Read Gifts of Love Online

Authors: Kay Hooper; Lisa Kleypas

Tags: #Romance, #Anthologies

Gifts of Love (4 page)

BOOK: Gifts of Love
6.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Antonia stood with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, and tried to push the disturbing memories from her mind. That proved impossible. She was vividly conscious of how alone they were, of the nearness of her bed and the scant covering of her nightclothes. Gradually, the eeriness of the ghostly encounter was completely overwhelmed in her mind by its sensuality, and by the flesh and blood stirrings in her body as all her senses responded to the man who stood only a few steps away.

“Sit down, Toni. We may be here a while.”

“I would rather stand.” She was afraid to move, certain that if she did, it would be to throw herself into his arms. Dear heaven, he had barely touched her when they had entered the room, and casually, yet her entire body longed for his touch so intensely that resisting the pull toward him was like fighting an uncontrollable force of nature. Not even her most bitter and hurt memories of what he had done could stop the building desire.

He shook his head. “So stubborn. Do you expect me to try and ravish you, is that it?”

She lifted her chin and glared at him, reaching for dignity, offended hauteur—anything to combat the clash of longing and bitterness inside her. “I
expect
you to remember you are a gentleman. Though, given your behavior today, I must admit my hopes are not high.”

“Indeed? Wise of you. For I don’t mean to pretend with you, my sweet. I won’t play the gentleman, happily content with a light flirtation and a few chaste kisses. There is blood in my veins—and yours—not water. I refuse to behave as though my desire for you is easily tamed. It is not. I refuse to forget that you have already given yourself to me, even if you choose to ignore that fact.”

“Stop.”

“Why? Because a gentleman wouldn’t remind you? Because society insists that if such a shocking thing were to happen, all memory of it must be wiped away? That isn’t so easy, is it, Toni? To forget. Is that why you accepted none of the offers of marriage made to you this last year, because you could not forget? Or was it because your bridegroom would know he was not the first in your bed?”

“Why must you taunt me with that?” she whispered, wishing she could hate him. Anything would be better than this awful, aching need for his touch.

His hard face softened. “Not a taunt, sweet. How could I scorn such a beautiful memory? I know you felt as I did that day, that our loving was intended. You could not have given yourself to me so freely if you had believed anything else.”

Antonia couldn’t move or speak as he came slowly toward her. She could only wait, heart thudding, body trembling. She felt suspended, poised on the brink of something she wanted desperately even while a large part of her mind struggled not to give in.

“No, Richard,” she said in a smothered voice as he reached her, suddenly very much afraid that if he touched her now she would be lost.

“Yes,” he said huskily, his hands lifting slowly to frame her face. “Whatever caused you to hate me didn’t change this. We both know it. You want me, Toni, as much as I want you. And if desire is all I can claim from you, I will claim that. Marriages have begun with less.”

Even if she had been granted a moment to prepare herself, no barrier she might have raised could have stood against him. He took her mouth with all the passionate intensity she remembered so vividly, and her entire body responded. Her arms lifted to his neck as his went around her. She felt the hard warmth of him against her, and the strength drained from her legs in a rush.

She had forgotten how it felt…No, she had forgotten nothing. The heat spreading through her body, the building tension of need, the hunger that brought her out of herself until she was returning his kisses with a passion only he was able to ignite in her—all of it was achingly familiar. Just as it had been in the stable, her response to him drove everything else from her mind, until only the two of them existed in a world of sensuality.

She was barely aware of being lifted and carried a few short steps, then she felt the softness of the bed under her back. She gasped when his lips left hers, her eyes opening dazedly to stare up at his taut face. He was sitting beside her, bending over her, his hands smoothing loosened strands of her long hair away from her face. He lowered his head and kissed her so fiercely that it was like a brand of possession, and she heard the small muffled sound of pleasure that escaped her.

It was as though she had been deprived for a long time of something her body and spirit craved, and her hunger rose higher and higher, beyond her ability to control it. Just as it had been before, she didn’t think of a price to be paid or the potential for pain—only the irresistible necessity of belonging to him.

His lips trailed down over her throat, then lower as his fingers untied the ribbon of her nightgown. He pressed a hot kiss in the valley between her breasts, and the vibrations of his words were an added caress.

“Tell me you want me, Toni.”

It was not the demand that sent a cold rush of sanity through Antonia; it was his voice. There was something in it she had never heard before, a driven, implacable note. And when he raised his head to stare down at her, his eyes were the flat gray of a stormy sky. Angry. He was angry.

She wondered suddenly, painfully, if he really did intend to marry her. She didn’t think so. She thought he wanted her physical surrender, wanted to prove to them both that she could not refuse him in this, at least.

If he wanted revenge because she had jilted him, he could hardly have chosen a better means. Because if she gave herself to him now, knowing they had no future together, in her own mind—and undoubtedly his—she would be little better than a whore.

Her throat was aching, but her voice was steady when she said, “No.” Her arms around his neck fell to her sides, and she closed her eyes. “No.”

He went utterly still, then she felt the bed shift as he moved away. A few moments later, the door closed quietly, and she knew she was alone.

Antonia opened her eyes and sat up slowly. Her lips were throbbing from his kisses, and her entire body felt feverish and tense. Until that moment, she had not realized just how much she still loved him. Enough so that she wanted to call out to him, or go after him. Enough so that if he had kissed her one more time, she would have been unable to say no again.

She loved him so much that she would have made herself a whore without an instant’s hesitation, if only he had said he loved her.

But he had not.

That, more than anything else, caused Antonia to believe he wanted nothing from her except the satisfaction of knowing she could not resist his seduction.

The room was very quiet, growing chilly as the fire died. Antonia felt alone, and this time not even a ghost came to prove her wrong.

The following day was strange and unsettling. Antonia had not slept well; between the ghostly visitation and Lyonshall’s near-seduction, she had been left in a state hardly conducive to sleep, and it had been close to dawn before she had finally managed to close her eyes. When Plimpton had awakened her only a few hours later, the lack of rest and her emotional turmoil made her feel raw and tense. She said nothing about the ghosts to her maid, and certainly nothing about the duke’s midnight presence in her bedchamber, but drank her tepid morning coffee in silence.

When she went downstairs, it was with a certain trepidation, but she found only her mother in the breakfast room. Lady Sophia was not a particularly observant woman, but where her only child was concerned affection lent her acuity.

“Darling, are you feeling well?” she asked immediately, her large eyes filled with concern. “You seem tired and—and quite pale.”

Antonia had already made up her mind not to mention the ghosts to her mother; Lady Sophia was of a nervous disposition, and would certainly be unable to sleep a wink if she were told that spirits roamed the castle at night.

Helping herself to toast and more coffee from the heavily laden sideboard, Antonia replied calmly. “The storm kept me awake, Mama; I am only a little tired—nothing to signify.”

Lady Sophia waited until her daughter was seated at the table, then glanced around to make certain they were alone. Lowering her voice, she said in her fluttery way, “Darling, I trust you locked your door last night. I was never more shocked! I had intended to speak to your grandmother about the situation, but…but she looks at one in
such
a way, I felt myself quite unable to make the attempt.”

It required a moment before Antonia realized her mother was referring to the arrangement of bedchambers. “I am sure you need have no fears, Mama,” she said, pushing aside the memory of hot kisses. “Remember, if you please, that the duke and I agreed we wouldn’t suit.”

Eyeing her, Lady Sophia said, “Well, so you said at the time, but—Forgive me, Toni, but it appeared to me last night that Lyonshall was behaving with far more—more
warmth
than was at all seemly. The way he spoke to you and looked at you…” Blushing slightly, she added, “My dear, though you judge yourself quite grown-up, there are some things you simply cannot know about men. Even the best of them may find themselves at the mercy of their
baser
instincts and—and for you to be all alone with the duke in that big, empty wing—and you so pretty as you are—it just seems to me—”

Rescuing her parent from the morass of her tangled sentence, Antonia said a bit dryly, “Are you referring to passion, Mama?”

“Antonia!”

She felt a pang of sad wisdom. She should have been innocent of passion, as her mother so clearly believed she was. For an unmarried young lady of twenty-one to have the knowledge Antonia possessed was shocking and should be a source of heartache. But the shame of having given herself to a man before marriage was not so dreadful to her because she had given herself in love. No matter what had happened afterward, and despite her words to Lyonshall about the “mistake,” Antonia did not regret what she had done.

Quietly, she said, “Mama, the duke is most certainly a gentleman, and would do nothing to force me against my will.” He had not, after all; when she had refused him, he had left her alone without another word.

Lady Sophia hesitated, biting her lip. “Darling, I have often thought you were not…not as indifferent to him as you have insisted. Indeed, you seem very aware of him when he is in the room. If your feelings for him are confused, it could cloud your judgment. And his behavior last night…”

“He is amusing himself with a light flirtation, nothing more,” Antonia said. “As for me, I am quite certain of my feelings for the duke, and quite able to exercise sound judgment. I assure you, Mama, I have no intention of further disgracing my good name by doing anything I ought not.” The words should have burned her tongue, she thought wryly—or at least pricked her conscience, considering what she had already done.

The conversation might have continued, but the countess entered the room then. Lady Sophia looked so self-conscious that Antonia was mildly surprised her grandmother did not instantly demand to know what they had been discussing, but it became obvious she had another matter on her mind.

“Antonia, since the weather makes outdoor amusements impossible, I believe you young people will find some enjoyment in arranging the Christmas decorations. A tree was cut some days ago, and Tuffet is having it brought into the drawing room now, along with mistletoe and holly boughs. The maids have spent the past week or so stringing berries and making other decorations, so you need only put them in place.”

Antonia would have objected, but before she could the duke entered the room. “An excellent scheme, ma’am. I am glad you have adopted the recent custom of bringing a tree inside; it is especially pleasant in weather such as this.”

The matter settled to her satisfaction, Lady Ware nodded. “Since Christmas Eve is day after tomorrow, you should have plenty of time to get the decorations in place.”

So Antonia found herself once more thrown into the duke’s company. Her grandmother carried her mother off immediately after breakfast, obviously intending to occupy her in another part of the castle, and even the servants made themselves scarce as soon as the couple went into the drawing room to find the tree and promised decorations.

Lyonshall behaved as though nothing had happened the night before. He was very casual, not nearly so intense as he had been during the previous evening.

Antonia could not help but feel grateful for that; she could no longer don her social mask in his company. If he had attempted to make love to her, or even to flirt, she knew she would have betrayed herself. Instead, because he was relaxed and carelessly charming, she was able to be calm herself.

The festive nature of the holiday had its own effect, as well. The sharp scent of holly and of the big spruce tree mingled with the spicy fragrance of potpourri from the bowls the maids had set out in nearly every room, and even as vast as the castle was, the enticing aroma of plum pudding and other dishes being prepared for Christmas dinner drifted up from the kitchen.

The yule log was prepared, candles put into place, and holly boughs arranged to please the eye. The maids had strung berries of different colors for the tree, and Antonia was surprised to find among the other decorations small, exquisitely sewn sachets in various shapes, obviously the work of her grandmother.

“I didn’t realize she cared so about the holiday,” Antonia murmured as she fingered one lovely, potpourri-filled sachet in the shape of a star. “She must have sewn these sachets every year for a long time. Look how many there are.”

“Beautiful work,” the duke observed. “It’s going to be a fine tree.”

Antonia agreed with him. In fact, she had to admit the castle would look and feel quite different once it had donned its holiday dress. Already, the huge drawing room seemed warmer, brighter, the colorful decorations adding light and cheerfulness.

She was beginning to see why her family had loved the castle. There was something stately in the sheer size of the place, and a feeling of permanence in the solid stone walls and floors. This place, she realized, had surrounded the Wingate family for centuries. It had sheltered and protected them, hidden their secrets, housed their happiness, their anger, and their tears.

BOOK: Gifts of Love
6.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Bookstore Clerk by Mykola Dementiuk
Siddon Rock by Glenda Guest
The Furies: A Novel by Natalie Haynes
Driving Heat by Day, Zuri
Daryk Warrior by Denise A. Agnew
Obession by Design by Ravenna Tate