by Wendy Vella
Her face had been clenched in fear and James had known how much those words had cost her.
“I will never hurt you, Samantha, I promise,” he had vowed. She had looked at him for a long time and then just when James had believed she would not answer him she had nodded and taken the hand he held out to her. He had stayed there for several minutes, just clutching her small fingers until they both felt calmer. Only then had he stood and led her down to their evening meal.
Eden sat across from James, careful to look at everyone but him. She had changed into a gown of the palest lilac. Matching ribbons were threaded through the neckline, which settled on the top of her breasts, and he felt his body tighten as he remembered them pressed to his chest. Her hair was simply pulled together at her nape, yet the look was more alluring than any he had seen in society.
She was danger to James. Dangerous in a way that would make the wall he had built to protect himself crumble. Just pressing his lips to hers had created a fire inside him, and that told him to keep his distance from her in the future. James did not want to lose control; control was how he had survived. Control ensured his life was as it should be with no deviations.
He had said what he had to hurt her, to push her away from him, and her reply had surprised him. She hadn’t cried or cursed, just stated calmly that in the future she would be available to him only in the capacity of a rescuer. She had spirit, Miss Eden Sinclair, and were he a man wanting a spirited wife he would look no further, but he wasn’t and never would be. James had no room in his life for anyone but Samantha from this day forth.
“I choose dessert!”
James was wrenched from his thoughts by the youngest Sinclair.
“Oh please, you always choose dessert. Can we not stretch our brains further than food?” Eden scoffed while winking at her youngest brother.
“Tartlets!” Warwick Sinclair cried, bouncing up and down in his seat.
James looked at the boy. Surely he was not asking too much to eat his meal with only the gentle hum of conversation, if indeed there must be conversation. And what the hell was he doing screaming out the word tartlets? He had not seemed unstable, yet surely this conversation indicated something was not as it should be inside his head. But then, considering his siblings....
“You cannot just cry tartlets. What kind?”
James swiveled in his chair to look at one of the twins, who was questioning her brother. What were they talking about? There were no tartlets on the table. Perhaps half of the Sinclairs were unbalanced but hid it well? Samantha just smiled and shook her head as he gave her a questioning look.
“Berry tartlets and the accompanying sentence must be in Latin.”
“I’ll take berry,” Essex Sinclair said slowly. She appeared deep in thought.
“I’ll take tartlets.” Cambridge Sinclair laughed. “I’ve always been partial to tart... lets.”
Devon Sinclair glowered at his brother then rolled his eyes when Cam poked out his tongue.
How the hell was James to digest his food with all this nonsense, whatever it was, going on around him? He could cope with a child calling him James—just—but this carry on was not good for his digestion.
“But Egbert roasts rodents year-round? You could not have done better than that?” Essie scoffed, she then added a sentence in faultless Latin.
Eden laughed as her sister poked out her tongue. It was a beautiful sound, rich and full and the smile reached her eyes. Why the hell did he have to notice things like that about her, and why was Essex quoting phrases that included rodents at the dinner table? James’s head was beginning to ache. He wondered if he should leave the room and take his sister with him before the Sinclairs displayed more of their disturbing behavior.
“Tactfully Amelia Rose taught little Egbert toasting skills,” Cambridge Sinclair said in a slow drawl, and then he too spoke in Latin. James could find no fault in his pronunciation either.
“Cam, that was wonderful.”
“Thank you, sweeting.” Cam blew the twin who spoke a kiss.
“Dare one enquire what is going on?” James asked when he could no longer stand being left in the dark. He liked to be in control at all times, and these Sinclairs had a way of wresting it from him. In fact, they showed absolutely no regard for his title or standing in society, which, he silently added, was far above theirs.
“Oh sorry, James, it was rude of us not to explain first.” One of the twins said. “We play word games. Someone chooses two words. A short verse is then made up using the letters of the word. Once it has been spoken then it must be repeated in whatever language is selected. Obviously the sentences are not constructed the same way, or with the same letters. Take Spanish for example deadly means mortal and--”
“Thank you, yes I understand your meaning, Miss…”
“Somerset,” she said. “Dorset is shorter than I, and my teeth protrude further than hers, if you need a way to identify us.”
“Thank you for the explanation, and the tips on identifying you from your sister, Miss Somerset. For a brief moment I wondered what my sister and I had strayed into,” James said, managing a thin smile.
“Bedlam, Raven,” Devon drawled. “But we like it that way.”
James held the other man’s eyes. The eldest Sinclair was angered and he had a hunch it was not just from their earlier discussion. Had Eden told him about their kiss?
“Each to their own, Sinclair.”
“Greek gods,” Cambridge Sinclair stated, then forked a large mouthful of meat into his mouth.
“You try, James,” Somerset prompted.
Dear God, no!
“Go on, James.” Samantha’s gentle words made James swallow. How could he refuse her when she was actually talking to him, and using his name without his instigating the conversation.
“If it’s too much for you, Raven....”
Glaring at Devon Sinclair, James said, “I’ll take the word Greek and will repeat the phrase in Russian. I realize that no one will understand what I am saying, but—”
“I can,” a high-pitched voice said to his left.
“You speak Russian, Miss Somerset?” James pinched the bridge of his nose hard. He wasn’t sure if he was standing on his head or feet around these people.
“Do you believe because we are not overly plump in the pocket we are therefore unintelligent, James?” Eden said the words and if her glare became any more heated he would be torched where he sat.
“I do not judge people because they are born either rich or poor, Eden.” Which was only partially true, he realized, and then he wondered when he’d become a snob. The look she gave him told James she did not believe a word he had spoken.
“And I’ll take gods,” Eden said, looking at James’s left ear, “and I’ll repeat in Spanish.”
She would, the little shrew. He just bet she was bloody fluent in any language he chose to name. They were a very unusual family, these Sinclairs.
“Our mother had a fondness for languages, Raven, and passed it on to her children.”
James nodded at Sinclair’s words before he said, “Goddess Rhode eats eels kindly.” He then added a sentence in Russian. He spoke several languages, but Russian was his favorite.
“Not bad for a first attempt.” Cambridge Sinclair raised his glass to James. “Your pronunciation needs work, but we understood it.”
Not bad? It was bloody brilliant, James thought, refusing to speak his thoughts out loud.
“Gaia observes deadly silence,” Eden said.
She may be bloody beautiful but she was also damned annoying. James scowled as Eden spoke in soft flowing Spanish and then smiled at him, the gesture never reaching her eyes.
“And on that note, Warwick, Dorrie, and Somer, please finish your food as it is now time for you to retire,” Devon said.
“What is the extra ingredient in this pie, Essie?” Warwick asked around a mouthful.
“Saffron,” Essex said. “Would you like Eden and me to take Samantha wit
h us, James? She can sleep with the girls if she wishes to. They will share one bed and we the other,” she added.
James hadn’t thought further than firing his sister’s nanny, but of course his sister would need a companion until they reached London.
“I would be grateful, thank you, Essex. Are you happy with these arrangements, Samantha?” James helped his sister from her seat.
“Yes, thank you, James.”
The Sinclair siblings hugged their elder brothers before retiring. Samantha nodded his way, and James understood theirs was a relationship that needed a great deal of time to help it grow into something comfortable before they freely gave hugs, if they ever would. He understood that, but still felt a dull ache in his chest as he watched his little sister leave the room.
After bidding the brothers good night, he followed, eager to find his bed as his body was now one large ache. Each abused muscle was stiff and sore and his head throbbed.
“Your room is most unpleasant, your Grace, and the mattress lumpy.”
These words greeted James as he entered his room. His valet was a small bird of a man who had been with him for many years. They rubbed along together because neither had much to say, but he tended to fuss more than James liked.
“I shall survive, Brenton.”
Stripping off his clothes, James washed and pulled on his dressing gown. He rarely slept in clothes, as he was a restless sleeper and they ended up trapped around his body, waking him. Tonight, however, he was to share the inn with the Sinclairs and had no wish to be roused suddenly in a naked state by one of them.
“You may leave now, thank you.”
“It is my hope you are refreshed in the morning, your Grace.”
James grunted good night, and then fell on the bed, groaning loudly as the pain of various aching body parts pulled viciously. Closing his eyes, he sighed. At last, some peace and quiet from those frustrating Sinclairs. Considering the events of the last few days, it was testament to his tiredness that he felt himself sinking into sleep.
The dreams came with ruthless intensity and had him thrashing around in the sheets. Water was dragging him under as he tried to breathe, tried to find enough air to fill his lungs. The terror of being bound and helpless swept over him once more.
“Sssh, James, ‘tis all right.”
He woke to the soft words and a hand on his shoulder. Reaching out, he grabbed the wrist, needing to feel anchored to something. Something or someone who would save him.
“You are safe now.”
“Who are you?” His voice sounded rough and unused as he forced his gritty eyes open and looked to the shape beside his bed.
“It is Eden, James. You were calling out in your sleep, and I came to see if all was well. You were reliving the nightmare of being thrown in the water.”
“Christ.” James hissed out the word. He remembered now. He was back there again, under the water with his hands and feet bound as he struggled to free himself.
“It will take time, but the memory will ease, I promise. I shall have Essie mix herbs to soothe you while you sleep.”
James felt Eden’s hand on his head, brushing the hair back from his forehead. It was the softest touch, but he felt it everywhere.
“You should not be in here.”
“I grew concerned when you did not stop shouting, and while you are not my favorite person today, I could not listen as you continued to suffer.”
As his eyes adjusted he began to see her clearly. The silhouette of her lovely body clad in a nightdress as she bent over him made him ache to reach for her.
“I am very rarely anyone’s favorite person.”
“Now you are being modest, Duke,” she said, mocking him. “I’m sure there are any number of women who find you quite favorable.”
He snorted. “They find my title favorable.”
“Yes, it is quite surprising how a homely man with a title can suddenly gain popularity.”
“Are you calling me homely, Eden?” Why did he love talking with this woman? Why did his heart beat harder and he feel lighter when in her company?
“Have I dented your ego? Forgive me, it was unfair considering you have just surfaced from a nightmare.” Her hand patted his shoulder. “I would like to add that in a very short amount of time I have no doubt that you will be Samantha’s favorite person.”
James doubted that, but kept those thoughts to himself. “If your brothers found you in here they would attempt to beat me to a pulp.”
“But not succeed?”
James heard the amusement in her voice.
“Perhaps if the two of them tried, they may rough me up a bit.”
“Then I shall leave before they do.”
“How did you hear me when your room is on the next floor up?” He didn’t want her to leave him to fall back into the terror.
“I-I was, ah, checking on Warwick.”
She was lying, her hesitation told him that, and also, they both knew Warwick slept in the same room as her brothers. However, he did not want to challenge her because then she’d leave.
“I do not like to feel fear.” The darkness allowed him to show this weakness.
“But fear is something we all experience, James, and it makes us stronger if we have lived and survived fear.”
“It weakens you,” James said, closing his eyes. Her hand was on his shoulder again. He wanted her to slip inside his robe and stroke his skin. Visions of pulling her onto his body had him hard.
“No, it does not, but now is not the time for that conversation. Sleep, and you shall feel better in the morning.”
He grabbed her wrist as she lifted it from his body. Swinging his legs off the bed, he settled her between them.
“James, let me go.”
“I can’t.”
“You must.”
There was no strength in her words as he kissed the side of her jaw.
“What is it about you?” James said the words into her throat.
“I-I… it is what lies between our families.” Her hands went to his shoulders, digging in to the material of his dressing gown.
He didn’t speak, simply took her mouth beneath his and kissed her. It was soft and deep and James swore he felt something stir inside him.
“No.” She said the word softly as she pulled out of his arms. “No.” This time it was firmer. “I won’t do this to myself or my family. There can be nothing between us, ever, therefore this will lead to my downfall, so it cannot happen again.”
“No matter how much we wish it,” James ended the sentence.
“Yes.”
She stood there for a few seconds, her breathing harsh, then turned and walked away from him, closing the door softly behind her and leaving James aroused and angry with himself. Angry at his loss of control and the fact that he had once again disrespected Eden and her family. He knew better than to make advances to a young unmarried woman, yet he had done so with her and more than once.
He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The last thought that filtered through his head before he slept once again was that she had not denied wanting him, and James wished like hell she had.
Chapter Seven
Looking out of the carriage window as it rumbled through the streets toward the Wynburg town house, Eden realized London appeared to be everything she had expected. Noisy, smelly and overpopulated.
When they had stopped to change horses, she had decided to travel with her sisters and Samantha. Her brothers had shot her a confused look, as she always rode with them, but Eden did not elaborate because telling the truth was not an option. Especially as it concerned a certain dark-haired duke who with just a glance could make her heart flutter. Plus, every time she looked at James she was reminded of her foolish behavior.
Twice yesterday she had yielded to his kisses. Thrown herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and urged him to take more of what she offered. It horrified her how wantonly she behaved around him. So she had decided from th
is day onward she would keep her distance from him, and that included riding alongside him.
He’d been polite, as had she, when they encountered each other at breakfast, but that was the last time they’d spoken, and she would make sure it would be the last for some time.
She’d woken during the night and pulled out her earplugs to hear him call out in his sleep. Eden knew he would battle the demons from the night she had saved him for some time to come. The memory was vivid for her also, and her life had not been in danger like his. She had quickly climbed out of bed before his cries escalated and gone to his room. Pausing briefly at his door, she’d pushed aside her doubt. He was hurting and needed someone, and she would be that person.
He had been thrashing about, arching off the mattress as he tried to free himself from the invisible bonds that held him down. He’d woken to her touch, and fool that she was, she’d stayed instead of leaving as soon as she knew he was all right.
What has become of me? Eden wondered. To crave a man’s touch like she did the Duke’s was foolhardy, but there was little she could do about it. It was as if an invisible thread pulled her toward him. Well, that thread was now severed, and Eden hoped they saw nothing of him in London.
“What if our aunt is mean and nasty and does not like us?”
Somer’s words pulled Eden from her thoughts.
“Now why would our aunt and uncle invite us to London, if they were mean?” Essie said, cuddling her close.
The four children had grown quiet as the miles passed. Change was always frightening for them, especially the youngest Sinclair siblings. After the deaths of their parents, Dev, Cam, Essie, and Eden had done their best to be both mother and father to them, yet no one could replace their mother’s love. Their father’s love had never been without conditions.
“Will we see each other again?”
Eden put her arm around Samantha; the little girl’s whispered words tugged at her heart.
“Of course; in fact I think your brother’s home is on the same street as our aunt’s, so we will grow quite tired of each other.”
“Really?” Eden felt her heart sink as she looked at Essie. “How do you know that?”