A Season Beyond a Kiss (20 page)

A poignant longing seemed to fill the very essence of Elizabeth’s being. As much as she yearned to respond with a womanly warmth to Farrell’s questioning stare, she knew only too well the danger of yielding to those hypnotic, powerfully masculine smiles. Too often she had witnessed his effect on unsuspecting young maidens who had ventured much too close and, without warning, suddenly found their hearts hopelessly ensnared. Those mesmerizing blue-eyed stares had the strength to weaken the knees as well as the wits and wills of not only tender virgins but older widows as well, as Mrs. Brewster had recently demonstrated. Being merely his employee, Elizabeth understood the folly of lowering her guard, for she would be loath to see him scurrying to find a place to hide were she ever to forget her self-imposed restrictions. Still, it had been an arduous task to ignore the sinking feeling that had affirmed itself in the pit of her stomach each and every time she had been required by proper etiquette to stand calmly by while she watched the man practice his irresistible cajolery on some sweet young thing in his shop. The gloom that had followed such occurrences had left no question in her mind that, perhaps more than anyone, she yearned for some small bit of his attention for herself.

In a hard-won guise of unaffected insouciance Elizabeth withdrew her hand, hoping her employer wouldn’t notice how it was shaking, and forced herself to look elsewhere in an effort to calm herself. The refreshment tables drew her attention and offered her an honest excuse to put some distance between the clothier and herself. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Ives, I’d like to see what I can find to eat at the refreshment table. I’m afraid in my haste to be ready on time, I failed to eat.” She indicated a general direction. “Besides, several of our younger customers are eyeing you, no doubt hoping for a dance. I’m sure you’ll want to oblige them.”

Farrell slipped a hand beneath her elbow, hardly encouraged by her efforts to send him chasing after other maids. “Actually, I’m of a mind to join you, but I must say, Elizabeth, you don’t have to be so formal while we’re away from the shop. You know my name better than anyone. I give you leave to use it.”

Elizabeth sought to speak, but found that her voice had lost its strength. Clearing her throat, she made another attempt. “Do you think I should be so casual when there are so many listening ears about? Thus far, we’ve managed to avoid the damage of gossips’ slurs by not associating with each other in public. Should the rumormongers hear me addressing you by your given name, they may be wont to make much of the familiarity.”

Farrell was seriously tempted to curse all the nosey biddies to a life of unending boredom. Reluctantly he accepted Elizabeth’s excuse, not that he agreed with her, but he knew of the difficulty it would entail getting his assistant to change her mind. She could be damnably iron-willed at times, especially when it came to personal matters and, he suspected, affairs of the heart.

In another area of the room, a tall, handsome woman of middling years peered through her lorgnette as the younger Birmingham couple waltzed past. Loftily raising a brow, she leaned aside to the shorter lady who stood near her elbow. “Surely I misunderstood you, Mrs. Brewster. Did you say that Mr. Birmingham found his bride under a coach? That sounds rather like he found her under a cabbage leaf in his neighbor’s garden. Eligible bachelors here in the Carolinas don’t go hunting for brides in such an odd fashion, do they?”

The plump, round-faced woman started in surprise at her companion’s deductions and, in a highly agitated state, fluttered her lace fan, making the peacock feathers on her elaborate headdress flutter as well. “My dear Mrs. Winthrop, I said nothing of the sort! Miss Raelynn certainly wasn’t
underneath
a coach, although she might have been if Mr. Jeffrey hadn’t leapt into the road after her.”

The tall gentleman standing beside them lent his attention to the plump milliner. “Do tell, Mrs. Brewster. You’ve stirred my imagination to the point that it must now be satisfied.”

“Most eagerly will I do so, my lord,” Mrs. Brewster rejoined with a nervous little twitter. She flicked her thin lashes coyly as she began to relate the details of the younger couple’s meeting.

Unaware that they were being discussed in nearly every circle of guests, Jeff continued to sweep his bride about the ballroom as he basked in the adoration shining in her darkly lashed, aqua eyes, much as a man might revel in the warm rays of the sun in the midst of a frigid land. “Have I told you this evening, my pet, how utterly enchanting you look? But then, I’ve yet to see you when you’ve been anything less than ravishing. Indeed, I’m most aware of that fact when you’re wearing nothing at all. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” Raelynn assured him, her soft lips curving upward enticingly. Dancing with her handsome husband made her feel as if she were a young girl again, being swept around a garden in the arms of
her
Prince Charming. Her fingers slid inward across the broad expanse of his shoulder and, in the guise of smoothing a satin lapel, caressed his hardened chest beneath the fine cloth of his frockcoat. “You make me feel very much like a princess, Jeffrey.”

“Your appearance attests to your right to feel that way, my dear. I’m nigh besotted indulging myself in the sights. Your new gown is certainly no less than resplendent. Even so, it fails to equal your radiance. If not for the vivid recollection I have of watching your toilette, I’d be of a mind to think that Farrell had talked you into wearing it without all those frilly undergarments women are wont to pile on underneath their clothing. It clings to you divinely.”

Smiling, Raelynn allowed her thoughts to drift back to before the ball. He had looked for all the world like some dark-skinned sultan admiring his favorite concubine as he lounged back upon her chaise and watched her dress. Tizzy had been more than a little anxious arranging her hair under his close attention and had dropped the comb countless times until Jeffrey had taken pity on the girl. Retiring from their chambers, he had closed the hall door behind him, allowing the maid to breathe a sigh of relief. “The satin they used to make my shift is so sublime, it makes me feel utterly delicious.”

Jeff pressed a hand behind the small of her back, bringing his young wife imperceptibly closer. “You
look
utterly delicious, madam, so much so that I’ve been wanting to devour you since you left me alone in the tub.”

Raelynn peered up at him flirtatiously through silken lashes. It was just like her handsome husband to turn her words around to his advantage. “I meant inwardly, Jeffrey.”

“I’d really like to take another look at your chemise,” he teased with a grin as his gaze dipped briefly to her bosom.

“We have guests, Jeffrey.”

“That doesn’t keep me from recalling how beautiful you are underneath all that fine apparel or how enticing you look when you’re lying warm and sated with desire in my arms.”

Raelynn’s cheeks deepened to a rosy hue as she thought of the many times he had made her forget herself in the passionate fervor of their union. Though her only experience in the art of lovemaking was what she had learned in his arms, he seemed a very bold and accomplished lover. She had never dared ask how he had come by such knowledge. Nevertheless she was wont to wonder at times, but that usually caused her to suffer recurring doubts about Nell and others he might have pleasured. Still, whenever those glowing emerald eyes settled on her and silently communicated his cravings, he could make her dismiss everything from mind but her growing involvement with the man. It was a simple fact that, whether clothed or as naked as the day he had been born, Jeffrey Birmingham could command her complete attention. “I have visions just as titillating, sir.”

A roguish grin slanted across his lips. “It seems we’re of one mind, madam. Nearly every hour of the day my thoughts hearken back to what we do together in the privacy of our bedroom. It’s nice to know you’re affected in much the same way.”

She tilted her elegantly coifed head curiously. “I’ve been wondering about something, sir.”

“Yes, madam?”

“Our bed would sleep a whole family comfortably. Did you have some particular penchant in mind when you specified its dimensions?”

“I suppose upon espying it, one might have cause to wonder if it had been ordered especially for the purpose of accommodating a couple’s activities in bed.”

“You mean it wasn’t?” she challenged sweetly.

His eyebrows flicked upward briefly above smoldering green orbs. “Very likely, madam. You see, for some years past I’ve carried in my mind a vision of a naked, pale-skinned goddess who could lure me into rapturous dreams. Her breasts were delicately hued, soft and round, her belly of the creamiest hue, her thighs so temptingly joined together, I became fairly besotted with a desire to mount them. My yearnings became deeply seeded, and I began to aspire to the belief that someday I would be able to claim the lady of my dreams and bring her to life with a kiss.”

“Your kisses would bestir the heart of the most reluctant maid, sir.”

“You were reluctant yourself once upon a time.”

“Only because I was ignorant of all delights that awaited me in your arms.”

Jeff threw back his head and laughed in hearty amusement, causing his wife to glance around in sudden chagrin. She couldn’t predict how their guests would respond to her husband’s unrestrained hilarity, but as one might expect, the two of them now claimed the attention of nearly every person in the room. Still, that didn’t bother her nearly as much as the fact that they had also fallen prey to the glum stares of the dejected. Young as she was, she had obviously shattered the hopeful prospects of women several years older than herself, some of whom were young widows with far more experience with men.

“Jeffrey Birmingham, what will our guests think?” she whispered, striving hard to sound stern. The difficulty for such a task seemed mainly centered on the gratification she felt being the wife of such a man. “Just look, Jeffrey. There’s no one else dancing. We’ve become the attraction for this evening. People will presume the worst.”

“Aye, such fantasies bestir their imagination,” he assured her, swirling her about. He gave her a grin closely reminiscent of a leer. “If they could read my mind, madam, they’d be doubly shocked.”

A dimple showed at the corner of her mouth as she fingered the lapel of his frockcoat again. “ ‘Tis evident your thoughts don’t need stimulating, sir.”

“Not as long as I have you for a wife, my love. All I need do is look at you, and my aspirations and
other
things raise to lofty heights.”

Lifting her gaze coyly to his, she emulated a museful vein. “
Other
things being?”

A dark eyebrow angled roguishly upward as the green eyes gleamed back at her. “You’re teasing me, madam, and I’m wondering for what purpose. If you wish a private demonstration, I’m sure we can find someplace where I can exhibit my ardor without causing you undue embarrassment.”

Raelynn’s fingers tracked a trail up to the high collar of his stiffly starched shirt. “It’s fairly easy to ascertain by the questionable fit of other men’s clothing that you’ve either been gifted with an exceptional tailor or a superb physique, sir. I would never mind a private exhibition.”

Jeff peered at her obliquely, growing more intrigued by the moment. “Any specific area you’d like to view, madam?”

“You know, Jeffrey, you really should lift your sights above your loins,” she teased sweetly. “You might discover that there are other parts of a man’s body just as worthy of admiration.”

“You haven’t answered me,” he pressed, reluctant to move away from such a titillating subject. “As a bride of three months going on four, do you ogle other men to make a comparison to me? Or do you do so merely out of curiosity?”

His question drew an honest gasp from her. “I don’t ogle other men, Jeffrey.”

“You ogle me.”

Her fine nose lifted loftily. “That’s different.”

Jeff leaned above her ear to whisper, “I like it when you do.”

A captivating grin curved Raelynn’s lips as she cut her eyes aslant at him. “The pleasure is mutual, sir.”

“Oh, oh. Now you’ve done it.”

His wife glanced up in bemusement. “What’s wrong?”

“We’d better change the subject before I embarrass myself,” he cautioned. “These breeches can be damned revealing at times.”

The aqua eyes slipped downward briefly, drawing an amused chuckle from him.

“Got you!”

Raelynn tossed her head, like a child who had been thoroughly miffed by the prankish trick of a hopeless tease, but the corners of her lips seemed to have a will of their own as they curved in amusement. “I wouldn’t have been at all surprised, knowing what a lecher I have for a husband.”

“I became a lecher the day you entered my life, madam.”

Satisfied, Raelynn smiled and resumed toying with his carefully wrapped stock. “And I became a wanton the day you took me into your bed, sir. I can hardly think of anything else.”

Servants moving about with trays laden with libations, musicians extracting melodious notes from instruments, elegantly arrayed ladies and gentlemen talking in muted tones seemed somehow detached from the private world in which the couple had entered. Yet it wasn’t until Jeff had relinquished Raelynn for a dance with an elderly gentleman of impeccable character that he realized how time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace when they weren’t together. Even as he talked with some of his hunting companions, his eyes seemed inclined to watch her dutifully smiling and dancing with the elder. When, after bestowing another such glance upon her, he encountered the blatantly amused stare of his brother, Jeff felt his own cheeks grow ruddy in chagrin.

“Pleases you a mite, does she?” Brandon gently prodded, stepping near.

“More’n a mite,” Jeff readily acknowledged as he gave his brother a crisp nod of affirmation. He allowed himself a final glance at Raelynn before he turned and followed along behind his older sibling, much as he had oftentimes done as a child.

Heather was seated in a large, wing-backed chair with her dainty, slippered feet residing on a low footstool and a lace shawl carefully draped around her shoulders in such a way as to mask her ponderous belly. Earlier that day, Jeff had instructed servants to place the chair in a spot where the expectant mother could view the entire room without having to move about, the only possible hindrance to her visual range being the guests who might overlook her presence.