by Dayna Quince
Thea shivered. Part of her found the notion of being claimed by anyone distasteful, but the way he said it, the deepness of his voice, the certainty—it spoke to another part of her that very much wanted to be claimed by him. The notion was terrifying. She did not want to examine it too closely in her present state. She still felt drugged by his touch, her limbs heavy and weak. She blinked slowly.
“What did you do to me?”
“I have given you your first taste of the pleasures between a man and a woman. What you’ve experienced is one of God’s greatest gifts to mankind.”
“I don’t think God sanctioned what we’ve just done,” Thea retorted.
She heard the rumble of a chuckle under her head as she closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his chest.
“I disagree. If God didn’t want me to touch you, he wouldn’t have made your skin so heavenly soft.”
Thea’s lips twitched. She wasn’t sure if she dreamed those words. She thought about how to respond, but her mind was drifting aimlessly.
Felton looked down at her. He liked the weight of her head tucked against his chest. It felt right, it felt like… home. Her lashes dusted her cheek in lacy brown crescents, and her lips moved ever so slightly. Her breathing was even and deep. Was she dreaming already? He smiled and leaned back against the pillows. He would not stay all night, but for just a few minutes more, he would pretend he had every right to.
Chapter 8
When Thea opened her eyes, she knew she was alone. The space behind her was achingly vacant. There was no arm around her rib cage, the sweet weight of it following her into sleep so that even when she dreamed, she knew he was there.
She sat up slowly, looking towards the window to gauge the time of day before the clock. It was still full dark, but the howling wind had stopped. It was so quiet in the room, even outside her window, that she became cognizant of her breathing. She eased from her bed and from her window looked out into the world. A faint pink glowed in the distance, the first glimmer of the new day… of a new Thea.
She’d spent the night with a man. She still held her virtue, as far as she understood intimacies, but she was no longer entirely innocent in the ways of passion. She’d had a taste, and she would never be the same again.
* * *
She woke again later, the sun beaming into her room. The storm had blown through, no doubt leaving a heavy blanket of snow in its place. She stood and stretched, noticing her fire had already been tended. Thea looked around the room with new eyes and burning cheeks. Would they have noticed that to people had slept here? A panic seized her. She whipped her dressing robe over her shoulders and looked around frantically. The bed was disheveled, not exactly alarming given that Thea herself had slept there, but was it more rumpled than usual? She didn’t know. If she couldn’t tell the difference, then surely no one else would? She put her cool palms to her cheeks and released her breath slowly in an effort to calm herself. There was a gentle knock before Marigold entered.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” She smiled at Thea.
Thea’s eyes darted toward the clock. I was almost ten thirty. “I dare say unusually well.”
“That dreadful wind kept me awake.” Marigold grimaced. “We all woke late this morning.”
Thea didn’t recall the wind. Her eyes slid between the fire and the bed and all the steps in between. Her skin felt like it could burst into flames at any moment. All she remembered was Felton. Felton’s hands on her body and his scent all around her, filling her head. Felton’s dangerous lips weaving a masterful spell.
Marigold passed through her vision and set the breakfast tray down with a frown.
“Are you feeling well? You’re a bit flushed.”
“I am?” Thea feigned innocence and touched her cheeks again. “Is it overly warm in here?”
Marigold shook her head. “Perhaps you should return to bed?”
The bed. Where she’d lain beside Felton. Yes, please—no! Her thoughts seared her. Her internal inferno climbed another notch.
“No. I’m fine.” Thea turned to the tray of food for distraction. Marigold had brought her a cup of hot chocolate, a muffin, and scrambled eggs. It smelled divine. Her stomach rumbled in tacit agreement.
Thea sat and ate while Marigold straightened up the room. She relaxed, almost beginning to feel normal again until Marigold stepped near the bed. She straightened the pillows, sheet, and coverlet. Thea watched with her cup halfway to her lips. Marigold frowned and leaned over the pillow.
She sniffed it.
Thea snapped her head away, panic exploding inside her. She dipped her chin as if to sip her chocolate and sniffed herself. Her eyes widened. Dear God, she could smell him on her. His warm, masculine scent of pure heaven. Half of her melted with want, the other was wound tight with guilt. If his scent was all over her, then it was all over her bedding as well.
She was caught. Her eyes cut to Marigold, and she was aghast to see that Marigold was not standing frozen in scandalized horror. She’d moved on to straightening the wardrobe, her expression revealing nothing. She set out a fresh gown for Thea and then stepped behind her to brush her hair.
Thea stiffened. With every inhale she could smell him. Surely that meant Marigold could as well. Would she say something? Would she report her findings to Mrs. Hale?
No. Definitely not. Thea relaxed. Marigold was Lucy’s lady’s maid. She was used to keeping secrets. She’d even gone so far as to teach them illicit dance movements from her home country in secret. Thea was certain she could trust Marigold completely. They moved to the vanity, and Thea met her eyes briefly. Marigold gave her a smile and then began to fix her hair. There was nothing in her mannerisms that said she was passing judgment or withholding anything.
Thea and Felton’s secret was safe.
She couldn’t wait to see him now.
Chapter 9
Jonathan rode straight to the small stable that accompanied the cottage. All was quiet inside, which wasn’t surprising. His journey here had been barely passable, but inside the stable, it was warm and cozy. He looked around for any sign of Jacob, but it wasn’t surprising that the lad was probably huddled in the warm cottage with the rest of the staff. Jonathan led his horse to an empty stall and removed the saddle. He would find Jacob to do the rest. He shook his hands, eager to feel the warmth in his fingers once he could remove his damp gloves and wrap them around a hot cup of tea. Surely that would stop the shaking? It couldn’t be nerves. He refused to even acknowledge the possibility.
He hunched deeper into his coat as he stomped through the snow to the kitchen door. He knocked briskly, managing a playful grin when Mrs. Hale gasped at his presence.
“Great heavens, my lord. What are you doing coming through the kitchen?” She waved him in frantically.
“Pardon the intrusion, Mrs. Hale. I only wanted to spare myself further trudging through this snow.”
“Of course. They’re gathered in the parlor. I’ll put on a fresh pot just for you, Lord Rigsby.”
Jonathan paused as Mr. Hale helped him remove his coat. “They?”
He thought he saw Mrs. Hale grimace, but then it was gone.
“A friend of Lord Winchester. He is staying, as well. Almost taken by this dreadful cold, he was,” Mrs. Hale murmured.
“Taken by the cold?” Jonathan frowned.
“He was robbed on the road and left for dead. Miss Manton happened upon him and rescued him,” Mr. Hale said.
“You don’t say? And who is this esteemed guest?”
“Major Felton,” Mrs. Hale said.
Jonathan caught a slight hitch in her voice. “Major Felton?” The name sounded familiar, but not enough to recall the man to memory. “Well, I must not wait a moment longer to meet him. He is, after all, sharing the cottage with our Thea.” Jonathan waited a moment more for some sort of communication from either Mr. or Mrs. Hale. Something to give away anything they might not wish to say outright. There was hesitation, a barely there tension in
the air, but neither was forthcoming.
“Right, then. Please have Jacob tend to my horse when he is able.”
“I’d be honored to do it. Jacobs mending from a cold.” Mr. Hale hurried out of the kitchen.
Jonathan nodded his thanks and pushed through the swinging door into the hall. He paused in the small hall, looking around the already familiar interior of Winchester’s cottage. He’d been happy to help Winchester settle in the area. It should have been strange to see one’s friend marry one’s sister, but Jonathan had been overjoyed. Winchester was just the man to put a damper on Lucy’s impetuous impulses, or encourage them at times. Either way, Lucy was exactly where she was meant to be and the best part of all, they were happy. So happy at times, Jonathan was jealous.
All of his friends were now happily married, and he found himself feeling the lack of that happiness in himself. What was the magic ingredient to their happiness? For most of his adult life, he’d avoided the state of marriage. Bachelorhood was the way to all things enjoyable, but yet that didn’t ring true anymore. Just looking at Draven and Winchester proved it. So what was it?
Jonathan heard the tinkle of a piano forte. He listened carefully, recognizing it as a familiar melody Thea always played, usually with Lucy accompanying her. He couldn’t remember the name of it now, but as he listened, he felt a warm feeling in his chest.
The playing stopped abruptly. He frowned. The rumble of male laughter jolted him into moving. In four long strides, he was in the entry way of the parlor.
“Thea?” Her name came out harsher than he meant.
They both jerked to attention, heads snapping toward him, perhaps…guiltily? He didn’t know why. He strode into the room slowly and took in the scene. Major Felton was on the sofa, a respectable distance away from Thea’s perch on the bench of the piano forte and yet…he felt like he was interrupting their intimate moment. Something hot sparked in him and began to burn through his middle.
“Jonathan?” She stood with a wary smile. “Please don’t say you rode in this awful weather?”
“I did. I was under the impression you might be wasting away in loneliness here, but it appears my fear was unfounded. Major Felton, I presume?” Jonathan tried to sound jovial, he really did, but it just wasn’t forthcoming in his tone.
Major Felton stood, stony and reserved. Gone was any trace of the laughter he’d heard a moment ago.
“You have the advantage, sir,” he said.
“Ah, forgive me. Lord Rigsby.”
“Lord Rigsby.” He nodded. “Major Felton, at your service.”
“Yes, it would seem you’ve been at Thea’s service.” He saw Thea’s frown from the corner of his eye. “Or rather, she has been at yours?”
“I beg your pardon?” Major Felton’s pale blue eyes turned a thunderous gray.
Jonathan chuckled. “She rescued you from the frosty road, did she not?”
“It was a bit more than that,” Major Felton mumbled.
“He was robbed and left to die of exposure.” Thea left the piano forte and appeared at Major Felton’s side. Jonathan examined the two of them. They looked cozy in close proximity.
“I see…”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Thought you might like a bit of company, but I see that isn’t the case.” He focused on Major Felton. “Mrs. Hale mentioned you’re a friend of Winchester. We went to school together.”
“We were in India together.”
“Yes!” Jonathan smacked his head. “I knew I knew your name from somewhere. Winchester has spoken of you. Something about a princess, a flood and clothes missing—erh, um, never mind.” Jonathan blinked. “Anyhow, what brings you to our humble little spot of York?”
“May we sit?” Major Felton asked.
“Oh, yes.” Thea quickly sat. “Shall we ring for tea?”
“Mrs. Hale will be here shortly.” Jonathan turned back to Felton and raised a brow.
“I came to see Winchester. I’m no longer with the East India Company, and I’ve come back to England for good.”
“For good? Are you sure that’s wise? England is so boring and damp.”
“England has its certain charms that the rest of the world is lacking.” Felton’s eyes cut to Thea for a scant second, but Jonathan caught it, and his spine stiffened. Well, now, Thea had an admirer. Good for her, bad for him. How convenient for the poor chap that he resided under the same roof with nary a chaperone in sight. It was a rakes dream, and it simply would not do. Jonathan stood and shrugged his tense shoulders. “The ride left me stiff…” Jonathan said as an excuse to stalk around the room. He was too agitated to sit and feign friendliness. Mrs. Hale entered and set down the tea tray. Thea poured, and Jonathan accepted a cup gladly.
“Major Felton, I’m sure Thea has made you aware that Winchester is away on his honeymoon. They should return after the week, but may be delayed due to the state of the roads. Have you other friends to visit?”
“Jonathan,” Thea warned.
Jonathon frowned at her. “Yes, Thea?”
“He hasn’t the strength for travel.”
Jonathan smirked as Felton stiffened in his seat. “He looks spry enough, but let us cut through the pleasantries and face the cold truth. He cannot stay here with you.”
“That isn’t your right to say. This is Winchester’s house, and I am certain—”
“He would say the same?” Jonathan reclaimed his seat and sipped his tea calmly.
“No, he wouldn’t. No one knows I am here. The rules don’t apply.”
Jonathan’s brows shot up. “Rules be damned, Thea.”
“Watch your tongue,” Felton growled.
Jonathan ignored him. “The unshakable rules of human nature still apply, Thea, and that fact is a beautiful young woman can’t be holed up in a cottage with a man.”
“Or what?” She stood and folded her arms. Her eyes bore down on him.
Jonathan swallowed. “It’s dangerous.”
“For whom?” She raised one brow.
He turned to Felton for help. “You must see reason here.”
Thankfully, Major Felton did look like he could see the problem facing them, though reluctantly. “It is the sort of thing that could damage a reputation.”
Thea scoffed. “This again? Mrs. Hale has already seen fit to lecture me all about my reputation and Felton’s presence here, but everyone is conveniently forgetting that I no longer have a reputation. I’ve absconded from my family and society. The rules don’t apply, and I no longer care to follow them, I’ll have you know. Winchester and Lucy would support me in this. It’s my life now, and I will have control of it.”
Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. She was beginning to sound like his sister. “Thea, may we have a private word in the hall?”
She scowled at him. “Fine. Please excuse us, Major.”
Major Felton nodded.
She marched into the hall and Jonathan followed her. She stopped at the base of the stairs and folded her arms petulantly. “Well?”
“He seems a nice chap,” Jonathan began in a whisper.
“He is,” she whispered back.
“He needs to leave. Winchester’s friend or not, he should not be here with you unsupervised.”
“Are you afraid he will seduce me?”
Jonathan’s jaw clenched. He stepped closer. “Precisely.”
“That is preposterous.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I’ve had ample time to know him.”
“A week is not enough to know someone. I know you, and I know men—hell, I am one. He needs to leave. Forcefully if need be. Winchester will understand if I have to remove him.”
“How dare you,” she hissed at him. “Felton is as honorable as you. I am perfectly safe here with him, more so than if I were alone. He has nowhere to go. He is still recovering from his injuries. I will not put him out and nor w
ill I allow you to do so.”
Jonathan wanted to pull his hair out but refrained. “Then you will come back with me. Go pack.” He grabbed her elbow and pushed her up the step. She yanked her arm out of his grasp.
“I will not.”
“Thea,” he growled.
“Jonathan,” she growled back.
“Is something amiss?” Major Felton stepped into the hall.
Jonathan turned to face him. “I’m taking Thea back to the manor. She will be safe there, and you can remain here.”
“I don’t think she wants to go.” Major Felton looked past Jonathan.
Jonathan could feel the silent communication taking place. What the devil was going on here? Jealousy, rage, an avalanche of unpleasant emotions rolled through him.
He turned back to Thea. “I implore you to see reason. You cannot stay.”
“I can and I will.”
“I won’t let you,” he said between clenched teeth.
She bristled. If she were a cat, her tail would be puffed and her spine arched.
“You won’t let me? You are not my brother, you are not my father, and you certainly are not my husband. You have no right—no say over what I do.”
“The hell I don’t.” Jonathan reached for her arm again.
“Do not put your hand on her again.”
His voice was quiet, enough so that no one else in the house would have heard him, but Jonathan did. He heard the steel that infused it, the dark threat contained in the words.
He slowly turned towards the major and squared his shoulders. “I beg your pardon?”
Thea shouldered past him. “Enough of this. I won’t have you coming to blows. It is unnecessary and completely undignified.”
Jonathan felt some of the rage in his blood cool. Undignified? Only Thea would think the defense of her person undignified. He cracked a smile.
“Thea is right, of course. There is no reason this matter cannot be discussed with civility.”
“Thank you, Jonathan. Let us return to our tea?” She raised a brow in reprimand and glared at him.