Passion Over Time

by Natasha Blackthorne

  “Being in love will do that.” Her dark blue eyes glittered with mischievous humor.

  He laughed cynically. “You know me better than that, Marie.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe you don’t even know yourself.” She laughed softly. “Don’t scowl at me like that, mon chou, you cannot change truth by scowling it away.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and gestured around at the tiny, albeit neat and clean cabin. “Is this cabin up to your expectations?”

  What a question to ask. Of course it wasn’t up to her expectations.

  Making a moue with her full-red mouth, she replied, “Oui.”

  She wanted to return to her family and with war looming they both agreed the sooner she left, the better. This was the only ship leaving for New Orleans in the foreseeable future. All of her household items had been boarded days ago and she’d been staying at the Indian Queen Inn.

  Her glossy auburn curls bounced as she plopped her broad, round arse down on the bunk and patted the mattress. “At least this is soft.”

  God, but this was awkward. What did one say at such a moment? She had been with him through some of the worst times in his life. The Fleur would set sail this evening. He’d likely never see her again.

  “Marie, if you ever need—”

  “My cousin has property north of Baton Rogue. We shall do very well, especially considering the generous congé you have given me.” A smile curved her lips. “And what about you? Are you going to marry this girl who has swept you along by your feet?”

  He’d said nothing to Marie about Beth, but of course she’d known there was someone. She had that woman’s innate ability to discern a man’s reactions. No use in denying it now.

  “She would not fit into my life,” he replied, more tersely than he had intended.

  “You are too used to your own way.” Amusement warmed Marie’s rich voice. “She can do you some good.”

  “I can’t imagine doing anything more callous than to wed her. She couldn’t conform to society life and my wife would need to be a pattern card of propriety and breeding to overcome the prejudice to which she’d be subjected.”

  “You carry too much bitterness. You overestimate people’s memories and underestimate their ability to forgive.”

  “I’ve done nothing that needs forgiving.” It took effort to keep his tone civil. Why must she fill their parting moments with this sort of prying? It wasn’t like her.

  She shook her head, her expression sad. “I think most of all, you need forgiveness from yourself.”

  Hours later, her words still echoed in his thoughts. The second-guessing, the self-doubt returned, taking him back eighteen years. But he’d done what he could, hadn’t he? And when all his efforts failed, he’d bowed out and given Juliana everything she wanted. Including his own ruin. Maybe he should have fought de Lange harder but Grey had been too naïve to understand what the game really was.

  Nausea rose in his throat and he choked it back. With effort he took the whole matter and thrust it out of his mind. He had more a pressing problem and her name was Beth. He would find her if he had to visit every cobbler’s shop on the northeast side.

  * * * *

  Beth came out of the back room, transfixed by the wavy patterns swirling in the creamed coffee she was bringing to Charlie. She’d spent the past week sleepy and distracted.

  “Mr. Sexton, my sister, Miss Elizabeth McConnell,” Charlie said.

  Her heart jumping into her throat, she jerked her gaze up.

  Sure enough, there he stood. Her breath caught and she set the mug on the counter with a heavy crash. Dressed in a plain brown broadcloth jacket and nankeen pantaloons, he could have been any tradesman from hereabout. Yet his height and arrogant bearing set him apart.

  Those silver eyes focused on her, and the momentary heat there reminded her of being abed with him. After a week spent aching in her own bed and staying away from City Tavern, tingling warmth suffused her belly. Her eyes traced the familiar contour of his angular jaw. She remembered their last meeting. When he had made her come over and over, and how she had pressed a frantic rain of kisses upon that jaw. Remembered the taste of his sweat, the scent of their mutual arousal. Now wetness began to flow between her legs.

  Her eyes flickered to her brother’s bland, pumpkin-shaped face and she prayed he could not read the ardent hunger on her own.

  Grey was insane to have come here.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss McConnell.” Grey’s tone was cool and polite. A distant half-smile curved his mouth.

  “Entertain Mr. Sexton a moment, will you? I need to see how much cordovan leather we have in back.”

  She watched Charlie’s massive back as he departed, then she turned on Grey. “How did you find me?”

  “There are only so many cobbler’s shops in Philadelphia. And certainly only one woman so pale blonde—”

  Outrage stunned her. Panic slammed into her. “You were asking about me?”

  “Don’t worry. I am the soul of discretion.”

  “Ha, more like the soul of arrogance.” She glanced at the backroom door, searching for Charlie’s huge shadow, then turned back to Grey. “And it’s done you no good. I am determined to meet you no more.”

  He looked tired, as if he’d spent as many sleepless nights as she. A warm wave of tenderness suffused her. She wanted to cradle his head to her naked breasts and caress his black hair until he slept and never let him go.

  When her courses had come, she ought to have felt relief. But she had been sad, oh so sad. A little of that sorrow remained and it made her heart too tender. It made her want to believe anything he promised.

  But she knew all about gentlemen. They viewed a woman of her sort as just another bauble to possess and then discard once they grew bored. This gentleman had recently proven himself no different, as that letter from M proved. Beth was merely his latest acquisition. He probably replaced his mistresses once yearly. Or more.

  No sane woman ever trusted a gentleman.

  But her body refused to listen to reason. Her sex swelled and wept with need. How many nights had she hugged her pillow tightly with her thighs, trying to assuage the ache for him?

  How long would it take her body to forget him? She didn’t look forward to finding out.

  “You have to forgive me, Beth.”

  She folded her arms over her bodice and arched a brow. “Do I?”

  “Yes, you do.” He grinned. More than a grin, it was a bone-melting flash of the boy inside the man. The motherless boy who had grown up with the stern, cold father. Fleeting as a heartbeat, it spoke to her of babies and booties and long winter nights spent snuggled up to a strong, male body in bed. Things she never let herself she could have.

  To break the spell, she shook herself and took a deep, fortifying breath. “I thought you were leaving soon for New York.”

  “I can’t leave Philadelphia yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why.” His voice, sensual and low, invoked memories of his tall, strong body upon hers and their sweat-slick skin sliding in crisp linen sheets. “Meet with me one more time.”

  Her channel contracted hard. The temptation to say yes was almost too much to bear.

  She couldn’t possibly say yes.

  But where would she find the strength to say no?

  “I shouldn’t.” She heard the wavering in her own voice. It made her mouth go dry. Oh, God help her.

  “Come see me Saturday.”

  She trembled at the erotic promise in his eyes. Why did he have to be so blasted persuasive? At the sound of Charlie’s boots on the floorboards, she retreated from the counter, unsure if she were grateful for the distraction or if she suddenly wished Charlie to the devil.

  “I’ll be waiting in the lobby,” Grey whispered.

  * * * *

  At the sound of boots on the floorboards, Beth looked up from the shoe she was stitching.

  A tall, thin young man stood there in the
doorway of the back room, holding a black physician’s bag. A gentleman with refined features and dark chocolate eyes that always seemed to burn with emotion.

  He’d come to check on Ruth, even though she was doing quite well of late. Beth resented how he used his profession as an excuse to keep coming to this house. Privately, she’d repeatedly told him to stop coming. But if she protested too loudly, it would raise suspicions. “I wish you would leave, Dr. Wade.”

  “You haven’t been going to Mrs. Bickle’s lately.”

  “I was there just Saturday.”

  “Yes, and recently you had a quarrel with a gentleman. A New York merchant—Mr. Asahel Sexton.”

  Heart thudding, Beth stared at him without blinking. “Is that his name?”

  “Don’t insult me with that innocent act. You went chasing after him, publicly quarreled with him, but you don’t know his name?”

  At the thought of her rashness that day at Mrs. Bickle’s, Beth’s stomach suddenly felt lighter than air. Her heart pounded almost deafeningly in her ears and she began to become a bit lightheaded. But all right— so she had argued with a gentleman in public. It didn’t signify anything, did it? She schooled her expression to remain cool. “He insulted me.”

  “Your distant, dreamy eyes. The flush in your cheeks of late. Don’t think I don’t realize you’ve another lover now.”

  A cruel, satisfied smile tugged at her mouth. Dr. Joshua Wade had no idea the things she had done since he had forsaken her for his fresh, innocent bride. He’d thought to keep Beth as a mistress. He had thought wrong. “You have no say over what I do.”

  “Yes, I know.” He compressed his lips, his expression frosting over.

  “I have no lover now.”

  His eyes became like twin flames. “But you did.”

  “I did.” A vicious wave of satisfaction rippled through her, followed by immediate shame. She didn’t like this woman she’d become. This brittle person who’d arisen from the broken pieces after Joshua threw her away. Just one more reason to hate him.

  “It’s killing me, Beth. Does that make you happy? Do you enjoy feasting on my heart?”

  “Aren’t you being a little dog in the manger, Dr. Wade?”

  “I wish you’d promise not to see him anymore—”

  “Dr. Wade, shouldn’t you be home with your wife?”

  Ruth’s voice sounded unnaturally loud and Beth startled. Her sister stood by the stair rail in her nightgown and wrapper, carrying her candleholder.

  Joshua straightened his dark blue jacket into place with much dignity. His sensual mouth twisted. In the flickering lamp light, the gesture appeared to be a sneer. He should’ve left long ere now. Yet he’d lingered and risked compromising her.

  How had she ever loved this selfish man?

  Ruth snorted. “Too fine and good to marry my sister but not too good to come sniffing around her like—”

  Beth sucked in her breath. Oh God. Oh dear God. She should speak. She should refute Ruth’s words.

  But she couldn’t find her tongue.

  “You know nothing about it,” Joshua replied coldly. He grabbed his hat and strode to the back door.

  * * * *

  “For God’s sake, Elizabeth, do you have to toss and turn like that?” Ruth took the coverlet into her hands and turned away from Beth.

  Beth turned onto her back. A strand of her hair settled on her nose and tickled her. She blew it away.

  “And stop that infernal huffing and puffing. Mercy, it’s two in the morning!” Ruth said.

  Beth crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at the ceiling. “I am sorry.”

  “Well, I don’t understand. If you miss Joshua so much, why not simply let him put you up in a house.”

  “Charlie would never abide it.”

  “Let Joshua worry about Charlie.”

  “You want to see Charlie get injured—or worse, killed?”

  “Charlie can take care of himself. This ain’t about Charlie calling Dr. Wade out, though fool he’d be if he done so. This is about your pride.”

  “You’re correct about that. I’ll never be Dr. Wade’s bought and paid for whore.”

  “What does it matter?”

  “He has a wife. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “It was a marriage arranged by his mama and hers. You were his first choice.”

  “I wasn’t his choice at all. And I won’t hurt another woman like that.”

  “Hurt? How can it hurt her if she don’t know? If it ain’t time he needs to spend with her, it don’t matter.”

  Beth exhaled loudly and turned on her side away from Ruth. “You don’t understand anything about it. Not in the least.”

  “I understand you’re letting all those grand ideas Mrs. Hazelwood filled your head with keep you from being with the man you love. There’s little enough joy in life, you better learn to grasp it when you can.”

  “Oh, so now I am too ‘uppity’ because I won’t be a man’s kept piece?”

  Ruth sighed. “You don’t understand the place you were born into. You weren’t born into Mrs. Hazelwood’s house proper. You were born in the servant’s attic. And not only that. You were born there ‘cause my Papa turned our Mama out when he found out she was carrying you. He hadn’t been at her in years. He was older than her and too much drink done burnt his manhood out long ere that. You seem to forget your situation. Charlie is right. You get too many ideas above yourself.”

  “I don’t deserve to be a wife because of what our mother did?” Beth knew it was the truth. But hearing it said so explicitly by her sister sent a pain twisting through her.

  “Hmph, if a gentleman like Dr. Wade wanted me, I’d snap up the chance to live in a nice house.”

  “I won’t risk Charlie losing his head. You know how hurt he was over our mother’s infidelity with a gentleman. You know how foolish he can be when his temper is roused. So what would he do if his youngest sister took up with a gentleman?”

  “Aye, he’d lose his head, wouldn’t he? That ain’t your problem. Let Dr. Wade handle it, like I done said.”

  “I just can’t risk it. I won’t.”

  Ruth chuckled, the sound so full of cynical knowing, it sent shivers through Beth. “That ain’t the reason, Elizabeth. You know it ain’t too. Fine, keep your prissy standards. You were given beauty that could get you all that’d truly make you happy. But I sincerely hope all those high and mighty standards Mrs. Hazelwood gave you keep you warm after your looks fade.”

  Frustration and rage energized Beth. She threw the covers back and jolted from the bed to her feet. Then, in her nightgown, she marched downstairs to the backroom. She sat at the table with her face in her hands.

  Yes, Ruth was correct. Beth did want more than she had a right to expect.

  She wanted to be special.

  Cherished above all.

  Was it false pride to want to be a wife? To want a man to place her above all else and proclaim his love for her loudly to the whole world? Had she allowed Mrs. Hazelwood to fill her mind with exalted ideas?

  Well, to be fair, Mrs. Hazelwood wanted her to marry a clergyman or a schoolmaster.

  Gentlemen fascinated Beth.

  All right, now just one gentleman fascinated, consumed, obsessed Beth. One black-haired, silver-eyed gentleman.

  But was it absolutely necessary to be fascinated by one’s future husband?

  “Come see me Saturday.”

  Grey Sexton was dangerous to her. Her attraction to him made her break her own rules. Made her rationalize taking grave chances.

  She had been seen arguing with him in public. Mrs. Bickle or maybe one of the other gentlemen had seen and told Dr. Joshua Wade.

  Her mouth went dry and a dizzying whirl of nausea went twisting through her insides. Before meeting Grey, she would never have done anything so thoughtless in public.

  This had to end and soon, elsewise she would get herself caught. And there would be trouble with Charlie. She could find herself lo
sing her place in his house. And she belonged nowhere else.

  Elizabeth needed a place to belong. She needed people to need her and to focus her affections on. It would kill her inside to have no one. No place at all.

  Beth needed her secret life, a place to go and burn off all her lust and craving for adventure.

  Grey Sexton was a threat to both worlds.

  But to never see him again?

  “Come see me Saturday…I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

  * * * *

  Beth promised herself this was the absolute last time. A proper goodbye. Grey had insisted on taking her for a ride. Now the carriage stopped in front of a small but stately red-brick Georgian house.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked.

  “We’re going inside.”

  “But I don’t want to visit anyone.”

  “I own this house. I gave the housekeeper the afternoon off. We shall be quite private.”

  She drew her brows together. “Why do you stay at City Tavern if you have this house?”

  “Because until recently it was occupied.” He threaded his fingers through hers and picked up her hand. “Let’s go inside.”

  * * * *

  Beth allowed Grey to lead her through the dining room, passing by its glossy cherrywood table and chairs with the vase of pink peonies, and back into the foyer. Why didn’t they go to the bedchamber? That was why they were here, after all.

  Prisms dotted the wall like rainbow-hued butterflies, drawing her eye to the sunlight sparkling in the crystal chandelier. “You keep this house, furnished this splendidly, and never use it?”

  “I am using it today.” He embraced her from behind and nuzzled her neck. “God, but I have missed you.” His erection pressed huge and hot against her bottom. Then, abruptly, he swept her up into his arms. She squealed and clung to his neck.

  “You’ll break your back!” she said laughingly.