt without her cane in it.
He chuckled and she turned her head to look over her shoulder. He was smiling at her.
“Are you ready?”
She matched his smile with one of her own and nodded.
“Place both your hands around the mallet.”
Elly curved her fingers around the mallet the way she’d seen her brothers and sisters do hundreds of times.
“Slide your right hand down a little,” he instructed her.
He had his hands clamped tightly around her waist and she felt steady and secure. And free. The feeling was amazing.
She slid her right hand down, then placed the head of the mallet on the grass directly behind the red ball and leaned forward.
“Widen your stance. That will give you better leverage.”
She moved her legs, then leaned over the ball again.
“Now take a slow swing at the ball and don’t stop when your mallet comes into contact. Follow through with your swing.”
She bent down and shifted to position herself, then rose again. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“That you should follow through with your swing?”
“No. That I am not too heavy for you. That you won’t... won’t—”
“I won’t let you fall, Elly,” he whispered in her ear. “I promise.”
She sucked in a fortifying breath and took aim at the ball. Before she lost her confidence, she pulled the mallet back, then swung in a swift forward motion.
His hands tightened around her waist the second she moved, then he stepped close behind her the instant she hit the ball. He moved with her – or perhaps she moved with him – and she followed through with her hit.
But most important of all, she didn’t fall.
“I did it!” She watched her red ball sail across the thick, green lawn. “I did it!”
His hands remained firm around her waist and she stood as free and solid as if she had two good legs on which to balance herself.
She was as excited as a small child at Christmas time. She wanted to jump for joy. Or race through the meadow. Or do any of the things she knew were impossible for her to do. But most especially she wanted to thank him for what he’d done for her.
She wasn’t sure whether she was the one who turned in his arms or if he was the one who turned her, but she found herself standing close to him, his hands still anchored on either side of her waist. They were pressed to each other, her thighs touching his, her stomach pressed to his hips and her arms held out from her body because if she moved them where they wanted to go they would be clamped around his waist. Or draped across his shoulders. Or wrapped around his neck.
“You were wonderful,” he said, then lowered his head and kissed her.
His lips were warm and firm atop hers, the feeling the same as the first time he’d kissed her. Yet different. He seemed to be demanding something more from her, something very intimate, yet he was asking in a most tender way. Her blood heated as it rushed through her body.
He didn’t hold his kiss long. Not so long that it left her breathless as it had done before. Nor so long that her knees turned weak as they had done before. Just long enough to cause her heart to lurch in her breast. Then he lifted his mouth from hers and smiled down at her.