Belong To Me (book 4) (The Fielding Brothers Saga)

by Marie Higgins

  She and her wayward husband would start their life together anew and put their painful past behind them. Through their new discovery, they’d see if they really did have a future together. His kisses already stirred desire deep within her. Could she forget he’d left her to seek out a different life? And would he forgive her that it was her own selfishness that had forced him to leave her in the first place?

  Charlotte’s maid helped her slip into a short sleeve blue day dress with a square neck and tight waist. Clara pulled back Charlotte’s hair and tied it with a matching ribbon. Before a full-length mirror, she turned one way and then another, inspecting her attire to be assured all was in place. She brought the bulk of her hair forward and over her left shoulder. Her complexion was white and illusive pink. A shimmering gray flecked in her amber eyes and her long hair was a rich, glowing brown. She smiled. Thanks to the generosity of her new friend, Lord Thatcher, she and her husband had decided to take advantage of the seclusion the castle offered by getting reacquainted with each other.

  Once she left her room, she called for O’Toole. “Would you please gather the others and take on the task of cleaning the remaining rooms?”

  “Of course, Mistress.”

  Lighthearted, she practically skipped along the stone path to the back of the castle. As she turned the corner, the vista caused her to stop in her tracks. It was magnificent, from the rolling green lawns to the bed of water bordering the land. The scent of wildflowers filled the air, and she closed her eyes and breathed in the heavenly aroma.

  When she opened her eyes, she noticed Ian standing near the castle’s far wall. He had his back to her and didn’t seem to know she was there. Casually, he leaned against the elderly stone wall, wearing coffee trousers and a beige shirt. The fabric stretched across his wide shoulders, yet tapered to his narrow waist. He turned slightly and she looked at his silhouette. Regal nose and strong chin aimed upward as though he soaked up the morning sunshine, which glinted off his dark brown hair.

  She watched him in silence for a long moment, drinking him in. It thrilled her to know all she had to do was snap her fingers and this man would be hers. The magnetism that made him seem so self-confident urged her to be near him. But she fought the overwhelming need to let go of her insecurities and trust in her husband. She had to be certain. Her heart could not take another rejection.

  Yet the question still remained. Did she really want a relationship? Hopefully today, she’d discover for herself what she truly wanted, and if it was indeed his heart—she prayed she’d gain it soon.

  When she stepped out of the shadows, he spotted her. His wide smile and extended hand welcomed her closer. His gaze was as soft as a caress, and nearly as affective. Tingles fluttered in her stomach. He was so incredibly good-looking and she reacted so strongly to him, to his touch, his smell…the very nearness of him. Doubts were dispersed at the tenderness of his long stare.

  She wanted to love him, but she didn’t want him to know. Not yet. He placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles then hooked her fingers around his elbow. They walked along before his eyes caught hers.

  “What’s amiss, my dear?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me, Charlotte.” He stopped and faced her.

  Shrugging, she said, “I have the feeling you still think of me as your troublesome child bride.”

  “How should I think of you?” His voice softened.

  “Think of me as a woman. How would you like it if I thought of you as a boy worse as a rogue, or a thief?”

  His eyes blazed, and he roughly gripped her shoulders. Before Charlotte knew what was happening, his arms encircled her waist, his head lowering. His mouth covered hers in a passionate kiss of exploration. The kiss was so erotic and sensual that her hands clung to the heavy sinews of his back, pulling him closer as they deepened the kiss. Never before had she wanted to move from his arms, but then he thrust her from him.

  He smiled. “Now, was that the kiss of a mere boy?” Without any further ado or seduction, he proceeded with their walk.

  She kept in step alongside him, her heart aching due to the jumble of emotions beneath her breast.

  “All right,” he began, “if we are going to begin fresh, let’s start the right way. I will no longer think of you as a child, and you will not think of me as your wayward husband...or rogue, as you so eloquently put it.” He gave her a significant lift of his brows.

  Charlotte let her mind relax as she gazed into his mesmerizing brown eyes and listened to his sultry voice.

  “So, what is it you’d like to know about me, my dear?” His eyes twinkled.

  Charlotte smiled. How could she resist him? She could probably ask him anything and he would be truthful, but suddenly her mind went blank, and all she could do was stare at him and inhale his spicy scent. “You’re not going to believe this, but I can’t seem to think of one question. Why don’t you tell me anything you’d like?”

  He chuckled and covered her hand on his elbow. “I suppose I could tell you a little about my family.”

  For the next few hours, she listened to his baritone voice as he satisfied her curiosity on most subject matters. Although she knew he was the youngest of three boys, she didn’t know they were raised by their uncle. Ian’s oldest brother, Nicholas, was given the title of Duke when their uncle passed on.

  Ian told her about some of the cases he’d solved and what disguises he’d worn. Hearing devotion laced in his words wrenched her heart. Obviously, he loved his investigating business. She would have to settle with the realization that his investigation work would always be more important than their marriage.

  He led her around the castle, and although the landscape was beautiful, she kept her gaze on the interesting man beside her. Between a pair of tall cedars, Ian led her to a gurgling brook. She stood on the side watching the water tumble over the rocks. Then she noticed the picnic lunch spread out on a blanket. It surprised her that he’d gone through this much trouble just to please her, and her heart melted just a fraction more.

  “Ian, where did you get all this food?”

  “When Lord Thatcher left the kitchen, I took the opportunity to make us an afternoon meal.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “I thank you for planning ahead.”

  “Only for you, my dear.”

  She sat unbidden on the woolen blanket and straightened her skirts around her. He watched her, a glorious smile on his face. As he knelt before her, he plucked a grape from its stem. Ian had the fruit about eye level and waited until she peered upward at it. He lowered it, slowly to her mouth. She smiled, not recalling when she’d ever been this content.

  “Have you found out anything about the false charges against you? Or who would want to do this to you?”

  The smile faded as he rested back on his elbow. “Unfortunately, not yet. But I believe the commissioner realized I’d be the perfect scapegoat because I know so much about these people’s lives, and especially, about their homes. I know where they keep their jewelry, and about their secret hideaways. I know the different ways to get into their homes without being seen, and where to hide when I’m in there.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s just not fair,” he continued with a cold edge of irony in his deep voice. “They’ve got me trapped, and I can’t find a way out.” He met her stare as a deep sigh escaped him. “But Charlotte, I didn’t steal from them. I swear on my parents’ graves.”

  She willed herself to believe him. She had to believe him. “Do you think the commissioner is at the forefront of this travesty?”

  His jaw tightened, his lips stretched in irritation. He nodded. “I would bet money on it.”

  “I want to help.”

  He touched her hand. “You cannot because I’m not certain who’s setting me up. I don’t want to put you in any danger. I’ll not have you subjected to any peril, do you understand?”

  She hung her head. “Yes. I just feel so helpless.”

  “Promise me you’ll not i
nterfere.”

  She hesitated. Really, she should promise, but if the chance presented itself, she’d gladly do all she could to get him out of this mess. “I promise.”

  His finger lifted her chin, and when she met his eyes, she saw uncertainty on his grin. “I don’t believe you, my sweet.”

  She smiled. “You’re not being fair.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I think I am. Now, are you going to promise me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  He stroked her cheek once, and dropped his hand. He moved the conversation away from him and onto her. He urged her to relate stories from her life. She liked the way he hung on her every word. She switched topics, once she ran out of things to say, and an awkward silence seemed to stretch between them.

  “I’m so very grateful Lord Thatcher let us stay here. Isn’t he a kind man?” she said.

  Ian gave her an intent look. “Charlotte, although I’m relieved Lord Thatcher is allowing me to hide here, I really think you need to go back to my townhouse. It’s not proper for you to be staying with him. He’s unmarried, you know. I don’t like it.”

  She smiled to herself at the protective tone in his voice. “I know, but who is going to care? As far as anyone knows, I’ve gone back home. George and Allison won’t say anything, I assure you.”

  His brows drew together in confusion. “George and Allison know where you are?”

  “Of course. You don’t think I’d come here without telling my friends, do you?”

  Her heart hammered quickly. Did he know the truth about her and George? Did he know she’d lied about their relationship? She didn’t realize she was holding her breath as she watched his reaction, but soon the worry was erased from his forehead and his mouth relaxed.

  “I just don’t want people spreading rumors that aren’t true,” he said.

  Breathing a heavy sigh, she smiled. “It’s like I said, who is going to care? Up until the other day, your friends didn’t even know you had a wife.”

  He nodded. “You’re correct. But…”

  In a moment of silence, she saw him watching her through hooded eyes, and as the seconds ticked by, it made her uncomfortable. She prayed he didn’t know her thoughts. She shifted on the blanket, absently picking off crumbs on her dress.

  “Charlotte, just promise me you won’t get too deeply involved with Lord Thatcher. He’s still a stranger to you.”

  Charlotte didn’t understand the uneasiness her husband displayed. “Why? I don’t feel that way when I’m with him. He has been the perfect gentleman. He’s very charming and helping.”

  A look crossed his face that resembled jealousy, but before she had a chance to analyze it, he stood. “Just be wary, Charlotte. Always keep on guard. Don’t ever turn your back on him.”

  “Ian.” She jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm. “You’re worrying me. Tell me why you feel this way.”

  “All I can tell you is I don’t trust the man. There has to be some reason he’d been a recluse for all these years.”

  “Of course there is,” she said quickly. “He doesn’t want people pitying him because of his deformity.”

  “There has to be something more to it than that.” Impatience seeped into his voice.

  “Maybe if you just got to know him better. He really is a nice man,” she quipped.

  “He cannot stand me. He won’t let me get close enough to him to become his friend.”

  “Why does he hate you?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose he has his reasons.”

  “Do you know what they are?”

  “No.”

  She sensed he held something from her, but his mood had changed and he wouldn’t explain himself. His hands tenderly cupped her face while he stared at her.

  “Either you are a very jealous man, or you’re very overprotective.” She was pleased with their initial intimacy and the soft way he was gazing into her eyes. Happily, she could drown in those eyes.

  “I’m both.” Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

  Her heart pounded madly. Perhaps she could learn to love and trust him again. One thing was for certain, no man had ever affected her the way he did. Never had she found herself responding so quickly to another man’s touch or kiss.

  When he pulled away, his breathing was shallow and his face slightly flushed. He moved away and cleaned up the picnic items. He led her back to the castle, his guiding hand on her back keeping her beside him all the way. Before reaching the castle, he stopped, pulled her into the shadows of a group of elms and glanced around to make sure they were alone.

  “I’d better leave your side right here, just in case the servants are lurking about.”

  Sighing, she touched his sleeve. “I can’t wait until this is over and you can come out of hiding.”

  He grinned teasingly. “Why, Mrs. Fielding, do you miss me already?”

  Her cheeks burned, so she slapped his shoulder playfully. “Quit reading more into my words than I intended.” She tried to sound nonchalant but the tone of her voice lifted, betraying her true feelings.

  He laughed then gathered her in his arms. “I, too, can’t wait until I can take you out in public and show you to the world.” His hold tightened. “But for now I rather enjoy our privacy.”

  Against her ribs, her heart thundered. His mouth descended and captured hers again, but instead of the gentle kiss she’d expected, he crushed his mouth to hers while his hands caressed her back. She fell against him and pushed her hands up his chest, but before she could really enjoy the passionate moment, he tore himself away and stepped back.

  “I’d better stop. I have to remember to keep things slow so you can learn to trust me.”

  Disappointment washed over her, surprising her. “Thank you.”

  “I shall see you later.”

  He turned to leave, but she stopped him. “Ian? Please take care.”

  “I will.” He gave her a wink, and then left.

  With a heavy heart, she walked slowly back to the castle, her mind repeating everything that happened this afternoon. When she realized the time spent with her husband had been extremely pleasurable, a smile touched her lips. They didn’t argue or bring up the hurtful past, and their steps toward making amends had started out well.

  She entered the spacious old castle, her footsteps echoing as she walked from room to room. In just the small amount of time she’d been with Ian, the servants had been very busy. They had taken the boards off the windows and the sunshine streamed inside. It illuminated the clean marble floors. The spider-webbed corners were wiped away, and the walls displayed newly papered decor. The creak of the door pulled her attention down the hall just as O’Toole exited from one of the rooms.

  “O’Toole?”

  “Yes, Mistress?”

  “I wanted to praise you on doing such a splendid job with the cleaning.”

  He smiled and his face stained a dark pink. “Thank you.”

  “Has Lord Thatcher seen this room yet?”

  “No, he has been busy cleaning another part of the castle.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I believe he’s on the third floor on the north end.” He pointed his hand in the direction.

  “Thank you. Keep up the good work,” she cheered before leaving to go find Adam.

  When she reached the third floor, she gasped. Just like the second, this floor had many spacious rooms, certainly created for a king and queen. These rooms weren’t dirty. Adam must have been busy this afternoon.

  A loud bang drew her attention to a room farther down the hall. When she entered, she noticed it hadn’t been cleaned as well as the others, and that some of the windows were still covered with boards. Her attention turned to the large presence standing at the top of a ladder. Lord Thatcher pulled off boards from a window, his arms straining with each movement.

  Her gaze moved over him as he labored. His old trousers were worn with gaping holes. Watching the rippled motion of his shou
lders as he yanked one of the boards, she sighed inwardly. He was very well blessed—nearly as well as Ian. Not only did the material of his trousers fit him like a glove, but he also had the front of his shirt unbuttoned, and when he turned, she caught a glimpse of his robust frame.

  She hitched a breath and should have turned away, but couldn’t pull her eyes off him. Even though he wore the dark scarf over half of his face to hide his scar, it didn’t take away from his masculinity. His profile was strong, and she found herself feeling strangely interested in this mysterious man.

  As the board came loose, he muttered a heavy sigh. Light flooded into the room even though the window was etched with years of soil. Excitement pounded in her heart, and she knew this was definitely not proper to be witnessing, but for some insane reason, she couldn’t exit the room no matter how hard she willed her legs to move.

  He swiped his sleeve across his forehead then paused when he saw her standing there. Her mouth turned dry and her tongue swelled, and she couldn’t form the words to speak.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fielding,” he said, breaking the incredible silence.

  Her heart fluttered again as her gaze moved down the front of his opened shirt. He was definitely a fine specimen of a man. She took in his tempting, attractive male physique as the rich outlines of his broad shoulders strained against the fabric of his shirt. “Good afternoon, Lord Thatcher. You’ve been rather busy today.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t leave these rooms looking haunted forever.” He smiled at her, bringing an immediate softening to his features.

  She took two more steps into the room. “I think you’ve done a remarkable job.”

  “Mr. Fielding’s servants have accomplished more than their share. They should be rewarded.” He climbed down the ladder and picked up the towel lying across the back of a chair. With the corner of it, he dabbed his forehead.

  “Yes, they have,” she agreed. “I shall see that their pay is increased.”

  “Do you need something?”

  She shrugged. “I was going to offer my help with assisting of the cleaning, but I see that has been taken care of already.”