Collector of Hearts

by Cassandra Samuels

  ‘For the sake of both of you I hope it won’t be long either. You will think before you act, won’t you, Robert?’

  ‘I’ll certainly try, Mother.’ He gave her a tired smile. ‘Is something on your mind? You keep cautioning me. What do you think will happen?’ He was most likely overanalysing his mother’s words, but it had been a long day and he was exhausted in both body and mind. He longed for his bed and sleep, and that was something new.

  ‘Nothing. Just don’t push her too hard. She is young and she needs to be sure.’

  ‘Sure that I love her?’

  ‘Sure she is ready for marriage at all. It’s a big step and not just for her.’

  ‘I know and I promise to give her all the time she needs, within reason.’

  This made his mother laugh. ‘Good. Will you take me to my room? I’m feeling fatigued and wish to rest before dinner.’

  He nodded and offered her his arm. They made the rounds of the remaining guests, including their hosts, before he left her at her bedroom door with a kiss to her cheek.

  ‘I may take dinner in my room. Will this upset you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he replied with a bow.

  ‘Good.’ His mother gave him a loving smile.

  He turned and walked back down the long gallery, stopping at a portrait of Arabella and Isabelle when they were young girls of fourteen or so. They were a pretty pair even then. The painter had accurately captured their subtle differences. The spark in Arabella’s eyes and the knowing smile about her lips made it easy for him to identify which one was her.

  He was anxious to talk to her, to be sure of her thoughts and feelings after today. To just touch her, kiss her and know that all was right between them.

  ‘They are beautiful, are they not?’

  He froze. He should have known she would seek him out eventually. ‘Yes, they are. Are you recovered from your... headache?’

  She gave a tinkling sort of laugh but it grated on his nerves.

  ‘How kind of you to ask, but we both know I didn’t have a headache. I didn’t want to alarm my sister any more than she already was by what happened in the churchyard. I could not trust that you would not make a scene.’ She came closer to him and a chill crept up his spine. ‘I must say I was surprised to see you today. I was even more surprised to be attacked by my own niece. What poison have you fed her, Robbie?’

  Robbie was the name she used to call him when she wanted something. It made him inwardly cringe. ‘I told her nothing but the truth.’

  ‘Your truth and what I recall are very different, I suspect.’

  He turned to her then. She looked every inch the beauty she had always been but he could see in her eyes a deadening, a lack of joy, of sympathy. Of life. ‘I am willing to hear your truth now, even if you never did come forward and offer it all those years ago when it would have made a difference.’

  ‘Still so bitter, after all this time?’ She moved around him, like she was inspecting a new horse. What was she up to? What calculated act was she about to unleash on him? ‘You know it used to amuse me when you would parade your latest lover in front of me. I would laugh that you thought I might care who you bedded. Did you think it would make me jealous? I had what I wanted. I didn’t need the likes of you anymore. The fact you seemed so desperate for my attention just made you more pathetic. I knew sooner or later you would get yourself killed. I stand here amazed you are still alive.’

  He would not react to her taunts. ‘I’m a very good shot, or haven’t you heard?’

  ‘Ah, yes, but you don’t kill them, do you? How gallant. Tell me, did you lose your bloodlust after you murdered James?’

  He shook his head. ‘I know what you are trying to do and it won’t work on me.’

  ‘Why not? Don’t you like to spar anymore, Robbie? You are no fun. We could always do something... more mutually beneficial.’ She ran her finger along the back of his shoulders. Just what did she think she was playing at? ‘After all, you are still the Collector of Hearts and I am a married woman. Just the type you like, am I not?’

  ‘No, my lady. Do you want to know why?’

  She didn’t look the least offended, which made him think she wasn’t really interested in a dalliance with him but was, instead, testing his feelings for her.

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  ‘Because I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care that you try to taunt me, that you try to make me feel guilt over James. Shall I explain that too? You see, before he died he found out the truth about you and your little scheme to use us both to lure Brogdan to the altar. I may have shot him, Catherine, but you killed him and he knew it. You killed him with your lies, your deceit and your total lack of concern for him. For us.’

  Her eyes widened and her colour rose. ‘Oh, such wounding words from the Collector of Hearts. A man who has dallied with half of London’s ladies and injured many an innocent man on a duelling field, and all for what? Your offended ego? You think you are in some way better than me?’

  ‘I have never claimed to be innocent of my crimes. Unlike you.’

  Her bitter laugh vibrated along the gallery. ‘I don’t know what Arabella is thinking getting involved with you. She will regret it, mark my words. If she marries you, more fool her.’

  ‘We will be married. You can be assured of that.’

  ‘Do you think to hurt me through marrying my niece?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I did not even know she was related to you until today. I will marry her because I love her.’

  ‘Oh please. You think you love her but, be honest with yourself, are you even capable of loving someone else? She may even think she loves you, but you will both see that marriage is nothing but a farce. If you do love her, you would be better to leave her and let her marry someone more... suitable. Someone who will not make her miserable.’

  ‘Like Brogdan makes you?’

  ‘Ha. I made a match most people of the ton would sell their soul for.’

  ‘And I see you did just that. If you want to pretend you are happy then, by all means, carry on, but you are not fooling anyone. I see the torment in your eyes, no matter how much you think you can hide it. You are haunted by the ghosts of your sins, by the guilt of your own deception. It must be an awful burden to carry.’

  She gave him one last scathing look, ‘Not half as heavy as yours, Lord Shelton.’ Catherine turned and began to walk away but then paused, not looking back. ‘Don’t bother to send me an invitation to the wedding. I will not be attending.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Good day, Lady Brogdan.’

  She didn’t reply but continued down the gallery and around the corner. If this was their showdown, he could count it as his victory, he supposed, but he felt nothing but pity for her. She was so sure he would make Arabella miserable, but he planned to do everything in his power to make her happy. Even if it took the rest of his life.

  The gallery had grown cold and he needed a strong drink.

  He needed to find Arabella.

  ***

  Arabella watched Robert descend the stairs. She let herself out of the dim nook she had flattened herself into when she came across Robert and Aunt Cat talking. She took in large gulps of air, her hand still on her erratically beating heart. As if the confrontation between Robert and Aunt Cat was not bad enough, she had just seen Brogdan, face as red as a beet with anger, turn from his space in the doorway and follow where his wife had gone. How much had he heard? As much as she had? Her aunt’s day was about to get a lot worse if Brogdan’s face had been anything to go on.

  After this morning, she should not have been so shocked by the conversation she had just overheard. If she’d any doubts about Aunt Cat before, she didn’t now.

  It hurt, more than she expected. She loved her aunt and to see that she was not the woman she had remembered looking up to as a child was like a blow to her midsection.

  Robert had stood still through the whole thing, refusing to engage in her aunt’s dram
a. She could tell by his balled fists that he had been wary and angry. She admired the effort it must have taken, the control, not to lash out, not to let all the feelings he had built up for so many, many years run forth like a cascading river of hate. No, he had held it, turned it into something far more powerful. Nothing could have prepared Arabella for the rush of happiness she had felt when he heard him say he wanted to marry her because he loved her. He had told her last night, but somehow having heard it said to someone else was validation.

  She hadn’t doubted whether or not he loved her now. She felt it in his touch, in the way he looked at her, in his kiss. It was how long his love would last that she was concerned about. Yes, Justin had put doubt in her mind about his ability to be faithful; something that in most marriages these days was not to be expected, but her heart wanted it all. She wanted him and no one else. Was it too much to ask that he want the same?

  She turned and made her way back to her room. She needed time to think, time to decide what to do next. For the first time in her life she would not have her sister standing next to her, guiding her.

  She was on her own.

  Chapter 24

  A soft tapping on Robert’s door registered through the mist of sleep. It must be morning already, with Berkeley doing his usual fussing at the crack of dawn. He rolled over, unwilling to awaken yet. The door opened and closed and he put the pillow over his head. When he felt the mattress sag behind him, he stilled. His valet was getting in bed with him? No!

  A maid, perhaps or... a footman? Good God!

  It took all his strength of will to turn his head under the pillow and peek out. Two enormous brown eyes looked directly back at him. Not Berkley then, whose eyes were always a disapproving blue.

  He must be dreaming; he could swear those were Arabella’s eyes staring at him. Oh blast, not again! Hadn’t he had the last of these damn purple dreams? But they always felt so real. And she certainly looked real, gorgeously real. Was he dreaming? Could it truly be Bella? In his bed? He took the pillow off his head and squinted at her in the dim light from the fireplace. She was wearing that lovely French nightgown and she smelt faintly of chocolate. She looked delectably tumbled with her long hair down around her shoulders and her lips wet and parted, begging him to kiss them.

  He must be insane. He looked around for the purple tights, for anything purple. No, they weren’t hanging over the chair like his other clothes. He peeked under the sheet. No, he was as naked as he had been when he had gone to sleep, although one part of him was rousing.

  ‘This isn’t happening,’ he murmured.

  ‘Please don’t send me away. I couldn’t sleep.’ Her husky whisper vibrated agreeably through his body.

  ‘What?’ As if he would send her away. Not in his dream.

  ‘It’s just that I’m not used to sleeping alone.’ Her fingers crushed her nightgown in a nervous gesture.

  ‘Well, neither was I, until I met you.’

  ‘I mean, without Isabelle. Can I stay? Just for a little while?’

  Hmm, could she stay? Well, it was his dream, so of course she would say something like that.

  ‘Stay the rest of your life.’ Even as the whispered words left his lips, he knew what he had just uttered was his heart’s desire.

  She smiled softly, moving closer to him, her little hands questing about under the covers, brushing his chest hair and making his nipples harden. Her head rested against his chest and her hand lay over his heart. She sighed sweetly and he wanted to groan with the agony of wanting her. Even in his sleep his every thought was consumed with her. Constantly worrying about losing her to Justin making it worse.

  He really must request that the poet depart posthaste tomorrow. Arabella was too influenced by his presence and if he saw Barton whisper in her ear one more time he would have to beat him into a bloody pulp.

  He could smell rosewater and soap from her hair drifting into his nostrils. It was a heady mix. He really was in danger of going mad, surely. She snuggled closer into his side and he smiled. If this was insanity it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was very nice.

  His eyes drooped again, sleep beckoning. If this was his dream, wouldn’t she be naked? She felt very real but it had to be a dream. He placed his arms around her. His eyes drifted shut. He was so tired of those purple dreams. Tired of Catherine’s overbearing presence. Tired of Barton’s interference.

  Tired of himself.

  His last memory of the dream was Bella’s little sigh against his shoulder. If only all his dreams could be so sweet.

  ***

  Someone was kissing him, or was he kissing someone? Yes. His lips were definitely occupied. Pleasantly so. He opened his eyes to find the room still dim but with the first grey shadows of morning creeping across the floor in thick fingers of pale light.

  He tried to break the kiss to gain some air and to clear his head but two arms around his neck pulled him back down. There was definitely something soft and curvy underneath him, or rather someone soft and curvy, and he knew these curves; he loved these curves.

  They were Bella’s.

  Bella?

  His eyes widened. ‘You’re here?’ The question felt foolish on his lips. If earlier had not been a dream, then had she heard his words about staying the rest of her life?

  ‘Yes. I’m here.’ She smiled up at him, a faint blush on her cheeks.

  ‘I’m not dreaming then?’

  She laughed softly. ‘No, you’re not dreaming.’

  ‘Oh, good.’ He possessed her lips in the exact way he had daydreamt about for weeks. Long and deep and hungry. Her fingers curled into his hair and set his body on fire. He wanted her with a ferocity that quite surprised him. He wanted her lovely lush thighs wrapped around his hips. He wanted to be inside her. Deep, deep inside her.

  ‘You are a wicked little creature for sneaking in here. As I recall, you kicked me out of your bed and on my arse when I tried the same thing.’

  She at least had the modesty to blush. ‘That was different.’

  He nuzzled her neck and kissed his way down to her collarbone. ‘How so?’ God, he loved the taste of her skin.

  ‘Because I wasn’t sure I loved you then, and I was sharing a room with my sister.’

  ‘Hmm, I suppose that is a reasonable reason. Now come here so I may kiss you out of this nightgown.’ He took hold of the hem of her nightwear.

  ‘Robert!’ She laughed again and it made his heart sing with happiness.

  Happiness. What an odd feeling. How long had it been since he had been truly happy?

  ‘You would prefer I take it off the conventional way? It won’t be half as much fun. I am also at a distinct disadvantage here, being already naked.’

  Her blush deepened as if she had just realised he was lying atop her without a stitch on.

  It was with distinct displeasure that his conscience decided to raise its nasty little head right at the same time as his cock was rising to the call of her silky skin. He’d forgotten his Bella was an innocent virgin. She had not likely weighed up the consequences of coming to his room, of getting into his bed, of him being unclothed.

  Bloody hell!

  He rolled off her and put his arm over his eyes. Perhaps if he didn’t look at her, his ardour would cool. ‘You should go. It’s nearly dawn.’

  She gasped. He’d shocked her. He imagined her frowning at him.

  ‘Yes. I... but …’

  He couldn’t see her reaction but he could tell she was debating her next words. Was she preparing to leave him? He felt her hand on his arm urging him to look at her. ‘I probably should go. I should never have come here in the first place, but I did. I had to. Is it bad of me to not want to go?’

  He opened his eyes, turned towards her and chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. She was adorable, biting on her lower lip like that. Relief charged through him. ‘Yes, it is most wanton of you, Miss Fleming.’

  She reached up and cupped his face. ‘For some reason I don’t care. Why is that?’


  ‘Well, I am known for being irresistible.’ Oh, how the tables had turned. Why was he contemplating saying no? ‘Is this why you really came here? To take advantage of me?’ he half joked.

  ‘No, I just thought...’ She studied him for a moment and then let go of his face, turning aside. ‘I was lonely... without Isabelle.’

  He caressed her cheek. ‘Missing your sister already? She has not even left the house yet.’

  She looked down, her lashes making perfect ashy crescents against her cheeks. ‘Won’t you miss Quinn? You two have been inseparable for years.’

  He used his finger to turn her face back to him. Kissed her lips. ‘Of course I will, but Quinn deserves to have his own life, as does Isabelle. If you will but consent to marry me we can visit them often. Or I will make sure we will be too busy to miss them.’ He grinned at her.

  She smiled but did not give him the answer he sought. Instead she wiggled beneath him and arched into him. ‘Making love, you mean?’

  He kissed her again. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will you make love to me now?’

  ‘Is that what you really want? There is no turning back if we do this. You understand, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed against his lips.

  This was everything he had been dreaming of. Arabella, beneath him, holding her arms out to him. Still, something didn’t feel right.

  ‘Before we do this, I must know what has changed your mind about giving yourself to me?’

  ‘Must there be a reason?’

  ‘With you, my little minx, yes.’

  She bit her lip in that way that made a man crazy. ‘I... I may have overheard you in the gallery with Aunt Cat.’

  ‘Eavesdropping? Tut, tut, tut.’ Raising a brow, he scanned his mind. What part of the conversation had she heard? Had she been hurt by her aunt’s action and innuendo? ‘And did I pass the test?’