by Matilda Hart
“Now, now, steady. Try not to move.” She said. Her face was fuzzy at first and it took awhile for his vision to come into focus.
“Where am I? And what are you doing here?” Vivian asked, amazed that she seemed so attentive to him, when she should revile him.
“You are in hospital. I knew that you didn’t have family to check on you, so I snuck away to make sure you were alright.” Deirdre said with tenderness.
There was only one more question that Vivian could think to ask, “Where is Odette?” A mournful expression came over Deirdre’s face.
“She has fled her post. In her haste I tried to speak with her at length, and she broke down and told me all. I was shocked that she would disclose so much to me, but alas, she has no one in the world to speak to, either. I must inform you, Vivian, she is positively horrified by her position in all this. She feels as though she’s to blame. She told me she’ll be retreating from the area, perhaps as soon as this very day.”
Vivian couldn’t speak. He felt sick. How would he be able to find her if she fled? He would have to hunt her down somehow, but he knew not how.
“I must leave this place.” Vivian began to get up from his sick bed, not even feeling his wounds.
“No, you mustn’t.” Deirdre tried to restrain him, but it was to no avail. “You are quite hurt.” She protested.
“Well, I’m not dead.” Vivian said flatly, and found his coat on a nearby hanger and proceeded to put it on, thus covering his wounds. He ran from the hospital, and no one dared stop him. He vowed to himself that she would be found.
*********
He searched every inch of four separate towns on that day. Upon his horse he made his way through every street, through parks and plazas, fields and forests. Only towards the end of the day was he beginning to pay attention to the sensation of his chest, still housing the bullet that he took that morning. His bandages needed new dressing, but he wasn’t going to stop until she was found.
It was when the sun was near setting that he also felt the first pangs of doubt. Had she already fled too far for him to reach her today? Should he stop and carry on tomorrow? The thought of waiting another day, let alone several days, to find her was simply unbearable. He had to proceed, but the dull pangs in his chest began to turn into a screaming throb that he could no longer ignore. He decided to return home for a brief visit with Dr. Edward Keen, then he would continue the search.
“You’ve certainly dug yourself an interesting hole this time.” The doctor said, changing his bandages after inspecting the wound. “Two more inches and you’d be a dead man. Just missed all your major organs. Count yourself a lucky man.”
“In most respects, I do. Except for one.” Vivian replied.
“Who knows? The last time you took a bullet, a beautiful maiden came to your rescue. Such is the luck of fellows that look like you.” The doctor said with a regretful expression.
“Indeed.” Vivian became pensive. Something strange had taken hold of him; a wild, imaginative thought that made no sense at all, except that it had its own peculiar sense that spurred him on.
“I must be off. I think that I know where she is.” Vivian said with resolve, grabbing his coat and heading out the door.
“Who?” The doctor asked in vain.
Vivian mounted his horse and rode with incredible speed. There was one major river that rolled through both Calliope Ridge and Hertfordshire. There was no rational reason as to why Vivian might find her there, but something unspoken was calling him forth.
He began at the mouth of the river and rode north, inspecting all of its banks. The sun was just about to set and the sky was a magical mix of hues; deep purple, royal blue, streaks of magenta and orange. It was like an artist’s palette that had been swirled into one pool of kaleidoscopic tones. But Vivian thought of nothing but her.
And it was then, as the last hints of warm tones were about to escape the sky, welcoming a blanket of darkness, that he saw a figure off in the distance. It was a woman, standing and facing the river in quiet contemplation. Could it be the vision of his dreams? The apparition on the battlefields of France, the woman that he loved? He dismounted his horse and ran in the figure’s direction.
“Odette.” He exclaimed, out of breath and longing to have her face him. When she turned, it was indeed the vision that he had hoped for. Her cheeks were ruddied from the cool evening air, and her hair flowed down her back with abandon.
“Vivian?” She said softly. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to find you. Odette, I love you. You must be mine.” Vivian said, falling to his knees. “Please say you will be mine.” Tears began to form in his eyes. Never had he wanted anything more in his life.
Odette did not say a word, but spoke to him through actions. She knelt down in front of him, and took his face in her hands. It began with a gentle kiss, but their love for one another could not be controlled any longer. The soft touching of lips became more powerful, forceful. They longed to taste one another, deeply. Vivian laid her down on her back and began to explore her body with his hands, feeling every crevice and curvature. Odette gave a moan of pleasure, enjoying the sensation of his loving touch. He slowly moved his hands down her torso and caressingly between her legs, feeling that special part of her that he desired to explore more thoroughly with his fingers, his mouth, his manhood.
He longed to taste her, and traveled down to that spot where his hands had just been, lifting her skirt and kissing that beautiful part at her center. She moaned with pleasure, and Vivian gave a moan as well, enjoying this place on her body immensely. He could not take it any more, the writhing of her body and calls of satisfaction created a pulsing desire within him. He gently positioned himself over her and slowly, tenderly entered her.
“Oh Vivian!” Odette cried. The sensation was too extraordinary to describe. “Please, please.” She begged.
With her encouragement Vivian began to pulse inside her with force, but also ever so slowly, so as not to conclude the proceedings too abruptly. He began to moan, enjoying the delicious feel of being inside her. It was after Odette had mounted him, rolling her hips in a motion that made Vivian want to scream, that both of them, in unison, experienced that exquisite little death that is one of life’s most perfect sensations.
She collapsed on top of him, and they lay there in each others arms, staring at the stars in exhausted revery.
“You have not answered me yet.” Vivian whispered in her ear. “I have begged you to be mine. Not just your body. I want everything. I want your heart, soul, and mind as well.” Odette paused, then spoke.
“I give them to you freely. They are yours.” She said with a smile, placing a soft kiss upon his lips.
Vivian’s heart leapt. He held her in his arms and turned to the stars again.
“I believe you have appeared to me before. As a vision on the battlefield. You saved my life. Was that not you?” Vivian asked, half amusing himself and also a part of him believing it to be true.
“Of course that was me.” Odette said. Vivian turned to her in shock. Could it really be possible that it was her? Was life truly that magical, driven by fate, all predestined and planned? He wondered.
“It was my spirit.” Odette added with a smile. “My spirit was there with you.”
Vivian kissed her forcefully. It was indeed her spirit that had saved him.
THE END
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Saved by the Duke
Introduction
Most people know nothing about Graham “Gray” Wingrove, the new Duke of Pennyton, except that he is the younger brother of the late Duke. Gray hates the attention he is suddenly receiving from all the eligible noblewomen in the surrounding towns and villages. His mother insists that he marry, and he is very much afraid she has already chosen his bride. He is a dutiful son, with no wish to defy his mother…until he falls in love with Juliana, the one woman to whom she is most vehemently opposed. How will he reconcile his desire to marry the woman he loves with his duty to his mother?
Juliana Lockhart, the younger sister of Deborah, the recently widowed Duchess of Pennyton, reluctantly agrees to be her sister’s companion during her period of mourning. She is despised by the Dowager Duchess and abused by Deborah, and becomes unwillingly embroiled in their scheme to trap Gray’s unsuspecting cousin into marrying her sister, who has no wish to give up the lifestyle to which she has become accustomed. To top it all off, Juliana finds herself falling for Gray. How will she extricate herself from the mess she finds herself in?
Chapter 1
“Yes, Mama,” Juliana said, picking up her reticule. “I will be sure to give your regards to the Dowager Duchess.”
The Honorable Juliana Lockhart walked out to the waiting carriage and stepped in with the help of the footman, settling herself on the seat as the footman closed the door, and waggling her fingers at her mother, who stood waving back as the conveyance moved off. She dropped the reticule on the seat next to her and sighed deeply, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself. The last thing she wanted to do was dance attendance on her older sister Deborah, recently widowed Duchess of Pennyton. She had little interest in involving herself in the lives of the inhabitants of Coulby Hall. She enjoyed her independence, and her freedom to speak her mind. So it had taken a great deal of persuasion on her mother’s part, not to mention a subtle threat by her father to pawn her off on the Viscount Dibley, who had been sniffing at her heels like a rabid hound the last twelvemonth, to get her to agree to visit Deborah in Coulby Hall as her companion.
Juliana had no wish to marry. Between her parents’ own tempestuous relationship and her sister’s many clandestine affairs before her marriage to the late Duke, one or two with married men, Juliana had sworn off marriage entirely. She did not understand men most of the time, and the rest of the time she did not trust them. She had kept those opinions to herself, carefully disguising her lack of interest in sweet words of compliance with her parents’ wishes. This excursion, which would take her away from home for an extended period, might save her from the balding Viscount, but it would not deter her parents from seeking to find her a suitable match.
At five and twenty years old, Juliana was dangerously perched on the edge of spinsterhood, as far as her mother was concerned. She had not received above two proposals of marriage, both of which she had politely but firmly refused. Thankfully for her reputation, each man had been discovered to be unworthy of her, much to her relief, and to her parents’ chagrin, as they had practically forced each man on her. But they would not give up in their pursuit of a worthy match for her. Had they not managed to secure an eminently suitable one for their firstborn? A Duke was the richest catch a baron’s daughter could hope for, and the late Duke of Pennyton had had much to recommend him to her parents, in addition to his wealth. He had been a charming and dashing young man, and but for his untimely death, they had hoped even now to be fawning over the grandchildren that the marriage was to have produced.
Sighing heavily, she pulled the last correspondence from her sister out of the reticule. It had been a short but desperate note.
Dearest Sister,
I despair of ever feeling whole of heart again. Every day fresh tears fall when I awake to an empty bed, and the cold comfort of a house where my dear Charles no longer dwells. I need your companionship to help me through this period of mourning. In three months I will be free to be gay again, but until that time, I have no entertainments to while away the painful hours and distract me from my heavy loss.
Please say you will come as my companion. We can be merry together until my mourning ends.
Deborah
This had not been the first missive of its kind, and Juliana had been thankful that she had had good reasons for not granting her sister’s wishes before now. A whole year in Coulby Hall would have been far more than she could bear. As it was, three months were going to try her patience to its limits, she was sure, but she would do her best to keep her sister occupied until the period of mourning was over. She supposed it was the least she could do, if Deborah were as unhappy as she sounded. She would wait to see how true the feelings were that her sister had expressed in her note, because she knew how Deborah could be when she wanted to have her own way.
Putting the letter away, she looked out of the carriage windows at the passing scenery, glad that the journey would not take above three hours, and that she would arrive in time for dinner. The less time she was forced to spend with the family today, the better she would feel. She needed to fortify herself for the task ahead of her, and a little breathing room would not go amiss. The bustle and noise of London’s streets soon gave way to the relative quiet of the open countryside, and before long they were travelling along beside a broad river, upons she Juliana could see punters winding their way downriver. She thought how pleasant it would be to while away an afternoon gliding down the river, with no cares to mar one’s enjoyment of the beauties of Nature.
She must have dozed off, because the next time she opened her eyes, the carriage had stopped and a footman was approaching from the house. Smoothing a hand over her hair and dress quickly, she picked up her reticule and waited for him to open the door and offer his hand to help her alight. Deborah was waiting for her, dressed demurely in a dove gray dress with a soft round neckline that still managed to suggest the wealth of cleavage she had dressed in half mourning colors. She looked quite lively, despite her letter, and Juliana wondered if she had been summoned on a fool’s errand.
“Oh Juliana, it is so lovely to see you at last!”
Deborah’s voice was pitched high enough that she might be heard in the next village if anyone were listening. She hugged her sister tightly, and Juliana bore with the over-exuberant greeting, knowing it was her sister’s way to want the attention of anyone who might be watching. She hugged her back, and bore her kisses with equanimity. Although she was younger than Deborah, she was taller than her by two or three inches, and thinner in every respect. Deborah and her late Duke had fit each other to perfection. She was round, voluptuous, and succulent, to match his height breadth, and gorgeous features. Juliana, by contrast, was what her mother liked to call a slip of a girl, spare in every way.
Except for her breasts, which were even fuller than her sister’s, Juliana had nothing on her person to command the attentions of any man. And she was ever grateful for such a lack of distinction. She did her part in disguising the bounteous nature of her bosom, to further her invisibility to the lustful men who were almost daily paraded before her by her ever-hopeful parents. At least while she as at Coulby Hall she would escape that humiliating daily ritual. In the spirit of thankfulness for that small mercy, therefore, she returned her sister’s kisses and said,
“Thank you for having me. I’m sure we shall rub along very well together, and in no time you will be able to enjoy fully all the entertainments you are now missing so sorely.”
Deborah led her happily into the house, leaving the footman to take care of the luggage.
“Lady Eleanor asked that we wait dinner for you,” she announced, “so we shall have to go right in.”
Juliana hurried along beside her sister, secretly irritated tha
t she would not even be able to change into something more appropriate for dinner. She wished she could cry off dinner with a headache, but she knew there were some rules even she could not break, and missing dinner on her first evening was one such rule. She must greet the Dowager Duchess who, while not the mistress of the house, was the matriarch, and as such expected to be accorded the proper respect from any visitors who came to stay. Removing her cloak, therefore, she handed it to the butler and followed her sister into the dining room.
There were only three for dinner, but the table was lavishly spread as for a feast, and the Dowager Duchess walked in a breath after they did and regally allowed herself to be seated. She was a short, slender woman with iron-gray hair and piercing blue eyes. Her carefully made-up face bore a hauteur that had the effect of always making Juliana cringe. She looked up when Deborah spoke.
