Chapter Ten
Tha?s Magdalene was many things, but dishonest was not one of them. She really, truly hated walking in the country. And she took every opportunity to let him know it.
They’d been out twenty minutes and barely made it a half mile.
First, she insisted that his pace was too quick.
“No lady wants to gallop,” she said, walking so slowly that it barely qualified as movement. He knew this was not owing to some disability. She moved faster just walking through the parlor to the kitchen. She was doing it to prove a point.
Nevertheless, he slowed down to her turtle’s pace without complaint. If they were going to engage in a battle of wills, he had nothing better to do than to win it.
Next, she decided that the “rocky path” hurt her feet, despite the fact that the path was mostly smooth.
“You’re wearing sturdy enough boots,” he said. “And we’re not going far.”
“My feet are delicate. And besides, it’s very bright. My skin is turning red.”
“Why didn’t you wear a hat?”
“Because all my fashions are too slutty for your ways.”
“A hat can’t possibly be too scandalous.”
“For you, anything can be too scandalous. Find me some shade.”
He took her elbow and led her off the footpath onto the grass, near a grouping of trees.
“We can sit in the shade, if you prefer, and enjoy the fresh air.”
She sneezed violently. “The grass gives me hay fever.”
He suspected she was faking it. But when he looked over at her, her eyes did indeed seem red and watery.
She sneezed again. “Damn you, Eden.”
He offered her his handkerchief.
She took it and noisily blew her nose, then offered it back to him.
“No need. Consider it yours to keep.”
“Can’t handle a little snot?”
He sighed. “I can see you’re not going to relent. Let’s turn around and go home.”
“Let’s!” she said jauntily.
He noticed her pace was considerably fleeter now that she’d gotten her way. Not a peep to be heard about the rocks or the sunshine. Of course, she had other things to peep about.
“I’m bored,” she said. “Should you not be making conversation to entertain me?”
“It’s been difficult to get a word in edgewise.”
“A gentleman needs to be able to direct the conversation with his lovely.”
She had a point.
He gestured out at the downs in the distance. “Do you see those sheep?”
“Hard to miss.”
“They’re Lancashire Golds. I told Camberwell about them. I brought a heard to the abbey half a decade ago, and our supply of wool doubled. They have thicker coats, you see, and—”
She yawned dramatically. “Your wife does not want to hear about your wool supply, milord,” she said. “We’ve covered this.”
“The kind of woman I aim to marry would care about agriculture,” he countered. “She will, after all, be mistress of the estate and share in the gains of it.”
“Well, add loves farming to your endless list of requirements.”
“My list is not endless.”
“It’s not short either.”
“Do you truly think I’m being unreasonable by desiring to share my life with a woman who takes some degree of interest in my principal occupations?”
She considered this. “Maybe you’re right. But the more rules you have, the less likely it’ll be you find a girl this season, won’t it?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.”
“So you have to decide if she really wants to hear about your apple trees and goat breeding.”
“I have not mentioned apples or goats.”
“Yet.”
They were nearing the cottage, and he was not yet ready to abandon the outdoors. Despite Tha?s’s grumpiness, he did enjoy her company. And there were gems in her perspective, even when she primarily shared them just to needle him.
“There’s a pretty lake just past those trees,” he said, pointing to a few nearby willows. “Would you mind very much going to look at it? It isn’t far.”
“I mind,” she said firmly.
“If you were a lady I was courting, you would acquiesce to my invitation gladly. This is exactly how such things are done.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “If we must.”
They turned off the main road onto a narrower footpath. It was slightly rougher, and she stumbled over a gnarled tree root. He took her elbow to right her.
“Let’s turn around before I break my neck,” she said.
“We’re almost there. Here, take my hand.”
She did so, and her skin was soft—much softer than his own. Between his cooking and washing up and gardening, and all the riding he liked to do while Tha?s slept in the morning, his hands were calloused. She noticed.
“Your paws are awfully rough for a gentleman.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No. But it might bother her. Delicate lady skin and such, not wanting to be scratched up.”
He’d never thought of that, and it concerned him. He’d hate for his bride to find his hands were uncomfortable to the touch or unpleasant to look at.
“I suppose I could take to wearing thicker gloves while riding. And I won’t be spending much time in the kitchen once we’re back in London. Cold water is not gentle on the skin.”
“Butter,” she said decisively.
“Pardon?”
“Rub butter into your hands at night before you go to sleep. An old whore’s trick. Softens the skin right up.”
“I’ll have to try that. Though, it might make one smell rather odd.”
“No harm in the smell of butter. Unless it’s rancid.”
“I don’t imagine I’ll take up the habit of smearing myself in rancid butter, so I suppose I’m safe.” He pointed at a glimmer of light through the cluster of tree trunks and willow fronds. “That’s the pond.”
“Beautiful. Let’s turn around.”
He pulled her by the hand. “No, come. You’ll like it.”
The pond was in a shaft of sunlight, surrounded by wildflowers. A few geese lolled placidly on the shore.
“Pretty, is it not?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I suppose it’s nicer than the dusty path. I hate those birds, though. Evil creatures.”
“Geese?” he laughed. “They’re perfectly harmless.”
Something splashed in the water, and she walked a bit closer to take a look. “Turtles,” she said, in a tone that—shockingly—implied she actually liked them. “A whole family of them.”
She bent down to peer closer. “Aww, a baby! What a funny little creature, with his tiny fat legs.”
Her foot edged so close to the pond that she disturbed the water. It was charming to watch her actually enjoy something in nature. She had an endearing attraction to babies, it seemed—regardless of the animal.
The goose nearest her looked up at the sound of the splash and stretched its wings.
And kept stretching them.
He stretched to his full wingspan, rising to his feet.
“Tha?s,” Eden called, as she was not paying attention. “You might want to step back.”
She paid no mind to him, peering even closer at the water and making cooing sounds at her new friends.
The goose let out a tremendous honk and stalked toward her, beak first.
“Tha?s, move,” he said, lunging in her direction to pull her away from the bird. She looked up, following the sound of his voice, just in time to see the bird charging. She turned and ran.
The goose ran after her, flapping his wings.
“Get it away,” she squawked. “It’s chasing me!”
He was already behind her, yelling and flapping his own hands to scare the bird away.
It worked—the creature flew into the air, though not without a menacing caw—but Tha?s had tripped over another root and landed on her hands.
“Beast,” she yelled at the bird. “I hope you starve this winter and fall into the sea!”
He rushed over to her and bent to his knees.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She gestured at her sprawled body with her dirty hands. “Does it look like I’m all right? Help me up.”
He put his hands around her waist. She was so soft beneath his palms, her flesh giving way to the firm pressure of his touch. It made him want to press her to him, so he could feel all her curves against his lean physique. But that, of course, would be inappropriate when she was moaning in pain.
He looked her over. She was rumpled, her hair awry, with a bit of dirt on her face.
“Poor girl,” he said. “Where are you hurt?”
“Everywhere,” she moaned. That she was capable of such drama reassured him that she was not seriously injured. Still, he felt for her. He reached out and rubbed the dust off her shoulders, then smoothed her hair.
She stuck out her lower lip sadly and let him tend to her without complaint. He licked his thumb and rubbed away the mud below her eye. “There you are. Good as new.”
“Tore my dress,” she complained. “The only dress His Lordship will let me wear.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Gerity can mend it. More importantly, are you in much pain? Can you walk?”
She tested out her ankle and winced. “I can. Won’t enjoy it, though.”
“Here,” he said, pressing her against his side. “Lean on me. It isn’t far home. And if it hurts too much, just say so, and I’ll carry you.”
She laughed. “You can’t carry me. I’ll topple you right over. These bosoms weigh me down, not to mention my ample arse. And you, just a skinny thing.”
“I might surprise you.”
“Maybe I’ll let you try in bed, where it won’t hurt if you drop me.”
He did not comment on the idea of them in bed, though it was an increasingly appealing one. Now that he knew her, the prospect of being intimate with her filled him with more curiosity than fear.
She shuffled along well enough on the way home, favoring one ankle but not quite limping. It was nice to walk with her in companionable silence, her warmth tucked against his side.
When they reached the cottage he helped her inside and onto the settee to rest.
“You’re a good nurse, milord,” she said, smiling up at him. “You should trip all your ladies, so you can tend to them.”
“I didn’t trip you, if you recall,” he said. “Your fascination with turtles won you the enmity of a goose.”
“Very well, get all your women goose-attacked.”
He chuckled at the idea of subjecting a succession of pretty, aristocratic girls to angry, territorial birds. “I think that will result in my dying a bachelor,” he said.
“That would be a shame.”
She did not add a barbed comment. She just smiled at him.
Was she being... nice?How novel.
And, well... nice.
“You’re not bad company, Eden, if I’m honest,” she said. “And if you were courting me, and we were just back from a stroll together, and you’d gotten me all buttered up and snug, I’d want you to steal a kiss.”
This was not what he’d expected her to say. “That would be rather rude of me, to use an injury to molest you.”
She clucked her tongue. “Kissing is not molesting unless the lady is unwilling. Which, after that, she wouldn’t be, unless she didn’t like you. And if she didn’t like you, she’d make it clear after you made her tramp through the forest and nearly broke her ankle.”
“I’m not sure I agree that that’s what happened. But for argument’s sake, say I should attempt to kiss her. How would you suggest I go about it?”
“Well first, make sure there’s no one around to catch you. You don’t want to get yourself trapped in a bad match, or her either.”
“It goes without saying that I would not kiss her if we were in danger of being discovered. But even if we were so lucky as to have privacy, how would I know if she wanted to be kissed?”
“First, look into her eyes, and see if she looks back at you.”
He looked into Tha?s’s eyes. She looked back at him with a winsome expression.
“Now look at her lips, and see if she looks at yours,” she instructed.
He lowered his gaze to her pillowy lips, which were always pink and shiny against her creamy skin. He had never allowed himself to stare at them, and now that he did, he didn’t want to stop.
He peeked at her eyes and saw she was looking at his mouth, leaning closer than she had before.
“Now touch her, and see if she moves away,” Tha?s said softly. “Mind, you have to feel your way through it. Use your senses. You’re a bright fellow. I doubt you would ever think that a woman wanted to be kissed if she didn’t. And you can always ask her.”
“Ask her?” He was not aware such a thing was done.
“Yes. It’s quite simple. Try it.”
He was not sure how such a question should be phrased. He tried the most literal route.
“Uh... may I kiss you?”
His voice cracked on the word kiss, and he winced, but she didn’t comment on it.
“Yes,” she said simply.
He was not sure what to do.
“Kiss her, then,” she coached.
He leaned down and pecked Tha?s’s cheek.
“Not like that,” she said, grabbing him by the back of the head. “On the lips.”
She held him close, so his mouth was half an inch away from hers.
“I won’t be doing it for you,” she said, looking into his eyes and then down at his lips.
He closed the distance between them and brushed his lips against hers.
God, they were soft.
He felt something flutter in his chest and darted back away from her.
“Sorry,” he said, a little breathless.
He was not in the habit of kissing. It had been years.
She leaned back her head and groaned. “Now he’s apologizing? Eden, for Christ’s sake. I gave you permission. Take it, and do it like you want to. Women want to feel wanted. You want to thrill the girl. And you also want a taste of the goods. There should be a spark between the both of you if it’s a good match. If you don’t want each other before the marriage, I’d reckon you’ll not want each other after.”
He was conscious she was lecturing him on taking liberties, a thing he lived in horror of, yet everything she said was reasonable. It did follow that if a woman agreed to be kissed, he should take her at her word that she wished for it. And it was logical that there should be attraction between him and any woman considering being his lifelong helpmeet. If he wanted to be a perfect spouse—and he truly did—he must find a woman he suited and who suited him. Otherwise, he was setting himself up to fail.
“May I try again?” he asked.
“I’m a sure thing, Your Lordship. I have all month.”
He took a deep breath. “Tha?s, I’d like to kiss you. Would you grant me that honor?”
“I would, Lord Eden,” she said in her faux-genteel accent.
She looked into his eyes.
He looked at her lips.
They were lovely lips, fat at the bottom and bowed at the top. He so wanted to feel them under his. Truly feel them.
And so he did.
And for a moment, just a moment, he lingered there and let himself enjoy the nearness of her. Her scent. The way her curls brushed against his cheeks.
He broke apart from her and then—as if pulled back by a thread—felt compelled to kiss her again, more slowly.
It was lovely.
So lovely that if he did not move away he might do it a third time, and that would be beyond the pale.
He pulled back.
Tha?s opened her eyes, her lips even pinker from his kiss.
“Not bad, Your Lordship. I’d have you to bed. Shall we go upstairs and do some more advanced lessons?”
The idea of this jolted him back into himself. He stood up abruptly.
“It’s time for me to make supper.”
“Supper can wait. Live in the moment. Let yourself want me.”
He didn’t need to let himself. He already did.
But being too eager was worse than not being eager at all.
He should know.
“The chicken won’t pluck itself, and I doubt you want to help me,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose.
“I’ll pledge to that.”
He smiled at her. “Thank you for the lesson, Tha?s.”
And before she could respond, he left the room.