Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(65)

Suddenly Tasia had a fleeting image of a man and a woman in bed, the woman's long fingers outstretched as the ring slid past her knuckle. The man was dark-haired and bearded…and his eyes were blue. The vision faded, and Tasia knew who the lovers were. She looked at Luke with wry amusement. “Your ancestor William gave this to his mistress, didn't he?”

A smile softened the stern line of his mouth. “They say he loved her from the moment they met until the day he died.” His caressing gaze swept over her. “I'll understand if you'd prefer something else, maybe with precious stones. This ring is old-fashioned—”

“No, I want this one.” Tasia closed her hand over the ring. “It's perfect.”

“I hoped you'd feel that way.” Luke leaned over, resting his arm on the back of her chair. Their faces were very close. “Forgive me for last night. It's not easy, having you so close and not being able to take you to bed.”

Tasia's lashes lowered. “It's not easy for me either.” Feeling a rush of warmth and attraction, she inched nearer to him, her lips parted invitingly. She hadn't slept at all well after their skirmish last night. Alone in the darkness of her bedroom, she had craved his restless kisses and the warmth of his body next to hers.

Luke smiled and pulled his head back just before her mouth could brush his. “No, you little tease. You'll only start something you won't let me finish.” He stood and pried the ring from her hand, brandishing it threateningly. “But after I put this on your finger, I'll have you whenever I want—and propriety be damned.”

The guest room Emma had chosen for Tasia was one of the prettiest in Southgate Hall, with a sleigh-shaped bed draped in peach silk brocade and thick golden tassels. Emma sprawled on the carpet with a plate of pastries she had stolen from the kitchen, alternately feeding Samson and herself. The dog lazed beside her, licking his lips after gobbling each offering.

Tasia sat in a chair with a basket of mending, stitching the torn cuff of a man's shirt. She couldn't help laughing at the sight of Emma and Samson's sugar-dusted faces. “Should you be feeding him so many sweets?” she asked. “I'm sure it isn't good for him—or you, for that matter.”

“I can't help being hungry. The taller I get, the more there is to fill up.” Emma crossed her long, skinny legs and sighed. “I'll never stop growing. I hope the foreigner I'm going to marry will be a tall man. It would be dreadful to look down at one's husband all the time.”

“Whatever his height, he'll be just right for you,” Tasia said.

Emma continued to leaf through the pages of a ladies' magazine, poring over descriptions of the most recent fashion designs for autumn gowns. “Bronze will be all the rage this year,” she said, holding up the book for Tasia to see. “Miss Billings, you must have a walking dress made exactly like this one, with the scalloped edges and the bows on the wrists. And little bronze boots to match!”

“I'm not certain bronze is a flattering color for me.”

“Oh, it would be,” Emma said earnestly. “Besides, anything would be a pleasant change after wearing nothing but black and gray.”

Tasia laughed. “I'm very fond of pink,” she said dreamily. “The shade so pale that it's almost white. There's nothing more beautiful than pink pearls.”

The comment produced a rapid flipping of the pages. “I saw something toward the back…an evening gown that would be perfect in that shade—” Suddenly Emma stopped, looking at her with wide eyes.

“What is it?” Tasia asked.

“I just thought…what shall I call you now? You won't be Miss Billings anymore. And calling you Stepmother is horrid. But you're not old enough to be my mother, and I don't think it would be right to call you that…would it?”

Tasia set aside her mending, understanding the reason for the child's concern. “No,” she said gently. “Mary is still your mother, and will always be, even though she's in heaven. Your father won't ever forget her, and neither will you. I'll be your father's new wife, but I won't replace her. She has her own place, just as I'll have mine.”

Emma nodded, seeming reassured. She came to sit by the chair, making a tent of her pointed knees and her skirt. Her flashing blue eyes, so like her father's, met Tasia's. “Sometimes when I'm alone, I think she might be taking a peek at me from behind a cloud. Do you think it's possible that people watch over us from heaven?”

“Yes, I do,” Tasia said, treating the question seriously. “If heaven is a place of perfect peace, then certainly they must be able to. I imagine your mother would be very unhappy indeed if she couldn't see for herself that you were all right.”

“I think she knows you're with Papa and me. I think she's glad, Miss Billings. Maybe she even helped you to find us. She wouldn't want Papa to be lonely anymore.” Emma hesitated as Tasia turned her face away. “Miss Billings? Have I made you angry?”

Tasia looked back with a wavering smile. “No, you've brought tears to my eyes,” she said, dabbing at her face with a sleeve. She leaned close to kiss the top of Emma's red head. “I have something to tell you, Emma. My name isn't really Miss Billings.”

Emma looked at her consideringly. “I know. It's Tasia.”