The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5) (10 page)

“Hardly that,” he said in the soft, husky voice that always sent tingles through her body in surging waves. He continued to study her in bemusement.

Rose scampered back a step, but he must have believed her to still be too unsteady to be trusted on her own. He held out his hand. Unthinkingly, she wrapped her small hand in his firm, larger one as though it was the most natural thing to do.

Neither of them wore gloves.

She loved the rough warmth of his palm against her skin.

After a moment, she realized what she’d just done and tried to draw it away, but he maintained a gentle hold and wouldn’t allow her fingers to slip from his. She didn’t quite know how to extricate them without appearing rude, so she ignored the obvious fact that her fingers were entwined in his and began a casual conversation to distract him from the fact that she’d almost taken a plunge off the carriage step or that he was holding onto her as though she were a toddler in desperate need of guidance. “I see you’ve survived the journey in one piece, Lord Emory. But can the same be said for your brothers?”

His eyes crinkled and he grinned. “I barely survived. They were little monsters the entire ride, but I exercised my noble restraint and did them no lasting harm. In truth, I didn’t scold them even once. How could I, for I was much worse as a lad?”

He gazed at her legs and then wordlessly scooped her into his arms to carry her a few steps down the pebble walk. “Wait right here until the others have all descended from the carriages. I’ll escort you inside.”

“You needn’t bother. Despite appearances, I can walk on my own.” She felt the heat of another blush creep up her cheeks. Goodness, his every touch affected her. The less he touched her, the better.

He frowned. “Are you certain you’re fully mended? No aches or twinges to the ankle?”

“No, all healed. Just clumsy.” Fearing to lose herself in the green depths of his eyes, she stared at the wrinkles noticeable on her frost blue gown which was just a shade paler than robin’s egg blue, or so Madame de Bressard had pronounced as edict when she and her mother had gone to the fashionable modiste to purchase this new traveling gown. “My mind wandered, that’s all. I was thinking of the landscape and how I might capture it on paper when I ought to have been thinking of the carriage steps and how one’s legs are often stiff and ungainly after a long journey.”

He ran his gaze up and down her body once more, his expression one of appreciation more than concern. “There are many lovely walks on the cottage grounds. It would be a shame for you to miss them because of another twisted ankle.”

She nodded. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“Good. Nicola and my other siblings are eager to show you around. There’s a particularly lovely walk to the nearby village and our pond is stocked with fish. Do you fish, Rose?”

She nodded again. “All the time in Coniston. That’s where my sisters and I were raised. It’s a charming town, not very far from Windermere. Do you know it? The district is quite beautiful. A bit more rugged than the Cotswolds, but we quite enjoy it.”

“I know the area well. Good fishing, too. Since you appear to be expert at it, I’ll rely on you to teach my younger siblings. They might listen to you. They never listen to me.”

Although he appeared to be jesting, Rose nibbled her lip in consternation. Did his teasing remark mean that he wasn’t staying? Not even for the day? “Will you not join us?” She held her breath, wishing she hadn’t asked. He’d think her forward and was probably silently groaning and thinking up excuses why he had to tear away.

Did he sense that she was foolishly infatuated with him?

Even so, that’s all it was.

She would never give her heart to one who did not love her in return.

“No, I doubt I can. Too much work to attend to while I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “A couple of days at most and then I’ll be off for London, probably by the day after tomorrow.”

Rose once again lost herself in his sober green gaze. Why did he seem so troubled? No matter, she was also troubled and already missing him even though they’d just arrived and she had two whole days to spend with him, assuming he didn’t bury himself in the cottage’s study all day long.

“Julian, will you never let go of my friend’s hand so that I may take her inside? Come along, Rolf. I’ll show you to our quarters and once you’re settled I’ll give you a tour of the house.” Nicola wriggled her way between the two of them. Goodness, Rose hadn’t noticed that they were still holding hands. Had he realized it?

His thumb blazed a trail of heat across her palm as he casually released her.

Heart not engaged.

She silently repeated the thought several times to make certain she’d remember, but there was no avoiding his presence in the beautiful cottage, which was as grand as any manor house she’d ever seen. It contained no less than a dozen elegantly appointed guest rooms, a music room, a breakfast parlor, a large entry hall, an even larger dining hall, a smaller dining room, a study, a library, a cozy ladies’ parlor, and much more. “Cottage, indeed,” she muttered under her breath, quite taken by the magnificence of this country home.

“We’ll have to work hard to keep him here all week,” Nicola said the moment they’d finished touring the house and were alone in the guest quarters they were to share for the week. Their bags had been brought up and they had been requested to change out of their dusty clothes, wash up, and return downstairs for a light meal. It was late, and after being trapped in their carriages all day, no one other than the boys had much of an appetite.

Rose followed Nicola’s lead and changed into an informal tea gown, a pale pink confection. Tomorrow’s supper would require a more formal attire, but tonight was a simple family affair. The children were to dine with them this evening, but otherwise only she, Nicola, and Lord Emory would join the earl and countess at the supper table.

Rose quickly understood why. The boys gobbled down their meals as though they were wolves coming out of hibernation. They inhaled the generous servings of cold duck, seeming to suck the meat down their throats without so much as chewing on it, not even once.

Lord Emory grimaced.

The earl and countess harrumphed to mark their displeasure, but it fell on deaf little ears.

Emily began to cry.

Since Rose was seated next to her, she naturally took on the role of tending to her. “What’s the matter, sweetling?”

“I don’t like duck.”

Callum dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. “Well, I’m sure the duck doesn’t like you much either. Here, give me your plate. I’ll eat it.”

Emily began to cry harder.

The girl was little and slender, so Rose simply plucked Emily off her chair and set her on her lap. “Sometimes my stomach is delicate. Nothing looks appetizing to me at those times either. I usually settle for some hot bread fresh out of the oven and I slather it with marmalade. That holds me over until my stomach settles. How does that sound to you, Emily? Would you like me to scoop some onto a slice of warm bread for you?”

The girl whimpered a yes and nodded.

Rose gave her a hug of encouragement. “Would you like to stay on my lap as you eat it?”

She nodded again.

Lord Emory leaned back in his chair and gave her a soft smile. “Thank you,” he silently mouthed.

Heart not engaged.

But she knew it was. Every time he looked at her, she felt a stirring in her blood. A tingling sensation in her limbs. A flutter in her belly.

An ache in her heart.

She smiled in response, but couldn’t wait for the meal to end. Lord Emory was looking at her as though she was filling his heart, and she knew it couldn’t be true. His heart belonged to Countess Deschanel.

Perhaps Robert was as eager to be done with it as she was, because he startled them all by spilling his water glass on the table linens.

Lord Emory growled softly and pushed back his chair as he rose and attempted to sop up the spreading flood with his own napkin. “All right, boys. Upstairs before I mount your heads over the mantel beside that of the wild boar.”

Nicola and the governesses took the children upstairs while the earl ordered port wine and glasses to be brought out onto the terrace. The task was promptly attended to, as though the staff had anticipated their desires. Rose realized this must be a nightly ritual for them. “Care to join us, Julian?”

He nodded with a boyish grin. “Just promise me you won’t spill that splendid port, Uncle.”

The earl chortled. “Don’t be too hard on your brother. He was excited to be dining with us and managed to behave throughout most of the meal. If memory serves me correctly, you never lasted through the soup course before wreaking havoc.”

Lord Emory laughed heartily. “I’m sure you have me confused with someone else. I was the perfect child.”

The earl turned to Rose. “He was a terror. I remember it well!” He nodded toward the glass doors leading onto the terrace. “My wife and I enjoy a fine port before retiring for the evening. Care to join us as well?”

“I’ve never had port,” Rose admitted.

“Then we must ply you with some,” Lord Emory teased.

“Pay no attention to my wicked nephew. You shall not be corrupted while under my care. I’ll order lemonade for you,” Lady Darnley kindly assured her.

Rose politely declined and commented that she would retire to bed. She didn’t trust herself in her nephew’s daunting presence and certainly didn’t trust herself while drunk. She kissed the earl and his countess goodnight and watched as they sauntered outdoors arm in arm. The older couple, so obviously in love with each other, picked up their wine glasses and leaned against the balustrade while enjoying each other’s company in the warm night breeze.

“I’ll join you in a moment, Uncle,” Lord Emory called out and circled the table to intercept Rose as she was about to leave. “Don’t go yet.”

“All right.” She shrugged her shoulders and waited for him to explain his request. They were now alone in the dining room, the candlelight casting shadows of them along the wall. The shadows blended as Lord Emory leaned a muscular shoulder against the door frame very close to where she stood.

He studied her, saying nothing, so she spoke up to fill the silence. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took Emily onto my lap. She isn’t an infant, but is still a sensitive girl and—”

“I didn’t mind. She misses our mother and needs a good cuddle every once in a while.” He shifted closer, so close that she could feel his warm breath teasing her ear. Her limbs began to tingle again. “Rose, aren’t you going to ask me?”

She swallowed hard, for he was standing divinely close and she felt as though they were the only two people who existed at this moment. He overwhelmed her with his mere presence and she had to lean against the wall for support. His eyes were expressively steamy. She’d never had a man look at her with such fire and heat in eyes before. She swallowed hard again. “Ask you what?”

“Ask me to kiss you,” he said in a husky rumble.

Heart not engaged.

Heart not engaged!

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Would you—”

That’s as far as she got before he groaned out a yes and lowered his lips to hers with glorious urgency. She’d only meant to ask if he truly meant it or was merely teasing her, but he captured her mouth before she managed to utter another word.
Heavens!
His lips were warm and gentle and probing, his body hard and straining as he gathered her into his exquisite arms—they were indeed exquisite—and without breaking contact, drew her up against him in one smooth, sweeping motion so that there was no mistaking what he was doing.

He was kissing her!

Kissing her!

She circled her arms around his neck and leaned into him, loving the feel of his body against hers. Loving the heat of his mouth on hers as he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue between her slightly parted lips. Then his tongue gently invaded and sweetly plundered, moving in and out in slow, languid thrusts.

His arms tightened about her waist to hold her securely against his body, as though fearing she might draw away.

“Julian,” she said in a breathless whisper, clinging to him and hoping he would never let her go.

He chuckled against her mouth. “Finally. I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

She felt the beat of his heart thrumming against her chest, for he was holding her off the ground and she was still pressed against him so that their hearts were aligned. Even though he stood a foot taller than she, at this moment they were eye to eye and shoulder to shoulder. Her heart was wildly pounding in rhythm to his, and she felt every hungry throb of both hearts.

Her eyes fluttered closed when their lips met again, the better to experience each fiery sensation, to feel his straining muscles, to taste the hint of wine on his breath and revel in the heat of his body aching for hers. “I’ll never forget you,” she whispered, knowing he wasn’t hers to keep beyond this intoxicating moment.

He groaned again and set her down gently so that her back rested against the wall she desperately needed for support. Her hands splayed against it to hold herself up so she wouldn’t simply melt into a puddle of wanton desires. Of course, she was already deeply aching for him, but she dared not let on. She knew he was a handsome rogue who only meant to steal a kiss.

She was the only one in danger of turning it into something more. Her thoughts were so muddled she couldn’t put two words together, much less use her two feet to walk out. “Hell and damnation, Rose,” he said with a groan that seemed to tear from the depths of his soul. “This isn’t what it seems.”

She opened her eyes to study him. What was he talking about? “This wasn’t a kiss? My first kiss. It certainly felt like one.”

He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “Your first? Your very first? Have you never been kissed by any man before?”

She didn’t understand why he suddenly seemed irritated with her. “No. Not a one. Should I have been?”

“
Hell, no.
Of course not. It isn’t your fault. That’s how my luck has been running lately.” He muttered something under his breath, but she couldn’t make it out. However, it couldn’t have been too awful, for his gaze grew tender and he tipped a finger under her chin to nudge her face upward slightly. “Yes, it was a kiss. One hell of a great kiss.”