by Cheryl Holt
The interior was eerie and quiet, still filled with furniture, paintings, rugs, and other décor so it could have been an odd museum. There were clothes in the dressers, linens in the cupboards, pots and pans in the kitchen.
The nursery had been the most unsettling. It was crammed full of a baby’s things, toys and blankets and soft little suits. A bathing tub had been in the corner, the towels stacked by it as if a bath was about to begin.
It seemed as if the dwelling had been bustling with people and activity one minute then completely deserted the next. The hairs kept standing up on the back of her neck, as if ghosts were hovering. The spot was haunted and very, very sad.
“Can you imagine yourself living here?” she asked.
He actually shuddered. “No.”
“It will take enormous effort for it to feel like a home.”
“Well, if we yank all the boards off the windows that would make a huge difference.”
“If you simply hired a team of cleaning women to sweep and polish, the situation would improve quickly.”
“Even if the rooms were scrubbed until they shined, I doubt it could chase away the taint of despair that permeates.”
“Is this where Caleb disappeared?”
“No, it was at the family house in town.”
“Then why is there such a sense of gloom hanging over it?”
“I think it’s because of all the tremors that rattled us afterward. Soloman inherited everything his father could bequeath to a natural born son, and Caleb’s wealth was put in trust with Soloman as the guardian and main trustee. He had instructions to watch over Caleb and his mother.”
“What did Caleb’s mother receive?”
“Nothing.”
She winced. “That had to hurt.”
“After the calamity, she was particularly vehement in her accusations against Soloman.”
“It must have been such a horrid time for you,” she murmured.
“Yes, but it was worse for Soloman. He grew up here, and his father was such a grand fellow. The gloom you perceive is the rubble of tragedy.”
The gardener’s wife had rustled up supper for them, and though it was simple fare, it had been delicious. They were sitting at a table, finishing off a bottle of wine, and she was sated and exhausted and very content. She’d dozed away part of the afternoon, napping on his lap in the carriage, and he’d awakened her with kisses and sweet words once the coach had stopped.
The moment had been very intimate in a manner she didn’t understand. She felt utterly attached to him now, as if the universe had bound them together and she would never be able to tear herself away.
She glanced outside where it was getting darker by the minute. “We’re not returning to Grey Manor tonight, are we?”
“I don’t believe we should. There’s not much of a moon.”
“What if I demand to go?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you you’re mad.”
“And if you tell me that you’d like to linger in this haunted house, I’ll say you’re mad too.”
“It’s very possible that I am, but you’ve driven me to this point.”
“You’re blaming me?”
“Absolutely.”
His expression was so warm and tender that her pulse raced. She suspected their late arrival had been deliberate, and she should have scolded him for his duplicity, but she was delighted to be sequestered with him. It might have been a sneaky plan to have her all to himself, but so far she’d gleefully participated in his scheme.
But it was gradually dawning on her that she was in a predicament.
She wasn’t about to sleep by herself. The place was creepy and sinister. So there was only one other person she could sleep with, that being Benjamin which wasn’t an option.
“What are you expecting from me, Captain?” she asked.
“You know what I’m expecting, Annabel. I’ve wanted you every second since I first met you.”
“And I’ve spent every second insisting it will never transpire.”
“Why shouldn’t it? We enjoy a potent attraction, and we’re both adults. We can make our own choices.”
“You choose me?”
“Yes.”
“What if I don’t choose you?”
“Why wouldn’t you? These days, every female in the kingdom would like to join me in my bed.”
“Am I the sole holdout? Is that why you’re so determined?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I simply desire you more than I ever have any woman.”
He was gazing at her so intently, and his fierce attention flustered her. He forced her to question the major decisions of her life—about remaining a spinster, about remaining a virgin—and a quiet voice in her mind was urging, Why not relent? Why not proceed?
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said, “and find a bedchamber that won’t frighten us too much.”
“I’m not sharing a bedchamber with you.”
“You’re not? Will you sleep alone?”
There was the crux of the problem. She’d always viewed herself as being very brave and had never harbored superstitions, but the prospect was terrifying.
“I have no idea what’s about to occur,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll stand on my feet and keep watch all night.”
“Are you afraid evil spirits will attack if you close your eyes?”
“Yes.”
He laughed at that. “You’re such a stern character, Annabel. No evil spirit would dare.” He dipped down and kissed her. “Don’t fret over it. I would never let anyone hurt you, supernatural or otherwise.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Are you admitting there are ghosts here?”
“It certainly seems as if there are, but we’ll vanquish them together.”
Holding hands and carrying a lamp, they climbed to the third floor. They stopped at a pretty chamber with yellow wallpaper and drapes. A cheery fire crackled in the grate. The bedding was on the bed, but she wasn’t about to slip under the covers. Everything was coated with a decade of dust.
“I had the gardener’s wife prepare this room—for you. Mine is next door.”
“You rat! You had me anxious throughout our entire supper. I’ve been frantically trying to figure out how to spurn you without causing a fight.”
“I’m not fighting with you ever again, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she replied.
They tarried, the moment suddenly awkward.
She wanted him to kiss her, but she didn’t want him to either. Every time they shared an embrace, she grew more smitten. He made her feel special and cherished, and she was so desperately lonely. She’d be bereft after they parted.
“Our suites are adjoining,” he said, “with a door in between. Would you like me to leave it open? Or would that be too risqué?”
“Yes, please leave it open.”
“And if the ghosts bother you, just holler.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you be all right without a maid?”
“Yes, I can manage on my own.”
“Are you sure?” He had a wicked gleam in his eye. “Is there a lace that needs unlacing or a shoe that needs unbuckling?”
“Nice try, Captain. I don’t need any help.”
He swooped in and stole a kiss then he walked to the adjacent bedchamber. She dawdled after he left, wondering how long the fire would burn. It would be very dark after it went out.
He’d taken the lamp, and once he blew it out, she started removing some of her clothes. Her shoes and stockings, her jacket. She took off her corset so she’d be more comfortable. The temperature would cool significantly after the flames dwindled, but she wasn’t crawling under the blankets.
She lay down on the bed and wrapped herself in the top quilt.
He called from the other room, “How are you, Annabel?”
“I’m fine, Benjamin.”
“I miss you.”
>
She snorted with amusement. “No, you don’t.”
“Are you positive you want to stay over there?”
“I’m positive.”
They were quiet after that, and she stared at the hearth until the last ember sputtered out. The house had stood for centuries so the wood creaked and groaned. Each noise had her lurching with alarm.
An owl hooted, and it was such a forlorn, uncanny sound that she couldn’t remain where she was. She leapt up and raced to his bedchamber. Without asking if he’d mind—she didn’t imagine he would—she clambered up onto his bed.
He was asleep so he hadn’t heard her coming. But when she stretched out, he folded his arms around her as if it were completely natural for her to have arrived.
“I didn’t think you’d ever get here,” he mumbled.
“There’s an owl outside my window. It scared me to death—and don’t you dare laugh about it.”
“Since it brought you to me, I’ll have to figure out a way to reward it.”
They snuggled closer, and he chuckled. “You’re shivering.”
“It’s cold as the dickens in this phantom’s asylum.”
“Let me warm you up. I’ll have you hot in no time at all.”
He pulled a quilt over both of them, and he draped a leg over hers, nestling her in a tight cocoon of manly heat. It was the most precious thing that had ever happened to her, and it was also the most reckless.
Down below, his private parts were very hard so he was brimming with lust. If they started in, she’d never be able to slow him down and keep the worst from occurring, and she wasn’t certain she’d stop him.
She’d never been a romantic sort of female, hadn’t wasted her girlhood fantasizing about the husband she’d eventually like to have. She’d never mooned over boys, had never begged her father for a debut. So far, she hadn’t regretted not setting her sights on someone, that she hadn’t chased after a beau until he caught her.
Until now.
Captain Benjamin Grey possessed every masculine trait she relished. He was handsome, strong, tough, and commanding. He was very rich too which was always a benefit. He could be surly and bossy and difficult, but she liked him so much she didn’t care if he aggravated her.
Oh, what was she to do?
She constantly swore she’d never permit herself to be seduced. It had seemed a wise decision, but she was having second thoughts.
Was it wrong to abstain from the pleasure other women enjoyed with men? If she never sampled that type of affection, would she be missing out? After his party concluded and they went their separate ways, would she be kicking herself for her refusal to relent?
He couldn’t give her all of himself. He could just give these few short weeks. Their chances to fraternize were limited so why would she decline to accept the small pieces of himself he was offering to supply?
“You called me Benjamin,” he whispered.
“When?”
“When you were in the other room.”
“You’re wearing me down.”
“About time. Now that you’re finally here, you have to spend the night with me. I won’t let you go.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving.”
“Aren’t I lucky?”
BENJAMIN EASED HER ONTO her back and rolled on top of her.
Once he’d climbed into bed, he’d quickly fallen asleep so he’d been dreaming when she arrived, and he wasn’t sure she was really with him. Perhaps he was still dreaming, and if he was, he would keep on to the end and revel in every minute of what she would allow.
He was beginning to suspect she might allow quite a lot, and he’d had about all the restraint he could handle.
He kissed her, and she jumped into the fray. They fit together perfectly, as if the Good Lord had created her just for him and no other man. He felt as if it had been years since he’d been with her, as if he’d been wandering in the desert and had found an oasis.
He was overwhelmed by her, his feelings conflicted, his intentions murky and perplexing. He seemed to have tumbled from a high cliff, and he was plummeting down. She was descending with him, and he couldn’t imagine where they’d be when they landed at the bottom.
“You have to give me what I want, Annabel,” he murmured. “You have to.”
“I don’t know, Benjamin. I’m afraid about it.”
“Don’t be. I would never hurt you.”
“You’re not mine though. You’ll go back to your real life, and I’m not part of it.”
No reply was necessary. Of course he’d go back to his real life. But at that moment, with her so soft and willing, his real life was very far away.
Could he actually be engaged? Could he actually have fettered himself to a silly girl like Veronica Mason? The very idea was preposterous, but he couldn’t renege on that decision.
He would return to London and marry her, but until then he would pretend Annabel Fenwick was the one he’d picked, the one he would cherish.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue in her mouth, his hands in her hair. Her skin was warming, her body relaxing. She smelled so good and tasted so good that he was practically giddy with joy.
Gradually, he was removing her clothes, and she hadn’t protested. Even if she had, he probably wouldn’t have listened. This encounter was destined to occur.
His palms roamed over her, caressing her, touching her, driving her up the spiral of desire. She was boldly doing the same, her crafty ministrations causing his heart to pound and his breath to hitch in his chest.
Her dress was off, and he was delighted to find she’d already shed her corset. He was able to dip down and lave her nipples. For a bit, he tormented them through the fabric of her chemise then he tugged it off, her drawers too, and she still hadn’t protested.
He drew back, shoving at the quilt so he could stare down at her. She was so beautiful, and the sight of her lying beneath him had him so aroused he almost spilled himself against her leg like a callow boy.
“You’re so pretty, Annabel.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh, yes. And you’re all mine.”
He nearly said, only mine forever, but he didn’t dare. She inspired him to flights of fancy where he contemplated shucking off his responsibilities, shucking off his betrothal. Fleetingly, he considered the wild choice, the reckless choice, and selecting her instead. But he wasn’t a wild or reckless man, and he never had been.
He began kissing her again, frantic that he was about to spew promises he would never keep. Passion was easier to comprehend, and they needed to proceed so they could learn where lust would take them.
“I want your shirt off,” she told him, and he was thrilled to oblige her.
He yanked it off then stretched out again. They were skin to skin, the sensation shocking, sparks flying around the room. He nursed at her breasts, sucking on one, toying with the other. She was a sensual creature who laughed and sighed and offered more of herself with each passing minute.
His hand drifted down her belly to the womanly hair below. They’d never traveled this far down the carnal road. And even though he’d had many lovers in the past, he was suddenly panicked that he wasn’t skilled enough to make the experience wonderful for her.
He was anxious for the event to be unique and memorable, as if they were newlyweds in the midst of their wedding night. He felt that close to her, that attached.
He slid two fingers into her sheath, and just that quickly she cried out and soared to the heavens. As she tumbled down, as she landed safely in his arms he was cockily preening. She was loose and uninhibited, and it was so grand to have the chance to know her like this.
“I can’t believe I let you do that to me,” she said.
“You are a marvel, Annabel Fenwick.”
“Why would you say so?”
“Because you make me so happy I can barely stand it.”
She smiled. “If you’re not careful, you’ll be spouting poetry about the color of my eyes
.”
“I’ll try to restrain myself.”
She pulled him to her and initiated her own bout of stirring kisses. Each flick of her tongue against his own sent a lightning bolt of desire directly to his phallus. He couldn’t abide much more delay. He’d been hard every moment since he’d met her, and it couldn’t possibly be healthy to be so aroused and not act on it.
A man could injure himself!
He gripped her thighs and widened them, his torso dropping between her legs so he was wedged precisely where he wanted to be.
“Are we going to...to...” She couldn’t complete her sentence, and her cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink. She was so sophisticated. Why would she have difficulty with salacious conversation?
“Yes, Annabel. I can’t wait another second to have you.”
She studied him, and he could almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she considered her replies. Was she about to refuse? Was she about to play the coquette? When she was naked and sprawled beneath him, he truly had no idea how they could stop.
“Promise me something,” she said.
“If I can. What is it?”
“Don’t leave me with child. I know there are ways that you can...can...”
“I understand.”
“I’m excited to do this with you, but I can’t wind up with a babe in my belly.”
“It won’t happen. I promise.”
“And...and...” She had to swallow twice before she could continue. “Promise me we’ll still be friends and we’ll socialize until your party is over.”
“I hope we can be friends much longer than that.”
She didn’t agree—as if she expected their affair to end when the party ended. She gazed at him as if this was the beginning of goodbye which was ridiculous. They could be together for years—for decades—if they were shrewd and cautious.
“After we’re finished,” she said, “if you get all huffy and...male, I won’t be able to bear it.”
He chuckled. “All male? What does that mean?”
“Just be kind to me.”
“Always, Annabel. Always.”