by Evie North
“You’re wet, Master,” the old man said gruffly, no doubt to hide his concern.
“I am, Prentiss. Very.”
Prentiss hesitated and it was clear he wanted to say something more. The old servant had known Sebastian since he was a boy, and had saved him from his father’s thrashings a number of times. Despite the man’s irascible manner, he knew Prentiss would do anything for him.
The servant cleared his throat. “What is it with this woman? She’s nothing special, Master. Skinny little thing, hair all wild and knotted, eyes too big for her face. She needs feeding up, I grant you. Some flesh might improve her, but at the moment she isn’t worth a second glance.”
Sebastian smiled at the image. The old servant did not know the truth of the tragedy that had befallen him two years ago—few did. Prentiss had never known Sebastian in love.
“Don’t ask me to explain. Is she asleep?”
“Aye.”
The urge to have her again came upon him stronger than before. But no, she’d been tired. He would deny himself and let her sleep—try to be the sort of man others admired. The morning would do well enough. He’d have her bathed and sent to him first thing.
And there was always the chance that by morning he would have decided she was nothing special, and was foolishly craving a phantom he knew in his heart he would never see again.
Hannah opened her eyes. Sunlight came through the narrow pane of glass and onto her face. She could hear birds singing outside. For a moment she felt as light as air, as if she might float up and hover above the bed. As if all her troubles and heartaches had sloughed from her and she was young and carefree once more.
Voices drifted to her on the morning air. She recognised Prentiss’s gravelly tones, followed by a laugh. Sebastian’s laugh.
Shocked from her dreamy moment, Hannah sat up. Tears were stinging her eyes. The last time she had heard that laugh was two years ago.
Her thoughts returned to that day in June. Had the sun really shone so brightly and the birdsong been so sweet? The memory did not seem real anymore. Sebastian had held her in his arms and she had felt their strength, and she’d leaned against the breadth of his chest as she smiled up at him. The house they were staying at was deep in the countryside—in the south, far from this bleak moor—and they were quite alone apart from a small staff of trusted servants. Sebastian was wealthy. He was the son of an earl and he had properties everywhere. But Hannah hadn’t loved him for his money or position—she’d loved him for himself.
“Will it still be this perfect when we are married?” she’d whispered, gazing up at her blond, blue-eyed lover, and thinking that she knew the answer already. How could they not be happy forever after?
He’d placed his hand against her belly and smiled into her eyes. “Yes, my love. I promise you. We will be married soon. Very soon.”
“And Desmond...?” Her brother was angry. He thought Sebastian had taken advantage of his sister. Ruined her. When Sebastian had begun to pursue her so single-mindedly, Desmond had removed her to the country and their mother’s house, to keep her safe, or so he thought. Sebastian had a reputation where women were concerned and Desmond did not believe his intentions were honourable. Besides, the Earl of Mortmain had other ideas and wanted his heir to marry a woman of substance, not someone of little fortune like Hannah.
But by then Hannah was already with child—a secret Desmond was unaware of—and they could not be apart. It was as if the two of them were joined by flesh and blood, as well as the bonds of their hearts.
So Sebastian had followed her, and had persuaded Hannah to run off with him while Desmond was away on business. He had a house not far away where they could hide while the earl and Desmond were persuaded to accept their decision to marry.
“Desmond is my concern,” Sebastian had said, pulling her close.
Hannah had trusted Sebastian to sort out the tangle. She loved him, and she believed he loved her. They would marry and their baby would be born in wedlock and all would be well.
“Sebastian,” she’d whispered against his lips.
His kiss was warm and tender, but with a hint of the molten passion that burned between them.
“Do not fear. I will never leave you.”
And she had believed him. Innocent fool! Had she really been that girl? Had she really thought Lord Youlden could be trusted?
Hannah pushed away the past and faced the cold, unfeeling reality of her life. She was alone in a faded bedroom in a place she didn’t know with a man who had destroyed her life and killed her brother. Last night her senses had betrayed her and thrown her plans into chaos, but now she was in control again. She had her knife—she brushed it lightly with her fingertips, aware of the sharp, covered blade—and he would listen to her.
Today she was going to make him say he was sorry.
4
Sebastian raised his blindfolded face to the sun. He preferred his eyes to be covered during the day—the light was still too bright, all he saw was white and the intensity of it pained his eyes. His collie dog Nimrod—named for the biblical king and hunter—nuzzled his hand and he rubbed its soft ears. He felt happy. The sensation was so strange, so unexpected, and yet he didn’t understand why, except that it had something to do with the woman.
Which was plainly ridiculous.
He’d instructed Prentiss and Trudy to fill the bath for Janet as soon as she woke and that he would see her at breakfast. They’d listened in silence but he sensed their disquiet. It was rare that a doxy from the inn stayed the night and he never invited her to take breakfast with him, only with the servants.
He smiled now, imagining their expressions. Then his smile broadened as he wondered whether one day soon he might be able to see those expressions with his own eyes. Sebastian’s fingers brushed the knot of the blindfold but fell away almost at once. He didn’t want to risk a setback. He must wait and be patient, two hard lessons he’d learned since his accident.
“Hurry now, Prentiss. Don’t dawdle!”
That was Trudy. He could hear Prentiss grumbling at the pump as he filled the bucket with water to bring inside and be heated over the fire. They were preparing her bath—Janet must be awake.
Anticipation tingled inside him. Again he was filled with that strange sense of wellbeing. Nimrod shifted at his side, as if he’d sensed some change in his master. Sebastian spoke to the dog gently, stroking the soft coat, but his thoughts were elsewhere, in the house, where he knew Janet was about to bathe.
What did she look like? He tried to picture the woman he had held last night. It was difficult because the moments they’d spent together in the chair had been so intense they’d driven everything else from his mind and he was unable to get a clear image of her body. Her breasts had been soft and rounded but not large—a nice handful, he’d thought at some point. The curve of her waist had been easily encircled by his large hands, and her hips had been narrow but not so narrow that he had feared she could not take his larger frame between her thighs. She’d been thinner than he liked his women, he remembered that, and at first she’d seemed unwilling, but once they’d started she’d quickly lost her reluctance.
He played in his head her soft cries and the press of her body against his as he took her. The little thrusts and ripples as she crossed over the edge to completion. She certainly hadn’t been feigning her pleasure. He was too experienced not to recognize a woman who had enjoyed the encounter.
Sebastian stood up. He hardly knew what was happening to him but his cock felt as hard as old Caesar’s, his father’s stallion. He remembered when he was a boy, watching Caesar being brought to the mares. How he and his brothers’ eyes had popped at that sight!
Now his brother Gervais was living a new life in Scotland with a woman he’d met in Newgate Prison of all places, and Maddox...well, who knew where he was or what he was up to. They were a bad lot, all three of them. His father had done his best, but when they were young he had been away a great deal and their mother had
been unable to curb their wild ways. By the time the earl had decided to take them in hand it was far too late.
“You young scoundrels!” he used to roar, reaching for his cane. They’d been unable to sit down for days after some of his thrashings, but had refused to cry aloud. To remain stoically silent had been a matter of pride to all three of them.
But the Earl of Mortmain had always saved his greatest disappointment for Sebastian. As the eldest son and heir, he was the one who must one day take over the House of Mortmain. His father had expected great things from him, and instead...
Sebastian sighed. He’d hoped to redeem himself before everything went wrong. He’d planned to marry and sire enough children to fill the big house in London. And now here he was, living far from civilisation on the Yorkshire moors, turning into a bitter and taciturn man, still pining for a woman who had died long ago.
Nimrod nudged his leg. Sebastian realized that while he’d been standing here, lost in the twists and turns of his past, Prentiss had been calling to him.
“Master, Trudy says you’re to come in now.”
Janet was ready for him. Sebastian turned toward the house, trying not to seem overly eager, and set off with the help of his cane, the dog following close at his heels.
Hannah had enjoyed her bath. The water had been tepid but it was a pleasure to sink down and wash herself all over, rather than a bit at a time from a bowl, as had been the state of affairs for the past six weeks. She made the most of it. The soap had been sweet, smelling like flowers and spice. She used it to wash her hair, despite Trudy telling her not to bother, and then had to stand silent while the woman scolded her.
“Now you’re going to have to dry that mane,” she said, hands on hips. “Come on then, sit by the fire and take this comb. And hurry! Master’ll be in soon and he’ll be wanting his breakfast.”
“Janet” did as she was told and sat by the fire in the very chair where, last night, she had made love with Sebastian. Although “love” was not something on either of their minds at the time. It had been more like animals mating. Hot and desperate and needy. Their bodies had clung and strived to reach that peak.
Hannah remembered they had always been compatible in such ways. The first time he seduced her was out in the gardens of some duke’s house where they were attending a ball, and it had been as wonderful as the last time he lay with her, in bed in his little hideaway in the country. They were well matched physically and she doubted she would ever find another man who suited her as perfectly as Sebastian.
For a time after Sebastian abandoned her, she’d told herself she would never again be interested in the pleasures of the flesh. She was broken and all she’d wanted was to curl up in a corner and die. But she found that her will was stronger than that, and despite everything that had happened to her she wanted to survive.
Her chance had come by way of Mrs. Parsons. She was a guest in the inn where Hannah had found employment, and she was seeking a servant/companion. She took a shine to Hannah. The arrangement suited them both. Mrs. Parsons played at being an invalid— although Hannah could see she was perfectly healthy, and Hannah was alone and lonely— and destitute if the truth be known. What Mrs. Parsons offered had been very welcome.
Hannah had no desire to be caught up again in the pain and torment of the passion she had felt for Sebastian. She did not think she could survive such a thing a second time. Life with Mrs. Parsons was quiet and mundane, and exactly what she wanted. Hannah had even rediscovered her love of drawing and painting, and she was able to capture some of the London streetscapes when she had her afternoon off.
Mrs. Parsons was fulsome in her praise of Hannah’s talent and when she tentatively offered some of her watercolours to a nearby gallery they offered to sell them for her. For the first time in her life Hannah began to feel as if she might one day be able to support herself.
At least, that had been her plan until six weeks ago when she ran off, leaving Mrs. Parsons and domesticity behind her.
The heat from the flames next to her was welcome. A warm fire was as much a luxury to her of late as a bath, and Hannah set to combing her hair, teasing out the knots, until the long strands lay smooth against the towel Trudy had placed about her shoulders. The flames picked out the red highlights, but her hair was so dark most people called it black.
Gypsy black, they’d said of it when she was a child.
Her father had been dark too. Perhaps that was where the gypsy blood came from. That was what her mother had told her, at any rate. Desmond was fairer, and Mother had always loved him best. Hannah, she said, reminded her of her husband and, like him, was therefore a disappointment. Her favouritism was explained but that did not excuse the cruel behaviour she would later display to Hannah.
“Ah, Master, there you are.”
Hannah stiffened at the sound of Sebastian’s steps. She peeped up from under the fall of her hair. He was standing in the doorway, a black blindfold about his eyes, but he was turned in her direction. Almost as if he could see her.
Trudy clicked her tongue, giving Hannah an impatient glance. “Yes, Janet is here, sir. Come, sit yourself down and eat. She’s just drying her hair. She washed it despite me telling her not to.”
Sebastian moved to the table. There was a black-and-white dog at his side and it came over to the fire to investigate Hannah, wagging its tail. Tentatively she touched the animal’s head and the tail wagged harder. Sebastian had always loved dogs. Dogs and horses. He must miss being able to ride. She patted the dog again and wondered what its name was. She even opened her mouth to speak the question but stopped herself. She must be sparse with her conversation if she was to preserve her secret.
But she didn’t need to ask after all. “Nimrod. Come here.” The dog went, and flopped down on the floor by Sebastian’s chair. He was seated now and Trudy was filling his plate with sausages and bacon and black pudding, adding thick slices of bread to soak up the grease.
She looked toward the fire. “Janet, get yourself over here now. Sit down and eat. And mind your manners.”
Reluctantly Hannah stood up. Her hair was still damp but at least it was beginning to dry, curling at the ends. She left the towel and approached the table. Trudy nodded to a chair opposite the master and Hannah slid in to her place at the table.
Sebastian hadn’t started eating. He was looking down with that strange stillness she’d noticed last night, but of course she knew now he was listening. If one could not see then one had to be very good at listening. She tried to remain silent, but her chair creaked, and then she dropped her knife with a clatter against her plate.
“Are you hungry, Janet?” he asked her quietly.
“Yes.”
“Short and to the point.” His mouth curled.
The sight of his smile made her dizzy. She had to bite her lip and force herself not to cry out.
“Eat up then, for I am famished.” He suited action to word and began to eat, seeming to have little trouble despite his lack of vision. Occasionally he would use his fingers to discover where the bread was, or a piece of sausage. Slowly Hannah also began to eat, and soon realised she was famished as well. Last night’s soup had done little to sate her hunger and she finished her plateful and snatched an extra slice of the bread and butter to nibble on while she waited.
She wished she could take more, to squirrel away for later.
Sebastian took the last sausage and fed it to the dog, smiling as the animal snapped it up. She felt her heart soften. He had always been a generous man, kind to animals and to children, even if in the end he had not been kind to her. But she could not allow such weakness now. She must be hard and she must be strong. This time she must not forget why she was here.
“Is there coffee?” he asked.
There was a pot between them on the table. Hannah poured some into his cup and pushed it toward him.
“Is there cream?”
With a sigh she brought the cup back and added the cream before pushing it tow
ard him again.
“Is there sugar?”
He was teasing her. She could see it in the corner of his mouth. Hannah felt her mouth twitch but refused to smile. Silently she drew the cup back, added the sugar and returned it to its position before him.
He reached out carefully, found the handle and lifted the coffee to his mouth.
She had touched that mouth last night. Felt it upon her skin. She had drowned in his kisses.
Hastily Hannah drank her own coffee, hot as it was, to still her erratic thoughts. When she was finished she looked up and found him watching her, or so she thought of his stillness now. Her pulse raced as she wondered what would happen next. She expected him to take her to his chamber and spend the morning in his bed, taking his ease with her. Why else had he asked her to stay longer than one night?
Slowly he stood up and she froze, watching as he moved to the head of the table. He held out his hand toward her.
“Come.” It was an order.
Hastily Hannah rose to her feet. As if they had a will of their own, her fingers went toward his, brushing against his warm skin, and his hand closed upon her quickly, just as it had last night. Perforce she moved to his side, and he drew her hand into the crook of his arm. Her knees were trembling and her heart stuttered. The time she had been waiting for was coming, her chance to unleash all her bitter pain upon him, to make him sorry.
Walking with the dog behind them, he led her out into the passage, but he didn’t turn toward the bedchambers. Disorientated, Hannah could only follow when, instead of his bed, he took her toward the outside door.
Hannah blinked against the light, bewildered. Her plans once again were in disarray. “But...where are we going?” she whispered.
“We are going for a walk on the moor, Janet.”
As if walking on the moor was, for a blind man, the most natural thing in the world.
