by Laura Mills
Reality brought her back when he asked, “Which way?”
Her dizzying head straightened. “Left,” she told him.
He set her down at the doorway of her bedroom. Needing to bring her traveling bags up was the perfect excuse to leave so she could undress for bed. “I’ll be right back. I need to get your bags.”
“All right.” She almost looked disappointed that he was leaving again but then she gave him a small, sweet smile that he hadn’t seen in some time.
Melissa was lying in her bed with a long nightdress covering her body by the time she heard a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” she called out.
John walked in with her baggage, set it on the floor and then shut the door as he stepped over to her. He sat on the edge of the bed while she lay on her side toward the middle, facing him. A lavender coverlet covered every part of her except her hands, which were tucked beneath her cheek. John’s finger went to her temple, pushing a strand of loose hair away when he asked, “How are you feeling?”
Her focus was intense on his relaxed hand, which rested on his thigh. “Okay,” she replied, sounding distant.
He could tell she needed more rest. His fingers brought the edge of the coverlet around her, securing her shoulders even more. “Do you want to talk?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Where would you like me to sleep then?” he asked, feeling a bit uneasy that she might have an inappropriate answer.
Her eyes shifted to his. She didn’t have to think about it but her concern lie with his reaction. Would he think her too forward? “In bed . . . with me,” she replied. As she had expected, his expression changed. “I hope it’s not asking too much,” she said and her eyes cast downward. “It’s just . . . it helps when you hold me.”
Her sad eyes were precious when they found his again. In his wildest dreams he hadn’t expected this. He thought about turning down her request because he wasn’t sure how much constraint he had left. She had asked him to hold her. How much closer could they get without the inevitable happening? Of course, the inevitable was entirely controlled by him.
He understood the death of a parent quite well. Melissa shouldn’t have to go through those lost feelings by herself. It would please him to give her comfort, and that was all it would be tonight. His selfish needs could wait. Right now she was fragile, like a small child needing his arms to embrace her. “It’s not too much to ask,” he said, giving her a warm smile. Then the plump little figure of her aunt came to mind. “Melissa, what about your aunt?” he asked with growing concern.
Her sleepy eyes found his. “I’ve already spoken to her. She’s aware.”
He studied her dreary features, deciding not to push the issue. “If you’re sure?” he questioned to verify.
“Yes,” she answered with certainty.
Rising from the bed, he began undoing the buttons on his shirt. After slipping off his shirt and tossing it onto a chair he bent down to take off his boots. He stood straight again, pulling the tie from his hair, letting the black silkiness flow freely across his back. Leaving his trousers on, he tugged the blankets down and slid in next to her.
She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake being this close to John, but she knew John had respect for her and would know what she was going through, which was why she needed him now. He could understand her and reassure her, reassure her that the numbness and emptiness would disappear, that life does go on. Her father had told her that when her mother had passed away, but now she needed John to tell her. He’d made it through his mother’s death. She needed his strength to make it through her father’s.
She observed him with intent as he lay on his side, facing her, leaning his weight on one elbow, his palm supporting his head. She watched his black hair fall loosely around his shoulders, then captured his gray eyes piercing through her, his mouth sending her a smile from heaven. She voiced her thoughts aloud before thinking about it. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered.
His smile faded after she whispered those words. Stunned by her comment, he could see in her eyes that she meant it. Lord she tempted him with her honesty. The willpower it took not to devour her became devastating. Never had he wanted a woman so much. Melissa tested every throbbing nerve in his blazing body. His smile returned as he leaned closer to her. “So are you. Now go to sleep, you need to rest,” he told her, his head tilting as his lips placed a quick tender kiss upon hers. “Turn the other way,” he said, and with gentle ease motioned her to face away from him.
His chest fit perfectly against her back. His mouth was content swimming in her golden streams of hair while his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her snug against him. Her arm slid over his and eventually they fell asleep that way. Once in awhile periodic sounds of crying woke John during the night. Hearing her sobs, he would draw her body tighter against his own, soothing and coaxing her back to sleep.
John woke up early. He didn’t want to let go of Melissa, didn’t want to leave her warm concealed body, but he decided he’d better in order to fetch her some breakfast. It was the perfect excuse, leaving him without an option to take advantage of the situation, which would be the last thing she needed to deal with on the day of her father’s funeral. With quiet movements he slipped out of the bed, got dressed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
Miss Beckett was bringing breakfast to the table when she just about ran into John through the doorway. “Oh, I didn’t see you coming Lord Blackburn,” she gasped.
“It was entirely my fault. I was in a hurry,” he smiled.
“That hungry, huh?” she said, teasing him.
“I could smell your cooking through the house and my appetite became ravenous.” His words were complimentary.
“Thank you Lord Blackburn. I’ve cooked for many years, I would hope it’s edible by now,” she laughed. “Here, sit and eat. I hope you like crepes, ham, and porridge?”
“Indeed I do.” His mouth began watering when she placed the heaping mound of food before him.
“I hope you slept comfortably,” she commented with a distinctive gleam in her eye.
John glanced up between bites of food and responded; “Yes,” he acknowledged, choosing not to let his previous night’s resting place be challenged, and he changed the subject. “How are the funeral arrangements coming along?”
Miss Beckett sat across the dining table from him, noted his reaction and realized the subject of his sleeping arrangements was not up for discussion. “Everything is set. The funeral will take place this afternoon. There will be a few neighbors and friends attending, and Mr. Howard’s workers, of course. Thankfully everyone has offered to bring food and . . . oh dear, I hope I haven’t forgotten anything.”
“It doesn’t sound like it,” he commented, now realizing how hungry he’d been.
A distant stare displayed on Miss Beckett’s features. “You know we just went through this three years ago. It’s not fair to Miss Melissa, simply not fair.”
John stopped eating to ask about further arrangements. “What will happen to the carpentry business?”
Miss Beckett gave him a slight smile. “I’m not sure. That will be up to Miss Melissa. She owns it now, you know.”
John continued to finish his breakfast.
Miss Beckett watched him devour his food and offered him more. “A might hungry, Lord Blackburn? There’s more if you’d like some.”
He returned a grateful smile. “Thank you but I’ve had plenty. It was delicious, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.”
A brief period of silence intervened.
John dabbed his mouth with an available linen cloth. “How are you doing?” he asked, knowing she had had to make all the preparations for the burial.
“I’m doing all right. I’m more concerned with Miss Melissa.” Her eyes began to water.
“Yes, I know.”
There was another moment of silence.
Miss Beckett backed away from the dining table, lifting to t
ake their empty plates to the kitchen. On her way back, she had a full plate of food for Melissa.
John could see that she was upset and offered to take on the task at hand. He rose with a scrape of his chair to catch Miss Beckett before she started up the stairway. “Let me take it up to her, Miss Beckett. I’ll make sure she eats.”
Miss Beckett was glad that he was there in their time of need. Although she knew that she and Miss Melissa could take care of themselves, it was comforting to have a man around to take charge in these troubled times. “Thank you Lord Blackburn. I might lie down on the couch for a bit.”
“You do that. You need to rest after all the work you’ve done.” John took the plate from Miss Beckett and headed up the stairway.
Making his way to Melissa’s room, he stood inside the doorway watching her sleep. She was laying in the fetal position, facing the wall, her long golden hair floating onto his pillow. An image appeared in his mind that they were husband and wife. He’d never had extended thoughts like that before. He’d seen plenty of women lying in bed, but the concept of being his wife never entered his mind before now. He set the plate of food on the nightstand, shaking off his unusual thought. Kneeling on the bed, he reached over to wake her. “Melissa,” he spoke, “Melissa, wake up. You need to eat.”
She groaned at him, not moving.
He called her name again, “Melissa,” using more insistence.
Pulling the blankets over her head, she muffled, “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh no you don’t,” he told her as he tore the blankets back down.
“John,” she replied in a perturbed tone, trying to pull the covers back up.
He wouldn’t let her have them. She was being stubborn so he decided to try another tactic that was sure to get her attention. Slipping back into bed, lying next to her as he had before, his arm went around her waist, pulling her snug against him. She didn’t seem to mind until his hand reached down to lift her nightdress up around her waist.
The cool air drifting along her legs stirred her further, but the warm hand gliding across her bare buttock drove her full awake. “John, what are you doing?” she exclaimed, flipping over toward him, in innocence pulling her dress back down. He lay on his side, leaning his weight onto his elbow, smiling at her.
“What was that all about?” she hissed at him.
“I was trying to wake you. It seems I’ve succeeded.” His grin was devilish this morning.
“Yes, well, I’m up now,” she told him, not sure what else to say. Having never woken up with a man in her bed, a most handsome man at that, she wasn’t quite sure how to act.
Watching her trying to cover herself, her actions proved again how innocent she really was, and he treasured that. She teased him without any notion of doing so. “You need to eat,” he told her, sitting up to get the plate of food.
“I’m not hungry John,” she said, wondering if he had heard her the first time.
“At least try a crepe. They’re strawberry. I know you like strawberries. I’ve already had some. They’re delicious,” he informed her as he cut a piece to feed to her. She sat up, staring at him with her arms crossed and lips pouting.
“You need to be strong today. Come on,” he said, placing the fork near her mouth. She opened her mouth and took the food. He continued to feed her, although all she ate was the crepe. When he was satisfied at how much she’d eaten he tried his best to convince her to sleep more, but he didn’t push today and she got her way. He left the room so she could dress, then came back to carry her down the stairs, telling her he’d be outside tending the horses.
She followed him to involve herself with the horses as it helped take her mind off her father. When the undesired time arrived they stood under an apple tree on their property where her mother was already buried. Her father was to be buried next to her mother. Melissa looked around at so many familiar faces and was thankful for their caring presence. John stood by her side the whole time, holding her hand as she had requested. Her focus swung to her auntie, who held onto her opposite hand, her sweet auntie who was about the only family she had left.
After the funeral services John remained behind. Sitting on the porch swing, they had trailed off talking about her father. Melissa admired her mentor’s profile while asking him about his mother. “John, how did your mother pass on?”
He was quiet for a long time, staring ahead at nothing, his expression becoming sullen. “I can’t talk about it right now,” he told her.
“I was just wondering,” she persisted, but was cut off.
“Anything but my mother Melissa,” he requested.
A longer period of time passed before they spoke again. Melissa wasn’t sure how to end her curiosity. “She was obviously special to you. I presume her to be a fascinating woman.”
Shifting his focus her way, his voice released unwanted anger. “She was very special to me, and I don’t care to talk about her right now!” He didn’t want to be angry with her, especially today, but he couldn’t talk about his mother. It was too painful and the memories were too fresh from today’s event. Standing, hoping to escape her questions about his mother, he trailed away from the swing to lean against a thick post on the wooden porch. His arms crossed over his broad chest and he stared out among the lush green landscape of hills.
Feeling bad that she had upset him, an equal part of her grew angry that he didn’t share his experience with her. She went ahead and apologized but had decided they needed a break from each other. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I won’t ask about her again.” At least for a while, she thought. Coming to care too much about this remarkable man, she wanted to know everything about him.
“Thank you,” he said, hoping he didn’t bruise her feelings too much, but he had never talked about his mother and he wanted it to stay that way. That was a profound wound he didn’t want to open up again.
Feeling put off by his sudden mood change, she needed time to think. As she glared into his back she said, “John, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these last couple of days but I’d like to be alone now. Auntie is here so there’s no need to worry about me.”
His head turned in her direction. His features were distant and he was not surprised by her request. “How much time do you need?” he asked, growing accustomed to seeing her often and not wanting it to change.
“I’m not sure,” she told him, not knowing how much time she needed alone.
His arms unfolded and, taking two strides in her direction, he kneeled before her. His fingertips lifted her chin and his lips grazed over hers. His kiss increased in intensity, exploring her mouth as if to memorize every detail, but he could feel the tension in her kiss. When his lips left hers, his eyes opened, reflecting sadness that tore at her heart.
“I understand,” he responded, and then rose to walk over to the barn to get his mare.
What am I to do about him? Melissa wondered as her eyes followed his spectacular physique. I’m so confused. Why am I letting myself have feelings for this precarious man? She started to shake, a delayed reaction to his thorough kiss.
He was already atop Clara when he stopped in front of her. “I’m only waiting a week. After that I want to see you,” he plainly stated, and with that he heeled Clara and headed for the trees, leaving her no time to respond.
She couldn’t believe the audacity of him to order her around like he owned her. She needed to think, darn him. She needed time alone with Robert to find out the truth. John had done so much for her and she hated treating him so brutally, but he made it easier when he refused to tell her about his mother. She had thought they were close enough to at least confide in the death of their parents. She hadn’t realized until the moment of his outburst how close he had been to his mother and how painful her death must have been for him. She longed to relieve some of his burden as he had done for her in regards to her father.
Nevertheless, she took this time alone to devise a plan to meet with Robert.
Cha
pter Thirteen
Without John around to carry her up and down the stairway Melissa maintained her sleeping arrangement on the couch. Tossing and turning on the narrow cushions of the couch, her mind was scrambling with ways to contact Robert so she could discover the truth about the day of the accident. Unfortunately she hadn’t a clue as to Robert’s schedule, and she didn’t dare ask John.
Her thoughts wandered to her father, her caring father who’d left this world too soon. Tears and reminiscent memories flowed through her once again. Wrapping her arms around herself, images of John came to mind. She missed him. Clutching tighter on the blankets, the warmth of her body couldn’t compare to John’s enveloping embrace the night before. She craved his sympathy and maybe more than that. One night, just one night he stayed with her, and she longed for his comfort. She knew if he’d been there again, wrapped around her, she’d fall asleep without a thought, so she drifted from her thoughts and dreamed, dreamed of a dark and handsome man and his body of warmth. By the early morning hours Melissa conceded to much needed rest as her body eventually gave in to her exhausted mind and weakened leg.
A knock at the front door startled her awake. Drowsy-eyed and wondering why her aunt hadn’t answered the door, she threw the blankets off and hobbled to the door and as she reached for the doorknob she remembered that her aunt had errands in town this morning.
To her relieved surprise it was Robert standing before her, holding a package of some kind and wearing a generous smile on his handsome face as he greeted her with concerned enthusiasm. “Miss Howard, how are you fairing this morning?”
“Better, thank you,” she said, standing in the open doorway when a light breeze blew across her form causing her hands to rub along her naked arms.