Lady Trent

by GinaRJ

  “Alive, yes,” Marcus agreed. “But well, no. I will not be until I have avenged the situation.”

  Rachel was pleased to see Jacob alive and well, but he appeared a bit untouched by the sight of her. He cast her one swift glance, one that reminded her of the conversation they’d last shared. He turned his attention back to Marcus to ask, “What happened?”

  Rachel mindlessly slipped from the room, colliding into father Nelson in the process. They both exchanged apologies, and he, hearing the two men speaking in the room beyond, chose rather to walk alongside her.

  “I had heard there was an incident. I came to see for myself.”

  “Yes, a…an accident of some sort or…well, I am not completely sure.” Was there actually a reason to lie? Perhaps not, really, but she just had.

  “Well, it sounds as if he is well…and also Jacob. He has likewise returned safely.”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “Then I shall sleep well tonight. My prayers were with them both.”

  “As were mine.”

  “Um, if I may ask…are you in good spirits?”

  She had done a terrible job of covering up otherwise…yet continued the façade. “Yes, Father Nelson, I am merely tired. That is all.”

  “Then you will not mind if I speak with you about some matter of importance. I had desired to do so these past few days but found myself continually hindered. It seems this time of year people are more in need of spiritual guidance.”

  She continued to walk, her eyes to the floor. “What sort of matter?”

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, stopping before a drawing room, extending an arm. She obliged, walking past him and inside. He joined her, pulling the doors together behind them. “I have a report for you.”

  “A report?”

  “It seems the residents of the Orland are smitten with appreciation for you. They are planning an, um, merrymaking event in your honor. Of course such a thing is unheard of, and has never taken place to the best of my knowledge.”

  “It is touching to hear it.” She searched her mind, thinking back to Sir Troy’s visit. He hadn’t mentioned anything along those lines. “Since when?” She found herself asking.

  “The prospect was brought to my attention prior to departing Orland.”

  “Sir Troy did not mention this to me.”

  “There now, do not be troubled. It was well that he brought it to my attention first. He asked that I take it before Jacob. If properly conducted, I imagine it would be safe for you to accept this invitation. Of course guards will accompany you and see to it you are safe. I suppose Jacob will approve. In fact, I am certain of it. No doubt he will be proud that they have taken such a liking to you.”

  “Perhaps he will join me.”

  “Doubtfully so, my child,” he regretfully replied. “For logical reasons he hides his face from the manor, as would other of the Higher Nobles, only to secure the authority of the lady. You see, upon meeting him they may very well see you as, um, weak. You understand.” He studied her closely, eventually raising a hand to her shoulder, a concerned look upon his face. “Are you well?”

  “Yes, I…I just think I need to rest. Perhaps take a short nap.”

  “If I may ask…how have you been? I have not noticed you at the chapel in some time.”

  “I have been well,” she assured him. She offered a tired smile. Her wine had worn off and she felt like sleeping. But how could she? She felt so overwhelmed. By the return of her husband. By Marcus’s gift. By this new event.

  The land. She could not help feel the joy of the residents upon receiving it. Yes, she was all around overwhelmed by it…by Marcus taking any such thing to mind. How thoughtful of him, she decided. But why had he so sporadically done so?

  She wondered as she shortly after paced the floor of her chamber, recalling the news, her reaction. She now felt for some reason as if she was fully prepared to tell them the truth.

  She clasped her hands gently together and stared down at them, recalling the feel of Marcus’s skin. She raised her palms to inhale his scent. Yes, there was a scent. Something unique

  She dropped her hands and went out to the balcony and just stood there, staring up at the heavens, and then closing her eyes inhaling the scent of rain. The wind was blowing. The sky had become cloudy. There would be a storm. A strong one, she hoped, for then she could rest well.

  She felt a light drizzle and held out her hands to capture some droplets of rain. And she rubbed her hands together, wiping away the sensation of Marcus’s skin, and the scent, if indeed there had been one to begin with.

  And it did storm. Nobody disturbed her…and she slept.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dearest Agatha

  I must write to tell you of certain changes that have taken place. I hope my friends and sisters will understand and not resent this decision I have made. If the news has yet to reach Westerly make it known that I am now the wife of Jacob Trent. Yes I have married the lord of the Great City which was his request all along. Guilt eats at my insides as I write because I did not make it known sooner. But whenever I would begin to express this in a message to you I have refrained because of guilt to begin with. I did not wish to disappoint any of you. I hope you are well. I also hope to send someone soon to advise in my stead. Please tell my friends and my sisters that I am well and that I miss them and that I love you all dearly always as myself. Truly, Rachel.

  She passed the message on to Darius personally. He would be sure to deliver it to the proper messenger. She wished she would have written it sooner. Marcus could’ve delivered it for her personally.

  He stuck around, whether for the sake of his healing wound or some other cause she could not say. But her opinion of him made a gradual shift. She went from ecstatic and relieved to curious and suspicious. She ultimately found herself disturbed by this sudden act of benevolence. Of course he had proven a point, but why to this extent, and why had he not told Jacob about it? No, it was not mentioned…not even with time as she waited for it to be. And after so much time had passed, she found herself keeping silent as well lest Jacob think something peculiar of it. So the good deed had turned into some horrible secret that she could not figure out for the life of her. But he would hear of it, become leery of them both for not mentioning it. She just shut her mouth against speaking it, and her mind from thinking about it. She would deal with the situation whenever it actually occurred.

  A few very uncomfortable days came and went following both of the men’s return. Jacob hardly spoke to her at all. Not that he was cruel or rude. He simply avoided her.

  So one evening she decided to invite herself to his table where he’d the past few evenings dined alone. The guard announced her, and Jacob stood, wiping the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief as she entered.

  “Jacob,” she greeted with the slight bow of her head. His eyes swept over her once and again. She had chosen something perhaps less than suitable to wear—a long, silky gown that revealed more of her frame than she had up until that moment exposed. Zaria had insisted upon it. She had noticed the tension between them, had possibly caught on to the fact that she and Jacob had not consummated their marriage vows. No matter the case, she believed in the use of feminine charm to bring closure to any opposing situation…and to assist one in getting their way. She was quite certain the use of sensual charm could remedy any discord between a man and woman. Rachel did not argue or fight with her. It was very possible that she was correct. She was quite close to finding out.

  “Rachel,” he softly greeted, gradually standing to his feet. In a bit of a daze he came closer. “Are you well?”

  “Yes,” she guaranteed, keeping her chin up. Who would’ve thought a relationship could be so complicated.

  “I had not received an invitation to dine with you,” she started, “so I created one of my own. I hope you do not object.”

  Slowly but surely a gentle grin touched his lips. “How could I?” He raised his hands, touching t
he palms of them to her shoulders, running them down her arms, and then bent his head and gave her the most passionate kiss yet. He then took her hands, as if disposing of all the desire the kiss had aroused, and dropped a light kiss upon each of them. Still holding to her hands, he stepped back to take another look at her. “You look utterly stunning,” he complimented.

  “Thank you,” she returned, almost smiling.

  He guided her to the chair opposite his and pulled it out so that she could seat herself. He then motioned to the servant, an order for him to serve her as well. While she wondered how she had made it without falling—her legs did not seem so stable as before—he returned to his seat. She held her back straight, folding her hands and placing them atop her lap. She parted her lips to speak, but something other than what she actually intended to say came out instead.

  “How was your visit…in Arlington?”

  His eyes became downtrodden and he lowered them. “Although I would speak with you about just about anything, this I would rather not. It was an unusual visit. I am yet to fully comprehend its basis.”

  “I was relieved to see you return home safely.”

  “I suppose I could have paid you more mind than I did.”

  “I imagine you were distracted by Sir Marcus and his condition.”

  “Yes, and it did come as a surprise to me.”

  “Has he discovered a reason for the attack?”

  “It seems he is just as apprehensive about speaking of that as I am about Arlington. He does not speak and neither do I. It makes one wonder if the two are not linked together in some way. So long as he is rested, relaxed and recovered…as of now I care about that most.”

  Yes, he was rested and relaxed she recalled, her mind taking her back to the sight of him lying in the bed, the covers pulled down to his waste…his naked torso and arms revealing smooth and strong skin. She recalled the touch of her hands upon his shoulders and…

  She glanced up to find Jacob staring awkwardly upon her. Her thoughts had wandered, and to such a scene, a handsome one, of Marcus Wren lying injured and nearly naked in his bed. Could Jacob read her mind?

  No, she decided. Her conscience was simply working against her. And why, she wondered, had that scene of him popped back up into her mind? Honestly, it had tweaked at her imagination since observing it.

  She quickly dismissed the recollection, focusing upon the reason she had invited herself to Jacob’s table to begin with. “I do believe I have an apology to make.” She studied the large candle centerpiece all surrounded by flowers and greenery. She searched for the proper words to express herself. “The things I said to you before…as you were leaving.”

  He did not look at her, in fact seemed to be fighting to keep from doing so. This made her think he had, indeed, done exactly as she’d given him permission to do. She was also reminded of Sister Camille’s words saying she could not be ignorant of natural things, and then of the truth to that…for she had seen this far. She had even planned these feelings of jealousy and resentment. But the dread of them she had not prepared for. They washed over her, and like a stone settled deep in the pits of her stomach.

  The servant came in with a plate and a chalice, filled it, set the bottle aside and then left them alone. A few silent moments passed. She took a drink of her wine, in the process realizing how often she had been drinking the past few days, especially the one. But if that’s what it’d taken to get her to visit Sister Camille, so be it. She truly needed to hear her story.

  But this varied at so many aspects. She was actually married to Jacob. A choice few may have been aware of the truth. For the most part people assumed the marriage had been consummated and were probably awaiting word of a child.

  And there she’d been, even persuading her husband to commit infidelity. She’d never felt so certain that she was the most horrible woman who’d ever walked the face of the earth—giving her husband permission to sleep with another woman, drinking to excess, entertaining anger and jealousy and all sorts of malicious emotions. The thought of him being with another woman pierced her through so that she could hardly withstand it. Should she give herself to him right now? Should she recommend it?

  “I accept your apology,” he came to say, glancing up at her.

  “Thank you,” she managed. “I was terribly in the wrong. And I was not speaking from the heart. I did not mean it at all and—and…” Would she break down and begin to cry right then and there thinking she may have caused him to be unfaithful, and that she would now cause him to lie to spare her feelings?

  “I knew you did not mean it,” he quietly replied, his voice very soothing to her. “And, milady, my dear beautiful wife, Lady Trent…with or without permission, I would not have strayed from you.”

  She looked into his eyes and knew one thing for certain; Jacob Trent was telling her the truth. A weight lifted off her shoulders. She felt a rebirth of happiness, which he obviously shared.

  “You haven’t taken a single bite,” he noticed.

  “Truthfully, I’m not the slightest bit hungry,” she admitted. “I just wanted speak with you.”

  He raised his glass. She raised hers. They toasted without a word to something neither of them even knew. Perhaps simply closure. They drank, each looking at one another over the rims of their glasses, and were both smiling when they lowered them.

  He wiped his mouth, dropped his napkin to the table and stood. “Let’s you and I go out to the terrace. The moon should be big and round tonight, and the sky cloudless.”

  He took her hand; together they stood, and did exactly as he’d offered. Afterward, she did not want to leave his company. If anything at all, she wanted to simply fall asleep in his arms. He left her at the doors of her private chambers, dropping a kiss on her cheek and wishing her a good night. Tilly assisted with brushing her hair and afterward left her alone. She put on her gown and lied down. However long she lied there, she didn’t know. It was a while, and the guards at the doors of Jacob’s room were perplexed when she came up between them, pushed the doors open and went inside.

  She crept her way to the door of his bedchamber and peeped inside. It was dark so she could not see, only his shadow when she came closer. She heard the soft, steady sound of his breathing as he slept. Quietly she slipped into the bed beside of him, pulling the covers back so that she could slip beneath them. Jacob stirred and she snuggled against him, laying her head on his strong, smooth chest. She felt his body go tense as he realized he was not alone. He raised a hand in the air while she whispered, “It’s just me,” and as his hand fell to touch her shoulder, “go back to sleep.”

  She snuggled closer into the warmth of his body, relaxing beneath his snug embrace. This was just as she’d imagined. She felt secure, safe, and closer to him. Yes, this was intimate…completely innocent and intimate.

  She fell asleep there with him. But she awakened at one point. They had both shifted, and the sheet was no longer covering them. She arose to pull the sheet up over them again, and as her eyes adjusted, simply from the light of the moon thru the window cascading over them, she was captivated by a sight she had not before known, but had, indeed, heard of. No, she was not ignorant when it came to the union between man and woman and how it was possible. And here, now, there it was before her very eyes. The arousal of a man sound asleep—her husband. This she was at first intrigued by, for she would not have imagined the extent of it, the way in which the male body reacted to physical need. She was a bit startled; blinking her eyes to be sure she was seeing correctly. Yes, he was aroused, and a generous arousal it seemed to be. Large came to mind, then again she had never saw such a thing, had only been aware of it.

  She considered her own body, clothed in the silk gown she’d put on that evening, and imagined lying back down next to him, pulling the covers up over them, but now she could not. Half asleep, she crept up out of the bed, reached for the covers and pulled them up to his waist.

  He was sound asleep and did not notice that she sli
pped from the room, not until the next morning when he awakened and she was gone.

  ******

  Jacob had requested Marcus join him at the table that morning—some matter of importance he wanted to speak to him about. He hadn’t gone into any detail.

  Marcus was there and seated at the seventh hour. He was served breakfast alone, but did not eat very much. His appetite had suffered lately. There was too much going on to be at complete ease.

  He had heard while recovering from his wound that Jacob had travelled to Arlington during his absence. The details of that trip had been kept secret, apparently under strict orders. Marcus hated to see him traveling about under the circumstances, and with no explanation as to why…at least nobody would tell him. And he had questioned the guards. They simply said he had, indeed, travelled there, but did not know his reasons, and did not know anything at all about the visit. It sounded like a cover-up to Marcus. Just what exactly was Jacob getting into and why? It simply concerned him when descriptions of his actions became such a secret thing…and that this trip had not been mentioned by way his mouth, only others. He wasn’t accustomed to Jacob keeping anything from him. Perhaps he planned to fill him in this morning.

  About twenty minutes into the hour the doors opened and Jacob burst inside. Percival was not far behind him, rattling off something about the staff, which did not appear to interest Jacob in the slightest.

  Marcus watched him very closely, for every time upon first sight of him, he automatically wondered if he’d had the honor of consummating his marriage, something few knew had been agreed upon as unnecessary for the cause of Rachel’s future, as she had more a promise of a longer one than he. It made perfect sense to Marcus, but he doubted he, himself, could make such an arrangement let alone follow thru with it. How did a man contain himself? And from his own wife? From Rachel?