by Fiona Miers
James stared at his sister in law, noting the pinkness in her cheeks, her drowsy eyes.
“Were you in the cellar, Emma?” James asked, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“Only briefly.”
James frowned. It was entirely out of character for Emma to have spent time in the cellar, where Charles’s collection of wine was stored. Clearly Emma had helped herself to more than what she would usually consume.
“Emma, I am aware that it is none of my concern, but whatever you and Charles are going through, I am here for you both,” James said. “And if there is something you wish to speak of, I can certainly lend an ear. If it makes things better to cope with.”
“Oh, dear James. Talking of it will not change anything,” Emma said with a sigh.
“What will?” Surely there was a way to help her? Help them?
Emma turned to James and sighed once more, even more wearily than before. She seemed defeated and tired, and her eyes were dulled by the wine, her cheeks flushed from the heat. “Your brother tires my soul. We are not getting along as well as I had hoped we would at this stage in our marriage.”
“Is this the reason why you moved to your own bedchambers?”
“Indeed. I cannot sleep beside a man who does not share the entirety of his heart. Our marriage was a marriage of convenience, of this I am no stranger, but one would think after ten years he would understand my needs and the kind of woman I am.”
James clenched his teeth as he watched Emma lower her gaze, struggling to find the words to express her heartache.
She continued, “While I appreciate the offer you made for lending an ear, I am certain you do not wish to listen to my tales of woe.”
“Emma, you are a part of the family and you have become a sister to me, the only sister I am likely to have. You may come to me. Your tales of woe are not a burden to me, and they never will. I have my own tales.”
Emma’s mouth curled into a small smile and she nodded gratefully. “Thank you, James. I will most certainly take you up on your offer in the future. Now, there are more important things for you to focus your attention on.”
“Such as?”
“The lovely Abigail, of course,” Emma said. “She speaks very fondly of you, and there is a sparkle in her eyes when she speaks of you, when she gazes upon you. It is undeniable. I recognised it immediately, as it is the way I used to gaze upon Charles, and the way I wished he would gaze upon me.”
“Emma, my brother is a complicated soul. He is set in his ways, and—”
“And you do not need to tell me anymore. I have been his wife for the past decade. I know how he is, and yet he remains a stranger to me. We have not connected or had a meaningful conversation in a very long time,” Emma said and briefly lowered her gaze. “But no more of that.”
“Emma—”
“I said no more.”
James nodded obediently, respecting Emma’s wishes, though he wished he could do something to help.
He focused his attention back to Abigail, who briefly gazed at him before returning to her game of croquett with Julia.
“Perhaps you wish to show her the island? It will provide you the privacy you are clearly pining for.”
James turned to Emma and stared at her, surprised she had picked up on that.
“And judging by the longing manner in which she occasionally glances at you, it is safe to say she craves it too,” Emma said and cocked her head.
James averted his gaze to the island in the centre of the lake. It was not a very large plot, but it was covered in lush green grass, meticulously pruned bushes and shrubs, and a set of stone steps leading up to a folly made the island unique to Weymouth.
In fact, this was the very reason why Charles purchased the estate. He loved the simple design of the folly and the island, and of course that it was exclusive to his estate.
“And how would I safely get Abigail and myself to the island?”
“There is a small dock and a rowing boat further down the lake’s edge. The gardeners make use of it to keep the spot in pristine condition.”
“And inside the folly?”
“Stop asking me questions and go ask Abigail if she would like to explore the island with you,” Emma said.
James tugged on his coat and nodded. “Thank you, Emma.”
“Go.”
James stepped away from his sister-in-law and made his way towards Abigail and Julia. His heart began to pound in his chest as he approached, and he smiled at the two young women.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
“Good afternoon.”
“Julia, may I steal Abigail away?”
“Of course. She has been hoping you would,” Julia said with a smirk.
“Julia,” Abigail hissed and widened her eyes slightly.
“I will leave you be,” Julia said and left their side with a giggle.
“Julia was merely joking,” Abigail said.
“Was she?”
Abigail’s cheeks flushed and a nervous giggle escaped her throat.
“I was wondering if you would care to join me on the island?” James asked and motioned to the dock where the boat was buoyed.
“The island in the middle of the lake? You and me? Alone?” she asked.
“Indeed.”
Abigail’s eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth curled up seductively. “I would love to.”
The journey across the lake to the island was brief, but beautiful. James rowing the boat while she sat was romantic in the highest degree.
But within a short time, James was leading her up the stone steps toward the folly. With every step she took, her breath caught and her stomach twisted into nervous knots. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen when they got to their destination, but every part of her was dying to know!
“It is truly beautiful. I had never seen anything quite like it before,” Abigail said. She glanced up at the tall, round building and her face lit up. “Has it been here long?”
“For as long as I can remember.”
She ran her hand along the smooth stone pillar and smiled. “It is in pristine condition.”
“My brother thrives on perfection. Perhaps too much, to be entirely truthful.”
“I have come to notice that.”
James followed her onto the narrow terrace surrounding the folly. “You seem confused.”
She smiled sadly and let James in on what she had seen. “Charles thrives on perfection, you mentioned. His wife is beautiful, yet he does not seem to notice it. He did not even glance in her direction, not even once. Why is that?”
“There are some unresolved issues between them.”
“I see.” Though she didn’t see, how could she? But those issues were between the Duke and Duchess.
She stepped closer to James and cocked her head. “I also noticed you glanced in my direction quite often.”
“As did you.”
Abigail smiled and a soft giggle emerged from her throat. So, it hadn’t gone un-noticed that she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
She glanced down at her shoes, then back up into his dark eyes.
“I am not my brother, and I know perfection when I see it,” James said softly, and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.
His skin was warm against hers, and as he leaned in closer to her, she heard a rumbling of thunder in the distance.
James immediately stepped away from her, much to her dismay, and stared up at the sky. Abigail frowned. It had suddenly grown very dark, with grey clouds rolling in and drowning out the sunlight at an alarming rate.
“We must go,” James said as another rumbling – louder than the first one – sounded.
The wind had picked up, blowing her hair around her head and into her face. She grabbed for her dress that was billowing up.
James took Abigail’s hand, practically dragging her down the steps and back towards the boat. She stumbled, and he caught her but they were too late. A vicious downpour of rain
fell from the heavens.
Abigail let out a shriek as the cold water battered her face and head. James turned back to her, “Are you all right?”
She nodded, but he looked up and down her drenched form. “I don’t think it’s going to stop. Back to the folly!”
They turned and ran like children, panting and laughing at the same time.
James pushed the old wooden door and it opened with a loud creak. Abigail sighed with relief, grateful when it opened. The folly was the perfect shelter to wait out the storm. They stepped inside and James closed the door behind them.
Abigail giggled. “That was such a rush,” she said. “And it came out of nowhere.”
“Indeed. I feel as though I must apologise but the expression on your face convinces me otherwise.”
She waved her hand and took a deep breath, trying to quiet the thundering of her heart. “You should not apologise for anything, especially not to me.”
James stared at her for a few moments and slowly stepped towards her. “I must admit, I had hoped that I would have you alone much sooner.”
She swallowed hard, almost afraid to say what was in her heart. “Would it be improper if I said I wanted the same thing?”
“Not at all.” James’s voice was a whisper as he gently touched her chin and tilted it upwards.
He took another step closer and their lips touched in a kiss that started off sweet, but soon flared out of control. She moaned softly against his mouth as the kiss deepened, filling her with passion.
Abigail wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her body against his, melting into him.
In a moment she did not quite understand, he pulled away from her and she stared at him. She wanted him so much, but how did she tell him?
That single look was all he seemed to need. No words. Just a moment of permission before he slid his finger between the fabric of her sleeve and her sensitive skin and gently tugged it down her shoulder.
Abigail shivered but her gaze was firmly set toward him, as firm as his manhood already was in his trousers. His fingers shifted the fabric of her dress downward, revealing her breasts. He stared at her while she shivered under his gaze, then he lightly grazed her skin with his fingertips.
Her breathing became laboured as he pulled her close, kissing her with a hunger that made her stomach pulse with longing.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. His hands seemed to be determined to remove her dress as speedily as possible. She giggled and provided some assistance so he didn’t damage it.
Her dress fell to the floor and she unbuttoned James’ waistcoat and shirt, discarding them in a similar fashion. Her fingers traced invisible lines on his bare chest, wishing to memorize all of him.
He carefully laid her down on the floor, on an old rug, and the dust certainly did not deter either of them.
James removed his boots and trousers, joining the now naked Abigail on the floor. He kissed her once more, as tenderly as his fingers explored her body.
A gasp escaped her throat as James slid his fingers inside her. He kissed her and moved his fingers to give her pleasure, making her core pulsate with longing.
For him. For more.
She broke the kiss to moan, her breathing ragged against his neck as his rhythm sped up. Her body tensed for a moment as she cast her fingernails into his skin, groaning loudly.
James smiled down at her and Abigail sighed, allowing her bliss to relax her body. She reached for his cock and began stroking his hard shaft. He already desired her, but she wanted to build up the need in him even more.
As her strokes became faster and harder, his muscles tensed. He drew in a deep breath before sliding his fingers out of her wet pussy.
James grabbed her, pulling her closer to him, as the tip of his manhood pressed against her inner thigh. She lifted her leg up, giving James the opportunity to slide inside her.
A loud moan came from both of them, Abigail’s fingers pressing into the skin of James’s back.
His thrusts grew harder and deeper with every moan Abigail gave. His fingers were entangled in her dark hair as his powerful thrusts made her body quiver.
James’s mouth found her breast and he sucked on her nipple.
Her gasps grew louder and James tried to silence her with his hand. She sucked on his fingers, tasting his sweat.
James removed his fingers from her mouth and kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth.
He thrust himself deep inside her, again and again, muffling the moans of pleasure with his mouth. Her back arched, her hands grabbing at his shoulders.
He straightened his back and grabbed her hips. Her back arched once more, her body tightening around him and a loud moan echoed in the folly.
James’ final thrusts were powerful and quick, his body shaking violently as he emptied himself inside Abigail.
His sweat-covered body finally collapsed onto Abigail’s.
She raked her fingers through his damp hair, stroking his scalp to comfort and convey just how grateful she was to have found such bliss.
Chapter Twelve
The soft sound of the rain eased Abigail out of her brief sleep and her eyes opened. She was still basking in the euphoric feeling of having fallen asleep in James’ arms. She had been intimate with a man before, but she had never truly felt like this.
James was as attentive to her needs as he was charming and handsome. He had made her feel comfortable, desirable and happy. She had not planned for this to happen so soon, but it felt right.
Lying in his arms, listening to the rain outside the folly, was the most natural thing in the world. She inhaled sharply, her pulse fluttering in her throat. These feelings that were so intense terrified her a little.
She had promised herself that she would not fall in love again. It had caused her immense heartache previously and she did not wish for it to happen again.
Abigail watched as James’ chest steadily rose and fell, the warmth of his arms enveloping her in comfort. She stared at his profile, admiring his strong jaw, his dark eyebrows, the curve of his upper lip towards his nose. The scent of him sent a shiver of delight down her spine and she lightly kissed the skin of his chest.
James stirred and he turned his head to look at her. His eyes focused on her and her heart unexpectedly fluttered, despite reminding herself not to grow too fond of James. She was not even sure whether he felt the same. Certainly, he would not have been intimate with her if he did not feel anything for her?
“What are you thinking?” James asked, his voice breaking through the silence they shared, but was still tender enough not to disturb the ambience they basked in.
“I am not certain. Everything and nothing,” she said.
“That sounds like quite a predicament.”
Abigail grinned. “Indeed.”
“May I ask you something, Abigail?” James queried, brushing a lock of hair off her face.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and rested her chin on James’s chest. “You may ask me anything.”
“The things you are not ready to speak of... how would you know if you are ready to share it with someone?”
Abigail’s brows shot up and she pouted her lips as she pondered his question for a moment. “I am not entirely certain. My mother told me that it would be similar to a cut on my leg or arm. It requires time to heal.”
“But it will not heal if it is not properly cleaned. It will fester and become worse,” James pointed out.
“Are you insinuating that speaking of it will cleanse it, allowing it to heal faster?” she asked.
“Perhaps, yes.”
“That is quite an enlightened thing to say,” Abigail said with a sad smile.
He made a fair point and she would be silly to ignore this moment.
She drew in a deep breath then paused for a moment, silently deliberating within herself whether she felt ready enough to share the trauma inside her with James.
“Tell me what is weighing on your heart,
Abigail.”
She bit her lip and mentally soldiered forward. “I’m not certain if you are aware, but I was engaged to an earl a while ago. I adored him, and I was under the impression that he was a good man. At least, he was in the beginning. He was kind and treated me well.” Abigail lowered her gaze and shook her head. “My apologies. This is certainly not the sort of thing one discusses while in the arms of someone else.”
“There is no need to apologise, and I do not take offense. Go on.”
The reassuring tone in James’ voice and the gentle and tender manner he gazed at her made her feel at ease once more. She nodded.
“Timothy and I were engaged for nearly a year and the arrangements for the wedding had begun. Documents were drafted with regard to the financial side of our union. As soon as Timothy and his father realised that my family was not as wealthy as they had believed, Timothy broke our engagement.”
James’s eyes widened with surprise. “He refused to marry you because your family was not wealthy?”
“That was his reason, carefully covered by lies regarding his readiness to marry. He even blamed his feet at one stage.”
James’s eyebrows rose as though asking her to elaborate, but she didn’t want to even think about all the excuses that man had used to break her heart.
She took a deep breath and continued on, “He accused me of lying to him and betraying him. My father had inherited a large house in Bath from a distant relative, and it was our home. Timothy was impressed by the building and not by me. He was under the impression we were wealthy because of our home.”
“On behalf of all the men who are like Timothy, I sincerely apologise.”
Abigail smiled for a moment before she continued, “He was infuriated by my supposed betrayal and refused to speak to me ever again. It was a few weeks after, when I heard the untrue tales ripple their way through the rumour mill. He had told someone I’d had an affair with an older, married man and I was with child. I was left... speechless at his audacity.”
“I am, as well.”
“It was all false, of course. I was completely shattered and heartbroken.” Abigail paused to sigh. “I didn’t leave the confines of my bedchamber for months. I couldn’t bear to face people, especially not while they believed what Timothy had told them about me. He was an earl, and I am simply a female who aimed too high on the social pedestal.”