Only Mine

by Cheryl Holt

  As they reached the front door, Lydia came out.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Annabel ruffled Harry’s hair. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Lydia scowled. “You’re visiting again?”

  “Yes, Lydia, I’m visiting again. He’ll only be here a few more days, and I don’t want to miss any of them.” She spun to Harry. “We’ll do something extra fun.”

  “I can’t wait,” Harry replied.

  “I wish you wouldn’t travel alone, Annabel,” Lydia said. “It’s unseemly.”

  “That’s me, Lydia. I’m unseemly all over.”

  Harry bit down a snicker and glanced away, and Lydia’s scowl deepened.

  “If you have difficulty on the road, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I’ll be fine. Stop fretting.”

  Just then, a carriage rolled into the drive. It was a large, heavy vehicle, painted bright red and pulled by four white horses, footmen hanging on the back.

  “Who on earth could that be?” Lydia asked.

  “It has the Lyndon family crest on the door,” Harry said.

  Annabel gaped at him. “How do you know?”

  He froze again as he had when they’d been walking to the house then he laughed. “I have no idea.”

  The vehicle rattled up to them, and to Annabel’s stunned surprise, Captain Grey strutted out. Wearing his red soldier’s coat, the lapels adorned with medals, he looked dashing and splendid. She could barely tamp down her delight.

  “Hello, Miss Fenwick.” He grinned, making her pulse race. Then he bowed to Lydia. “Widow Boswell, lovely to see you too.”

  “Captain,” Lydia curtly said.

  His gaze focused on Harry. “Who is this young man?”

  “This is my nephew, Harry Boswell.”

  “Hello, Harry. I’m Captain Grey.”

  “Hello, Captain,” Harry responded.

  “Your aunt has told me all about you.” The Captain stuck out his hand as if to shake Harry’s but—stunning Annabel even more—he engaged in the secret handshake Harry had created. It involved several contortions with thumbs and fingers and a smacking of wrists at the end. The Captain performed it perfectly.

  Annabel gawked at the Captain and asked, “How did you learn that?”

  “My cousin, Soloman, and I used it when we were boys. The better question is: How did Harry learn it?”

  All eyes whirled to Harry, and he shrugged. “I just...invented it.”

  “It’s interesting, isn’t it,” Captain Grey mused, “that you and I and my cousin all know it.”

  “Maybe all boys know it and think it’s their own,” Harry said.

  “Maybe,” the Captain agreed, and he studied Harry so intently that it made the hair stand up on Annabel’s neck.

  “How old are you, Harry?” he asked.

  “Ten.”

  “Ten...” The Captain nodded as if it was an answer that explained the entire universe. He peered over at Lydia. “He doesn’t resemble you in the slightest.”

  The comment was insolent and cheeky and offensive, and Lydia recognized that it was. Harry’s differences were at the root of her problems with the Boswells.

  “It’s the Fenwick bloodlines,” Lydia insisted. “My father was a strong character. His traits always push to the surface. Simply look at Annabel.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Annabel said, realizing Lydia hadn’t meant it in a flattering way.

  “Yes, I’m sure it’s the Fenwick bloodlines,” the Captain concurred. “When you were younger, Mrs. Boswell, were you acquainted with my cousin, Soloman Grey?”

  Lydia blanched with what might have been alarm, but her reaction passed so quickly Annabel was positive she’d imagined it.

  “No, Captain,” Lydia said, “I’ve never met your cousin.”

  Captain Grey clasped Harry’s hand again, and he turned it to the side, scrutinizing the meat of his palm where he had an odd scar. Annabel had once asked her sister about it when Harry was small, but Lydia claimed she didn’t recollect how he’d been injured.

  “That’s quite a scar,” the Captain said to Harry. “How’d you get it?”

  “I’ve always had it, but Mother doesn’t remember what caused it so I don’t even have a good story about it.”

  “You should make one up,” the Captain said. “Tell people you were at the zoo and a lion leapt through the fence and bit you.”

  Harry grinned. “I just might.”

  Lydia didn’t like anyone, but her dislike of the Captain was particularly acute. He was still holding Harry’s hand, and she pulled Harry away. “Let’s go in, Harry, and leave Captain Grey to his business. You were departing, weren’t you, Annabel? Perhaps the Captain could escort you to Grey Manor so you won’t have to travel by yourself.”

  “If it wouldn’t be an imposition?” Annabel wasn’t certain what he planned. He must be eager to spend time with her. Otherwise, why chase after her?

  “It definitely won’t be an imposition.” There was a naughty hint in his tone.

  “Goodbye, Auntie,” Harry said.

  “I’ll come tomorrow.”

  “May I come too, Harry?” the Captain asked.

  Harry hesitated, hating to seem rude, but obviously sensing his mother’s disdain for Captain Grey. Quietly, he said, “If my mother doesn’t mind, Captain, I would be delighted to see you again.”

  “Why would your mother mind?” The Captain showered his hot focus on Lydia. “May I call again, Widow Boswell?”

  There was the longest pause in history as Lydia pondered her reply. Captain Grey was from a wealthy, settled family and about to be a peer of the realm. There was no reason to deny his request. Any sane person would be thrilled to have him as a guest, but with Lydia there was no predicting how she’d act.

  Ultimately, she muttered, “Feel free to visit anytime, Captain.”

  “I will.”

  Without another word, Lydia dragged Harry into the house. She dragged him! Then she shut the door with a sharp crack, her behavior providing stark evidence that she hadn’t been sincere, that she didn’t want the Captain to visit.

  Captain Grey studied the closed door then said, “Strange woman, your sister.”

  “I told you.”

  “Your nephew is something though.”

  “Isn’t he just?”

  “Get in my carriage, Miss Fenwick. You and I need to talk.”

  NNABEL HAD BORROWED TWO of his horses again, and Benjamin instructed a footman to tie the animals to the back of the carriage. Then he climbed in behind her.

  She’d already made herself at home. She was nestled against the squab, had found the picnic basket he’d brought, had poured herself some wine. She stared at him over the rim of the glass.

  He was anxious to pull her onto his lap and kiss her senseless, but he forced himself to refrain. There would be plenty of opportunities to misbehave, and if he was lucky he might have her all to himself for the entire night. He just had to figure out how to convince her it was a terrific idea.

  “Does this mean we’re not fighting anymore?” she asked.

  “Were we fighting?”

  “Yes, you oaf. Don’t pretend we weren’t. For absurd reasons I can’t begin to understand, I pitched you into a jealous rage.”

  He scoffed. “I’ve never been jealous in my life.”

  “You accused me of being an unwed mother and having had a decadent affair with your cousin whom I’ve never met.” She grinned. “Have I left out any of your allegations? Were there others? You had such a long list of grievances, it was hard to keep track.”

  “I might have raised a few issues.”

  “A few!”

  “In my defense, you are a maddening female who drives me to distraction.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Is our fight over?”

  “It’s over—for now.”

  “Good. I never quarrel, and I won’t quarrel with you. Nor will I allow
you to snap and bark as if you’re my grumpy, unpleasant husband.”

  He gave a mock shudder. “Heaven help the poor man who ever marries you.”

  “Yes, Heaven help him. I believe you’re starting to realize why I haven’t wed. I won’t be scolded or badgered, and I have a mind of my own.”

  “You have a mouth of your own too. Do you ever stop talking?”

  “Not often.” She ran a hand across the plush seats. “A coach-and-four, Captain? With the Lyndon crest on the side?”

  “It’s a bit posh, isn’t it?”

  “A bit?” She laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were putting on airs.”

  “According to my mother, it’s about time.”

  “I feel like Cinderella on her way to the ball.”

  “I thought it would be more comfortable to travel like this.”

  “We could have ridden the horses to Grey Manor. I would have been perfectly fine with that.”

  “We’re not going to Grey Manor.”

  “You rascal. Where are we going? Am I being kidnapped like a princess in a fairytale? Perhaps I really am Cinderella.”

  “If memory serves about that story, she was a sweet, kind girl who was charming and innocent. I doubt you could pass yourself off as her.”

  “Probably not, and you still haven’t apprised me of where we’re headed.”

  “Lyndon Hall.”

  She scowled. “I don’t want to accompany you to Lyndon Hall.”

  “I don’t care. You’re coming anyway.”

  “You’re being a bully.”

  “Yes, I am. You bring out the worst in me. I can’t resist bossing you.”

  “I don’t listen though so what’s the point?”

  “The point is that I’m a man and you’re a woman, and in the natural order of things I am in charge and you must learn to heed me. If you don’t, the fate of the universe might hang in the balance.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Your fiancée should be with you at Lyndon Hall. Not me. I’m sure I previously explained this to you.”

  “Well, she’s not here, and you are, and we’re on our way. Get over it.”

  He leaned closer, took the glass from her, and downed the contents. She appeared irked at having to share, but he’d brought plenty.

  “I’m over it,” she said. “I simply wasn’t expecting to call on anyone. I’m in my riding clothes. I’m not in any condition to strut into the foyer of a lavish mansion. Is it a lavish mansion? I trust it is.”

  “It’s incredibly lavish. That’s why I dragged out the coach. I decided I should arrive in style.”

  “I could have sworn you told me the place was empty and shuttered.”

  “It’s supposed to be, but in case we run into any of the old servants or tenants I should look the part of the grand, imperious lord.”

  “I deem you to be quite grand and imperious, and you don’t need a fancy coach to make others view you as domineering and superior.”

  She studied him, her shrewd gaze digging deep so he nearly squirmed under her sharp assessment.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Captain.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “You were awfully angry the other night. I figured I’d return to Grey Manor this evening to find a note commanding me to pack my bags.”

  “Why would I do that? Merely because we bickered? I hope my ego isn’t that inflated.”

  “It’s extremely inflated. It’s why I assumed you’d send me away.”

  “Apparently, I’m not finished with you, Annabel.”

  “That sounds like a threat.”

  “Or a promise.”

  She dug around in the basket, pulled out cheese and bread and some of the other items.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Would you like me to slice some of the bread for you?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “What would you like then?”

  The question was so loaded with possibilities; he couldn’t choose an answer.

  What would he like from her?

  She was correct that they’d quarreled for a stupid reason, and he couldn’t understand why. He never argued with women. There was no point to it. When he dallied with a female and she grew clingy or annoying, he simply stopped seeing her.

  She was also correct that he’d considered kicking her out. He’d been that infuriated, but to his horror—after his spurt of temper had abated—he’d had to admit that he’d been jealous. The very idea of her belonging to someone else, even if it had been in the distant past, left him sick with rage.

  The entire time he’d been in town, he’d pondered her, had worried about her, had been frantic she might leave on her own. After he’d arrived and discovered she was still in residence, that she had the horses and had gone visiting again, he’d been so relieved he could have danced in the clouds.

  “Come here.” He patted his lap.

  “Why?”

  “I’ll inform you when you get here. Put the basket on the floor.”

  “I don’t like the look in your eye.”

  “What look is that?”

  “You’re about to gobble me up.”

  “I just might. Take off your hat.”

  “I will, but only my hat. I’m not disrobing so don’t pester me.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, I’d like it very much if you would disrobe. Take off your riding habit too.”

  “In your dreams, Captain.”

  “Yes, in my very vivid dreams where you are completely naked and giving me everything I’ve ever desired.”

  She raised a skeptical brow. “In a coach?”

  “You’d be surprised what mischief can be achieved on these comfortable seats.”

  “Not with me so calm down, sir. Should I call you Lord Lyndon?”

  “Not yet. I’ll tell you when to start.”

  “Your head is already so large you can barely fit it through a door. How will you manage once we all have to address you as Lyndon?”

  “I’ll attempt to rein in my exaggerated tendencies.”

  “Is that possible, Captain?”

  She smiled a smile that was probably similar to the one Eve had flashed at Adam in the Garden, and Benjamin realized Adam hadn’t stood a chance.

  She still hadn’t set aside the basket or her hat, and he was dying for her to let down her hair. It was tied with a ribbon, but he’d like to have those auburn tresses flowing over her shoulders and back.

  He set the basket away himself then he clasped her wrist and pulled her to him. She hesitated, but he won their tug of war, and she was snuggled on his lap.

  He wanted things from her he couldn’t begin to name. Of course fornication was at the top of the list, but he was craving other things too.

  She touched a place deep within him that was lonely and despondent. She made him happy, made him laugh. She made him shout with anger and ripple with fury. She made him swear he’d never speak to her again then she made him yearn with regret. If he didn’t keep her by his side forever, he couldn’t imagine how he’d survive.

  He took off her hat and tossed it away. Then he grabbed the ribbon that bound her hair and yanked it loose.

  “That’s better,” he said.

  “Don’t take off anything else or you’ll force me to jump out of a moving carriage.”

  “I’ll try to restrain myself, but it’s so difficult around you. If I misbehave, who can blame me?”

  She nestled closer, her body relaxed, her ear directly over his heart. He was overwhelmed by the feel and smell of her, and he couldn’t ever remember being so perfectly at ease. He sighed with contentment.

  “I’m glad we stopped fighting,” she murmured.

  “So am I.”

  “And I’m glad you came to fetch me.”

  “I was hoping you would be.”

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Always, Annabel.”

  “I’ve been peekin
g over my shoulder all day, wishing I’d see you standing there.”

  She sighed too, the carriage rocking them gently, reminding him of all the wicked things he wanted to do, but he knew—at the moment—she wouldn’t let him. He had to spend a bit of time wearing her down.

  It was late in the afternoon, and they had many miles to travel to get to Lyndon Hall. If he was lucky, once they’d snooped around it would be too dark to return to Grey Manor. If the house wasn’t in too desperate a condition, they’d have to stay the night.

  If they were trapped in the empty mansion, who could predict what might happen?

  “I like your nephew,” he said.

  “He likes you.”

  “I still don’t like your sister though.”

  “You were horrid to her. When I visit her again, she’ll complain for hours.”

  “How was I horrid?”

  But he didn’t really have to inquire. He’d mentioned that Harry didn’t resemble Mrs. Boswell, and he’d stated it in a way that insinuated immorality on her part.

  “Don’t feign innocence,” Annabel scolded. “You practically accused her of adultery.”

  “Would she have ever dared illicit conduct?”

  “Lydia? Are you joking? She’s the biggest stick in the mud who ever lived, and she would never jeopardize her spot with the Boswells. She’s too beholden to them. Even if she stumbled on a man who tickled her fancy, she’s such a trembling wreck she’d never be able to capture his attention.”

  “She managed to snag her husband.”

  “I’ve never figured out how that occurred.”

  “I’m fascinated by Harry,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “When I look at him, I see my cousin, Soloman, when he was ten. There’s no difference between them at all. They could be twins.”

  He was disturbed by another oddity too, but he didn’t confess it. Harry had a scar on his hand, and though it was preposterous for Benjamin to ponder it, Baby Caleb had had a scar too. The family dog had bitten him one morning when his nanny had him outside on a blanket in the grass behind the Hall.

  Lady Lyndon, Caleb’s mother, had been so incensed she’d had the gardener shoot the dog and bury him in the woods. The entire event had caused a huge uproar, and Benjamin still recalled the large bandage that had been wrapped around the baby’s hand for weeks. Once it was removed, the scar was clearly visible, the boy’s seeming perfection marred forever.