Brandon leaned forward to take her hand in his own. “Of course, it’s your child. But he had to have a father. We both know it wasn’t Robert. After watching you with Damon, seeing and hearing how he acts, I doubt it’s his. If he took you it would have been by force and I cannot see you so loving to a child gotten through rape by that reprobate. On your way home from Asher’s, did you feel so bereft of physical touch, after learning the joys of carnality, you took on random men you happened to meet in the inns in which you slept?”
Cilla’s eyes glared as her free hand made move to slap him again.
Brandon, alert for just such an action, caught it in his grasp. “I think not. No, I would swear on a stack of bibles, or, better yet, on Robert’s grave, the child is mine.
That would take care of at least one of my father’s concerns.”
“And, just what would that be?” Cilla demanded.
“Whether the woman I chose to marry could furnish me with the necessary heir.”
His voice held laughter, no, delight. He was delighted she was with child and it was his.
She was befuddled. And besotted.
What could she do now? He could not have the child. Their son was needed here.
They were interrupted by a knock on her dressing room door.
“My lady, I have come for the night.”
“I’m all right, Abigail. I’ll not need you tonight. You may sleep in your own room.”
“But my lady, Mrs. Seeman says I’m not to let you be alone for the night. She’ll have my head if I fail you.”
“Go tell Mrs. Seeman I am fine. And, protected. She will understand. Go ahead to bed now. Thank you, Abigail.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
There was shuffling behind the door then silence.
“What was that all about?” Brandon asked.
“They have been protecting me. You too must have noticed I’m never alone. In any room I’m in, one of the staff is in it too. Damon is not happy with me. No less the child I’m carrying. Abigail has been sleeping in a trundle at the foot of my bed so I will be protected if he should find my rooms.”
“I’m happy to hear that. Now come, Cilla. There’s no need for us to quarrel.” He pulled her into the circle, the strength, of his arms.
She went willingly. How she had missed him. How she had wanted his tenderness as well as his strength these last seven months.
But his delight would be short lived. As soon as she denied him his child she was sure there would be hell to pay.
When his kiss was placed on her lips, she let all thoughts and concerns go. Tomorrow she would worry about the repercussions of her actions. Tonight she just wanted to feel him with her again. To love him just one more time before she sent him away.
So she could have his child and pass it off as Robert’s.
Just as she had planned.
Her hands slid up around his neck. Her belly pressed into him. When she was nearly breathless from the kiss, she pulled back to murmur, “I think we cannot make love, my lord. The child will come between us.”
“Nonsense. The child is us. There are ways.” He pulled her robe loose once again and caressed her stomach then pushed the robe off her shoulders. No sooner had it puddled on the floor at her feet than he lifted her as if she weighed nothing more than a feather despite her increased girth. When he reached the bed, he laid her, ever so gently, down on the sheets and stepped back to remove his clothes.
She watched his every action. It had been months since she had seen him naked. Her anticipation was quickening her pulse as well as her breathing.
First one boot, then the other was toed off. He shed his jacket and tossed it over the nearest chair. His waistcoat followed. Seconds later his shirt was unbuttoned, pulled over his head and tossed on the pile.
As he placed his fingertips on the buttons of his trousers, he paused. She looked up to his face; his eyes were tight on hers, his breathing already deep. Plainly, she saw his desire for her; it fed her own for him.
When next he moved, she realized he was shedding his trousers. His hard sex sprung free of its encumbrance.
She swallowed hard as he came to her, slid between the sheets and drew her into his arms.
“There were times over the last seven months I feared I would never have this joy again,” he confessed into her ear as he nuzzled her neck, nibbled on her earlobe.
“I am too big. I can hardly move. How can I give you pleasure?”
“You shall. And, I will pleasure you as well.” With hot lips and a wet tongue, he kissed her as he had not kissed her in the last seven months. Her senses and any concern for the safety of their child were incinerated in the heat of his desire, his need. As his mouth roved over her skin, his tongue touching, tasting, teasing, she moaned with delight and ran her fingers through the thick mass of his blond hair.
“Brandon,” she sighed. “Brandon . . .”
When he moved down her body, caressing and kissing the rise of her belly that held their child, he promised, “He shall be a fine, strong lad and the heir to a title.”
She meant to protest, after all, it would not be his title their son would take, but he had too quickly moved again. His mouth was tasting and teasing the pearl of her passion. Her thoughts flew as her body, reacting to him as it always did, climaxed in waves of light, color and heat.
She was still contracting, enjoying the fading intensity when Brandon rolled her to her side and slid up behind her.
Moments later, he was deep inside her while he stroked her belly with tender hands. “See, I told you we could make love.”
“Won’t it hurt the baby?” her voice a breath as her body tightened around his.
“I doubt it, though, to be honest, I have no prior experience. I cannot help myself. I have wanted to make love to you since I left Asheville. Since I arrived here and was so physically close to you, I have been half mad with my desire.”
“But the baby?”
“Will be fine,” he soothed as his tongue studied the intricacies of her ear. “Relax and enjoy.”
She could do nothing but. His intimacies made her mad with need and the feel of his shaft driving slowly in and out of her sent her near the edge once again. Her blood was surging through her veins, her breathing coming in little gasps. When she lost control once again, when the tiny contractions took over her body, she heard his groan of pleasure as his sex surged deep inside of her and he spilled his hot, precious, seed.
When the storm relented, she fell asleep with the warmth of his palms cradling their child.
When Cilla’s eyelids fluttered open, the room was warm and scented with their lovemaking. A soft light filtered through the drawn draperies. Brandon, clad only in his trousers and those half-buttoned, leaned against the window frame looking out over the snow-laden landscape.
She shifted to her elbow.
Drawn by her motion, he looked over with an easy smile touching his lips and lighting his eyes.
“You have an east-facing window.” He held out a hand toward her. “Come. Let’s watch the rising sun together.”
Gingerly sitting up, Cilla looked for something to put on. Seeing his shirt tossed over the chair, she walked over and pulled it over her head. Despite her increased size, it fell to her knees. The fabric was soft, and his scent, musky and male, infused the fibers. She took a deep breath then went to him, giving him her hand.
Brandon pulled her before him, the length of his front warm against her back, his free hand coming to rest on her belly.
He nuzzled her neck as the sun peeked over the horizon tinting the sky in water-colored hues of yellow and orange.
“Maybe it will warm today and some of the snow will melt,” she said.
“I care not if it ever melts. I’ll stay here
with you, sheltered in this room until the end of time.” His hand massaged now, soothed as she took in the warming light, as the day brightened.
“You know we cannot do that. Everyone in the manor will be gossiping if we do.”
“I care not. We can stay here at least until your clothes are packed and we can leave.”
She took a deep breath. So, she would have almost no time to enjoy his presence, their reunion. She would be forced to share her plans after only a few hours of joy.
“Leave? Where shall we go?” She would avoid this agony as long as she could.
“Why, to my home, of course. I shall take you back and marry you so you can be a proper wife and our son can be my proper heir.”
Her heart, her hopes, plummeted in that moment.
She turned in his arms, placed her hand against his beard-stubbled cheek. Looking up into his eyes, she said, “I cannot leave, Brandon. My place is here. I must protect these people who depend upon me now that Robert is gone.”
“Nonsense. You carry my child. You must come home with me, marry me.” He placed his hand over hers then removed it to place a kiss in her palm.
“Brandon, you don’t understand. This child, our son, will be Robert’s heir. He will be the Marquess of Rutherford. He’ll grow to care for the people and lands Robert and his family have protected for generations.”
Brandon’s face flushed red, anger filled his eyes as he grasped her words, her intent. His hand tightened around hers.
“Cilla, there is no way, no chance, I will let my son be raised as someone else’s. That is especially true because of my feelings for you. Whatever made you think I would even consider such a course?”
“Based upon all that preceded your arrival here, I had little expectation you would ever know you had a son.” She would never tell him her plan had been, all along, to conceive another man’s child for that purpose. He would hate her forever if he ever knew. No, he must think this all happened circumstantially.
“And, what does Rutherford think of your little plan?”
She felt her face blanch at the thought.
“Of course,” he said. ”Rutherford doesn’t know he will be supplanted by an impostor. How could he know? No wonder he is so suspicious. Well, let us just see what he has to say about this revelation.” Leaving her stranded against the light of the dawning day, Brandon threw on the remnants of his clothes, struggled into his boots then strode to the door.
Cilla’s mind was frenetic, searching for something to say, to do, to sway Brandon in her direction. She did not run after him. Instead, she blurted out, “I will deny everything, my lord. You have no proof. It will be your word against mine. And the staff, every single one of them, would stand witness to the child being Robert’s. And, my lord, Brandon, you must ask yourself, what would you do to protect your lands, your tenants and staff, your family? If you had an older brother like Damon, cruel, heartless, self-absorbed, selfish, negligent of duty, no less honor, what actions would you contemplate, then excuse and execute to protect all those who had been sheltered by your father and then exposed to such a threat?”
“Do not tell me, Brandon, that you would ignore the circumstance. Even now you are trying to do the right thing by me when I have no desire to be wed just because of my condition.”
Brandon swung around to face her. “I would not marry you just because you conceived my son. I came all this way without knowing you were with child. I wanted to marry you because . . . because . . .” He stopped, then looked her right in the eye. He lowered his voice to just more than a whisper. “Cilla, I would marry you because I love you. The child is just a wonderful gift created by our love.”
It was her turn to retreat.
“Do not tell me you don’t love me, Cilla.”
She turned away from him but felt him when he came up behind her, rested his hand on her shoulder.
“Do not deny it. I’ll not believe you. Oh, I had my doubts when I arrived to find you literally in another man’s arms. But once I saw how you despised Rutherford, when you still responded to me with such passion even though you suspected I had deserted you all these months, I knew you loved me. And,” Brandon turned her in his arms, felt the brush of her full belly against his own, “I have no doubt I love you. Now and forever, I shall always love you. My time away from you only tempered and strengthened my need, my desire, my love for you. I rebelled against my father’s wishes that I marry Estella, for you. He died not knowing if I would marry, no less sire an heir to carry on the family name and tend our family estates.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up into his face, comprehended the leap in faith he had taken to come to her and leave Estella and his father’s wishes unfulfilled.
He loved her.
If only it were that simple.
If only love were enough.
She lowered her gaze. “That changes nothing, my lord. These people, the manor staff and the tenants of this estate and the others Robert held, have been loyal and hard working for hundreds of years. They have been true and honest to Robert all of his life and they have been kind and generous to me these past ten years. How can I betray them, desert them, when they need a champion now? What honor would there be in that?
“I know you need an heir, Brandon. But you must find another to give it to you.” Beyond her control now, the tears found their way down her cheeks. One by one they streamed, attesting to her sorrow and regret.
How could she stand the thought of Brandon in another woman’s arms? Another woman having his children, bearing his heir?
What could he do?
What could he say?
She was right. He would do near anything to protect all that his father left him. At this very moment, his sister and his overseer were following the explicit instructions he had written out before leaving. He, per his father’s recommendations on his deathbed, was to leave nothing to chance.
But it was his child, his son, she was carrying.
Why should he let the child be someone else’s heir when he was near desperate for his own?
Left here, the boy would be a marquess. At birth. With many estates, not just one. Would that not give the child even more than he could ever hope to give him?
Even if he doubled or tripled the value of his current fortunes during his own lifetime, it would pale in comparison to the worth of the Rutherford wealth and abundance.
But would he have to give up Cilla, the boy’s mother, too?
That was too much to ask by half. It had taken so long to find her. How could he now go on and face life without her, no less find another to bear his children?
His eyes refocused on her face, on the tears streaming down her cheeks.
This was not easy for her, either. Cilla did love him. She might prefer to marry and live with him at BrookLea but her sense of duty and honor precluded her putting her own desires and needs first.
Would not he want his own wife to do such for him?
Of course, he would.
Was there no compromise, no middle ground where they might both have their needs met?
His hand came back up to caress her cheek.
“We must figure out a way, Cilla, to resolve this impasse. I refuse to live my life without you. I refuse to have no part in my son’s life.”
There was a knock on the door.
Cilla ran for her silk robe, threw it on and cinched the sash. “Come," she answered.
Her maid entered with a tray laden with food. There was two of everything.
So went the appearance of propriety. The entire household must be aware of where he had spent the night.
The maid had the good sense to turn her head away after looking at him. The rising blush on her cheeks testified to the fact she had taken a good look at his bared chest ben
eath his unbuttoned waistcoat and jacket.
He must look quite the sight to her.
The maid set the tray down on the table between the two upholstered chairs before the fire.
“Thank you, Abigail,” Cilla said. The lass gave a pert curtsy then made a rapid escape through the dressing room door.
Brandon went to add more wood to the fire. “I fear we’ll be all the gossip below stairs this morning. What if Rutherford gets wind of our tryst?”
“I have not now, nor ever will, take my orders or be concerned by Damon and his foul desires.” Cilla sat in one of the chairs arranging her robe demurely about her. When she was quite settled, she looked up. “Will you eat or are you still bent on running off in a mad dash even before the snow melts?”
“I will not be running off without you, my love,” Brandon said as he sat down across from her, still considering their options. “Though I have no clue as to how the two of us will rectify this situation."
He smiled. “By the way, you will have to give up my shirt if I am not to be further embarrassed by the maids looking at my chest.”
Finally, a smile eased her lips and a small sparkle returned to her eyes. “I think not, my lord. I find it quite comfortable. I’m thinking of wearing it to bed each night or at least as my wrapper when in my rooms.”
“Then I will have to sneak off to my rooms to fetch another.”
“You must anyhow. We cannot go downstairs in such a disheveled state. There might be gossip but there is such a thing as discretion.”
“We can go no place until we resolve this matter, Cilla. We both need to know how to handle the circumstances around Rutherford.”
“Now that, my lord,” Cilla said, as she poured steaming coffee into the second cup, “may be our truest difficulty.”
Chapter 27
They had gotten through yesterday avoiding Damon. They had dined alone for luncheon and dinner in Cilla’s rooms. During the afternoon they had taken a short stroll in the garden, the sun bright upon them but the air still so crisp and cold their breath streamed out before them, the snow crunchy beneath their feet.
If Love Were Enough Page 19