by Cheryl Holt
“What sort of situation?”
“He was riding with the Hamilton girl—the one who is his same age.”
“Jane, yes. He’s mentioned her passion for horses.”
“They raced off together and left Miriam behind.”
“And ... ?”
“They were gone for over an hour, with no one having any idea of where they were or what they were doing.”
“Your point being ... ?”
“They’re both adolescents, Captain. I shouldn’t have to spell out the dangers.”
“You suspect Michael compromised her? Is that what you’re claiming?”
“No. I merely think a word to the wise might be advisable. We wouldn’t want her reputation tarnished. Nor would we want Michael ensnared in a peccadillo. It would create a horrid mess.”
Tristan agreed. His father had specifically charged him with arranging a good marriage for Michael. He would wed a woman of the appropriate rank and station. Jane Hamilton would never be the bride Tristan would select.
“Don’t worry, Maud, I’ve spoken to Michael.”
“You have?”
“I made myself very clear. He understands the risks posed by Jane Hamilton, and he would never be so foolish as to involve himself with her.”
“I hope you’re correct.”
“I am.”
She looked as if she was about to argue that Michael was brimming with deception, but Tristan wouldn’t listen to any denigrating remarks.
Luckily, he was saved from a quarrel by Rose skipping down the hall.
“Tristan! Tristan! There you are! I’ve been searching everywhere.”
She hurried up, causing Maud to bristle.
“Honestly, Rose,” Maud scolded, “where are your manners ? Captain Odell and I are talking. It’s rude of you to interrupt.”
In the months Tristan had lived with the family, he’d never seen Rose so animated, and at Maud’s sharp tone, she instantly deflated. Her smile vanished, her shoulders sagged.
“I’m sorry, Tristan.”
“Don’t be,” he declared. “Maud and I were just fin-wished.”
He glared at Maud, daring her to disagree.
“We’ll continue this conversation later,” she said, appearing affronted.
“I eagerly await your comments,” he lied, breathing a sigh of relief when she walked on.
He turned his attention back to his sister. She was so lovely with her blond hair and big blue eyes. She was wearing a white dress with a pink ribbon around the waist that matched the one in her hair, and it brought out the rosy hue in her cheeks.
“You’re very pretty, Miss Rose,” he told her, and he was rewarded with a huge grin.
“I am?”
“Yes. What can I do for you?”
“I had to tell you something important.”
“What is it?”
“I am so glad Amelia is staying with us.”
“I’m glad, too.”
“I’ve been lonely—what with Father being gone and all.”
“I thought that you might be.”
“I can’t believe that you knew exactly what I wanted.”
“What was that?”
“A friend, silly. I’ve been praying every night, and now—just like magic—Amelia is here!”
With that small announcement, she wrapped her arms around him, her face buried against his chest, and she hugged him with all her might.
He was taken off guard by the sweet gesture, and for a moment, he froze, not sure how to accept it.
Previously, they’d been very formal with one another, and he was delighted to know that she was growing to like him.
He hugged her back, actually planting a kiss on the top of her head.
“Thank you, Tristan,” she said. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome, Rose. It was my pleasure.”
“IT’S four-thirty, Miss Hamilton. You’re late.”
“I may be late, but I was here at ten this morning, and you weren’t here at all.”
Helen nearly closed the library door, then decided she shouldn’t, so she left it ajar. She marched over to the desk and pulled up a chair.
“Where were you?” she inquired. “I waited an hour.”
“I was ... ah ... indisposed.”
“Hung-over, were you?”
“You’ll never get me to admit it.”
“You don’t have to admit it. I saw the proof with my own two eyes.”
She blushed, furious that she’d mentioned the torrid episode. She’d been flustered all day, wondering how they’d interact. They were bound in an odd fashion, but that didn’t mean she should roll around with him on a bed! What had she been thinking?
Her vehement participation had shocked and frightened her. She’d always suspected that many of her father’s disgraceful traits were bubbling just beneath the surface, and her behavior with Odell had confirmed her worst fears: Given the right set of circumstances—and the right man—she was ridiculously loose.
“Are hangovers the norm for you, Captain? If overindulgence is a problem, perhaps we should forego our morning appointments.”
“No, it is not the norm, Miss Hamilton, and we’ll meet as scheduled.” He scowled. “You are supposed to call me Tristan when we’re alone.”
“You shouldn’t count on it.”
“You are so full of sass. Where do you come by that impertinent tongue?”
“I was born with it.”
“I’m certain that’s true.” He gestured to the door. “Shut it.”
“No.”
“No?” His scowl deepened. “You seem to be laboring under the mistaken impression that you don’t have to do as I say.”
“If you expect me to obey, you must give me orders that make sense.”
“In your tortured mind, why does it not make sense to shut the door?”
“Because I don’t want to be sequestered in here with you. People will talk.”
“Let them.”
“No. I’m trying to fit in with the other servants and—”
“You are not a servant!”
“A semantic difference, Captain.”
“It’s Tristan, Miss Hamilton.”
“I prefer Captain Odell.”
He snorted with what might have been either disdain or amusement.
“There must be a reason I put up with you, Miss Hamilton, but I can’t figure out what it is.”
“I’m sure something will occur to you. Maybe after your hangover wanes, your thought processes will clear.”
“I take it back: There’s no good reason why I put up with you.”
He rose from his chair, and she jumped and pressed into her seat. She was terrified that he would approach her, that he would steal another kiss, and the notion was so electrifying that she couldn’t imagine herself refusing.
To her great relief, though, he walked on by, but the instant she relaxed, she realized his intent. She stiffened with alarm.
“Captain!” She stood, planning to stomp over and stop him.
“Be silent.”
He closed the door and spun the key.
“I can’t be locked in here with you,” she hissed.
“You already are.”
“I won’t allow you to bully me like this.”
She stormed over, prepared to wrestle the key away, but he stuck it in a pocket inside his coat. Unless she wanted to grope about under his clothes, she couldn’t retrieve it.
“Give it to me,” she fumed.
‘No.
He took a step toward her, and she took one back. He took another, and she did the same. He was herding her across the room, gradually working her to a rear corner.
“What are you doing?” she blustered.
“What does it look like?”
“Stay right where you are, you bounder.”
She held out her palm, as if the small appendage could ward him off.
“Have you had your daily supply of kissin
g, Miss Hamilton? Has the urge overtaken you?”
“Despite what you suppose, I suffer from no salacious urges.”
“Last night, if memory serves, I offered to satisfy your need for ilirtation.”
“Last night, you were drunk.”
“But not sufficiently so that I forgot any of the details.”
She winced. She’d been hoping he’d have forgotten them all!
“What happened between us,” she stammered, “was an ... aberration.”
“Is that what you’d call it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’d call it incredible.”
She gulped with dismay. “You would?”
“Yes, and I want to do it again.”
He swooped in and swept her off her feet, depositing her on a nearby divan. He came down on top of her; with the furnishing being very narrow, there was no space to shift away.
She gazed at his handsome face, his blue eyes glittering with merriment, and her heart literally skipped a beat.
“Are you going to kiss me?” She was breathless with anticipation.
“Most definitely, Helen.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“Now that, my dear, has to be the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”
He narrowed the distance between them, initiating a torrid kiss that was rough and wild and thrilling.
His tongue was in her mouth, his hands in her hair, and he kept on and on till she was dizzy with titillation. He slid to the side, a knee on the floor, as he toyed with her breast, teasing the nipple through the fabric of her dress.
Vaguely, she recognized that he was easing her skirt up her legs. Her calves were bared, then her thighs. He slipped his questing fingers into her drawers and delved into her womanly sheath. They seemed to fit just right, as if he’d been created to caress her that exact way, and she was so surprised that she gasped very loudly.
He chuckled. “I knew you’d be noisy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Deep down, you have the temperament of a harlot.”
“You’re calling me a harlot? Is that what passes for a sailor’s flattery? If so, I don’t care for it.”
“Have any of your dozens of swains ever touched you like this?”
“Nary a one.”
“Then I am delighted to be the first.”
He stroked back and forth, back and forth, as he nibbled a path to her nipple. He bit and sucked at the tiny nub, sending waves of exhilaration shooting through her. She writhed against him, trying to escape the torment, but trying to move nearer to it, too.
Suddenly, she seemed to shatter, and she cried out with an exuberant joy that was shocking in its volume. He captured the sound by smothering it with another kiss.
She spiraled up, then floated down, and she was laughing and sputtering, happier than she could ever remember being.
“Oh, my goodness, Captain Odell, what was that?”
“It’s sexual pleasure, you vixen.”
“You’re a sorcerer.”
“There was no magic involved. You are simply too easy for words.”
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are. You’re loose, too.”
“Only because you goad me into misbehavior.”
“Trust me: There’s been no goading on my part.”
“Ha! That’s what you think.”
He kissed her again, and he sighed, murmuring, “What on earth shall I do with you?”
“Why must you do anything?”
“I can’t stay away from you, but I can’t be tumbling you in my library every time you stroll by.”
She giggled, loving the notion that he was smitten. How had it happened? Why had it happened?
They were playing a dangerous game, and she had to extricate herself, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to lie there forever, where she felt safe and beautiful and adored.
She was so wrapped up in her lurid rumination that it took a moment to realize someone was pounding on the door.
“Captain, are you in there?” Mrs. Seymour barked.
Odell’s eyes went wide, and he grinned, apparently humored by their predicament. He thrust his loins against hers, setting off a new round of bodily sensation, as Seymour rattled the knob.
Frantically, Helen gestured for him to move off her, but he didn’t budge.
“Yes, Maud, what is it?” he queried.
“I was wondering if you could spare me a minute.”
“No. I’m having my daily meeting with Miss Hamilton.”
There was a lengthy, tense silence as Mrs. Seymour processed the information.
“Will you be long?” she finally asked.
“At least an hour.”
Helen vehemently shook her head and whispered, “I’m leaving immediately.”
“No, you’re not,” he countered, whispering too.
“How about if I come back then?” Mrs. Seymour tried again.
“I’ll send the butler to notify you when we’re finished.”
“Miss Hamilton,” Mrs. Seymour persisted, “I’ll need to speak with you, as well. About the problem with Rose’s clothing.”
“I’ll find you as soon as the captain lets me go,” Helen promised, nearly yelping with indignation as Odell bit her nape. She punched him on the shoulder.
“We must resolve this matter today,” Seymour snapped.
Helen held her breath, fuming, as Seymour’s footsteps faded.
“You rat!” she hissed, pushing him so that he toppled onto the floor. “You were deliberately trying to compromise me!”
“You’re angry? An accomplished flirt such as yourself? This can’t be the first time you were caught in a locked parlor, up to no good.”
He picked himself up, dusting off his trousers, laughing at her fury, which only increased it. He looked thoroughly composed, not a wrinkle in his coat, not a strand of hair out of place, while she was an utter mess.
Her combs had been dislodged, so her hair was falling down. Her skirt was bunched, her garters undone, her stockings drooping to her ankles. She tugged and straightened and yanked as he calmly observed, but provided no assistance whatsoever.
“You are a menace,” she charged.
“And you are cute as the dickens.”
“You are a beast, a cad, a ... a ... debaucher of innocent women.”
“Innocent? You?”
“Yes, me.”
He chortled as if she’d told a great joke. “You humor me beyond measure. I thought I hated it here—”
“Where?”
“In this house. In London. But I’m beginning to change my mind.”
He hated it in London? He didn’t like watching over his siblings?
The gossiping servants hadn’t shared this piece of his story, and she was meddlesome enough to have inquired, but he halted any questions by wrapping an arm around her and kissing her again.
In a trice, she was a muddle of confused yearning, so eager to continue that she was a hairsbreadth away from flopping back onto the divan and dragging him down with her.
She put a hand on his chest and eased him away.
“We didn’t discuss any topic of import,” she said. “If you keep mauling me, how will we ever get anything accomplished?”
“What did we need to discuss?”
“Rose gave Amelia some of her old dresses to wear.”
“I don’t care about their girlish games.”
“Mrs. Seymour was upset. There was a kerfuffle over it.”
“Of minor significance. Rose obviously intended a gift, but how does Amelia feel about receiving Rose’s castoffs?”
“She understands that we can’t afford to purchase new.”
“That reminds me: All three of you need more clothes.”
“You’ve already been more than generous.”
Without her having an inkling of his ploy, apparel had been delivered. The outfits weren’t the height of fashion, but they were well-sewn and functional, a
nd Helen still couldn’t come to grips with his unexpected kindness.
“You’re guests,” Odell said. “You can’t go about like a trio of paupers. It would reflect badly on Lord Hastings.”
“Don’t buy us anything else,” she insisted.
“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. My clerk has made you an appointment with a dressmaker.”
“Captain Odell! No. You’ve done too much.”
“It pleases me to see you in pretty gowns. Stop complaining.”
“You never listen to me.”
“If you called me Tristan, I might.”
“Liar.”
She started for the door, and he followed her over and gallantly opened it. He peeked out, and with the hallway being empty, he took a parting kiss.
She inhaled sharply, outraged by his brazenness but delighted by it, too. She was in desperate trouble, walking the road that led straight to perdition, but she wasn’t concerned in the least.
“We’re traveling to the country next week,” he mentioned.
“I had heard that you were. Am I going, too?”
“Yes. You and your sisters.”
She wasn’t sure about making the journey. It would place her in even closer contact with him, and she didn’t relish the prospect of constantly hiding, which would be the only way she could force herself to behave.
“Must we go?” she asked.
“Yes, you must, and in the meantime, inform Jane that she must stay away from Lord Hastings. I can’t have her flirting with him.”
“She wouldn’t. She knows better.”
“Don’t forget that we have a date for supper.”
“I’ll see you at eight.”
“At eight,” he murmured.
They stood, staring like two enamored adolescents, until Helen realized how she was mooning over him—in plain sight, where anyone could stumble on them.
Was she insane?
She turned and fled.
“DID you see that?” Rose whispered.
“I did,” Amelia whispered in reply.
They were huddled at the top of the stairs, spying on the adults down below.
“He kissed her!”
“I know. I saw!”
Both girls had to stifle giggles.
“Do you think they’re in love?” Rose asked.
“Of course they are. They wouldn’t be kissing if they weren’t.”
“Will they get married now?”