The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories (25 page)

She flushed, and stammered. She must clarify the matter with him. “My lord, I believe we are speaking of two different things. When I said love, I did not mean a…a sort of affair, but rather a love that would bring about marriage.”

He smiled. “I know full well what you meant, Blossom.
You're not the sort to trifle with an affair. I believe that you're a woman meant to be a wife and mother—”

“And a professional painter,” she finished.

“There is that. And what else? What other requirements for marriage do you have?”

“Honesty, loyalty, fidelity, the ability to converse with ease, and the capacity to sit quietly in the silence without feeling the need to fill it with frivolous topics. And passion, I must have that in my marriage.”

“Passion?”

“Yes. A most ardent and abiding passion. Like my parents have.”

“And mine.”

The way he said that, so deep and dark and delicious, made her body hot. What was the matter with her? This was Jase, teasing her. She no longer felt that puppy love she once held for him when she was a young impressionable girl. She was a woman now, and knew that any happiness or pleasure with Jase Markham would be fleeting at best. The regret, however, would be ever present.

“What are you about?” she asked suspiciously. “You're acting very odd this evening.”

“Am I? I don't see how.”

She laughed, a nervous high-pitched sound. “You've hardly even talked to me in the past five years, and now you're acting as though we are very good friends.”

“Are we not?”

“No, I don't believe we are. Once, that was true, but I don't think it can be said now.”

“Perhaps I want more, Blossom. Much more than friend ship.”

The world suddenly stopped turning and she felt as though she had been doused by a bucket of cold water. It all made sense now. His return to Bewdley. The marked attention he had paid her this evening, and his questioning
about marriage and husbands. Jase was a rogue, there was no doubt about that, but one thing he had was honor. And it was that sense of honor and duty that had brought him here—to her.

“Perhaps I want to court you, Blossom.”

“No.” Her flat refusal made gave him pause.

“I beg your pardon?”

Jumping up, she smoothed her skirts, and hid her face from him. She didn't want him to see that her cheeks had turned red with shame. “I know what you're doing. I understand why. I mean, I know you feel that you must avenge me because of what your brother did, but really, it isn't necessary. There is no reason for you do this. Samuel and I amicably agreed to end our betrothal, there is nothing to right. As your attentions have been very straightforward, and as I am not a naive young girl, I feel very confident in saying that I believe your arrival here is to court me. And I can assure you, there is no reason for you to, or for you to…offer for me.”

“What if this is not about righting my brother's wrong? What if I am truly ready to marry and settle down?”

“Then I would say that you have had the impulsive idea that with our family's long-standing friendship, marriage to me would be efficient and convenient.”

He rose to his feet, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “How wrong you are. I intend to show you just how wrong your thinking is, Blossom.”

“I do not have it in mind to marry you, or allow you any sort of courtship.” His eyes narrowed and his body grew hard, unyielding, and Blossom knew, understood fully, the reason behind Jase's return to Bewdley. Why he had brought her out here, to the lake. It was not to gaze upon the stars.

“You do not need to feel obligated—”

“This has nothing to do with Samuel.”

“You are a rake, sir,” she said, halting his advance upon her, “and I would never marry a rogue. I would rather be married for my money than to suffer a libertine as my husband.”

“But what of passion, Blossom?”

“I don't believe you and I could ever have that.”

His smile was sin incarnate, and the strange fluttering began once more. Her hands were trembling, and suddenly she felt unsteady on her feet.

“Do you care to wager on that, Lady Blossom?”

“You are a practiced seducer, sir. I have no doubt that you could employ your learned skills on me, and as a novice in the art of seduction, I would succumb. But I am not looking for fleeting pleasure—I am searching for an undying flame. A passion deep and intense. I doubt, my lord, that whatever misplaced sense of duty and rake's attentions you bestow upon me will be either undying or intense. Now, good night to you, my lord.”

She whirled around to leave him, but he captured her wrist and started to pull her toward him—that was, until they both caught sight of her father at the top of slope, watching them.

“You will run away tonight, Blossom. But I will be there in the morning, and then again in the evening. And every day after that. You cannot outrun me forever.”

“I have told you, you needn't feel obligated to make amends.”

“And I told you that I don't.”

“Then what is your true purpose for…this?” she asked as she waved her hand at their surroundings.

“I shall leave you to ponder that, when you are alone in your bed, thinking of me.”

She gasped at his arrogance. “You're very presumptuous, my lord, to think that I would even give this conversation a second thought.”

“You'll give it more than a thought, Blossom. You'll dream of me.”

And then he walked past her, and she was left glaring at the breadth of his back.

Ha! She thought mutinously. What did he know? He did not affect her. Not in the least. Dream of him…that would be the day!

T
IRED AND IRRITABLE
,
Jase took the rod and tackle from Torrington's gamekeeper and headed for the lake. Already he could see the outlines of Blossom and Halston at the edge of the water. The image of Halston there with her set his teeth grating.

He hadn't slept a wink last night. He saw each hour pass, until blackness turned to daylight. Each interminable hour was spent thinking of Blossom, and how damn lovely she had looked beneath the moonlight. When she had lain back on his coat, he had wanted to cover her with his body and take her lips between his. He almost had, but then the conversation had somehow turned on him.

First she thought him obligated to marry her and mend the hurt his brother had caused. And then she had given him her true thoughts—she believed him a rake. The worst sort of rogue, if her words were to be believed. But somewhere during the night, after reliving her words over and over again, he discovered the true reason behind Blossom's distance—her disinterest in him and their friendship. She had fallen under the belief that he lived a libertine's life. She didn't approve. But that realization was swiftly followed by Blossom's words. She desired passion in a marriage. And he was just the man to give it to her. His plan was simple. Make her understand that he was really not the man his reputation purported him to be. And show her passion. It seemed a simple, straightforward idea. Much like Blossom herself, who did not partake of
the coy games that women so frequently enjoyed. She had been very honest and up front with him last night. Which led him to believe that she would be very honest in her passion. Passion he knew he could bring forth.

He had no idea when the idea of actually courting and marrying Blossom had come into being. He knew only that it was what he wanted. As he lay in bed, pondering his plan, he waited for the shock and aversion to settle in. It didn't. He wanted to marry her. And now he just had to find a way to show Blossom that he was a far better candidate than Halston.

Upon hearing his footsteps, and the clanking of his tackle as he neared, Blossom glanced over her shoulder. Halston was bent over, fiddling with her hook, baiting it. She was exasperated. He could tell. She was also beautiful standing there in her fetching bonnet and gown—a gown that conformed to her figure like a tight-fitting glove. He knew that figure wasn't all the work of a corset, and the wait to see her, unlace her, was growing intolerable. Too many years of fantasizing about her had made his patience nonexistent.

She wore a straw bonnet tied with long yellow ribbons that snapped in the breeze. The contraption must be driving her mad. Blossom preferred a bare head—especially while fishing. And trousers and hip waders. He smiled, thinking how much a nuisance her yellow morning gown with layers of petticoats was going to be for her.

“Oh, hello, Raeburn,” Halston called. “Come to fish, have you? They're biting. Why, look at the pile Lady Blossom has already caught.”

Jase glanced at the pile of trout that lay in a bucket full of ice. “Always did have the devil's own luck,” he replied as he set his tackle down and opened the box.

“Luck?” she snapped, and he saw her eyes narrow beneath the brim of her bonnet. “It is skill, sir.”

Arching a brow, he silently challenged her. She responded by turning around and bending down for a worm. Giving Jase a splendid view of her backside. Oh, how he wanted to touch that lovely derriere.

“Oh, no, you mustn't get your fingers dirty,” Halston was chortling. “It would be my honor to bait your hook. Raeburn,” Halston muttered, “hold this rod, while I search for the perfect bait, will you?”

“Why?” he muttered as he straightened and headed to the edge of the water and cast his line far out into the lake. “She's been managing her own hooks and bait for years.”

He thought he saw Blossom smile, just as Halston glared at him. “A lady of breeding should not be left to soil her delicate fingers, sir. Why, her frock would get dirty and her half boots ruined.”

“I suppose that's why she normally wears trousers and hip waders, then.”

The earl's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and Blossom sent him a mutinous glare. Jase hid his smile. He took no offence to Blossom in trousers. In fact, he rather enjoyed the view. But what he liked the most was fishing beside her. There were no coy games. No feminine shrieks and theatrics made to keep his attention upon her. They cast their lines, and stood side by side and chatted about all and sundry, quite comfortable in their conversation and fishing skills. At least they had, until his somewhat fabricated reputation had come between their friendship. Until now, he hadn't realized just how much he missed those moments of friendship with her.

“Why did you not wear your waders today, Lady Blossom, hmm? You could move about much more freely. I've never known you to sacrifice practicalities for fashion.”

In a surprising fit of pique, Blossom stuck her tongue out at him.
Churl,
she mouthed. He laughed, causing
Halston to glance up and frown. The earl's expression recovered when he realized Blossom was observing him, and his somewhat inadequate skill at baiting her rod. For some childish reason, Jase took perverse delight in that knowledge.

“There you are,” Halston said as if he were speaking to a child. “Now, then, might I suggest you cast your line over there. Or shall I do it for you?”

“I am quite capable, sir,” she muttered, and Jase held his laugh. Someone else was obviously tired this morning, too.

In silence, the three of them stood, and Jase pretended that he was engrossed in his line, and the beautiful scenery surrounding him.

“What brings you out this early in the morning?” Blossom asked. There was suspicion in her tone.

“I am up at this time every morning.”

“Hmph,” she huffed.

“Besides, it's been an age since I had someone to fish with.”

“I doubt that,” he heard her mutter. She ignored him after that, and fixed a smile on Halston. “I do believe I shall move my line, my lord. I'm not even getting the smallest of nibbles at it.”

“Mind the rocks,” he cautioned. “Your line will catch on them.”

“My thanks, my lord. I did not see the somewhat large boulders there.”

Her expression was sheer mutiny, and Jase couldn't hold back his chuckle. It only got louder when Blossom reeled in her line in order to recast, only to discover that the bait Halston had placed for her had fallen off. They shared a glance, and she rolled her eyes and sent Halston a defiant glare. Poor Halston. He'd have a time of it with
Blossom as a wife. She needed a particular kind of man, and the stuffy, proper earl was not it.

“Oh, I've got a bite,” Halston suddenly cried. He made a great show of struggling with the fish, and Blossom stopped what she was doing to watch. With a snort, Jase continued with his line, all the while watching out of the corner of his eye.

“My lord, he must be a great size,” Blossom cried, her excitement clearly showing. “Oh, do have a care, sir. You wouldn't want to lose him.”

“Indeed, he must be a rather large fellow for he is giving one devil of a fight.”

“Oh, do not let him go,” she said, and rushed to Halston's side to watch.

“I shall endeavor not to, Lady Blossom. And by the feel of him, we shall be able to have a picnic lunch with him today.”

Jase stopped to watch. This ought to prove amusing. Halston was trying to impress Blossom with his somewhat haphazard angling skills. Jase could only hope it would backfire.

Pulling on the line, Halston struggled, once, then once more, and then with a triumphant “Gotcha,” he reeled in his line, pulling his hook out of the water to reveal a fish about four or five inches long.

Blossom's expression fell, and Halston turned crimson. Jase said nothing, only smiled to himself at the absurdity of his lordship going to such theatrics to impress Blossom.

“I'll just throw him back,” Halston muttered.

“Indeed, he needs a few more years to grow, I would say,” Blossom replied as she baited her hook. Jase caught Halston watching her with a mixture of admiration and horror. It was clear the earl desired her. Found her enchanting, while at the same time he didn't quite know
what to make of her. He certainly didn't know what to do with her.

Blossom cast her line and swung it in a graceful arch, and Halston's eyes bugged out once more. Blossom really was a natural when it came to fishing. She was better than Edward and, in truth, better than himself.

“My word, you can cast a line,” Halston murmured in awe. “You must have quite an arm.”

Blossom smiled, heedless of the way the earl was suddenly studying her body. Beneath that fine dress, Jase knew she would be perfectly formed—utterly feminine. What Halston imagined, he had no idea. He only knew he didn't like the earl's eyes on her.

“Oh, my!” Blossom's breath caught, jerking Jase's gaze away from the profile of her breasts to her face, which was suddenly lit up with excitement. “I've got a bite.”

The line jerked, and she moved forward, just a bit, struggling the smallest fraction with the rod. The line went out more, pulling her forward, and she dug her heels into the damp ground. Her cheeks were pink, and she was smiling. When she turned in excitement, it was not to look at Halston, but him.

“Hold on to him,” Jase said, then dropped his rod, and came up behind her. “I'll spot you.”

He stood behind her, prepared to reach for her if need be, but he didn't touch her. Blossom could do this on her own. He'd seen her do it a hundred times. But whatever was on the other end of that line was giving her a run for her money.

She worked the reel, but the fish was strong, and it pulled at the line, pulling her forward.

“Raeburn, help her,” Halston called over his shoulder as he reeled in his own fish.

“No. She can do it. She doesn't need either of us. That's
it,” he murmured, “just like that. Let him tire himself out.”

“He's big,” she whispered breathlessly. “Strong.”

“But I think you're stronger.”

“I know I am.”

He smiled at her arrogance, and when the fish pulled harder, struggling with the hook, Blossom inched forward. Instinctively he stood closer behind her, his hands coming up to span her waist, anchoring her close to him. He didn't dare take the rod from her. But instead allowed her to feel him behind her. He was there if she needed him.

“Your footing, is it okay?” he asked.

“It's a bit soft here and my boot is sinking. You'll stay close?”

“Absolutely.” He could see her face lit up, her cheeks pink and her bosom rising and falling with her labored breathing. She glanced up at him over her shoulder, and her blue eyes were sparkling with wonder. “He's tiring.”

“Reel him in,” he whispered against her ear. “That's it. You're doing fine, and I've got you. Yes, just like that. Bloody hell, you're doing a fine job of it.”

The line bobbed and tugged as she reeled, the rod bending forward against the fish's weight and struggle. “That's it, Blos, slow and steady. He's done. I can see it in the way the rod is loosening.”

She worked hard, reeling the fish in, giving it no leverage to free itself. It pulled her once, twice, and Jase wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tight. And then the fish was gliding on the surface of the water, and Blossom and he both gasped at the sight of it.

It landed on the rocks, flopping, gasping for breath, and with a triumphant cry and squeal, Blossom turned
in his arms and hugged him tight. “I did it. Look at the size of him, Jase. He's gorgeous.”

She was warm in his arms, her breasts pressed up against his chest. He was happy for her; there was no better setting for this, with Halston standing there gaping like a dying fish watching Blossom's remarkable performance.

Lifting her high in the air, he twirled her around and she laughed. When he brought her down, till her toes touched the ground, their gazes caught, stared, and as if in slow motion, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.