Promise Me Forever

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Promise Me Forever Page 17

by Kimberly Nee


  The trees and foliage were in full bloom, rich greens and riots of colors in the wildflowers growing along the side of the road. The air was filled with the sweet scent of honeysuckle, teasing and delighting her nose. She could see hills of rolling green, and in the distance, the rise of mountains. They appeared an even deeper green, with barren patches of dark red and brown. It all looked so peaceful and serene, immediately bringing back warm remembrances of childhood days at Waterbury. Heather knew at once she could be very happy here.

  Casting a sidelong glance at Drew, she let her imagination run away. She pictured them setting up a home in one of the cozy-looking houses they passed. Dark haired, blue-eyed children dashed about under their feet as they too, chased the blinking fireflies. It was a wonderful picture in her mind, filling her with a new wistfulness.

  Now the houses were growing larger, more elegant, with whitewashed fences rimming spacious boundaries. Washing that had been hanging was now being taken down and she could see women in simple gowns and caps folding clothing to be placed in the large baskets at their feet.

  He leaned close again, interrupting her reverie. “Take a look now."

  She did and her eyes fell on a large brick house with a large round stained glass window set above a double front door of dark gleaming wood. Below the window, she could see a small ornamental balcony of what appeared to be white marble. Four white columns, two in the foreground and two in the background, flanked a large square portico. The house separated into two wings—one east and one west. Each wing was three stories high and lined with windows.

  The front lawn sloped gently from the gracefully curved dirt drive to the road. Beyond the drive, there was a lush expanse of green leading to the house. It was a lovely house and she wondered who called this palace home.

  She turned to see him smiling at her. “What is it?” she asked softly.

  "That is Shadowbrook,” he replied. “My home."

  "Is it, now?” Heather turned back to gaze out the window. It made her feel a bit closer to him, seeing where he lived, where he had been raised. She had no idea he'd been reared in the luxury he had. It was quite a far cry from what she'd imagined. She knew his was a life of privilege, but she'd naïvely assumed it would be paltry compared to the life of the British peerage.

  "Not quite what you expected, is it?"

  "Well, no. Not really,” she confessed rather sheepishly.

  He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Not quite the beastly American after all, eh?"

  She couldn't help but laugh. “I suppose not."

  She hadn't expected the carriage to turn up the curving drive, and they didn't. Instead, they rolled past and down a small hill. There, nestled in the trees, she could see a three-story white house. It seemed spacious, but not nearly as elegant as Shadowbrook. “Who lives there?"

  "Ah, that would be Garrett,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “He started it before I left. Looks as though he's finally finished the place."

  They continued on past thick trees, through which she could see a sprawling meadow of green and wildflowers. Deer grazed just beyond the trees, fireflies flashed their lights in the growing darkness, birds chirped in the treetops, and the entire scene was most soothing.

  Her eyes widened as they came upon another manor house. This one was even larger than Shadowbrook, gleaming white with solemn black shutters. Three window-lined stories, flickering with light, stretched into two wings as well, but these appeared even longer than those of Shadowbrook.

  "Hunter Grove,” he explained, tapping a finger to the window. “Home of the infamous Melanie Tomlinson. Whatever you do, keep your distance from that one."

  "Why?” She was surprised to hear the venom in his voice and couldn't help but wonder the reason for it.

  "She is a bitch, Heather. A viper with the face of an angel. Trust me, you do not want to cross her path."

  "Very well. I will stay away from her."

  "Trust me,” he repeated. “She tried to ruin my sister. Almost succeeded. She has a soul as black as pitch. Gossip is her middle name and there is nothing too sacred for her to prattle on about."

  It sounded as though she would be right at home with the ton, Heather thought. However all she said was, “She sounds lovely,” as they rolled past that house as well.

  The woods grew thicker still, the houses farther apart, until it seemed they'd left Brunswick. She turned to him. “Where are we going?"

  "We are almost there,” he replied. “A friend of mine lives out here. This is where you will stay for now."

  Until when? she wanted to ask, but didn't. Instead, she asked, “A friend?"

  He nodded. “Jeremy's sister. He stays here when we are home. She's a widow, so it's perfectly acceptable for you to stay here for a while."

  Heather wasn't so certain she liked the idea. “So you are going to simply push me off on a stranger, then?"

  "Heather, this is the best solution I could think of. If I was to secure you a room at Bayside, or WindSwept, or any other inn, I would be recognized and the rumors would burn like wildfire through town. You need to remember, mine is a prominent family."

  She sighed. “The rumors."

  "The rumors.” He agreed with a nod. “So, we are going to tuck you away with Christina for now."

  "Tuck me away?"

  "In a manner of speaking."

  "I am not so certain I like the sound of this."

  He knew she'd be unhappy about the situation. He couldn't fault her, really. He wasn't so certain he liked it either, but there was no other way. He could only imagine what would happen, should someone see him escorting her into one of Brunswick's hotels. She would be ruined before she ever met a soul.

  She fell silent as both carriages veered left into the drive. They drew up to a cozy, softly lit two-story house. It looked pleasant enough, with its gleaming whitewashed shingles and lacy curtains wafting in the gentle breeze.

  The carriage rocked to a halt and the driver pulled open the door. Drew climbed down, turning to help Heather alight. Jeremy came up to them just as the front door opened and a tall, slender woman stepped out onto the porch.

  It was hard to imagine this woman was related to Jeremy. He was so dark, and she had white-blonde hair. As she stepped down and walked over to them, Heather could see her eyes were a most unusual shade of blue—so pale they were almost clear—but they were warm and friendly as she smiled and rushed to her brother to throw her arms about his neck, laughing, “Jeremy! Oh, I thought my eyes were deceiving me!"

  "As you can see, they aren't,” Jeremy laughed, giving her a squeeze and setting her back on her feet. He turned to Drew and Heather. “Of course, you remember Drew, don't you?"

  Her eyes flicked up to Drew and she shook her head. “As if anyone could forget this scamp,” she replied, hugging him. “Welcome home, wanderer."

  Drew chuckled. “Ah, I only hope I receive so warm a welcome at Shadowbrook.” He stepped back and said, “Heather, this is Jeremy's sister, Christina Anderson. Christina, I'd like to introduce you to Miss Heather Spencer."

  Christina turned those crystal blue eyes to Heather and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Spencer."

  "And a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Anderson."

  "Oh, please, do call me Christina,” she replied warmly.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “Tina, I need to ask a favor."

  "What might that be, Jeremy?"

  "Well, would you be so kind as to put Miss Heather up for a few weeks?"

  Christina's eyes darted back to Heather. “Why?"

  Drew cleared his throat. “Well, I cannot bring her to Shadowbrook, and—"

  She suddenly smiled knowingly, showing off pearly little teeth. “I understand. Of course you are welcome to stay here, Miss Spencer."

  Heather felt the heat flood her cheeks as Christina gave her a knowing look. “Thank you."

  "There is no need to thank me,” Christina replied, giving Drew a conspira
torial smile. “Everyone in Brunswick knows what a rake this one is."

  Heather glanced up at Drew, who now looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Rake?” she asked softly.

  He combed his fingers through his hair. “So, shall we get you settled?"

  She resisted the urge to sigh as he turned to help Jeremy with the trunks. Now she was on his home territory, and she was learning more about him than she really wished to know. A rake? She supposed that shouldn't surprise her. As she'd thought before, he was handsome, wealthy, and unmarried. It would be perfectly acceptable for him to dally with as many ladies as he wished. But had that changed, or would he return to his ways now that they were in Brunswick?

  She kept her questions to herself as she followed Christina into the small house. It was a bit cooler than outside, but not by much, and she couldn't help but notice the amount of clutter in the parlor. There was not a whit of empty space. Oil lamps flickered on tables, lace doilies draped over the arms and backs of the furniture, and assorted bric-a-brac littered the tables, mantelpiece, and shelving, creating a most suffocating atmosphere. Heather didn't know if she would ever feel comfortable amongst the neatly ordered disorder.

  Christina smiled at her. “Come along, Miss Spencer. I will show you to your room.” She flashed her smile at Drew. “You might wish to follow. So you know where to find her."

  He had the good grace to flush at that. “You know me too well, Christina."

  She gave him a playful nudge. “I ought to."

  A knot formed in the pit of Heather's stomach as she realized that Christina teased him the way only a former lover would. It didn't surprise her, for Christina was quite lovely with those amazing eyes. However, it did unsettle her, to be in the presence of a woman who knew Drew's body with the same intimacy as she herself did.

  She remained silent as she followed them up the short, narrow flight of steps. She couldn't help but notice how well they fit together. Christina was tall for a woman, and slender, and her pale coloring complemented Drew's dark good looks perfectly. Heather felt tiny and insignificant compared to her. Drew would not have to worry about a crick in either his back or his neck with a woman like Christina, and she couldn't help but wonder if he would prefer that over her diminutive stature now that he had the choice.

  Christina led them down a short hallway, stopping at a door at the end. “Here we are. I think this shall suffice."

  Heather peered into the room. Like the rest of the house, it was small, but cozy. A vanity, a settee, a low chest of drawers, and a small, narrow bed were all crammed into the room and, like the parlor, Christina had obviously felt the need to fill every bit of space with knickknacks of some sort.

  This room is going to keep me awake at night, Heather thought with an inward groan. Still, she couldn't very well say that, so she simply smiled and said, “It's really quite lovely, Christina. Thank you."

  Christina set her candle on the vanity and returned Heather's smile. “Please, it's no trouble. Shall I leave you to get settled?"

  "If you wouldn't mind,” Drew replied, flashing her a devilish grin.

  "Now for you, Drew? Anything.” She gave him another playful nudge as she moved back towards the steps. “I'll prepare some tea."

  "Thank you.” Heather stepped into the room and shook her head. “There is so much—so much—” She couldn't quite find the best word to describe the mess about her.

  "Clutter?” Drew offered.

  "Exactly."

  He closed the door, stepping up behind her to slip his arms about her waist. “It's only temporary."

  "Hmm..."

  He frowned at her noncommittal response. “What is it, love?"

  "How well do you know Christina?"

  He knew what this question was leading to, and he did not wish to answer it. Women could get catty when faced with a former mistress, which is exactly what Christina had been. It was years ago, and the fire had mellowed into one of deep friendship, but he knew he would never be able to convince Heather that the only feelings remaining were of a platonic nature.

  "I know her well enough,” he said after a long silence.

  "I see."

  He took a deep breath. “Heather, it was a long time ago. A very long time."

  "You owe me no explanation,” she replied crisply, easing from his embrace to cross over to the window. The room overlooked the trees in front of the house, where she could just barely see a family of deer grazing peacefully in the twilight. She wished she could feel that sort of peace. Her emotions were a tangled knot within her belly.

  She cast a sideways glance at Drew through her lashes. Just the sight of him sent a rush through her. Her blood warmed as it bubbled through her veins, but now she was also troubled by images she'd rather not see. It was one thing to know he had visited other beds, but it was something entirely different to be sharing a home with one of those former occupants.

  He took a step towards her. “Heather—"

  "Really, Drew. You owe me no explanation,” she repeated in a falsely cheerful voice.

  "Still—"

  "This is your home,” she went on as if she hadn't heard him, “and I suppose there are many women who will look at you with a special, shared expression that only you will understand. Or who will take liberties that a stranger would never dare. I understand that. And that is fine. Really. I ought expect it to happen quite often, I suppose."

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Jealousy does not become you, my lady."

  "I am not jealous,” Heather scoffed. She turned to face him, only to see that he didn't believe her words any more than she did. “Why should I be jealous?"

  "Exactly. There is no need for it,” he replied shortly. “Christina is in the past. Very far in the past."

  "How far do you consider that, then?"

  "Far enough."

  She didn't think there was any such thing as far enough. “I see."

  "No,” he broke in heatedly, “I don't think you do, Heather."

  She turned away to look out the window once more. “Drew, you are free to do as you wish. I've no claim to you.” She wished more than ever she had the nerve to tell him what he'd said to her in the grips of his fever. But, as he hadn't spoken the words since, she was too afraid to find out it had been only the fever speaking and not him. She knew it would crush her to find out that was not his true feeling for her.

  "Of course you do."

  She whirled around at his quiet response, eyes wide as she asked, “What did you say?"

  He moved to stand behind her at the window. Slipping his arms about her waist, he pulled her back up to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I said, you can lay claim to me, love."

  She twisted about to face him. “I can?"

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Of course. I told you, Christina was a long time ago. Another lifetime, if you will."

  His lips came down to claim hers, his arms tightening about her. Heather felt about a hundred pounds lighter as she melted into him, wrapping her arms about his waist and losing herself in his wonderful kiss.

  Twenty-three

  "Drew?"

  "Yes, love?"

  Heather smiled at his sleepy reply. Darkness had completely fallen, the shadows creeping along the walls of the tiny room, and the heat abating somewhat. They were lying on the narrow bed, the covers strewn about and the pillows crumpled on the floor.

  His kiss led to his sweeping her from her feet and spiriting her to the bed, where she did not protest as he freed them from their cumbersome clothing and proceeded to make love to her with abandon. She forgot about Christina and Jeremy, and neither one bothered them, letting them alone. His fingers moved lightly over her hair now as she lifted her head. “May I ask you something?"

  His blue eyes were tender as he murmured, “Love, you may ask me anything your heart desires."

  "Why were you at Madame Allison's that night in the first place? The true reason, I mean."

  A teasing grin spread over
his handsome face. “Why does any man visit a brothel?"

  "Oh ... I see..."

  He chuckled at her furious blush, ruffling her hair tenderly as he said, “I am but teasing, love. And I have told you the true reason. I would not have been there at all if Danbury had not mentioned this stunningly beautiful girl working there."

  Heather felt the pit of her stomach drop. “Really, now?"

  He nodded, eyes closing. “When he described her to me, I had to see for myself. Brady's a bit given to tall tales, you see, and I had to know if he was pulling my leg."

  She was unsure how to respond. She tried to picture each one of the women working at Madame Allison's, wondering to whom Brady St. Charles might have been referring. She wasn't at all certain she wanted to know which of the other of Allison's courtesans had caught Drew's eye. At the same time, she knew she had to know, so she reluctantly asked, “And did you get to see this one?"

  "I did."

  This puzzled her, for it was most unusual for any man to visit two of the women in one night. Not impossible, of course, but most unusual indeed. A small knot kinked her stomach. “It was Flora, am I right?"

  "Sorry, love. Try again."

  She was at a loss. Flora was easily the most beautiful girl to be had at Madame Allison's. If the viscount hadn't meant her, whom could he have meant?

  Drew opened his eyes again, rolling onto his side to smile at her. “And she lays here beside me now."

  His words warmed her to her core, unknotting that painful kink. She couldn't help the smile lifting her lips, or the delicate blush rising to her cheeks as she said, “Do not tease me so."

  He reached out to caress her cheek with tender fingers. “I am not teasing you, love. He described this beautiful creature with chestnut hair and fathomless dark eyes. I had to see her for myself.” As he spoke, his eyes grew darker, his voice softer. “And the moment I saw her, my entire world changed. Forever."

  His fingers slipped through her hair, drawing her close as his lips claimed hers. Her heart swelled with joy as he pinned her beneath him. She traced her fingernails up his back in long, feathery strokes as her lips parted to receive the velvety caress of his tongue.

 

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