Chapter 17
Caro shrieked and dashed up the staircase. Before her heart could burst from her chest, Eamon was there, catching Leo in his strong arms.
Leo laughed with delight and hugged Eamon before Eamon set him gently on the carpeted step.
“Mama!” Leo raced to Caro, seizing her hand and dragging her to Eamon. “Look what Mr. Stone taught me.”
“I saw.” Caro tried to put a stern note into her words. In spite of her jolt of panic, though, Leo’s joy was wonderful to hear. “Mr. Stone should not have. It is too dangerous, do you not think?”
She directed the last words at Eamon, accompanied by a glare.
“He caught me,” Leo said without worry. “I knew I wouldn’t fall. Want to see me do it again?”
Leo prepared to charge to the next floor, but Caro held him back. “Maybe later, love. Why don’t you go down to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Mulligan for some bread and jam? It will be some time before supper.”
Leo gave a little hop of delight. “Mrs. Mulligan always gives me heaps of jam,” he informed Eamon. “With scones, too. All I want. She says I need them because I’m growing so fast.”
“Indeed, you are.” Caro noted every month that her boy was a bit taller and a bit stronger. It gave her pride but also a little wistfulness.
“Go on, then,” Eamon said. “Scones and jam are not to be missed.”
Leo turned impulsively to Eamon, gave him a brief hug around his knees, then scampered past Caro and down to the ground floor. The backstairs door banged, Leo’s hurried footsteps sounding on the wooden stairs below it.
Caro faced Eamon. She hadn’t missed his surprise when Leo had hugged him, plus the gratitude mixed with melancholy that had flitted across his face.
“The lad was in no danger, I assure you,” Eamon said before Caro could speak. “I’d never have let him fall.”
Caro believed him. Eamon had shown so far that with Leo, he was gentleness itself.
“Sliding down the banister?” Caro arched her brows, trying to sound severe.
“Yours are perfect for it.” Eamon patted the railing that led to the next floor. “Wide and flat, for a swift, smooth ride. Unlikely you’d fall.” He grew serious. “I promise you, I had hold of him all the time, Caro. I’d never let him be hurt.”
Again, Caro believed him, and it gave her a cozy feeling that she could.
“Why on earth did he want to do something so bizarre?” Caro demanded. “Leo’s never shown a longing to use the railings as a means of descent before.”
Eamon’s cheeks reddened. “Because he saw me do it first.”
“Oh?”
She enjoyed watching his discomfiture. Eamon tried to look dignified but dissolved into shamefaced laughter.
“I was a champion banister-slider as a boy. As I said, when my father dragged me to various country houses, I had little to do. I could only read or look at paintings so long.” Eamon shrugged.
“No one was about once McCormick departed, and I thought I was unobserved. But Leo saw, and he begged me for a lesson. I couldn’t say no. ”
“You could have tried,” Caro said.
Eamon shook his head. “Impossible. He makes such a sad face when he’s disappointed. It breaks my heart.”
“I know.” Caro found it difficult to resist Leo anything when he was crestfallen. The dowager claimed he’d be spoiled beyond redemption. At the same time, the dowager slipped him an extra bit of cream in his tea or a penny from her pocket when she thought Caro wasn’t looking.
Eamon opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “He had me cornered. I had to surrender.”
“Show me,” Caro said on impulse.
Eamon’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“Show me how you were a champion banister-slider. You shouldn’t make such claims unless they are true.”
Eamon stared at her, then sent her an impish grin before he dashed up the stairs to the floor above.
He lifted the tails of his coat, giving Caro a view of a trim backside and muscular thighs in close-fitting trousers, before he hopped to sit on the banister, his right leg crooked over it.
He glided down with grace, picking up speed as he descended. Just before he reached the newel post at the flight’s end, he leapt off, landing agilely on his feet next to Caro. Eamon executed a bow, and she applauded.
“I admit, you do it grandly,” Caro said.
Eamon drew a deep breath, hands on hips. “I am out of condition. Going soft, taking my ease after army life.” He gestured to the railing. “Try it.”
Caro started. “Try what? Taking my ease after army life?”
“You amuse me, Duchess. I mean sliding down the banister.”
Excitement tingled through her. Caro hadn’t felt such an impulse since her debutante days, when life stretched before her, all things possible. Before the ton had censured her for marrying above her, before life had taken away the illusion of stability in which her husband had cloaked her.
“I could not,” Caro said, but hesitantly. “I am a widow, elderly and dignified.”
“You are a young woman who confines herself too much. Your visitors are gone, Singleton is downstairs with Leo, and the dowager is upstairs. Who is to see?”
“What about the gentleman we hired from Cheswell’s gallery?” Caro asked. “He is here before me. What would he think?”
“He’d be happy you were at last taking some pleasure in your life.” Eamon held out his hand. “I will steady you all the way, as I did your son.”
A wave of daring washed over her. Caro hadn’t done anything so audacious since she’d danced with a handsome dandy soon after her debut, against her mother’s wishes.
Her mother had been right, of course, as the gentleman had turned out to be a capricious philanderer, but the brief sensation of the forbidden had been heady.
But no, she’d been plenty audacious at the ball, dancing with Eamon in front of half of polite society instead of remaining decorously against the wall.
She’d been audacious when she’d not fled from the sitting room where Eamon had found her, when she’d let her fingers explore the fascinating planes of his body.
That abrupt need for wildness took hold and would not release her. Caro put her hand in Eamon’s, swallowing a wash of yearning as he closed his over it.
Eamon did not seem to notice her sudden elation. He led her up the stairs to the next landing and patted the railing. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
Caro eyed the wide banister, which, if truth be told, she’d pictured herself riding down on more than one occasion.
“I cannot possibly leap up there as you did,” she said. “I did not rush about ridges in the war, leaping streams and evading soldiers.”
“No streams were leapt.” Eamon’s voice rumbled tantalizingly close. “My wet boots and cold feet attested to that. But no fear, Duchess. I will assist.”
Before Caro could argue, Eamon closed his hands around her waist and lifted her easily to the banister.
Caro clung to his shoulders as she sensed the empty air behind her. “Perhaps this is not such a good idea,” she said quickly.
“I’ll not let you fall, my duchess.”
Caro gazed at him, standing so close, his eyes deep blue and holding mysteries. His hands on her waist were strong and sure. They’d been thus in the upstairs chamber in Jo’s house, when he’d kissed her …
“I know you won’t,” she whispered.
Eamon’s eyes darkened, a spark of desire in their depths. He’d kiss her here and now, she sensed. Caro wouldn’t stop him—she’d hold onto him and kiss him back with all her might, never mind that Singleton or her son might reappear at any moment.
Her heart stung when Eamon retreated slightly, though he didn’t release her.
“Off we go, Duchess.”
His hold loosened, but only enough to start her sliding along the railing, her skirts fluttering. Caro whooped as she picked up speed, torn between terror and delight.
Eamon steadied her all the way. He descended the stairs beside her, hands on her waist, guiding her down to the newel post. When they reached it, Eamon quickly lifted her off the banister and set her down, unhurt and exhilarated.
Caro laughed out loud, her merriment ringing through the stairwell. She tried to pat her loosened hair into place, her hands shaking.
“Can we go again?” she heard herself ask.
Once ought to be enough. Caro should put her skirts to rights, beg Eamon to tell no one of her indignity, and retreat upstairs to her correspondence.
“Of course,” Eamon answered readily.
He took her hand, and they ascended the stairs at a run. This time, Eamon hopped onto the railing first.
“We’ll go together. Shall we?” Eamon held out one arm, encouraging Caro to step into its circle.
Without hesitation, Caro did. Eamon lifted her the short distance to his lap, steadying her with his enclosing embrace and wrapping a strong leg around hers.
It was an intimate position, and one that should embarrass her, but Caro felt only exhilaration.
This was followed by a burst of alarm as they hurtled down the railing, but Eamon kept them secure. Caro shouted for the joy of it.
Even with Eamon guiding them, the newel post came up very fast. Caro yelped as they neared it, only to find Eamon lifting her off the railing at the last second.
They both lost their balance, feet tangling as Caro fought to remain upright. Eamon grabbed for the post, but their combined weight took them down.
The gallery’s carpeted floor rushed toward her, then Caro found herself falling onto the strong body of Eamon, he cushioning her fall.
One stunned moment of silence followed, and then they both burst into laughter.
Lying on Eamon’s chest, feeling his body shaking with mirth, released something in Caro. Nothing mattered in this instant but the silliness they’d engaged in, and the knowledge that Eamon had caught her as he’d promised.
It felt only natural to kiss him.
Their laughter abruptly ceased as Eamon’s arms came around her. The hall went still, the only sound the rumble of carriages outside the high windows and the rushing in Caro’s ears.
The giddy passion that had swept through her in the small room in Portman Square returned as she deepened the kiss, tasting his mouth. Their tongues tangled, Caro’s need, too long suppressed, breaking forth.
She surrendered to it. She traced Eamon’s face with shaking fingers, skimmed them through his thick hair.
His heart banged beneath hers, and their legs were entwined as they’d fallen, only the clothes between them keeping things decorous.
Caro felt the strength in his thighs, and the hardness that meant he was as aroused as she was.
There was no chance of fulfilling their longings in the middle of the gallery’s landing, but wicked ideas formed in Caro’s head of how it might be done.
For now, they were gloriously alone. She would hear Singleton or Leo returning from below stairs in plenty of time to avoid disgrace, and the dowager rarely descended below the fourth floor.
Caro could lie here and kiss Eamon as long as she liked, for no other reason than she enjoyed it.
Eamon skimmed his hands up her body and caressed her neck, loosening her already straggling hair. He nipped at her tongue, smiling when she pretended to elude him, then tugged her back down for a deeper kiss.
When their lips eased apart again, Eamon traced her cheek.
“You are beautiful, my duchess.”
“I am a mess.” Caro touched his face, liking the rough bristles that brushed her fingertips. “I’ve never been tidy, as a girl or a matron.”
“You don’t need to be.” Eamon kissed a dangling lock. “Beauty doesn’t come from neatness. It comes from here.” He placed his hand between her breasts, right over her thumping heart. “It beams from you, Caro.”
“You are very flattering.” Caro let herself be bold. “And quite handsome, if you must know.”
“Ah, she approves of me.” Eamon kept his hand where it was. “The time I spend at my toilette has repaid me.”
“Don’t be silly. You are hardly a dandy. Not immaculately coiffed and in a suit that barely lets you move, thank heavens.” Caro drew her fingers over Eamon’s lips, their smooth contrast to his whiskery face pleasing. “I prefer a person to look like who they truly are.”
“I could look like no other than myself,” Eamon said softly.
“I am glad.” Caro kissed the tip of his nose. “I prefer you exactly as you appear, Mr. Eamon Stone. Truly handsome, and more kindhearted than you know.”
Eamon stilled, something darkening in his eyes.
“Oh, Duchess,” he said softly. “I believe I’m falling in love with you.”
Caro jerked in surprise, and she drew a sharp breath. “In love …”
The words shocked her at the same time they bathed her in incredible joy. To have such a man look at her with heat in his eyes and declare that he loved her …
She had no idea what to say or do. Caro could only stare at him in stunned silence, unable to form words to respond.
Eamon went rigid under her, a scowl obliterating his warmth. “Damnation.” He heaved himself out from under Caro, pulling her to her feet at the same time he rolled to his. “Damn it all to hell.”
Caro parted her lips to apologize, or whatever she ought to say, but Eamon advanced on her swiftly, quieting her with a fierce, hard kiss.
The kiss bruised, commanded. Caro sought breath and couldn’t find it, but it didn’t matter. The kiss shattered her, even more than his declaration had, her body on fire.
Eamon broke the kiss as abruptly as he began it.
He fixed her with a hard gaze for a long moment before he turned away and stormed down the stairs.
Singleton had hung his things in the lower hall, and Caro watched over the banisters as Eamon snatched these up and disappeared into the foyer, shrugging on his coat.
She hurried to the front window of the gallery, reaching it in time to see Eamon burst out of the house and tramp away, settling his coat and clapping on his hat as he went. He moved northward around the square, soon lost to sight behind trees, carts, and wagons.
Caro hung onto the windowsill and watched him go, the tear in her heart growing wider with every one of his strides.