Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

C hristiana sat by the parlor room window, looking out onto the drive. On any other day, she would enjoy the pristine white covering the drive and front lawn. But today, the weather only brought uneasiness because Lord Page was somewhere battling the gusty winds. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands as every terrible scenario went through her head. Lucius in a snowdrift with broken bones. Lucius knocked unconscious by Lord Frederick. Well, that may be farfetched. Lucius shot by Lord Frederick. She was still in shock after learning Lord Frederick had stolen Vengeance and prayed the horse would soon be home. Truly, they couldn’t have gotten farther than the village with the incoming storm.

A tiny dark form appeared in the distance between the trees lining the drive. As it drew near, she could see two horses. Lord Page’s black gelding and the white stallion. There was no rider on Vengeance. Had Lucius killed the duke’s son? Her hand flew to her mouth before she scolded herself. No, of course he hadn’t.

She pulled the bell, then instructed the maid to fetch her mantle. Minutes later, she was walking down the portico steps to meet Lord Page.

“My kingdom for a horse,” she cried out as he came within earshot. A gust tugged at her hood, and tiny icicles flew from the overhead branches, biting her cheeks. Above, puffy gray clouds threatened more snow, but she no longer cared. Lucius had returned the hero. Relief came off her like a wet woolen cloak.

“And I was looking for a kingdom. How fortuitous,” Lucius answered, his smile warming her, though his nose was red as a baked apple.

Christiana grasped Vengeance by the halter and stroked his long nose, murmuring softly to him. “I promised you no harm would come to you again, though it wasn’t my doing this time.”

The stable boy and stable master, Jack, met them in the courtyard. “Ye got ‘im, milord,” said the boy. “Did he get far?”

Lucius shook his head. “Only to the local inn. We waited out the storm and went our separate ways.” He caught the eye of the stable master. “It was a… misunderstanding if anyone was to ask.”

Jack nodded and took the lead and rein of both horses.

“I left the saddle and bridle behind. Could someone fetch it on their next trip to the village?”

“Aye, sir,” said Jack. “He looks no worse for the wear, milady. ‘Tis a blessing, to be sure.”

Christiana had to agree. She tucked her arm through Lord Page’s as they returned to the house. “Are you hungry?”

“I am. The innkeeper provided tea and some fresh bread, but the ride has made me ravenous.”

They joined the others in the breakfast room. Christiana poured coffee for Lucius herself while he filled a plate from the side table. They told the other guests that Lord Frederick had been called away and bid them all a happy holiday.

Lord Elwood snorted. “I can’t see the boy being happy about anything.”

“He’s not a boy, my dear. He’s a man,” corrected his wife.

“Then he should act like one,” her husband grumbled.

“So, it’s down to the three of us,” said Lord Bentson. “I only need one more win.” His smile deepened the creases in his face and neck, and as Christiana watched him slap his knee, she made a decision.

He would get the vase regardless of the points. The old man, her mother’s first love, had become a friend. She wanted to make Lord Bentson happy, and at the same time, in an odd way, make Mama happy too.

“Lady Winfield?”

Christiana blinked, realizing she had missed part of the conversation. “I’m sorry. My mind was wandering. Were you wondering about the contest today?”

Everyone nodded.

“Marksmanship with pistols.”

“Ooh,” whispered Lady Elwood. “My dear, this could be your time.”

“I’m almost as good at pistols,” said Lord Bentson. “This could be my time!”

They all turned to stare at Lord Page. He shrugged and winked at Christiana. “It depends on the day.”

The weather cleared, though heavy dark clouds still hung low in the sky. Once again, Christiana and the gentlemen went out on the back lawn, waving at Lady Elwood through the window. Her bright red dress and turban were easily identified even at a distance. A footman had tacked a thin, round wafer of paper to a tree, and she carried three replacements.

“Whoever hits the center circle gains three points. Any other hits are worth one. You may choose a different pistol for each of your three tries or use the same one. Mr. Jensen will reload for us.” She opened the three boxes containing both single and double-barrel pistols and then indicated two rifles. “There should be something here for everyone.”

Lord Bentson was true to his word. He landed one shot in the bull’s eye and two more just outside with a single-barrel pistol, giving him five points. Lord Elwood chose the rifle, being his weapon of choice for hunting. He made the bull’s-eye twice with the third shot landing outside the center. “Seven,” he bellowed. “Puts me in the lead.”

Lucius also made the bull’s-eye twice, but his third shot was just on the border of the center circle, tying with Elwood. Christiana missed her first shot completely, hitting the tree trunk above, and then finished with two decent shots near the center for two points.

After examining the wafers, it was decided Lord Page’s final shot was closer to the bull’s-eye than Lord Elwood’s, declaring Lucius the winner.

“Demmed if you didn’t beat me,” said Lord Elwood good-naturedly. “Excellent marksmanship, gentlemen. I’d have you with me in a dark Cheapside alley any day.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Lord Bentson. “I was known to have quite a punch in my day. It would have been a pleasure to have your back.”

Christiana rolled her eyes. Men and their egos. Even this sweet old man boasted about his youthful prowess. “It seems Lord Bentson and Lord Page are tied overall with two points. But there’s still time, Lord Elwood.”

***

That evening, they dined on white soup, roast pheasant, and root vegetables, with a syllabub for dessert. They drank too much wine, played Hunt the Slipper—Lady Elwood had to be convinced her skirt was not an appropriate place to hide it—and sang festive songs while Christiana played the pianoforte.

As they were retiring, Lord Elwood stopped Christiana at the door. “I would like to apologize for my pompous introduction when we first met. It was wrong of me to assume the use of your woods. It was worse when I also assumed you should then sell it to me.” He cleared his throat, then gave her a sheepish smile. “You are a lovely woman and a gracious host. I only hope we may begin again. My wife would be so pleased to be able to continue this friendship.”

His speech took her by surprise. Her cheeks warmed at his compliment, and she knew by the seriousness in his dark eyes that he was sincere. She grasped his hand and gave him a smile. “I would like that very much, Lord Elwood. Very much.”

“Elwood, dear,” came his wife’s voice from a distance. “Where did you go off to?”

“My dearest calls,” he said with a lopsided smile. “Thank you, Lady Winfield.”

Christiana sat down in front of the hearth, letting her mind wander over the past few days. She leaned her head against the soft leather of the wingback chair, comparing her opinion of her guests when they first arrived with her present thoughts. How wrong she had been about them. Well, most of them. Lord Frederick was still a toad and probably always would be.

Lord Elwood was a different man with Lady Elwood by his side. His pompous attitude had been a show of bravado. In truth, he was a kind man who loved his wife and enjoyed hunting. And Lady Elwood had indeed become a friend. They had spent the early afternoons conversing over needlepoint and the evenings laughing and discussing fashion, men, books, and life. The viscountess was a wonderful listener with a natural maternal instinct, and Christiana found herself wanting to confide in the woman.

Lord Bentson, the dear man, had shared several stories about her mother. How wonderful it was to learn a new side of Mama, told by someone who had loved her. He had asked if he could continue to write, and Christiana had agreed. She was growing attached to the elderly man and had even caught herself slapping her knee once.

“What deep thoughts are swirling in that beautiful brain of yours?”

She turned to see Lucius leaning against the doorframe. “Thinking of first impressions and how wrong it can be not to keep an open mind.”

“As in the Elwoods?” he asked, taking the seat next to her.

She nodded. “And Lord Bentson.”

“Has he told you more about his time with your mother?”

Again, she nodded, thinking how handsome he looked in his mulberry coat and black and white pinstriped waistcoat. His hair was combed back, curling around his nape. “He’s a sweet man. I’m growing quite fond of him.”

“I’ve enjoyed their company as well. Lord Bentson is full of surprises. Who would guess a man of his age could still manage a bow and a pistol with such skill?”

“It makes me wonder what other tricks he hasn’t revealed yet.”

“Who do you think will win?”

“All of them.” Including herself. For she would win Lucius. Maybe it was time to stop denying her feelings, face her fears, and admit she wanted to be with Lord Page. Did she want to be Lady Page and part of his obnoxious, loving family? Be a sister to Lady Annette and a mother to an entire brood of rambunctious, ornery boys just like the Page brothers? Perhaps she did.

Christiana gave him a side-look and grinned at his shocked expression.

“How can they all win?” Lucius rested one ankle on the opposite knee, leaning his head back. “Do you anticipate a three-way tie?”

“No.” She laughed, and once again, the familiar lighthearted feeling returned. “Believe it or not, I have made friends during this house party. I like them, and dealing with them as friends rather than business acquaintances seems like a victory for me.”

“So, you will sell everything except Vengeance?”

“No, I will sell the vase and will allow Lord Elwood and his guests access to my woods.” She imagined the smiles on the Elwoods when they learned of her decision. “They will have to notify me, of course, which will provide us with future opportunities to enjoy one another’s company.”

“Clever. What about the mines Sir Horace wants to buy?”

She flashed him a sly smile. “I’m still considering what to do about that.”

“Ah, then everyone may not win.”

“I must keep someone on his toes.” Christiana stood. “Midnight?”

He shook his head. “I’m exhausted. If I wait until then, I’ll fall asleep.”

“Shall we wait until tomorrow?” She bit her lip, not wanting him to see her disappointment.

“Egad, no. And miss my bedtime kiss? Your lips give me the most delicious dreams. Without it, I fear I might have nightmares.” He rose and stood before her, arms behind his back. “Get your cloak and meet me outside. I have a different version of this afternoon’s contest.”

Christiana dismissed Mr. Jensen before she joined Lucius, assuring the butler that she would be perfectly safe. From his quick assent, she knew he was beginning to trust Lord Page. The night sky had cleared to an inky black with a bright moon guiding her way along the path.

“I only brought two pistols,” said Lucius when she stood next to him.

“So, how is this contest different?” A kiss between each shot? She would agree to it, she thought with a grin.

“Only one shot and there will be diversions. We are allowed to do anything to distract one another except use our hands.” His green eyes smoldered when he said anything . But without touching? Interesting.

Christiana picked up her pistol and took her mark. A new wafer was tacked to the same tree. As she gripped the handle and held out her arm, his warm breath caressed her cheek. Her stomach tumbled.

“So this is how it’s going to be?” she asked.

“Indeed,” he whispered in her ear.

Once again, she took aim, and just as she squeezed the trigger, Lucius nibbled at her earlobe. The gun went off. She barely made the wafer yet found she wasn’t at all disappointed. For now, it was her turn.

Lucius took her place. Christiana fetched both pistol cases, stacked them on the ground, and used them as a step. Now she could reach above his shoulders. When he raised his arm, she tucked her nose under his thick brown curls and brushed her lips across his nape.

“I knew this was a good idea,” his voice low, husky.

He raised his arm again, and she trailed kisses across his jaw. When he pulled the trigger, she whispered in his ear, “I want you.” He froze, pistol still aimed at the wafer on the tree, jaw tense, his mouth a grim line. But the shot was dead center.

She had just given herself to him, and he seemed ready to explode. “Are you angry?”

***

Lucius couldn’t move. I want you. Not love, but want. He needed to make her understand there was no compromising on the issue of wedlock.

“I think you should know,” he said, studying her expression as he continued, “I decided this was the last year I would send you a token. It is time I marry, begin my own family, and produce a future heir.”

She blinked, her long blonde lashes covering the disappointment in her sky-blue eyes. The corners of her mouth tipped down slightly . Good, let her see my urgency.

“Then my brother arrived with his friend, holding an invitation, the key to my heart. I thought fate was sending me one last chance. I took it and ran, in the hope that the future—our future—might still be attainable.” He barked a hoarse laugh. “The golden ring, always just beyond my grasp.” He reached out, took an amber lock between his fingers, wishing he wasn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’ve always been a romantic,” she said, but a smile curved her lips now. “I loved that about you.”

His head jerked up at the word he’d been waiting to hear. Loved. As in the past? “And now? Do you still love that about me?”

She nodded, and her gloved fingers came up to touch his mouth, traced the creases framing each side. “And more.” Her lips followed her fingers, caressing, softly pulling, then coaxed them to open for her.

Heat roared through his body, pulsing low and erratically as he crushed her body to his, her curves fitting perfectly with his lean, hard length. She was heaven, what his mind and body yearned for to be complete. His hands slipped beneath her mantle, lingered on her hips, and she moved against him, stoking the fire inside him into an inferno. Heaven and hell, want and need, all battling desire and uncertainty, all fighting to win this tug of war.

Lucius lost his reserve and peppered kisses at her temple, along her cheek, down her jaw. Her head fell back, exposing the creamy skin of her long, slender neck. He was a man starved, a man held at bay too long, untying her cloak to expose her neck and holding the cape around her with one arm. He nipped and licked his way to her collarbone, kissed the line of her cleavage, then returned to her mouth. Her sweet, soft, tempting mouth. She shuddered beneath his hands.

“Say you love me. Not want, but love ,” he rasped in her ear. “I need to hear you say it, even if you turn me away in the end. Tell me I didn’t waste all those years wondering, longing to see you, hold you, taste you.”

Christiana shook her head. “I love you, Lucius Page, but I don’t know if I’m ready to face life again on your terms.” Her breath warmed his own neck as she spoke against it. “Convince me.”

This time when their mouths clashed, it was Christiana who demanded, and Lucius gave in. He would do anything in his power to prove they were meant to be together, turn back time if he could.

Turn back time.

He smiled against her lips, the wheels already cranking to life as an idea began to form.