Once Upon a Tartan

“Please.” She aimed a smile at him, and maybe it was the candlelight playing tricks, but it seemed a sad smile. He assisted her to her feet and resisted the urge to lace his fingers through hers.

As they made their way through the house, it occurred to Tye that Balfour likely held hands with his countess, regardless of who was looking on, or who wasn’t looking on. Tye hadn’t seen his own parents hold hands since Gordie’s death, or possibly even before that.

“What are you thinking, Spathfoy, to grow so silent?”

Hester twined her arm through his as they wandered among the roses, her stature not striking him as short or tall or anything, but the perfect complement to his.

“I’m recalling the day of my brother’s funeral.” With someone else—with anyone else—he would have offered a polite prevarication. “It’s the last time I recall my parents holding hands.”

She said nothing but slipped her arm around his waist—a posture more familiar than holding hands. He settled an arm over her shoulders and sent up a prayer that this woman might be his to escort through the roses for all the rest of his days.

He had not known Hester Daniels long, he had not acquainted himself with her immediate family, he had no idea if she had a penny to her name, but he did not question the depth of his regard for her. He wanted her honesty and her courage, he wanted her trust, and he wanted her body, all for his very own.

But that list, impressive and greedy though it was, was not complete, for he wanted her heart too.

“I am going to come to you tonight, Hester, unless you tell me not to.”

“If you did not come to me, Tiberius, I would surely be coming to you. Shall we sit for a bit?”

Relief swept through him, making him admit that all her considering glances and subdued smiles had caused him to doubt. The doubt did not disappear—she had not accepted his proposal overtly—but it ebbed the longer they sat side by side holding hands in the gathering darkness.

When the stars were starting to come out, Tye rose. “May I escort you to your room?”

She placed her hand in his and let him lead her into the house, up the stairs, and to her door. “Give me a few minutes, Tiberius.” She kissed his cheek and disappeared into her room.

What was a few minutes? Was it five or thirty? Tye decided it was however long it took him to prepare for bed, which was not long at all. His clothes were neatly folded in the wardrobe, his body as clean as soap and water could render it, his teeth scrubbed, and—only because he’d caught sight of himself in the cheval mirror as he’d charged toward the door—his hair brushed.

His first cotillion hadn’t rendered him as unsettled as he was standing outside Hester’s door.

She opened the door without him even having to knock, leaving Tye for one instant to fear he was about to be rejected, so solemn was her expression.

And then she smiled. At him.

She smiled the secret, pleased female smile that had been driving men beyond reason since time began, a smile of promise and mystery, of blessings bestowed and blessings withheld. He smiled back, a man in contemplation of bestowing a few blessings himself.

“Come in.” She stepped aside while Tye crossed the threshold then closed and locked the door behind him. A survey of the room revealed that she’d banked the fire, drawn the drapes, and turned down the covers on the bed.

And yet, tossing her onto her back and gratifying his lust would not do for Tye’s prospective marchioness.

“Shall I braid your hair, Hester? It’s lovely down, but I would enjoy being your lady’s maid.” He’d also enjoy undoing her braid once he got her in bed.

“I haven’t had a lady’s maid since I shared one with Genie during my one London Season. Here.” She handed him her brush and took a seat before her vanity. “This will be a new experience.”

“For myself as well.” He’d brushed Dora’s hair when she was small, Dora being the youngest, but that had been ages ago. “How is it your hair bears the fragrance of flowers?”

“It’s the shampoo I use. That feels good.”

He was making long, slow strokes down the length of it, watching light dance along each strand. She’d brushed out her hair earlier, for he’d yet to encounter a single tangle. “One braid or two?”

“One down the middle will do.” She leaned forward, so her forehead was resting on her crossed arms. “We’re going to be intimate tonight, aren’t we?”

“Most would say we’ve been intimate already.” He brushed her hair to the side and planted a kiss on her nape. The scent of her, the feel of her soft, silky skin made his pulse leap in low, heathen places.

“We’re going to copulate.” She said the word carefully, as if she might have seen it in print but not heard it spoken.

“From the Latin copulare, to join together.” The last of his doubt drained away. If he’d held to one glimmer of reason in his dealings with her—one hint of honor—it was that only her intended ought to share such a pleasure with her. “I will enjoy very much joining together with you, Hester.”

Joining his body, his life, his heart. He finished up a loose braid and scooped her into his arms, wanting the conversation and dallying and dithering to be over. She was willing; he was ready. More than ready.

And yet… for his bride, for the woman into whose keeping his heart had apparently strayed, that was not enough. He kissed her nose, laid her on the bed, and unknotted the sash to his robe.

“My goodness, Tiberius. You demonstrate an impressive enthusiasm for this intimacy.” She reached between the folds of his robe and drew a finger up the hard length of his erection.

“And if I acquit myself in the manner you deserve, my lady, your enthusiasm will soon eclipse my own.” He leaned down, and while she caressed his testes, he undid the ties of her robe and nightgown, though—in aid of his own sanity—he did not push the material aside.

“Come here, Tiberius.” She held out her arms, as if she were inviting him to mount her directly. When he hesitated, she spread her legs. “Come to me.”

“I don’t want to rush—”

She captured his wrist and gave him a stout pull toward her body. “I do want to rush. I want to gallop and soar and feel the wind in my hair, Tiberius. We can hack around the park some other night.”

Because, he concluded, they had many other nights—a lifetime of other nights—to test each other’s paces. He tossed away his robe and covered her body with his own.

“At least permit me some kisses, Hester.”

He gathered she was not inclined to argue. She got a grip on his hair that was coming to feel familiar and fused her mouth to his.

“If you ever cut your hair, Tiberius—” She’d broken off the kiss to take his earlobe into her mouth.

“If you ever cut yours—” The feel of her body beneath him, so very nearly joined to his, had Tye’s voice sounding harsh to his own ears. He got a hand over her breast, teasing her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Tiberius Lamartine Flynn.” Her nails dug into his backside, sending a gratifying jolt of lust to his vitals.

“What’s your middle name?” The question created a pause in the lady’s attempts to wrestle her lover into submission and into her body.

“You want to know that now?” She hooked her ankles at the small of his back and arched her hips into him. “Now, you want to discuss names?”

“I want to know the name of the woman attempting to ravish me.” He scooted his hips back. “The complete name.” The name she’d say when they spoke their vows to each other.

“Wretched, awful man.” She subsided beneath him, going quiet on a sigh. Her hand brushed slowly over his back, then moved down to pet his buttocks. “My complete name—and I am not trying to ravish you, but merely to effect the purpose for which you have arrived to my bed—is Hester Willamette Daniels.”

“Willamette is pretty.”

“It’s odd.” She sighed against his shoulder then closed her teeth gently over his collarbone. “I’m rushing, aren’t I?”

“Trying to; I’m trying not to let you.” He slipped a palm around the back of her head and cradled her face to his shoulder. “You don’t need to get this over with, Hester, like your first jump after a bad fall.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

He was tempted to tell her she’d like it, then show her she’d like it, and hope she did like it. He kissed her