英语小说：Destined To Last 节选(4) ZT
==========================
DESTINED TO LAST
by Alissa Johnson (fiction)
A Leisure Book
Published by Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
======================================
"You've come for tonight's ball," she guessed.
Rather than answer, he took a step closer and bent his head to catch
her eye. "Tell me Lady Kate--and to be clear, I ask not to make you
uncomfortable, but because I am genuinely curious--what is it about
me that ruffles your feathers so?"
You're too large. You're too charming. You make my heart race. I'd
wager a year's allowance you were, at some point, a pirate.
She couldn't tell him any of those things. Particularly the last,
which she knew to be the influence of a long-standing weakness for
torrid novels.
So she said instead, "You loom, Mr. Hunter."
"I loom."
"Yes." She searched desperately for something to add to that. "It's
very ill-mannered of you."
"I see." His lips twitched. "You're an honest creature, aren't you?"
"I try to be." She waited for him to step back, or look away, or
give some indication that her honest, if not exactly complete,
confession had made an impact on him. He remained utterly still.
"Are you going to 'cease' looming?"
"No." He moved, "finally," but to her shock, it was only to lift his
hand and lightly brush a strand of hair away from her cheek. "I
rather like ruffling your feathers."
His hands were ungloved, and the warmth of his fingers was answered
by a shiver along her skin. It was Kate who took a step back. "Your
behavior is presumptuous."
"Is it?" His lips curved up in a wicked smile. "I'd have asked
first, but anyone with even the most basic powers of perception
could see you're curious--"
"Good day, Mr. Hunter."
Hunter made no move to follow Lady Kate as she stormed toward the
house, and not because he knew she wouldn't welcome his company, nor
because he felt ashamed for having been, in fact, very presumptuous.
No, he stayed where he was because following Lady Kate now didn't
suit his purpose.
And everything Hunter did suited a purpose. In his opinion, anything
less was a useless expenditure of time and energy.
Fortunately for his purposes, he didn't consider it a waste of time
to watch Lady Kate make her way toward the house. He didn't consider
it a waste of time to watch Lady Kate doing most anything. The woman
was a vision.
A diamond of the first water, that's what the "ton" called her. The
very picture of fashionable beauty--pale blonde hair, ivory skin,
wide blue eyes, thin blade of a nose and a perfect rosebud mouth.
She was elegantly tall and slender, and yet possessed enough curves
to catch, and hold, a man's attention. She was exquisite, a
testament to grace and beauty...provided she was standing utterly
still. When she wasn't, well... He thought her occasional missteps
only added to her charm.
There were those who believed her lack of coordination was the
reason she remained unmarried at three-and-twenty, but Hunter knew
that to be a misconception. He'd heard members of her family grumble
over Kate's unwed state on more than one occasion, but a lack of
suitors wasn't the problem. She'd received well more than a handful
of offers. The problem was that she'd turned down every one. It
seemed the gentlemen weren't offering anything she cared to accept.
In Hunter's opinion, they were merely offering it too easily.
Confident that her lack of interest in other gentlemen afforded him
the opportunity, he'd spent a bit of time studying Lady Kate. He'd
approached her at balls and dinners from time to time, or simply
caught her eye from across the room, but for the most part, he let
her be in favor of watching, listening, and learning what he could
about the woman.
And what he'd discovered was that Lady Kate Cole was a dreamer. She
might appreciate the attention she received from her suitors, but
she would never be captivated by their overt fawning. Because, like
all dreamers, what she wanted most was that which was just out of
reach.
Hunter had made a point of being just out of her reach. He'd made a
point of being impossible for her to ignore as well, but anyone
could manage that. It was the element of elusiveness, the piquing of
curiosity that could capture Kate. And make no mistake, he "would"
capture her.
No other woman would do for his wife. True, there were a few who
were higher in rank, one or two with more generous dowries, and it
was possible, though he rather doubted it, that there was a more
attractive young woman somewhere in society he'd yet to meet. But
only Lady Kate Cole had it all--rank, fortune, "and" beauty.
She was, in essence, the very finest young lady the "ton" had to
offer. What was the phrase--the "creme de la creme?" For a man
raised on bread and water, a woman like Kate was nothing less than
the promise of ambrosia. She was the definitive luxury, the most
extravagant acquisition, and perhaps most important, the perfect
symbol of his rise from pauper to prince.
All of which, he could admit, he would have learned to do without,
were Kate not also a woman whose company he could enjoy. Granted,
he'd sampled that company in limited quantities, but it had been
enough for him to decide that he genuinely liked the girl--her wit,
her humor, her loyalty to those she loved, even her clumsiness and
distracted nature was something he found appealing. And to top it
all off, he desired her more than he could remember ever desiring a
woman.
What man could ask for more?
Feeling every inch as arrogant as Kate had charged him of being only
minutes ago, he stood where she'd left him on the lawn, and
patiently waited for her to reach the door, hesitate, then turn back
to sneak a peek at him.
"There we are," he murmured.
He considered giving her a wave, but thought that might be overdoing
things a bit. Instead, he simply waited until she whirled around
again and went into the house, before he casually strolled away.
Contrary to what Kate had guessed--or accused, depending on how one
wished to take her tone at the time--he hadn't come to the Thurston
estate simply to attend the ball. Nor had he stepped outside with
the hope of catching Kate trudging back from the pond covered in
mud, although that had been a pleasant surprise, indeed. He'd come
on business, and having a spot of time before that business was
scheduled, he'd chosen a walk about the Haldon grounds over
conversation in the parlor.
He was inordinately fond of Haldon Hall--the massive house with its
generations of rambling additions, the extensive gardens, the open
fields, and deep woods. But it wasn't just the sheer size of the
estate that he found appealing--although that did, in fact, greatly
appeal to him--it was what the place represented that captured his
imagination. Generations of Coles had resided there, each one of
them sure of, and comfortable with, his place in the world. Even
when the Thurston fortune had been at its lowest, the residents of
Haldon Hall had remained insulated in a thick cocoon of status and
rank. No member of the Cole family had ever known what it meant to
be truly impoverished, nor was any member ever likely to.
They were a charmed lot--particularly the current generation. Not
only had the present earl, Whittaker Cole, seen to it that the
Thurston coffers were well stocked, the family also had the good
fortune of being a remarkably tight-knit clan. He'd yet to meet a
group of people more secure in their love for one another and in
their belief that love always endured.
Perhaps it did, he mused, for people like the Coles.
In his experience, nothing lasted forever.
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==========================
DESTINED TO LAST
by Alissa Johnson (fiction)
A Leisure Book
Published by Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
======================================
"You've come for tonight's ball," she guessed.
Rather than answer, he took a step closer and bent his head to catch
her eye. "Tell me Lady Kate--and to be clear, I ask not to make you
uncomfortable, but because I am genuinely curious--what is it about
me that ruffles your feathers so?"
You're too large. You're too charming. You make my heart race. I'd
wager a year's allowance you were, at some point, a pirate.
She couldn't tell him any of those things. Particularly the last,
which she knew to be the influence of a long-standing weakness for
torrid novels.
So she said instead, "You loom, Mr. Hunter."
"I loom."
"Yes." She searched desperately for something to add to that. "It's
very ill-mannered of you."
"I see." His lips twitched. "You're an honest creature, aren't you?"
"I try to be." She waited for him to step back, or look away, or
give some indication that her honest, if not exactly complete,
confession had made an impact on him. He remained utterly still.
"Are you going to 'cease' looming?"
"No." He moved, "finally," but to her shock, it was only to lift his
hand and lightly brush a strand of hair away from her cheek. "I
rather like ruffling your feathers."
His hands were ungloved, and the warmth of his fingers was answered
by a shiver along her skin. It was Kate who took a step back. "Your
behavior is presumptuous."
"Is it?" His lips curved up in a wicked smile. "I'd have asked
first, but anyone with even the most basic powers of perception
could see you're curious--"
"Good day, Mr. Hunter."
Hunter made no move to follow Lady Kate as she stormed toward the
house, and not because he knew she wouldn't welcome his company, nor
because he felt ashamed for having been, in fact, very presumptuous.
No, he stayed where he was because following Lady Kate now didn't
suit his purpose.
And everything Hunter did suited a purpose. In his opinion, anything
less was a useless expenditure of time and energy.
Fortunately for his purposes, he didn't consider it a waste of time
to watch Lady Kate make her way toward the house. He didn't consider
it a waste of time to watch Lady Kate doing most anything. The woman
was a vision.
A diamond of the first water, that's what the "ton" called her. The
very picture of fashionable beauty--pale blonde hair, ivory skin,
wide blue eyes, thin blade of a nose and a perfect rosebud mouth.
She was elegantly tall and slender, and yet possessed enough curves
to catch, and hold, a man's attention. She was exquisite, a
testament to grace and beauty...provided she was standing utterly
still. When she wasn't, well... He thought her occasional missteps
only added to her charm.
There were those who believed her lack of coordination was the
reason she remained unmarried at three-and-twenty, but Hunter knew
that to be a misconception. He'd heard members of her family grumble
over Kate's unwed state on more than one occasion, but a lack of
suitors wasn't the problem. She'd received well more than a handful
of offers. The problem was that she'd turned down every one. It
seemed the gentlemen weren't offering anything she cared to accept.
In Hunter's opinion, they were merely offering it too easily.
Confident that her lack of interest in other gentlemen afforded him
the opportunity, he'd spent a bit of time studying Lady Kate. He'd
approached her at balls and dinners from time to time, or simply
caught her eye from across the room, but for the most part, he let
her be in favor of watching, listening, and learning what he could
about the woman.
And what he'd discovered was that Lady Kate Cole was a dreamer. She
might appreciate the attention she received from her suitors, but
she would never be captivated by their overt fawning. Because, like
all dreamers, what she wanted most was that which was just out of
reach.
Hunter had made a point of being just out of her reach. He'd made a
point of being impossible for her to ignore as well, but anyone
could manage that. It was the element of elusiveness, the piquing of
curiosity that could capture Kate. And make no mistake, he "would"
capture her.
No other woman would do for his wife. True, there were a few who
were higher in rank, one or two with more generous dowries, and it
was possible, though he rather doubted it, that there was a more
attractive young woman somewhere in society he'd yet to meet. But
only Lady Kate Cole had it all--rank, fortune, "and" beauty.
She was, in essence, the very finest young lady the "ton" had to
offer. What was the phrase--the "creme de la creme?" For a man
raised on bread and water, a woman like Kate was nothing less than
the promise of ambrosia. She was the definitive luxury, the most
extravagant acquisition, and perhaps most important, the perfect
symbol of his rise from pauper to prince.
All of which, he could admit, he would have learned to do without,
were Kate not also a woman whose company he could enjoy. Granted,
he'd sampled that company in limited quantities, but it had been
enough for him to decide that he genuinely liked the girl--her wit,
her humor, her loyalty to those she loved, even her clumsiness and
distracted nature was something he found appealing. And to top it
all off, he desired her more than he could remember ever desiring a
woman.
What man could ask for more?
Feeling every inch as arrogant as Kate had charged him of being only
minutes ago, he stood where she'd left him on the lawn, and
patiently waited for her to reach the door, hesitate, then turn back
to sneak a peek at him.
"There we are," he murmured.
He considered giving her a wave, but thought that might be overdoing
things a bit. Instead, he simply waited until she whirled around
again and went into the house, before he casually strolled away.
Contrary to what Kate had guessed--or accused, depending on how one
wished to take her tone at the time--he hadn't come to the Thurston
estate simply to attend the ball. Nor had he stepped outside with
the hope of catching Kate trudging back from the pond covered in
mud, although that had been a pleasant surprise, indeed. He'd come
on business, and having a spot of time before that business was
scheduled, he'd chosen a walk about the Haldon grounds over
conversation in the parlor.
He was inordinately fond of Haldon Hall--the massive house with its
generations of rambling additions, the extensive gardens, the open
fields, and deep woods. But it wasn't just the sheer size of the
estate that he found appealing--although that did, in fact, greatly
appeal to him--it was what the place represented that captured his
imagination. Generations of Coles had resided there, each one of
them sure of, and comfortable with, his place in the world. Even
when the Thurston fortune had been at its lowest, the residents of
Haldon Hall had remained insulated in a thick cocoon of status and
rank. No member of the Cole family had ever known what it meant to
be truly impoverished, nor was any member ever likely to.
They were a charmed lot--particularly the current generation. Not
only had the present earl, Whittaker Cole, seen to it that the
Thurston coffers were well stocked, the family also had the good
fortune of being a remarkably tight-knit clan. He'd yet to meet a
group of people more secure in their love for one another and in
their belief that love always endured.
Perhaps it did, he mused, for people like the Coles.
In his experience, nothing lasted forever.
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