by Sandra Owens
Chase lifted a chin toward the twins. “I believe Bensey and Harry have something they want to say.” The boys stood and lifted their glasses. Bensey began to speak, but Harry nudged him. “I’m supposed to go first this time.” Bensey snapped his mouth closed. Harry cleared his throat. “To Lady Claire, a splendid lady who talks to horses. I’m ever so glad to have you as my friend.”
Bensey stepped forward and gave her the shy smile she adored. “To Lady Claire, who doesn’t mind when I get carried away. I like having you as my friend.”
Claire walked around the table, gathered both boys in her arms and hugged them. Bensey stiffened under her touch and she dropped her arms. “I’m honored by your gift of friendship.” She didn’t know what they planned for the remainder of the evening, but if the night ended now, she would still consider it one of the most special times of her life.
“My turn.” Chase said. “This evening is dedicated to an extraordinary lady whom my sons and I admire greatly. May you always be our friend.”
The tears she had been fighting welled up and one rolled down her face. Chase grinned, handing her his handkerchief. “I came prepared.”
As the violin played softly in the background, she wiped her eyes, touched beyond imagining.
“Are you sad, Lady Claire?” Bensey asked.
Laughter bubbled up. “Heavens no, Bensey, these are happy tears. May I say a few words?” Three heads nodded. “To the Warren men. It is an honor to count you as my dearest friends.” She clicked glasses with each and took a sip of her champagne. “Thank you for tonight. I’ll never forget it.”
The next few minutes were spent chatting while they finished their drinks. Harry kept sneaking looks at the food. Claire glanced at Chase to see if he noticed. He smiled and gave her a little nod. The gesture made her feel like a part of their family. If it ever came true, she would love them fiercely and forever.
“Shall we have our dinner?” Chase asked.
The boys stood so fast she almost laughed.
“I take that as a yes,” he said.
He offered his arm, and Claire placed her hand over his as he led her to the table. A deep yearning overtook her. This was where she belonged, by this man’s side.
Once seated, Smithfield emerged from the trees and served them. The dinner consisted of cold foods: a selection of sliced cold meats, bread, cheeses, boiled eggs, pickled relish and fruits. Music played in the background and the conversation flowed easily among them as they talked of things that interested the twins. Dessert was slices of cake and berry pudding. “Enjoy your pudding,” he murmured
Claire blushed, remembering the show she had put on for him. If the boys weren’t present, she would have been tempted to do it again just to see the heat in his eyes.
Tomorrow she would ignore him, but tonight was for her and she was going to be selfish. She would take his attentions, his heated looks, his burning touches on her skin, and when next alone in her cold bed she would wrap the memories of this magical evening around her and snuggle into their warmth.
The last piece of cake disappeared into Harry’s mouth, and Smithfield appeared to remove their plates. He refilled their champagne glasses before vanishing back into the shrubbery. “Can we give it to her now, Father?” Bensey asked.
“I think now is a good time,” Chase said.
Bensey and Harry jumped up and held out their hands. They led her back to the sitting area where a covered easel stood. It had not been there earlier, and like everything else this evening its appearance seemed magical.
The boys moved to stand on each side of the easel. Chase stood off to the side and nodded to the twins. Claire sat on the sofa and clasped her hands in an attempt to contain her excitement. Harry held up a piece of paper and clearing his throat, began to read.
A poem to Lady Claire
She has the prettiest hair
And big blue eyes
That tell no lies
And her smile
Hides no guile
And that is why
Father, Bensey and I
Think
She is a splendid lady to have as our special friend
Harry finished the poem with a big grin. “Father helped a little, but I mostly wrote it myself. Do you like it, my lady?”
Claire blinked against the burning in her eyes. “Oh yes, Harry. It’s a marvelous poem.”
He handed her the paper. “Do you want to keep it?”
Claire took the poem and held it against her heart. “I’ll treasure it always.” And she would. It was her first poem from a gentleman. “Lady Claire, I have a present for you, too,” Bensey said.
“I hope you have painted me a picture.”
He pulled the cover off the easel. At the sight of the picture, she gave a delighted laugh. He had painted her and Amira in caricature. Claire was wearing her leather breeches and having a conversation with her mare. He’d somehow made it look as if Amira was speaking to her. Claire’s head was inclined as if listening intently to the mare. Underneath the painting, the caption read, A Conversation with Amira.
“Bensey, it is marvelously clever.” She kissed each boy on the cheek and smiled to herself when wide grins appeared on their faces. “My poem and my painting are the best gifts ever. Thank you, both. A thousand times, thank you.”
Her heart ached to call these boys her sons. She wanted to stand beside their father and watch with him as the twins grew into young men. She wanted to cry with them when they were sad and laugh with them in happiness
“Father has something he would like to ask you now, Lady Claire,” Harry said. “Ask her, Father. You promised you would show us how it is done.”
How what was done? Chase stepped forward and sketched a bow. It was entirely possible her heart was going to pound itself out of her body and land at his feet.
“May I have this dance, my lady?”
Yes. Oh, Yes. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this. “It would be my pleasure, my lord.” She placed her hand in his.
The evening had grown dark and candles flickered among the foliage, the perfume of flowers and rich earth scented the air. The beginning notes of a waltz lifted from the violin and he slid his hand down her spine to her lower back. Goose bumps rose on her arms. Magic claimed the night, enchanting her and the lonely, empty place inside her was all but forgotten.
Chase twirled her around the floor while his mind and heart argued. His mind had only one thought. Mine. His heart wanted to believe it, but feared the what ifs. What if it was only a passing infatuation on her part? What if her true love came along—her own Harry—and stole her from him? What if he put his heart in her hands and she dropped it?
He was only now beginning to look forward to each new day and he knew, just knew this woman had the power to destroy him for good. Throughout the evening she had charmed his sons. She would be a good mother to them, might one day love them as he did.
But he had to be sure of her, would not risk her hurting the boys. He would keep to his plan and take her to London. It would be a test and though it might be unfair to not explain his reasoning, he believed it was the only way he could be sure of her.
“I feel like I am in a fairy tale tonight,” she said. “You and the twins have made this a night I’ll never forget.”
A glow of happiness surrounded her. Her blue eyes sparkled and her cheeks were rose tinted. The angry, pale woman who had greeted him on arrival was nowhere in sight. He liked this woman.
Chase twirled her around and brought them close to the boys. Bensey had his sketchpad out, his hand busy drawing. Harry intently watched he and Claire dance, most likely memorizing the steps. The boy was going to be dangerous to the ladies when he came of age, Chase thought with fatherly pride.
“If this is a fairy tale, then you are the princess,” he said. “I and my two fellow knights will slay your dragons and rescue you from the evil witch.” She gave him her courtesan’s laugh and he felt it down to his toes.
“Oh, Sir Knight, such chivalry must be rewarded. Pray tell, what is your desire?”
My desire is to dance you into my bed and to spend hours, perhaps days, loving you.
“Would you gift me with a kiss, Princess?” He pulled her closer and put his mouth next to her ear. “After my fellow knights are abed and we have the night to ourselves.” A shiver passed through her and he forced himself not to claim his kiss right then.
“A simple kiss, Sir Knight? Not gold or jewels?”
“A simple kiss implies a peck on the lips, Princess. Is that what you want?”
Her eyes darkened. “No,” she whispered.
Chase was in danger of forgetting his manners, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her off to bed. He glanced at Mr. Edwards and nodded. The music trailed off and he led her into one last twirl.
“I think it’s time to send my wee knights to bed.” He tugged at the front of his coat in an effort to hide his erection. “Go see what Bensey is drawing, and I’ll retrieve our champagne.”
He needed a moment to regain his control. Bless Smithfield, he had left the champagne bottle out. Chase filled a glass and downed it, then refilled two glasses. Behind him, Claire exclaimed over Bensey’s drawing and then he heard her promise Harry she would dance with him the next time they had a party.
“Would you like me to get the boys to bed?” Mr. Edwards asked from beside him.
God, yes. “Please.” Claire gave the boys a good night kiss on their foreheads. His sons approached him and he knelt, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
“Did you enjoy tonight?”
“Oh yes, ever so much” they said in unison.
Chase marveled at how often the twins said the same thing at the exact same moment. “Good. I’m positive we made Lady Claire happy tonight, but it’s time you were in bed.” He gave each a kiss on the cheek and told them he loved them.
Mr. Edwards led them away and he turned to Claire. She stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped in front of her, her features soft in the candlelight. Her lips curved in a shy smile.
Picking up the glasses of champagne, he prowled toward her. He promised himself he wouldn’t bed her tonight, but he was about to come damn close. As long as he kept his breeches on, she would be safe. There would be no regrets between them if his courtship didn’t go as he hoped.
At the point the tips of his shoes disappeared under the hem of her gown, he stopped and handed her a glass of champagne. He clicked his glass to hers. “To a beautiful woman. Thank you, Claire, for your care of my sons.” Why the wistful smile?
“How could I not? They are lovely boys.”
Taking her hand, he led her to the sofa, sat next to her and angled his body toward her. He placed his arm along the back and his fingers found a strand of silky hair.
“I like to think Andrew would have grown to be as interesting as the twins.”
The reason for her melancholy smile? Talking about her son wasn’t how he expected the evening to go, but she had never talked about him before. Perhaps she needed to.
“Did he look like you?”
She gave a little humorless laugh. “He had my eyes, but otherwise, he was the very image of Thomas. I’m so afraid one day I’ll forget what he looked like.”
Chase took the champagne out of her hands and set both glasses on the table, noticing the picture Bensey had drawn of the two of them waltzing. Her face was alight with joy and his expression—well, he looked as if he were about to devour her. His son saw too much.
“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms. “Tell me about Andrew.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, and she buried her face in his chest. “There isn’t much to tell. I only had him for two wonderful weeks and then he was gone. He had a fever and Thomas wouldn’t let me comfort him.”
She stopped talking and he waited for her to continue. He rested his chin on her head. When she remained quiet, he asked, “Was Thomas afraid you would become sick?”
She made a guttural sound. “If that was the reason, I might be able to forgive him. No, I was only allowed one hour a day with Andrew. Thomas feared if I spent more time with him, I would turn his heir into a Mama’s boy. Two weeks—one hour a day. Fourteen hours to remember my son by.”
“My God, Claire.” He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. What a damn fool Derebourne had been.
“Now you see why I’m afraid I’ll forget. My memories of him are so few and precious, and even now, it’s hard to picture my baby’s face. I used to sneak into his nursery in the early morning hours and watch him sleep.
“I didn’t dare pick him up. If he woke up and cried, his nurse would have reported me to Thomas. I would put my finger on his hand and his tiny fingers would wrap around mine and hold tight. I would imagine he knew it was me…that it made him feel protected to know I was there. But it didn’t work. I couldn’t keep him safe.”
The tears she had been holding back came and she sobbed into his chest. His eyes burned and he squeezed them shut. He’d lost his child, too, and didn’t know which was worse—to never have held him or to have been given two short weeks to love him. There was nothing he could say to make it better, so he just held her while she cried.
She quieted and he tilted his head. Her eyes were closed and he wondered if she had fallen asleep. But no, she slid her hand up to his neck. “Kiss me, Chase. Make me feel. Please.”
He understood and couldn’t have refused her if his life depended on it. The kiss began as an offer of comfort, soft and gentle. She wasn’t having it and need slammed through him when she slipped her hand under his waistcoat.
He just had to remember to keep his breeches on.
Chapter Fourteen
Claire needed his touch, needed to know she wasn’t only a figment of her imagination. She existed, she lived and breathed. The worst thing possible had happened to her, and somehow she’d survived. Now, life just might offer her a chance at happiness after all.
His lips brushed over hers, warm and teasing. Pulling his shirt out of his breeches, she slid her hand under the crisp linen. His belly was hard and hot and she wanted her hands everywhere at once. Wanted to memorize his planes and angles so she could say to herself, I know him. Trailing her fingers up his side, she counted each rib, felt the indentation between the bones. She moved her hand to his chest to feel the beat of his heart against her palm.
His mouth teased hers with feathery kisses and little nips. He appeared to be in no hurry, didn’t seem to have the same aching need as she. She wanted his breath harsh and hot on her skin, to know he desired her as much as she did him.
She wanted…she didn’t know what. This need inside her was new and unexplored, but he could show her. There had to be more than a quick lift of her gown accompanied by a few grunts on the man’s part, leaving her messy and sometimes sore.
She skimmed her fingers over a nipple and suppressed a satisfied smile when he hissed against her lips. In an instant, his kiss turned demanding and his tongue invaded her mouth.
Yes, this is what she wanted. She’d never dreamed a man’s tongue—his tongue—in her mouth could build a fire in the deepest parts of her, could make her tremble with want. He moved a hand to the side of her face, the other finding its way to the curve of a breast.
Tonight, she’d purposely not worn a corset, thus the only barrier between his palm and her skin was her silk gown and chemise. Thin as it was, it was too much. She wanted skin to skin. His erection pressed against her bottom and every single inch of her body throbbed with want.
This had never happened before.
Because of Thomas, she had believed having a man inside her was a thing to be endured. The duty of a wife to her husband. When Thomas had come to her bed, her mind turned to the next day’s training session, planning which horse she would work with. After Andrew was born, she had gratefully been relieved of her wifely duties.
When they thought her asleep, she overhear
d the doctor tell Thomas that it would be three months before she could have marital relations again. Immensely pleased by that information, she had fallen into a restful sleep. She now understood it had only required this man to see how foolishly naïve she had been.
The hand cradling her face moved to the buttons on the back of her gown. When he had them undone, he slid the gown and chemise off her shoulder. Freeing a breast, he cupped it in his hand. When he flicked his thumb over her nipple, the pleasure was so intense she gave a startled jolt.
“Easy,” he said with a soft chuckle. He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a newborn kitten and turned her so she straddled him. “Ah, perfect.” His lips found the tip of her breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth while his hand skimmed over her back in a lover’s caress.
Oh, God. Oh, God. There must be strings attached to her breast and running through her body. With his mouth, he pulled on the strings sending tremulous vibrations on a journey through her bloodstream. How ignorant she had been believing this should be done shamefully in the dark.
She was an adventuress exploring exotic new lands. Closing her eyes, she let him take her to a new world of sensual bliss.
With his mouth still latched to her breast, he tugged the other sleeve off her shoulder, and she slipped her arms out of her gown. She almost cried out in protest when he pulled away. But no, his mouth moved to her other breast, and all was well.
“Don’t want it to feel neglected,” he murmured.
Claire gave a breathless little laugh. “No, we can’t have that.”
Apparently, there were strings attached to this one, too. The ache in her private place intensified to an unbearable need and she rubbed against his erection. The friction of his trousers, the feel of his hardness scraped against her. A pressure built inside until she burned as hot as molten lava. Moaning, she pressed her face into his neck and rubbed harder against him.