Red Roses Mean Love

'Thank goodness.' Stephen rose and walked to the set of crystal decanters by the window. 'Do you mind if I have a drink?'

'Of course not. I told you, you must make yourself at home. Help yourself. I'm glad someone is able to enjoy Papa's brandy.'

'Thank you.' He eyed her speculatively. Some inner demon, perhaps one that wanted to prove he, too, could behave unconventionally, prompted him to ask, 'Would you care to join me?'

She raised her brows. 'Me?'

'Yes. Your victory calls for a celebratory drink. Have you ever tried brandy?'

'No, but then brandy isn't something women drink.' She sent him an arch look. 'Surely you know that.'

'I promise not to tell,' he said in an amused, coaxing tone. 'Aren't you curious how it tastes? I assure you it's excellent brandy.' He poured two drinks, then joined her on the settee. He held the snifter out to her. 'Taste it.'

Hayley eyed the amber liquid dubiously. Captain Haydon Mills often partook of brandy, and Hayley decided that if she wrote about it, she should at least taste it. For literary purposes, of course.

Drawing a resolute breath, she said, 'As Winston would say, 'Down the hatch!'' She tossed the entire drink back with one gulp. The potent liquor burned a fiery path down her throat, leaving her gasping. Tears puddled in her eyes.

'Dear heavens!' she gasped.

Stephen rose and pulled her to her feet. Stepping behind her, he clapped her on the back until the coughing stopped.

'Are you all right?' he asked when she could finally breathe again.

Hayley nodded weakly. 'Yes, I'm fine now.' She fixed him and his as yet untouched brandy snifter with a baleful glare. 'How can you possibly drink that vile stuff? It's awful.'

He choked back a laugh. 'You're supposed to sip it slowly. Not gulp it down.'

'Now you tell me.' She shot him a sheepish smile, which faded as a spell of dizziness washed over her. 'Oh dear. I feel rather unsettled.'

Stephen took her by the arm and led her to a long brocade sofa near the fireplace. 'Sit down,' he said, helping her then settling himself next to her. 'Is that better?'

Hayley nodded. 'Yes. I'm sorry. I just felt so odd for a moment.' She leaned back and closed her eyes. A wave of hot dizziness washed over her, leaving a strange, liquid languor in its wake. 'Oh my.'

Stephen studied her, his gaze wandering slowly down her face, taking in the delicate curve of her cheek, the soft plumpness of her lips, the graceful bend of her long neck. 'That was a hefty drink you belted back. And the fact that you barely touched your dinner is not going to help.'

A puzzled frown formed between her brows. 'How do you know I didn't eat my dinner?'

I couldn't keep my eyes off you. His gaze continued downward and settled on her gown. Instead of answering her question, he asked, 'Is brown your favorite color?'

Her eyes popped open. 'I beg your pardon?'

'All your gowns are brown. Is it a favorite of yours?'

Her eyes drifted shut again. 'Not particularly. Brown is convenient because it doesn't show dirt.'

'Don't you own any gowns in other colors?' Stephen asked, wondering what she would look like in an aqua gown the same color as her eyes.

'Of course. I have two gray gowns.'

Two gray gowns. His heart pinched at her words. She said them without any signs of embarrassment. He'd never met anyone so without vanity. To stifle the need to touch her he forcibly cupped his palms around his brandy snifter.

'Pamela has gowns in different colors,' he pointed out.

'Yes. Are they not lovely?' A tender smile lit her face. 'Pamela is at an age where gentlemen are starting to notice her, and one gentleman in particular. It's important she look nice. I shall advise her to wear her new pale green gown to Lorelei Smythe's party next week.' She opened her eyes and smiled dreamily at Stephen. 'Pamela looks lovely in pale green.'

Unable to stop himself, Stephen reached out and gently touched her flushed cheek. 'And will you wear pale green as well?'

She laughed and shook her head. 'No. I shall wear one of my gray gowns.' As she continued to look at him, her smile faded. Struggling to sit up, she said, 'You're frowning. Are you upset?'

His gaze wandered over her face. 'No. I was just thinking how lovely you would look in pale green. Or pale aqua. To match your eyes.'

An undignified giggle escaped her followed by an unladylike hiccup. 'Oh dear. What on earth is in that brandy?' She pressed her fingertips to her temples. 'Now what were we saying? Oh yes. Gowns. Thank you for your kind words, but it would take more than a gown in any pale color to make me lovely.'

Setting his untouched drink on a small mahogany table, he cradled her face between his palms. 'On the contrary,' he said softly, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks, 'I cannot think of anything that could in any way detract from your beauty, including gray or brown gowns.'

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and he easily read the confusion in her gaze.

'It isn't necessary for you to say pretty things to me, Stephen.'

Her words pinched his heart. She was so lovely. Inside and out. 'You're beautiful, Hayley. Absolutely beautiful.'

Color suffused her face, and a shy smile touched her lips.

'Has no one ever told you that?' he asked.

Her blush heightened. 'Only Mama and Papa. Never a man.'

'Not even Poppledink?'

'Popplemore. And no.'

'The man's an idiot.'

Another hiccup and giggle escaped her. 'Actually, he's a poet.'

'A poet? And he never told you you're beautiful?'

'No. He apparently turned to poetry after he broke our engagement.' She leaned forward and confided, 'Clearly I wasn't the sort of woman to awaken his poetic soul.'

In spite of her casual attitude, Stephen was certain he detected an underlying hurt behind her words, a hurt he felt compelled to banish. 'You could inspire any man to poetry.'

'Indeed?' Amusement sparkled in her eyes. 'Even you?'

'Even me.'

'I don't believe you.'

'I'd be happy to prove it … but it will cost you your wager.'

'You mean I wouldn't be able to make you weed the garden?'

'Precisely.'

She tapped her chin with her finger and considered. 'Very well. I choose the poem.' Cocking a teasing brow at him, she added. 'This will give me a chance to test your tutor skills and see how clever you are with words.' She made a big show of arranging herself comfortably, noisily settling her skirts around her. 'I am ready. Recite away.'

His gaze roamed over her face, resting for a long moment on her mouth before again meeting her eyes.

'She's like a breath of sunshine;
warm, enticing, yet impossible to define.
There's something soft and tender in her eye