His Candlemas Hope Page 8

“I didn’t call you a witch.”

  “You said that you believe I am bewitching.”

  “Aye. You are. I do not think you are doing it on purpose though. I think you…I think my feelings for you are genuine.”

  Her brain felt foggy. “I…I cannot make sense of it all. What are you trying to tell me, sir? Pray, speak plainly. Why would you accuse me of witchcraft?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You did.”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “You did,” she insisted. “And I pray you do not think that I am an evil witch.”

  “Not all of them are evil. Some are quite kind. They are forces of good in the world.”

  “And so you think I am a good witch.”

  “Nothing of the kind,” he said. Their verbal match of wits was beginning to give her a headache.

  “Then, you think I am a bad witch.”

  “I didn’t say that either.” Frustrated, she let out a very unladylike huff. She snapped her fan out, and held it up to her face so he could only see her eyes. “Did you just tell me that we’re finished?” he asked softly, his eyes lingering on her fan.

  “You are catching on. I didn’t think you had the keen intelligence needed to understand the language of the fan. I stand corrected. It seems you have indeed attempted to become a part of the glittering world of the Beau Monde,” she said softly, twirling about, she started to march toward the door.

  “Wait…” he called. “What just happened? I thought we were starting anew?”

  “We did. You dug yourself another hole. A rather large one, in fact. You called me a witch.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did.”

  “I did not,” he said firmly, crossing the short distance to stand in front of her again. He reached for her hand, and brought it to his lips. “If I take this fan, doesn’t it mean that I am yours?”

  “If you take it, it means nothing. I have to give it to you willingly.”

  He considered that for a moment. “I see. And you wouldn’t give it to me willingly, would you?”

  “Certainly not,” she said huffily.

  “Is there anything I can say to sway your opinion of me?”

  “I doubt it. You have said enough to make me form a less than satisfactory impression of you.”

  “I did? I thought we were getting along splendidly.”

  She snorted loudly. “You, sir, are quite entertaining. You…you thought you were wooing me with your words? You accused me of being a witch.”

  “I did not. And even if I did…that wouldn’t be an insult. Quite the contrary. It would be a compliment. Witches are grand people.”

  She pressed her forefinger to her temple, and resisted the urge to slap him with her fan. Instead, she twirled it in her left hand. If he knew anything about the language of the fan, he would hopefully understand what she was trying desperately to convey.

  “Are you telling me to bugger off now?” he asked bluntly. His coarse language surprised her. He quirked a smile at her reaction. “Did I just offend your delicate sensibilities?”

  “You have done nothing but offend me tonight, sir. You are a despicable cad.”

  He reached out for her, and drew her close before she could protest. She inhaled his clean scent. This man knew how to bathe more than once a year. He smelled heavenly. There was a scent of lemons that hung about him.

  “Release me, Lord Langford, or I shall let out a scream that shan’t go unnoticed.”

  “You are in no danger, my lady. According to a friend of mine, I am the one that should fear you.”

  “Why?” she asked, attempting to push against him to make him release her. He held her fast. He…he was too strong for her. After a few more minutes struggling, she sagged against him. “You called me a witch.”

  “No…I didn’t,” he said patiently.

  “You said I had bewitched you with my glamour, and I take that to mean that you think I am a witch, but I am not.”

  “Aye, you did bewitch me with your glamour.”

  “Sir, you are vexing me to no end.”

  “Am I making you feel something other than disdain for me?”

  “No,” she huffed. “If you do not release me this instant, I told you I shall scream, and when I say that I am going to do something—I do it.”

  “None shall hear you scream.”

  “They will.”

  “They won’t,” he said lazily.

  It wasn’t that she feared him. She didn’t think he was going to do anything to her, and yet, she wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Her instincts told her that she should fear the way he made her feel. He could make her do something quite scandalous.

  He could ruin her.

  “Why are you muddling my brain so? What have I ever done to you?”

  “You bewitched me.”

  She let out a little scream in frustration. Stamping down on his foot, his eyes widened in pain, and in that moment, she managed to dislodge herself from his grasp. She backed away from him. “Remain where you are, sir, or so help me I shall scream, and I guarantee you, someone or a lot of someone’s shall hear.”

  He remained frozen. “I want you, Miss Fortescue.”

  “Want me for what?” she demanded.

  “I want you to be my wife.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You, sir, are mad.”

  “If I am mad, then, miss, so are you.”

  “That is a bag of moonshine,” she snorted loudly.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “How can you want me for your wife when all we do is bicker?”

  “Our banter is entertaining, don’t you think?”

  “Hardly,” she snorted. “You pull the worst out of me. You make me say things I do not mean…you, sir, infuriate me.”

  “I make you feel, then.”

  “More than I make you feel. You…you don’t seem to have any emotions. You have no more heart than a statue made of marble.”

  “Marry me, and I shall show you just how passionate I can be. I shall set your world on fire, Miss Fortescue.”

  A delicious thrill went through her. “No,” she said softly. “I would rather marry myself to the silliest man in the ton.” And as it happened, she had almost done just that.

  “I am not acquainted with that man.”

  “Right now, you are in the running for that position.”

  “If I manage to obtain it that means you would like to marry me, correct?’

  She groaned. “I must…”

  “What must you do?”

  “I must rid myself of you.”

  “That shall be a difficult task,” he said, with a wink. “I have mastered difficult tasks in the past, and I warrant you are not up to the task.”

  Shocked, she gasped loudly. “You, sir…you are beyond words.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And if I did accept your proposal?” she asked slowly.

  “You wouldn’t be sorry for it, I assure you.”

  “What do you have to offer me?”

  “The world, Miss, the world.”

  “And would you give it all to me?”

  “I would give you everything I have.”

  “Which, cannot be much,” she scoffed.

  Her stinging insult only made him smile. “You may think whatever you like.”

  “You have no property. You have nothing to your name, save for your title.”

  He swallowed thickly. “Then, your answer is yes?”

  She looked to the heavens. “How do I deal with a man like you? I have never met anyone quite like you. You, sir, confound me. You…you exasperate me to no end.”

  “You are quite lucky to have found me.”

  “Lord Langford, pray stop. I do not wish to marry a man who thinks I practice magic.” Why didn’t she just confess all? Why didn’t she just tell him the truth?

  “That is the point. You do not practice it, mayhap that is the problem.”

  “Ah ha!
You do think I am a witch.”

  “No,” he said softly. “I think you are a fairy.”

  *****

  Hope’s eyes blazed with fury, and her color was up. He had never seen anything so beautiful in all of his life.

  Without a further word, she left the Library. He made to give chase, and was almost at the door when she returned. Her passions were sufficiently riled.

  “I wouldn’t marry you, sir, for all of the gold in the world,” she hissed angrily.

  “Now, which is it? Would you marry me if I was the richest man, or the silliest man?”

  “You wretched man.”

  “I don’t think that one was under consideration.”

  “Argh,” she screamed, dropping her fan. He grinned widely, and pulled her into his arms. “What are you doing?” she said, sighing in her delicious way. The heavenly sound made his spirits soar.

  “You dropped your fan,” he pointed out.

  “I did not.”

  “You did,” he said, looking to where it was on the floor. “Does this mean you have forgiven me for my trifling peccadillos?”

  “No,” she said, her voice filled with uncertainty.

  “In language of the fan, that means you belong to me, my love.”

  She relaxed against him. He looked deeply into her eyes. She was fighting against the emotions he stirred within her. He lowered his mouth to hers, and brushed his lips lightly against her full and wanting ones. She strained against him, and then, as he deepened the kiss, she fell against him, giving him her whole weight.

  They were lost.

  Lost in each other.

  “I hate you, Lord Langford,” she said breathlessly, against his mouth.

  “That is exactly what I wanted to hear,” he whispered, kissing her on the end of her nose.

  She shivered and then, she slapped him.

  Hard.

  He released her and rubbed his cheek ruefully. For such a slight creature, she knew her slap smarted. “You do not lack for bottom,” he said, his eyes twinkling merrily. “I thought that perhaps you hadn’t an ounce of steel in you. Thank you for clearing that up for me.”

  “You ask me to marry me, you kiss me and then, you…and then, you like me telling you that I hate you? You are a conundrum, sir.”

  “I need you to hate me, so I know that I love you.”

  “You, sir, are a contradiction in terms.”

  “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “No,” she said crisply. “It isn’t.”

  “Don’t you know what this means?”

  “It means that you are an ass,” she said haughtily.

  “Maybe so…maybe so,” he chuckled. “I might be an ass, but at least you are not weaving a spell over me. What I feel for you is real.”

  “There you go again. Calling me a witch.”

  “No. I called you a fairy.”

  “And do you think there is a difference?” Hope glimmered in her eyes. He felt as if he was being tested.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “According to my friend, there is quite a difference.”

  “And you know of someone who is an expert on these matters?”

  “I do.”

  “I don’t believe you. I think you are just potty.”

  “That’s what I said to my friend after he told me you were dangerous.”

  “I am not dangerous.”

  “He thinks you are, and well, you hit pretty hard, so I might agree with him on that one.”

  “Popinjay.”

  “I shall tell him you called him a popinjay,” he said.

  “I didn’t call him a popinjay, I called you a popinjay.”

  “That’s not very nice. Certainly not the sort of thing that should come out of your delicate mouth.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be nice…I…oh, why do I bother. You like this. You like getting me all riled up. It excites you.”

  “It does,” he said dreamily.

  “Lord Langford, you and I shall part ways now, and after tonight, I do not wish to see you again.”

  “Until our wedding day, and that is how it should be…if that is what you want.”

  “No. Not until our wedding day. Until hell freezes over, do you understand?”

  “I don’t know if you can arrange that, dearest.”

  “What are you going on about now?” she asked tiredly, closing her eyes briefly before she leveled them on him again.

  “I don’t think fairies can freeze over hell. Surely their power doesn’t hold dominion over hell, but mayhap, I am mistaken.” He looked to be pondering that.

  “Why don’t you go and take a dance in hell, Lord Langford?” she asked softly.

  “Only if you come with me.” He gave her a dazzling smile.

  “No.”

  “Well, I didn’t think you would want to dance in hell. Now, why don’t we go and tell your family the good news?”

  “What good news?”

  “Why that you have accepted my proposal, of course.”

  “I haven’t accepted you, and besides, we barely know each other.”

  “You dropped your fan,” he pointed out.

  “By mistake, I assure you.”

  “I don’t think you do anything by mistake, at least not when it comes to me.” His demeanor suddenly shifted. “I…you…I…” he shook his head. “I have to go.” He had had a complete change of heart. What the bloody hell was going on? She felt as if she was walking in a dream. One minute, he wanted her, and the next minute, he was denying the whole thing and running away from her. He was bloody annoying! None of this could be real.

  It just couldn’t be happening.

  “You do?” she asked, completely thrown by his latest announcement.

  “Yes. I won’t let you keep pulling me into your web. You are one of the little people, and you’re trying to get me to do your bidding. I won’t. I will fight it. I will not let you pull me into your magical life.”

  “I wasn’t pulling you…you were pulling me,” she protested.

  “No…no, Doc was right. You are beguiling me. You are weaving a spell over me with your fairy glamour. You…you are. I have to go before I am tricked into going out into the ballroom and publicly proclaiming my love for you.”

  He hurried past her, and left her standing alone.

  “What the blazes just happened?” she whispered. “I think I might be losing my mind.”

  “I would have to agree with you on that one, sis,” Desi said, walking into the Library. “Mama told me to come and find you. She…wants you to go back with the aunts. They want to leave now. The old dears are exhausted.”

  Hope glanced at the clock. “I…” She felt so befogged. She felt as if something hadn’t gone the way it was supposed to. But what hadn’t gone the way it was supposed to?

  Desi grinned at her. “You look shocked about how Lord Langford rushed out of the room. I am glad I do not have your personality. If I possessed your personality traits, I wouldn’t ever be able to hope for a suitor.”

  “Shut your bone box, Desi,” she said sighing.

  “You have been around Lord Blessing far too long. His bad habits are rubbing off on you.”

  “You should be around him a bit more. He might turn you into a better person.”

  “I am the better person. At least I have men fawning all over me. They cannot get enough of me.”

  “Someday, Desi, they will all realize you for the horrid little beast that you are. You won’t be able to enchant them forever. Someday, you shall find the man that won’t dance to your enchanting tune.”

  “Mayhap, but at least I shan’t turn into a dried up old maid. That is your destiny, Hope. Now, put a vacant smile on your face, and make certain that you follow me in a few minutes, or else Mama shall chastise me. I want to be rid of you so we can all sit down to a lovely supper.”

  “What happened to you, Desi?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What turned you into such a little bra
t?”

  “You will pay for those words, Hope. Mark my words, you will pay.”

  “Oh, dearest. Those words make me shiver in my slippers, Desi.”

  “You should be shaking,” she said, flouncing dramatically out of the room.

  Hope groaned. She would probably be sorry for what she had said to Desi. There was no way around it, she would have to deal with the little brat later. She sunk down onto one of the sofas, and hung her head in her hands. The thought of returning to Elysium Hall did not appeal to her. She wanted to stay at Blessing Hall. She wanted to stay where Desi wasn’t.

  She wanted to stay with Lord Langford.

  She smiled mischievously, knowing exactly what she had to do. For once in her life, Hope was going to misbehave, and she was going to enjoy every blessed minute of it.

  It was time to let the fay inside of her have her own way.

  Chapter Nine

  Gil’s head felt fuzzy.

  Maybe it was the punch he drank, maybe it was Hope. Either way, he had to do something to clear his head. He strode through the house and out of the doors that led out into the back gardens.

  Inhaling the cool crisp night air, he looked up at the moon. The rain had cleared, and now, though the scent of the rain still lingered in the air, it was turning out to be a beautiful night.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Hope asked softly.

  “Christ Almighty,” he said, looking to where she stood by one of the hedges. “You…how the hell did you get out here? I didn’t see you…I left you in the Library.”

  “I have my ways,” she said airily. “Obviously, I know this house better than you do.”

  He swallowed thickly, and considered her words. There could be some truth to her statement. Many houses had hidden passages, and she could have taken an alternate route out of the Library to make for the gardens. She wore a cloak, and had pulled the hood up to conceal most of her features.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me how beautiful I look in the moonlight? Shouldn’t you tell me how enchanting I am, and that I bewitch you with just one look? Oh, Gilbert look, it looks as if the frost shall kiss the trees, hedges and ground. Doesn’t it look like a fairyland?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, she smiled at him with a mysterious smile that was filled with so much promise. He wanted to kiss her madly, deeply. He wanted to take her back up to his bedchamber, and do wicked things to her. “I think you do want to tell me how lovely I am. I think you want to sing my praises, and adore me in every single way.”