An Eternity of You

by Sophia Garrett

  “Yes, he told me that as well. It is a foolish thing to do.” She stilled for a moment, then relented, “If not incredibly kind.”

  Andrew stepped closer. The heat of his body braised hers. She sucked in a deep breath and summoned her resolve. “The man you have replacing my roof—not repairing as it was perfectly acceptable, mind you—should be at home helping his wife prepare for Christmas. They don’t have the luxury of servants. Yet you’ve called him away. For me. People are talking.”

  One eyebrow arched mockingly. “Ease your worries, Rebecca. When I spoke to Mr. Granger about opening a new mill, he gave me the names of two men who lost their jobs with the wheel’s collapse. I hired them to help the thatcher’s wife, which, in turn, placed two very handsome birds on the butcher’s order for both men’s tables.”

  He had done…what? Rebecca’s thoughts swirled dangerously at hearing his numerous kindnesses tumble free. This was the man who the people had expected to oversee them. A man so very much like his father had once been. Perhaps the whispers she had heard today weren’t related to her but a true shift in opinion of him.

  His knee fitted between hers, threatening to eradicate what remained of her teetering logic. If the town embraced him, shouldn’t she as well? Wasn’t he establishing himself appropriately? Surely they would not shame Alice if they adored her father.

  Andrew rested his palms on the rise of her hips. With a dip of his head, his lips lingered on the side of her throat. Instantaneous heat flooded her body. “What are you doing?” she whispered, sadly lacking strong enough protest.

  “Enumerating my errands yesterday, it would seem.” His breath scalded a path to the base of her ear before he closed his lips around the lobe.

  A whimper vibrated in Rebecca’s throat. Oh, sweet heaven, she loved the feel of this.

  “I hired an entire staff in one fell swoop when I fired Mr. Landess,” he went on, one palm gliding up her ribcage to stop, tauntingly, just below the swell of her breast. Beneath the fabric of her modest wool gown, her flesh tightened, craving the way his hand molded so expertly around it.

  “There are ten hogs cooking now for tomorrow afternoon.” Andrew’s voice lulled her as his lips fluttered down the length of her neck. “Who was that man in your treatment room the other day? Mr. Hemsley?”

  “Hemshaw,” she answered, desperately trying to remember why it was a poor idea to allow Andrew to touch her this way.

  “Mr. Hemshaw, then.” One skilled finger traced the underside of her heavy breast. “I passed him in the market and instructed him to tell all those who had no accommodations for tomorrow, to come to the lawn. My new staff will serve them.”

  Oh…dear…he was making it terribly difficult to recall that the villagers would relish cutting down Alice’s reputation. She shook her head, scrambling to hang on to thought. Just as she gained control and began to remind him this was inappropriate, his mouth settled on hers.

  She parted her lips, hungry for the taste of him.

  Instead, Andrew skimmed his mouth to the line of her jaw. “Tomorrow I am opening additional pasture for the sheep.”

  “Oh, Andrew, your heart is so very large.”

  He withdrew; his gaze sparkled into hers. “All fitting of a considerate property owner. My father would have done the same if he had been aware.” As the words left his lips, his palm covered her breast.

  “This…is a bad…idea.” Rebecca swallowed hard and ordered her knees to remain steady. “Alice could see us.”

  The hand he held at her side released her fingers and skated across her waist to the small of her back. Gentle pressure aligned her feminine flesh with the length of his hardened erection. “Did I mention I sent a letter to the magistrate dropping all charges against Stephen? I expect him to be released shortly after the holiday.”

  Stephen? Her brother would be home? Elation threatened to overtake her. She struggled for a breath of air. “Why are you doing all this?”

  At her breathless question, Andrew’s mouth claimed hers. Her head swam with pleasure. A quiet moan bubbled in the back of her throat, and her knees lost their purchase. She swayed into his body, mesmerized by the play of his fingers against her breast.

  When he drew the kiss to a close, she sucked in a great breath of air.

  “Because if I am to bind myself to the town’s most esteemed lady, I should be esteemed myself.” Still half-grinning, he moved his fingers from her breast to the line of buttons down the front of her dress. One by one, he began to pluck them loose. “That, and it is simply what I should be doing.”

  She moistened her lips, swallowed to wet her sticky throat. “Andrew…it’s not…that easy.” My, but words were truly impossible. Her heart felt as if it could burst. And her mind couldn’t quite recall what she had been so adamant about last night.

  A low chuckle rumbled in Andrew’s chest as he nudged the fabric aside and slipped his palm over her shift. Gentle fingers squeezed her sensitive flesh. At the same time he pressed his hips into hers, stroking her most intimate place so exquisitely she couldn’t silence a moan.

  “Shall I stop, Rebecca?”

  Oh, she was done fighting. There was no use anymore. If he couldn’t see the trouble this would bring, she was done being noble. Sagging into his arms, she whispered, “Dear Lord, no.”

  In the next instant, she found herself swept into his arms. His mouth landed hard against hers, and he carried her toward the door.

  …

  Andrew gently laid Rebecca on his bed, then stepped back to look at the vision she presented. He had no doubt Alice was following his instructions to the very letter. There was no chance of interruption, and this time he would not leave this room until he had shown her how very necessary it was for them to remain together.

  He knelt on the bed, straddling her simple brown skirt. Leaning on his forearms he dipped his head to capture her in a kiss. The stroke of her tongue worked fire through his bloodstream. The scent of her faint perfume drove him near mad. His. At last she was completely his.

  And he was completely hers.

  Her arms looped around his neck, pulling him down against her body. But as much as he wanted to sink into her embrace, he wanted to explore every inch of her more. A task he could not accomplish with so many layers of clothing between them. Rocking back to his heels, he began to ply at the closures on her bodice. Before he could unfasten them completely, her fingers pushed his hands away and fair-attacked the front placket of his vest. With a shrug of his shoulders, he eased out of the vest, then doffed his shirt.

  “Andrew, this is a very bad idea,” she murmured, a breath before her lips fluttered against his pectoral.

  He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. “No, it is a very good idea.”

  “Mm.” The tip of her tongue swirled around his nipple. “If it is such a good idea, why are you still dressed?”

  Andrew dropped his hands to the sheets and grabbed them by the fistful. Leaning back a bit more, he answered, “I am yours, do as you wish.”

  When her fingers nimbly unfastened his trousers, setting his erection free, his senses skittered beyond his reach. He arched his hips, pushing his length through her hands, spellbound by the delicious heat of her palm.

  “I kissed you here once,” she whispered. “Shall I again?”

  As Rebecca’s breath whispered across his swollen shaft, he wrapped his hand around hers then eased it away. “If you do, I am done for. Save your eagerness for another afternoon.”

  A soft laugh trilled in her throat. “No, this has to end.” She leaned forward and traced the tip of her tongue around his nipple. “But…just…once more.”

  Oh, there would be no end. But Andrew chose not to argue. Instead, he focused on helping her out of her dress. “Where are your stays, Rebecca?”

  She chuckled again. “Gone. I could not afford a new one after Thomas.”

  Simply indecent. That he would insist she changed. He would have no other man possess even the faintest hint of
what treasures lay beneath her gowns. Tipping her hips, he tugged the old, worn fabric to her waist, then worked it over her head, taking her shift along with it. Poverty did not become her, but for once he did not feel guilty she had suffered it. If she had been in better circumstances, he would have suffered the laborious task of removing mountains of undergarments.

  Chuckling to himself, he caught her in another kiss and eased her back into the bed. She surrendered with a sigh, her legs wrapped around his waist, her body lifting up to accept the entirety of his.

  Chapter Nine

  Rebecca woke with a start, sitting upright in Andrew’s immense bed. Her legs were tangled beneath his, and the sun no longer streamed through his window. Twilight cast shades of lavender throughout the room.

  Thomas!

  It was Christmas Eve, and Thomas was still with Mrs. Clemsley.

  Rebecca struggled to free herself and slide out of the bed.

  Andrew caught her by the ankle. She barely managed to brace a hand on the tall bedpost before she pitched face-first onto the floor. “What are you doing?” She laughed, though her intent was to scold.

  One lazy tug dragged her backward until she had no choice but to fall upon her bottom. A squeal tumbled off her lips. His amusement radiated in his expression, and his laughter filled the cozy room. How good it was to hear him so amused—she missed the days they’d played like children as much as she missed the intimacy they’d shared earlier.

  “Stop it, Andrew.” Laughing harder, she pushed at his shoulders as he wrested her beneath him. His mouth danced across her bare shoulder, teasing with each playful scrape of his teeth. “It’s Christmas Eve. I must return to Thomas.”

  “Hm.” He traced the tip of his tongue across her collarbone, answering distractedly, “He is downstairs somewhere.”

  That froze her in place. “Pardon?” Putting more strength behind her efforts, she braced against his shoulder until he rose up enough she could see his face. The flecks of gold in his eyes danced in the dim light.

  He arched an eyebrow. “He is my son. He should be here for Christmas Eve.”

  She might have paid more attention to the teasing lilt of his voice if his words didn’t have such an obvious implication: he meant to assert himself as father. All fine and good for Thomas’s sake—she wouldn’t deny him the opportunity Andrew’s acceptance would yield. Not fine and good for herself. She hadn’t struggled so hard only to lose her son.

  She shoved hard on Andrew’s chest, managing to free herself from his suddenly immense and uncomfortable weight. In a blink, she was on her feet and snatching at her clothes. She jerked her shift over her head and gathered her dress off the floor. “You shower me in lavish gifts—what am I going to do with a servant? You fill my ears with sweet words and lure me into your bed so you can take my child! I will not turn him over so easily.”

  He tugged on her dress. “Rebecca—”

  She was not going to hear his excuses. With a shake of her head she blinked back hot tears. “If you want to acknowledge your son, then I will not stop you. But you may not take him from me tonight. On Christmas Eve. And leave me home—” To her horror, emotion choked off her words. She could not manage the final word: alone. Nor could she remember when she last surrendered to tears, but they slipped down her cheeks.

  Rendered temporarily helpless, she couldn’t fight the way Andrew pulled on her dress, drawing her closer until she knelt on the mattress. He cradled her cheek in his warm palm. “If you would have let me finish, I was going to say, his mother should be here, too. In fact, she should never leave.”

  Here? With them on Christmas Eve? Sniffing back the majority of her wayward emotions, she eyed him cautiously. “We discussed this, Andrew.”

  With one hand, he stroked her cheek. The other, he slowly slid up the length of her thigh. “Did I not once tell you I would forfeit everything for an eternity of you?”

  No, he could not mean to bring this up again. He would be foolish. The entire village would swarm with gossip. “What about Alice?”

  His gaze held hers, unwavering. He was serious. Good Lord, had the man lost his mind?

  “A family is the greatest gift I could ever give Alice.” He wrapped his hand over hers, squeezed gently, then rubbed his cheek against her shoulder. His voice was a faint thread compared to the way her heart pounded in her ears. “Marry me, Rebecca.”

  Rebecca spluttered, torn between the desire to jump up dancing in delight and the knowledge one of them must remain rational enough to consider the consequences. She shook her head. “You will never find a man of high standing willing to marry her with me as your wife.”

  Seemingly unaffected by logic, Andrew pressed his mouth against the hollow at her collarbone. “She needs an appropriate match?”

  “Yes. An appropriate match.”

  “Worthy of her status?”

  What the devil was he after? He should realize how it tormented her to have to object. “Yes.”

  “I did that once.” One muscular arm banded around her ribcage. Effortlessly, he dragged her atop his body as he leaned back into the mattress. He settled his hands on her hips, trapping her against him. “I would not wish that misery on my daughter for anything. Better she is given a life of happiness than appropriate status.”

  Rebecca opened her mouth to say…what? That she did not wish to be his wife? That status was imminently better than foolish pursuits of the heart?

  “Say yes, Rebecca. I will do whatever it takes to ensure the townspeople always see you as the lady you are and Alice as the lady she will be. I will not give up on you. If I must ask you every day until I die, I will. Say yes, and let me prove how happy we will all be.”

  Oh, for the love of the angels, she would be an equal fool if she dared say yes as she wished to. She must be dreaming.

  Yet no dream could produce the shrill squeal that slipped off her lips as he abruptly flipped her onto her back and tucked her beneath his body. She did not miss the grin that danced on his lips a moment before he dropped his head and grazed the tip of his tongue along the low neckline of her thin shift. “Besides,” he murmured as he nudged the fabric down to expose the swell of her breast. “In this, Alice gains a mother. She needs that more than any status.” With one last lingering caress of his warm lips, he lifted his head and held her gaze. “Say you will have me, Rebecca. Say it so I can never again forget how it sounds.”

  Her response was a breathless whisper. “Yes, Andrew. Oh, yes.”

  …

  Three hours after Andrew finally convinced Rebecca into agreeing to marry him, he stood beside the hearth, listening to the crackling of the Yule log and watching Alice and Thomas play with a new set of dominoes. Rebecca stood in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, her fingers laced with his. Her head rested against his shoulder, tempting him to tuck his nose into the soft lengths of the hair she had managed to fashion atop her head.

  She twisted to look up at him. “It’s growing late.”

  Indeed it was. But he was not quite ready to end the night, though the hours ahead promised greater splendor. Instead, he crossed to the teapot Fortescue had brought in only moments earlier. “Thomas? Alice? Would you like some chocolate before bed?”

  “Chocolate!” Thomas leapt to his feet, his eyes wide and bright. “Mother, did you hear that?”

  “I did.”

  The smile Rebecca gave Thomas melted Andrew’s heart. His hand faltered as he reached for a porcelain cup. Good Lord, a man should not be so affected by a woman. Still, he could not bring himself to find it entirely disagreeable. He poured four small cups and passed one to Thomas. Alice’s impish gaze held his a moment as she accepted hers, and he threw her a conspiratorial wink. Had it not been for her, tonight would have brought a vastly different outcome. She whirled away, giggling into her cup.

  As Andrew carried Rebecca’s cup to her, faint singing drifted to his ears. He stopped in the middle of the room, his head tipped sideways, listening.

&nbs
p; “Mother!” Thomas hastened to set his cup down, sloshing chocolate all over the table. He flashed Andrew an apologetic look before dashing to the wide window seat. “Mother, the townspeople are singing carols!”

  “Really?” Alice followed suit, chasing him across the room to elbow in at his side.

  Surprise and a slight degree of wonder widened Rebecca’s eyes. Andrew reached for her hand, escorted her to where the children looked on. With more than a little awe, she murmured, “It has been two years since carolers went out on Christmas Eve.”

  “Two years?” Andrew’s brow furrowed. Though the practice was not in fashion in other parts of Britain, they had sung, faithfully, each holiday he remembered in Sharrington. Tradition started by German immigrants and maintained by their descendants. To consider a holiday without was unimaginable.

  “Not since the riots.” She drank deeply from her cup, then set a delicate hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “Do you remember when they last sang, Thomas?”

  He shook his head. “Not really, Mother.”

  The songs outside grew louder as six figures walked up the lane. The candles they held flickered in the chilly night breeze. And with true love and brotherhood, each other now embrace. Andrew hummed softly along with the tune.

  “I want to hear more!” Alice pushed away from the window and jogged out of the room, her broken arm cradled in her opposite hand.

  “Where are you going?” Andrew called after her.

  Her voice carried down the hall. “To the front door. Come on, Thomas! You’ll miss it!”

  He leapt back, ducked between Andrew and Rebecca, and darted out the doorway, calling, “I’m coming!”

  Rebecca escaped Andrew’s embrace long enough to finish her chocolate and set the empty mug aside. When she returned to his arms, she rested her fingertips on his shoulder, lifted to her toes, and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “It is a shame we cannot go as well, but they do not dare discover I am here as well as Thomas. They are beginning to respect you again.”