The Muse

by Raine Miller

  “How do you know my name, sir?”

  “I know you because I am your uncle…your uncle, Graham.”

  “I don’t have a uncle, just a mamma.” She shook her head at him.

  “Yes, Clara, you do.” He nodded solemnly. “My brother was your…father.” Graham gave her a sad smile and put his hand atop her blonde curls.

  “Did my father look like you do?”

  “In some ways we looked alike.”

  “You look sad.”

  “People tell me that all the time,” he said wryly. “Seeing you doesn’t make me sad, though, for I’ve been trying to find you and your mamma. For a long time I’ve been searching and here you are. I am very glad to finally meet you, Clara, very glad indeed. I want to see your mamma, and talk to her.”

  “Mr. Jacobson and Mamma are talking right now. They talk in his study all the time.”

  Gravelle snorted a laugh at that, directing a knowing look to Graham. “Told you,” he said smugly.

  Clara turned her countenance toward Gravelle then. “I have seen you before.”

  “You remember well, young miss. I was here but a few days ago,” Gravelle answered Clara with a wink.

  “This is my friend, Mr. Gravelle. He is the one who told me where I could find you and your mamma—”

  “Clara! Who are you speak—” Agnes froze as soon as she came into the room and saw Graham. The colour drained away from her face and her bottom lip began to tremble. She held out her hand to Clara. “Sir…I beg you…do not hurt her. I promise I did not say a word. I have told no one, just as you required.”

  Graham’s heart ached, knowing Agnes was afraid of him. She stood trembling, silent tears trailing down her cheeks pleading for Clara to come to her. “Agnes. Please be of ease, I mean you no harm. I have come to help you, to restore your support. Whatever wrong has been done you, was not of my will or of my knowledge. I have been searching for you for months now. Please tell me what has happened to you. How did you come to be here?”

  Jacobson entered the room.

  His surprise at the persons assembled was evident and the air in the room crackled with cautious tension.

  “I would like to know the same,” Jacobson asked quietly, levelling a steely gaze. He was being careful, while at the same time, letting the men know he had an interest. “What kind of fiend abandons a woman and child on the highway?”

  One Ralph Odeman I would venture a guess. “Jacobson,” Graham greeted him. “Thank God it was you who took them in. I cannot express my relief at what you have done.”

  “Lord Rothvale.” He inclined his head. “I have offered lodging and employment to Mrs. Schellman. With all due respect, my lord, why have you cause to be grateful to me? What is she to you?”

  I deserve that. “How much do you know, Jacobson?”

  “Very little, apparently.” Jacobson looked to Agnes who was still silently weeping.

  Graham looked at each of them with resolve. “We must talk. There is much to say and much to make right. It has been put off for far too long and cannot wait another moment of time…”

  “TRISTAN, these are lovely. My favourite is the unicorn by the lake.”

  “I think I fancy Saint George fighting off his dragon best,” he countered. “By the way, you’re doing an excellent job on the sky. Quite the painter you are, Imogene.”

  “In truth I am enjoying myself. It is satisfying to do something creative for a change. Won’t Graham be surprised?”

  And he was.

  Because he stood in the doorway unobserved, watching them as they worked on the murals for the nursery. Tristan was drawing in a landscape while Imogene painted in blue skies. From behind she looked just as she always did; nobody would even know she was with child. He’d missed her dreadfully this past week. Even now, he had to will himself to find restraint to keep from rushing over and grabbing her. All he wanted was to feel her against him, to breathe in her scent, to kiss her. She completed him, in every way. Now he was back with her was proof, for his body knew and reacted accordingly. The ache in his heart from being parted vanished instantly, replaced by the joy in seeing her well and happy.

  “He is indeed, very surprised. My wife a painter? How was I to know?”

  She turned at his voice. “Oh, my darling!” she cried, rushing into his arms, paintbrush in hand. “I missed you so much,” she breathed into his neck.

  He looked down at her belly, and touched it with both hands. “You’ve grown since I’ve been away,” he said, suddenly feeling cheated by missing that time with her.

  “Yes, I am growing huge. John said I was big for my sixth month. I dread to think how much bigger I’ll get.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered because Tristan was still in the room with them. “I am so happy to be home. Finding you well and enjoying yourself makes our reunion all the sweeter.” He looked toward the door in silent communication.

  “Tristan, that is all for me today,” she stated, depositing her paintbrush into a jar. “I’ll resume my part tomorrow.” She smiled at her friend. “The pictures are perfect, Tristan, just lovely.”

  “Yes, they look excellent, Tristan. And thank you for being here with Imogene while I was away. You have kept her well, and for that I will be ever grateful, my friend. I am in your debt.” Graham bowed his head.

  “I’ll be sure to mark that down in case I ever have need of money,” he shot back cleverly, but returned the bow with his own and a grin. They all understood so words weren’t really necessary.

  “And know that you are welcome to stay on here while you are at work in the nursery, if it pleases you,” Graham offered before turning away.

  Graham heard Tristan chuckling as he and Imogene fled together, knowing that he wouldn’t have bothered to wait for Tristan’s response to his offer should he have even given Graham an answer.

  WHEN Imogene felt the pull of a climax taking hold of her body she squeezed her inner muscles as hard as she could around Graham’s cock. His eyes flared as he pumped into her from above. “You feel so good wrapped around me… I—can’t—be—away—from—you—Imogene!” He grunted each word with a thrust as his hands gripped her hips, holding her firm and open.

  Imogene relished every slick plunge and dragging pull of his hard cock as he made love to her. He was the perfect blend of careful mixed with desperate in her opinion. She loved having her man desperate. She loved that she was responsible for making him that way.

  He told her in whispers and on kisses what she did to him, how much he loved her, and how much he loved to pleasure her.

  Everything he did to her in bed drove her wild. He always had. She was a slave to needing him like this.

  But Graham was mindful of her condition as he pulled her right to the edge of the bed and took her from a standing position against the side so he wouldn’t crush her belly.

  “I am going to—” She lost her words when she felt his fingers slide back and forth over her nub. That was all it took and she exploded.

  “Ahhhh…Graaaaaaham…”

  “Yes, my beauty, you are perfect when you shatter. I could watch you do this every day and never get tired of it.” He kept going, thrusting harder as she crashed wave over wave with an explosive climax.

  She felt his sex swell inside her and reached down between them to take his bollocks in her hand. They felt tight as she gave a squeeze to his male flesh and he moaned in pleasure.

  “Yes,” he shouted with one last powerful thrust as he found his release and his seed erupted, flooding into her.

  Their eyes connected in that moment of intimacy, and all of the love they felt for each other was gifted and received. And it was so good. SO good. So right.

  Later, when he’d crawled up on the bed so he could hold her, and had her cradled in his arms, did Imogene finally feel completely at peace.

  “It’s heaven to be back in our bed with you against me.” He stroked over her naked body reverently, his hand coming to rest on their baby.
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  “Mmmm, I was just thinking the same thing. I will get my forty winks tonight finally, because I’ve learned I am no good on my own trying to sleep in this huge bed without you.” Imogene shifted to her back so she could see him. “You were greatly missed.” She reached up to comb through his hair with her fingers as she loved to do, smoothing it behind his ears before bringing a finger to trace around his lips. “I love you.”

  “Those are the sweetest words I ever hear from your lips.” Graham closed his eyes for a moment. “As painful as it was to be parted from you, I must say it does feel very fine to know I was missed, and my welcome home was most excellent too.” He nuzzled her neck. “Chérie, how much longer can we do this? Is it safe for you and the baby?” She did not answer him, just flashed what she hoped was an alluring grin at him. “Acts of love—what did John say about it?” His expression told her he was clearly embarrassed posing the question.

  She laughed at him. “Are you blushing, my darling?” More giggles escaped her. “John said nothing about that, and I did not think to ask. He said I was healthy and strong, and the baby thrives, kicking and tumbling about inside me. I know…why don’t you ask John yourself? I would suggest you do it in a letter so that he cannot see your blushes.”

  Her words coaxed silent laughter from him. “You love to tease me, don’t you, chérie?”

  “I do so dearly love to, my darling, if only for the reward of one of your beautiful smiles, or to hear you laugh. Your smiles and your laugh are precious to me.”

  “Well then, you’ll be happy to hear I’ll have much more to smile about now.”

  “So your trip went well? Tell me everything, Graham. I am dying to hear all of your news.”

  Imogene lay back in the pillows, watching her husband’s handsome face as he retold the events of finding Agnes and Clara.

  “…Apparently, he convinced Agnes he acted in my stead. Odeman, being Jasper’s friend, told Agnes I had asked him to make her and Clara disappear because I feared the exposure of the secret now I had married. Agnes went along with it because he threatened harm to Clara.” Graham looked freer as he spoke, as if a great burden had been lifted. And for him, it must have truly felt that way. Imogene could see he was lighter and feeling less fraught now the painful, gaping wound from his past was in the process of healing. My wonderful husband, so caring. The scar would always remain of course, but with absolution and wrong being put right for Agnes and Clara, the debilitating pain was decreasing.

  “I left them well and happy.”

  “And they will now live closer, at Wellick?”

  Graham shook his head. “No, chérie, they will not. Agnes will not come to Wellick.”

  “Why ever not? Where will she go?”

  “Nowhere. Agnes will stay at The Lion’s Crown,” he said cryptically, “as Mrs. Jacobson.”

  At Imogene’s shocked surprise, he happily told her the rest.

  “As soon as I suggested Agnes and Clara be settled at Wellick, Jacobson immediately asked to speak privately with her. It soon became apparent he has found his lady love in Agnes and was most determined to keep her. He asked for her hand and she accepted. Clara has also ensnared his heart. I was most impressed by his affection for her.”

  “They fell in love,” Imogene said dreamily.

  “They did indeed and will be very well matched. I have a good feeling about them.”

  “And what of Ralph Odeman? Any trace of him?”

  “No. He may have left the country for all we know. After he dumped Agnes and Clara on the highway, he probably went on to London, and from there, who knows? Formal charges were filed with the magistrates. If he shows his face he’ll be charged with fraud, extortion, kidnapping and deserting his regiment. I hope the Army catches him first because they will hang him.”

  “And Clara?”

  “Everything’s settled. I went on to London and met with my solicitor to have the financials arranged. Clara will inherit a legacy, in her own right when she comes of age. It is their wish she takes the name of Jacobson, and that he adopt her as a daughter.”

  “How wonderful. What a remarkable man is Mr. Jacobson, hmmm?”

  “Indeed. He is a fine man. To express my gratitude I have given him The Lion’s Crown. He holds the title free and clear now. I told him to consider it a wedding present. Jacobson well deserves it for all he has done over the years, and most recently with Agnes. They will do well there, and make a good life together. And we will have connections with them for his mother is here, and we will see them whenever we stay at the inn as we travel to Town.”

  “Graham?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “You make me proud.”

  He kissed her lingeringly for a long time.

  …HE was swimming. Swimming in the warm ocean that was Imogene. He could no longer tell where he ended and she began. And he did not care either. He just wanted to float in the sensation of being surrounded by her…loved by her…lost in her. This was his dream and it was perfect. But then everything changed. She drifted. He swam toward her, but just when he got close enough to touch her, she drifted again. Determined to get to her, he tried over and over to reach her, to pull her to him, to save her. But he never could. No matter how many times he swam to her, he was unable to grasp onto her to bring her back…

  Graham awoke from the nightmare in a sweat. In panic he reached out his hand for Imogene. She was there. He felt her warmth and could hear her sounds of sleep. The unique scent that belonged only to her filled his head. He willed his heart to slow and breathed deeply to calm his thundering pulse, telling himself everything was fine, and as it should be. It was only a dream…

  He remembered her words from earlier and contemplated all of the diverse emotions of the past days. The enormous relief. The gladness in seeing that Agnes and Clara were happy and well. The contentment of knowing Imogene thought well of him.

  Graham knew he was blessed…in so many ways...he was a man blessed.

  TWENTY-SIX

  And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun,

  And she forgot the blue above the trees,

  And she forgot the dells where waters run…

  And the new morn she saw not; but in peace

  She had no knowledge when the day was done…

  And moistened it with tears unto the core.

  John Keats ~ Isabella, 1820

  IMOGENE dabbed on the white paint delicately in places, thicker in other parts. Pleased with her efforts, she knew her skill at painting clouds was definitely improving. She had taken to studying some of the landscapes hanging in the house to observe the technique used by the artists to paint in the skies. Working in the nursery these past two weeks had been enjoyable. Graham had even joined in the fun, and was contributing a scene of a princess speaking earnestly to a toad. He had wanted the princess to have her colouring, but she convinced him to paint a dark-haired, green-eyed, beguiling beauty instead.

  “Time for luncheon,” Graham announced. “We all need a break I think.”

  “Sounds like an excellent plan to me,” Imogene said, stepping backward to view her progress as she ruefully rubbed her lower back. “I can now appreciate the hard work you artists devote to a project.”

  “Are you hurting, chérie?” Graham frowned in concern. “You are finished painting for the day,” he said determinedly. “I can see your back is bothering you. You need to be off your feet and I want you to rest after luncheon, agreed?”

  “Tristan, tell him not to fuss, would you?”

  “I will keep my ideas to myself, thank you. I think I am intelligent enough to know that staying well out of your marital rumblings is very much in my best interest,” Tristan retorted wryly. He turned toward her and gave a smirk, but then gentled his expression. “You have been hard at your work for a long time though, my dear. I have to agree with your husband this time.”

  “Traitor!” She backed up another step and then turned to set her brush into a jar. As she did, her foot tangled in t
he drop cloth, setting her off balance. She flung out her arms to compensate, catching nothing but air as she fell backward.

  Time slowed down excruciatingly as she saw everything move in slowed motion.

  Graham and Tristan both lunged at her, intent upon catching her before she struck the floor.

  The sickening sound of flesh hitting against a hard surface was horrifying, as was the involuntary groan that expelled from her throat. Both sounds telling them they were too late.

  Imogene felt a sharp pain deep inside, almost like a rending, but it went away just as quickly. Shock at her situation caused her to suck in deep pulls of air. I am all right. The baby is all right. All is well. It has to be!

  “Holy hell! Imogene!” Graham hovered, hands shaking, almost like he was afraid to touch her lest he do more damage. “I could not get to you fast enough. Are you in pain?” He brought a hand to his mouth in fear. “What can I do for you, chérie?” Tristan stared down at her, his eyes flaring wildly.

  “Just one sharp pain but now it’s gone,” she panted, holding her belly. “I am fine. I will be completely fine,” she said forcefully, willing herself to believe it. “I’m sorry, Graham. I lost my footing…”

  Her resolve crumbled, fear getting the upper hand for a moment before she crushed it down. No! I refuse to give in to fear. Everything is fine and will be well! She chanted the reminders to herself over and over, unwilling to accept anything horrible would happen.

  Graham studied her intently, his face changing through many different expressions of emotion. Imogene understood exactly, because she was feeling it right along with him. He seemed to gather his wits and took charge of the situation. “Tristan, go find Mrs. Griffin and have Brancroft sent for immediately!” Tristan was out the door before Graham even finished speaking. “Chérie, let me get you off the floor first. Will that be all right, do you think?”