by Lin, Amber
Hale slowed the sleigh but continued on the path. “You may not recall this, but I brought a cat with me when I left. One of the barn cats, a black one.”
“Of course I remember,” she said softly. “Bailey was your favorite.”
“They’re supposed to be good luck. And good mousers. Unfortunately Bailey was neither.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes before he began speaking again.
“On our second week at sea, we were attacked. Bailey was supposed to stay in my cabin, or at least below deck. We never found him after that night.” He spoke emotionlessly, but she knew what that had cost him.
“Hale, I’m so sorry.”
“At the time, a cat was the least of our worries. We lost three men, including the captain. A fire in the aft hold destroyed half the food supplies.”
His cold recitation brought tears to her eyes. Her chest felt tight. Where was his emotion? Buried. She heard the subtext—how very clearly he didn’t have time to sit at his desk and jot down a love letter. She heard what he didn’t say—the soul-deep disappointment, the fear. His every hope dashed and last pound lost.
And she had been angry about a letter? Surely, he could have found a spare moment in three years, but that wasn’t the point. She hadn’t understood the harsh reality of living and working aboard a ship. Thinking back on the hopeful light in his eyes before he left, neither had he.
He continued his list of things that went wrong. The mainsail tearing. An illness that claimed two lives. A storm that took them two months off course. He described this unending string of unfortunate events until she was forced to conclude that life at sea was, basically, hell. No wonder he didn’t plan to go back. Of course he would stay in London, acting as investor and advisor. If he tried to get back on that ship again, she would tie him down to her bed.
She could not possibly express all of her sympathy, her horror for what he described. So she asked the question that sat first and foremost in her mind. “Why on earth did you not come back to England?”
He stared straight ahead. A muscle in his jaw twitched. The horses chose that moment to rear up slightly before settling again.
Finally, he looked at her. “You know why.”
“I do not.”
“For the same reason I left.”
She dreaded the memory. It came anyway. Sweet hay that tickled her nose. Smooth skin over muscle, a luxurious pillow beneath her cheek. A few stolen hours to add to the pile. I have to do this, Sidony. It’s the only way I’ll offer for you. I’m not going to marry the sister of a gentleman with only a few thousand pounds to my name.
For her. He’d gone through hell for her, and she wanted to cry. She was already crying. An intense and biting cold swept through, completely separate from the wintry afternoon. She’d wanted him to love her, but this was so much more. So much worse. How could she be responsible for his suffering? She couldn’t.
“Don’t be upset. Are you crying? No, don’t.” He seemed to have pulled from his flat desert of emotion. He was normal Hale again, concerned and kind, but she was too far gone to be reasonable.
She put up a hand to warn him off. He pulled the sleigh to a halt. “Sidony? I’m sorry. I should have written you. Even a small note, once.”
“Yes,” she choked out. “You should have.” Because she had worried about him constantly until Geoffrey had received word—a letter, so he could write them—that he was back in England. The worst part was that all her worries had come true. He’d been hurt and threatened and, if she’d understood the pirate story correctly, shot at. All her worst fears had been reality.
“I did see you in a ball,” he muttered.
“What? Where?”
“It was at the Chadwick’s. A coming out party for one of their daughters.”
“Georgette,” she answered dazedly. He’d really been there? And not spoken to her? She would kill him. She wanted to hear it first.
In a dry voice he admitted, “I skipped the receiving line and came in through the garden. I just wanted a glimpse. And that was all I got. You were surrounded by people. Friends. Admirers.”
She scoffed. “There’s no room to breathe at those parties.”
“You smiled like a queen at court bestowing favors.”
“Now I know you’re lying. I was more like a country maid than a queen.”
“I know what I saw.” He shrugged. “Then I left.”
“You left,” she repeated, still in disbelief.
“Our ship left port in a week. And it had already been a year by then. No letters, no contact at all. You would have been furious to see me.”
Unlikely. Even now, she struggled to hold tightly to her anger. She had some sort of medical condition wherein she thought the best of him and wanted to be near him. Love, or insanity, or both.
“No.” She spoke quietly now, more sure of her answer. “That wasn’t why you didn’t talk to me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why then?”
“Because you didn’t want an emotional reunion with a teary goodbye. Maybe you feared you wouldn’t get on the boat again if you saw me. You didn’t want to put anything down on paper because then you’d have to feel something.”
His eyes blazed as he pulled her close to him. “Is that so wrong?”
“No,” she whispered. He was brave and afraid all at once, but wasn’t that love? Wasn’t that life? He’d done what he had to do—for him, for her.
He bent his head and pressed a warm kiss against her lips. His tongue swiped against the seam of her lips until she opened. He invaded her mouth roughly, hungrily. She felt consumed by him. Her sadness fell away, replaced by desire. Her fear faded into the past, and she felt only hope.
His hand cradled her neck, tilting her backward until she reclined half in his lap. He was more forceful than he ever had been, taking her, guiding her. Submit to me, his mouth said, and her supple body answered in kind. Take me, love me.
He touched her breast through her dress, molding the flesh. Her bosom seemed to swell beneath his touch, the tips growing firm between his forefinger and thumb. He pinched gently— then harder. She moaned into his mouth. She felt dizzy with intimacy far greater than physical, and passion deeper than she had ever known before.
She managed to pull back. “Not here.”
“Here,” he countered. “And now. I’ve waited for three years, don’t deny me any longer.”
“I was with you last night,” she protested faintly.
“You know what I want,” he muttered, kissing a line down her jaw and along the edge of her dress. “Marry me.”
The word hovered on the tip of her tongue. Yes. Maybe. Please. But she couldn’t even process what he’d told her. My God. So much had happened to him. So much had hurt him. Would he resent her? And if he didn’t, she had plenty of guilt welling up. Right now she just wanted to assure herself that he was here, and safe, and alive.
Her fingers tangled in his snow-dusted hair, clenching around ice-cold locks and pulling him closer. Switching their places, he moved her to the seat. He knelt on the floor of the sleigh, his body nestled between her legs. He was so hard everywhere. In his taut muscles and fierce expression. Hard in his heart, she thought faintly.
He’d had to be, to survive. But that had been a shield, constructed of ice, and she would melt it.
With their every touch, heat grew. A fire inside her body raged higher.
He reached for the hem of her skirt. She gasped a small protest, but he quickly covered her with the furs. The tree line protected them from the worst of the wind. The afternoon sun beat heavily upon them, warming her skin. Knowing fingers found the slit in her drawers. Feeling drunk on the pleasure, she lay back on the seat and allowed him to play her. He gazed down at her, kneeling on the floorboard. Pleasure rocked through her, drawing out urgent moans. A flash of need crossed his face. He was desperate for release, but she sensed he wouldn’t take it. He would only give pleasure, not take it. He could only risk his life, hi
s happiness, for a chance at hers.
Keeping her legs spread for him, she tugged off her gloves. In just those few seconds, her fingers became stiff and numb. She persisted, fumbling at the buttons on his pants until she’d opened the placket. Reaching inside, she held him with both hands so as to shield his tender flesh from the cold. But she could do better than that.
She’d given her virginity to him on the night he left, but before that, they had experimented in every other way. In the stables and coatroom at first, and when he grew bold enough, in her bed at night. He knew how to touch her, and she knew how to touch him. She knew how to make him burn.
Holding him steady with one hand, she slipped him into her mouth. His fingers curled inside her. “Sidony.”
She used her tongue to caress him, to draw the salty musk of him onto her tongue. He pressed inside her, firmly, roughly, in a race to the finish. She drew on him with her mouth and her hands, one at the base of him and the other slipping inside his smallclothes to caress the flesh beneath. Her moans of desire were muffled, but not his. Every harsh breath or softly spoken swear word mingled with the bells that rocked with their movements, with the huff of restless horses, and the birds who chattered in the trees. Pleasure wound tightly within her, clenching and writhing until she thought she would burst.
He jerked suddenly, and she knew he’d reached his climax. His hand went to the back of her head, cradling her while he spilled warm, salty seed down her throat. She swallowed obediently until a flick of his thumb against a bundle of nerves broke her apart. On a tight cry, she released him and rocked her hips up to his fingers, blinded by a thousand night stars, cradled in his familiar embrace—only tighter now, stronger.
A flush crept up her cheeks as she put her finger to her lips, feeling wetness. She wiped them furtively, but he saw. His smile warmed her, sharing a secret. He bent to lick the corners of her mouth, and then kissed her, a deep, leisurely exploration that left her breathless.
With gentle hands, he straightened her clothes but when she reached for his, he stayed her hands and did it himself. “Just rest.”
“We should hurry.” Her words were slurred, and they exchanged a wry look.
“Indeed. Even Geoffrey will get suspicious at some point.”
She wasn’t sure about that. He never had yet. “Do you think Catherine knows about us?”
“I suspect there isn’t much she doesn’t know.” Hale flashed a quick smile as he resumed his seat. Their ride back was pleasant and uneventful—or maybe it only seemed that way because she was sated and boneless. Luckily, he let her drift in that blissful state as he drove them home.
They pulled up behind an empty sleigh. Laughter from the stables gave away the location of the others. Smoothing her hair, she prepared herself to greet them. After helping her down, Hale went to check on the horses.
Turning away, she hid a private smile and touched her lips again. Performing the act during the day had felt wicked—and all the more exciting. She had always enjoyed risk-taking, and their intimacies were the ultimate form of adventure. Once they married, she could partake of them every day. Because of course they would marry. Her withholding had been born of shock, at first; then pride.
“Hale.”
He paused with his hands still on the harness as she approached. “Yes?”
“You know I care for you.”
His smile was happy and a touch bashful. “I know.”
“But I—”
Before she could complete her thought, Geoffrey and Catherine rounded the corner with rosy cheeks and an offer for hot cocoa inside. She gazed into Hale’s enigmatic eyes, too nervous to hang her whole life on his words, too hopeful to do anything else. Only, the time for sinful play and private confidences had passed. His blank expression promised nothing.
Chapter Four
Two years now since I’ve seen you, held you. I miss you. Sometimes, when I am sleep deprived, and mildly drunk, I wonder if you are a hallucination, a mirage that will fade when I search for you. If this is true, I hope never to wake up.
Hale watched as Sidony linked arms with Catherine and went inside. He watched her brilliant smile and pink, chaffed cheeks. Joy, he thought. And comfort. Comfort—the sweet warmth of her body; and joy—the bright expanse of her heart. Or maybe it was the other way around, with the comfort he found in her nearness and the incandescent joy he found in her passion. He couldn’t decide, quite. It didn’t matter this Christmas. She was no longer theoretical, no longer an idea, a hope. She was here. So was he.
Too late, he noticed Geoffrey beside him with a curious expression.
“Are you all right?” his friend asked.
Hale forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Geoffrey shrugged. “You’ve been gone a long time. Only natural if you needed time to adjust.”
Time to adjust? Hale was damn eager to resume his relationship with Sidony exactly where they’d left off. In love, ready to marry. Only the money had stopped him then, and he had that now. No, he didn’t need time; Sidony did. His stomach clenched with the knowledge. She needed time to forgive him, to trust him again. Had he pushed her too far, too fast? Maybe. And now he could lose everything.
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” he said, his voice coming out a bit hoarsely. If only he could believe that. He did believe that, because if he didn’t, he would no longer have a damn thing to work for. What use was a fortune sitting in a bank in London without a wife to support with it? Not just any wife. He wanted Sidony. It had always been her. Only her.
They passed the horses off to the groom and met the women inside. Steaming mugs of cocoa waited for them, and he gratefully accepted one, carrying it to the window. He knew they were all watching him. Worried about him. Well, he was worried too.
And feeling guilty. He’d treated the proposal cavalierly to hide his fear that she’d refuse him. But Sidony deserved better than that.
When Catherine and Geoffrey began to play a card game, Sidony joined him by the window. She kept her distance with the others nearby, but he could still feel her heat. Her anxious gaze seared him. He’d done that, when he’d sworn never to do that. Not again.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
Is everything all right? Are you all right? This was his lover, his best friend. He’d hated leaving her. Now he wasn’t even sure how he’d done it. It would be like cutting off his own arm, to leave again.
“Sidony, you know I care about you, too.” The words poured out of him, low and urgent. Inappropriate only a few feet away from her brother, but he couldn’t have stopped them. They reflected her confession to him and offered more in return. “I’ve wanted you so long and so much, I just assumed you knew it. That you understood. Tell me you understood.”
Her eyes were troubled. “I’m not… I wasn’t…”
He felt the blow in his gut. How deeply he’d failed her by not writing or visiting. He couldn’t have done so, though, and continued working. It was a type of war, building that shipping company, and he’d lived to fight these past three years. The steps he had taken to bind her to him had pushed her away.
“Come play for us,” Catherine interrupted cheerfully, linking her arm with Sidony’s.
He turned to the others. Geoffrey was looking suspicious now. God, this many years later and he wanted to play the protective older brother?
Sidony’s smile was forced. “Of course I will.”
“Something festive,” Catherine prompted, clearly trying to distract Geoffrey from his line of thought.
Sidony sat down at the pianoforte to play. The light, cheery strains of “God Rest Ye Marry Gentleman” filled the room, drowning out the tension. Catherine’s suggestion was inspired. He could stare at Sidony without provoking suspicion. Her sleek black hair had tumbled out of its curls from their excursion. Her cheeks were still flushed from the cold.
He remembered the way her lips had glistened outside with the proof of their passion. He remembered the wa
y she’d tasted—of him. His body responded to the memory, and he shifted in his seat. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. He turned to stare at the mantel, feigning interest in a small porcelain dairy maid and her sheep.
This was going to be a long afternoon.
…
When they separated to rest before dinner, Sidony tried and failed to catch Hale’s eye. To her annoyance, he kept his face averted. She wished he could come to her room, but that would be too conspicuous. At dinner, he grew even quieter.
Her brother made a surprise announcement. “I am happy to share the news with you that Catherine has consented to be my wife.”
Something felt tight in Sidony’s throat. Happiness for her brother washed over her, but beneath the surface lurked an insidious fear. How precious love was, how rare. She should grab it while she could. Her body ached to feel Hale’s embrace, to see his smile—but he refused to meet her eyes.
“That’s wonderful!” she managed to say. “So lovely.”
Hale gave his best wishes with an underlying flatness. Did he feel it too? Or was he upset that she had refused him? After all, she had rejected him. Oh, why had she rejected him?
Geoffrey seemed, as usual, oblivious to any tension between Hale and herself. If Catherine noticed, she was too kind to show it.
“We will be sisters,” Sidony offered with a small smile.
Catherine reached for her hand and squeezed gently. “I have always thought of you that way. I will be glad to make it official.”
That night, Sidony waited for Hale to come to her. He had the night before and surely now, after she had told him she loved him, he would come. But he didn’t. She lay in bed, listening to the quiet rustling sounds of the house. Poppet trotted across the bed and curled up beside her face. One paw pressed into her neck, kneading her. His whole body rumbled in a purr. At least someone wanted to be close to her.
When she could take no longer, she stood and found her wrapper. Padding down the hallway, she found Hale’s room and slipped inside. He was lying on his bed. The drapery cast his still body in shadows.
