What a Spinster Wants - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,82
with stronger emphasis, “then, and only then, can ye make demands. Tuig?” She quirked her brows and urged her horse on, the animal gracefully and skillfully obeying as though they had ridden together for years.
Graham threw his head back and laughed, then did his utmost to match her, the thrill of her challenge coursing through his veins. Win or lose, this was one competitor he was well motivated to take on, though he was not entirely certain if he wished to win or wished to lose.
Both could have rather pleasant advantages.
Edith, however, proved victorious, leaving Graham with no alternative but to relate to her the one and only time he had gotten intoxicated beyond reason. She had assured him, after her laughter had subsided, that his story would pass for an average evening for a Highlander.
Whether that was designed to make him feel better or worse, he could not say.
Once they returned to Merrifield, they were forced to part, he to change and resume his hosting duties, and she to being one of his guests. When the party left to go for a shoot, most of the ladies with the gentlemen, Edith was not among them.
This time, Graham had no difficulty finding her.
He went up to the nursery, where Edith and Molly were lounging together on a chaise while Edith read fairytales. Molly had snuggled up against her and fallen asleep, completely at ease.
“And the princess wondered…” Edith read, softening her voice before stopping, glancing down at the sleeping girl with a tender smile.
Molly’s breathing shifted with the silence, and she stirred.
“The princess wondered,” Edith continued, “how to do as the fairy had said.”
Graham entered the nursery, his eyes sliding from Molly to Edith and back again as he moved to stand in front of their chaise.
Edith continued to read, leaning her head against Molly’s, and looked up at Graham, smiling.
He swallowed with some difficulty, moved beyond description to see her like this with his ward, and the warmth in Edith’s eyes brought on a fire within him.
Edith must have felt it too, for she dropped her eyes back to the page, her cheeks coloring.
Slowly, Graham stepped closer, then began to move around the chaise, his fingers trailing along the arm of it and barely brushing against Edith’s arm as he came to her side.
She lifted her head from Molly’s but did not look at him, continuing to read, though her voice was not quite as steady.
Helpless to resist, Graham bent to cup Edith’s chin, turning her face to his. She kept her eyes lowered for a moment, then dragged them up to his, the rich darkness in the green depths robbing him of breath. There was so much tenderness in her look, so much emotion, so much that he felt unable and unworthy to express.
Edith’s lips quirked in a bare smile, and he bent to kiss her. She kissed him slowly, maddening in the softness and stirring in the certainty.
He let his fingers stroke the underside of her jaw absently, the texture of her skin almost addicting to the touch. She sighed against him as he did so, encouraging him to repeat the motion with more pointed attention.
It was not a long or particularly passionate kiss, but there was something deep and intimate to it. Something that terrified Graham, yet cried within him as perfection.
A terrifying, beautiful perfection.
When he broke the kiss, he cupped Edith’s cheek, and he smiled at her softly.
She gave him a dreamy smile in return, and he knew for certain that he would do a great many impossible things to receive that smile again.
Chapter Eighteen
Confessions may give the heart wings and free the soul.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 6 July 1818
“Of all days for it to rain, it had to be a day when I wished to walk. It is always the way.”
Edith glanced up from her drawing to smile at Eloise, sitting as she was in the parlor and looking forlornly out of the window. “We walked yesterday, Eloise.”
That earned her a scowl. “Yes, and it was so lovely, I wished to do it again. That is all.”
“I can walk with you, Aunt Ellie!” Molly exclaimed, beaming up from her own attempt at a sketch, having seen Edith drawing a time or two over the last few days. “We can walk inside and pretend it’s outside!”
Eloise smiled at the girl. “A perfectly capital idea, sweetheart. When you have finished your picture, we may do so. How is it coming?”