A Kiss for Lady Mary (23 page)

 

Later that evening, Kit joined Huntley against one wall of the open room that had been given over to dancing. He snagged a glass of wine from a footman. “Where’s Caro?”

His friend motioned with his head to a grouping of sofas and chairs where several ladies were involved in a comfortable coze. “I thought you’d be dancing.”

“I managed to avoid this set.” Kit blew out a breath. “I’m getting damned tired of being Mr. Perfect.”

“I commend you for keeping it up for this long.” The set ended. Huntley tossed off the rest of his drink and straightened. “I’m off to reclaim my wife.”

Kit glanced around. Mary’s partner was escorting her to Caro as Lady Theo was absent this evening. “I’ll come with you.”

“When are you going to ask her to marry you?”

“When I’m sure she’ll accept.” Kit didn’t know what he would do if she rejected him. What he did know was that he didn’t like the looks of Mary’s latest dance partner. “Who is the man she was dancing with?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps Lady Theo introduced them at one of the entertainments,” Huntley said as they maneuvered their way through the crowd. “Munro, I think.”

“I didn’t see you during the last set.” Mary smiled as Kit joined her.

“No.” He slid in next to her, placing her hand on his arm. “The only lady I wished to dance with was already taken.” If they were engaged, he could stand up with her more than twice. In fact, he could monopolize her all evening. That thought brought on others, of her in his arms and in his bed, golden hair spread out on the pillow. Her eyes turning silver as he pleasured her.
Blast and damn!
Huntley was right. Kit needed to ask her soon.

“Really.” She raised one perfectly arched brow. “Who was that?”

He took a glass of lemonade from a passing footman, handing it to her. “You.”

Mary regarded him over the rim of her glass. “Thank you. I greatly enjoy when we dance together.”

Still, that didn’t tell him if she liked standing up with other gentlemen as well. One in particular seemed to be trying to make a push in her direction. He led her out for the last waltz of the evening. “Would you mind if we leave after supper?”

She curtseyed as he bowed and placed his hand on her waist. “No, not at all. Truth be told, I’m a little tired.”

Soon Mary was in his arms again, but it wasn’t enough. He forced himself not to close the distance between them during the turn. It was taking all the self-control he had to keep from grabbing her hand, pulling her outside, and kissing her senseless.

Thus creating exactly the type of scandal his long-dead half-brother had caused. Kit couldn’t do it. Somehow he had to find a way to keep his vow and convince her to become his wife.

An hour later, Mary and Kit arrived home to find Huntley’s aunt and uncle still up and in conversation with Lord Simon and the woman she had met during morning visits the other day. A young man she’d been introduced to the previous evening was there as well.

“Do you know who the young lady and gentleman are?” Kit whispered.

“I do.” She turned so that her back was to the rest of the company. “They are the ones I told you about. See how the younger man resembles Lord Simon?”

“Please join us.” Lord Titus hailed them. “Help yourself to wine, brandy, or whisky. The others are in the nursery with the babes. Apparently the poor things are fussy.”

Kit handed her a glass of sherry and remained by her side as they approached the group.

“Lady Mary,” Lady Theo said, “you have met Morna. It turns out she and Simon are married after all.” When the tale was finished it seemed to resemble something out of a romance novel rather than real life. Including them sneaking out of their town house and arriving here after Morna’s father tried to gain entrance to the house. “They will be staying here,” Lady Theo continued, “until passage can be arranged to England. I must ask you not to mention that fact to anyone.”

“No indeed,” Mary promised.

Next to her Kit squeezed her hand. “I’m sure none of us will say a word.”

She couldn’t imagine being married to someone old enough to be her grandfather or anyone she didn’t love. A shiver slithered down her spine. Yet that was exactly what would have happened if she hadn’t had the support of her family and been able to escape her cousin. Her heart went out to Lord Simon’s family for all they’d suffered due to the selfishness of others.

She tightened her fingers around Kit’s much larger hand. He was always either with her or waiting for her. They’d had so much fun sightseeing to-day, and no one waltzed better than he did. He wasn’t as romantic as the heroes in the novels, but he was strong and steady. Although she would like a bit more romance, Mary could not imagine spending her life with another man. Kit was the gentleman she wanted to marry.

If only he’d ask her.

The next morning, Caro sat with Phoebe, Anna, and Theo around the breakfast table. Phoebe’s and Anna’s eyes were heavy as they sipped their tea.

“Where is Mary?” Phoebe asked. “I thought she’d be down by now.”

“Down, eaten, and gone.” Caro grinned. Mary’s bedchamber was up the corridor from hers, and Caro had heard Mary leave. “She and Kit are taking in more of the sights.”

Anna raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. “Why is it taking so long for them to come to a decision?”

Phoebe pulled a face. “Sometimes it’s not easy.”

Dropping her head in her hands, Anna said, “I’m sorry, but you had a reason to be concerned. Kit, on the other hand, has never done anything even questionable.”

Caro swallowed her bannock. “You must remember, Mary has not known Kit for as long as the two of you have.”

“They are also both afraid of being rejected,” Phoebe added. “If only we could think of something to show them they want to marry each other.”

“You’re both right,” Anna said. “Ignore me. I’m just tired.”

Theo poured another cup of tea, a knowing expression on her countenance. “You might be interested to know, I have put a scheme in play. Give it another day or so, and I believe we’ll have a betrothal.”

And then, Caro prayed, a quick wedding. According to the letter she’d received from her mother, there was a great deal of talk and speculation about Kit leaving Town during the Season.

T
he old traveling coach lurched to one side and stopped.
Damn it to hell
. Gawain pounded on the roof. “What happened?”

His groom’s boots hit the ground. “I’m lookin’.” A few moments later, Whitely appeared at the window. “Broke the wheel.”

Bloody hell!
They were so close. “Where are we?”

“We passed Alnwick a ways back. If you want to stay here, I’ll go and find help.”

Gawain opened the door and jumped down. “Help me unhitch the horses and you can ride back.”

Fortunately, the horses had been broken to the saddle. His father had always said it might be useful someday. What Father actually meant was that they couldn’t afford to take a chance that they wouldn’t need the horses for both.

“Yes, sir.”

An hour later, Whitely had returned with another man who inspected the wheel. “I got something in my wagon that will get you back to town, but it’ll be a few days before we can get it mended.”

Gawain wanted to shout at the man. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the funds to argue or try to bribe him into fixing the wheel any faster. “Thank you.”

The man gave him a strange look, as if he’d been expecting to be given more of a problem. “All right.”

They lifted the heavy carriage, replacing the wheel. Once the horses were once again in their traces, he climbed back in the coach.

Gawain hated not having wealth. He detested not being able to afford one pair of horses for driving and others for riding. Maybe that’s the first thing he’d do when he married his cousin. He’d even be able to buy a matched team.

As the other man drove away, Gawain asked Whitely, “Did you find an inn for us?”

“Yes, sir. It’s clean, and breakfast and dinner are included in the price.”

“When I’m rich, we’ll stay in the best inns and order tradesmen to have the repairs done right away.”

“I look forward to it, sir. Won’t be long now.”

“No. We’ll find her direction in Edinburgh.” Ever since his conversation with his mother, Gawain’s sense of urgency had grown, and he needed to make Mary his wife before something came along to spoil his plan.

 

That evening, Theo stood next to her husband as the gentleman, using the term loosely, asked Lady Mary to dance.

“Who the hell introduced Munro to Lady Mary?” Titus snarled.

“I did.” Theo braced herself for his disapproval. Even after all these years, she hated arguing with him. Not that she wouldn’t give as good as she got. One did have to keep a tight rein on Scotsmen. “And do not swear around me.”

Titus scowled at her. “You’d trust an innocent like her with that rogue?”

“One of us had to do something.” She shrugged one shoulder. “And I am the only one with the right connections.”

“The bravura, you mean.”
Gall
is what he really wanted to say.

She waved her fan languidly. “It is clear as day that Lady Mary and Mr. Featherton need a bit of a push. If Gavin Munro can’t make Mr. Featherton jealous enough for him to lose some of his famous reserve, I’ll eat my turban.”

Titus slid her a cynical glance. “You’d better have Cook boil it for a long time and season it well.”

She tucked her hand in Titus’s arm. “Have a little faith, my love. Besides, Gavin knows that if he crosses the line with Lady Mary, he’ll answer to me, and that he does not want to do.”

“You have that much faith in yourself, do you?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Well then, let’s have a little wager,” Titus said smugly.

As God was her witness, Theo would wipe that superior look off his face. “I have already wagered my turban.”

“Aye, but you didn’t mean it.”

She raised her chin. This was going to be fun, and she may get something she wanted as well. “What do you want?”

He chuckled. “To see you eat your hat, of course, feather included.”

She smiled. He was truly going to regret this. “And I want you to accompany me to Hull and perhaps even London.”

“Do you now?” He raised an arrogant brow.

She almost laughed in his face. He might be a Scottish marquis’s son, but she was an English duke’s daughter and had learned to negotiate with the best. “I do.”

“You’ve got yourself a wager, my lady. I’ll make sure to tell Cook to order more spices.”

 

As far as Kit was concerned, the evening was a complete and total failure. He’d got to dance twice with Mary, but neither was a waltz. Lady MacDonald, whose entertainment it was, still considered the dance to be scandalous. He watched Mary as Mr. Munro led her to the set forming for a Scottish reel. There was something about the man Kit didn’t like. Probably because Munro kept looking at her as if he’d like to have her in his bed. As soon as it was over, Kit would ask her to take the air on the terrace with him. It was time to propose.

He just prayed she’d accept him.

“Mr. Featherton.”

He glanced at his hostess. Accompanying her was a young lady who could not be more than seventeen. The girl wore thick glasses and looked as if she’d like to flee.
Damnation!
All he wanted to do was stay here and keep an eye on Mary and the Scottish rogue she was standing up with. Instead he pasted the expected smile on his face and inclined his head. “Yes, my lady.”

Lady MacDonald smiled a bit nervously, almost as if she were afraid to approach him. “Miss MacGregor, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Featherton. Sir, Miss MacGregor.”

Stifling the sigh he wanted to heave and the urge to walk away, he bowed. “Miss MacGregor, it would be my pleasure if you would allow me to partner you for this dance.”

A tentative smile trembled on her lips, and he knew he’d made the right decision. Why did parents allow their daughters to come out before they were ready? He’d make sure none of his did. If Mary accepted him and they had children.

“I’d be pleased to accept.”

Unfortunately, by the time they took their places, he was at the other end of the dance floor from Mary.

A half hour later, Kit had never been so glad for a set to end. He escorted the young lady back to his hostess, who was fortunately not too distant from Lady Theo. Snagging a passing footman, he took one glass of wine and another of lemonade, then strode forward to collect Mary. Except she wasn’t with Lady Theo. Where the devil was she? He scanned the room and saw that scoundrel Munro leading her to the other end of the ballroom.

Bloody hell!
The blackguard was taking her outside, probably for no good purpose. Kit dumped the glasses in the potted palm next to him. Quickening his pace, he kept to the edge of the room so as not to be waylaid by his hostess or anyone else. Munro and Mary were already on the balcony when he arrived.

Although the light was dim, Mary seemed to be backed up against the stone balustrades, and the cur was standing far too close to her. Munro bent his head down as if he would kiss her. In the moonlight Mary’s complexion was a waxy green, and her eyes wide with fear as she tried to retreat even further. The problem was there was no place for her to go.

Resisting the urge to grab the blackguard and pitch him over the side, Kit calmed himself. As angry as he was, he would not create a scene.

Clipping the end of each word, he growled, “Get. Away. From. Her.”

Mary’s gaze switched to him, and he thought he saw relief in her face as their eyes locked.

The other man glanced up and raised his brows in a look of distain. “And what is she to ye, Sassenach?”

He clenched his jaw. If the rogue wanted a fight, he’d get one. He hadn’t spent all those hours at Jackson’s Salon for nothing. “She is mine.”

Mary sucked in a breath, her eyes shifting from him to the Scot and back to Kit.

The other man rose to his full height, which was about the same as Kit’s, and crossed his arms. “Is she now?” Munro’s Scottish burr became more pronounced as he glanced for a moment at Mary. “Then what’s she doing out here with me?”

She opened her mouth but didn’t seem able to speak. Kit reached his hand out to her. Just as their fingers touched, the Scot stepped between them. “No so fast there, Bobadil.”

Kit smiled to himself. The cur thought he was a braggart, did he? He quickly assessed their positions. They were close in height and weight, and therefore probably evenly matched. Unless Kit wanted a prolonged fight on his hands, which he refused to subject Mary to, he’d have to hit Munro hard enough to put him over the low railing, which only came to the Scot’s upper thighs.

Kit kept his hands from forming fists and giving his plan away. “You have one last chance to leave this terrace alone and by the door.”

“Or ye’ll do what, Englishman?” The Scott sneered. “You’re likely too afraid ye’ll ruin your fine cloths to do naught to me. I—”

Grabbing Munro’s shoulder, Kit swung the man around, and plowed his fist into the Scot’s jaw. Munro’s jaw swung up as he stumbled back and toppled off the terrace into the bushes below.

Without thinking, Kit crushed Mary to him and her lips to his. What would have happened to her if he’d not been there to save her? What the hell was he doing now? His behavior was no better than Munro’s, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He softened his mouth, lightly nibbling her full bottom lip, cupping her face in his hands, before slanting his head and demanding she respond.

God, he’d never tasted anything as good as Mary, sweet and tart, just like the lady herself. He needed her with him for the rest of his life.

Thank the heavens, Kit had come when he had. Ignoring the low groan from the garden below, Mary threw her arms around his neck. His lips were warm, but firm and masterful. Nothing like what she had experienced when Gawain or the other rakes had tried to kiss her. He smelled clean, and very male. To think she had thought he had no passion. How so very wrong she’d been.

Mary gave herself over to Kit as he trailed his tongue along the seam of her mouth, and when she opened her lips in a sigh, he conquered her. She tentatively touched her tongue to his, and he pulled her closer, exploring the cavern of her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers in a strange intimate dance. How had she ever thought he wasn’t interested in her?

“
Mine.
” His voice was a low growl.

Joy filled Mary’s entire being. This was all she’d waited for and had almost given up on. It was even better than in the books.

Her words emerged in a breathy whisper. “Yes, yours.”

His hand moved over her back, to her derrière. Cupping it, and lifting. She pressed forward, trying to get closer, but they were already flush against one another. All she wanted to do was climb on to him. This was so much better than she had ever imagined a kiss could be.

His lips moved over her jaw. “Marry me.”

Hmm.
Not exactly the proposal she’d looked forward to, but just having him kiss her made it worth it. She’d never suspected Kit could be so ardent. “Yes.”

He took her mouth again, claiming her, this time giving no quarter. She moved her hands to his cheeks, cupping them as he devoured her. She gave, then took from him as well.

Suddenly he jerked his head up, breaking the kiss as if the magic spell had been broken. “No.”

“No?”
No what? He doesn’t want to marry me? After he kissed me like that?
This could not be happening.

He ran one hand through his perfectly coifed locks. “This is not the way to do it.”

Do what? She wanted to pummel him, yet he still held her against his chest. “I don’t understand you.”

Taking her hand in his, Kit dropped down onto one knee. “Mary, my love, before I even saw you in my house, I knew I wanted you to be in my life forever. I love you and cannot imagine my life if I don’t spend it with you. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife, my friend, my lover, and the mother of my children?”

He stared up at her as if he wasn’t sure what her answer would be. How could he doubt her? Mary’s throat closed, and she had to blink back a sudden rush of tears. A watery chuckle burbled out. “Yes, Kit. More than anything I want to be your wife and everything else you said. I love you too.”

Then she was in his arms again, yet this time he pressed his lips gently to hers, teasing her to join him. She leaned into him, clutching the back of his neck with one hand and placing the other on his cheek. “I love you.”

Someone coughed.

Kit broke the kiss, but didn’t release her, and Mary peeked around him.

“It is almost time for the supper dance.” Marcus raised a brow. “A brave guest finally convinced Lady MacDonald to allow a waltz. I assume you are now able to partake.”

Mary’s face flamed. Why hadn’t she thought they’d be caught? Thank the Lord it was their friends and not someone else.

A large smile split Kit’s face, and instead of looking at Marcus, Kit gazed down at her. “We are. In fact, I may never again dance with another woman. You may wish us happy.”

Oh my.
She had so many thoughts running through her mind. Everything from what it was like to have him gaze at her as if she were the most important person in his life forever—and it was wonderful; she had never felt so cherished—to feeling sorry for the young ladies and hostesses who would no longer be able to rely on him. Perhaps she could allow him to dance with some of the young ladies, but no waltzes. They were all hers.

She was smiling so broadly her cheeks began to ache. Finally, she had everything she’d ever wanted. No romance-book hero could match her Kit. “Yes, you may.”

Suddenly all their friends were crowding in, congratulating them. Phoebe, Anna, and Caro had knowing looks on their faces as they took turns kissing Mary’s cheeks and hugging her. The men slapped Kit on his back and shook his hand.

All the fear and tension she’d been feeling for years had slipped away. This was right. The way it was meant to be. Mary’s throat tightened as she blinked back tears of joy.