A Siren’s Melody: Love and Family Book Two

by Wells, Nancy

  “I know you care for me,” Russell said. “I know you feel the need to protect me, and I appreciate your efforts, but I am my own man now. We will always remain together, I can assure you that, but I need someone in my life who would make me whole. You may not see it that way, but that girl gives meaning to my life.”

  Shane nodded his head, understanding his need for finding love. Shane would not stand in his way if he wanted to choose a path for himself, but Shane would intervene if there was even a slight chance of him getting hurt by pursuing her.

  Chapter 6

  Russell was waiting for her in Hyde Park under a tree. He watched many carriages come and go, but there was no sign of her. It was his own mistake that he had not specified the time to meet. He had been waiting for her as soon as the first ray of sun hit the earth. The sun was close to setting now, yet his hopes were not diminished. He was confident she would come.

  Isabella had arrived at the park in the evening. She saw him standing under a tree, but she did not approach him. She was making him wait, trying to let him suffer the same way she had suffered in the nights when he did not show up at her window.

  She had asked permission from her mother to meet him in the park and her mother had granted her permission without her having to beg for it. Margaret was not allowed to come with her, even though she had pulled a tantrum.

  The maids who had accompanied her were getting irritated with her theatrics. They knew she was here to meet the man standing under the tree but was making him wait, which in turn forced the maids to wait too.

  After making him wait until the sun set, she approached him, hoping to see him upset with the long wait, but there was no sign of displeasure on his face. The moment he saw her, he left his place and came towards her with a visible spring in his step.

  “Lady Isabella,” he said, bowing at his waist and kissing her on her knuckles. “Your presence brings me joy.”

  She shuddered when his lips touched her hand. Even though the gloves were a barrier between his lips and her hand, she could feel the warmth of his mouth. Her heart started to flutter. If the maids had not been nearby, she would have kissed him on his lips in the middle of the park because that was how much she craved him.

  He knew his effect on her and that was why he lingered for a moment, prolonging the kiss to her knuckles, enjoying the shortening of her breath.

  “Were you impatient to meet me, my lord?” she asked breathily. “Did I make you wait for long?”

  She knew she had made him wait for a long time, but she wanted to hear him confess. She was feeling smug for exacting her revenge on him, but in response to her query, he offered her a bright smile with a raised brow.

  He was not aware that she had intentionally made him wait, but now she had given away her secret with her own impatience. He looked behind her at the maids, wishing them to vanish, but it was not possible to meet her without a chaperone present.

  “Unlike certain people, I can show considerable restraint. I can wait for a very long time.”

  She hid her surprised giggle behind a fake cough. He was reminding her of her own impatience when she had forced him into taking her virginity. She had lost her maidenhood but gained a considerable amount of peace. He was right about her. She could hardly wait to have him alone again. She had no restraint when it came to him.

  “Shall we take a walk?” he asked.

  They stayed at a respectable distance from each other while walking in the park. They started their communication by talking about mundane things like the weather and soon their conversation veered towards their personal lives. It was the main reason for their meeting today because he neither trusted her nor himself to talk about something personal when they were alone. Neither of them could keep their minds from thinking about doing unspeakable things to each other. He had intended to explain his reasons for not coming into her room all those nights, but the vixen had rendered him speechless.

  He could find out everything about her, from her past to the present, through one of his resources, but he wanted something real with her. He wanted to hear about her family from her lips. The same lips that made him restless every night because the thoughts his mind would conjure were so impure, his body never stayed in a state for comfortable sleep.

  “Tell me about your family,” he asked, clearing his throat and pushing the erotic images out of his mind.

  She thought about all the people that mattered to her. It never occurred to her before that her list of people close to her was very small. Her mother, sister, and Philip were the only names that fit on that list. She did not consider her uncle among them because he never came to meet her. He avoided them like a plague, afraid to have their shadow touching his beloved daughter. Sometimes she wished her uncle would acknowledge their presence and visit them from time to time, but she knew this dream would never come true.

  “You have already met my sister and mother,” she said. “There is Philip who is not related to me by blood, but he is considered a family member. I also have an uncle and a cousin, but we rarely meet because of the long distance between our homes.”

  They lived in the same town as her uncle, but she did not want to come across as a person who was being avoided by a relative because there was something wrong with her. She wanted to win his heart, which might prove impossible if he suspected there was a flaw in her. She should feel guilty for deceiving him, but her determination to gain his trust surpassed everything else.

  “What about your father?” he asked.

  He observed her reluctance to talk about her uncle, so he did not press her for information. He respected her boundaries if she wanted to keep something from him. They had a lifetime to gain each other’s trust. They were at the beginning stage in their relationship. They had a lot more bridges to cross before they could make their souls bare to each other. He could wait until she deemed him worthy of her private issues.

  “He died a long time ago at the hands of highwaymen.”

  He felt pity for her. He missed his father every day. A day did not go by without him feeling the absence of the father who had raised him. He had been closer to his father as compared to his brother. They were both aware that he did not give them birth, but it never bothered him. In fact, it made him love his father even more. He was a stranger, yet he never made them feel the absence of paternal love in their lives.

  “Do you miss him?” he asked.

  She thought hard about her father, rummaging through her brain for even a single memory, but all she recalled was a portrait and a father who was with his friends most of the time. She was old enough to remember her father when he died, yet she could not recall even a single memory worth sharing. She was probably the only person who did not recall her father yet did not feel bad about it.

  “He was scarcely home. He is a distant memory to me. We had a portrait once, but that disappeared when we moved from our family home.”

  He did not detect melancholy or sorrow in her voice, but he still made a promise to himself to find that portrait. It would make a beautiful wedding gift from his side. She mentioned an uncle. It would not be difficult for him to locate her relatives. It was the nature of his job to find things that were impossible to locate.

  “What about you?” she asked. “I know nothing about you.”

  She would like to know more about Russell. She was hoping to start a life with him, and she had no clue about his origins. She knew nothing about his line of work. The only thing she knew about him was he had a twin brother. He was her future brother-in-law, but their first meeting was not like normal people. Instead of meeting cordially, she had attacked him without giving him a chance to explain. She had slapped him hard across his face and pulled his hair, but he did not throw her off him, even though he had the strength to overpower her easily. He had lain beneath her, palms raised and endured her fury, which meant he was a nice person.

  “Let’s see, hmmm, two infants were left in front of a church on a rainy night. The p
riest was condemning the two same looking devils to Hell when a coachman picked them up and gave them a home, or so he claimed,” he chuckled, recalling the sweet memories. “His name was Simon and he is the only parent I have ever known.”

  She realized the name he was using was not his family name. He called himself Russell Simon. His last name belonged to a stranger who was not related to him. She was raised by Philip, but she would never dream of using his name in place of her family’s name. The family name was a symbol of true identity and showed one’s lineage. Philip was nice to them, but he could never replace her father.

  “You are using a stranger’s name as your last name,” she said, disbelief evident in her voice.

  His step faltered. He was so used to his name that sometimes it took him a while to recall his relation to the coachman. Simon had cooked meals for them when they were hungry, fed them with his own hands, provided them with every facility his meager salary could afford, narrated stories before they went to bed, and most of all, he made them feel loved. He never let them feel the absence of their parents. His parents might be alive, but he considered himself an orphan the day Simon died.

  “A stranger who raised me as his own means more to me than the people who abandoned me.”

  She felt the love he harbored for his adopted father. Clearly, that man was very important to him. She was feeling proud of her choice. He was grateful for the sacrifices a stranger made for him and was giving him the status of his father. She would love nothing more than to meet the man who raised him. He was not a nobleman, yet he was not lacking manners. He was kind, gentle, and cared about other people because of his good upbringing.

  “Where is your father now?” she asked. “I would like to meet him one day.”

  He became melancholic. If his father were alive, he would have brought her to him a long time ago. He would have never chosen a wife without his blessing. If his father had asked him to let her go, he would have let her go without thinking twice, even if it meant spending the rest of his life alone, but he was confident that if his father was alive, he would have loved her too.

  “I would have liked that too, but he is dead,” he said gloomily. “He was murdered by a nobleman right before my eyes.”

  He had not intended to add the last part, but he was feeling vulnerable at the moment. The mention of his father brought back all the good and bad memories associated with his father. In a few seconds, the first eight years of his life flashed before his eyes.

  “That is awful,” she said hesitantly. “What happened?”

  His father had wrapped up his work in the duke’s stable. They were about to leave for their quarters when three noblemen entered the stable. They latched the door and asked his father to take a walk. He was a child. He did not realize the danger he was in, but his father knew instantly their sick motives. They were there for him.

  “I am not letting you near my child at any cost,” his father said angrily.

  His father stood before him protectively, holding a small stick in his hand while the noblemen had swords with them. They laughed at the feeble attempts of his father as they circled them like a pack of hyenas. It was not a fair fight. One man with a stick against three with swords was pure injustice.

  “We will see how long you last,” the leader said, taunting his father.

  Two noblemen grabbed his father from behind while the leader stabbed him with his sword a number of times, laughing at the painful grunts his father was making. He was rooted in place, traumatized at the brutal murder of his father.

  “Run,” his father said hoarsely.

  In his fright, he ran towards the gate, which was bolted shut by the noblemen. He was grabbed by the lapels of his shirt by the one who killed his father. In his attempts to get free from him, his shirt got torn in the process. He was already traumatized by witnessing the murder of his father. In that situation, when the nobleman touched his face and chest, he screamed bloody murder.

  At that precise moment, the door burst open. He was thrown to the side, losing consciousness immediately. When he opened his eyes, his brother was sitting beside him outside a burning stable. He lost consciousness once again and did not wake for another three hours.

  “It was a usual peaceful night like any other in the small town of Colchester. I was with my father in the stables when a nobleman entered and killed my father for no apparent reason.”

  He did not want to be perceived as tainted by her. He would rather hide the truth from her than come across as a weak person in her eyes. She would consider him a pathetic person whose father sacrificed his life to save him, yet he could not manage to escape from the noblemen.

  He had never asked his brother about the events that transpired once he was knocked out because he had assumed that Shane had been at the servants’ quarters when their father was murdered and when he was being chased by a group of cowardly people who found it amusing to torment an already traumatized child.

  “My father died while he was visiting his friend in the same town,” she said.

  Isabella would never forget the name of that cursed town. Her father was killed in that place. There were lots of painful memories associated with that one word. The loss of her father caused a ripple effect in their lives. They had to vacate their childhood home, lose servants, and endure their lives in a secluded place away from other people.

  “We share a macabre history I suppose,” he said.

  Their fathers were killed in the same town, but only for one of them, the loss of a parent was devastating. Isabella did not care for her father, but Russell would give anything to have his father back. If the events could be reversed, he would allow the noblemen to do anything to him if only they spared his father’s life.

  “I would have appreciated something more pleasant,” she said.

  “Me too,” he said distractedly.

  She noticed his pensiveness. Their conversation was making him sad. He was deep in thought, unaware of his surroundings. She was afraid to ask him about the thoughts that were responsible for the sadness in his eyes. She had seen him laughing most of the time. He was quick to guffaw at small things. It was a rare occasion to see his face devoid of the usual mischievous look.

  She did not care about the maids and the rules of society when she reached out a hand to his face. She had intended to smooth the wrinkles that were formed on his forehead, but as soon as her hand touched his face, he jumped back, singed from her touch, and put a palm to the place where she had touched him. She was dumbstruck, not comprehending the situation. For the first time, it dawned upon her that she had never touched him because he was not allowing it. He was intentionally restraining her hands whenever they kissed or slept together.

  “What happened, Russell?” she asked.

  She was wide-eyed, afraid to know the answer. Was her presence repulsive to him? Was he also avoiding her like the rest of the society? Was there some hidden flaw in her that she was not aware of? Could it be possible that she was suffering from a contagious disease and she was not aware of it? She was not hard on the eyes, yet there was no line of suitors waiting at her doorstep, eager to meet her and offer her marriage. He was the only one who had promised marriage, but could it be possible that he was mocking her?

  “I… forgive me, Lady Isabella,” he said. “I just remembered, I have to be somewhere important.”

  He turned around and practically ran from her presence. She realized it was the last time she would ever get to see him. He was leaving her. This was the only outcome she could imagine after the way he ran away.

  She fell to her knees, silencing her screams with a palm. She wanted to run after him, call him to return to her, but her self-respect was not allowing it. If there were a slight doubt in her mind that he would return if she called his name, she would have thrown away all decorum and ran after him like a madwoman. He was not coming back.

  “We should head back, my lady.”

  A maid touched her on her shoulder, underst
anding her loss. She had been dumped by him, in front of her maids in the middle of a crowded park.

  She was taken away in a dazed state by her maids. She cried the whole way to her home while the maids tried to comfort her, but how could she remain calm when the man she loved had left her. He had taken everything from her, leaving behind a hollow shell.

  As soon as the carriage stopped outside their house, she ran inside, sobbing and crying. She ran past her mother and Philip, refusing to answer their calls and ran straight to her sister’s room.

  “He left me,” she said, bawling like a child.

  Margaret was pouting, still upset about not being allowed to accompany her, but her expression changed into alarm as soon as she saw her condition. Before Margaret could inquire, Isabella wrapped her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

  “What happened, Bella?” Margaret asked. “Tell me in detail.”

  Isabella narrated the whole story, without skipping a detail amidst sobs and wailing. She was heartbroken. There was nothing in the world that could make her feel better. Her love was thrown back in her face by the only person who had stolen her heart.

  “Did it occur to you that he was trying to save you from being perceived a debauched and wanton woman if you had touched him?” Margaret asked.

  Isabella wiped her tears with the back of her hands, looking at her sister in bewilderment. Margaret was not making any sense.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, sniffling and holding back her tears.

  Margaret gave her a look which suggested she was a daft person and it should be clear to her too what she was thinking.

  “You were in public, Bella. Everyone in London society would have known about the scandal if even a single person had witnessed the intimate moment. You are not formally engaged to him yet, Bella. You should watch your every step. We are already not receiving a warm welcome. One wrong step could further jeopardize our situation.”