What a Woman Desires

by Rachel Brimble

His eyes glazed with unshed tears and his body trembled. “I need it to hide who I am, the person I must never be if the people in this village are ever to trust me. I love my career, too, Miss Danes. You are not the only one who has found their true calling and fights to hold on to it every day. Believe me, a marriage will give both of us the freedom we so desperately crave.”

  Trepidation seeped into her blood. “What is it you hide from? I have had my fill of men’s dishonesty. I demand you tell me the truth or this conversation is over.”

  His cheeks flushed and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  She crossed her arms across her weakening heart. Something in the man’s eyes pulled at her. He suffered. He seemed to beg her understanding . . . yet something restlessly moved in her conscience as though he was about to reveal something she didn’t want to hear.

  “I’m homosexual, Miss Danes.”

  Monica flinched and teetered backward. “Pardon?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “I like men, Miss Danes. How can I ever be a practicing physician when people are so scared of the very idea of two men in love?”

  “You’re . . . you’re . . .” She reached behind her for something to hold on to and grasped a bureau. “Homosexual?”

  “Yes.”

  Monica’s mouth drained dry and she fought the bubble of hysteria that caught in her throat. “You like men?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled, relief bringing her shoulders down from beneath her ears. “You’re homosexual.”

  “And that pleases you?” His eyes widened. “I knew you were a different person the moment I laid eyes on you, but even I didn’t expect you to find my sexuality amusing.”

  “I’m sorry.” Monica grinned and pressed her hand to her chest.

  “That is the very last thing I expected. I thought you wanted me or my sister purely as a way to access the riches Marksville could give you.”

  “Not at all.” He shook his head; his smile wide and his eyes alight with hope. “Being the master of Marksville will give me respectability and a chance to practice medicine without prying eyes and questions. I will never marry anyone else, Miss Danes, and if you know the truth about me—”

  “There is no deceit between us.”

  “Exactly.”

  Monica exhaled a shuddering breath as her intoxication subsided and the seriousness of the doctor’s confession and proposed solution edged into her conscience. “But what about me? What if I wish to marry one day?” Thomas came into her mind and her heart ached for the quashed possibility of ever finding again what she felt for him.

  “Then we divorce.”

  She stilled. “We divorce?”

  “Yes, we divorce and I get Marksville. You can have half its value and travel the world or live wherever you wish. I promise I will look after your mother until her dying day and Miss Jane, too, if she wishes to continue to live here.” He came closer and gripped her hands. “I need somewhere to call my own, Monica. I need somewhere to build a future. If you marry me, you’ll be saving my life as well as those of the tenants. I promise you, I will keep everything as it is. No one will lose their home, job, or life.”

  Monica stared deep into his eyes and nothing but sincerity shone back—marrying the doctor was the perfect solution. It had to be.

  “But surely one day you will want to take a lover?”

  “And I promise you will never be witness to it. To hide our true selves while in public is the only way men like me can have any hope of obtaining even a fraction of happiness in private. I will keep my relations from you and Marksville. I promise.”

  Sympathy rose and caught her in her chest. “Maybe one day you won’t have to hide who are you.”

  He smiled and gave a wry laugh. “Maybe. One day.”

  Their eyes locked and Monica felt his pain, every ounce of struggle he must have endured his entire adult life, maybe even his adolescence too. No more. Why should he, or she, have to deny themselves the lives that they were born to lead?

  She swallowed and lifted her chin. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

  His eyes widened and he froze. “You will?”

  Monica grinned. “I will.”

  Chapter 20

  “You’re going to marry him?” Thomas stared at Monica as a sharp pain slashed cruelly across his heart. “You can’t.”

  “I can and I will.”

  He stared at her. Her eyes blazed with determination and her mouth was drawn into a straight line, but still he didn’t understand what the hell had happened to her since she’d disappeared into the master’s study with O’Connor. How could she marry the man? How could she do that and be happy?

  The rest of the house had gone to bed and they sat side by side at the Marksville kitchen table with the heavy atmosphere separating them as strangers rather than lovers. He glared. “Then you need to tell me what he could’ve possibly said to make you forget my warnings about him. To forget he was only too willing to section the mistress before and after the master died. Have you forgotten about that? If you marry him—”

  She pushed up from her chair and glared. “You do not need to know what was said between us. All you need to know is, I have his word that your job and home will be safe. That’s all this has been about for you since I came back here. As for Mama being sectioned, that was his justified and professional opinion. If Jane and I do not want that, it will never happen.”

  Thomas curled his hand into a fist on the tabletop. “Maybe it was about my job and home when you first arrived, but it isn’t anymore.” He held her gaze, fire burning deep in his stomach. “Everything changed when I made love to you, whether you like it or not.”

  Her breasts rose and fell as her breathing turned harried. “We’ve spoken about this. I’m doing my best, Thomas. For goodness sake, won’t you meet me halfway? I need your help. I need you to work with Nathanial for the prosperity of Marksville.”

  “The man is up to something, I know it. He happened to be there when the master was killed. He suggested an institution for your mother and has made eyes at both you and Miss Jane. None of it is a coincidence.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “You need to trust me.”

  “I do.”

  She snapped her eyes open. “Then trust that what passed between the doctor and I this evening was not embedded in treachery. I stared deep into his eyes and saw only sincerity. I am not blind. I have been burned and hurt too many times to fall fool to a man’s promises again.”

  Thomas swiped his hand over his face as he struggled with the demon skepticism swimming in his soul. Was his doubt and suspicion nothing more than a jester playing with his heart and Monica’s happiness? “If you truly believe O’Connor’s intentions are good, why would he marry you when he knows you do not love him?”

  Her cheeks flushed and the skin at her neck shifted as she swallowed. “The agreement is to our mutual gain, but it isn’t based on his wish to do me or my family harm. He wants Marksville to be his home, but it will remain mine in name unless something happens to me. Why can’t you see that this is the perfect solution? I will still own Marksville.”

  “Unless you die.”

  She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

  “Then let Jane inherit.”

  Her jaw tightened. “That isn’t part of the agreement.”

  “Why not?”

  “Nathaniel needs this house. It will give him the notoriety and protection he needs.”

  “Protection? Why would a good, upstanding doctor need protection?”

  “He just does.” She covered her face with her hands before snatching them away again. “Enough of your questions. I’ve made up my mind. I don’t need—”

  “You don’t need what?” He pushed to his feet and his chair toppled to the stone floor. “You don’t need me?”

  She lifted her chin and glared, her bottom lip trembling. “No, I don’t need you.”

  “Liar.” He tugged her to him and kissed her. Fever and passion pumped through his b
lood sending his common sense fleeing in every direction. She was his. Not the bloody doctor’s. How was he supposed to sanction a marriage he knew to be a sham? How was he to carry on working for someone he knew to be a fraud but couldn’t prove it to be true?

  She planted her hands on his chest and shoved. Thomas barely moved, but he released her waist and raised his palms in surrender. “I’m sorry for grabbing you.”

  She glared at him, her body trembling and her hair falling from its pins. Her cheeks flamed with indignation. “I am doing what is best for all of us. I won’t keep having this argument with you. I love my life and I’m going back to it. Jane loves hers and she can keep it for as long as she likes; a professional will look after Mama, and you will keep your precious way of life. Why are you doing this to me? It’s not me you want, it’s Marksville. For God’s sake, let me go in peace.”

  Guilt threatened and Thomas whirled away from her. He strode to the open back door and stared out across the fields, his hand gripping the doorframe. “There’s more to that man than his doctoring. I know there is. There’s something conniving and dangerous that will most likely reveal itself when it’s too late.”

  “There is nothing of the sort. He’s told me his truth.”

  He turned. “Then tell me too.”

  “No.” She turned away and collected their forgotten cups of tea from the table and carried them to the sink. She put them on the drainer and curled her fingers around the curve of the porcelain sink, her head bowed. “I will leave for Bath in the morning and have papers drawn up that if anything should happen to me, Marksville is to pass to Dr. O’Connor. He wants to be here and I don’t. There’s nothing else to consider.”

  Thomas stared at her turned back and fought the urge to go to her. To touch her and kiss her neck, to open the buttons of her dress and run his fingers over the warmth of her naked skin . . . He closed his eyes. “I ask that you wait awhile before you do that.”

  She tipped her face to the ceiling. “Thomas, it’s time for me to go. I can’t be here with you. Not anymore.”

  He clenched his jaw, tamping down the surge of pride that burst in his chest, and walked toward her. “Do you love me?”

  She spun around and tears shone in her eyes under the lamplight. “You know I do.”

  “Then stay with me. Stay and we will find a way to be together.”

  She shook her head, her gaze on his mouth. “I can’t be the woman you want me to be. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  He lifted his hand to her hair and slowly plucked out the remaining pins, putting them on the counter beside her until her dark hair tumbled about her back and shoulders. She sighed and he lifted handfuls of her tresses to his face and breathed deep. “I will prove O’Connor is not all he seems. I will prove it and you will see your father was right to give you Marksville. Your family loves you, the tenants love you . . .” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I love you.”

  She stared, indecision storming in her dark blue gaze. A second, two, three passed before she blinked and straightened her spine. “Then marry me, Thomas. Marry me and come to Bath.”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. “I can’t do that.”

  She gripped his biceps and eased him back. “Neither can I live here. This is the only way. I have to marry him.”

  “No, you don’t.” He shook his head. “This isn’t the answer.”

  He dipped his head and kissed her. His tongue slipped into her open mouth and she welcomed him. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, higher to entangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. His body shook from the power of her touch; her scent and her soft whimpers of loss reaching deep into his heart and bleeding it dry.

  If she truly loved another man, he’d let her go, but he couldn’t let her go like this.

  Monica glanced first at her mother and then Jane as they took breakfast in the parlor the next morning. Her dread of seeing Thomas before she left for Bath caused her to jump at every noise coming from around the house or beyond the open window. Their kissing in the kitchen would’ve led to so much more if she hadn’t stopped it and fled upstairs to her room. Her lust had soon cooled to anger—how dare he put demands on her and grasp at anything to oppose her plan of escape when he would never leave Biddestone.

  His lack of respect for her was the final push she needed to sign the papers making Dr. O’Connor the beneficiary of Marksville.

  Before she left, she needed to explain everything to Mama and Jane. She wouldn’t do this without their approval or understanding. After all, Marksville belonged to them far more than it did her. She set down her fork and pushed her plate away, her toast and eggs half-eaten. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  Jane stopped eating, her fork hovering at her lips. “Is everything all right?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think so?” Jane frowned and put down her fork, glancing across the table at their mother, who was gazing toward the window. She lowered her voice. “What is it?”

  Monica stared at her sister, her heart filling with love for the woman she had become and how much stronger she was in her decision-making and love for their parents compared to Monica at the same age. “Dr. O’Connor has asked me to marry him.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “Marry him?”

  Their mother gave an inelegant snort of laughter. “Monica, dear, you and your little fancies. Why on earth would he do such a thing?”

  Dragging her gaze from Jane’s, Monica faced her mother. “It’s true, Mama. He has asked for my hand in marriage . . . but it won’t be a traditional arrangement.”

  Her mother laughed. “When is anything traditional as far as you are concerned? I wouldn’t be surprised if you walked down the aisle in a jester’s suit.”

  “Monica, you can’t possibly be considering this?” Jane frowned. “You have barely been home for more than a few weeks. You don’t love him.”

  Heat rose in Monica’s cheeks and her determination faltered in the face of Jane’s sensibility and their mother’s derision. She lifted her chin. Whether or not her decision was a sound one, she had to do something. To live in Biddestone and not be openly in love with Thomas would be the death of her anyway. “As I said, it is not a traditional match. We won’t spend a lot of time here together. Instead, Nathanial will run Marksville and I will continue to live in Bath.”

  “Why on earth . . .” Jane stared for a moment longer before comprehension lit behind her eyes. “A marriage of convenience? You are marrying him so you can leave?”

  Monica swallowed. “Yes.”

  Jane squeezed her eyes shut. “You haven’t learned anything since coming home, have you?” She snapped her eyes open and lowered her voice. “Don’t you know how much I’ve loved having you here to lean on? How much the tenants enjoy your company? This is not your only choice. I’d prefer you to return to Bath unhindered than do this.”

  “He can’t afford to buy the estate. This is the only way.”

  “What are you whispering about?” Her mother leaned forward in her chair, her head jerking from Monica to Jane and back again. “What did you just say? Are you leaving?”

  “Mama . . .” Monica took her mother’s hand where it lay on the table, Jane’s fervor and words twisting and turning inside her. “Dr. O’Connor wants to run Marksville as Papa did. With the doctor here, you would have his care day and night, and Jane could continue to live here until such time as she marries.” She turned to Jane. “With Nathanial here, you could go on as you have been. You can lead your own life and marry as you see fit when the time comes. People will know he is my husband and will gossip about us, not you.”

  Jane glared. “It isn’t the same as you being here.”

  “I can’t stay here. Not anymore.”

  “What do you mean, not anymore. You never wanted to be here. Ever.”

  Shame and guilt swept over Monica’s body in a heated wave. “Maybe I didn’t at the beginning, but with Papa gone, th
e house hasn’t felt as entirely suffocating as I feared, but . . .” She opened her eyes wide in the hope Jane understood her. “But now . . . now things are different.”

  Jane’s cheeks flushed. “Thomas?” she mouthed.

  Monica nodded and glanced at their mother. Her forehead was creased with a frown and her once-alert eyes shrouded in confusion. Monica’s guilt gathered weight and burrowed deep into her heart. Tears threatened and she quickly turned to Jane. “Please, Jane. This will be good for all of us. It’s the only way. Even if Nathanial could afford to buy Marksville, which he can’t, it would be his to do with as he will . . . including asking you to leave. This way, the house remains mine until such time—”

  “As you die?” Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh, Monica.”

  The tears in her sister’s eyes pricked at Monica’s perpetual feeling of selfishness, but she lifted her chin against it. “I have to do this. It makes perfect sense.” She looked to her mother. “Mama? Do you understand what is happening? Dr. O’Connor will be the beneficiary to Marksville if anything were to happen to me.”

  Her mother frowned before her expression morphed into serenity. “If your father is happy, then so am I. It will be nice to have us all together again.”

  Monica’s eyes burned with tears. “Mama, I am going back to Bath.” She squeezed her mother’s hand. “But I promise I will be back so often you will feel as though I am here all the time. No more weeks and months without seeing you. I will try to come home as much as possible and also have you and Jane visit me in the city. Would you like that?”

  Her mother smiled, her eyes glazed in thought. “That would be most agreeable.”

  Monica stared as sadness at her mother’s decline gripped her once again. She turned to Jane. Her sister stared at their mother, silent tears rolling over her cheeks. Monica took Jane’s hand as she held her mother’s. “This is the best way for all of us. Nathanial will look after you, I promise.”

  Jane turned sharply, her body trembling. “And what of his life?” She swiped at her face with her free hand. “Doesn’t he wish to have a genuine marriage one day? This isn’t just about us. What if he changes his mind? What then?”