Donna Fletcher

by Whispers on the Wind

  “You’ll catch your death in those wet garments,” Matilda scolded after entering the bedchamber and she quickly helped strip Billie out of them.

  She sat on the bed, shivering beneath the warm blanket wrapped around her and watched as Pembrooke dragged a large brass tub into the room and deposited it in front of the burning hearth. Water, Pembrooke carried up in buckets full, was heated over the flames in a deep iron pot hanging over the open hearth flames.

  Matilda shoved a hot cup of tea into Billie’s trembling hands and ordered her to drink it all. She didn’t object to Matilda’s motherly fussing; she actually enjoyed it.

  Pembrooke left the room after being forced out by a bossy Matilda and within minutes Billie eased herself down with a grateful sigh into lavender-scented, steaming hot water.

  “I’ll leave you to relax,” Matilda said. “Your drying towels are hung over this chair beside the tub and close to the flames to keep them toasty warm for you. I’ll be back shortly to see if you need anything more.”

  Billie shook her head, her eyes closed as her head rested back against the rim of the tub. “That won’t be necessary, Matilda. You’ve done more than enough already and the hour grows late. I can tend to the rest myself.”

  Matilda hesitated. “Are you certain, m’lady? You look so weary.”

  “My own fault,” Billie said with a laugh, “which this bath shall remedy. And then it will be off to bed for a much-needed night’s sleep.”

  “I’ll bring your breakfast up in the morning,” Matilda said, walking to the door.

  Billie was about to protest, but thought better of it. “Thank you, Matilda, for everything.”

  With a nod, Matilda bid her good night.

  Billie eased down further beneath the hot water, allowing the heat to penetrate her aching bones. She didn’t want to think about tonight’s adventures, or the consequences of returning to the manor in boy’s clothing. She wanted to forget about everything and concentrate on the pleasure of her steaming bath.

  Before the water cooled, she soaped her hair and washed it thoroughly and then she soaked, too tired to do much more. In a few short minutes her eyes drifted closed and she hovered on the brink of sleep, thinking only of the hearth’s crackling flames.

  “Where the bloody hell have you been?”

  Billie almost jumped from the tub before realizing the water was the only thing between Maximillian and her nakedness.

  Her eyes widened like round, full moons and she stared at him not blinking. He was mad—no—he was furious. He stood anchored to a spot a few feet in front of the tub, his stance rigid, his hands fisted at his sides, his jaw tense and his eyes . . .

  Raging.

  “Answer me.” He said that too softly.

  Short and to the point, she said, “Out.”

  Billie gave brief thought to the idea that smoke actually billowed from his nostrils, but it was only an angry flare.

  He walked over to where her clothes lay in a wet heap on the floor near the bed. He reached down and hooked the breeches on his finger, holding them up for her inspection. “What were you doing garbed as a boy? And where did your charade take you?”

  He had her cornered and the truth was her only option. The bathwater would soon cool considerably and become uncomfortable. She felt vulnerable enough naked beneath the warm water, but once it turned cold and chilled her skin she would feel even more trapped. She spoke with more resolve than she felt. “I discovered that a man who might have information concerning the wrecks here in St. Clair would be at the Cove Inn and . . .”

  She continued with her story, detailing the whole evening from her arrival at the inn, the conversation she overheard, the slap in the back of the head and her unexpected walk home.

  “So you can understand my fatigue,” she finished with an exaggerated yawn, hoping he would take the hint that she wished him to leave so she could rest.

  “You little fool,” he shouted, incensed. “Have you any idea the risks you took?”

  So much for hints. “I am tired and sore. I want only to crawl into bed and sleep. We can discuss this another time.”

  “You will not dismiss me as if I were a mere servant,” he warned, taking several steps toward the tub.

  She halted him with a quick outstretched hand. “Stop. This is not the proper time for me to be discussing this matter with you.”

  “Oh, we shall not discuss the matter, Belinda,” he said firmly. “I will tell you exactly what you are allowed and not allowed to do from this point on.”

  She flung his familiar words back at him. “I think not.”

  Maximillian lost all control. “You stupid little fool. Do you have any idea of the danger you placed yourself in tonight?”

  He didn’t expect an answer and paced where he stood, a few short steps from the tub. Too close to Billie’s way of thinking. She was as far beneath the water as she could go and if he stepped any closer . . .

  “Dressing like a common boy, drinking like a man, walking in a thunderstorm and leaving yourself prey to thieves, cutthroats and highwaymen! Have you no sense?”

  His shouts echoed in the room and he continued to berate her for her irresponsible actions.

  Billie grew more annoyed at his raging tirade. She had placed herself in jeopardy to help him and here he stood, reprimanding her like a child. And besides, the water was growing uncomfortably cool while she grew more irritated.

  “Do you realize any manner of danger could have befallen you? You could have been robbed.”

  “I carried no money.”

  “You could have been molested.”

  “I was dressed as a boy.”

  “You could have been murdered,” he shouted.

  She smiled sweetly. “Then we could have haunted the manor together.”

  Her sarcastic remark spurred him into action. He advanced on her like an enraged beast, his low growl all the more intimidating. Instinct jolted her into action and she jumped up, water splashing over the rim onto the carpet. Her hand shot out in front of her. “Stop!”

  He halted in his tracks, staring at her in rapt silence.

  In her nervous confusion she ignored her naked state and attempted an explanation. “I went to the inn to help you. If I can discover who in St. Clair is involved, then you may have your answers and then . . .”

  Her words drifted off as she realized the flames’ heat licked her wet backside and that Maximillian was staring at her nakedness.

  Their eyes met and Billie shuddered from his slow, intimate perusal.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said softly and took a step toward her.

  Her heart beat like a wild drum. “Don’t,” she cried regretfully.

  He took another measured step, his own heart racing wildly. “Why?”

  Coherent thought slowly slipped away from Billie. She forgot the towel sat only inches from her hand and she shook her head and answered, “Because.”

  His step was short but it brought him closer. “Because why?”

  Her hand quivered, continuing to ward him off. “It isn’t right.”

  He remained still. “How could it not be right, Belinda, when you come alive to my touch? I ignite the flames of fantasies deep inside you. They sputter and spark until you shiver with the sheer heat of unbridled passion. Your body was made to be loved.”

  His words worked their magic, lighting the tiny flame inside her and allowing it to flicker and tease.

  Her protest sounded weak. “No.”

  “Yes,” he argued, taking another step. “Your breasts are high and full, a perfect fit to my hand, your nipples rosy and quick to respond.”

  “Maximillian, please,” she pleaded, his blatantly intimate words stimulating her already aroused state.

  “I want to please you and pleasure you. I want to bring your body alive. I want to make love to you.”

  He had stepped closer with each word spoken. The last step he took brought his chest flat against her outstretched hand.

&
nbsp; “Feel me,” he urged and slipped her wet hand inside his shirt to press against his chest. “My flesh is heated with the want of you.”

  “This is madness,” she murmured.

  “Then step with me into madness and free me.” He pushed her hand aside and wrapped his arm around her wet waist, yanking her against him and devouring her mouth.

  The heat rushed through them both, fast and furious. Billie could no more deny him than she could deny herself. She wanted him. She had wanted him since the first time he had kissed her and awakened her dormant passion.

  Unforgettable.

  His kiss had been that and more.

  And the consequences of surrendering to her fantasies?

  His kiss turned forceful, demanding she respond, demanding surrender.

  She would face tomorrow when it came. Tonight she would open her heart to the ghostly lord and love.

  Billie tore her mouth from his hungry one. With panting breath she whispered, “Take me into your madness and love me.”

  He scooped her wet body up into his arms and walked to the bed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  If she was dreaming, she never wanted to wake up. This was her fantasy to tuck away inside her mind and heart and cherish forever and ever. This was her choice.

  Billie moaned with the onslaught of his lips rushing over her mouth and racing over her nipples, budding them into sharp ripeness.

  Maximillian stood back from the bed and shed his clothes. Billie thought his nakedness magnificent. She assessed him with the eyes of an appreciative lover, admiring his firm muscles, his fine curves and his full manhood.

  “Come to me,” she said, stretching her hand out to him.

  “With pleasure, m’lady.”

  To her surprise he approached her from the bottom of the bed, his hands sliding along her legs, spreading them slowly apart and descending down on her with a wicked grin.

  She tensed when she realized his intentions.

  “Easy, love,” he said, stroking her inner thigh. “Let me teach you the ways of love.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, as his mouth covered her intimately.

  Billie’s tense muscles relaxed within seconds and she soon found herself lost in a world of exploding passion. His tongue and fingers worked an erotic magic that left Billie panting and breathless. In her wildest dreams she would never have imagined such exquisite and torturous pleasure.

  Her hands grasped at the pillows beneath her head and her body rose and fell with each taste and touch he delivered. He had invited her to step into his madness and she most certainly had, for only madness could produce such potent feelings.

  She felt within herself a flame burning too brightly, ready to burst into a shatter of sparks. The feeling grew stronger, her moans became louder and she begged him . . . for what? She wasn’t certain. She could only repeat his name, crying for him to . . .

  She exploded and shattered in mindless pieces and before she could gather her senses he was covering her with his hot, hard body.

  His demanding kisses left her even more senseless. He nipped, licked and bit and she responded in kind, losing herself again to the all-consuming emotion that rushed over her.

  “You belong to me,” he said with such fervor that Billie shuddered beneath him.

  He continued his sensual assault, robbing every ounce of free will from her until she once again heard herself plead with him for release.

  He eased himself between her legs, ordered her to hold on to him and entered her so swiftly that she gasped from his sharp entrance. Her breath was further robbed from her as he moved with such a steady and intense rhythm she could think of nothing else but matching his thrusts.

  Their movement was as one, fluid and precise.

  “You’ll always belong to me,” he said, his voice harsh and panting from his sensual exertion.

  She didn’t doubt his words. After tonight she would belong to him body and soul. She was surrendering a part of herself she had only dreamed of . . . she was surrendering her love.

  They erupted together, their cries released in unison, their shuddering pleasure simultaneous. And their sighs of satisfaction drifted away like whispers on the wind.

  Maximillian eased himself up to lay beside her and gather her close against him. He pulled the counterpane over them and wrapped his arms around her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his breath still heavy.

  Her response was rapid and short. “Yes.”

  He rubbed her arm and draped his leg over hers locking her more securely to him. She faded against him, stealing his heat and strength.

  Talk seemed unnecessary. They lay fulfilled and content like sated lovers long involved.

  Billie’s eyes drifted closed, her mind unable to focus or comprehend the consequences of her actions with the ghostly lord.

  His lips once again touched her forehead before brushing over her closed eyes. “We aren’t finished, my love.”

  “So tired,” she mumbled before he kissed her lips.

  His wicked laugh rumbled in her ear. “Not yet you’re not.”

  And then his hands began to introduce her to a slow, tormenting pleasure.

  o0o

  “M’lady. M’lady,” the anxious voice called with gentle firmness.

  Billie pushed the counterpane down far enough from her face to peek through squinted eyes at Matilda standing at the foot of the bed holding a breakfast tray.

  She blushed profusely, recalling who had stood at the foot of her bed last night, and she groaned, yanking the covers back up over her face.

  “Are you all right, m’lady?” Matilda asked. “It’s almost noon. I’ve come up several times to check on you this morning, but you slumbered so deeply I couldn’t wake you.”

  “I’m fine, Matilda. I was very tired.” Of course, she thought, who wouldn’t be after a night of constant lovemaking? A move of her legs and an unfamiliar soreness brought a moan to her lips and a reminder of her intimate activities.

  “Your muscles ache?” Matilda asked, placing the tray on the nearby chair so she could assist Billie.

  Billie nodded as Matilda folded back the counterpane. “I’ll help you to sit up,” she continued. “Hot porridge, sweet bread and good strong tea will help to strengthen you.”

  Billie didn’t argue. In minutes Matilda had the pillows fluffed, Billie sitting up and braced against the mound, the coverlet folded back across Billie’s lap and Billie’s hair brushed and tied back with a ribbon.

  The woman was an absolute wonder, especially when she placed the full tray across Billie’s lap.

  “I’m starved.” Billie realized how hungry she was when the succulent scent of food wafted beneath her nostrils.

  Matilda poured the strong brew into her cup. “Eat to your heart’s content and if you wish, rest some more. I will return to check on you shortly.”

  Billie was thankful for Matilda’s generous nature and she eagerly dug into the much-appreciated food before the woman closed the door behind her.

  Filling her stomach gave her more balanced thoughts and she looked down at her night rail as she munched appreciatively on a generous piece of sweet bread.

  She wore her night rail. But she hadn’t been wearing it when Maximillian had carried her—still wet—to the bed, and she hadn’t put it on after they had made love the first time, or the second or the third, leaving only one explanation.

  Maximillian had dressed her in her night rail before he left her last night. Was it so that no one would know that all evening she had been naked and making mad, passionate love with the ghostly lord of Radborne Manor?

  Ghost?

  “I think not,” Billie said between munches.

  Funny thing was that she felt no regret in her surrender to him, only that he would not confide the truth to her.

  She could not honestly believe him a ghost, not after last night. He had felt so alive, so solid and real, so much a part o
f her.

  He was a noble lord with much influence and power. The talk in the village was that he had many prominent friends. If this truly was a charade, what was he hiding?

  The other thought that haunted and disturbed Billie was the emotional tug to her heart. She had felt it upon meeting Maximillian. And anytime thereafter she had experienced the same strange feeling around him. Though he was arrogant to a fault, she found him intriguing, interesting and irresistible all rolled into one.

  But therein lay another problem. Maximillian was a lord, and she a commoner from Nantucket. Her provincial background did not suit his noble upbringing. They were not at all compatible except, of course, in bed.

  She shivered and sipped at the strong, hot tea as she recalled last night and what she and Max had shared. She had been shameless in her actions, and he as wicked as the devil himself.

  Not one time did she find herself shy or withdrawn. She had thought her first time with a man might prove difficult, but with Max it had proved unforgettable.

  “Dreams,” she whispered. “Only dreams.” Her pragmatic side surfaced and reminded her that she had awakened in bed alone. Max was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t remained to rain sweet morning kisses on her or to soothe her concern or to tell her he cared very much for her. She was alone.

  Billie moved the breakfast tray to the opposite side of the bed and slipped out from beneath the warm covers. Her bare feet barely felt the chill of the floor as she rushed across the room to her closet.

  She had survived much, so now was not the time for self-pity. Now was the time for decisive action. If she could handle all the affairs after her family’s death; she could manage one haunting lord.

  What other choice did she have? No matter what the results, she would still remain the strong, resilient woman she had become. No one could take that away from her; she wouldn’t allow it.

  She chose to sleep with the ghost of Radborne Manor and the consequences were hers and hers alone. But then she was never one to accept the logical; she always looked beyond. Her hopes and dreams proved her unrest with the ordinary.

  Now she was involved in a most unusual circumstance and she would use her wits to find a plausible solution.