by Fiona Miers
James shook his head. “That is nonsense. You possess more grace and poise and character than most noble people I know, Abigail. Don’t ever think that people with titles are better than you, because that is entirely false.”
Abigail smiled and reached out to touch his cheek. “Your words are kind. Thank you, James.”
Another moment of silence passed until Abigail began to grin, her heart light.
“Please share your amusement,” James said.
“I can only imagine what your first thought of me was. I was drenched in the sea, attempting to keep my mother’s head above water, quite literally.”
James snorted. “At least you were fully clothed.”
Abigail burst into a fit of amused laughter and James joined in.
Abigail continued, “You did leave quite an impression on my mother. I am certain she has not seen an attractive young man such as yourself in an unclothed state in many years.”
“You think I am attractive?” he asked.
Abigail’s cheeks flushed and she lowered her gaze.
“It is futile to be embarrassed, Abigail.”
Her gaze rose and rested on him and she nodded. “Indeed. I find you very attractive. And charming, and I enjoy spending time with you.”
“As I do you,” James said, and leaned in to kiss her.
Her mouth welcomed his and they shared a deep kiss. Her skin tingled with emotions but as their kiss broke, there was only silence around them.
Abigail pursed her lips as she sat upright and listened. As she feared, it was time to return to the estate, where she was certain the guests, as well as James’ brothers, wondered where they were.
“What is the matter?” James asked.
“The rain has stopped,” she said, feeling saddened by the fact that her time alone with James had come to an end.
“Indeed, it has.”
His voice sounded equally as sad as Abigail felt, and although she tried her best to hide it, she was certain it was written all over her face.
“Don’t be sad, Abigail,” he said, as though he were able to read her thoughts. “There will be plenty of afternoons, rainy or not, where we can spend time together.”
His words resonated deep within her soul and a relieved smile formed on her lips. Perhaps this time her love would be treasured and not thrown away.
It was not a long ride back to the other side of the lake, but Abigail drank in every last detail, allowing it to etch itself into her mind. She did not wish to miss a single moment with James on the water.
She watched him as he rowed the boat his muscles straining under his shirt with each stroke, his strong arms moving in sync with the oars. Those same arms that had been wrapped around her a short while ago.
Abigail could not help but feel despondent as the rowboat approached the embankment. Regret for what they’d just done came on swift wings.
And yet, she wished to spend more time with James, listen to his voice, feel the comfort of his embrace.
The harsh reality rushed towards her and the daydream of a future with the handsome and elegant aristocrat sitting in front of her on the small rowboat began to fade away.
She shivered and was rather surprised when James’ hand briefly touched her arm.
“We will reach the manor house shortly. I am certain Charles ordered the maidservants to light the fires in the hearths. You can warm up inside.”
“Thank you,” she said and lowered her gaze.
When the boat reached the embankment, James jumped out and looped a thick rope through the wooden ring carved into the stern. Once the boat was securely tied, he held his hand out to Abigail and helped her out of the boat and onto the wet grass.
The closer she and James walked to the manor house where all the guests were huddled inside after the rainstorm, the more Abigail began to regret her decision to make love to him.
She had promised herself that she would not allow a man to have such an effect on her, but things were so different with James. He made the sunshine brighter and the world seem better. He also made her life much easier, yet much more complicated than she had ever imagined it would be.
She did not wish to fall in love, but her feelings for James grew steadily with every passing moment and she had no way to stop it from happening.
As she glanced over her shoulder at the island behind her, the folly, and the seclusion that had come from it all, her heart filled up with sadness. This was certainly not the way she had hoped it would happen. She wouldn’t take it back, but she wished they’d made love under different circumstances.
“Abigail?”
She had not realised she had stopped midway to the manor house. She looked at James, who stared at her with a furrowed brow.
“Are you all right?”
She shrugged her shoulders and nodded reluctantly. “I am perfectly fine. I am simply cold.”
“I shall lead you to the hearth, to warm you up.”
Abigail nodded once more and watched as James opened the side door of the building and motioned to her to go inside.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped inside. Despite the warmth she felt from being indoors, she felt a chill inside her heart.
Chapter Thirteen
James placed his hand against Abigail’s cold back, the fabric of her dress still damp from the rain as he ushered her further down the hallway. He didn’t want to enter the larger parlour, where his brother’s guests would be huddled around the three large hearths in an attempt to keep themselves warm.
Instead, he opted for the more private parlour, where he knew either Emma or Charles would be. He also didn’t need to stumble into a room where his two younger brothers, Thomas and Robert, were, as they would never allow him to forget this moment. They would certainly realise what had happened. They knew him better than anyone.
Thomas and Robert had witnessed first-hand what he had looked like when he had sauntered into the family home after a night filled with bourbon, light-skirted women and a high-stakes card game. His brothers were no strangers to James’ past and his rakish behaviour before the war, even if it had been years since that had occurred.
He most certainly did not wish to expose that side of him. Not again.
More so, he did not wish to tarnish Abigail’s reputation any more than it already had been. He had been aware of the rumours and tales of Timothy thanks to Charles’ investigator, but the story had been one-sided. Hearing it from Abigail earlier, seeing the pain and anguish it had caused her was heartbreaking, and it had infuriated him that a man who called himself a gentleman would treat her in such a way.
Without realising it, he had allowed Abigail to affect him more than he had wished. Such strong, uncontrollable feelings had to come to a stop, effective immediately.
He stepped to the side, distancing himself from her, and stepped into the private parlour. A sigh of relief silently escaped his mouth as he noticed it was empty. The fire was lit in the hearth, and he motioned to Abigail to stand close in order to dry.
“This will warm you up,” he said to her before stepping away from her once again.
“Where are you going?” she asked and turned to him.
“To find Emma. She may be able to assist in lending a dry dress to you.”
“That is not necessary,” Abigail said, but when James noticed the light blue tinge to her usually red lips, he shook his head.
“It is absolutely necessary. You are frozen.”
“There you are,” Emma’s voice sounded from the door. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
James turned on his heel. “Emma. Just who I was looking for.”
“And why is that?” she asked.
“Would you be able to assist Abigail with a change of clothing? We were caught in the rainstorm while on the island and we were completely drenched.”
“Oh, of course,” Emma said, and looked at Abigail. “Follow me.”
Abigail glanced briefly at James before smilin
g gratefully at Emma and following her out of the private parlour.
James sighed with relief at being alone once more before he made his way out of the parlour and rushed up the staircase towards his own bedchambers. He didn’t wait for his valet, he simply peeled his wet clothing off and stood in front of the lit hearth, warming himself up before finally dressing in dry garments.
It was time to face the music, and he wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to respond. Nor what he wanted.
He raked his fingers through his dishevelled hair and a light knock on the door sounded. Before he was able to answer, the door opened. James turned around to discern the identity of his visitor, and Charles stood in his doorway.
“Charles,” James said with a nod.
“I wondered where you and Abigail had disappeared to.”
“We were on our way back from the island when the downpour hit us. Abigail and I sought shelter in the folly, waiting for the rainstorm to pass.”
Charles cocked his head, clearly expecting more of James. Even though James felt the urge to defend himself, especially since the expression on Charles’ face was clearly unconvinced that what he said was the truth, he did not.
“And?” Charles prodded.
“And nothing.”
Charles’ brows shot up and he shifted his weight. “Nothing?”
“Indeed, brother. Nothing.”
“Why do I not believe that?” Charles asked.
James shrugged his shoulders and turned away from his brother, towards the window. The sky was still dark, covered in thick clouds, but the rain had stopped. The low, dark clouds reminded him of the smoke in France and a chill ran up his spine.
“Believe what you want,” he said with a grumble.
“Is everything all right, James?”
James groaned. Why did his brother have to push him so?
James crossed his arms. “No, everything is not all right. It has never been all right, and it never will be all right, ever again.”
“Calm yourself, brother—”
“Do not tell me to be calm. I am calm!”
James’s voice echoed through the bedchambers and Charles stared at him wordlessly. His shoulders slumped and his gaze lowered.
James had vowed he would not raise his voice to anyone and that he would contain the darkness inside his heart.
He could not even do that. Therefore, he considered himself a great failure.
“I apologise for my outburst. It was uncalled for,” James said quietly.
“You are frustrated, and it is completely understandable.”
“Perhaps I should return to London,” he said quietly. It would probably best for everyone if they banished him.
“Cease the theatrics, brother,” Charles said as he rolled his eyes. “Despite things being tense between Emma and me, we enjoy your company. We have not seen you in six years, and we have missed your antics and your company.”
“You have?” James’s mouth dropped open.
“Of course. You may not be able to play a decent game of chess, but—”
“Only because you know exactly what to do to make me lose,” James said with a scoff.
“Spoken like a true loser.”
Charles chuckled and James could not help but join in.
Ever since he was a young boy, Charles was relentless in his pursuit to prove that he was the better chess player, and he knew exactly what to do and say to cause James to lose his focus.
Charles would tap his fingers impatiently on the wooden table while waiting for James to make his move, or he would make annoying sounds with his mouth. Due to those distractions, James had never won a match against Charles. And according to Charles, he never would, either.
“Perhaps when all the guests have left, we can have a rematch,” Charles said. “I might even let you win.”
James narrowed his eyes at him, and his jaw clenched. “You will never do that. I do not need you to let me win.”
“You overestimate yourself yet again, little brother.”
“As much as I would love to beat you, Charles, I have a guest to tend to.”
“Ah, yes. Miss Abigail. Where is she?”
“I asked Emma if she would allow Abigail to borrow a dry dress. I do not wish for her to catch a fever,” James said.
“You show concern for this young woman. That is certainly a good sign,” Charles said with a grin.
“A good sign of what, precisely?”
“Stop being stubborn and obtuse. You care for this woman.”
James chuckled in amusement, but this time he was the only one who found amusement in Charles’ words. When his brother didn’t laugh as well, he said, “Do not be preposterous. I do not care for her. She is a welcome distraction from the whirling inside my mind.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.” I wouldn’t be a good husband to anyone. “I am in no state to feel any kind of amorous emotions towards anyone. I am damaged beyond recognition, and there is no point in getting attached to someone whom I will surely disappoint.”
And he couldn’t do that. Not to someone as lovely as Abigail.
Charles lifted a wrist and tugged at his shirt sleeve. “It is cruel if you string the poor girl along with no intent to court her. You may be damaged, or so you claim to be, but that does not mean you are entitled to damage another person, especially someone as kind as Abigail.”
James’s jaw clenched at his brother’s words and he shook his head, unable to answer in words.
“It is not fair to her,” Charles repeated as he turned away.
James opened his mouth to respond but nothing would justify his actions today. So, he simply allowed Charles to walk away without a single word.
Being intimate with Abigail had been as perfect as she was. She had been eager to please him, which had taken him by surprise. Outwardly, she did appear rather timid, but he had come to realise there was a wildfire burning in her heart. She would certainly make the perfect mistress for the summer and he couldn’t, in good conscience, allow himself to think of her as anything more than that.
The broken shards of himself were much too sharp to care for someone without injury, both to himself and to the other person.
He shook his head as he quietly left his bedchambers, adamant that he would not allow thoughts of the future to occupy his mind. She was no more than a simple holiday attachment. As soon as the summer ended and James returned home to his townhouse in London, he would fill his nights with whiskey, convenient women and cigars. He had no intention of settling down or be attached to a person. Not now, and not ever.
No woman deserved a broken man such as himself and he would rather be alone than risk hurting and disappointing another person.
As James re-joined the guests who had now moved to the ballroom where furniture had been brought from various rooms in the manor house to accommodate the large number of people and provide comfort, he noticed Abigail with Julia. She seemed upset and James had to restrain himself from approaching her.
Julia’s face turned and caught his eye, but her glare was sharper than the edge of his brother’s finest sword. James quickly turned away. Ignoring the problem may not make it disappear entirely, but it most certainly did postpone it.
Usually, James would not avoid problems, but in this matter, being a coward appealed strongly. He had neither the strength nor the mental capacity to deal with it at that moment.
“Brother,” Thomas said with a grin as he approached. James inclined his head gratefully.
Thomas held a tumbler in each hand and James smiled as Thomas handed him one of the glasses. “To warm you up.”
“Thank you.”
James sipped the golden liquid and it flowed down his throat with the smooth warmth only the finest malt liquor could offer.
“Although, I very much doubt you need it,” Thomas said with a grin.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“The lovely young lady is wearing one of Emma’s
gowns. She certainly was not wearing that earlier. What happened? Did you literally rip her dress off her body?”
Thomas’s amusement was lost on James and he clenched his teeth. “I will not dignify that with a response.”
“Because it is true? Or because you wish to keep details of your trysts to yourself?” Thomas asked.
“Because it is none of your concern.”
“The latter, of course,” Thomas said, and sipped his drink. “You do not seem pleased. Usually, you would have a smug expression on your face afterwards. Was she not satisfactory?”
“Thomas, this does not concern you,” James hissed, hating the fact that his brother was bringing up his past in such a way. This was not like those times he’d bedded other women. This was different, and his stupid younger brother should recognise that.
Thomas raised his hand in defeat and took a step back. “You might want to ease up on the malt for the rest of the day.”
James narrowed his eyes at Thomas before taking one last swig and stomping off, in no particular direction.
Simply away from everyone and everything.
Chapter Fourteen
Abigail did not dare think of James at all, despite the growing desire inside her to do so. It had been clear from the moment they had left the folly on the island that James had also realised they had made a mistake with their intimate act. Even though he had been a gentle and caring lover while in the folly, it was not enough to convince her that he was interested in more than simply a fleeting summer romance.
The cold manner in which he had led her to the private parlour had proved to her that he wished not to be seen with her. Perhaps she had been tricked by her own mind, seeing things that were not there to begin with.
Abigail tapped her fingers on the windowsill in her bedchambers and stared blankly out the window. The sky was bluer than ever, but Abigail had no mind to allow it to brighten her dark mood.