Page 33 of Indecently Daring

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Never that, Miss Cadogan.”

“You think me a fool,” she accused him.

“What?” He stared at her, wondering how on earth she’d come to that conclusion. “I don’t.”

“You think me a bottle-headed ninny,” she said with something like satisfaction as she saw the look on his face, which he suspected was utterly appalled.

He shook his head, staring at her, staring into the face of lovely Artemis, turned all silver in the moonlight, a wild creature who existed only in dreams. A low mist moved over the landscape, shifting about them and adding to the ethereal sensation of unreality. Tears still sparkled in her eyes, glittering, beckoning him like sunlight upon a warm sea, and Harry was caught in the dream too.

“I think… I think you’re extraordinary,” he said, knowing the words ought never be spoken aloud, not by him, but they wouldn’t remain buried. Not when Artemis was gazing up at him, when the moon had hypnotised him and the frost-filled landscape reminded him he was flesh and blood. He wanted so badly for another to hold to him and remind him he was alive. “I think you’ll never be entirely tame. You’re wild and unfathomable and unpredictable, and a man could spend a lifetime with you and never know what was coming next.”

Her mouth opened in a little ‘o’ of surprise and Harry reached for her, pulled her into his arms and kissed the trail of tears away, brushing his lips over skin like satin. He stared down at her, finding her staring at him with astonishment and he acted upon instinct, seeking the lush warmth of her mouth. She gasped as he kissed her, and he wrapped his arms about her until she was flush against him, her softness melding against his harder frame. He kissed her deeper and harder and she held on, following his lead, matching his passion with her own. Elation soared through him, desire a rude awakening after such a monk-like existence for so long, so very, very long. He was young and alive, and he wanted, he wanted, oh, yes, yes, so much.

The eerie sound of a fox screaming in the undergrowth beside them had them both jolting with alarm. Harry broke the kiss, startled, his heart hammering as his senses—those not ruled by his libido—woke from the dream. He stared down at Miss Cadogan, horrified by what he’d just done, the liberties he’d just taken. “Don’t,” she warned him, holding up a hand, an accusing finger pointing at his face. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. “I should not have taken advantage. It was a mistake.”

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl of fury, pushed out of his embrace and kicked him in the shin. Hard. Harry yelped as her boot made contact.

“I said don’t, you thick-headed arse!”

Harry blinked at her, never having heard a lady of Miss Cadogan’s ilk speak in such a way, and certainly not to a vicar. Though he had never so thoroughly deserved it.

“Don’t what? I don’t understand. I took the most appalling liberty, but you looked so beautiful and sad and… and—”

“Not another word!” she hissed at him, her eyes flashing with anger. “Not. Another. Word.”

They stared at each other whilst Harry’s panicked brain tried to decide the best course of action in the circumstances. Silence, he decided. Silence, in this case, was definitely golden.

“This….” She gestured back and forth between them. “This never happened. You walked me home to Holbrook, and I said goodnight, and that was the end of the evening. There were no arguments, no tears, and certainly no kissing!”

Harry nodded, willing and able to follow this instruction to the letter. “Agreed. No arguments, tears or kissing. None.”

“None,” she said, with a firm nod.

She walked on and Harry walked a pace behind her, feeling it was prudent to keep his distance. His blood was still up, and he felt peculiar… most unsettled. It was probably his own fault, but he wanted to blame her for it. She was just too… she was just so… argh. Don’t think of it. Don’t think of her, he counselled himself. Fat chance.

They got to a small wrought-iron gate that opened onto the extensive gardens behind Holbrook. This was the path the family took when going to church on Sundays and would lead her back to the house.

“I’ll be quite safe from here, thank you,” she said, her voice cool. “Goodnight, Reverend Martin.”

“Goodnight, Miss Cadogan.”

With a regal nod, he was dismissed, and Harry watched as she walked away into the garden, disappearing into the swirling mist like a goddess returning to her own mystical world and leaving mere mortals behind.

Chapter 11

Dearest Mama,

Whatever do you mean? I’m not hiding anything. No, of course I’ve not met anyone I fancy. Yes, I will tell you if I do. The auction is this weekend and I believe it will be a tremendous success. Aunt Harriet is very pleased. I shall buy a ticket for the tombola on your behalf.

Cat is driving me to distraction. That girl is never still, and since she twisted her ankle, she’s confined to the house and it’s making her insane. I’ve caught her hopping about on one foot, twice now, the wretch. She’d escape to the village like that, given half a chance. Her new entertainment is to make me a candidate for Bedlam because she is so horribly bored. She’s read every book I have given her and insists on discussing them at length and in depth until I want to scream. I’ve persuaded Aunt to let me take the little dog cart out this afternoon. Then, at least, I can take her for a ride out in the fresh air and I might refrain from doing murder. I am quite out of charity with everyone.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Alana Cadogan to her mother, Mrs Bonnie Cadogan.

22ndJanuary 1845, Holbrook House, Sussex.

“What?” Alana demanded, her tone impatient. She could feel Cat’s gaze upon her as the pony trotted down the tree-lined avenue that led from the house to the village.