by L. R. Olson
My chest felt tight. “What do you mean?”
He paused, as if attempting to figure out the best way to explain without upsetting me further. “Just that as the oldest, he, well,” he raked his hands through his hair. “He tried to protect us, therefore he took the brunt of the lashes from Father and Pickens.”
My lovely morning was no more. The sun could not change my dour mood. I wanted to hunt down his stepmother. I wanted to find Pickens and toss her from the estate. How dare they.
“I do not tell you this to frighten you,” he continued. “Merely to help you understand my brother. If he seems taciturn, if he appears uncaring, it is merely his way of protecting himself, I suppose. And if James doesn’t restore our legacy, well…what was the torture for? What purpose was the hell of his childhood? What purpose is his life even now?”
I shook my head, feeling the sudden sting of tears. It was beyond my understanding. I knew keeping his stepmother silenced was important, but my children and their safety would come first. “I don’t want her here.”
He narrowed his eyes, looking suspicious and angry. “Has she done something to you?”
How could I tell him that the old bat had accused James of murder? If I admitted as much, then Will would realize I knew their secret. “I merely don’t like her.”
He pushed away from the ledge, dismissing me. I’d taken up enough of his time. I was boring him with my silly feminine issues. “Talk to James, he’s not the monster he portrays himself to be. He’ll listen.”
He started toward the house. He was right. I’d decided to be honest with James, completely and utterly. I would trust that he would do what was right.
“Will?”
He paused with a sigh, his patience gone.
I had to resist the urge to laugh. Perhaps having a brother or two wouldn’t be so bad. They were awfully fun to tease. “Thank you.”
He hesitated, his back to me, then started toward the house without response.
****
James
I watched Will walk toward me. The bemused look upon his face was not like him. Frowning, I wondered if I had yet another brother in love with Jules. Hell, I didn’t want to care, but I did. As I caught sight of her fine features and noticed the frown, the worry that marked her pretty face, I realized if anything Will had upset her, not charmed her.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He arched a brow. “Can’t a brother visit?”
I cursed underneath my breath. I’d thought to have breakfast with Jules upon the patio. I didn’t want an audience or a guest to interrupt. Things had been going well, almost too well. It made me nervous, wary. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled. The bastard knew I didn’t want him here. Knew I wished to be alone with my wife. Hell, I could no longer deny it…I was jealous.
“Just thought I’d warn you, Rafe stopped by our stepmother’s home and she knows about your wedding. Has for days. Is talking about visiting.”
Just speaking about the woman soured my mood. “I’ll kill her first.”
If she knew, she would do her damnest to spread rumors, to ruin whatever happiness she thought I had achieved. I could certainly handle her venom. But what would happen when the rumors reached Jules? I’d kill the old bitch before I’d let her hurt my wife.
“Why was he there?”
“Wanted to try and get information about Evangeline.”
“So London was for naught?” I sighed. “He should know better than to speak with her. She won’t talk.”
Will’s gaze returned to Jules. The bright sun highlighted his face and made the scar stand out in stark contrast to his tanned skin. The mark was a constant reminder of my guilt. He’d admitted he was thinking about becoming a soldier, and I’d told him it was a capital idea. I’d even eagerly purchased his way in. I’d only thought for him to escape the dreariness of this place. Why should we all be trapped here? Hell, as the brother of an earl, I’d thought he’d be protected, a general merely giving out orders. I hadn’t known he’d almost die. I’d been so damn naïve. No more.
“She’s a sweet girl, Jamie.”
Surprised, my startled gaze focused on Jules. She’d settled upon her stool, but she didn’t paint. Merely gazed morosely out at the fields. Whatever Will had said had upset her. “I know that.”
“Do you?” He looked at me fully. “Rafe said you don’t treat her well, and he’s had half a mind to kidnap her and take her away.”
I clenched my jaw. The thought of anyone taking her from me made my blood boil. I couldn’t go back to the coldness, to the isolation. “Rafe should worry about his own damn family.”
“So should you.” I didn’t miss the way his fists curled at his sides. I wouldn’t fight my brother, even though I wanted to. Not in front of Jules. “If he doesn’t whisk Jules away, I just might.”
“Does she look ill used to you?” I snapped, doing everything in my power not to lunge at the bastard. “Does she look…”
I glanced her way and my anger immediately faded. Hell, she looked miserable. The tension in my body eased as the fight drained from me. They were right. Both of them. But damn it all, I was trying to rectify a bad situation.
“You and I both know that a person can do much more damage to the soul and the inside, than the out.”
Is that what I’d become? Someone who mentally tormented others? Someone like my stepmother? Like my father? The thought made me angry and nauseous. For so long and so hard I’d been trying to protect myself from them, but I’d merely become the very people I’d despised.
“She doesn’t like Pickens,” Will said.
“Who does?”
Jules picked up a jar of green paint.
“No, she seems genuinely afraid of the old woman.”
I frowned. I didn’t blame her. What in damnation had Pickens been up to? What had she said to Jules? “You know what will happen if I kick Pickens from the estate.”
My stepmother would retaliate. She’d made it quite clear that Pickens was to stay until her dying breath. For the most part the old witch of a nanny kept to herself, hiding in shadowy corners. She sure as hell didn’t frighten me, but every time I saw her the woman’s appearance brought with bad memories. Mayhap that’s why my stepmother had insisted she stay…to torment me with the past.
“Maybe it’s time we stopped living in fear of the bitch,” Will said. I wasn’t sure which bitch he referred to, Pickens or our stepmother, but either would do. “I’m so bloody tired of it all.”
As was I. I’d tried so hard to shelter my brothers, but I hadn’t been able to keep them completely from harm’s way. I sure as hell wouldn’t let anything happen to Jules. “And if the truth comes out?”
“Then let it.”
Perhaps Will was right. Jules picked up a paint brush. We could handle any gossip, any accusations, but could my wife? It wasn’t the mere fact that she’d be thrown headfirst into any family scandal that gave me pause. No, it was the worry that once she knew the truth, she might never trust me again. Damn it all, I wanted a chance. This last week had been peaceful, had been bliss. And I knew it could be so much more. I suddenly hungered for the future.
“You don’t have to keep the old bat here. Give her a cottage if your guilt gets to you.”
I released a harsh laugh. “Guilt? After what she put us through? Never.”
Will didn’t leave, but continued to watch Jules, much to my annoyance. I had a wife, I could have a family. But would he ever? We were so bloody insane, every one of us, how could we ever have a normal relationship with anyone?
“You can make new memories, you know. It’s not too late for you.”
For me. I didn’t miss the implication in his statement. My guilt flared. He had a scar and a limp at times, damn him. His life wasn’t over.
“This place doesn’t have to be a painful reminder of our childhood.”
It was easy for him to forget, as he didn’t reside here. He didn’t have
the constant reminder. The bad memory at every turn. I could go into no room without being painfully reminded of what we had endured.
“You care for her, that’s obvious.”
I couldn’t deny it. I studied Jules, drawn to her lightness, her innocence. Part of me wanted to flee, to return to my chambers. She could destroy me if I let her. The other half of me wanted to draw her close, hold her tight.
“You’re falling for her, Jamie, whether you want to admit it or not. And Jules is definitely worth the fall.”
With those poetic words Will left, heading inside.
When had my blasted brothers become Lord Byron? I could have denied his accusation. I could have fled. Instead, I forced myself to move forward. Ignoring what lay before me would do no good. Perhaps I wasn’t in love with her, but I wanted a fresh start, I wanted Jules. To keep her, I had to try.
She’d started to paint, so focused on her task she wasn’t aware of my approach. She’d been right those months ago when she’d said she didn’t paint like other women. These weren’t delicate, fluttering brush strokes, but bold and dominating.
I was drawn to her art as I was drawn to her. She left a piece of herself in every painting. I hadn’t been able to help myself and when they’d unpacked the carriage when she’d arrived, I’d taken that landscape of the cottage, perhaps wanting a piece of her. If I couldn’t have her, I’d at least have that painting. A cottage by the sea, a woman sitting within the field, so small it was hard to see her, but she was there. I’d felt Jules within each brush stroke, within each splash of color.
“Do you like the paints?” I finally asked.
Startled, she jerked her head toward me. “Jamie.”
I didn’t miss the way she said my name…familiar and comforting. Jamie. It was the name only those closest to me used. I could admit to myself that I liked the way she said it, a whisper of air…a caress.
She smiled demurely. A smile that hit me like a punch to the gut. Hell, this woman had been an innocent all along. She’d been an innocent who didn’t fully understand her body’s reaction to desire. A woman who had given herself completely. And I’d treated her like a whore. The guilt I’d been trying to keep at bay rushed dangerously close to the surface.
“I like them very much,” she said softly.
I settled by the table, on the chair closest to her. I could sit there watching her all day. She came alive when she painted. Life itself. I wanted her here with me now…forever.
But I couldn’t make her stay here, as much as I wanted her by my side. She’d wither and fade, and I wouldn’t allow that. “I’ve ordered breakfast, if that is to your liking.”
“Yes, that would be nice.” She set her paint brush upon the easel.
“No, please, continue. I like to watch you paint.”
She flushed, but did as was told and continued to paint. I could tell the moment she became lost in her work and forgot about me. The brushstrokes became bold once more, daring and sure.
I wanted to see her like this always…happy. Content. Alive. It was a sudden thought, brought on by Will’s suggestion to make new memories that had me speaking. “I thought perhaps we could hold a ball.”
I cursed myself the moment the words were out. But it was too late. She straightened, perking up and facing me. And when I saw the excitement in her gaze, I could not take the words back. “A ball?”
“Yes.” I smiled. I’d hate every moment, but I would adore watching her glow. “In celebration of our wedding.”
It sounded ridiculous. Celebrate the hell that had been our wedding? Celebrate the monster I’d been?
But she remained excited, not the bitter cynic that I’d become. “Might I invite my parents and my friend Cecilia?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
She smiled at me, her first genuine smile since arriving. The very light that shone from her eyes sucked the breath from my lungs, made my chest feel tight. The world suddenly felt as if it was void of air.
Hell, if I didn’t realize in that moment that I was falling for Jules all over again.
Chapter 10
Julianna
Two months.
For two months I’d been Jamie’s wife, living upon the moors of northern England.
And in those two months things had changed like the sea, dramatic and haunting one day, calm and serene the next. When I woke up in the morning, I never knew quite what to expect. Would Jamie be attentive? Caring? Or would he be morose, hiding away in his study, avoiding me and the growing feelings between us?
No matter what his mood, James and I still had dinner each evening. At times our talk was lively, memories of childhood, even discussing the estate, the tenants and politics. He never mentioned his father. Never mentioned his mother. He certainly never mentioned his step-mother. And neither of us ever talked about the future. Not wanting to sour the mood, I didn’t push the subjects.
I’d finally gotten the courage to ask about Pickens one night, having not seen the woman lurking in the shadows for days. I was relieved to hear she was no longer in residence. He’d sent her to live in a cottage near his stepmother. I eased my guilt by believing that surely she would be happier with her own home.
Once in a while James would appear when I was painting outside. It wasn’t as if I witnessed his arrival. No, it was a shiver of awareness that traveled down my spine. An aching need that shimmered deep within the pit of my belly. I’d turn and see him standing on the steps, a bemused look upon his handsome face as if he wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten there. At first I’d been self-conscious with him watching, but I’d soon gotten used to his sudden appearances. I even liked when he was near, feeling oddly safe, secure, not so alone.
But for the most part we kept to ourselves.
And I was lonely.
I found myself searching him out, hoping he would arrive during my painting sessions, and relieved and excited on the rare occasions when he would. I was a puppy, happy to see its master, desperate for attention. But mostly I found myself waiting anxiously for dinner, the one time when I knew he would be there. He’d kept his promise.
And when I’d never cared before about my looks, I found myself preening, wondering what dress to wear, how to do my hair. He was always polite, always attentive. But there was something that told me he was holding back…something that told me he wasn’t quite there when we were together. I wondered at times if he would ever trust me enough to let down that wall he’d built. Would I ever see the true Jamie? The man his brothers knew?
“This arrived for you my lady!” Cora raced into the room, a large box in hand. “I think I know what it is!”
She was still much too chatty for a lady’s maid, but I’d rather have her chatter than the endless silence. I stepped away from the window where I’d been trying to imagine the many carriages that would be arriving to this desolate place in the next hour. Tried to imagine the house aglow with light and laughter. It was practically impossible, yet it excited me all the same. It was a test of sorts, to see if this place could be a home. Why? Was I truly thinking of staying here with the children once they were born?
“What is it?” I asked, focusing upon Cora instead of my sudden disconcerting feelings.
She set the box upon the bed. “From Lord Whitfield.”
He’d sent me gifts before, but they were always little things here and there, nothing too extravagant. But it was enough to know that he was thinking about me. I moved toward the bed, Cora’s excitement contagious, and I lifted the lid.
A beautiful silk blue and silver dress lay upon tissue paper. My breath caught. The material shimmered and glowed under the lamplight, like ocean water under the moon. The yellow gown I’d been planning to wear was nothing compared to this dress.
“Stunning,” I said, breathless. It seemed alive, somehow.
“Oh my, it’s simply beautiful!” Cora declared, clasping her hands together in delight. “You will be the most stunning creature at the ball!”
I smiled at the maid. She certainly knew how to stroke my arrogance. I picked up the note resting upon the dress.
It matched your eyes.
A warm shiver whispered through my body and I found my smile turning into a grin. My eyes were plain blue, but his praise had its desired effect. With that simple note he’d told me he’d noticed. We hadn’t been intimate since that day in the hunter’s cottage. I clasped the note to my chest, my heart pounding erratically. I wanted him. Tonight, I’d have him even if I had to seduce the man. I had before, I could do it again.
“My lady,” Cora whispered. “You’ll be the most beautiful woman there!”
“You’ll feed my arrogance,” I said, pulling off my robe. “I’ll turn into an unbearable monster.”
Her smile fell and she shook her head so passionately a brown curl danced across her forehead. “Oh no, my lady. That would never happen to you. We all know how kind you are. They talk about it downstairs all the time. Everyone adores you.”
I flushed, pleased and slightly embarrassed by the words. It hadn’t been easy, but perhaps I had finally won over the staff. “Help me?”
She pulled out the bodice and smoothed down the wrinkles. “Feels like melted butter!”
“It does.” She tugged the silky material up on my shoulders. I’d never owned anything so beautiful. And I wanted to look stunning, but not to impress the guests, only to catch Jamie’s eye.
“It’s a bit snug around the chest,” she said from behind me. “But no worries, it will look beautiful!”
I frowned as she tugged at the bindings in the back. “Too small?”
“No.” She grunted as she pulled. “I gave Lord Whitfield one of your dresses to use as a guide.”
I grinned. “Ah, so this was your doing?”
She continued to grunt as she pulled. I stiffened as I heard the crunch of wheels over gravel. Someone had arrived. I could only pray it was one of Jamie’s brothers and not a guest. I wasn’t ready to stand and be judged in front of them quite yet.