Always Yours

by Cheryl Holt

  Sebastian scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

  “We’ll see, I guess.”

  Raven rose and stomped out, and Sebastian said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that Miss Robertson is pretty and intriguing, and a man could land himself in a load of trouble with a vixen like her.”

  “I imagine a man could,” Sebastian cautiously replied.

  “You should be careful. If a young boy has noticed your interest, it’s gotten out of hand.”

  Then Raven was gone, and Sebastian slumped down in his chair.

  Apparently, Raven had been listening from the hall. Apparently also, Sebastian had to keep better secrets. It appeared the whole bloody world had figured out the biggest one of all.

  * * * *

  Sarah was lying in her bed and staring out at the dark night. It was warm and clear, and she had the blanket kicked off and the shutters open so she could gaze at the stars.

  Worries plagued her, and she couldn’t sleep, which was odd. Usually, she worked so hard that, when evening arrived, she was exhausted and drifted off immediately. But not anymore.

  With the orphanage closed, she’d lost her purpose in life, and she had no idea how to regroup. She was busy with writing letters and chatting with Noah and Petunia, but those two endeavors didn’t require any energy, so she’d run out of ways to tire herself.

  She wondered where Sebastian was, and pathetic as it was to admit, she missed him. She’d tarried in the parlor until eleven, thinking he’d sneak in, but she’d finally had to accept that he wasn’t coming, and she’d trudged off to bed.

  For a lengthy period, she’d tried to deduce her feelings about him and why she was pining away. In order to manage her father’s beloved orphanage, she’d eschewed marriage, yet she’d let the facility slip away. The loss of it left her afraid that men were correct. Perhaps women oughtn’t to be in charge of any enterprise.

  Because she’d never previously engaged in a flirtation, she hadn’t understood the type of strong emotion that would be stirred. She was yearning for boons she could never have and that sort of craving was futile and idiotic.

  She wouldn’t mope and brood over Sebastian Sinclair! It was ridiculous, and she was pounding the pillow with her fist, struggling to get comfortable, when a noise sounded out in the bushes. She propped up on an elbow, curious as to what was transpiring, when he emerged from the shrubbery.

  She nearly spoke to ask what he was doing, but he put a finger to his lips, motioning her to silence. He clapped his hands on the sill and hefted himself inside. She’d like to claim she was irked by his audacity and that she gestured for him to depart at once, but the pitiful fact was that she was inordinately delighted to see him.

  She held out her arms in welcome. He fell into them and stretched out atop her, and he began kissing her as if they’d been separated for years. The frantic embrace continued for an eternity, and when he ultimately slowed and drew away, they were giggling like naughty schoolchildren.

  “I gave up on you,” she said.

  “I had decided not to come.”

  The news was terribly distressing. Was he growing weary of her already? His intoxicating presence in her dreary life was the only thing keeping her sane. He couldn’t avoid her!

  “If you’d stayed away,” she said, “I’d have been so disappointed.”

  In response, he stood and went over to the window to pull the shutters closed. Then he tiptoed back and joined her on the mattress again.

  “It seems, Miss Robertson”—he was whispering—“that your wards are aware of my clandestine visits.”

  “Oh, my. They never mentioned it to me.”

  “Well, they definitely mentioned it to me. Petunia has observed me skulking out—twice—and I’ve been thoroughly chastised by Noah. He forced me to promise I’d leave you alone.”

  “The scamp! He has so much nerve.”

  “I agree.”

  “I don’t need protecting, and he’s not my father.”

  “He thinks I have bad intentions toward you.”

  “Do you?” she saucily inquired.

  “As I’m snuggled with you on this paltry bed, I have to admit he might be right.”

  “Maybe I have bad intentions too,” she said. “Maybe I shall simply use you for illicit entertainment. Have you ever considered that?”

  “Females aren’t allowed to have bad intentions, so no, I haven’t considered it.” He grinned. “Now then, I swore to Noah that I would confine our conversations to business matters involving the three of you, so what would you like to discuss?”

  “It’s a tad late to be talking business. I’m too fatigued to voice a cogent comment on any topic.”

  “Let’s deem the business end of our meeting to be complete.”

  She chuckled. “Let’s do.”

  He shifted them around so he was lying on his back, and she was nestled over his torso, her ear directly over his heart. They dawdled in the quiet, and it was a perfect moment. Why had she never realized that an encounter with a man could be so precious?

  Was it common for a couple to be so attuned? She imagined it was. Women constantly landed themselves in jams with men, and she’d always assumed—and was told—it was due to weakness of character or lack of morals.

  But she had plenty of character and morals, so what was her excuse? She suspected that amorous conduct was addicting and could quickly spiral beyond a person’s ability to manage. She was certainly in no hurry to slow the pace of what was occurring.

  “I missed you,” he murmured.

  “If I tell you I missed you too, will you please not gloat?”

  “No, but tell me anyway.”

  She sighed with disgust—at herself, at her deplorable infatuation. “I missed you, and I’ve been feeling sorry for myself because you didn’t come to see me.”

  “We’re a pathetic pair, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, and since you are a sophisticated fellow who I’m sure has engaged in many torrid affairs, will you explain to me what’s happening?”

  “We enjoy a physical attraction,” he blithely said, as if it was the most common event in the world. And for him, it probably was. “Amour occasionally heats up to an incredible temperature, but it’s rare for it to be this stimulating.”

  “What produces it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s one of the mysteries of the universe. Some people simply share a potent magnetism. There’s no rhyme or reason for it.”

  “It’s more than mere physical attraction though. I…I…like you much more than I should.”

  “Of course you should like me. I’m extremely likable.”

  “Sometimes you are,” she said, “but most times, you’re a pest.”

  “In your view, aren’t all men?”

  “Yes.”

  “So when I annoy you, I’m behaving exactly as you were anticipating.”

  “Yes,” she repeated.

  “Well, I don’t like you, so I can’t figure out why I keep sneaking over here.”

  “I think you might be fibbing a little. I think you like me just fine.”

  “Perhaps,” he grumbled.

  It dawned on her that she was very happy. She didn’t know how long she’d hold his attention, but she was anxious to absorb every single detail about him so, later on, after he’d vanished, she’d be able to vividly recall every facet of their meetings.

  “I’ll be busy for the next week or two,” he said.

  “With the inquest?”

  “Yes. I have to testify and all my men will testify too. I’m determined to have a good report disseminated after it’s over. I can’t have my father’s legacy besmirched.”

  “What would the findings have to be for you to consider it a good report?”

  “It would state that my father’s death was terrible and unavoidable, and we couldn’t have prevented it. I won’t have questions lingering as to whether we could have saved him.”

  “Could you have?”
>
  “No. It happened so fast, and my friend, Nathan? Lord Selby? He tried to stop it, and he was nearly killed for his efforts.”

  She relished his casual mentions of her half-brother, and she asked, “Will he testify?”

  “Yes. It’s why I rode to Selby the other day, to check that he was coming. Even though he detests me now, he’ll do it for Sir Sidney.”

  “I doubt he detests you deep down.”

  “You have no idea how incensed he is.”

  “You were intimates for too many years. It might be cathartic for him to talk about the incident. Afterward, he might not be so angry.”

  “I’ll hope for it, but I’m not optimistic.”

  She wondered when her half-brother would appear at the hearing. She’d never seen him in person—not that she recollected anyway—and she was desperate to catch a glimpse of him.

  “Is the inquest open to the public?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is there a schedule posted somewhere?”

  “Not that I know of. Why?”

  “I was curious as to who’s been subpoenaed. I’d like to read through the list of witnesses.”

  “Mostly, it’s the men from the expedition.”

  They were silent for a bit, to the point where she suspected he’d dozed off, but he inquired, “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

  “I’d restart my orphanage. It seems so wrong that it was closed. There are too many rich scoundrels like you, and they sire too many children.”

  “You’d really start it up again?”

  “Don’t be so shocked. It gave me a purpose. Why would I walk away without a fight?”

  “It’s precisely the response I should have expected from you, but it’s too pragmatic. Pick something more interesting—even if you have to make it up.”

  “Maybe I’d like to get married and have my own husband and home.”

  He scoffed. “Every woman wishes for that.”

  “Not me.” His sudden presence in her life was spurring all kinds of peculiar urges. “It’s the first time I ever thought of it, and I can’t believe the words just popped out of my mouth.”

  He laughed. “Neither can I. You’re twenty-seven, so you’re a dedicated spinster, and you’ll likely stay that way. Try again.”

  “All right. I’d like to sail around the globe and tour all the castles in Europe and explore Italy to snoop out all the old statuary and murals. How’s that?”

  “Better.”

  In reality, she’d like to tarry by his side, but she didn’t dare admit it. Instead, she switched the topic to him. Men liked to blather on about themselves.

  “If you could have anything,” she asked, “what would it be?”

  “I already have all a man could want: money, fame, status, reputation.”

  “That’s too predictable.” She repeated his comment back to him. “Pick a more interesting choice.”

  “I guess I’d like to be happy.”

  “You’re not happy?”

  “I probably should have said happier. My life is quite grand at the moment, but it could always be improved.”

  “True, but you’re not doing too badly just as you are.”

  Out of the blue, he announced, “Noah thinks I should support him and Petunia.”

  “He suggested it to you?”

  “Yes, and I’m considering it. They’re my father’s children after all, but I can’t decide what’s best. If I rented a house and provided a stipend, would you like to live with them? Would you raise them for me?”

  She pushed up on an elbow to stare at him. Was he serious? Or was he simply voicing ideas to hear how they sounded?

  “I would love to raise them,” she said. “We’ve been through so much that they seem like my own children. As matters resolve, if I had to part from them, I’d be devastated.”

  “I’m merely pondering my options, so don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I always get my hopes up,” she told him. “I’m an eternal optimist, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  He snuggled her down and murmured, “What am I going to do with you?”

  There were a thousand ways she might have answered—keep me, have me, wed me, make me yours forever—but she figured the question was rhetorical. His thoughts wouldn’t be running on the path where hers were skipping around.

  “It will all work out,” she said.

  “I like having you here—where I can hurry over whenever I’m in the mood.”

  “I like having you stop by.”

  “If you left the Haven, I wouldn’t have a reason to see you anymore.”

  “If you wind up supporting Noah and Petunia, you could use them as an excuse to visit me.”

  “I hate that I’d need an excuse.”

  “Men like you don’t have friendships with women like me. Actually, they don’t have any sort of relationship with women like me.”

  She waited with bated breath, yearning for him to disagree, to declare that she was exactly the female he wanted, but of course, he didn’t. What would happen between them? She was positive, in the end, she’d be brokenhearted.

  When she jumped into a person’s life, she jumped in completely. She imagined it was because of what had occurred before she was three, when she might have resided with her half-brother, Nathan. All of it had been yanked away, so when she bonded now, she latched on hard.

  She’d give everything she had to please Sebastian Sinclair, then he’d waltz away when he was tired of her. When that terrible day arrived, she’d be…where? Nowhere she’d like to be, that was for sure.

  It was quiet and late, and she felt so safe in his arms. Without intending to, she dozed off and fell into her old dream, the one where she was with her guardian angel—the girl who was just like her.

  They were standing nose to nose, talking in a strange language she didn’t understand. Was it the language spoken in Heaven? In the dream, they always recognized what their odd words meant.

  Then…without warning, the wicked witch swooped in and snatched her away.

  Bec-Bec, Sarah called, realizing she knew her angel’s name. Both of them were crying. She reached out, and Bec-Bec reached out too, but she was being carried off too quickly.

  She sat up with a start, her pulse racing, a moan of despair on her lips. Frantically, she glanced about, requiring a few seconds to recollect where she was. She was in her bedroom, on her narrow bed, but Sebastian wasn’t with her. Had he departed without a goodbye?

  No, there he was, seated on the only chair.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Watching you sleep.”

  “Weren’t you bored to tears?”

  “You’re so beautiful when you’re resting. You look younger, less…distressed.”

  “Flatterer.”

  She shoved her hair out of her eyes. “I had such a nightmare.”

  “Was it the one with your guardian angel?”

  “I can’t believe you remember such a paltry detail about me.”

  “I’m filling up a book of Sarah details. Was it the same as before?”

  “Yes, the wicked witch dragged me away.”

  He stood and laid a palm on the top of her head, as if she were a child he was comforting. “It saddens me to think that any issue vexes you.”

  “I’m fine.” She was embarrassed, and she eased away, anxious to feel less discombobulated. “What time is it?”

  “I have no idea, but I have to go.”

  “Must you?”

  Her tone was so needy and possessive, but she desperately wished he would tarry.

  “Yes, I must.” He sighed with regret. “I’ll be busy next week, so I don’t know when I’ll be able to stop by again.”

  Her heart lurched in her chest. “Because of the inquest? Or not ever?”

  “Just for the week,” he hurried to say. “My schedule is full, and some nights, I won’t even return to the Haven. I’ll be st
aying in town. So don’t pine away, wondering where I am.”

  “Vain bounder. I shall absolutely waste away without you.”

  “That’s more like it. I’m wearing you down.”

  “Mortified as I am by it, I like you more than I should.”

  “Which I deem to be a very marvelous conclusion.”

  He bent down and delivered a luscious kiss. Before it could become too interesting, he drew away and straightened.

  She gazed up at him, a thousand affectionate comments swirling that couldn’t be voiced.

  She couldn’t abide the tension it created, so she said, “Good luck at the inquest. I’ll pray it resolves as you’re hoping.”

  “I’ll take all the prayers I can get.”

  “I’ll pray too that you and your friend, Lord Selby, mend your quarrel.”

  “You claimed you’d pray for me. I didn’t realize you could work miracles too.”

  She chuckled at that. “I’ll miss you. I really will.”

  “I’ll miss you too. I imagine it’s pointless to tell you to keep out of trouble while I’m away.”

  “I always try to keep out of trouble.”

  “Try harder, would you?”

  He peered down at her with such tender regard that she was completely flummoxed. What was she supposed to do with that look? How would she ever survive without it?

  “If I’m tied up longer than I expect,” he said, “I’ll send you a note.”

  “You would? Are you pretending to be the type of man who might sit down and write a letter?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  He dipped down, stole a last, quick kiss, then went over to the window. He paused for a moment to flash an exasperated grimace over the need for stealth, then he opened the shutters, climbed out, and crept away.

  She flopped down on her pillow and whispered the prayer she’d promised him—for his inquest to end beneficially. But she also added one for Noah and Petunia and the possibility that he might support them. Then, because she was feeling greedy, she included one for herself too.

  She prayed for strength, for the fortitude required to deal with Sebastian Sinclair, and mostly, for the stamina to continue on once he grew weary of her and left.

  * * * *

  Rebecca Blake Carter drifted off to sleep. It had been a difficult day, and she was exhausted. Almost immediately, she fell into her old dream, the scary one she loathed. It had recurred—particularly during periods of stress—ever since she was little.