“Mr. Havroneck!” Cassidy exclaimed. “You startled me!”
“A letter arrived for you, Miss Shea,” he explained, handing her the letter.
“Oh, thank you for bringing it so promptly, sir,” she said, smiling. She at once recognized the seal as Ellis’s.
“Ever at your service, miss,” he said, bowing and striding away.
Frantically Cassidy opened the letter. She could always depend on a letter from Ellis to entertain and lift her spirits.
Darling Sister,
What are you about this fine day there at Carlisle Manor? You must know, though it pains me terribly to admit it…that I do miss you, Cass. I think on you always, wondering if you are well…knowing that you are safe, for you have one such as Mason as your protector. Still, I am your brother and do wear my shirt more formally than he…if not less broad-shouldered.
I have reacquainted myself with your old friend Gabrielle Ashmore on my recent trip to Haggarty. She is quite the beauty, if I do make so bold as to vex you. I think her heartbreak at losing Mason Carlisle to one so beautiful and dark-haired as you does indeed show in her countenance. I have heard it said that she is not the bright, confident, full-of-life young woman she was some months ago, and I think you can take this to mean that there is truly, truly no reason for you to further concern yourself over whether Mason has indisputably given her up.
You should hear the buzzing that goes about here on that subject! The very subject of Mason Carlisle and his bride-to-be is all the rage. People speculate endlessly on your beauty, which I affirm as being unsurpassed, of course! In fact, I am led to believe that, other than myself, of course, Mason Carlisle was the most sought-after bachelor ever born in our great land.
Father and Mother are faring well. Upon my last visit, Father was fairly leaping about, giving Mother fits of worry over his well-being! They miss you, dear Cass. It is more difficult than you perceive, darling, for them to give you over to Mason.
Which reminds me…is he quite the attentive lover yet? I am certain you know more of his skills in this area than you are willing to disclose to me! Still, I want to see my brat of a sister happy in the arms of the man she loves…even if he cannot ever measure up to her brother’s handsome countenance.
You must tell all, darling…when I arrive a week hence for a short visit. I must behold your well-being with my own eyes. Mason must understand.
All my love,
Ellis
“Tomorrow,” she spoke out loud. The letter was dated a week before. Ellis would arrive on the morrow! Smiling, she refolded the letter and was delighted, if not sent into a fit of nerves, as Mason entered the room very unexpectedly. She rose and made ready to leave the room, but even further surprising were the first words he uttered to her.
“Will you read to me then?” Mason asked unexpectedly.
“The letter from Ellis?” Cassidy exclaimed in a voice of panic. She could not in any instance read him the true contents of Ellis’s letter.
“If you wish. Though I was hoping you would choose something less personal, such as Whiting or Collins. I’ve such a pounding in my head as to shatter the pillars of Greece.” He placed a hand across his eyes and seemed to squeeze his temples tightly. “My eyes hurt, and it must be that I finish the Whiting.” He pointed to a small book lying on the table near the sofa. “It’s on loan to me, and I’ve promised to read it cover to cover and return it within the week.”
Cassidy took a deep breath, greatly relieved that he did not wish to hear her letter, and picking up the book, she looked about for a suitable place to seat herself. “Sit just here,” Mason said, motioning to the footstool just before him. Cassidy sat herself properly on the footstool and looked up at him for a moment. His eyes were closed now, and he sat forward, elbows on knees, head hung as if a great fatigue had only just overtaken him.
“I am sorry for your discomfort. May I fetch anything for you?” Cassidy asked. She was concerned at his lethargy. It was quite unlike him.
“No. Just begin. I’ve marked the page. I don’t go in for certain authors. But this is not too torturous,” he mumbled, still not looking at her, still with eyes closed.
Cassidy sighed and opened the book. Immediately the small nameplate within caught her eye. Miss Gabrielle Ashmore was written elegantly there. Now Cassidy knew whose book this was—who had lent it to Mason and to whom he planned to return it. She chose to say nothing and simply let her anger burn within her for the time being. A small blue ribbon marked a particular page. She opened the book and began reading. Immediately her anger increased, for the verse was nothing more than a vow for lovers. She wanted to throw the book at the man before her, screaming hateful things about Gabrielle, and run from the room. Instead, she struggled to keep her composure and began to read aloud.
It was truly a beautiful collection of verse, however simple. She read on, not lifting her eyes to look at Mason, for the poem engrossed her attentions, if somewhat against her will. Then, as she read, one particular verse struck something within her, and she took its meaning, its description, and its vision fully to her own heart—not noticing that her voice had dropped, her words soft and quiet as the poem’s heart.
Then breathe of me…my charming one.
Breathe not of any other.
Breathe not her words amid the air,
Nor perfumes on her skin so fair,
Nor redolences of her hair,
Or of her sigh, the fragrance there…
For false are they…
False means to smother.
Breathe thus of me…my cherished one.
Breathe thus of me forever.
Breathe words of love…love spoken true.
Breathe of my eyes, my spirit’s view,
Breathe of my kiss as moist as dew.
Breathe of my soul’s delight in you.
For truth am I.
I am your lover.
Cassidy paused, strangely disturbed by the irony of the poem when compared with her own feelings. Glancing up, she was startled to see Mason’s eyes were narrowed and studying her intently. He still leaned toward her, elbows resting on his knees, but now his head was raised and his focus fully on her.
“Read on. Is that the end of it then?” he asked, and the low, provocative intonation of his voice gave rise to goose bumps on Cassidy’s flesh.
Swallowing hard, she returned her gaze to the book and read on.
And breathe of me…my secret told.
Breathe breath of me, my lover.
Breathe soft, caressing fingertips
That brush your face and trace your lips.
Breathe deeply of my lover’s kiss…
The sweet, the spice of ardor sip.
Breathe of me breath…
Breathe me…forever.
It took great courage for Cassidy to raise her eyes to Mason. “It’s done,” was all she managed as she looked up to find him still leaning forward, still staring directly at her.
He was motionless for a moment, and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Then, somewhat insinuatingly, he inhaled a long, deep breath before finally leaning back to rest his massive body and arms on the sofa. “And what do you think of it?” he asked unexpectedly.
“It’s…it’s quite…intimate,” she managed to sputter.
“Do you deem it inappropriate?” he inquired, and she caught a look of amusement forming in his dazzling eyes.
“I…I suppose that would depend on the company. On the situation.” Cassidy was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
“Elaborate,” he demanded simply.
“I mean to say…it’s not the sort of verse someone would feel comfortable reciting at the dinner table or in a gathering of light acquaintance. But…to one’s self or with a friend or intimate companion of sorts. It’s obvious that it’s meant to be read to one’s…to one’s…”
“To one’s lover,” he finished for her. “And this is why you have done such a splendid job of reading it to me
then?”
“What do you imply?” Cassidy exclaimed, jumping to her feet.
“I imply nothing. What did you suppose I implied, Miss Shea?” His eyes danced with merriment at her discomfort, and though she knew he meant to imply she read it with him in her own mind as subject, she turned his amusement at her expense to something else.
“I am not as naive as you like to think, Mr. Carlisle. I know very well from whose book you have had me reading and why it is in your possession. I know why she wanted you to peruse it. Thoughts of what—rather thoughts of whom—she intended to evoke!” She slammed the book down on the table. He rose to his full height to stand before her questioningly. “I’m not in ignorance as to what your alternative relationship with her may be, considering that I’ve spoiled your honorable plans toward her. But she is wrong in her assumptions that I will be so sorely smitten by your charms that I…” Instantly Cassidy gasped, drawing herself up too late. Mason glared down at her, fury evident in his eyes. She had said too much. Her anger and growing frustration had gotten the better of her, and now she had said far too much.
“You speak of matters that were discussed in, at the very least, privacy and seclusion. Are you so lacking in manners as to belittle yourself enough to be found eavesdropping at every turn? If I’m not mistaken…you reference a conversation that existed long before the one you so rudely eavesdropped upon the night of our engagement!” he growled.
“It…it was unintentional. I was out…walking, and I…” She had buried herself now, and she knew it.
The set of his mouth was firm and yet mocking. “This…this conversation you happened upon then. Some time ago, was it not?” Cassidy nodded. “After you first came here, am I right?” Again she nodded, for she was sorely humiliated and ashamed. “And in this conversation that you happened upon…was anything promised myself and the second party of said conversation? You heard it, did you not? The entire conversation?” Cassidy took a step back from him and nodded. “Then well you know what transpired there! Nothing of impropriety. Nothing to give you cause to continue in accusing me of such things. The book was lent to me by Gabrielle, yes. But for reasons that you cannot fathom. You! You in your insecurities, and I allow that many are founded, you cannot fathom her reasons for wanting me to read this book of sap! Evoke thoughts? Yes! But not of Gabrielle. I am sorry to tell you that my misery where you are concerned has nothing to do with having given up Gabrielle.”
Cassidy brushed the tears from her cheeks. Misery, he had said. Misery. “I am sorry,” she squeaked out. “I’m sorry for assaulting your privacy. I’m sorry for falsely accusing you of…of indecent conspiracy. But…but you must understand that…” She could speak no more. The words of confessing love were nearly out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“We’ll not have this conversation again, Miss Shea.” Mason inhaled deeply and rubbed at his chin. The sound of it could be heard in the silence of the room, strong hands against strong whiskers. Angrily, he tugged at his cravat until it gave in and loosened its knot. Pulling it from his neck, he tossed it onto the sofa, followed by his coat. Looking past Cassidy, his jaw still taut with frustration, he unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, and again he sighed and rubbed his temples.
“That letter from your brother today,” he began in a lowered voice, still not looking at her, “is he visiting once again? He is always welcome. It’s only that I wonder…is it so terrible here with me that you must ever trust him to come to your rescue? To deliver you from the hands of torment?”
He turned to look at her, and by the expression of surrender on his face, she was certain the ache in his head had returned. She was glad he had changed the subject and let her escape this time without reprimand for being suspicious of him still.
“I cannot deny that I am lonely, a bit melancholy for home. It would be expected from anyone. Even had I known you and your family forever…longing for home would be expected.” She felt so foolish in her answer.
Again he closed his eyes tightly, frowning deeply as if trying to force the pounding in his skull into oblivion. She said nothing, and he suddenly returned to the previous subject.
“Gabrielle and I grew up near to each other always. I’ll not lie to you that there was a time my thoughts were irrational…that I thought of defying my father’s wishes when I reached the age that it was deemed I should fulfill them. But it was mere schoolboy’s folly. Do not deny that when I appeared on your threshold, thoughts of escaping with that young Gavin boy entered your mind.” She looked up at him defiantly at first but humbled her expression immediately. “I am committed to you, Bliss. And I say again that it is a true and impenetrable commitment. If it needs be that I say this to you over and over again, day after insufferable day…I will.”
Cassidy winced at the word commitment. It sounded so unemotional, so cold. But she did not answer. Yes! she wanted to scream. Yes! Tell me over and over, day after day, and then perhaps I will begin to believe it!
He rubbed at his temples once more and then mumbled, “Do you know that I cannot bear to see you cry?”
“What?” Cassidy whispered, unable to believe she had heard him correctly.
“I cannot tolerate it when you weep. It gives me cause to flog myself somehow.” He rubbed at the back of his neck for a moment before his dazzling eyes captured her gaze once more.
“I…I’m sorry,” she stammered guiltily.
“And you do seem to be the most emotional of young women,” he growled, still rubbing his neck.
Though his words maybe lacked the desired tenderness, Cassidy did recognize his attempt at calming the angry air between them. He inhaled deeply yet again, closed his eyes, and let his head fall forward as he rather brutally massaged the back of his neck with one powerful hand.
“So…it’s merely a longing for home that has you begging your brother to return at any given moment then?” Dejectedly he sat down on the sofa, continuing to massage his neck.
“Is it not expected that I would miss him?” she asked quietly.
“Miss him, yes. Miss him to the point of it being torturous to you to stay in my house without him, no.”
Reaching out, he took hold of her hand unexpectedly. She hoped the dim, firelit room made it impossible to discern the goose pimples breaking over her arms as he touched her.
“Just here, if you please,” he ordered as he directed her hand to the back of his neck. “The tautness there is nearly excruciating.” With great trepidation, Cassidy began to work at the tired and sore muscles with her soft, soothing hands. “There is something you’re hiding from me, and do not console yourself with false ideas that I’m not aware of it.” He winced and moaned a moment as she let her thumbs work intensely on a firmly knotted muscle in his shoulder. “A man’s body becomes bruised, you know, from the toil of mind and body upon it.”
“I’ve never doubted that,” she whispered, for he now directed her small hands to a place at the large biceps muscle of his right arm. She continued to stand before him, leaning awkwardly forward as she worked.
“My body reacts to the strenuous course of my life with soreness in muscle. I believe yours releases through tears. And I believe many of the tears I have seen most evident in your eyes and upon your cheeks as of late are attributed to this secret that you are withholding from me.” His eyes were piercing, and she knew he would not be put off any longer. “What is it, Bliss? What is it that you are afraid to tell me, which in turn prevents my being able to protect you from it?”
Again tears traveled over her cheeks. She dropped her hands immediately and began to turn from him. His hands were at her waist instantly, holding her firmly before him.
At once, all the anxieties she had kept pent up in the darkest corners of her mind, the many unsettling incidents of the past few weeks, rushed forward in a wave of mental admission. Something was frightening her, stealing any ounce of security she might grasp at.
“There are…things amiss here where I am concerned,” s
he stammered through her withheld sobs.
“Things?” he repeated. “What things?”
“I…I…things! Objects moved about in my room or disappearing completely…not in the daytime when the maids might have reason. During the night…while I am asleep. I’ll put my hairbrush on the vanity before I retire…and the next morning find it on the pillow next to me! A book that I’ll have read before sleep comes will…will vanish! I’ll…I’ll set the candle at my bedside…and awake in the night in need of it only to find it sitting on the floor in front of the bedchamber door!”
Mason frowned, confused, inquisitive, and Cassidy immediately felt defensive. “I know you think me mad. That perhaps I’m simply walking about in my sleep…moving the things and forgetting that I’ve done so. But I swear it to you, sir…I swear it to you! Sometimes I wake up in the darkness of the night, and I know someone is there! I can feel eyes upon me! Watching me, mocking my fear.”
Cassidy began to tremble as the confession of secrets withheld began to overtake her. Dropping to her knees before him, she was unaware that her hands clutched at the fabric of his trouser legs, holding the cloth tightly in her fists as she spoke. “And there are other things.” Frantically she began to confess the things to him that her own mind had tried to bury, ignore, and forget. “I find things in my food. Not often, but several times now. First, a ladybug. I…I shrugged it off. Then a cricket…and I asked Syndle about it. Then two flies in my drink at dinner one night. You were gone. All this when you are gone. The things in my food have only been when you have not been at dinner. Only now do I consciously admit these things to myself! I…I say nothing to your mother, for I don’t wish to upset her or have Syndle or cook find themselves in any disfavor for carelessness, and yet…and the men in the woods. I don’t think it accidental that they came upon us.”
Shackles of Honor Page 29