Harlequin Historical May 2020--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sophia James

  ‘It may well happen again. I don’t know how or when, but I have a talent for hurting those around me and I never seem to learn. In that respect my mother was quite correct.’

  Her actions would have been deadly. Mother had always said Sophia lacked a brain in her empty head and she’d just been proven right once again. There was nobody to blame but herself for what had occurred to tear her family apart, Sophia knew, and she deserved every moment of wretchedness Mother had ever heaped upon her for causing the death of her own father.

  Every time she called me useless or stupid she was correct. I was a blight on her life and once I explain Fell will surely think the same.

  ‘Ah. Your dear, sweet mother. She had more wisdom to share, did she? Was this as kind as the other compliment she paid you?’ Fell crossed his arms over his chest, looking for all the world as though it was Mother in the wrong and not Sophia.

  She twirled the hem of her apron hard between cold fingers, red marks appearing as she spoke. ‘It might not have been kind, but it was true. I should never have walked out after you told me not to… I’m so stupid. Stupid, useless—’

  The apron left sore ridges on her knuckles and she rubbed at them absently, almost glad of the pain that flared beneath her fingertips. It didn’t seem fair for her to escape unscathed, even if she had to administer the punishment herself, although when Fell leaned towards her she stilled.

  He held her gaze intently, mismatched eyes boring into hers as if he would hypnotise her with his stare. ‘You made one mistake. Nobody should be cast off for ever because of one mistake and it most certainly does not make you stupid or useless.’

  Somewhere deep down inside her something stirred. It was the faintest, most unfamiliar sensation and it took her by surprise, its novelty casting a ripple of confusion across the surface of her strained emotions.

  What is it? Certainly nothing I can name.

  Nobody had ever spoken to her of redemption before, not even once in the long years of her torment. Fell’s sweet words were a temptation like no other, so strange and unexpected and yet inviting beyond belief, flying in the face of everything she’d always been told.

  Not stupid? Not useless after all?

  The desire to believe in them gripped her mercilessly and held on tight. They couldn’t be true, but the dangerous pleasure of Fell’s naive assurance was intoxicating, the stirring inside her growing as he waited for her reply.

  ‘You might not be so sure after I tell you my story.’

  Fell slumped back again, clear frustration written across his face. ‘Why do you think that? Because of some nonsense of your mother’s? I can’t imagine what you think you did that was so very terrible it should mark you for life.’

  Sophia gripped one hand in the other to stop herself from sinking her nails into the skin. There would never be a better moment to confess to her husband exactly what terrible thing she’d done and yet she still shied away. It would shame her to nothing and lay bare the worst, the very worst mistake of her entire life, but Fell had been willing to give himself up for her and he couldn’t be allowed to remain ignorant of how little she deserved his chivalry. His belief in her would be put to the test and she could only hope he wouldn’t withdraw completely when he learned the truth.

  She took a breath, heart pounding with sick fear, but her lips betrayed her all the same.

  ‘What if I told you I killed my own father?’

  Fell had taken hold of the poker again, meaning to stir the glowing flames, but he stopped with it hanging from one scarred fist.

  ‘Your father? What do you mean?’

  ‘Just what I said. By my actions I killed him—or as good as.’

  ‘That can’t be true.’

  Sophia swallowed hard, seeing the horrified set of her husband’s features and almost wishing she could bite back the words. It was as though she’d opened Pandora’s box, however. They were out in the world and couldn’t be put away again, only this time there was no hope left behind to balance the other evils that escaped.

  ‘What happened?’

  The poker lay forgotten on the floor as Fell turned to her, disbelief in every line that she wished she could keep for ever. Surely once he had heard her story he wouldn’t want to sit before her any longer, no doubt retreating to the forge or elsewhere she couldn’t follow, and she would have to rely on her memories for the picture of his face showing anything other than shock.

  ‘Are you sure you want to know?’

  ‘I am.’

  Fell’s voice was low, although Sophia was sure she caught a note of caution creep beneath its deep cadence. She risked a swift glance at him sitting on the other side of the fireplace, huge and immovable in his chair and his face set like a granite carving as he waited for her to begin.

  She laced her fingers together on the bright skirt of her gown and surrendered to her fate. There would be no going back once she started, no pulling away from the memories of the life she’d left behind that still reached for her with spectral hands. But it was her own fault she had to tell this tale; nobody else had almost claimed Fell’s life that afternoon, or left havoc in her wake many years before.

  ‘I’ve never had an easy relationship with my mother. She loved my father to distraction and always resented my being born as a rival for his affection. Although she hid the fact from him, I always knew I was to blame for her troubles; I was an unwanted embarrassment to her, so spirited she didn’t like me to mix with the children of our society in case I shamed her. It was so lonely in that big house all alone for much of the time. Papa travelled a lot and Mother didn’t like to spend time with me, understandably, so despite her orders I sought out companionship wherever I could find it. I had more courage in those days.’

  The fire flickered in the grate and Sophia kept her eyes trained on the whirling orange tongues. Rain still hurled itself against the windows and a far-off rumble of thunder made Lash whine uneasily at her feet.

  ‘My only friend was a gardener’s little girl. Her name was Letty and I met her one day quite by chance in the grounds around our home. It was wonderful to have a playmate at last, even though we both knew we had to keep our games a secret—Mother would have been outraged I’d befriended a servant, although I confess I received more comfort from poor Letty than I ever did from my own mother—’ She broke off, a thin twist of a smile curving her dry lips. A picture of Letty’s wan little face swam before her as vividly as if it had been days since she’d last seen her and not fifteen years and more, every detail still fresh in her mind. ‘But you must be wondering what this has to do with Papa.’

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fell’s nod. He sat so still he might not have been real, some figment of fancy if not for the tapping of one apprehensive finger on his knee.

  ‘For some months all was well. My new friendship remained undetected and for the first time in my life I knew what it was to have someone to talk to, someone to laugh with who didn’t seem to notice my many flaws. Letty and I would meet most days in the gardens and we would play with my dolls and make up stories and all the other things I’d always longed to do with a friend of my own—until eventually, of course, Mother found out. I was punished most severely and the gardener lost his job, which Mother made sure I knew was entirely my fault.’ Sophia hardened her jaw for a moment as the memories came back, painful and raw. ‘We pined for each other and I felt overwhelming guilt for what happened to her poor father. You can imagine my delight, then, when Letty sneaked in to see me one last time and yet again I disobeyed Mother’s orders to go down and meet her—although she left me with a gift neither of us had foreseen. Scarlet fever.’

  The tapping finger halted abruptly although Sophia barely noticed. Still focused on the leaping flames her eyes had dimmed, her vision smudged at the edges with what she realised far too late were burning tears.

  ‘Papa returned from busine
ss abroad the day I was confined to my bed. He took one look at my burning face and was back in the saddle at once. Mother tried to persuade him to send a servant for the doctor instead, but my father insisted on going himself, terrified at the thought of losing his little daughter and riding far too quickly and recklessly in his desire to fetch me a cure.

  ‘I’m told my mother’s screams when she saw his body carried home were so loud it set our foxhounds howling. I was too delirious with fever to hear them, but I’ll never forget her face when she told me I’d killed my papa or the knowledge that if only I’d been less headstrong, done as I was told by those more sensible than me, he would still be alive. She made sure I knew it was all my fault and I have lived with that knowledge ever since, while Mother made it her life’s work to break my disobedient spirit and make my days as miserable as possible.’

  She forced the last of the tale out between teeth clenched against rising grief and shame like a physical blow. If she’d been alone, she might have surrendered and allowed her cry to burst forth, but with Fell in the room so silent and watchful instead she swallowed it like bitter poison that burned all the way down.

  For a while neither rigid figure moved an inch, both suspended by the horror of Sophia’s words. What flared in Fell’s mind Sophia could only guess, her own emotions shrunk to the shard of agony trying its best to lodge in the space between her ribs. Now he knew the truth of her existence surely there was nothing else he could feel for her other than perhaps pity and distaste so strong a lesser man might have broken his promise to her and thrown her into the street.

  ‘Nonsense.’

  Sophia peered through beaded lashes, startled by Fell’s harsh mutter. ‘What?’

  ‘I said nonsense.’

  He rose suddenly to his feet and before Sophia had a half-second to react there he was, sitting beside her on the sofa and reaching for her with hands she’d feared she might never feel again.

  ‘Is that truly what you were taught? That what happened to your father was in any way of your causing?’

  His battered hand came to rest on hers and Sophia felt her heart leap up at the entirely unexpected contact. Whatever reaction she’d imagined Fell would have to her story certainly wasn’t this—his warm fingers skimming atop her knuckles and an earnest look in his eye. There was no censure there, she saw, with amazement, only sympathy and understanding that confused her beyond measure, stoking her already undeniable weakness for him into full flame. That compassionate look drove a spike of sweet longing deep into her tight-wound chest, surely the only man alive capable of distracting her from the worst of her fears.

  ‘How can you doubt it? You heard my story. I am to blame.’

  Still hardly able to believe what she was seeing, Sophia watched Fell shake his head, as firmly and decisively as if he had the power to make the final judgement.

  ‘You are not. Can’t you see? It was a tragic accident and nothing more. If we were to follow your mother’s logic as to who to blame, the culprit would be her: if she’d spent more time with you, allowed you to have friends, you might not have been forced to take comfort in a gardener’s child. If anyone is culpable, perhaps it is herself.’

  Sophia felt her eyes widen, behind them still aching with unshed tears. What Fell suggested was close to sacrilege; any criticism of Mother was unthinkable and to imply she might not be the paragon of virtue she had always maintained…

  Her thoughts must have shown in her face, as with a wry smile Fell reached up and, so gently it almost halted Sophia’s mind in its tracks, wiped a stray tear from her lower lashes with one thumb.

  ‘I know you don’t believe me now. I know you think I’m wrong. But will you do me the favour of thinking about what I say? You might even find some sense in it, if such a thing could be believed.’

  She swallowed, breathlessly aware of the soft curve his thumb had sketched over her flushed and sensitive cheek. Agitation still flared inside her, disbelief and uncertainty circling like vultures, but from beneath came the faintest flutter of that same stirring sensation he had provoked in her before.

  What is it? I didn’t know then and I can hardly tell now, either.

  The flames dancing in the grate cast half of Fell’s face into shadow, but still she caught the gleam of satisfaction there at her hesitant nod. It was the only reply she was capable of making, so dizzyingly did the carousel of her thoughts spin, but it seemed enough for him for now and the stirring grew stronger as with a jolt of amazement Sophia finally realised what it was.

  Do you know, I think it’s hope. No wonder I couldn’t recognise it before.

  For longer than she cared to admit she’d lived in the darkness, cowering beneath the shadow of Mother’s cruelty and guilt that never released her from its grip. With one touch of his hand Fell had given her reason to think twice, cautiously as though she feared what she might find—but still a notion before now she never would have dared entertain. Nothing could come of it, she was sure…and yet…

  He didn’t flinch away from me. If nothing else, I ought to be grateful for that.

  Strange warmth drifted slowly outwards from Sophia’s racing heart to seep through each vein, chasing away where once there had been only ice. Fell’s kindness in the face of her deepest shame was nothing short of wonderful, a blessing she still wasn’t sure she deserved, and the window into her thoughts must have been crystal clear for her husband as he carefully traced her cold hand.

  ‘Just think it over. You needn’t say anything else now. Only…’ He trailed off, the smallest suggestion of another smile making Sophia’s jangled nerves sit up and take notice.

  ‘Only?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind experiencing a little of that spirit you said you once possessed. I think it would be a beautiful thing to see, no matter what you might have been told.’

  Sophia couldn’t help a shaky laugh. ‘Are you sure about that? Even now you know the trouble it caused?’

  ‘I am. I saw a glint of it that day in the village when you intervened with Mrs Cairn on my behalf and let me tell you—it was nothing of which you should be ashamed.’

  He stretched upwards, both arms reaching above his head and a wince crossing his rugged face. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me I think I’ll go to bed. It’s been a long day and I ache like nothing on earth.’

  Sophia nodded. A sideways glance showed a slice of honed midriff wink from beneath his muddied shirt, still stained from the accident that could have killed him, and the sight and thought sent two very different thrills through her she had no hope of separating.

  How glad am I that it did not. There are no words to give thanks for his escape.

  Still, that glimpse of the secret geography of his muscles managed somehow to slip past her lingering horror and speak to the part of her so vulnerable to its charms. After the events of the day she wanted nothing more than to be close to her husband, to revel in his warmth and celebrate the simple pleasure of being alive. His goodness in the face of her distress only increased his virtues, another layer of rightness laid over him like a cloak. In the darkness of their bedchamber she could fit herself along the broad length of him and feel the sense of safety his presence gave her and in that moment there was nothing she wanted to do more.

  Just when I thought he couldn’t be more dangerous to my resolve he goes and outdoes himself. How am I to maintain my composure when he threatens it at every turn?

  He smiled down at her and Sophia felt her heart turn over in her chest at the dimple half-submerged beneath dark stubble. How was she to resist that face? Or harden herself against the kindness that insisted there was more to Sophia than she herself believed?

  The answer, of course, is simple. I cannot.

  ‘I think I’ll come with you.’ She carefully avoided his gaze, flushing to the very tips of her ears, but powerless to stop her wayward tongue. ‘An early night is just what I desire, too.
’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sparks leapt from Fell’s hammer each time he brought it down on the length of metal bent over the bick of his anvil, the sound of iron on iron making his ears ring. It helped to drown out the ceaseless thoughts that looped through his mind—but only slightly. Nothing could completely obliterate the unwelcome words and pictures that currently assailed him, giving no quarter despite how firmly he tried to set them aside.

  Her face when she told me of her father. The tears that welled up in those emerald eyes.

  He clamped the glowing horseshoe with a pair of tongs and with a rough movement plunged it into the quench bucket. Normally the hiss and bubble of heated metal hitting cold water was one of his favourite sounds, but with the memory of Sophia’s distress hanging in the air he could find scant pleasure in his work.

  He’d been careful to conceal his horror and rage at her pitiful tale, determined to wipe those long lashes dry and see if he could coax a smile back to trembling lips. In the velvet night that followed he had seemed to succeed, Sophia drawing close to him and their joining together careful as if to avoid causing her more pain. Only out of Sophia’s view did he allow himself to think about her mother’s malice, his anger at her conduct towards his wife burning inside him like molten glass.

  What the hell can she have been thinking, telling Sophia it was her fault her father died? Of all the vile lies I’ve heard that must be the worst.

  Her vicious harpy of a mother stirred his fury past all endurance, her cruel words something he understood all too well. The power of a spiteful tongue had made itself known to him when he was but a child, the wounds it could inflict festering over the years to leave deep scars. With such venom spat at her, and at only six years old, it was no wonder Sophia had expected him to rage at her mistake and seem surprised when he did not, accustomed as she was to treatment that made Fell’s hackles rise. He knew what it was to be taunted and scorned and found the notion of Sophia suffering similar pain almost unbearable.