Chapter Eleven

When dancing, a lady should always portray herself in a meek and mild manner.

Later that evening

After dinner had concluded and the drivers had gone back out to the barn, Lydia slipped upstairs. Since some of her more expensive clothing had been stolen by her coach drivers, she had been forced to ferret through the trunks of garments in the attics, for she wanted to appear at least somewhat fancier tonight.

Changing outfits after dinner perhaps made her a silly goose, but she couldn’t help it. Elsbeth wanted dancing lessons before retiring, and Lydia wished to wear a gown that would flare and swish about her ankles. Did it matter that the style was at least five years out of date or that the bust was slightly tighter than it had been when she’d worn it before? Absolutely not. It still made her feel attractive and perhaps it would catch the earl’s eye.

Vain? Perhaps slightly, but she couldn’t help it. He’d made an impression on her, made her feel wanted, somehow convinced her that she was important, that she wasn’t merely a nobody from a small village near the Scottish border, born to middle to low class parents whom the ton knew nothing about.

In the earl, she unexpectedly found hope again when she’d been certain it had been lost. So she’d chosen a gown of cranberry taffeta with a fine white lawn overskirt that had been embroidered around the edges with holly berries and leaves.

Five years ago, she’d saved coin from selling eggs from her chickens and ducks. It was the third year of her ill-fated marriage, and though she was making plans—along with her friend who ran the bakery in the village—she had decided to attend the Christmas dance in Ambleside by herself, for she’d wanted nothing more than to dance the night away, to enjoy the festivities, and basically eat, drink, and be merry.

Unfortunately, by the time the gown had been finished at the first of the month, her husband had grown more belligerent and unyielding. It had been imperative that she leave him and the area immediately, so she’d carefully folded the new gown and put it away in the attic, hoping that someday she might retrieve it.

Perhaps today was that day.

Without the aid of a maid, it was difficult to style her hair, but she managed it somehow. There weren’t enough pins to make an elaborate creation, so she pulled her hair back into a loose chignon and secured it with the few she had. And because she felt almost giddy with the opportunity to finally wear the gown, she took a sprig of holly and pinned it as well as the berries just over her right ear. A quick glance into a cloudy mirror above her washbasin proved her finished, so she made her way down to the common room.

“Oh, Lydia!” Surprised approval threaded through Elsbeth’s voice. “You are beautiful in that gown!” She sprang out of her chair and closed the distance between them. “Was this from the attic?”

“It was. I thought it appropriate for teaching you to dance, or at least refreshing the lessons you’ve already had.”

“I adore how you think.” The girl giggled. “Help me move some of the furniture out of the way so we have room to dance.”

Lydia frowned. “Where is your father?”

The other girl frowned seconds before she shoved one of the chairs to the side of the space. “He said he was going to try and have a quick bath; he heated a few buckets of water on the fire, and I guess he found a wooden tub somewhere upstairs.”

Lucky. “It’s hardly big enough for an adult to recline in. He’d need to merely sit there with his knees bent.” Though her imagination danced in an effort to picture him nude and dripping water as he stood up… “Actually, it sounds lovely. I wonder if he would heat and haul water upstairs for me.”

“I certainly would.” Both she and Elsbeth turned at the sound of Jackson’s voice. Flutters filled her lower belly as she took in his freshly bathed appearance. “That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“How wonderful you look with limited wardrobe choices.” Lydia waved a hand to encompass his form. His still-damp dark hair had been combed, and good heavens, he smelled simply delicious, just like he had on the first day she’d met him. “I had to search out clothing five years old while here you are turned out as if you just entered a drawing room.”

“Well, that was a lovely compliment.” He winked. “I suppose men don’t need as many pieces of clothing as women, or else my valet packed my valise within an inch of its life. Though, I do miss having the choices currently contained in my trunks… in the other coach.”

“You are quite handsome tonight, Papa,” Elsbeth said as she crossed the space to buss his cheek. “Now, come dance with me as soon as we move the rest of the furniture.”

“As if I could ever deny you anything, poppet.” Then he glanced at Lydia, and his grin was slow and wide. “That gown is lovely, but seeing it on you is what makes it truly beautiful.” He winked, which made Elsbeth giggle. “The holly in your hair is clever.”

“Thank you.” Heat filled her cheeks. “I wanted to be a bit more special since we shall be dancing.” But she managed a smile that stretched her cheeks. “It is not a gown in the latest style, but since it’s just us here, no one will know.” She met his gaze and wished to dive deep into the cool pools of his blue eyes. “Shall we begin? Or is it a fool’s gambit without music?”

“We don’t need music. Dancing is more a feeling.” Then he threw a look about the space where candles guttered on the mantel in tarnished brass holders and the fir boughs had been decorated with ribbons and dried fruit as well as tin bells. “Did you do this?” With a hand, he gestured to encompass all of it.

“I did, along with your daughter. She has quite the eye for handiwork and crafting.”

“When?”

Lydia shrugged. “We worked on it a bit before dinner and then finished it while you were having a bath. Afterward, I went to dress.”

“It’s wonderful, and I didn’t properly appreciate it until just now.” When he grinned, flutters loosed in her lower belly. “Well done, the both of you.”

Elsbeth smiled, and she seemed uncommonly happy. “It was fun. I’m glad for Lydia. She brought Christmas back to me. Perhaps she will to you, too.”

“That would be a feat.” The earl snorted. “The magic of Christmastide has been missing for far too long.”

Would he finally tell her a bit more about his wife? That remained to be seen.

“Well, shall we begin our dance?” Lydia hid her shaking hands in the folds of her gown. “Unless you want me to invite Robert and John inside?”

“I do not want to dance with those fellows,” Elsbeth said with a shudder. “They aren’t bad people but as dance partners?”

“I understand,” she said with a pat to the girl’s shoulder.

“Since it’s only the three of us, most of the sets won’t work with such a small number of participants. So, we will practice the Continental waltz.”

Elsbeth did a little bounce in place. “Imagine me in a ballroom performing a waltz with an elegant gentleman!”

A slight wince went over Jackson’s expression, gone at his next blink, but Lydia shared in the worry. It sometimes wasn’t the storybook romances girls read about.

“Yes, well, for tonight, we will only concentrate on the steps. When you go to finishing school next autumn, you will only need to enhance your skills.” He glanced at her. “Can you sing?”

“Ha!” She shook her head. “Only if you want to summon crows. It is not a talent I possess, sadly.”

The grin he flashed sent a wave of awareness over her skin. “Music is not needed, not while instruction is being had.”

Turning away on the excuse of making more space in the common room, her heartbeat raced. This man, with his own grief and his own secrets oddly had the capacity to heal her heart. Suddenly, she didn’t want that feeling of lightness and excitement to end. To her, he felt a bit like Christmas, with the warmth and goodwill, the protection and generosity he’d already shown her.

And it had the power to change… everything.

For the next half hour, she watched with indulgence as the earl instructed his daughter on the steps of the waltz. Oh, he was so patient with her when she stumbled and stamped on his toes. And that grin of his had the power to turn her knees into the strength of cooked porridge. As they moved about the floor, the breadth of his shoulders provoked shivers of need down her spine. Was there anything more splendid than watching a handsome man dance with his daughter?

“Drat it!” The outburst came from Elsbeth as she wrenched out of his arms. “I just don’t understand how to move my feet in conjunction with yours. My body simply doesn’t flow as it’s supposed to.”

“Then let me show you in a different way,” Jackson said with a glance to Lydia. “Perhaps you will learn better if you watch.” With a grin that would prove devastating if she wasn’t careful, he came her way with an outstretched hand. “Lady Lydia, do me the honor of dancing a set with me.” He held out a hand to her and waited with bated breath for her answer.

Not in her wildest dreams did she ever see herself dancing with an earl. Shock tightened her chest. “Now?”

“Yes. How else can Elsbeth see the steps?” He wiggled his fingers. “As a headmistress, you do want your students to have the best of instruction, yes?”

So very charming. “I suppose that’s true.” She slipped her hand into his, and heated tingles went up to her elbow. “This is probably the only time I will indulge in dancing, so I might as well enjoy myself.”

A tiny frown tugged at the corners of his sensual lips. “I can’t fathom why. You are an earl’s daughter as well as a headmistress. Moving within the ton is part of your life. Even more so if you need greater enrollment numbers.”

Those damned lies that kept coming back to haunt her. Before she could respond, he tugged her into his arms and encouraged her to position her hands in the proper posture. “Perhaps.”

“And if you would believe in yourself, you would set Town on its ear.” He set them in motion while humming a few bars of a popular waltz. “Now Elsbeth, here is where you made your mistake. Dancing shouldn’t be a chore; it should be like flying. With the right partner, you will feel as if your feet never touch the floor.”

“You certainly have a talent for the waltz,” Lydia said in a breathless voice.

“I wasn’t joking when I said the right partner makes the difference,” he said in a low voice as he met her gaze. While he continued to hum a few strains, he guided her through the first circuit of the room.

“Perhaps it does.” Despite her reservations, despite trying to ignore the connection between them, she could no longer deny the fact that there was every possibility she was falling in love with this man. That was both terrifying and exciting.

Yet a man had steered her wrong before after he’d plied her with charm until she fell, and when she’d professed love, he’d turned horrid.

Was Jackson that sort?

As her skirts swirled about her ankles, her movements flowed with his as if her body was tied to his by an invisible string. The longer she peered into his eyes, the more she felt as if she were drowning in those blue pools, but there was no fear because he would be there to rescue her, just as he’d always been this week.

“Elsbeth, do you think you might wish to try again?” But when she glanced at the spot where she’d last seen the girl, she wasn’t there. In fact, Lydia was very much alone with the earl. “Where did she go?”

“Upstairs. A few moments ago.” Jackson drew them to a halt.

“Yet you continued to dance with me?”

“Why not? Your eyes don’t lie; you were enjoying yourself, and perhaps my daughter didn’t want to intrude.”

“On what? We were demonstrating the waltz.”

“She is quite clever,” he said in a low voice. “But now I can do this, which is what I’ve wanted since the mistletoe this afternoon.” He caught her head between his palms and kissed her.

The sensation of falling, of tumbling, of flying assailed her as she fought the urge to melt into him. With each new meeting of their lips, with every touch of their tongues, the kiss grew more heated. That was how it always was for them. As she uttered a tiny moan, Lydia held onto his lapels, but she matched him kiss for kiss, and his hunger, his desire, fed her own. Oh, how she wanted this man! When he dared to cup her breasts, dared even more to worry her nipples through the fabric of her gown, shivers of need twisted down her spine. As if she were shameless, she layered herself against him, and as he tightened his arms around her, she thrilled.

“Jackson…” When her nipples hardened and she gasped, he chuckled. The sound tickled through her chest, but his daughter was upstairs and not even asleep. She put a hand to his chest and gave him a bit of a shove. “We shouldn’t continue this, no matter how much both of us want it.” The breathless quality of her words spoke to her need. “Elsbeth could come down.”

Perhaps I’m a bit mad after all. Widows had glorious freedom in society, and he was far too skilled in carnal endeavors to deflect those attentions.

“True.” Briefly, he rested his forehead against hers. When he blew out a breath of apparent frustration, his warm breath skated across her cheek. “Now that the storm is over, the roads will be passable soon. I would like you to come with Elsbeth and me to Scotland, spend the Christmastide holidays there.”

“What?” Surprise bounced through her chest. “This cottage was always my destination.”

“I know that, but I don’t like thinking of you here alone with your brother-in-law lurking about. You’d be stranded with no horse and no vehicle. No way to summon help.” He cupped her cheek then the back of her head, reeling her into his embrace once more. “I can’t let that happen. If anything were to befall you, I’d never forgive myself.” As if he couldn’t bear being parted from her, he kissed her, drank from her, told her without words what he truly wished to do to her if they had been alone.

Exactly mirroring her own thoughts.

“I couldn’t intrude on your family time.” Needing far more of him, she looped her arms about his shoulders and melted into him. When he walked her backward over the floor until a wall at her back prevented further movement, she shivered with anticipation. “You wished to take your daughter away to bond with her. My presence would hinder that.”

“You won’t be intruding. We’ve already spent a week together.” Every word he whispered brushed his lips against hers. “I think she adores you more than she’s let on.”

Do you?

“And after the holidays?” Suddenly, she might want things she had no right to. They hadn’t spoken of feelings for each other or even the future. Everything they’d done had been firmly in the present.

“You can come back to London with us. Then we will talk and go from there.”

It would be all too easy to agree with his plans, to fall beneath his spell, to confess everything, but it might destroy what was building between them. But if her lies kept stretching and growing… “Oh, I…”

“I’m very persuasive, Lydia. If you don’t agree, I’ll simply keep trying.” Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew up her skirting, slipped a hand along her thigh to squeeze an arse cheek. “There is something between us; don’t let it dissolve because you might be frightened from your past.” When she squealed with surprise and need darkened his eyes, she sighed, brushed her lips along his. He kissed her tenderly but then released her seconds later. “Think about it, hmm?”

“I will. I promise.” Because he was far too great a temptation, she stepped away from him, but not before noting the impressive bulge at the front of his breeches. There was something to be said of knowing she could inflame this man so quickly. “I’m going to retire. It has been a rather busy day.”

“Of course.” The earl nodded but there was a grin playing at his lips that tugged an answering one from her. “Sleep well, Lydia.”

“You too, Jackson.” As if she wouldn’t lay in bed with her thoughts in a freefall in the dark, all due to this one man and his penchant for acting the knight in shining armor.

What am I going to do?