The Rose's Bloom (5 page)

His mother laughed and turned Claire back towards the path, threading her arm though Claire’s once more.

“I knew before we arrived tonight that someone who would be in attendance had captured my son’s eye, and I had thought it was your sister. I must admit, I am rather pleased it is not. While quite appealing to the eye, she appears without substance.” Lady Yvonne paused. “I hope you do not think me cruel for my honesty.”

“Not at all. I actually feel quite similar.” Although she would not have put it quite so delicately. “Though I assure you, your son has made me no promises.”

The woman again laughed. Her laugh did not project mockery or anything harsh, simply genuine pleasure. “I assure
you
, he will.”

Tears unexpectedly sprang into Claire’s eyes. Never before this moment had she wanted marriage. She had dreaded a life under a man’s rule. Claire had been privileged, in many ways, to avoid her father’s notice. It had allowed her to do many things a woman of her station would not be permitted to do. She hunted with the men and rode the estate with little worry as to what would become of her. She had been raised by her governess to be strong and independent, though she had known the day would come when she would have to give it up. The thought of marrying Damon could not have been more appealing. He was gentle, yet so very strong. She suspected he had a will to match her own.

“Oh, my dear. Why does the thought of marrying my son upset you so?”

Claire shook her head, wiping away the wetness from her eyes. “Heavens, no. The mere thought of it brings me more joy than I could ever hope for.”

The older woman cupped her face and smiled. “Wipe those tears away, my dear. If my son saw you in this state, I doubt even
I
would escape his wrath.”

* * * *

“There you are. Where have you been?”

Claire flinched as her stepmother’s sharp words cut into her pleasure-filled haze. Reality came crashing down.

“I fear I have stolen her for much of the night,” Damon’s mother said, clearly surprising her stepmother with her presence. “Lady Claire was kind enough to show me around the gardens, as the heat was getting to me.”

“Oh, very well. Your father has requested your presence in his study.”

Claire’s eyes widened for a moment. Her father never requested her presence.

“Do not keep him waiting, child,” her stepmother barked.

Claire turned to Yvonne and offered a parting smile. She no longer felt joyful as she crossed the grand room towards her father’s study.

* * * *

“Did you ask her father for her hand?”

Damon almost tripped up the step as he entered the carriage. He took a seat across from his mother and narrowed his eyes at her. “Whose father?” he drawled, fearing he already knew the answer. Yvonne was neither blind nor stupid.

“Do not claim me daft, son. Lady Claire has clearly taken your eye. Her father requested her presence when we came back inside after our walk. I assumed it was because you had asked for her hand.”

He frowned. He did not like the idea any man would claim her before he had the chance to, but he shook off the notion before he had much time to ponder it. Sir Gerald had been the only other man to request her for a dance that night, and the man was only in need of coin. Her father would know as much and shortly dismiss any offer.

“I have been speaking to Lord Percival since I left you two in the garden. I am sorry it took so long.”

A deep furrow creased his mother’s features. “I hope another has not gained her father’s favour. She would clearly prefer you.”

He sat forward, piercing his mother with a sharp look, one that would have a lesser man or woman cowering before him. However, the woman who had birthed him seemed unperturbed by the action.

“Why would you say that? What did she say?”

His mother rolled her eyes and settled back into the cushions of the carriage. A jolt, then a gentle rocking, signalled the team’s exit down the drive.

“Son, the woman was crawling up you like a child would a tree when I came upon you. She also had leaves stuck to the front of her dress,” she said, giving him a level look. “She does not strike me as one to give away favours to just any gentleman who comes calling.”

Feeling somewhat mollified by his mother’s chastising tone, Damon saw she had a point. While Claire had not known who he was when they had met, he did not believe she would have allowed just anyone to do what they had done. There had been a trust they had shared, a trust he believed she would only offer to him and he to her, in return.

He sighed and settled back as the carriage swayed.

“Do not drag your feet, son. I fear you will lose a chance at experiencing what your father and I had,” she said longingly.

The love his parents had shared was a rarity among noble houses. He knew it, and had never expected to experience it himself. Yet Lady Claire could make him happy, he could see that. Though love was not a realistic hope, companionship and respect could certainly be the case. Lust, as well, would play a large part. His body awoke on that thought, causing him to frown as he shifted on the suddenly uncomfortable seat.

* * * *

“Ah, Claire. Come in.” Her father motioned for her to join him at his desk.

“You wanted to see me, Father? The ball appears to have gone well.”

He nodded. “Indeed it has. Several men are trying to sway your sister’s favour, but we had suspected that. You, on the other hand, have also proved to be popular tonight,” he said, raising an amused eyebrow at her.

Had Damon asked her father for her hand? Oh, had his mother been correct in her premonition?

“Me, Father?” she asked, trying to conceal her surprise. At his amusement, she feared she had not done so convincingly.

“Yes, I have accepted an offer for your hand. He has requested a rather rushed engagement. If I had not known him to have only arrived in the area today, I would be worried for your virtue, daughter.”

Claire blanched.
Arrived in the area today?
She and Damon had met yesterday.

“Father, who is the gentleman you have accepted to become my betrothed?” she asked warily.

“Sir Gerald, of course.”

She recoiled as if he had slapped her. “Father, no! Please, you cannot! I cannot marry that man.”

Her father leant back in his chair and gave her a level look. “Claire, you are not the beauty your sister is, therefore you have little choice in the matter. Sir Gerald is likely to be your only offer, and I am not willing to risk a child of mine becoming a spinster, reliant on me for any longer than needed. You will marry Sir Gerald and that is the end of it,” he said firmly.

Never before had Claire cried in front of her father. Yet now, she could do nothing to prevent the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

Chapter Four

His stallion moved with eagerness this morning, and Damon felt in line with the animal’s excitement. He was going to speak with Lord Killory today about Claire. She would make him a good wife, he was sure of it.

As he rode in the direction of Deonsay, Damon found himself steering his steed towards the river, the spot where he had first seen Claire. The first moment in all his life in which he had been truly captivated by a woman.

As he rode down the path surrounded by lush forest, Damon came upon her white mare, tethered to the same tree. He was unable to help the pleasure that flowed through his body at the knowledge he would be able to speak with her before he sought out her father. Never before had he been this eager for anything.

As he rode closer, he saw her sitting on the same boulder he had loved her on. This time, she sat curled into a ball, resting her chin on her knees as he approached. She would have heard his advance, yet she did not turn or acknowledge him in any way. Instead, she kept gazing at the water as it flowed downstream.

Dismounting, he tethered his stallion beside her mare and moved forward, coming up beside her.

“My rose?”

She turned to gaze at him, then. Damon’s heart dropped. Her face was pale and her eyes red. Her tears flowed freely. She looked at him with no emotion other than sheer sadness.

“What is wrong?” he asked as he sat beside her, pulling her firmly into his embrace.

She remained stiff before she broke down into sobs, grasping hold of his coat and burying her face in the fabric of his cravat.

“What happened?” he persisted.

She sobbed and looked up at him, moving back to face him. “Father has accepted Sir Gerald’s offer to marry me.”

Damon blinked for a moment before he shook his head. “Your father is not aware of Sir Gerald’s need for coin?”

She laughed without humour, pulling out of his embrace, and curled back into a ball, her knees tight against her chest.

“Yes. He is aware. But I am not a beauty as my sister is, and he does not want to risk that I may not receive another offer. Therefore, he has accepted.”

Rage like no other flowed through Damon. She was his! He reached out and spun her to face him. Her eyes became wide with surprise as he drew her close, their faces only inches apart.

“Your beauty surpasses that of any other woman I have seen. If your father cannot see it, he is a fool,” Damon said with assurance.

Tears still flowed from her eyes. “Thank you, Damon. I will always cherish the time we had together. It will keep me going through the long nights in his b-bed.” She hiccupped a sob as she said the last few words. Pain at the thought crossed her face, as did the rage in his own heart.

“No, my rose. You are mine. I will not let you go.”

“I will move to his estate in Kent. I will never see you,” she murmured, becoming heavy in his arms. She was giving up, doing what her father wished. He could feel it, and it pulled at him in a way he did not understand.

“No. You are not listening. You will not marry that man. I will not allow it.”

She looked up at him, confusion radiating from her.

“You will only marry me.”

Her eyes widened, hope lighting her features before she shook her head. “Father wrote to his lawyers in London last night. Sir Gerald wants a hasty marriage.”

“Do you trust me?” Damon asked her, staring into the depths of her reddened eyes.

“With my life.”

He closed his own eyes, savouring the sound of those words. Never before had three little words held so much conviction in them. She was his match in every way. She did not cower from him. It was so refreshing.

“Then trust me to fix this. You will be my wife, and no one else’s.”

Tears flowed again, not that they had ever really stopped. Now he hoped they ran from joy instead of misery.

He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, catching the tears as they trickled down the soft skin, but more followed. Leaning forward, he kissed away the salty wetness from one cheek, then the other.

No longer did she sob. Instead, her breathing changed, from the rushed panting of distress to the deep breathing he had heard from her before. In this very spot, in fact. His body changed rapidly, coming alive with anticipation. His cock throbbed against her as she rested in his hold.

“Do you want to be my wife?” he asked and moved down to kiss the skin of her neck, where her pulse beat frantically. Damon hoped his affection for her was not one-sided.

“More than anything else,” she whispered.

The beast within him came loose with a rapid urge to take her now. No longer was he willing to wait. He had to claim her as his own.

Damon drew her into his lap, and her skirts bunched up around her with the sudden movement. Claire did not hesitate as he pulled her into a wild embrace. She clung to him as their lips locked.

Oh, what a wondrous thing kissing was! Claire had never known how splendid it could be until she had met Damon. The truth was, she had found the idea of the endeavour rather repulsive until he had first kissed her, two days past. Now Claire struggled to remember why she had felt that way. Perhaps the man himself made all the difference.

Damon shifted his strong hands down her back towards her bottom. Once there, he paused before allowing his hands to drift down her thighs, which were covered in the fabric of her skirts. In a sudden movement, he spread her legs wide and settled her astride him. The sensitive area between her legs rubbed along his hardness and she moaned, unable to help herself as she pressed against it.

“Will you scold me for taking you now, my rose? I fear if I do not make you mine this instant, I will not live another moment.”

Damon’s husky plea sent a wave of heat flowing though her already simmering body.

“I love you, Damon. How could I ever feel dire when you would be giving me what I seek?”

He growled, a heavy and primal sound, before his lips again claimed hers, only this time he was rougher and his hands dug into her legs almost painfully. The strange thing was it did not hurt her—instead, it aroused her further.

“I want to touch your man part,” she groaned.

He paused and pulled back from her neck, where his lips had been nipping at her skin. “My what?” he asked, sounding suddenly amused. His reaction seemed out of place, when a moment ago he had appeared ready to tear her apart with need.

She looked down at the area her skirts covered as she sat astride his lap. “Your man part,” she repeated, and frowned. “The organ I kissed in the garden yestereve.”

Damon grinned devilishly. “I have never heard it described like that before,” he said, resting his forehead on hers as he reached behind her and started to untie her laces.

“Really?” Claire asked, rubbing her smooth cheek against his stubbled one. She felt like purring with pleasure, as if she were a cat. He smelt like musk and man. A scent which was him, and him alone. “What is it called, then?”

Sliding the now loose dress off her shoulders, exposing one breast at a time, Damon looked down at her bosoms with a deep hunger. His dark eyes grew darker as his gaze feasted on them.