Sandra Owens

by The Letter

  “The young baron is waiting for us downstairs. Before we go, there is one thing I would ask of you.”

  She clutched her hands together, her expression wary. “What would that be, my lord?”

  He was truly tired of this fearful woman. He lowered his arm. “I would ask that you call me Michael.”

  She gave a vigorous shake of her head. Leo had trained her to be obedient, and though Michael regretted it, he wasn’t above using that knowledge against her. He wanted her to feel as if she were on equal footing with him. The use of his Christian name might help achieve that.

  He shrugged and tried for a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid I must insist, Diana. I intend to give Jamie leave to address me as Michael, also.” And, perhaps someday, Papa.

  “What do you want from us?”

  He was certain that question had been preying on her mind. They would discuss the future after she read Leo’s letter. “For now, to be addressed as Michael. Say my name, please.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled his name in a whisper. Well, it was a weak attempt, but it was a start. “Thank you.” He held out his arm again. “Come, let’s go find your son.”

  That seemed to be enough motivation for her to place her hand on his arm. He wasn’t sure, but he thought her fingers rested easier than before. Or perhaps it was only his imagination. As he led her down the hall to the stairs, he inhaled and smelled roses. He leaned his head closer and inhaled again. Yes, she smelled of roses.

  She stayed quiet through dinner, leaving him and Jamie to carry the conversation. Her appetite had improved, however, and he was pleased to see she drank her wine. He observed her throughout dinner. Would she ever be able to put her demons to rest?

  He noticed her glass was empty and touched her arm as delicately as he could manage it. She startled, her gaze falling to his hand.

  “Would you like more wine, Diana?”

  She glanced at her glass, then at him as she obviously tried to determine what answer he wanted. He kept his face bland and waited. Patience had never been one of his virtues, but he was going to have to dig deep and find it if he was to have this kind of response from her every time he asked a question.

  “No, thank you, my lord,” she finally said.

  “Michael.”

  Her lashes lowered. “No thank you, Michael.”

  After a gentle squeeze of her hand, he let go. She immediately moved it to her lap. He pretended not to notice and turned to Jamie.

  “I have asked your mother to address me as Michael, and I would ask the same of you.”

  Jamie looked at him in astonishment. “Truly, sir?”

  “We are cousins. Family. It is appropriate and not at all improper.” We may well be father and son. No son of his would be required to address him as my lord.

  “Thank you, Michael. Does this mean we are friends?”

  His shy smile went straight to Michael’s heart. The boy was slaying him. A barely discernable noise much like a sniffle sounded to his right. He turned in time to see Diana her press trembling lips together.

  Chapter Five

  How had she never thought of how lonely Jamie must have been? Her son was everything to her and somehow she had thought she could be everything to him. When Leo was away, which was often, thank you God, she had dedicated her days to Jamie. She taught him to read, taught him how to use his imagination so that the toys Leo denied him wouldn’t be missed, and she had loved him with all that she was. When Leo was home, she did her best to keep his attention on her so he wouldn’t turn his cruelties onto their child.

  Jamie’s pleasure in having a friend in Michael made her realize how much he needed the regard of a man. She would not fight against this new step Michael had taken, but said a prayer that he would not end up disappointing her son.

  “Diana?”

  She pressed her lips together and willed down her tears. My God, she had come closer to crying these past two days than in all her miserable years with Leo. A large hand rested on her shoulder for a brief moment, its touch oddly comforting.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine, Michael.”

  How easily her mind had slipped into thinking of him as Michael. His attention returned to Jamie, giving her the opportunity to observe him. In the three days they had been together, she had not seen the coldness or cunning in his eyes that she had grown used to seeing in Leo’s. Or, the watchfulness that had been so unnerving. Leo had always watched her, waiting for the slightest mistake on her part.

  Michael claimed he didn’t care if she spilled her wine, or even if she threw her bread at the wall. She didn’t believe him. She eyed the bread and had the urge to test his words. If he didn’t beat her for her daring, then she might, only might, start to trust him. There was a scratch in the paint on the wall behind Jamie’s head, something to aim for. Her hand crept toward the basket of bread.

  “Did you want some, Diana?”

  She snatched her hand back and shook her head at the man intently watching her. He glanced at the wall, then tilted his head and studied her. A slow, far too amused grin formed on his face.

  “Hmm.” He picked up a piece of bread. “Now, Jamie, this is not going to be a common occurrence at the dinner table, mind you, but did you know tonight is special?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Michael, please. It is the one night of the year when we throw our bread at the wall.” With that, he threw his over Jamie’s head, then handed Jamie one. “Now you.”

  Jamie laughed. The seldom heard sound was music to her ears. He turned in his chair and threw his bread. He looked back at Michael with such adoration in his eyes that she marked the exact moment Michael became her son’s hero. Michael picked up another slice and handed it to her. She stared at the bread in her hand, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

  “Go on,” Michael said.

  “Do it, Mama,” Jamie urged.

  She looked at Michael once more to make sure she didn’t see any trickery in his eyes and then threw her bread. A tiny burst of laughter escaped and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Jamie giggled and Michael gave her a smile of approval. A sliver of the fear that had held her captive for eleven long years fell away.

  Michael turned to the footman. “John, would you please pick up the bread that seems to have escaped our plates.”

  Oh, lord, she had forgotten the footman. This story would be spread throughout the household. But Michael didn’t seem to be concerned, so she put it out of her mind.

  “Now, I believe it’s time for a game of marbles before bedtime,” Michael said and led them to the parlor.

  ****

  Stretched out on the floor with Jamie, Michael showed him the game of Taw. It had been years since he shot marbles, but he had once been very good at it. He formed a ring with some of the marbles and explained the game.

  “Your objective is to shoot the marbles out of the ring.” He handed one to Jamie. “I’ll go first to show you, and then you take a few practice shots before we start the game.”

  Michael watched Diana from the corner of his eye. The tension that had been a part of her for the past two days seemed to have lessened. He didn’t know what made him understand what she was about when he saw her sliding her hand toward the bread. Perhaps it was the furtive way she was going about it that made him realize what she was thinking. He had repeatedly promised her with words that she was safe with him, but how could he have guessed that all he needed to do to prove it was to give her a piece of bread to throw?

  When she had given a rusty little burst of laughter, he had wanted to stand up, applaud and yell encore. How long had it been since she had laughed? He thought the answer to that might break his heart.

  Jamie knocked his first marble out of the ring and Michael tousled his hair. “Good show, my boy. Now, let’s see if you can best me.”

  He played with Jamie for an hour amidst laughter and challenges with some good-natured wrestling thrown in. And thou
gh Diana sat as still as a statue while watching, several times he caught sight of the beginnings of a smile on her face. The answer to helping her came to him. Small steps. A little nudge here and there, gently guiding her back to the living. If he pushed too hard, she would shut down and withdraw back into herself.

  Small steps. It wasn’t what he had planned. He had thought to leave the two of them at the lodge, remove himself to Draven Park, and visit Jamie for a few hours now and then. Changing his strategy meant staying here, not to mention a longer delay in returning to London. How would Serena react to that?

  It might be best to make a quick trip next week and spend a day or two with her. She could be tenacious when she wanted something. She would track him down if he didn’t make an appearance soon. A visit should appease her, but it would mean more lies. That part of his new plan didn’t settle well.

  After one last bout of wrestling, Michael threw himself onto his back, arms outstretched. “You have done me in, lad.”

  “Can we play again tomorrow?”

  “If you wish it, but for now, would you like your mother and me to see you off to bed?”

  Jamie gave his mother a hopeful look. She smiled and stood. Michael took one of Jamie’s hands and waited for Diana to take his other. Walking up the stairs with their possible son between them, a deep sense of contentment settled in Michael’s heart. A dangerous thought, one he pushed away.

  Once they had Jamie tucked into his bed, Michael kissed his forehead and left the room, allowing them a few private moments. He leaned against the wall in the hallway and waited for her to emerge.

  Ten minutes passed and he wondered what they were talking about, wondered if he was the subject of their conversation. He had closed the door behind him when he left, so he couldn’t hear anything. Diana finally emerged and he pushed away from the wall.

  She stopped. “Oh, you are still here.”

  “Yes, I am still here. The thought occurred to me that you needed help unbuttoning your gown.” A look of fear crossed her face. “Be at ease. I have no intentions other than to assist you with your buttons.”

  Her distress didn’t diminish with his words of assurance. He held out his hand. “Put your hand in mine, and allow yourself to give me a little of your trust.” He smiled. “At least enough to put your buttons in my hands so you don’t have to sleep in your gown.”

  He waited. Slowly, so excruciating slowly, she reached for him. Another small step, yet it seemed like a grand victory. In silence he led her to the door of her room. As they walked, he marveled at the feel of her soft, slender hand. Such a small, delicate hand she had, making his feel big and strong.

  When they reached her chamber, he opened her door. “Turn around.”

  She obediently turned and he unbuttoned her gown doing his best not to touch her skin. He wanted her to know she could trust him to keep his word. At the sixth button down, just above her chemise, the burn on her skin was revealed. Were there other scars on her body that testified to Leo’s cruelty? He took a deep calming breath.

  “There, all done.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. She was rigid under his palms, her eyes fixed on his cravat. “Sleep well,” he said and kissed her forehead.

  He went to his room, changed into riding breeches and boots, then headed for the stables. Leo had tortured her. If he stayed in his chamber he might start destroying things. He saddled one of his hunters and rode the poor beast to near exhaustion before he felt like he had outrun his fury.

  ****

  From the window seat in her chamber, Diana watched Michael gallop down the lane, disappearing into the dark. Where was he going at this time? Leo had kept a mistress in a nearby cottage at Brant Manor, often visiting her late at night. So grateful he had someone else to fulfill his needs, she had occasionally, and very secretively, left gift baskets of food on the woman’s steps when Leo was not in residence. Was Michael going to see his mistress? Her disappointment surprised her.

  She brushed her fingers over her skin where he had kissed her. She had expected to be repulsed, but his kiss had been sweet. She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. He said she could trust him, and she wanted to. But she no longer had faith in her judgment, so how was she to know if she could believe him?

  Still sitting in the window seat two hours later, she watched Michael return. Where had he gone? She hadn’t lit any candles and was able to clearly see him walking the horse down the lane, talking to his mount and patting the animal’s neck.

  She closed her eyes and recalled the deep rumble of his voice, a voice that was the same and yet different from the Michael she had once known. Long buried memories of words spoken with love and passion assailed her senses. She had believed every single one, but his promise of forever had been a lie.

  Resentment and hurt, feelings she had long thought dealt with, hit her with the force of a fierce storm whose screaming winds toppled hundred-year-old trees. She hugged her knees, pressed her face against them and helplessly sobbed for the first time in years. And as she wept, she let the pain of Michael’s betrayal and Leo’s brutalities consume her. She cried until she had no tears left and when she was done, the heaviness in her heart eased a bit.

  A while later, she heard Michael moving about in his chamber. She held still until the light shining through the bottom of their connecting door went out. She slipped quietly into bed and slept soundly.

  ****

  Michael leaned in and inhaled, wanting to know what scent Diana wore today. The second day he had expected the rose fragrance again, but she surprised him with a lemon scent, reminding him of sunshine and summer days. Yesterday had been lavender and, he sniffed, today was vanilla. His mouth watered, and he had the urge to lick her. These unwarranted urges needed to stop.

  “Why are you sniffing me?” She took a step away from him.

  “My pardon, but I couldn’t resist. You smell like a pie, which happens to be one of my favorite things.”

  He caught the slight twitch of her lips before she admonished him. “Well, try to control yourself, please.”

  “I will.” He held out his hand. “Come, Jamie is waiting for us outside.” Without hesitating, she took his hand. Small steps. Over the past four days, he had made a point to touch her whenever it seemed a natural thing to do. She no longer recoiled at the contact of his hand on her. Someday, when she fell in love again and wanted to marry, she would thank him. Some long, long away day.

  They had fallen into a routine of taking walks after breakfast, and in the afternoons there would be an activity that focused on Jamie. Today, he planned to teach them how to fish.

  “I don’t think anything has ever excited him as much as the idea of catching a trout,” Diana said.

  “I believe his reasoning is this. I told him that whatever he caught would be dinner tonight. The idea of being the one to put food on our table makes him feel important.” He glanced at her. “A man likes to feel needed now and then.”

  She met his gaze for a moment before looking away. She didn’t seem to have a response, nor did he want one. He did not know why he even said such a thing. They reached the door. Not letting go of her, he opened it, leading her out. He liked her hand in his. There was an intimacy to it that made him feel close to her.

  If he continued with these errant thoughts, he probably should remove himself to Draven Park.

  For these few days, his intent was only to see that she and Jamie were well fed and rested. Nothing else. He had no designs on her.

  That settled in his mind, he glanced at her. Both she and Jamie were beginning to look healthier and color was returning to their faces. The extra food and outdoor activities had brought a glow to their faces. A little pleased with his part in making that happen, he smiled at her when she met his gaze.

  “A perfect day for fishing,” he said and looked up at the cloudless, clear blue sky.

  He had kept his conversations with her to only things involving Jamie, the weathe
r or books they had read. There were serious discussions awaiting them, but for now, his strategy of small steps was working.

  Leo’s letter, stored in the desk in his study, weighed on him. When to give it to her to read? He should have done so already.

  Jamie ran up to them. “Where are our rods?”

  “Obadiah is at the stream as we speak, setting things up.” His gamekeeper was as old as the earth and Michael loved him dearly. Obadiah had taught him to fish, hunt, and how to survive in the woods. Things his father might have taught him if he had lived past Michael’s fifth birthday.

  Jamie danced ahead of them, walking backwards at times. He showed them with his hands spread wide the size of the fish he would catch. Michael seriously doubted there were any three feet long trout in his stream.

  He glanced at Diana and raised his brow in amusement. Bless the gods, she rewarded him with the first true smile he had seen on her face since he found her again. His heart took a little bounce, something that hadn’t happened in eleven years.

  Her hand was warm in his. On impulse, he lifted it to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her wrist.

  “Why did you do that?” She tried to pull away.

  He shrugged, but refused to let go of her. “It was a whim, nothing more.”

  “Well, don’t do it again.”

  Deviltry took control of him. “What? This?” He did it again.

  “Yes, that.”

  When he did it once more, she surprised him with a giggle she tried to smother. He knew this because she choked on the effort. Inspired, he repeated his little performance.

  “Stop it!”

  “Not until you say the magic words.” He brought her hand to his lips.

  “Then tell me what they are so I can say them.”

  He inclined his head and peered into her eyes. “Please, Michael.” The very words she had whispered to him in the heat of passion. Did she remember?

  She jerked her gaze away from his. “Please, Michael,” she whispered.

  Ah, so she did, but why did it matter? It shouldn’t. His future plans did not include her. He laughed away his uneasiness and began his own bragging of the size of the fish he would catch.