by Jen YatesNZ
‘You felt it?’ Jane asked.
‘Yes—like a buzz in my palm.’
Slowly he moved his hand back over the point and the animation became a smile in his eyes that almost curved the austere lips.
‘Would you like me to do a crystal healing for you?’ Jane asked. Immediately the shutters fell again, not as completely as before, but wariness had settled back into Captain Dorset’s expression.
‘How about I go first?’ Bax had asked, before stopping to second-think himself.
Which was how he came to be sitting here in a more relaxed state than he’d ever known, and probably smiling like a beatific idiot, while Jane, after rolling the crystals about in the grass, had arranged them around John’s prone body. She now sat cross-legged at the man’s feet, eyes closed and hands raised, palms outwards, directing the energy through John’s body.
He knew what she was doing, for not only had she explained it to them, he’d felt it.
When Jane finally lowered her hands to her lap to wait, John had drifted into sleep. Quietly she picked up her pad and continued to add pencil strokes to the page.
Bax looked down at his own sketch. Jane, in profile, pencil in hand, in deep concentration. He’d use the sketch to paint her then she’d be with him always—Fuck! He’d give it to her for what need would he have of her picture once they’d moved on from this pleasant interlude in their lives?
John stirred, opened his eyes to stare straight at Jane. Bax had never seen this level of animation about the man. Then his eyes darted about the grassy, rock-strewn knoll, with something like uncertainty—or disbelief. Then he sighed.
‘Magic, Mrs. Mutch. You were right. They are.’
‘Why do you say that, Captain Dorset?’
‘I went to this place—like in a dream—but more real. There was a beautiful garden and—Gatesby, Rochester, Frobisher, Allenson—and others—were there. They looked—happy—told me—Gatesby told me—Live. Let yourself be happy too.’
At Jane’s soft encouraging smile, he continued, ‘I don’t know how to do that anymore.’
Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
‘Have you allowed yourself to feel sadness? To mourn your friends?’ Jane asked.
He shook his head, eyes closed.
‘I wanted to be dead—like them. Don’t deserve to live. They had wives. Children. I don’t.’
He sat up, staring a little frantically about the peaceful setting.
‘You could ensure those wives and children want for nothing. You have a wealthy estate—and Lady Barbara.’
‘I don’t deserve Barbara. She should marry someone else.’
‘Love cannot be switched off and on at will,’ Jane said quietly. ‘True love is steadfast. I suspect Barbara will go to her grave lonely, unfulfilled, still suffering for her love of you. Do you think she deserves that fate?’
‘I want to go back now,’ he growled, scrambling to his feet.
Even so, Bax noted he watched Jane carefully wrap the crystals and pack them away.
‘We can do this again whenever you wish,’ she told him quietly and Captain Dorset nodded tersely before turning to mount his horse and head back to The Chase ahead of them.
‘I’m not sure how that went,’ Jane said. ‘Though I’m hopeful the next few days might see a change.’
‘I see a change in him already,’ Bax told her.
He felt a change in himself as well, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her, didn’t want to admit it to himself.
***
A stack of letters awaited him back at The Chase. Jane took one look at the hefty pile and said, ‘Looks like you need to deal with that. I’ll go to the music room for a while. The men enjoy singing.’
‘They enjoy listening to you sing,’ he said, taking her hand and pulling her into the study.
As soon as the door was shut he took her in his arms and closed his mouth over hers.
‘I spent all morning wishing Dorset to perdition,’ he growled against her mouth.
‘I did too,’ she whispered back, and he lifted her onto the edge of his desk.
With a little huff of breath she held him away.
‘Not here. And please don’t tease me so! You’re too tempting.’
‘And you can’t resist me? Therefore—’
Leaving the statement hanging, he leaned closer again.
With a quick push against his chest, she slipped off the desk and out of the room, leaving the door swinging wide open behind her.
Probably as well to let her go. He really did need to deal with his correspondence. Absently ringing the bell to call for Fosse, he settled at the desk to sift through the pile of letters, several from The Dene, a couple from Bancombe Park, others from London.
Among those from The Dene was one from his sister-in-law, which seriously dimmed his feeling of well-being. Lady Mary made precious little effort to keep him apprised of the welfare of his nephews and was less than welcoming when he insisted on making his annual visit.
Did she need money? She’d never outright asked him for anything beyond the generous allowance he’d bestowed on her after Jason’s death. With a strange sense of impending doom, he broke the seal and flattened the single sheet of vellum on the desk.
The formally written missive begged to inform him of Lady Mary’s upcoming marriage to Lord Charles Ormsby, Earl of Greave. Greave was her cousin, whose wife had died birthing their third son something over a year ago. After Jason’s death, Lady Mary had returned to Greave where she’d been raised as a ward of the previous Earl. The twins were being tutored there by the tutor Greave employed for his own sons.
The boys, Lady Mary said, were like brothers and the marriage made sense. He could see that, but young Maurice, and Charles too for that matter, were Delacourtes. It was time he started grooming them as his heirs, time he went into Bedfordshire and brought Jason’s sons home.
***
Something in his correspondence had disturbed Hades. All through dinner he scowled at his plate and if it hadn’t been for Captain Dorset, who’d claimed the chair on her other side and talked, albeit desultorily, about his Lady Barbara, it would have been a strangely silent meal. Captain Dorset never initiated conversation and Jane was excited by the change, minimal though it seemed. Questioning him about his fiancée kept her mind off the brooding monolith on her right. Before the meal was finished Captain Dorset had voiced his desire for Lady Barbara to visit again.
‘Why don’t you write to her?’ Jane asked.
The captain looked startled, then doubtful and Jane hurried to add, ‘Captain Jack will arrange to frank it.’
His gaze slid past her to Hades glowering at his plate, and Jane dared to place a hand on his arm.
‘The Captain obviously has something on his mind this evening, but I’ll see your letter is posted.’
Captain Dorset nodded gravely and thanked her. Jane could scarcely contain her excitement at this change, yet Hades seemed oblivious.
As they rose from the table, he sent a staff member to bring a tea trolley to his study. Taking possession of Jane’s arm, he led her along the hall to the cozy, masculine den where a fire burned cheerily in the grate. Closing the door, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close against the fine wool of his jacket.
‘What’s wrong?’
She felt rather than heard the heavy sigh swell through his chest. Releasing her he turned to his desk and picked up a letter, stared at it for a moment then handed it to her.
Quickly Jane scanned the contents and handed it back.
‘You're not happy Lady Mary is remarrying?’
‘The woman may do as she damn well pleases,’ he growled, dropping into the chair behind the desk and waving her to another closer to the fire. ‘But it’s time Jason’s sons, my heirs, came home to Baxendene. They’re twins, like Jase and I, and Maurice, the eldest, will be the next Earl of Baxendene. Charles will be the Laird of Rosen Keep. They’re nine years old. It’s time they learnt
how to be Delacourtes. My sister-in-law has hidden herself—and the boys—away at Greave since Jason died. She’s made it clear she wants little or nothing to do with Jason’s family—though she does accept the allowance I pay her!’
The scowl deepened and the long fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blotter.
‘You’ll bring them home to The Dene?’
The restless fingers stilled then gripped the arms of the chair as his head fell back against the leather and his eyes closed. It was all she could do to stay where she was and not climb onto his lap and kiss the strain off his face.
‘Do you fear Lady Mary won’t allow it?’
He looked directly at her, though Jane was certain he saw something else entirely.
‘She can’t refuse. They’re my heirs.’
‘Then what bothers you about this?’
‘You—know me too well, Jane! Sometimes that scares me.’
The tender feeling burning in her chest was best ignored. She waited.
‘I’ve not spent more than a few hours at a time at the Dene since Jason died. Too many ghosts—Jase, Papa, Samantha. If I bring the boys home I’ll have to change that. Maybe it’s time.’
A knock on the door preceded the arrival of the tea trolley and as the man shuffled back out of the room, Bax rose and poured himself a port from the decanter on the sideboard, and came to join Jane by the fire.
‘This is cozy,’ he said, settling into the chair at her side, while she poured her tea. As she took her first sip she smiled at him over the rim of the cup.
‘Be cozier wrapped around you in bed. Drink up, woman! I need to get you home.’
Lowering her gaze, she placed the cup gently back on its saucer. She was as eager, but determined not to let him see that. Self-control was a foreign concept when she was alone with Hades. She must fight to retain what she could. His ego didn’t need fueling with her naïve adulation. She’d keep him talking and her mind off muscles straining against buckskin, or legs stretched carelessly towards the fire. He was a feast waiting for her to partake.
‘Greave Manor is in Bedfordshire?’
‘Yes, a good day’s ride from here. I usually stay the night at The Bull in Barton Le Clay.’
‘Do you need to go soon?’
Sitting upright, he began clenching his hands between his knees, as if he wanted to punish something.
‘Probably should. But don’t want to. Can’t say I’m looking forward to prizing the lads away from their Mama. More immediately, I don’t want to miss a night here—while you’re here.’
‘I don’t want to miss one night—or day—of this time with you, either,’ she admitted huskily. ‘But we’ve agreed this is an—indulgence. It can only last a month. Then we must return to our normal lives.’
She didn’t dare look up, knowing those searing eyes would see to the depths of her soul. She couldn’t hope to hide from him the fact her heart would likely break in two the moment he left her, not to mention cease to function at all when their time at The Chase came to an end.
The old Lady Rotherby no longer existed. Yet what else was there?
‘I can’t leave you alone to deal with John. There’s already a difference in him, isn’t there?’
‘There is. He asked to send for Lady Barbara. I suggested he write the letter himself. I think he will.’
‘I think you found the switch, Jane. I’ve always felt there was something, like some lacing one needed to unknot, and he’d come undone as easily as—a woman’s corset!—Which brings us back to—Have you finished your tea? I’ve a very specific corset in mind that needs unlacing.’
Rising to his feet, he held out his hand and it would take a stronger woman than she to refuse him.
Hand in hand they left The Chase and hurried through the darkened gardens to the Stone Cottage.
‘I shall wait on the terrace,’ he murmured, pulling her into his arms in the shelter of the arched stone portico. ‘Hurry, please!’
Then he opened the door and ushered her into the lamp-lit hallway.
‘Goodnight, Mrs. Mutch,’ he called loudly, before stepping back into the night and closing the door.
Jane called goodnight to Rogers who’d hobbled out into the hall to lock up. Restraining the urge to pick up her skirts and run along the hallway to her rooms, she walked sedately, dismissing Dolly as soon as she opened the door.
‘Goodnight, my L—Mrs. Mutch,’ she said as she hovered a moment at the door with a soft smile. ‘Be happy. You deserve it.’
She deserved it? Halting her rush to unlatch the French door, Jane stood still in the middle of the room. She probably deserved to fry in hell for what she was doing. Her father would definitely say so. And it certainly wasn’t what James had envisaged for her.
A real marriage, and children, he’d told her several times while bemoaning the fact he’d lived so long and her life was slipping away. She was happy, she’d told him, and she hadn’t been lying.
She had been happy—in her ignorance.
Happy was probably not a correct description of what she was feeling now though. This time with Hades was a magical fantasy, ephemeral like the bubbles she created for James’s grandchildren.
It could be popped at any time by something as real as a letter from his sister-in-law and his obligations to his nephews. Should she leave the door locked? Turn Hades away? The handle rattled and she turned to see his tall figure out-lined against the glass. The bubble was suddenly in her throat and she wasn’t sure if it was laughter or a sob of panic. Whatever it was, it certainly wouldn’t prevent her opening that door and welcoming, reveling in every sensual pleasure he promised.
Only love would induce her to marry again and Hades Delacourte was not offering love. So she was safe from foolish dreams.
As soon as she flipped the latch he was in the room with her. But he didn’t reach for her immediately, fasten his mouth to hers and steal her ability to think, to rationalize, as she’d hoped.
Instead, he turned to carefully fasten the latch and draw the curtains before turning to stand absolutely still, staring down at her.
‘Something’s bothering you. Second thoughts?’ he asked.
Dear God, yes!
‘No! I—you promised to unlace me. I’ve sent my maid away.’
The grey eyes slowly darkened from gleaming silver to storm-cloud grey and finally he moved towards her. Her feet felt as if they were ankle deep in mud and if she tried to free them she’d lose her boots, her protection—
Her mind was filled with crazy thoughts and she knew exactly how to shut them down. Raising her face for his kiss, she slipped her hands round his neck and drew his head down to hers.
‘And when you kiss me I don’t think at all,’ she murmured, before sealing her lips to his and dipping her tongue into the welcoming cavern of his mouth.
This freedom he’d granted her to sample the delights of his body was intoxicating. His neck-cloth was already untied and hanging loosely about his neck and the buttons of his shirt were undone. He’d not been idle while waiting on the terrace. With a small moan of delight she lowered her hands to press against his chest, then delve beneath the loose edges of his shirt to tangle her fingers in the soft, dark hair matted across his chest.
Her legs felt as if they were stuffed with rags. As if he understood how he weakened her, he tightened his arms, pulling their lower bodies into intimate contact.
‘Want you, Angular Jane,’ he breathed into her mouth as his fingers sought the fastenings at the back of her gown, ‘Need you.’
Gently he pushed her back from him and dragged the gown down her arms to fall unheeded at her feet then pulled her back in for another hot foray of lips, teeth and tongue. While her body melted mindlessly against him he thrust his hands up into her hair, dislodging pins and tumbling the heavy silken mass down her back.
Turning her in his arms, he pushed her hair aside and pressed hot kisses to the curve of neck and shoulder. Finally his fingers were tugging at the la
ces of her corset and with the loosening of the garment went every last doubt and inhibition.
At thirty it was way past time she experienced the power and pleasure of womanhood.
When she stood only in her shift she stepped back and drew the garment over her head.
‘Magnificent.’ The word was a feral growl. ‘I’ve always been a breast man, but your arse almost has me on my knees.’
Jane nigh stopped breathing as the huge hands cupped that part of her figure she privately considered to be a little more luscious than necessary. Breath stopped in her throat when he fell to his knees behind her.
‘Dimples—here.’ Hot kisses marked the spots. ‘And—goddam!’
His tongue trailed wet heat from the dimples down into the crease between the cheeks and her legs simply folded so she dropped down. He caught her, settling back with her naked self perched on his knees. His hands slid naturally around to cup her breasts and her head dropped back against his chest.
‘You’re too good at this, Hades.’
‘Mmm. Can’t deny I’ve had lots of practice, sweetheart. So much to teach you. A month may not be long enough.’
‘Then let’s not waste what time we have.’
His chuckle was throaty and ended in a grunt of effort as he pushed to his feet with her in his arms. Placing her against the pillows on the bed with a growled admonition not to move, he sat on the edge of the mattress to drag off his boots before hurriedly removing the rest of his clothes.
When he turned back to the bed, she said, ‘You—stop right—there!—I’m not sure which I want most, to sketch you or—’
‘Fuck me?’
Their eyes met and held, then he dived on her, rolling until she lay full length along his body.
‘Has to be the latter, Angular Jane! You’re driving me crazy.’
***
He should have gone immediately to Bedfordshire on reception of Lady Mary’s epistle, but day after day slipped by and he couldn’t tear himself away. Lady Barbara Wallace arrived at The Chase scarcely a week after Jane suggested Captain Dorset write to her. The woman’s preternaturally aged features were glowing with renewed hope and an overwhelming gratitude for what appeared to be a breakthrough with her fiancé.
