How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) (29 page)

The air was mellow, the bees drowsy. It was one of those amber summer evenings when the world felt a little drunk on rich scents and bright colors, when the day had been long and hot. A light breeze ruffled the long grasses and scattered little clouds of dandelion seeds. A rabbit sat on its haunches, pondering the scene, whiskers twitching, ears alert. And then, hearing her approach, it ducked away, bouncing into the hedgerows.

As Diana strolled down the lane, she watched two sparrows taking turns bringing food to their fledglings. How hard they worked. It was no easy thing to raise children, as her mother would say. Again she imagined that one of those sparrows might be the bird she had rescued from the Manderson assembly room several months ago in the spring. Not only had it followed her home and built a nest there, but it had found true love in Hawcombe Prior and raised a chirping brood.

She came to the gates of Midwitch Manor and found them wide open, welcoming anyone who wanted to share the labor that evening and take home a basket of fruit. The orchards flourished, producing more fruit than the Wainwrights claimed they could manage, so they always generously shared their bounty with the other villagers. Diana greeted the Book Club Belles as they appeared, moving slowly in and out of the trees with their baskets.

Somewhere nearby, one of the villagers played a viola—a surprisingly elegant accompaniment to the curses and squeals of Sarah Wainwright, who once again pursued Sir Mortimer Grubbins on another trail of merry destruction. The orchards were a favorite playground for that stubbornly independent pig, and if an event was taking place there, he was sure to be in the thick of it.

Humming along with the tune of the viola, Diana made her way through the trees and bushes, looking for one face in particular.

She found him picking blackberries, the ends of his fingers stained with juice.

Pausing for a deep breath, she looked at the tall figure with the sunlit hair.

Now or never, then.

“Captain Sherringham,” she called out, striding toward him and swinging her empty basket.

He turned and smiled when he saw her. His admiring gaze went directly to the violets tucked above her ear. “Miss Makepiece, I hoped you would join the party this evening.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Glancing at her empty basket, he tut-tutted. “Best make haste or the others will take all the fruit.”

She licked her lips. “Well, I rather thought you might share yours with me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Now why would I do that?”

Diana glanced down at his full basket. “That’s more than one bachelor can use. It’ll be wasted.”

For a long moment he looked at her, hands on his hips.

“Especially a wandering bachelor who never stays long.”

No reply. Impatient, she set her empty basket in the grass, stepped closer, and tipped her head back to look up at him. The sun was just drifting below the trees, sending a soft golden light over his brow and kissing the tips of his lashes.

“Are you staying here, Nathaniel? Or will you get restless feet again in the winter?”

He considered her thoughtfully, head tilted to one side. “Apart from trips necessitated by my business, I plan to spend a large portion of my year in Hawcombe Prior. To make this my home.”

“I see. And you will need someone, I suppose, to manage the tavern when you are not here.”

“I shall begin my search for applicants forthwith.” He plucked a blackberry and tossed it skyward, catching it in his mouth. He chewed. “So I’m not going anywhere, Miss Makepiece. You won’t be rid of me again. Hard luck.”

She rolled her eyes. “I feared as much.”

“Say what you want to insult me, this is where I want to be. Your sulky face won’t put me off. Pinch me, poke me, curse me. You, madam, are stuck with me.”

“Then will you marry me, Nathaniel Sherringham?” she demanded in a loud, clear voice that caused several folk nearby to stop and look at them. “I know you won’t ask me again, so I must ask you and risk my heart, the way you once risked yours.”

His eyes widened. He set down his basket.

“I am in love with you,” she added, “and that’s all there is to it.”

Slowly, he stepped toward her and put his arms around her waist, drawing her against his body. As if they were quite alone in that orchard, no one watching and listening in amazement. “What about all my faults? They are many, as you like to point out.”

She sighed. “Nobody is perfect. Not even me.”

He smiled down at her, his eyes shining. “True. We might not be perfect, but—”

“We are perfect for each other.”

Nathaniel had taught her to speak up, and she had shown him that sometimes it wasn’t necessary to speak. Sometimes all one had to do was listen.

He kissed her in full view of the other fruit pickers and the Book Club Belles. It was by no means a sweet kiss or anything that might be misinterpreted as harmless or innocent.

Somewhere in the raspberries, Mrs. Kenton quietly fainted. It was the only quiet thing she’d ever done.

* * *

“What made you change your mind, Diana?” he asked.

She looked surprised. “You climbed a tree for me. What else could I do? I wouldn’t want you injured by trying even more desperate measures.”

Nathaniel laughed, his arm around her as they walked along. She was his at last. The woman who had been out of his range for so long had finally reached down and offered her hand. He would never let it go again.

* * *

Who can be in doubt of what followed? When any two young people take it into their heads to marry, they are pretty sure by perseverance to carry their point, be they ever so poor, or ever so imprudent, or ever so little likely to be necessary to each other’s ultimate comfort. This may be bad morality to conclude with, but I believe it to be truth; and if such parties succeed, how should a Captain Wentworth and an Anne Elliot, with the advantage of maturity of mind, consciousness of right, and one independent fortune between them, fail of bearing down every opposition?

—Persuasion

They left the wedding feast early, not caring if anyone noticed.

Alone at last, they slowly removed the petals from each other’s hair and then all the layers of clothing until they lay together, naked finally, no barriers in their way.

“I love you, Mrs. Sherringham.”

Below them in the tavern, the villagers continued celebrating loudly with their tuneless singing and noisy stamping. Perhaps they hadn’t even noticed the groom sweeping his bride away. Diana had last seen her mother reluctantly forced into dancing by Major Sherringham, who had drunk just enough not to care about his gout. While the major danced clumsily, making up most of his steps, her mother insisted on trying to correct him. But that was what made her happy—keeping control, getting things right. Everyone was used to it, even the major, who merrily disregarded her instructions.

The newlyweds had slipped away to their cozy haven above. There, with the windows open and the harvest moon shining in, they finally made love.

Nathaniel entered her carefully, the last act in his “wooing,” the moment for which they had both waited. One more patiently than the other, for Sherry had finally learned how to manage his impetuous nature. He had won what he had yearned for every day for ten years.

Diana wrapped her legs around his hips and kissed him fiercely, lovingly, having learned to give herself up to passion, to let her heart live.

It was, for both of them, well worth the wait.

She washed the tavern windows while Nathaniel trimmed the ivy. Singing away on his ladder, he had apparently forgotten she was directly below, because cuttings and various leaf-munching insects kept falling on her head, making her jump. Of course, when it came to her husband’s motives, she could never be sure if he did it on purpose to try and make her scream. Now that he had finally raised “emotion” out of her, he enjoyed doing it often. Especially the kind that made her shriek and chase him.

Diana bided her time until he came down the ladder, and then she made certain to accidentally spill water from her bucket down his breeches and over his foot.

He glared at her, his jaw tight. “You’ll pay for that, Mrs. Sherringham.”

“Do you know how many caterpillars have fallen onto my shoulder this past half hour?” she replied primly.

“Oh, so you admit you deliberately tipped that bucket.”

“I admit nothing of the kind. I merely point out that you should pay attention to your surroundings and take more care.” She shook her head, lips pursed. “Really, you’re not fit to be up a ladder and holding something sharp. That is simply asking for trouble.” As he advanced menacingly toward her with the pruning shears, she aimed her wet rag and tossed it.

With a splat it hit him full in the face and then dropped to the ground. He blinked and started forward again. “
You’re
asking for trouble alright, woman.”

“Put those shears down!”

He did, but he still chased her around the building, soon catching her in his arms and holding her to the ivy-coated wall.

They were still there ten minutes later, kissing and lost in their own intimate world, when they heard someone clearing a throat.

Both looked over at the street in front of the tavern.

A coach and four had pulled up some moments earlier, unnoticed by either of them.

Sir Jonty Plumtre peered out, grinning. “There you are, Sherry! Sakes, this little village is not at all easy to find. I began to think you’d made it up. Almost got run off the road up there by an enormous pig. Guess who I’ve brought along to see you.”

And then his sisters shoved him aside to look through the carriage window and shout excitedly. “Here we are at last! Aren’t you pleased to see us? Jonty said you’d agreed to let your mama teach us how to be ladylike.”

Oh dear. Had she done that? Diana could vaguely recall a conversation with their brother along those lines, but she didn’t believe she’d committed her mother to such a task. This would require some explaining indeed.

Daisy shouted as she leaned out of the window, “We’re going to have so much fun in the country, and we can’t wait to meet the Book Club Belles.”

Diana had a feeling that Hawcombe Prior and the Book Club Belles would never be the same again.

Thanks to my friends and supporters, and to my dad, who is always in my thoughts.

Jayne Fresina sprouted up in England, the youngest in a family of four daughters. Entertained by her father’s colorful tales of growing up in the countryside and surrounded by opinionated sisters—all with far more exciting lives than hers—she’s always had inspiration for her beleaguered heroes and unstoppable heroines. Visit
jaynefresinaromanceauthor.blogspot.com
.

Once Upon a Kiss

The Book Club Belles Society

by Jayne Fresina

The Perfect Hero

When handsome, mysterious Darius Wainwright strolls into town, the Book Club Belles are instantly smitten with his brooding good looks and prideful demeanor. It’s as if he walked out of the pages of their favorite new novel, a scandalous romance called
Pride and Prejudice
. But Justina Penny can’t understand why her fellow Belles are starry-eyed in the newcomer’s arrogant presence—surely a wicked Wickham would be infinitely more fun…

An Unlikely Leading Lady

Justina is the opposite of Darius’s ideal woman—not that he’s looking for romance. But when he discovers her stealing apples from his uncle’s orchard, he can’t resist his own thieving impulse. A stolen kiss from the mischievous Miss Penny leaves Darius wanting much, much more. If it’s a dashing villain she desires, Darius is more than willing to play the part…

Praise for
The Most Improper Miss Sophie Valentine:

“Eminently witty.” —
Publishers Weekly

“Decidedly humorous, as well as sensual…a true charmer of a read.” —
RT Book Reviews

For more Jayne Fresina, visit:

www.sourcebooks.com

Sinfully Ever After

The Book Club Belles Society

by Jayne Fresina

To Rebecca Sherringham, all men are open books—read quickly and forgotten. Perhaps she’s just too practical for love. The last thing she needs is another bore around—especially one that’s supposed to be dead.

Captain Lucius “Luke” Wainwright turns up a decade after disappearing without a trace. He’s on a mission to claim his birthright and he’s not going away again until he gets it. But Becky and the ladies of the village Book Club Belles Society won’t let this rogue get away with his sins. He’ll soon find that certain young ladies are accustomed to dealing with villains.

Praise for
The Most Improper Miss Sophie Valentine
:

“A unique historical romance…pleasingly edgy.” —
Booklist

“A true charmer of a read.” —
RT Book Reviews
, 4 Stars and KISS nominee (favorite historical heroes of the month)

For more Jayne Fresina, visit:

www.sourcebooks.com

A Gentleman’s Game

Romance of the Turf

by Theresa Romain

How far will a man go

Talented but troubled, the Chandler family seems cursed by bad luck—and so Nathaniel Chandler has learned to trade on his charm. He can broker a deal with anyone from a turf-mad English noble to an Irish horse breeder. But Nathaniel’s skills are tested when his trained Thoroughbreds become suspiciously ill just before the Epsom Derby, and he begins to suspect his father’s new secretary is not as innocent as she seems.

To win a woman’s secretive heart?

Nathaniel would be very surprised if he knew why Rosalind Agate was really helping his family in their quest for a Derby victory. But for the sake of both their livelihoods, Rosalind and Nathaniel must set aside their suspicions. As Derby Day draws near, her wit and his charm make for a successful investigative team…and light the fires of growing desire. But Rosalind’s life is built on secrets and Nathaniel’s on charisma, and neither defense will serve them once they lose their hearts…

Praise for
Secrets of a Scandalous Heiress
:

“Romain’s novel is a bright light. Well written, filled with likable characters and topped off with a mystery.” —
RT Book Reviews
, 4 Stars

For more Theresa Romain, visit:

www.sourcebooks.com