The Truth About Lady Felkirk

by Christine Merrill

  He took the opportunity to roll her to the left side of the bed again, the one she preferred. Then he followed her, burying his face against her breasts and taking the nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking. His fingertips played over her body with feather-light touches, stroking her shoulders, her calves, and slipping between her legs. Before she could protest, she was flying again, not as high as she had, but flying all the same, then settling gently back down to see Will’s smiling face, close to hers.

  ‘Justine,’ he whispered. ‘Justine. If you were not already mine, I would have to make you so, after this night. How could I have lived, before I met you? And how could I go on without you?’

  ‘You will not have to,’ she whispered. ‘I am yours, for now, and for ever.’ It was good, for a change, to be speaking the truth to him, for that was what this was. She knew not how, but she would make it so. Diamonds or no diamonds, she would be William Felkirk’s wife.

  * * *

  Will stared at the ceiling through half-closed eyes. How good it was to feel this way again, exhausted from lovemaking, half-sleeping, half-waking, with a beautiful woman in his arms. Justine lay curled beside him, sweet and soft as a kitten, her face pressed against his shoulder as if she had fallen asleep in the middle of a kiss.

  He was struck, once again, by how unexpected she was. If he’d had to envision the woman he would take as his wife, she would not have been it. He rather thought he’d have ended up with one of the giggling chits at Almack’s. Though empty headed, they seemed the most logical choice. He would choose the least annoying of the bunch and marry her. They would be seen around London together, travelling in a smart set, going to parties, dinners, musicals and balls. Eventually, there would be children.

  But this girl? Empty headed was the last thing he’d have thought to call her. There was a sense that something was going on, running deep, like the proverbial still waters. But on the surface, there was the quiet of an undisturbed pond. Did she like parties, games and dancing? If so, she did not say.

  She liked marmalade and novels. And him. He smiled. In her company, he found an unexpected joy in quiet. The sight of her in his sitting room, in her plain cap, bent over her needlework was a study in contrast. It made him want to uncover the beauty beneath the simple gown and peel back the linen covering her hair, so that he might kiss it.

  To find her so willing in his bed, and so bold... He felt another rush of emotion. Desire. Possessiveness. Was it too soon to claim this as love? Had he known her for months, or less than a week?

  Or had he known her for ever and spent his life waiting for the moment they might be together? Common sense told him he could not feel love after so short a time in her company. But his heart announced that, in this case, common sense was wrong. There was nothing common about the sensations he felt, when with her. And after tonight, he knew she felt the same when she was with him.

  He laid a hand on her hip, smoothing over the curve. As he watched her, she twitched in his arms, went rigid, shuddered, then was still for a moment before going rigid again. Was it a dream? Apparently so, for she did not open her eyes as she tossed her head from side to side as though trying to escape from something or someone. To comfort her, he held her tighter. She jerked away and said, quite plainly, ‘Don’t touch me. Never again.’ Then she sat up, suddenly awake. She gasped for air as though she had been running and looked wildly around her for a moment.

  He carefully withdrew his hand from her body. Did his touch frighten her? She had not been bothered by it a few hours before. ‘You are safe, Justine. It was only a dream.’

  She looked at him for a moment, unable to recognise him. She shrank away from him, wrapping her arms around her body, looking smaller and more helpless than he had seen her.

  ‘It was a dream,’ he repeated.

  ‘Only a dream,’ she repeated. Then her eyes focused on him and she smiled in relief.

  ‘Do you wish to tell me about it? Sometimes it helps to take away the fear.’

  ‘No!’ She shuddered again, then carefully composed herself to show him the usual, placid smile. But it was only an illusion, for her hair still hung damp with sweat on her face and her limbs trembled with suppressed energy.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, in a soft calming voice. ‘But know that you needn’t be afraid, as long as I am here.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, although she did not sound convinced. Was it nothing more than fantasy? Or was there something in her past that gave her a reason to fear? Life was not always kind to women who were poor and alone. Men could be predatory and a weak girl would not be able to protect herself. Whatever it was, it was clearly no fault of hers, for when he looked at her in the candlelight he could not imagine a more innocent creature. He patted the mattress.’ Lay back down beside me. Let me hold you. I will make everything better.’

  She did as he bade her, relaxing into his arms as the tension drained from her body. He smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her temples. ‘There, see? Nothing to be afraid of.’

  She sighed. ‘This feels so good.’ She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder again. ‘I could sleep here and never wake.’

  ‘Do not say that,’ he said, tipping her chin up so he could look in her eyes. ‘Do not even think it. Now that I have found you, I do not want to lose you so soon.’

  She blinked slowly and, for a moment, he thought that she might be about to cry. But when she spoke, there was no trace of a sob in her voice. ‘I am sorry if I frighten you. But in my life, until now, there has not been such happiness. Some of the things in my past, before I met you...were very difficult.’

  Difficult. It was said in her quiet, unassuming way, as though she might not truly understand the meaning of the word. Where she might say difficult, another might speak of horror and bear scars greater than the one on his arm that she was now stroking. Do not touch me? They were the words of someone who had been beaten, or violated. All the more reason for him to be gentle with her and treat her like the treasure she was.

  ‘Are you not the one who taught me it is only the future that matters?’ He kissed her again. ‘That future will be as sweet as I can make it for you.’

  ‘And for you as well.’ She stroked his arm again, running her fingers lightly over the smooth, red patch, where the skin had been ruined by the fire. ‘Does it hurt, when I touch you here?’

  He shrugged, embarrassed that he could not feel her touch through the thickness of the scar. ‘It did at one time. But now I feel nothing.’

  ‘It is the same for me,’ she said. ‘Sometimes, it is better not to feel anything at all.’

  ‘But you can feel my touch, I hope,’ he said sleepily, stroking her arm again.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘And my scar does not frighten you?’ It had been a fearsome thing at one time. Even he had cringed when looking at it.

  ‘I like it,’ she whispered back. ‘You are like your house. Not too perfect. Just right.’

  His throat tightened with a strange rush of emotion, as he remembered her reaction as she had stared up at house and proclaimed it a castle, when most others would have called it a ruin. The touch of her hand on his numb skin made him feel like the battle-scarred king of the keep who had married a princess.

  She rolled to face him, her head resting on his damaged shoulder. ‘In the dark, when I am by your side, I have but to touch your scar and I will know who you are. I do not even have to open my eyes.’

  Strange. ‘I am a fortunate man to have a woman love me for my imperfections and not in spite of them.’

  His face clouded, for a moment. ‘Would you do the same for me, I wonder?’

  He smiled back at her, kissing her hair. ‘We shall never know, dear. You are perfection. I shall not believe otherwise, no matter what you might say.’

  She
frowned, as though ready to correct him. So he kissed her once, softly. ‘Now, go back to sleep. No more bad dreams.’ He touched the tip of her nose with his fingertip.

  ‘Yes, William,’ she said with a happy sigh and curled up beside him again, closing her eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Will rode out to meet his brother that morning, still full of the strangeness of his new life. The horse beneath him was the chestnut gelding. It was a better choice than his foolish attempt to ride Zeus. But while full of spirit, it simply was not Jupiter.

  It still hurt to think that he had been the cause of the old horse’s death. His father had cautioned him, practically from the cradle, that the Bellston family was known for its hot blood and rash actions. He had taken the advice to heart and been cautious and circumspect in all things. Because of this, his life had been well ordered and scandal-free.

  At some point in the last year, his training had failed him. He had lost an old friend and his memory as well. But he’d gained the most precious gift a man could earn: the love of a woman who he could love in return. There was probably something to be learned about the need for balance in all things and the danger of being too punctilious for one’s own good, but he could not quite grasp it.

  He could remember the feelings of unease, before the christening. He’d had the nagging feeling that his formerly feckless brother was somehow leaving him behind and that his own youth was slipping away unspent. Since then, he had allowed himself to be driven by passion to foolishness.

  Not that passion was such a bad thing, when in its rightful place. Most times, Justine was as moderate and sensible as the old William might have wished. But last night, she had proven to be as wild and tempestuous as an adventurous man might have longed for.

  They had woken at the dawn and made love again. Her bad dream was forgotten. Each time he’d touched her, she’d laughed. It was a joyous, abandoned sound, as though she’d never laughed before in her life, keeping the happiness bottled inside her until he had come to release it. Her climaxes had been much the same, giddy with desire and overcome with love for him. Her eagerness to please was no longer mechanical and worrisome. It was just her half of a shared gift.

  When they were finished, she had thrown herself back into the pillows again, pulling him with her to share kisses and drowse until it was time to rise. When he had left the room for breakfast, she was still there, the covers pulled over her face to reveal nothing but a tangle of red-gold hair. The thought made him smile in a satisfaction deeper than he could ever remember.

  Adam cantered up to him on the path leading away from the house and noticed the change almost immediately. ‘Enjoying the summer weather, Will? Or is there some other reason for this total transformation in you?’

  ‘Transformation?’

  ‘Just now, you were grinning like an idiot.’

  Will grinned all the harder in response. ‘It would be ungentlemanly to say more than that I am a happily married man.’

  Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘You have rediscovered the reason for your sudden union?’

  ‘Some of it, at least.’ If he’d had even a taste of this before they’d married, the need for an immediate elopement was now clear to him. ‘Let us say, I am pleased to find her as devoted to me and my happiness as I am to her and hers.’

  Adam laughed. ‘I would have said something similarly vague after only a short time with Penny. As I remember, you doubted our compatibility.’

  ‘I could not have been more wrong about that,’ Will admitted. ‘And I am pleased to admit that I have been wrong about Justine. I do not remember what first drew me to her. Perhaps I never will. But I no longer question the rightness of it.’ If that much was true, did he really need more? He pushed his previous thoughts aside. ‘I think I will not brood over-long about the absence of memory. The present is more than enough to keep me happy.’

  ‘And your wife is settling into her place in your home?’

  ‘She seems to be managing well,’ he said. Then added, ‘But it will be difficult to know for certain. She really is quite shy. I doubt she would complain if things were difficult.’ He thought of her fear in the night, and wondered if he should press her about it. She would deny all, he was sure, and smile until he was convinced that there was no reason to question her.

  He gave his brother a worried look. ‘She is not likely to request help, even if she needs it. It is as if she does not think herself worthy.’

  Adam frowned. ‘We noticed similar behaviour when she came to us. I think she is unaccustomed to having family on whom to rely. Perhaps her life was more difficult than she lets on. I am sure, in time, she will come to be more comfortable with you.’

  ‘I should certainly hope so.’ Will frowned as well. ‘But I should hate to think that I contributed to her isolation in any way. Her sister is some distance from here, boarding in a school in the south.

  ‘You are sending for her, I assume?’

  ‘Of course.’ He frowned. ‘But why did I part them at all? It was most unkind of me. Justine has no wedding ring on her finger. Did I not bother with that, either?’ Nor had he written his family to expect her. ‘What if I’d died from this injury, without making provision for her happiness?’

  ‘She arrived with your own ring, worn on a chain around her neck. She said that all was done in a hurry and you had promised to take care of it when you arrived home. In the meanwhile, she has been content to do without and never once complained of it. Do not be so hard on yourself,’ Adam finished, with a slight shake of the head. ‘A newly married man can be allowed a moment of selfish pleasure.’

  So, it had been selfish of him. Even Adam had noticed. And it had been more than a moment. If he understood the situation, he had seduced her without promise of marriage, then kept their union a secret for some weeks. It sounded almost as if he was ashamed of his actions.

  Things would change, from this moment on. ‘She is always doing without, even when there is no need of it. I will not allow that in the future. I will find some way to bring her out of herself. She is delightful company, when I can get her to speak.’

  ‘So I told you,’ Adam said, smiling. ‘And she does enjoy her morning stroll.’ He pointed ahead of them, on the path. The woman they had been discussing was walking through the wood, pale and quiet as a ghost. She had stopped at the darkest part of the little copse of trees, the dull gold of her gown and spencer blending with the dying leaves. Will had always felt there was a certain air of mystery about it. But today, it was as if they had interrupted a fairy in some mystic rite. ‘Justine!’ he called. ‘What are you doing here, darling?’

  Her response to his voice was surprising. Rather than greeting him with pleasure, she started like a rabbit, turning this way and that, as though searching for concealment. Only when she realised the hopelessness of escape did she straighten her shoulders and turn to them. She smiled timidly, offering a curtsy. ‘Your Grace. My lor—’ She stopped herself in mid-word and said, ‘Will’, as though just remembering their relationship.

  If Adam thought her behaviour odd, he did not remark on it. They dismounted and walked their horses towards her. ‘You should have told me that you wished to visit the grounds,’ Will said, being careful to keep any censure out of his voice. ‘We might have ridden out together.’

  ‘I did not think to, until after you had gone,’ she said, eyes downcast. ‘And I prefer to walk.’

  ‘You must find her a horse,’ Adam remarked. ‘Even for an indifferent rider, the skill can be useful in such remote holdings as ours.’

  ‘You are right, of course,’ Will said, thinking of the placid mare in the stables. He did not wish to see her cooped up in his house, afraid to ask the servants to harness the carriage horses. ‘If you do not wish to ride, I will teach you to handle a pony and cart.’ When she looked at him with trepidation, he added, ‘T
hen you might take your sister for rides to the village, whenever you want.’

  That was the trick, he suspected. At the mention of her sister, her mood changed instantly. ‘Whenever I want,’ she repeated, with a marvelling smile.

  ‘But today, I hope you are enjoying your morning.’ He leaned forward to kiss her lightly on a cheek which was warm with the flush of embarrassment. ‘The trees are lovely this time of year, don’t you think?’

  ‘It is most glorious,’ she agreed.

  ‘The gardens are nice as well. I am surprised to find you here and not touring them.’ Nice as it was, this was hardly the most interesting spot on the property.

  She paused for a moment, then admitted, ‘I was reading something, and it put me in a mood to explore.’

  ‘Really?’ He remembered the stack of old books that had been set out in the library and the probable contents of his mother’s diary. Then a thought struck him and he smiled. ‘Are you chasing ghost stories, my dear? For certainly, if there is a place on the property that is haunted, it must be here, where the murder occurred.’

  Perhaps that had not been what she meant. At the mention of death, her face went white as a sheet. ‘Here?’ she said in a breathless squeak.

  ‘A murder here?’ Now it was his brother who was surprised. ‘I do not recall any such thing.’

  ‘You were away at school that year,’ Will said. ‘I was kept home. It was the year I had the fever. Mother told me later that she did not write to you for several months. They were dreadfully worried that, if you guessed how sick I was, you would want to come home and they would lose us all.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Adam said, remembering. ‘You could not have been more than eight at the time.’ He looked to Justine, filling in the details of the family history. ‘You are lucky to have your husband. I did not learn until much later that he was near death several times that year. We lost our baby sister as well. The details of that will be found in the family Bible, should you be interested.’