And for years, he’d believed that temporary loss of his faculties exonerated him of any wrongdoing. Willie wasn’t innocent by any means, but she wasn’t the villainess he’d once accused her of being. And he certainly wasn’t the knight in shining armor he’d once believed himself to be. With the kind of clarity only a decade of space could bring, he had finally figured out that he’d indeed been the villain in their fairytale all along. And he had foolishly believed that their story was finished, the book never to be reopened again.
But here he was, closer to her than he’d been in years, unwittingly starting a new chapter.
*
“Where is she,” he demanded. George ran through the halls calling her name. “Willie,” he shouted with no regard for whoever he disrupted.
A moment later, Lady Whitehead descended the stairs, her butler and a handful of servants streaming behind her.
“Where’s Willie?” he yelled up at her.
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed back. The butler took a step forward to assist his employer, but was immediately dismissed by a wave of her frail hand.
“I’ll do no such thing!” He’d been polite and it had gotten him nowhere. For days now, he’d been trying to visit, only to be reproved and sent on his way. Not again. Circumstances like this did not require propriety, but action. He was not paying a call, he was demanding answers. “Now are you going to tell me where she is or do I need to find her?”
“Follow me to the library. I’ll not have you making a scene in my halls for all the servants to gossip about.”
He already knew the room. Two months ago, it served as the backdrop to his dressing down by Lady Whitehead. The irony was not lost on him.
George heard her hurried steps behind him, rushing to keep up with his stride – a difficult feat considering he dwarfed her in size. He didn’t wait for her to shut the door before exploding.
“How dare you keep her from me, you wicked woman!”
She slammed the door behind her. “I’m not keeping her from you. She’s staying away by her own accord.”
“You lie.”
“I do nothing of the sort. I have no reason to lie when the truth condemns you so.”
He leaned on the desk at the center of the room. “What truth do you speak of?”
“I warned Wilhelmina about men like you. I should thank you for proving my assumptions correct.”
“Men like me? It’s your niece who’s cast me aside for some, some vicar.”
Lady Whitehead’s thin lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Is that what this is all about then? You’re jealous.”
“Why would she have become betrothed to someone else?” His tone had calmed into something more sorrowful than angry. He needed answers. “Has she loved him for long? Was I cuckholded?”
“You were the one who told her that you couldn’t marry her.”
He slammed his fist down onto the desk. “I didn’t say I couldn’t. I asked her to wait.”
“For what exactly? If you were half as in love as you claim to be, then marriage would be inevitable.”
“You know why.” This was not how he’d envisioned this confrontation going. He was not supposed to be the one on trial. She’d rejected him at that dance, and then it was Willie who couldn’t wait any longer for a promise he wasn’t in a position to give. She went and became engaged without as much as a word to him. He had to suffer the humiliation of learning of her betrothal when his father read it directly from The Times.
Lady Whitehead nodded. “Yes, of course. You didn’t want to anger your father, risk losing your purse. Is that right?”
He swallowed, ashamed of how cowardly she made him sound. “I just needed more time to convince him. He had an idea of who I should marry and I just needed Willie to wait a bit longer.”
“You wanted her to wait? To watch as you courted another woman?”
“Lady Evelyn means nothing to me. She was my father’s choice, not mine. Our friendship with her family goes back for generations.”
“Which is why you escort her about Town?”
George raked his hand through his hair. This woman was exasperating. She was twisting everything. Lady Whitehead wasn’t born into this life like he was. She didn’t understand, there were rules in this game and if he wanted to keep what was his, what he was entitled to, then he needed to play as he’d been raised to.
Willie constantly challenged him with naïve notions of leaving it all behind. But had he agreed, defied his father, and turned his back on his title, what kind of life would they have been left with? Of course, she didn’t care about the gowns or the parties or any of the other frivolities he’d been accustomed to.
But he did. She asked him to leave it all behind for her, and his answer had been, “not yet.”
“I was just doing what my father asked,” he replied. He sounded little older than a boy, but there was simply no other answer. His father said she only wanted his money and, if she couldn’t wait, then it would only go to prove her devious ways. He just needed more time.
“And that is why I warned her. You come from a life full of entitlement and despite having every opportunity at your fingers, you’re no better for it. But Wilhelmina is, despite having been born with far less. She deserves an equal who wants to give her what she deserves, who’ll make any sacrifice.”
“But it’s for her that I did the things that my father asks.” They simply didn’t know what kind of man his father was. “And why I’ve decided to stop. I told my father that I could never see Lady Evelyn again, that I was going to marry Willie. I know I can provide her with a life worthy of her.”
“You fool. Fortune doesn’t make anyone more worthy. My great-niece is just as intelligent as she is lovely. But more than that, she is good. Worthiness has no price – you cannot purchase it like you can a new horse or a fancy hat. I know that’s a concept completely unknown to you. And for that reason alone, I am immensely pleased to say she is marrying someone who recognizes her worth and will treat her with the respect she deserves.”
“I can do that.”
“Your words fall on deaf ears. My own late husband claimed a similar sentiment. I was madly in love with him, just as Wilhelmina was with you. His words were identical to yours, his circumstance quite similar. But they were just words. It didn’t take long after we were married before he took a mistress. And when I found fault with his infidelity, he used the back of his hand to show me his displeasure. I was to be seen and not heard, to do as I was told, and not as I wanted. I was to be his wife, his property, and nothing more.”
George felt his chest tighten, sympathetic to her plight. Of course, there had to have been something of that nature to cause such great distrust. “I’m not your husband.”
“Words. All words. Your actions have painted you in an entirely different light, I’m afraid.”
Willie didn’t love her betrothed. She couldn’t have. He was a pawn in her aunt’s scheme, just as the young lady he’d escorted to the dance had been to his father. He had to talk to Willie, to explain himself. It wasn’t too late at all. She could break off her engagement, and then perhaps…
“Where is she?” he shouted, reenergized by the revelation.
“You will not,” the older woman warned between gritted teeth.
“I will knock down every door in this house in order to find her. You will not stand between me and the woman who will be my wife. I made that promise to her and I intend to keep it.”
Lady Whitehead took a step directly in his path. “You’ll have to go through me first.”
He would have laughed if she hadn’t appeared to be so serious. “I’ve never hurt a woman before, but so help me God, tonight I will.”
“You have hurt someone before. You nearly killed my dear niece, and I won’t let you do it again. She is weak and may not be able to say no to you. I may be old, but I am anything but weak. I will be her strength, I will be her backbone.”
“Get out of my way,” Ge
orge threated, walking slowly toward the woman. “I’ll not ask you again.”
“There’s no need to.”
He was momentarily confused by her bold assumption, the words distracting him so that he never noticed her fumbling in the folds of her gown. He took another step forward, staring her directly in the eyes.
It was then he saw the pistol.
*
She woke to the sound of his nightmare.
Wilhelmina threw off the bedclothes and went to him. His arms were wrapped around his stomach and he was curled into as much of a ball a man of his size could. She reached out to wake him, immediately retracting her hand. He was hot to the touch, sweat drenching his blankets. She looked for his blanket, he must have cast it aside in the midst of all the thrashing.
“George,” she called out, her hand on his shoulder. “George, you’re having a bad dream.”
He didn’t wake up completely, his eyelids fluttered and he muttered something unintelligible.
“George.” She jiggled his shoulder harder this time, trying to rouse him. “Come to the bed, George.”
His eyes finally opened. “Willie?”
She smiled, unable to resist how sweet he sounded, even if it was only because he was in the midst of a fevered nightmare. “Yes, it’s me. Come to the bed.”
“It hurts.”
She looked him over, assessing for any obvious cause of the pain. Instantly, she regretted her action. He was completely nude. She could see every line, the hard planes of his abdomen, the rippling sinew in his shoulders, the bulging muscles in his thighs and…
Yes, she could see that too. She immediately turned her attention back to his face. Handsome as it was, it didn’t cause her nearly the distress. “Where does it hurt?”
“My leg,” he clutched at his thigh.
His bullet wound. The accident might have disturbed something. “Let’s get you to the bed. You might find comfort there.” She took his hand in her own and tried to lever him off the floor.
It was impossible, he had at least four stone on her. The action threw her off balance, causing her to fall on top him. She started to push herself off, but he shifted to his back, wrapping his arms around her.
“Willie, I thought I’d lost you.” His voice was a strangled whisper.
“I’m, I’m right here,” she stuttered.
“But you were gone.”
He was nuzzling her neck now, pulling her tightly against his body.
“George, what are you doing?” Her pulse quickened.
“Loving you,” he answered between kisses to her neck and shoulder. She was wearing her chemise, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Chainmail wouldn’t have been enough to protect her now.
Memories came flooding back. Making love under the willow tree in their special spot, submerged in the pond, atop a blanket laid over the hay in the unused stable on her aunt’s property—anywhere they could steal a few moments alone. They were so young, so hungry, so in love.
It had been so long ago. She’d had a mutual agreement with Victor not to pursue anything of an intimate nature until she’d put her demons behind her. Victor wasn’t in any particular hurry, nor did he seem overly interested. His was a life dedicated to religious studies and spreading the word of God, nothing, not even personal pleasure mattered much after that. And then he fell ill, eliminating any chance of consummating their marriage. He’d taken that secret to the grave with him, and she never saw a need to say otherwise.
She’d gone ten years without being kissed, without being caressed, without any male touch whatsoever. Had she been a virgin and not known any better, then she probably wouldn’t have minded. But she knew what it felt like to be loved by a man in every sense of the word. And that same man who’d awakened such pleasure in her before, was evoking those same feelings now.
George was kissing up the column of her neck now, each kiss sending jolts of warmth through her center. She turned slightly and he captured her mouth. She tasted salt as he coaxed her lips open. Willie knew she should stop him – he was confused, he couldn’t possibly have known what he was doing. But the feel of his hands rubbing up and down her spine sent shivers down her legs straight through to her toes. It had been so long since she’d experienced any sort of intimacy, she just couldn’t bring herself to make it stop.
In one swift movement, he rolled her onto her back, pinning her under him. The heat between them was stifling and her own body felt as if it would go up in flames at any moment. The kiss deepened, his tongue plunging, searching her mouth. His hand was at her side, travelling up her chest, the long fingers barely grazing her breast.
“George,” she moaned. The sound of her own voice sounded foreign, husky and filled with desire. She didn’t recognize herself and that frightened her.
“George!” She pushed at his chest, breaking the kiss. “George, get off me.”
“Willie?” His eyes grew wide.
With little effort, she pushed him off and he rolled onto his back. “You need to come to bed now.”
He looked around, dazed. “Where am I?”
She picked herself off the floor and stood above him, arms akimbo. “Get off the floor, George.”
“It hurts,” he repeated, slowly raising himself to a standing position.
“Come with me. You can’t stay down there tonight.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him to the bed. George fell on to it, curling up and leaving her only a small sliver to fit on herself.
Almost immediately, he was snoring.
Willie could still hear her pulse in her ears, her body still tingling. And there he was, snoring as if nothing had transpired. It was for the best, though. If he didn’t remember, then perhaps they could continue on as if nothing had happened at all.
Well, at least he could. She doubted she’d be able to forget quite so easily.
Wilhelmina found a spot, precariously balanced along the edge of the bed. It wasn’t comfortable, but it provided much needed space between their bodies. She took the blanket and spread it over them best she could before rolling over, putting her back to him.
Wilhelmina was just drifting off into oblivion when she felt the weight of George’s arm fall over her, dragging her close to his body.
She wanted to be annoyed, to flip the arm back off her body and scoot back to her side of the bed. But she didn’t. She told herself it was because she was tired, though she knew deep down, it was simply because she enjoyed it.
Chapter 12
George didn’t immediately open his eyes.
The sun had crept in and the sensation of light woke him from his sleep. His entire body was sore, the pain in his leg excruciating, and he wasn’t alone.
He pulled the woman closer to him, already familiar with her form. Her body fit against his as well as any pair of breeches. It was as if she’d been made especially for him. She snored, just like she used to. It was a pleasant sound – quiet and undeniably feminine.
He clenched his eyes tighter together. If he didn’t open them, then he could claim he was still sleeping. He wanted this moment to last as long as possible.
Willie wiggled her bum against him, a playful invitation. Of course, she was deep in slumber and unaware of the games her body was playing with his. She’d probably be mortified to know that she’d done it all. She was so chaste now, expertly playing the part of the good widow. But he knew better. He knew that she was a wanton and capable of driving him to the brink of insanity for the want of her.
It would be so easy to lift up her chemise and plunge himself in between her soft thighs…
George rolled over on his back and exhaled, shakily. What was happening to him? A day ago he couldn’t have imagined waking up to Willie exciting him to the point of nearly spilling his seed all over himself. Well, he may have dreamed about it on occasion, but he’d never thought it would actually happen. Now here he was, desperately trying to hide his arousal like an eleven-year-old-boy hoping the governess didn’t catch him.
God, she was lovely. The late morning sunlight peeked in through a thin slit in the curtains covering the window across from the bed. Her form was bathed in light, reflecting off her hair, which hung in soft waves over her shoulders and down her back. Through the sheer muslin of her chemise, he could make out the shape of her breasts, just enough to fill his hands.
How could he have been so foolish to ever let her leave?
Then he remembered…she didn’t leave, he’d let her go.
“How do you feel?” She stretched her arms high above her head.
He coughed again, this time trying to regain focus despite the effects the transparency of her chemise was having on him.
“Like I’ve been in a carriage accident.” His entire body ached, but it was his old wound that was causing him the most grief. “Is there any water?” His lips were dry and his throat parched.
“There’s still some from last night.” Willie slid from the bed in one graceful movement and walked to pitcher. “I’ll get it for you.”
“You don’t need to do that.” But he was glad she did. Now that he was fully awake, he could truly appreciate just how poorly he really felt. As she served herself from the pitcher on the sideboard, he admired the outline of her trim waist and the curve of her hip through the sheer muslin. He would have appreciated it so much more had he not felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of beasts.
“I’ll get us something to eat and then work on finding a physician for you.”
George adamantly shook his head. “No physicians. And I’ll take care of the meal.” Willie didn’t need to take care of any more people in her life.
“George,” she admonished. “You’re hurt and you’re not going anywhere.”
“The hell I’m not.” He stood, immediately realizing he was naked. At the same moment, his leg gave out from under him.
Willie gasped, then rushed to his side. “You great ox, what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” he replied between grunts, trying to get himself off the floor. “Obviously.”
Second Chance Marquess (Second Chance Series Book 1) Page 9
