“I will close the curtains, sister, if it offends you so much,” Bridget offered, only as an excuse to get up and take one last peek out of the window at the powerful young body of her new employee.
As she reached up for the curtain, he waved over to her. She dare not respond for fear of the women seeing her, instead she smiled as she drew the large curtains together.
“Are you well enough for a game of Bridge, sister?” she asked Gertrude, knowing that was her favorite pastime and would soon divert her mind to other things. For Bridget though, her mind would be thinking about the half-naked Tristan for the rest of this day, at the very least.
Chapter 6
Tristan could not help his imagination running riot with desire, every time he looked upon the mistress of the house. Lady Bridget Hexley was stunning. Even though she was a lady and he a mere gardener’s son, he felt certain that she felt the same way. If only they had met in a different life, a life where they had been equals, and unattached, so he could hold her and kiss her, and they could make love in the meadow.
He had been raised to be a considerate person, a gentleman to the opposite sex, and a man of good manners, but he would give all that up just to steal one kiss from Lady Bridget. He could not understand why a beautiful woman such as her, would be married to a much older man as the Lord Hexley. She must be very bored with her husband, he felt sure they would have little in common. She needed a strong, young man like him, to satisfy her needs, or so he liked to dream in his head.
The day he had been cutting back the branches on the oak, he had spotted her watching him from the window. Even from that distance he could see a longing in her face as she watched him. It was not until the other ladies had joined her, that she finally tore her eyes away from him. Yes, he was certain that she felt the same way that he did, but moving on with that would be difficult. If he had misjudged her, or if they were caught, it would be disastrous for all concerned, including his father.
Tristan was a man of confidence and strength, his parents had provided everything they could to ensure this. His mother had died when he was twelve, but his father continued to be a pillar of strength. He loved his father and knew that if he gave in to his desires, he would risk his father’s home and income. Whilst he did not wish to do this, he knew he could not resist the Lady’s invitation, should it ever happen. The fact that he would only be here a few months probably meant that nothing would happen, and his father should be safe from any indiscretions.
There were plenty of other attractive young females around the household and the local village, but Tristan had no interest, the only one to alight his desire was the good Lady Hexley. He thought they had almost kissed when she was instructing him over the water feature, but she must have got cold feet. Every time he saw her, even from a distance, his heart pounded so hard that he thought it might burst through his chest.
His father was keeping him busy, so he was grateful for that, but he had to keep his mind busy as well, so he would not obsess over this beautiful woman he could not have. Today he was finishing off the repairs to the roof of the small sun house, the one she frequented to read her books. He had thought of waiting until she was in there, just so he could speak with her, but he knew that it would be a mistake. If she wanted him, like he wanted her, then it was she who must approach him, not the other way round. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he was determined to leave her alone, he had no wish to spoil her or his father’s life, and that could be the result of such a dangerous liaison.
With that resolve in mind, he would go into the village this very evening and find himself a girl. He would need to be careful as he only wanted a brief relationship, no permanent catch. Not being ready for anything like that yet, he only wanted girls who were out for a bit of fun.
Going back into the army was his long term hope. He had gained much respect from his comrades and was almost promoted, but the gunshot wound at Waterloo had temporarily stopped any advancement. Still, he was one of the lucky ones; many of his comrades had died on that field in Belgium, good and stout men who served their country well. At least their deaths had not been in vain and the little Corsican troops were routed.
He had his father to thank for his skill with a gun, taking his young son with him when he had to go in search of poachers. Thanks to those skills, he had been chosen to serve with the 95th infantry rifle regiment. His father was indeed proud of his son, and Tristan, on his part, could not wait to return to wear his distinguished green uniform. But first, he had to prove he was fit again. With Napoleon defeated, he wondered if the army would still need him, though he knew his skill with a gun would go to his advantage.
All he needed to do was make sure his leg was healed, he enjoyed running and working hard, so it would not be difficult to keep pushing himself to full recovery. Granted, it was much weaker, that was why he liked to run early on a morning when everyone was still in their beds. Soon, his weakened leg would be strong again, and he would go back and see if he could get his place back in the army, and hopefully get that promotion he had been promised.
Chapter 7
“I know you had a girl in your bed last night, young Tristan, I heard you sneaking her out at dawn,” Malcolm said to his son over breakfast. “I don’t approve of such behaviour, but I like it much better than were you canoodling with the mistress of the house,” he finished.
“Da, I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s true, I did have a girl in my bed last night, but there is absolutely nothing going on between me and the Mistress,” Tristan responded.
“I’ve seen how you look at each other, Tristan. Mark my words, nothin’ good will come of it,” his father warned. “You have to leave well alone.”
“I’ve done nothing to make you talk like this to me, Da.”
“Son, I have eyes in my head, and so do all the other servants in this house. Now you make sure that you’re at the other end of the property whenever Lady Hexley is around, you hear me?”
“I’m a grown man, Da, don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” Tristan was feeling an anger boiling up at this accusation, even though it was true.
“That’s what I’m afraid of, boy, the grown up things you want to do to her Ladyship. I know she’s an attractive young woman, but she’s not in your league, you have to stop this.”
“Stop what!” Tristan shouted at his father. “What is it I’m supposed to have done?”
“The house staff are gossiping, they say she looks at you and watches you,” his father informed him.
“Since when did you listen to gossip, Da?” Tristan grabbed for his hat and jacket and stood to leave. His father had given him a day off, which was just as well as he needed to be off this land and cooling down. “I’m going for a walk, don’t expect me back until late,” he said, storming out of his father’s cottage.
“Bah, pig headedness is all it is,” Malcolm mumbled to himself. “Young uns today, they see a pretty girl and don’t know how to behave.”
Tristan walked briskly away from his father’s home, wishing, right that minute, that he never had to step foot in there ever again. He knew he’d calm down, but his father should treat him like a man, not a boy. He’d fought in battles, shot at men and been shot at in return. How could he talk to him like that? Things were changing, didn’t he know that? Old people, they expected everything to stay the same, but social unrest was increasing, the working people were rioting, and it was not going to go away. When he had joined the forces, it had been because of the workers’ uprising. Many mills had closed down because working class people would not take the abuse from the wealthy any more. His father had hummed and tutted at the Luddites, but Tristan had seen them as the future of the working class. His own factory had closed down; hence he had joined the army.
His father was simply too set in his ways. He, on the other hand, was a modern man, ready to stand up for his rights. He was a traveled man; he’d almost been posted in America when he first enlisted, bu
t was sent to France, ending up in Belgium. Tristan felt this made him a man of respect, and he would not have his father laying down rules to him anymore.
It wasn’t even as if anything had come of it all. Her Ladyship would not risk a scandal, so what was the old man worrying over? Nothing, that’s what, nothing whatsoever.
In his temper, he walked a fast pace, with no idea of where he was headed. Today he would just wander around freely, with no destination and no plans. Where he ended up, he would trust to fate.
Chapter 8
The land was beautiful and Tristan soon found himself in a secluded woodlands. Sometimes, when he found himself alone in a quiet place, he imagined he could hear gunfire, but he knew it was just memories, his imagination playing tricks. They’d never let him back in the army if they thought he was suffering from Soldiers heart, because of his battle experiences. He had bad memories of the dead, and blood, and all the noise, but he could deal with it. Like his Sergeant had said, if you never thought about it, then that would be worrying. It’s a natural way for your mind to heal. Tristan believed in this version, one day his mind would turn itself to other worries, new worries; he just did not have any new ones to worry about, just yet.
He had been walking for around two hours and the sun was high in the sky, it was going to be a beautiful day. He stomach growled and reminded him that because of his father’s lecture this morning, he had not finished his breakfast. This still annoyed him, what right did the house staff have to gossip about their mistress, didn’t they have anything better to do? If she knew of their gossip, she’d be horrified.
He walked down a clear pathway, though quite narrow and looking like it was not used very much. A large outcrop of rock loomed ahead and he decided to stop and rest. It offered a wonderful view of the valley and the surrounding countryside. He sat atop the rock and looked out over the land, this was still Hexley’s land, and his estates were vast. This was one of the injustices that made him angry, all this land owned by just one family was obscene. Still, politics aside, this part of the county was truly beautiful with green rolling hills and a river that snaked between them. He was so engrossed with the scenery that he did not hear the horse’s hooves until they were almost upon him. Looking down below, onto the path, he saw a woman riding a horse, and as she drew closer he recognized her, it was Lady Hexley. She was intently watching the path in front, so busy guiding the horse along that she failed to spot him.
He sat perfectly still for a moment, unsure of what to do. He wanted to call out to her, but his father’s warning was still fresh in his mind and whilst he was angry with him, Tristan knew that what he said made sense. He wondered at her reason for being out here alone, he doubted her husband approved, which probably meant he was away again. Deciding that the best course of action was discretion, he started to move backwards, out of her sight. As he did so, his foot dislodged a rock, which crashed onto the path below and caused lady Hexley to look up.
“Who’s up there?” Bridget called out, startled by the falling rock. “Show yourself, this is private land.”
He considered making a quick exit, but instead, he stepped forward so she could see him, and took off his hat, tipping it in greeting.
“Lady Hexley,” he said, respectfully.
She came to a sudden stop, “Tristan, what on earth are you doing all the way out here, on foot?” she asked, looking genuinely surprised.
“It’s my day off, Lady, and I’m getting close to nature on my walk. Enjoying it so much, I forgot to bring food,” he laughed, making light conversation.
“Oh, I have a small picnic, I like my privacy sometimes, and take a ride into this woodlands,” she responded. “Would you care to join me?”
“Indeed, Lady, it would be an honor,” he replied, not believing his luck.
“I have a spot, just up that embankment; I read the new books by Jane Austin there. If his Lordship knew I was reading such a modern female writer, he would have plenty to say, so I sneak out here,” she explained herself, trotting her horse to climb the way she had pointed.
Tristan followed the horse, wondering how far he would have to walk, but it wasn’t far, and it was a beautiful spot. He stood looking at a small glade, surrounded by bushes and trees, yet the sun managed to shine into it, from above. When he arrived, her Ladyship had already dismounted from her horse.
“You should have waited, Lady Hexley, dismounting alone can be dangerous,” he reprimanded her, gently.
“Well, I’d never get off my horse, would I? How would I read my modern books then?” she smiled at him as she began to unpack her saddle bag.
Passing him various items, they soon had a comfortable area prepared, for sitting down on the floor.
“I know there isn’t much to eat, cook only packed for one. Mind you, she always puts in far too much,” Lady Hexley chattered on.
“Should you be alone with a man out in a secluded woodland, my Lady?” he dared to ask.
Tristan took Bridget’s delicate hands into his huge firm strong one, and gently turned it over as he brushed his lips across the back of it. He knew he was taking a risk but his passion was ruling his head. He let her hand fall, but still engulfed it with his.
“I happen to like this gentleman, very much, and trust he will do nothing without my permission,” she smiled.
“I’m not so sure I can be called a gentleman, however, I do have manners and promise not to do anything you might object too.” he answered, his face a mask of seriousness. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming and it took all of his self-control not to press his lips to hers.
Bridget blushed slightly at his comments, but stared at him boldly, her eyes locked on his.
“Is it fate, I wonder that we should meet here today?” she began, making no effort to pull her hands from his. “I was just thinking of you as I rode along and suddenly you appear; it is quite disconcerting.”
“Disconcerting? In a good or bad way?” he still held her hand and she had made no effort to remove it from his. Taking that as his cue, he reached over to Bridget and pulled her face towards his own, and in no time, their lips were touching and he could feel her warmth. She did not refuse his advances. Encouraged by this, he firmly pressed his lips to hers, in a passionate embrace.
Lady Bridget Hexley knew she should not encourage this passionate young man. All the rules about etiquette and behaviour were in complete opposition to her current actions. But, this man stirred something deep within her, something that she had not felt for her husband. A deep longing that burned her very insides. Yes, it was wrong, she was a married woman, but her passion and desires were ruling her head, as she surrendered completely to his kiss.
Chapter 9
Lady Bridget Hexley knew this was all wrong and yet still went against everything she had been taught on how a lady should behave. All caution gone, as had any sense of decency, but she simply could not help herself. A passionless marriage had driven her to this and she was being pushed by natural forces, a desire to be loved, to be wanted to be satisfied.
Tristan gently pushed her over onto her back and he pressed his body on to hers. She was trapped beneath him as he pressed his mouth hard on to hers, and his tongue explored her mouth.
Unwanted, her conscience came to the fore and she pushed him away, her lips felt instantly bereft of his contact.
“Please, no, I cannot do this, it is improper and is not behaviour fitting a lady of my stature,” she could not believe that she was saying those words, when she so desperately wanted him
Tristan leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers, a frown on his face.
“I promised I would not behave in a manner that my Lady found objectionable, and I feel I have not, as of yet. Though I have to question that you must feel this desire between us as I do, this spark, this undeniable attraction.”
She turned away from him, not wanting to look into his eyes in case he could see her real feelings, her desires and wants; she blushed at the thought and the
shame.
He reached down, and with his hand he turned her head back towards him. The touch of his hand on her face sent another flood of desire coursing through her body. She watched as he slowly lowered his face back down to hers. Powerless to stop him, she was not even sure that she really wanted to. Her lips yearned for his, and she closed her eyes and accepted him completely. They kissed long, hard and passionately, The Lady of the house had lost all sense of propriety, as her tongue danced a tango of lust. Her body was on fire and she had not felt so alive in years. It was wrong. She really should not be here. She was betraying her husband, her class and her social standing, but these thoughts were quickly pushed aside as she abandoned all sense of duty, and gave in to her carnal desires.
Tristan knew her resolve was broken, he could feel her body relax underneath him as she accepted his kiss, and responded in kind. She was like a delicate rose, ready for the plucking, and he was after all the gardener’s son. Just briefly, his father’s words from this morning came to him, and he almost considered stopping, but he was too far gone for that now. They were both far too deeply embroiled in the throes of passion.
ROMANCE: His Reluctant Heart (Historical Western Victorian Romance) (Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Fantasy Short Stories) Page 30