Jack Valentine (Haberdashers Tales Book 4) Read online

  "Good morning, Reeves," she said brightly, hoping she didn't look too green. "My apologies for the early call, but I was hoping to speak to--" Her tongue seemed cleaved to the roof of her mouth before she could say the name.

  "Lady Graham? I shall see if she is accepting calls." He held the door wider for her to enter. "You can at the very least warm yourself by the fire in the drawing room."

  As Reeves collected Teddy's outer garments, Bernice slipped past him to warm herself in the kitchens. Teddy bit her lip and tried again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was hoping to speak to Mr. Graham."

  The butler's voice almost betrayed a hint of curiosity at her odd request. "I'm afraid Mr. Graham is on business in Norwich."

  Between the cold and her pitching stomach Teddy felt too miserable for shyness to keep its hold on her. "I mean Mr. Arthur Graham. We have committee business."

  What might have been amusement flickered in the older man's expression. "Master Artie? Of course. I shall see if he is in."

  He led her to the drawing room and she planted herself firmly in front of the fireplace, hoping to restore some feeling to her fingers and stop the infernal chattering of her teeth before her host arrived.

  ****

  "Mr. Graham?"

  Artie set down the little wooden cat he had been working on. As usual, he had lost himself in the work and put more detail into the cat than he should if he wanted to finish enough toys by Valentine's day. "Yes Reeves?"

  "You have a caller."

  Artie turned to look more fully at the butler. "Indeed?" Most people missed the fact that Reeves had a wickedly sharp mind and perverse sense of humor lurking under the typical formality of his kind, but it was one of the things Artie loved most about the man. Primarily because it was most often employed against Artie's eldest brother, who seemed wholly clueless whenever the butler insulted him. To hear that note of smirking amusement pointed in his direction gave Artie pause.

  The butler nodded gravely and said, "A lady."

  As he had no idea who it might be, Artie found himself again saying, "Indeed?" At Reeves near-smile Artie felt a sudden rush of sympathy for his brother. Perhaps Chuck wasn't so much clueless as unable to mount an effective defense.

  "She says she has committee business with you."

  That, at least, made sense. Which of the five ladies was yet to be determined. Perhaps Miss Haste? She was the one who had named him friend for some time, although their conversations were confined to assemblies and social calls. He stood and donned his jacket. "Of course. Where is she?"

  "In the drawing room." As Artie stepped into the hallway Reeves called after him. "Don't you wish to know her name?"

  "I presume that will become self evident." Artie also presumed that Reeves was entertained because single ladies did not call on gentlemen in general, and especially not on Artie in particular.

  If the idea of a caller had been a surprise, the identity of the caller was even more so. Even though she stood with her back to him, warming her hands by the fire, Artie recognized Miss Theodora Minett. Her shiny brown hair was twisted in a chignon and her blue walking gown flowed closely over her petite figure. He had known Miss Minett all of her life, having gone with his mother to call on Mrs. Minett after the girl's birth. Bernie Minett, her older brother, had been one of his best friends until that lad's unfortunate death. All of the Minett children had met unfortunate ends, all except little Theodora. In many ways it was a surprise, as she had a distracted, dreamy quality that didn't seem long for this world. She was also, in his experience, near mute. The committee meeting probably constituted more words than he had heard from her in the entirety of her life before that.

  "Miss Minett?"

  When she turned, her large brown eyes were startled, as though she had not expected him to accede her request to see him. More worrisome, her teeth chattered and damned if her lips weren't tinged with blue.

  Chapter Five

  Teddy was colder now than when she arrived. It made no sense, as she had stood in front of this fire for at least ten minutes. And now Artie Graham was frowning at her as though she'd done something horrid.

  "Reeves left you like this?"

  "To-to-to heat by the f-f-fire." Her teeth chattering made her stutter.

  Mr. Graham tended toward a relaxed mien at most times, even insouciance, but on rare occasion he sprang into action. One such time had been when he saved Pellinore from the stoat. Now seemed to be another. He strode to her purposely, worry in his clear blue eyes. Removing his jacket, he threw it over her shoulders like a cloak. It still held the heat from his body. Then he took her hands and chaffed them between his own.

  "Did you walk here?"

  "Y-y-yes."

  "You'll catch your death of cold!"

  As miserable as she felt, Teddy had to admit that seemed like a fair possibility now. She heard him sigh as though she were a horrible inconvenience and thought she might start to cry. To her shock and surprise, he pulled her into an embrace.

  "You need to get warm," he said into her hair.

  She shivered and pressed more firmly into the heat of him. In some small part of her mind she knew this was scandalous, but that was far overshadowed by her body's need for heat, and her delight in any show of attention from him. He smelled wonderful, like mint and the forest. As she warmed she thought his embrace more comfortable than the best of feather beds. That led to the even more scandalous thought of falling asleep lying atop him, enjoying the heat and solid feel of him beneath her. Certainly Pellinore wouldn't mind if Arthur Graham shared her bed. Well, if she were honest with herself, that was always the expected outcome of her desire to marry him. But prior to this she'd never realized how satisfying his embrace could be. Given her druthers, she'd never step away from this.

  "Feeling better?"

  She felt the rumble of his voice where her cheek rested on his chest. What to answer? If she said yes would he set her aside? Send her back to standing at the fire? She wasn't just greedy for heat but for his heat.

  "If my mother comes across us, she'll have us married before vespers."

  That didn't sound much a threat to Teddy's mind. More a lovely possibility, really. Then she could fall asleep in Arthur's arms this very night. Sadly, the thought didn't seem to hold as much appeal to him, and he stepped back. Tipping her face up he looked at her searchingly. Her teeth no longer chattered, but she didn't know what else he might be looking to see.

  Standing there, still warm from his embrace, with his hand on her chin, she desperately wished he would kiss her. Well, that he would kiss her and Lady Graham would happen upon them, and then they would be married before vespers.

  *** *

  She stared up at him with that dreamy expression he never knew how to interpret. As a child he'd thought her a pixie, but now grown she seemed more a nymph. A creature that could lure a man into unwise behavior, perhaps trapping him forever in her pool. As her luxurious eyelashes swept down in a long blink he felt a strong urge to kiss her. It was, he had no doubt, fueled by the surprising pleasure of holding her close. Although barely coming up to his chin, her body was ripe with all the curves that made a man hunger. He'd had the best of intentions in warming her. Who wanted Mrs. Minett to lose her last child to an ailment? Her strange and nearly mute child.

  "Are you feeling better?" he asked again.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him with an intensity that punched him in the gut. "Much."

  One more tiny morsel of a word that barely proved her better than a mute, but her complexion was once again rosy. He removed his jacket from her shoulders and donned it again, trying to ignore that it now had her scent of peonies clinging to it.

  "You wished to speak to me about committee business?" he asked, endeavoring to put behind them the embrace that for all the world had felt more like reunited lovers than a man trying to warm a grievously chilled woman.

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and he wished she hadn't. It onl
y made him wish to nibble on that plump treat himself. He was beginning to wonder if she wouldn't have been better served to have sent a letter when she finally spoke.

  "We always depend on your donation of toys so I thought it best to check in to make sure I knew how many your man was able to make this year so that we can match it to the list and know how many other things we need to purchase or make before too much more time has passed because I assume that's the sort of thing the committee chair always does and as we lived so close together it seemed perfectly reasonable that I would simply pop over and find out although if now isn't a good time then of course we could discuss it later or you could send a list at your convenience or really whatever would be best for you is fine with me."

  Artie nearly stepped back from the deluge of words. Not only were there more of them than he was used to from her, they all came out on one breath without so much as a pause among any of them. He plucked out something that had struck him before the turns of her words had lost him. "My man?"

  "Yes, well, whoever carves the toys."

  It wasn't something he admitted often, but this earnest little nymph seemed to pull the words from him. "I carve them."

  That smile lit her face again. "Really! That's capital."

  It was rare enough to be encouraged in his hobby that he smiled back at her. "Would you like to see?"

  He doubted Miss Minett could have smiled broader if he'd offered her a mine full of diamonds. "Oh, could I?" she asked breathlessly.

  This, he thought, was precisely what all those fools had seen right before the nymph pulled them underwater.

  Chapter Six

  He carved them himself? Could anything be more charming? She thought not. Her six year old self deserved applause for having such good taste as to fall in love with Artie Graham. He was tall and handsome and perfectly delightful. If he would just offer her marriage then her life would be perfect.

  She felt her shyness overtake her again when he tucked her hand in his arm to escort her. They went through the main hall and two more rooms, emerging in a conservatory. It was a bit chilly, but filled with plants.

  "I like to work in here for the light," he said, leading her through the room to a workbench covered in small pieces of wood to one side and a few carved toys on the other.

  "Are these all the toys so far?" she asked, trying to keep the worry from her voice.

  "No, just the ones I worked on this morning."

  He released her hand to retrieve a stool for her. She didn't particularly want to sit, but didn't want to be rude, either.

  "You'll tell me if you become chilled?" he asked as he sat at the stool that had already been pulled up to the workbench.

  She nodded. Unable to contain her curiosity she reached out to pluck one of the uncarved pieces of wood from the bench. "How do you decide what to carve?"

  "The wood suggests its nature," he said. He held his hand out for the piece she was inspecting. When she relinquished it he set to inspecting it himself, turning it over and over in his hands. She'd not truly noticed before how large his hands were. Watching him turning the wood reminded her of having those hands on her not ten minutes before, and the resulting blush ensured she would not feel chilled anytime soon. He finally stopped turning the piece and picked up a small knife. His fingers moved deftly, cutting away chunks and then small slivers of wood. When he gave it back to her a few moments later it was unmistakably a small squirrel, fluffy tail aloft in the air, acorn clenched in determined paws.

  "Oh!" she said, delighted.

  "It needs more detail," he said modestly.

  "It's amazing." She hopped up to look at the available wood. Selecting a very different shape she handed it to him. "What is this?"

  He smiled at her as he took it and she felt her heart thump in her chest. He set to analyzing this new piece, turning it in his hands as he had the other. Just as quickly he set to carving, his knife flashing in the weak winter sunlight. Moments later he handed over another rough-finished piece. A bunny that could easily be imagined nestling against the snowy ground of winter. She saw a dark spot on the rabbit's haunch and immediately looked to Mr. Graham's hands.

  "Oh!" she said, setting the rabbit aside. "You've hurt yourself!"

  He curled his fingers closed. "It's no bother."

  But she saw a spot of red welling. The thought of her beloved injured was more than she could bear.

  ***

  Artie reflexively hid his injury as he'd always done. It had been foolish to carve quickly, but she had seemed so delighted with his talent that he hadn't been able to stop himself. Even now he would carve a dozen more pieces to impress her if she weren't looking at his hand with such worry.

  She gently took his hand and opened it to see where he had nicked his middle finger in his haste. To his surprise her solution was to put the finger in her mouth. It was exactly what he would have done if he'd been alone, but discovered there was a significant difference between soothing his own minor injury in that way and having his finger sucked against her warm tongue. He had little enough experience with women to be surprised at the forceful surge of lust. And certainly she had even less experience with men? He would like to think so.

  She didn't seem nearly as affected, as she stopped sucking and then held his finger between her own. "That's a nasty little cut but it should heal well enough."

  He had a sudden sympathy for how Charlie Bittlesworth snuck off with Charlotte Ayres at every opportunity at the house party last summer. Had this little vixen with her innocent seductions been in attendance, then Artie would have found a million reasons for them to spend time alone. Just now she was standing close, nearly between his legs, as she fussed over his hand. It made their height such that she was half a head taller than him now. He wanted to pull her closer, taste those sweet lips. Feel that warm, soft tongue against his own.

  She was an innocent miss, a young lady of his own class. She deserved respect, not this unbound lusting that made him wonder how soft the skin of her thigh would feel. God's blood, but he'd never wanted a woman with this intensity. And it was sweet little Miss Minett! Younger sister of his dead friend. A girl he'd known all her life, nearly all of his.

  Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because she looked confused. "What's wrong?"

  Rather than answer her, he raised his other hand to stroke her soft cheek. What a lovely little nymph she was.

  Chapter Seven

  When Mr. Graham, Artie, ran his fingers over her cheekbone her heart stopped and she nearly melted into the floor. His expression was tortured and she didn't know why. Surely it wasn't the pain from his cut. It was hardly worse than the sewing needles she managed to poke herself with constantly. That warm hand wrapped the back of her neck and urged her forward. She stumbled a bit, moving closer to him. Would they embrace again? Was he worried that she was chilled? Honestly she hadn't thought about the temperature for some time. She set her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.

  "Theodora," he said, his voice harsh.

  "Teddy," she corrected quietly.

  He smiled but closed his eyes. "I didn't realize you still went by Teddy."

  Undoubtedly he was thinking of all the times Bernie had shouted her name along with the admonition to stop following them. Perhaps she should have let him call her Theodora, no matter how much she detested it. Teddy hardly sounded like the name of a woman grown.

  His hand still cupped the back of her neck, strong, but gently toying with the wisps of her hair. She was less than a foot away and could feel his heat. He finally opened his eyes again, the color stormy.

  "Come closer, Teddy. I want to kiss you."

  All she wanted was for him to kiss her, but the look in his eyes felt dangerous. How could there be any danger with Artie Graham? He was her hero, her beloved, the man she wanted to marry. It was only nerves, she was sure. She stepped forward. His other arm came around her waist and he held her closer. Rather than kiss her, he nuzzled his face beside h
er throat, breathing deeply as though she were a heady treat. She kissed his. Finally, he tilted his head back and pulled her down for his kiss.

  When their lips met, it was delicate, sweet, almost like brushing her mouth over a summer bloom. His hand tightened, pulling her more firmly into the kiss. When he sucked her bottom lip between his own, she gasped. That only led to him licking the inside of her lips before moving on to suckle the top one. This was no longer sweet, it was scandalous. Her heart raced and she didn't know whether to fight and pull back or let him keep nibbling at her lips as though she were a feast, causing a riotous thrill to shudder through her body. The hand at her waist reached down to squeeze her bottom. It should have shocked her, should have made her slap at him for being a cad. Instead, it made her knees feel weak and she wanted to sink in to his lap, but she was already standing between his legs, the firm warmth of his thighs burning into hers. His tongue darted into her mouth, caressing hers and she moaned low in her throat. The hand on her bottom tightened, and his arms caged her so close there wasn't a speck of space between them. Rather than simply warm her, this time his embrace felt like the flames of a raging fire.

  ***

  Artie lost himself in the taste of her, cool and sweet as a mountain stream. The feel of her, warm and soft and lush. Later there would be time for thinking. Just now was a time to feel. To feel the curve of her lovely arse under his hand, the gentle pressure of her soft breasts against his chest. He'd never known such pleasure as kissing Teddy. He withdrew from her mouth and kissed her jaw, the column of her throat. She gave that soft gasp and tightened her fingers on his shoulders when he nipped at her collarbone. He wanted to touch every inch of her, learn every spot that made her react with her sweet sounds. Wanted to sink deep inside her warmth. Reservations plagued the edge of his mind, but he banished them by pulling her even closer and kissing the tops of her breasts where they showed above her walking dress. Releasing her neck, he used that hand to knead and push up one breast for further attentions. She made one of those adorable little whimpers in the back of her throat. He could spend an entire evening pursuing that sound. Would she make it if he kissed her inner thighs? When he touched her sex? Would she make it if he took her here on this very floor?