by Mari Carr
Cursing the weather, she considered Chelsea’s bad dreams. In all her time here, Vee had never known Chelsea to dream about the fire that killed her mother. There was no doubt that was what the child was seeing last night in her sleep. What could have brought the nightmare on?
She recalled Frank Prescott’s presence when they returned from the picnic yesterday. It was obvious the man spooked Chelsea, and it was much more than her normal reticence around strangers. Chelsea was terrified of the groom.
Exiting the house by the rear, she wandered aimlessly through the recently restored gardens. Free of weeds, she admired the new blooms on the roses. In just one month, the newly hired gardener had fought a valiant battle to reclaim the backyard. It was truly going to be a showplace someday.
Placing a blanket on the damp bench, she inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet scent of fresh flowers. The beauty of the garden always lightened her worries and helped her focus on the positive side of life. Despite last night’s setback, Chelsea was making wonderful progress. Each day that passed brought the small girl out of her self-imposed prison a bit more. In the past week, Vee had begun to feel a real breakthrough was possible. Yesterday, the smile had never left her lovely young charge’s face and her constant giggles at Ben’s antics made her seem more like a normal child than ever before.
Even Ben was a different man from the one she’d met nearly two months earlier. He smiled more and his laughter was becoming a common sound in the house. She enjoyed his lighthearted teasing, regardless of the fact he remained committed to maintaining a platonic relationship with her. After her last attempt to move them beyond simple friendship, she kept her heart’s desire a secret.
He had more demons in his closet than she’d realized and, although it broke her heart, he didn’t seem capable of giving anymore of himself. She wished he would open up to her about his past and his claims of being a killer. Apparently it wasn’t only the war that tormented his mind, but something that had happened in the years since he’d returned from France.
A noise behind her startled her out of her reverie. She turned to see Frank standing behind her at the edge of the garden. Had he followed her here? How long had he been watching her?
“Beg pardon, ma’am. I didn’t realize there was anyone else back here.”
Her heart began to race. She chastised herself for her irrational reaction to this man. He’d made no overt threat to her or Chelsea, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling he was a danger to all their newfound happiness.
“Hello, Mr. Prescott.” She was proud of the strength of her voice. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“No’m,” he replied. “I was lookin’ for Mr. Harvey, the gardener. He promised me some fennel. One of the horses has an upset stomach.”
“I see.” It was a perfectly acceptable excuse for being in the garden. “I believe Mr. Harvey is in the greenhouse.”
“Don’t see you out and about much lately.” Frank approached her. “Where is your young student today?”
The hackles on the back of her neck began to rise. “Inside. I thought I’d take a few minutes to enjoy the break in the weather. That was quite a rain we had last night.” She hoped Prescott would pick up on her change of subject, but he didn’t.
“Yeah. It looks like we’re in for some more,” he said, looking up at the dark sky. “I hear tell she don’t talk, but I can’t figure out how you can teach a young’un who don’t. Figure she must talk to you when nobody’s around. That right?” Frank’s eyes were alight with interest.
Although his tone was light and his voice friendly, she sensed an undercurrent to his questioning.
“My charge is none of your concern, Mr. Prescott, just as the horses are none of mine. If you will excuse me?” She rose, but was stopped by a strong hand on her upper arm. Glancing at his face in surprise, she witnessed the murderous look in his eye a split second before he shuttered it away.
He removed his hand and smiled genially. “Beg your pardon, miss. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just makin’ conversation. Seein’s how we both work here.”
“No offense taken,” she offered tightly. “Now, I need to return to the house. Excuse me.”
This time her escape from the groom was successful, but she couldn’t beat back the sense there was something sinister lingering inside the man. Unfortunately, she had no proof to offer Ben besides her suspicions. She would simply have to be more diligent in her efforts to keep the man away from Chelsea until she could learn more about him.
One thing she was sure of now. Prescott’s attention was directed at Chelsea, not her, as she’d previously feared. All she could do for now was wonder why.
Chapter 14
V is for Virtue
Another night came and with it, another storm. Vee cursed the weather as she left Chelsea’s room around midnight. Once again, the small girl had awakened, crying out in the darkness, frightened by nightmares. It had taken her two hours to calm the unaware child until she’d finally succumbed to a deeper, more peaceful sleep. Her restlessness and fears upset Vee, who was now wide awake and worried. After lying quietly beside the child for the last half hour, she was finally convinced the sweet lass would not awaken again tonight.
Unfortunately, Chelsea didn’t seem to be the only person bothered by the storm. As she traversed the dark hallway back to her bedroom, she heard pacing coming from Ben’s room. Pausing briefly, she listened to his heavy footfalls wondering if he’d heard Chelsea’s cry. She didn’t think so or he certainly would come to comfort the child. She’d been around him enough to know that Chelsea’s welfare was of the utmost importance in his life.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the house followed by booming thunder. She winced at the sound and started to rush back toward her own room, anxious to crawl under the covers and hide until the storm passed. The crash of breaking glass broke her stride. Concerned, she walked to Ben’s doorway and knocked softly. No reply.
Knocking a little louder, she called out his name. Again, silence. Trying the knob, she found the door unlocked. Opening it slowly, she stepped into the dark room.
“Be—?” she whispered. Her question was cut off by a strong arm pressed against her throat and another at her waist. Her back was roughly pulled against a large, powerful body. Panic gripped her until she recognized the harsh, agonized breathing in her ear. Ben was gone and the stranger was back.
Desperately attempting to dislodge his arm from her windpipe, she choked out his name hoping he would recognize her. Apparently he did as the muscular arms released her so suddenly, she stumbled forward, coughing lightly and struggling to catch her breath.
“What are you doing here?” Once again, his voice was alien to her.
Rubbing her throat, she squinted in the dark, trying to make out his face. “I h-heard glass breaking. I wanted to see if you were all right.”
Lightning pierced the darkness followed by a loud rumble. In the brief light, she saw his distorted features, his eyes dark against his pale face and his typically well-groomed hair tousled as if, once again, he’d been trying to tear it out.
“Oh, God, Ben.” She crossed the room to where he stood. “Not again.”
“Get out.”
“Ben.”
“Get out!”
She shrunk back at his menacing yell and intimidating stance, but made no move to leave. When she refused to move, he turned and walked toward a chair by the fireplace. She noticed his slight limp. Glancing at the floor, she saw dark patches on the floor and realized his foot was bleeding. Concern washed through her. “Ben, your foot. You’re hurt.”
Reaching out to him, she was halted by two painful hands grasping her wrists.
“Ben. You’re hurting me.”
“Get out,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Now!”
“No!” she yelled back, angry by his harsh treatment. She only wanted to help him.
Surprised by her response, he released her hands, his arms falling loosely b
y his sides. Taking his silence as acquiescence, she lightly pushed him into the chair. Bending down, she threw two logs on the dying embers to build up the fire. The chilled, dark room brightened with light and heat. Striding to the bedside table and carefully sidestepping a broken pitcher, she dipped a cloth into the washbasin, wringing out the water. Returning to him, she noticed how much it was costing him to control his anger. Undaunted, she knelt at his feet, gently lifting the injured one for inspection.
“You have a piece of glass in your heel. Be still and I’ll take it out.”
The sound of rain pounding on the roof surrounded them, but he remained motionless. Frowning, she set to work removing the shard by the light of the fire, then she washed his wound.
Satisfied she had taken out all of the glass, she tore a strip off the hem of her cotton night rail and wrapped his foot tightly. Pleased with her work, she leaned back on her heels and looked into his face. He sat woodenly, staring at the fire. She doubted he’d even felt the pain of her nursing.
Tentatively, she reached out to touch his cheek. The pain and fear in his eyes ripped her in two and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him. He shuddered at her touch before slowly turning his head and placing a soft kiss on her palm.
Shaking, he clasped her wrist, pulling her hand into his. “Please,” he whispered desolately. “Go.”
Unwilling to leave him alone with his dark thoughts, she simply shook her head.
“Go.” His voice cracked under the strain. “You’re in danger. I told you what will happen.”
“No.” She squeezed his hand. “You won’t hurt me, and I won’t leave you alone. Not again.”
“Dammit, Vee! Get out! I don’t want you to see me like this!” His fear and distress turned back to the red-hot anger she hadn’t seen since the night he kissed her roughly in his office.
“Well, that is a shame because I’m not leaving.”
Without warning, he rose, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to his bed. He deposited her in the center of the silk counterpane, following her down and covering her with his own large body. “I warned you.”
His mouth covered hers in a hard kiss.
Shock was quickly replaced by desire as she opened her lips to receive his tongue. She wanted this, wanted him. She wouldn’t run this time.
It was her turn to shock him as she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth. His calloused hands gripped her head harder, holding her still for his passionate assault. With dueling tongues, teeth and lips, they devoured each other, starving for more.
“Go,” he whispered.
“No.”
His lips traveled across her cheek, his tongue caressing the delicate shell of her ear, before taking the lobe between his teeth. She moaned with desire as his hands parted her robe, touching her everywhere through her conservative nightgown.
He dragged his lips along her neck, continuing downward, licking her breasts through the material. Nipping softly, he pulled on her nipples, making them hard and eliciting an excited gasp from her kiss-swollen lips.
“Leave,” he said as he drew one of the tight nubs into his mouth.
“No.” She grabbed his hair to hold him in place, terrified he’d continue and terrified he’d stop.
With shaking hands, he seized the top of her night rail and tore the material down the center to her waist. Spreading the cloth, he studied her full, white breasts, spellbound for a full minute before drawing the rosy nipple into his mouth again.
He filled his hands and mouth with her round fullness, playing with her until she felt an unfamiliar, overpowering twinge in her stomach and even lower. She arched toward his powerful hands, anxious for something more. As if aware of her feelings, his lips trailed lower, grazing her stomach as his hands grasped the ends of her destroyed gown once again. She waited breathlessly, readying herself to be completely bared to his sight.
He froze, looking up and waiting for her eyes to meet his. “This is your last chance. Tell me to stop.”
Gazing into his eyes, she saw all the vulnerability and uncertainty he tried so hard to hide. In her time at Waterplace, he’d become her friend, protector and employer. Tonight as she looked into his beloved face, she wanted him to be her lover as well. She wanted to erase his past, to make him happy, even if only for a short while.
“No.” She watched his fear turn to relief and she smiled. “Don’t stop,” she said, stronger this time.
“I don’t pay for sex,” he said softly. “If we do this, you’re mine. Mine.”
Taking an unsteady breath, she only had time to nod once before he ripped her gown to the hem. His rough hands suddenly felt soft as they brushed up her legs, beneath her knees, between her thighs. His lips followed his hands, placing wet kisses until his head rested at the opening to her body. He looked up at her again, as if waiting for her to deny him.
Instead, she placed her hand on his cheek as she had done only moments earlier after she’d tended his cut foot. He kissed her palm before he moved to her center, parting her for a much more intimate kiss.
With his tongue, he delved into her delicate folds licking and sucking, her hips thrusting toward him, desperate for the heat of his breath. Nipping at her clit, his tantalizing kisses pulled her closer to the abyss, then pushed her over in a tumult of cries as he thrust his tongue deep inside.
Back arching, she reached down to pull him into her embrace as the climax roared through her body. Quivering with delight, she let the dark vortex swallow her, reveling in the feeling.
Catching the last of her moans with his mouth, he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them off completely to drop them unceremoniously onto the floor. She caught only a glimpse of his cock before he spread her legs and positioned himself at her threshold.
“Mine.” He roughly pushed her legs even farther apart.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Mine,” he repeated as he shoved into her with one thrust.
Pain ripped through her as she cried out, tears springing to her eyes. Struggling violently, she attempted to push him off her. Push him out as her earlier pleasure was replaced by the most invasive feeling she’d ever encountered.
Ben froze, not moving a muscle as she shoved at his shoulders, frantic to dislodge him.
“Don’t move,” he murmured in her ear. “It will pass in a moment.”
Breathing harshly, her body responded to the gentleness in his voice. She stopped struggling, trying to accustom herself to his thickness within her. After several calming breaths, she became aware of him gently kissing her cheek, whispering comforting, sweet words in her ear. She started to speak, but he hushed her with a loving kiss, his lips caressing hers with feather-soft touches.
“Better?” he whispered against her lips. Without waiting for a response, he slowly began to pull out. The reverse movement sent unexpected waves of pleasure through her body as her inner muscles clenched, attempting to hold him in.
Moaning, he cursed before slowly pushing back in, anxious to stay inside her tight, wet heat forever. At the sound of her pleasure, he repeated the motions, slowly at first, then harder as she began to meet him thrust for thrust.
Their lovemaking took on a frantic pace, both of them impatient to find their release while unwilling for it to end. They clung to each other as they cried out in bliss.
For long moments, neither of them moved as he covered her with his body—unwilling to part—unwilling to let the magic of the moment pass. His black eyes locked on to her blue ones as his forehead rested lightly against hers. Slowly, he bent down to kiss her lips gently, softly.
She sighed against them and he knew he never wanted this night to end.
Ben withdrew carefully before rolling to his side, enveloping her in his arms, kissing her brow, holding her tightly as if to protect her.
“The storm has passed,” she whispered.
His heart stuttered. For the first time since the war, he had beaten the darkness that surrounded him during storms. The thund
er of bombs, the flashes of gunpowder lightning hadn’t tormented him into madness this night—not with her here to comfort and console him. She had taken him out of the shadows of his haunted past and thrust him into the bright light of her sunny future.
“I can’t imagine forgetting anything as amazing as that.” She leaned forward to place her own innocent kiss upon his lips.
How could he tell her he’d been so terribly wrong? She would hate him. With his foolish assumptions, he had darkened her past, robbed her of her self-esteem and caused her unhappiness. And now with his careless, selfish actions, he’d destroyed her future, stealing her innocence, ruining her. “I’m so sorry, Vee.”
She leaned up on one elbow. “Why?”
Sitting with his back turned to her, he rested his head on his hands. “I was wrong. Wrong about everything. How can I ask you to forgive me?”
“What were you wrong about?”
His heart beat furiously. It had been her first time. It should have been special, and yet he’d handled it with all the finesse of a clumsy, green boy. No worse than that. He was a brute, a monster. Ben stood and crossed over to the fireplace, bracing both hands on the mantle.
She was quiet—too quiet—for several long moments before finally he heard her move.
“Ben?” The wall of silence broke loose at the sound of her anguished plea.
“Dammit, Vee!” He was suddenly overcome with rage, at himself, at her, at the fates which constantly seemed to conspire against him. “Don’t you see? You didn’t forget this! This has never happened to you before.”
At her perplexed look, he strode back to the bed and pulled the sheet away from her. “Look. You were a virgin! You were a virgin and I took you. Took your innocence.”
Glancing down, he winced as he saw a small smear of blood on her thighs. Mortified, he realized he had hurt her once again with his harsh words and the way he’d exposed her.
