Netherby Halls

by Claudy Conn

  In spite of himself, he felt a welling of pride. She was indomitable. She was courageous. She was … she was his! Bloody hell, but it came down to that. Sassy Winthrop was his, and he meant to claim her soon.

  He frowned darkly as he moved away from the large crates he had used as cover and made his way onto the ship where he had an appointment with the captain.

  * * *

  The clatter of thunder was shattering as lightning sliced through the dark sky, and many of her young students huddled together in fright.

  Sassy put away the lessons and suggested they all take a break and enjoy some hot chocolate. She steered them, laughing and less nervous, towards the kitchen, where she sat them at the large utility table, pulling chairs around from the nearby dining area.

  Molly’s mother smiled and did not seem put out at all as Sassy helped her prepare the sweet drink and encouraged the girls to chat and forget their fears.

  Watching them sip their brew and lean into one another to laugh and chat, Cook nudged Sassy’s shoulder and said, “You be the best thing ever happened to this school … but stay out of the headmistress’s way if ye can. She means ye ill. Gunther heard her talking with one of the lads that helps him in the stables, and he didn’t like the sound of it.”

  “Thank you, Cook. I shall keep it in mind.” Sassy smiled reassuringly at her but felt a moment’s uncertainty.

  She busied herself and the girls with cleaning up and putting away their mugs while they watched the storm give way to a lighter sky. As the rain subsided, leaving the afternoon sun to dry up the huge puddles it had left behind outside, Sassy and her class returned to their classroom. She put them to the task of conversational French. This was heartily enjoyed as they teased one another over the various mistakes each made, and the remainder of their afternoon passed quite pleasantly.

  Supper was a dull affair with Sallstone calling down rebukes on nearly everyone’s head before she finally left them in peace.

  When Sassy finally retired to her room and, soon afterwards, her bed, she sighed heavily, thankful the day was at an end. She closed her eyes and suddenly was transported through time and space. Her magic encased her in a cloud that was both soft and warm, and then she saw him.

  He stood in a dimly lit room, and they were alone. Ah, yes, once again, she was in his bedroom. How could she know what it looked like?

  Was this her imagination fueled by her inner magic?

  He was clothed in ballroom attire: black velvet, black breeches. His white cravat was tied fashionably; his white-on-white waistcoat, detailed; his black, shiny hair billowed about his handsome, irresistible face; and the sight of him thusly drew on her need for him, a need she could not deny. She, unlike he, was totally naked.

  She should be embarrassed. She should feel awkward. She didn’t.

  She knew in this dream they were already lovers. Wait, more than lovers. She knew it in her innermost heart.

  He stood before her, staring at her breasts, reaching for them, as he said, “Sassy, my own dear heart …” Then he bent his head as she lifted hers, ready, so ready for his kiss. When his lips parted hers and his tongue slowly met and made love to her, she felt a surge of passion for more. So real—how could it be so real?

  His hand was on her breast. His body, no longer covered by his clothing, was naked, and she noticed as she had not in her other dreams that he sported an unusual tattoo on his bicep. She knew what it was, as though he had told her at another time. It was the secret sign of his warlock coven, a dagger crossed over ancient runes.

  She fingered it as his lips found her pert nipples and he began to suckle there. Heat rushed through her body, melting bones, and her knees turned into mush and gave way. She felt herself meld and become one with him in that moment.

  He lifted her and put her onto his bed, and she stared at his manhood, big, hard, and throbbing. She felt like a wanton woman. It felt wonderful and right.

  “Mine,” he whispered into her ear and nibbled there as he covered her body with his. “Mine,” he repeated as he put his shaft between her legs.

  Sassy awoke with a start and sat up. Her nipples were hard, and she had to clench her thighs against the heat she felt between them. This had been her dream—had she sent it to him? So real, and she knew something else. Her magic was moving her to a time when she would go to him and conclude her transition. It was as though she did not have a choice!

  ~ Twenty ~

  SASSY SKIPPED LUNCH and made her way outdoors. She had not slept well and needed fresh air. She picked her way over the puddles left still by the storm the day before and took a path near the school’s long front drive.

  She heard the sound of wheels and picked up her skirts to hurry through the trees. She wanted to observe who it was, though she knew already who it would be. Their eyes met.

  His blue orbs glittered appreciatively, and the sight of his face seemed actually to still the quiet ache that had been nagging at her stomach all morning. She automatically, without meaning to, allowed him a warm, inviting smile.

  He reined in his team, and his eyes stroked her face tenderly, bringing heat to her cheeks. He jumped down from his phaeton, showing to perfection his athletic proportions. He lightly said, “Walk them, lad,” as he put the reins in his tiger’s hands.

  “Sassy.” The sound of her name on his lips seemed to stroke her sweetly, and she almost closed her eyes at the sound.

  His strides were hard and long, and the entire time he kept his eyes on her face. When he reached her side, he took her elbow. He led her back down the trail to a deer path off the main footpath. Within a moment they were in the thick of the woods.

  He didn’t try to speak to her. He didn’t wait for her to find her voice. He simply pulled her into his arms, locked her there as he bent her to receive his kiss.

  His lips parted hers, and his tongue gently waltzed with her own, never letting go as it caressed hers. She tasted him, and he tasted of sweet honey—delicious and familiar. She gave in to his kiss and matched it with her own. Oddly enough, he pulled away from their embrace, groaning as he set her aside.

  He pulled her scarf from his pocket and handed it to her. “You left this in my phaeton the other day.” His voice was low and husky.

  She cleared her throat. “Ah … thank you. How kind to bring it back to me,” she managed.

  “I am anything but kind, though I think you could teach me to be,” he answered softly.

  She laughed. “I think you are past the age of being taught very much. You are what you are, and one of those things, though you deny it, is kind.” She hesitated and added, “I see it in your eyes.”

  “And we see quite a bit more than meets the eye, don’t we, Sassy Winthrop?”

  “How is Mr. Lutterel? I haven’t heard a word from Sophy and have been worrying a bit about them,” she asked, changing the subject, wondering how she could speak so casually after his kiss.

  He frowned. “Odd. I thought Sophy said she sent you round a note?” He waved this off and smiled as he put her hand through his arm and led her away from the thick woods. “You will be happy to learn that Percy and Sophia are to be wed.”

  “Oh! Oh, I am so very happy,” Sassy exclaimed sincerely. “Mr. Lutterel is precisely what Sophy needs to steady her.” She eyed him. “Why do you look so sardonic?”

  “Because, my sweet, Sophy’s mother has been posing a problem. Luckily, Mr. Delleson is determined to stand by his decision to accept the match and has silenced his wife by a posting of the banns. Not much she can do, but still, Percy is my friend, and I cannot help but wonder if he will find the entire situation tiresome in the end.”

  “Oh, no, not Percy. He has a very sweet nature. He will do, and Mrs. Delleson will as well. She will come to love Percy.”

  “Well, she will have to or find her daughter dragging Percy off to Gretna Green,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Oh no, she must not do that. It would ruin them both,” cried Sassy. “No doubt Sophy
is probably just trying to worry her mother into accepting the match.”

  “Who knows? Love is so foolish.” The marquis sighed.

  “Do you not believe in love?” Sassy asked in a small voice. Had he not just kissed her as though he loved her? Had she not been feeling ‘love’ from him?

  “I am not certain women are capable of such a deep, abiding emotion,” he said darkly.

  “So a woman hurt you,” she said knowingly. “When, my lord, in your youth?”

  “I will allow you that, but you are naïve, my sweet beauty. I base my opinion on the lies I have witnessed women who say they love utter over and over again.”

  “It isn’t I that is naïve,” Sassy said with conviction. “’Tis you, my lord. Men lie as well, and all that lie think they have good reason, but not all of us make a habit of lying.”

  “Do you want me to say what you want to hear?” he demanded.

  “What do you think I want to hear?” He looked puzzled and angry, and Sassy frowned up at him, wondering what was at the heart of this.

  “That what I feel for you is love, unending love, not just desire, not just lust, and that I will feel it forever,” he said in a quiet tone. “But it is impossible—how can I promise what is impossible? I don’t have a heart to give.”

  She believed she had his measure. “Ah, of course, you cannot promise such a thing, my lord. I quite understand.” And she did. She was going to have to find a way to show him just what he felt for her.

  “And what of you? Do you kiss James Bankes the way you do me? Do you hold out for a proposal of marriage? Just what is in your mind?”

  “Faith, my lord, must I be holding out?” she shot back angrily.

  “So hot, my beauty? Do I wrong thee? Yes, I rather think I do. Your sex has left me a suspicious man.”

  “I am sorry for it, my lord,” she said softly and turned to leave him. “Think what you will of me, I no longer care!”

  He took hold of her then as though he was a man driven. “No longer? Did you then … before I opened my foolish mouth?”

  “Until five seconds ago—for some reason that escapes me now—yes, I did!” She frowned at him.

  “But finding that it is all so impossible, you have given up?” His tone was derisive.

  “Bait? You speak in riddles, and I wish with all my heart I did not dream of you … dream of you still …” Realizing what she had uttered she gasped and turned to run. However, he was quick to grab her and lock her in his embrace, his lips silencing her sobs as he covered her mouth with quick, easy kisses before once again parting her lips to taste her tongue.

  His kiss turned tender in spite of the burning lust that hung between them. She gave herself up to him, to his tenderness, to the promise of more, so much more that she sensed in his heart.

  The feel of his wild, strong body against hers was torture, forbidding logic to enter the moment. She knew she was his for the taking, right then, right there in the woods, against a tree, on the pine needles—anywhere!

  “This,” he whispered in a harsh, anguished voice, “is what you and I are meant for together—this!”

  The words were like a slap. She pushed with all her might against him and said, “No, you callous man—no!” She yanked out of his hold and ran, but in her frenzy to get away caught her foot on a vine and went down, hard, knocking her head on a rock.

  She saw stars and for a moment thought that was all she could see, stars swirling around a dark universe, until she heard his voice.

  * * *

  The marquis was both dazed and shaken by the enormity of what he felt. He didn’t want to be in love. He rejected the notion that he was irreversibly and totally in love with Sassy Winthrop. Yet, she was his mate. He knew it in his soul, in spite of watching his father and mother’s unhappy union. They had not been true mates, but Sassy … was meant for him!

  He needed to embrace her and take her for his own. As she ran off, he started after her and with a suddenly skipping heartbeat saw her fall and go down. She appeared unconscious!

  He went to her and dropped to his knees, calling her name and feeling as though his heart would not regain its regular beat until she—and she opened her eyes. Her hand fluttered in front of her face. “Oh … oh … dear,” she said, sounding embarrassed.

  His arm slipped under her, and he said in a voice he did not recognize as his own, “Hush, darling, you have had a fall. Shall I carry you? Are you up to allowing me to lift you?”

  “No, no, please. If … if you help me to my feet … I can walk.”

  He did indeed, help her, and she looked at herself with dismay. “Oh, no, I have muddied my clothes.” She sighed over it and avoided his glance.

  “Come, I’ll take you to the back door, and you can hurry up to your room and change,” the marquis told her, happy to find her green eyes bright and even defiant as she looked back at him.

  “Yes—I know the door, and you cannot drive me up to the school with me looking like this,” she objected.

  As he took out his handkerchief and wiped a smudge of mud from her pert nose, it occurred to him that not only did he love her, he adored her. What was all the confusion about? Fear? Was he so afraid to take her for his own? Why when everything about her reached some nerve inside him and soothed it, smoothed it, and made it hers?

  “Very well. I understand, but you can walk? You haven’t hurt your ankle?”

  “No, no, I am fine … just dirty.” She glanced at him and gave him a rueful smile.

  He laughed and flicked her chin. “Very well, then. I shall keep your headmistress busy until you fly to your room, eh?”

  “Oh, that would be very good. At the moment, I think she would use any excuse to get rid of me.”

  “Would she? Why?”

  “Oh, a bit of a story there, but I had better hurry now.”

  “Right then. I’ll be there before you. Mind now, stick to the woods and then use the back door, while I go straight to her office.”

  “Yes, yes, thank you, my lord.”

  “Justin, I have a need to hear you call me Justin,” he answered.

  “Justin, then,” she said softly before running off.

  He watched her leave and then hurried down the footpath, across the courtyard, and to the front door.

  Molly arrived to show him in and lead him to the Miss Sallstone’s anteroom, where he only had to wait a moment before a welcoming call from the headmistress allowed him entry.

  ~ Twenty-one ~

  “GOOD AFTERNOON, MY lord,” the headmistress said, leaning back against her high-backed chair and gazing at him questioningly.

  He made his bow, dropped his hat and gloves on a nearby chair, and said softly, “It is now, fair charmer, it is now, for I have missed you.”

  “Have you?” she answered, displaying that she would not easily be taken in.

  “Can you doubt it?” he returned banteringly.

  “Yes, oh yes,” she said and gave him a cool smile. “So tell me, what really brings you here today?”

  The marquis did not wait for an invitation as he sat and made himself comfortable. He gave her a flirtatious glance and said, “Ah, what brings me here—” he started.

  “I have seen your interest in the Winthrop chit.”

  “She is a lovely morsel, a quite delectable fruit,” he answered and gave her an intense glance.

  “Are you saying that particular fruit … interests you?”

  He answered quietly, “And if it did?”

  “I would happily make you a present of her and be done with the chit. I cannot abide her,” Bianca said bitterly.

  “Do you always give away such things to your male acquaintances?” This was not what he had expected to hear from her that afternoon.

  She smiled ruefully. “My lord, I am in no position to. However, even if I were, I would not give anything away. There are fruits though, that I would gladly sell.”

  She got up, moved to a corner dark wood cabinet, and produced a bottle of
sherry. Pouring slowly, she added, “Some refreshment, my lord?”

  “Indeed,” he said quietly. What was towards here? What was she doing? She was too cool a character to give away what she couldn’t retrieve.

  “How nice. Then it is for some refreshment I owe your visit to, today?” She eyed him frankly.

  “One might put it that way,” the marquis said, getting up and moving to slide his arm around her trim waist. “I am told that sort of refreshment, the sort I have a decided penchant for, will not be available till Friday night.” He sighed purposely. “And this man needs amusement in the meantime.” He knew this was a daring move.

  “Whatever do you mean?” asked the headmistress, not bothering to withdraw from his hold. She blinked her lashes at him playfully.

  A knock sounded at the door, which caused the marquis to drop his arm, and a man’s voice called out, “Bianca?”

  She eyed the marquis saucily and called out, “Yes, Dr. Bankes, do come in.”

  The marquis noted that Bankes had already done so and stepped away, one eyebrow up. Just as he thought, Bankes and the headmistress were lovers … of a sort.

  A loosely wrapped brown package was tucked under his arm, and he immediately bowed his head to her. “Good day, Mistress Sallstone.” He turned to the marquis. “My lord.”

  “James,” said the headmistress, not bothering with formalities.

  “I brought this along with me. I was in Bath today, and your dressmaker asked me to deliver it to you,” he said lamely. The package slipped from his underarm, fell to the floor, and exposed a fiery red spangled gown.

  Bankes turned nearly as red as the gown as the marquis eyed it and then him, his brow up and his expression loud, very loud.

  “I do regret, madam, that I must leave you now. Perhaps another time?” he said as he picked up his things and started backing away.

  “I do hope so,” she said, smiling warmly.