Found and Bound - A Victorian Romance Novella (The Victorian Arrangement Series Book 2)

by R. G. Winter

  Found and Boun d Copyright © 2016 by R.G. Winter.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Jonathan came toward her. The tang of salt lay heavy in the air and Madelaine was certain that her curls had become terribly messy. She lifted a hand to her tresses then dropped it again.

  Her heart always skipped a few beats when she saw Jonathan. Today it shriveled into a hard little stone that lay far too heavy in her chest. Dread boiled up, making her throat fill with a lump that was salty as the air—but instead of coming from the ocean that lump came from the tears she held back, but barely.

  He approached. “Liam said you’d gone out for a ride.”

  Persephone dipped her head so his hand could stroke her velvety nose. Madelaine looked away. The wind struck her cheeks. “So I did.”

  His eyes swept across her face. “You look rather chagrined today.”

  “Do I? Perhaps it’s just the weather.”

  He stepped closer. His stormy eyes stayed on hers. The wind whipped his dark hair and his hand, tanned and strong, swept a few errant curls away. “You won’t say it, will you?”

  Her lips trembled. She drew herself up, holding her head high. “Say what Jonathan?”

  “You read the letter.”

  She counted to ten, trying to halt the anger that spewed through her. Then she counted to twenty. “I thought it was for me. I saw the seal, you see. I had no idea that it might be to you.”

  Jonathan said, “I am not angry that you opened it. However, when you saw that it was not to you, why did you not stop reading it? It was private.”

  The anger broke free. “I see. You’re correct. It was private. It was just that it shocked me so and…and I was unable to comprehend what the letter could mean at first then when I started reading I was just so startled…oh! No matter! You lied to me! I told you everything and you lied to me!”

  Jonathan took her hand. “I didn’t lie.”

  “Omission is just as much of lie!”

  He dropped her hand. He stepped back, dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. Her heart thundered in her chest. “Watch your step!”

  His smile was crooked, “At least I know you’d not have me tumble into the abyss.”

  “I should push you over! Oh!” She stomped her foot again. Persephone, startled, whinnied nervously. Instantly Madelaine’s hand went to her nose and stroked it to soothe her. Persephone settled and Madelaine’s nerves did too.

  “I would rather hope you wouldn’t.”

  Madelaine took up Persephone’s reins. “I would never, not really. You’ve upset me so Jonathan. I’ve made a life for myself, and it’s the life I want…”

  “Then you, of all people, should understand!”

  His exclamation made her want to soften her heart. She didn’t. Couldn’t. “I do understand. However my sympathy is not the same as forgiveness. Whether you meant to or not you lied to me, whether that was by outright means or simply not mentioning the truth it was still a lie.”

  “Can you blame me for not mentioning it?”

  She gripped Persephone’s reins tighter. “Of course I can! I trusted you with my whole being and you did not trust me! How can I trust you now? I do not even know what it is that you want from me!”

  She led Persephone away from the edge of the cliffs, her mind still whirling. She headed back downward, hoping he would follow her, explain himself.

  But what kind of explanation could there be for his actions?

  The ones that came to mind were not good, and she did not want to consider the reasons that she could imagine. They were too awful, and too terrible in their implications.

  It came to Madelaine, as she walked, that perhaps Jonathan did not have the same feelings for her that she had for him. That perhaps he did not imagine her in his life on a permanent basis.

  This was likely all a lark to him, just as she had suspected, and now he would simply vanish from her life. Or, worse, expect her to continue things just the way that they had been going—and when he returned home he would never see her again.

  Or care about her either.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them back.

  He wasn’t worth crying over if he simply saw her as someone to pass the time with, someone he could dispose of so easily.

  Well, he could go back to his life as a lord if he liked, but he would not take her heart with him!

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next days passed slowly. Liam was horribly upset over having given her the letter. Colin kept his distance as well, sensing that Madelaine was out of sorts and not wanting to get involved with what he obviously felt was a personal issue.

  As it was.

  Caoimhe was sympathetic but Madelaine knew she was also slightly angry at her. She had told Madelaine about Freddy, after all, and in warning, and Madelaine had all but ignored that warning and run heedlessly and headlong into Jonathan’s arms and bed—and look at what had happened!

  Fortunately the Admiral’s Arms was very busy over those days. Madelaine worked hard, and as long as she worked hard she could drop into bed at night and sleep, if not soundly, at least well enough to keep herself from thinking so much about the situation.

  Jonathan spoke to her occasionally but she ignored him.

  It was unkind, and she knew it. She had to do it though. She was madly in love with him, with a man who had lied to her, who had not trusted her despite his secret being so like her own.

  That was the whole rub of it. She was a lady, and he was a lord. They had that in common, that and the fact that they had both run away from that position to make a life for themselves.

  Of all the people in the world she was the one he should have trusted with that secret.

  The tension continued to mount. Jonathan was on her mind, no matter how much she pushed those thoughts away or worked her hardest to keep her mind from drifting to him she would catc
h herself thinking of those things.

  As soon as she realized she was thinking of them she immediately thrust him out of her thoughts, but he kept coming back in and every time she saw him her mind went right back to picking at the issues.

  It was maddening!

  What nerve!

  Madelaine set a bowl of stew and a tankard of ale on a table, smiled at the man who’d ordered them, and dashed back behind the long counter. There were plenty of men lined up, waiting for food and drink, and the Admiral’s Arms was crowded to the rafter that evening. Madelaine was grateful for it too, since Jonathan was propped up near a corner, talking to a few men while his eyes constantly stayed on her.

  Well let him look! She grabbed more bowls, poured the rich and foaming ale, and headed back out to drop those things off.

  Laughter rang out. Smoke covered the air, the wonderful aroma of cigars and pipes.

  So different from home.

  In the world of lords and ladies the men closed themselves away to smoke, and the ladies pretended that they had no idea of what they were doing in those room. If they did mention it was only so that the hostess could tell the other ladies that they should leave the men to their port and cigars after a dinner.

  If she had stayed at home, wed as she had been supposed to she would likely be presiding over some boring old dinner party right then!

  She wiped her lightly-sweating brow, smiled at Colin, who’d poked his head out of the kitchen to ask if she was too busy. Caoimhe gave her a glance and madeleine read worry in her eyes.

  The truth was she felt a bit peaky.

  Still, it was work or think.

  “I’m fine, thank you Colin.”

  He nodded and vanished. Caoimhe waited until they were near a quiet corner, and then, lowering her voice she asked, “Are you sure you’re not…?”

  Madelaine blinked. Not what? What was she talking about? The color rose in her cheeks as Caoimhe glanced around to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear her nearly inaudible whisper. “You know…with child.’

  With child?

  Madelaine, thunderstruck, could not even manage to say a word to that question. A man roared for more ale. Caoimhe started toward the man and Madelaine quickly turned away, her thoughts racing.

  She worked tirelessly, without letting her brain tell her anything more than serve the food, pour the ale.

  Jonathan stayed where he was, but she didn’t look over at him for fear he could read her face and heart.

  She hurried, her feet barely skimming the floor. The wind had picked up, and the tide had turned, leaving many unable to set out in their boats so they stayed late and they paid well.

  By the time Colin finally announced that the place was closing and it was time for Camoinhe and Madelaine to retire to their beds Madelaine was exhausted. Colin’s pronouncement filled her with relief.

  Her feet dragged as she went up the stairs. Her eyes burned and her back ached. Her shoulders were sore, and her hands slightly raw from spilled ale and hot stew. As she entered her small room she found she had to admit that those things were still preferable to the life she had been living.

  Yes. Indeed.

  She stripped hastily and donned a nightgown then washed her face and hands thoroughly, rubbing some sweet-scented lotion into her hands before heading for her bed.

  The weather had indeed changed. Rain tapped at the roof, and she could hear the wind blowing around the corners of the building.

  “Well, at least I’m not stuck marrying a man I don’t know at all, and don’t enjoy.”

  The words were soft and low; oddly, they brought her no comfort.

  She slid into bed. The sheets crackled and then softened beneath the heat of her body. She stretched her arms upward and then turned to her side.

  Her door, always locked, creaked slightly. Madelaine sat up, her heart leaping into her throat. She grabbed the base of the candleholder by her bed and slid out of the warm comfort of it.

  Jonathan’s voice came through the door, “I need to speak with you. Please. I must leave in two days’ time.”

  She wanted to tell him to go to Hades. Instead she crossed the room, her feet treading lightly.

  She opened the door and hissed, “You take a risk coming here now.”

  “I risk more if I do not speak to you at all.”

  The doorway framed him. His eyes, made even more turbulent and dark by the shadows in the hall, fixed on hers, an imploring expression written into them. “For God’s sake do not leave me standing in the hallway to say this to you.”

  She stepped back from the door, opening it wider for him. He came through it and she caught a whiff of his aftershave and cigars. He hadn’t been smoking, he had just been close to those who were. The smell was pleasant, however.

  He closed the door softly. Locked it. His arms came and out and she folded into his embrace, cursing herself for her weakness—and utterly unable to resist the feeling of his strong, virile body against hers.

  “I must go home.”

  The words stirred her hair, and her heart.

  She closed her eyes, resting her cheek on his chest. Below her ear was the steady drum of his heartbeat. “I know you must.”

  “I wish you to go with me. To marry me Madelaine. I know you ran away rather than marry—but surely you left so as not to marry a man you did not know or love.

  “I trust you know and love me, however.”

  Her heart was torn. She cleared her throat. “I do, to both. But I don’t understand why you did not tell me.”

  “I was afraid to. It seemed—outlandish at the least! I wondered, I truly wondered, if perhaps you would think me a liar or—worse, mocking of your story.”

  She blinked. “I had never considered that my telling you of my life would silence you about yours.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, no. It didn’t. Fear silenced me. That and I was afraid you would, indeed, think I was a trifle mad and just trying to…to match your tale.

  “You must admit Madelaine, once I heard what you had to say…well, how could I tell you? I’m the type of man you ran away from. I most certainly didn't want you to run away from me as well. I was afraid you would though, and am highly gratified that you haven’t, yet at any rate.”

  “I’m not running.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Oh Jonathan, we’re quite a pair of runaways, aren’t we?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “It seems so. It also seems that I can no longer run away from my position or the duties that it lays upon me.”

  Her hands went to his shoulders. “No, you can’t.”

  “But can you?”

  She bit her lip. This was it then. She had to come to a decision. “That’s a lot to ask me to consider so quickly.”

  His hands caught hers. “I was hoping you’d have enough love for me, know me well enough to know that I do not want to tame you.”

  She’d hurt him, without meaning to. “I do love and know you well enough to know that you would not want to do that. It is society that wishes to enslave me.”

  “And me.”

  “We could always run away again, farther this time.” She spoke only half in jest.

  His hands slid to her shoulders then her arms. He pulled her closer, then closer yet. Their bodies pressed together. Her breasts, below the nightgown, flattened against his strong chest. Lightning-quick flashes of desire spiked through her body.

  His hands smoothed the flesh of her neck, ran along the lace trim of the gown’s bodice. “”Oh, the boring staid rides through Hyde Park.”

  His lips hovered close to hers. Her hands went to his coat, began to pull it away and down. “The corsets!”

  His mouth brushed hers, lightly. “The choking cravats!’

  Her fingers yanked the coat away, dropped it to the floor. “The afternoon teas filled with idle chatter and gossip!”

  His teeth tugged at her bottom lip then released it. His fingers found the ribbons that held her nightgown closed at the neck. “
Parliament and my seat in it!”

  Breathless and gasping she began to undo the laces of his shirt. “The polite social calls, white gloves and calling cards!

  His hands undid the ribbons and nimbly pushed her gown down around her waist. “The gloomy dullness of the gentleman’s club!”

  His magnificent chest came into view. Their bodies met again. His mouth sought out hers. She muttered, “Oh for God’s sake—all the polite little lies and the gowns! So heavy!”

  “The weight of responsibility and privilege,” his mouth moved to her breasts.

  All her thoughts went right out of her head. Her fingers griped his hair and her body arched toward his, her fingers exploring his body as his explored hers. They managed to make it to her small and narrow bed, but just barely.

  Their passion soared as they undressed each other the rest of the way and let their hands and mouths and bodies get their fill of each other.

  His member was hot and hard, her body opened for him and they moved in a long slow rhythm that quickly became more urgent.

  Madelaine felt her passion crest then break just as his did. Their bodies met with one final, aching shudder of friction, heat, and need then they lay there, tangled together in a pile of entwined limbs, sweat and golden languor.

  Jonathan said, “Madelaine, you are the only woman who understands me. You must marry me or I’ll go mad. I’ll have to find some stiff and boring wife who has wed me simply because her parents have decided I am fit for husbandry.”

  “That would mean going back.”

  It would. Could she give up her independence from society’s restrictions upon her?

  She could, but only if she had Jonathan at her side. He would never tell her to ride gently. To be silent. He would not expect her to embroider prettily in order to while away the days and long nights. He would ask her opinion and value and respect it.

  “Well, I suppose if it would mean saving you from so harsh a fate I must marry you,” she said lightly.

  His fingers tangle din her hair. He kissed her, long and hard. “Yes, you must.”

  “Then I shall.”