by Cheryl Holt
She stormed out and slammed the door.
He sighed and refilled his drink.
* * * *
Abigail strolled down the deserted beach, stepping over driftwood and warily watching the waves rolling to shore so none of them caught her unawares and ruined her shoes.
The lazy summer day seemed to last forever. The sun was about to set, and the temperature was cooling. She pulled her shawl more tightly around her body.
The evening star was bright in the western sky, and she gazed at it and whispered the prayers she always offered, for her parents and her brother, Hayden, that they would rest in peace. For her sisters, Sarah and Catherine, that they were safe and happy. And now, she was grateful to add two more family members—Mary and Millie—to her nightly list.
She prayed for guidance in her care of them. She prayed that she would figure out how to remain by their side.
She’d been at Wallace Downs for such a short interval, and she’d made every stupid error which was perplexing. Usually, she was smart and shrewd. She didn’t blunder into untenable situations or engage in rash conduct.
Because she was lonely and alone, she’d landed in an impossible quagmire with Alex Wallace. And for what?
He wasn’t the sort of person who would marry her, and even if he evinced an interest she could never wed someone who was scorned and condemned by all. Her greatest dream was to return to society, and with his reputation in tatters he could never take her there.
She was incredibly confused by his behavior toward her and couldn’t deal with it. He had a mistress with whom he’d been allied for years so why was he bothering with Abigail?
There was only one reason. He enjoyed the chase and the thrill of an illicit affair. He was eager to seduce her, but once he succeeded she could predict exactly what would happen: He’d fire her, and she’d never see her nieces again.
Why would she deliberately jeopardize her job, her future, and her place with the twins? And all for a man she didn’t really desire and couldn’t ever have.
He’d bought her a wardrobe of clothes, and initially as she’d sifted through the boxes she’d been giddy with delight. But the gifts were dangerous. They’d enraged Miss Robertson and had alerted the servants to the fact that Abigail must have entered into a salacious arrangement to earn them.
In a dazed muddle, she’d shown the pile to Faith, and Faith had simply clucked her tongue with dismay.
I told you he was too sophisticated for you. He wants something, and you know what it is. You’d be insane to give it to him.
Even though every item was beautiful and all the gowns would probably fit perfectly, she hadn’t tried them on. She’d been terrified the twins might stumble on them and ask questions she couldn’t answer.
She’d folded and repacked all of it, then she’d stacked the lot of it in the corner of her bedchamber. She was anxious to send them back to the emporium where they’d been acquired, but she couldn’t bear to offend or embarrass Alex. She merely wished she had a magic wand that she could point at the parcels and have them vanish.
She was quite a distance from the cottage, and it was time to head back. She spun and began walking in the other direction. Far down the beach, a man appeared on a white horse. The animal was loping along, the man riding without a saddle. He looked comfortable and confident, as if he’d spent his life on a horse.
She narrowed her focus, curious to ascertain who it was, but he was approaching so quickly that his identity rapidly became clear.
She hadn’t realized he was back, and she wondered if he’d been searching for her. At the prospect, excitement surged and she fought to tamp it down, but it was impossible. What was wrong with her? She’d just sworn she’d never succumb to his attentions again, but she was practically bursting with ecstasy.
Was she mad? Very likely so.
The horse neared, and he tugged on the reins, but didn’t wait for the animal to stop completely. With the agility of a circus performer, he leapt to the ground and marched over to her.
“I missed you,” he said. “I missed you every second.”
Yet that was all he could manage.
He drew her to him, then he was kissing her and kissing her. His body was pressed to hers all the way down, and his hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, touching her as if to assure himself that she was real and he was holding her once again.
During the period he was away, she’d warned herself to buck up, to ignore his seduction, to cease acting like a silly debutante. But with his overtly demonstrating his fondness, she couldn’t pretend to be indifferent.
She joined in the passionate embrace and was stunned by their vehemence. Who kissed like this? Who carried on right out in the open where anyone could see? They were clutching and grabbing as if they’d fallen overboard and were trying to find purchase in deep water. Or perhaps they were plunging down and down.
Where would they be when they landed at the bottom? She couldn’t imagine.
They continued forever, not speaking, not slowing until the sun dipped below the horizon. The sky faded to violet, then indigo. A breeze kicked up, and the air grew chilly.
She shivered, and finally—finally!—he pulled away. His grin was cocky, his eyes alight with mischief.
“Tell me you missed me too,” he said.
“I missed you too. I was planning to deny it, but I can’t.”
“What’s happening to us?”
“I have no idea.”
He gazed up at the stars that were popping out one by one. “When I was banished from England, I would stand on foreign beaches and remember this precise spot. I would vow to myself that I would make it home someday. No matter what, I would make it home.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“I can’t squander a single minute of my being here. I feel like I’ve been wandering in circles without taking advantage of where I am, and I refuse to feel that way anymore.”
“What do you want instead?”
“I want you,” he baldly admitted.
She chuckled to ward off the seriousness of his tone. “Well, you can’t have me.”
“We’ll see what I get in the end.”
It sounded like a threat and a promise, and her pulse raced with dread. He thoroughly overwhelmed her so how could she behave rationally with regard to him? How could she ever say no and mean it?
She shivered again, and he said, “Let’s hurry to the cottage so you don’t freeze to death.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Not when I’ve just been kissing you. I could have dawdled all night.”
He turned them toward the house, and he had an arm draped over her shoulder. They strolled side by side, his grip on her possessive and intimate, and she didn’t attempt to draw away or put any space between them.
His horse plodded behind them, and she sensed it was watching them, and it seemed to be perplexed by their folly. Obviously, the animal was smarter than they were.
As they reached the path that meandered through the beach grass, it was completely dark. But the moon was up so it wasn’t difficult to detect the route.
They whispered and tiptoed, neither of them anxious for the occupants in the cottage to observe them sneaking in. The twins were supposed to be in bed, and Faith was probably painting in her shed, but Abigail couldn’t face any of them.
They stopped by the rear door, and he asked, “What time will you finish your lessons tomorrow?”
“Around three.”
“I’d like to have a picnic with you and the twins. At the last one, I told them I’d join you again, but then I had to leave for London with Price.”
“You want to have a picnic? With me and the twins?”
“Yes. I’ll send over a basket of food from the manor.” He stole another kiss. “Wear one of your new dresses.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he insisted.
> “It would cause too much trouble. While you were in the city, there was an incident where—”
He placed a finger on her lips to silence her. “I know what transpired, and you shouldn’t fret over it. I’m determined to see you in a pretty gown.”
“What about Miss Robertson? She was so upset.”
“Don’t worry about her.”
“I do worry about her. And what about the servants? What if they gossip or criticize me?”
“They better not have an opinion. If I choose to give you a gift, it’s none of their business, and if they think it is they can find a job somewhere else.”
She snorted with disgust. It was easy for him to believe they wouldn’t judge her. She had to live among them, and they’d be quick to condemn.
She leaned nearer and murmured, “You’re insane.”
“Yes, I always have been.”
“I can’t wear any of the clothes!”
“Yes, you can. Tomorrow at three.”
He spun and went to his horse. He led the animal into the beach grass and disappeared into the shadows. Shortly, she heard him riding away, the horse’s hooves pounding across the sand as he galloped for the manor.
He hadn’t been back for two seconds, and she’d broken every vow she’d made. She’d ignored every pledge. She’d lied to herself and dug herself into an even worse predicament. He only had to smile, and she was putty in his hands.
What would happen now? What would become of her? She blew out a heavy breath and staggered inside.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Price slouched in a chair in the sitting room of the suite he always used when he visited Alex. The housekeeper kept it ready for him so he could stop in without notice.
He was drinking and waiting for Faith to sneak in. He’d arrived late, after dark. There hadn’t been many servants to greet or tend him, and he was sufficiently vain to be irked by their lack of regard.
Apparently, there had been an incident in the house. The place was emptier than it had been, as if the guests had all departed. Had there been an argument? A scandal? A fight?
He couldn’t imagine Alex allowing or tolerating any discord, but in light of the miscreants and doxies he usually welcomed into his home, any outrageous event might have occurred.
He’d asked after Alex and Camilla, but Alex was out and Camilla had flitted off to town. With her not on the premises to crack the whip, domestic affairs had rapidly deteriorated, but he supposed the butler would fix things quickly enough.
After Price had eaten and washed, he’d sent a simple note to Faith: I’m back. He was pompously certain she would rush over to be with him.
He didn’t know why he’d returned to Wallace Downs. Well, he knew, but he was disgusted with himself for coming. He should have stayed in town, should have stayed far away from Alex and Faith. But as with so much of his life, he made bad decisions.
They were the only genuine friends he’d ever had. He wanted to talk to Alex about what he’d agreed to do. He desperately needed Alex to tell him it was the correct move, that he’d behaved appropriately for a change. And he wanted to be comforted by Faith’s steady, intriguing presence. He was anxious to spend a few more hours with her before he wrecked their bond forever.
She tiptoed in, and after she’d locked the door she studied him and frowned.
“You look like hell,” she said. “It must have been a rough trip.”
“It was.”
“Alex told me you merely drank and caroused, but that’s your customary routine so why would it exhaust you? Are you growing old on me? Are you getting too decrepit to revel?”
“I think so.”
“Just my luck. I’ve finally managed to latch onto you, and you’re too feeble to keep up with me.”
She grinned a saucy grin and sashayed over. His glass of whiskey was full, and she took it from him and downed the contents.
“I didn’t feel like sharing,” he complained.
“Don’t be stingy.” She pointed to the half-empty decanter. “You have plenty.”
As if to spite him, she poured herself another glass and downed that too, but he didn’t mind her imbibing. She had an ethical streak a mile long, and alcohol pushed it out of the way.
“Are you pouting?” she asked as she snuggled herself on his lap.
“Not pouting precisely.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I’m despondent.”
“You’re such a baby,” she sarcastically said. “What happened? Let me guess. Your father was mean, and no beautiful women fawned over you as they should have.”
“Yes, that pretty much covers it.”
She laughed. “I can’t figure out why you go to town. It only makes you miserable.”
“I can’t figure it out either.” He gestured around, indicating the manor. “What debacle ensued while I was away? It seems the guests have fled, and Alex and Camilla have both vanished too.”
“Alex is probably off seducing Miss Barrington. Or he’s trying to.”
Price scowled. “I don’t want to hear about it. It upsets me to learn he’s being stupid. What about Camilla? Evidently, she traveled to London on the spur of the moment.”
“Yes, and you won’t believe why.”
“Why?”
“Alex bought Miss Barrington a wardrobe of new clothes!”
“What is he thinking?” Price’s scowl deepened. “He had to realize how much trouble it would cause.”
“He doesn’t care.”
“Camilla must be very angry. How did she find out about it?”
“The deliveryman brought the clothes to the manor rather than the cottage. She assumed they were for her, and she opened the boxes by mistake.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake.”
“She had to accept the fact that Alex is sweet on the governess and planning to blatantly trifle with her so she left.”
“Is she coming back?” he asked. “Might I hope she’s gone for good?”
“No. She’ll be back in three weeks. She’s betting Alex will fornicate with Miss Barrington, then weary of her once the chase is over.”
“Will he?”
Faith scoffed. “If you could see how he looks at her, you’d concur with me that he’ll likely never be over her.”
“But she’s the governess. It’s like a plot out of a badly-written novel.”
“Or perhaps it’s simply family history repeating itself. It appears the Wallace men can’t resist lowborn women. Their servants in particular.”
It was always a dicey subject with her, and he could never determine which comments were suitable and which ones weren’t.
Occasionally, she’d joke about her father’s obsession and what a fool her mother had been. Then other times, she’d feel sorry for her mother, would deride her father for being a pompous ass who’d pressured her mother unmercifully.
Price’s own father hadn’t imparted many valuable lessons, but he’d been clear on one important rule: Don’t tumble the servants. It never ended in a positive way.
“Will he move Miss Barrington into the manor?” he inquired. “Will she replace Camilla?”
“I like to think she’s smarter than that, but you know what Alex is like. She’s lonely and all alone in the world so she’s not strong enough to ignore that sort of temptation.”
“Gad, what a tangle,” he muttered.
He couldn’t abide the notion of drama and upheaval at Wallace Downs. His friendship with Alex and his clandestine amour with Faith were the two bedrocks of his life. The estate was a kind of oasis where he could just be himself, where naught was expected of him so he was never chastised or reprimanded for any conduct he chose to exhibit.
Yet with his own family matters swiftly coalescing in London, this would probably be his last visit so he wanted Alex and Faith to be limping along in the same condition he typically found them to be.
“Let’s not worry a
bout them,” she said.
“All right, let’s not.”
“How can I put a smile on your face?”
“That’s easy. You can crawl into my bed and stay there until something interesting occurs for once.”
She wrinkled up her nose. “You always claim a sexual dalliance will cure what ails you.”
“That’s because it always does.”
“I almost succumbed when I was here before.”
“Yes, and I allowed that idiotic footman to spoil the mood.”
“Have you ordered any deliveries this evening?” she asked.
“No.”
“So there’s no one to knock on the door.”
“No one who could persuade me to answer.”
Their chatty banter ceased, and she leaned in and kissed him, her expression endearing and exquisite.
“My poor, poor viscount,” she said. “What am I to do with you?”
“You know what to do. I truly believe there’s only one way to make me feel better.”
“If I relented, you’d be too much of a coward to follow through.”
“Why don’t you try me and see if you’re correct?”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, her pert breasts crushed to his chest. He liked everything about her, her size and shape and confident, cocky attitude.
Would he ever meet another woman like her? He doubted it.
“Would you give me a painting someday?” When she looked as if she’d refuse, he said, “Not to sell or show to anybody. I’d hang it in my private quarters for my own personal enjoyment.”
“Your request sounds dreadfully maudlin. You’re not on your deathbed.”
“No.”
“I might let you have one.”
“May I pick my favorite?”
“I suppose—so long as you don’t need a month to decide. You dither forever, and your waffling drives me batty.”
She understood him so well, and it hurt to realize there would likely never again be a female to whom he was so intimately attached. He chuckled with amusement, convinced of one pertinent fact.