Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 4

Four

T he weak, winter sun fought to heat the morning air but it was to no avail. Calista merely wrapped her fur-lined cloak tighter around her body and tramped on through the woods.

Marianne had apologized profusely, and loudly, after breakfast for letting their silly little pact slip. That was how she had described it; our silly little pact. Calista had brushed off her apologies, assuring the other woman that there was no harm done.

And there wasn’t. It was just that the pact wasn’t all that silly to Calista. It had worked for Marianne, after all. And of all the people she wouldn’t want to know about it, Lord Tilton was at the very top of her list. Perhaps below her parents, but a very close second. However, she was a woman grown and could never admit such a thing so she’d laughed away her cousin’s misgivings and then declared that she had the beginnings of a headache and would take a walk in the fresh air to stop it before it came.

She’d felt a twinge of guilt seeing the flash of concern on Marianne’s face but by the time she’d been wrapped up and ready for her walk, she’d managed to assure her cousin that she was perfectly fine. She wasn’t falling ill. There was nothing more serious than a slight headache going on, and she absolutely, definitely did not need an army of escorts lest she get sick.

The problem with the people who loved you seeing you as fragile and breakable was that sometimes the overprotectiveness felt akin to being smothered. She was grateful for that love. She truly was. But it could be – stifling.

Calista’s sigh clouded the air in front of her and she just knew her nose would be red with the cold. Staying out too long was unwise. She tired a lot more easily than she had before she’d been sick. And it wouldn’t do to develop something even as trifling as a cold or Marianne would have her bedridden once again.

The woods were beginning to grow denser in any case, so it was probably wise to turn back, Calista decided. Right before she did, however, she spotted a collection of particularly large pinecones and she knew they would be perfect for Marianne’s festive decorations.

Scrambling over the frozen ground and crackling twigs, she made quick work of dipping behind the towering tree and gathering as many as her hands could hold.

Keeping her eyes trained on her overflowing hands, she rounded the giant trunk, and once again plowed headfirst into something huge and warm and solid.

“My lady, you must stop throwing yourself at me like this. Tongues will wag.”

Calista found herself pressed against the heat of Lord Tilton’s oversized chest, his hands wrapped around her upper arms, the pinecones crushed between them.

“L-lord Tilton, I – you – you’re squashing my pinecones.”

A stunned silence met her statement and she could see surprise, confusion, and then a mischievous sort of amusement flash through his stormy, grey eyes.

“A thousand apologies, Lady Calista.” He stepped back to give an elaborate bow. “I’ve never squashed a lady’s pinecones before, and I promise to do my very best never to do it again.”

Calista had no idea why his words sounded vaguely inappropriate, or why he found hers so amusing. But she felt as though she should be offended.

“Well, then,” she stammered, desperately trying to think of something clever to say. “See that you don’t.”

To her shock, he threw his head back in a deep, throaty chuckle that did funny things to her belly. She found her gaze drawn to the long column of his throat, her ears filling with the sound of his laugh. It was, well, mesmerizing.

“I vow to take every precaution when it comes to pinecones in the future. For now, though, please allow me to make amends.”

“And just how do you propose to do that?” she sniffed, refusing to be charmed by him or his handsomeness.

“Come, I’ll get you some more. And while I do all the hard work, you can perhaps regale me with tales of this secret pact of yours with your cousin?”

Calista frowned at him. Well, at his back, since he’d already sauntered toward the tree to begin collecting her pinecones. Looking down, she huffed a sigh of annoyance. Her own were quite ruined. She dropped them to the ground, hastily brushed the remnants from her cloak then hurried toward where Lord Tilton was whistling something she didn’t recognize.

“What do you know of our pact?” she asked, her stomach clenching with anxiety. Maybe even hurt.

She didn’t think Marianne would have told anyone, not even David.

“Your cousin isn’t as quiet as she thinks she is when whispering at the breakfast table,” Lord Tilton answered, putting her nerves at ease. “And ever since I heard about it, I can’t stop thinking about it. I do so hate finding a mystery I cannot solve. So.” He turned to face Calista, his arms holding far more pinecones than her own could. “I’m hoping since I’ve rectified this grievous wrong,” he nodded his head at the pinecones, “you’ll take pity on me and help me solve it.”

“It’s nothing,” Calista mumbled, embarrassed by her childhood secret. “Certainly nothing to be trying to solve. Just two silly little girls with delusions of romance.”

They began the walk back to the manor house, side by side, and Calista was surprised that although the handsome lord made her jittery, the walk felt quite companionable. She might even start enjoying his company.

“Well, if that was supposed to put me off, I’m afraid it’s had quite the opposite effect. Now I’m even more intrigued as to what young Lady Calista thought of romance.”

He was teasing her, Calista knew. Yet she didn’t mind so much, today.

Rolling her eyes with faux annoyance, she sighed dramatically. “She thought what all young ladies think. That a great knight of old would rush to her rescue. Save her from peril, and carry her to safety. And that true love’s kiss would win the day.”

She expected him to scoff. But at his continued silence, she risked a glance up at him. Lord, but he was handsome. It took her by surprise over and over again. The winter sun shone on his raven-dark hair, his eyes glittered like frozen silver. He’d forgone a hat but a large, black scarf topped his charcoal-grey greatcoat. All in all, he looked exactly like those knights of old she’d just spoken of. Minus the horse.

He didn’t scoff, however. He smiled as though he found her innocence endearing. “True love’s kiss, hmm? I should have thought plenty of young ladies would believe in such a thing.”

“Perhaps,” Calista answered. “But Marianne and I – we decided that we’d never allow a gentleman to kiss us unless he was a real, true, fairytale love.” At his silence, she laughed self-consciously. “Don’t worry, Lord Tilton. I’m not so na?ve as to believe in white knights any longer. It just – it became something of a pact between us. Only kiss someone if he wins your heart.”

They continued in silence for a while, with Calista desperately wondering what he was thinking.

“Forgive me for my boldness, my lady. But am I to assume you’ve never been kissed?”

Calista felt her cheeks positively scald. In truth, the entire conversation was inappropriately bold but his question was frank enough to make her insides flutter. Still, she’d been honest thus far and in truth, it was rather enjoyable to have something of a bold conversation. Freeing, even.

She laughed a little. “Not with my permission.”

The silence this time was different. Lord Tilton stopped so abruptly that she was a few paces ahead by the time she realized. Turning back, she gasped at the icy fury stamped on his face, the sudden violence in his stormy eyes.

“Some bastard took liberties with you?” His voice was a deathly quiet rasp, and all the more frightening because of it. She was so surprised that she didn’t even scold him for his language.

“N-no” she stammered. “Well, yes but not – not beyond a kiss. I wasn’t harmed in any way, and it was a long time ago.” Calista wondered at her feeling the need to reassure him. Wondered at his anger on her behalf. Mostly, she wondered at how good it felt to have someone seem angry on her behalf.

It was…nice. Unnecessary, but nice.

“Nobody should be doing anything without you wanting it, Lady Calista. But I am glad you are unscathed by the experience.” Just like that, he was back to being the jovial, unbothered lord once again. “So, you will only ever kiss a man if it’s true love, hmm? There will be gentlemen up and down the country with shattered hearts if this ever gets out, you know.”

Calista let out an unladylike snort. “Hardly,” she scoffed. “And it wouldn’t get out, would it?” She eyed him sternly, earning a brilliant grin in response.

“I am the very embodiment of discretion, dear lady. I shall never tattle on you.”

“Good,” she laughed. “In any case, I shan’t have the chance to find a knight to rescue me if my father has his way.”

“Your father isn’t willing to hold out for a knight?”

Something about being around this man loosened Calista’s tongue, for she found herself answering him honestly. “Quite the opposite,” she said ruefully. “My father has never quite forgiven me for wasting so much of my marriageable time on being gravely ill. He’ll do it as quickly as possible. As long as there is a good name and deep pockets, he’ll be well pleased. I’ll be lucky if he chooses someone under eighty.”

Lord Tilton laughed softly. “Ah, the hope of fathers everywhere. To sell their daughters to the highest bidder.”

“Am I to presume you will want love matches for your children, Lord Tilton? An oddity amongst the ton, to be sure.”

“Ah, I’m afraid that I have every intention to remain a bachelor and live a life of utter debauchery, my lady.” His wink made butterflies erupt in Calista’s stomach. “I see no white knighting in my future.”

“The damsels in your life will remain in distress then?”

He smirked, one dimple making an appearance. “Trust me, the damsels in my life are far from distressed.”

Calista wasn’t quite sure what that meant but she assumed it was wildly inappropriate given how self-satisfied he looked.

Marianne’s manor house came into sight and Calista couldn’t help but feel disappointed that their stolen time together was over.

“Callie, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. Make haste, we’re to visit with the reverend’s wife about the orphanage.” Marianne’s screech was likely to be heard all over the village.

Calista turned to face the handsome lord at her side and held out her hands for her pinecones. “I believe I’m needed by my cousin,” she said ruefully.

Lord Tilton quirked a brow. “Do you really think so?” he drawled sarcastically. “You go ahead before she wakes the dead with her caterwauling, Lady Calista. I will ensure your pinecones make it safely, and unsquashed, to the drawing room to await your return.”

“Oh, well I-“

“Callie, hurry up. I am terrified of that old bat.”

Marianne’s desperate cry cut off anything else Calista might have said so nodding her thanks, she turned on her heel and hurried away from Lord Tilton and all the exciting, terrifying, and confusing feelings he’d awakened in her.