Desperate and Daring 01 - Desperate and Daring (15 page)

Heather was afraid to turn and face the speculative audience. Cantour saved her, ordering everyone to return to their duties.

“Allen, clean up that rubbish,” he directed with distaste.

His words jolted Heather from her shock. “Take them all down,” she commanded. “None of them means anything to his grace. They will be replaced with family portraits over time.”

“Yes, ma’am, right away.” Cantour snapped his fingers and two more footmen appeared and began to pull portraits from the wall.

Heather advanced on the double doors hesitantly. She put her hand on the handle, afraid she was not wanted, but it saddened her to think of him being alone. She knocked on the door and waited, but there was only silence. She turned the handle slowly. The door opened easily despite its size. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She waited just on the other side, leaning against the door. The room was shrouded in darkness, only small beams of light defying the heavy curtains where they parted and claiming streaks of carpet. One fell across the bed and it was at the foot that she found Fallon standing. His broad shoulders slumped as his head bent.

“Fallon?” Heather crept forward. He didn’t respond. She approached slowly, not afraid of him, but of his rejection. He so clearly needed someone to care for him, someone to lean on. She wanted to be that person. She reached his side and took his hand. It was limp in hers. She looked up into his face and the despair she saw there was like a knife to her gut. “Fallon, look at me,” she begged. She squeezed his hand, but he didn’t respond. He looked away. Heather stepped in front of him, wrapping her arms around his chest. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not fit company right now,” he uttered.

“That’s all right. I still want to be here with you.”

Finally, he looked at her. One hand came to her waist, and then, as if something unlocked inside him, his arms swallowed her against him. He buried his face in her neck. He took a deep breath, his exhale hot against her skin. Heather almost wept with relief. “I didn’t mean to upset you like that. I’m so sorry, but I thought you should know.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Heather. The past is dead and buried.”

Heather wished that were true, but his reaction to the portraits proved otherwise. He was still hurting, and she couldn’t stand it.

“I’ve asked Cantour to remove all the nameless portraits.” Her words were muffled against his chest, but she continued anyway. “We will replace them with people who matter.”

He didn’t respond. His hands were moving roughly over her back and… did her dress feel looser? She tried to look at his face, but he turned his head and caught her lips in a searing kiss. His hand slipped inside the open back of her dress. His hand was so hot against her skin she gasped. He pushed it lower, stressing the seams where her dress pulled across her shoulders and at the back closure.

“It will tear.” She pleaded.

This was unknown territory, but she wasn’t going to refuse him, not if she could make him feel better. He released his arms and moved back enough to push her dress down over her shoulders. Heather didn’t stop him. The desolation was gone from his features, but he still looked troubled. She pulled her arms from the sleeves and the dress slid to her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it away. She shivered with uncertainty. He cupped one breast and then the other. He was engrossed in her body, his eyes intensely focused on the doings of his hands.

“I want to lay you down on the bed.”

Heather bit her lip and nodded. She let him lift her and set her on the high bed and she scooted back. He followed her, settling beside her, one hand casually brushing the shoulder of her chemise down. She obliged him by pulling her arm free. The same action was completed on the other side and she anxiously awaited his next move. He pulled the chemise down over her breasts, revealing them to him. Heather felt a hot flush of color spread over her skin. The air was cold, her nipples furled into little buds. She couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed, but as she watched him watching her, it subsided. He looked mesmerized, reverent even. It made her feel womanly and bold. She exhaled the last of her reservations and set her mind to accepting whatever caresses he gave her. She trusted him in this. He would never hurt her.

His hands were so warm when they gently touched her. His fingertips skated over her skin lightly, and then he cupped her breasts again. Skin to skin was a completely new world of sensation for Heather. His palms were lightly calloused, as were the pads of his fingers. The scratchy ridges gave her goose bumps as his hands slid over her skin. He leaned over her and set his lips to her skin. Little licks of fire followed his lips as he moved over her. He kissed her breast, taking the peak into his mouth. Heather bit her lip, holding back a cry of surprise. She felt a pinch of pain as he suckled her, but it was quickly soothed by his swirling tongue. She was dizzy now, her breath coming in short pants.

He moved to the other breasts and the delicious torture was the same. She was pulling at him now, her legs squirming and squeezing together in an effort to appease her body’s new hunger. He seemed to know exactly what she needed. He pulled up her chemise, his fingers knowingly dipping in between her thighs, sliding roughly against that sensitive pearl that caused sparks to fly through her body with a single touch. His fingers were the match, and she, the waiting tinder, until he touched her enough to set her on fire.

“Please, Fallon,” she begged him. She pressed herself against his hand, anxiously searching for that release. She could feel the ridge of his own arousal against her side and all of a sudden, she wanted to touch him, too. She didn’t have the courage to just reach for him, so she started with his shoulders, pressing her fingers into the firm muscle. She massaged and squeezed her way to his chest, curious to know what his bare chest would feel like under her hands. She fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat and then his cravat. Next she slipped open a few buttons of his shirt. She glided her hand in and gasped with delight. His skin was wickedly hot, his chest dusted with hair. She wanted to feel him against her sensitive nipples, to press herself to him. She undid the rest of his buttons and spread his shirt wide.

He chuckled. “What busy little hands you have.”

She looked up at him and smiled as her desire filled her with womanly confidence. “I could say the same of you.” She slid her hand down his chest to his hips and then over the swell of his manhood. He groaned in answer and thrust into her hand.

“Oh, Heather. We are heading into dangerous territory.” But he didn’t pull away. He covered more of her body with his.

Heather turned towards him pressing her breasts against his chest and moaning in delight. “I need you, Fallon.”

He grunted painfully. “We can’t do this. We can’t risk it.”

He tried to roll away, but Heather grabbed his head and brought his lips to hers. They kissed hungrily, tongues dueling for control. He rolled again, this time on top of her, supporting his weight on his forearms at her sides. It was a mistake. He was now nestled between her thighs.

Heather’s eyes shot open. His hardness was now pressed against her and it was better than anything she had previously felt. She parted her legs more, and he settled more firmly. She squirmed against him, the pressure and friction so intoxicating she couldn’t stop herself. It was too much and not enough. The pressure felt so good it was almost painful. Her head was spiraling, a tight tension filling her body until it was so taught she snapped and cried out, explosions of pleasure rocketing through her nerves.

She couldn’t move anymore, her strength had been leeched from her body. This time she knew what had happened though the sensation was still astonishing to experience. Her eyes closed, and she felt Fallon brush strands of hair from her mouth.

“You’re a firecracker of passion, little flower. How am I to resist you?” But as he said the words, he moved away from her, only keeping his arms around her as he hugged her to his side.

“I’m sorry, Fallon.” Heather opened her eyes and looked up at him. “I feel selfish now.” Twice now, she had been the only one to take pleasure from their intimacy. He was so giving and all she did was take.

“Don’t ever be sorry. Seeing you come apart in my arms is enough for now.” He kissed her forehead.

Heather looked down at her exposed body, she blushed as she tried to right her clothing and to sit up. Her ardor was cooling and the implications of their time alone were glaringly apparent. They had been alone in a bedroom for God knows how long. Any moment, her mother could come knocking.

“I suppose the servants will guess what we’ve been doing,” she said with some alarm.

“They won’t talk. Not about us. We’re betrothed, and we will be married in two weeks’ time,” he assured her, but then his expression changed to one of bitterness. “I suspect they like us a far cry better than my father. He never treated anyone with respect,” he bit off.

Heather was silent as she finished dressing. He helped her button the back of her dress, but though his hands were gentle, she could feel the tension in him again. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to explode with anger as he did before and ruin the moment. She wanted to cherish what they had just experienced together.

“We should head down. My mother could return any moment.”

He looked pensive. “I should leave then. I can return later for dinner and finish my work in the Study then.”

Heather looked around the room, spotting a clock on the mantle. That afternoon had disappeared. “You are escorting us to the Gareth Musicale tonight. Dinner will be earlier than usual. Stay, I’ll hide in my room and pretend I never knew you were here.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. He looked melancholy, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Please?”

He looked at her then and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her languidly and then sighed as he pulled away. “If that is what you want, I’ll stay.”

“Of course, it’s what I want.”

“There is also the rubbish in the hall to be dealt with.”

“Cantour took care of it.” Heather reassured and tugged him towards the door. She opened it slowly, but the hall was empty, the wall cleared of the portraits. She blushed again. To think footmen had been working while they were in here… She wouldn’t be able to look at them again without coloring. They hurried down the hall stopping at the stairs.

“I’ll take the back stairs to my room.”

“Don’t ever feel ashamed of what we share, Heather.”

“I’m not ashamed,” she said quickly, “I just feel awkward knowing that the whole house knows what we were doing.”

Fallon chuckled and squeezed her hand. “They don’t
know
exactly what we were doing, and apart from you and your sisters, no one in this house is innocent, not even the irreproachable Cantour.”

Heather could feel her cheeks burning. “I’m not innocent, not anymore.”

“Little flower, you are still very much an innocent… for now, at least,” he said wickedly.

Heather covered her hot cheeks with her hands and half-heartedly glared at him. “I had no idea you were a rake.”

“I didn’t either, until I met you.”

She didn’t answer him. She spun on her heel and retreated towards the back stairs. He smiled as he watched her go, feeling very much like a rake, and like a man with more blessings than he could count. He turned and loped down the stairs. He wasn’t afraid of the servants talking, not when he paid them well and treated them exceptionally well. Where he grew up, servants were more like family, and they all worked together. He didn’t see these people as family per se, but he did trust them. Respect and fair wages go a long way toward loyalty. He may be a duke, but they all entered and will leave this earth the same way. That’s what Faegan had taught him as a boy.

Heather dreamily lathered her arms and hummed to herself. It was the night of her engagement ball, a night that she would have thought would make her anxious, but instead, she was oddly calm, content even. Everything was perfect. She smiled to herself. Her mother and sisters were happy, she was happy, and she was fairly certain Fallon was happy. He wasn’t the brooding sort, so that wasn’t a stretch. The only times he looked remotely affected by anything was when his father was mentioned. It rarely happens, and only when being introduced to a new acquaintance who by chance knew something of his father. Fallon always handled it well, but he always grew somber afterwards.

It was a bitter reminder that he was still a wounded little boy in some regards. Heather needed to do something about it. He had saved her, so it was only right she return the favor. But how? She had no experience in this. She thought about the afternoon in the master suite. He had needed her then, and she’d let him seek comfort in her. Was that all it would take? No, that was too easy. He needed to forgive his father and let it go. Let the dead be dead. They had so much to look forward to now, and so much to hope for in the future.

She sank lower in the steaming water. Gwen, Heather’s new ladies maid, arrived and helped her wash and rinse her hair. Heather continued to ponder Fallon as she dried herself and wrapped herself in her dressing gown to dry her hair in front of the fire. Gwen stayed to help her untangle her unruly hair. Once dry, Heather moved to the vanity and Gwen began to dress her hair. Heather never enjoyed this part of preparing for a ball. Her hair never wanted to be smooth and neat. Hours later—it seemed, her hair was elegantly coiled on her head. Her scalp felt sore from the tugging, but Heather was pleased with the results. She glanced at the clock. It was definitely time to dress and appear downstairs. She mentally put the problem of the old duke in the back of her mind. Tonight was about her and Fallon, and she would not let thoughts of the old duke ruin their evening. If only every guest knew to forget all mention of him, as well.

Heather stood before the cheval mirror and inspected her appearance. She was more than pleased. Her gown was dyed to match her eyes, a difficult feat, but the end result was stunning. Her skin looked luminescent, and her eyes glowed with the deep happiness she felt. There was nothing more she could possibly want, nothing more than she could hope for. If it were not for Fallon, Heather didn’t know where her family would be at this moment, what kind of hardships they would have to endure. The weight of that fear was gone now, and in its place, Heather felt profound gratitude. More than gratitude, there was so much more than that. She couldn’t explain all the feelings that rose within her when she thought of him. He had given her so much more than security. He had given her hope again, smiles, laughter, and showed her the passion she didn’t know she was capable of feeling. She wanted him to feel the same, to give him the joy he had given her. How could she do that? She pondered her own feelings, the warmth that spread through her heart when they peaked. Was this love? She looked at her own reflection, but there were no answers there. Could she have Fallon in love with Fallon as she had thought she did when he was only Mr. Calder? It had seemed so hopeless then, falling for a man she could not have, but now it was different. She did have him. She had all that was Mr. Calder and her wealthy duke, both rolled into one wonderful and handsome man. That gave her pause. Unexpectedly, she felt that something had to go wrong. Nothing was this perfect. She grimaced at her reflection and turned away.

Not tonight. This night was going to be perfect. Surely perfection could be attained for just one evening? Everything else could wait until tomorrow. Heather would make sure of it.

She thanked Gwen for her talented assistance and joined her mother downstairs. Fallon had not yet arrived, but her mother assured her he would be there any moment. They would have an informal family dinner, just the five of them, and then they would take their places for the arrival of the first guests.

Heather thought her mother looked stunning wrapped in emerald green satin. She was sporting diamond earrings Heather hadn’t seen before. Lady Everly showed her the card that accompanied them when they arrived that morning.

To the most wonderful, soon to be mother-in-law in the world. I am honored to be your future son.

Ablehill

Heather knew what such a note meant to her mother. She felt the sting of tears and took a deep breath. “He’s too good to be true, isn’t he?” She gave her mother a watery smile.

“Never question good fortune, no matter how fleeting, but I do believe him to be a good man. There is always some darkness to light. It’s necessary, but we must always look for the light and appreciate it.”

Heather wanted to be soothed by her mother’s words. “You speak of balance.”

“Yes. Fallon is kind and generous. I think his darkness lies in his past and his feelings about his father. Those feelings may prevent him from seeking a true connection with others. What kind of marriage do you want, Heather? He may clothe you in fine fabrics and jewels, but deny you access to his heart. Which do you desire most?”

Heather nodded in understanding, but really, she was stymied. Her mother had never used the word desire with her, and it now held so much more meaning. Her mother was speaking of love, a marriage based on love. Heather was startled by the realization. She had sought a marriage of convenience, but now, there was the possibility of love… if, as her mother had implied, she could defeat his darkness.

The evening felt heavier somehow, the air charged with expectation. Fallon’s arrival did little to dim it, though he was a cheerful distraction. Heather sensed nervous energy about him and took his hand as they walked into the dining room.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m nervous,” he admitted sheepishly.

“So am I, but we must make an effort to enjoy ourselves.”

He squeezed her hand. “I know I will enjoy dancing with you.”

Heather bit back a knowing smile. “And I you.”

They took their seats while Violet and Prim filled the air with unsubtle displeasure about not being allowed to attend the ball. Lady Everly patiently reminded them that there would be no shortage of parties in their future. Fallon distracted them with tales of raucous clan gatherings in the highlands and the kidnappings of brides. Entertained, the two stopped whining long enough for everyone to enjoy their dinner before being banished to their rooms. Heather knew they would be spying on the guests from the top of the stairs most of the evening.

As a trio, they took their place at the door to the ballroom as the first guest arrived. Heather was a bundle of nerves in the beginning, but soon, the greetings grew tedious, and it actually served to calm her. Fallon looked implacably calm throughout, which boosted her own confidence that the evening would go well. They joined their guests in the ballroom and Heather gratefully accepted a glass of lemonade from a footman. Her throat was parched after all the greeting and smiling.

Heather and Fallon would lead the first dance. The musicians were ready, instruments tuned, and all that was needed was to signal Cantour. Her mother came to her side and kissed her cheek. “Are you ready?”

Heather smiled. “As I will ever be.”

“Good.” Lady Everly signaled Cantour, and the musicians began to play.

Fallon bowed low to her. “Miss Everly.”

Heather laughed as she took his hand. “I’m not a queen. That was absurd.”

“You will be my queen,” he bent and whispered into her ear.

She fought a blush but did not win. She was sure she was the picture of a blushing bride-to-be as they took their place on the dance floor. All eyes were on them as they began the dance before other couples joined in. Heather was relieved when they were no longer the center of attention. When they finished, she was out of breath but giddy with joy. She was greeted at the edge of the dance floor by familiar and friendly faces.

“You look radiant,” Anabelle gushed and hugged her swiftly.

“Thank you, as do you.”

“You two make quite a stunning pair,” Lucy added. She was dressed in pale pink and looked deceivingly docile. “You dance very well, Mr. Calder,” Lucy teased.

Fallon laughed. “My apologies for deceiving you all.”

“All is forgiven,” Hazel assured. “You rescued Heather like a knight in shining armor.”

Heather almost laughed in disbelief as Fallon reddened under Hazels praise.

“I’m not as gallant as all that. There were no dragons to battle.”

The ladies laughed, all smitten by him, and Heather could not blame them. Fallon, with his effortless charm and confidence, dressed in evening blacks, was everything a girl could want in a future husband. And through some strange collision of destiny, he would now be hers. He excused himself to greet a new acquaintance, and Heather sighed blissfully as he strode away.

“Careful,” Lucy warned. “Being too happy results in little wings sprouting from your feet and carrying you away into the clouds.”

Heather swatted at her playfully. “I’ve no wish to be anywhere, but exactly where I stand, but… he is too perfect, isn’t he?” Her smile faltered.

“No,” Thea responded. “He’s too tall for my taste.”

Heather looked at her in disbelief.

Thea shrugged. “You looked worried.”

“She should be. No one is perfect. Can you not find any fault at all?”

“Well?” Heather didn’t know what to say.

The girls looked at each other with concern. They drifted to the side of the room to talk more privately.

“What is it?” Anabelle asked.

“It all feels too good to be true. I want tonight to be perfect, and I want to believe that we will really be this happy, but how can that be? I feel like something bad has to happen.”

“Like what?” Lucy demanded.

Heather shrugged despondently. “I don’t know.”

“There has been talk, but nothing damning. By the wedding, it should all blow over,” Anabelle assured her.

“He must have some flaws you’ve noticed. Men are riddled with flaws.” Lucy set her hands on her hips.

“Well… he does have some residual anger over his father.”

“Let us not forget pretending to be a steward,” Thea added

Heather blushed. “Yes—that. He had his reasons. I don’t fully understand them yet, but it did have something to do with his father.”

Four sets of eyes looked at her expectantly. Heather couldn’t tell them, though. It felt like a betrayal. “It’s not my past to tell. You will have to accept that.”

“Well, there you have it,” Anabelle said. “You will have to help him deal with his past.”

“But I don’t know how.” Heather exclaimed.

“Neither do we. This is the imperfection you needed to have in order to accept all the things that are good. You will have to find a way to deal with it,” Lucy decreed, showing wisdom far beyond her years. “That isn’t going to happen tonight, so let’s drink some champagne, dance until our feet ache and enjoy this night. You are the first of us to be married, Heather, so let’s celebrate!”

Heather smiled appreciatively at Lucy while the others cheered in agreement. She let them pull her towards the refreshment table and set her worries aside. It was good to have a friend like Lucy.

*

Three glasses later, Fallon found her next to her mother, fanning her cheeks. They were sore from smiling and the room was sweltering.

“How have you managed?” she asked. He looked none the worse for wear.

“I’ve had good conversations and tedious conversations. Lord Hubert is our nearest neighbor I’ve learned and he has terrible gout. My horse is famous across London and can have any dam he pleases—oh, and Rigsby claims to be in love with an opera singer.”

Lucy poked her head between them. “Last week it was a ballet dancer. Next week it will be an actress.”

“Good to know. I won’t plan on attending his wedding anytime soon.” Fallon winked at her. “I beat Draven soundly at cards. I’d thought Lady Anabelle would like that.”

“She’d like you to dislocate his jaw,” Heather droned, “but you’re much too civilized for such things.”

“She should do it herself,” Lucy added with a slight sway despite being seated in a chair.

Heather gave her an admonishing look. “It’s time you drank some lemonade.”

“I will see to it,” Fallon agreed and went to fetch a glass.

“Likable fel-low, he is,” Lucy hiccupped, “but I prefer champagne, and champagne prefers me.”

“I’d prefer you able to sit still, which you can’t. It’s as if a blustering wind has caught you and only you.”

“That’s pure nonsense, Heather. You’ve had too much champagne. I’ll tell you this… I couldn’t love a man like him. He is for you. I want a man with a little danger. A man who has seen something other than his own reflection as his valet ties his cravat. I want a man to challenge me.”

“He has seen more than his own reflection,” Heather said defensively.

“Please don’t take offense. His grace is a rare gem, and he certainly saw you clearly enough to snatch you up, but his type is not for me. I need… a different man.”

Heather frowned at Lucy in puzzlement. “Do you mean a soldier?”