A Dangerous Temptation

by L. R. Olson

  I flushed and focused on Jamie. The only sweet words I would listen to, would come from my husband. “I should have known about his wound. If only I’d noticed it sooner.”

  “Do not blame yourself.”

  I settled in the chair and took Jamie’s hand in mine. Such a strong, fine hand that had brought me so much pleasure. He had callouses from the work he’d done on his cottage. I rubbed those sores as if I could magically heal them. “How had he not noticed the wound?”

  “Doctor is coming up the lane,” Mrs. Willow called up the stairs.

  My relief was immediate. Jean had come through after all.

  “When there are extreme emotions involved, especially when one is protecting the person they love, it can numb them to the pain. I’ve seen it before.”

  Jamie had been protecting me. Me. I no longer needed to hear his words of love. He’d shown me in so many ways he cared.

  “The next couple days will be vital,” the constable said. “I’m going to meet the doctor at the door.”

  I waited until his footsteps faded down the hall. Although I didn’t want to speak the thought aloud, I knew this could be my final moment with my husband. “Jamie?”

  No response.

  I placed my hand to his forehead. He was cold. So cold.

  “Oh Jamie.” I rested my elbows on the bed, my head in my hands as the tears trailed down my cheeks. How would Millie and I go on if he died? “You stupid man, why did you do it?”

  “Because, you silly woman,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you. Isn’t that obvious?”

  I tore my hands from my face. “Jamie?”

  His eyes were open, but clouded with pain. It was enough. He lifted his hands and started to reach for me, only to grimace and pull back. “I’m here.”

  I surged from my chair. “Oh, thank God!”

  “Indeed, he wouldn’t have me. Said I needed saving first. Besides, if you think I’m going to leave you here alone and give that bloody constable a chance…”

  “Do not jest,” I whispered. My entire body trembled, a mixture of emotions assaulting my senses. Needing to do something helpful, I grabbed a cloth and dipped it into the watering bowl near the bed, then brushed it across his forehead.

  “Water?” he whispered.

  I could hear the doctor and Thomas starting up the stairs. Our time alone was at an end. I reached for a glass and the pitcher. “You better not die. I mean it, Jamie.” My hands shook so badly I poured more water onto the floor than into the cup. “Damn it all, do you want her to win?”

  He watched me curiously as I brought the water to him. “I’ve never seen you this flustered, and over me? I find I rather enjoy it.”

  His voice sounded weak, so unlike him. I knew he would not last much longer. This was my fault. All my fault.

  “Please, Jamie.” I slid my arm under his neck and helped him drink. With my body pressed against his, I savored the moment. “Don’t. Please be serious.”

  “I’m serious.” He swallowed. “I love you, Jules.”

  My heart lurched. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shake some sense into him, or kiss him. For the first time since meeting the man, I didn’t want to hear his words of love. I had this horrible, terrible feeling he was telling me because he thought he was going to die.

  “I love you.” His breath became shallow, his voice a mere thready whisper. “And I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

  His thick lashes lowered, his eyes closed.

  My arm tightened around his shoulders, panic flaring. “Jamie?”

  There was no response.

  Epilogue

  Julianna

  I brushed aside the withered flowers and placed fresh ones on the grave. Even now, months later, the pain and sadness had not faded. I knew eventually I wouldn’t think about him every minute of every day. But at the moment his death was as fresh as if it had happened only yesterday.

  “I miss you so much,” I whispered, my throat growing tight with emotion I didn’t dare give into. For I knew if I was reduced to tears, I might never stop crying. “It’s silly, I know, but I actually thought you might win. That you were too strong to succumb to something as common as death.”

  Although my belly was heavy and swollen with child, I managed to straighten and brushed the dirt from my skirts. It was peaceful in this cemetery upon the moors. Taking in a deep, calming breath, I allowed my gaze to wander across the cemetery and toward the fields dotted with blue flowers. When I’d once despaired to live here, this place now felt like home. Despite the bad memories at this estate, I could imagine residing nowhere else.

  “I suppose all children believe their parents are immortal.” I glanced at the headstone. “You had a good life, didn’t you?”

  A high-pitched squeal interrupted the peaceful setting. The sound of innocent laughter brought a smile to my face I could not deny. I turned to see Millie racing unsteadily through the entrance of the wrought iron fence. She’d started walking a couple months ago and hadn’t stopped. Her bright, happy face made my heart squeeze with an emotion that almost overwhelmed me. She did not know to be sad or fearful of death in this cemetery, she only knew to enjoy life, to look forward to what was to come day after day. Spotting me she grinned and headed in my direction.

  “Careful!” There were too many headstones to fall upon. “James?”

  “I’ve got her.” Jamie swooped into the cemetery like an archangel, and scooped up Millie saving her from certain injury. “You little sweetling.”

  Sweetling indeed. She screamed and arched her back, her happiness gone as quickly as it had arrived. What had happened to my calm and innocent baby? I’d once wondered if she would be sweet and kind or bold and demanding. Most certainly bold and demanding. I didn’t let her get away with much…but James…she could wrap him around her little finger with a mere smile.

  “You shouldn’t be out here alone in your state.” Balancing Millie against his chest, he slid his free arm around me. I lifted my head as he lowered his. The kiss was soft, gentle. “You should be inside.”

  “It’s the first warm day without rain. Besides, I’m hardly ill, merely with child.”

  He rested his hand on my swollen belly. “Very, very with child.”

  I frowned. “Do keep speaking and you’ll find yourself sleeping in a guest room tonight.”

  He leaned down and kissed me again.

  “Excellent response, my lord,” I murmured with a grin. I’d thought my feelings for Jamie would fade, but if anything they’d only grown stronger. How much he’d changed since being shot that year and a half ago. If it wasn’t for the scar on his side, that memory would have seemed like some terrible, terrible nightmare. Two weeks after she’d fallen, Claudine’s body had washed ashore. She was truly dead, yet there was little relief for his stepmother was still spreading her gossip.

  “Kiss,” Millie demanded.

  Jamie lifted her high, making her giggle, then lowered her so they were face to face. She cupped his scruffy cheeks in her pudgy hands and smacked her lips to his. “Lovely,” he laughed, swiping the slobber from his mouth.

  The day was soft and gentle, the breeze warm, and the sky blue for once. Yes, these moors had grown on me, the watchful nature and quietness of it all. And we were making our own memories. Happy memories. The halls were now filled with Millie’s laughter and my colorful paintings. I’d even sold two more pieces to affluent members of London society. I was making a name for myself as an artist.

  “It’s going to be a boy,” I said as we left the cemetery. “I know it.”

  Jamie set Millie down and watched as she raced across the grass toward my mother who sat on the patio, sipping tea. I’d been so happy when Mother and Father had decided to spend their last few months with us that I hadn’t thought about the end. When Father had asked to be buried here instead of our small plot at the church in Dorset, I’d been brought to tears. He didn’t want strangers looking after his grave. Jamie had readily agreed to a
llow him to be laid to rest in the family plot. So he would always be here with us.

  Jamie slid his arm around my waist. “A boy, huh?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “I’m sure of it.”

  He grinned. “I think Millie will be able to hold her own against a brother or two.”

  I laughed. “Oh, she’ll have them eating out of her palms.”

  A sudden rippling ache swept through my lower belly. I stumbled, but managed to bite back my gasp. Jamie was there, his arm tightening around me as concern flashed across his dark eyes. “Are you well?”

  I forced myself to smile. “Fine. Just tripped upon my own feet. Clumsy.”

  He paused, forcing me to stop. “Jules, you would tell me if the baby was coming, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course.” I tore my attention from his steady gaze. “Oliver is here.”

  It worked and he focused on his brother. “Probably busy offending your mother at this very moment.”

  I laughed to cover up the flinch of pain. They were coming faster now. Poor Jamie. He hadn’t a clue what would happen, as he hadn’t been there for Millie’s birth. If I told him the truth of what was to come, he’d force me to bed and I didn’t want to lay there waiting, having nothing to focus on for hours but the pain.

  I took Jamie’s arm as we started up the steps and headed toward the table set for tea. Oliver had already scooped up Millie and was listening intently as she babbled. We weren’t naïve enough to believe he had a soft spot for children. He found her fascinating…as a scientist would find a new species of insect intriguing. And she loved him because he actually paid attention to her nonsensical words. Yes, he measured, he checked her eyes and ears, and took notes, but to her it was still attention.

  Oliver settled Millie into my mother’s eager arms. Millie, of course, was not going to stand for that and slipped off her legs only to run laps around the stone patio.

  “Mrs. Samson!” I called out.

  I didn’t use the nanny often, but I needed her more and more as of lately. Unfortunately, we’d been unable to persuade Mrs. Willow into moving here. She’d been born and raised in the small village and wanted to die there.

  “Of course, my lady.” Mrs. Samson raced after Millie. I could only relax when the nanny had escorted her to the safety of the soft grass. I’d heard that once I had my second child, I wouldn’t worry as much about the first, but I had my doubts.

  “How are you feeling, my dear?” Mother asked.

  “Well,” I managed.

  Mother was staying here until after the baby was born, then going to visit Penny in London. She’d decided to sell the small cottage Father had purchased for her in Dorset and reside between the two of us. Penny had given birth to a son some months ago and they were planning to spend Christmas with us here. After Father’s death none of us wanted to be alone. The more the merrier.

  “Have you heard from Cecilia?”

  I didn’t miss the glance Oliver and Jamie shared.

  “I have.” Although I’d told no one but Jamie, I knew where she resided. The little home by the sea where I’d given birth to Millie was no longer empty. Cecilia and I had dubbed it Heartbroken Cottage. Knowing it was better to change the subject for all of those involved, I did. “The weather is lovely. I do hope it lasts.”

  My mother surged into conversation about the sunshine. Rafe had hurt Cecilia horribly and I would never forgive him. Never. But as much as I wanted to be loyal to my friend, I could not prevent Jamie from seeing his own brother. It wouldn’t be right. And so I smiled politely and left the room whenever Rafe appeared, instead of stabbing him in his cold, black heart as I desired.

  Another pain rippled across my belly. I sank back into my chair to cover the grimace. Breathing through the ache helped. But I knew that soon nothing would dull the pain.

  “Tea, my dear?” Mother asked, lifting the pretty kettle with the red roses. A tea set that had belonged to Jamie’s mother. I thought of her often. Talked to her even at times, for I swore I could feel her presence in the estate. I hoped she had found some peace, now that her eldest son was happy and content.

  I nodded.

  Mother hesitated, her astute gaze scanning my features. I couldn’t hide my cringe as another cramp started. When I remained silent, she sighed and poured. She knew how stubborn I could be and would not push, even though she realized the truth. Since having Millie, I felt closer to my mother than I ever had before. I understood what she had gone through, the worry and anxiety she felt even still.

  She set a cup before me. “Perhaps you’d like to take your tea in your room?”

  “No,” I said, resting my hands on my belly. “I’m quite all right. It’s so lovely outside.”

  She merely lifted a brow as she sipped her own tea. Sensing something amiss, Jamie jerked his gaze toward me. I wasn’t quite ready to retire to my room. Not yet.

  “Oliver, do tell us how you are.”

  He seemed startled by the sudden focus on him, when usually people tried to avoid conversation with the man. “Oh. Yes, of course, you wish to divert attention from you.”

  Jamie slowly lowered his tea cup, his fierce gaze bringing a blush to my cheeks. “Why is that, my dear?”

  I gave him a forced smile. “Nothing, my sweet.”

  He narrowed his eyes and leaned toward me. He looked utterly annoyed and completely endearing. He was angry, but I could also see the panic in his gaze. Poor man. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Jules?”

  “No.” I shook my head frantically. “Nothing at all.”

  “Jules,” he drawled out. “What aren’t you saying?”

  “Jamie, really, don’t be obtuse.” Oliver reached across the table and grabbed a biscuit. “Your wife is about to give birth.”

  ****

  James

  She made me leave the room after two hours.

  According to Jules, every time she cried out, I looked as if I might faint, and she shouldn’t have to worry about me falling over and cracking open my head while she was bringing our child into the world. Besides, I couldn’t save her from childbirth. If it was time for her to die, it was time.

  Those words, of course, did not make me feel any better. Rafe had arrived and between him and Oliver, they managed to pull me down the hall, but not before I’d given them each a black eye. Rationally, I knew I was not helping Julianna. But it didn’t stop me from wanting to be with her, from holding her hand.

  It was barbaric, it was. I’d be damned if we’d have another child. “Childbirth should be outlawed,” I muttered mostly to myself.

  “Well then we’d have a problem populating the earth,” Rafe added. “Wouldn’t we?”

  “Shut up, Rafe,” I snapped, pacing to the windows. Evening had fallen, the sky had grown dark. How much longer would it take?

  “It’s natural,” Oliver had said an hour ago, which had made me want to give him another black eye.

  There was nothing natural about watching your loved one in so much pain.

  Rafe headed toward the sideboard to get a drink as if it was every other day. The clock struck the hour. Eight in the evening. If I’d been there for Millie’s birth, she would have been an only child. I paced by Rafe. He handed me a glass. I took the whiskey and drank it in one gulp.

  “How much longer?” I snapped, slamming the cup upon the sideboard. The room seemed too small. The walls felt as if they were leaning in on me. I tugged at my collar, warm and nauseous all at once. “Why does it take so damn long?”

  “It’s only been five hours, Jamie,” Oliver said, casually flipping through a book on human anatomy as he lay relaxed upon the settee. “Most births are that long, if not longer. Are you sure you don’t wish for me to help?”

  “Damnation Oliver,” Rafe snapped. “It’s inappropriate! How often do we have to remind you?”

  Looking annoyed, Oliver tossed the book to a side table. “I’m a damn doctor now, how is it inappropriate?”

  Rafe rolled his eyes an
d poured himself another drink. He’d been an outright arse all evening. If I’d cared, I might have asked him what was wrong. But I had more important things to worry about.

  “You’ll treat her like a science specimen,” Rafe muttered. “When she’s our sister-in-law.”

  “I only see her as a person in need.”

  “Shut up, Oliver,” Rafe snapped, heading toward his chair. “Sometimes you’re a right arse.”

  “That’s rich, coming from you,” Oliver muttered. “Ever since Cecilia—”

  “Do not say another word,” Rafe seethed.

  “I can’t take it any longer.” I started toward the door, their petty argument driving me mad. Did they not understand that my wife was in pain? That even now she could be losing her life? Hell, women died in childbirth every day. “It’s too quiet.”

  I surged into the foyer. The house was still. Most of the servants were downstairs, or sleeping in preparation for their early morning. No sound of Julianna crying out, no sound of a baby’s wails.

  Fear had me racing up the steps three at a time.

  When we’d returned home after Claudine’s death Jules had moved into my bedchamber. I wanted her close by and she didn’t want me to be alone after the injury. Over a year later I was fit as a fiddle, although the scar did sting once in a while, and she still shared my chamber.

  While I’d been healing at the cottage, I’d thought about telling the constable about Jean murdering his sister. But Jean had disappeared, most likely headed back to the continent. It just wasn’t worth the pain. Although I certainly didn’t wish to see her meet such a horrible demise, I could admit that I was relieved I would no longer have to deal with Claudine, or her brother. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same about my stepmother, who had made it her goal to spread rumors through London that I had been responsible for Claudine’s death.