by Pamela Labud
She gave him a puzzled look. “What are you saying?”
“That not one of the men in this insane world is worthy of a woman’s grace. Certainly, nor use of her body or imprisoning her in a contract that has very little benefit for her.”
“Why, Michael, I do believe you’ve taken on a new perspective.”
He smiled down at her, thrilled that his words distracted her from her angst, at least for the moment. “If I have, it’s because of you.”
“You do flatter me, but I think that others have had influence on you as well. Your mother, perhaps.”
For a moment, he could say nothing. Suddenly his past came clamoring into his mind. The women he’d loved, the loves he’d lost, and the pain of the truth. His truth.
“We should go,” he said, stepping back sharply.
“What is it? Have I said something wrong?”
The upset in her voice cut him to the marrow.
“No. It’s not you.” Michael’s throat tightened. “I didn’t really know my mother. She left when I was young.”
Bea covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
He waved her off. “ ’Tis an old wound and one I’d thought long healed until now. Never mind. Come, we need to get dinner and try to sleep a few hours before we leave in the morning.”
She nodded, and though he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss her deeply, he merely watched her walk ahead of him on the path.
Michael well knew that he was no good to anyone, especially a woman like Beatrice. She was meant for a better life, though he wished she hadn’t chosen to go into service. No one knew better than he how difficult the life of a governess could be. Based on the ones his father had hired when he was young, a woman in that station had but a few choices.
If the governess’s employers were honorable, they likely would take good care of their charge. If, however, the people who hired her were less, it might mean her being forced to fulfill other less savory duties. He’d overheard the threats his own father had made once, threatening to accuse the woman of stealing from him if she didn’t do as he insisted. As a child, no one frightened him more than his father. Now, years later, no one disgusted him more.
It had been easy enough to catch their dinner, of course, owing to the fact that Ash kept his ponds and streams well stocked with fish. Michael enjoyed a few moments of relaxation while Bea demonstrated her skill at fishing, bobbing the bait in the water, giving her full attention to her work. Michael couldn’t help smiling as she coaxed the fish onto her hook and then joyfully yanked them out of the water.
Of course, being the gentleman, he did the job of filleting and cooking the fish over an open fire. By the time they’d eaten their fill, the sun had set and the clear night sky bathed them in half-moon light. The temperature had been steadily dropping but Michael could see that Bea was enjoying the crisp night air.
“I’ve something I feel I must say to you,” she said quietly as they sat watching the dying embers of the campfire.
“You’ve nothing to confess to me, sweet Beatrice. I’m neither your accuser nor judge.”
She giggled, but it was more a nervous sound than that of mirth.
He’d long ago given her his suit coat to help stave off the chill.
“Perhaps we should go in for the night,” he said. Anything to avoid what he suspected would be conversation he’d rather avoid. Coward that he was, he was the last person who should be trusted with important issues such as confessions and the like.
“Wait, please,” she said, leaning forward. “Just a few minutes more. I have to say these words now, or I shall lose my nerve.”
He sighed. She was not to be denied. “If you wish.”
She nodded, wrapping her arms even tighter around her. “What I’m going to tell you is most upsetting, but it has to be said. I need you to understand because it is my hope that one day you will tell the others the truth about why I’ve run away.”
Chapter 8
Beatrice knew it was a gamble. She couldn’t help it. Michael had to understand and he had to tell her family the truth. Not because she had settled her mind about her past, but because Caro deserved to know the truth. All of it.
There was a time when she’d been more than happy to let her life go merrily on, to let her older sister control her life. Then, of course, the same for Amelia, though, to be honest, that woman could find a match for any girl, regardless of their station, appearance, or demeanor. Nothing seemed to sway her once the dowager duchess had made her mind up about it.
She did feel badly about being Amelia’s one failure when it came to her matchmaking schemes.
“Very well,” Michael said. “Tell me your truth and I will deliver it as you ask.”
“Once I’m safe away,” she said hurriedly, suddenly afraid that if she waited too long, she’d falter and never speak the words that pressed against her so viciously.
“As you wish.”
She nodded, her strength returning somewhat. “The reason I can never marry is…” She stopped. Or, rather the words stopped. Michael sat forward, crossed his arms, and gave her a knowing look.
“You love someone else,” he said, suddenly triumphant. He sat back then, and his mouth fell open. “Is it Ash? Are you in love with him?”
Shock and disbelief shot through her. “What?”
“It’s that, isn’t it? He’s always been quite a draw to the ladies.”
“Of course, it isn’t him, you dolt.”
“It isn’t? Are you sure?”
Tipping his head to the side, he looked like a hound she’d once seen who’d been paying apt attention to its owner’s voice.
“Of course, I’m sure. It’s my secret, after all.”
“Oh. Well, then. Proceed.”
Bea hesitated. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. But she’d no choice in the matter. She could have been honest from the beginning. A nobler woman would certainly have been so. But she’d long known she’d not the stomach for that. Best for her family to hear of her reasons when she was hundreds of miles away. It would be easier on everyone, most especially she, herself.
“I’m a ruined woman.”
There. She’d said it, and the ball of ice that had formed in her stomach had finally started to melt.
“I see.” Michael gave her a sideways glance that very clearly demonstrated he didn’t.
“No, you don’t,” Bea blurted out, both furious and ashamed. “I’m ruined, Michael. I’ve been with a man. I’m not an innocent girl. I haven’t been for a very long time.”
She was sure that he’d think her a terrible person. That he’d rail at her and condemn her, call her a fallen woman, a jezebel, even.
To her shocked surprise, he did none of that.
“Oh,” he said. “Is that all?”
Bea blinked. What in blazes was he about?
“What do you mean, is that all? I’m unfit for any marriage. No man would want me, and even if I had agreed to marry him, it would be a lie, sir. One that would cause a terrible scandal. And, while I wouldn’t care about myself, Caro and Ash…”
He put his hand on her arm. “Beatrice, wait…”
“What?”
“Your family loves you very much. Nothing you could do would ever change that.”
She shook her head. “Silly man, you don’t understand…”
“Oh, but I do. Believe me when I tell you, you wouldn’t be the first woman to enter into a marriage somewhat tarnished. I imagine it happens more often than we know.”
Her shame turned to disbelief. “That certainly doesn’t sound right.”
“Oh, but it is. Men and women have been lying to each other since the beginning of time.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
He shrugged. “Of course, there is a great to-do about a woman’s ‘untouched’ status when getting married. Frankly, I don’t understand any of it. But I can see that you’re most upset. Do you want to tell me mo
re?”
Bea bit her lip. “I feel I must tell you everything. So no one blames Caro, you know. She tried so hard to take care of me.”
“And, by the looks of it, she did her job well.”
“It was all my fault. I believed the lies of my fiancé. Well, I thought we were engaged.”
“You were not?”
She let out a breath. Best to tell it all. “Not officially. He’d only had to get his father’s approval and we were to be wed. He assured me that it was forthcoming. And, so I let him…But, as it turned out, I was not the only woman he’d proposed marriage to.”
Michael scooted over next to her and gently placed his arm around her shoulders. “Beatrice, you don’t have to say any more. I’ll call him out and defend your honor. He should be punished for his ruse.”
Bea shook her head, a sudden vision of him on the dueling field. With his only having one eye, he’d surely be the one to die.
“Oh, no. There’s no need for that.”
“Well, I’ve been warned about dueling. The authorities would certainly not understand.”
“Good thing. I wouldn’t want you to be killed because of my foolishness.”
“It was Andrew Hudgins, wasn’t it?”
Bea pulled back. “I can’t…”
He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t run him through. But, Beatrice, I implore you to change your mind about running away. You know Ash will keep you safe, no matter what. And, he certainly can keep that wretch Bainbridge at bay.”
“I know he can. But for a woman born only to a minor title, no money to speak of, living off the kindness of her brother-in-law doesn’t seem right somehow.”
“We all have expectations placed upon us, you know. I have to return to London and resume my family’s business, though I’d much prefer staying in this broken-down cottage to that.”
Bea pulled away from him. “Truly? You’d give up everything?”
“Without even a thought.” He looked away for a moment. “All of the titles and wealth have not brought me happiness, and that’s the truth of it.”
“Oh. I never thought of that. I’m sorry.” And she was. “What a useless girl I am to only think of myself.”
“Not at all. You’re in a difficult position. For what it’s worth, you’ve been doing a fine job standing up to all that’s been put upon you. Ash is very fond of you, you know. And Amelia told me she couldn’t love you more if you were her very own daughter. And, I must admit, I’ve enjoyed your company from the very first night we met.”
“Oh.” Bea thought she might cry. “That first night…” She started, but her courage waned—as it always had—and she found she could say no more.
“I remember seeing you, so beautiful in your gold dress. I was enthralled by the way you navigated the room, as though you tread only on clouds.”
Bea’s mouth suddenly went dry. “I thought you were quite handsome, as well,” she started. “In fact, I’d hoped we’d become better acquainted from the start. You cut quite the dashing figure, you know.”
He smiled at her and Bea’s heart fairly melted. “I suppose we both were at our very best that night.”
Then, without saying another word, he leaned in and kissed her, his lips touching hers so lightly that for a moment, she thought he might change his mind and pull away. Beatrice opened her mouth for him, reaching her right arm around his neck and gently pulling him down to deepen their kiss.
Without hesitation, he wrapped both his arms around her, pulling her against him, so that even through the layers of her gown and his coat, she felt the riotous heat that burned within him.
That was when she knew it. Though they weren’t destined to be together, that theirs would be an affair that would be doomed from the beginning, she didn’t care. She wanted him to make love to her. She wanted to know what a real man’s love was, and not some blithering fool like Andrew’s had been.
Somewhere deep in her heart she knew that Michael would be a gentle lover, one who would pleasure her as much as she would try to pleasure him.
“Michael,” she said, breathless and very surprised she could speak at all, “I want you.”
He pulled back for a moment. “Beatrice”—he shook his head—“this is wrong. I’m wrong.”
“No. You’re not. You’re just what I need.” He started to pull back more but she held him. “Please. I know I don’t deserve a man as good and as kind as you. But I want this. I need this. I’ve long cared for you and I know I have a long, empty future in front of me. Please. Give me this night.”
—
Michael knew it was a mistake. The moment he touched her, when he breathed in her soft womanly scent, when he opened himself and pulled in her warm embrace and at the last, when he tasted her sweet kiss.
He should have known better.
“What’s wrong?” Beatrice asked him once the kiss had ended.
Taking a breath, Michael looked at her a long moment. Was he strong enough to tell her the truth? That her brother-in-law had asked him to convince her to marry him? While it had been his intention to coax her into matrimony, he hadn’t truly known what he’d been agreeing to. He thought he could convince her to agree to a short ceremony, a couple of public appearances, perhaps. But now he knew none of that was possible. If he married Beatrice, he’d take her into his bed and into his heart.
Ash had known and he’d even tried to convince Michael the truth of it, but he’d not wanted to listen.
“It’s nothing. It’s getting colder. We should get back now.”
She pulled away from him then. “No.”
“No?” He pulled away from her. “What do you mean, no?”
“I want this and so do you. You certainly don’t deny it?”
Michael was at a loss for words. It would be so easy to fall into her arms, to lift her skirts and…
“If I…if we did this, then I’d be taking advantage of you, Beatrice.”
“You think I’m a child? I’ve been with a man before.”
Although her words stung him, he sat silent a moment. Before speaking again, he took her hands in his, ran his thumbs across her palms, and studied the delicate bones of each hand.
“While you may have had a hurried tumble with that half-witted randy puffin, I assure you, dear Beatrice, that you know not what it is to be made love to. You are innocent of true, powerful desire and to satisfy the needs of a man who knows how to love a woman.”
She gasped when he pulled her hard against his chest, whimpered when he kissed her, really kissed her. In that moment he went as far as he could with her without throwing her to the ground and finishing the deed.
He’d expected her to pull away, to cry out in pain and indignation, but she did neither, instead softening herself for him, molding her body around his. She’d opened completely for him, body and soul, and, damned fool that he was, he could no longer resist the urge to answer her desires.
“Beatrice,” he began, but she kissed him again and his words disappeared.
“Michael,” she pleaded, her eyes half closed and her body going limp in his arms. “I want you,” she said in a full throaty voice that set his body on fire.
“Be very careful what you ask for, sweet Beatrice. Because, when we start on this journey, there is no chance of turning back.”
“I know,” she said, her voice trembling. “Once I get on that ship, I will be a different person. A respectable lady in a new place and the old Beatrice will no longer exist. No one will know.”
“I’ll know,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes, but I can trust you to never tell, can’t I?”
Michael felt like the worst sort of beast. “Yes.”
“Good. Tonight I want to be the old Beatrice. Will you do that for me?”
His chest tightened. How could he possibly deny her?
And then, Ash’s words came back to him. The only way to save her is to convince her to get married…
His mind worked at lightning speed. W
hat Beatrice wanted and what she needed were two entirely different things. Precious time was running out, especially if Ringsley and her staff had any say about it. The day the ship launched for America was fast approaching, and if he was to convince Beatrice to stay, then he had precious little time to do it.
Asking her to marry him would prove fruitless, since she’d already refused so many. No. He’d have to make her fall in love with him, which was the most perilous action of all—for both of them.
“Yes,” he answered, and as if his body had suddenly come alive he pulled her closer, held her tighter, and kissed her as though both their lives depended on it. Beatrice softened in his arms and the entire world disappeared as they tumbled to the ground.
—
Beatrice held her breath waiting for Michael’s answer. The sound of the gentle breezes around them, the crackling tree branches moving above them, and the birds chirping were no more distracting than that of her own heart beating wildly in her chest. She wasn’t sure whether or not he was going to agree. A mixture of anxiety and excitement ran through her.
While she could think of a future on her own, she could not think of the night not spent in Michael’s arms. Months of longing, difficult desire, and aching regret had propelled her to this moment, but it would not be complete if he refused her now.
“Yes,” he said.
That moment, her world changed. She was no longer the girl who had allowed a man to push his attentions on her, shaming her into opening her legs for him. None of that.
This was what she’d ached for since the day she’d met Michael. And when he pulled her into his embrace, she drank from the fire of his kisses and warmed herself in the sweet blaze. The next thing she knew, he was there, kissing her, sliding his hands from her neck to her shoulders and back.
“Please,” she whimpered, her body trembling from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes. She fairly vibrated from the want of him, around her and inside her, though deep in her heart a small fear stirred. Would he really be able to open that part of her, the part that Hudgins had ripped apart and left broken and closed within her?