Love Reclaimed

by Sorcha Mowbray

  His desertion would be a killing blow and a risk she wouldn’t take, no matter how bad she wished she could. As long as she remained unmarried, The Market belonged to her. With her security assured, the future, though bleak, would be steady and predictable.

  Resigned, she dashed a note off to her bank directing Heart’s funds be returned immediately. They had been sitting in an account waiting for her to decide what to do with them. Keeping the money had never been an option, but she had not figured out how to convince him to take it back either.

  Tears blurring her vision, she retreated to her room and allowed her misery free rein. She’d allow this short period of mourning for what was and what could have been, and then it would be over. She would have to tuck it all away deep inside and forget about him.

  ***

  Jonathan let the anger and hurt of her rejection cloud his thinking. So much so, he departed by the front door and walked halfway home before he remembered his mount. He jammed his fingers through his hair and cursed. For a brief moment, he grappled with the overwhelming desire to go back to The Market and paddle Marie’s bottom for her stubbornness. Then he wanted to do all the naughty things with her she spoke of and more. With a groan, he turned around and returned in her direction. He wouldn’t go back in just yet. He swore he merely intended to collect his horse.

  Around the corner from The Market, two rather disreputable-looking men approached him. The taller of the two, had on trousers stopping well short of his ankles and a ratty-looking, threadbare shirt. The shorter man dressed as shabbily as his partner, but with no socks.

  Jonathan made to move around them after realizing not another soul could be seen in the immediate vicinity. “Excuse me.”

  “I don’t think so. A bloke like you ought to have a bit of blunt on him,” the short one said, his tone almost affable.

  The barrel of a revolver poked Jonathan’s stomach, emphasizing their point. With a resigned sigh, he pulled out his wallet and retrieved the bank notes he had tucked inside. “There, that’s nearly twenty pounds to split between the two of you. Now out of my way.”

  “Not so fast there. What else you got in those pockets?” The hammer cocked, a loud click in the sudden silence.

  Jonathan made a mental catalog of what he carried. He pulled his pocket watch from his vest and yanked the chain, freeing it from his vest. “Here.” He reached in his pants pockets and pulled out the empty linings. “See. You have everything of value.”

  The short one took the watch and then shifted as though reaching for Jonathan’s coat pockets. Losing the ring he would give to Marie was not acceptable. Without a second thought, he knocked the gun away from him and punched the shorter man. As he turned around to deal with the taller one, he heard the loud pop of the revolver. A searing pain sliced across his left shoulder.

  The taller thief paled and backed up. “I didn’t mean to shoot you. Please, sir, I swear it were an accident.” And then he dropped the revolver and ran. By the time Jonathan could gather his wits enough to check on the shorter man, he had disappeared.

  The throb in his shoulder drew his awareness to the hole in the sleeve of his coat. Somehow still on his feet, he took a stumbling step forward and managed to avert collapse. His heart raced while pain sizzled along his arm clouding his ability to think.

  A few more steps forward and he found a railing to lean on. He wasn’t far from The Market. If he could make it there, then someone would help him. It seemed to take forever to reach the familiar building. The few steps up to the door almost defeated him, but with a final surge of energy he pushed past the pain and reached the door. Pounding on the solid surface with his good fist, he continued beating on it until it seemed to disappear. His body gave out and he collapsed into a faceless pair of arms.

  Distant voices filtered into his brain. Male voices followed by an achingly familiar female one.

  ***

  Afternoon light filtered past the cracks of his eyelids. Jonathan hesitated as he heard Marie’s voice again.

  “Dr. Westfield, thank you for coming so quickly. He apparently stumbled onto our door step in this state.” Marie sounded worried.

  “Yes, Madame. Of course. Let me take a look at his arm and then I can patch him up.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” A door closed and Marie grew quiet.

  Footsteps muffled by carpets grew closer. Unable to stand not knowing what happened around him, Jonathan let his eyes slide open. An older, graying man hovered over him.

  “Well, it seems our patient is waking up. That’s a good sign. Now can you tell me what happened?”

  Glancing around the physician’s shoulder, Jonathan tried to spy Marie, but had no luck. “I was shot by a footpad. I believe it is my left arm.” He waved at it with his right hand distracted by his search for her, and winced at the pain the movement caused.

  “Best to sit still for a bit,” the doctor cautioned.

  Marie stood in the hall pacing as the doctor tended to Heart. Stupid man, to go and get himself shot. After an eternity, the door opened and the doctor emerged. “How is he?” She hoped the anxious feeling constricting her heart couldn’t be heard in her voice.

  “He’ll be fine, but he needs to rest. Looks like the bullet grazed him. I am sorry, but I must ask if he can remain here for a day or two.”

  “Of course. I will see he is cared for until he can depart. Thank you.” Marie watched as Phillipe escorted the doctor down the hall. Alone, she took a deep, steadying breath and opened the door.

  Heart lay on the bed, propped up by pillows, his torso bare but for a swath of white bandage around his upper arm. She paused and allowed the relief to swamp her senses. Her heart pounded as she grappled with the feeling of having nearly lost the man she loved. Of having been a fool to push him away.

  “Heart, you foolish man. How could you let yourself be shot?” She tsked and moved toward the bed to pour him a glass of water.

  “I seem to remember trying to avoid that very thing, but my efforts were thwarted. For the second time today.”

  Marie’s gaze snapped to his face as heat suffused her cheeks. “Well, thank goodness you managed to make your way here. And it seems here is where you will stay for a bit. Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “No, not at the moment.” His gaze guarded, the wariness put Marie on edge.

  “Well then, I’ll leave you to rest. Someone will check on you later.” She stalked from the room, annoyed with having created such distance between them. After all, he was the man she loved.

  She saw that the room across the hall was readied for her so she could check on him in the middle of the night. Restless with the knowledge Heart slept but a few steps away, she paced the confines of the chamber. Periodically, she would sit and attempt to read the book of sonnets that lay open on a chair by the fire. The unfortunate truth was no distraction seemed sufficient to pull her wayward thoughts from the man across the hall.

  None other than the sweet Jonathan of her childhood memories would still see her as a worthy candidate for marriage. He’d always been too soft hearted, letting her run roughshod over him. On more than one occasion, he bent to her stubborn nature and as a result he wound up taking a whipping or some other punishment because she had begged him to teach her to swim, to ride astride, or to show her how to climb a tree. Her heart swelled with love for the man she’d known and for the man she had come to know more recently.

  There were not many men who would have defended her as Heart had at the masked ball. And if she were honest, it thrilled her to her toes to have him protect her from Bethany, a known brute, in such a physical way. Absorbed in her own recollections and the brush of her nightgown as it swished over her legs, she missed the first sounds of movement across the hall.

  Sometime after midnight, she heard a loud curse from his room. She rushed in and turned up a light to find Heart holding his shin as he leaned on a chair.

  “Perhaps if you kindled a light, you might maneuver in a strange pla
ce a little better.” She shuffled over to him and knelt to look at his shin. Gentle fingers probed the spot feeling for a knot. “I am sure you’ll be fine.”

  “Quite. If you don’t mind, I think I will finish what I was about.” He nodded toward the bathroom and walked away from her.

  Sitting on a chair by the fire and gathering her patience around her, she waited for him to return. Once he settled back in the bed, she turned to leave. But he took her hand and held it. “Can you honestly say you don’t love me?”

  She was trapped by her own feelings and his unrelenting drive to have her. But, she knew she would not lie to him. “No.” She fled his room before he could do or say anything else. Her resolve to save him weakened every moment she spent with him. Lesson learned.

  ***

  The next day, Jonathan lay in bed and waited for Marie to appear. He had scared her. The stubborn woman just wouldn’t admit they belonged together, but at least she acknowledged she loved him. He tried to console himself with that small victory.

  The ability to understand her refusal eluded him. Having made it clear he had no regard for society’s rules and the financial wherewithal to take care of her for the remainder of their days, her reluctance was baffling. Deep in his heart he had let go of the girl he knew in favor of the woman he had met upon coming to The Market. What more did he need to do to prove that he loved and accepted her as she was?

  His door opened and the focus of his ruminations strode into his room bearing his breakfast tray. Her spine held ramrod stiff and her face a blank study. Her gaze refused to meet his.

  “Good morning, Marie.”

  She hesitated at the husky timber of his voice. “Good morning, my Lord.”

  “So formal? Please, I promise to behave myself today.”

  “Sit up, please.” She stood holding a breakfast tray destined for his lap.

  The distinct tap-tap-tap of her slipper-clad toe could be heard despite being muffled by the rug and her skirts. Momentary forgetfulness led him to using his injured arm to lever himself up. He winced as pain lanced through his appendage. Yet, he caught her stricken look right before she snapped her façade back in place. The decision to play the moment up was made in the blink of an eye. He groaned and cradled his injured arm.

  “For heaven’s sake.” She turned and set the tray down on a nearby table. Returning to the bed, she leaned over him, encompassing him in her lavender scent. She gripped him under each armpit and hauled him upright in the bed with his assistance. Her breasts brushed against his arm, eliciting a groan from him that was soul-deep and utterly out of his control.

  She moved away, but came back with the tray while ignoring what they’d both heard. “I will return later to collect your tray.”

  “Perhaps you’d stay and talk with me? It is rather isolated in here.”

  She paused. “I’m afraid I have things to attend to.”

  “I see. Perhaps later?”

  “Perhaps.” She disappeared.

  Jonathan awoke to discover that not only had a few hours passed, but he was alone and his tray gone. Damn. He’d try again around suppertime when she brought his next tray. His arm was already feeling much better, but perhaps he needed to let her believe it still hurt him as he had earlier? Could he get past her cool exterior with a little sympathy? It was worth a try.

  Later that night, when she returned with his dinner tray, he took pains to warm his face using his bedside light and sprinkle a bit of water on his face to offer a clammy feel. She came near, and he moaned.

  “Dear heavens,” she exclaimed as she clapped the tray down on the table again and rushed to his bedside.

  “Heart? Heart? Can you hear me?” Her cool hand slipped over his forehead and then along his jaw.

  “Marie?” He fluttered his eyes open. He was beyond having any shame, and with a ruthlessness he would have never credited himself with, he played on her weakness.

  “You foolish man. Why didn’t you call for me?”

  “I didn’t wish to be a bother to you any more than I am.” He licked his lips.

  “No, this is my fault. I should have come here sooner to check on you. Can you ever forgive me?” Distress caused her voice to crack and guilt to slap at Jonathan.

  “There is nothing to forgive. If you’ll help me sit up, I can eat, and I am sure I will feel better.”

  “No. I will sit here and feed you,” she stated as she helped him sit up. “It’s the least I can do letting you relapse like this.”

  She brought the tray over and set it on his lap. She cut the meat into tiny bits and fed him one bite at a time interspersed with mashed potatoes and cooked spinach. As she fed him they reminisced about childhood ailments and injuries until silence ruled. He relished every bite despite his guilt at perpetrating his deception. When he swallowed the last bit, she whisked the tray away. The tension in the room had thickened while he ate.

  Sitting up farther, he resettled the covers using both hands and froze as he felt her regard.

  “Heart, I thought your arm was still hurting you.”

  “It is sore.” He tried to temper the sheepishness in his voice with a trace of humor.

  “And your fever?”

  “Marie, I just wanted to have you sit with me for a while.”

  “So you faked the fever?”

  “Yes. I thought you might let your guard down if you thought I was weak.”

  “Well, aren’t you the clever one?” She drew a shaky breath. “That was too bad of you, Heart.” She turned on her heel and departed leaving the tray behind.

  ***

  The next day she avoided him entirely, which wasn’t difficult since by Celeste’s report he slept for most of the day again.

  Still choosing to sleep across the hall from him, she settled in and ignored the various sounds emanating from the dark recesses of The Market. Business could survive one more night without her eagle eye. Exhausted from a fitful night’s sleep, a busy day reviewing bills and dealing with vendors, and ignoring her heart, she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  Upon waking in a different room than she had gone to sleep and disoriented by her unusual positioning, a moment of panic ripped through her sleepy haze. A silken tie tightened around one wrist as she acquired her bearings. Without question, she remained in The Market, but in one of the other rooms. She tugged on the binding and looked up to see Heart tying her other wrist with another tie.

  “Heart. What are you doing?” Fear pressed down on her, but common sense reminded her who she dealt with. Heart would never hurt her. At least not physically.

  “Marie, you will address me as ‘my Lord.’ Do you understand?” His voice held a command she had not heard before. Tingles raced down her spine.

  “Heart, you’ll hurt yourself. Your arm.” She wiggled and realized she’d been bent over the high bench at the foot of the bed where a pillow cushioned her hips and belly, and left her breasts dangling. Arms, stretched out, were lashed a little less than midway up each of the bedposts. Her night rail still covered her body, but for how much longer?

  “Incorrect response, Marie.” He smacked her bottom through the thin material stretched across it.

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Very good. You have been a very bad girl, Marie. You have lied and been disingenuous with your true feelings. You will learn to not lie to me again.”

  “Yes, my Lord.” Her blood pounded through her veins as she took in the situation. They had not visited the dungeons during her attempt to show him how unsuitable she was, but it seemed Heart had a natural knack for taking charge. Somehow, with his military background and being a peer, that didn’t surprise her.

  The thin cotton material was lifted in a slow, torturous drag and tucked under her belly so it would not be in the way. Every inch of her skin tingled as though electrified by not knowing what to expect. Then the first strike landed across her bottom. The blow put her in mind of a riding crop with the extra snap from the popper. She shivered as it fell
again. The harshness of his words matched the burn in her backside. “Repeat after me, Marie, I will never lie to you again, my Lord.”

  “I will not, my Lord.”

  Two more strikes of the crop landed across her ass. “Say it, my dear.”

  “No.” Her heart pounded in her chest, her bottom sizzled from the crop, and she wasn’t quite ready to tell him the truth. She liked this new Heart, liked how he commanded her body and owned her desire.

  “Say it, Marie. Say, ‘I will never lie to you again. I will always be honest with you, my Lord.’” He landed four more blows across her backside, and she knew the time had come to give in. Her heart melted, and the love she’d struggled to lock away exploded in her chest.

  “I will never lie to you again. I will always be honest with you, my Lord.” She knew no way to hold him off now. He would insist on marrying her as soon as he got her to tell him she loved him. There would be no turning back.

  He smoothed his palm over her enflamed ass. “You’re mine, Marie. You will never deny me again.”

  “Yes, my Lord. I belong to you.” Her arms and shoulders were beginning to ache, but the warmth of love, radiating through her body, eased the pain.

  “That’s a good girl, Marie. For your quick response, you have earned a treat.”

  Marie remained draped over the bench as his hands moved down her backside to pull her cheeks farther apart. His finger slipped between folds of her pussy and slicked through the wetness gathered there. She groaned as pleasure assaulted her senses.

  “Ah, yes. You like that. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, my Lord.” Her hips strained to press back, but could not move.

  “Such a pretty pussy you have. So wet and ready for me.” His voice shifted coming from lower behind her. Then his tongue plunged through her slickness.

  Her body trembled with need. Desperate for more of his intrusion, she attempted to shift her feet and hips closer to him. A quick swat of his hand on her heated bottom ceased her movements.