Authors: Sabrina York
Folly (13 page)
He had plans for tonight.
Big plans.
When they reached the floor, he offered a hand. “Would you
care to dance?”
She tipped her head to the side and smiled. “It is so warm
in here.” She fanned herself. “Perhaps a turn in the garden?”
He allowed a slow smile to crawl across his face. Yes. That
was exactly what he wanted. Without hesitation, he offered his arm and they
strolled for the French doors. The journey took far too long, at least in
Ethan’s estimation. He attempted to set a casual pace but what he wanted was to
bolt for the terrace, whisk her into the garden and to the folly tucked in the
center of the labyrinth.
But he did not do so. Rather, he restrained himself and set
his pace to match hers. They walked through the crowd, arm in arm, nodding now
and then to their fellow partygoers. Finally, they neared the doors. Ethan’s
excitement surged as they emerged from the stuffy ballroom into the fragrant
spring evening. There were a few couples here and there on the terrace,
talking, laughing.
It reminded him of another night, another garden.
He hoped she was also thinking of that night.
But if she wasn’t, he would remind her.
Ethan guided his Mignon into the shadows of the garden. “Do
you come to these events often, my lady?” he asked, biting back his smile.
Her eyes were wide, luminous in the moonlight.
She cleared her throat. “No. Not often.”
“But this is not your first time?”
Her laugh was a melody. It trilled through the dusky
darkness and curled up into him like a warm caress. “Not hardly.”
He increased his pace, heading for the labyrinth. “This
way.”
She hesitated, coming to a full stop. “Where are we going?”
“To the labyrinth. Haven’t you ever explored it?”
She shook her head. Her delicate little teeth worried her
lower lip.
He tugged her closer and whispered, “There’s a folly at the
center.” The look on her face made him hard. For he knew what she was thinking.
Remembering. Ruthlessly, he led her to the maw of the labyrinth and in, closer
and closer to his goal.
The heart of it all.
They came to the clearing at the center of the maze. James’
folly, romantic and charming, stood in the middle, draped in ivy and starlight.
She sighed. “Have you ever made love in a folly?”
“Once.” He shifted his position so he could see her better.
“Have you?”
She looked away.
“Have you?” He tipped up her chin. “You have to tell me,
Eleanor. Remember our bargain?”
“Yes.”
He grinned. “Yes, you remember our bargain, or yes, you’ve
made love in a folly?”
Her lashes flickered. “Both.”
“Really?” He drew her to the confection and up the steps.
Inside. “Who was it?”
She tried to turn away again but he wouldn’t allow it. “A
man.”
“Did you love him?” He sat on the bench, pulled her down
beside him. His fingers trailed up her arm and she shivered. “Did you?”
“I barely knew him.”
“Who was he?”
“Just a man.”
“What was his name?” He watched as a pink tide swept up her
cheeks. “Eleanor. Tell me.”
“I cannot.” She stood and paced to the far side of the
folly, grasping the column and staring out at the night.
“Why not?”
“I never asked.”
Ethan grinned but didn’t allow her to see his smile. He was
teasing her, which he probably shouldn’t do, but he couldn’t help himself. He
tsked. “Naughty girl. Did you at least enjoy it?”
She hid her face but he saw her reaction. It sent a thrill
to his soul. “Yes.”
“What did he look like?”
“Ethan, why are you asking me this? It was a private
interlude. With another man. I don’t want to talk about it with you.”
He chuckled. “You have to tell me. Remember?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I rather think you overplay
that card.”
“As well I should. Never doubt, my lady, I shall play that
card often and well. So, what did he look like?”
“He was wearing a mask, if you must know.”
“Like the one I’m wearing now?”
“Yes. Quite similar. In fact…” She stilled and studied him.
She opened her lips, as if to speak, but then flushed and glanced away. He
thought about dropping the topic. He thought about revealing his identity to
her. But he did neither. There was something else he desperately wanted to
know. So he goaded her further.
“Did you ever see him again?”
She sucked in a breath, to cover what sounded suspiciously
like a sob. “No.”
“Come here.”
She frowned but complied. When she was close enough, he put
his hands on her hips and tugged her closer, sat her next to him. “Why did you
never see him again?”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t bear to see him again?”
“Oh, no. I would have loved to see him again. But I couldn’t
dare reveal my identity to him.” She nibbled her lip. “To anyone.”
“How long do you suppose he waited for you?”
She sighed and shrugged. Then froze. “What makes you think
he waited for me?”
“No man, after having you, would neglect to arrange another
meeting. I’m guessing it was the very next day.”
She laughed but there was a bewildered sheen to her eyes.
“How could you know such a thing?”
“It’s what I would do. If I had you.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.” He bent his head and kissed her gently. Her mouth was
oh so sweet. “So how long do you think he waited? There at the arch? Holding a
silly red rose?” Ethan reached into his cloak and pulled out the rose, no
longer red but a token all the same, and offered it to her. “How long, Mignon?”
Eleanor’s heart pounded crazily in her chest as she stared
at the rose. Her gaze lifted slowly to his face, those so-familiar lines obstructed
by the mask. So familiar. So dear. “It was you!”
“It was. I never really recovered, you know. When you didn’t
come.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t…I mean, I couldn’t…I
just couldn’t.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I do.”
“How long have you known?”
“Known?”
“That I was that woman.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I knew the moment I entered your body. How
could I not know? You are unlike any other woman I’ve ever known.”
A shudder racked her at his words. Heavens. She loved him
so. It was an ache in her heart. If only…
If only.
Even as she watched, dreamed, hoped, he dropped to one knee.
A red tide crept up his cheeks. “Marry me, Eleanor.”
Her heart lifted, sang. “Marry you?”
“Yes. Marry me, my Mignon. I couldn’t bear it if you said
no. I couldn’t bear watching you walk away with my child in your arms. I
couldn’t bear having him live as an Ulster.”
“Or her?”
“Or her.” His eyes glinted. “Marry me.”
“What if…what if there is no child?”
He laughed. “There will be. Eventually.”
She leaned forward, kissed him. His lips were warm, soft.
“How can I say no?” She smiled. “We have a bargain after all.”
He stilled. “You will not say yes because of the bargain.”
“I won’t?”
“I want you to come to me because you want to. Because you
love me. It must be your choice.”
“Love?” They’d never talked of love.
“Yes, damn it. Love. I want you to love me as I love you.
Mindlessly. Madly.”
“You love me? Mindlessly and madly?”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
“Oh, Ethan.” She set her palm to his cheek, stroked the edge
of his mask and then, because she wanted to see him, removed it. “Does that
mean you release me from the bargain? Does this mean I no longer have to do as
you say?”
He removed her mask as well. “Eleanor…”
“Do you? Release me?”
“Yes. I release you—”
The words barely escaped his lips, for even as he spoke, she
kissed him.
It was not the kiss of a woman constrained by a bargain. It
was not the kiss of a woman constrained at all.
It was the kiss of a woman in love.
“Then yes. I will marry you. Of my own free will. Because I
want to. Because, Ethan Pennington, I love you more than life itself.”
He kissed her, long and hard. When they surfaced, they were
breathless. He grinned. “That doesn’t mean, however, there won’t be other
bargains in the future.”
“Of course not.” She had some bargains of her own in mind.
“And don’t forget you owe me a song.”
“Any time.”
“I was rather thinking you could sing to me while we…” He
tipped his head to the side. “You know.”
“While we you know?”
“Oh yes.” He kissed her again, until thoughts of singing, in
any circumstance, had utterly fled.
In the dark shadows of the Darlington labyrinth, two figures
stilled as they noticed the forms twining in the folly.
“Blast,” the first one muttered. “Someone beat us to it.”
“Darling.” The second, smaller shadow patted a muscular arm.
“Don’t curse.”
“But it’s
my
birthday.”
“Don’t fret.” The small shadow took his hand and tugged him
back the way they’d come. “I know another place.”
“What place?”
“Hush. Come along.”
“How do you know another place?”
“A certain naughty earl seduced me there once.”
“A certain determined earl has seduced you any number of
places.”
“Yes, but this place is special to me.”
A regal brow quirked. “How so?”
“I’d run away from home and was hiding there, all wet and
bedraggled—”
“You were adorable.”
“He came upon me. Pretended to be a gardener—the beast—and
he seduced me right then and there.”
“Ah. Yes. I remember. I’ve always loved that potting shed.”
“Me too.”
It was, after all, the reason for her passionate love of
flowers.
Hand in hand, they went to find it again.
Epilogue
The carriage had barely stopped before the charming manor
house perched on a cliff on the Cornish sea when the door flung open and
Helena, Countess of Darlington, flew out, leaving her husband behind to wrangle
Edward and his copious trappings. She dashed across the porch and into the
foyer without so much as a by your leave. “Eleanor! Eleanor!” she bellowed.
“We’re here.”
She heard a chuckle to her left and veered in that
direction, bursting through the double doors of the Pennington sitting room,
just in time to see her dearest friend hand off a swaddled bundle to a rather
domesticated-looking colonel.
“Helena!” Eleanor, trim once again, swept toward her and
they shared a long embrace. “How wonderful to see you.”
“I know. It’s been forever, hasn’t it?”
“Months, at least.”
“Darlington was a beast. Even after Edward arrived, he still
wouldn’t let me travel until the lying in was over.”
“The beast.” Eleanor glanced around meaningfully. “Where is
he?”
Helena waved her hand in the general direction of the sea.
“He’s coming. I got your note and have been champing at the bit. Practically
champing at the bit to come. I just couldn’t wait. Where is he? Let me see
him.” She rushed to Pennington and stopped still. “Is that him?” She took a
step forward. Eleanor followed. “Is that little James?”
“Yes.”
Though she’d seen her own baby before, stared at him for
hours on end in fact, Eleanor was still filled with awe each time she saw him.
She followed Helena, peeping over her shoulder as she approached Ethan,
cradling their beautiful son in his arms.
Helena peered at that tiny face, so perfect, so sweet, so
peaceful in repose. He pursed his lips as though impatient with their adulation
and blew out a breath.
And then he opened his eyes.
Helena giggled. Then laughed. She laughed so hard, tears
poured down the planes of her cheeks.
“What’s so funny?” James asked, pushing into the room, a
bundle in his own arms, which were also draped with various bags, toys and a
well-worn blanket.
“Oh James. You must come and see.”
Darlington complied—he always did—carrying Edward over. As
he moved closer, he recognized the reason for Helena’s hilarity. He began to
chuckle too.
“What the bloody hell do you find so amusing about my son?”
Pennington, for all his domestication, growled.
“Nothing,” James sputtered. “But…”
“But?”
Helena took up the explanation as James devolved into a
series of helpless giggles. “But there’s no way that child would have passed as
Ulster’s heir.”
Ethan gazed at the babe in his arms and pride swelled,
almost painfully, in the region of his heart. “No?”
“No.” James slapped him on the shoulder. “That child is a
Pennington, through and through. He’s the spit and image of you, my man.” And
he was, from his silver eyes to his dark brows, to his petulant frown.
Helena nodded her agreement. “He’s quite striking. Not pasty
in the least.” She linked arms with Eleanor and led her to the tea tray,
leaving the two men by the mantel, admiring each other’s handiwork. “It’s a
good thing it didn’t come to the sticking point, Eleanor, because that boy
would never pass muster in the Ulster household.”
“Thank God,” Ethan muttered from across the room.
“I’m so happy with the way things worked out for you,
darling.”
“And I for you. Edward is so perfect.”
“From his head to his toes, just as James would demand.”
Helena shot a glance at the love of her life and sighed. “He is quite
demanding, you know.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Still, I think I would have liked a little girl.”
“Helena. Never say it. Edward is adorable.”
“Yes. He is. Ah well.” She glanced again over her shoulder
to make sure James wasn’t paying attention—he wasn’t. Then she patted her belly
and, with a gamine grin, winked. “There’s always next time.”
About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, writes naked erotic fiction
for fans who like it hot, hard and balls-to-the-wall, and erotic romance and
fantasy for readers who prefer a slow burn to passion. An award-winning author
in multiple genres, Sabrina loves writing hot, humorous stories in all kinds of
settings.
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Folly
ISBN 9781419940361
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Folly Copyright © 2012 Sabrina York
Edited by Carrie Jackson
Cover design by Dar Albert
Photos: Jeff Thrower, Bezikus/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication October 2012
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