by Dayna Quince
Heather was afraid to turn and face the speculative audience. Cantour saved her, ordering everyone to return to their duties.
“Allen, clean up that garbage,” he directed with distaste.
His words jolted Heather from her shock. “Take them all down,” she commanded. “None of them mean anything to His Grace. They will be replaced with family portraits over time.”
“Yes, my lady, right away.” Cantour snapped his fingers and two more footmen appeared and began to pull portraits from the wall.
Heather advanced on the double doors hesitantly. She put her hand on the knob, afraid she was not wanted, but it saddened her to think of him being alone. She knocked on the door and waited, but there was only silence. She turned the handle slowly, and the door opened easily, despite its size. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her, then waited just on the other side, leaning against it. The room was shrouded in darkness, except for small beams of light that defied the heavy curtains where they parted and claimed streaks of carpet. One lone beam of sunlight fell across the bed, and it was at the foot of that bed she found Fallon standing. His broad shoulders slumped, his head bent.
“Fallon?” Heather crept forward, but he didn’t respond. She approached slowly, not afraid of him but of his rejection. He so clearly needed someone to care for him, someone to lean on, and she wanted to be that person. She reached his side and took his hand, but it was limp in hers. She looked up into his face, and the despair she saw there was like a knife to her gut. “Fallon, look at me,” she begged. She squeezed his hand, but he still didn’t respond except to look away. Heather stepped in front of him, wrapping her arms around him. “Please don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not fit company right now,” he uttered.
“That’s all right. I still want to be here with you.”
Finally, he looked at her. One hand came to her waist, and then, as if something unlocked inside him, his arms swallowed her against him. He buried his face in her neck and took a deep breath, his exhale hot against her skin.
Heather almost wept with relief. “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Heather. The past is dead and buried.”
Heather wished that were true, but his reaction to the portraits proved otherwise. He was still hurting, and she couldn’t stand it. “Is it? Maybe…” She wanted him to tell her what he was feeling, but that was a lot to ask when she was hiding so much from him. After what she’d just seen, perhaps he would understand? “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” He nuzzled her neck.
“I’ve asked Cantour to remove all the nameless portraits.” Her words were muffled against his chest, but she continued anyway. “We will replace them with people who matter.”
He didn’t respond, but his hands were moving roughly over her back and—did her dress feel looser? She tried to look at his face, but he bent his head and caught her lips in a searing kiss. His hand slipped inside the open back of her dress—a hand that was so hot against her skin, she gasped. He pushed it lower, stressing the seams where her dress pulled across her shoulders and at the back closure.
“It will tear,” she pleaded. This was unknown territory, but she wasn’t going to refuse him, not if she could make him feel better. He released his arms and moved back enough to push her dress down over her shoulders. Heather didn’t stop him. The desolation was gone from his features, but he still looked troubled. She pulled her arms from the sleeves and the dress slid to her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it away, then stood and shivered with uncertainty. He first cupped one breast, and then the other. He was engrossed in her body, his eyes intensely focused on the doings of his hands.
“I want to lay you down on the bed.”
Heather bit her lip and nodded. She let him lift her and set her on the high bed, and she scooted back. He quickly followed and settled beside her, one hand casually brushing the shoulder of her chemise down. She obliged him by pulling her arm free. The same action was completed on the other side as she anxiously awaited his next move. He pulled the chemise down below her breasts, revealing them to him. A hot flush of color spread over her skin. The air was cold, and her nipples furled into little buds. She couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed, but when she watched him watching her, it subsided. He looked mesmerized, reverent even. It made her feel womanly and bold. She exhaled the last of her reservations and set her mind to accept whatever caresses he gave her. She trusted him in this and knew he would never hurt her.
His hands were warm when they gently touched her. His fingertips skated over her flesh lightly, and then he cupped her breasts again. Skin to skin was a completely new world of sensation for Heather. His palms were lightly calloused, as were the pads of his fingers. The scratchy ridges gave her goose bumps as his hands slid over her. He leaned over her and set his lips to her skin. Little licks of fire followed his lips as he moved over her. He kissed her breast, taking the peak into his mouth. Heather bit her lip, holding back a cry of surprise. She felt a pinch of pain as he suckled her, but it was quickly soothed by his swirling tongue. She was dizzy now, her breath coming in short pants.
He moved to the other breast, and the delicious torture was the same. She was pulling at him now, her legs squirming and squeezing together in an effort to appease her body’s new hunger. He seemed to know exactly what she needed. He pulled up her skirts, his fingers knowingly dipping in between her thighs, sliding roughly against that sensitive pearl that caused sparks to fly through her body with a single touch. His fingers were the match, and she, the waiting tinder, until he touched her enough to set her on fire.
“Please, Fallon,” she begged him. She pressed herself against his hand, anxiously searching for that release. She could feel the ridge of his own arousal against her side, and all of a sudden, she wanted to touch him too. She didn’t have the courage to just reach for him, so she started with his shoulders, pressing her fingers into the firm muscle. She massaged and squeezed her way to his chest, curious to know what his bare chest would feel like under her hands. She fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat and then his cravat. Next she slipped open a few buttons of his shirt, gliding her hand in and gasping with delight. His skin was wickedly hot, his chest dusted with hair. She wanted to feel him against her sensitive nipples, to press herself to him. She undid the rest of his buttons and spread his shirt wide.
He chuckled. “What busy little hands you have.”
She looked up at him and smiled as her desire filled her with womanly confidence. “I could say the same of you.” She slid her hand down his chest to his hips, and then over the swell of his manhood. He groaned in answer and thrust into her hand.
“Oh, Heather. We are heading into dangerous territory.” But he didn’t pull away. He covered more of her body with his.
Heather turned to him, pressing her breasts against his chest and moaning in delight. “I need you, Fallon.”
He grunted painfully. “We can’t do this. We can’t risk it.”
He tried to roll away, but Heather grabbed his head and brought his lips to hers. They kissed hungrily, tongues dueling for control. He rolled again, this time on top of her, supporting his weight on his forearms at her sides. It was a mistake. He was now nestled between her thighs.
Heather’s eyes shot open. His hardness was pressed against her, and it was better than anything she had previously felt. She parted her legs more, and he settled more firmly. She squirmed against him, the pressure and friction so intoxicating that she couldn’t stop herself. It was too much, yet not enough. The pressure felt so good, it was almost painful. Her head was spiraling, a tight tension filling her body until it was so taut, she snapped and cried out, explosions of pleasure rocketing through her nerves.
She couldn’t move anymore, her strength had been leeched from her body. This time, she knew what had happened, though the sensation was still astonishing to experience. Her eyes closed, and she felt Fallon brush strands of hair from her mouth.
“You’re a firecracker of passion, little flower. How am I to resist you?” But even as he said the words, he moved away from her, only keeping his arms around her as he hugged her to his side.
“I’m sorry, Fallon.” Heather opened her eyes and looked up at him. “I feel selfish now.” Twice now, she had been the only one to take pleasure from their intimacy. He was so giving, and all she did was take.
“Don’t ever be sorry. Seeing you come apart in my arms is enough for now.” He kissed her forehead.
Heather looked down at her exposed body and blushed as she began to right her clothing then sat up. Her ardor was cooling, and the implications of their time alone were glaringly apparent. They had been alone in a bedroom for God knows how long. Any moment, her mother could come knocking.
“I suppose the servants will guess what we’ve been doing,” she said with some alarm.
“They won’t talk. We’re betrothed, and we will be married in two weeks’ time,” he assured her, but then his expression changed to one of bitterness. “I suspect they like us a far cry better than they did my father. He never treated anyone with respect.”
Heather was silent as she finished dressing. He helped her button the back of her gown, but though his hands were gentle, she could feel the tension rising in him again. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to explode with anger as he did before and ruin the moment. She wanted to cherish what they’d just experienced together.
“We should head down. My mother could return any moment.”
He looked pensive. “I should leave then. I can return later for dinner and finish my work in the study then.”
Heather looked around the room, spotting a clock on the mantle. The afternoon had disappeared. “You are escorting us to the Gareth Musicale tonight, so dinner will be earlier than usual. Stay, I’ll hide in my room and pretend I never knew you were here.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. He looked melancholy, and she didn’t like it one bit.
“Please?”
He looked at her then and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her languidly, and then sighed as he pulled away. “If that is what you want, I’ll stay.”
“Of course it’s what I want.”
“There is also the rubbish in the hall to be dealt with.”
“Cantour took care of it,” Heather reassured and tugged him to the door. She opened it slowly, but the hall was empty, the wall cleared of the portraits. She blushed again. To think footmen had been working while they were in here… She wouldn’t be able to look at them again without coloring. They hurried down the hall, stopping at the stairs.
“I’ll take the back stairs to my room.”
“Don’t ever feel ashamed of what we share, Heather.”
“I’m not ashamed,” she said quickly. “I just feel awkward that the whole house knows what we were doing.”
Fallon chuckled and squeezed her hand. “They don’t know exactly what we were doing, and apart from you and your sisters, no one in this house is innocent, not even the irreproachable Cantour.”
Heather could feel her cheeks burning. “I’m not innocent, not anymore.”
“Little flower, you are still very much an innocent…for now, at least,” he said wickedly.
Heather covered her hot cheeks with her hands and halfheartedly glared at him. “I had no idea you were a rake.”
“I didn’t either until I met you.”
She smiled coyly as she spun on her heel and retreated toward the back stairs.
Chapter 19
Heather lathered her arms and hummed to herself. It was the night of her engagement ball; a night she would have thought would make her anxious. Instead, she was oddly calm, content even. Everything was as close to perfect as it could get. Her mother and sisters were happy, Heather was happy, and she was fairly certain Fallon was happy.
Heather snorted; she still felt held down by the invisible chains of her father’s secret, but she was adapting. Would it feel like this forever? She loathed that idea. She didn’t want to keep secrets from Fallon, and the more time she spent with him, the more she knew he would not punish her for her father’s sins. The threat of scandal seemed to fade every day. Perhaps it was time to come clean? She would speak to her mother first.
Heather hated the thought of waiting until after the wedding. It made her feel as though she was trapping him. No, she was going to tell him and somehow, that seemed less scary than the secret itself. She felt lighter just thinking about it.
After discovering the portraits, Fallon seemed normal. The only time he looked remotely affected by anything was when his father was mentioned. It rarely happened, and only when being introduced to old members of nobility who were shocked to learn that the old duke had a child. Fallon always handled it well but grew somber after the fact.
It was a bitter reminder that he was still a wounded little boy in some regards. Heather needed to do something about it. He had saved her, so it was only right she return the favor. But how? She had no experience in this. She thought about the afternoon in the master suite. He had needed her then, and she’d let him seek comfort in her. Was that all it would take? No, that was too easy. He needed to forgive his father and let it go. Perhaps they both did, her conscience said. Let the dead be dead. They had so much to look forward to now, and so much to hope for in the future.
She sank lower in the steaming water. Gwen, Heather’s new lady’s maid, arrived and helped her wash and rinse her hair. Heather continued to ponder Fallon as she dried herself, wrapped herself in a dressing gown, and then sat to dry her hair in front of the fire. Gwen stayed to help her untangle her unruly hair, and once it was dry, Heather moved to the vanity and Gwen began to style it. Heather never enjoyed this part of preparing for a ball. Her hair never wanted to be smooth and neat. Hours later—or so it seemed—her hair was elegantly coiled on her head, her scalp sore from all the tugging, but Heather was pleased with the results. She glanced at the clock to find it was time to dress and appear downstairs. She mentally put the problem of the old duke and her father in the back of her mind. Tonight was about her and Fallon, and she would not let thoughts of them ruin their evening. Now if only their guests knew to forget all mention of them as well.
Heather stood before the cheval mirror and inspected her appearance. She was more than pleased. Her gown was dyed to match her eyes, a difficult feat, but the end result was stunning. Her skin looked luminescent, and her eyes glowed with the deep happiness she felt. There was nothing more she could possibly want, nothing more she could hope for.
If it were not for Fallon, Heather didn’t know where her family would be at this moment, or what kind of hardships they would have had to endure. When she was with him, the weight of that fear was gone, and in its place, Heather felt profound gratitude. More than gratitude, it was so much more than that. She couldn’t explain all the feelings that rose within her when she thought of him. He had given her more than security; he had given her hope again, smiles and laughter, and he’d shown her passion she didn’t know she was capable of feeling. She wanted him to feel the same, to give him the joy he had given her, but how could she do that? She pondered her own feelings, and the warmth that spread through her heart. Was this love? She looked at her reflection, but there were no answers there. Could she have fallen in love with Fallon, the duke, as she’d thought she’d done when he was only Mr. Calder, the steward?
It had seemed so hopeless then, falling for a man she could not have, but now it was different. She did have him. She had all that was Mr. Calder and her wealthy duke, both rolled into one wonderful and handsome man. That gave her pause. Unexpectedly, she felt that something had to go wrong. Nothing was this perfect. She grimaced at her reflection and turned away. She still had to tell him about her father.
But not tonight. This night was going to be perfect. Surely, perfection could be attained for just one evening? Everything else could wait until tomorrow. Heather would make sure of it. She thanked Gwen
for her talented assistance and joined her mother downstairs. Fallon had not yet arrived, but her mother assured her he would be there any moment. They would have an informal family dinner, just the five of them, and then they would take their places for the arrival of the first guests.
Heather thought her mother looked stunning, wrapped in emerald green satin. She was sporting diamond earrings Heather had never seen before. Lady Everly showed her the card that accompanied them when they arrived that morning.
* * *
To the most wonderful, soon-to-be mother-in-law in the world. I am honored to be your future son.
-Ablehill
* * *
Heather knew what such a note meant to her mother. She felt the sting of tears and took a deep breath. “He’s too good to be true, isn’t he?” She gave her mother a watery smile.
“Never question good fortune, no matter how fleeting, but I do believe him to be a good man. There is always some darkness to light. It’s necessary, but we must always look for the light and appreciate it.”
Heather wanted to be soothed by her mother’s words. “You speak of balance.”
“Yes. Fallon is kind and generous. I think his darkness lies in his past and his feelings about his father. Those feelings may prevent him from seeking a true connection with others. What kind of marriage do you want, Heather? He may clothe you in fine fabrics and jewels, but deny you access to his heart. Which do you desire most?”
Heather nodded in understanding, but really, she was stymied. Her mother had never used the word “desire” with her before, and it now held so much more meaning. Her mother was speaking of love, a marriage based on love. Heather was startled by the realization. She had sought a marriage of convenience, but now, there was the possibility of love… If, as her mother had implied, she could defeat his darkness. Heather made sure her sisters were well out of earshot before she spoke again. “I want to tell him about father…about everything.”