by Nancy Wells
Late the next morning, she was in her room, once again wallowing over the fact that he had not come to her room last night either. He had not made a promise to visit her again, but she was waiting for him, nonetheless. She was confident he would jump through the window again because they had left on good terms. She had attacked his brother and he had laughed at her. If he had shown anger or displeasure, she would have understood his absence in the night, but he had enjoyed her little mishap.
An urgent knock came at her door. She looked towards the window, hoping to see him standing there, but he was not. Someone was knocking at the door of her room. There was only one person who would dare to bang on her door without fearing her mother’s wrath.
“Bella, he is here,” Margaret said enthusiastically, continuously banging at the door. “Come downstairs, your pirate is sitting in the parlor with Mother.”
She was shocked at first, then ran towards the door in equal urgency as her sister. Her heart was in her throat. She had no time to think about the purpose of his visit. For all she knew, he was here to tell her mother about their secret affair.
RUSSELL HAD DONE the honorable thing and sent a calling card before visiting their house. He was unsure whether he would be welcomed or thrown out the moment he stepped foot in her house. To his surprise, he was received with a warm welcome from her mother.
He was sitting in the parlor with her mother, answering her questions about his life. He had evaded her queries regarding the nature of his job, but the woman was persistent. It was hard to answer her questions without the fear of judgment. It would have been easier to visit her room through the window than endure the company of an overbearing mother, but he wanted to do right by her. He intended to marry her as soon as possible.
“You do not look from these parts, Lord Russell,” her mother said. “Where does your family live?”
He had no clue about his real family, and neither was he interested in knowing about the people who had abandoned their children and never searched for them. His only family was his brother and the man who had picked them up from the church in a wicker basket. His father was the person who sacrificed his own life to save him.
“I assure you, madam. I am not as interesting as my name might suggest. I was raised in a small town along with my brother, Shane. Our father was a coachman for a duke, and we worked as stable boys for the same duke for a long time.”
Her mother seemed a bit disappointed by his confession. Maybe she was expecting him to belong to nobility or a rich family and that was the reason for her using the word ‘lord’ with his name. He was not ashamed of his origins and he would not keep quiet if this woman insulted the memory of his father. The coachman might not have given him birth, but he was far more important to him than the people who were responsible for bringing him to this world.
“Shane is a Gaelic name,” she said. “Do you belong to the highlands?”
Russell was not feeling comfortable with the topic of conversation. He had subtly tried to veer the conversation away from his family by declaring that he had no interesting history to share, but the hostess of the house was hell-bent on prying information out of him. She was persistent in her quest to know about his origins.
“I have no clue about our origins, madam. I am extremely sorry if that disappoints you.”
He was saved from further questioning by the appearance of both sisters at the top of the stairs. She was in a hurry, running down the stairs, but as soon as she saw her mother, she composed herself and started walking more elegantly, but she was too late because her mother had already witnessed her urgency. Her mother scowled at her daughters, expressing her disapproval at their lack of manners.
“Isabella,” her mother said disapprovingly. “A minute, if you will. I have something important to discuss with you.”
Isabella did not want to leave with her mother. She was already aware that her mother would box her ears for running in front of a possible suitor. She wanted to stay with him, look at him, hear his voice. It had been only one day since she last saw him, yet it felt like decades to her.
She looked at him longingly when her mother escorted her back upstairs. She kept looking back at him, meeting his stare, neither of them blinking as long as they were in sight of one another. Both of them were impatient to meet again in private where no one would come between them.
“So, you are the giant bee that flew from the tree in our garden,” Margaret said, putting her palm on her mouth, giggling at his shocked expressions.
He had forgotten about the little sister who was left behind by her mother and sister. He was aware of the incident she was referring to, but he was not used to discussing intimate details with someone so young. It was only the second time he was meeting with her, yet she had managed to shock him both times.
“We have not been formally introduced,” Russell said, bowing at his waist. “I am Russell Simon. Not Lord Russell as everyone seems to be calling me.”
He was not going to answer her previous query. She was her little sister. He would never discuss something so scandalous with Margaret.
The only way he knew how to distract people from their topic of conversation was by wrapping his responses in a packaging of humor and that was exactly what he was doing at the time.
“Lady Margaret.” She curtsied. “Not the meddling sister as someone seems to know me by.”
He could not stop himself from laughing hysterically at her quip. She had outwitted him. There was no doubt left in his mind that her innocent looks would deceive many people.
He pointed towards the sofa. She sat on the sofa opposite him. He had dreaded his time alone with her, but now he was looking forward to making her his co-conspirator. She seemed like a good informant to him. He could use her to his advantage.
“Lady Margaret,” he said. “What is your verdict on my value in your mother’s eyes? Do you think she will allow me near her daughter?”
She cocked her head to the side, inspecting him in detail. She patted her face, thinking about an answer to his query. He had asked the question in humor, not expecting a serious answer because she was a child. He did not interrupt her while she thought of an answer, letting a small child feel important.
“My mother would not care about the lack of noble blood. She is more concerned about my sister’s behavior.”
He hid his surprise by faking a cough. He was not expecting the answer to an unasked question. Her mother’s disappointment with his family and background had made him worried and when her mother had taken her away, he had believed that his lack of noble blood was the cause for all the secrecy. If her mother objected to their match, he could never make her his wife. He would be crushed, but he would never object to a mother’s desire for her child’s happiness.
“I am relieved to hear that,” he said, barely containing his laughter.
He chatted with her for a long time, the topics ranging from her dance lessons to the many books she had read. She was more mature than her tender age suggested.
He was looking at Margaret, but the moment Isabella set foot in the room, he started to feel her presence without turning around. He wanted to lay his eyes on her, but he did not want to give the wrong impression to her mother. He might come across as needy and unstable. Her mother could confuse his love with lechery and throw him out of her house.
“I hope we did not offend you, Mr. Simon,” her mother said.
He stood up as a show of respect when her mother came into his view. He was not trying to win her heart with his manners. It was ingrained in his mind from a very young age by his father that women and elders are to be respected.
The change in his title did not escape his notice. He had demoted from a lord to a mister in her mother’s eyes, but fortunately for him, there was no disdain in her mother’s tone. His lack of noble blood truly did not matter to her mother.
“Not at all, madam. Your daughter made sure I was not bored.”
Their mother looked at Margar
et with pride. It was evident to everyone in the room that their mother was not a hard woman to impress. She was only a mother who wanted what was best for her children.
Margaret smiled with the innocence of a child, giddy to be the recipient of a compliment from him and love from her mother. He only wished he could see more such smiles on the child’s face.
“Mother, can I show him my roses in the garden?” Margaret asked innocently.
Their mother looked from him to Margaret and then Isabella. She wanted him to spend time with her eldest daughter, without breaking the heart of the youngest. It was the first time Margaret had shown interest in someone that was not part of their family. It was a moment to rejoice for their mother because she liked Russell and was happy that both her daughters were quite enamored with him.
“Mr. Simon might not want to see your flowers, Margaret.”
Isabella felt bad for her sister. Margaret’s face fell when her mother subtly denied her request. Isabella wanted to spend time with him, but not at the expanse of crushing her sister’s heart. Her sister’s happiness meant more to her than spending a few moments in her lover’s arms.
“I would love to have a look at your roses,” he said with a smile on his face. “I am sure they are as pretty as you, Lady Margaret.”
Her heart was filled with love for him at that moment. She knew nothing about him, except his skills of scaling walls and passionate kisses that could reduce her to a puddle at his feet.
Before this moment, she was not sure whether he was a good choice or not, but now she knew. He was handsome and kind at the same time, which were traits seldom found together in anyone. He was perfect.
“Bella can come with us too if she wants,” Margaret said when her mother remained quiet.
Isabella would love to join them. She knew Margaret would be there, but she was also aware of the level of discretion her sister was capable of. Her sister was aware of her eagerness to meet him again. Margaret would not complain if he gave more attention to her than the roses in the garden.
“Very well, both of you can show him the garden,” her mother said.
He offered his elbow to Margaret while Isabella followed them a few steps behind. Margaret showed him her roses with enthusiasm while they kept sneaking peeks at one another from time to time. When her sister noticed their exchange, she took a step back, offering them privacy.
He smiled at the little girl who had read his emotions like an open book and bowed his head in gratitude. Margaret winked at him and turned her back on them while he came near Isabella who was watching the exchange between her sister and him with apt fascination.
“Did your mother smack your bottom for misbehaving?” he whispered in her ear.
She gasped, scandalized at such a suggestion. To think that her mother would lay her over her knees and smack her bottom for every small error, her bottom would remain beet red for the rest of her life because she committed more mistakes than her sister on a daily basis.
“I might have done that if you were mine to discipline,” he whispered again.
She blushed, believing his words to be true. Russell laughed at her expressions. He just could not resist making her blush. The rosy glow that stained her cheeks and ran to her bosoms was the best reward he had ever been offered.
He found no pleasure in smacking a lady’s bottom. His brother, on the other hand, was fond of such activities. They shared a wall in their apartment rooms. Based on the noises coming from the other room, he could imagine in detail what transpired in his brother’s room. His brother was shameless when it came to bedding women. He never muffled his own shouts of pleasure nor did he ever bother to sleep with the same woman in a week.
“You would never dare,” she said, pushing him at his chest.
He was laughing at her reaction while she blushed more furiously. She did not mind his teasing, but she could not retort with her sister nearby. She looked discreetly at her sister who was looking at her with disapproval on her face. She suspected her sister might have heard him talking about smacking ladies’ bottoms and was not appreciative about their topic of choice.
“Kiss him already,” Margaret said angrily. “Mother might come after us at any moment.”
His laughter died away, replaced with shock. She would love more than anything else to kiss him at this moment, but not in the presence of her sister. Her sister had lost her mind if she thought Isabella would do anything that might put suggestions in her sister’s mind. In her mind, Margaret was innocent and needed protection from the corruption of the world.
“Margaret!”
She chastised her sister, but it had no effect on Margaret. Apparently, her words had lost all power and authority over her little sister.
“Oh, please, Bella. Stop pretending you were not looking at him with the full intention of kissing him.”
She remained shocked in place, unable to find a tangible comeback. She heard him hiding his laughter by faking a cough. Her mouth was hanging open, looking at her sister, not believing that her sister could make such remarks. She vowed to inspect her sister’s books in detail. There was no way a book written for children could put such suggestions in anyone’s mind.
“I cannot break her heart, my Siren.”
Russell turned her head towards him. He had intervened to save her from further humiliation at her sister’s hands and to take advantage of the situation. He was, after all, a demon spawn or so the priest claimed. If the audience demanded that he kiss a woman he had been obsessing about, he was more than happy to grant their wishes.
He leaned towards her mouth, but she kept looking at her sister from the corner of her eyes.
“Look away, Margaret,” she hissed.
He chuckled, taking a step away from her. He would get many more chances to kiss her when her attention was not split between him and her sister.
Her attention returned to him when he took a step back, while her sister ignored her suggestion and kept glaring at her.
“Will you come tonight?” she asked.
She needed to know if her night would remain in useless waiting or if there was a spark of hope left for her. She had spent the last two nights lying in wait for him. She would wait all her life even if he denied her request.
“Do you want me to visit your chamber like a burglar?”
He wanted to visit her in the middle of the night, but he was afraid of the fingers that might point in her direction if he was caught. He was confident about his skills in stealth, but it was still a risk he was not comfortable to take. He had suggested to visit her before, but that was before he saw her devotion to him in the alleyway. A woman who was not afraid to take revenge in the middle of a dark alley was exactly the kind of person he needed in his life.
“I want to spend time with you, away from everyone else. I want to give you everything.”
She was ready to give him her virtue. She might never get another chance to be with a man she loved. Her future was not clear. She might end up with the old man rather than with the man she was deeply in love with.
“I want that too. That is why I have every intention of making you my wife,” he said. “I want to keep you forever. You will be mine, but we have to wait until the wedding night.”
Her heart was bursting with joy. She had never imagined her deepest desire would come to fruition so soon. She had never believed her dalliance with him would turn into something she had always desired. She wanted to be his for eternity too, but she was not ready to wait for so long. She did not understand her own eagerness to have him in her bed. He had already promised, surely that should have been enough for her, but her heart yearned for more.
“You will be mine too,” she said tearfully. “Forever. For eternity”
Their relationship had quickly turned into love. Neither of them was aware of the time and place when their secret affair had turned into something meaningful. He had never intended to fall in love, believing it to be a cumbersome burden, and she had never
imagined falling in love with a man who danced with her on a balcony out of pity, yet these two dejected souls were now yearning for one another and had found solace in each other arms.
“All yours, my Siren.”
He smiled at her. Her tears of joy making him giddy. He leaned down to capture her mouth. This time she did not care about the audience. He pinned her hands to her side when she tried to hold his face. His passionate kiss did not let her overthink anything else.
“The maid is coming our way,” Margaret said hurriedly.
They were both panting when they took a step back from each other. They composed themselves as much as possible, without giving away the fact that they had been kissing in the garden a few moments ago.
They went back inside where their mother had already arranged tea and biscuits for him. Her mother had found him worthy of her daughter. He stayed for a long time while her mother talked about random issues, making him feel welcome.
“I have to go, madam,” he said. “I cannot remain absent from my job for the whole day.”
He had expected the same tirade of questions regarding his job, but her mother surprised him by offering a smile, understanding his reluctance to discuss the details of his livelihood. He had no intention of remaining in the same line of work when he married Isabella because he did not want to put his family in harm’s way. He had made many enemies while apprehending dangerous criminals. He had a mind to walk away from everything, to a place away from everyone who ever knew him, along with his wife and brother. He did not want his dangerous enemies to follow him into his future.
When he was gone, Isabella’s mother cleared her throat. She looked at her mother’s face, shrieked in happiness and embraced her. Her mother did not scold her for this behavior because she was aware of her reason for her happiness. Her mother patted her head, smiling from ear to ear, overjoyed at her daughter’s happiness.
