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Daniel inclined his head in thanks.
Mr. Newton looked to Margery in confusion. “But how do you know one another?”
“His Grace is the son of my grandmother’s dear friend. They are visiting until the end of the month.”
“Why, that’s splendid.” The man smiled broadly.
Mr. Emmett reached for Daniel’s hand, shaking it heartily. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Er, Your Grace. I do hope you’re enjoying the Isle.”
Daniel, wanting nothing more than to be done with this conversation—and every conversation hereafter that even brushed with mention of the war—nevertheless could not be rude to these men, who had seen the same hells he himself had. Clearing his throat, he said, “Er, I am, thank you. And you all live on the Isle?” The words sounded normal to his own ears, yet far off, as if another had said them.
“We do,” Mr. McTavish said, his broad chest puffing up. “Came here just after the war. Aaron extolled the beauty of Synne so eloquently that, when I found myself looking for a place to settle, I wasted no time coming here. And apparently these two had the very same brilliant idea.” He jerked a thumb in his friends’ direction, chuckling.
“There are quite a few veterans, soldiers and sailors alike, who have taken lodgings here,” Mr. Newton explained. “Mrs. Kitteridge visits us from time to time. She’s most kind.”
“Nonsense,” Margery said with a gentle smile. “It is all of you who are being kind, letting me talk on about my husband. But where are you all off to?”
“We’re to meet several of the boys at the Master-at-Arms,” McTavish said. His eyes lit up and he turned to Daniel. “Say, why don’t you join us, Your Grace? It would be our honor to buy you a drink. And I know the others would love to meet you.”
Daniel nearly blanched. Oh, God, that was the last thing he wanted to do. He managed a smile, however sickly as it might be, and replied, “I’m unable to just now. Perhaps another time.”
“Of course,” the man said jovially.
The three took their leave then, with hearty handshakes and boisterous farewells.
As they walked off, Daniel felt the pull of the memory again. He gripped tightly to the head of his cane as the unwelcome recollection slipped back into the murky depths of his mind.
Margery stepped in front of him, filling his vision, her warm brown eyes filled with concern. “Daniel, are you well?”
He dredged up a smile, achingly aware of the tightness of the scar on his cheek as he did so. “Certainly. But we’d best be returning to Seacliff before your grandmother misses us.”
She didn’t believe that nothing was wrong. He saw it in the small line that dipped between her brows, in the tight press of her lips. But she merely inclined her head in acknowledgment and started off toward the flat path that led to The Promenade and the carriage.
As he followed, however, he knew that, to keep those memories at bay, he could not be so unguarded again.
***
Let it go. The refrain bounced about in Margery’s head for the next half hour as they made their way back to Seacliff. It was none of her business. Whatever had affected Daniel—no doubt Aaron’s friends had reminded him of the war; though that, of course, was mere conjecture on her part—he did not want to reveal it. She should respect the man’s unspoken wishes and leave him in peace.
By the time they traversed the upstairs hallway, however, making their way back to their rooms so they might dress for dinner, Margery had nearly lost the battle with herself to remain silent. No doubt she would have blurted something out before disappearing into her room.
If Daniel, after taking a quick glance about to make certain the hallway was clear of servants, hadn’t followed her within.
His mouth was on hers before she could take a breath. The shock of it was rapidly replaced with a desire so fierce, so consuming, she forgot everything but the feel of his lips. She wound her arms about his neck, diving her fingers into his thick chestnut hair, arching her body up into his. He groaned, the sound filling her up until she thought she’d go mad with it.
“Margery,” he rasped. “What you do to me.”
A shiver of pure pleasure worked over her as his lips found the side of her throat. “The feeling is mutual,” she managed. A gasp escaped her as his teeth scraped the sensitive spot just beneath her ear.
She felt his lips turn up in a smile against her skin. “Is it?” he murmured huskily before placing a hot, openmouthed kiss to that same spot.
“Oh, yes.” Her breath quickened. His hands found the curve of her bottom then and he drew her tight against him. The hard length of him pressed into her belly and a dewy heat bloomed in that most sensitive place of her. If she melted into a liquid puddle right then she would not have been the least surprised. “We have time,” she whispered, desperate to ease the ache within her, needing him more than air just then. “They won’t expect us for dinner for another hour.”
The mood shifted in an instant. To her bewilderment he tensed under her hands. Before she could make sense of it he pulled back. “Ah, no,” he said, his voice hoarse, his breathing heavy. He quickly—much more quickly than she liked—gained control of himself and straightened, smoothing his hair and adjusting his cravat, picking up his cane where he’d dropped it. He sent a small smile her way. “I wouldn’t chance infuriating your grandmother.”
Margery gave an answering smile, for it seemed a necessary return to normalcy just then. But she did not fail to see the sidelong glance he slid to the wide windows, where the sun was shining through in golden beams that illuminated the rich floral rug gracing the floor. She recalled with an aching heart then his fear two evenings before, his need for total darkness before he felt he could lose himself in her.
He made his way to the door. Before he opened it, however, he turned to look at her. Once more, the heat was back in his gaze. “Shall I come to you tonight?” he asked, his voice husky and low and utterly delicious.
