Page 23 of The Dandy Lyon

“Oh, yes.” Joanna nodded eagerly. “I remember that day because I actually won the game. I’d never won before.” She grinned at him then cocked her head. “Were you there?”

“I was. I took one look at you, the joy on your face, the sweet sound of your voice, and I…” He stopped, a faint tinge of red creeping into his face. “I fell in love with you.”

Joanna froze to the spot, all trace of levity wiped from her face. It might be fun to imagine a gentleman professing those words, but quite a different experience to actually have it happen. No matter what she might have supposed Mr. Dandridge thought of her, to hear those words, spoken with utmost sincerity, made her heart race and her ears begin to ring. The edges of her world started to gray out…until Marcus seized her arm, his face now close to hers.

“Lady Joanna? My lady? Here.” He lowered her to the ground, and the roaring in her ears began to subside. “George, fetch my flask from the carry bag.”

The next thing Joanna knew, the small neck of a metal flask was thrust between her lips and tilted upward. A gush of harsh tasting brandy ensued, which she swallowed, then choked and coughed, bringing her fully aware again. Marcus sat next to her still holding the spirits, seeming ready to force it down her throat again if he suspected there was need. She put out her hand to stop such an appalling action. “Thank you, Mr. Dandridge, but I am fine.”

“I will be the judge of that.” He peered into her face and she scowled at him, her sensibilities returning.

“Help me up please. My habit will be stained with heather.” She began to scramble up, but he jumped to his feet and lifted her as though she herself was a stem of heather.

“We cannot have you being said to have a green gown.” Marcus chuckled, the fear from earlier gone from his face.

“What does that mean?” Joanna beat at her habit, which did have several purple blooms clinging to it.

“For a woman to have a green gown means it’s stained with grass because she’s had a tumble there.” His mouth puckered.

“Because she fell down?” Joanna twisted about, trying to see if she’d sustained such damages to her clothes.

“Well, she wasn’t alone there on the grass. She was in the company of a man.”

“Like we just were?” She gazed at him, confused. The other day Thomas had thought it something scandalous.

“No, my lady. Not like this.” He sighed. “Like married people might lie together.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Ohhh.” Joanna’s cheeks heated and she clamped her hands over them. “No wonder Thomas was so angry.”

“Are you feeling better now, after my revelation?”

Joanna eyed him. “You are a fount of wisdom today, Mr. Dandridge.”

His infectious grin was back. “I know how to redirect someone’s attention, my lady.” He gazed at her from beneath guarded eyes. “I apologize if the confession of my feelings distressed you.”

“You surprised me, Mr. Dandridge. I’ve never had someone declare their love for me before.” An unsettling experience to say the least. And one that now gave her a great deal to think about. It was one thing to suspect that a gentleman had affection for one, but a completely different thing indeed to be told that he loved her. “I think perhaps we should return to the lodge.”

Furtively, Joanna eyed him, her stomach tightening painfully. It was as though she’d never truly seen him before. The handsome looks she’d observed immediately in May, of course, but now she peered deeper into his face, detecting a pain she’d not bothered to notice before. The longing in those dark eyes suddenly conveyed the absolute misery of a man without hope of the heaven he sought so relentlessly. The utter despair coupled with the undeniable hunger in his gaze made Joanna catch her breath. This was not mere infatuation, nor even an affectionate regard, but the full-blown passion of a man completely in love with her.

As she strode toward the waiting horses, Joanna could not dispel the image of Marcus’s undisguised emotion even though she’d quickly looked away from him. She prayed that knowing the depth of his regard for her wouldn’t alter their easy companionship, although she feared it must. Even now, her heart beat faster than normal and her hands shook so badly, she balled them into fists in an attempt to control them. Reaching Jupiter, she ran her hands over the horse’s smooth hide, trying to calm herself. She should not be so affected by his declaration. They both understood too well that nothing could come of it. Geoffrey’s displeasure with Mr. Dandridge would never allow for such a thing. Joanna gripped Jupiter’s mane, her lips trembling.

“I am very sorry, my lady, that my words have made you angry.” Marcus had been only two steps behind her.

“I’m not angry.” But she was, though not at him. For the first time she wished she was anyone but Lady Joanna Longford, anyone whose relations would not disparage Marcus’s parentage or background. Who would see him for the astonishing man he was. To have overcome poverty and improved himself in the social graces so dramatically… That was the mark of an intelligent, sensitive, determined man. A man any woman’s family should feel fortunate to be aligned with. A man any woman should be deliriously happy to call husband. So why couldn’t she?

“Oh, but I think you are.” He put his hand over hers and carefully pried it from Jupiter’s mane. “Allow me to apologize.”

“Do not apologize!” She whirled around to face him. “You have nothing to apologize for, Marcus.”

The stunned look on his face—as though the very ground beneath his feet had dropped away leaving him hovering over some cataclysmic abyss—made Joanna fear what he might do next. Indeed, he took a step backward, his head cocked slightly to the side, as though he didn’t believe he’d heard her call him by his name. “My lady?”

Joanna almost didn’t believe it herself, but by God she wouldn’t take it back. Neither would she let him retreat either. Without thought, she stepped in toward him, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

Immediately, Joanna realized she might be in deep waters without any idea what to do. She’d never kissed a man before, although she’d seen quite a bit of kissing ever since Geoffrey had married. Still, the practice of it was far different than being a mere spectator. Marcus’s lips were much softer than she’d suspected. Although she knew him to be a gentleman at heart, she’d still expected his kiss to be rough, insistent, full of the passion she’d glimpsed in his eyes. Instead, he touched her lips gently, almost reverently, as if she were a statue at some holy shrine.

And though she might not know much about kissing, she did know that wasn’t what she wanted. Not from Marcus. Joanna pressed her mouth to his more insistently, leaning her body fully against his. She couldn’t think of what else to do to signal her eagerness for this kiss, but Marcus had to know. Surely, he’d done this before.

Suddenly, his arms went around her and she was crushed to his chest, her breath almost stopped by the force of his embrace. Now greedy, his mouth pressed against hers, a plaintive moan escaping his throat. Then his tongue pushed insistently against her lips and Joanna gladly opened them, delighting in the amazing sensation as it slid into her mouth. She ceased to think about anything, but instead simply allowed herself to revel in every stroke, every swirl, every caress he shared with her. Warmth cascaded throughout her, radiating from her mouth, down her arm, through her body to lodge low in her body, a pulsing heat that made her ache for even more of his touch.