“Helen, are we friends?”
She closed her eyes for an instant. “You told me you had things to say not questions to ask.”
“Then I hope we are friends. I hope I am not wrong when I imagine there is more even than that between us.” He let out a breath of laughter, then raised the glass to his lips with her hand still clasped under his. She let him, watching him drink as though fascinated.
“I could not speak before,” he said intensely. “Not at Steynings and not here at first, because of my promise to Ilya, my responsibility to Dorothea and her family. But Dorothea does not wish to marry me. We’ll remain engaged so far as the world is concerned until Kenneth is cleared of this charge, but we will not marry. Her heart is not with me but with Ilya still. And mine was never with her.”
She stared at him, a frightened look in her clear eyes. He raised the glass again, but this time to brush his lips against the side of her wrist. She gasped, but did not try to escape him.
“My heart is with you, Helen. All I ask is a chance to win you.”
The fright in her eyes grew stronger, then vanished. She didn’t seem to be breathing at all as her gaze dropped to his lips. He could wait no longer, but bent his head and kissed her.
Her lips parted in shock. Her breath, sweet and agitated, rushed into his mouth and desire surged. He wanted more, so much more than this gentle kiss of promise. But it was all he took, savoring her soft, yielding lips and the beginnings of her response before he ended it.
“Do we have a chance, Miss Milsom?” he whispered.
She swallowed. “Perhaps.”
He smiled with relief as well as hope. “Then I will spare your reputation further assault and retire until morning.”
It took considerable effort to release her hand to stand and walk across the room. But he achieved it. He would even have left without touching her again, but she made the mistake of following him. And when he turned back to say goodnight, there she was, just in reach of his arms, her eyes shining in the candlelight, her lips parted in a soft smile, perhaps of amusement. But there was need there, too, like a reflection of his own. He could not resist wrapping his arms around her and drawing her against him as he bent his head and kissed her again.
He meant it to be as light and respectful as the first, but this time, her mouth clung to his, and he gave into passion, kissing her deeply and thoroughly. Her hand touched his cheek, and he moved his body against hers in an instinctive caress that made her press closer, her mouth widening under his in total surrender.
God knew where it would have led if a weak voice had not said from the bed, “Behave yourself, Sir Marcus.”
They sprang apart, staring at Carla, who regarded them from her pillows. “Mama will scold you for kissing Miss Milsom in front of me.”
“No, she won’t,” Marcus said firmly. “But in spite of your untimely wakefulness, I am glad to see you back with us. How do you feel?”
“As weak as a kitten,” Carla said. “But I can breathe. And the dreams have gone, I think.”
Helen moved toward the bed to pour her fresh water. “You had better go, Marcus,” she said briskly, though when she glanced at him, her eyes were still soft, her lips full and rosy from his kiss.
There was nothing to do but leave, and yet he did so with a full heart. He had never been so happy in his life.
Chapter Thirteen
When she had first opened the door to Sir Marcus with his brandy bottle, the thought had crossed her mind that he was foxed. But he showed no sign of it. Doubting her judgment in allowing him in, she had never imagined that the next quarter-hour in his company could change her whole life.
But by the time he left, she knew it to be so. His heart was with her. He loved her, not Dorothea, and she could only admire the loyalty with which he had honored his word to Ilya Robinov, and his affection for the whole family. He had kissed her. Twice. And never had there been such kisses, so sweet and powerful and promising such passion that even remembering them heated her blood.
As she made Carla comfortable, giving her water and a little cold soup before settling her down to sleep once more, her mind kept drifting back to Marcus. She even fell into a doze thinking of him, only to wake later to the sound of the bedchamber door opening.
It was Mrs. Robinov, eager to see how her daughter had improved. In a murmur, Helen told her how she had wakened and spoke to her. She did not mention Sir Marcus, though it was possible Carla would tell her later. And that their patient had held the glass of water herself and taken a couple of spoonsful of Mrs. Villin’s nourishing soup.
Before she left to sleep, Mrs. Robinov pressed her hand. “I can never repay you for your help with my daughter.”
“You never need to,” Helen assured her. “I am glad to help.”
As she fell into her bed, she knew that if Carla continued to improve the following day, she would need to return to Audley Park, which seemed, suddenly, a long way from the Hart. She slipped into sleep with the charming fantasy that Lady Overton would invite Sir Marcus and the Robinovs to stay for Christmas. The Marshalls, of course, were nowhere to be seen, and Mr. Lacey was content with the arrest of some passing, villainous robber for the theft of the items mysteriously hidden in Kenneth’s trunk…
She woke with happiness in her heart, washed and dressed, and called first at Carla’s room.
Here, she was delighted to find the girl sitting up against her pillows, exhausted but smiling as she was entertained by her brother and Anne.
“Five more minutes,” Helen said, “and then I think you should let our patient sleep.”
In the parlor downstairs, she discovered Mrs. Robinov reading a newspaper and drinking coffee.
“Ah, I didn’t expect you so early,” the widow greeted her with a friendly smile. “Pour yourself a cup of coffee, and Mrs. Villin will bring you some fresh breakfast. There is a letter for you from Audley Park.” She sighed. “I expect they want you back, and I am glad to say we have no reason to keep you longer, except for the pleasure of your company.”
“I should go back now that Carla is clearly on the mend,” Helen said, picking up the letter from the table and breaking the seal. “The children will run wild and get into all sorts of mischief.”
Lady Overton’s note did not command, however, merely inquired after the patient and Helen’s own health before mentioning how pleased everyone would be to have her back. Helen smiled, for she missed Eliza and the boys.
Her heart beat faster. Everything was changing. It seemed that soon she would not need her position there at all.
But this relationship with Marcus was new, much too new to make hasty judgments, let alone take hasty actions. Live for the day, and enjoy it.
She was buttering toast when Sir Marcus wandered into the parlor and sat down with a cup of coffee. She was almost afraid to meet his gaze, to discover she was mistaken, that last night had merely been a dream. But no, the warm smile softening his rather hard eyes, told her the truth.
“Come for a walk after your breakfast,” he invited. “The day is fine for the time of year, and I doubt you have had any fresh air since you arrived.”
“No, but I should return to Audley Park today.”
“Then I will drive you there,” he offered. “After our walk.”