by Mary Campisi
“Were you tortured?”
Holt looked away. “I was beaten and strung up like the others; an initiation of sorts. Food was withheld for three days. I was stuck in a cell, naked, bound, and blindfolded. I escaped on the sixth day.”
Jason could only stare, wondering how the former fragile Holt had possibly survived. “How?”
“A ship docked. I hid below deck. No one found me for a week. By then they were at sea. Captain Harry Thurston took me under his wing.”
“You couldn’t even swim.”
“I learned.”
“No wonder you hated our father so much.”
“It’s over. I’d rather not trouble Sophie or Julia with the details.” He paused and added, “Ever.”
“Understood. Speaking of Sophie,” Jason decided now was a good time to switch from talk of whips and torture to something more pleasant, “how is your bride?”
“She’s fine.”
“Then I take it the only thing left to seal your fate is to tell her you love her and settle a passel of kids on her.”
Holt’s expression remained unreadable. “Perhaps.”
“She’s a treasure. Don’t lose her again over foolish pride.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“Good. Now there’s something else I need to discuss with you.” He hesitated, uncertain how to proceed.
“Out with it man.”
Out with it indeed. “Very well. Caroline is our sister.”
Holt nodded. “Yes, she is.”
“You knew?”
“Caroline and I resemble one another more than she and Sophie. I did a few calculations and figured it out. That would explain why Rendhaven and Vivian all but ignored the poor child, leaving the burden of care with Sophie.”
“Does Sophie know?”
“That’s the hell of it,” Holt said. “I don’t know and I don’t want to break the news to her now if she doesn’t, not when we’re finally coming to terms with one other. It could be disastrous.”
“Ah, love can be such a burdensome thing, can it not?” Jason mused, laughing at the murderous look Holt gave him. “All jesting aside, tell her as soon as possible, for your own sake. She may already know and be fearful of the same response from you. Neither of you had anything to do with our father or Lady Rendhaven’s actions and you should not be punished or governed by them any longer. Deal with it, Holt, and be done with it.”
Chapter 24
“This hot chocolate is wonderful, isn’t it?” Sophie said as she took another sip from her steaming mug. Caroline nodded in agreement, her black curls bouncing about her shoulders. They sat on Caroline’s bed, an open book and a tray of cookies between them. This bedtime ritual had been a safe haven at Waverly Manor and they’d continued it in their new home. In winter, they shared hot chocolate with a healthy dollop of cream and in summer, iced lemonade in frosty glasses. No matter the season, there were always freshly baked cookies of every imaginable variety from chocolate and vanilla to lemon and spice. “Are you happy here?” It was a question she’d wanted to ask her little sister for several days.
Caroline’s small face lit up as she smiled and nodded an emphatic yes. Her hands followed as she signed that she was indeed most happy. Everyone treated her with great kindness. Then she blushed and added, especially Holt.
“Holt?” Her Holt?
Caroline blushed again and informed her Holt sought her out when she was painting or working on her lessons, but mostly when she was taking her morning rides. He’d tell her about his travels to far-off countries, what the lands and people were like and what he’d done there. At first, she’d been afraid because he was so very big and his voice was so deep, but he could soften it just so and say things to make her not afraid. Now, when she looked at him and he spoke to her, even in his gruff tones, she wasn’t fearful. And, she added, with a big smile that revealed small white teeth and a huge dimple on her left cheek, she and Holt had the same blue eyes.
“Excuse me?” Sophie could barely draw a full breath as Caroline’s fingers moved in repetition. The message was the same with even graver implications this time; had Sophie not noticed Caroline and Holt had the same blue eyes and black hair?
Sophie forced in small puffs of air and answered her little sister as truthfully as she could. “Yes, you both have beautiful blue eyes that sparkle when you’re happy and darken when you’re not. I’ve also noticed you share the same black hair that shimmers in the sun.” Eager to end the comparison, Sophie pulled her sister into her arms and whispered, “No matter what your hair or eye color, you and Holt are two of my very favorite people.” As Caroline snuggled against her, Sophie gathered strength to do what must be done.
***
He walked about the room, absently shedding his clothes. When he turned, she caught a glimpse of bare chest, brown and strong and covered with a mat of black, curly hair. Her husband was all male, from the finely-honed muscles of his broad shoulders to the iron-hardness of his thighs. His fingers nimbly moved over the buttons of his calfskin breeches preparing to discard those as well. Sophie looked away, still not accustomed to her husband’s casual regard toward his nakedness, especially when she sat bundled in her nightgown and robe.
She shivered as she recalled his hands on her body, sliding her nightgown up her thighs, loosening her robe to cup her breasts, creating a need within only he could soothe. And oh how he could soothe her. With his hands and mouth and magnificent manhood, he’d taught her how to please him and how to enjoy the pleasure he so freely gave. Her body had been manipulated into more positions in the last few days than she’d thought possible and she’d delighted in them all, as she keened with pleasure and begged for release.
“Sophie, I need to speak with you.” Holt stood before her in all of his glorious nakedness, but his expression appeared troubled.
“Is something the matter?” She asked the question though truthfully, she could not imagine what would be. The bedroom had become a sanctuary where all differences fell aside.
He knelt between her legs and placed his arms on either side of her chair. “Did you ever wonder why your father and aunt treated Caroline with such disregard?”
Sophie chewed on her lower lip as she gathered the courage to tell him what she must. “I always wondered why Father loved me so much and seemed to hate Caroline. He ignored her after the accident. I thought it was because he was grieving for Mother but that wasn’t the reason at all.” She dreaded speaking the words but she mustn’t keep any more secrets from Holt. “He ignored her because she’s your half sister.”
His smile was filled with compassion, not accusation or angry denial. “I know.” His fingers massaged her neck, then trailed to her shoulders, easing the tension from her body. “She’s safe now. I won’t let anyone harm her.”
Sophie touched his cheek. “Thank you.”
Holt kissed her and scooped her up in one strong motion. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding fast. When he reached the bed, he lay her down gently and unfastened her robe. His look turned hot and hungry as he gazed at the semi-sheer nightgown. “I take care of what’s mine.” He trailed his fingers along her belly, moving lower to cup her womanhood. And then, he covered her body with his and showed her just how much she belonged to him.
***
She sat in darkness, unaware of the chill from the gamekeeper’s cottage as she rocked back and forth, her mind filled with years of hatred and revenge. Soon it would be over and justice would finally be served. Her thin mouth curved into a cruel smile as she envisioned the pain she would inflict, not physical pain, because that was too fleeting.
The pain that mattered was the devastating mental anguish which would erupt from feeling helpless and cheated. And then there was the pain of the heart; something she’d only allowed herself to feel once in her life. Never again would she experience that grief-stricken agony but she would make certain they knew what it was like to have someone you loved carelessly ripped from
your heart.
Soon. She smiled in anticipation. Very soon.
Chapter 25
The realization that Holt was well and truly besotted with his wife struck him one morning like a left hook to the jaw. His gut clenched with such ferocity he nearly lost the eggs and sausage he’d eaten at breakfast. When had it happened? How had it happened? Damnation, he had no idea.
Sophie had given him back the first rays of hope and he’d begun to believe in the possibility of trust again, something he thought would never happen. He confided in her more each day as they rode over the various hillsides, checking on the estate, or merely riding for the pure enjoyment of sharing one another’s company.
He’d come to depend on her, whether it be for eliciting an opinion regarding possible renovations to Ellswood or searching for a new brood mare for his stallion. It mattered not what they were doing as long as she was at his side. She certainly seemed to enjoy his company. He recalled the shimmering glow on her face the day he’d taken her to Langford Shipping and asked her opinion on an expansion issue. Sophie was a rare treasure indeed and if odds were in his favor it wouldn’t be long before they’d begin adding to their family.
He winced at memories of the unkind words he’d flung at her on their wedding day. Of course, he had no intention of letting her leave the marriage bed once he’d gotten her with child. Nor would she want to. Would she? Tiny shreds of doubt clung to him. Still, she couldn’t fake the way her soft heat wept the moment he touched her. Or pretend the shuddering convulsions she experienced as he drove himself deep inside her. And no amount of acting could perpetuate the lusty enthusiasm she’d shown last evening as she drew his throbbing cock into her mouth. Her feelings were real, there was no denying it. Nevertheless, he wanted to hear her release him from his pledge. But how to do it?
Women were odd creatures and she might make him pay for those words by allowing him to think she would consider separate beds. Best not to address the issue until she was with child. Once that task was accomplished, they’d clear this silly matter up once and for all.
***
Sophie heaved the remains of last evening’s dinner into the chamber pot. Her hair clung to her neck and a film of perspiration covered her body. Her plans to tell Holt she was with child went awry last evening when the pregnant brood mare he owned had difficulty birthing her foal. He and Jason insisted on waiting for the birth and it was well past midnight before her exhausted husband fell into bed. Morning would be soon enough to tell him he was to be a father.
But when she awoke, Holt was gone. On his pillow lay a long-stemmed, red rose with a note attached. I missed you last night. Look forward to seeing you later this afternoon. Holt. She’d carefully folded the note and laid it on the nightstand seconds before her stomach lurched bits of bile up her throat. Sophie clung to the chamber pot until the final waves of nausea subsided, then inched her way to the wash basin where she wiped her face and rinsed her mouth. She was carrying Holt’s child. She spotted his scuffed hessians in the corner, obviously waiting a much needed polishing. He must have worn the ones she’d purchased for him last week. She recalled the pleasure on his face when she’d given them to him; a simple gesture between a husband and wife, made intimate by the fact that he’d permitted the gift. She picked up one of his boots and spotted a scrap of green peaking from the top of it. What in heaven’s name could it be? She lifted the boot for closer inspection and recognized a frayed green ribbon taped to the inside. It was the hair ribbon she’d given him the afternoon at the gamekeeper’s cottage.
Holt loved her.
Sophie refolded the ribbon and taped it to Holt’s boot. There was no need to press him for the words when she knew the truth in her heart. Soon, they would be together again and even before she told him about the baby, she would speak the words of love she’d held in her heart for so long.
***
Holt arrived home earlier than expected. He’d been looking forward to seeing his wife all day and was surprised when she wasn’t in the garden or library, two of her favorite hideaways. He began checking the various rooms, and almost walked past Caroline who was painting alone in the far salon.
Her face lit up when she spotted him and she signed a rambunctious hello. “Hello, my sweet. I’m searching for that beautiful sister of yours. Is she hiding somewhere?” he teased, tousling the shiny black locks so like his own.
Caroline’s dark brows drew together as she spelled out her aunt’s name.
Vivian? Why on earth would Sophie subject herself to that old crone’s waspish mouth? “Would you like to take a ride with me to Waverly Manor? We’ll pay our respects to your aunt and you can see if Cook has any of those lemon cakes you love so much.” He wasn’t about to leave his wife alone in her aunt’s clutches and besides, he had an urgent desire to see Sophie. “I’ll meet you in five minutes in front of the stables.”
As he headed toward the stables the niggling suspicion that something was amiss plagued him. The sooner Sophie was in the safety of his arms, the better.
***
“You most definitely are with child.” Vivian confirmed Sophie’s hopes as they walked along the stone path that led to the lake. Sophie breathed in the heady scent of spring. Fragrance and color and sound assaulted her senses, overwhelming her in their splendor. The well-manicured lawns were lush and green, the trees harbored pink and white sweet-smelling blossoms and the gentle song of the birds filled the air. It was a perfect day, a perfect world. They’d reached the lake and both women stopped to gaze at the blue stillness of the water which ten years before had claimed Sophie’s mother. “My child has not even drawn a breath and yet I could not imagine leaving him or her behind,” she said. “I’ll never understand my mother’s choice.”
“Choices are rarely black and white,” Vivian’s voice held a sadness that surprised Sophie. “Usually, there are snippets of black and white and a complete canvas of gray. That is what makes life interesting and of course, vastly intolerable for many.”
“She left us behind.”
“Yes.”
“She destroyed my father’s life.”
“She did her part but your father was a weak man who allowed his shame and disappointments to rule him.”
Sophie glanced at her aunt. Were those tears in her eyes?
“He should have listened to Edward instead of contriving that ridiculous rape story which served no purpose other than to ostracize him from society and make him look a fool and the cuckolded husband he was.”
“You didn’t believe Father’s story?”
Vivian’s eyes never left the lake when she spoke. “Absolutely not.”
“Did Father believe it?”
“Only when he filled himself with enough drink to make it plausible. I thought your mother broke off with Edward. She promised me she would, but the letter . . . said she was planning to run away with him.”
“She promised you?”
Vivian closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
“Please tell me, Aunt Vivian. What did my mother promise you?”
When her aunt opened her eyes, they were wet. “She promised me if I let her raise Caroline, she would break it off with Edward.”
“But why would you have anything to do with Caroline?”
“Because she’s my daughter.”
“No.”
“I was in love with Edward Langford. Fool that I was it mattered not that he had a wife. I wanted him and I believed we shared the rare love that transcends societal dictates. He apparently was not of the same belief. He broke off with me and began seeing your mother.” She let out a harsh, empty laugh. “Your mother and I once shared a chamber pot to empty our morning breakfast. That’s how we discovered we were both pregnant.”
“How awful.”
Vivian shrugged her bony shoulders. “I didn’t want his child. I only wanted to inflict a pain so deep, he’d regret the day he cast me aside. Your mother was the only one who knew I was with child, so I blackmailed
her to finish her confinement in a small village several hours away. She told your father she required special herbs to ease passage through the birth canal that could only be found there. I, of course, would accompany her.”
“But my mother’s child—”
“Stillborn. She was a Seacrest with hair like yours.”
The significance of her aunt’s words smothered her. “But why?”
“To torture Edward. He died believing Caroline was the product of his tryst with your mother, which made him desperate to be near the child. I wanted your mother to pay for her indiscretions as well.” Her voice drifted. “I never believed Arthur would drive himself mad over it and I certainly never thought I would be the only one left to witness my duplicity.”
“I can hardly fathom what you’re saying. So many lies . . .”
“One lie begat another until everything became a lie. Then Holt Langford appeared; now that I did not expect. He was such a pitiful young man when I saw him last I would not have deigned to believe he could actually be the same person. I should have known though. One look into those eyes should have been my warning.”
“You won’t,” Sophie faltered, reworked her thoughts and said, “you won’t want to tell Caroline, will you?”
Vivian threw her a mortified look. “Absolutely not. I’m no more capable of being a mother to her than that rock over there. I think it best she believes her mother died.”
“Thank you.”
Vivian nodded. “Yes, well, it is the least I—” Her words shifted to a scream as she suddenly jerked forward and fell to the ground.
“Aunt Vivian!” Sophie rushed to her and bent over the older woman.
“Leave her,” a harsh voice called from behind Sophie. “She’ll not help you now.”
Sophie turned, shielding her eyes from the sun. A woman stood several feet away, her features blocked by the sun’s brightness.