The Muse

by Raine Miller

Graham led her into the foyer of the house first, but then turned back. She heard him say, “Mrs. Griffin, a word please?” She saw him speak quietly but firmly to his housekeeper, and observed the nod of her head in answer, but Imogene couldn’t hear their conversation.

  While Imogene waited, a lovely brown and white greyhound approached, claws clicking over the marble floor. She dropped down to meet what looked like a friendly dog. “Who are you, lovely girl?”

  “Imogene, meet Zulekia.”

  “Zulekia. What a gorgeous name for a gorgeous dog.” She ran her hand over the dog’s short, sleek fur and knew she had made her first new friend at Gavandon.

  “She is called Zuly, and is our resident guard dog.”

  “Is that so?” Imogene asked archly, thinking that Zuly was too sweet natured to be a guard dog.

  “No, not really,” he joked, “but she is the house pet. Zuly was my mother’s dog, and I have to say she seems quite taken with you.” Helping her to stand, he then smiled, reassuring her with his eyes. “Imogene, there is one place in particular we must go first before I show you anything of the house. I wish to take you there now, and you will understand.” He held out his arm.

  “All right.” Determined to be brave, she swallowed her nervousness and took his arm.

  “Don’t be afraid, chérie. It is nothing bad, just uncanny. You will see.”

  Graham brought her through one lovely room after another until finally reaching his destination—the portrait gallery. Without hesitation, he led her over to a giant portrait of a young woman, standing next to a dark horse. “My mother, Isabelle.”

  Imogene studied the portrait for several moments, taking in the image of a woman with very green eyes, knowing where her husband had gotten his.

  Graham watched her, saying nothing.

  Imogene looked back and forth between Graham and the portrait of his mother, analyzing and then understanding what she imagined to be the reason behind the odd behaviour of the staff earlier.

  She held out her hands to him.

  He reached out to take them instantly, bringing both to his lips at the same time.

  “She was lovely, your mother. Am I correct in understanding that many people see a resemblance between us?”

  He nodded solemnly, still holding her hands to his lips.

  “Graham, I do not care for what the servants think, but I do wish to know your thoughts. Before you answer me, I ask most respectfully, that you be completely honest in your answer. I should not like something this important to come between us. And know this…I love you, but I would like the truth only, please.”

  GRAHAM let her declaration of love wash over him. It was all he really wanted in return, all he really needed. Knowing that she loved him was enough.

  He led her to a marble bench in the middle of the room, sat down next to her, and took a hold of her hands again. He looked right into her eyes before he spoke. “I do see a resemblance, and I’m sure I saw it right away. My cousins, Jules and Elle, and even Colin, all mentioned it to me. It was evident to them most when they observed you riding. She was an avid rider like you. I give that your colouring and figures are similar, but that is where it ends for me. This portrait of her was done soon after she came to Gavandon as a new bride, years before I was born.” He pointed to another portrait, “This is my mother and father, done about six years ago and this is the woman that I remember.”

  Imogene looked over at the portrait he’d pointed out for her, of his parents outside under a tree. She didn’t say anything, just observed quietly.

  “When others in the house know you, your similarity will not strike them so, I am sure. You are so much different in your manner. They will be able to see that when they know you better. It has certainly been so for me. You are not the same person. You share a resemblance—not a body, and not a soul. That you take her place as mistress here, and share a likeness is uncanny to be fair, but I like to think it was that likeness that gave me the initial notice of you, helped me to find you. And whatever good fortune or fate or plotting of heavenly parents intervening, I’ll accept every bit of it gratefully, if it’s what brought us together. I love you, and I know that you are definitely not my mother. You are my Imogene.” He took her chin and lifted her lips to his for a kiss, letting her know what he felt. “It gives me joy to bring you here and to install you as my wife, as my Lady Rothvale,” he whispered against her lips.

  She sighed and placed her head on his chest. “I feel a great burden of expectation, Graham. That your staff will compare us and find me lacking. That their scrutiny will surely cause me to stumble, and I fear I’ll shame you somehow.”

  Graham felt guilt stab him. Was he failing her in his vow to protect her already? Have I? “No. Never, will you shame me, Imogene. What happened at your introduction just now will not repeat. I charged Mrs. Griffin with the duty of seeing to that particular matter a few minutes ago. Anyone who engages in such familiar behaviour with you again will be dismissed immediately. I promise you, we will weather this. You have been raised a lady, and you will be magnificent I know. I can tell from the very little I have just seen at our entrance. Make them bend to you, in your own approach and tactics. Take charge of what you wish to do as you did with securing Hester. You fancied her for your personal maid and approached her and offered her a place here. You did that all on your own. You can do this. If there are challenges to your authority, well, staff can be replaced, but you cannot.”

  He stopped talking and kissed her instead, letting his lips do the convincing for once. When he could pull away from her sweet lips, he took her face in both of his hands and whispered, adding in some dramatic desperation, “You must—you must stay here with me. I need you, and I cannot live without you now.”

  He felt her relax a little, but she stayed quiet, searching his eyes for understanding.

  “Since we are already here, would you like to meet the rest of my family?”

  “Yes, of course I would. And Graham, I need you, too. Sometimes I don’t think you truly believe that of me.”

  Pulling her to him tightly, he let the feeling of relief wrap around him. “I believe you, chérie, and I am so very grateful that you do.” More than you will ever know.

  He began to lead her around the gallery, stopping first at a single portrait of Jasper at twenty years or so. Slighter in build, with darker hair, cut shorter, Jasper’s gaze had been captured as slightly irreverent in the painting. A portent of his brother’s demented character yet to develop done in paint and canvas for all to see if you knew what you were looking for.

  “My brother, Jasper,” Graham said stonily before moving on. Next, he stopped at the large multiple portrait of the cousins. “My great aunt Mary commissioned this one.”

  “Is that all of you as children? Tell me about it, please.”

  “Aunt Mary never married, but doted on us all like grandchildren and wanted to have all of us together in a portrait, so she arranged to have this one done. Jasper is about ten and five in this image. I am next at ten and three years old. My hand is on Colin’s shoulder, who is about eight years. The boy looking down at the baby is Jules of course; he is twelve, and Elle, the baby, not even one year.”

  “Oh, my God, what a treasure for your family. Your Aunt Mary must have been so forward in her thinking to have this created. Look at you. You’re just a boy. It is very special and so unique, Graham.”

  “Yes, it truly is. I am so happy you understand the importance, and before you say another word about it, you must know that I have every intention of continuing this family tradition. There will be many family portraits for us. Our little ones, when they come, will have to learn to sit for them, and you will too. I must have a whole roomful of just you.” He touched her hair, and whispered, “Do you feel a little better now?”

  “Yes, much better. You always make me feel so.”

  “In that case, let me show you just one more for today. This is a new addition and I find it stunningly beautiful in execu
tion and in subject. It was painted by a great master, and features the current Lady Rothvale and her sister, as young ladies.”

  “What? How? What did you—?” Imogene drew up to the Opie portrait of her and Philippa that had been commissioned four years ago. The one that hung at Drakenhurst. She looked at him to explain.

  “I had to have it here so I threw myself upon the mercy of your uncle and cousin Timothy, begging to borrow it so a copy could be made. This is the original and it will go back to Drakenhurst as soon as the copy is finished.”

  “I thought it unusual that it was supposedly having its frame repaired the day you took me to Drakenhurst. I am pleased to have a copy of it here in your gallery. It reminds me of happy times in my life.”

  She reached out her hand.

  He embraced it tightly.

  They did not speak. There was no need.

  THIRTEEN

  …Her hair was long, her foot was light

  And her eyes were wild.

  She looked at me as she did love

  And made sweet moan…

  John Keats ~ ‘La belle dame sans merci’, 1820

  “YOU will come to me in my chamber, when you are ready. You remember where? Just through those doors,” he indicated with his head, a barely perceptible grin underneath his typical serious gaze.

  His words were devastating, cutting into her, hurting her fragile foothold of familiarity with her new home. It must have shown on her face because he was quick to ask, “What is it, Imogene?”

  “Do you wish to—do you wish to sleep separate from me?”

  “Never. Why would you even think such a thing?”

  She dropped her head. “Because you always come to me in my rooms and you have never asked for me to come to you in yours.”

  “Do you not wish to come to me?” There was an edge to his voice.

  “I was mistaken. I wish to come to you. I will come.” She nodded. “It’s just so new and different. This house—I must be out of sorts or something. The day has been a long one. I was not sure of what was expected…”

  He drew her into his arms. “Please forgive me, chérie. I fear I have not been as open with you as I should have. I’ve been distracted and I apologize. It has been a dreadfully long day. But you have been magnificent.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, and I merely wish to sleep in the master’s chamber tonight, with you. To see you there in my rooms, to have you come to me there. I promise I’ll see you pleased,” he said suggestively with a squeeze of a hand on her bum. “That is all, chérie. You see, I have never taken the master’s chamber before this night. This is the first time I will sleep there. I never wish to sleep apart from you. Never. Imogene, do you believe me?”

  “I believe you.” She nodded into his chest. “But why did you never claim the master’s place for your own?”

  “This is the Lady’s chamber—my mother’s room. She was installed here. After my father passed I did not desire to remove her from her place. She was to be the dowager Lady Rothvale in any case and I could not take the master’s chamber, with her in this one. It was a small thing and it meant little to me. I have been away in Ireland since she died anyway, so it was never claimed, until now.” He touched her face, stroking with the back of his hand. “One more thing before I forget. I want you to remodel the Lady’s chamber in any way that pleases you. Spend what you wish and make it your own space in the style and manner you would like it to be. It is yours, for you. Your retreat. There are to be no ghosts here.”

  “Thank you, Graham. You are very generous.”

  “When you are settled then? Come to me. I will be waiting for you,” he said, before leaving her alone in her new rooms.

  Imogene rang for Hester, and was overjoyed to see her maid. “Oh Hester, it is so wonderful to see a familiar face. I fear I am quite worn out. Tell me, how do you find it here at Gavandon? Are they being kind to you?”

  “Oh yes, my lady, this is a kind house. I am happy to be here, and, madam, I know you will be as well.”

  “I know I will be.” She sighed.

  Imogene did not hurry in her preparations for sleep. The urge to laugh was suppressed because she wasn’t alone, but really, she wouldn’t be doing much sleeping right away. Graham would make sure of that.

  Hester brushed out her hair and helped her into a nightdress with no wrapper. Imogene guessed he would not care for it, and she would not wear any of it for very long, anyway. He liked her scandalously naked in bed.

  She cleaned her teeth meticulously and took a huge swig of wine to settle her frantic pulse.

  What is he up to? He has me all worked up, and he knows it! I suppose I am destined for ‘repayment’ due for the teasing I doled out earlier in the coach…

  Once Hester had finished her tasks, Imogene bid her a goodnight and slowly crept toward the doors of the master’s chamber.

  The door groaned upon entering the room. Her stomach lurched at the sight that met her eyes. The room was fairly well lit, enough light for her to see that he was sitting up in the enormous bed. Shirtless, he leaned against the headboard reading a book, wearing his glasses, hair unbound, the way she loved it.

  “You are beautiful. A beautiful man,” she told him, hoping words would calm, her racing heart a little.

  “Come to me.” He closed his book, removed his glasses and set them both on the bedside table, thoroughly prepared to enjoy the view of her as she moved toward him.

  Her watchful Graham.

  Imogene walked slowly to the edge of his bed. “I love your hair this way.”

  He nodded slowly, a hint of a grin present. “I know you do.”

  “Is this another ‘indulge-me’ game?”

  He nodded again, this time with a full naughty grin.

  “What must I do?” she asked, still whispering.

  He looked her over before answering deliberately. “I want you to remove your nightdress and you must look into my eyes the whole time while you do it.”

  I was right on both counts. My nightdress off in less than one minute. And this is most definitely ‘repayment.’

  Imogene swallowed, her breath coming faster. Moving her hands to the neckline, she slowly untied the fastenings one by one. She did it by feel because he did not want her to break their gaze. One shoulder was bared, and then the other as the silk slid apart and off. As soon as the gown fell to her waist, it was as good as gone.

  She realized then, his objective. He was still watching her face, her eyes. His intention was not to look at her body, but to look at her reaction to what they were doing, through her eyes. It was all very controlled and ordered.

  “Now what must I do?” she whispered, never taking her eyes off him.

  Steepling his fingers together, he set them on the edge of his lips, still looking at her. He pointed his hands, enunciating each word with them. “I want you to come and sit on me, and face me, and look at me. Don’t be shy. Just look into my eyes, and don’t turn away or look down.”

  He held a palm out to assist her.

  She kept her eyes on his, but didn’t know how she could move her legs. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might break out of her body and kill her where she stood. His request affected her so strongly, she began to shake uncontrollably. At first just a little, but then the trembling accelerated in intensity quickly as it took hold of her.

  Graham held out both palms. “Take my hands, Imogene. I will help you. Just look into my eyes. That is all you must do, just look at me.”

  His voice calmed her a little. Enough to get her stone-pillar body to take a small step.

  Move! Take his hands and go to him.

  She stepped again, taking a hold of his hands, letting him pull her forward, onto him in the bed, her legs folding over him and settling on either side of his hips. When she sat down on him she could feel his cock hot and hard lying flat on his stomach and pressing into the folds of her sex. More involuntary shudders racked her through an
d through.

  What is happening? I cannot breathe…

  “Good girl. Now take a breath and relax, chérie. Just keep looking into my eyes and breathe. I am looking at you, into your eyes. I love you so much. You know I do.”

  He did not ask anything more, for a time. He just continued to look into her eyes as she calmed, and until her breathing had steadied. “I am going to touch you now…get you ready for me. I want you to keep looking at me, chérie, into my eyes only, and feel everything. That is what I want to see. I want to see the fire in your eyes when you take your pleasure…”

  She did not lose the hold of his eyes.

  Not when he sucked on her nipples and bit them with gentle scrapes of his teeth.

  Not when he slid his fingers up inside her and worked on her nubbin until she was slippery wet and aching for more.

  And not when he urged her up so he could position her back down onto his erect cock and bury himself deep.

  Imogene did as he asked and held onto his burning gaze throughout everything. She knew he saw what he had wanted to see in her. Imogene knew it because she was looking at Graham, into his eyes, when it happened to him.

  JUST the feel of her quim clenching around his cock was enough for him to come with her. But feeling it, and then seeing it happen through her eyes was so powerful, and took him so fast, he was barely able to control the experience. He had to work very hard not to close his own eyes and break their gaze when the orgasmic blast fired through his cock and the spunk shot out.

  He heard her.

  “Do not look away from me, Graham. I want to see it in your eyes, when the pleasure takes you.”

  Imogene had become the watcher.

  She sat on him, his cock still twitching inside her, the look on her beautiful face, triumphant and victorious. Finally she spoke, “I believe we are done here.”

  For this moment we are.

  He pulled her down to his lips for a passionate kiss, plundering her mouth until he was ready to let her go.