An Unexpected Gentleman Part 11

He could work around the guilty conscience. There was no plotting round a naked woman.

aBegging your pardon, sir.a Connor looked up to find an elderly man with a baritone voice and more white hair than a footmanas wig standing in the open doorway. His new butler. Devil take it, what was the manas name? Jenkins, Jones . . .

aJennings.a That was it.

aYes, sir.a Jennings held up a folded note. aA missive has arrived for you, sir.a Connor accepted the letter, read the contents, and grinned.

Chapter 19.

Wolfgang Ward was returned to the bosom of his family with nothing but the clothes on his back and the hostility head wrapped around himself like a cloak.

Adelaide stood with Isobel and George on the front steps of their home and watched her brother climb from Connoras carriage.

He looked terrible, far worse than he had the last time shead seen him. Adelaide didnat understand it. How could her brother have grown more gaunt and look even more haunted? Angry and indignant, she understood. Wolfgang had never responded well to having his wishes denied. But the familyas new circ.u.mstances, his new circ.u.mstances, ought to have provided him with some peace of mind. He was free of prison, debt, and Sir Robert.

Why did he look like a man still caged?

She scowled at him as he strode away from the carriage without a word to the driver. Angry and indignant or not, he should have pa.s.sed on his thanks to the driver for the lend of Connoras vehicle. Lord knew, head not pay his thanks in person or think to send a note.

Reaching the steps, he greeted Isobel with an embrace and George with a bright smile and his favorite game of tickle the infant. For Adelaide, he had only a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and the words, aIall speak with you in the parlor.a Hoping to get over and done with whatever unpleasant business he had in mind, Adelaide followed her brother inside and watched as he took in his home with a slow sweep of his eyes, before marching into the parlor, where he opened a cupboard in search of brandy. He made no comment on how much further the house had deteriorated during his absence. Not a single word was spoken about the missing furniture and decor.

aIf you are looking for Fatheras decanter,a Adelaide said evenly, annoyed by his lack of interest in the family home, ait was sold two months ago.a Wolfgang swore lightly and tapped the cupboard shut with his finger. aNever mind, Iall drink the swill at the tavern. We need to discuss whatas to be done next.a aAbout what?a aYour engagement.a He caught his hands behind his back. aIave given this some thought, and I have decided it would be best if you broke it by letter. No need to bring an ugly scenea"a aBreak it?a she interrupted. aWhy ever would I do such a thing?a aBecause youave no reason to keep it.a He spoke as if the answer were obvious and she a trifle dense for not having figured it out on her own. aOur debts are paid, Adelaide. Weave the inheritance, and the money Mr. Bricea"a aThe inheritance is nearly gone. And that is quite beside the matter. I did not engage myself to Mr. Brice for his fortune.a She would marry him for his fortune, which was entirely different. The latter was a reasonably acceptable means of providing for oneas family. The former spoke of thievery and deceit. aWhat you are suggesting is wrong in every sense of the word. Iall not do it.a aItas done all the time. Ladies break engagements left and right these daysa"a aThey donat take money, Wolfgang. An engagement is not something one can let out for a fee and then insist on having back.a He made an impatient gesture with his hand. aWell, what do you suggest? You canat mean to go through with the marriage. Youare the grandniece of a count. You canat go about marrying just anyone.a aOur great-great-great-uncle by marriage was a count, Wolfgang. That means nothing. And I do mean to go through with it. I am happy to go through with it.a She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. Lord, how he exhausted her. aMr. Brice has the means and desire to provide for this family. Your family,a she emphasized, dropping her hand. aWe were but a few short months from the poorhouse. Does that mean nothing to you?a aSir Robert would never let it happen.a Growing visibly agitated, Wolfgang began to pace in front of the fireplace. aChrist, what a mess youave created. Heall not let this slight go lightly, you know. But if you were to make a gesture now, he mighta"a aSir Robert? Youare angry because I . . . ?a She shook her head slowly, shocked by the words, appalled at his callousness. aHow can you champion him now?a she asked on a horrified whisper. The bruise on her cheek had not yet fully healed, and already her brother was willing to forgive and forget. aHow can you defend him after everything that has happened?a Wolfgang sighed heavily. aI am not defending him. He should not have raised his hand to you. It was wrong of him to do so.a He spoke as if being forced to recite a technicality. As if Sir Robert had done nothing more nefarious than steal a bite from their larder. And wasnat she being awfully silly to make such a racket over the matter?

Shock drained away to be replaced by a wave of cold anger. aThat you would brush aside the insult so easily speaks worse of you thana"a aDo you think youall receive better from Brice?a His voice dripped with scorn. aHeas a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Adelaide.a aMr. Brice is . . .a She wanted to say he was good and honorable, but that didnat make any sense. Head lied to her and compromised her on purpose. It was difficult to argue the good and honorable in that. aHe is the acknowledged son of a baron, the man who paid your debts, and the man who will be my husband. You will show respect.a Wolfgangas lips thinned into a pale line. aIall pay him back, but thatas all Iall do.a She almost laughed at the outlandish statement. It was just like Wolfgang to make such an impossible promise.

aOh, do let me know when h.e.l.l has frozen over,a she drawled. aUntil then, for the sake of your family, and the coin for that brandy youare wanting, youall keep a civil tongue in your head. Am I understood?a She didnat expect to be understood and wasnat the least surprised when Wolfgang leveled a long, ugly glare at her, then exited the room without another word.

Adelaide avoided Wolfgang for the next twenty-four hours, a remarkably simple exercise, as head taken himself off to the tavern moments after their argument and had not returned home again until dawn.

Now it was early afternoon, he was still in bed, and she was taking a few moments to tend the hydrangea shead nearly flattened, and trying very hard not to worry herself over where Wolfgang had gotten the money for drink.

Isobel, like as not. Head probably told her he meant to buy new clothes or have a pint in celebration. Fortunately, although Isobel was susceptible to the pleas of a sibling, she was neither a fool nor particularly generous. Shead not have given Wolfgang more than a few s.h.i.+llings. Which head no doubt succeeded in turning into a hundred pounds of debt in the course of an hour.

aYou donat have to do that now.a Connoras gruff voice fell on her back. aWeall hire a gardener.a Straightening with a small start, she turned and saw he was standing directly behind her, holding a thick stack of papers on top of a large tome. His approach had been m.u.f.fled by the hum of a light breeze.

aGood afternoon, Mr. Brice.a She peeled off her gloves and smiled. aI like to garden, youall recall.a aSo youave said.a He frowned a little. aI a.s.sumed that meant cutting flowers and . . . what have you.a aI enjoy all aspects.a Even the repet.i.tive work of weeding was rewarding. She tilted her head at him, wondering if the sight of his future wife digging in the dirt had somehow offended him. aDoes that bother you?a aNo.a His face cleared, and he gave a quick shake of his head as if dismissing the idea. aNot if it gives you pleasure.a He s.h.i.+fted the papers in his arms and handed her the tome. aHere, Iave brought you something.a Happy with his quick acceptance of her hobbya"and, naturally, with his offer of a gifta"she took the book with a smile.

aWhat is it? . . . An atlas?a She turned it over in her hand, studying the fine leather binding. It was a thoughtful, if somewhat odd, present. aThis was very kind of you. Thank you.a aThe atlas is not the surprise. Itas a tool. I want you to decide where you would like to go on our tour of Europe.a He reached over and tapped the book. aA bridal tour. Thatas the surprise.a Stunned, she looked at him, the atlas, then him again. aReally? Do you mean it? We can go anywhere I like?a aEverywhere you like. Make a list.a She laughed, delighted with the suggestion. Shead made a hundred lists in the past. With pen and paper, when shead still had the funds for them, then mental lists latera"one for bills, one for debts, one for supplies she couldnat buy, another for repairs she couldnat afford. Not for the life of her could she remember the last time shead made a list for fun.

Everywhere shead wanted to go. The possibilities were limitless. Well, not entirely limitless. She couldnat take a full year as her parents had done. There was George to consider, and heaven knew, her brother couldnat be left unsupervised for so long a time. But she could take a month or two, perhaps even three. Three months of travel to any place she liked. She could scarce believe it.

Excitement and longing hummed through her veins. aI want to go to Prussia and France.a aThatas a start. Where else?a aOh, I donat think there will be time for anyplace else.a aWe can take all the time you like.a She shook her head. aI canat leave George alone for too long.a aWhy should we leave him? Traveling is a fine education for a young boy.a aHe may come with us?a aCertainly, as long as we take a nanny along as well.a He lifted a hand to brush a loose lock of hair from her shoulders. aI donat fancy competing for your time or fis.h.i.+ng him out of a ca.n.a.l in Venice. And I imagine Isobel will want the freedom to explore a bit without having a child in tow.a aIsobel may come as well?a She realized she was more or less echoing everything Connor said, but she couldnat help it. It was all so extraordinary. He was handing her another dream. More, he was fulfilling the dream her mother and father had never been able to see materialize. The Ward children on tour . . . Most of the Ward children, she amended.

aWhat of Wolfgang?a aHe may join us, if he likes.a Given her brotheras sour disposition of late, she rather hoped he wouldnat. But at the same time, he couldnat be left to his own devices for any length of time.

aI donat know that heall agree to join us.a aThen he wonat,a Connor said dismissively.

aWolfgang cannot be left unattended fora"a aUnattended?a His brows winged up. aIs he an invalid?a aVery nearly,a she grumbled. aHe makes terrible choices. I donat know if heas capable of making good ones.a aHeas capable. We will do what we can for him, but heas a grown man, Adelaide. You cannot stop him if he is determined to make himself miserable.a aI know, but I have to try.a Frowning, she looked down and nudged a rock with her toe. aItas not just himself he injures. Thereas Isobel and Georgea"a He cut her off by capturing her chin in his hand and lifting her face to his. aYour fate is no longer tied to your brotheras. Do you understand?a Adelaide considered it. A part of her would always be tied to Wolfgang, because a part of her would always hope to see the boy shead loved become a man of whom she could be proud. Though it pained her, she wouldnat sever that tie if she could. Who would look for a lost boy, if not his family? Who would mourn his loss?

But Connor was right from a financial standpoint. The days of fearing complete ruin were over. Nothing Wolfgang did now could change that.

aYes, I understand.a She reached up, took his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. She let go of her sorrow along with it. Now was not the time to dwell on the heavy matters of the heart. It was a lovely day, a beautiful day. And she had a trip to plan.

aWhen shall we leave?a she demanded, growing excited. Directly after the wedding? Or should they take a week or two to settle into Ashbury Hall?

aWhen Iave done with Sir Robert.a That was not the answer shead been expecting.

Hadnat Connor said he had his own list? A long list of treats in store for his brother, or something along those lines? How long? How many weeks or months, or even years, would it take to check the items off on that list?

She struggled not to let her disappointment show. Head never promised her a trip. Head certainly never promised a trip taken in the immediate future. Eventually, he would take her, and that was more than shead ever thought to ask for.

aWell,a she said in what she hoped was a pa.s.sably cheerful voice. aI shall have some time to plan, then. Is there someplace youad like to recommend?a aI remember Vienna being agreeable in the fall. Isobel would enjoy Rome, I imagine.a aYouave been those places as well?a aMy mother took me to Vienna when I was a child. I was in Rome two years ago on a matter of business.a She tilted her head. aWhat is your business, exactly?a aIave more than one, but the bulk is s.h.i.+pping. Goods from the Americas, silk from Chinaa"a aChina? Youave been to China? How on earth did you go from escaping impressment to traveling the world?a He shook his head. aAnother time.a aButa"a aIave something else for you.a He handed her the papers.

Distracted from the inquiry, she took them with a baffled smile. aMore presents? What is all this?a aThe contracts. Your fifteen thousand pounds. A few other items of business.a With a gasp, she bobbled the atlas in an attempt to get a better look at the papers. aHow on earth did you get these so quickly?a aIt wasnat easy.a He reached out and retrieved her book before she could drop it. aThe special license alone cost more thana"a aSpecial license?a She dug through the papers, realized she had no idea what a special license looked like, or why she needed to know, and stopped in favor of gaping at Connor. aBut we donat need a special license. We agreed to wait for the banns to be read.a aYes, because you didnat want to be married by the blacksmith.a He jerked his chin toward the papers. aNow we donat have to.a There had been a host of reasons to wait. She tried to remember them now as her heart galloped. aI . . . I donat have a gown. Isobel and I went to the modiste only yesterday.a aWear the gown you had on when we met. Marry me today.a aNo.a She couldnat believe what she was hearing. aNo, that was a ball gown. And I need to review the contracts anda"a aSo review them,a he suggested easily.

aWhat, now?a aAs good a time as any.a She shook her head. aI donat know anything about the law. A solicitora"a aIf I wanted to cheat you,a Connor cut in with a hint of impatience, aIad have seen to it the contract was too complicated to decipher, then Iad simply pay whichever solicitor you hired to say everything was on the up-and-up.a aNot everyone is susceptible to bribery,a she grumbled.

aNo, just enough to keep things moving along nicely,a he said cheerfully. aLetas move this courts.h.i.+p alonga"a aBut you wanted a grand affair. You wanted an acre of flowers and your bride in the finest gown.a Shead a.s.sumed head meant to make a great show of his victory over Sir Robert.

aIall buy you a hundred fine gowns and watch you tend the garden.a He smiled when she did. aI wanted to elope first, youall recall.a aYes, but I . . . Iave made plans.a Most notably, the plan to marry in a few weeks. aI cannota"a aChange them. Every day you put it off is a risk, you know. I could be thrown from a horse on my way home, or change my mind and run off to Australia with the widow McClary tomorrow.a Mrs. McClary was old enough to be his grandmother. aShe wouldnat have you. Sheas more particular in her taste than I.a While he chuckled at that, she considered his argument. What he said did make a sort of sense. He could change his mind. If he discovered the truth of why Sir Robert had courted her, he might very well change his mind. Then she would be out the fifteen thousand pounds as surely as if the contract was a lie, and she would be out of a husband.

Connor must have sensed her resolve was wavering. He set the atlas and papers on the ground and stepped closer, until the scent of him filled her senses. The fingers he trailed gently along her cheek were warm and lightly calloused. aAshbury Hall is habitable now. All but the interior designer, architect, and a few craftsmen are gone. Most of the new windows are in. Thereas furniture, staff, a nursery all set up for George. Iave a gardenera"a aYou made up a nursery?a aWere you expecting otherwise?a aWell, no.a Or possibly yes. She wasnat sure what shead been expecting, but shead not have been surprised if head not thought of Georgeas needs. aItas onlya"a aEverything is ready,a Connor said softly. aWhy wait?a She thought through the matter with a mind for what was best for herself and her family, but quickly realized that, barring Connor taking a tragic fall from his horse, her decision would make very little difference in the long run. Whether she married Connor today or married him in a few weeks time, the end result would the same.

Except that, if she waited, there would no longer be a decision to make. She would wake on her wedding day knowing her only options were to arrive at the chapel and say her vows or send her family to ruin.

But today . . . She could marry by choice. It was an exceedingly loose definition of choice, a razor-thin veneer of control, but it was enough to bring a smile to her lips.

She could marry Connor today because she wanted to marry Connor today; there didnat need to be any other reason. There didnat have to be strings or expectations. She could do exactly as she liked.

aI want to change,a she announced. aI want Isobel and George to be in attendance.a She gathered up the stack of papers and all but shoved them into his chest.

aAnd I want you to sign the contracts.a

Chapter 20.

At the age of thirteen, Adelaide had briefly fancied herself in love with young Paul Montgomery, the son of a local farmer, and for three long weeks she had hounded her mother for the details of her parentsa wedding day. Had there been music and flowers? Had she felt like a princess in a gown of silk and lace?

Her mother had answered with patience and humor. What she remembered was excitement, and nerves, and a great whirlwind of activity. The details would forever remain a blur.

Adelaide antic.i.p.ated a similar experience on her own wedding day. Only there wasnat much in the way of activity. The only whirlwind was George, who strenuously objected to having to bathe and wear Sunday clothes on a Friday and made his displeasure known by leaping out of the tub and streaking about the house while screeching at the top of his lungs like a soapy, irate piglet.

It took a solid half hour to catch him, rinse off the soap, and wrestle him into his clothes.

There was little to be had in the way of excitement after that. Unlike her mother, Adelaide wasnat in love with her bridegroom. She was, at best, cautiously fond of him.

She thought perhaps she might be a little excited, but it was difficult to determine the exact cause of her racing pulse and trembling hands. It could just as well have been nerves. Unable to identify the source of her anxiousness, she set aside the question of how she felt and focused on what needed to be done.

Practicality. Thatas what her wedding day was filled with.

She washed; she changed. Word was sent to Wolfgang at the tavern. No one expected a reply.

Connor left for Ashbury and returned with his carriage a few hours later to whisk them all to the small chapel where Adelaide had attended services all her life. She knew every detail of its one stained-gla.s.s window, and the backs of the pews she knew as well as the back of her own hand. The vicar was the same man whoad baptized her as an infant and patted her back years later when shead been sick on his son.

Now she was standing before him at the altar as he spoke of fidelity and the sanct.i.ty of holy matrimony. He said something about wives and masters, as well. She pretended not to hear.

Another step, she reminded herself as her world spun. This was all merely one more step, and it had been her choice.

She said her vows. Connor said his. Isobel clapped when the vicar p.r.o.nounced them man and wife. George b.u.mped his head on a pew and howled. Michael Birch and Gregory OaMalley signed as witnesses.

And she was married. Just like that, she had a husband, a new life.

It was done.

aWell,a she heard herself whisper in a daze. aWell.a Connoras large hand settled on her back, and his low laughter floated over her head. aReady to leave, are you?a She wanted to take offense at his amus.e.m.e.nt, but the presence of his touch and voice were welcomed anchors in her spinning world. Slowly, her mind began to clear as he ushered her outside into fresh air and the last light of evening. She felt nearly coherent when she thanked Gregory and Michael for their a.s.sistance and then climbed into the carriage with her family and Connor. And by the time they were rolling down her drive, she fancied herself quite . . . Well, herself.

Shead scarcely heard the words Connor had spoken to her at the altar, but she understood what he was saying to Isobel now. They should pack tonight, as he meant to send for the family tomorrow. Thinking that made perfect sense, she nodded as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her home.

Isobel hopped out, scooped up a fidgeting George, and headed for the house. Adelaide rose from her seat, intending to follow. Should she pack her ivory muslin gown, she wondered, or had it become so discolored as to be unsal-vageable ?

An arm looped around her waist before she could so much as poke her head through the door.

Laughing, Connor pulled her back inside and onto the bench beside him. aWhere do you think youare going, love?a Stunned, she stared at him. aI . . . You said youad send for us tomorrow. After we packed. You said it not two minutes ago.a aI said Iad retrieve the Ward family tomorrowa"a He reached over and closed the door. aa"Mrs. Brice.a It was then that she realized that she wasnat quite as clearheaded as shead imagined. Of course head not meant for her to return with Isobel and George. Because she was his wife now. Because this was their wedding day. Because, oh, good heavens, it wasnat done.

Alarm shot through her at the belated realization that there was more to becoming a wife than going through the motions at a chapel. There were . . . other motions. Secret, wicked motions of which she had only the vaguest understanding.

aI . . .a Her eyes shot to the door again, and if the carriage hadnat begun moving at that very second, she may well have made a second attempt at escape.

Evidently, her thoughts were plain to see, because Connor slipped an arm under her knees and hauled her into his lap. Her alarm spiked to near panic. Did he mean to have it done in a carriage?

But that particular terror was short-lived. Connor gave no indication of taking prematurea"in her opiniona"advantage of his marital rights. He pressed her cheek to his chest and draped his arms loosely about her waist. She felt his chin brush the top of her head.

aYouall not regret today,a he said softly and moved his hand in gentle circles against her back.

Clearly, he wanted to soothe her. She wanted him to be successful. She feared they were both bound for disappointment.

She was surrounded by the scent of him, vividly aware of the hard beat of his heart and the latent power in his muscular frame. He was so much larger than her, stronger than her, and undoubtedly more knowledgeable of what was shared between husbands and wives.

She could think of nothing but him, of what he would do, and of what a shortsighted fool shead been to ask her mother about her wedding day when she ought to have asked after the wedding night. Not her motheras wedding night, specifically, she was quick to amenda"no one should be made to suffer the details of oneas parentsa wedding nighta"but a wedding night. She ought to have asked her mother what happened on a wedding night.

She wondered if she could ask Connor, and then wondered if asking was really necessary. While there were a good number of details that were unclear to her, she wasnat completely ignorant of the subject. The fundamental mechanics were known to her . . . somewhat.

Maybe she should have spoken with one of the village women, or even Isobel, whose insatiable curiosity had probably led her to acquire a book on the subject. Did they produce books on the subject? Blast, she ought to have asked someone about that.

Connoras lips brushed her hair. aDonat think so hard, sweetheart.a aIam not.a A soft laugh rumbled in his chest. His thumb sought the inside of her elbow, stroking the delicate skin. aClose your eyes, wren. Relax.a She took a slow breath and concentrated on the gentleness of his touch and the careful, almost sheltering way he held her. It helped, a little. She wasnat relaxed when they reached Ashbury Hall, but neither was she quite so tempted to make a dash for home.

It also helped that the staff was not lined up for a formal welcome. In her opinion, the potential awkwardness in such a scenario was mind-boggling.

Thank you all for such a warm and generous welcome. As we all are perfectly aware, my first act as mistress of the house shall be to bed your master. Do excuse.

Good heavens.

Mrs. McKarnin and a maid were the only servants waiting inside. aShall I take your gloves, maaam?a aWhat? No!a Adelaide grimaced when the housekeeperas eyes grew wide. aI beg your pardon, Mrs. McKarnin. What I meant to say is, thank you for the offer, but I shall retain my gloves for now.a No article of clothing would be removed until such time as it became absolutely necessary. The fact that this was absolutely ludicrous was something she chose to ignore.

Mrs. McKarninas expression softened to one of understanding. aAs you like, maaam. Is there naught I might do for you?a aThere is. Might I . . .a Ask you some wildly inappropriate questions? a. . . have a small gla.s.s of wine?a Connor stepped up beside her. aIall see to it, Mrs. McKarnin. Thank you.a He placed a warm hand on her back and urged her forward with subtle pressure. Adelaide had no choice but to follow where he leda"across the great hall, up the stairs, and down the hall of the family wing. But to her surprise, Connor led her not into the master chambers but its adjoining sitting room. It was relatively smaller in size and less imposing than the rest of the house. The colors, mostly blues and greens, were softer here, the centered chaise lounge and set of upholstered chairs were feminine in design, and the wood in the room was stained a golden brown that glowed in the flickering candlelight.

She watched as Connor crossed the room to pour a small gla.s.s of Madeira at a sideboard and wondered if head had the room finished with her in mind. Then she wondered if head be willing to trade a nightas reprieve for the chance to outfit his sitting room however he liked.

Oh, for pityas sake, she thought with a huff. Her fear was pus.h.i.+ng her past ludicrous and straight into cowardice. With a long, steadying breath, she released the death grip she had on her skirts and gave herself a stern lecture.

She was being a ninny. Women became wives every day. Presumably, no one had ever died of the affliction. So, what was there to fear, really? A few moments of embarra.s.sment and discomfort, that was all. Hadnat Connor bartered for ten times a day? It must go very quickly indeed if one could fit the deed in ten times a day.

Probably it was like the birds shead spied in her motheras garden. A bit of flapping about and it was done.

aHow bad could it be?a Connor turned from the sidebar, a small gla.s.s in hand. aBeg your pardon?a aNothing,a she chirped and forced her face into serene lines.

Expression tender, Connor crossed the room to her. aI donat want you to be afraid, Adelaide.a aIam not.a He handed her the Madeira and said nothing, which was tantamount to calling her a liar.

aVery well,a she conceded, aI am perhaps a little nervous. But I imagine itas rather like pulling a thorn from oneas finger. The antic.i.p.ation is worse than the deed. Grit oneas teeth, a quick tug, and itas over and done.a aOver and done,a he repeated.

aYes.a She nodded once, then reconsidered and grimaced. aI didnat mean to make that sound quite so much like I was antic.i.p.ating an injury.a Now that it was brought to mind, however, an injury did not seem outside the realm of possibility. aIam sure it will be lovely.a No, she wasnat. aBut as we never got around to concluding the matter before, you should know . . .a She drank the contents of her gla.s.s in a single swallow. aIall not do this ten times a day.a aTen times . . .a Connor blinked, then closed his eyes on a groan. aOh, h.e.l.l.a aOh, h.e.l.la was not the response shead been hoping for. aI am willing to negotiate. A little.a Connor opened his eyes, took the gla.s.s from her, and set it aside, all without saying a word. Then he took her hand and spoke in a tone of patience, sympathy, and regret. aAdelaide. Sweetheart.a aOh, dear.a She wanted to s.n.a.t.c.h her hand back and use it to cover his mouth. Nothing good ever came from a tone like that. It was the sort one used to deliver the news of illness and death anda"

aI was jesting about the ten times.a aOh.a Well, that wasnat too terrible. She didnat care for having been the victim of his jest, but it was a relief to know shead not be expected toa"

aItas not like pulling out a thorn,a Connor explained.

Relief vanished. She knew it was too much to hope that he meant it wouldnat hurt. aItas not done quickly, is it?a His mouth curved. aNot when itas done well.a aLetas do it poorly,a she suggested.

aYou wonat like it done poorly.a She was afraid she wasnat going to like it done any way. aCouldnat we try?a Connor sighed. aYouare afraid now.a aWell, I wasnat when I thought it would all be done in a rush,a she muttered.

aThere will be a rush.a aI donat understanda"a aNever mind.a He brushed the hair back from her face. aDo you trust me, Adelaide?a Oh, dear, not this again. aIf youare asking if I trust you to make a fair job of . . .a She waved her hand in the direction of the chambers. a. . . that, then I suppose I really havenat a choice.a There was a pause before he said, in a very dry tone, aYou make me feel like a king.a aWould you prefer I be dishonest?a aLetas try this again,a he suggested, a heartbeat before he slipped a hand behind her neck and brought his mouth down on hers.

Instinctively, she wedged her hands up between them. They fluttered indecisively, then settled on his coat lapels as his lips moved over hers with gentle, coaxing pressure. For a moment, she was reminded of their first kiss in the garden when head tempted and teased her into a willing submission. But it took only another brush of his lips, another careful sweep of his tongue, for the comparison to fade away. This kiss was nothing like any that had come before. There was no demand, no maneuvering. He kissed her not with determined patience, but with a tenderness that seemed infinite.

A heavy warmth settled over her tingling skin and seeped inside, stealing the strength from her limbs. She let herself lean against him, and his arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer so he could take her weight. His mouth left hers to trail feather-soft kisses across her cheek. He pressed his lips to her temple and tasted the sensitive skin along her jaw.

She s.h.i.+vered when he reached the delicate lobe of her ear, then gasped when he tugged gently with his teeth.