by Janet Woods
Looking around him to make sure he wasn’t observed, he inclined his head and, seeking out her mouth with his, stole a lingering kiss. Her lips were soft and moist, tasting deliciously of brandy. In her sleep there came the hint of a yielding response. Dear Lord, what was he doing to himself, to her? Only a rogue would take advantage of such a situation. So, he would be a rogue. Darling Eve, forgive me. I will make you love me, he thought, and kissed her again to make sure the forgiving was worth the crime.
Kicking open the door he smiled when Jessie looked up, and laid his offering gently on the bed. ‘She has fallen asleep,’ he whispered unnecessarily.
‘Aye,’ said Jessie, giving him a withering look. ‘And if you asks me the dog isn’t the only creature moon-struck in this house.’
‘I didn’t ask you, Jessie.’
‘You didn’t have to. I’ve known you since you was in the cradle, and it’s written all over your face.’ She gazed down at Evelyn and smiled. ‘I can’t say I blame you. She’s a rare piece of goods, I say, and not too fancy in her ways. Best grab her up quick before your cousin sees her.’
Saville grinned sheepishly to himself as he backed away, only too aware of the dilemma he’d placed himself in. ‘It’s not that simple.’
The look she gave him was withering. ‘Sure it is. You’ve always known how to catch yourself a woman when you wanted one.’
* * * *
Face pressed against the window, the next morning Graine gave an exclamation of delight. This England of Saville’s was a marvel. The landscape was a stretch of quiet, white expanse from one end to the other. Like a parcel layered in sparkling white paper, there was anticipation about it, as if one day it would be unwrapped to reveal a surprise to her.
‘I wager a ha’porth to a strawmote it will be cleared by morning,’ Jessie muttered, and Graine, who didn’t know a halfpenny from a piece of straw, could only agree with her.
The sky was almost clear now. The sun was a pale yellow light drifting through the haze curtaining the sky.
Jessie began to lay out her clothes, something Graine had often done for Evelyn, though not half as expertly. Not that Evelyn had cared. ‘After all, I have nobody to encourage any vanity I might possess,” she’d been inclined to say.
Here, was a day gown prettier than even Evelyn could have imagined. Of rose-pink damask, it was matched with a plum-colored jacket edged in fur. With a flannel chemise under for warmth, Graine felt special in it as Jessie brushed the tangles from her curls. Deftly, her hair was drawn into pink ribbons and secured into a frilled cap atop her head. The rest was left to curl softly about her shoulders.
Saville was standing in the hallway when Graine descended. His eyes wandered over her from head to toe and he looked bemused when she smiled widely at him. ‘I must apologize for my behavior last night. I had not intended to fall asleep.’
He pretended to frown. ‘Then my conversation must have bored you. I will endeavor to be more entertaining.’
‘You need not go to such great effort to try and please me, for I’m used to a simple life and simple pleasures.’
‘May I ask what those pleasures are?’
‘At home I mostly used to read, or write a little poetry.’ Her mind scrambled to think of how Evelyn had passed the time. But they’d not had the same interests or skills, and Graine couldn’t suddenly learn to embroider expertly. It was a relief to tell him the truth. ‘Sometimes, I’d walk and admire the flowers, or if Mr Chambers was absent, we would find a secluded cove and swim in the shallows.’
‘We?’
‘My … companion,’ she said carefully.
Although Evelyn had been reserved on the surface, when her guardian had been absent and the repressive atmosphere had lifted, she’d relaxed completely. Sometimes, they’d been like two unrestrained children together. Evelyn had been unable to swim, but had waded in with her chemise belling out around her, laughing and splashing about in a most undignified manner.
His eyebrow raised a trifle at her reply. ‘The latter pursuit is considered an unsuitable one for ladies here to indulge in.’
‘Had I not been able to swim, I would be dead, which would be even more unsuitable,’ she pointed out, and shuddered as she remembered the water closing over her and the pull of the currents.
The expression in his eyes became slightly more compassionate. ‘Quite so, but no doubt you would find the water here too cold after the tropics. What other interests have you?’
‘I’m well tutored in Latin, mathematics, history, geographical studies and the arts. Had I been a man, I daresay I would have become a physician or a scientist instead of becoming a wife to a stranger.’
His brows knit together in a slightly perplexed manner, then a smile played around his mouth, as if he was trying to humor her. ‘You’re welcome to use my library for study, if that will please you. It’s fairly extensive. I’ll order a fire to be lit and maintained there for your convenience.’
His servant fixed a black cloak around his shoulders, which made him look rather mysterious and dashing, she thought. ‘It’s early to be going out.’
‘I have some business to attend to. One of my estate workers has suffered an accident and the new doctor in not yet in residence.’
‘Perhaps I could help. I’ve worked amongst the sick and injured in a hospital.’
‘Handing out comforting words and very little else, no doubt.’
She stiffened and met his glance square on. ‘You’re wrong in reaching such a conclusion, I was brought up to possess a great deal more practicality than that.’
The indulgent chuckle he gave was at odds with the astute steadiness of his gaze. ‘You seem to be a woman of many talents, Eve. A paragon of industriousness.’
She colored. ‘My intention was not to brag, and your ironic tone of voice is insulting. It’s unworthy of you to mock me, as if my accomplishments are unnatural or of no value.’ She walked away from him, her cheeks burning, her head held high.
‘Come back, Evelyn,’ he said with sigh.
In her anger, Graine forgot she was supposed to be Evelyn and kept on walking.
‘Damn it; don’t ignore me!’ he roared.
Already at the dining room door, she turned and scowled at him. ‘I will not be spoken to like that.’ In an instant she was inside, closing the door behind her with a definite thud and locking it. Leaning an ear against the panel, she allowed her heartbeat to subside to normal. At least he hadn’t come after her. She gave a sigh of relief, she then turned, only to find him standing right behind her.
Giving a yelp of surprise she stared at him, wide-eyed.
‘You should have checked there was no other door into this room.’ His arms came out on either side of her, trapping her against the door. ‘There are two things you need to know. First. I am the master of this house, and will not be ignored or disobeyed in front of my servants.’
The reprimand was probably deserved, but no less wounding for it.
‘Second. I was not belittling any accomplishments you might possess. The fact is, you are completely different to what I was led to expect by your guardian. You puzzle me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she spluttered.
‘I’m not.’ His lips turned up in a rueful smile. ‘Who are you, Evelyn Adams?’
Her heart thumped in alarm.
‘No, don’t tell me,’ he said when she gave a small gasp. ‘You are a changeling, emerging from the sea in the guise of a Goddess. You are Aphrodite. You are the moon in the form of a female and I can only worship at your feet.’
‘Than you are a bigger fool than I first thought,’ she said a little caustically.
‘Aye, I think I am, and you seem to have learned nothing from my caution, which left you with so crestfallen a face that I regretted my bullying ways immediately.’ He brushed his mouth against hers, as light as the wings of a butterfly. ‘My apologies for shouting at you, my darling Eve, though I cannot guarantee not doing so again when you provoke me so. I’m t
oo arrogant at times, and you were right to chastise me on this occasion.’
‘You are certainly bold,’ she said, and not knowing whether to be annoyed or not, her laugh contained a strange, breathless quality.
There was a moment of charged intensity when their gaze lengthened and clung each to the other, then he was gone, leaving her weak at the knees and trembling.
She placed her hand against her mouth, as if keeping the sensation of the kiss intact. But it had been and gone in an instant. How insubstantial a thing it had been, a tiny taste, a tease, a crumb––but a crumb of something tasty created a desire for a bigger crumb, a bite, a slice, then the whole cake.
One tended to become more than satiated by pleasure, the nuns had warned. First a small taste of sweetness, then a little more. Then when it was withdrawn the cravings started, so one would do almost anything to regain the sensation.
Of course, the nuns had been warning about the narcotics drawn from plants, and used by slaves to produce hallucinations to make their lives a little more bearable. But it could apply equally to love. Saville was older, more experienced. Was this some test to make sure she was a suitable wife for John Lamartine?
She must beware of him, and of the deliciously vagrant sensations inside her. They were surely the sinful ones, of which she’s been warned on several occasions, for they’d been caused by a man engaging her eyes in an immodest manner, and then stealing a kiss from her mouth. Still, she couldn’t feel guilty about that when she’d enjoyed it so much. She would simply prevent him from doing it again.
She ate a substantial and solitary breakfast, then sought directions to the library from Mr Jackson, who had waited on her in regal style.
‘The fire has not yet been lit,’ he said apologetically.
‘You need not light it on my account. I shall select a book to read and take it up to my chamber. From now on I shall be the quietest guest you have ever had, and will cause you no trouble at all.’
But Mr Jackson made sure his master’s orders were carried out, and Graine was glad of the fire’s warmth, for selecting a book proved easier said then done when the whole room was lined with shelves, each filled with books.
Here was a book of heraldry, beautifully illustrated. There, an illuminated bible, decorated with paintings of saints. There was a book containing drawings of flowers, with details of their separate parts listed. It was so heavy she could hardly lift it.
She took leather bound a book from a shelf, placed it on a reading stand and opened it at a random page. A sonnet by William Shakespeare fell under her gaze.
“That time of year thou mayest in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold––”
The door creaked open and Rebel gazed at her, eyebrows signalling, There was a pleased expression on his face, as if he’d been searching for her all morning and had just been rewarded for his diligence.
She said. ‘Pray, sir, do come and take a seat, for I’m performing a recitation of poetry and am need an audience.’
Rebel slid through the door and rolled over on his back with his legs in the air.
‘I hope I do not always have that effect on my audience,’ she said dryly, ‘for I’ll not be able to complete my performance for laughing. Now, where had I gotten to. Ah yes––’
“Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me, thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fading in the West,
Which by and by black night doth take away––”
Tears filled her eyes. I will skip the next few lines, Rebel. It is too sad, and crying makes me look like a fright. I will end up with––’
Saville’s deep voice interjected.
“This though perciev’st, which makes thy love more strong
To love that well which though must leave ere long.”
The door swung open to reveal him standing thee. His face was grave. ‘If you possess the doctoring skills you hinted at I have need of you, now. My estate worker has sliced deeply into his thigh, the wound is gaping open and the blood cannot be staunched, except with a tourniquet.
‘I see,’ she said calmly. ‘The edges of the wound will need stitching together then. We will need a needle and some strong thread, and something to clean the wound with. Some brandy perhaps.’
‘I thought it would save time if I brought the young man back with me. Jessie is fetching the medicinal chest.’
‘I hope the lad can stand pain. If not, someone will need to hold him down.’
‘I’ll attend to it myself.’
His name was Clem, and he was lying on the kitchen table. His skin was pale and his eyes displayed the fright he felt. Swathed in a large apron Jessie had thought to tie around her, Graine smiled reassuringly at him. ‘I’m going to stitch the edges of the wound together. Then you must rest until it heals.’
‘Will it hurt?’
‘Of course it will hurt,’ Jesse said, ‘but it’s better than bleeding to death, isn’t it? I don’t know how you grew up to be such an idiot, Clem Hastings.’
Graine smiled at the lad as she tucked her sleeves back from her wrists, all the time trying to recall the method of tying knots in flesh wounds. ‘You must try to be brave. I’ve done this lots of times before.’ But only on a piece of meat, for she’d not been allowed to do otherwise.
She took a deep breath and nodded to Saville, who placed his hands on the patient’s knees to stop him jerking. All went smoothly, mainly because Clem fainted as soon as the needle pierced his skin.
She worked without hurry, her concentration absolute. When she finished she swabbed the gore from the patient’s leg. Gradually, she loosened the tourniquet Saville had applied. When she was sure the bleeding was under control and her stitching was going to hold, she coated the wound with honey to aid healing, then bound it with clean strips of rags.
Clem woke to find himself still alive, and smiled gratefully at the girl who’d brought about this miracle. He was thinking how kind and pretty she was, and not at all grand, like the gentry were supposed to be.
‘You mustn’t use the leg until I have taken the stitches out in about two weeks time,’ Graine told him. ‘The dressings must be changed everyday until it is healed, so infection doesn’t set it. An infusion of willow bark can be swallowed for the pain.’
‘I can see to that, for it isn’t the work a lady should be doing.’ Jessie said. ‘He can stay in the servant’s quarters for a few days. Now, remember your manners and say thank you to the master and Miss Adams, you ungrateful wretch. Your ma will be right shamed by you, else.’
Clem Hastings turned bright red and spluttered the appropriate words before he was borne away by a couple of servants. A bowl of water, soap and cloth was brought for Graine to wash and dry her hands with, her apron was removed and she was inspected for stains. Jessie fussed around her proprietarily, straightening this and smoothing that, patting her hair into place.
At last she escaped from Jessie’s clutches, assisted by Saville’s hand tucked under her elbow. He was laughing as he bore her away. ‘The servants have taken an uncommon liking to you.’
‘I’m pleased.’
He brought them to a halt and turned to face her. His eyes searched her face and he half smiled as he took her hands in his. ‘I feel the need to apologize. I was unforgivably rude when first you offered your services. Will you forgive me?’
‘Of course.’
His expression became self-mocking. ‘You’re not going to use this moment of abasement to take me to task, then?’
‘Why should I? It’s not an easy thing to recognize a lapse in one’s behavior and then apologize for it. I accept that the apology was sincerely offered and we shall dwell no more on it.’
‘You’re a rare female, indeed.’
‘Am I?’ She was also a cheat and a liar. In the face of his honesty, she felt like the lowest of the low. Sh
e had placed herself in a fine trap. If she told Saville the truth now, he would lose credibility with his servants and would have no choice but to throw her out into the snow. There she would die of hunger and cold. The alternative was a public trial and imprisonment. She must keep up this pretence, and she must wed the cold and stern John Lamartine. She would not feel so bad lying to a man who’d wanted Evelyn only for her fortune––a man she knew she’d never like as much as his cousin, who was now sheltering her under his roof.
But when all was said and done, who had more right to Evelyn’s fortune than herself, a woman who shared her blood, if not her family name? Had Evelyn been able to predict the future, Graine knew her sister would have made provision for her in some way, for she was a charitable woman who would not have left her companion in need.
‘Why so pensive?’ Saville asked softly.
‘I was thinking of someone.’
‘Graine?’
He spoke her name so tenderly, like a caress. She gazed at him, thinking for a moment she’d been discovered.
‘You wrote to me of your affection for her. The way you described her made me smile and I liked her straight away, without even seeing her.’
‘Oh.’ Graine looked into the blue of his eyes and swallowed. Why couldn’t he see she was lying? Was she so good at it? It didn’t feel so. ‘What did I say about her? I forget.’
‘You told me she was a loveable girl who was inexpertly trained and slightly pert. You indicated she was not pious enough to become a nun, and didn’t like praying.’
Graine slowly expelled a breath. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at Evelyn’s assessment of her. She tried a smile, but still, a tear rolled down her cheek. Saville scooped it up on his finger. ‘I did not intend to make you sad. I’ll send Jessie for your cloak and boots and I will take you to see my new foal. Perhaps you’d like to choose a name for her.’
The snow was slushy and wet underfoot, the air warmer than she’d expected, and the sky heavy. The stables smelled strongly, which Saville didn’t seem to notice. It was a solid stone building with stalls on either side. Here, were housed the two carriage horses, who now munched comfortably on mouthfuls of hay. They gazed at her without curiosity, unaware they’d nearly killed her in their effort to get back to that which was familiar to them.
