Dreaming of You

by Jennifer McNare

  Gavin lay quietly as her fingers brushed repeatedly across his chest in light, feather-soft strokes. More than a week had passed since she should have begun her monthly courses. She was likely with child. It was a painful realization in more ways than one. In all likelihood, nine months from now his son or daughter would be born, a child he would presumably never see, never know. Though he intended to discover the identity of the villain who had done this and ultimately the whereabouts of his child, he knew that he might not succeed. It was a disturbing realization, but one he had to acknowledge.

  And her, would he ever learn who this woman was, this woman who had come to mean so much to him, more so than he cared to admit? If not, would the mystery haunt him for eternity? Sadly, he feared that it might. “What is your favorite flower?” he asked, wanting, no needing to know something about her outside of the darkness.

  Melody understood why he asked. She hesitated for a moment before answering, wishing she could tell him so much more, wishing she could tell him everything. “When I was a little girl, my mother planted a bed of irises in the rear garden. They were white and lavender, and when they bloomed I thought they were the most beautiful things that I had ever seen.”

  Irises.

  “And you? Do you have a favorite flower,” she asked, her tone teasing and playful, wanting to keep the moment from turning melancholy.

  “Hmm,” he thought about it for a moment. “I can’t say that I do,” he admitted with a light chuckle. “I do have a favorite tree however.”

  “A favorite tree?”

  “Yes. The apple tree.”

  Melody smiled. “Let me guess. You have a fondness for apple pie?”

  “Cinnamon-sugared apple tarts actually.” Gavin felt his mouth water just thinking about them. “When I was a boy I could eat them by the dozen.”

  A gentleman, a member of the aristocracy who as a child dreamed of being a pirate and who loved apple tarts, was that all she would ever know about him? No, of course she knew more than that. She knew that he was intelligent and kind, funny and witty, and most definitely a skilled lover. She snuggled into him, moving her fingers from his chest to his face. She brushed them lightly along his jawline. She knew the shape of his face so well now, for she had traced its contours so many times. But even so, she wished she was an artist, or perhaps a sculptor, so that she could bring to life what she felt beneath her fingertips. “Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly overcome with the need to let him know how much she appreciated what he had done for her.

  “Thank You?”

  “I just realized that I have never really told you how grateful I am…for…what you’ve done for me. For making this…our time together so wonderful, when it could have been so…” she trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid, for he would know what she meant.

  Gavin reached up and grasped her hand, drawing it to his lips, kissing her fingertips as they brushed softly against his lips. “You hardly need to thank me. Being with you like this is the one good thing that has come of this insanity. It is I who should be thanking you, for you are most certainly the only thing that has kept me sane during this madness. If not for you I might well have gone mad myself, confined to this place day after day.”

  Melody felt the tears welling in her eyes and tried to fight them. She didn’t want what little time they might have left to be filled with sadness, and so she forced a lightness to her voice that she didn’t feel. “Well then, I am ever so glad that I could be of service,” she said, shifting her body so that she could place a light kiss upon his lips.

  Despite her effort to conceal it, Gavin detected the sorrow in her voice and it pained him beyond measure. He wished he could take it away, tell her that everything was going to be alright, but of course he couldn’t. All he could do was make the most of the time they had left. Rolling her onto her back, Gavin grasped her face between his hands, resting his weight on his elbows as he covered her body with his own. Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her with both tenderness and a profound reverence, almost as if it was the first time their lips had ever truly met. He wanted to tell her how special she was and exactly how much she had come to mean to him, but words simply weren’t enough. He would have to show her.

  And he did.

  Feeling the subtle shift of the mattress as Charles rose from the bed, Melody awoke from her slumber the following morning and turned to see her husband donning his slippers. Closing her eyes, she rolled onto her side away from him, not yet ready to arise from the comfort of the warm bed. She’d had trouble falling asleep the night before, her thoughts and emotions in turmoil after her last visit to the cottage, and she was both mentally and physically exhausted. When they had come together the second time it had been different somehow, more beautiful, more perfect, if that was even possible. They hadn’t just enjoyed each other’s bodies; there had been a connection between them on an entirely different level. She knew it, she’d felt it. That was what it felt like to be made love to.

  Listening for the thump of Charles’ cane as he made his way to his own room, Melody snuggled into her pillow, her thoughts already drifting to the afternoon ahead. But in the next instant her eyes flew open as the unexpected sound of her husband’s voice caused her to tense.

  “I have good news for you, my dear.” He paused for a moment, as if waiting for her to turn back toward him. When she didn’t, he continued on. “Your daily visits to the cottage have finally come to an end.”

  Charles’ sudden declaration caught Melody completely off guard, and she was immensely grateful that she was facing the opposite direction, for it gave her time to hide her shock, as well as her dismay as she strove to school her features into an unreadable mask. Rolling onto her back once again, she turned her head; eyeing Charles with what she hoped appeared to be only mild curiosity.

  “I will not be releasing our guest until your condition has been confirmed of course. But for the time being, I see no need for you to continue your daily sojourns.”

  Melody strove to keep any sign of emotion from her voice. “Oh?”

  Charles seemed to study her expression for a moment. “I thought you would be relieved.”

  She had to be careful. “Of course I am relieved. How could you possibly think otherwise?” She allowed a slight flicker of revulsion to cross her features, and prayed that it was convincing. Apparently it was, for after one last speculative glance, Charles nodded and then turned and left the room.

  Once she was alone, Melody turned back toward the wall and buried her face in her pillow. No, not yet! She wasn’t ready. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying the words aloud and squeezed her eyes shut tight against the tears that wanted desperately to fall, knowing that Charles could return at any moment. With difficulty, she stifled the sobs that threatened to tear from her throat. It was over. The three words kept repeating themselves over and over in her head for what seemed like an eternity. He was gone, lost to her forever. Dear lord, how was she ever going to bear it? She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

  Three weeks later, Melody’s pregnancy was confirmed by the local physician, and the following day, after being summoned to her husband’s study, Charles informed her that the man at the cottage had been released.

  “I see.” Her tone was deliberately impassive, though she felt anything but. During the past weeks she had tried to come to terms with the fact that she would never again hear the gentle timber of his voice or feel the warmth of his touch, and for the most part she had. But still, at this very moment, the absolute finality of it hit her hard. It really was over. Though the realization filled her with an overwhelming sadness, for him she was glad, knowing that he had finally regained his freedom, for despite her own sense of loss, his continued captivity had pained her beyond measure. In spite of her inner turmoil, she strove to appear unaffected as she met her husband’s gaze.

  “I know these past months have not been easy for you,” Charles said as he eyed her from behind his desk, displaying the first ounc
e of compassion he’d shown her since he’d concocted his wretched scheme. “But now that we have achieved our goal, I am certain that you can see that our efforts were all worthwhile.”

  Our goal, our efforts. Melody stiffened. How dare he insinuate that she was anything but an unwilling pawn in his treachery? With difficulty she kept from screaming out her hatred of him. Instead, drawing in a calming breath, she met his gaze with as much outward composure as she could manage and simply nodded.

  “Good.”

  She could see that he was about to dismiss her, but before he did, she needed to know that the future of her family was no longer in jeopardy. “My Lord,” she began, holding Charles’ gaze, “now that I have done all that you asked, do I have your assurance that my family’s wellbeing is secure?”

  Charles hesitated only a moment before answering. “Yes, of course. I give you my word.”

  Though it made her sick inside, she did her best to appear grateful. “Thank you.”

  With a benevolent smile that belied the heinousness of what he had done, he looked upon her almost fondly. “You are quite welcome, my dear.”

  Rising from her seat, she managed a slight smile to mask her anger and resentment. “If you will excuse me, My Lord, I am feeling a bit fatigued. I think perhaps I should lie down for a bit.”

  “Of course, my dear.” Standing, Charles immediately nodded his assent. “I shall see you at dinner then.”

  “Yes, until dinner.” Turning, Melody swept quickly from the room, silently praying that she could maintain her rapidly flagging self-control until she reached the blessed solitude of her bedchamber.

  Chapter 9

  Gavin emitted a coarse, muffled groan as the dull throbbing in his head gradually pulled him toward consciousness. He fought to open his eyes, but his lids were like leaden weights. He lay motionless for a minute, struggling to pull himself from the murky darkness that held him in its grasp. As awareness slowly began to dawn, he noted an unfamiliar, bitter taste in his mouth and tried to make sense of it. He felt sick, similar to the way he felt when he’d had too much liquor to drink. Had he been drugged? With another low rasping groan, he forced his eyes open, blinked and tried to focus. The oddly distorted sight of dirt and dry, matted grass met his bleary gaze. Where was he, and why in the hell was he lying on the cold hard ground? He closed his eyes for a moment against the sunlight that lit his surroundings, feeling the rough texture of hard-packed earth beneath his cheek. Forcing his heavy lids to open once again, he viewed the area around him, fighting to clear the last of the lingering haze from his befuddled mind.

  Pressing his palms against the ground, he pushed himself upward, and with only slight difficulty managed to right himself into a sitting position. He sat still for a moment, collecting his bearings as the throbbing in his head continued its slow, pounding rhythm. After drawing several deep steadying breaths, he rose to his feet, wobbling a little as he gained his footing. Glancing about the surrounding vicinity, he was surprised at the familiar sights that met his sweeping gaze. He knew this area like the back of his hand. He was on the path that led to the small fishing pond at the eastern corner of Rutherford Park, his family’s estate, the same path from which he and his sister had been abducted. Nattie! The sudden thought of his sister spurred him to action. He turned quickly, feeling a touch of dizziness as he frantically scanned the area around him. Where was she? Where was his sister? “Natalie!” he shouted. Stumbling forward, he called out to her again and again as he walked and then ran along the winding trail. But she wasn’t there.

  Several minutes later, Gavin shoved open the massive front door of his family’s home and barreled into the foyer, winded and nearly out of breath. “Natalie!” he shouted, the sound echoing throughout the large empty hall.

  The butler appeared at once, his face registering his shock as he rounded the corner and caught sight of Gavin. “My Lord, you are home,” he said, clearly attempting to compose his startled expression as he took in Gavin’s ragged appearance.

  “Hawkins, my sister, is she here?” Gavin demanded, turning anxiously toward the silver-haired man who’d served as Rutherford Park’s butler since before he was born.

  “Your sister?” he said, obviously taken aback by Gavin’s frantic expression. “No, My Lord.” His eyes were wide as he regarded Gavin curiously. “She has gone to London, with your mother.”

  “She is with my mother?” Gavin asked in relief, as the fear he’d felt since awakening on the path alone and confused slowly released its icy grip on his heart.

  “Yes, My Lord. They left over a fortnight ago, with your brother.”

  Fourteen days! Natalie had been home for that long? His mind reeled.

  “Is she, is my sister alright?” he asked, his tone laced with trepidation.

  “My Lord?” the older man replied in confusion. Hawkins looked at Gavin as if he’d lost his mind. “Is something amiss sir?”

  Gavin faltered, something wasn’t right. Hawkins continued to regard him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. He was about to voice another question, but the booming sound of his father’s voice stopped him short.

  “Gavin!” the duke called, rushing forward to meet him, his expression revealing both surprise and relief. “Thank God you are home.”

  His father looked as though he were about to embrace him, but then stopped himself. He darted a quick glance at Hawkins and then past him to the two footmen who’d just entered the foyer. His expression immediately became more reserved as he grasped Gavin’s shoulder. “Come, my boy, let’s go into my study and you can tell me all about your adventure.”

  Bewildered, Gavin remained silent as he allowed his father to steer him toward the rear of the house, the word adventure echoing silently in his head.

  “Hawkins, please see that my son and I are not disturbed,” the duke called over his shoulder.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” he replied, glancing briefly toward the two footmen standing immobile at the far side of the room, the slight lift of his arched, grey brows the only indication of his lingering confusion.

  As soon as the heavy door had closed firmly behind them, Gavin’s father turned and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tight in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

  “Thank God, thank God you are safe,” he murmured, before stepping back a moment later. His eyes quickly raked him from head to toe. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice laden with concern.

  “I am fine, Father, truly,” Gavin reassured him. “But Natalie, how is Natalie?” he demanded, his sister’s wellbeing still foremost in his thoughts.

  “The bastards that took you never touched her, thank the Lord,” the duke replied, shaking his head, obviously grateful, though a spark of fury flared to life in his green eyes. “She was distraught of course, as we all were when you were taken, but otherwise, she is fine. It is your poor mother who has had the toughest time keeping herself together.” He shook his head again, his features tightening. “Go. Sit,” he said, motioning toward the leather sofa that sat against the far wall of his study. “I’ll fix you a drink. It looks like you could use one.”

  Gavin walked toward the sofa, his thoughts spinning wildly. Natalie was fine. She hadn’t been taken, had never been in danger. He had been deceived. Though he felt a flash of burning anger at the lie that had kept him bound more tightly to his captor than any chains ever could have, the relief he felt, knowing that his sister’s safety had never been at risk, quickly overshadowed his initial fury. He sank onto the seat, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back against the cushion.

  “Here, drink this,” his father said a moment later.

  He opened his eyes and reached to take the bourbon-filled crystal tumbler. “Thank you.” He took a long swallow, relishing the burn as the fiery liquid ran down his throat. Hopefully, it would chase away the last of the lingering headache that had yet to fully recede.

  His father dropped into the leather wingback chair beside the sofa, eyeing him stead
ily as he polished off the potent whiskey. He sat forward as Gavin rested the empty glass on his knee, his gaze anxious and concerned. “Where the devil have you been, son?”

  “Honestly Father, I haven’t the slightest idea,” he said, shaking his head as he thought back upon the weeks he’d spent at the isolated cottage in the woods. And then, of course, his thoughts turned to her.

  “Your brother was convinced there would be a ransom demand, despite what the letter said, but nothing ever came.”

  “Letter?” The word momentarily redirected his attention. “What letter?”

  “Those villains, the ones that took you, they left a letter with your sister.”

  Gavin sat forward, his expression suddenly intense. “Do you have it? May I see it?”

  “Of course,” his father said with a brief nod, and then rose quickly from his seat.

  Gavin stood up as well and followed his father to his desk, setting his empty glass down atop the smooth, polished surface. He watched as the duke unlocked a small drawer and then withdrew a thin envelope. He took it from his father’s outstretched hand, pulled out the single sheet of paper and began to read.

  Your Grace,

  First and foremost, I wish to assure you that as long as you follow my instructions, your son will not be harmed. Though I regret the means I have had to employ to obtain your son’s services, they were necessary. I require his assistance with a confidential matter of which I cannot elaborate. If you adhere to the following directives, your son will be returned to you alive and well within the upcoming months. If you do not, you put your son’s life in serious jeopardy.