by Danice Allen
Alex carefully reached for his shirt and threw it over Beth’s shoulders, then gathered her close, lending her warmth. He kissed her forehead and listened to her soft, even breathing. “I love you, too, Beth,” he whispered. Then he stared at the sky, vacant-eyed, while a heavy, soul-withering sadness enveloped him.
Beth awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing. She was lying on her back and was confused at first to be staring up at a star-dusted velvet sky instead of the gilded cornices and rose-patterned wall coverings of her bedchamber. The moon shone as bright as ever, but hovered close to the horizon, skimming the edge of night.
She became suddenly conscious of Alex’s body pressed against hers. His bare arm was draped across her waist, his leg angled over hers, his face buried in her hair, his breath warm against her cheek. A tremor purled through Beth as memories of last night flooded her with pleasurable sensations. It had not been a dream!
She was covered with Alex’s shirt, and sometime during the night he had put on his breeches and boots. She ought to have felt cold, but she didn’t. Alex had kept her warm as they’d slept on the bed of pliant grass with only her night rail beneath them. But, though it was still dark, dawn approached—or so said the trumpeting rooster—and with it would come the morning dew.
The cock crowed again, and Beth felt Alex stir. She turned her head to peer into his shadowy face. “Are you awake?”
Alex shifted and rose up on one elbow, supporting his chin with a curved palm. Emerged from the shade of the tall grass, Alex’s face was illuminated by moonlight. As she looked into his eyes, Beth’s heart thudded painfully. Mingled with a tender lover’s expression, which Beth collected and cuddled to her heart’s core, was a bone-chilling weariness. His look clearly reflected the anguish of a guilty soul, a riddled conscience, a tired spirit.
“Yes, Beth,” he answered at last. “I’m awake.”
“I’ll wager you’ve not slept at all.”
“No, I haven’t. How could I?”
Pain sluiced over Beth like an Arctic Ocean wave, cold and numbing. “Then you regret it that much? I’ve brought you only trouble and turmoil?”
Alex groaned and gathered Beth to his warm bare chest in a fierce embrace. “Never say such words again, Beth. You’ve brought the healing balm of true love to my heart. You have revived in me a sure belief—a belief I clung to through years of dissatisfying alliances with women, only to finally, cynically discard—that some souls are meant to meet and join on earth. But why must the acknowledgment of our love, the consummation of it, bring such pain to the only other person in this world I love beyond life itself?”
Beth had heard and felt every word Alex said, but above he anguish and frustration the word “love” had rung out loud and clear. She pulled back and lifted her face to his. “You … you love me, then?”
Alex’s features, whittled by pain to sharp angles and harsh shadows, melted into tenderness. “I told you so last night, but you were asleep already, I suspect.” Beth’s chest constricted with joy. He smiled then. “Was I such a dull dog, my Beth, that you had no recourse but to nod off while the night was still young?”
She knew he teased her, but she was too flustered to find words for a clever reply. Tonight she could speak only the truth. “I … fear you loved me to such a satisfying degree, Alex, that I had little inclination to do anything but curl up like a kitten sated with mother’s milk. You were … magnificent.”
Alex’s smile slid away. Beneath her palms she felt his chest heave with quicker, deeper breaths. Her own breath responded in like manner. Her hands, seemingly of their own volition, began to roam across his broad chest, her fingertips tangling in the soft coils of hair.
He stayed her errant, eager wanderings by grasping her shoulders firmly. Startled, she raised her eyes to his. The dark Gypsy orbs were lustrous in the moonlight. “Are you still satisfied, Beth?” Alex’s voice grated with need.
Though nothing but a green girl only hours past her first experience with love, she recognized the need as surely as she acknowledged her own aching emptiness. Heat eddied in the moist secret folds at her woman’s core. “No. And the memory of it taunts me,” she answered bluntly.
His hands began to caress her shoulders. The shirt, wedged between them as they embraced, fell away, exposing her breasts. She heard his gulp of breath as he looked at her. His adoring gaze inflamed her. She wanted him—oh, so much!—to touch her there, to do all the wicked, wonderful things he’d done before.
She moaned as his hands slid around her rib cage, then slowly progressed upward till they cupped both breasts.
Then he stroked her nipples with the hard pads of his thumbs. “It’s late, Beth. Time to go inside.” His voice lowered to a dark, rough timbre. “Time to return to our rooms before the servants are up.”
“The cock crowed only twice,” she whispered, bending toward him, teasing his own nipples between her thumb and forefinger. “There’s time enough for us to find satisfaction once more, isn’t there?” She settled her mouth on his and brazenly slipped her tongue inside, darting, dipping.
He broke away a moment, but their mouths were only fractionally separated. “Not perhaps the way you want it, Beth. Not slow and easy.” The cock crowed again.
“I want you any way I can have you, Alex.”
With a groan Alex pulled Beth onto his lap, setting her bottom against the heated swell of his manhood, his legs sprawled in front of him, his knees bent. She straddled him, her legs curled about his waist. “But what of regrets, my Beth? What of Zach?” he murmured against her hungry mouth.
“There’s always time for regrets. Let tomorrow lend the hours for such indulgences. This night belongs to us!”
Goaded beyond human endurance, Alex lifted Beth slightly so that he could undo his trouser buttons and free his hips. Released, his manhood fell, heavy and hot, against her. She remembered how good he felt moving inside her, but the memory paled as he entered her, the actuality of it so much more satisfying than the memory. With his hands at her waist and her arms banded about his shoulders, he guided her and set the rhythm, a hard, swift tempo that jarred Beth to sensual heights she’d never dreamed of. Splintering the eerie predawn dark, she cried out … her voice melding, blending with the night sounds.
Beth watched her night rail burn in the grate, an almost symbolic act. The stain of blood on it had been proof of her lost virginity. She did not regret loving Alex, but she did regret hurting Zach, and the orange flames lapping at the withering, red-blotched nightgown seemed to accuse her.
She and Alex had returned stealthily to the house just as the sky lightened to a gray opalescence. Alex had left her at the top of the stairs, and they’d moved down opposite galleries to their bedchambers. She prayed God neither of them had been heard or seen. But Beth had not noticed any movement belowstairs or above for at least a half hour after they’d returned to the house. Now the house bustled with the sounds and smells of morning. In the interim, she’d bathed in cool water from the pitcher at her washstand and wrapped herself in a blanket. Sadie would bring yesterday’s clothes to her, brushed and cleaned, but until then Beth had nothing to wear.
Now the night rail was no more than a shriveled clump of char. Just looking at the spent heat of it made gooseflesh rise on Beth’s arms and legs. She slipped the blanket from around her shoulders and laid it on the end of the bed, then slid under the white Marseilles counterpane and pulled the warm coverlets up to her chin.
She shivered. Odd that she should be so cold in a fire-heated chamber, cuddled beneath a plethora of blankets, when last night she’d lain naked with only Alex to keep her warm and hadn’t felt chilly for a moment. She smiled and rolled over on her back. Just thinking of him warmed her considerably. She eased her hand down the length of her, imagining him stroking her. Now she knew exactly how it felt to be loved, thoroughly loved, by the right man. Alex. The only man.
Beth’s smile fell away as she anticipated the coming confrontation with Zach. She and Al
ex had discussed the problem briefly while on their way back to the house, agreeing that Zach must be told of their attachment as soon as possible. Of course, they would not tell him of their lovemaking, for that would be too harsh a blow. Neither Beth nor Alex wished to confess such a breach of fidelity.
No matter how much they loved each other, no matter how hard they’d tried to avoid what was apparently unavoidable, they both felt guilty about what had happened. And they were both consumed with worry over Zach’s reaction. It was too sad that such a beautiful experience must be tainted by guilt and regret and worry. It was like her white nightdress with the red stain—colored by pain.
In the last few weeks, as Beth worried about her attraction to Alex, she’d thought of confiding in her mother and asking for advice. She’d even once or twice hinted at the subject, hoping that her mother might confess that she’d noticed the attraction. But Mrs. Tavistock seemed completely oblivious to anything of a subtle nature going on about her. While she loved her daughters very much, she lacked the depth of understanding that would help her recognize their need for counsel when they were too shy or unsure to ask for it.
Now that her relationship had progressed so far, Beth dared not tell her mother, for Mrs. Tavistock would probably be shocked and worried and rendered incapable of offering Beth any sort of advice anyway. Naturally Mrs. Tavistock would have to be told eventually, but to tell her so soon after Gabby’s near tragedy did not seem wise to Beth.
Besides, what could Beth tell her mother that would be reassuring? She could not counter the bad news that she wasn‘t going to marry Zach with the good news that she was going to marry Alex, because he hadn’t asked her! No, she was going to have to wait until all was settled before she told her mother anything.
The door creaked open, and Sadie peeked through the crack before entering. Beth feigned sleep. It was too early to look wide awake. She heard Sadie’s shoes scuffle across the carpet, back and forth, and then the door closing quietly behind her. Beth opened her eyes and saw her clothes laid out on the purple wing chair by the fireplace. Eager to face the day, whatever it might hold, Beth swung one leg over the side of the bed as she prepared to sit up.
Suddenly the door opened again. Again it was Sadie, with kindling tucked under one arm and carrying a bucket of hot water. She stopped short when she saw Beth about to climb out of bed, saying, all in a breath, “What are ye doin’ out o’ bed already, miss? I didn’t wake ye, did I? Lor’, child, are ye naked under there?”
Beth quickly covered herself and scooted down beneath the blankets. “In answer to all your questions, Sadie, yes, I am attempting to leave my bed, though it is early. No, you didn’t awaken me; I awoke of my own volition. And, yes, I am quite naked.”
Sadie raised a disapproving brow. “There’s a night rail in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, miss. I thought I told ye last night.”
Beth watched as Sadie laid the log on the tiles by the fireplace, stepped around the tub still filled with last night’s bathwater, and then placed the bucket on the floor by the washstand. “Yes, you told me. Of course you did, Sadie,” she said. “But, though I loathe to refute you, there was no night rail in the drawer when I sought it out after my bath last night. I must have taken it home.” Beth hoped she looked and sounded much more convincing than she felt.
Sadie merely pursed her lips and moved toward the wardrobe, obviously intent on proving herself correct. She opened the drawer and stood gawking into it for a few seconds of patent disbelief. Then she opened all of the other drawers, systematically rifling the contents of each. “Well, I’ll be snabbled,” she said at last. “I could have sworn there was a night rail in that bottom drawer. I laundered it not more than a week ago.”
“Well, sometimes our memories are not quite so precise as we’d wish them to be, eh, Sadie?” Beth said, forcing a bright smile. “But don’t cudgel your brain over it. Today’s much too splendid a day to worry over trifles. We have so much to be thankful for, don’t we?”
“Aye, Miss Elizabeth, we do,” Sadie responded, smiling genuinely and complacently folding her hands over her stomach. “I never thought t’ see Miss Gabrielle again. She’d flung herself well and good into the briars this time. Truth t’ tell, I was sure they’d never find her in that mine once she’d wandered around a bit.” Sadie turned, stooped to pick up the kindling, then placed it on the grate. “Thank the good Lord the master found ’er like he did. Without him, I fear she’d have stayed lost.”
A sickening shudder convulsed through Beth at this bluntly spoken reminder of just how close they’d come to losing Gabby, and how much they all owed Zach because he’d been the one to find her. Beth revived herself a little with the thought that Alex had helped both Zach and Gabby to safety. A combined effort had saved them all from the wretched necessity of planning another funeral on this bright July day.
“Did ye have a fire already this mornin’, miss?” Sadie asked as she poked at the ashes in the grate and stirred up a few hot embers.
“Why, yes, I did!” Beth said. “Due to the necessity of sleeping in the altogether, I was cold.”
“What did ye burn, miss?” Sadie turned innocently curious eyes to her. “There waren’t no kindling.”
Beth bit her lip. She had not expected Sadie to be so very inquisitive. Yet the woman was intimately familiar with every detail and every routine, however minuscule, of the household. She would notice such things.
“I fetched some wood from the kitchen,” she lied. Then, before Sadie could do something so outrageous as to study the ashes and comment that wood ashes looked quite different from those that presently reposed on the grate, Beth slipped out of bed and stood naked before her. “Help me dress, Sadie. Right now, before I catch my death, if you please.”
Sadie dropped the poker, tsk-tsked, and grabbed Beth’s shift from off the chair. “Lor’, miss, you’re a brazen one this mornin’, ain’t ye?”
As Sadie pulled the undergarment over her head, Beth wondered how Sadie would react if she knew just how brazen she’d been in the wee dark hours of the night. Curtailing her small womanly smile at those delicious memories, she sobered herself with thoughts of Zach. “Is anyone downstairs yet?”
Sadie’s lips straightened to a grim line. She nodded her head dourly. “I never thought t’ see anybody up till nearly midmornin’, what with all the goin’s-on yesterday, but the master is in the breakfast room, miss, pushin’ his food about on his plate and not eatin’ a bit of it.”
Beth’s eyes fixed intently on Sadie’s face. “What is his expression, Sadie? He doesn’t looked vexed, does he? Do you suppose he’s simply sober from last night or troubled about something else?”
Sadie picked up Beth’s yellow walking gown and lowered it so Beth could step into the skirt. Then she pulled it up to slip it over her outstretched arms. Sadie sighed heavily. “It’s not my place to speculate ’bout the feelin’s of my betters, miss. But, nay, he didn’t look vexed. He looked like he was makin’ resolutions, so t’ speak. I think Miss Gabby nearly turnin’ up her toes scared ’im. I hope he’s makin’ plans to board up those dangerous mines, at least.”
Beth sucked in her breath as Sadie tied up the back of her bodice. She hoped with all her heart that Zach was indeed making resolutions. She also hoped he would not be so distressed by the ending of their betrothal that all his good intentions would go by the wayside.
But there was more to worry about than a delay in estate business. The main worry, of course, was the survival of Alex’s and Zach’s closeness once the truth was told. When Zach discovered that Beth had finally recognized her love of him for what it was—a strong, sisterly affection—would he be able to accept her as his brother’s wife? Beth’s brows furrowed. There it was again! The fact was, though Alex had said he loved her, he’d never mentioned marriage. Love and marriage. The one went with the other, didn’t it? She had to believe this was true.
“There, miss. Ye’re as pretty and fresh as a daisy!” said Sadie, offerin
g Beth a rare compliment. Beth turned to look in the mirror above the dressing table. Even with her hair sleep-mussed, she did look fresh and glowing. Her cheeks fairly bloomed with delicate color, and her eyes sparkled. Ah, what love can do! she thought to herself, reaching for the brush to tame her tumble of hair into something like neatness. If only her love for Alex weren’t about to hurt someone so very dear to her, she’d have been the happiest girl on the great island of England.
Chapter Eleven
Alex stood at the bottom of the stairs, one hand resting on the oak newel post that curved upward to form an ornamental trefoil. His gaze swept over the mulberry and peacock blue Axminster carpet at his feet, then shifted to the paneled door that led into the breakfast parlor. His eyes darted nervously back to the carpet and up to the heavy chandelier, brilliantly lucent in the early morning sunshine that beamed from a high window.
An hour earlier, when he could no longer delude himself into believing that sleep was possible, he had sent Dudley to inquire on the whereabouts of Zach. He’d been surprised, and a little alarmed, to be told that his brother was already dressed and having his breakfast. Or, as Dudley told it, Zach was looking at his breakfast. Then, since Dudley was such a good judge of mood and countenance, Alex had asked him to offer an opinion on Zach’s present state of mind.
“Humbled, my lord. He’s sorry about what happened to the little girl,” Dudley had said with conviction. “He’s determining to mend his ways, I think.” Then Dudley got a rather pensive look about him and muttered, “Blue-deviled about some of the choices he’s making, I’ll wager.”
“What do you mean, Dudley?” Alex had pressed him.
After subjecting his master to a penetrating look that implied he was pondering the wisdom of speaking the undiluted truth, Dudley had stated flatly, “I mean the girl—Tessy, as she’s called. He’ll serve the girl her congé.”