The Sleeping Beauty

by Jacqueline Navin

  Urland was indignant. “I thought you were coming to holiday at Heathgrange.”

  “She’s…she’s delicate. I’m concerned about her. She never eats any damn thing. There is this wretched nurse that is always hovering about her….” He trailed off, taking in their incredulous expressions. “What? What is it?”

  The four exchanged stunned looks.

  “Nothing,” Urland said.

  Delrich grinned. “Not a thing.”

  Quinlan chimed in, “Deal, Mannion. You have all of that lovely money and you owe it to us to give us a chance to take it from you.”

  Helena woke up, blinking away sleep to focus on the familiar shapes of her room. She was comfortable in her own bed. Sighing, she rolled over and fluffed her pillow.

  The softest of hisses brought her eyes open again.

  It sounded like a whisper.

  She waited, hardly daring to breathe…There! There it was again.

  She sat up and cocked her head, straining her ears. Her eyes scanned the darkness. Reaching for the bedside table for a faggot to light her candle, she knocked over her cup. She was fond of chocolate before bed and had one, liberally laced with nutmeg, in bed each night while she read a novel.

  The heavy piece of crockery hit the floor with a thud. The sound, coming as it did in the stillness of the night, was huge.

  She heard a shuffle. Sitting up, she listened. Was it her imagination, or was that retreating footsteps?

  Managing to light the candle, she sat by its glow until her heart slowed to its normal rhythm. No other sounds came. After a while, she decided it must have been a nightmare.

  She lay back down, but she didn’t sleep again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The pups flourished and were frolicking within a few weeks’ time. Helena sent a message to Chloe to bring her children round to see them, and it was a fine Wednesday afternoon when she arrived with Rebecca, ten, and Sarah, seven, the children of her husband’s brother, whom she was raising as her own. In her arms she held Charles, her own son, who was just a year old.

  “Are you certain you do not mind us invading you like this?” she asked with one of her infectious smiles.

  “I invited you!” Helena declared with an easy laugh. “Come, girls, I want to show you the pups.”

  The girls were, she was tartly informed by Rebecca, partial to cats. They had two—one pet each—that lived in the nursery and ate cream from their tea saucers. They were spoiled rotten, Sarah said, chiming in happily.

  Helena smiled at their busy chatter and held one of the puppies for young Charles, who stroked it very tenderly, with a look of awe on his face. “Isn’t it adorable?” Chloe cooed, cradling the runt of the litter against her breast. “If Jareth wouldn’t kill me, I’d take one.” She looked up suddenly, as if a very unpleasant thought occurred to her. “Oh, Helena, they are not to be…” a glance at the girls assured her they were out of earshot, scampering after a rambunctious puppy “…destroyed.”

  “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  Chloe raised her brows. “Oh, I am quite aware that many people do not think a life has worth unless it has a proper pedigree.” She was referring to herself as much as the disenfranchised dogs. The world—especially her dour mother-in-law—had been scandalized when she’d married the Duke of Strathmere, because she was not of the proper social class.

  Helena thought of another with the same lack of noble breeding, and yet Adam was the finest man she knew. “You should know me well enough to realize I would not feel that way.”

  “That is good. What has your father said? He cannot be happy to have one of his last bitches breeding mongrels.”

  Helena frowned. “Father doesn’t hunt much anymore. He stays inside.” Drunk for the most part, although she didn’t say that.

  “What a shame. Gerald is coming for Christmas and he wrote us how he was looking forward to bagging some small game.”

  “Adam likes to hunt. Perhaps he can take Father’s place. He said he would be coming to Rathford Manor for the holiday.”

  “Yes. Adam will be excellent companionship.” Chloe’s knowing look made Helena blush and turn away. “We are very happy for you, Helena. Jareth especially. You know he always felt so bad about…well, everything.”

  “Nothing was his fault.”

  “Or yours. You saved my life. I will always love you for that.”

  Helena stood.

  Chloe followed. “Why do you hate to acknowledge that what you did was heroic? I know it must hurt you that your mother was ill, but she would have murdered two people if you had not stopped her.”

  “It was a terrible thing to have to do,” Helena admitted. “I—I’ve never spoken of it before. But…I think you are right. I’m just realizing, after all these years, that what I did…it…wasn’t bad.” She looked up, her eyes burning with questions. “Do you think my mother was ill?”

  “Oui,” Chloe said definitely. “Of course she was. It is the only explanation.”

  Helena shook her head. “You didn’t know her as I did. It wasn’t an illness that made her do all those awful things. It was the way she was. Always. Greed, drive, relentless ambition—they were a part of her.” She broke off, turning away from the sympathy in Chloe’s gentle eyes. “I don’t think it was illness. I think some people just have an evil in them. She did. I don’t think she ever really loved me. I was just a means for glory.”

  “Poor petite. I am so sorry you have suffered so. I wish I could do something to make it better.”

  Helena took Chloe’s hands in hers. “You always tried so hard. I’m sorry I was so rude to you when you’d come to visit. I used to cry every time I sent you away. I wanted to accept your friendship, but it was too difficult, whenever I saw you, not to remember all the bad things that happened that day.”

  “I am pleased you have finally decided to let the past go.” Chloe—who had never even attempted to master the reserve her title of duchess required—threw herself into Helena’s arms. Taken aback at first, Helena returned the sisterly embrace.

  Pushing her to arm’s length, Chloe peered into Helena’s face. “What made you change? Is it…oh, Helena! It is Mr. Mannion, oui?”

  Blushing profusely, Helena shrugged and disengaged herself. “Chloe, I think I may be with child.”

  “It is so? Oh, Helena—that is wonderful news! I am so pleased for you, and it happened so quickly. It took Jareth and me the longest time to conceive Charles.”

  “What do you mean, it took a long time?”

  “We tried for years to have a child. Surely you knew.”

  “Tried? You mean you didn’t…that is…were you together?” She blushed. “You know.”

  “Oui, mon ami, of course we made love all the time. Didn’t you say…?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you believe you are with child, Helena?”

  Helena began to suspect she had made a terrible gaff. “Oh, Chloe, I don’t know. My mother told me—” She broke off, covering her face with her hands.

  Gently, Chloe peeled them away. “Helena, have you missed your monthly courses since the last time you were together?”

  “No,” she answered miserably.

  “Then you are not with child, I am sorry to say. Sometimes it takes a great deal of…well, trying.” She smiled coyly. “But it can be very delightful, this trying, oui? If Mr. Mannion is coming home for Christmas, then he will have to do his best to get you with his child. It may take some time and some energetic lovemaking.” She studied her companion and broke out in an eruption of giggles. “You should see the look on your face. Mon Dieu, you English are so proper!”

  Helena had no idea what was so funny.

  Chloe explained. “You don’t look disappointed at all!”

  Howard visited again, but claimed he had not seen Adam in the city. Helena was disappointed not to have any news. She looked forward to his return. He would be excited about the pups, she thought, as well as the new staff she had hired. The house loo
ked so much better these days, although she still stayed very busy in the daily running of it. She was hardly a lady of leisure, but she began to enjoy long walks, often with Cain by her side. These she found cleansing, and she felt her spirit grow stronger with each passing day.

  She felt as if she was just now awakening after a long, long sleep, and as soon as she had the thought, she laughed out loud. Adam had called her the Sleeping Beauty of Northumberland. What would he say, seeing her now?

  There were only two spots of trouble. Her father seemed to be drinking more. He stayed in his study all the time now. Whenever she went to visit him, he seemed restless. She grew angrier each day he drowned himself in drink, and then she stopped going in altogether.

  The other problem was the nightmares. As the dismal past receded from her daytime hours, it seemed to descend into the nights. She often woke chilled and perspiring at the same time, feeling mildly ill and knowing she had dreamed of that day at the inn, in that horrible room where her mother’s blood had run crimson on the floorboards.

  Helena did her best to shake off the tendrils of these disturbances and start each day with a positive view.

  So different than before.

  The weather grew frosty as the month passed and the holiday season grew nearer. Helena found herself counting the days until Adam’s return. Even Kimberly’s snide comments and evil glares couldn’t dampen her enthusiasm.

  She wondered if Adam thought of her, and if so, how often. She wondered when he would arrive, and if he were on his way already.

  And then one day she was walking back from the stables when he was suddenly there in front of her—a real flesh-and-blood man, not just memory, not just imagination, not just conjured from longing—looking dark and beautiful and taller than she remembered.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Adam wore that particular smile of his that crinkled his eyes and laid claim to every feature on his face. With his arms crossed over his chest and his feet braced apart, he regarded her with impish pleasure he took no pains to conceal.

  Stopping in her tracks, she stared, holding her breath until she remembered not to. She let it out slowly, and as the air left her, she thought she might faint, her head felt so light. The urge to run into his arms with a great cry of joy was so hard to resist it left her body rigid and aching.

  He raised a single brow in greeting. “Helena.” Those deep brown eyes skated over her form, lingering enough in certain places to make her blush. “You look…absolutely wonderful.”

  She touched her hair, immediately thinking of a million reasons why this couldn’t be so. She didn’t take as much care with the sun as she should, so her fashionable pallor wasn’t what it used to be. Having just come from a walk in the woods with Cain, she was certain her hair was mussed, and her dress was hardly the type one donned to entice a man. But it was one of her new ones, rather plain, but a pretty soft blue that tempered the iciness of her eyes. At least that was what Mrs. Stiles had said, and she did have exceptional taste.

  “Thank you,” she managed to answer, correcting her posture and forcing the nervous hand to her side. “You, as well.”

  “What’s that?”

  She had meant he looked marvelous as well. He did. God, he looked so handsome. But she lost her courage to return the outrageous compliment. “I—it’s good to see you, too, was what I meant to say.”

  “I heard you were out with Cain?”

  “He’s in the stables,” she said inanely, pointing as if Adam didn’t know the way.

  His brown eyes were like liquid. “I heard he had a brood. Your father’s not too pleased. The scoundrel.” His lips twitched a bit.

  She warmed at the half smile and countered, “He takes after his master.”

  He liked that. The laugh lines bracketing the sides of his mouth deepened. “You think so, do you? I hope you haven’t taken it out on the poor creature.”

  “On the contrary. We’ve just returned from a brisk walk. He’s excellent company.” Too late, she realized that in light of her previous comment, she had just implied that he was excellent company. She blushed. “For a dog.”

  “Yes, well, sometimes that’s the best sort of companion. Silent. Obedient.” He cocked his head at her in a gesture that could only be flirtatious. “Loyal. When they roam, they always return. So, you and Cain, you’ve become friends, have you?”

  It struck her how absurd it was to be conversing about a dog upon first seeing each other after so long a separation. It was as good a topic as any, she supposed, and was better than standing defenseless amid all of the tension crackling in the air. “Did you eat?” she asked in an effort to change the subject.

  “No. I came straight to get you. Mrs. Kent said you were out here.”

  He had rushed out to see her? A tingling fluttered all the way up from the base of her spine to titillate the sensitive flesh at the nape of her neck, a feeling magnified by the way he kept looking at her. It was an expression she had once been accustomed to seeing on men’s faces, but one she hadn’t seen in a long time. Perhaps one she had longed to see on this particular face.

  As if on cue, he said, “Really, Helena, you…you look…simply fabulous.”

  She locked her knees against the imminent possibility of their failure. “That is very kind of you to say so. Now, we should get you a decent meal. I remember well your…ah…appetite.” She blushed and turned away, hoping he didn’t pick up on the innuendo, knowing it was impossible he wouldn’t.

  He didn’t mock her, however. “You know me too well.”

  She loved the way his eyes stared into hers, as if he were seeing everything without her having to explain or put any part of it into words. She said, “Come inside, then. I’ll have Maddie fetch you some—”

  His hand on her arm stopped her. “I’ve brought you something from London. Do you like surprises?”

  “I…I don’t believe I’ve had many surprises.”

  “It was supposed to be for Christmas.” He reached inside his coat pocket to draw out a flat box. It was a jeweler’s box, she saw, and her heart did a queer skid. “I’m terrible at waiting, however. Here, open it now.”

  She reached out for the gift slowly, apparently too slow for his liking. He withdrew the box, opened it himself and presented it to her.

  “They are ear bobs,” he announced, as if she couldn’t see this for herself. She looked and saw two gorgeous clusters of stones, all varying shades of blue, from turquoise to azure. “I thought they’d look good with your eyes,” he said. “You know, your eyes can be of these colors, depending on your mood.” He looked at her doubtfully. “Oh, no.”

  “What?” she managed to query.

  “They are darkening—your eyes, I mean. That is never good.”

  “No.” She laughed at his troubled frown. “No, I assure you, it is good. I’m simply overcome.”

  He was pleased again. “Let’s see them on you.” But when she reached for the box, he was already wresting them from their hooks. Really, he was a most impatient man! She felt a rush of giddy joy come over her all of a sudden.

  Adam frowned intently as he fiddled with the small article of jewelry. “How the devil—?”

  “Let me,” she said, reaching for it.

  “No, I’ve got it.” He didn’t, but eventually he deciphered the clasp. “All right, come here.” He stepped closer and tilted her head to the side. Warm fingers smoothed her hair behind the curve of her ear. She smelled the faint odor of soap on him, mingled with the musk from his horse. He must have ridden in, not taken the post or carriage. How like him. The indefinable scent that was him assailed her, sending her blood pumping in thick, rapid bursts.

  “It goes like thus. I think,” he murmured. Glancing up, she could see the sensuously curved mouth just in front of her. His strong white teeth pulled at his lower lip as his hands tried to unravel the feminine mysteries of applying an ear bob.

  Helena started to smile. He leaned back and angled his head, his brow furrowed in
confusion as he tried valiantly. She found this inexplicably funny.

  “Damn,” he said softly, then he apologized. “This doesn’t seem to be working.”

  She stayed obediently still. The brush of his ungloved hands against the tender flesh of her neck made her nervous, increasing the need to laugh, until she couldn’t resist it. It exploded out of her.

  He regarded her with grave puzzlement as she dissolved in a fit of giggles. She struggled to calm herself, but every time she nearly had herself under control, she’d only have to glance at his serious face and she’d be lost again.

  She was bursting with happiness—that he was here, that he had brought her this gift, that he was being so solicitous and charming and absolutely adorable in his excitement. And in typically masculine fashion, he hadn’t a clue what was so amusing.

  He seemed a bit taken aback, perhaps even wounded, and she regretted her loss of control. Laying her hands on his shoulders, she struggled to get herself under restraint.

  Then his hands slipped around her waist, pulling her tightly up against him. He wasn’t put off by her outburst after all, she saw. His eyes weren’t soft anymore. They were hard and intense and rich with something that sent shivers up her spine. Her laughing sputtered out.

  The leashed hunger in his eyes curled her insides, made her fingers twitch with the sudden, irrepressible need to thread themselves in his wind-tousled hair. She felt ripples of sensation cascade through her with increasing intensity until she could stand it no more. With a whimper of resignation, she reached up and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down to her upturned mouth.

  Without a shred of shame, she fastened her mouth onto his and kissed him. He allowed her to have her way until she relaxed her grip and made to pull away.

  Surging forward, he pulled her against him once again and took charge. With a slant of his head to one side, he twisted to the other so that her head was tucked nicely against the firm cushion of his arm. Trapped comfortably, she was then assailed with the exquisite persuasion of his mouth tenderly reacquainting itself with hers, possessing and enticing, sensuously playing until her nerves tingled and hummed. His tongue touched, then slipped through her softly parted lips. Gentle at first, it quickly became frantic and fierce, parleying their desire into a froth of uncontrolled need.