by Laura Martin
Instead he pulled away, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he turned to check the girls hadn’t seen anything.
‘Why did you do that?’ Her voice was strong despite the slight tremble he detected and he cursed himself for poor timing. Now he couldn’t think of anything else but kissing her again and it was impossible, here in the open where even once had been too much of a risk.
‘I wanted to, I’ve wanted to for a long time.’
‘And you just do what you want.’ It was said as a statement, her voice flat, and Matthew realised the error in his words.
‘No,’ he said, catching her hand as she turned away. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t want it, too.’
‘I wanted it,’ she said, her eyes burning with suppressed fury, ‘but us mere mortals don’t get to act on our wants and desires above all else. We have to think of consequences.’
‘It was just a kiss,’ he said, trying to stop himself from leaning forward and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
‘Would you have kissed me if you hadn’t known about my background?’ she asked quietly. ‘Would you have kissed me if you didn’t know I was illegitimate?’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘Everything. I tell you that story, that horrible little dirty secret, and suddenly you think I’m the sort of woman who will allow herself to be seduced by a gentleman. I will never be any man’s mistress.’
‘It was just a kiss,’ he said, although his body screamed it was so much more.
‘I will not be your mistress.’
He looked at her, the fear mixed with sadness in her eyes, and felt a surge of anger. Not at her, never at her, but at the men who had made her so suspicious. The men who had taken her innocence and stamped on it, her father and brother for not protecting her as they should have.
Carefully he stepped towards her, placing a hand on each of her arms, making sure the touch was firm but gentle.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I never meant for it to be anything more than a kiss.’ He smiled. ‘You’re an attractive woman, Miss Salinger, a woman I can’t seem to stop thinking about. You invade my thoughts, my dreams, and I could see on some level you desired me, too.’
She didn’t protest, although he saw the faint blush as the blood rushed to her cheeks.
‘I didn’t think of your birth or your position. I didn’t think of anything except my overwhelming desire to kiss you.’
Tears began to form in her eyes, but Matthew forced his hands back to his side instead of raising them to brush the moisture away.
‘That’s the whole point, isn’t it?’ she said softly. ‘You didn’t think. You didn’t have to. If someone sees you kissing your governess on the beach, they’d probably give you a slap on the back and a knowing wink. There are no consequences for you.’
‘There are for you?’
‘If I became your mistress one day, you would get bored of me.’ She held up her hand stopping him from interrupting. ‘Or you would return to India, the girls would grow up and I would need to move on.’ There was no arguing with that. ‘But I would have a reputation as a governess who overstepped her place, who abandoned her morals. Either I wouldn’t get another position, or I would and my next employer would think I was the kind of woman they could take advantage of.’ She shook her head. ‘I have no protection, no family to take me in. My reputation is everything.’
The tears were flowing down her cheeks now and Matthew saw the loneliness in her eyes. She’d been ripped from her world of privilege and abandoned by everyone who should care, forced into a new life she knew hardly anything about.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘I didn’t think, you’re right, I don’t have to.’ He offered her his arm, ‘Walk with me, I promise I will behave like the perfect gentleman.’
‘There is no such thing.’
‘Then I promise I will behave impeccably.’
Chapter Twelve
Selina turned her face up to the sky and felt the first fat raindrop fall on to her cheek. The clouds were dark and heavy and she knew that now the rain had started soon a deluge would follow.
‘We need to shelter,’ she called, gripping hold of Theodosia’s hand a little tighter.
Another drop hit her in the face, then another and another. She pulled the hood of her cloak further up over her hair, looking around in desperation for somewhere to get out of the rain.
‘This way,’ Lord Westcroft shouted above the howl of the wind, gripping hold of Priscilla’s arm and guiding her over the slippery grass.
After the girls had exhausted themselves on the beach Lord Westcroft had suggested they head home, but Priscilla had asked in that quiet, unassuming way of hers if they could go and visit the ruined abbey up on the cliff. Despite the impending storm neither Selina nor Lord Westcroft had been able to deny a request from the girl who never asked for anything, so they’d started the climb.
‘There’s no roof,’ Selina said as they reached the shell of a building. Once it would have been magnificent, the large smooth stones placed so carefully on top of each other in a feat of engineering so advanced for its time. It towered high above their heads, the stonework around the windows intricately carved even though they had long since lost their glass.
‘It looks sad,’ Theodosia said, looking up at the ruined building.
‘Quick, in here,’ Lord Westcroft said, pulling them through a stone archway and into the empty heart of the building. Here there was still no roof, but the walls were so thick the archways provided some shelter. They dashed through, stopping under one by the far wall, the angle of the outer wall protecting them from the worst of the rain.
It was pouring now, heavy drops that hit the floor with such force they bounced and splattered. At least in the ruins of the abbey they were sheltered from the relentless wind, although Selina felt the chill of the air settle deep inside her and knew it would take a long time to warm up even in front of a roaring fire.
‘We may be trapped here for a while,’ Lord Westcroft said, peering out from the archway at the clouds above.
‘I’m sorry,’ Priscilla murmured quietly, her voice barely audible.
‘There is nothing to be sorry for. We all wanted to see the abbey,’ Selina said, pulling her cloak tighter about her to try to ward off the chill that was already seeping into her bones.
‘Come, girls, stand in closer to the wall, you’ll keep drier here.’ It was touching to see his concern for his nieces, the two girls he’d been determined not to form a connection with. Selina could see the affection in his eyes when he looked at them.
Without thinking she brought her fingers to her lips. Still she could feel the fizz and burn from his kiss—the memory would be seared into her for all eternity.
Your first kiss, she mocked herself. It was true. While her friends had been busy scurrying into dark corners with their admirers, allowing a kiss, a touch, a squeeze, Selina hadn’t ever been tempted. Not until Lord Westcroft.
Despite her angry outburst after the kiss she couldn’t deny she’d wanted it, desire had burned through her, consuming her, until she had thought of nothing else every time he was close. When he’d gathered her in his arms and brought his lips down on hers she’d felt her whole body fizz. It had been sublime, wonderful, until he’d pulled away. Then Selina had been reminded of all the reasons she should never desire a man like Lord Westcroft.
Quickly she glanced at him. He was doing his utmost to pretend to be looking out at the rain, but she knew the very edge of his gaze was on her. There was still that thrum of desire present, that unspoken pull between them. Never before had Selina felt anything like it. It was disconcerting, but not totally unwelcomed. For so long she’d felt numbed by everything that had happened to her, but this she was truly feeling.
‘The clouds are moving quickly,’ Lord Westcroft said
, poking his head out of the archway. Flecks of water were splattered on his dark hair and coat, but he didn’t seem to notice. She wondered if the rainstorms in India compared to this.
‘Perhaps we should run down the hill when it gets a little lighter,’ Selina said. ‘If we stay here, we’ll all catch a chill.’
‘We will wait another five minutes.’
They waited, all tucked together in the confined space under the archway. Selina was acutely aware of Lord Westcroft’s every movement: the brush of his hand as he flicked water from his shoulders, the swish of his coat against hers as he shifted from foot to foot. She thought of his hand encircling hers, his arms pulling her close, his lips descending on to hers...
‘We need to go,’ she declared, stepping out of the archway into the rain.
A hand shot out, gripping her arm, and Selina had to take a deep breath to steady herself before she turned to face him.
‘The ground will be treacherous,’ Lord Westcroft said.
‘Take care of the girls. I do not need any assistance.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth her foot slipped an inch, sliding over a muddy patch. Immediately Lord Westcroft’s hand was on hers, but Selina shrugged it off. The last thing she needed was any further distraction. From now on she would do her utmost to keep her distance from her employer.
‘Walk quickly, but keep your eyes on the ground in front of you,’ Lord Westcroft instructed his nieces. ‘We don’t want anyone breaking a leg.’
They hurried out of the shelter of the abbey, crossing the grass as the rain pelted them from above. Selina could feel her cloak grow heavy with the weight of the water soaking in and she gripped a handful of her skirt to keep the hem dragging in the worst of the mud. She would be filthy no matter what, but there was no need for her to bring home half of Whitby’s soil with her.
Retracing their steps, they began the descent down the hill. Twice Theodosia slipped, her feet sliding almost out from under her, but Lord Westcroft gripped her firmly, each time grasping hold of her and pausing a moment while she regained her balance before he urged them forward again.
‘Nearly there,’ Selina called over her shoulder. They were almost back down at sea level, the wind a little less ferocious with the shelter of the hill behind them. Selina could see the carriage waiting for them where Lord Westcroft had instructed and she held on to the thought that in two more minutes they would be snug inside the wooden structure.
As she turned back to check once again on the girls Selina felt one of her feet begin to slip out from under her. If she’d been facing forward, she probably would have been able to save herself, but as it was the twisting movement sent her off balance. She fell, her cloak billowing out and exposing the material of her dress, and as she hit the ground she felt her body jar and tense. For a moment she couldn’t move, despite the dampness seeping in through her skirts, and she half-sat, half-knelt, until Priscilla came hurrying over, touching her lightly on the arm.
‘Are you hurt, Miss Salinger?’ he asked, her voice filled with concern.
Selina shook her head. She wasn’t, not really. Her body had been jolted by the fall, but she didn’t have any sharp pains that indicated a sprain or strain.
‘No, just wet and cold,’ she said with a smile. She might be cold and wet and muddy, much like the first time she’d knocked on the door at Manresa House, but she was warmed by the concern in Priscilla’s eyes. Despite her best efforts Priscilla had still remained aloof and cool towards her this past week. She was no longer confrontational or defiant, but she had not interacted much either.
Selina felt Lord Westcroft’s hand under her arm and before she could protest to the touch he was hauling her up to her feet. He didn’t let go immediately, even though the girls were standing right there next to them and it seemed as though a thousand unspoken words flew between them.
‘Go,’ he commanded, ushering all of them towards the carriage. Selina happily obliged, she was beginning to shiver and she knew the girls would be feeling the cold. It would not be warm inside the carriage, but at least they would be sheltered from the elements.
Quickly they crossed to the carriage, Selina feeling the mud dragging on her skirt and didn’t dare look too closely at the state of her clothes. She must look completely bedraggled. Glancing back at Lord Westcroft, she grimaced. He, of course, looked none the worse for his dash through the pounding rain and howling wind.
They settled into the carriage and Lord Westcroft thumped on the roof to let the coachman know they were ready to depart. It would feel like a long hour’s journey back home and all Selina could think of was sinking into a hot bath and washing the grime from her body.
She exhaled slowly, trying not to notice the way her wet clothes clung to her body or the way, even after everything they’d just endured, she could sense every movement of the man sitting next to her.
‘We will be home soon,’ she said, trying to reassure the girls.
‘I don’t think we’ll forget this trip to the seaside for a while,’ Lord Westcroft said.
The carriage had only travelled a few hundred yards when there was an almighty jolt, throwing Selina out of her seat and into the space between everyone’s legs. The girls were hurled backwards into their seats and Lord Westcroft almost ended up on the floor with her. The carriage lurched again, this time tilting to one side, and Selina tumbled into Lord Westcroft’s lap. She felt his arms encircle her to stop her from falling any further, but before she could think about where she was she was hit squarely in the chest by Priscilla as she came flying from her seat.
Underneath them the wood creaked and groaned and Selina braced herself for another shift in position, tensing as they lurched a few inches in each direction before it seemed to settle. Theodosia was still sitting on the seat opposite, clinging on to the plush material underneath her so hard her knuckles were turning white. Priscilla, thin and waif-like though she was, was pressed against Selina’s chest in a way that was making it hard for Selina to take a breath. She was all too aware of how her bottom was resting squarely in Lord Westcroft’s lap, his arms around her waist in the most intimate of embraces, had they not just been thrown around the carriage like fish struggling in a fisherman’s net.
‘Is anyone hurt?’ Lord Westcroft recovered his voice first.
‘No,’ Selina said. She would have a couple more bruises to add to the ones she’d sustained tumbling on the hillside, but she wasn’t seriously hurt. Opposite her Theodosia shook her head.
‘Priscilla?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
‘What happened?’ Theodosia’s voice was shaky, her hands still gripping the seat even though the carriage had seemingly settled.
‘I think we’ve lost a wheel,’ Lord Westcroft said, peering out of the window.
Before anyone in the carriage could move the door was flung open. It was the left side of the carriage, the side that was now angled higher in the air than the right, and the coachman’s worried face appeared in the gap.
‘Is anyone hurt?’ he asked, raising his voice over the hammering rain.
‘No. What happened?’ Lord Westcroft shifted slightly as he spoke to the man, gripping on to the edge of the carriage a little tighter.
‘We hit a rut in the road, the wheel has come off.’
‘Can it be fixed?’
‘Not tonight,’ the coachman said grimly.
Lord Westcroft looked at Selina and the girls. ‘We’ll have to find somewhere to stay tonight and make the journey home in the morning.’
‘There’s an inn just back the way we came, The Red Lion. A respectable establishment, my lord.’
‘Very well. We shall enquire about rooms there tonight. Hold the horses while I get Miss Salinger and my nieces down. The last thing we want is for them to get frightened and bolt.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘
When we get to the inn I’ll ask then to send a couple of men to help you unharness the horses and secure the carriage.’
The coachman’s head disappeared from view and momentarily Selina felt Lord Westcroft’s hands tighten around her waist. Carefully he lifted her from him, placing her and Priscilla in the seat next to him. Moving slowly so as not to unbalance the precarious angle of the carriage, he pulled himself up to the door and swung himself out. Selina had to admire the ease of the movement. He looked as though he was familiar with this sort of acrobatics and she wondered if it was his time in the navy that had taught him to be so agile.
‘It’s a little drop to the ground,’ he said as his face reappeared. ‘Miss Salinger, could you help the girls out one at a time?’
‘Priscilla, can you go first?’ Selina asked. Slowly the hammering in her chest was beginning to subside and the fear she’d felt coursing through her body as the coach lurched was ebbing away. Selina supported the little girl as she swung her leg out through the door and watched as her uncle deftly caught her and lifted her to the ground.
‘I’m scared,’ Theodosia said, shaking her head as Selina held out her hand.
‘Your uncle is right outside the door. He will catch you.’
‘I don’t want to fall.’
‘You won’t fall. I promise.’
Theodosia looked into her eyes, the little girl’s face more solemn that Selina had ever seen it before and after a long pause she nodded once.
‘Come, take my hand. I’ll help you climb over the edge and then your uncle will catch you.’
She supported Theodosia as she swung her legs over, smiling to cover a grimace as the little girl gripped her hand so tightly Selina felt as though her fingers might snap. Outside she could hear Lord Westcroft murmuring reassuringly to Theodosia and as she watched he took his niece into his arms, hugging her tight to his chest before he set her down on the ground.
‘Your turn, Miss Salinger,’ he called up, his face appearing through the door again. ‘I will be here to catch you.’