Chapter Seventeen
Finn could hardly form a coherent thought, let alone words, for Jane was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon. Every time she moved, the jewels at her throat and wrist sparkled, as did the silver embroidery that lined her gown. Emeralds glittered in her hair, much like they’d done the first time he’d met her, but oh how those russet strands called to him! His fingers itched to encourage those tresses down so that they’d fall like a molten waterfall.
But that was for another time.
He waited, trepidation filling his chest, while she looked at him, eyes luminous with emotion he couldn’t read well in the dim light. Then, with an angelic smile, she slipped onto his lap. Her silk skirting flowed over his legs and down one side of his Bath chair, her orange blossom scent surrounded him, and he wrapped his arms around her. She felt right, as if he’d been searching for her all his life. As the first strains of the waltz drifted out to their location, a trace of insecurity crept in.
“I apologize if this dance isn’t conventional.”
“Do hush, Major Storme,” she whispered. The pleasant tones of her voice sent a wave of anticipation through him. When she laid one gloved hand on his chest and rested the other on his shoulder, a tiny sigh shuddered from her. “I couldn’t ask for a better interlude or a more dashing man to spend it with.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Finn set his hands on the wheels of his chair. His confidence soared when he was in her company. He wheeled them about the terrace in tight circles, and when the soft notes of her laughter rang in his ears, he finally knew the meaning of true happiness. That it took the advent of this petite, voluptuous, kind-hearted, forward-thinking earl’s daughter to open his eyes was amazing, and he’d be forever grateful to her for that alone.
To say nothing of how she’d turned his life upside down to affect change.
He soon lost himself to the magic the string quartet made, and while couples twirled around the ballroom in a myriad of colors, he performed loops and circles with his Bath chair, the luckiest man of all, for he had Jane on his lap, and she held his heart in her hands.
Over and over, he traversed the flagstone terrace. In his mind’s eye, he saw them dancing across the floor as if his legs had never been affected on that fateful day on the battlefield, but soon the image faded. For the first time since his injury, his reality wasn’t as horrible as he’d once assumed. Now that he and Jane had navigated the pitfalls and ruts of intercourse and had declared victory over the obstacles, light glimmered in the darkness.
When he met her gaze and saw everything he’d ever wanted in another person clouding her emerald depths, his heart shuddered. Would that he could whisk her away to a secluded room and show her how much she meant to him, but unlike other society events, this one was too well attended for that. He brought the chair to a stop in the shadows. Awareness of her raced over his skin and tingled through his chest. Muscles in his right leg jumped, and he was able to flex his toes for a brief time. Later, if they were afforded a more private moment alone, he would show her the evidence of the nerve renewal. It heralded a better life ahead. When she continued to look at him as if she wished to devour him alive, he forced a hard swallow.
The words he’d wanted to say hovered on the tip of his tongue, but cold fear crept in to steal them from him. What if he told her the contents of his heart and she rejected him after all? It was well and good for a lady to pretend, but when it came down to brass tacks and she thought about her future and everything he couldn’t give her, would she turn down his offer?
So, he kept his own counsel and instead wrapped his arms around her. As the music inside the ballroom reached a crescendo, Finn claimed her lips in a series of deep, drugging kisses designed to show her how he felt. He hoped to God she was as receptive in that as she’d been in everything else.
All too soon, their embrace grew heated, for her touch turned his blood molten. He stroked a hand up and down her back while he cupped a breast with the other, teasing its peak with a thumb. When a low moan escaped her, she increased the ferocity of the kiss. She slipped her hands over his chest, restlessly roving, and he knew her well enough to assume she’d put him in enough dishabille that she could shove her hands beneath his clothing.
When she glanced her fingers along his waistcoat pocket, she paused and drew back. “What’s this?”
Oh, God.She must have felt the outline of the emerald ring he’d dropped into the pocket by habit. Finn froze for a fraction of a second, but in that time, she’d stuck a gloved finger into the slit and then withdrew the ring. Warning bells sounded in his head, for what he couldn’t say, but a soldier always knew when danger threatened.
Her breath caught as she held the bauble aloft. The dim light caught the gem, illuminating its shine. “Is this what I think it is?”
“If an engagement ring is what you’re thinking, then yes.” At least that was the truth. “However, it’s not what you think.” When he attempted to take the ring from her, she held it out of his reach.
“Does this mean you’re declaring yourself?” Excitement wove through her voice as she stared first at the ring and then into his eyes. “It’s such a great time for this, and it matches my dress. What a darling man you are.”
Mortification and self-loathing mixed within his chest to from a hot mass that threatened to choke him. “It’s not for you.” He hadn’t meant for the words to sound as blunt as they did, but there was nothing for it.
“What?” All color leeched from her face. The dim light couldn’t hide that sudden pallor. “What do you mean?” The light that had danced in her eyes faded.
How could he explain without marring the exquisite moment they’d shared? Further, he did want to admit to yet another failing on his part, not when he’d been on the cusp of asking for her hand and needed to put forth his best showing. “Suffice it to say, this ring was never intended for you. I don’t wish to explain why just now.”
Tears welled in Jane’s eyes. “Do you have a mistress?”
“No.” He shook his head to reinforce the denial. How could she even think such a thing when she was the only woman he’d ever wanted?
“Then why do you have a ring meant for another woman when you haven’t shown any sort of deep feelings for the woman in your lap?” Ah, that was why. He’d been rubbish in giving her any sort of clue or indication of how he felt. “Me, who seconds ago kissed you?” Hurt clung to her quiet tones, and in the anemic light, a tear slipped over the curve of her cheek, leaving a wet trail behind.
Foreboding slid through his chest in a cold tide. Fear prickled his skin and had the hair on his nape standing at attention. His pulse pounded loud in his ears. Every second he didn’t respond sent another nail into the coffin of his dying hopes for the future. “I can’t say.” Any affection she held for him would turn to disgust and possibly hate if he told the tale now.
“Oh, Finn.” With a barely stifled sob, Jane slid off his lap. She tossed the ring at him. It lodged itself in the folds of his cravat. “If you can’t manage to trust me or open yourself fully to me by this point, we have no chance for any sort of future.” Another tear fell to her cheek, and he died a thousand deaths with that one drop. “Have you been playing with my affections, my heart, this whole time?”
“No, of course not. I…” What? Was a coward, plain and simple? Had so much ill-fortune in his past that he couldn’t bear to think he might have mucked this up too?
She backed away a few steps. “Then why do you have an engagement ring if not to give it to me?” The tremor in her tones tugged at his heart.
With his hand shaking from dread and panic, he plucked the ring from his person and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I… I…” Those icy fingers of fear wrapped around his throat, cutting off his words and the explanation that could have brought her back to him.