“Agreed, but if that man looks at Margaret, or you, in any way that is inappropriate,” he growled, and left his threat hanging. She reached out and touched his arm, but realized the impropriety of the gesture and let go.
“Oh, thank you so much, Seth,” Margaret screeched as she embraced him.
“This shall also afford us the time together,” he added to Myra, after Margaret walked away and stepped up into the wagon. “You do want that, don’t you?”
Myra turned her head and didn’t answer. Her feelings for Seth Preston couldn’t surface. She’d not allow it. He took a step toward her. His face was close and intimate as he stared down at her. She thought he may do the unthinkable and kiss her.
She stepped back.
An ornery grin appeared and a twinkle lit within his blue eyes. Myra cleared her throat and hoped it might shed her uneasiness. She yearned for his lips next to hers, and her heart raced at the thought, but she couldn’t ever let that happen. They equally had too much to lose. Aside from that, they both had separate paths for their futures. Hers was England and his was in the colonies with Cassandra.
“Tis settled,” Seth called up at Margaret. “Let’s get back so you can make that basket.”
* * *
Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her stare from him. Sprawled out on the blanket, he looked equally masculine insomuch as boyish. With outstretched arms, the broad expanse of his forearms supported his neck. Thick, blond lashes covered his eyes and his breathing came slow and paced. Myra looked around and wondered if Zachary and Margaret saw her watching him. She heard them in the distance; Margaret’s incessant prattling about nothing of import still met her ears. She had been blathering on for the past hour, not giving poor Mister Frederickson a moment of peace. She almost felt sorry for him. She moved closer toward Seth after she believed they were too distracted to view her. Looking at him, she thought he was a very fine, handsome man. If her life hadn’t taken the drastic course it did, and her status was still intact, she believe she and Seth could find true happiness with one another. Yet, as a servant, he’d never truly accept her.
She closed in and leaned over him. She covered her mouth and prevented the pent-up sigh release. Blond pieces of his hair sparkled, highlighted by the sun’s rays of light. The temptation of slipping her finger around the tendrils and brushing it off his forehead was great.
He opened one eye and grinned. “Not too close, Myra, else I might believe you want to kiss me.”
Myra pulled herself back too fast and lost her balance. She toppled over onto the blanket. His laughter rang out and she burned with embarrassment.
“Myra,” he said in a breathy whisper as he rolled over and poised himself on his elbows. “Do you think I’d mind if that was true?”
His hand took hers. His thumb caressed the top of her hand from the flesh of her palm and down her wrist. Shivers coursed through her. Her breath became so erratic it felt like she might pant. Myra pulled her hand back and nervously fidgeted with her fingers.
“Come.” He offered his hand as he rose. “Let’s walk.”
“What of Margaret and Mister Frederickson?” Myra nodded toward their direction. “Should we wait until they return?”
Seth looked off at the path his sister and Zachary had taken their leave and shook his head. “The hills in that direction are too steep for climbing, so they cannot go far.” They began walking and he added, “Thus far, I believe there’s naught to fret lest he strangle Margaret in hopes of silencing her relentless drivel.”
Seth took her hand and tucked it underneath his arm and held her closer than appropriate. They followed a deer path through the woods until they approached a thicket of branches and couldn’t travel any further without difficulty.
“Would you like to rest?” He offered the large boulder that served well as a seat.
“You’re in no hurry?”
“Nay, I’m hoping you’ll sit with me awhile. There are some things I’d like to discuss with you.” He looked up at the clear, blue sky between the tree limbs and smiled. “Even as lovely as the day is, there’s no comparison to the skies we have seen back home in England, is there?”
She wondered if he was baiting her. A knot tangled within her stomach and she felt sickened. She wouldn’t talk about England or of her past. She didn’t want to lie, yet she couldn’t tell him the truth, so avoiding either, she replied with a noncommittal, “Hmm.”
“Hmm,” he repeated and smiled.
Myra turned the opposite direction and eluded his stare, but she could feel his heated gaze on her. She swallowed hard.
“Shall you ever tell me the truth, Myra?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Women believe that all men fall for that innocent tone.” His smile grew wider.
She didn’t answer. Seeking a distraction, she found a budding dandelion on the ground and plucked it from the earth. She twirled and prodded it with her fingers.
“Myra,” he interrupted. “Is there any truth about you being The King’s cousin? I beseech you, tell me true this time.”
How could she tell him? In her heart she knew she could trust him. However, something inside her said leaving her life of aristocracy behind was best. Go on living a life as a servant. Each day, her hopes of returning to Brunnington became more out of her reach. Escaping her servitude wouldn’t happen for years, and once released from her bond, she’d still need passage back to England. Every day brought more proof that her desire for revenge and reuniting with Mary may be a fool’s errand. Even if she returned and made her uncle pay for what he did, as well as secure Mary’s safety, surely she wouldn’t get Brunnington back. Even with her Cousin James’ support and power, it was against the court’s practice to allow her possession of the Brunnington estate.
“I have a cousin named Charles,” she conceded. “But he’s not a king.” She convinced herself it wasn’t a lie, for indeed, she did have another cousin named Charles on her mother’s line.
“T’was untrue when you told me before that The King is your cousin? And the tales my sisters have overheard you and Lucia speak of?”
Myra turned toward him. The light hit the light-blue hue of his eyes so perfectly that it appeared stars formed within their depths. It distracted her and she forgot what she wanted to say. She turned away, but with the tip of his finger under her chin, he steered her face back and she met his challenging stare.
“Coming to the colonies was hard,” she continued, once she remembered what she wanted to say. “Thinking of another life far removed from what is offered here makes it oftentimes easier. Certainly you can understand that.”
He took her hand and placed it into his palm. She felt his warmth travel from her fingertips and radiate throughout her body. When Seth stood, he brought her up with him and pulled her against the hard expanse of his body. Like a blanket of rain, she melded against his manly curves.
“I’m glad you aren’t that woman as rumor has it, Myra,” he whispered in her ear. “If true, surely I’d have never made your acquaintance.”
Speech wasn’t easily found. For that matter, she couldn’t find her voice even if a thought emerged. The aroma of sweet tobacco and manly secretions mixed in the air and intoxicated her senses. The combination made clear thinking difficult. He wrapped his arms around her in a firm embrace. His lips claimed hers in a slow, gentle rhythm. At first, a mere feathery touch, a bare caress of his lips against hers. He then edged her mouth open with the pressure of his thumb. His tongue swirled and it enticed her into joining him. Not until that moment had she ever felt anything so powerful or explosive. Her knees weakened, and her head fell back with exhausted pleasure. With her neck exposed, his lips traveled the soft tufts of her neck, and he suckled with tender brushes of his tongue. His breath labored. A trail of kisses covered from the top of her exposed cleavage until his lips moved behind her ear. Moans of pleasure and surprise escaped her until he hushed her moans and captured her final murmur with his mouth.<
br />
Tis wrong! She shouldn’t offer herself so freely, so openly, but she couldn’t resist him. With all her heart, she loved him. She’d known it for a while, and although they can’t be together, she would remember their time there, beneath the trees, their first and possibly only kiss. It would be enough, she convinced herself.
It had to be enough.
Myra raised her arms and held onto him. Her fingers glided through his blond waves and she found excitement and power with his groans of pleasure as she kissed him. She slid her hands down onto his chest and felt his powerful muscles beneath his white cotton shirt. As his hands explored her mounds, she grew bolder and explored him as well. Her senses hadn’t ever been so heightened, and never had she felt equally in peril as she did in safety.
“We cannot do this,” Seth said, and he gently pushed her at arm’s length away. He held onto her shoulders and she felt him tense. He squeezed her tightly.
“But,” she began, and stopped herself. She wanted him, but more so, she wanted him to want her, too. She couldn’t deny that their closeness felt wrong, morally and lawfully, but by God, she didn’t care.
“We can’t go any further. I shouldn’t have taken such liberties, Myra. I apologize.” His voice came on a husky, ragged whisper. He turned away from her, but she saw that pleasure still labored his breathing.
“Make love to me, Seth,” she whispered. The words left her mouth before she realized what she had said, but she didn’t care. His touches filled the emptiness she had felt since she left England. She never thought her sadness and loneliness could be healed by his affections, but the pangs of despair that brought her daily tears had been replaced by joy. She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned her head onto his back. “Please,” she said in a rushed breath.
If ever a sound of pure agony was heard, it came within Seth’s groan. He turned around and held her in his arms, and Myra caressed his cheek with the tips of her fingers.
“Myra, there’s naught more I rather do than lay you down right here and make love to you. Truly, tis nothing more,” he said, pained. “But tis not right.”
“Because I’m a servant,” she said. Of course, she thought. No one of his station would want someone like her. The handsome and wealthy Seth Preston who would soon be betrothed and it was to the most beautiful woman in Jamestown. Myra was inconsequential within Seth’s set ambitions. She noticed how the women in town looked at him, as well as Cassandra. What a fool she was thinking that he found more interest in her than his usual flirtations. She interpreted his pity for something more. She wanted to gather her skirt and run to the furthest corner of the earth. She felt humiliated and could just die from the embarrassment of it all! How could she disgrace herself so?
“It has naught to do with you being a servant,” he said harshly. “Certainly you know by now that you’re much more than that, Myra,” he added more softly.
She didn’t reply. What could she say? Perhaps she was more than a servant in his eyes, but so had Lucia’s mother been to Anvil, and he now hates her. God help her, she didn’t want that happening between her and Seth.
“Myra, you deserve better than this.” He waved his hand and displayed the area which surrounded them. “Taking you here, in secret as tis something to be ashamed of isn’t what I want.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked and shalt not ask ever again.”
His smile broadened and her cheeks burned like fire. Myra turned away.
“Myra, there’s naught wrong with you asking. It warms my heart knowing that you want me the way I desire you.” His hand guided her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “I hold you in too high esteem and shalt not cast your virtue aside when I cannot yet offer a promise of more. Can you understand that?”
He cared for her. A tear fell down her cheek and he pulled her close within the warmth of his broad chest.
“Do you truly care for me, Seth?” Her tears dampened his shirt when her head rested on his chest. Yet what was ahead for him and Cassandra? Would he marry Cassandra and think to keep Myra as his paramour after he married?
“Oh, my sweet, Myra, of course I care for you. More than you know.”
CHAPTER NINE
“There’s been talk, Seth.” Anvil paced the woven rug aside the fireplace in the Preston Manor. A twitch in his cheek made way to reveal his anger. “Talk of you and that indenture,” he added with a heavily laden sigh.
“What talk would that be, father?” Seth asked evenly. He knew it wouldn’t take long before the chatter reached his father’s ears, and he had dreaded the expected confrontation.
Anvil paused and his graying brows angled downward and formed a perfect V. One fist rose into the air and made harsh contact with the mantle. The motion shook the contents atop the hearth and a vase fell and shattered on the floor.
“You know full well what talk. If there’s any truth in it, I’ll forbid you to see her, ever! Furthermore, I’ll sell her contract to someone in another colony, far away from our own, and away from you.”
Hot blood of anger coursed through Seth's veins. Just the mere thought of someone else as Myra's employer made his temper flair, let alone the thought of never seeing her again.
“I wasn’t aware you’ve taken so much consideration in the blather that circulates around this household, father,” Seth bit out. “Dallying in the servants chambers again?”
His father flinched, and although Seth surprised himself by his own audacity, it didn’t make a difference. He’d fight with all the power he possessed to keep Myra at the plantation, and in his life.
“I’ll not tolerate such insolence.”
Any other time, Seth would have apologized for his display of disrespect, but he refused his father a retraction. “Myra is a friend, and I’ll not stand by and have the servants or you prating on about her or me.”
“What are your intentions with this servant? Have you bedded her?”
His directness caught Seth off guard. He didn’t expect such candor. He wanted their relationship out in the open—his love and intent to marry Myra, but he promised her that he’d keep their union secret. He treasured the stolen moments they shared, and if it was his decision alone, he’d remove her from the grueling daily tasks and present her with the life she deserved. Unfortunately, his father sill disliked her, and Seth understood why Myra thought best in keeping their relationship silent—at least for the time being.
“Nay, I haven’t bedded her.” Seth turned, his attention drawn to Margaret as she entered the room. She caught the latter end of their conversation and attempted a quick, discreet exit. But Seth called her back and hoped she’d aid his cause.
“Margaret,” Seth called. “Considering you’ve spent much time of late with Myra, can you please explain that there is naught for father to worry about; that our time together has been exceedingly proper and there’s only friendship betwixt us?”
Margaret squirmed in the seat that she had taken reluctantly near her father. Seth knew she hated lying, but it was a small favor to ask. Aside from that, he had spent the latter weeks covering for Margaret’s disappearances so she and Zachary could spend time together. Didn’t she owe him a favor in return?
“Well, Myra is a lovely young woman, and if the rumors speak true of she and Seth, I would think it a good match.”
Seth pierced her with a hard gaze. Anvil looked accusingly at Seth but directly posed his question toward Margaret. “Is there more than a friendship between your brother and that indenture?”
“I didn’t say one way or another, father,” she defended. She nervously twiddled at a loosened thread on the hem of her skirt.
Seth thought she needed a reminder as to how the truth could damage one’s relationship. He offered a wide grin when he stated, “By the bye, Margaret. I saw Zachary Frederickson earlier in town and he sent a message for me to relay.”
Margaret's thin red brows raised, and an expression of shock mixed with fear crossed her face. The
only messages sent through Seth were that of her and Zachary's times of clandestine meetings.
“Frederickson,” his father interrupted. “How is the fellow? It’s been a week since he last paid me a visit. Quite strange, too, for a time there, he was death-on helping me with this situation.”
“What situation is that, father?” Margaret asked curiously.
“This issue with Myra, of course!” he said flustered. “He asked to buy her bond.” He turned toward Seth and squinted, his eyes became narrow slits beneath his lids. “At the time, I saw no good reason in doing so.”
Margaret and Seth looked at one another and their questioning glances mirrored one another. They both asked in unison, “He what?”
“Seems he saw her in town awhile back and took a fancy to her. Of course,” his father added, “I believe his intentions are completely honorable—even mentioned something of a possible union of marriage.” Anvil sat next to Margaret and his discomfort was obvious by the awkward attempt he made when patting her hand out of consolatory obligation. “I know you fancied the man once, Margaret, but it seems from his lack of visits that he’s lost interest in you.”
“Lost interest?” Margaret repeated in a sorrowful whisper.
Seth seethed inside but held his tongue. He wondered what Zachary was trying to accomplish. There were times he took notice of Zachary admiring Myra from afar, but he couldn’t blame him for that. Indeed, Myra had a mesmerizing look about her that demanded attention. Could he blame him for observing her beauty? Who could view a lovely rose in a garden and pass it by without admiring it? Yet, he considered her for marriage? Zachary had never shown any more interest in Myra than that of appreciation. In fact, Zachary hadn’t spoken a word to Myra when all four met on their many secret outings. They hadn’t let it known that there was anything other than a servant and employer relationship between themselves. Therefore, Zachary didn’t need to be reserved. If in fact, he truly had interests in her. Certainly his father was mistaken.
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