by Alexia Praks
“Huntingdon.” The earl turned to look at Merrick.
Merrick walked toward his own room, opened the door, and ushered the earl in.
“I was hoping we could talk about our business,” Lord Queensbury said, looking at Christine as she walked back into her room.
“You too, Chris, in my room,” Merrick said. Christine bit her lip and followed him in his room.
Merrick and the earl took the settee near the empty hearth, and Christine went to stand by the window.
“Now about our business, Huntingdon, have you got any information from your men yet?” the older man asked.
“My men found a family similar to the one you’ve described. But further research showed they are not the one you are looking for. Their history is not the same, unfortunately. But I assure you that my men are looking.”
“I do hope they’ll find something soon,” the earl commented. “It has been so long. I’ve been contacting so many people to see if they could find out something, but until now, nothing.”
“I’m sure my men will come up with some kind of news soon.” Merrick came and put his hands on the man’s shoulder. “Don’t give up.”
Lord Queensbury nodded. “You’re right.” He got up and tugged down his coat. “Well, I’d better go. Don’t want to bother you any longer.” He turned to look at Christine. He frowned and then shook his head. “See you at dinner,” he said to Merrick and then left.
“Are you better now?” Christine asked. “Your headache, I mean.”
“I’m much better now. Would you prepare my bath?” He walked past her into his bedroom, half smiling to himself.
“But I thought—”
“Paris is still away,” he said over his shoulder.
Christine scowled.
Half an hour later, everything was in readiness for his bath, and Christine sighed with satisfaction. “May I go now, Merrick?” she asked, smiling up at him.
“Nay!”
“What?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t want me to attend you anymore?” she cried in dismay.
“Nay, Chris, I need you to attend me,” he said.
“Merrick?” Christine began and swallowed, her heartbeat sounding loud in her ears.
“Now come here, Chris, I need you to clean my back. Well, come on, I haven’t got all day. Dinner is in half an hour, and you need to change, too.”
She stood there, not knowing whether to obey his command or run away.
“Chris,” he called softly.
She nodded her head and slowly moved toward him. He was sitting in the bath, naked, and he was watching her walking at a snail’s pace toward him. He had both his arms on top of the bathtub; he relaxed back as though he didn’t care how slowly she walked to him for she’d reach him in the end. Christine trembled at the way he was staring at her again.
“Merrick?” She halted near the bath.
He looked up at her pretty face. “You don’t want to attend me, Chris?”
“Oh, nay, not that.” She shook her head.
“What is it then?” He raised his brows. She shook her head again. “Then mayhap we can get on with it?”
Christine picked up the cloth and dipped it into the soapy water near his feet. She tried. Honest to God, she did really try not to look at his private parts. It was entirely his fault that he was seated in such a way as to expose them to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and roughly squashed the water out of the cloth. Merrick laughed aloud.
What did he find so funny? She angrily slapped the cloth onto his skin with a thump.
“A-ouch!” He caught her wrist. “Be careful, Chris. You don’t want to hurt me, do you?” he said.
“Oh nay, I’m sorry,” she apologized, shaking her head.
He released her wrist.
She scrubbed his back until his skin was red and squeaky, then she moved to the next spot. His body was hard, his muscles firm, and there was not an ounce of fat anywhere. She concentrated so completely on her work that she wasn’t aware Merrick had become very quiet. In fact, he was aroused because she was touching him so intimately.
Christine rubbed so hard against his back that the cloth slipped from her hand and sank into the water. Her hands touched his bare skin, and because his skin was wet, her hands slipped, and her body fell forward, colliding with him. Her breasts smashed onto his back.
He felt the softness of her breasts, which caused a ripple of sensation thundering through his body. God, was he doing this to torture her or himself?
Christine straightened herself up and dipped her hands into the water to find the cloth.
“I’m so sorry, Merrick,” she said as she caught hold of the cloth and brought it back up. “Here we are. Would you like me to clean your front?” she asked as she squeezed the water from the cloth dry.
“Nay, Chris. In fact you may go now,” he said gruffly. He wouldn’t let her stay any longer. She would make him want to bed her right there and then.
“Are you sure you want me to go now?” She rushed to face him.
“Aye, Chris, I’m sure I don’t need you here.” He leaned forward so that she wouldn’t see his erection.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. She got up and rushed out of the door quickly before he could change his mind and make her stay.
* * *
After dinner Christine found it intolerable to stay in the drawing room with the other guests. They all, especially Lady Queensbury and Lady Anne, looked at her as though she was an odd species that they had never seen before. Lady Anne had been glaring at her all evening, and she had made sure that at every opportunity possible none of the other guests would talk to her. She also made sure that Merrick stayed by her side at all times. Christine found that this suited her just fine because she didn’t want to talk to any of them anyway. Lord Queensbury, on the other hand, was very polite and nice to her. He would sit beside her in the drawing room and converse with her.
When she found that she couldn’t handle the glare from Lady Queensbury any longer, she excused herself and escaped into the garden. As she strolled out farther, she thought she heard a noise. It softly drifted from afar. She strained her ears to catch it. It was coming from the bushes somewhere. As she slowly advanced toward the noise, the sound vibrated louder.
“Hello, anybody here?” she whispered into the darkness, her voice shaking into the silent night. She frowned and halted. The stars glittered brightly, and the full moon illuminated her slight figure in the night. She peered into the blackness. She saw that the bushes were deserted, and there was no sign of disturbance anywhere. She took a deep breath and turned to go when there was that noise again.
She turned sharply and stared at her surroundings. Her heart was hammering in her chest. The sound came again.
“Ho, God…”
Christine couldn’t catch the words. They were mumbled and incoherent. Slowly, she moved toward the bushes. The moonlight helped her see her way along the rough pathway. She followed the sound of that muffled voice, and it seemed to be getting louder. She was sure she was near now. She halted, and slowly, with hands that trembled, she pushed away the last shrub.
Her eyes widened with shock. It was the most outrageous scene she had ever encountered. For there she saw the form of a slightly built man with light blond hair that turned a pale white in the harsh moonlight. He was well dressed, and he was on top of a lady. He was doing something very odd to the woman, and she cried out into the night. Christine peered closer to take a good look at the woman in question. Good God, she was Lady Anne Wilson’s maid. And that man was hurting her for she screamed out loudly when the man pushed himself on top of her. He was holding her lower back, pulling her toward him, and her legs, they were spread apart while his body was between them. The maid screamed again, and she heaved as she breathed cold night air in and out.
Christine didn’t know what to do. Then she saw them kiss on the lips passionately. The maid pushed her whole body closer to the man, and she half seated herself on
him. The man slid his hands down her back, then lower to her backside, and then lower still down to her thigh, into her skirt and—
Christine couldn’t watch. She twisted away and then ran to the safety of the Hall, to her bedroom. She wanted to shut the image from her mind. God, what were they doing to each other? She raced up the stairs, along the hallway, and collided with a hard chest wall. A pair of hands caught both her arms, sending sensations down her spine. She didn’t have to look up to know who the person in question was.
“Chris?”
She heard his voice. She looked up to see his eyes searching her face. She swallowed hard and licked her dried lips. “Merrick.”
“Is everything all right?” he asked as he touched the side of her cold face. She shivered. “You are cold, lad, where have you been? Look at you. You’re so white, and you’re shivering.” He released his hand from her face and led her toward her bedroom.
Christine mindlessly followed him, her head down, her eyes staring at the carpet. Once inside her room, he made her get between the sheets. She tiredly dropped her head on the soft pillow, her eyes ready to shut into a blissful sleep.
“I don’t want you to get tired and miss out on all the fun the day after tomorrow,” he said as he pulled the blanket up to her chin and tugged it around her securely.
“What is happening the day after tomorrow?”
“Ah, I see you’ve forgotten already. There is a horse race, and I myself will be riding in the race. I wouldn’t want you to miss it for the world.” He smiled at her and placed his hand on her cheek. He started to stroke the soft skin.
She sat up abruptly. “Merrick, you can’t ride in the race!” she said.
“And why on earth not, may I ask?”
“You just can’t. You do remember that somebody did try to kill you last winter.” She reminded him, taking hold of his hands.
“Chris, I think I can look after myself.”
“But, sir, what if that person attempts to murder you again, would you let him get the chance?” she probed, still holding his hand tightly.
“Nay, Chris, I wouldn’t let him do that.” He came closer to her, his face only inches from hers. “For I have a hell of a lot to teach you,” he whispered. His eyes sparked fire that caused Christine’s heart to flutter. She moistened her lips with her tongue, which attracted his eyes. He stared at it for a long time, savoring the beauty of its redness. He clenched his jaw for he couldn’t damn well kiss her there and then.
“Merrick, ’tis no way to make a joke. I’m absolutely serious about this. What if that person is there during the race, trying to kill you? I wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen to you. Do you hear? You will not involve yourself in that race.”
Merrick laughed. “Now, now, Chris, calm yourself down. I’m a grown man now. I’m sure I can look after myself. Now lie down and go to sleep.”
“But, Merrick,” she persisted.
“Hush. Don’t talk any more. Now go to sleep, and don’t worry yourself about me.”
Christine gave up, too tired to argue. She could argue with him tomorrow when she would be less tired.
“Night, Chris. Sweet dreams,” he said and lowered himself down. He kissed her on her forehead and then whispered, “You’ll be mine soon.”
Christine gasped. She could only stare at him as he left.
THIRTEEN
The air was hot, and the sizzling sun burnt down unmercifully on the crowd of people all trying to find the best spot to watch the race. There was little breeze to satisfy the women suffocating with their whalebone corsets shaping their bodies into small curves of hips and generous bosoms. Shouting and cursing rang alongside the laughing of youngsters, and drunken men mixed with the crying of lost little ones. On top of the green, numerous picnic blankets were laid on the freshly cut grass. Food and wine flowed freely. Beautifully crafted hats decorated with flowers and butterflies glided back and forth on top of beautifully painted, soft faces.
Christine raced down the hill toward the busy crowd on the race course of Huntingdon Estate, puffing as she slowed down.
“Chris! Wait for me. Don’t run so fast,” Paul, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson’s son, who had just returned from London, shouted. His mouth was wide open, fighting for air as he sprinted after her. Christine turned at his shouting and slowed down. He caught up with her then and overtook her.
“Beat you!” he yelled, beaming with pride as he urged Christine to run faster down the last few yards. She reached him a second later and put both her hands on her slim hips, gasping for fresh air to fill her starved lungs.
“God man, you blush like a girl!” he teased, punching her on the shoulder. She bit her lip and gave him no comment in return.
Betty, Emma, and Andrew, the stableman, walked down toward them with baskets and blankets.
“Hurry up. The race is about to begin. I wouldn’t want to miss this one; the earl is in it,” Andrew urged both women as he raced down to where Christine and Paul stood. The women chased after him, giggling and beaming at each other. Betty reached them first. When she came to a stop by the small group, she shaded her eyes against the hot sun with her hands and looked around them. There were people everywhere, seated in groups surrounding the racetrack.
“Well, where should we sit?” she asked.
“Oh, I think here will do; we can see just fine from here,” Andrew said as he spread out the blanket on the grass.
“Hmm, the view is rather good from here,” Paul commented as he tilted his head to examine the racetrack.
“It is rather a hot day, isn’t it?” Emma complained, eyeing enviously those ladies sitting under the tent with their bright parasols and their pretty bonnets shading their heads.
Christine looked around the field. There were many people, and the atmosphere was like that at a fair. Under the tent, she could see Lord and Lady Queensbury. Seated beside them was Lady Anne, who was seated next to Sir Allan. Christine saw Anne lean toward him. They were sitting intimately close. Anne said something funny in his ear, causing them both to laugh.
“Do you know Sir Allan doesn’t look like his lordship?” Emma said to Paul.
“Why should they?” Christine asked, raising her eyebrows at the maid.
“That’s because—” Emma started and paused. “Wait, first promise me ye won’t spread this to anyone if I tell you.” All heads came into a circle, including Andrew, who was now interested in the hot topic of discussion. They all nodded in agreement.
“Well, you all see, Sir Allan is the earl’s uncle’s bastard, but that uncle of the earl insists that Sir Allan is no bastard at all. In fact, he announced to all that Sir Allan is his legal son, and besides that, Sir Allan is the nominated heir to the earl’s fortune.” She finished off, satisfied.
“Hey, the race is about to begin. Look. They are lining up the horses,” Paul shouted enthusiastically, and everybody turned to look at the racetrack in unison.
“Look, there’s the earl. He’s in the third row. Wow, look at Starlight,” Betty said admiringly.
“I bet his lordship is going to win,” Emma commented and stretched herself up to get a better view.
Everyone was in suspense waiting for the race to begin. Christine stood up on tiptoe to look around for Merrick. He was in the third row, as Betty had mentioned. He looked so strong and handsome on his stallion, a godlike figure in her eyes. Everybody was cheering for the race to begin.
Suddenly, the gun fired, and the crowd roared with encouragement. Starlight shrilled, threw his front hooves high in midair, and they were off. Merrick and his steed were not in the lead in the initial stage of the race. He held his stallion back, leaving them in the middle of the pack, conserving their energy for later when the real race began. Near the end of the first lap, they were still in the middle of the pack, but soon after he urged his stallion to increase the pace. He passed four other Jockeys, who tried to urge their stallions to go even faster. They were looking at him in amazement and annoyance. He smiled and
urged his stallion again with his heels in its sides. He was almost onto the leader, and they were rounding the second lap. Once past the second lap, he kicked his stallion on the side. The stallion lurched forward and sped past two more horses in front of them. Merrick and his stallion took the lead. He was smiling. He knew he was going to win this race.
Then suddenly, Starlight started to snort and slow down. It started to kick and jump in the middle of the racetrack while every other stallion passed them by.
“Calm down, boy.” Merrick soothed and patted the horse.
Starlight, however, did not calm down. It jumped and kicked harder. It then raced across the field. The horse sped up so fast that Merrick could feel the wind beating against his face and hair. Then it veered, and he was tossed into the air. He held on tightly to the rein. He hit his backside hard on the saddle as gravity reclaimed him. Then he saw another somersault coming. The horse shook its head and ran blindly into another horse. The other horse and its rider fell. Merrick and his stallion then raced crazily around until they hit a tree. They crashed to the ground, and Starlight fell on top of him.
Merrick opened his eyes. The world was buzzing around him. The pain was unbearable. It throbbed badly. He could feel himself blacking out. He heard a faint voice. It was so soft and warm.
“Merrick, please tell me you’re all right.”
He felt soft hands lifting his head, and then moments later, he felt a soft lap beneath his aching head. He tried to open his eyes. He blinked a few times to make the blurriness and tears go away. He could see more clearly now, and he stared into bright violet eyes that were brewing with tears.
“Someone, please help!”
He felt her soft hands soothing his head and face. Then he knew no more. Blackness invaded him.
* * *
Merrick opened his eyes. All he could see was a blur. He blinked a few more times. Then the images became clearer. He could see a ceiling that was designed with exotic flowers, nymphs, and various mythical gods and goddess. Where was he? He tried to remember what had happened and where he was, but his head hurt like hell.