Rebecca's Ghost

by Marianne Petit

  Be it elated relief he was alive and his son lay safe in his room—be it a need to recall what her warm curvy body felt like pressed against his, or to feel her arms wrapped around him in relaxed comfort—but suddenly, the desire to kiss her was the only thought on his mind.

  ***

  Tessie's words hammered Elizabeth’s brain as she concentrated on the task before her. What nonsense and stupidity! Of all the--

  Philip’s arm muscles bunched and she realized in her anger, she had pressed his wound a little too deeply.

  In his eyes, she saw his unspoken questions and anxiety burned in her chest.

  I’d better step easy, lest he question me further, or he might start thinking as Tessie does.

  She had no answers for him about the fire; none that she could explain.

  “What is this magical concoction?”

  “Aloe and Maypop. The Aloe makes it a bit sticky, but will soothe your pain.”

  Despite the casual conversation, Elizabeth knew he was thinking about the fire. How could he not? She couldn’t blame him. He deserved answers.

  His steady stare seemed to look into her soul, analyzing her answers, seeking for the truth.

  Her heart took a perilous leap.

  She glanced down to his arm. The touch of his flesh beneath her fingertips, as she spread another thin layer of salve over his arm, made her body tingled from the contact.

  “Ah yes, Maypop. Also known as passionflower.”

  She was a bit surprised by the seductive undertones of his deep timbered voice and a brief shiver rippled through her.

  “Yes. I see you are familiar with the flower.”

  Gone was the inquisition in his eyes. Desire now widened his pupils. Once again, her heart turned over in response.

  “It climbs the sides of my home in abundance and is one of my favorites.” His extraordinary clear blue eyes had a devilish, eager look to them. “Interesting name, is it not?”

  She blushed. Of all the leaves she had to choose ...

  “As a tea, ‘twill help you sleep. Perhaps I can make you a cup?” She pulled her hand away.

  He reached out and rested his hand on her arm. “I’ve no need for sleep. You promised me a bath.”

  His gaze swept over her seductively.

  Uncomfortable by the intense look of desire in his eyes, she reached to the table for a bandage and ripped the end of the clean cloth into partial strips.

  “Your arm should not get wet.”

  Good lord, she wanted to kiss him.

  Her stomach fluttered.

  “I shall keep that extremity from the water.”

  A mischievous glee lit his eyes.

  Her pulse skittered at an alarming pace. She took a deep breath in an effort to throttle the dizzying current racing through her.

  “The bath I suggested earlier was intended as a sleep aid, and since you have no need of sleep I suggest --”

  “A cup of tea. Yes a very good suggestion.” His brows arched wickedly, then fell, as he placed his thumb on his chin. “Hmm.” He tapped his cheek. “I remember hearing from some acquaintances of mine that a drink of such named flower will…” he waved his hand,” how can I put it delicately—will bring about…” He smiled. “Let’s just say ’twas well named.”

  Again, her cheeks flushed.

  At least he’s not asking any more incriminating questions, she thought as her heart beat wildly in her chest and a giddiness seemed to build.

  Stop right now. This flirtation cannot go any further.

  She dropped the cloth onto his arm, wrapped the bandage around the wound, tied the strips together and pulled

  “Ow!”

  “Forgive me,” she muttered, hoping her actions had distracted his intentions.

  He stood up, close—too close.

  The table behind her was too close.

  Trapped with no room to back up, her heart raced as their gazes locked.

  With his raven hair, tawny complexion, covered by the shadow of a beard, and soot darkened cheeks and brow, why Lucifer himself could be standing before her from the jaws of hell, tempting her with his good looks.

  A strong, sensuous feeling passed between them. She could see it quicken his pulse see the way he swallowed with difficulty. She could feel desire running up and down her back, quickening her breath, causing her limbs to quake. She should just move. Move away. She couldn’t - didn’t want to. She wanted…

  He kissed her and her heart soared.

  The need to wrap herself around him pushed all coherent thoughts away.

  He pulled her closer, gathering her into his arms.

  She could feel his hand pressing into her back, could feel his heart slamming into hers.

  The smell of smoke, blending with his muskiness, the sweet aroma of the passionflower, filled her senses.

  His kiss gentle, hesitant, as though he were afraid to unleash the passion she saw burning in his eyes, made her quiver.

  He broke away and nibbled on her neck. His warm, moist mouth sent tiny goose bumps to her nape.

  She dropped her head back, savoring the feel of his lips on her flesh. Her groan of delight inflamed her desires still further. Lost to all, but the sense of his touch upon her neck, she felt as though her innermost fears were shattering into millions of little pieces, like the glass armonica bowl she had once accidentally dropped.

  She felt safe in his arms. And the need to wrap herself around him in comfort pushed all thoughts of modesty away.

  He raised his face to her and kissed her once more, this time without hesitation, this time full of desire.

  She brought her arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Her breasts tingled beneath the fabric of her nightshirt. Her knees wobbled. Her lips throbbed.

  “I’ve been thinkin’ ye’d be needin’ this.” Mary’s voice came as a complete shock.

  Flustered, Elizabeth pulled herself away. If ‘twernt for the fact Philip still held her tight she would have fallen backward onto the table.

  Mary ambled over and placed a sleeping jacket on the table. “Seein’ how in all confusion with the fire, ye hadn’t the time to dress properly.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. “I was seeing to his--”

  “And I’ve set clean clothes out in yer chambers.”

  If Philip was in any way embarrassed by the interruption, he hid it well. “Will there be anything else?” he asked.

  Though Mary’s face wore a stern look of disapproval, Elizabeth could swear a twinkle flickered in her eyes.

  It appeared as though Mary would be the one to keep Philip’s attentions honorable.

  But what about his wife? He still held the memory of Rebecca in his heart.

  Elizabeth tried to slowly ease herself from his hold.

  Had she not but heard, moments before the fire, from his very lips, that Rebecca still held him prisoner? What else could that mean, but that he held her in high regard?

  “Mary does is William well?” Philip asked.

  “Yes, ye Lordship. He sleeps.”

  “Good. Then see to the others.”

  Elizabeth broke free and skirted away from him.

  “Keep the bandage clean and your arm will be fine,” she said loud enough for Mary’s benefit.

  Concern crinkled Mary’s brows.

  “No need to worry. As you can see, I am in good hands.” A wicked gleam lit his eyes.

  Elizabeth wanted to wipe that silly smirk off his face.

  “Keep the bandage clean,” she ordered. “I will need to look at it again tomorrow. Unless Mary has the skill of medicine?”

  “Nay, it appears as though ye be the one ta see ta his Lordship’s needs.”

  If she could not control her desire’s ‘twould take more than a concerned servant to keep her virtue safe.

  Elizabeth gathered up her herbs. “Perhaps one of the other servants should see to changing your bandage. I’m sure--”

  “Nay, I’ve no need for someone else. You will do just fine,”
Philip insisted.

  “‘As you wish, your lordship.” Elizabeth turned and headed toward the door.

  Oh be careful foolish heart

  Chapter Sixteen

  Katherine watched Philip sitting atop of his mount.

  He cut a fine figure of cloth, dressed in those buff breeches and tailored brown jacket with tails.

  Her heart lurched. Desire coursed through her veins. By the blood of Satan, he would be hers!

  Her gaze followed him as he galloped down the long pathway away from his home and then disappeared.

  “Proceed.” She rapped, on the outside of her coach, and the wheels of the carriage rolled forward with a jerk. The coach came to an abrupt stop in front of the mansion and Katherine waited impatiently for her coachmen to open her door.

  “Any more tardiness and you shall find yourself without employ.” She grabbed his hand and stepped down.

  With a swirl of petticoats and lace, she turned and hurried up to the front entrance. She reached for the bronze ring, hesitated, then glanced to her chest.

  With both hands, she pushed up her bodice revealing her full bosom and deep cleavage. She pinched her cheeks for a deeper color, then wet her lips. With a quick pat to smooth out her gold taffeta gown, she reached up and grabbed the knocker. The metal clamored against the door.

  Philip’s manservant stood before her.

  She didn’t like him, knew he had no love for her and she didn’t care.

  The door barely open, she pushed herself through.

  “Good day to you,” She smiled.

  The clod wasn’t going to let me in.

  “His Lordship is out.”

  Oh, wipe that pretentious look from your face, you old goat.

  Again, she smiled. Best be cordial—for now. “I’ve not come calling for his lordship, but rather to talk with his guest.”

  Why does he not move? Is he deaf?

  “Mistress Morgan is in residence, is she not?” Her foot furiously tapped the floor.

  “I believe she is at home.” His tone deepened and lingered on the word home, as if to make a point that perhaps the harlot’s position was permanent.

  Her eyes narrowed with contempt. “You may tell her, Lady Wellsworth is here to see her.”

  The servant nodded and pivoted. “Lady my ass.”

  The servant’s words, mumbled under his breath, hit her loud and clear.

  Insufferable oaf.

  As soon as she became the mistress of the manor, he’d be the first to go.

  “What’s that horrid smell?” Katherine held her hand to her nose, as a young woman entered the drawing room.

  The mysterious Mistress Morgan was not what she expected. Slender, with no shape that she could see under that high-collared dress, the pale yellow fabric did nothing but make her pale skin look sickly. And her hair… why hair so light in color belonged on the aged, poor thing.

  Katherine forced a smile and extended her hand. “Mistress Morgan, at last we meet. Being a neighbor, and Philip’s dearest friend, I thought it only proper I offer you a little womanly companionship.”

  Before the little witch had a chance to respond Katherine hooked her arm under hers. “Come, let us talk. No need to show me in. I know the house well.”

  Sitting in the parlor, Katherine made herself comfortable on a chair opposite Elizabeth.

  What could Philip possibly see in her? She’s a child for heaven's sake. An inexperienced twit. Hardly a match for the likes of a man with his needs.

  “Mistress Wellsworth, ‘twas most kind of you to call upon me.” Her words cordial a pensive shimmer, in the shadow of her eyes, gave away her apprehension.

  “My dear, this visit was way over due. And when I see Philip again… well, he's going to get a piece of my mind, not introducing us properly.”

  He’s a fool. Katherine smiled, but sent her a withering stare. And he’ll pay for my forgiveness. “I smell smoke. Has there been a fire?”

  “Yes, yesterday. We were very fortunate. Only one room was damaged. I’m afraid even with the door closed the smell penetrates the halls.”

  We? Why the little witch sounds a bit too comfortable.

  “When I am mistress of the manor, I shall redo the room.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widen with surprise.

  With a proprietary gesture, Katherine waved her hand. “And this one is way too dark. Green. Light, I think would be good.” She paused.

  Her face overly pale, Philip’s houseguest continued to stare wordlessly across at her.

  “Oh, you didn’t know?” Katherine said sweetly. “You poor dear.”

  “I am but a temporary guest in his Lordship’s home. I hardly think it proper that he discusses his future with me.”

  “Still…” Katherine’s gaze rolled lazily over the other woman. “He should have mentioned we were practically engaged to be wed.” She accentuated the word, rose, then with a flick of her wrist, continued. “Men. That’s just like them. Is it not?”

  The glowing youthfulness faded from her face. “I am most pleased for you. I’m sure you will be most happy here.”

  Elizabeth stood on shaky legs, or so it seemed.

  Is that pain in her eyes?

  “You must come to the wedding.” Katherine gracefully rose.

  “‘Tis highly unlikely I shall be around that long.”

  Katherine forced a frown. “What a pity.”

  She is correct on that account. And, if all went well with Tisdale, the harlot will be permanently gone.

  “I met an interesting man the other day.” Katherine ran her finger over the settee’s polished carved frame. “He said he knew you. What a coincidence, nay?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes had a guarded, faraway look in them. “I did live in town, I know many people.”

  “Interesting.”

  In a moment of planned silence, Katherine’s gaze swept the room, then she met Elizabeth’s dead on.

  “Then perhaps you know him. Due to some rather nasty business, I believe he’s no longer welcomed with decent folk. His name was… Tardell, no… Tisdale. That was it.”

  Elizabeth looked faint and gripped the chair beside her.

  Katherine leaned closer and placed her hand on harlot’s wrist. “If you know what’s best, you’ll leave this place now, and your secret will be safe. After all, he is not the kind of man one approves of,” she whispered.

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak.

  “Of course…” Katherine feigned a look of utter distress. “‘Twould be horrible if Philip found out. Why he’d have to send you back to him. After all, he is your legal guardian, is he not?”

  “‘Twas most kind of you to mention him. Although I hardly think, he is looking for me.”

  “Oh, but you are wrong. His words were one of fatherly love.” Katherine placed her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “He misses you dearly.”

  Elizabeth stepped back. An uneasy flicker swept her eyes. “I have not been well and his lordship was kind enough to allow me to rest here in his home. I will send word to my guardian when I am strong enough to leave.”

  Katherine smiled.

  Oh the little harlot was leaving all right, with my foot planted on her hindquarters pushing her out the door.

  ***

  “Well ‘tis about time Scent returned from Paris.” Philip handed the reins to his groom. “I expect to have all information on Rebecca’s lover on my desk before the end of the week.”

  “Good news Sir, very good news.” Tyler’s gait quick, he hastened to his side.

  “Edwin. Saddle up the white mare with a lady’s saddle.”

  “With all due respect, sir, Silver Tip’s a mite placid for the lady nay?”

  Philip glanced at his groom. “And you’ve come to that conclusion because?”

  “Well, yer Lordship from the way she handled that black stallion --”

  “You let her near Thunder?” He spat angrily. “Have you lost your sanity?”

  “N…nay yer Lor
dship. The lady has a way with horses. I’ve never seen Thunder so calm. ‘tis like she bewitched him or something.”

  “Well, don’t let it happen again.”

  Edwin nodded. “Yes, yer lordship. I’ll get to that saddle.”

  Philip watched him scramble toward the barn.

  “‘Tis seems the lady is a charmer.” Tyler said matter-of-factly.

  Philip glanced to his manservant. “Wipe that ridiculous grin off your face. She doesn’t affect me in the least.”

  “I meant the horse. Sir.” Clearly amused, Tyler’s white brows quirked.

  “I don’t know what that woman could have been thinking.” Philip strode toward the house.

  The gravel crunched beneath Tyler’s feet as he hurried to keep in step.

  “The woman is a paradox of confusion. She does not fear a wild beast, whose hooves, she could be crushed beneath, yet at times she fears me.”

  Philip stopped short.

  Tyler knocked into him and muttered an apology.

  “I ask you.” Philip swung around. “What cause do I give her that I should see fear upon her face? She summons up the courage to fight me on William’s behalf, cowers at my touch one moment, yet seems to enjoy my presence at another. Am I a fool to want her affections?”

  “Nay, sir, never a fool. I would say ‘twas about time and very normal given the fact that she graces your home in such a lovely manner. Dwelling in the past can be such an unhealthy fare.”

  Philip stroked his chin, thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, perhaps you are right. The time has come to put the past behind.”

  “Then I should tell Skent to-”

  Philip turned abruptly. “Nay. That part of the past remains until I get satisfaction.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  “This is the letter “B” as in boat.” Elizabeth’s voice floated through the air as they rounded the corner.

  Seated on a bench under the massy foliage of a large vine entangled cypress tree, her long green skirt billowing out around her, Elizabeth held a book on her lap.

  Her cat on one side, William on the other, she seemed relaxed, as did his son. Apparently, she charmed little boys as well as horses.

  A spike of jealous pricked him.

  In the horizon, the James River wound its silvery path along his property. To the left stretched a vast expanse of his tobacco fields. Fields he should be attending to.