After just two weeks of illicit, passionate interaction with her lover, Lily felt like a new person, almost a stranger. A new awareness of her body and her desires bloomed like a secret bud inside her. She drifted through each day feeling him. She felt his touch, his attention, his possession all day, even when he was nowhere near. She felt it physically in her bottom, which ached now whenever she sat. Not a terrible ache--he spanked her enough to make her sore, but not miserable. He spanked her enough to remind her of him when he wasn't around. She understood now why he insisted on the nightly regimen. It ensured that she thought of him every hour of every day.
And then, when she thought of him, feelings rose in other parts of her body. A heat and dampness between her legs, a slow burn at the tips of her nipples. An empty ache where he took her each night, sometimes twice or more. She felt empty without him filling her, and just one glance from him in the staid dining room or study was enough to make her nearly insane.
Of course, the servants minded their business. If they noticed that Lily flushed and grew breathless each time he looked at her, they did not react to it. His frequent, affectionate touches were only appropriate for a husband and wife, of course. A light hand placed at the small of her back, or a gentle touch on the elbow. Sometimes he ducked with her into an empty room and hauled her close, kissing and nuzzling her with such voracious appetite that she felt dizzy afterward, as he smiled and guided her back out to wherever they were headed.
Lily found time and opportunity to go up to the attic as well. She knew she ought to confess to him that she was devouring his library of depraved pornography every chance she got. But she was too embarrassed to admit she'd read nearly all of them by now, leafing through the pages with an avidity not befitting a gently bred lady.
Well, she was not a gently bred lady. She was a London girl, and the daughter of a tradesman. She did not want James to find out she read the books and assume what she already knew about herself--that she was not much of a lady at all.
Not that it mattered. She was simply playing a lady at his behest. She was happy to give him so much pleasure, and as he promised, he continued to take care that she did not conceive a baby. Her flux had arrived just that morning, to her relief and yet dismay, for they would have had blessed privacy for lovemaking that night. It was All Hallows' Eve and the servants would be off to Smeeth after dinner. James had given them the night off to go to the village festivities there, and even Hanover and Mrs. Gertrude had been convinced to get away for a night of merriment, over Hanover's objections that the lord and lady might need some sundry thing.
Of course a gentleman like Lord Ashbourne would not make merry with the villagers in the street, nor his dignified wife Lilliana, although Lily found herself a bit wistful about Hallowe'ens past. She remembered bonfires and dancing and bobbing for apples with her sisters, using apples from the Halsteads' orchard. She wondered if her father and sisters ever thought about her anymore, and a terrible pall of sadness passed over her. She missed them. James was wonderful, and the life he provided was one of luxury and comfort, but sometimes she missed her family and her old life.
"Lily?"
She looked up from the table, startled by his gentle voice in the silence. How long had she been sitting there, adrift in her dreams and remembrances?
"Yes, James?" she replied lightly, hoping her voice did not betray her turbulent emotions.
"Is everything all right? Have you no appetite tonight?"
She tried to smile. He would never understand if she was to tell him she missed her old life, not when the life he gave her was so remarkable. "Oh, no, it is only… Well, it is the night the spirits roam the land, is it not? Perhaps I am only thinking of ghosts and ghouls, and specters walking over my grave."
"Specters, eh? I should never have given you that silly book of ghost stories. It was too frightening for you, I fear."
"Well. Perhaps. I haven't read much more of it, to be honest."
"Haven't you? You've been reading something though. I've noticed your reading is very much improved when you read aloud to me at night."
Lily felt a blush rise up into her neck. "I--well--thank you very much for the kind compliment, sir. I do try to read a bit every day. This and that. Various books. You know."
James patted his lips with a fine linen napkin, and Lily had a sneaking suspicion that he hid a smile. He could not know about her stolen moments in the attic. She was very careful to do it secretly while he was at his desk engrossed in his work, and she always rearranged the books neatly when she was done. She looked down into her lap, toying with a fold of her evening gown.
"Sir…James… I suppose I must tell you… I am not sure why you sent all the servants away, but I am unfortunately…indisposed tonight."
"Are you unwell?" His eyes clouded over in concern.
"No, not precisely unwell. Just not able to…" She fell silent, wishing him to understand without further comment, and he seemed to.
"Oh."
"I'm quite sorry."
"Rather silly to be sorry. It's good news, isn't it? And a natural function you have no control over, my dear. Although I would be happy to spank you for the impertinence of getting your monthly, if you wish."
Lily burst into laughter. "You would be happy to spank me for any infraction, including no infraction at all."
"I confess that's true."
His bland tone set her off into more gales of laughter. He watched her, seeming to enjoy her mirth. At last she quieted, dashing away tears of hilarity. Or perhaps they were tears of sadness. Suddenly she was crying and she wasn't sure why.
"Lily," he said quietly.
One of the servants chose that moment to come in and remove the dinner plates. Lily ducked her head, embarrassed to be seen crying, but James distracted him with curt orders for the staff to take their leave for the evening. The man bowed formally and left, closing the doors behind him. James reached for her, pulling her into his lap and embracing her so tenderly that her silent tears dissolved into audible sobs. She would soak his fine linen cravat if she did not control herself.
"I am so…so sorry. I am overemotional."
"Tell me what is wrong."
She lifted her head a little, pressing her face into the curve of his neck, smelling his masculine scent and feeling the texture of his stubble against her cheek.
"I miss my family. I truly do. I feel terribly disloyal to say so when I have had so many pleasurable moments here with you, but…"
"It is not disloyal. It is natural. But it saddens me to see you hurting."
She was distraught. How long had she hidden these feelings from him for fear of being "disloyal"? He could feel her mood like a heaviness in his heart and restless panic surged along his nerves. Not so soon. How can you leave me so soon? He schooled his voice to a reasonable, calm tone.
"Are you wishing to return to them, Lily?"
"Well, I miss them. But no. I don't wish to leave you." She lifted her face to his and tightened her fingers on the dark blue velvet of his sleeves. "Of course I don't wish to leave you. I only wonder sometimes if they miss me. We had our good times, and bad times too, like any family. I'm just remembering past nights, fun we had on All Hallows' Eve. I wonder if they…if they ever think of me too. They would not even know where to find me if they wanted to."
James struggled with his conscience. He might urge her to write them a note, or even go visit them just for a bit. But there was every chance that would result in losing her. He could have a footman convey a note personally to her family by dawn, without a bit of trouble. But there would have to be explanations, more subterfuge and excuses. And hadn't her father been the one to send her away? What if he refused to read the note? Either way, the result could be unpleasant. Her broken heart, or his. In the end, he forced himself to offer that which he did not wish.
"If you would like to write a letter with your whereabouts, I can have a man deliver it. You might only say you are here, with no explanation of
the finer points of our arrangement. At least then they would know you are safe and that you miss them."
Lily thought for a moment with pain and longing in her eyes, then shook her head. "He has disowned me. He will not care where I am or how I fare. But I cannot help wondering if my sisters are all right."
"Perhaps when you are set up in your shop, you can make amends with your family. I'm certain that with time and distance, your father will realize it was a foolish mistake to send you away."
"Yes. Perhaps." Lily sounded much less certain, but gave him a sweet, grateful smile. "You are so kind to me, sir. In a thousand ways."
Her fingers rested on his chest so trustingly. Her light caresses were slowly driving him mad. He took her hand in his and kissed the soft palm. "Why do you call me 'sir' even now?" he whispered. "I much prefer when you call me James." God, she tasted so very sweet. Without even thinking, he licked her palm. She shivered slightly and wiggled on his lap.
"I call you 'sir' because you are so very handsome and elegant. And so very…remarkable." Her palm closed and she gazed up at him with a worshipful look. "You have made my life a wonder. James seems too pedestrian a name for someone like you."
He looked down at her, his groin tightening painfully. "If you talk like this, I'm afraid your elegant 'sir' will become unforgivably inelegant. The servants are leaving and we are left on our own for the night. What shall we do? Perhaps go afield for a walk?"
"A walk? Now? In the darkness?"
"I can protect you from any phantom threats. From any specters," he added teasingly. "And there is a full moon tonight so there will be plenty of light."
A few persuasive kisses later, and his darling Lily was convinced to stroll with him through the gardens. Mrs. Gertrude fetched Lily's cloak just as the servants were heading out to the village, and the old woman drew James aside to warn him not to keep her out too long in the "oppressive October air." James gave them all some coins to improve their trip into the village and received grateful thanks for the small gesture. Lily looked at him fondly as the celebratory party set off in high spirits toward Smeeth.
"They are lucky to work for you. You're a very kind employer."
"Oh, I am no kinder or less kind than any other."
"You are much kinder. I know. Not all servants are treated so well."
Of course. James nearly forgot sometimes that Lily was not his wife, but a woman of common birth who had spent her entire life in a world unlike his own privileged existence. She understood the lot of a servant. In her old position as her father's gardening assistant, she would have been lower even than household staff.
He thought of Horace, the mannerless beast who had raped her, most likely on a lark. How he would love to drag him into a dark alley to mete out the justice Lily would never otherwise receive. But that wouldn't really be justice. Justice would be forcing Horace to his knees to beg Lily's forgiveness with sincerity and true remorse.
James snorted to himself. Not very likely. His soft noise of frustration drew Lily's attention as they entered the manicured gardens, heading toward a distant arbor.
"What's that sound for?" she asked.
"Nothing. For wishful thoughts."
She didn't answer. He loved that about Lily, that she didn't feel the need to prattle on about insignificant matters just to fill up silent moments. He'd had his fill of mindless blathering females as a London bachelor. He had been considered quite a catch and was routinely set upon by hordes of young ladies at his various social obligations. To think he had considered himself fortunate to win Lilliana's hand.
Ah, but those days were nothing to think of, now that he had Lily at his side. He reached for her hand and they fell into an easy pace together. The night was cool but not terribly cold. Lily's soft wool cloak would certainly keep her warm enough. Some masculine, protective part of him liked the fact that he had provided the cloak to her, as well as her fashionable garnet gown, the ribbons in her beautifully coiffed hair and the slender ring on her finger. His ring.
He had given her the ring from his own family coffers. It had belonged to a grandmother he had been particularly fond of. It stood as a wedding ring for appearances, but he knew when she left he would let her have it. She gazed at it often and had commented more than once on the beauty of it. It was a simple diamond and sapphire ring, and to James, the most beautiful thing about it was the girl wearing it. He wanted to give her the ring. He wanted to give her everything, things she never even knew she desired. He wouldn't let her return any of it when she left… Oh, when she left.
Maudlin thoughts for a dark and spooky night. He resolved not to think about it. He had actually asked her to walk afield because he'd had an impish desire to do some mischief. He knew she had a healthy belief in spirits and ghosts, a belief he did not share. He could sense her heightened alertness as she walked beside him, picking carefully through the garden and then across the lawn toward the trees. Every so often, at the call of an owl or the rustle of the breeze, her hand would tighten in his. About halfway to the line of trees, he slowed and looked around, putting on an expression of alert gravity.
Again, her hand clutched his a little more tightly. "James? What is it?"
He began to walk again, shrugging his shoulders. "Nothing. I thought I heard something, but I--I'm sure it was nothing."
"Perhaps we ought to go back."
"No. Let's walk on. The air is so bracing and I do love walking with you. The gardens are spectacular, my dear. All your hard work shows, it really does."
"It was mostly the new gardener. He is quite good."
James drew up again, turning his head as if to listen. "Did you hear that?"
"What?" Her voice was soft and breathless. She turned toward the house as if prepared to flee.
James grasped her hand more tightly and signaled for silence. "Let me listen." He wasn't sure how he managed to keep a straight face. His guileless Lily was completely taken in. He pulled her closer, as if he, too, were now quite alarmed.
"What do you hear?" Lily whispered.
"A strange sound. A kind of moaning or low humming. And I do believe--" He cocked his head again. "It is coming closer. Just be still."
"Please, let's return to the house at once."
"No, don't run, dear, don't be alarmed. I believe it's coming from the direction of the house. Perhaps one of the servants."
"But--but the servants have all gone!"
"I wonder if…perhaps. But no, it could not be."
"What?"
"When I purchased Lilyvale a few years ago there was some talk of a ghost. I'm sure it was pure silliness. Something about a disgruntled groomsman running down the lord of the manor with a massive black horse. He was put to death for the crime, of course, and there was some story about him haunting the premises and riding wild and angry in the full moon. Just silly country fables, I'm sure."
"Oh, James!"
He stopped and drew her near. "Darling, it was decades ago. Do not distress yourself, and put no credence in these outrageous tales. It is only that… I thought for a moment I heard hoof beats. There--again--"
It was rumbling thunder, so distant as to be nearly inaudible, but Lily's eyes flew wide.
"I hear something too!"
James pretended nervousness, gazing in the direction of the stables as her grip on his arms grew almost painfully tight.
"I want to go back. I'm afraid!"
"Don't be afraid. There are no such things as ghosts."
Just then a stiff breeze blew, and the noisy crackle of a snapping branch made Lily jump. He flew into action, capitalizing on her burgeoning panic. "Run!" A long, low distant rumble made Lily gasp in horror as he pulled her along. She ran beside him, making small sounds of terror. They were not far from the tree line, and she plunged with him into the dark forest without a second thought. He stopped her at once, cupping her chin and nuzzling her cheek softly.
"I'm afraid!" she cried, clutching him.
"'Twas but a jest, L
ily. Be still."
He held her close, feeling her shaking against him. Perhaps he had taken the playacting too far. He thought she might be angry or impossibly panicked. "Just a Hallows' Eve prank, sweet. Take a deep breath."
He pulled away, prepared for censure or a woman's affronted glare. But as he looked down into her deep green eyes, he saw neither. She was laughing, silent laughter that was still caught up in gasps. She drew a breath and the gasps gave way to robust peals of merriment.
"You--you scared me," she managed to pant out. "You utter toad. You knew I believed."
"That was the very best part. The thunder was ever so helpful."
She batted at him playfully. "Too helpful. I shall not forgive you for this. Well, not for a while anyway. But it was quite a thrill for a moment there. I had no idea I was capable of running so fast."
"Nor I." He ran his hand through his hair, feeling alive and reckless, more thankful for her laughter than any of the other blessings he had. I love you, Lily. He wanted to say it. The words beat in his veins, to the rhythm of his heart. I love you. I adore you. I never want you to leave me. I am glad she jilted me, only because I got to replace her with you.
But he could say none of those things, would not give her false hopes where there were none, and so he did the only other thing he could ever think to do when she made him feel that way. He took her in his arms and clasped her close. He ran his lips down the smooth column of her neck and then up to her luscious, smiling mouth. He kissed her hard and she responded in the same urgent way she always did. She set him on fire with nothing more than her generous, unaffected acceptance.
God, Lily. Lily. Lily… He backed her up to a towering oak, pressing against her with all the elemental joy and thankfulness he felt. She grasped him, all lively enthusiasm, and still her laughter bubbled up as he pulled her down to the dry forest floor. His hands quested beneath her skirts, stroking her stockings and pinching her thighs. He had to have her, monthly or no.
She fought him just a moment, but his insistent grunt silenced her and she let him have his way. She held herself tense until he pressed inside and then she melted as she always did, tamed by the part of him that sought her so persistently.
Lily Mine Page 10
