Free Miss Truelove Beckons (Classic Regency Romances Book 12) by Donna Lea Simpson Page B

she was deeply asleep.
     
    • • •
     
    Drake, recovered fully from the slight tipsiness he had experienced, was in a mood for solitude, and so he strolled the stable yard “blowing a cloud,” as his fellow officers called smoking a cigar. He had become addicted to the weed in Spain, where small, dark, slender cigars were plentiful. Smoking calmed his frayed nerves and gave him something to do, he supposed.
    Truelove Becket. What on earth had possessed him to grab her in the stairway and kiss her as if she were a serving wench? Drunkenness was not an adequate excuse, though some men chose to employ it. It was usually what men in his regiment used as an explanation if they were caught being unchivalrous to the local ladies in Spain or Portugal or Belgium. It did not matter to him if they were drunk or stone-cold sober, he told them. He expected them to treat the local ladies as they would English ladies, with chivalry and good manners.
    So he would not use his drinking to explain that lapse from propriety. The first kiss had been meant to tease her, as a jest. He had fully expected a slap across the face for his efforts. Of course her hands were occupied and so she was helpless. But then, that bewildered expression of . . . of what? What had that look meant? Her blue eyes had widened and she had gazed up at him, her plump lips parted, and urged on by insidious desire he had taken that berry-sweet mouth with a ravenous kiss, feeling even as he did it that he was very much in the wrong to take advantage of her surprise in such a caddish manner.
    That second kiss; if he was very lucky he would dream of it, feel again her soft mouth under his, the pounding of his blood through his veins, the powerful surge of desire. And he would experience the delicious sensation of his fingers sliding through fine hair as soft as a cloud. He did not think he would be so lucky. He had dreamt of nothing but battlefields since “That Day,” as Waterloo had become in his memory. He turned to pace the length of the stable yard again.
     
    • • •
     
    Arabella was snoring softly. It had only taken her minutes to fall into her usual deep sleep, but True had not even been able to close her eyes. She had heard her cousin’s whispered apology and soft good night but had not replied, fearing Arabella would want to talk if she knew True was awake. She slipped from the bed they shared and crept around it to the window, curling up in the narrow window seat and tucking her bare toes under the hem of her borrowed nightrail. Their room looked down into the stable yard—Arabella had complained, but it was all that was to be had—and even at this late hour someone was awake and strolling the yard.
    Lanterns mounted on the archways that led into the yard lit the area with an eerie yellow glow, and the lone occupant was wreathed in a cloud of smoke. True watched with interest as he emerged from the cloud like a phantom. It was Lord Drake! As recent as their acquaintance was, she could still tell him by the set of his shoulders, his halting gait, and the aureole of tawny hair that glowed golden in the light.
    True touched the window, wishing against all sense, all propriety, that he was close enough that she could touch those tawny curls, run her fingers through them, feel him close again, his breath against her ear, or his lips touching hers. Reprehensible desires! She was in Hampshire to consider an honorable offer of marriage from a man of God, a good and pure man who had chosen her from all the ladies of his acquaintance as his helpmeet, his completing half, his wife.
    But Mr. Bottleby had never set her afire with the merest touch of his fingers, nor had he ever let his lips do more than brush her fingertips. Cursed desires of the flesh! Surely it was not suitable for a woman almost betrothed to a vicar to be having these feelings, these wanton thoughts? Just at that moment, as though he felt the touch of her gaze, he looked up and smiled to see