Adored In Autumn

by Jess Michaels

  Those deeper traumas that came from the fact that she had played God in that horrible final moment between her and her husband. Right or wrong in her motivation, the fact remained that the moment lingered, casting a shadow over her.

  “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t done it,” she said.

  He tensed and she waited for him to interrupt, to deny her that reaction. He didn’t. She could see him fighting, but he didn’t try to take her feelings away because they made him uncomfortable.

  “Do you wish you had let him kill you?” he asked, tone carefully neutral. “To avoid doing the same to him?”

  She thought of that question for a moment and realized that wasn’t it. “No,” she admitted softly. “I just wish…I wish he had never put me in that situation. I wish he’d never hurt me. I wish he’d never forced my hand. I wish I’d not been so foolish as to marry a monster like that. That is what I wish.”

  He wiped tears from her cheeks, ones she hadn’t even realized were falling. Tears of grief for herself, grief for the man who should have been a better husband to her, grief for the life she had dreamed of that had been torn away from her. Grief for all that might still come because of what she’d done.

  “You told me when I first came back that you blamed me for walking away from you. That you blamed me for breaking your heart and opening you up to Barbridge. What I wish, more than anything in this world, is that I had stayed.” He pushed her hair away from her face. “I wish I hadn’t allowed myself to be turned away from you. If I could have spared you this…”

  “Allowed yourself to be turned away from me?” she repeated, confused by the phrase. “What do you mean?”

  He froze, his eyes widening, like he had said too much. “Felicity…” he whispered.

  She cocked her head. There was only one person she could think of who would have interfered in whatever feelings were between them all those years ago.

  “Did your…did your father push you away from me?”

  He hesitated for what felt like forever, and then he said, “He found out about the kiss.” It was almost like he was being careful with the words he chose. “And he was angry. He’d had some bad experiences in his past—it was why he always reminded me of my place. He pushed me to take your mother’s offer of an education. He told me it would not be made twice. And he reminded me that you and I…that could never be.”

  She thought of what Celia had told her earlier. About John not believing he deserved happiness and how it had nearly driven them apart. And she thought of the question her friend had asked her at the time.

  Did she want the future she sometimes saw in Asher’s eyes?

  “I’m…afraid of you, Asher,” she admitted softly.

  His eyes went wide, filled with apprehension and confusion. “Afraid of me?” he repeated. “Felicity, you know I would never hurt you. Never.”

  She smiled. “I’m afraid of me, too. Because…” She drew a deep breath. “Because everything I wanted that night all those years ago when we kissed, everything I hoped we could be…I still want those things. And it terrifies me beyond measure because I already know what it’s like to lose you. To lose a part of myself. I’m not sure I can risk it again.”

  He stared down at her, lips parted at her confession. Her hand was pressed to his chest and she felt his heart pounding through his jacket. She lifted the same hand to his neck, drawing him down and kissing him.

  It felt like he was fighting the kiss for a moment, fighting where the kiss would lead, but then he let out a low sound of possessive pleasure and his arms came harder around her, his lips moved against hers. She shivered with need and arched against him in silent request for more.

  “Felicity,” he grunted, tearing his mouth from hers. “We can’t. We can’t do this.”

  “Please,” she whispered as she dragged one hand down his chest, settled it against his lap where she felt the hard evidence that he wanted her even if he would deny them both. “Please just give me this. We both know it’s likely the last time.”

  He frowned, but didn’t deny her statement. Nor did he refuse her request. With a ragged moan, he pulled her over him, her skirts bunching between them as she straddled his lap. She drove her fingers into his hair, angling her face to kiss him deeper, harder. Her mind emptied of all fear and peace settled over her as he placed his hands on her hips and tugged her flush against him.

  She ground down over him, finding sensation even in this restricted movement. She gasped, breaking the kiss as she writhed, reaching for release, needing it as much as she needed breath or food or water. He held tight to her, watching her as she sought relief before they’d even joined their bodies. And when ripples of release moved through her, he smiled like her pleasure brought him just as much.

  Her breath was short as she reached between them, unfastening the placard on his trousers with shaking fingers. He popped free and she practically purred. Touching him was something she never got tired of doing. She watched him as she stroked over him, reveling in the warmth and hardness of his body, so different from her own.

  He growled out pleasure, his dark eyes flashing with out of control need as he shoved at her skirts, pushing them over her hips, away from their bodies. She moved over him, guiding him to her slick, still tremoring entrance and sank down, joining them in one long, slow thrust.

  She rested her forehead on his with a contented sigh. “Yes, this is what I need.”

  The carriage jolted as they turned a corner and his hands tightened on her hips as their bodies rocked together. She smiled at the shocking increase in pleasure and began to roll her hips in time to the rhythm of the horses’ hooves. He lifted into her, his breath growing short, his eyes glazing with focused need. There was no finesse to this joining, but at that moment she didn’t want or need finesse.

  She wanted his driving desire. She wanted out-of-control pleasure. She wanted heat and slick need and to make him shatter like he always made her shatter.

  She rocked into him, holding tight to his shoulders, keeping her gaze locked with his. His face was taut with need, with satisfaction, and every time she ground down hard against him he caught his breath. And she did this to him. This man who was so strong came undone because of her.

  That was the greatest gift. And the knowledge of it only increased her need, pressed her body right back to the knife edge of release. As if he sensed it, he cupped her head and drew her down, kissing her deeply as he rotated his hips up into hers. She flew off the cliff, soaring to greater heights than ever before, free from thought and judgment, only ruled by pleasure as her body trembled and jolted in release.

  He shifted then, turning her gently so she was pressed to the carriage wall. He thrust against her a few more times and then he withdrew, turning away as he came with a relieved growl.

  He collapsed against the seat next to her, gathering her close to him as she rested her head against his chest. Neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was perfect. Like they were in a bubble, cut off from everything else, never having to face the consequences of the past or present, never having to look into the future.

  But of course, it didn’t last. He finally sighed. “Our hour is almost up, I fear.”

  As if to accentuate that statement, he pushed the curtain aside and looked. “We’re heading back to your brother’s home.”

  She nodded as she slid her skirts back into place. He fixed himself, as well, then leaned in to kiss her once more before he retook his place away from her. Across a divide that felt like it had grown to more than just a carriage aisle.

  When they returned, Dane might be back from his interrogation. That past and present and future Felicity had been avoiding would now come settling upon her.

  And even the memory of what she’d just shared with Asher wouldn’t be enough to save her.

  Felicity clung to Asher’s arm as they entered the parlor, but she wished she could hold his hand. There was something more comforting about that kind o
f intimacy. But that wasn’t the kind of bond they could share. Not in his mind. And not in front of her brothers.

  Her thoughts fled as they entered the room and found Dane was standing with the rest. He turned when they came in and his face was grim.

  “What is it?” she asked, pulling away from Asher. She had to. In the end, these were her consequences. Hers and her family’s, God help them all.

  Dane’s hard, intelligent face was filled with remorse. “I waited until you came back to tell everyone. I wanted you to hear it first.”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  He seemed to understand, for he shifted his posture to a more formal one before he said, “I talked to Beckford and was able to get more information. It was Fitzgilbert who bought the pages of the book that contained your secret, Felicity. I’m sorry.”

  The room exploded then. Gray came off the couch where he’d been sitting with Rosalinde, his angular face red and filled with rage. “God damn it!” he bellowed.

  Stenfax moved on their brother, as did Rosalinde. They were all talking at once now, but Felicity blocked it all out as she stared just at their faces. Each one of these people cared for her. Loved her. And even without listening to them, she knew they would throw themselves on the fire of her life right along with her.

  They would sacrifice themselves and their futures. As would Asher. For her. They would all be hurt because of her, just as Asher had been injured earlier in the day by Beckford.

  She would be given no option to handle this on her own. She could only imagine what her brothers would say if she suggested it.

  She backed away a few steps as they continued to argue, and thought of Gregory Fitzgilbert. She’d had the displeasure of knowing Celia and Rosalinde’s grandfather during Celia and Stenfax’s ill-fated engagement. She recalled his coldness, his cruelty. And she knew he had attacked Rosalinde not a year before.

  But was he so very different from her? His secret, the secret of Rosalinde and Celia’s true father…she had to imagine there was pain behind his dark holding of that truth. Certainly, he couldn’t be only a monster, could he?

  Her mind spun on that possibility. On a wild idea that made her stomach flutter when she considered it.

  What if she went to the man? Not to go to war, as her brothers and John would do. Not to demand the truth as Celia and Rosalinde might. But what if she went to him and just talked to him? Their secrets gave them something in common now.

  And at least she would be taking control of her future by trying it. Not allowing everyone else to sacrifice for her, as she had with her servants who had covered up the shooting or her family who would go to battle for her.

  This was a chance to fix this. For herself. To take back some of what Barbridge had stolen from her all those years.

  Everyone was still arguing. They didn’t even notice when she slipped out of the room. But she knew that wouldn’t last long and she’d have to hurry.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’ll kill him,” Gray raged, his hands flexing at his sides.

  “Love,” Rosalinde said, her tone soft as she held his hand in both of hers. “Please.”

  “No,” he said, looking at her closely, lifting fingers to touch her throat before he winced in pain. “I should have done it a year ago when he dared to touch you.”

  Asher’s eyes grew wide as Rosalinde caught Gray’s cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Normally she was so gentle, but now her tone was sharp when she said, “Look at me, Gray. If you pursue him, if you hurt him, it won’t help me or our child.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence in the room and then Gray’s expression changed from stormy skies to something softer. Something Asher had never seen or thought existed in him when they were children. Love of this woman had changed his friend.

  For the better.

  “A baby?” Elise said softly.

  Now the couple turned to the room as a whole. Only Celia didn’t seem surprised by this news—she beamed at her sister.

  “Yes,” Gray said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. “This isn’t exactly how we intended to reveal our news, but Rosalinde is with child. We expect a son or daughter early next year.”

  John, Elise and Stenfax all moved on the couple, offering their congratulations with hugs and handshakes. Asher stood aside, happy for them, but still wrapped up more in Felicity’s well-being.

  “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Elise asked.

  “With everything going on, we didn’t think it the time. Were we wrong, Felicity?” As he said her name, Gray looked around the room. Asher did the same and his heart sank. She was not there.

  Rosalinde’s hand came to cover her belly. “Did our news drive her away?”

  Asher stepped forward. “I’m certain not! She would be nothing but happy for you. But she was very upset by news that her secret has been sold. We should look for her.”

  “Yes,” Stenfax said, leading the way out of the parlor. They were met in the foyer by his butler. “Stevens, have you seen my sister?”

  The gentleman blinked. “She asked for the carriage a short time ago.”

  Asher jolted forward. “The carriage? She left?”

  The servant shifted at his tone. “Yes, sir.”

  “Did she say where she was going?” Stenfax asked.

  “Not to me, I’m afraid. Can I get you anything, my lord?”

  Asher turned toward Gray and Stenfax. “You two should go with the ladies and see if Felicity went to your mother’s. John and I will go to Fitzgilbert’s and deal with that situation.”

  Gray lunged toward him. “We bloody well won’t go to our mother’s. Fitzgilbert is more my problem than yours, Asher. And Felicity is my sister.”

  “Which is why she needs you at her side,” Asher said softly. “Rather than you and Stenfax losing your heads with Fitzgilbert. There is no time to argue it. Go with Stenfax and the ladies and try to comfort your sister.”

  Stenfax met Asher’s gaze for a moment, then the earl took Gray’s arm gently. “He is right. We will do more good for Felicity at her side. Stevens, call for the carriage. We’re going to my mother’s.”

  The butler had been standing by, disappearing into the woodwork until his name was spoken. Now he hurried to do as he was told while the ladies went to gather shawls and reticules. Quickly they were loaded into the vehicle and Stenfax leaned out the open window with a stern look for Dane and Asher.

  “Do what you can,” he said. “Dane, you know the kind of man Fitzgilbert is. Whatever you need to do, whatever he wants, if we can provide it, do it. For her.”

  “For her,” Asher repeated, his heart aching for Felicity.

  The carriage pulled away then and horses were brought up behind it. Dane smiled as he swung up on his mount. “You handled that well.”

  Asher sighed heavily. “I know Gray. He’s loyal to a fault. If he came with us, we might end up with another murder on our hands and that would be good for no one. But if he stays with Felicity, it will help her. She needs that strength and support now.”

  “And you didn’t want to go with them? To her?” Dane said softly as they rode out of the gate and into the street.

  Asher shook his head, hardly seeing the path before him as they weaved in and out of traffic. “Of course I want to go with her. But if I come empty handed, with no hope, all I’ll be providing is empty platitudes. I owe her more than that. My place is here, my place is to convince this bastard, by any means necessary, to set her free.”

  “Well, I may have some leverage for that,” Dane said with a grim press of his lips. “I got more information from Beckford than I told everyone else. Information that might help us turn Fitzgilbert to our way of thinking.”

  “And what is that?” Asher asked.

  “He’s been war profiteering,” Dane said, his voice angry and low. “How I didn’t realize it a few months ago, I don’t know. He was very good at laying lines of others between us. Very good at covering his tracks. B
ut that is part of the secret he bought from Beckford, not just the identity of Celia and Rosalinde’s father.”

  “Bastard,” Asher spat, understanding the hatred that all his friends seemed to have for the man. “But at least we’re riding in with the upper hand. At least we know we’re the ones with all the surprises. And if we’re lucky, we can end this today. Before Felicity suffers any further.”

  Felicity had been offered a chair in Gregory Fitzgilbert’s parlor, but she couldn’t stay in it. Instead, she paced the room, questioning herself about the prudence of this action. Was she being a fool? After all, she knew this man had once physically attacked Rosalinde in a fit of rage.

  Which only went to show that the man was emotionally compromised by the secrets he had recently purchased. And since she had no role in those secrets, she had to believe he could be reasoned with.

  Or at least she hoped he could be.

  The door to the parlor opened and she turned to face Fitzgilbert as he entered. She couldn’t help but catch her breath. When she’d met the man a year ago, he’d been heavier, healthier. Now he was thin, gaunt even. He had a shock of white hair, and bright blue eyes that matched those of Rosalinde and Celia to perfection.

  But while their eyes were warm and full of love, when Felicity looked at Fitzgilbert, all she saw was emptiness. It put her to mind of her late husband and her hands began to shake before she shoved them behind her back.

  “I expected a call from someone in your wretched family,” Fitzgilbert said as he shut the door behind himself. “But not you, Lady Barbridge. I am rarely surprised anymore, so good show.”

  She flinched at his cold tone, at the wicked smile that turned up his lips when he spoke those words. He made her want to run. To hide. To surrender to whatever fate he would deem she suffer.

  But then she thought of Asher. Asher, who believed she had strength. She thought of her family, who would fall alongside of her if she let this go on.