Her One True Love

by Rachel Brimble

  She would wait no longer—even if it might prove to be her biggest regret, she would make love with Matthew that night.

  Jane walked ahead of him to Mrs. Cage’s gate. As they walked up the short pathway, the door opened. Mrs. Cage stood on the threshold, bouncing a babe in her arms, its dark crown knocking softly against her ample bosom. She nodded at Jane. “Miss Danes.”

  “Mrs. Cage, it’s wonderful to see you again.” Jane smiled. “I’m grateful for your agreement that myself and my friend, Miss Ashby, might do all we can to aid your good work.”

  “Hmm.” Mrs. Cage looked over her head to Matthew, her eyes filling with almost lecherous appreciation. “And Squire Cleaves, I presume. Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

  Jane bit back a smile.

  Matthew cleared his throat. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Cage.”

  She grinned and stepped back, beckoning them inside with a tilt of her head. “In you come, then, else I’ll have the whole street gossiping about what’s what. Not that they ain’t already, mind you. Go on through to the kitchen. Kettle’s nice and hot.”

  “Thank you.” Jane stepped into the house, leaving Matthew to follow on behind.

  She led the way to the kitchen, and when she glanced up the stairs, her heart stumbled to see the little boy who’d greeted her at the door the first time she was there. Two young girls sat on either side of him upon the top stair. Jane smiled and the little boy grinned as the two girls giggled and hid their faces behind his bony shoulders.

  Jane’s confidence and need to be there swelled. To care for these children felt right—as though being here was a calling, what she’d been waiting for her entire life. She didn’t doubt Mrs. Cage’s agreement for Jane and Jeannie to work there was sealed by Jane’s confirmation she would spend money, if and when she felt it needed. That mattered not. Jane was here and ready to work.

  She snuck another glance toward the three children before walking into the kitchen.

  As she and Matthew seated themselves at the table, he tipped her a discreet wink of encouragement. Jane’s stomach looped deliciously, and her cheeks flamed from the clear desire in his eyes. Was she little more than a fool in love?

  “Right, then.” Mrs. Cage stomped into the kitchen. “Who’s for tea?”

  “Let me do that.” Jane stood. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Tell you what, you hold this one, seeing as you’re so keen to work with these babes.” Mrs. Cage hefted the bundled child into Jane’s arms. “Tea, Squire?”

  “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  Jane barely heard their exchanged words as she stared at the dark-haired, beautiful baby girl whose bright blue eyes studied Jane’s face so intensely. “Hello, little one. Aren’t you just as pretty as a picture?”

  “Yeah, and she has a pair of lungs on her that can wake half the street,” Mrs. Cage mumbled as she lifted the kettle from above the fire and poured some water into a pot. “Her name’s Ruth.”

  “Ruth . . .” Jane smiled and sat at the table, her gaze never parting from the baby’s. “Beautiful.”

  Matthew cleared his throat, and Jane blinked, turning to look at him. He tilted his head toward Mrs. Cage’s turned back and widened his eyes, silently reminding Jane why they were there. Jane nodded and pushed away the maternal yearning that rose behind her bosom quicker than she could halt it. If Mrs. Cage suspected Jane’s need to work at the house ran too deep, borne of emotional need rather than doing good, then the woman was likely to throw her out. Mr. Howard had made it clear there was no place in the houses for emotional connection.

  “Mrs. Cage . . .” Jane shifted Ruth into a more comfortable position before she leveled her gaze with the woman’s steely study. “Mr. Howard has stated your terms for myself and Miss Ashby to work here, and we entirely comply. We have no intention of ever working out of any parameters you feel acceptable.”

  Mrs. Cage drew her gaze from Jane and concentrated on pouring their tea. “I see, and in return, you expect what, exactly?”

  “I expect you to tell me everything about the house, each of the children, and what you would like to see happen in the future. No matter how fantastical those visions might be. I may come from a privileged background, but I like to think I have my feet firmly on the ground.”

  “Is that so?” Mrs. Cage pushed a cup toward Jane and another toward Matthew, flashing him a smile before it vanished when she faced Jane. “And what makes you so sure your feet are planted so strongly on the ground?”

  “My work in Biddestone was as much with the villagers as it was with the wealthier residents. I listen. More importantly, I care.”

  “Right.”

  “So, on this basis, I’d like to ask you something further.”

  “Go on and ask.” Mrs. Cage took a sip of her tea. “I’m all ears.”

  Jane inhaled and braced for what would undoubtedly evoke a defensive response. “I can’t help noticing how clean and tidy the rooms are here. Yet the children—”

  “The children are what?” Mrs. Cage glared and set her cup down with a crash into its saucer. “There ain’t nothing wrong with my kids, and if you think there is, you can sling your hook.”

  Matthew coughed. “Mrs. Cage—”

  She turned her glare on him. “You too. You come here, Mrs. Cage this, Mrs. Cage that. Squire and lady, or no squire and lady, I don’t need your help if it comes with your judgments.”

  Jane stiffened as words bit and burned on her tongue. She could not afford to lose her temper.

  Matthew frowned. “Miss Danes was merely going to ask if anything is going on that we mightn’t know about. I agree with her, the difference between how you keep the house as opposed to how the children are dressed and are so quiet . . .” He lowered his voice before reaching out and touching his hand to hers. “We are not here to judge, Mrs. Cage. You have my word.”

  Love and admiration for Matthew rose in Jane’s chest. He spoke to Mrs. Cage with the same calm and fair way he did any of the villagers in his beloved Biddestone. His study held the irate matron’s, his body open and ready for verbal onslaught. Yet, already Jane knew no such onslaught would come. Mrs. Cage’s eyes softened and her shoulders slumped.

  She eased her hand from under Matthew’s and picked up her teacup. It trembled enough that she raised her other hand to steady it. She slowly sipped before replacing the cup in its saucer. “I keep them that way for their own protection.”

  Jane’s heart picked up speed. “Their protection?”

  Matthew leaned his elbows on the table. “Protection from whom, Mrs. Cage?”

  The matron snapped her gaze between Jane and Matthew before settling on Jane. “There are so many bad and nasty people on the streets, Miss Danes. Bad and nasty. I keep the children looking the way they do so when they go out to play, or when I send them to the shop for what little I can afford that week, they have less chance of attracting any unwanted attention.” She looked at Matthew. “Men’s attention, Squire. Nasty, bad men.”

  The bitter taste of revulsion coated Jane’s throat.

  Matthew nodded, his jaw tight and his cheeks dark. “I understand perfectly.”

  Mrs. Cage glared. “Do you? Because you really need to. I’ve had countless kids come and grow here before they moved on to work. When they leave me, they’re good, strong, and well looked after. No danger has come to them. They’ve never been hurt. I keep them inside these four walls as much as possible for their own protection. I stand by my methods, Squire . . .” She faced Jane. “If you disagree, I suggest you leave now and don’t look back. My babes are happy.”

  Jane’s heart lay heavy in her chest, but her resolution to help Mrs. Cage expanded to epic proportions. Mr. Howard had attested that the woman had run her house for years. She had looked after dozens of children, abandoned or unable to be kept by their families. Alone, and seemingly without a man beside her. Was this what a real, independent, and strong woman looked like? Had being here to assis
t Mrs. Cage possibly been Jane’s destiny all along?

  “I believe your children are happy, Mrs. Cage.” Jane’s eyes burned with tears, and she looked at Ruth sleeping in her arms until her vision cleared. She faced Mrs. Cage. “And I look forward to meeting them and learning everything I can from you about how to really take care of them.”

  Mrs. Cage held Jane’s gaze before she gave a curt nod. “Then I think you and I shall work very well together.”

  Jane smiled and looked across at Matthew.

  The breadth of his smile and the gleam of pride in his eyes told Jane that whether he became hers or not, he was proud of her and everything she wanted to do. For then, that was all she needed.

  Chapter 20

  Jane stared at her dressed dining table and clasped her hands tightly together in a bid to steady them. Two hours before, the table had been shrouded in a white cloth, the same as the six dining chairs, sideboard, and small bookcase. The window had been draped in black, as had the mirror above the mantel. When she’d thrown back the covers and let in the hazy dusk light, she had thrown back the final barrier protecting her heart.

  Time and again, she waited for the fear of what she and Matthew would do this evening to overcome her. Yet, nothing came but delicious anticipation and a hefty dose of guilt that she was prepared and shamefully willing to commit adultery.

  Jane squeezed her eyes shut. “May God and Elizabeth forgive me.”

  Inhaling a strengthening breath, she opened her eyes and walked out of the dining room toward the kitchen. She stirred the small pot of soup she’d made, allowing the smells of bubbling cream and tomatoes to fill the room. She then opened the stove door and pulled out a gently sizzling tray of roasting meat and potatoes. The meager meal was pitiful compared to the feasts Mrs. Seton prepared at Marksville and, undoubtedly, Matthew’s cook at the Manor, but Jane had prepared everything herself and dearly hoped Matthew enjoyed it.

  She closed the stove door. Providing and feeding a man she loved brought a strange and new sense of satisfaction, every bit as fulfilling as gaining the position with Mrs. Cage. She hoped that one day her entire life would be made up of caring for her husband, their children, and the children at the boardinghouse.

  A confident rap at the front door caused Jane’s anxious anticipation to escalate.

  Her fingers trembled as she untied her apron and lifted it over her head. Smoothing her hand over her hair, she stuffed the apron in a nearby drawer and hurried from the kitchen. She fussed with her skirt, pausing to look in the hallway mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled.

  With her hand on the front door, Jane took a deep breath and flung it open. “You’re here.”

  Matthew bowed, his eyes bright and his smile wide. “I am.”

  “Then you’d better come in.”

  The moment she shut the door, Matthew grasped her waist and pulled her against the hardness of his chest. “I wanted to bring you flowers but refrained because I didn’t want to rouse wagging tongues that I’m here in courtship.”

  Jane smiled. “It’s the thought that counts. You made the right decision.”

  He dipped his head and kissed her deeply. Jane clung to his upper arms and returned his kiss, her heart thundering and a little of her bravado slipping.

  She pulled back and pursed her lips. “Are we bad people to do this?”

  “Have you changed your mind?” He brushed a curl from her cheek, his deep blue eyes soft with concern. “If you have, then we will do nothing but talk all evening. I just want to spend some time alone with you before I return to the village for goodness knows how long. Please, don’t worry. I want you to relax.”

  She smiled, her heart bursting with love for the man looking at her so tenderly. “I am relaxed. A little nervous maybe, but by no means afraid. Does that make me selfish? Uncaring? I just can’t seem to think past being with you now that you are leaving so soon.”

  He brushed his lips against hers. “And I have thought of little else but being with you tonight since we parted this afternoon. I want to make love to you. I need to feel and touch you. These blessed moments we share tonight will give me the strength of purpose to overcome every obstacle I will encounter when I get to the village. Let us enjoy our time, Jane. Who knows when we will be together again?”

  Love, desire, anticipation, and fear rolled around inside her as Jane stepped back and held his hand. “Are you hungry?”

  His eyes darkened. “For?”

  Heat struck her cheeks and she laughed. “Food.”

  “I was, but now . . .”

  Jane’s stomach knotted. She ran her gaze over his handsome face to his dark, blue gaze boring so intently into hers. She slipped her hand from his. “Wait here.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To douse the flames on the stove.” She smiled over her shoulder. “We don’t want the food to ruin.”

  He smiled. “Indeed we don’t.”

  The admiration in his eyes banished the final distance she’d imposed to prevent herself from falling totally, completely, and unconditionally in love with him. Any chance she might have had of resisting their forbidden love, of holding her body from him until he could be freely and lawfully hers, vanished like a magician’s illusion. To see him standing so tall, handsome, and certain in her home obliterated any hope she could entirely sacrifice her wants in the name of morality.

  She walked on trembling legs into the kitchen and doused the flame under the soup, before extinguishing the fiery interior of the oven. Straightening, she lifted the gas lamp from the center of the table and carried it back into the hallway.

  Their eyes met before Jane turned and led the way upstairs.

  When she entered her bedroom, the light from the gas lamp bathed the space in flickering amber. She walked to the window and drew closed the drapes, her heart beating so fast she feared it might burst through her chest. Swallowing hard, she turned.

  Matthew had struck a match and strolled straight-backed and strong around the room, lighting every candle on every surface. He blew out the match, placed it on a saucer, and faced her.

  Uncertain of what to do next, of who approached whom, Jane stood stock-still and waited.

  Matthew stepped forward and placed his hands at her jaw, tilting her face to his. His lips were soft against hers as he gently slid his tongue into her mouth. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, holding on to him as though he were her most trusted anchor in a storm-ridden sea she had no idea how to navigate.

  His lips left hers, and he stared into her eyes as he opened the buttons holding her dress high at her throat. He eased the material open, and the cold air hit her exposed neck and upper chest.

  She closed her eyes and tipped back her head. He trailed a possessive line of kisses along her jaw and lower to nip along the strained tendons of her neck. More buttons . . . and he pushed the top of her dress over her shoulders. He slid one strap of her chemise to the side and nipped and kissed along the hardened ridge of one collarbone and then the other.

  Her nipples hardened beneath the constraint of her corset, and desperation to rid her body of its apprehensive rigidness slipped through her. Her impatience to surrender to the overwhelming joy of weakened longing was too much to resist.

  She reached for him and shivered to see such dark, masculine intensity in his eyes. His gaze burned into hers, making Jane feel like the most provocatively sensual woman he had ever laid eyes upon. Passion and sexual yearning burned, and her body screamed for his touch at every intimate part of her that only she had ever explored.

  As if joined in every thought and action, the slow seduction vanished, and they pulled at each other’s clothes. Their breathing was harried and their kisses feverish. Each moment they’d wasted by being apart, of not uttering what was in their hearts, scorched Jane’s heart and the air around them with unerring impatience.

  At last, they were naked.

  Matthew gazed at her body, leaving her exposed in a way she had ne
ver been before. As his study skipped over her breasts and abdomen and the area between her legs, Jane’s cheeks burned with equal measures of self-consciousness and yearning. Her apprehension returned. She could not summon the courage to feast her gaze over his nakedness as he had hers.

  Their gazes met and his eyes immediately softened. “Come.” He took her hand and led her to the side of the bed. He pulled back the covers. “Lie down.” He smiled. “You are so astoundingly beautiful.”

  She blushed and climbed into the bed, his muscled, strong and entirely masculine body teasing and tormenting her through her peripheral vision. Jane lay back against the pillows and breathed in the waxy scent of the candles, mixed with the subtle musky smell that emanated from Matthew. The scent would forever be entirely him.

  From beneath lowered lashes, she followed his progress around the bottom of the bed to the other side. Bathed in the golden light, his skin shone and his black hair shimmered. His sculpted features were more prominent than ever, radiant in shadowed angles. She dared to look lower as he pulled back the covers. Her breath caught, and she snapped her gaze straight ahead.

  How on earth would her body accept such a size inside her?

  He touched her shoulder and she flinched, snapping her gaze to his.

  The soft smile at his lips dissolved, and the joy in his eyes turned to concern. “Jane?”

  She tried to smile but instead, her bottom lip trembled. “I’m afraid, Matthew. I know I have no reason to be, but I am.”

  “Have you changed your mind?” He softly ran his fingers from her shoulders to her elbow. “Or would you allow me the honor of making love to you how I’ve dreamt for days?”

  His caress lit the excruciating sensations inside her once more. She looked into his eyes, and nothing but attentive, possessive love shone back at her. She relaxed against the pillows and brought her hand to his neck, urging him closer. “Make love to me, Matthew.”

  They kissed, and when his hands slid from caressing her bared shoulders to run lightly across her breasts, Jane sank deeper into the mattress, her body melting into the softness. Her fragile reservations dissolved, and she lifted her hands to explore the hardened curves of his shoulders, down over the muscles and sinew of his back. She brought her palms to his chest, her fingers exploring the solid wall beneath a dark spattering of hair.