To Love in Silence (Currents of Love Book 3) Read online

  “Miss. Sarah, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Cook is in a state. She's looked through the menu and shopping lists you gave her, and a large delivery came this morning from the market, but she's convinced several items were misdelivered. Could you possibly come take a look to everything is as you wanted?”

  Sarah turned her attention back to him and Eloise. “That will be the special items I ordered for the desserts. You know how cook gets so flustered about anything with French names. She can't wrap her mind around the discrepancy between the spelling and the pronunciation. I'll go get her settled and find you when I'm through,” she settled her gaze on Eloise, clasping the other woman’s hands before turning to follow the maid back to the kitchen. Eloise laughed at her excitement. “And Eric,” Sarah added, half turning as she walked, “why don't you use this time to explain to Eloise one of our best loved English traditions?”

  Her eyes shone in a manner which told him some mischief was afoot. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Which tradition were you thinking? He called. She didn’t respond but pointed up toward the ceiling. Eric and Eloise both turned their attention upward, and Eric groaned before he could stifle the sound. There above them, suspended by a bright red ribbon, hung ball of mistletoe. He sighed as he brought his gaze back to the disappearing figure of his sister before settling his attention on Eloise. She matched him with a look of confusion and a raised brow.

  “Mistletoe,” He mumbled, but the word only produced a continued look of confusion. One raised shoulder stated as clearly as if she had spoken, she had no idea about the significance of the plant. Eric cleared his throat and swallowed, wishing he could find some way to excuse himself from the conversation and cursing Sarah in her absence. Now that the suggestion had been made, he had little choice but to clarify the matter.

  “It's a fond tradition in many homes,” he began, clasping his hands behind him and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “And tradition states that when a man and woman find themselves standing together beneath the mistletoe, a kiss ought to be shared between them.” Her eyes widened and she blinked, prompting a flush of heat in Eric's cheeks, but he continued. “Along with the kiss, the man then plucks one of the berries from the mistletoe. At such time as all the berries have been plucked, the kissing requirement is at an end.”

  Eloise shaped her mouth into an “oh” before ducking her chin and displaying a similar flush.

  “Of course,” Eric felt compelled to include, “There is no mandate saying anyone must participate in the tradition, especially with so few people in the house as to make it an oddity. I find it better suited to occasions of large family gatherings and holiday parties...” He’d started to ramble. What was Sarah thinking? She must have known it would only cause embarrassment for their guest. Eloise would not welcome any such advance from him, tradition or no, and he did his best to politely offer her an escape. An awkward moment of shuffling ensued before Eric once again cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose I should get back to—”

  A light weight on his sleeve paused his speech. He looked down to see Eloise's hand on his arm and a beseeching look in her eyes. She held out her other hand palm up. He furrowed his brow, not sure of her meaning until she pointed at his pocket and returned her palm to the upward position. Realizing what she wanted, he retrieved the notebook, opening the silver case and providing her with the writing implements. Frustration gnawed at him and he wished he could let her speak to him without keeping up this farce of not understanding.

  She stood a moment, scribbling fiercely as her cheeks pinkened. Biting her lip, she took a breath before handing over the paper. Eric blinked, momentarily distracted by the sight of her rosy lips pinched between white teeth but forced his attention to the paper she'd given him. And held his breath.

  And, if I wouldn't mind attempting this foreign tradition?

  He raised his gaze to hers, knowing he had read correctly but still disbelieving. She stood before him, cheeks blazing, gnawing at her lip, but her gaze held his unwavering and steady.

  A SMALL VOICE SOMEWHERE in the far recesses of his mind tried to convince him to find an excuse to leave, make some lighthearted remark about finding her a suitable partner for such an exercise, but a much louder voice negated it.

  From what he’d observed of her, though Eloise lived most often in a shy, quiet state, she maintained a penchant for holding her ground on matters of interest or importance to her. Generally, when others attempted to state her mind without consulting her. Something told him if he tried to make light of her offer it would spark a heated reaction, and not knowing her well enough to ascertain if that might be beneficial, he opted to accept it at face value.

  Turning to face her fully, he took a step to close the distance between them. Her eyes widened slightly, her stance stiffened, but she didn’t retreat or lower her gaze when the color in her cheeks began to deepen.

  He didn’t reach for her, reminding himself this amounted to curiosity and a holiday tradition. She hadn’t agreed to any grand show of passion.

  Moving slowly as he leaned toward her, he provided her every opportunity to change her mind. She tilted her head back as he approached, naturally angling her features to mirror him. The accelerated beat his heart had taken up multiplied tenfold.

  The press of his lips on hers amounted to a pressure so light, so minute, it should hardly have been notable. And yet a fever flashed to life in him in an instant, shocking him with its intensity. He leaned forward by an increment, needing a closer connection but worried about frightening Eloise off.

  To his relief, she swayed into him with a small sigh, hands coming up between them but unwilling to reach for him. How he wished those small hands would reach for him. But he knew they wouldn’t, and that thought worked to douse the ardor rising in him, reminding him of the scenario and prompting him to ease away.

  Before his lips lifted from hers, though, he hesitated. A light pressure materialized on his chest. Unsure, and unwilling to give up his small claim on the honeyed lips beneath his own, he raised a hand to his chest and found resting there a small hand with long, graceful fingers. His palm covered that hand, pressing it close.

  His lips moved over hers, nipping, caressing, exploring in as great of detail as they could manage, frustratingly little when the rest of him clamored to feel her, taste her, make her his. Again, he tried to pull away, spine stiffening with the knowledge of the advantage he took. Eloise couldn’t possibly know the reactions her nearness sparked.

  Again, small fingers found him, this time wandering under his jacket, curving over his ribs and around to his back, sending shivers through him before her palm settled against his back. Even this innocent torture he almost resisted, but then there was the tiny puff of breath against his cheek as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. A sigh.

  He couldn’t delude himself further, he wanted to kiss Eloise, thoroughly and properly. Bringing his free arm around to clasp her to him, he brought the other hand to the back of her head and slanted his mouth across hers with full abandon, hoping he’d somehow be forgiven later.

  Her fingers curled around his lapel, surprising him when they tugged him closer just before sliding up and around his neck, anchoring her to him and removing the final bit of distance between them. She arched up into him, letting out a small sound that reached Eric’s comprehension via a vibration at her throat which seeped into the heel of his palm and traveled straight to his heart, filling it to overflowing with a desperate need and desire.

  His lips massaged hers, his tongue traced their shape before delving in to explore the wondrous sensations he might find beyond. The kiss she returned was halting, unrefined, curious, and absolutely maddening. His heart felt ready to beat out of his chest, his breath became ragged, and his hands began to wander the length of her, needing to dissipate the heated energy she sparked in him.

  She shifted in his arms, now bringing both arms up to wrap around his neck, rising on her toes to manage it. Eric crushed her
flush against him, reveling in the divine softness of her form molded to him. He dared a break in their kiss, needing to see her, to witness her reaction and pray it mirrored his own.

  Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and molten eyes under half-closed lids met his gaze. He’d never seen anything more appealing. Taking advantage of her languid state, he ducked his head down to begin kissing the arch of her neck, elated to feel her fingers curl around his collar, holding him fast.

  Without warning, Eloise jumped back from his grasp, eyes wide and darting frantically around him toward the windows. Eric belatedly registered a light tremor beneath his feet. Some loud noise must have shocked Eloise. Turning to follow her gaze, he saw a delivery cart near the kitchen entry of the manor. It looked as though a stack of crates had fallen over. The merchant and one of the footmen scrambled to right the crates.

  Looking back to Eloise, Eric appreciated her disheveled beauty as she began to tug at her dress and attempt to pat her hair into place. Her heightened color and disoriented movements endeared her to him even more. Though he desperately wanted to return to their previous activity, he understood the moment was over and not likely to repeat itself. He’d have to treasure the brief interlude for what it was.

  “I’ll walk you to the front stairs,” he offered, unwilling to part with her a moment before he had to.

  She nodded and accepted his arm, gracing him with a smile when they parted ways. Something in him sank at the sight, feeling like some small bit of magic would disappear with her up the stairs.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ELOISE CLOSED THE DOOR behind her, heart still racing. She wasn't entirely sure how she'd made it to her room, floating as she was with her head somewhere in the clouds and her feet not touching the ground. She'd taken no note of her direction, made no active effort to turn down one hall or another, only by the grace of muscle memory did she find her way back from the sunroom.

  Drifting over to her vanity, she sank onto the bench cushion, knees weak, and brought trembling fingers up to her lips. Had they really been pressed only moments before to those of Eric Langdon? She still couldn't believe her forwardness, would likely never know what induced her to encourage his attention as she had, but she could not manage to form even the slightest feeling of guilt or remorse.

  She supposed some mild inquisitiveness may have contributed to her behavior. Curiosity at what a kiss would feel like coupled with the thought she might never have another chance to kiss a man quite so appealing as Eric. But she had no idea a kiss might have the power to steal her breath away, assault her senses and send them all into a frantic state of confusion. At best, she'd considered the likelihood of a pleasant warmth, she’d always viewed kisses as something more appreciative in nature than anything else. The reality caught her unaware, jolting her unlike anything she’d ever felt. Every nerve ending came alive, searching for a connection point between her and Eric, waiting in anxious anticipation for any hint of a touch or movement in her direction.

  And when his lips became more insistent, making a request she didn't understand, how her own ignorant lips wished to respond with whatever he desired.

  She covered her face with her hands, taking in a deep breath. A mild lightheadedness gave her pause and she brought a hand to her chest, attempting to slow the palpitations there. A paralyzing fear began to set in. She couldn’t allow herself to get attached to Eric. Her uncle sent her here, he would call her back again, and that would be the last she saw of Eric. Unless...

  She faced her reflection in the mirror, attempting to see what Eric might. He’d been polite and kind to her since she’d arrived, she couldn’t imagine his kiss held any devious intent. Perhaps, if he truly cared for her... even a little...

  Her mind raced with visions and daydreams of a world in which she would never have to return to her uncle’s house. Where she might have a new home and family. Sarah already felt like a sister.

  Sarah. She would know her brother’s heart better than anyone, she could give Eloise an idea if she stood a chance at winning Eric’s affection.

  Sarah ought to be here any moment, she said she would search her out, but the butterflies in Eloise’s stomach related to this new idea multiplied, compelling her to movement. Perhaps she could meet Sarah half way as she came upstairs.

  Turning from her reflection, she dragged a hand carelessly across the top of her vanity. Her fingers brushed the small book of verse she habitually kept on the corner and knocked it to the floor before she had time to recognize her folly and catch it. The book fell, knocking loose a marker she had set in place at her favorite poem, one depicting a valiant knight of yore and his unfaltering fealty to his lady. Kneeling on the carpet, Eloise picked up the folded paper that acted as bookmark, the exuberant warmth of a moment before draining from her and leaving her cold. She unfolded the well-worn paper, allowing her eyes to drift over words long since committed to memory.

  My Dear Eloise,

  One of the guards has promised to send this letter on its way to you at a price. I would pay any price to keep you from worry on my account, as I know you must do now, and hope the man keeps his word. I am betrayed, but not yet broken. I know not how long I must languish here and therefore must take this opportunity to remind you of your worth and strength. Do not give in to your fears or believe any harsh words my parents may direct toward you. You are resilient and life will bless you with great happiness one day. This war will end, and when it does, I will come back to find you an independent lady without need of this poor champion. Until then, bide your time and know that I think of you always.

  Your devoted cousin,

  Alain

  Eloise shut her eyes against a new pain welling up in her breast and clasped the letter to her heart. Alain, her dearest friend, had risked danger and reproach, bribed and bartered with what little he had to send her this note. Caged away on a prison ship off the English coast, her best protector languished in conditions far beneath his station. She knew this from what her uncle had told her. Letting his English, he had continued to try and support her, to bolster her spirits and charge her with continuing in life with the same confidence and optimism she would have with him by her side. She'd failed him. She let her grief get the better of her, confining herself as much as possible to her room in the company of her aunt and uncle. Now she’d done him a terrible disservice in having almost forgotten his plight during her stay with the Langdons. Truth be told, in those few scattered moments shared with Eric, she forgot the world entirely.

  But now her actions actively put him at risk. Her uncle warned her of harsh consequences for Alain if she failed to gain the good graces of Sir Thomas. Here she was swooning over Eric, never giving Sir Thomas a second thought.

  Struggling against her internal conflict, her heart reached out at once to two men, her Alain, and this thoroughly intriguing Mr. Langdon. But her reason insisted she must not continue this division. Even knowing her uncle was up to no good, she must obey him from her cousin's sake. Inhaling a deep, halting breath, she carefully refolded the letter and replaced it in the book Alain had gifted her years ago before rising to her feet and setting the small volume back in its place on her vanity.

  A moment later a soft knock sounded at the door. She clamped her mouth shut and prepared to greet Sarah with a smile, never breathing a word of what had happened with Eric.

  MALLORY RAPPED HIS knuckles against Eric's desk, causing him to start and look up into the man's annoyed expression.

  “Are you listening?” He asked pointedly, knowing full well Eric hadn't been. “As I recall, you were the one who requested I come over here.” He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head at Eric with a grin. “I daresay a certain young lady has taken up residence in your musings, hasn't she?”

  “Of course not,” Eric lied, not wishing to give away more of his thoughts than he already had.

  Eloise hadn’t just taken up residence in his thoughts, she had taken them over. Despite her behaving as though nothing had h
appened beneath the mistletoe, Eric had lost any and all hope of ever keeping the woman out of his mind again. Her behavior should have made it easy. Her cordial politeness should indicate she’d either satisfied her curiosity or decided she’d made a mistake where he was concerned, and he ought to leave it at that.

  But he hadn't expected or been prepared for the depth of feeling that came with their encounter, and still had no idea how something so trivial and innocent could have altered so completely and so quickly into a display of passion he wasn't even aware he was capable of. Something about her sparked a recklessness in him, a need and desire to present himself in ways he thought no longer possible. Something about her made him feel... Whole. Perhaps it was the way she seemed to always relax in his presence, or the open and trusting gazes she sent his way. Whatever it was, he felt himself a man in her presence in a way he hadn't felt before.

  That thought frightened him. More than a little. He couldn't concentrate, he barely slept, he’d developed an almost reckless desire to prove he could be what she made him believe he was. A perilous state of being, even for him.

  Not entirely coincidental either. Just when he'd had that notion he could find something he'd missed for the past year, Eloise appeared in his life. Never mind she arrived by invitation and he had been the one to issue it. Either she and her family would provide the missing information, or her presence heralded an end to the tenuous calm he’d ensconced himself in.

  Mallory rapped again on the desktop and Eric lifted his gaze, his elbows were on the desk, hands clasped in front of him and he rested his chin on his knuckles.