Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

  Faulkner thought Scarlet was lying, except her eyes lit up when she talked about working with Madame Le Brun. Could her art truly have been the reason she left?

  The carriage abruptly jerked to a stop, and the horses whinnied. He pushed his foot against the seat in front of them and reached out an arm to halt Scarlet from falling forward.

  He opened the door and jumped out. “Team change. It should only take a few moments.” He shut the carriage door, eager to escape. Scarlet’s light scent of humid air, sweet earth, and roses elicited too many vivid recollections of his time with her. The feel of her body against his arm when he stopped her on the seat nearly singed him.

  Rain no longer fell. Bricker hopped down from the driver’s seat and removed his wet cape and hat. He and Bricker formed a friendship during the war. While trying to defeat Napoleon and doing everything to stay alive, they’d confided all their hopes and dreams to each other.

  “Were you trying to kill us just now?” Faulkner teased while walking toward the stable.

  “It was your bloody idea for me to be your driver.”

  “I foolishly thought everyone knew how to drive a team. Plus, you’ve been doing it for six months now.”

  “I am fine with your horseflesh. These rented teams are unmanageable.” Bricker tilted his head back at the carriage. “Your description of the woman did not do her justice.”

  Faulkner let out a long sigh. “I know.” She defies description.

  They helped the stable workers exchange the rented horses for Faulkner’s team they’d left here hours ago.

  The confines of the carriage brought him much too close to Scarlet. He wanted to throttle and kiss her at the same time. Instead of torturing himself more, Faulkner sat up top with Bricker and took the reins.

  At the age of nineteen, he’d returned home after military school and met seventeen-year-old Scarlet. It was not simply her incredible beauty that fascinated him. He’d experienced an instant connection to her. When he expressed his desire to spend time with her, she refused, afraid a liaison between them would be deemed inappropriate. But Faulkner convinced her to meet him at the old, abandoned chapel at night while everyone else slept.

  At first, they met in the bell tower to talk, discovering everything about one another. Her wit made him laugh, her sweet disposition made him smile, and her dreams gave him hope. They began kissing and enjoying more intimate interactions, both admitting their love for each other. Exhaustion from staying awake all night and attending to their duties during the day finally descended upon them, so they rested on a bed in the parson’s quarters while they talked. Oftentimes they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. A week before he left for the war, she told him she wished to be his.

  The memory of those last nights, the way they’d made love—at times with desperate need and at others with playful tenderness—scorched him still today. Never had he been so affected by a woman. Yet, as good as the lovemaking had been, there was more between them. He’d absolutely adored her, felt a soul-deep bond with her.

  Away at war, he planned and plotted their life together. However, when he returned, she was gone. No note, no message, nothing.

  It was then that he’d lost his soul.

  Chapter 3

  Murdock Castle loomed ahead. Torches lit the outer gatehouse. Scarlet remembered being fifteen, arriving at the castle for the first time. It had been night, much like now. The enormity of the fortress still awed her. She loved every part of the medieval stronghold—from the pointy turrets to the rounded towers.

  The carriage rolled into the outer court. She made out the outline of the chapel as they passed. Her heart pounded so hard at the memories the sanctuary held, she had to inhale quickly to catch her breath.

  Soon the horses’ hooves clopped on the wooden bridge leading to where two men manned the lit barbican. The carriage drove around to the kitchen entrance of the keep. Tomas swung the door open, jumped down, and lifted his arms to help her out. He caught her around the waist, and she slid down his body. Being this close to him brought back recollections of those wonderful nights in his arms. His smiles. His kisses. His passionate lovemaking. She shook her head to clear it. Reminiscing was futile, not to mention painful. He set her feet on the ground.

  “I saw the guards manning the barbican. Your father never had guards,” she said.

  His jaw twitched. “I employ various men I served with in the army, men I trust. I made enemies over the years and want to ensure the castle grounds are safe.”

  She would’ve asked more questions, but he changed the subject.

  “Your mother is in her same chamber. The servants are taking turns sitting with her. The doctor insists she might be contagious, so you can visit her once every three hours for ten minutes.”

  She didn’t argue, having no desire to contract lung fever. “I understand.”

  They hurried to the door. He opened it and motioned for her to enter. The kitchen welcomed her with warmth from the wall length cook hearth. Orange embers cast a slight glow, allowing her to see the high ceiling, stone walls, and the long wooden worktable surrounded by stools.

  “I will take you to your mother,” he offered.

  “No need, my lord. I remember where her room is.” She started to walk away.

  “Scarlet?” His voice was almost a whisper.

  She froze.

  He approached her and stood close. “We will talk about the past. I deserve answers.”

  Her stomach tumbled.

  She nodded, then scurried to the servants’ quarters. Mum’s door was ajar, so she entered.

  Maggie, a maid Scarlet knew from her years at the castle, rushed over and embraced her. “Your mum will be overjoyed you are here.”

  “It is good to see you, Maggie.”

  “I will send up a fresh bowl of water with ice.” The older woman’s hair was white now, and had she shrunk? Maybe Scarlet had grown. “Someone will relieve you in ten minutes,” Maggie said as she exited.

  Heavy breathing, almost growling, filled the air. She neared the small bed fitted with a light pink counterpane. Her mother fitfully squirmed under the covers. Her face looked pale, her hair more grey than red.

  She reached out and put her hand on her mother’s forehead. It was burning.

  Her heart squeezed. “Mum, it’s Scarlet.”

  Mum’s eyes opened. Even bloodshot like they were, she saw hope in their blue depths. “My Scarlet. Is it really you?”

  “Indeed.”

  “My prayers have been answered.” Tears trickled from the corners of Mum’s eyes into her hair, then her eyelids closed. “Sleep pulls me. Please don’t leave.”

  Scarlet wanted to ask her questions, but instead replied, “I will stay.”

  A smile tilted the woman’s lips as she drifted off.

  A soft knock sounded. She quietly opened the door to find Tomas’s uncle, William Faulkner, holding a bowl. He handed it to her. “You are back.”

  She took the cold dish from him. “Only to comfort my mother, sir.”

  “How is she?”

  “Her fever still rages.”

  He frowned and walked away.

  She returned to her mother’s bedside, grabbed a cloth off the side table, and doused it in the cold water. She wondered how long she would be at Murdock Castle. While she did not wish her mother dead, the sooner Scarlet was able to leave, the better.

  A pretty young servant dressed completely in black relieved Scarlet, and when she left Mum’s room, Tomas waited in the hall. He pointed to the room across from her mother’s. “Your things have been delivered.”

  She peeked inside. A yellow blanket covered a small mattress, and the furniture was painted white. Her satchel and valise were on a chest at the foot of the bed.

  He held a candle. “I thought we might make a potion for your mother and administer it tonight.”

  “How thoughtful of you.”

  She followed him to the kitchen. They searched the pantry for her mot
her’s stashed herbs. Half an hour later, they’d prepared a mixture of garlic, ginger, and basil for Mum’s fever and marshmallow root tea for her cough.

  They gave it to the servant watching her mother.

  While still in the corridor, Scarlet said, “Thank you for your help.”

  An expression she could not read passed over Tomas’s face as he slightly bowed. “I bid you a good night.”

  Scarlet watched him walk away and found herself in desperate need of a breath of fresh air. She lit a lantern, bustled through the quiet castle, and across the soaked courtyard. Upon crossing the bridge, she waved to the guards and strolled to the chapel.

  The vacant hall looked the same. Tomas had told her it’d been stripped of religious relics long before his family took over ownership of the castle. Only the exquisite stained-glass windows, wooden pews, and a huge chandelier on a pulley hanging from the ceiling remained. She tested the door leading to the parson’s quarters attached to the hall. It was locked.

  It was better she did not visit the chamber. It would spark too many memories.

  She scaled the stairs to the bell tower and peered out over Seaford. Moonlight shone across the saturated earth, the moat, and the sea, glistening like sparkling dust.

  At the sound of footsteps, she snapped her head toward the landing.

  Tomas ascended the last few stairs. “I did not realize you would be here.”

  Does he come here often?

  He walked up and stood beside her at the railing. “Scarlet, I know there is much we must discuss, but right now I wish to thank you.”

  What might he possibly thank her for?

  “I thought of nothing else than returning to you for five years—through the war, through the heat, through the cold, through the torture—”

  “Torture?” A pulse of terror ran through her.

  “I was a prisoner of war. Torture is part of … it does not matter. What matters is, what got me through the endless days and nights of that living nightmare were the memories of the time we shared. They saw me through the war.”

  Her entire body ached. How could she have left this man?

  I had no other choice.

  He captured her cheeks in his hands, leaned down, and softly kissed her temple.

  Shocked by the action, she gazed up at him.

  He pressed his lips to hers. A kiss of gratitude.

  For long seconds they chastely kissed. Until Tomas reached around her back, pulled her body to his, and deepened the kiss.

  A flush of heat surged inside her. She’d forgotten how perfect he was, how wonderfully they fit together. She lifted onto her toes to get closer to him, to intimately align their bodies. Within seconds, they were enraptured, both giving and receiving in a heated exchange. She never wanted this moment to end.

  What am I doing?

  She could not let this go on. She broke the kiss, fled to the stairwell, and scampered down the steps.

  Chapter 4

  Faulkner rose from bed and dressed for the day. Being able to thank Scarlet last night healed a place inside him, and he no longer wanted to throttle the woman.

  The kiss, though…

  No, he wouldn’t think about it.

  He did not believe her explanation that she left the castle to study painting and would demand the real reason.

  Of course, what did it matter?

  Once her mother either recovered or died and his solicitor found a governess and nanny, Scarlet would again leave Murdock Castle.

  After a meeting with his guards, he walked the castle grounds and ended up at the chapel. He entered, pulled a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door to the parson’s quarters. Light streamed in through a window on the ceiling he’d installed a few months ago. He looked around and smiled. He came here when his soul needed solace or inspiration.

  Scarlet did not wake until noon. She pinned up her hair, donned a white apron over her grey dress, and checked her reflection in the dresser mirror. After a fitful night of dreams, reliving that passionate kiss with Tomas, she appeared pale. She pinched her cheeks.

  She must not let another encounter like last night happen. It was imperative she keep her focus on getting to Paris on time.

  Scarlet administered another dose of tea and herbs to her mother, but Mum didn’t appear better. Afterward, she found Tomas on the back lawn with two young ladies. When he saw her, he motioned her over. “Miss Scarlet. You remember my sisters, Lady Rachel and Lady Francesca.”

  “Of course. How lovely you both are.”

  They rushed forward, and she held out her hands. They each clasped one. Both girls had Tomas’s brown hair and brown eyes, each pretty in an unpretentious way.

  Rachel’s eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “Your hair is still the richest red I have ever seen.”

  “Lady Rachel, you must be eighteen.”

  The girl smiled.

  “And, Lady Francesca, are you sixteen?”

  She, too, beamed and bobbed her head.

  “Have you enjoyed a London Season of yet?”

  Rachel, always the more outgoing of the two, answered. “Not yet. Tomas promised next year we will go.”

  “Tomas!” A little blonde girl sprinted across the lawn from the house. Tomas scooped the child up in his arms. She hugged him around the neck. “I am so glad you comed back.”

  “Darling girl, I will always come back to you.”

  Seeing them together, hearing the child’s words and recognizing she feared Tomas might never return like her parents, Scarlet’s heart pinched.

  “Helen,” he said. “Meet Miss Scarlet.”

  The little girl rested her cheek on his shoulder and shyly waved.

  Scarlet smiled.

  “Shall we go inside and prepare for tea?” He set Helen on the ground and turned to Scarlet. “I hope you will join us.”

  The girls gazed at her expectantly.

  She shook her head. “Servants do not enjoy tea with the family.”

  “Your mother did until she took to the sickbed,” Francesca said.

  “Plus,” Tomas added, “It will allow you time with the girls.”

  Games and laughter filled the afternoon. The lasses were entertaining and smart. Helen had been tentative around her at first, but eventually climbed onto Scarlet’s lap. Later, she watched Helen fall asleep in Tomas’s arms, and Scarlet’s already captivated heart swelled more at his gentleness.

  Much more time at Murdock Castle and she would never wish to leave.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Scarlet thought Mum’s fever had lessened, or mayhap she merely wished it so. She still slept all the time, making administering of the tea and herbs difficult. Nevertheless, Scarlet got some down her.

  Scarlet headed to the family wing. She peeked into Helen’s room to find Francesca busily braiding Helen’s hair while Rachel knelt in front of the child and secured the buttons on Helen’s dress. The room was painted light purple and a huge dollhouse took up an entire wall. Three shelves held dolls, books, and other toys. Tomas’s sisters occupied the rooms on either side of Helen’s.

  Francesca tied Helen’s braids together in the back. “Tomas needs a wife. I fear he is lonely. Mother and Father loved each other so much, I wish the same for him.”

  Undetected, Scarlet listened.

  Rachel straightened. “I agree.”

  “Tomas already loves me.” Helen beamed. “He can marry me.”

  “He is much too old for you,” Francesca explained.

  Helen crossed her arms and pouted.

  “Good morn,” Scarlet called from the doorway. “Shall we break our fast?”

  The girls greeted her, and Helen grabbed her hand. They made their way to the great hall. She imagined the long-ago festivities once held in the enormous chamber. Although only one massive table with chairs sat centered between the walls, there was space enough for two others. A decorative gold mantel around the fireplace was adorned with the Faulkner crest.

  Tomas a
nd his uncle were seated at the table, each reading a newspaper.

  “Tomas.” Helen let go of Scarlet’s hand and hurried over to him as he stood. “I cannot marry you.”

  He clasped a hand over his heart. “How can you break my heart before I break my fast?”

  “Even though we love each other, you are much too old for me to marry.”

  A smile tugged at Scarlet’s lips.

  Somehow Tomas kept a straight face. “How disappointing.”

  After breakfast, Tomas took Helen to the stable to see a new litter of kittens, and Scarlet accompanied Francesca and Rachel to the library—a most delightful chamber filled with books, sofas, and a collection of globes. They each read for a while before Rachel excitedly announced, “Our dance lessons begin at the end of the week.”

  “I cannot wait.” Francesca rose and swung her skirts as she spun in a circle. “Mr. Chambers promises to be a most able teacher.”

  “You simply want to be held in his arms.” Rachel grinned at Scarlet. “She is aflutter when the man is in the room.”

  “Have either of you ever danced?” Scarlet asked.

  They shook their heads.

  Maggie came to the stables and retrieved Helen for lunch, so Faulkner entered the house and strode toward his study. He heard his sisters and Scarlet chatting in the library.

  His uncle strolled down the hall. “This house is overrun with females.”

  “If you do not like it, I suggest you leave.” Faulkner chuckled. “This will be the case for quite some time.”

  His uncle scowled and continued down the hall.

  Faulkner observed the library from the shadows of the hallway.

  Francesca clasped her hands against her heart. “Dancing seems like the loveliest activity.”

  His sister was in love with the idea of being in love.

  “It can be,” Scarlet agreed. “However, some men may try to get you alone and kiss you or put their hands on your person where you do not want them.”