My Merry Marquess (Wallflowers Christmas Wish Book 3) Read online

  Not for the first time, a hefty wave of guilt swept through him.

  “Not really. I spent a few months in the mountains. Hiking alone, mostly. I dabbled at some painting.” Nick tucked the linen into itself so that the bandage he’d affected wouldn’t come undone. “The wilderness seemed to lift me out of my self-pity. It soothed my soul more than the cities.” He swallowed hard at the memory. He’d found more healing there than anywhere else.

  Eve glanced over at her apples. “I need to finish cutting them. If I don’t, they’ll go bad, and we already throw away far too much food.” She went to slide off the table, but Nick stopped her.

  “I’ll do it.” He removed his coat and draped it over a chair in the corner of the room and then returned, rolling up his sleeves. “The bleeding won’t stop if you use it now.”

  Nick regaled one of his more humorous hiking stories as he cleaned up the area and threw out the apples she’d bled on. When he was finished with that, he cleaned the knife and then stared contemplatively at the remaining fruit and the bowl of finely sliced apple pieces.

  “You’ll want to peel the skin off first.” Her begrudging smile made him want to please her all the more.

  “Like this?” He proudly carved off a slice of skin.

  “Not so much.” But she laughed. How had he forgotten how satisfying it had always been when he could draw out her laughter?

  Peeling the skin wasn’t quite as easy as it looked and eventually, he had a rather pathetic-looking apple to work with. Following her instructions, he gradually filled the bowl.

  “That should be enough. Now we need to make the crust.”

  While he’d been concentrating, she’d slid off the worktable and maneuvered around him with various ingredients. He didn’t mind that she stood right beside him while he worked the dough. He especially didn’t mind the breathy little giggling sounds she made whenever he erred.

  “That Dunder fellow.” Nick brought up the subject casually. “The one at home you said wanted to marry you? Have you seen much of him this past year?” She’d mentioned him only once, but Nick had been unable to dismiss the image of her marrying or even becoming betrothed.

  “He married the vicar’s daughter. Why do you ask?”

  Nick barely realized that he’d let out a sigh of relief until she paused to stare up at him, looking quite pleased. He turned and grasped her by the waist, uncaring that his hands were sticky from the dough. “You know why, you little minx,” he growled.

  And they were back to this.

  Back to this unescapable physical attraction. He watched as her pulse fluttered near the base of her neck. Nothing in the world could keep him from tasting it.

  He hated that she tensed.

  “Nicholas, I’m scared.”

  “Of what?” But he knew. The torture of being torn apart had left him feeling leery as well.

  “Of this. Of you. Of myself.” She blinked and then dropped her lashes. When she looked back up, her gaze shifted to the worktable, and she covered her mouth, trying not to smile. “And I believe I might also be scared of your pie.”

  Nick glanced sideways and then lifted one brow. “What’s wrong with my pie?”

  Other than the varying thickness of the crust and the fact that some of his apple chunks weren’t much smaller than an apple itself, it was a fine-looking pie indeed. He clenched her closer to him.

  “Let’s not be afraid. Let’s give ourselves a second chance.” His voice came out sounding gruff.

  “But how?”

  “Let’s just be together.” He didn’t know any other way. Eventually, they would both have to decide if love was worth the risk. “Let’s do something fun. I noticed a sleigh parked behind the inn.”

  “The baron and Noelle are using it today, I believe.”

  “Who?”

  “Your friend, Lord Blitzencreek.”

  Nick froze. What kind of a game was Dash playing? His “friend” did not go by the name of Blitzencreek, and he most certainly wasn’t a baron.

  “Ah, yes.” A feeling of unease weighed in his chest. He’d make it a point to speak with Dash about such a falsehood the next time he ran into him, for certain.

  Eve gave him a half-smile. “The pond is frozen over today. We could go ice skating?” She made the suggestion tentatively, and Nick would not deny her anything at this precarious stage of their relationship.

  He was an excellent swordsman, an accomplished fighter and horseman, and a crack shot with a bow and arrow. What Nicholas St. Hope was not was an accomplished skater—he was not, in fact, even a respectable one. Damn near broke both his legs on the one and only occasion he’d attempted to swoosh around with such abominable blades on his footwear.

  “Anything,” he answered, utterly lost as he gazed into eyes he’d dreamt about more times than he could count. “Anything.”

  Twenty minutes later, sitting in her chamber, Eve was afraid but she was also feeling hopeful—more hopeful than she’d felt about anything since her mother had died. She smiled to herself as she drew on her stockings—woolen today, not nearly as sensual as the ones Nicholas had removed from her legs the day before. None of her winter clothes seemed designed to impress a gentleman but that might be exactly what they needed.

  She needed to be able to talk with him without having to fight all those sensual urges he always managed to bring to life.

  A knock sounded, and Mr. Clark’s called from the foyer, “Lord Merriweather is here to collect you, My Lady.”

  Eve’s breath fluttered. Nick had barely departed an hour ago and already she was eager to see him again. This exhilarating feeling reminded her of before and that had ended horribly. The reminder caused a squeezing sensation in her chest. He was only here in Maybridge Falls because he was stranded. His initial suggestion had been that they enjoy one another’s company until the roads became passable.

  What if he left her this time? What if— Eve halted her thoughts. She could not know the future until it came to pass. She finished tying her boots, gathered her scarf and mittens, and conscious that she might be making a terrible mistake laying herself open to his charm, made her way toward the staircase.

  He was unaware when she halted at the top of the stairs to observe him. He and Mr. Clark were discussing what appeared to be skating techniques. A set of blades draped over his shoulder, but he held his hat in his hands. Lines of concentration marred his brow as he paid careful heed to the skating motions her aunt’s butler was making with his legs.

  “Be sure to keep your hands out, My Lord,” Mr. Clark finished and then, catching sight of her, nudged Nicholas and turned toward the coat hooks. “I’ve your evergreen cloak for you today, Lady Eve.”

  Nicholas’s eyes lifted to where she stood and never wavered once as she descended and then allowed Mr. Clark to drape her favorite garment over her shoulders.

  “I’m glad your pie didn’t ruin it,” Nicholas commented with a sparkle in his eyes. Had he really come back into her life again only yesterday? She tempered her emotions as she smiled up at him.

  It was not paranoid for her to remind herself that he could disappear just as quickly again tomorrow.

  “Your blades, My Lady.” Mr. Clark went to hand them to her but Nicholas grasped them first, draping them along with his own and then offering his arm.

  Have a wonderful afternoon.” The butler held the door wide for them. “And remember, My Lord, keep your hands out for when you fall.”

  “I have no intention of falling,” Nicholas shot back, lifting his chin.

  “You do know how to skate, don’t you?” Eve glanced up at him. “We don’t have to…” Because skating had been difficult enough to learn when she’d been a child and all of the necessary falling could hardly be enjoyable for a full-grown adult.

  “If skating is your preference for the afternoon, I will learn.” He matched his steps to hers as they walked away from the village center and toward the lake.

  “We could do something else,” she
suggested.

  “If you want to skate, we will skate. Now, where exactly are we headed?”

  Eve couldn’t help but smile at his stubbornness.

  “Just north of town. The stream we were at yesterday feeds the lake.” The reminder of yesterday’s meeting was somewhat sobering.

  But for now, the sky was blue, and the outing promised to be a lovely one.

  The last time she’d skated had been not quite two years before. She and her sisters had been forced to wait until after the holidays because their father hadn’t deemed the ice safe. When he finally had, their mother had insisted they not wait another day to venture onto the ice. “My parents taught us to skate on the pond at home when we were very young.”

  “You miss your mother very much.”

  She nodded and swallowed hard.

  Nick strode quietly for a moment. “Do you intend to return to your father’s home for the holidays? Or does he plan on joining you and your sisters here?”

  “I don’t know when we will see my father again,” she admitted grudgingly. “He sent us away indefinitely. He’s not been the same since we lost her.”

  Nick said he’d panicked when she’d left. Had he suffered in his own way while she’d mourned her own losses? Nicholas placed one hand over hers. “Surely, he will come around?”

  “I am trying to remain optimistic. Losing my mother was difficult enough on all of us, but it seems we’ve lost Papa now too. He says he sent us away for our own good but… we miss him dreadfully. We miss the person he used to be. He… drinks.” Eve felt ashamed to admit it, but this was Nicholas. If the two of them were going to stand any chance at all of finding their way back to one another, it was important that they speak openly. “Aunt Winifred has been most kind to us—more than we dared expect.”

  “I should have been here for you.” His voice sounded thick with emotion.

  He should have! But what good could possibly come by remaining angry with him?

  “You are here now,” Eve said. They turned along a smaller path that led directly to the lake where adults and children alike, dressed in woolen coats, brightly colored mittens, hats and scarves, glided across the slick surface. “And today you are going to risk life and limb on skates for me. I feel it only fair to warn you that my sisters complain about my lack of patience as a teacher.”

  “But you will be patient with me.” Something in his voice had her peeking flirtatiously in his direction.

  “And why is that, My Lord?” she teased.

  “Because you have reserved all of your patience for the handsome gentlemen who assisted you with your pies.”

  “And would this gentleman happen to be a marquess with the title of Merriweather?”

  “Indeed. He is the one.”

  They arrived at a bench and Nicholas handed over her blades as they sat down. Eve had her feet securely attached in just a few minutes and couldn’t help but grin when she caught Nicholas attaching the devices to his boots backward.

  “Your foot, My Lord.” She indicated a spot just between them. He turned and lifted his leg without question but when his gaze captured hers, she couldn’t help but think it was a smoldering one. Likely he was remembering what had occurred when he’d assisted her with her slippers and stockings the day before.

  Her gaze trailed up his thighs, and she swallowed at the realization that she would not be opposed to… Good Gravy!

  Eve slid her mittens off and did her best to ignore the heat flooding her cheeks. The image in her mind caused her fingers to fumble, however, as she untied and then refastened the blades.

  The blades were nearly too small for his boots.

  “Mr. Rudolph loaned them to me,” he explained, apparently oblivious to the very unladylike thoughts racing through her mind as she adjusted the laces.

  “He sends food over to my aunt’s home often. He is a most obliging innkeeper.”

  “Doesn’t your aunt employ a cook?”

  “She employs a very kind woman who works in the kitchen; calling her a cook is something of a stretch.” She laughingly regaled him with a few of the mishaps that had occurred since they’d arrived to live with Aunt Winifred and then examined the fit of his blades.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I left them off? It seems that the soles of my boots would make the entire endeavor easier.”

  “But then you wouldn’t be skating, you would be sliding.”

  He shook his head, turning to face her completely, and lifted his other shoe onto the bench.

  “But I would be sliding in an upright position.”

  Eve grinned. “Don’t be so sure of that.” She laughed but then added to the pointers he’d received from Mr. Clark and in a matter of minutes, they were both pushing off the bench and he was only wobbling only a little.

  “Hold onto me.” Eve loved skating and was already feeling a rush of excitement. Or was that because Nicholas was holding her hand and allowing her to lead him onto the ice?

  “I read once that it is the gentleman’s responsibility to assure his partner doesn’t lose her balance and fall.” Laughter shook his voice because it was he who was grasping onto her tightly. When they reached a clear spot, she drew his arm around her shoulders.

  Eve had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be this close to another person—to him—to know his strength beside her. “I will pretend that I am leaning on you so that no one calls your manhood into doubt.” The words were meant jokingly and yet butterflies danced in her belly—because he was most definitively the manliest gentleman of her acquaintance.

  “Turn your back foot, like this, and slide your front foot forward,” she instructed and then dissolved into a fit of giggles when he lost his balance and nearly sent both of them sprawling to the ice.

  Even so, he showed no indication of giving up. Thunder-blue eyes focused on the ice ahead of them, he kept one hand out and his brows drawn together. Seeing his determination to master something—simply because she enjoyed it—had Eve melting inside.

  And although he relied on her less and less, he did not remove his arm from her shoulder, and he seemed to be intentionally holding her closer.

  He leaned close and spoke near her ear. “I rather like this activity, after all. It has certain… advantages. And of course, afterward, I’ll have to find some way to warm you up.”

  She wasn’t cold at all, in fact, she was warm from her exertions, and yet a shiver of anticipation ran through her.

  She could imagine herself falling for him all over again.

  If she hadn’t already.

  “All right.” He dropped his arm. “I will hold my own for a few moments. Show me how you skate when you are not moving along at the pace of a tortoise keeping me from toppling over.”

  His eyes twinkled at her in encouragement.

  “You are sure?” Although she felt a little reluctant to leave his side, her feet itched to fly along the surface.

  “Show off for me.” He nudged her away from him with a smile.

  Eve smiled to herself at such a thought, but then nodded, and with one confident stroke, and then another, sent herself whirling across the ice. With the cold wind on her cheeks and causing her scarf to fly out behind her, she easily maneuvered herself around the other skaters.

  Even as she skated, she was quite aware of him watching her. Nicholas made no attempt to do anything other than watch her. She flashed him a grin and turned her body so that she was skating backward.

  Her heart raced and for the flash of an instant, she felt something she’d thought she would never feel again.

  She felt…

  Happiness? Joy?

  How was this possible? She examined the emotion as she made her way around the ice.

  Nothing was settled in her life. Noelle was entering a precarious engagement. Holly was one bad decision away from ruining herself. Mama was gone and her papa was slowly killing himself at home alone.

  And there was no guarantee that Nicholas would ever love her again.
/>   Her feet suddenly tied themselves into knots and, unable to regain her balance, she tripped and, on hands and knees, slid headfirst along the ice and into a large drift of snow.

  Although she would have liked to climb under the snow and hide, she didn’t want other skaters to be concerned that she’d been hurt. Scrambling, she pushed herself to her feet just as Nicholas arrived at her side.

  “Are you hurt?” He ran his hands along her arms and then brushed the snow from her legs.

  “I am embarrassed,” she answered honestly.

  He held her eyes as though to reassure himself and then tucked her mittened hand into his elbow and led her to where a very small sleigh was parked.

  “Not exactly the sleigh I had in mind, but if you are finished, I’ve made arrangements for you to ride back to the village in style,” he announced with a grin.

  “I admit freely that I would like nothing better than a hot cup of tea.” She had no doubt that he would have remained for as long as she wanted. “But… where did you find this?”

  He flicked his gaze to a young man who was carrying a small child upon his shoulders. “The father asked if I’d mind pulling it to the bakery. His daughter has quite had enough of the snow, and he was going to have to make a return trip.”

  It was then that Eve realized he’d removed his blades and had them draped over his shoulder once again. She shook her head at the contraption sitting in the snow.

  “But it’s meant for a child. I’m too big—”

  “If you don’t allow me to pull you along, I’ll insist you drag me. Now, climb on, young lady, and prepare yourself for a thrill.”

  Eve laughed at his mock attempt at being stern. “Let me remove my blades first.”

  As he pulled her back to the village, Nick managed to keep her laughing so much that her side hurt. He ran with her and then slowed to a snail’s pace and then burst into a sprint, nearly sending her tumbling off the back.

  “Not fair!” She giggled. “It doesn’t count if your passenger falls off.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me.” He held one fist to his heart, toggling his eyebrows, smiling.