Donna Fletcher

by Whispers on the Wind

  She set the silver serving tray on a small table, which was flanked by two high-backed chairs in front of the burning hearth. The rooms still required fires to warm them even with the weather change. The old house retained a constant chill and until summer came, fire in the hearths was essential for comfort.

  A book and her tea were good distractions from her weighty thoughts. She had brought a favorite gothic tale from America along with her that normally gave her a fright. Now she imagined it would amuse her.

  She settled comfortably in the chair, the book waiting in her lap as she munched on a cookie and sipped her tea.

  The click of the metal door lock echoed in the room and Billie froze, fearful that her attacker had returned.

  “When did you plan on telling me?” Maximillian said, his voice raised considerably.

  Billie calmed her trembling hands by wrapping them around the cup and sipping the tea, her jittery stomach needing the soothing brew.

  “Tell you what?” she asked, returning the cup to the tray.

  He stood before the hearth, his dark attire making him appear a silhouette in front of the flames’ bright light. He looked powerful and majestic in his arrogant stance.

  “Marriage proposal stir your memory?”

  “I wasn’t aware I was required to discuss such a personal matter with you,” she informed him, calmly wondering if the prospect of her marrying someone else upset him.

  “You promised to help me,” he accused as if she had betrayed him.

  “My marriage to the vicar would in no way infringe upon my promise to you.” She spoke sharply, annoyed that he cared not a whit that she might marry, only that it might interfere in resolving his dilemma.

  “You will not marry him,” he demanded.

  She relaxed back in the chair. “I wasn’t aware that I required your permission.”

  He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair and effectively locking her in. “You are required to use common sense.”

  “Common sense?” She almost laughed in his face. “Marrying John would be the most sensible thing I’ve done since arriving in St. Clair.”

  “I think not.”

  Her bravery ebbed with his closeness, her voice becoming small. “John is a good man.”

  “But not the man for you.”

  She attempted to challenge him, but her voice faltered. “I think he would make the perfect husband.”

  He stepped away from her, throwing his head back in a roar of laughter. “Perfectly boring.”

  Billie jumped to her feet. “John is not boring. I enjoy his company.”

  Maximillian turned on her swiftly, standing nearly on top of her. “And his kisses? Do you enjoy them?”

  John’s kisses certainly didn’t possess the scalding fire of Max’s kisses but she enjoyed them nonetheless. “Yes, his kisses are pleasurable.”

  “Liar.”

  “How dare you—”

  Maximillian swept her up against him and planted his lips to hers so swiftly that he stole her gasped breath. He kissed her with an erotic fury that she couldn’t deny or fight. He didn’t relent until she melted voluntarily against him and her arms snaked up around his neck.

  He eased his taste of her, savoring her sweetness until he reluctantly separated their lips, gently kissed the tip of her nose and set her away from him, holding her arm with a steady hand while she regained her balance.

  “He will never kiss you like that.” Maximillian released her and with two steps put a safe distance between them.

  Billie breathed deeply, her concentration returning and her wit as sharp as ever. “But he will love me.”

  “Will he?” Maximillian challenged. “Perhaps his love is born more from your fortune than his feelings.”

  “You pompous idiot!”

  Max’s brow shot up.

  She stormed over to where he stood and shook her finger in his face. “How dare you suggest that John is after my money—”

  “My money,” he interrupted.

  She continued. “He is too kind and generous a person to care about my money. He cares about me, not the Radborne fortune.”

  “My fortune shall not pass to a weak-willed vicar.”

  Billie crossed her arms solidly over her chest. “My fortune shall be shared with whomever I choose to marry.”

  “Whomever you choose to marry will control Radborne Manor, not you.”

  “That is one reason why John would make the perfect husband. He would not interfere in my control of Radborne Manor. He would be too occupied with his duties as the vicar of this village.”

  He raged at her, his fist thumping his chest. “And how will you explain me?”

  She grinned and rocked on her heels. “John doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

  His look turned lethal. “I wasn’t referring to my spirit.”

  She stopped rocking and hugged her arms around her waist, warding off the chill that suddenly descended over her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said, taking two steps toward her and running his finger down her cheek. “How will you explain the intimacy we’ve shared?”

  She shoved his hand away and walked over near the hearth. “If he doesn’t believe you exist, then how could our intimacy?”

  “What you’re saying is that you have no intentions of telling him.”

  “He would believe me crazy if I confessed a torrid intimacy with a ghost.”

  “You are being foolish to even give his proposal consideration,” Max chided.

  “I must think of my future.”

  “Then think on it,” he snapped, “and don’t throw your life away on a penniless and passionless vicar.”

  Billie responded defensively. “I will do as I wish.”

  He groaned and threw up his hands. “You’re stubborn-headed to a fault. Do as you must, but make certain you don’t neglect your promise to me.”

  He marched past her.

  She shook her head as she turned around, thinking him worse than a child who had just thrown a temper tantrum. “I will—”

  He was gone.

  She cast a quick glance at the door. It remained locked. She eyed the room suspiciously and with determination she walked over to the wall and began to knock, her ear pressed to the wall as she listened for hollow spots.

  o0o

  Two weeks passed without much fanfare. She took tea every afternoon with John and spent most nights in Maximillian’s arms. This odd situation could not continue.

  Her investigation of various rooms in the house turned up no secret passageways. She could neither prove nor disprove whether Max was a ghost or a man. And her inquiries into Derry Jones and St. Clair were at a standstill.

  Her life, though, needed to move forward. She had found herself eagerly anticipating the time she spent with John as she did now, walking hand in hand along the shore with him.

  The sun shined brilliantly, the water lapped softly and the sea birds entertained overhead with a squawking tune.

  Billie glanced at the silent man who kept step beside her. His head hung down, matching his stooped shoulders and his glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose. His dark hair was drawn severely back and tied with a black leather strip. His steps were sure and steady and his hand firm around hers.

  He glanced at her and smiled, squeezing her hand. “I cherish our time together.”

  She tugged him to a halt. “Wait, I have something to say.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

  “I’m fine,” she smiled. “Actually better than fine. I’m in love.”

  John looked at her with hopeful eyes.

  She stepped closer to him and slowly brought her lips to his, kissing him gently. “I would be honored to be your wife.”

  His arms moved around her, drawing her against him while his lips met hers and sealed their future with a tender kiss.

  “Billie, would you mind if we married right away?” He offered a reason for a h
asty marriage. “I have no family and neither do you and I miss you when you’re not with me and—”

  “Is next week soon enough?” She wanted a hasty wedding just as much as he did. She hoped his presence in the manor would settle her ghost problem.

  “That would be fine,” he said, his grin generous. “I shall contact the vicar over in the next village and make all the preparations for us to wed in the church.”

  “I will speak with Matilda about a small reception at the manor and invite . . .” She paused and shook her head. “I’d like to invite the villagers to the manor. Would that be proper?”

  “I think it would be most fitting.”

  Billie, most unladylike, threw her arms around John’s neck and kissed him soundly.

  He stumbled back, holding on to her, and after briefly returning her enthusiasm, he eased her a proper distance away. “With so much to do and so short a time to do it in we should return and set to work our plans.”

  Billie nodded, her smile not nearly as enthusiastic as before. She silently cursed Maximillian as she and John headed back to the manor. His words echoed in her head, warning her of a passionless man. Or was she a woman who desired more than she should?

  Upon their return to the manor, Billie summoned Matilda and Pembrooke to the small receiving room and with John standing beside her she announced their intention to marry.

  Matilda squealed with excitement and hugged Billie to her buxom chest like a mother thrilled for her daughter. Pembrooke shook the vicar’s hand and—to Billie’s surprise—he even smiled.

  John left shortly afterwards, promising to return early tomorrow so they could finalize plans. On parting he gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Billie had grown suddenly tired and explained to Matilda that she needed a nap. “Decide on an appropriate menu for the wedding and we shall discuss it later.”

  “You look pale, m’lady. Are you all right?”

  “It’s the excitement,” Billie lied and turned to climb the steps. When she reached the landing that divided the stairway, she stopped and glanced out the window. The sun had disappeared behind a large storm cloud and an overcast sky promised rain.

  “So much for sunshine,” she said and headed down the hall to her bedchamber.

  Max was waiting for her.

  “You’re a fool,” he said calmly.

  “No,” she said with equal calmness and a shake of her head. “I am a woman who understands what is best for her.”

  He remained where he stood by the hearth. “And this marriage is best for you?”

  “The absolute best,” she said with a sudden smile, as if just remembering why she had agreed to marry him. “John is wonderful. He cares to a fault, and I love him.”

  “You hardly know him,” he argued.

  “You’re wrong. I know him very well.” Her smile widened. “He’s a man strong in his convictions and one who would never turn his back on a friend. He will always be there for me. He loves me.”

  Maximillian pushed away from the hearth and walked straight toward Billie. “What of passion?”

  Billie didn’t retreat from him. She remained where she stood and he stopped mere inches from her. “Passion is elusive. It doesn’t last forever. Love and commitment do. John offers me both. What do you offer me? Nights of pleasure and days of emptiness?”

  Maximillian gently cupped her chin. “What do you want me to offer you?”

  She stepped back, his hand falling away. “It isn’t what I want, it’s what you’re willing to give. John gives without request. He knows what I need and what I feel and offers his emotions and support freely. You won’t even tell me the truth.”

  “Would it make a difference?”

  “You tell me.” She waited.

  He looked at her strangely, his eyes concentrated on her, his lips almost aching to speak but hesitant, as though inside he waged a private battle.

  She felt the urge to comfort him, to let him know it was all right no matter what he confessed. She took a step forward and as she did, so did he.

  The knock at the door shocked them both and Billie turned around, wanting desperately to chase away whoever was there.

  “M’lady,” Matilda called. “You have a visitor.”

  She turned back to Max, but he was gone. She shook her head as she walked to the door. A few minutes, just a few, and she was certain he would have confessed all. And then what?

  She shivered, since the answer possibly held even more unanswerable questions.

  o0o

  Billie was greeted with an enthusiastic and congratulatory hug from Claudia when she entered the receiving parlor.

  “I am so happy for you and John,” she gushed. “He’s perfect for you, absolutely perfect. Of course, I never expected him to gather the courage to propose—and this soon. And to marry so quickly? Why he surprised the daylights out of me.”

  Billie finally managed to direct the chattering Claudia to the chairs so they could sit.

  “We decided that since neither of us had family there was no reason to wait.”

  Claudia smiled. “The faster you marry, the faster you can start a family. And besides the manor needs children to fill these empty rooms.”

  Billie decided to probe. “Had Maximillian planned on filling the manor with children?”

  Claudia nodded. “It was his duty.”

  “What about love?”

  Claudia reached over and patted her hand. “Love rarely enters an arranged marriage. Oran had often commented to me how difficult it was to arrange a marriage for him. Maximillian found fault with every candidate his father chose. And of course Oran, loving his son the way he did, never forced the issue.”

  “Why was it so difficult?”

  “You would have to be familiar with Maximillian to understand.”

  Billie knew Max all too well, but she wanted to hear Claudia’s opinion. “Tell me about him.”

  Claudia grinned. “He was a devil with the women. They loved him. He was charming, arrogant and demanding and every woman that met him was enthralled with him. Oran once commented that it would take a woman with courage and strength to love and marry his son. And I think that is exactly what Maximillian was searching for in a woman: courage and strength. A woman much like yourself.”

  “Like me?” Billie asked, surprised.

  “Most definitely. Maximillian would have found you intriguing, but you are much better off with a man like John.”

  “Why?”

  “John is quiet and tender and will treat a woman with care. Maximillian was the complete opposite of John. He possessed a fiery passion and his wife would have known no peace. You could feel it when he walked into a room. His presence overpowered. No man argued with him and few women denied him.” Claudia shook her head. “Perhaps if he had been here when Oran . . .”

  It was Billie’s turn to reach out her hand to Claudia in support. “I’m sure he felt the same way.”

  “Oh, he was furious,” Claudia said. “Furious with himself because he had returned to London to resume a dalliance with a well-known stage actress.”

  “He blamed himself for not being here when his father needed him the most?” Billie asked, knowing full well the answer.

  “He was beside himself when he returned, locking himself away in the manor for several weeks before he emerged and began a full-scale investigation into his father’s death.”

  “Then he had to have uncovered Derry Jones’s involvement.”

  Claudia stared bewildered at her. “How do you know about Derry Jones?”

  Billie wasn’t about to detail her escapade as a boy. “I heard about him from someone.”

  “He’s a good one to stay away from and besides, Maximillian found nothing connecting him to the wreckers.”

  “But I heard Derry answered to someone in St. Clair.”

  “Being the town busybody I would certainly know if someone was masterminding a wrecking ring in St. Clair.”

  “But—”


  Claudia interrupted. “No buts. You need to concentrate on your wedding, not the likes of wreckers and smugglers. Now let me explain what type of wedding reception would be appropriate for the lady of the manor.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was her wedding day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the manor was abuzz with activity. So why did she feel so melancholy?

  Billy stared at herself in the full-length mirror Matilda had moved into her room from the lady’s bedchamber down the hall. Bessie had surpassed her own seamstress skills in creating the most stunning of wedding dresses within one week’s time. The soft white silk girdled just beneath her breasts and fell softly to rest at her ankles. The bodice was trimmed in an intricate design of beadwork as were the cuffs of the long sleeves. The design was repeated around the four-inch hem. A cloak of white wool trimmed with white rabbit fur around the collar and cuffs was laid across the chair, waiting.

  She had insisted on fashioning her hair herself, only this time the unruly strands blended in perfect harmony with the bits of baby’s breath she had added throughout.

  She made, as Claudia had tearfully announced only moments ago, a beautiful bride.

  She imagined it was the fact that her mother, father and uncle were not here to share this special day with her that she suffered from this melancholy. She was truly alone and within the hour she would begin her future as the wife of Vicar John Bosworth.

  Tears stung her eyes. She had never felt so isolated since losing her family. There was no one, not even Max. He had deserted her the day he learned she had accepted John’s marriage proposal. She had not seen him at all since then and she was beginning to wonder if he had ever existed.

  She wiped away her tears with her fingertips and took a deep breath. This should be a happy day. She and John had spent many pleasurable hours together this past week in preparation of this very moment. He had been kind, caring and so very thoughtful of her emotions. He wanted, as he expressed so many times, for this day to be memorable for her.

  She realized, too, that she wanted to make him a good and loving wife and hopefully a good mother to their many children. She attempted to not dwell on her concern that their relationship lacked the lusty passion she had shared with Max. But then . . . perhaps she had but dreamed it all.