A Warriner to Protect Her

by Virginia Heath

  This statement was met with silence. After several moments, Letty peeked out between her fingers to gauge his reaction. Instead of looking amused at her confession, Jamie appeared exasperated. ‘My brother has a very distinct sense of right and wrong. And it usually works to the detriment of himself.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘Jack will always blame himself or put himself last. He always has to be responsible.’

  ‘You are talking in riddles, Jamie. Whatever it is you clearly feel the urge to say, I wish you would just say it and be done with it. I am already completely mortified. With any luck, any further shame will result in my immediate death from it.’

  ‘For goodness sake, Letty! For a beautiful woman you can be daft sometimes. Did he put a stop to it immediately?’ Of course he hadn’t. If he had, then she would not have had to deal with the shame of knowing he’d seen her bare breast. Touched it. At the time, she had hoped he would very much want to kiss it, too. ‘I shall judge from your colourful reaction, that things developed into a bit more than a chaste kiss.’

  In the absence of anyone else to confide in, Jamie, it seemed, would have to do. ‘Jack said I was in a charged emotional state, brought about by fear due to Layton.’

  ‘And were you?’

  ‘Not at that precise moment, no.’

  Jamie stood awkwardly and began to limp out of the kitchen, their uncomfortable conversation now obviously at an end. What was it with the Warriner men that they were happy to leave so many important things unsaid? She pouted. ‘So that is it, is it? I bare my soul and you walk away.’

  ‘I assumed you were off to the barn.’

  ‘And why would I go there?’

  Jamie sighed and raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘I’d have thought it was obvious.’ She watched his retreating back as he disappeared down the hall, but still heard his parting words as they drifted back to her. ‘My principled brother is clearly as daft as you are.’

  * * *

  The log split with a satisfying sound. Only two more weeks to go. Two weeks and she would be back where she belonged, being courted by her rich Duke and robed in her missing finery. Then Jack would be spared the torture of seeing her every day. Perhaps then he would finally locate the peace of mind which was currently evading him.

  He would take her back to London, they would say a stilted, awkward goodbye, and then he would head back here where he belonged. And as long as he never read one of Jacob’s blasted newspapers, he would never again be confronted with the temptation she presented. For the sake of certainty, Jack would even speak to Jacob and warn him never to tell him any news about her. All talk of Letty would be forbidden from that day forth, so Jack could properly banish her from his mind. The very last thing he ever wanted to hear was a story about Letty marrying her wealthy, powerful Duke. He didn’t want to have to picture her in another man’s arms, in the full throes of passion, making those arousing, sensual noises she made and pushing her perfect, bare breasts greedily into another man’s filthy hands.

  The axe came down on the next log with such force it embedded itself in the ground and, for a moment, he experienced a raw surge of hatred for the faceless Duke he had never met. A man who, in all probability, never had filthy hands. Whoever he was, however much money the man had, and however clean his hands were, he did not deserve Letty. But then again, neither did Jack. Therefore, all of this effort he was putting into yearning, and being consumed with irrational jealousy, would be better directed elsewhere—and perhaps, in view of the wall of chopped logs stacked neatly along one whole side of the barn, he would do better to vent his frustration elsewhere as well. At this rate, they wouldn’t need wood for several months. Another week and there would be no more trees left on his land.

  He heard the barn door creak open behind him and turned. Then wished he hadn’t.

  ‘Can we talk?’

  Typically, like the uncivilised savage he was, he had discarded his coat and waistcoat again. He was sure the sight of him sweating from exertion in only his shirt was offensive. And he probably should have shaved this morning as well. Her Duke would have shaved. ‘If you want.’ Which Jack certainly didn’t. He placed another round log upright on the floor and swung the axe again. If he kept busy, remained aloof, she would leave quicker.

  ‘Why don’t you like me?’

  The next stroke was off, splintering through the bark and sending the log rolling towards her legs. If he went to retrieve it, he would have to offend her nostrils with the scent of honest labour. If he began chopping a new piece of wood, he would look like he was scared to go near her. Neither option appealed, so he leaned his forearms on the axe handle and tried to appear bored.

  ‘Letty—I have work to do. I don’t have the time to flatter your ego. When you go back to London, I’m sure there are plenty of gentlemen there who will fall over themselves to tell you how wonderful you are.’

  ‘I don’t care about their opinions. I want yours. And I don’t want you to spare my feelings. What is it about me that you find so distasteful?’

  ‘I think you are imagining things.’

  ‘And I think you are patronising me and doing your level best to avoid answering my question. Why don’t you like me, Jack? Do you find me irritating? Am I huge burden? Or do you think me silly and empty headed? Or perhaps you find me unappealing. And if that is the case, why did you kiss me back?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fifteen days and twelve hours to go...

  Letty had gradually edged closer towards him and reached out to touch his arm. ‘Does the sight of me disgust you?’ Because she had to know. No matter how difficult it was to hear, she had to know why Jack had recoiled from her that night the very moment he had come to his senses.

  ‘Of course not!’ He looked and sounded outraged. ‘I thought we agreed to pretend it never happened.’

  ‘But it did happen and now you cannot even look at me without wincing.’ He stubbornly stared back at her, but she saw the slight flinch anyway. ‘There it is! You’re doing it again. Just admit you can’t stand me.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake!’ He raked one hand impatiently through his overlong dark hair and huffed out a sigh of complete exasperation. ‘The thing is... I like you well enough. It’s just after what we did, it makes things awkward.’ He was resolutely staring at his folded hands on the axe handle. ‘It shouldn’t have happened, Letty. Everything about it was wrong.’

  It. He couldn’t even say the word kiss. That did not instil her with confidence in her abilities as a temptress. Automatically, her fingers went to her lips as she tried to recall exactly where she had gone wrong. ‘Did I do it incorrectly? Was I too brazen?’ Those intense blue eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he glared at her, then quickly looked away to hide his reaction, giving her all the answer she needed. ‘Oh, my goodness! I was too brazen. I’m sorry, Jack—I don’t have much experience of kissing and...well...kissing you was more than a little bit overwhelming.’ Letty had the urge to cover her breasts with her hands because he’d seen them, or at least one of them. Her hands flapped ineffectually in the vicinity of them, causing his eyes to widen even more, so, swamped with shame and self-loathing, she covered her face with them instead. ‘I behaved like a hussy, didn’t I?’

  There was a long, loaded pause. The only sounds filling the silence were the laboured sounds of Jack’s breathing as he tried to think of a polite way to tell her she had disgusted him with her shamelessness. Letty heard him move towards the hay bales and lower himself heavily on to one of them. It sounded as if he was trying to calm his breathing by inhaling deeply.

  ‘No, you didn’t. Please don’t think you did anything wrong. I just... God, this is awkward.’ Jack sounded as miserable as she felt. She risked a glance at him and saw his expression appear completely wretched as well, sat th
ere with his hands tucked underneath his thighs, his posture rigid. ‘You are under my care, Letty. I cannot protect you properly if my mind is elsewhere. Does that make sense?’

  ‘And kissing me sends your mind elsewhere?’

  ‘Kissing you sends me out of my mind, woman! I’m only human.’

  Although it was a pretty compliment, he did not appear to be particularly happy about it. Carefully, she moved towards the bale and sat down next to him. ‘Kissing you sent me out of my mind, too, Jack. If we both feel the same way about it, surely that is a good thing?’

  He shot her an odd look through half-hooded eyes and shook his head decisively. ‘It’s lust, Letty. Pure, raw, human lust. Nothing more. Don’t try to rationalise it as anything else.’

  ‘It could be...’ He stayed her with his hand.

  ‘No, Letty. It couldn’t.’ He shook his head again and sighed. When he next spoke, he did so kindly, as if to a child. Or a woman with an addled mind who struggled to see the nose on her own face. ‘I won’t lie to you and pretend it could lead anywhere, even though doing so would be in my best financial interest and would completely benefit me in the long run. Once the lust is spent, Letty, there would be nothing left between us and I respect you too much to ruin your life like that. If things had gone any further the other night, we would have had to marry, and once you realised the truth, you would quickly have come to regret it. We Warriners are not good with wives.’

  Well, that killed her blossoming hope stone dead, swiftly and clinically.

  An emphatic no.

  No maybe. No perhaps. No hesitation. Just no. He desired her body, albeit temporarily, but not her. Whilst the rejection cut like a knife in her gut, at least he was honest. There were no games with Jack Warriner. ‘I suppose I should thank you for your principles. Most men of my acquaintance would have happily ruined me in order to marry me.’

  ‘I dare say they would happily marry you before ruining you, too. You are a beautiful woman.’

  ‘I doubt they truly notice my face. My looks, nor my character, hardly matter when I come with such an enormous mountain of money.’ Letty stood despondently and walked towards the door. At least being desired for only her body was marginally more palatable than just her purse. There was something about her that Jack found attractive, even if the idea of spending a lifetime with her was wholly unappealing. His passion and desire had been genuine. He simply knew he could never love her enough to spend a lifetime with her.

  ‘You are being too hard on yourself. I am informed you are courted by all manner of worthy men. Even a wealthy duke. Once I return you safely home, you will see things with clarity again. You belong in Mayfair with a man like him, with your fancy clothes and an army of servants. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Letty. I am simply being a pragmatist. You have a particular life to live and so do I. Your life is in London, at parties and soirées, surrounded by your admirers, and mine is here, and that is how it should be. You were not born to be a Nottinghamshire farmer’s wife any more than I could pretend to enjoy the superficial conversation of the privileged.’

  He smiled, as if it could soften the blow he had just dealt her. ‘The trouble with our current situation is that everything is exaggerated. We have been thrust together, when under normal circumstances our paths would never have crossed. But they did, under an extreme set of conditions where our emotions are heightened and everything feels intense. But it’s not real, Letty. We are like oil and water, you and I. No matter how hard we tried, we could never mix.’

  More painful honesty that threw salt on her already gaping wound. She should have ignored Jamie and continued pummelling her bread dough. At least then she had been only angry and confused. Now she felt truly bereft, spoiled and insignificant. Superficial. The first time she had made tentative advances towards a man she actually trusted, a good man who would not take her money, and humbled herself by suggesting that there could be more between them because she had wanted there to be more between them, and her worst fears were confirmed. When the lure of her fortune was stripped away, Letty really had nothing except a pretty face going for her. It was a hard, cruel way to learn that lesson.

  Letty lingered in the doorway, tempted to tell him that there was more to her. That she had plans to help people with her money. Make the lives of lonely orphans, like her, easier. Make a difference because she hated the parties, soirées and disingenuous admirers—but she knew he wouldn’t listen. Like her uncle, he did not think her capable of such depth so she painted on one of Violet’s sunniest, emotionally vapid smiles. The one which told the world she was perfectly comfortable with a situation and had already forgotten why she had been bothered by it in the first place. ‘You are probably right. The circumstances we find ourselves in are somewhat unique. Thank goodness you are so sensible.’ She only had to survive for two, interminable weeks in his company, then she could go home and lick her wounds in private. Immerse all of her frustration and passion in the poor foundlings and prove everyone wrong about her. Including him. It was cold comfort. For the first time since she had arrived at Markham Manor, Letty wanted to leave.

  ‘I suppose we should begin to plan how I am to safely return to London now that the Earl of Bainbridge has seemingly given up his search here. I don’t want to walk straight into a waiting trap—and I suspect that will be their next plan of action in this whole ghastly mess.’

  Jack, understandably, appeared greatly relieved by her change of subject. ‘Yes...definitely. Why don’t we all discuss it over dinner tonight?’ He retrieved the fallen log from the floor and placed it end up on the ground, effectively dismissing her from his presence with the gesture. He was already swinging his axe before she closed the door behind her.

  * * *

  The loud explosion made the windows rattle while the accompanying burst of lightning lit up the bedchamber with the mouldy walls. Jack forced his exhausted, sleep-numbed mind to focus as he sat bolt upright in the bed he’d slept in ever since Letty had recovered enough not to need him to sleep on her floor. The leadlight glass sounded as if it was being pelted with handful after handful of gravel. He came to rapidly, blinking hard to squeeze blurriness from his eyes, then padded to the window and yanked open the heavy curtains to squint outside and groaned.

  The storm that raged was one of the most ferocious Jack had ever witnessed. He could just make out the shapes of trees in the darkness, their branches bent over from the power of the wind. Rain fell in sheets rather than drops, pouring down the window pane like a waterfall. Another clap of thunder rumbled ominously, closely followed by the blinding light of a mighty fork of lightning. It split the sky and briefly, terrifyingly, illuminated the swollen banks of the river. So swollen now, the trees on the top of the steeply inclined bank were standing in a foot or more of boiling, furious water.

  Another handful of gravel hit the window and he realised it was hail. Only small hail, but enough to panic the sheep, who were probably already panicked quite enough by the wind, rain, thunder and lightning. If they ran for the cover of the trees near the river bank, the stupid animals would likely be swept away on the current. And there he had been, less than an hour or so ago, praying for something, anything, which would take his mind off Letty and allow him to finally get some undisturbed sleep. There was nothing like the threat of impending doom and the prospect of several hours outside battling against the elements to distract him from his unwanted, but incessant, thoughts about her.

  Jack was in the process of buttoning the falls on his hastily dragged-on breeches when Jamie stepped through his door. ‘Good. You’re up.’

  As his brother was already wearing his greatcoat, it was fair to assume that Jamie, as usual, had not bothered going to bed. ‘Have you woken Joe and Jacob yet?’ Jack tugged on one boot as he hopped on the spot before collapsing to sit back on the bed to pull on the other.

  ‘They’re dressing, too. I’ll
meet you downstairs.’

  Less than a minute later, Jack strode on to the landing, only to be confronted by the sight of Letty looking deliciously sleep rumpled at her door. She had only opened the door enough to poke her head around, but Jack saw the tantalising glimpse of a female leg where it poked beneath the hem of yet another one of his shirts and the sight irritated him. The blasted woman was handy with a needle. She had started embroidering little patterns on everything from napkins to pillowcases. Weeks ago, she had begun making a dress—which was still not finished—so why could she not fashion herself a proper nightdress? One that came to the floor and covered all of her soft, silken skin. And while she was about it, she should probably plait the wild, golden riot of curls that hung past her shoulders and tempted him to touch. An ugly nightcap would not go amiss either.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s a storm. We need to round up the animals. Go back to bed Letty. You’re in no danger.’

  ‘I can help.’

  Jack was in no mood to be tactful. ‘No, you can’t. Go back to bed.’

  The storm would take his mind off her; he didn’t need the additional burden of an heiress faffing about and getting in his way when he had a serious job to do. He saw her fine eyes narrow just before she slammed the door shut and he turned away, striding briskly to the stairs. It was just as well. If she had argued with him, he would have bitten back twice as hard. Lack of sleep always brought his temper close to the surface and, as Letty was responsible for the deficiency, he doubted any confrontation would end well tonight. Not after their splendid chat in the barn earlier, when she had thanked him for being so sensible, then blithely gone about her day as if the words he had wrenched out of his gut and choked hollowly out of his mouth had not sounded the death knell on all his secret hopes of a miracle.