Her Enemy At The Altar. Virginia Heath

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Her Enemy At The Altar - Virginia Heath Mills & Boon Historical

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it was a proper duel with rules and seconds. It is hardly my fault that your grandfather did not have the good sense to try to dodge the bullet.’

      Connie waved away his warped logic. ‘Such things cannot be overlooked. If my father caught me talking to you, he would disown me. Yet here you are again, Mr Wincanton. Bothering me.’

      It had been like this for the entire Season. Ever since he had returned from Waterloo, in a blaze of glory, he had sought her out. Despite the bitter and long-running feud between their two families, the Stuarts and the Wincantons had managed to co-exist in society very well by pretending that the other side simply did not exist—despite the fact that their ancestral estates were right next door to each other. They were always invited to the same functions and happily imagined the other to be invisible when in a social setting. Society understood this perfectly. Thus, there were never any public scenes and there was certainly never any attempts at conversation. It was a system that worked very well because it had been that way for centuries. Until now.

      Unfortunately, Aaron Wincanton, heir to the house of Ardleigh and all-round blackguard, had no respect for tradition. It had been two months ago when he had first started to speak to her—and to her alone. It was never done openly, of course, or in front of any member of her family or his. But at every function he managed to catch her by herself at some point, no matter how much she tried to avoid it, and each time he did he would flirt a little and try and make her smile. Sometimes he would be loitering near the retiring room just as she came out, other times he would find her in an alcove or he would appear behind a potted palm or at her elbow at the refreshment table. And now he was here, in this remote library where she had sought sanctuary, and he had almost seen her cry. That was a situation Connie found the most intolerable.

      Yet he merely shrugged in response, as if all of that bad blood did not matter, and then fixed her with his unusual and intense gaze. Unusual because only when you were up close could you see that his eyes were almost russet brown surrounded by a ring of dark, melted chocolate. Those eyes could be very unsettling at times, as if they saw too much. ‘Has it occurred to you, Connie, that our situation might be similar to that of the Montagues and Capulets? History might dictate that we be enemies, but apparently fate wants us to be friends—or perhaps more than friends?’

      ‘You are aware, Mr Wincanton, that Romeo and Juliet are fictitious and therefore not really pertinent to our situation? But as I recall, things ended very badly for both Romeo and Juliet because they did not listen to their fathers, so perhaps they should have ignored the will of fate, as you put it. The ending might have turned out very different if they had simply let things be. However, you do seem to be missing the point. Juliet welcomed Romeo’s attentions. I do not welcome yours. And in case it has escaped your notice, Mr Wincanton, I am engaged to be married and happy to be so.’

      ‘How can you be happy to be marrying a man who has shown more attention to Penelope Rothman this evening than he has to you?’ As soon as the words came out of his mouth Aaron regretted them. He felt even worse when he saw her frown turn into an expression of raw pain before she attempted to cover it. ‘I am sorry, Connie. That was uncalled for. I apologise unreservedly.’

      ‘Pay it no mind,’ she said with a shrug of bravado that did not ring quite true. ‘The Marquis of Deal has had a little too much to drink this evening and Penelope Rothman is trying to incite my jealousy, and failing. It must be quite galling for her to lose her most favoured suitor to the Ginger Amazonian.’

      She looked him dead in the eye as she said this and saw him wince. He still felt guilty about calling her that, more so that the nickname had stuck. But he had been young and foolish back then and she had dented his pride. He had never meant for her to ever hear it. Or for her father to respond with such malice. It had come as quite a shock to come back from years of fighting Napoleon to see how dire the situation between their two families had become. His own father had become so obsessed with the feud that he had almost bled the estate dry in his attempts to get revenge on Connie’s father.

      ‘For what it is worth, I am sorry that I called you that, too.’

      She gave him a regal and cold smile that did not touch her eyes and stood slowly. At her full height her face was almost level with his. The woman must be close to six feet in height, he mused, as she loomed in front of him, perhaps a little more. ‘I can assure you, Mr Wincanton, that I have never really given it a passing thought.’

      Then, to the apparent and total horror of both of them, she promptly burst into tears right there in front of him.

      Aaron felt like a total cad. At a loss as to what else to do with a crying woman who was evidently not usually prone to crying, he rushed towards her and pulled her into his arms. ‘There, there, Connie,’ he murmured ineffectively as she buried her face into his neck and wept noisily, ‘I genuinely am sorry for calling you an Amazonian. It was most ungentlemanly of me.’

      ‘I am not crying because of that, you idiot!’ Her brief flash of anger was still peppered with tears, but it did make him feel better. At least this rare and noisy display of emotion was not specifically directed at him. The poor girl was clearly upset at Deal’s callous behaviour.

      ‘I am sure Deal’s flirting means nothing,’ he said, not believing his own words. Deal was a shameless philanderer and one who liked to brag about his many conquests.

      ‘Hardly nothing. It means that he prefers her charms to mine,’ she sobbed. ‘And who can blame him? Penelope is so beautiful. Everyone says so. And I am pale and plain in comparison, with hideous freckles and my figure is as flat as a washboard. And I have all of this ghastly carrot-coloured hair.’

      Clearly, he had inadvertently kicked a hornet’s nest. Aaron could feel her slim shoulders shaking as she wept and felt the most peculiar urge to hunt the Marquis of Deal down and give him a well-deserved punch on the nose. ‘For a start your hair is glorious. Your skin is not pale, as such. Think of it more as alabaster. The freckles on your nose are quite delightful. Really they are. I have never understood why freckles are considered unbecoming. And you are not as flat as a washboard. You have a lovely figure.’ He could feel the gentle flare of her hips beneath his hands and there was definitely something interesting pressed against his chest that his body was responding to—against his better judgement and his black mood. What on earth was the matter with him? This was Constance Stuart. Constance Stuart.

      Connie lifted her face from his shoulder and looked at him through puffy eyes, her expression the very picture of anguish. ‘If I am so lovely, then why has he not even tried to kiss me? Answer me that. We are engaged after all.’ She looked positively distraught. ‘The man finds me repulsive. He has as good as said so.’

      Further proof that Deal was a blasted idiot, Aaron realised. She felt splendid in his arms. It was nice to be able to look a woman in the eye, for once, rather than have to look down at her. Connie was a pleasant armful of woman who apparently fitted against his big body perfectly. And she had a brain. Nobody could ever claim that Constance Stuart was a dullard. Sparring with her was always one of the highlights of any ball. The sultry smell of roses tantalised his nostrils and overwhelmed his senses, giving him ideas that he had not had in a very long time. How on earth did Deal resist her? Her full mouth was all red and swollen and positively ripe for kissing. If she were his fiancée he would not be able to stop himself... Before he could think about it, Aaron dipped his head and did just that.

      The moment his lips touched hers he quite forgot everything else. She sucked in a breath of surprise at his impertinence, but did not push him away, so he brushed his lips over hers again. And again. His arms wrapped around her possessively and he pulled her closer still. Initially, she stood stock still, then he felt her breath catch. But then her lips opened slightly and she sighed. When she pressed her mouth tentatively against his, Aaron lost all sense of reason and kissed her like a starving man.

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