He went up to a raspberry bush and pried away a branch of it. Just then, he caught sight of Justine, watching him from the flower garden, and stopped. He tipped his cap in deference, nearly dropping the apples he still held in that hand.
“Mornin’, miss,” he said, his voice sounding as rich and jaunty as his manner.
“Good morning,” she responded, for the moment mesmerized by the thick, long lashes that outlined his hazel eyes.
He glanced guiltily at the stolen items in his hands. “These are for Captain Hawkesworth’s horse. We exercised him a long while this morning. I wanted to give him a special reward . . . apples and raspberry leaves are a fair treat.”
“That’s very kind of you,” she found herself saying.
He grinned, and a long dimple creased his cheek. “Can I be of help to you, miss?”
Yes, she wanted to say, but there was so much that followed that word. And he was unable to help her anyway, so it was pointless to speak it. “No, thank you,” she responded with a forced smile. “I wouldn’t want to delay Lancelot his treats.”
“I see,” he said, though she knew he didn’t. “Well, I’ll be off then. Good morning to you.”
She stared at him as he sauntered toward the stables. Young men such as he possessed their own innate eroticism. The strong back, the confident walk, the firm buttocks . . . there was no time quite like the dawn of manliness. How she would have liked to practice on him some of the things she learned at the School for the Womanly Arts. Lord Rutherford had taught her one technique in particular that would no doubt enrage the passions of that young man . . .
But as she wondered how salty his skin would taste, she heard two voices in her head. The first belonged to her mother, and it sternly reminded her that a man of his caste was far beneath her station in life, and that she was not even to look at such men, let alone talk to them. The second voice was more intimate and infinitely more hurtful. You are old enough to be that man’s aunt, it said—his maiden aunt. Even if it were not prohibited, he would not be interested in the likes of you. He’s young and handsome and vibrant, and you’re—
She didn’t let herself finish that sentence. A spike of self-reproach stabbed at her, and tears threatened to come. They were words she’d said to herself many times in the past. She’d inherited none of her mother’s beauty or her father’s confidence—Marshall alone had been blessed with those qualities. All she had was the desire to be desirable.
She started toward the rose garden, but was halted by a glimpse of the young maid coming out of the kitchen door with something wrapped in a tea towel. She bounced over to the stable, and strode up to the handsome groom. A gentle breeze waved through her pinafore as he unwrapped the steaming bread. She said something to him, her body swiveling in exuberance. He flashed a smile at her, those lovely dark-rimmed eyes crinkling in appreciation.
Justine lowered her face. This is how it is meant to be. Fresh young maids take up with fresh young grooms. Her chance to attract a dashing young man like him had passed long ago, frittered away by self-consciousness disguised as concern for her father. Now it was too late. She had to accept whomever Marshall put in her bed, whether she liked him or not.
Her pride in tatters, she trudged back to the house . . . completely unmindful that she was being watched by a pair of concerned hazel eyes.
Athena lay slumped against the arm of the divan, munching on marchpane cakes as she read to Hester a wedding invitation from one of their former students.
“You know, Hester,” she said, sucking the icing from her fingers, “there’s a Roman bath in the cellar of this building. The courtesans used to bathe men in there for a steep fee. What do you think of doing a class there next term?”
“Teaching what?”
Athena plucked another piece of cake, and shoved it into her mouth, smiling wickedly. “How to bathe the beast.”
A sharp rap at the back door startled her, making her choke.
“That will be Mr. Marshall,” Hester said, straightening in her chair. “Gert,” she said to the maid, “go and answer the door. And bring a fresh pot of tea.”
A coughing fit strangled Athena’s voice as her eyes watered. “Oh, no. Speak of the beast, and the beast appears. I don’t think I can bear another evening under the same roof with that man.”
Hester pinched her cheeks. “What on earth is the matter with you? You act as if he were the very devil. He’s extremely handsome.”
Athena wiped her moist eyes as the last spasm subsided. “Handsome, yes. It’s the horns and the pointed tail I mind.”
Hester began to collect the correspondence, bills, and schedules that lay scattered about the room like forgotten confetti. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s only a man.”
“That’s like saying a tiger’s only a very large kitten.”
Hester smirked. “Nonsense. He’s well mannered and charming. Not to mention considerate and noble to have gotten us out of a potentially disastrous situation with Lord Rutherford.”
Athena straightened in her chair and smoothed out her skirt. “Inconceivable such a mythical creature could exist. Did you forget that he also managed to get himself another post with us at double the going wage?”
Hester shoved the papers into Athena’s writing desk. “Don’t be so cynical. That was not his intention and you know it.”
“I wonder. The man is completely overbearing. To have our students exposed to another evening of Mr. ‘Look-What-a-Perfect-Body-I’ve-Got’ Marshall may skew their expectations of what gentlemanly comportment is supposed to be.”
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were trying very hard to resist an attraction to the man.”
Gert opened the door. “Mr. Marshall here to see you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Gert. Show him in,” responded Hester as Athena cut her a nasty look. “And ask the ladies to assemble in the main parlor for tonight’s lecture.”
They heard him approach before they saw him. His boots pounded his full weight onto carpeted floor, and Athena sensed her own anticipation at seeing him.
Marshall strode in, his carriage characteristically purposeful, as if he were leaning into the wind. He wore a navy blue coat, silver-threaded waistcoat, and a snowy white cravat. Athena took one look at him and her face flushed. He looked even more fascinating with clothes on than with them off.
“Good evening, Lady Willett,” he said cheerfully. His voice then took on a subtle edge. “Miss McAllister.”
“Good evening, Mr. Marshall,” said Hester, her pinched cheeks blossoming in a smile. “Do sit down.”
“Thank you.”
Athena couldn’t help but notice how many colors made up his hair. Tangled in the wheat-colored locks were streaks of lemon and gold, with just a hint of silver at the temples. The colors in his hair danced and shimmied, like sunlight on the surface of a lake. And his eyes were absolutely riveting. Their color was harder to identify. They were of a crystalline blue, rather like a Scottish sky on a clear summer day. The blue circles were surrounded by cobalt rings, the color of the depths of a Highland loch. Brown eyelashes radiated from the gently smiling eyes. His complexion was most puzzling, considering its tawny, nearly swarthy tones. What call does a gentleman have to have been exposed to so much sun? Maybe the hard times he had fallen on had forced him to take on outdoor labor.
“We were just remarking how very kind it was of you to fill this post on such short notice? Weren’t we, Athena?”
Athena cleared her throat. “I seem to remember another motive, one that had something to do with ten pounds.”
“Athena, really!”
Gently, he shook his head as his intense blue eyes smiled into Athena’s. “A man is motivated by a good many things, Miss McAllister. Fame, money, accomplishments . . . but seldom does a man come by an inducement as pleasurable as revisiting two very beautiful women.”
Athena blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be so gracious. But when the tea arrived, he and
Hester skipped down a melodic conversation of small talk, and their rhythmic chitchat evoked a feeling in her she couldn’t name. It was as if they had their own language, and Athena felt like a foreigner amid compatriots. He never spoke so comfortably with Athena. Their words were exchanged with épées and gunfire. Suddenly, she knew what that feeling was. Envy.
Maybe if she let down her guard a little, and allowed him over the drawbridge keeping her isolated from men . . . Although he was handsome like Calvin, and charming like Calvin, he wasn’t Calvin. Though the memory of Calvin’s betrayal was still present, the man chatting amiably with Hester was not at fault for it.
“You seem a bit distracted, Miss McAllister.”
She grew flustered. “Distracted? No, I was merely noticing that . . . you’re looking well.”
“And you’re looking well at me. Does my appearance offend?”
“Not at all. I . . . your presence called to mind a man I know.”
“Oh? How do I compare?”
“I don’t believe that’s any of your concern.”
“Ah. A lover.”
“Certainly not,” she said, her back straightening. “Quite the contrary, in fact.”
“A spurned love.”
She turned her head, and yanked the drawbridge back up. She wasn’t prepared to debate the issue of Calvin with this particular man. “If you must know, I have spurned all men. Quite frankly, I don’t believe anyone of your sex is worth the trouble.”
“I see. This man must have really hurt you to have soured you on us all.”
Her heart twisted inside her. “This may sound shocking to you, Mr. Marshall, but I prefer to live life on my own.”
“That’s not what you teach your students.”
“Not every woman is strong enough to make the decision I have made.”
“To embrace spinsterhood?”
“Singlehood, Mr. Marshall. I choose freedom.”
“I should deem it unfair of you to curse all men as scoundrels on the basis of one alone. Perhaps you ought to give the rest of us a chance.”
“Starting with you, presumably.”
“Well, you might allow me the chance to redeem the rest of my sex.”
“Honestly, Mr. Marshall, your ego is about as large as an elephant and just as difficult to tame. What makes you think I have any but the most professional interest in you? In fact, I question the wisdom of hiring a teacher of your untried expertise.”
“And did Lord Rutherford offer you a firsthand demonstration?”
“Certainly not. His reputation preceded him.”
“Reputation wields a powerful force. Both to exalt and to crush.”
Athena rose imperiously. “Well, see to it that your performance tonight exalts. We expect you to earn every penny of your exorbitant wages tonight.”
Slowly, he came to his feet. “I shall endeavor to please.”
The ladies had all assembled in the salon, chattering like small birds. Marshall opened the door, allowing Athena and Hester through. Suddenly, the chatter silenced to a hush.
“Good evening, Mr. Marshall,” said Miss Drummond, her bespectacled face widening in a smile. The rest of the women echoed the greeting, each wishing they had been the first to say it.
“Good evening, ladies,” he replied. “How becoming all of you look tonight.”
Athena watched the women giggle like girls fresh out of the schoolroom. Their eyes were drawn to him, as if his face and body exerted some magnetic force over them. Even when Hester stood in the middle of the room to address them, their gaze was riveted on him.
“Tonight, ladies, we begin the first of three lectures on the sensual art of kissing. Mr. Marshall, with whom you are all acquainted, has agreed to demonstrate the nuances of erotic kissing. This is your opportunity to improve your skills in pleasing a man—all without fear of reprisals or repercussions. Remember that this is your academy of learning. No one outside these walls will ever learn about what has gone on here tonight, so feel at ease to make mistakes, ask questions, voice your concerns, and to understand the world as it is and not how it is presented to you. So without further delay, Mr. Marshall, the floor is yours.”
“Thank you. Ladies, I feel privileged to be your instructor tonight, so it is with much remorse that I must begin my discourse by disagreeing wholeheartedly with Lady Willett. She has implied that it falls upon your shoulders to develop your skills in kissing, as if there should be some technique that you must acquire to please a man. Speaking as a man, I hope I put your anxious minds at ease by explaining that your pleasure pleases us more than any skill you could possibly master.”
The ladies looked at one another, smiling. Athena sat down in the back of the room, silently fascinated by his opening remarks.
“Kissing is a display of affection. How much you care for the gentleman will become evident in the intensity of your kiss. Having said that, I advise you to not be concerned if your first kisses are awkward. Kissing is a dance—a movement in concert between two people. Not a country dance with regimented steps, but a flowing, unfettered interchange, like a waltz.”
Lady Katherine cleared her throat. “But we are strictly prohibited from dancing a waltz in public.”
Marshall grinned and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re prohibited from kissing before marriage too, but that’s not going to stop any of you tonight.”
The women glanced at one another in guilty titillation.
Marshall continued. “A man’s kiss is his signature. By the emotion of it, you can tell what he is feeling for you. When you are untried, as I expect you may be, it is easy to mistake passion for love. When a man is aroused, the intensity of his words, his embrace, his kisses, could easily confuse you into believing he cares for you. Do not make that mistake. A man—especially a young man—may confound the ardent response of his body with a cry of the heart.
“But do not exempt yourselves from that failing. Women are guilty of that too. Let us put you up as an example, Lady Penelope. How many times have you been to a ball and spotted a handsome man on the dance floor? Have you not looked him up and down, admiring his form and the fit of his clothes, and wondered what it would be like to hang in his embrace as he kissed you passionately?”
“Don’t let Lady Katherine embarrass you, Lady Penelope. She is just as guilty of it as you are.”
The laughter rose in the room as both women hid their burning cheeks behind their hands.
“The point is, ladies, that you did not feel love for these men you admired. Desire, yes, but not love. Love begets desire, but desire does not always beget love. Therefore, as the worldly women you are becoming, you must learn the difference between infatuation and love. When a man truly loves you, you will know it not from his kiss, but from his actions.”
Athena was mesmerized. Lord Rutherford never said anything like that. Neither, for that matter, did Calvin.
“So then. Let us suppose that I am your suitor. I have been courting you for weeks, and now you are ready to let me physically express my feelings for you. Who shall be my first volunteer?”
Six hands shot into the air. Miss Drummond’s hand went higher as Marshall’s eyes scanned the room.
His eyes fell on a spot in a darkened corner of the room. “Miss McAllister.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes?”
“Thank you for volunteering.”
“I did not—”
“Wish to be presumptuous? How considerate.”
She was not about to be manipulated. “No, thank you. Choose another for your demonstration.”
Marshall lowered his head like a bull about to charge. “Come, come, Miss McAllister. A teacher leads by example.”
Alarm rattled her insides. “I said no.”
Amid the girlish cheers, Marshall strode straight toward her. He reached down and encircled her wrist
in his large hand. She tried to pull away as he dragged her to the center of the room, but his strength was far greater than hers.
Lady Penelope applauded. “Miss McAllister, now you can show us how you would kiss a man.”
“I’d rather punch that mouth than kiss it.”
Candlelight danced in his darkened eyes as he regarded her. “Coward.”
She straightened. “Never accuse a Scotswoman of being a coward.”
“Then come and kiss like a Scotswoman would.” He stood in front of her, a mischievous smile lifting one cheek.
Dread elevated to panic. Never had she felt less a headmistress and more like one of her students. A woman of her advanced years should know better, but all her practical experience had resulted in monumental failure. She had no wish to be exposed to teasing by the beautiful man looking down at her.
“I don’t know how . . . that is, perhaps you should explain to the students how to go about initiating a kiss.”
“Very well. First, your suitor will take your hand, like this.” Marshall took her hand in his, her fingers curling into his large palm. It was warm and dry and firm.
“Next, he will probably tell you what he thinks of you. Miss McAllister,” he began, and his pause increased her anticipation of what he was about to say. “I’ll be damned if you’re not the prickliest woman I’ve ever met. You personify the ‘mean’ in ‘demeanor.’ ” Athena rolled her eyes and started back toward her seat, but he held her fast. “But you’re also the most beautiful and most fascinating woman I’ve ever met, and I think about you constantly, even when we’re apart. I don’t know how a woman like you escaped a man’s attention, but I bless my good fortune that you are still free to claim my admiration. Merely being with you gives me far greater pleasure than anything else I know. When I’m with you, I laugh—mostly at myself—and you seem to teach me things about myself I never knew or had forgotten. The days without you are sharp, and the nights are like daggers. Let me know by your kiss that you feel some small measure of affection for me.”