Her Heart's Desire

by Lauren Wilder

  ‘Miss Lowell, welcome to Highcroft. Please follow me,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Mrs. Reed,’ Lord St. John said, smiling at the miserable host. They followed her inside, and he set Marisa’s bags down in the hallway.

  Marisa was astounded at the grandeur before her; the expansive hall was circular with a chequered black and white marble floor. A grand mahogany and gilt staircase dominated the center, the red carpeted steps winding four floors up. Cinderella would not have looked out of place walking down it. The towering panelled walls were lit by decorative crystal sconces, and a glittering chandelier hung overhead. Marisa stared up as it tinkled in the draughty hall. She gasped as she saw the glass atrium high above, emblazoned with the families’ coat of arms. ‘Wow,’ she whispered.

  ‘I trust you will soon feel settled in, Miss Lowell. I will see you in the morning, nine o’ clock sharp, in the office. Mrs. Reed will show you where it is,’ Lord St. John said. ‘You will soon get used to Highcroft. It’s not as intimidating as it first looks.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I will, and I like it, the way it looks, I think it looks wonderful.’

  James smiled at her warmly, and she felt a tingle of excitement. ‘Mrs. Reed will also see to it that Alfred, who is our butler here, will bring your bags to your room forthwith.’ He smiled at Marisa before disappearing into one of the vast rooms off the hall.

  Marisa let out a small gasp. So there really was a butler! Oh, God. How utterly amazing. I’m living in an eighteenth century novel.

  * * * *

  James went into his office and sat back in his leather armchair. He mused over Marisa’s reaction to Highcroft. She seemed to be somewhat shocked by the austere surroundings and the mention of a butler. Maybe he should have explained what life at Highcroft would really be like before the poor girl came all this way.

  He knew some American women were very modern, and he wondered if Marisa would soon tire of the stuffy reality of life with English aristocracy and the stresses of keeping an ancestral home running to a profit.

  He liked her very much; he just wished she wasn’t so pleasing on the eye. He had been attracted to her instantly in New York, and he also felt a definite vibe in the car, he wondered if she had felt it, too? He sensed he had better be careful. After the trouble he’d had with his last PA, Corinne, it would be ridiculous to even entertain the idea of starting something with his new one!

  He turned his attentions to his computer. Logging on he opened several documents and began reading through them. He needed a distraction.

  * * * *

  Marisa followed Mrs. Reed up the grand staircase. She couldn’t believe the size of the crystal chandelier—it was actually much bigger than a car. She held fast to the mahogany handrail as she gazed up the staircase. She marvelled at the opulence surrounding her. Never had she been inside such an immense house, and she was enthralled by it.

  All around her were signs of great wealth and history. The staircase was lined with towering gilt portraits, ancestors of the St. John dynasty no doubt.

  As if reading her thoughts, Mrs. Reed broke the silence as they reached the third floor and turned into a dimly lit hallway. ‘This is the third floor. The east wing is exclusively for Lord St. John and his personal guests. The entire first and second floors are private rooms and suites, which we offer to paying guests when the great hall is rented out for functions—weddings, formal dinners, and the like.’

  ‘Renting the hall out is the backbone of life here at Highcroft; it is very much a thriving business,’ Mrs. Reed said, walking ahead. ‘You will be quite comfortable here in the west wing. I, myself, have rooms along the corridor. Should you need anything, just ring myself or Mrs. Rose. She is the cook here, and you will meet her later after dinner.’

  They continued along the hallway. The dark floorboards creaked beneath Marisa’s feet, and she felt a chill in the air.

  Mrs. Reed showed Marisa into an enormous room with three large Georgian windows that reached from the ceiling to the floor. The setting sun cast a warm amber hue through the expansive glass panes, and the fading light cast shadows all around the room. Marisa thought it was beautiful but a little bit creepy. She shivered and rubbed her arms, it was cold, too.

  As they walked through the room, Marisa gasped at the size of it.

  ‘Oh, it’s massive!’

  Mrs. Reed did not pay any attention to Marisa’s excited reaction; instead, she marched ahead and flung open another wood-panelled door.

  ‘The bathroom,’ she announced.

  Marisa peeped inside. It was beautiful—A huge porcelain roll top bath stood in the middle of the cavernous room. Creamy marble tiles adorned the walls and floor and the taps were gold plated and ornate. It was the most beautiful bathroom Marisa had ever seen.

  ‘Wow,’ she murmured.

  Mrs. Reed walked through the bathroom and opened yet another door.

  ‘And this is your dressing room.’

  ‘I have a dressing room?’ Marisa was aghast.

  ‘Yes, Miss Lowell, these were the last PA’s suite of rooms, and you now have them at your disposal.’ Mrs. Reed pursed her lips. Marisa noticed the derogatory tone in the woman’s voice, and she really didn’t like the way she looked at her either, but she made an effort to brush it off. ‘Oh, I meant to ask you about my predecessor. What was she like, and why did she leave?’ Marisa asked.

  Mrs. Reed paused for a moment then answered in a measured voice.

  ‘She was unsuitable, and she had to leave, that’s all. You don’t need to concern yourself with what went before you. All you have to do is ensure you make the most of your position here at Highcroft and excel in every duty given to you, is that clear?’

  Marisa was shocked at Mrs. Reed’s bluntness and downright rudeness. She clearly saw Marisa as some sort of dumb American. She was getting just a bit fed up of stony Mrs. Reed, and she could see she would have to find an ally at Highcroft and fast.

  ‘Crystal clear,’ Marisa replied curtly, determined to show her mettle and establish she was no pushover.

  ‘Very good. Dinner is at eight in the dining room, bottom of the stairs, turn immediately right.’

  Mrs. Reed handed her the bedroom key and left abruptly.

  * * * *

  Marisa flopped onto the huge bed with relief. Fatigue washed over her as she unwound, watching the shadows from the trees dancing across the window. She kicked her shoes off and went to close the voluminous velvet drapes. Quite an effort was required to winch them across on the heavy pulley system, and when she had finished, she felt quite exhausted.

  She went to the bathroom and ran a hot tub. The boiling water quickly steamed up the mirror. Marisa wiped it clear and saw her tired face looking back at her.

  ‘Home sweet home,’ she whispered.

  As she sank down into the welcoming heat of the hot water, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax; she planned her first day at work in her mind, imagining James St. John greeting her in his private study, all masculine and scrumptious.

  ‘Hmm,’ she murmured as she relished the thought. Her daydreaming was suddenly interrupted by the sound of loud moaning.

  ‘What the...’ She sat up, straining to hear.

  Yes, she could definitely hear someone moaning. She dried herself quickly and pulled on a warm woollen dress, stockings, and a heavy cardigan, the chill in the air making her shiver again. Curious, she followed the noise along the corridor until she was outside a large, polished wood door.

  Feeling very mischievous, she crouched down and peeked through the keyhole. She was astonished to see an exquisite-looking woman with flowing dark hair being taken from behind by a hunky guy. Marisa was instantly relieved to see it wasn’t James St. John. She wasn’t ready for that fantasy to be over just yet.

  She remained with her eye glued to the keyhole, watching as the couple devoured each other. Marisa started to feel horny as she watched the man bend to lick the swell of his lover’s beautiful, pert breasts before n
ipping her erect buds between his teeth, causing her to cry out with passion and Marisa suspected just a little bit of pain.

  Mesmerized, she watched as they fucked furiously, right there on the carpet in front of the fire, in what looked like a library!

  ‘Oh, my,’ Marisa gasped as saw the brunette’s legs go over the Nordic-looking man’s shoulders.

  He grabbed her tits, squeezing them firmly in his strong hands as she writhed and cried out.

  ‘I’m coming. Fuck me, baby, fuck me hard and make me come all over you.’ He grunted as he withdrew and ejaculated all over his lover.

  Marisa nearly headbutted the door. She covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself giggling and made a hasty retreat back to her own room. She didn’t notice the figure who had been observing her slinking back into the shadows.

  Chapter Three

  Marisa got into bed and snuggled under the crisp, white linen sheets. She pulled the heavy silk quilt up to her chin and lifted the Victorian-style telephone receiver out of its cradle. She untangled the stretchy, spiral cord and rang her sister.

  ‘Hey, sis, guess where I am?’ she whispered as she pulled the quilt up around her shoulders.

  ‘Er, in a big, stately home somewhere in England?’ Melanie replied.

  ‘Yes! I am in a huge bedroom. Oh I have a roll top bath and I even have a dressing room! And...I have just been watching two people having wild sex in front of a fire.’

  ‘You’ve what?’ Melanie gasped.

  ‘Yes, you heard me correctly. Sex in front of the fire, and I’ve only just arrived.’

  ‘What, in the lounge? Did they know they were being watched?’

  ‘Er, no, in the library, I think. They didn’t see me; I was spying through the keyhole obviously.’

  ‘What did you do that for, you weirdo?’

  ‘Because I heard them and I wanted to see who it was, obviously, dumbo.’

  ‘Who was it? Oh, my God, it wasn’t him, was it, the Lord?’

  ‘No, thank God. I really don’t think I could have taken it if it was. I think I am smitten.’

  ‘You are not serious. You fancy your boss after only half a day?’ Melanie asked.

  ‘No, not fancy. I just appreciate his charms, that’s all. It would be impossible for any normal woman not to, I told you he is seriously hot.’

  ‘God, it didn’t take you long to get over Mike, did it?’

  ‘Christ, I wish! I still feel hollow and sick every time I think about him, so thanks for reminding me about the scumbag.’

  ‘Oops, sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’d better go. It was just a quick one to let you know I got here safely and to tell you about the sex thing. I will call again tomorrow. Love you, sis.’

  ‘Love you, be careful, and don’t sit in front of any fires.’

  Marisa checked her watch and saw it was almost seven o’clock. Feeling hungry, she decided to head down to the dining room.

  No one was in the dining room, so she decided to find the kitchen and introduce herself to the cook. She still hadn‘t met Alfred the butler, although her bags did mysteriously appear while she was in the bath.

  She meandered through the spacious, high-walled passageways, following a delicious aroma of freshly baked bread until she reached the kitchen. Hmm, not too difficult to find, she thought.

  ‘Hello, anyone there?’ she called out, pushing the kitchen door open.

  ‘Oh, hello, dear,’ a plump cheerful-looking woman said, popping up from the far side of the kitchen counter, saucepan in hand. ‘You must be Marisa.’

  Oh, thank God, a friendly face at last, Marisa thought. She rushed over and shook the woman’s hand.

  ‘Yes, I’m Marisa. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘I’m Meryl Rose, the cook here,’ she said.

  ‘It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Rose. Mrs. Meryl Rose, that’s such a pretty name,’ Marisa said.

  ‘Oh, do call me Meryl. Are you settling in all right, dear?’

  ‘Hmm, kind of…’ Marisa said, hesitating, unsure of how much to tell her new friend.

  ‘Well, don’t you worry about a thing, deary. If you need any help, just ask.’

  ‘I will. Thank you, Meryl. Will Mrs. Reed be joining us for dinner?’

  ‘Oh, no, dear, Mrs. Reed eats alone in her rooms. She’s a funny one… yes, indeed, a funny one she is,’ Meryl said, shaking her head.

  ‘So who am I having dinner with? Is it just us?’

  ‘No, deary, you don’t eat with the kitchen staff.’ Meryl hooted. ‘Well, I expect you will be eating with the family, dear. There’s Lord St. John’s sister, Miss Felicity, she’s a bit fragile if you know what I mean, she can come across as snooty, but underneath she’s got a big heart.

  ‘She lives here most of the year with her husband, Marcus. He’s a sort, all right, a real eye for the ladies if you know what I mean.’ She winked and tapped her nose.

  Marisa smiled and sensed there was a lot she had to learn about Highcroft—and Meryl Rose probably knew it all.

  Marisa wondered if it was Felicity and Marcus she had seen having sex. She felt her heart sink. Oh, God, she thought. How embarrassing to have to sit through an entire dinner with those two after what I saw them doing.

  ‘The children are with their mother until tomorrow, so I think that’s about it for tonight. Master William is staying in town. He’s the younger of the St John brothers. He should be gracing us with his presence sometime soon though; he enjoys city life, he does.

  ‘He likes the ladies as well, that one. Oh, Master James will be dining this evening, of course.’

  ‘Right, Master James,’ Marisa murmured.

  Oh no, another new version of his name. She wished she could cut out all the titles and just call him James—lovely, handsome James.

  ‘Yes, I know he’s a handsome devil, all right.’ Meryl winked mischievously as she carefully placed warm bread rolls in a basket lined with a white linen cloth.

  ‘Now don’t be nervous dear. Just grit your teeth and get through this first dinner. You will soon find your ground. Now off you go, I’m about to serve up.’

  Marisa walked back to the dining room and was greeted by Lord St. John’s handsome face.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Lowell,’ he said, smiling at her.

  ‘Good evening, Lord St. John,’ Marisa said, smiling back at him, feeling nervous.

  Lord St. John was at the head of the table; to the left of him was a striking brunette. Marisa recognized her immediately as the woman in front of the fire. Felicity, she thought. Sitting next to her was the blond man, clearly her husband, Marcus. They were seated at the far side of an impressive polished mahogany table, which had enough seats for thirty people. Marisa smiled at everyone, feeling very awkward.

  ‘This is Miss Lowell, my new PA,’ Lord St. John said.

  ‘Marisa, meet my sister, Felicity, and her husband, Marcus.’

  ‘Hello, Marisa, nice to meet you,’ Felicity said in a cut glass, high-pitched voice.

  Marcus stared openly at her, which she found very disconcerting. He stood, reaching over the table to offer his hand, and she accepted, shaking it gently. His grasp was really strong, and he looked her right in the eyes, and his pale blue gaze struck her as icily cold.

  ‘Hello, Miss Lowell, so nice to meet you,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, please call me Marisa,’ she replied as confidently as possible. She took an immediate dislike to him.

  Lord St. John caught her eye, and he seemed unsettled. Marisa hoped she hadn’t done anything to offend him. Could he tell she didn’t like Marcus? Was she that obvious?

  Lord St. John chatted merrily throughout the meal. He talked about Highcroft with great passion, and Marisa thought he was absolutely lovely. He looked smart and relaxed. He was wearing a pink shirt and chinos, his dark hair a little ruffled at the front as though he had been sleeping on it. How sweet, she thought. He must have had a nap. She knew the English upper class often ‘retired for the afternoon’ for
a nap before a heavy dinner. She wondered where his bedroom was.

  ‘So, Marisa, how do you like the old house so far?’ He broke into her thoughts, and she was blushing again.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, James, leave the poor girl alone to eat dinner. You haven’t stopped since she sat down. Good Lord, she will think us terrible bores,’ Felicity chipped in with her clipped, plumy accent.

  Marisa thought Felicity was being bitchy. She was very attractive with her high cheekbones, glossy hair, and pretty blue eyes. Shame she didn’t have the personality to match. She felt awkward being in the same room as the frisky couple. She wished she hadn’t been so nosy earlier.

  ‘It’s great, thank you, so far so good,’ Marisa replied to Lord St. John’s question, choosing to ignore Felicity’s put-down.

  I’m pleased to hear it,’ he said, smiling.

  His eyes seemed to call her to him. Marisa felt light-headed.

  ‘You must miss home, though, surely. No boyfriend?’ Marcus chipped in.

  Marisa sucked her breath in. She couldn’t believe he was being so personal.

  ‘No, there’s no one,’ she answered simply, not wishing to discuss her personal business.

  ‘A pretty girl like you won’t be alone for long. You ought to watch out for the locals. People can be quite amorous around here.’

  You’re not kidding. She wished he would be quiet.

  ‘I think Marisa’s personal life should remain personal Marcus. It’s a bit impertinent to be discussing her love life, don’t you think?’ Lord St. John glared at Marcus.

  He was clearly aggravated by him. Marisa could tell there was no love lost between them. She wasn’t surprised. She couldn’t see how anyone could warm to Marcus.

  ‘Marisa, if you like, I can show you around the village tomorrow,’ Felicity chimed in, trying to change the subject, anxious to avoid any recriminations as her husband looked at James with his steely gaze.

  ‘Oh, well, I don’t know. I expect to have quite a lot going on with my first day at work and everything.’