The Caress of a Commander

by Linda Rae Sande

  Stunned at her touch, as if a jolt of something had struck him suddenly, Will stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at Barbara. “I will not let him drown, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said with a shake of his head. But after a moment, when he realized how truly frightened she seemed at the thought of her son spending the afternoon fishing, Will furrowed a brow. Barbara’s worry was palpable, her hand nearly quaking where it rested on his arm. Didn’t she realize he would see to his own son’s safety? That he would ensure nothing dire would happen to Donald?

  And then he realized something.

  “Is this the first time you will be separated from him?” he asked in a quiet voice. “For more than a few minutes?” he amended, remembering that at least the two didn’t share the same bedchamber, if the tiny rooms in their cottage could be called such.

  Barbara stared up at Will, wondering how to respond. Would her son seem a weakling to Will if she admitted he had guessed correctly? That Donald hadn’t been parted from her since his birth? Will seemed so shocked by the possibility, she inhaled sharply and shook her head. “Of course not,” she lied. “It’s just... he doesn’t know how to swim,” she blurted out, thinking that was reason enough to be concerned.

  Will placed his other hand atop hers and slowly pulled the hand to his lips. “Then I shall see to it he doesn’t end up in the river,” he said before kissing the back of her hand. Where his lips touched her skin, he could feel her erratic pulse. “And if he does, I shall fish him out,” he added in a playful voice.

  Barbara’s eyes widened in horror as she attempted to pull her hand from his grasp. “Bellingham!” she admonished him. But Will held onto her hand and pulled her hard against the front of his body, his lips coming down onto hers.

  He was reminded of the night before, when he had entered the bedchamber to which they had been taken by the servant that thought they were married. His sister had been wise to introduce them as a married couple, he thought, although he knew Barbara wasn’t happy with the ruse. They couldn’t be seen as unmarried travelers, though, especially with a young boy in tow and no sign of a chaperone for Barbara.

  Perhaps the after-dinner port had him feeling a bit happier than he should have been, or perhaps it was merely the thought of sharing a large bed with Barbara—platonic or not—that had Will pulling Barbara into his arms and settling his lips onto hers, had him using his tongue to separate her lips so that he might share the taste of port and tangle his tongue with hers.

  Whatever the reason he had decided Barbara would accept his overtures was soon proved wrong, however. She had struggled in his embrace, used her hands to push his shoulders away from her body, and threatened to scream should he come near her. Stunned and more than a bit hurt, Will had stepped back and stared at her.

  Could she really be denying she had feelings for him? Denying his claim to her? He had ruined her, after all. She had lain with him—at her insistence—and made a vow of undying love and affection. And he had countered it with his own vow, assuring her he would return after his service to King and Country, and they would be together.

  She had borne his child.

  Well, he was back now. He had kept up his end of the bargain and was ready to resume their lives, only to discover she seemed to despise him.

  Just because his letters hadn’t reached her was no fault of his. She seemed to realize her father or someone else had intercepted them—either destroyed them or hadn’t sent them on to Broadwell. When she discovered she was carrying his child and was about to be put out of Pendleton House, she might have gone to his mother for assistance, or perhaps a relative who could have seen to suitable housing and financial support.

  Instead, she had fled to a remote village and taken up residence in a ramshackle cottage with no hope for a future. Ceased sending him letters to let him know what had happened to her. Cut herself off from everyone she knew in London and insisted she could never return for fear of... well, he didn’t know what she was afraid of in London, but she had certainly made it clear she would never go back.

  At least Lord Gisborn had promised he would have seen to it she had decent housing. The dowager cottage was close to Gisborn Hall and seemed in good repair. And Henry had mentioned she would be under his protection.

  But what sort of future could she expect to have without a husband? Without her son’s father?

  She’s stubborn, Will decided. Proud, perhaps. Hurt. Confused.

  Try as he might, Will realized she might never accept him back into her life. But, dammit, he wasn’t ready to simply give up on her. She was the mother of his son! He had been in love with her—was still in love with her—and he wasn’t about to give up his claim to her. To his son.

  How long, though, could he pursue her before she might change her mind? Before she realized he was sincere and that she still loved him?

  One more day, he decided. He would spend the time it took for them to tour Ellsworth Park in her company, and then he would take Donald fishing whilst she and Hannah shopped in Bampton. They would see each other again at dinner and then... well, hopefully she would accept his vow of love and devotion and agree to be his wife when he proposed following dinner. If not, he would simply see to it she was relocated into the dowager cottage and either pursue the position Henry had offered and live apart from her or make his way back to London knowing his sister and brother-in-law would look after Barbara. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of another option.

  One more day.

  Barbara stared up at Will, realizing almost at once that he was teasing her when he said he would simply save their son from drowning should the boy fall into the river. But didn’t he realize just how frightened she was for her son? She had never been parted from him for more than a few minutes his entire life! Now she would be leaving with Hannah for the afternoon whilst Donald and his father and uncle took him fishing. Before she could put voice to her concerns, Will had her hand in his, kissing the back of it and suddenly pulling her hard against the front of his body.

  Surprised, Barbara didn’t have an opportunity to close her mouth before his lips had captured hers, before his tongue invaded her mouth and tangled with hers, reminding her of what he had done to her the night before—before he took her protests seriously and realized she didn’t want him sharing her bed. He had removed himself from the embrace, although not from the bedchamber—she supposed he had no where else to go—merely settling himself into the only upholstered chair near the fire. “I’m not leaving you alone,” he had whispered when she glared at him from the other side of the bed, her fierce expression suggesting he had better remove himself from the bedchamber entirely or she would make her displeasure with him known to the rest of the household.

  Realizing his determination exceeded her energy to pro-test—she had been bone-tired and on the verge of tears for several hours—she had settled into the comfortable mattress and quietly wept.

  She knew not when he had joined her in the bed. Perhaps she had awakened and beckoned him to do so, or perhaps he had decided he’d had enough of the chair and wanted the comfort of the bed, or perhaps he felt the need to wrap her in his arms and sooth her sobs. Whatever the reason, Barbara awoke this morning with an overwhelming sense of contentment. She hadn’t even realized one of his arms was draped over her waist, that his hand was cupped over one of her breasts and that her head was tucked beneath his chin. In fact, if she hadn’t been aware of his soft breaths and his heartbeat against her spine, she might have thought she was simply wrapped in a warm, comfortable quilt.

  “I love you,” he had whispered.

  Pretending to be asleep, she hadn’t responded. After a time, she inhaled sharply and realized she was alone in the bed, all evidence of Will’s presence erased as if he had never been there. All except for the scent of him left on the pillow when she turned over to look for him.

  She remembered his whispered words and wondered if she could ever again feel for him what he claimed to feel for her
.

  At the thought of how bereft she felt at finding him gone from the room, though, she realized she must feel something for him. How could she not? He had come to rescue her from her hardscrabble life. Accepted her son as his almost without question. Vowed to make her his wife and pick up where they had left off as if the last eight years had never happened.

  If she denied him one more time, she was quite sure he would leave her and Donald to live their lives in quiet desperation. At least they would do so in better quarters than the cottage in Broadwell. And they would be under the protection of the Earl of Gisborn.

  But would she ever feel that contentment she had felt when she first awoke that morning? Ever feel that sense of knowing she was loved? Even if she wasn’t sure she could ever return it?

  One more day, she decided. She would give herself one more day to determine if she could abide a life with Will Slater. If she could feel for him what she had felt all those years ago as a young, naive chit in London. If she could foresee a future that might include an occasional trip back to London, to where she was no doubt vilified in every Mayfair parlor and the subject of gossip mongers. If she could once again allow herself to love another when she was quite sure she didn’t deserve it return.

  One more day.

  Chapter 44

  A House Tour

  The earls strolled through the garden, following the crushed granite path until they came upon Hannah and Barbara. The two women were sitting on a stone bench, their heads bent in quiet conversation. At the sound of the men’s approach, they looked up in unison, surprise crossing their faces. Neither man wore a coat or a hat, but then the two women weren’t wearing bonnets, either. They both stood to curtsy to the men’s bows.

  Hannah offered her hand to her husband, who took it and quickly kissed the back of it. After an awkward pause, Barbara offered her hand to Will, and he took it to his lips. He paused over it longer than he should have, bestowing a complete kiss on the suntanned skin.

  “We’re off to Ellsworth Park. Your brother wants to see the place,” Henry said after he let go of his wife’s hand. “Would you care to come along?”

  Hannah’s smile appeared to wipe away the worried expression she had been displaying when the men first approached. “I should like that. I’ve never been inside the house before,” she commented, turning to Barbara.

  “I’ll come along, of course,” the older woman agreed. “But I suppose I should see to Donald—”

  “Mum, I finished with my numbers and letters. May I play with Harold?” the young boy’s voice came from the backyard. Barbara turned to find her son holding a rubber ball, the Alpenmastiff bouncing around him, his tail wagging in anticipation.

  “He can come with us,” Henry said, waving his hand to beckon the boy and Harold.

  Will caught Barbara’s look of concern and leaned in to whisper. “He’ll be fine,” he murmured, allowing his lips to graze her temple.

  Shivering at his intimate touch, Barbara suppressed the urge to gasp and scold him. “All right,” she finally agreed, wondering how far they would be traveling. Her legs already felt a bit rubbery from their walk the day before. Having had a decent breakfast and a dose of sunlight whilst in the garden, she was feeling rather drowsy.

  The four headed out the back garden gate toward the property to the west, the manor house mostly obscured by trees and shrubs. Donald and Harold bounded behind them, occasionally pausing to play.

  “Who lives there?” Barbara wondered as they made their way through the stand of trees.

  “No one,” Hannah replied, one of her arms hooked into Henry’s. Although Will had offered Barbara his arm, she had declined and simply walked with her arms at her sides. “The Binghams only used it in the summers when they owned it,” she added, remembering how lonely she would be in London when Charlotte Bingham was at Ellsworth Park and Elizabeth Carlington was in Brighton with her folks.

  “Seems rather a shame it’s been empty all this time,” Will said, remembering it appeared rather regal when they passed it the day before on their way to Gisborn Hall. Unaware it was owned by Henry, Will had simply assumed it belonged to a member of the landed gentry. Now that he was closer to the manor house, he realized what Henry meant when he said it was in need of repairs.

  “If anyone had been in need of housing last winter, I would have opened it to them,” Henry replied as they approached. “But I fear they would have had an uncomfortable stay given its condition.” He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the front door while Will regarded the windows on the first story of the house.

  “Nothing appears impossible to fix,” he said as he joined the others on the stoop. Henry had the front door opened and was allowing the women to enter when he gave a nod to Will.

  “Let’s hope that’s your general consensus for the rest of the house,” he whispered hoarsely.

  When a mouse scurried across the vestibule, Hannah let out a startled gasp while Barbara merely ignored the creature. Harold was quick to follow the intruder, however, proudly dangling the mouse by its tail once he had captured it. “Take it outside, Harold,” Hannah ordered with a hint of disgust in her voice, pointing back toward the open door. Harold complied, returning to join Donald when he had dispatched the mouse.

  Holland cloths covered all the furnishings, leaving the visitors to guess what might lie beneath given their ghostly silhouettes. Barbara lifted one to reveal a beautifully upholstered settee, while Hannah uncovered the low table in front of it. “Rather nice,” she murmured as Barbara moved on to uncover a chair.

  “It’s all very elegant,” Barbara said in a whisper, as if she were afraid to disturb the quiet house. “’Tis a shame no one has lived here to take care of it.”

  Will and Henry had moved to study the mullioned windows and their frames, not finding any evidence of water damage, but Will was paying more attention to Barbara’s words. Did he detect a hint of wonder in her voice? As if she might be able to see herself as the mistress of this house? Or was she merely commenting on it because she thought the house was a lost cause?

  Given she was living in a cottage in far worse condition than this, Will hoped for the former. Perhaps now that she had spent a couple of days away from that cottage and a life of destitution, he could convince her a life with him would be far better. Perhaps he could convince her to marry him if he promised they wouldn’t have to live in London.

  Henry had moved to study the stone fireplace, but he gave Will a telling glance. “Having second thoughts?” he murmured, ducking down to take a look up the fire box.

  “Not like you’re thinking,” Will replied as he surveyed the mortar in the seams between the rocks. Everything seemed intact, although he was sure the chimney would require a good sweeping before it could be used again. “I am thinking I will accept your offer, but there will be a contingency.”

  Henry stood up and regarded Will with a frown. “And what might that be?”

  Will gave a nod toward where the women were studying the rows of shelves mounted on the long wall. “I have to convince her.”

  Nodding, Henry raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps you could let her think it’s her idea,” he suggested in a whisper.

  Giving a start, Will regarded his brother-in-law with a look of confusion. Her idea? She seemed so dead set against marrying him, he rather doubted she would see the house as an opportunity to erase the past and begin a life with him.

  The four adults moved to the next room, apparently a library that now contained only a few shelves of books. A wide table flanked by wooden chairs seemed in good condition, though, as did the fireplace and the series of windows along the front of the house.

  And so it went as they surveyed each room, Will making mental notes about repairs and the women commenting on the furnishings and draperies until they completed a tour of the first floor.

  Harold preceded them up the stairs, his nose busy sniffing everything as he made his way with Donald in tow.

  “Could y
ou see yourself in a house like this?” Hannah asked Barbara as they returned to the library. She had thought to borrow a book or two and was perusing the shelves.

  “I used to live in a house much like this,” Barbara murmured, her gaze taking in the coffered ceiling and dark paneled walls. “Another time. A different life,” she added wistfully.

  Hannah paused in pulling out a book and regarded Barbara, her brows furrowed. “And if you could again?”

  Sighing, Barbara shook her head. “It’s a lot to manage. Too much for me, certainly.”

  Angling her head to one side, Hannah replied, “But if you had servants, you could manage quite well, I should think.”

  Barbara allowed a grin. “I suppose,” she agreed, although her tone was non-committal.

  A crashing sound above them had both women gasping. “Donald!” Barbara breathed, quickly making her way out of the library and to the stairwell. She climbed the steps, her breaths coming in short gasps as she tried to call for her son, sure he had done something to upend a piece of furniture or knock a vase onto the floor. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she nearly collided with Will.

  He caught her easily, his hands going to her waist to steady her. “Whoa,” he said with a grin. When he saw her look of fear, though, he sobered. “Our son is fine,” he whispered. “Harold’s tail knocked over a plant stand is all.”

  Barbara took a steadying breath before she realized she had both hands gripped on Will’s forearms so tight, her fingernails were leaving crescents in his skin. “Are you sure Donald had nothing to do with it?” she whispered just as Hannah appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “Harold Forster Paddlepaws!” Hannah called out, her voice sounding more stern than Will had ever heard it.

  The Alpenmastiff, his body close to the ground as he nearly crawled to reach his mistress, whined a few times before licking one of her slippers. Donald appeared in the doorway to the room from which Harold had come. “It was an accident, my lady. He has a very strong tail.”