Red Roses Mean Love

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  Gregory and Victoria had enjoyed much more free time to indulge in childish games. Their father was less strict with his daughter and second son. He allowed them to run about the estate and play-anything to keep them occupied and out of his way-but Stephen rarely joined in. His days were spent in the schoolroom under the harsh eyes of his countless tutors. Sohere I am, at eight and twenty, running around in the forest like a child, and having a damn good time doing it, too.

  Just then the boys returned with a bucketful of cold water. Stephen took a long, thirsty drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His whiskers prickled his skin, and he realized it had been several days since Hayley had shaved him. He ran his hand over his stubbly cheeks and recalled the feel of her soft breasts pressing on his arm as she leaned over his chest to scrape the razor against his face. Asking her to shave him again was probably not a good idea.

  Andrew and Nathan plopped themselves down next to Stephen, and he turned his attention to them. He stifled a smile when he realized both boys' shirtsleeves were rolled up and their buttons unfastened in a fashion similar to his own. Evidently they were emulating him. Unexpectedly, pride bubbled up in his chest.

  He watched Andrew stroke his hands down his face the way Stephen had just done. "I suppose I'll need to shave soon," the boy said casually.

  Before Stephen could reply, Nathan burst out laughing. "Are you daft?" He made a big show of peering at his older brother's face. "Not even one hair. Balder than an egg, you are."

  Andrew's face flushed. "I am not. I have plenty of whiskers." He turned to Stephen. "Don't I, Mr. Barrettson?"

  Stephen instantly recalled himself at Andrew's age. A boy, teetering on the awkward brink of manhood, impatient yet terrified to cross that threshold. He'd desperately needed and wanted a man to talk to, but his father possessed neither the time nor the inclination to bother with him. He knew what it was like to grow up without a father's love and attention, and his heart squeezed in sympathy for these two fatherless boys.

  His face a mask of concentration, Stephen seriously pondered Andrew's upturned face. It was baby smooth. "Hmmm. Yes, Andrew, I believe I see quite a few whiskers growing. I predict you'll need to start shaving very soon." He almost smiled at the boy's obvious relief.

  "Of course," Stephen continued, "once a man starts shaving, everything changes drastically."

  Both boys sat up straighter, their eyes round. "Everything changes?" they echoed in unison. "How?"

  Stephen hesitated, floundering for the proper words, and cursed his inability to impart some form of manly wisdom to his rapt audience. Knowing he was in over his head but determined to try, he drew a deep breath and began, "Once you're a man, life becomes… complicated. There are countless rules to follow, and responsibility and duties are thrust upon you. You must learn to rely on yourself. The world is filled with dishonest people who will try to take advantage of you or hurt you." Or kill you.

  Nathan scooted closer to Stephen, until their knees bumped. "Hayley would never let anyone hurt us. She takes care of us."

  "Yes, she does," Stephen agreed, "but once you're a man, then you'll need to take care of her. Pamela and Callie, too."

  Andrew's face collapsed into a frown. "I don't have to attend Callie's tea parties, do I?"

  "By 'take care of them' I meant be kind to them," Stephen clarified. "Respect them. Do things for them without complaint. Protect them from harm and dishonest people. Believe me, not everyone is as kind and generous as your family, so you need to watch out for yourselves and each other." He hesitated, then added, "And of course, there's the matter of… girls."

  Nathan snorted. "Girls? By jingo, I don't like girls. They play with dolls and don't like to get dirty."

  Stephen ruffled his hair. "You'll feel differently in a few years."

  "Is that when I'll need to shave?"

  Smothering a grin, Stephen said, "Yes, Nathan. That's pretty much the order of things. You realize you like girls, you shave, then you're a man."

  Understanding dawned in Nathan's eyes. "That's why Andrew has whiskers! It's because he likes Lizzy Mayfield!"

  "I do not!"

  Anxious to forestall an argument, Stephen laid a hand on each boy's shoulder. "Enough, gentlemen. Nathan, do not tease your brother. You'll understand why when you're fourteen. And Andrew, there is nothing wrong with liking a girl. It's simply a part of growing up." He shot the boy a conspiratorial wink. "The best part."

  A shy smile tugged at Andrew's lips. "Thank you, Mr. Barrettson. I-"

  "There you are!"

  Stephen turned and saw Hayley, Pamela, and Callie striding through the tall grass.

  Nathan jumped to his feet. "I'm going to fetch the armor from our secret hiding place before they get here." He dashed off through the trees.

  "It appears our man-to-man talk is over," Stephen said.

  "Man to man?" Andrew asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

  Stephen nodded. "Man to man." He held out his hand. Andrew's gaze shifted between Stephen's face and his hand. The boy swallowed visibly, then clasped Stephen's hand with a firm grip. The gratitude shining from the boy's eyes swelled Stephen's insides with pride.

  "Look at the castle!" Callie yelled, clapping her hands together, running toward the new structure.

  Hayley and Pamela both inspected the wall, and declared it an architectural wonder. They then joined Andrew and Stephen on the grass.

  Leaning back and propping himself up on his elbows, Stephen indulged himself and looked at Hayley. His gaze moved to her face and his heart speeded up when he saw her attention riveted on his half-unbuttoned shirt.

  He instantly imagined her touching him, running her hands over his chest, across his shoulders, down his back. An ache tightened his loins and he abruptly sat up, a frown pinching between his brows. Jesus! The woman made him hard just by looking at him. If he didn't get back to Londonand visit his mistress soon, he was going to lose his mind.

  "Where's Nathan?" Pamela asked, looking around the meadow.

  "He went to retrieve our armor from our secret hiding place," Andrew answered.

  "I'll find him," Callie said, bounding toward the forest. "I know where the secret place is."

  "How do you know?" Andrew shouted after her.

  Callie just giggled and headed toward the forest.

  "Is it far?" Hayley asked, watching Callie run across the meadow.

  "No. It's just past that group of trees," Andrew said, pointing to a dense copse of oaks.

  "So, Mr. Barrettson," Pamela said, smiling at him, "how did Andrew and Nathan convince you to help them build Camelot? At breakfast you mentioned losing a wager?"

  Stephen cast a sidelong glance at Andrew. "Andrew bet his sister could best me at chess. I didn't believe him, though I should have." His gaze found Hayley. "I was on the receiving end of a tail-whipping at the chess table. Building Camelot is the price I pay for losing."

  "It's too bad you didn't make a wager with Mr. Barrettson, Hayley," Andrew said with a laugh.

  "Oh, but she did," Stephen said with a slow smile, unable to resist teasing Hayley. He thoroughly enjoyed the bright red flush that stained her cheeks. "I've already paid my debt to your sister," he said to Andrew, never taking his eyes from Hayley's flushed face. "She's not nearly the slave driver you and Nathan are."

  Andrew looked at him with interest. "What did Hayley have you do?"

  "She made me-"

  "Goodness! It's getting quite late," Hayley broke in, her voice filled with a combination of outrage and desperation. She cast a warning frown at Stephen. "We really must get back to the house."

  Before Andrew could ask another curious question, the group's attention was caught by the sight of Callie running from the forest, frantically waving her arms.

  "Hayley! Hayley! Come quick!"

  Alarm filled Hayley at the wild-eyed look on Callie's face and the panic in her voice. She ran toward the child, leaving Andrew, Stephen, and Pamela behind.

  When sh
e reached Callie, she dropped to her knees and smoothed curls away from the child's frightened face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  "It's Nathan," Callie panted, her eyes huge. "He's fallen, I think from a tree, and is hurt. I heard him groaning, and found him, but when I spoke to him, he didn't answer me."

  Hayley's stomach crashed to her feet. "Show me where," she ordered, trying to keep her voice calm.

  "What's wrong?" Stephen, Andrew, and Pamela all asked in out-of-breath unison.

  "Nathan fell from a tree and is hurt," Hayley said tersely. "Take us to him, Callie."

  The group followed Callie into the forest. She lead them past a group of tall oaks and pointed. "There he is. Under that tree."

  Hayley ran and several minutes later found Nathan lying in a crumpled heap under a tree, a sack clutched in his arms.

  "Dear God," she whispered, her heart tripping on itself. A small trickle of blood ran down Nathan's temple, and his face was deathly white.

  "Is he all right?" Stephen asked anxiously, dropping to his knees beside Hayley.

  "I … I don't know," she whispered, barely able to force words around the hard knot of fear lodged in her throat. Reaching out, she placed her fingers against the side of Nathan's neck, praying she'd find a pulse. When she felt the beat against her fingers, steady and strong, she nearly fainted from relief.

  "His pulse is normal," she managed to say.

  "Thank God," Pamela said. She held Callie and Andrew each by the hand and allowed Hayley to examine Nathan.

  With Stephen's help, she examined the boy for broken bones. "As far as I can tell," Hayley said several minutes later, "he has no broken bones. It appears he's merely hit his head."

  "Maybe he's bleeding inside," Andrew said, his eyes round with fear.

  "I don't think so," Hayley said with a calmness she did not feel. She wanted to scream, rip out her hair, but she couldn't fall to pieces and frighten the others. Turning to Stephen, she asked, "Can you carry Nathan back to the house? I'll run and fetch the doctor."

  Stephen nodded. "Of course." He reached out and gently picked the boy up in his strong arms. Nathan emitted a soft groan.

  Hayley touched Nathan's forehead, then looked up at Stephen, knowing her eyes were huge with fright.

  Stephen held her gaze, his eyes somber and steady. "I'll take good care of him, Hayley. He's going to be all right. Take Pericles and go get the doctor."

  Unable to speak around the tightness in her throat, Hayley merely jerked her head in a nod and took off at a dead run toward the stables. When she arrived, she quickly saddled Pericles, and without a thought to her unladylike actions, hitched her skirts up to her thighs and vaulted into the saddle, sitting astride.

  She pressed her knees to Pericles's flanks, and they galloped toward the village at a breakneck pace.

  SHAPE * MERGEFORMAT

  Chapter 14

  Hayley burst through the door of Albright Cottage half an hour later, Dr. Marshall Wentbridge hot on her heels.

  "Where are they?" she asked Grimsley breathlessly.

  "In Master Nathan's bedchamber," Grimsley said, twisting his gnarled hands in obvious distress.

  Hayley took the stairs three at a time, Marshall right behind her. When they arrived at the bedchamber door, Marshall entered and shooed everyone out.

  "I'll speak to you as soon as I've examined him," he said firmly, closing the door on the anxious faces in the hall.

  "Did he regain consciousness while I was gone?" Hayley asked, looking from Stephen to Pamela, dreading the answer she saw mirrored in their expressions.

  Stephen shook his head. "No. He groaned a few times, but did not open his eyes."

  "Is Nathan going to die?" Callie asked in a small, frightened voice. She clutched Miss Josephine to her chest, and peered up at Hayley with wide round eyes.

  Pushing her owns fears aside, Hayley dropped to her knees and gathered the child into her arms. "No, darling. Nathan is not going to die," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. I refuse to let him die. She pressed a kiss to Callie's forehead. "Dr. Wentbridge is going to make Nathan as good as new. In fact, I'm sure he's going to wake up soon, and I bet the very first thing he'll want is one of Pierre's sugar cookies."

  "Yes indeed, Callie," Pamela agreed. "Why don't we go to the kitchen and arrange for a tea party with all Nathan's favorite snacks?"

  Callie snuffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "A tea party?" she asked, looking from one to the other.

  "The very best tea party in the whole world," Hayley promised with a smile.

  "All right," Callie agreed, allowing Pamela to take her hand and lead her away.

  Hayley turned to Andrew. "Could you please see to Pericles and Dr. Wentbridge's horse? We left them tethered in front of the house. They both need water and oats, and Pericles requires grooming."

  Andrew cast a look at the closed bedchamber door. "Will you let me know what the doctor says?" he asked, clearly reluctant to leave.

  "The minute he comes out," Hayley promised. She gave Andrew what she hoped was a reassuring pat on his shoulder and watched him walk away. As soon as he was out of sight, her shoulders slumped and she buried her face in her hands.

  Stephen watched her struggle for control, and his heart rolled over. She was trying so hard to be brave for everyone, but he knew she was frightened to death. Damn it, he'd never felt so helpless in his life. He couldn't remember the last time he'd asked God for anything, but ever since they'd found Nathan, he'd repeatedly prayed the boy would be all right. He reached out and touched her sleeve.

  "Hayley," he said softly, his heart aching for her.

  She lifted her head from her hands and looked at him, the tears she'd tried to hold back spilling down her cheeks.

  "God, Hayley, please don't cry." The sight of her aqua eyes swimming with tears, her face pale with fright, twisted him into knots. He opened his arms to her, and with a broken sob she threw herself into them.

  Stephen clasped her to him, his arms embracing her like bands of steel. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him, burying her face against his shoulder, her tears wetting his shirt. He ran his hands up and down her back, desperate to soothe her. Pressing gentle kisses against her hair, he whispered soft words he hoped were comforting. He didn't know how to help her other than to hold her. Her tears lashed him, wetting right through his shirt to his skin, and continuing down to his very soul. Listening to her muffled sobs, he thought his heart would shatter into a thousand fragments.

  When her sobs finally dwindled down to a series of hiccups, Stephen realized the worst was over, and a sigh of profound relief escaped him.

  Reaching into the pocket of her gown, she withdrew a handkerchief. She leaned back in the circle of his arms and gave her nose a hearty, unladylike blow.

  "Feel better?" he asked, a smile tilting one corner of his mouth. When she looked up at him, his smile faded. Her eyes looked bruised and he clearly read the fear in them.

  "I'm so frightened, Stephen," she whispered. "First Mama died. Then Papa…" A sob escaped her. "I couldn't bear it if Nathan-"

  "He's going to be all right, Hayley," Stephen said in a fierce voice, and he knew he would give everything he owned to make his words true. He watched a lone tear escape her lashes and travel down her cheek. Reaching out, he captured the droplet on one finger. I didn't know angels cried.

  She sniffed and wiped her eyes again with the handkerchief. "I'm sorry I fell apart in such a manner. I don't normally lose control like that. Thank you for being here. For being my friend. For helping Nathan. For holding me."

  "You're welcome." Jesus, she looked so frightened, so very vulnerable, staring at him with those huge aqua eyes.

  She reached up one hand and laid it against his jaw. "You're a wonderful man, Stephen," she whispered.

  A rush of protectiveness crashed over him. He was seized by an overpowering urge to break down the door and shake the doctor until he said that Nathan was going to be
all right.

  He wanted to chop down the hateful tree that had spilled Nathan from its branches. Unprecedented emotions swamped him … emotions that made him want to destroy anyone or anything that would ever dare hurt this woman who stared up at him as if he were some sort of hero. As if he mattered. As if there were more to him than a title and wealth. You're a wonderful man, Stephen.

  He briefly closed his eyes and allowed her words to wash over him again. You're a wonderful man, Stephen. No one, not even his sister, had ever said such a thing to him before. And Stephen himself knew damn well he wasn't wonderful. After all, there was someone who hated him enough to want him dead.

  A lump lodged in his throat. He wanted to say something to her, to disabuse her of her incorrect notions, but he couldn't force any words out.

  "You are," she said softly, as if she'd read his mind. "You may not think so, but you are. You're not only wonderful, you're noble, and generous, and kind." She laid her hand directly over his heart. "In here. In your heart. In your soul. Where it counts." A wobbly smile touched her lips. "I would never lie to you. Trust me. I know."

  Stephen framed her face between his hands, a frown tugging his brows. His gaze probed hers, searching-for what he wasn't sure, but he suddenly felt confused, and somehow vulnerable. I would never lie to you. Everything he'd told her about himself was a lie. He felt like a first-class bastard.

  "Hayley, I-"

  The bedchamber door opened and Marshall Wentbridge entered the hall. If he was surprised to find Hayley and Stephen standing so close together, with Hayley's palms resting on Stephen's chest and his hands cupping her face, he gave no indication of it.

  "How is Nathan?" Hayley asked, stepping away from Stephen. "Is he all right?"

  "He's fine," Marshall assured her with a smile.