by Sara Bennett
Averil blinked. This was a Violet she had never seen before. Confident, in her element, she’d really blossomed. Not the sullen girl she had known at the Home, or the frightened girl she had been before they left. Bringing Violet with her had been the best thing she could have done, and despite her disappointment that Violet hadn’t leapt at her earlier offer, she was not sorry.
“Do you have a big family to cook for then, Violet?” Beth asked, also surprised.
“No, but I did all the cooking at—” She stopped herself, hurrying to move the spitting pot from on top of the range. It was something that had been worrying Averil, too, but she thought that Violet did it to avoid the question.
The girl still didn’t trust them.
Luncheon was soon underway, and Violet made them a delicious-looking chicken and vegetable pie with a crispy browned crust, as well as a fruit crumble for dessert. When the food was delivered to the dining room, everyone was so full of praise that Violet was scarlet with pleasure. Even Lady Melrose declared it the best food she’d ever tasted at Southbrook Castle.
“You should be a cook in a fine house somewhere,” James declared. “Surely there is someone in London who would take you on?”
Violet smiled, but didn’t really answer. Averil was getting used to her way of shrugging off awkward questions, but she was determined that soon she would have it out with the girl and finally get to the truth.
Beth looked out at the wet weather with unease. It had started raining after luncheon and it was much heavier now; the clouds were looking ominously thunderous. Lord Southbrook had taken Averil back to the dower house, where they were supposed to be meeting Mr. McInnes. Averil was keen to make some sketches of the rooms and various other details, so that she could show Gareth, as well as map out her future plans for the building once she was home in London.
“I shouldn’t have let her go alone,” she said now.
“Nonsense,” James said, peering over her head out of the window. “And besides, she isn’t alone, she’s with Rufus and Douglas. Quite safe.”
“Rufus. Exactly.” Beth gave him a meaningful look. “Averil has a spotless reputation despite her mother’s behavior, and she needs to keep it that way.”
James looked so shifty for a moment that all her senses were immediately on alert, but then he reached to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You mustn’t worry, Beth. Rufus knows how to be a perfect gentleman, despite anything you might have heard to the contrary. In fact, it’s being a perfect gentleman that has worked against him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He could have told the world the truth about his wife, but he was too honorable to do that. He refused to hurt Eustace, so he has been treated as the villain of the piece ever since.”
“So he wasn’t? The villain, I mean? James, what did his wife do that was so terrible?”
James hesitated, and then sat down on the window seat beside her. “I’m talking out of school, I suppose, and for God’s sake don’t repeat any of this in front of Eustace. I don’t know why I’m telling you, really, but when Rufus met Meredith he was young and foolish, and she was very beautiful. One of those dark, sultry beauties with come-hither eyes. Totally unsuitable, of course. A rope maker’s daughter! She had him in the palm of her hand, and before he knew it they were running off to get married. But once the ring was on her finger she wasn’t all that interested in him anymore. She said he was too young, just a boy, and she wanted a man.”
“Oh dear.” Beth was shocked. Of course, she reminded herself, James was telling her his nephew’s side of the story. Meredith’s might have been quite different.
“For a while there we weren’t even sure that Eustace was his, but you can see the boy is a Southbrook through and through. There were other men, and it was one of them whom she was living with when Eustace was born. She needed a doctor but the fellow was too scared to call one, so he ran off and left her in some lodging house. By the time Rufus got there it was almost too late, and the doctor he found couldn’t do much, apart from save Eustace. As for Meredith . . .” He shrugged his shoulders. “She died. He was blamed for failing her. It was her family who put the rumor about. I suppose it suited them to make Rufus the villain, rather than their daughter, and he was too honorable to demur.”
It was scandalous, but Beth could not help but feel sorry for Rufus, despite his senseless behavior in running off with such a woman. Well, if what James had said was true, he had certainly paid for it. Beth didn’t know if she should mention any of this to Averil. Was allowing her charge to wander about the countryside in the company of such a man a good idea? And he being penniless to boot!
She reached to take James’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for telling me, James.”
James turned his hand over, looking down at their clasped fingers.
“Beth,” he began, “there is something I . . .”
She was expecting him to finally tell her that the castle was about to be sold, or the family was bankrupt.
“Dash it, I’m just going to say it,” James blurted out, making her jump.
“James?”
“No, don’t interrupt me or I’ll probably run for the door.” He took a steadying breath. “I know I’m not much of a catch, and I’m well past my prime, but ever since I met you I feel as if I’m a different man. A better man. My dear girl, do you think you could find it in your heart to marry me?”
Beth’s head was spinning. Oh dear, what now? James was such a nice man and she did like him. She might even love him. But she had no illusions about their situation. She hadn’t imagined for a moment that he would actually propose to her.
He must have seen her confusion and guessed its cause. His shoulders slumped.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve spoken too soon, haven’t I? Forget I said it and we’ll continue on as before, Beth.”
Beth knew he deserved more than her silence. She would be honest with him, just as he was being with her.
“James, I just didn’t expect . . . We get on well together and I enjoy your company, but our lives have been so different. I can’t help thinking that you’d be bored with me before very long, and if you went back to your old ways, well, I would be very unhappy. Marrying you would be a risk, and I’m someone who has always been cautious.”
He smiled, giving her a wheedling look that reminded her of Eustace when he wanted another slice of cake. “I could tell you that I’d be the perfect husband, but . . . Well, I’m not saying I may not do some foolish things if we married, but you can be sure that my love for you would be enough to ensure I pulled myself back onto the straight and narrow again. Because I do. Love you. After all these years I’ve fallen in love with a parson’s daughter. Who would have thought it?”
Tears stung her eyes and Beth could no longer keep up her cautious resolve. She went into his arms, and there was something so right about being there, so wonderful. And yet, as Beth had said honestly, she wasn’t a risk taker, and even if her heart was engaged her mind would rule any important decisions she made. It always had.
“I will have to think about it,” she said, moving back so that she could see his face, read his dazed expression.
James gave an eager nod. “Take all the time you want, my love.”
“And I will have conditions, James. Conditions you may not like very much,” she warned in her sternest voice.
“Condition away,” he said, with a laugh.
Beth let him kiss her gently and then rested her head on his shoulder. So many things to think about, not least how she was going to tell Averil that she was considering marrying the wicked earl’s uncle, and what that would mean for her.
Her eyes strayed anxiously to the window again, and the teeming rain outside, just as there was a bright flash of lightning.
Ever since she was a child, Averil had been terrified of storms. How on earth was she coping right now, without Beth to comfort her?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Averil glanced at the window and chewed her bottom lip. She’d made a number of sketches of the inside of the dower house, but gradually the light had worsened as the clouds thickened outside, until now the day resembled night. The storm had come upon them so swiftly and violently, they didn’t have a chance to get back to the safety of the castle. A matter of business had prevented Douglas McInnes from coming with them after all, and now Rufus had gone outside to put the horse and carriage under shelter in the old barn, and Averil was left here on her own.
A rumble of thunder sounded ominously overhead, and Averil could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
She hadn’t told Rufus she had been petrified of storms ever since she was a child. How did you tell the man you loved that you were a coward when it came to thunder and lightning? She’d wanted him to think well of her, and somehow she had managed to hide her agitation from him.
Had the strong feelings she experienced the night her mother left, of loss and grief and abandonment, resulted in this terror? Terror that came upon her whenever there was a thunderstorm, paralyzing her and stripping her of everything but the desire to curl into a ball and hide.
“Beth,” she groaned, “where are you?”
Beth knew about her fear, and kept an eye on her if there was a storm approaching. But Beth wasn’t here.
Perhaps it would be all right, she told herself with wild optimism. The storm might move off. Or she might be able to remain calm, this time. Did she really want Rufus to see her like this? A gibbering mess?
A flash of lightning made her jump and she dropped her sketch pad. Inside the room it was getting gloomier and gloomier. Her fears rose up as the thunder roared overhead, threatening to overwhelm her, but she forced herself not to run but to stand very still, trying to breathe, trying to quiet her chaotic thoughts.
She told herself again that it might be all right, that the worst was over and the storm was leaving, and everything would be fine.
The next flash of lightning was so bright, so alive, it undid her completely. Thunder crashed violently, making the whole house shake. She screamed and curled her hands over her head, and screamed again as the thunder growled on and on, as if there were a wild animal loose inside the room with her.
And then suddenly strong, warm arms wrapped around her, tight, and she was being held in Rufus’s embrace. Above the roaring of the storm she became aware of his voice, soft and deep in her ear: “It’s all right, I’m here, I’m here. Averil, I’m here.”
Frantically, she clung to him, her hands clutching at his jacket, her face buried in his chest, as if she wanted to become a part of him. He was damp from the rain, his hair plastered to his head, his skin cold. The familiar scent of him filled her head. Another crash of thunder and then another and she cried out, sobbing, and he lifted her into his arms. She felt herself being carried and the next moment he’d tugged a dust sheet off a chaise longue and sat down on it, his arms still around her, curling himself about her as if he was protecting her with his body. As if the storm really were inside with them and the only thing that stood between her and oblivion was Rufus.
He was speaking but the thunder was so loud she couldn’t understand him. She lifted her head, wild-eyed, and his face was so close. His mouth was so close. Another bang of thunder and she kissed him.
Her soft lips were warm against his cold ones. Rufus could feel her heart pounding with fright, and her arms were wound around his neck, pulling him closer against her. Passion ignited and suddenly he was kissing her as wildly as she was kissing him.
Averil gasped.
Rufus lifted his head. Her eyes were closed and she looked pale in the murky light of the thunderstorm. He noticed, too, that her dress was soaked where she had been clinging to him, and he could see her tightly budded nipples outlined against the cloth. Desire ripped through him, tightening his body, sending the blood pumping through his veins. He was no longer thinking straight.
He began to shrug off his jacket, hands clumsy, tugging it down over his arms and tossing it aside. His shirt was just as soaked, so he stripped that off, too. Another burst of thunder and she buried her face against his bare chest, whimpering like a cornered animal.
Her golden hair had tumbled down, and he ran the silken strands through his fingers. He wanted to bury his face in its softness, but somehow his common sense reasserted itself. Rufus knew the difference between comforting a distressed woman and seducing her, and he knew he couldn’t take much more of this temptation. This was Averil, the woman he was in love with, and although this felt perfectly right he knew he was deceiving himself.
“Averil,” he said roughly, and tried to draw her away slightly so that they weren’t so close, but she only pressed closer, their bodies melding against each other. “Averil,” he groaned.
This time she lifted her head, her eyes huge and dark. He cupped her face in his hands, feeling the tremors running through her. Her hands reached for him, running over his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth. And then she was kissing him again, and with an abandon he found impossible to resist.
He reached down to touch her breasts, so soft and exquisite, and covered one lush mound with his palm. She moaned and her nipple tightened further. Averil tipped her head back, arching toward his touch, and it was an invitation for him to bend his head and kiss her throat, trailing his lips over her skin.
Outside the rain was tumbling down so heavily he could no longer hear the thunder. All he was aware of was the feel and scent of the woman in his arms, and her eagerness as she responded to his touch, her gray eyes half-closed, her long lashes brushing her creamy skin, and her mouth swollen from his kisses.
He wanted her, by God he did. More than he could remember wanting a woman for years, and even then . . . when had he ever felt this intensity? This desperate need to possess?
Rufus groaned and shook his head. It was impossible. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t ruin an innocent. Even if it meant gaining everything he wanted, he couldn’t do it.
He was moving away from her. Averil felt a sudden chill, and not just because the warmth of his body had been isolated from hers. In his arms she’d forgotten her fear of the storm, and for the first time ever that she could remember, she had felt safe from the thunder and lightning.
She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want him to stop touching her. Kissing her. Holding her. She was the huntress, she reminded herself feverishly. It was she who made the decisions.
“Rufus,” she said, her voice husky. “Don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”
She touched his hand, and then her fingers slid into his, and he tightened his hold on her. His eyes were so dark and intense, sliding over her face to linger on her lips, and then lower to the shape of her breasts beneath her gown. He looked hungry. Starving. For her.
“Oh, Rufus.” His chest was naked and she reached out, running her hands over his skin. She’d never touched a man like this before and she couldn’t seem to stop. His body was so different from hers, harder, with a line of dark hair running down to his stomach and vanishing beneath his breeches. She leaned forward and licked his skin, running her tongue over the bud of his nipple, shocking herself, and then did it again, just to remind herself that she was a huntress.
He cupped her face, his mouth finding hers in what promised to be a long, passionate kiss. But Averil smiled and pulled away. Her eyes were on his as she began to undo the little buttons that ran down the front of her bodice, one at a time, only the tremble of her fingers to show she wasn’t as confident as she was pretending.
“Averil,” he growled, “you’re playing with fire.” But he was watching her with fascinated attention.
“I know. I don’t care.”
His hands covered hers—to stop her or to help?—but the dress was agape and his knuckles brushed her naked skin. He groaned and bent his head, once more kissing her mouth, his tongue finding hers and doing a dan
ce so erotic she could hardly bear it.
“This is—” he murmured against her lips.
“—wonderful,” she finished for him. “Don’t stop, Rufus. Please don’t stop now.”
Her words seemed to awaken him from a trance. He searched her eyes. “You know this is madness, Averil. Complete and utter madness.”
“I don’t care,” she declared, and knew it was true. Right now, right here, she wanted this man she loved. And if he wanted her then why did they have to stop?
But perhaps that was the trouble; perhaps he didn’t want her?
Rufus was holding her hand, his fingers stroking hers, but he was staring into her eyes with one of his intense looks. She tried to read his thoughts—need and doubt and resolve—and then he was lifting her fingers to his lips. He spoke with certainty.
“Averil, if we do this, then you will marry me. We must marry.”
Her heart gave a thump. Marry him? It was what she wanted, and yet there was something in his face she didn’t understand, something determined and irrevocable, and suddenly she was no longer sure she was the huntress after all.
She opened her mouth to express her doubts, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Come here.” His hands rested possessively on her shoulders, his face filled with a new purpose. It was as if he had cast aside his doubts just as she had begun to experience hers.
“Rufus.” She reached for her buttons again, this time to do them up, but he brushed her hands away and began to peel down her clothing so that her breasts were clearly visible through her thin chemise.
“Look at yourself,” he whispered. “You want me, Averil.”
She stared down at herself, and was amazed at this evidence of her desire. The buds of her nipples were pointed through the silk. He ran his fingertips over them and she gasped as sensation washed over her.
He smiled, that wicked smile she loved, and then he bent his head and his mouth was on her, his warm tongue circling her. It was marvelous, so astonishing that she didn’t want him to stop. She held his head against her, and when his mouth closed over the tight bud of her nipple she arched toward him with the intensity of her pleasure. Her breath was coming in short gasps and her body was hot and achy. All thoughts of stopping were gone. She needed something from him and she had no intention of denying herself, or him.
