In that moment, the vague, shadowy figure who had been created in his most secret thoughts transformed into something tangible…and enchanting. Bloody hell! His knees wobbled, and he leaned against the statue. What was he saying? She was a lady, one with a respectable reputation. He could not dishonor or ruin her by asking her to be his mistress. She was fit for more than a quick romp beneath the sheets.
Simply put, Miss Middleton was a lady of quality and could only be taken as a wife.
Sweet Christ. Somehow, with the desire for more, which had been growing inside of him, he had never thought of settling down with a wife so soon. It was inevitable, but just not now! Perhaps after a few more years of enjoying his bachelorhood.
An intense awareness flowed through him. That said bachelorhood had bored him to hell, the clubs, and the fleeting lovers that only sated his lust but offered little else.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, and with a scowl, he made his way from the conservatory, determined to ignore his errant and unusual thoughts. It must be all the mistletoe sprigs around the manor and the jolly and hopeful atmosphere turning him to such sentimentality.
What else could it be?
The following morning, Graham rode his horse, a massive black stallion, along the muddied lanes of the estate for an extended time, wanting to exhaust both himself and his horse. Outside, the day was bitter and gray, frosty mor
ning mist crept over the land, and he inhaled the brisk, clean air into his lungs. He had dreamed of Callisto—of kissing her, of making love to her! He had jerked awake with his heart pounding to see the ash-gray rising dawn outside his windows and could not return to sleep. This was profoundly irritating. He’d not had a thought of her, even though he had known her to be his father’s neighbor for over two years, but now she was a permanent fixture in his thoughts.
Slowing his horse, he guided the animal into a trot toward a small brook at the eastern section of the estate. There was not much snow on the ground, and so the brook should not be iced over. His horse could indulge in a drink and a rest before he took him back to the stables.
It didn’t take long to reach, and once there, he dismounted and led Nightshine over to the bank where the horse drank from the icy stream. A rustle nearby had Graham shifting around where he spied his exquisite tormentor. She held something to her eyes and pointed in the distance toward the former groundskeeper’s cottage. Then she pointed toward the lake and the sky, gesturing with animation to the lady beside her. Her sister, Miss Letitia, if he was not mistaken, vigorously shook her head, clearly objecting to whatever scheme Callisto plotted.
The pair of sisters could have come from some delightful illustration. Callisto fair in scarlet, and her sister’s dark locks peeking from a fetching celestial blue bonnet that matched her bright blue pelisse. Against the backdrop of the snow-edged lake, the trees naked from their summer glory silhouetted in the dove-gray sky. Any artist would be enraptured and need to record the scene. Graham’s heart leaped at the exquisite sight before him. Then he stomped on those thoughts, refusing to allow his creative inclination to deter him.
He walked toward them, ensuring his boots echoed upon the soggy ground. They whirled around, and Callisto’s eyes widened when she saw him.
She averted her gaze before facing him with a militant glint in her compelling autumn eyes. Yes, she was indeed planning some misdeed.
“Up to more mischief, I see,” he chided, staring at the spyglass in her hands.
She scowled in evident consternation, before dipping into a quick curtsey. “Lord Sherbrooke, how pleasant to see you up and about so early.”
Her tone suggested she was everything but pleased.
The memory of their kiss lingered in her thoughts, and a delightful blush reddened her cheeks. The answering jolt in his body was savage, and arousal curled through him. Her sister glanced between them, speculation heavy in golden-brown eyes much like Callisto’s own.
“We were just admiring the sky,” Miss Middleton murmured.
“And the cottage and the lake and our parents who are taking a morning stroll. I wonder what you could possibly be thinking,” he said in a warning tone.
He would not let her off if she were plotting to use tricks to push his father toward her mother after their conversation last night.
She disarmed him with a grinned, surprising Graham. He had expected evasive stammers or something of the sort. Instead, she tossed her head and dared to wink.
“How wonderful you are not privy to my thoughts, my lord. If you will excuse us, Letty and I promised to join Lord Bybrook, Lord Duncan, and Miss Mary Peckham and Lady Shelby for a morning stroll.”
Then she gripped her sister’s hand and all but ran away. He stared bemused as she slipped in the mud, and her laughter floated on the air as she caught herself. Graham narrowed his eyes. He would need to observe Miss Callisto Middleton.
A fierce rush of pleasure filled him at the notion. He feasted his eyes on the delightful picture of her rear, despite the warm crimson pelisse that wrapped her slender form. His blood pumping fast as he remembered every single sensation of desire from squeezing that nubile body into his while he had ravished her with his kisses. Oh yes, he would enjoy keeping a close eye on that mischievous minx for the duration of the house party.
Chapter 6
His father’s guests were having the time of their lives. The drawing room doors which led to the ballroom were opened and an orchestra set had been hired for tonight. Gentlemen and ladies dressed in their finery twirled about the ballroom with their dance partners, wide smiles on faces, facile chatter and laughter lingering on the air. It was not only the houseguest who were present at tonight’s ball, but several neighbors with their daughters and sons had made the trek through the snow.
Graham had just finished partnering Lady Lizzie Morton with a waltz, and that young lady had batted her lashes and told him in no uncertain terms she would be married by next season. Not even in Town at the heights of the Season had he been on the receiving end of such unbridled flirtations. He blamed it on the mistletoe decorating the manor. It had encouraged normally sensible ladies and gentlemen to take leave of their senses.
His good friend Thomas Brampton currently danced the galop with Miss Middleton who was sheathed in a voluminous yellow satin gown which enhanced her frame exquisitely. Her loveliness as she smiled upon Thomas set Graham’s heart to pounding and he glanced away feeling discomfited. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Miss Callie Middleton. He did not trust her intentions in regard to his father and believed her wholly capable of acting deceptively to trap his father. Yet he was attracted to her. Terribly so. His reaction unnerved him, simply for the fact he had never felt such a keen awareness before for a lady.
Wresting his attention from her, he made his way over to his father who lingered near the closed terrace windows, appearing miserable. Emma’s hand rested his on his arm and she spoke to their father earnestly. She seemed to be offering him some encouragement. A quick scan of the room revealed the cause for that countenance. Lady Danby danced with Squire Brampton, and if Graham recalled correctly this was the second time she danced with the man since evening.
His father did not like that. To Graham’s mind, the viscountess was keeping her options open. So much for Miss Middleton’s assertions that her mother was falling in love.