by Lauren Smith
Harriet clawed at his shirt until he removed it. Redmond moaned as she slid a hand down between their bodies and stroked his erection through his trousers. She tried not to think about how this man seemed to rob her of all good sense, but the need she felt was half physical and half emotional, overpowering everything else.
“Please,” she repeated, and he rolled away from her to remove his trousers.
Then he was on top of her, gently parting her thighs. After settling into the cradle of her body, he kissed her fervently as she melted beneath him. He shifted, and she tensed as he started to enter her. But he kissed her again, and before she was ready to worry about it, he thrust inside her. The pinch she felt made her gasp, and she gripped him tightly by the shoulders. He remained still, and she drew deep breaths as she tried to adjust to feeling so full.
“Better?” he asked against her lips.
“Better,” she agreed and raised her hips in encouragement.
What followed was the most memorable experience of her life. Redmond joined his body with hers, their mouths fused in a seemingly endless kiss as he claimed her. Harriet never wanted this moment to end. She had tasted pleasure before, but now it was so much more. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and the smattering of hair there. She had never seen that before, the remarkable naked chest of a man. She ran her palms over him, adoring the feel of him beneath her hands. He pushed inside her over and over, the sensation stealing her breath and making her mad with desire. They moved without words, with nothing but the candlelight and the sounds of their breath surrounding them.
Passion for him and other deeper emotions pounded through her blood into her heart as she shattered beneath him. The searing need she’d felt moments before softened into the sweetest sense of contentment. Redmond tensed as he growled her name against her neck and then relaxed into her, a soft look of wonder in his eyes that made her eyes burn with tears. It was as though he hadn’t known what they’d shared could be like this. Was what had happened between them so different? Somehow more special than it was with others? Her heart cried out that it was, but she could not speak to it the way he could. Yet she dared not ask him. Instead, she cradled him to her, his head resting against her breasts until he withdrew from her and rolled onto his back.
“Come here,” he urged, and she sidled up against him. He tucked her head beneath his chin and wrapped one arm around her waist.
“I must confess something,” he said. “It’s important that you hear.”
She nodded tentatively, unsure of what he meant to say.
“I loved Millicent,” he said softly. Her contentment and pleasure at being in his arms quickly faded into the shadows. She tried to pull away, but he held her still, not letting her escape.
“Please listen, Harriet. I loved her, but I think now it was more the idea of love that I loved.” He sighed, trying to find the right words. “My brother was the fair one, the one with all the charms. I hoped Millicent would love me, would choose me. But she didn’t. Her father convinced her that I was the better choice for her family. All along she had loved my brother, but I was so ready for love myself, so ready for a family and happiness that I failed to see she didn’t want me. She cared about me, of course, but it wasn’t the same as how she felt about Thomas.”
Harriet hugged him tightly to her as her heart clenched in pain for him.
“What we have shared in the past few days has been infinitely more than I ever felt with Millicent. That’s what I meant to tell you. There’s something about you that soothes me. You don’t need to ruin a pleasant silence with speaking, but when we talk it’s genuine and interesting. You’re pure, and I don’t mean that in a carnal way. I mean…” Again, he struggled for words. “You speak to me not as a woman who is interested in a duke, but as a man. As myself.”
“I understand,” she assured him. For some reason, she had never wanted to think about his title. He was her Red. A man who feared love and yet craved it just as strongly. She understood that all too well.
Redmond played with a lock of her hair and held Harriet close as she relaxed into him. For the first time, she felt she could truly rest in this house. Perhaps the ghosts—for she now couldn’t doubt they existed and that they were speaking to her—had wanted this. She had felt their love for each other, but also their love for Redmond.
“Red, what happened to Thomas? I saw you save him from falling over the cliffs. How did he die? He didn’t show me everything…just what happened on the edge.”
“He…” Redmond paused and swallowed audibly. “He took his own life after we buried Millicent. He couldn’t bear to live without her.”
“I’m so sorry, Red.” She kissed his chin, and he hugged her tighter.
“I never understood before about a man loving a woman with his whole heart, but now… I think I might.”
She heard the words, and her heart raced wildly with hope. It was almost a declaration of love. Almost. But was love possible for strangers like them? She wished it could be. But he’d lost so much, and she might have to leave for Calais. George wouldn’t stop looking for her, and the last thing she wanted to do was put Redmond in any more danger. He may be a duke and have a duke’s power, but George was evil, and evil always found a way to hurt good people. She couldn’t let Redmond get hurt because of her. That meant she owed him the truth of what she was starting to feel in her own heart.
“I think I might feel the same…about you.” She smiled sadly. “I know we barely know each other, but I feel like something fits in place when I’m with you.”
Redmond’s eyes were warm as he kissed her before he blew out the candle. They fell asleep with the storm outside and the warm fire within.
Redmond watched the flames burn low in the hearth as his worries plagued him. How was it possible that Thomas and Millicent were still here? They should have shed their mortal coils, yet somehow they’d left some part of themselves behind at Frostmore. What did these ghosts want? Revenge against him? Or were they trying to help him somehow? He honestly didn’t know.
“Thomas?” He whispered the name, feeling foolish as he did so.
The curtains at the foot of the bed stirred as if an invisible hand plucked at them. Red held his breath, stunned to see that whatever presence lingered here in his home was trying to communicate with him. It had to be Thomas. They’d shared an unbreakable bond as brothers. If anyone could have found the will to stay behind and watch over him, it would have been Thomas. A thrill shot through him at the thought that he was talking to his deceased brother, yet it also unnerved him. Tonight his brother’s phantom had nearly killed Harriet—perhaps not intentionally, but she’d almost died just the same.
“I care about her.” He looked down at Harriet. “Please don’t risk her life, if you can understand me at all. Please.” He closed his eyes, almost disbelieving that he was trying to speak with a ghost.
A chilly wind blew the windows open violently. He left the bed and rushed to the window and latched them shut again. Then he returned to the bed and pulled Harriet closer in his arms.
“Red…” She murmured his name in her sleep, and his heart clenched as a fierce sense of protectiveness swept through him. He knew she had fled from a dangerous home, and he had a feeling that any man who had his eyes set on Harriet would not easily let her go. For the first time in seven years, he was glad that his ghoulish reputation kept people away from Frostmore. But would it be enough to stop whatever ghost haunted Harriet’s steps? A ghost not of his making, but dangerous nonetheless.
8
The next few weeks passed in a blur for Harriet. She fell into a comfortable routine of breakfasting with Redmond each morning, and then she and Devil would accompany him on a snowy walk around the grounds of the estate as they were doing now.
She never got tired of watching him play with the imposing yet regal dog. The giant schnauzer would stand perfectly still when Redmond threw a red ball deep into a snowy field until Redmond gave a sharp whistle. Then the do
g would dash through the snow, questing for the ball, and upon finding it, he would return it to them.
Devil dropped the ball at Redmond’s feet each time and then came to Harriet, who bent and curled her arms around the dog’s neck and kissed his furry brow. Devil would start to pant, his pink tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth with sheer delight as he waited for the ball to be thrown again.
“You’re spoiling him,” Redmond admonished in a teasing tone. “I want him to remain a fierce attack dog. Before you came, he used to delight in chasing women away from my door. I remember one time a young woman and her parents attempted to impose themselves on me. Devil chased them all the way to the gates.” Redmond chuckled. “The young woman screamed like a banshee.”
Harriet hid a laugh behind her glove. “You’re terrible, Your Grace.”
Redmond put an arm around her waist and gave her a playful squeeze. “I certainly am.”
As they walked back to the house, Harriet looked up at the gargoyles at the gates with different eyes. The menacing faces of the beasts seemed more ancient, more protective than threatening now. Even the house with its turrets and towers, so reminiscent of a medieval fortress, seemed more lonely than frightening. How strange that such strong impressions of a place could change with time. She was glad for it. Frostmore was no longer the foreboding nightmare she’d heard whispers about for so many years. It was a place full of people who longed for love.
“Red… Would we be able to decorate the house for Christmas?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Decorate?”
“Yes, you know, garlands on the banisters, wreaths upon the doors, perhaps even a kissing bough or two?”
His lips slid into a seductive grin. “Suggest a dozen kissing boughs and I’ll agree.”
Laughing, they entered the house and shed their winter cloaks and gloves, handing them to a waiting footman. Mrs. Breland and Mr. Grindle were conversing about the dinner menu for that evening.
“Ah, good, you’re both here,” Redmond said as he saw them. “Harriet’s had a splendid idea. We should decorate Frostmore for the holidays. What do you think?”
“That is a delightful idea, Your Grace.” Mrs. Breland smiled, and Harriet noticed that Mr. Grindle watched her with barely concealed interest. Maisie was right. The butler was infatuated with the housekeeper. Downstairs romances weren’t often permitted, but perhaps Harriet could convince Redmond to allow it since his valet had been given permission to court Maisie?
“Excellent. Make what changes you need, and send to the nearby villages for whatever we do not have,” Redmond ordered.
“We’ll see it done,” Grindle promised and gave Harriet a quick smile.
Redmond caught Harriet by the waist. “Well, I have some letters to write in my study. Shall I find you later?”
It had become a ritual for him to find her wherever she was in the afternoon, and more often than not they ended up on the nearest flat surface, clothes scattered about. She couldn’t get enough of Redmond or his irresistible touch.
“Yes, please. I’ll most likely be in the library.” She’d grown obsessed with the vast collection of books he had there.
“Good.” He cupped her chin and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lip. The way he stared at her mouth made her tremble and ache. He truly was a wicked man, one who knew exactly how to kindle her darkest desires.
She watched him and Devil head for his study before she ventured into the library. A happy grin spread over her face as she collected several books and sat down to read in her favorite wingback chair by the fire. As she turned the pages, she daydreamed about Christmas at Frostmore and the magic it would bring back into her life and Redmond’s. They had both grown so wary of love and trust that neither of them had felt alive in far too long. Her stepfather had turned her from a girl who had enjoyed life into a young woman who feared being used, being controlled.
I’m safe here with Red, for now. Safe.
Yet even as she thought the words, she had the eerie sense of something dark and terrible on the horizon, coming for her.
Redmond settled into his chair in his study, and Devil sat at his feet, gnawing on a thick bone the cook had saved for him. Redmond ruffled the short-cropped hair on the dog’s head before reaching for the nearest stack of letters. The first were several reports on the shipping companies he held interests in based out of Dover, followed by a few from the sheep farmers who had tenant properties on his estate. Finances were tight for the farmers at the moment, so he would move some money from the shipping accounts to tide over the farmers and their families until spring.
The last letter in the stack had a fancy red wax seal. He broke it and unfolded the paper to read the contents. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he crumpled the edges of the paper. A black rage rose up in him like a violent summer storm.
It was a letter from Harriet’s stepfather, George Halifax, and he was searching for his beloved daughter who had stolen his coach and his driver.
How dare this man write to him? They had no acquaintances, no social connections. Redmond read the rest of the letter, his hands clutching the paper tight.
He professed that the young woman was mad, a danger to herself and others. Her mother had recently died, leaving the girl with no one in her life to mold her into respectable feminine behavior after she had become so dangerously willful. George requested that if Redmond knew of her whereabouts to write to him at once so he could come and collect her and bring her home.
The rage that had come upon him so swiftly began to fade as a hint of doubt crept in. Much of what George had said could easily be taken as the truth. Harriet had pulled a sword on him. She’d walked out in the snow in nothing but a nightgown and nearly walked off the cliffs. She not only believed she’d seen ghosts, but she had seen the past through them.
Yet he’d seen the curtains move in his chamber that night they’d first made love. He’d felt that unnatural chill associated with the spirit world and had sworn he caught a fleeting glimpse of his brother. But everything he had experienced could be dismissed with rational explanations, whereas her experiences could not be explained. The edge of doubt remained, a sliver of whispering darkness in his mind.
Redmond stared at the page a long time, weighing what he’d come to know of Harriet against the claims in the letter. He had, luckily, one more witness to ask on the matter. He set the note down and left his study, Devil following on his heels. He entered the service area belowstairs, startling his poor cook and sending two footmen and a scullery maid dashing out of his way. He found Mr. Johnson in the servants’ dining hall, finishing his noonday meal. The man had remained here at his estate, along with George’s coach, while the driver’s broken leg healed.
“Your Grace.” Mr. Johnson reached for his crutches, which were leaning against the edge of the table next to his half-eaten soup and bread.
“Please, stay seated. I have a few questions for you.”
Mr. Johnson waited, his hands fluttering in his lap as he toyed with his napkin. “I’ll answer as best I can.”
“I need only the truth. Nothing you say will have you removed from my home, nor have you face any other trouble. Is that understood? You may speak freely without fear of repercussions.”
“I understand, Your Grace,” the driver answered.
“Harriet’s stepfather, George Halifax. What sort of man is he?” When Mr. Johnson hesitated, Redmond encouraged, “The truth, please.”
“He’s not the best of men,” Mr. Johnson began. “He has a sharp tongue, and he’s been known to strike a servant a time or two.”
“And what of Harriet and her mother? How did he treat them?”
“He was nice enough at first, I suppose, like lots of men are when they want something. Miss Emmaline was such a sweet lady, but she had a desperate look about her. Mr. Halifax saw that and took advantage. Miss Harriet was still a girl when she and her mother moved in. Thursley was bigger than anywhere they’d ever lived before, and they
weren’t used to being waited upon. It was rather nice, the way they thanked us downstairs staff for anything we did.” Mr. Johnson’s face reddened. “Not to say I needed that. It’s my job, after all, but it’s nice to be appreciated for hard work once in a while.”
He cleared his throat before he continued. “Well, after a year or so, my master started to show his true self. Miss Emmaline was able to handle him, even the few times he struck her, but she was more worried about Harriet. You see, when Miss Emmaline married my master, he convinced her to sign a guardianship agreement. Until Harriet’s twentieth birthday, he has full rights over her. That was meant to protect her, but recently the house realized it also meant he could control her, hurt her, starve her, prevent her even from escaping by marriage. All without consequence. The staff did their best to look out for her. The cook would put a light sleeping draft in the master’s food to make him tired on those nights when she saw the evil gleam in his eyes.”
Redmond could barely contain the rage bubbling inside him. A wave of self-loathing followed as he recalled how he had tried to frighten Harriet. He had been no better than her stepfather, though he’d had no intention to hurt her, let alone ravish her. But she hadn’t known that.
“Do you believe he will come after her?” Redmond asked Mr. Johnson.
“Yes. I’m surprised he hasn’t tracked us here already. I knew the moment I helped Miss Russell escape him that I would lose my employment there. He will no doubt accuse me of stealing the coach and have me imprisoned.”
“Mr. Johnson, consider yourself under my employment. Once you’re healed, your duty will be to watch out for Miss Russell.” He started to go but paused and asked the driver one last thing. “When does she turn twenty?” Redmond wished Harriet had trusted him sooner with all of this. He could have been taking measures to protect her. As a duke he had some power, but he wasn’t sure he could override a guardian without facing a magistrate.