Harriet was speechless. The chair was beautiful, and from what he had been saying, George seemed to have made it himself. “I don't know what to say.”
“You don't have to say anything.”
Harriet placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Her hand lingered on his forearm, and without quite knowing it was happening, she found herself moving her hand down and linking her fingers into his. He turned to her in surprise, and they ended up facing each other. The space where they stood was small and cramped, and their bodies were almost touching, a narrow, highly charged space all that remained between them.
In the dim light, she saw him hesitate, then tentatively, he placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her towards him, closing the space and holding her softly against him. He leaned down and lightly touched her lips with his. He tasted of smoke and something sweet she thought must be wine, and he was delicious. She parted her lips, encouraging him to give her more.
The kiss deepened, becoming increasingly passionate as he pulled her against him. His tongue slid into her mouth, and her eyes opened wide. He seemed to sense her shock because his tongue receded and the pressure on her back lessened slightly, but she did not pull back, and after a few moments, she cautiously slid her own tongue forward. George responded with a low moan in the back of his throat. He grabbed her hard, nearly crushing her against his body. He lifted her up, carrying her out of the workroom and back into the light of the living room without once breaking their kiss.
Slowly, he brought her onto the cot in front of the fire, lowering himself on top of her. She could feel his stiffness pressing against her, and suddenly she was overcome with the need of him. Almost frantically, she began pawing at his shirt, trying to get his clothes off of him and pull him closer to her at the same time.
He caught her hands and chuckled softly. “We have time, Harriet. There is no need to rush,” he whispered. He began kissing her neck and whispering to her while undoing the buttons of her dress. “You are so beautiful. From the moment you stormed into my house, all wildness and life, I wanted you.”
Harriet was barely listening; George had slid her dress off and was kissing her breasts. She writhed under him, moaning in pleasure. His hand moved down to her legs, gently moving them apart. Then he came down on top of her, and moving slowly, he pushed himself against her. She gasped and nearly screamed, at the first shock of pain, but he gently pushed again, and a quiver of pleasure ran through her, leaving her desperate for more. She thrust her hips up, trying to take more of him in. He shuddered at her excitement, and taking hold of her, he let himself enter her completely. He moved on top of her, penetrating her deeper each time, enjoying each of her little gasps and moans. Finally she did scream, clutching his back, as she reached her climax. When she came to herself, he still lay on top of her, panting and exerted, their bodies intertwined.
They slept for a time, George molding himself to her back like a spoon, his arm tightly around her. When she woke, it was full dark. George, sensing that she was awake, pulled her on top of him, and they made love again in the inky blackness of the night. Harriet whispered things to the dark while they drifted off to sleep, exhausted and fulfilled once more. Just before sleep pulled her under, she thought she heard the dark answer, “I love you, too.”
~~~
When she woke again, soft, pale light was streaming in through cracks in the door and window, and George was nowhere to be found. She was covered by a blanket, and her clothes, dried out by the fire, were neatly folded on the single chair. She got dressed and tried to make herself as presentable as she could without the use of water or comb and using the back of a spoon as a mirror. She had just resigned herself to a disgraceful ride back to the Hall when the door opened, flooding the room with light. George entered, carrying a kettle and looking quizzically at her. “Going somewhere?” he asked lightly.
Her relief at seeing him nearly overwhelmed her. “I thought you had left.”
He placed the kettle on the fire and turned to her, frowning. “Then you don't think very highly of me.”
“That isn't what I meant. What's that?” she pointed to a small bag he placed on the table.
He smiled then. “Breakfast.” Opening the bag, he pulled out a juicy red cherry by the stem and popped the whole thing in his mouth. He spit the pit into his hand and offered her the bag. Shrugging, she selected one of the fruit and bit into it. The delicate flesh burst in her mouth and a bit of juice ran down her chin. Before she could wipe it off, George was holding her face in his hands and trying to kiss the cherry juice off her face. She laughed and tried to pull away, but he held her tight, ignoring her squirming. His eyes suddenly became serious, and she stopped struggling. He kissed her in earnest then, ignoring the sticky sweetness of the juice. She was just thinking that perhaps she had been too hasty in getting dressed when a sudden crash from the workroom made both of them freeze and swivel their heads toward the back door.
“Mr. Hudson must be home,” George said.
Harriet felt panic rising in her chest. She could not be seen like this, sleep rumpled and sticky with cherry juice, next to the bed where she had George had just made love.
“Go. Take your horse and ride back to the Hall. Tell them you rode home last night for a visit and decided to stay because of the rain. I'll deal with Mr. Hudson.” With one last quick kiss, he pushed her towards the door, at the same time that he called out, “Hallloo, Mr. Hudson!”
Harriet stopped only once on the ride back to the Hall, at the river to wash her face and tame her hair. It was still early when she arrived but the servants were up. She was hopeful that she could get inside and up to her room before anyone of the household saw her in her state of dishevelment. The moment she set foot on the landing, however, she heard a voice call out, “Well, well, it is good of you to join us, Harriet, dear.”
Lady Whitney stood at the top of the stairs, a sneer marring her perfect features. “I must admit I did not expect you to arrive in solo. Though, I suppose you tired of poor Sir George's company after the first time or two. Women of your sort need so much diversion.”
Harriet stood transfixed as the other woman advanced on her, eyes flashing. Lady Whitney was deathly pale with only two spots of high color on her cheekbones. When she came close enough, Harriet could smell the sharp scent of alcohol emanating from her. The woman was drunk and clearly ready to make a scene.
“I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about, Janet. I spent the night at Thornwood Park when I got caught in the storm,” Harriet spoke as matter-of-factly as she could considering her increasing fear that a servant or, God forbid, the Dowager would come along any minute.
“Don't you lie to me!” Lady Whitney shrieked. She grabbed Harriet's arm and dug her nails into her flesh, making Harriet cry out in pain. “I know what you have been doing, you little bitch! I saw the two of you ride off together last night, and neither of you came back last night. If you think you can oust me by spreading your legs for him, you are very wrong. He and I are getting married as soon as my mourning is over. He didn't mention that when he had you on your back, did he? I am Lady Whitney, and I will not be set aside!”
Harriet could see the hysteria mounting in her. She looked positively wild with hair escaping from her pins and the shine of madness in her eyes. Harriet yanked her arm out of Lady Whitney's grasp and ran past her up the stairs, ignoring the shrieks following behind her.
She didn't breath again until she was in her room with the door securely locked behind her. She sat heavily on the bed, her head sinking between her knees. She didn't cry; she felt empty, bereft of feeling. The idea of George marrying Janet left a heavy lead weight in her stomach. She thought about the time she had spent at the Hall, the way they interacted with each other, the way the Dowager set them always together, and she knew it was true. She did not know how long she sat there, immobile, but when she was able to move again, she stood up and began throwing all her belong
ings into her valise.
It took Harriet less than half an hour to pack everything she had brought with her to the Hall. Before she left, she slipped into Margaret's room and found her sleeping. Margaret almost had her full color back, and the doctor said she should be able to be moved in the next day or so. Harriet decided not want to wake her. On her way out the door, she left a note by the bed, telling Margaret that she was going home to Thornwood Park and would see her there soon.
She found Jonah the butler in the dining room, polishing the Dowager's prize silver. He was intent upon his work and did not look up when she came into the room. When she coughed to make him aware of her presence, he straightened immediately and gave her a slight bow. “May I be of some service, Miss Davenport?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you. I will be leaving the Hall today, and I was hoping you might arrange to have my things sent along after me.”
Jonah gaped at her for a moment before recollecting himself, “Of course, Miss. Straight away. I am sure you are eager to be off.”
For a wild moment, Harriet was sure he had heard everything Lady Whitney had said to her on the stairs, and she had just confirmed the truth of it by leaving so suddenly. Blushing, she said, “I'm afraid I am needed at home, and since my sister is doing so well, I thought I might go ahead of her.”
Jonah looked contrite, knowing he should not have said anything that made Harriet feel the need to explain herself. He prided himself on being a butler of the traditional sort.
“I will see to it, Miss.” He bowed much lower this time.
The stable hands went to saddle her horse with all due speed, seeming to sense her impatience. Unfortunately, so did her mare, and she was stamping and pulling away from the young man trying to get her ready, and generally making a nuisance of herself.
“Oh, just stay still, will you?” Harriet finally cried, stamping her foot in exasperation after the hand's fourth attempt to put on the saddle.
“I've never found that my horse responds well to tantrums, personally.”
Harriet whirled around to see George leaning casually against the wall of the stable, arms folded across his chest. He looked slightly disheveled, his sleeves rolled back from his forearms, a lock of black hair falling across his forehead, like a letter c above his eye. He looked more like the man she had seen when she first came to the hall, up to his elbows in mud, than she had seen him since her arrival. He was staring intently at her, and she had to look away.
“I was not having a tantrum. I was venting my frustrations through the heel of my shoe.”
“Different, is it?” he asked, though she heard no humor in his voice. His voice was flat, even emotionless.
“Much.” Harriet kept her eyes glued on the ground. She did not even notice that the hand had finally managed to get the saddle on her mare, until he handed her the reins.
“May I ask where you are going?”
“Home. Margaret is going to be fine, and my father needs me. My brother is waiting, and I'm sure Lillian has had her hands full with Mother.” Harriet realized she was babbling and pressed her lips shut to stop herself from going on.
“Oh, good. You have reasons. I was worried you were leaving to get away from me after the way that Janet spoke to you this morning.”
Harriet looked sharply up at him. He was still leaning against the railing, every appearance of nonchalance, but when she looked closer, she saw the strain around his mouth and the way his eyes searched her. All the time he had been standing there, she had kept herself upright by not looking into his eyes. When they met, she felt herself deflate, falling towards the ground. George was at her side in a second, supporting her, holding her, kissing her. She tasted salt on his lips and realized she was crying.
“Did you honestly think I would let you leave, without so much as a word?” he whispered in her ear.
“I couldn't see you again and still leave. Obviously,” she said, sniffling.
“Why are you leaving?” he asked. Harriet looked into his eyes and saw the honest question in them.
“Because you are marrying Lady Whitney,” she said, bluntly.
“I am? That is news to me.”
Harriet searched his face, not yet allowing herself to hope.
“Janet said...” she began.
“Oh, I have heard all about what Janet said. She may have plans for me, but that does not mean I have had anything to do with them,” he said, dryly. “I have other plans for my marriage, with a woman whom I happen to actually love.”
Whatever else he was going to say was lost when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently.
After several moments, she pulled away. “You did mean me, didn't you?”
George laughed out loud and brushed the hair back from her face. “You should hope I meant you, now that the entire staff and most of the household will know that we have been embracing in the stable. Now, come inside, we have much to discuss.”
Harriet hesitated, “What about Lady Whitney?”
George affected a frown, a small crease settling itself between his eyes. “As my brother's widow, she will always have the protection of this family, but I believe she will have to content herself with living in the townhouse in London.”
It was Harriet's turn to laugh. She placed her hand on the hook of his waiting arm and allowed him to lead her back into the house. On the way inside, George leaned down to pluck a small white rose from the side of the path. Deftly removing the thorns in a series of swift motions, he placed it gently behind her ear.
“It suits you,” he decided.
“You are quite good at removing the thorns,” she remarked. “I've never seen anyone do it so easily.”
At this, he looked pointedly at her, laughter lighting up his eyes from within. “I've had a great deal of practice.”
He bent quickly to kiss her and cut off any retort; she decided to let him.
~~~
About the Author:
Patricia Joseph is an elementary school teacher living in Northern California with her husband. She writes in her spare time, when she isn't downloading every e-book she can find. Look for her next novelette about the Davenport sisters, Lily of the Valley, coming soon from Smashwords.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Lady of the Rose Patricia Joseph Smashwords Edition Copyright 2011 Mary Lindsley This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only
Part One
Part Two
Lady of the Rose Page 4
