by Meara Platt
She sighed another one of those breathy, kitten sighs. “We’re so close, Brynne. I feel it in my heart.”
“Come into the parlor with me. Let’s talk.” He took her by the hand and led her to the parlor, glad when she made no protest. The feel of her soft fingers against his rough palm sent his body temperature soaring through the roof once more.
All the more reason to leave as soon as possible.
His control was slipping, his desire for Lettie growing unbearable. He had to leave before he lost his senses and gave in to the dangerous desire he knew they both felt. That’s what made resisting her so hard, for Lettie had a passionate nature and would consent to anything he wanted.
What he wanted was to keep her safe from scoundrels with no prospects, such as himself.
Still, he sought her out and ached for a little more time with the girl, one more night. One more week. One lifetime. Even that wasn’t enough.
No, he had to leave tomorrow. Valiant had regained his strength, and this storm would be done by tomorrow morning. A fast moving turbulence such as this one would blow out just as fast as it blew in. The roads would not be passable at first, but a few hours of sunshine after the storm had run its course would go a long way to clearing them. He’d make decent time, especially if he were to ride on horseback.
They entered the parlor and Lettie surprised him by settling on the floor beside the fading fire that still emitted enough heat to warm one’s body if one sat close. She positioned herself so that her feet were closest to the fire.
She looked so beautiful by firelight, even when exhausted. Her eyes had a slight droop at the corners that gave them an exotic allure and her shimmering gown seemed to cling a little tighter to each spectacular curve of her slender body.
Had he been thinking with his brain instead of his hardening rod, he would have bid her goodnight and wiped his brow in relief that he’d avoided the call of temptation. But there was something about the powerful force of the storm that heightened his restlessness and made him heedless of the dangerous desires that simmered within his heart.
He wanted her.
But he’d long resisted the urge to sweep her into his arms and claim her as his. He could resist for one more night, no matter how badly he ached to hold Lettie in his embrace and feel the lavender heat of her skin against his body.
She smiled up at him as he approached. “Come sit beside me, Brynne. We don’t need to bother with chairs. This is much cozier.”
And much more dangerous.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll add a few logs to the fire.”
His jacket was damp so he took it off and then knelt beside the hearth to stoke the old logs before adding new ones to the pile. He watched as the flames moved up the crackling wood, and once again stoked the flames until they roared.
Lettie was still seated beside him, quietly watching him as he worked. The moment felt comfortable, but everything always felt comfortable and right with Lettie. He set the irons aside and nudged her feet gently. “Take off your slippers. They’re wet. Here, I’ll set them near the hearth to dry.”
He placed them to one side, then rose to drape his jacket over one of the hooks on the wall beside the fireplace.
Frances kept a decanter of port on a table in the corner of the parlor. He crossed the room to pour himself a glass and one for Lettie as well. She looked cold and pale despite the blazing fire and he’d noticed her shivering slightly. Her lips were pinched.
Still kissable.
Still beautiful. “Drink up, but not too fast.”
She smiled her thanks and took a sip. “You think I’m daft.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I know you’re daft,” he teased, setting his still full glass on the mantel before settling himself beside her. She was still shivering, so he took her cold feet onto his lap and slowly began to rub warmth into them.
Much safer than the other ways he knew would heat her. Indeed, it was the safest way to touch her, and he had an overwhelming need to do just that. He would leave tomorrow and wanted this moment. No one would be hurt by it. He craved this safe pleasure, needed to feel her skin against his palms. Rubbing her feet seemed far safer than rubbing anywhere else he wished to rub her... or taste her... or lick her.
Hell, he was depraved.
“You don’t believe in miracles.” She stated it as a fact rather than a question or challenge.
“Never have.”
“And you don’t believe in Jeremiah.” She wiggled her toes as he continued to rub them.
“No. I don’t believe in guardian angels. Especially those who are terrible at their jobs.” He tugged gently on her big toe which made her giggle.
“Please don’t tease me, Brynne. You’ll make me laugh when I want to be serious.” She playfully nudged his thigh with her foot and that raised the heat level in his blood to inferno hot. Perhaps taking her feet hadn’t been a very good idea. Touching any part of her was never a good idea.
“I wish to be serious as well.” He resumed his rhythmic stroking and gentle rubbing for her feet were still cold.
“Good, I’d hoped that you would be. I wish to talk about us.”
“There is no us.”
She arched a delicate eyebrow. “Don’t be dense, Brynne. Everything we’re doing is about us.”
“Lettie, this is your mission, not mine. As far as I’m concerned, we’re done investigating.”
“No! We’ve just gotten started.” Her eyes grew wide in alarm and she scowled at him as though to bolster her resolve. She had to know her plans were falling apart.
He sighed, not wishing to make it harder for both of them. The sooner she understood the hopelessness of her search, the sooner she’d move on with her life. “Lettie, I know you believe that I’m somehow connected to the de Wolfe family. But we’ve walked the battlefields and searched the town records. We’ve walked through the de Wolfe portrait gallery. I saw you slip into that gallery no less than three times this evening.”
“Because I sensed that I was overlooking something important.”
“There’s nothing to find, Lettie. Your wolves and roses and wounded warriors on a battlefield are random ideas that crept into your dreams. That’s all.”
“Those references are important,” she insisted, scowling at him once again and refusing to accept the truth that was staring them both in the face.
He wanted to shake the stubbornness out of her, but it was also one of the things he liked most about her. She was loyal and determined. “We’ve been over this before. The wolf reference is obviously to Frances and Wolverton Grange. You knew you were to be sent here.”
She tipped her chin up in indignation. “No, it’s definitely a reference to the de Wolfe family. And I know what you’re going to say next. You’re going to tell me that Lord de Wolfe won’t have any useful records in his home either and that it will be a waste of time for us to return there tomorrow. But I know he will have something important to show us. His family and that of Titus and Atticus de Wolfe have dozens of relatives in common. One has only to prepare an ancestral chart to know precisely how many times their bloodlines have crossed.”
He set down her feet and rose to drink his glass of port, draining the crimson liquid in one swallow. He then crossed the room to pour himself another. Lettie had only taken a few sips of her port so he didn’t bother to offer to fill her glass. “And so what if their bloodlines have crossed once or ten times or a thousand times? How does it connect any of them to me?”
“It just does.” She set her feet on his lap again the moment he returned to her side. The unexpected gesture raised the inferno already raging in his blood. Was there even a word to describe this intense and fiery heat?
“Lettie, that is not a logical answer.”
She emitted a ragged breath. “Who ever said any of this was logical?”
Brynne stared at her for a long moment. This search was breaking her heart. He couldn’t allow it to go on. But she was not the weak, biddabl
e sort of girl to listen. The more he tried to talk her out of pursuing the investigation, the more she frowned at him and seemed to firm her resolve to do precisely the opposite of what he recommended. Still, he tried to explain all the reasons why she should give up and put a stop to her plans.
“Stop this investigation? Are you mad? And if you think I’m going to give up on finding out who you are, then you are sadly mistaken. If the wolf leads me nowhere, then I shall go back to Jeremiah’s original advice and look for my Bert. B-E-R-T. Because that B-E-R-T is you and no other. I’ll search every nobility birth registry in existence in England from the time of your birth in order to narrow down the possibilities as to who you might be.”
She kicked her foot lightly against his thigh once more. “Somewhere there is a record of you. Brynne, you are somebody. And there may be someone important out there who is looking to find you, too.”
When she kicked him lightly again, he caught her by the leg. A long, silky leg. His callused palm wrapped around her soft flesh. Her gown slipped upward as she playfully squirmed to break free, exposing more of her exquisite legs to his view. Had his brain been functioning, he would have released her immediately. But it wasn’t and he didn’t.
His thumb stroked her skin along the curve of her calf.
She suddenly stopped struggling and it was obvious that neither of them was breathing because the only sound that reached Brynne’s ears was the pop and sizzle of the wood burning in the fireplace and the whoosh and howl of the wind as it intensified outside.
“Brynne,” she said in a sultry whisper, her invitation unmistakable. “It isn’t fair that women who meant nothing to you should know you, but I cannot.”
He released her leg as though it had suddenly turned to flames and burned him.
He’d imbibed too much this evening. That and the knowledge that he had only a few more hours left with Lettie had weakened his defenses.
Indeed, that and the knowledge that Lettie looked so achingly beautiful by firelight, the reds and golds of her hair shining under its fiery glow, the green of her eyes sparkling like emeralds, the pink of her skin just begging to be kissed and stroked, and he was just the man to do it.
This is why he had to leave earlier than planned.
Valiant had healed sufficiently... and even if he hadn’t... Brynne was leaving, even if he had to carry the damn horse all the way to Southampton on his own back.
****
Lettie grudgingly allowed Brynne to escort her out of the parlor and to the stairs. She was so angry at these two important men in her life, Brynne and Jeremiah. Brynne because he stubbornly refused to accept that they belonged together. Jeremiah because he was the worst guardian angel in existence and thwarted her every attempt to help Brynne, although he always claimed that his advice was easy to understand and that she simply wasn’t paying close enough attention.
She would if he were speaking the King’s English instead of his garbled angel-speak. “Guardian angels are supposed to grant wishes,” she muttered, climbing the first step and turning to face Brynne who seemed particularly big beside her since she was walking on the cold floor in her bare feet and carrying her damp evening slippers in her hand.
They stood face to face, and although their eyes were on a level to each other, they were equals in no other respect, for his muscled shoulders and imposing presence made her feel quite small. She was referring to their physical inequality only, of course. Brynne treated her as an equal in all other respects, and when it came to matters of courtship, he treated her as a better. He had a way of looking at her as though she were the most beautiful, special woman in the world and he was undeserving of her notice.
“Did you say something to me, Lettie?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and grinned softly when she scowled at him again.
“No, I was admonishing Jeremiah.” In that moment, she could have done many things. Thrown her arms around Brynne’s neck and kissed him wantonly and recklessly. Or thrown her arms around his neck and kicked him between his legs in that sensitive spot where it would hurt most. Her feelings were frayed and swinging wildly like a pendulum that was out of control. “But since Jeremiah doesn’t seem to be listening to me, I may as well turn my anger on you.”
She folded her arms across her chest to mimic his stance and noticed the sudden brightening of his eyes as his gaze flicked over her chest, but he quickly stifled whatever desire he was feeling and his expression was once more unreadable. “I don’t know why I bother with you at all. You’re not the only one who’s despairing, Brynne. I am, too.”
“I know, Lettie,” he said in that soft voice of his that always melted her heart.
“So I would appreciate not being treated as a helpless pet who must be protected from the cruelties of the big, dangerous world.”
“You’re not helpless, but the world can be dangerous and cruel. I can’t help wanting to protect you from it or your wayward plans. Do you think I don’t want to kiss you? Do you think I haven’t dreamed of taking you in my arms or setting my worldly possessions at your feet? But that’s the problem, I haven’t any possessions. I haven’t anything to offer you.”
“Yes, you do. You have your heart. Offer me that. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” There, now he knew what she felt in her own heart. She rested her hand on the bannister for support. She’d never had such an open discussion about their friendship before and wanted to pursue it further. But Brynne was hurting and she could tell that he was going to build his walls and walk away - no, run away from her - as fast as he could.
“I’m not enough, Lettie. Offering you my heart isn’t either. How can I approach your father? What shall I say? Please allow me to marry your daughter although I can offer her nothing nor can I assure you that she’ll have a roof over her head or a meal to fill her stomach every day.”
She knew he was right, but it didn’t change how she felt about him. “I have a dowry.”
He laughed mirthlessly as he ran a hand roughly through his hair. “You think I’d take what’s yours? I’m no fortune hunter. I will not touch your funds.”
Which is why she trusted him with all that she owned and all that she was. He’d never disappoint her. “I know you’d use it wisely, that you’d put it toward building a life for us wherever we settled.” They were still standing eye to eye but she saw the frustration in his stance and knew they were a thousand miles apart.
“I’m not taking you with me, Lettie. My ship could go down before I ever make it across the ocean. Let’s speak of it no more. We both know it won’t work, so let’s not pretend it will. We’ll only make it harder on ourselves.”
She wanted to grab him by the front of his elegant shirt and shake him soundly. “You’re not going to drown. Jeremiah hasn’t shown me dangerous waters or water of any sort, for that matter. Wolves. Roses. Battles. That’s it.” Perhaps more would be revealed in dreams while she slept, because she’d felt a sudden shiver at the mention of water. However, she wasn’t going to let on to Brynne. He’d think her sudden concern was ridiculous and blame their present discussion for putting this new fear into her head.
But there was something... she’d just felt another, stronger shiver. “If there is a danger, then I want to face it with you.”
He frowned at her, but his voice remained gentle. “Stop it, Lettie.”
“I can’t. Brynne, give me these two remaining days and I won’t ever mention this investigation again. Promise me you won’t leave before then.”
He hesitated just long enough to reveal that he had intended to do just that.
She gasped. “Because it would be too cruel of you to leave me now that we’re so close to the end, whatever that end may be. I don’t think I’d ever forgive you if walked out on me now. How could you do such a beastly thing?”
“Lettie–”
“Promise me, Brynne. I deserve two more days.” She felt tears coming on and knew she was about to turn into a watering pot. “We deserve it. Give us a chance.
”
He didn’t seem at all pleased, but as her tears began to fall, he groaned and gave a curt nod to signal his agreement. “Two days.”
“Promise me.”
“Promise.”
She shuddered in relief. Two more days. He wouldn’t leave before then. “Thank you,” she whispered, putting her arms around his neck and leaning her head on his shoulder as her tears began to fall in earnest. They were tears of relief, hard fought and he’d only agreed to another two days.
What then?
It was still so little time.
She felt the heat of his hands along her back as he groaned and wrapped her in his strong arms. “Damn it, Lettie,” was all he said, but she understood his ache and frustration, for she was feeling it too.
She knew something important was going to happen, for the violent storm raging outside was a foreboding of what was to come in their search for Brynne’s identity. Dread built up inside her and an icy blast of air invaded her bones. This was Jeremiah’s way of telling her that something bad was going to happen. When? And where? Unfortunately, she didn’t know.
She eased from Brynne’s arms and hurried up the stairs, feeling the heat of his gaze on her back the entire time. She hurried down the hall and entered her room. Nell had lit a fire before retiring for the evening so the room was comfortable despite the cold night. Her nightgown had been set out on the bed, a long sleeved, high necked, thick woolen garment that was quite practical for the colder months.
Lettie pulled the pins from her hair and let the long strands fall over her shoulders in unruly waves. She didn’t bother to brush it out, for she was overset and already missing the warm strength of Brynne’s arms around her. She’d had a glimpse of his sensual touch when he’d stroked her leg a short while ago in the parlor, and had felt a thrill when he’d put his arms around on the stairs. She wanted him so badly. Her body cried out for his touch.
She slipped out of her evening gown and carefully draped it over a chair beside her armoire, leaving it for Nell to take care of in the morning. There was a long mirror beside the armoire and Lettie stepped before it to inspect her reflection. She wasn’t used to looking at herself naked, but she was curious to see what others saw. Of course, no man had ever seen her undressed before.