How to Entice an Enchantress

  Thankfully, Lord Dalhousie had been of assistance, too. For some reason, the young lord had attached himself to her side and Dahlia had been happy for it, as his presence offered a determent to private discussion. She tugged her coat closer and eyed the castle, which still looked majestic even under the graying sky, roiling clouds gathered over it. She supposed she should return now. Her biscuit was long gone and she wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot bath before having to rejoin the other guests.

  She headed down the slope to the garden maze that decorated the expanse of lawn behind the castle. Dahlia slipped into the garden, quickly made her way down the side of the maze, and found the side gate that would allow her to reach the kitchens without passing by the main windows of the castle. Heavens knew she didn’t wish to see anyone until she had time to wash and change.

  She was walking past the lane that led to the stables, her head bent against the wind, when from the path before her came an all-too-familiar voice.

  Deep and rich, it sent a different sort of shiver through her. “Ah, Miss Balfour. Just the person I wished to see.”

  She looked up, slapping a hand on her bonnet just as the wind tried to steal it. Kirk was dressed as he used to, in loose breeches and unpolished boots, a kerchief knotted about his neck. The wind tugged at his long greatcoat and mussed his dark hair, giving him a more rakish appearance than his new finery did.

  She inclined her head, holding her bonnet on as best she could, the wind swaying her damp skirts against her. “Lord Kirk, how unexpected.”

  He bowed and then said dryly, “I’m certain that, had you known I was here, you would have used another path to reach the castle.”

  There was something peculiarly unpleasant about being predictable. “I’m sure I would have done no such thing,” she lied.

  His gaze flickered over her, lingering on her face. “You’ve been walking again, I see.”

  There was neither approval nor disapproval in his voice, but their recent encounter made her stiffen. “I always take walks. Why are you out in this weather?”

  “It is cold, isn’t it? I’m on my way to meet my valet.”

  She looked past him to the direction in which his path led. “In the stables? Why would your valet meet you there?”

  Kirk gave an impatient flick of his hand. “It doesn’t matter. Dahlia, I’m glad we met. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for two days now, but you’ve been avoiding me.”

  She started to deny it, but he lifted his brows in a silent challenge.

  Dahlia flushed. “Fine. I didn’t wish to speak to you after— I don’t need to rehash it. You know what happened as well as I.”

  “Yes, but this has nothing to do with that. Well, it does, only— Dahlia, I want—” He halted midsentence as if something had occurred to him. When he spoke again, his tone was more measured and polite. “Dahlia, I find myself in a very difficult position. I find that I need your assistance.”

  “My assistance? With what?” She couldn’t keep the suspicion from her voice.

  “Our kiss. It was wretched.”

  Heat flooded her face, which said a lot considering the coldness. “Kirk, I—”

  “You don’t need to say anything. And it was obvious from the very first second that the fault for that kiss was mine.”

  “The fault . . . was . . . yours?”

  “Of course it was. My impetuous behavior tromped all over the moment, and— It was inexcusable. After the fact, I pretended otherwise and blamed you—” His gaze met hers, direct and open. “But it was my fault and no one else’s. I am too proud sometimes. I have suffered from that, and will continue to do so unless I find a way to overcome it.”

  Well, she certainly couldn’t argue with him about that.

  The wind whipped his hair about his head, and the silver streak at his temple, usually so distinct, mingled now with the dark brown. “I’ve been thinking of nothing else for two days, hating my own behavior and wishing I could redo the whole thing. There is no excuse, I know; I must take responsibility for ruining what should have been a delightful moment.”

  What did one say to that? “Kirk, please. There’s no need to—you weren’t as at fault as I was. It—it was my first kiss and I did not know how . . . things worked.”

  His looked appalled. “Your first kiss?” He cursed long and loud. “And I acted like— Dahlia, can you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” And yet there was, for both of them. Still, hearing him apologize and—better yet—admit that the kiss had disturbed him, too, for some reason relieved some of her own angst. “We should forget it and move ahead—”

  “No. You may be able to forget it, but I cannot.” He hesitated a moment, and then said, “It isn’t often that moments like that arise, when a kiss is a natural event to be shared. Those moments are rare and should be treasured. And to do that”—his gaze locked with hers—“you must be prepared for those moments.”

  Were they rare? She hadn’t thought about it, but she supposed that was true. “But how can you prepare for such a moment?”

  “It’s possible to learn any skill if you put your mind to it. Sadly, those same skills are perishable, too. In the years since Elspeth died, I’ve been alone. Very alone. And over that time, I’ve lost some of my skill when it comes to wooing.”

  Her heart gave an odd leap and she heard herself say in a stiff voice, “You . . . you wish to woo someone?”

  “Of course. I had hoped that you and I might mend our fences, but I am beginning to doubt that happening. But that does not change the fact that I need a mate.”

  “A mate? That sounds so cold.”

  He shrugged. “I asked you to marry me, and you refused, so here I am. You may not have me, but perhaps I can find someone who will. Someone who also enjoys reading and music, and the things we enjoyed.”

  “Kirk, no. You don’t have to wed. You’re happy alone. You’ve said so many times.”

  “I was wrong.“ His gaze locked with hers. “Your visits made me realize what I’ve been missing. You showed me, and I foolishly allowed you to slip away.”

  It was the kindest thing he’d ever said to her. She had to clear her throat in order to free her voice from the tightness that held it. “That is all in the past now.”

  He inclined his head in agreement.

  “And—and I’m sure you’ll find someone to your liking. Someone better than I ever was.” Although she said the words, Dahlia discovered that she wasn’t nearly as happy thinking about Kirk finding a wife as she was about finding a husband for herself. At some point in time, she’d come to think of him as hers. Stop being silly. I’m living in the past, when I’d hoped—imagined—there was something more between us. She pasted a smile on her lips. “You said you needed my assistance with something?”

  “Yes.” He brushed back his hair, and she was once again reminded of his beautiful eyes. Sherry brown and surrounded by thick black lashes, they reflected his every mood like a mirror.

  Right now, caution shone through his gaze. That’s odd. What does he have to be cautious about?

  “I never want to bungle a kiss like that again, so I wonder— God, this is difficult, but if you could see your way to help me, I would be grateful. Deeply so.”

  “Help you do what?”

  “This castle is filled with people we don’t know. But we know one another well. Better than anyone else here, in fact.”

  “True, although our relationship has hardly been genial of late.”

  “Because I made a stupid error. I should never have asked you to marry me.”

  Dahlia opened her mouth and then closed it. “Of course.”

  “You’ve no interest in me, and I should have accepted it. And then, being a prideful fool, I made things even more difficult with that damned kiss—” He scowled as if furious with himself. “I never meant to kiss you; it just happened and I regret it.”

  He regrets it? She didn’t like that, not even a little. But trust Kirk
to say what he thought. She only wished it didn’t affect her so. “Of course it was a mistake. All of it was a mistake.” Perhaps. Maybe. Oh, blast it, I don’t know.

  “I was in a passion over what you said, and then you were there, and we were alone and—I lost my head. But I can promise you this—I won’t succumb to an impulse like that again.”

  She should feel much better now. Shouldn’t she? But she didn’t. In fact, she felt worse. Still, she managed a frosty smile that matched the wind whipping about them. “So what do we do now?”

  He smiled and limped forward and held out his hand. “Let us be friends again. Whatever happens, we should at least be that.”

  She looked down at his hand. He had beautiful, masculine hands, and at one time, she’d loved seeing him play the pianoforte that graced his library. Funny, but I didn’t allow myself to remember that until now. She knew she should be glad they were moving past their argument. She had so few friends here, and knew so few people—why not?

  Slowly, she placed her hand in his. Even though her fingers were covered by her gloves, the second their hands touched, a jolt went through her, stealing her breath and making her knees tremble faintly. What is that? she wondered.

  Kirk seemed completely unaffected. He shook her hand in a brisk, friendly fashion, and then released it. “There. Friends again. That wasn’t too difficult, was it?”

  Dahlia had to swallow before she could answer. “No. Not a bit.” She felt deeply cheated in some way. As if in reacting so instantly to his touch, while he seemed completely unaffected, he’d stolen something from her.

  His dark gaze met hers and in their depths, she saw the reaction she’d missed before. There was a tightness, too, to his jaw. Ah, so you’re just better at hiding it. A satisfied warmth made her smile. “Of course we’re friends. What else could we be?”

  She’d said the words to challenge him to . . . Well, she didn’t know what she wanted from him, but she found herself wishing that he’d express some of the heat she saw in his eyes.

  Instead, he inclined his head and said in an almost formal manner, “Good. For, as a friend, that leaves me free to ask a favor.”

  There were times she lamented his new politeness. It veiled so much. She forced herself to smile and say just as politely, “Of course.”

  He regarded her somberly, although she detected the hint of a twinkle deep in his eyes. “Dahlia, my one and only friend, will you protect me, a poor widower with no prospects, from embarrassing myself again?”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry, but how am I to do that?”

  “Before I throw myself into finding another mate, I must relearn how to kiss. And you could help me do that.”

  She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Surely he hadn’t just said—

  He laughed, his face crinkling with amusement. His scar, though bold and wide, must not have been a deep wound, for his smile was perfectly normal and transformed his face, softening the hard lines and making him seem younger, almost carefree. “You should see your expression.” His voice was rich with laughter. “I couldn’t have shocked you more.”

  “No, you couldn’t have. I am beyond bemused.”

  “I will explain. If I’m to find a bride, then my next kiss—unlike the one we shared, which was just between friends, after all—will be of the utmost importance. The next kiss could possibly convince my bride to accept my offer.” He looked at her expectantly. “I daresay you’ve thought the same thing about your next kiss, as well.”

  Her throat tightened. Actually, she’d been too busy wondering what horrible things Kirk must be thinking about their kiss to consider what might happen next, but she supposed he had a point. Sooner or later, someone would try to kiss her again, and it might be someone she wished to impress. What if her awkwardness chased the next man off, and he was one she hoped to marry? Good God, am I doomed by my own ineptitude to never have a decent, romantic kiss—or relationship? Ever?

  She realized that he was closely watching her and she tried to smile, and failed.

  “You hadn’t thought about it, had you?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet, but now that you mention it . . . Oh dear.”

  “Yes. And there will be another kiss. If not from me, then from someone else.”

  His voice sharpened at the last phrase and she sent him a questioning look. Quickly, he said, “And so we must help one another. Together, when no one is around, we must work on our technique.”

  “Work on our . . . There’s a technique to kissing?”

  He slanted her the most wicked of grins, which made her heart pound even harder in her chest. Suddenly, the day wasn’t nearly as cold.

  “There’s a technique to everything.” His deep voice seemed to caress the words.

  Heavens, why hadn’t anyone told her? Dahlia wished that she’d discussed this with one of her sisters, but Rose and Lily had always considered her too young for such conversations. And now, when she was old enough and found herself with a million questions, they were both far away. She pressed her mittened hands to her cheeks and tried to calm her racing thoughts. “So you think that we could help one another by . . . practicing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Would it . . . would it take much?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. We won’t know until we attempt it.”

  “I see. And this . . . practice. It would be just that, and no more.”

  “Of course,” he said at once. “Only practice. We must do this, Dahlia, for if we don’t, then our next kiss—whomever it is with—will be just as much of a disaster. We could lose so much more then, too. Both of us.”

  She bit her lip. She should have a million objections to make to this proposal, but somehow, basking under his warm, brown gaze, her fingers still tingling where he’d held her hand through her mittens, she heard herself say, “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.”

  She could almost hear his I always am attached to the end of his sentence. “My father always said practice makes perfect.”

  “There you have it, then.”

  “But . . . do you think it would take much time?”

  “A half hour, perhaps more. We might need more than one, er, session, too. So we can think about our progress and how to better our performance.”

  “I see.”

  “So we’ll plan to practice once or twice, perhaps three times if the need arises, so we’re ready whenever the next kiss happens.”

  He certainly makes it sound reasonable. And perhaps it is just that simple. A lesson or two wouldn’t be amiss, would it?

  Kirk watched as Dahlia’s even white teeth worried her plump bottom lip. Instantly, the heated blood that had been beating a determined path through him since he’d held her hand now made itself known in other areas that made him glad he was wearing a heavy coat that cloaked his breeches. Damn, but she was beautiful.

  He realized that he was holding his breath. She looked so lovely that his heart had literally jumped when he’d seen her, and hadn’t stopped since. Her cheeks were pink with cold, her hair tumbled around her face beneath the brim of her bonnet. But it was her mouth that drew his attention.

  With every breath, a faint puff of mist came from her parted lips. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to reach down and capture her lips and her warm breath and mingle it with his own. The whole thing was ludicrous, for there’d been only a hint of passion in their relationship before, nothing like what he felt now each and every time he saw her. Now just seeing her cheeks pink with cold made him long to cup them with his warm hands while showering her lips with enough kisses to steal her breath. Good God, what has happened to me?

  She pushed a curl from her cheek with her mittened hand. “We mustn’t get caught—”

  “We wouldn’t. I’d make certain of that.” If only she will agree to this! It could be a new beginning for us, a chance to know one another in a better manner than before. But he could see she was wave
ring, doubt shadowing her beautiful eyes, so he hurried to say, “This is my last chance, Dahlia. If you do not meet the man of your dreams, there will be other invitations to the duchess’s house parties. But not for me.”

  “I’m certain her grace would invite you back.”

  “I could never accept. You know I’m not given to putting myself up for ridicule more than once. Though you may not be aware of it, my life has become less since you left it. That encouraged me to come here and try to be more convivial—although I hate every bloody second.”

  Her lips twitched. “Is it that difficult?”

  “Yes,” he said bluntly. “It pains me like a rock in my shoe, cutting into my sole with every step.”

  She chuckled. “You are a sad case.”

  “I know, but I am who I am. I’ve tried to conform to society’s demands, which is why you see me trussed up like a dandy, but it’s not really who I am. I will do my best these next two and a half more weeks, but that’s all I can do. If I fail to find a suitable lady in that time—” He shrugged. “I shall return home alone and stay there.”

  Her smile faded as her gaze searched his face. “You don’t give yourself much time.”

  “I can’t do more.” He saw her worried gaze and added, “Now you know why I must do better with my next endeavor. The first kiss is important. Very important.”

  The wind lifted the ribbons of her bonnet bow and they danced across her face. She pushed them aside, making the bow lopsided. “And only I can help.”

  “Who else do I know? Besides—and I mean this with no hint of criticism—you could use some assistance in this area, too.”

  She sighed. “I know. I was—” She shook her head. “I’m going to regret this, but I can see no other way for either of us to accomplish our goals. I accept your suggestion, Kirk.”

  He had to bite his tongue to keep from letting out an exultant cry.

  The wind gusted and Dahlia shivered. “So how would we— I mean, where would we—”

  “Leave it to me. And it will be private and discreet. I promise.”

  “Very well, I’ll—” Another gust of wind yanked Dahlia’s bonnet loose from the lopsided bow. The bonnet swirled behind her, the ribbons dangling. Dahlia reached for it, but the wind filled it like a balloon, taking it higher.