Page 18 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding
Matt told himself that repeatedly as he conducted Flora through the gardens, refusing to acknowledge it could be anything more. He would never allow himself to fall in love. He had felt its sting himself, once, and seen the pain it caused his mother.
No, he was very happy to flirt with a pretty woman, but that was all.
At length they reached a clearing edged with a circular stone balustrade and, at the far side, the statue of a Greek goddess.
‘Pray allow me to present Aphrodite,’ he said.
‘This area was totally overgrown when I first came to Bellemonte. It was not until I had cleared all the encroaching plants that I discovered the plinth for Ares is here.’ He pointed to the low flat stone protruding some inches above the grass.
‘If you look closely you can see marks on it, identical to those on the statue in the garden at Whilton Hall. They are also similar to the markings you will find over there, on Aphrodite.’
Matt watched as Flora inspected the empty plinth, then she walked over to the statue of Aphrodite.
He was struck by how cold and lifeless the stone goddess appeared when compared to the vibrant creature studying her.
Flora Warenne exuded warmth, with her hazel eyes and lovely smile, and that glorious flame-red hair.
When she was near it was a struggle not to reach out and touch the creamy softness of her cheek.
He imagined how it would feel to pull her close and kiss those coral lips.
They would taste of ripe strawberries, he imagined. Or peaches, warmed by the sun.
She came back towards him and Matt quickly shifted his gaze, afraid his thoughts would be all too clear in his eyes.
‘I wish now I had looked closer at the statue at Whilton,’ she told him. ‘I did not see any marks on the back of it.’
‘Perhaps that is for the best. I would not want to put you at odds with your fiancé.’
The briefest hesitation, then she raised her chin and looked at him. ‘You will never do that, Mr Talacre. I will not allow it to happen.’
Her voice was cheerful enough, but he had seen a shadow flicker across her face. A momentary sadness that did not sit well on a soon-to-be bride. He brushed aside a sudden tug of concern. Flora Warenne was no business of his.
He waved one hand towards the statue.
‘Aphrodite looks a little lonely, doesn’t she, standing all alone here? Lord Whilton has a few more weeks to decide if he wants to settle this privately. If not, I will take the matter through the courts, which I do not think he would like.’
‘No, Quentin would abhor the gossip arising from that.’ She bit her lip. ‘But he is a viscount. He has influence, power. ’
She was anxious for him and Matt was surprised how much that mattered. He shrugged.
‘The Earl of Dallamire also has some influence,’ he said. ‘He has written to tell me I have his full support.’
‘I am glad of that.’
She looked up, smiling, and a jolt of desire hit Matt like a body blow.
By heaven, how he wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss those soft lips!
He summoned up the devil-may-care grin he always used to disguise his feelings, only this time it did not work.
Their eyes met and held a fraction too long.
He felt something shift between them. Something dangerous as a rockfall, or an earthquake, only neither of them dare admit it.
Abruptly Flora turned away from him. ‘Thank you for showing me the statue. I think we should be going back now.’
No. He did not want to lose her just yet. He said, ‘But there is so much more yet to see.’
‘There is no more time, I have ordered an early dinner to be sent up.’
‘Then it must wait for another day… Tomorrow?’
She hesitated. It lasted only a moment, but to Matt if felt like a lifetime. Then she nodded.
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Very well, madam.’ He stifled a sigh of relief. ‘Allow me to escort you back to the hotel.’
* * *
Flora placed her fingers on his proffered arm, alarm bells clamouring in her head. She had come to think of Matt as a friend, but that last look they had shared frightened her. She was in very great danger of feeling more for the man than was seemly for a woman who was promised to another.
She should not meet with him tomorrow, but she knew with a frightening, exhilarating certainty that she would not cry off. She resolutely silenced the alarm bells. Matt Talacre was a gentleman. She trusted him and they would be walking in a public place. What harm could come of it?
Back in her bedchamber, there was still no sign of Betty. Flora slipped off her pelisse before knocking loudly on the door and calling to her maid. She received a croaky reply and opened the door to find the poor woman with a handkerchief pressed to her mouth and looking decidedly hollow-eyed.
‘Ooh, Miss Flora, I don’t know what’s the matter with me, I ache all over. And I feel so dreadful!’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Ignoring Betty’s command not to come too close, Flora crossed the room and laid a hand on the maid’s forehead.
‘You have a fever. Perhaps it is all the travelling we have done. No, no, do not try to get up. You must remain in bed and I shall order dinner to be brought up for both of us.’
‘But I must get up. Someone must attend you.’
‘I am sure they will have a maid who can do that,’ Flora told her. ‘For now, you need to rest. You are in no state to look after anyone. ’
Betty was inclined to be tearful, but Flora was adamant. She settled her maid back against the pillows, straightened the covers and went off to find someone to help.