His Secret Baby

by Ashlee Price

  The words had hardly left her mouth when she felt her ankle give beneath her as she stepped into a hole. The pain shot through her and she fell to her knees.

  ‘Fuck!’

  Alicia tried to stand and put some weight on the hurt appendage, but almost doubled over in pain. She determined to hobble her way forward, as there was no way she could sit and wait for help to arrive, she knew. She would probably be frozen to death by the time her new boss finally realized she was late, which she was, but not yet unduly so. Finally, giving up walking as a bad job, she resorted to crawling on her hands and knees, the material of her jeans soon sopping wet due to her efforts to keep moving. I should have stayed with the car, the thought hit her. Looking back, she realized that the vehicle was about the same distance from her as the house, and decided to push on forward, her hands numb through the wool of her gloves. The cold had worked its way through her clothing, into her bones, and the sleet beat down incessantly, giving no quarter, as she shuffled her way through it on all fours.

  ***

  Lionel Eckhart ran from his room, grabbing a blanket from the foot of his bed as he did so, and made his way out of the house, the faces of his two servants staring after him in surprise. It had been a long time since they had seen him in this state; his eyes were wild and his breathing labored. The old husband and wife looked at each other in amazement. All he had said as he had come back inside was to make sure the girl’s room was warm and to heat up some soup. Shrugging, Mike Carpenter nodded at his wife, who went back into the kitchen which was the warmest room in the old mansion, opened a tin of soup, and put it in a pan on the old coal stove to heat up. It seemed as if things were to become quite interesting.

  Lionel raced down what was left of the driveway, his eyes scanning the ground as he went. Was the woman stupid enough to have left the car? Was she on her way there, partially frozen? He had no idea of knowing. Scaring her had been an accident, not one he often made. Then he saw something move in the snow, a red, gloved hand. He had found her.

  ***

  It was cold, so cold. Alicia’s movements had become slower and slower, as the sleet had morphed into snow. Each lungful of breath she took hurt, as she started cooling down inside and out, and her movements became more and more lethargic. Tired! Want to sleep! The thoughts of giving up and giving in would not leave. She had to move on, forced herself, in fact, to do so. To stop would mean death, and safety was near, yet so incredibly far! What might have been a fifteen minute walk under normal circumstances, felt like a thousand miles away in the state she was in. She concentrated on pushing one hand, followed by a leg, forward, one painful step at a time; until her arms and legs refused to move any further, and she fell into the snow, face first. She tried forcing her small frame to rise, but her body refused to obey, even when she used every bit of willpower at her disposal. Nothing happened. She could not rise, her body disobeyed each command. She closed her eyes, and allowed the numbness of sleep to take over.

  “Wake up! Wake up, girl!” she heard a voice through the fog that had become her mind. Struggling, she managed to flutter her eyelashes, and saw a dark form looming over her, but fell back into the arms of sleep once more, unsure whether she could believe anything her ears were hearing or her eyes had seen. Sleep was the haven she longed for, a sweet oblivion, away from the cold that cut through her like a razor.

  “Wake up, woman! Now! Do as I say!”

  Alicia managed to crack open her eyes, and became aware of being carried in strong arms, the heat of the chest against which she was snuggling was blissful, and his smell! It was so familiar, yet she was sure that it was not a scent she had ever smelled before, except, perhaps, in her dreams; a mixture of spice, mint, and something undeniably wild. It was, her fuddled brain managed to discern, a scent which was unique to this individual with his deep, raspy voice.

  “Poor lass,” she heard a woman’s saying as they entered the doorway to what she surmised was a front door.

  “Her room is ready, I turned up the heat in there a notch, or would ye prefer tea take her tea the fire in your study, Sir?”

  “The study, I think. Bring some towels, she is drenched, and that soup, please, Mrs. C. And please, could you find her something warm to wear? We can go see about her bags and car in the morning. It’s snowing a storm out there at the moment.”

  Alicia was aware of being set down on someone’s lap and her clothing being removed amidst cussing and exclamations of disgust at the amount of clothing a woman deemed it necessary to wear. Her fuddled brain realized that a stranger, no, a strange man was busy undressing her, but her cold limbs were not able to function in cohesion, and she was so cold and so tired.

  Her next lucid moment came when she felt something soft being drawn over her head, and being commanded to lift her arms. She tried, but they felt like lead. There was more cussing and swearing and finally, she felt herself cradled against the warm body again, while someone took one of her hands and started rubbing it. Her feet, she felt, were starting to tingle, due to the fire in front of which they were sitting. “Where…”

  “Ah,” the deep voice next to her ear exclaimed. “You are with me again, are you? Good. I need you to get warm and to get some warm soup into you. It’s only tinned, but it should do the trick. Your ankle is twisted, but there will be no real damage. Tomorrow it should be just a twinge, nothing major.”

  She heard the clink of crockery and a pre-emptive “open your mouth!” coming from her savior. Without thinking about it, she complied, letting him spoon some of the warm liquid into her. The warmth spread through her body as it went down her throat and into her stomach. She was hungry, she realized, and let him spoon more of the liquid nourishment into her waiting mouth. When it was finished, she nestled against the warm chest that had become her beacon, and fell asleep again.

  ***

  “Well now,” Mrs. Carpenter said to her husband who was perched next at his favorite spot in front of the large kitchen fire, his pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth and a book in his hands, “Would ye believe it? Lionel be sitting in that chair with the wee lass cradled in his lap like she was a little girl, and himself fast asleep, he is!”

  Mike Carpenter looked up at his wife and grunted, that being his usual means of saying either yes, no and oh. He was a man of few words, but his wife’s tidbit of information brought a smile to his lips and a gleam to his eye. “Think she’s the one, then?”

  “Eh, I have no idea I am sure, but ‘tis not like him to be doing that now is it?”

  Mike grunted again. “We’ll see how it goes.” And that, as far as he was concerned, was the end of the conversation.

  Chapter 2

  Lionel woke up to a stiff back and a need to go to the toilet. The weight on his bladder, he realized, was not helping at all. He bent his head to look at the woman nestled in his arms. Besides the fact that she felt perfect as she lay against him, he realized the hair he had mistaken as brown the previous evening, was in fact auburn and thick. He stroked it. It was silky to his touch. Her skin was more alabaster than pale, and her cheeks were flushed. He touched her forehead and found that indeed, she was hot. Her long eyelashes fluttered and she opened her eyes, staring straight into his; green, with specks of gold, almost like that of a cat, and wary.

  When she made to pull away from him and out of his embrace, he pulled her closer, for some strange reason not wanting to part with her.

  “Stay.”

  She ceased her struggles at once. “Ahm, I’m thirsty.”

  “Good, I’ll take you to your room and see that you get something to drink. Then I’ll go about seeing to your luggage.”

  Without giving Alicia time to respond, he stood up, with her still in his arms, and strode out the room, only stopping to open the door, and took her up the stairs and deposited her in her new bed in her new room. “See you in a moment.”

  Alicia stared at the closed door. ‘Wow! What a piece of…well, damn, he is sexy!’ was the first coherent
thing that crossed her mind. She had liked being in his arms, she had to admit. He was warm, his scent was intoxicating, and he was one hell of a looker. Laying back against the pillows, she snuggled in and let her mind drift to her rescuer. He must be Lionel Eckhart, he was young enough, but what their written communication had not mentioned, was that he was tall, with ice-blue eyes, chiseled features, and a body that was hard as a rock. She wondered, idly, what that body would feel like under her hands. Her reverie was put to an end by a soft knock at the door.

  Alicia sat up. “Come in, please.”

  “Hello dearie, I’m Heather Carpenter, but you can call me Mrs. C. if you like, just as Lionel does, bless his heart.” The older woman bustled around to the side of the bed Alicia was laying on, put down a cup of tea next to her on the bedside table, and sat down. “So, come tae help the master with his work, have ye?”

  Alicia nodded. “Yes, Mr. Eckhart. Was that him? Who helped me last night?”

  “Indeed lass, ‘twas none other. So how are ye feelin’ this morn’?”

  “I’m not sure. Thirsty, my throat hurts a little, but I feel so hot!”

  “Ah!” Mrs. C. clucked, “tha’ would be a fever you be havin’ what with getting so wet and cold like that! I’ll make my famous hot toddy and be bringin’ it up to ye with the breakfast.”

  When Alicia would decline, saying she preferred getting dressed and getting to work as soon as possible, she was scolded soundly by the little woman who told her in no uncertain terms that to get up would bring down the ‘wrath of the master’ and that was apparently most undesirable.

  She sipped her tea in contemplative silence as the small women left, and had a good look around her. Her new room was beautiful and decorated in hues of white and rose, her bed a solid four-poster with curtains which could be drawn; all old fashioned, yet beautifully done. The curtains in front of her windows were open, allowing her a glimpse of the grey sky beyond, before she realized there were French doors and she had a balcony. She felt as if she had walked into a scene dating back to the eighteen hundreds. All she still needed was a dress to suit the surroundings. She smiled at her fanciful thoughts.

  Her door was suddenly flung open to reveal Lionel Eckhart once more. The large man had her two bulky suitcases as well as her vanity in hand, and he was not even breaking a sweat.

  “I’ll put them over there, shall I?” he indicated a space in the corner near the window. “Mrs. C will help you get unpacked later. She’s bringing you up something for your fever, she said, and our breakfast. Then we can talk. I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Yup. Sure thing,” it came bemusedly from Alicia. That voice! That smell! Intoxicating!

  Alicia got out of bed, needing to use the bathroom, and went through the door which she thought served as such, but was surprised to find herself in a large lounge area with a desk set up at one end. She had her own suite! Going back to her bedroom, she tried the second door, which, she was grateful to find, was the much sought after bathroom. Doing the necessary, she decided on a shower and got undressed. She selected a cooler temperature than she would normally have chosen, but she felt so incredibly hot that the cooler water felt like bliss on her skin, cooling her down, cradling her. After toweling off, she donned the night dress she had been wearing again, noticing for the first time that the flimsy material did next to nothing to hide her nakedness. Then she remembered the previous evening, of being undressed in front of the fire, and realized that her new boss and rescuer, had seen every square inch of her naked body. Blushing at the thought, she made her way to the bedroom and started going through her luggage, intent on finding something more appropriate to wear. Her flannel pajamas were at the bottom of the one suitcase and she pulled it out and put it on, feeling more adequately dressed than she had before.

  Mrs. C. came in, with Lionel Eckhart at her heels, each of them balancing a tray. “There we go then! Ah, ye’ve been up then, have ye? Well, get yersel’ right back into that bed! Go on with ye!”

  “Better do as she says, she might be small, but she packs a mean punch.”

  The command in the rumbling voice made her get back under the covers, much to her consternation. What was it about this man that had her doing as he said? It was uncanny!

  After bustling about a little more, Mrs. C. left, closing the door after her, and left the two of them alone.

  “So, you are Alicia Clarke, are you? We don’t stand at attention here. I’m Lionel Eckhart, but call me Lionel, please. Mrs. C. you’ve met. Her husband, Mike, you have yet to meet. He doesn’t say much but has a heart of gold, as does she.”

  Alicia found herself taking him in rather than what he was saying, noticing that his hair was still damp and there was an added pine scent to his mixture of smells that had not been there earlier, which she surmised must have come from his soap. “Hi,” she managed, with a small wave.

  Lionel sat on the bed where the two trays were set between them and shoved a fork full of bacon and eggs into his mouth. When he felt her stare, he looked up, their eyes meeting, the silence between them seeming to stretch for an eternity.

  The power of his gaze hit Alicia in her gut, and she had a strange feeling of déjà vu. It was as if her eyes were drawn to him of their own volition, she could not look away, instead trying to read the message behind his unfathomable gaze. His nostrils flared.

  “Something has changed. You don’t smell the same. Have you had a bath?”

  Alicia gulped. He was aware of her smell? As she was of his? “Yes,” she nodded, “a shower, actually. I feel so hot! I thought a cool shower would be nice.”

  “Hot? Ah, good, very good. Eat up. You will soon feel quite normal, I promise. Now eat…please.” He said the last work like a man who was not used to asking for anything, she noticed.

  Alicia dug into the food, finding that her appetite had returned in full force.

  When they had finished, he lay back against the one post of the bed, giving her the full force of his regard. “So tell me about yourself, Alicia Clarke.”

  Alicia recounted the boring details of her life: that she was an orphan since shortly after her eighteenth birthday, that her mother had died from cancer when she was thirteen, was raised by her father, and that she had been adopted at roughly the age of three.

  “What happened to your birth parents?”

  “I’m not all that sure, to be honest, except from what Dad told me: that my birth mother had given me up for adoption for reasons unknown and my father, apparently, had been a marine and died overseas at some point. That’s all I know.”

  “I see, so you have no contact with your blood family at all?”

  Alicia shook her head. “None whatsoever.”

  “Well now, that’s a sorry state of affairs.”

  “Is it? I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it. My parents were both wonderful people.”

  “I am sure they were. Tell me something? Why did you take this job?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I’ve always loved the open wilderness, and the fact I would be away from the city appealed to me. I look forward to the summer, so that I can go exploring the area.”

  “Too many people about makes you feel uncomfortable? As if you were constricted? Smothered?” he leaned in closer and his scent filled her nostrils once again, while a tiny fluttering started at the pit of her stomach, spreading downwards. She suddenly felt agitated, yet wanted to draw nearer to this man, wanted to touch him, feel his skin beneath her fevered palm, wanted to, yes, she admitted to herself, wanted to taste him!

  Her harsh, sudden intake of breath made him smile. He raised his one hand and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “You feel it, don’t you? The pull? You want to get near me, touch me, and smell me? I’ve been looking for you for a very long time, Alicia. Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you, ever, even when…” he trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

  “Right, you look okay to me. You can get dressed and come downstairs if you wish, I
’ll be there.”

  He piled all their dishes and cutlery onto one tray and placed the empty one underneath, and left, carrying them both with him.

  Alicia let out a pent-up breath of air. She had never wanted someone so badly in her life! His mere presence was like a flame, and she a willing moth, wanting desperately to fly around it, even welcoming the possibility of getting burnt!

  She went through to the bathroom once again and splashed her face with cold water. “What have you gotten yourself into now, Alicia Clarke?” she asked her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

  Chapter 3

  “Is she the one, then?” Mike asked his employer and friend.

  “Yes, she is, but I don’t believe she has a clue who she really is, Mike. Do you know how long I’ve been looking for her? Longing for her? Needing her? And now that I finally find her, she has no idea as to her background, or about her father. What was her mother thinking? I’m sure she must have known! Why would she have given her away like that?”

  “I don’t know, my boy, and I guess we’ll never know. The main thing is that you have found her. Are you going to tell her?”

  “God, Mike! Would she even believe me? But the signs are there already. Her temperature is up, and my smell unnerves her, while at the same time I can feel her fighting off the attraction she has for me.”

  “What about you?”

  “Oh yes! The moment I touched her I knew she was mine; that I had to have her. Her smell is driving me insane! I have to keep myself in check every moment I seem to be with her. Last night, with her in my arms, was the first proper sleep I have had in such a long time, I can’t even remember. And for once, there were no dreams! There was just her, and her smell! That amazing, maddening smell of hers! I don’t know how long I can hold out.”