At first he didn’t see her. With all the lights turned down for the night save one which she must have lit, the room was mostly cast in dark shadows. Stepping forward, he allowed the faint glow from the oil lamp to guide him until he finally found her. Somewhat obscured by a cabinet, she sat on a sofa with her legs curled up beneath her, a book resting in her lap.
“What are you reading?”
A wide–eyed gaze latched onto his. Her lips parted ever so briefly, just long enough to convey her awareness of their improper meeting, before she seemed to gather her wits. “I’ve no idea.”
He laughed. “Truly?”
A chuckle escaped her, relaxing her features. “I grabbed the first book I found and tried to read it, but my mind refuses to stay on the topic.”
“May I?” Collin extended his hand. She closed the volume and offered it to him. He read the title and pressed his lips together with amusement. “A General History of Privateering. Why, this ought to appeal to your adventurous spirit a great deal, my lady.”
“You’re right, my lord. It should and yet…” She raised her chin a notch, allowing the glow from the oil lamp to wash across her cheek. “The truth is I did not come here in search of a book.”
Collins stomach tightened in anticipation. He set the book aside and lowered himself to the spot beside her. Carefully, he reached for her hand, the spark of awareness the touch produced electrifying his senses. She must have felt it too if her gasp was any indication.
Swallowing all remaining doubt, he raised her knuckles to his lips for a reverent kiss. “Neither did I. To be honest, I have longed to share a moment like this with you for some time. I just feared the implications, in case you did not want the same.”
“And if I do?” she whispered while he stroked his thumb across the top of her hand.
“Then I should very much like to kiss you.”
Her hand found his cheek as she leaned in to meet him, and then his lips were on hers. He kissed her with every wish he had for the future and every hope she instilled in his heart.
Much to his relief, she matched him with the unbridled zest he’d come to adore, assuring him this was the woman he would marry and that their union would be filled with friendship. And with burning passion.
December 11
An Unexpected Guest Arrives for Christmas
Rain whipped against the beveled glass windows. Trees creaked in protest as the wind pummeled them with unrelenting force. Peering out at the mayhem, Lady Teresa, the Duke of Ilverness’s youngest and only unmarried daughter, listened to the soothing sounds her mother played on the piano.
Meanwhile, Teresa’s father reclined in an armchair with the book Teresa had given him earlier in the evening. His tense posture suggested his mind was not on reading but rather on every sound the storm made. It was just the three of them this Christmas with Teresa’s older sisters both married and settled now. They would visit later, in the spring, when the weather was more conducive to travel.
“Perhaps a game of cards will help take our minds off the weather,” Mama suggested.
Teresa started in response to words spoken for the first time in a while. She turned away from the chaotic view and glanced at her mother, who’d moved to the sofa. She hadn’t realized the music had ceased until now. She nodded. “A distraction would be welcome.”
“I worry the bridge will be washed away by morning,” Papa grumbled, his brow creased in deep grooves.
“It may well be,” Mama agreed. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now besides wait to assess the damage. And since it is Christmas Eve, let’s do our best to enjoy the evening. Lord knows tomorrow will be busy enough.”
“Very well,” Papa said, though he did not sound as though he’d be easily distracted by anything at the moment. He reached for his half–empty glass of brandy and took a large sip while Teresa retrieved the deck of cards from a nearby cabinet. A flash of lightning lit up the room. Teresa paused, holding her breath while counting the seconds until a beastly roar shook the air.
Returning to where her parents sat, she lowered herself to the sofa opposite her mother, doing her best to stay calm. She was indoors after all, with walls and a roof for protection. “How about vingt–et–un, since there’s only the three of us? Alternatively, we could play Widow Whist with a blind hand.”
“I vote for vingt–et–un,” Mama said as Teresa started to shuffle. She eyed her father who gave a small nod.
Once the deck had been cut, Teresa began to deal but had managed to distribute only two cards when thunderous banging resounded through the manor. Teresa stilled, her heart racing with jerky movements. “Someone’s at the door.”
Papa set his jaw and stood in anticipation of the butler’s arrival. The moment stretched, the sound of the front door slamming followed, and then came the anticipated click of footsteps hastening toward them. The parlor door opened and Wesley stepped in.
“Your Grace.” The elderly butler had an anxious look in his eyes. “There’s a man. A captain from what I can gather, though I failed to grasp his full name.”
“Show him in,” Papa said. “And then have Mrs. Swinton prepare a guest chamber and a hot bath.”
Teresa sat in rapt silence, awaiting the arrival of their unexpected guest, her attention on the door. It did not take long before a sopping wet figure appeared. He limped into the room, leaving a trail of water on the freshly buffed parquet floor. The greatcoat he wore seemed to do little to keep him warm. He shook so violently Teresa was certain she heard his teeth rattle.
Black hair plastered against his forehead dripped over his brow and into a pair of ocean blue eyes. A strong nose marked his face, along with a perfectly shaped mouth, the lower lip fuller than the top, and expressive black eyebrows. An angular jaw completed the look, making him the handsomest man Teresa had beheld in all her twenty years.
“Come stand by the fire.” Papa swept his arm toward the warmest spot in the room.
The stranger cast a hesitant look in Teresa’s direction. Their gazes met and a jolt of awareness shot through her veins. It was over in an instant as he crossed the floor with an awkward gait and thanked her father for his kindness.
“Might we inquire about your name, sir?” Papa filled a glass of brandy and offered it to the gentleman who eagerly took it and drank. “I fear the butler didn’t quite catch it.”
“Forgive me,” the stranger said. “My manners are atrocious this evening.” He seemed to make an effort to straighten himself, though he didn’t quite manage the feat. “Anthony Clemmens, captain of The Black Raven.”
“And what brings you all the way out here in this God awful weather on Christmas Eve, if you don’t mind me asking?” Papa angled his head to study Mr. Clemmens. “We’re not exactly near the ocean.”
Mr. Clemmens shifted from one foot to the other and winced as if in pain, prompting Teresa to rise. While he informed her father of his arrival in England the day before yesterday, his desire to reach his brother and his family before Christmas morning, and how his horse had thrown him because of the storm, she dragged a chair to him so he could rest.