Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(28)

Her pink tongue emerged and licked her bottom lip and he found himself once again entranced by her motions. Rosalind relaxed, just slightly, and Stefan found himself needing to see her eyes as she enjoyed the fairy cake. He pulled off the blindfold and stared in awe as her eyelashes blinked slowly at him then closed in ecstasy giving Stefan the jealous feeling that he was missing out on the exchange between the participant and the object—frosting.

Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt. Stefan bellowed a curse as the door swung open. “I just cannot take the cold any longer, Your Grace. To think that you allowed me to even step outside the carriage is quite beyond me. Really you should have more manners. Oh, fairy cakes! Don’t mind if I do!” Mary swiped the cake out of his grasp and comfortably positioned herself on the other side of the carriage.

Dumbstruck, Stefan didn’t know if it was at all proper to say out loud the obscenities he was thinking in his head considering there was a lady present. Mary didn’t count.

Rosalind smirked at him and he found himself helpless as to how to continue on without, one getting caned, and two aroused quite awkwardly as the godmother held a blunt object within her grasp.

The footman was still standing outside the door, mouth ajar, the poor bloke was probably already thinking of where to seek other employment after allowing a passenger in the dukes carriage to put a stop to their journey.

Stefan nodded his head towards the pale man and told him to get on with it. The man scrambled to shut the door and soon they were off.

“I gather you’re over your aversion to our picnic?” Stefan dusted his hands of the stolen fairy cake.

“Well, if you wouldn’t have been so belligerent with your waving of that horrid looking meat, I wouldn’t have had to step outside of the carriage, Your Grace.”

“Are you scolding me?” He felt his chest rise as his fingers clenched into the seat.

“Nonsense,” Rosalind piped up, gently touching the top of his clenched hand. “Mary was merely pointing out that we were insensitive to her…”

“Delicacies.” Stefan finished through clenched teeth.

Rosalind turned giving him a blinding smile. “Precisely.”

Well, he couldn’t exactly argue with the girl considering his mouth had suddenly gone dry, and she hadn’t let go of his hand. The warmth from her skin seeped through her kid gloves and Stefan silently wondered if it was possible for a man to go insane from one touch.

“We should be in London within the next few hours,” he said.

Rosalind winked while Mary continued to argue about the cold, and Stefan couldn’t help himself from turning over his hand and grasping Rosalind’s delicate fingers. He also couldn’t help but smile triumphantly as her hand grasped his back, hidden beneath her skirts it seemed all was well within the world. Propriety be cursed.

He was holding her hand.

And Stefan had trouble remembering a hand that had ever fit so beautifully within his.

****



Thump! Stefan jolted awake. He must have fallen asleep during the end of the trip. The carriage was stopped, why was it stopped?

Rosalind awoke from her slumber as did Mary and unfortunately her cane got a good waving about before she managed to calm herself enough to know the carriage was not in fact tipped on its side.

He’d be lucky to survive that cane. In fact, he made a mental note to hide it first thing in London.

“I’ll just be a minute.” Stefan rapped on the door, the footman opened it to let him out. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Sorry, Your Grace. The horse, it seems to have thrown a shoe.”

“Where are we?” he asked ignoring the horrid news.

“Just over yonder hill is the Knights Inn, Your Grace. If we stay there for a few hours, I’m sure we can fix the problem.”

The sun was beginning to set. It was a stretch to have made the trip in one day as it was. And he wasn’t exactly thrilled that they would have to travel through the night in order to make it to London.

“We shall stay at the Inn over night.”

“But—“ the footman’s nostrils flared.

“Well what is it?” Stefan was irritated and tired of sitting next to Rosalind for so long.

“Well, Your Grace. It’s just that, well…”

Alfred hopped down from his seat, “Your Grace, forgive me but it wouldn’t be proper to spend the night alone un-chaperoned.”

“I’m sure Mary is a proper chaperone. She has a blasted cane Alfred, and she glares at me as if she intends to make any excuse to use it. Lady Rosalind’s virtue will be intact, I assure you. My sanity however, is still in question.”

“Very good, sir.” Alfred bowed and motioned for the groom to bring the horse. Samson neighed at Stefan, though he could have sworn it was mockery the way it sounded coming from his beloved horse. Another night, alone, with this woman and he was going to go mad. Truly, his curse must be Rosalind, for he hadn’t slept a wink since laying eyes on her.

“Let us be off, Samson.” He pulled at the reigns and knocked on the carriage door. “Ladies, it seems we are to be taking a short respite for the night. Rosalind, if you would be so kind as to accompany me on Samson, we’ll just be off to the nearest Inn over the hill.”

“And what of Mary?” she asked stepping down.