Chapter Eleven

In Which Richard Accepts a Challenging Task — and gets Somewhat Distracted

Not quite sure what to expect when it came to the rooms Holly described as her personal wing , Richard was caught by surprise as she led him up a long flight of stairs and then ushered him into a spacious suite.

“Oh,” he murmured. “This is really delightful.”

“Thank you. I think so.”

The main area was circular, and he realised it had been created within one of the turrets that rose at each end of the house. High enough to see over some of the surrounding forest, the largest window had plenty of space for what a professional and impressive telescope. He approached it with curiosity and a degree of caution, knowing her skills and respecting the magnificence of the instrument itself.

“You saw me with this?”

“I did, yes.” Holly leaned over and moved the eyepiece. “Around here, I think… take a look for yourself.”

He paused for a brief moment, inhaling the delicate fragrance of flowers that her warm skin radiated as she stood next to him, then bent to the lens. “Ahh. Yes.” He sorted out what he was seeing. “Although the snow is obliterating most of the landmarks, it’s quite clear where the river is, isn’t it?” He straightened, humbly aware of the chance observation that had kept him alive.

She nodded. “It was sheer luck, Richard.” Her expression betrayed her emotions. “If I hadn’t…”

“You did.” He stopped her from going any further. “And you saved my life. For which I shall be forever grateful.”

Holly looked up at him, her beautiful blue eyes shining in the dim light. “I don’t want your gratitude. I did what any right-thinking person would do.”

He managed a slight chuckle. “I beg to differ. Anybody else in your situation would have gone running to their parents, or their footmen. There would have been a great hullabaloo, and by the time anyone had actually paid attention enough to do anything, I’d probably be dead.”

She sighed. “Perhaps.” Resting a hand on the telescope mounting, she gazed from the window for a moment, then turned her face back to him. “Anyway, it has worked out well, don’t you think?”

“Better than I could ever have imagined,” he whispered, leaning closer, feeling the warmth of her radiating against his skin.

She swallowed. “Richard…”

“Hush…”

He couldn’t have stopped himself if his life had depended on it. Her lips were lush and slightly parted, her eyes widening as he bent his head toward her.

And the kiss?

Strangely, it felt like the first kiss he’d ever had, which was, of course, quite ridiculous.

But her taste was unique, her mouth warm, soft, even welcoming as he urged those luscious lips to part and allow his tongue to slide between them.

Within moments, she was in his arms, her hands around his neck, eagerly pressing her body to his.

He couldn’t help the groan of need as he held her tightly against him, losing himself in her taste, her scent, her warmth…

“Richard,” she pulled away a little, and whispered against his lips. “Richard… more …”

How could he refuse her? The simple answer was he couldn’t.

“Holly, sweet Holly,” he touched her mouth delicately with his, then—in response to her murmur of pleasure—swept her up into his arms and carried her to the couch near the corner of the fireplace.

The wood was dry, and the kindling sat ready for the flame, but at present it was dark, the room cool as snow fell steadily outside. However, the heat generated between them more than made up for any chill in the air.

He laid her across his lap, his heart beating fast as she easily settled against him, her arms lifting to pull him down over her. “Richard—oh God,” she gasped as his hand found her breast and delicately caressed it.

“Holly,” he muttered, losing himself completely as she responded so intensely to every touch, every movement he made. “Kiss me again.”

Obediently, she raised her parted lips, let her eyelids drift closed as he claimed her mouth once more. This time, he stroked her body, moving her close against him as his hand roamed from her knees upward, ruffling her skirts and baring her legs.

He sensed her shiver as his fingers found her thigh and knew it wasn’t from cold but from the heat they were generating between them.

His body demanded more, much more, but his brain told him he had to slow down. This was some form of madness, insanity, she was the daughter of a Viscount, he but a lowly solicitor. And they’d known each other for a mere instant in their lives.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he opened his eyes to see her watching him, an expression of mixed joy and amazement on her face. “I like this, Richard,” she said slowly. “I like this very much.”

His heart thudded and turned over in his chest at the look she was giving him. “As do I, Holly. Make no doubt about that.”

She watched him, her features relaxing. “I sense there is a ‘but’ about to emerge…”

He managed a small, painful grin. “You’re quite right. I need not point out that we cannot take this any further, and that we have already behaved in an entirely improper fashion. Your Papa would be within his rights to shoot me.”

She snorted. “He’d have to go through me first. Besides, he is not a violent man in any way.”

“If he found his daughter alone and in a compromising position with a humble solicitor, you might have to change your mind about that statement,” cautioned Richard, easing her off his lap and onto the couch next to him.

She straightened her gown with an air of delightful unconcern. “I’m not a child. I am a woman grown, despite my chronological age, and you know it. I pride myself on my education, and that has included a full and comprehensive study of what happens between a man and a woman. Of course, it is supposed to be restricted to marriage, but—as I hope I’ve already stated—I am not a fool, and therefore accept that such matters occur when and where they will, regardless of Society’s rules.” She paused. “And I shall not even bother to comment on that ‘humble solicitor’ nonsense.”

“Ah.” Richard blinked, unsure of how to respond.

“So let’s just say that I find kissing you to be a very pleasant and arousing experience, and I would very much like to do it again.” She stood and shook out her skirts. “However, you are right in that we have an important task to complete, so we should probably get started on that, and save the rest for later.”

He swallowed. “Uh, yes. Yes indeed.” His mind recognised the practicality of her statement. His body, unfortunately, took a bit longer to catch up, and he rose uncomfortably to follow her into a connecting room, where a large desk was centred in front of more windows.

“Right. You can work here.” She fussed a little with drawers. “Paper. This should do, it’s from Papa’s stock, and he uses it for business matters.” Another drawer revealed ink and pens, and finally she opened a door in the side of the desk and removed an artist’s case, which held brushes and colours.

“What else might you need, do you think?”

“Hmm…I’d like whatever maps you have of this area from as long ago as possible, especially any copies you might have of the one on the wall in the library,” he managed to settle his disorganised thoughts into some sort of coherence, even though sitting on the hard chair was still causing some discomfort within his breeches.

“And lots of light.”

“Er, yes, that would be very helpful.”

Within twenty minutes, Richard had everything he thought he would need to re-create the original map, and he nodded in satisfaction. “This is excellent. Thank you.”

Holly smiled at him. “Do what you can. We can ask no more than that.” She leaned over his shoulder, grinned at him, then placed a light kiss on his cheek.

“From friend to friend,” she said. “For now.”

He breathed in her scent once more and sighed. Either keeping his distance from Holly—or the agony of the hard chair against his arousal—might well cripple him before this night was over.

*~~*~~*

Having stoked up the fire, lit every candle she could lay her hands on, and found a thick woollen blanket she’d forgotten she’d tucked away in a handy chest, Holly made herself comfortable on the couch in the adjoining sitting room, while he began his assigned work.

She knew she should be considering the dangerous nature of this task, the risks to Richard as he all but forged an important document, and the shadows posed by the presence of Samuel Blackstone at Forest Grange.

But oddly enough, all her thoughts were currently swirling around the moments when they’d kissed.

She’d fought for, and mostly achieved, a level of composure that felt appropriate. But inside? Dear God above, her mind had been turned upside down, her body shaken to the core, and there were strangely exciting flickers of something new and pleasurable darting through odd places that made her shiver.

His kisses were—well, delicious was the only word that she could think of. His taste lingered on her tongue, and she stared into the flames, allowing the memories to shimmer their way over her skin, bringing goosebumps in their wake.

She had been kissed before, but never like this. The tentative pecks on the cheek, or the quick touches of lips that dotted her limited experience with such matters, had immediately paled into nothing the minute Richard had taken her in his arms.

It had been a life-changing moment for Holly, and she recognised it as such. But was it the same for him? He didn’t strike her as the sort of man who went around kissing women willy-nilly. And she thought she was a fairly good judge of character.

Sighing, she tucked her feet up on the sofa beneath the blanket and rested her chin on her hand. The practical part of her cautioned patience, and some moments spent in serious consideration. The rest of her was screaming to run over, plop herself down on his lap and make him kiss her again, insisting that this time he would not stop.

She blinked, caught by surprise as the realisation of what she really wanted filtered into her brain.

She wanted his arms around her. She wanted his scent and his taste to overwhelm her. She wanted to feel his tongue against hers and his hand on her skin again, in a variety of places—none of which would be interrupted by annoying things like clothing.

Those facts assembled into a conclusion that hit her like a bolt of lightning out of the darkness. She wanted him.

Somehow, she had gone and fallen in love with this man, without realising it. How ridiculous a thought that was, given the brief moments of their acquaintance, and yet it persisted, sitting firmly in her mind, arms crossed and feet placed neatly on the floor of her brain. There was no moving it—it simply was.

She took a ragged breath and glanced through the open door at Richard, bent to his work. Wholly absorbed, he never raised his head from the paper he was working on, and she felt confident that he would accomplish their goals.

“Why?” she muttered. “Why am I so sure that an almost impossible task is, in fact, possible?”

The answer was there before the sound of her whispered question had faded.

Because it was Richard . And because he was a man who would always do what he said he was going to do.

She could trust him, she knew. She could rely on him to keep his word. And that, to her, was a virtue that could not be overlooked. In her eyes, Richard was a good man, and his actions were proving the validity of her belief.

So, tucked up and warm on a snowy winter’s night, Miss Holly Trease made a monumental decision.

She was going to marry Mr Richard Hawkesbury, because she was now convinced, deep in her heart, she’d never find a man who would suit her better in every way there was.

And, being a young woman of strong determination and considerable intelligence, she rapidly concluded that the easiest thing to do—instead of waiting around for heaven knew how long until he realised the same thing—was for her to ask him .

Shocking indeed, but after further consideration, she discovered she rather liked the idea.