by Holt, Cheryl
Then Hayden and his father had died, and Jasper had been elevated to the title. They’d risen up like lost souls ascending into Heaven. Suddenly, they were two of the most powerful, significant people in the kingdom, and she’d completely adapted to her role as a countess.
She’d learned how to bark orders and have them obeyed. She’d learned how to cut an underling with a sharp glance. She’d learned how to expect only the best and to have it bestowed with a snap of her fingers.
She wouldn’t go back to how it had been before. She didn’t even recall that era, and she refused to return to being common and ordinary.
“Let me think about this, Jasper,” she said.
“Yes, you should think, Des, because we have to develop a plan. You’re much cleverer than I am.”
“Yes, I am.”
“He intends to seize everything—even the coach outside. After I’m finished with it, I have to give it back.” He gestured around her mother’s parlor. “This house isn’t safe. If we don’t find a way to protect ourselves, we’re about to be residing in a hovel in some rural village where no one will remember who we used to be.”
“We’ll see about that,” she fumed. “Whom have you told about this?”
“Ah…well…Camilla, but she swore she wouldn’t breathe a word.”
“Camilla Robertson swore not to gossip?”
“Yes.”
Des rolled her eyes. Camilla was the chief busybody in the kingdom. Des would have to bribe or threaten her into silence. “Who else, Jasper?”
“Just Camilla. Helen recommended I talk to you immediately, and I came at once.”
“All right. That was smart.”
She pondered, paced, pondered some more. Quickly, it was evident that she would have to handle any resolution. Jasper wasn’t the brightest fellow, and he wasn’t a fighter. He could never take vicious action when viciousness was required.
She was the fighter. She would scrap and brawl to hold onto her position. No stupid interloper would be allowed to swoop in and steal what was hers. She’d kill any man who tried.
“Do his sisters know about him?” she inquired.
“No. He asked me where they were, and I told him I had no idea.”
“Perfect. We don’t want him to locate them. His sisters could establish his identity, and we can’t have that.”
“I agree.”
“In the meantime, you must not admit your opinion. Ever! Despite how strongly you’re pressed, you have to be adamant that it’s a hoax.”
“I will.” He blew out a heavy sigh. “I’m so glad I’m here. I figured you’d see the correct path.”
“No matter what, we’re not giving an inch. We’ll fight to the end to keep what is ours.”
“We should, Des, but—in reality—it all belongs to Hayden. We can deny it to others, but amongst ourselves, we should be honest.”
“We will deny it forever, Jasper.” She leaned over him, shaking a finger in his face. “Repeat after me: The man at Middlebury is not my cousin.”
“The man is not my cousin.”
“My cousin died in a tragic accident ten years ago, and I am incensed that this imposter would play such a cruel trick on us.”
“Oh, that’s very good, Des. I like that.”
“Repeat it, Jasper.” He did, and she smiled with satisfaction and sat again. “We’ll have to hire a lawyer to help us sue him in court.”
“We can’t use Thumberton. Hayden already retained him.”
“The old sot wouldn’t assist us anyway. We’ll hire someone else, someone better.”
“Is there anyone better than him?”
“There are thousands of lawyers in the city,” she briskly stated, “any number of whom would be delighted to tangle with a pompous ass like Thumberton.”
“I suppose,” Jasper muttered. “I’m afraid I have to stay with you and your mother, Des. You have to let me. I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Yes, of course you can stay. You must. We should be together and show a united front to the world.”
In fact, with their having to tamp down rumors, it was best that Jasper remain with her in the country. She’d be able to keep an eye on him. She’d be able to monitor who visited and who he talked to.
“I have a big worry, Des,” Jasper said.
“About what?”
“What if he locates his sisters? If they confirm his identity, we’ll be sunk. We can mock a tenant farmer or a shop merchant and call them liars, but not his sisters. We could reject the truth to infinity, but people will believe them over us.”
“Don’t fret about them,” she advised, her road rapidly becoming very clear. “There’s not much time left for him to spread his ridiculous stories.”
“You’re so wrong. Even as we speak, he’s at Middlebury, strutting about and announcing his return.”
“Don’t fret, Jasper.” She nodded with determination. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
“Let’s just say he won’t plague us much longer. For now, that’s all you need to know.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Helen sat by the window in her bedroom, enjoying a quiet moment. She was gazing out at the stars and reviewing her life.
Becky was no longer sharing the small apartment with her. Once Hayden had assumed control of the house, she’d declared the suite too paltry and had flounced off to the grander accommodations upstairs.
Helen had told her she was welcome to the bigger space, but she’d have to keep it clean herself, so in a day or two, Becky would be back. But for the time being, she had the spot to herself.
In the coming months and years, what would become of everyone? Where would Jasper and Des end up? Where would Simon and Becky end up? Helen occasionally toyed with the notion that all of them would stay at Middlebury to take care of Hayden, but then, she’d shake herself out of her ridiculous stupor.
They could stay for awhile, but after the estate was in a better condition, with a full staff of servants, her post as housekeeper would be over. That was for certain.
She hadn’t received a reply from her friend, Evangeline, about the teaching position, but she was anxiously waiting for news. If there was a job or if there wasn’t, she’d have major choices to make.
If she was offered a job, would she go by herself? Would she abandon her father and Becky? Or would she bring Becky with her? Would she sever ties with her father and wish him good luck? She suspected she might. She simply hadn’t the means to support him or to weather another of his scandals.
If there was no teaching position, she’d have to find a different option. But what? And where? She couldn’t remain at Middlebury. Not when she was so fond of Hayden, and she was worried she might be a bit more than fond.
Was she in love with him? Could it be possible?
With all they’d experienced, she felt too close to him and couldn’t imagine their ever being separated, yet she was very proud. She wouldn’t beg him for a commitment. As he’d previously apprised her, she was too far beneath him. She agreed that she was and didn’t need the blunt reminder.
She wondered where he was and what had transpired at Wallace Downs. He’d ridden out before dawn and had trotted off by himself, leaving Mr. Stone to manage things while he was away. She and Mr. Stone had fretted about him incessantly.
She shut her eyes and sent a prayer winging out to him, that he was safe, that he hadn’t been overly distressed by the meeting, that he was somewhere warm and dry.
Her little apartment was located directly behind the kitchen, so it was easy to bathe. She’d already washed and was attired just in her robe and about to crawl into bed.
For a second, she thought she heard a noise out in the hall, and she cocked her head, listening, but it must have been the old mansion settling. She blew out the candle and shucked off her robe so it pooled at her feet. She was naked and had grabbed her nightgown to pull it on when her
door was flung open.
She whipped around, alarmed over who had arrived. No one should have. She was quite alone. Mr. Stone wasn’t even sleeping in the manor. He was bunking over the stables with his sons.
Although the candle wasn’t burning, the moon was up and shining in the window, furnishing enough light so Hayden was clearly silhouetted in the doorway. Her nightgown was clutched to the front of her body, but it didn’t cover what ought to be covered, and he definitely noticed.
They were frozen in place, a thrilling connection drawing them together, then he murmured her name.
“Helen…”
“You can’t be in here.”
“I had to talk to you. I raced home as fast as I could.”
“I’m happy you did, but you can’t be in here.”
The room was tiny, so three quick steps brought him to her. Then, without another word exchanged, he lifted her and tumbled them onto her bed. He rolled them so she was on her back and he was stretched out atop her, his large, masculine frame pressing her into the mattress.
It had occurred so rapidly she’d dropped her nightgown, so the sole barrier between them was his clothes, for she wasn’t wearing any of her own.
He began kissing her, and there was a desperate edge to it. He was in a frenzy and exuding a sorrow and anguish that was nearly palpable. It wafted off him, pummeling her with his suffering.
My goodness! What had he learned at Wallace Downs?
His hands were everywhere, caressing her hair, arms, and shoulders, but her most intimate regions too. He was massaging her breasts, pinching her nipples, the shocking feel of it too riveting to be believed. He dipped down and sucked on them, the astonishing move causing her to ripple with an unusual excitement.
His fingers had drifted down her belly, and with no warning, he slid them into her woman’s hair, then guided them into her sheath. He stroked them in and out, the gesture like nothing she could describe.
She should have ordered him to desist, but he was in a high state of torment. He was seeking a comfort only she could provide, and she couldn’t bear to refuse him.
It was obvious he was upset, and he’d rushed to be with her so she could calm the beast that was rampaging inside. She couldn’t guess where the ardent incident might lead. It wasn’t a path she should walk with him, and she grasped that she shouldn’t. Yet how could she deny him?
His thumb jabbed at an incredibly sensitive spot at the vee of her thighs. Suddenly, a wave of pleasure swept over her. It started low in her tummy and pulsed out, shooting through her torso to her limbs. She seemed to spiral up and up and up, then she reached a peak of sorts and tumbled down.
“What was that?” she inquired when she could speak again.
“Hush,” was his reply. “Don’t chat. Don’t ask questions. Just…hush for once.”
“I think we should slow down. You want something from me, and even though I have no idea what it is, I don’t suppose I should give it to you.”
“Helen, don’t argue. This is where we’ve been heading from the very first day we met.”
“I don’t know what road you expect me to travel.”
“I’ll show you the way.”
He kissed her again so further discussion was impossible.
They might have been on a raging river, and she was clinging to a raft. She didn’t dare let go or she’d be washed downstream. She’d drown without him! She’d die without him!
Vaguely, it dawned on her that this was how young ladies landed themselves in a great deal of trouble. No one had ever explained passion to her, so she hadn’t realized how a person could be swept away.
Throughout her life, there had been stories of females who’d been ruined by lust. Her own father had been complicit in many of those dastardly scenarios.
Gad, was she more like him than she’d admitted? Deep down, was she possessed of the same wicked tendencies? Apparently, there were facets to her character that she’d ignored or had kept buried. Hayden Henley had lured them to the fore.
What was she to do now? While she was lying in his arms, she couldn’t be a prim, prudish maiden. No, she yearned to be the loose tart he currently required. If she told him to stop, she might never have a chance to be with him like this in the future.
He was urging her to supply what he needed, and if she wouldn’t, she was positive there were a hundred women, a thousand women, who would be delighted to oblige him. But he was hers, and she wasn’t sharing.
While she was frantically rationalizing her conduct, matters were escalating at a spectacular pace.
He’d tugged off his shirt and stretched out again, and their chests connected skin to skin, her breasts rubbing against him. The sensation was so enthralling she was quite overcome and couldn’t focus on what else was occurring.
Down below, he was unbuttoning his trousers, jerking them down around his flanks. He’d widened her thighs, his torso dropping between them. Then…he was pressing an object into her sheath. She couldn’t imagine what it was or what he was intending, but at the odd positioning, she suffered a surge of alarm.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“We’re not talking, Helen, remember? I can’t talk now.”
“You’re scaring me.”
He scoffed. “I am scaring you? Don’t be ridiculous. I would never hurt you.”
“I’m confused about what’s happening.”
“You don’t have to understand. You just have to let me finish.”
He held himself very still, and he was perched above her, his glorious blond hair curling over his shoulders, his gold earring twinkling in the dim light. He looked magnificent, like an ancient warrior who’d won every battle and who was entitled to take whatever he craved.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“No, you’re not. You could never be afraid when you’re with me.”
“What if this is wrong? What if it’s a sin?”
He smiled. “It’s not a sin, Helen. This is meant to be.”
“Meant to be in whose opinion?”
“There’s no other ending for us. Just this. Say yes. Say you want me as much as I want you.”
“I want you,” she agreed, not really clear on what she was requesting.
He started in again, caressing her breasts, dipping down to suck on her nipples. Another wave of pleasure rattled through her, and as it did, he shoved with his hips, and the object he’d been wielding was wedged inside her.
Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, and she froze and assessed her condition. Her anatomy was roiling with agitation. She hadn’t been injured, but she would definitely never be the same. She felt completely bonded with him. They were one and would be one forever.
With a frightening certainty, she recognized this to be the marital act, which was only to be perpetrated by a husband and wife. She’d allowed it and had gleefully participated, but they weren’t married, so what was her purpose?
She assumed, in the morning, she’d have a ton of regrets, but just that second, she had no regrets at all.
He flexed with his hips, and he would push in all the way, then pull out, then push in. He whispered endearments, voiced in a half-dozen languages she didn’t comprehend. His words washed over her. She so rarely saw him like this: open and emotionally linked and thoroughly attuned to her.
Gradually, she got the hang of it, and she joined in, meeting him thrust for thrust, and his penetrations became more fierce. He gave a very deep push and remained where he was, his body quaking with strain. Then he collapsed onto her.
For awhile, he didn’t move. Their respirations slowed, and she stroked her palms up and down his ruined back. It was the most intimate episode of her life, a unique and phenomenal experience.
They were attached with a very tight rope, and she could never let him go. He belonged to her, and she belonged to him, and they could never be torn asunder.
Eventually, he drew away, and h
e kissed her sweetly, tenderly, his rage and desperation having waned. A new and abiding affection was evident, proving that he was as overwhelmed as she was.
He shifted them so they were nose to nose, their bodies touching with not an inch of space to separate them.
“You’re mine now,” he said.
“And you’re mine,” she boldly responded.
“You’ll always be mine. Fate won’t permit any other conclusion.”
She thought it was a marriage proposal of sorts. If this was indeed marital conduct, they couldn’t refuse to wed. He knew that, and matrimony had to be what he envisioned, but she had no idea how to raise the topic.
A female was prohibited from behaving as she’d behaved. A couple wed after their fathers chatted and reached an agreement. Contracts were drafted and signed by the two men. The subject of a betrothal would be broached with the girl, and the young man would stop by to ask for her hand.
It was usually all so very organized, so very tidy. When she’d proceeded in such a brazen fashion, what were the next steps to be? She would have to confess her indiscretion to Simon and have him intercede, but the notion of having such a prurient discussion with her father left her feeling extremely ill.
Just then, she couldn’t ponder Simon or any other issue. For some reason, she was on the verge of weeping, but she wasn’t sad. She was happy and elated and stunned by her strident participation. But she wasn’t sad.
“Am I still a virgin?” she asked, astonished that she’d spoken the word aloud.
“No. Not anymore.”
“I didn’t know that was how it happened.”
“Are you upset with me? Please don’t tell me you are. I needed you so badly. I couldn’t delay or explain.”
“I could never be upset with you,” she claimed, and he chuckled.
“That’s not true. You’ve scolded me often enough.”
He flopped onto his back, and she was draped over his chest, her ear over his heart where she loved it to be.
The room was cool and quiet, and with their ardor spent, she shivered. He pulled a blanket over them, and she nestled with him in a warm cocoon. His mind was racing, but she was too bewildered by her moral lapse to inquire as to what was wrong.