The maids took charge of bringing his meals, and the doctor returned in the evening to reexamine him and change his dressing. Dr. Melville informed the family just before dinner that the patient was doing well. He was gaining strength and would soon be up and about.
For that reason, Chelsea’s mother reiterated the importance of keeping him locked in the bedchamber, for they still could not be sure that he was not a raving lunatic. What would they do if he came at them at night brandishing another candlestick? Or worse, a kitchen knife?
Chelsea did not argue. She certainly did not mention the fact that he had told her he still woke up wanting to kill someone.
That night in bed she lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, thinking of the conversation she’d had with him earlier in the day while everyone was at church.
It was a strange thing—talking to a beautiful man with no name or identity. It was almost as if he did not exist, as if he were a fictional character from one her stories. A figment of her richly textured imagination.
He was not, of course. He was a flesh-and-blood man, and a handsome one, at that, with broad shoulders and dark, silky hair. She couldn’t have invented anyone better to play the part of a handsome hero, and when she had stood in his room earlier, looking down at him in the bed while he paid her compliments, she felt almost intoxicated by the situation.
If this were a story born from her imagination, what would happen next? How would she write it?
She tucked an arm under her head and smiled. She knew exactly how she would plot it. He would become her secret lover. They would enjoy each other until they were satisfied, and no one would be the wiser. No one would ever know she had secretly experienced scandalous carnal pleasures with a nameless stranger in a locked bedchamber. It would be as if it had never occurred, and Lord Jerome would never know the difference. He already presumed, like the rest of the world, that she was not a virgin, and he would not expect to see blood on the sheets on their wedding night. So what would it matter? She felt no high, moral desire to save herself for Lord Jerome. Why should she? She was already sacrificing everything else.
Chelsea rolled to her side, rested her cheek on the back of her hand, and imagined what it would be like to let the nameless stranger seduce her, or better yet, for her to seduce him. But that was veering a little too far into the world of fiction because she wouldn’t have the slightest clue how to go about something like that. She had no experience. Despite what the world thought, she was a virgin, pure as fresh fallen snow.
Chelsea smiled. She certainly did have a vivid imagination. But that, unfortunately, was how it would remain, because if she were to do something so wild and reckless in real life, she would, with her luck, end up at the altar to marry Lord Jerome already carrying another man’s child in her womb, and wouldn’t that be a fine ball of wax?
Chelsea blinked a few times, then sat up. Perhaps there was a solution here…
What if she did seduce the stranger whose life she had saved? What if she did become pregnant?
Her heart began to race. Who would ever have to know? And more importantly, who would ever know it was not Sebastian’s and Melissa’s baby, and not her own?
Overcome with curiosity—could such a plan truly work?—she tossed the covers aside, hopped out of bed, and reached for her wrapper. She flew out of the room to go and wake her brother.
Ten minutes later, Chelsea was sitting in the library with Sebastian and Melissa, by the light of a single kerosene lamp.
“Have you lost your mind?” her brother asked. “Honestly, Chel, I think you need to get off this island. You’ve been here too long. You’re starting to believe in your own inventions.”
Melissa sat quietly on the sofa, her lips parted, her eyes wide with astonishment.
Sebastian paced around the room. “This is all my fault. I spoiled you too much when you were a child. I should have been stricter, like Father, instead of feeding your imagination and letting you do whatever you damn well pleased.”
“That is not true,” Chelsea replied. “You kept me from going mad all those years ago. It was because of Father that I ran away and eloped. I knew he wanted to marry me off to a man of his choosing to further his political career, and I couldn’t do it. I valued my freedom too much.”
“Just like you value it now,” Sebastian said. “Quite selfishly, I might add, when this family’s future is at stake.”
Chelsea sat forward. “But haven’t you been listening? What I am suggesting will secure this family’s future. Can you not see that?”
Sebastian stopped pacing and faced her. “All I see is my far too creative sister concocting a lunatic plan to escape the duty which is being pressed upon her. Just like the last time.”
Chelsea paused and sat back. “Yes, I suppose I must concede that that is correct.”
“But did you learn nothing from that?” he asked incredulously. “You were ousted from society!”
But Chelsea was not yet ready to retreat. She could not bear to think of the miserable life she would lead if she did not make an attempt at this alternative. “I have been very happy as an outcast,” she explained. “I have my freedom. I can write and live as I please. I enjoy my solitude.”
“But if you conceived and bore a child for us,” Melissa interjected, “you would be sacrificing your own future. At present you have a chance to be married and have children of your own. Not secretly, but legally and without shame.”
Chelsea looked down at her hands clasped together in her lap. “I’m afraid, for me, that would be a far greater sacrifice, Melissa, for I cannot imagine bearing Lord Jerome’s children.” She shivered with revulsion at the thought. “Try to imagine how unhappy I would be. Truly, Sebastian, I don’t think I could survive my wedding night. I would drown myself in my bathtub before he knocked on my door. Or worse, drown him before he had a chance to kick off his slippers.”
“Would it really be so bad?” her brother asked, stopping in the middle of the room and frowning down at her with concern.
“Honestly? I don’t think I can possibly convey in words the despair I would feel as I became nothing more than a breeding factory for such a vile and repulsive man. He is not kind. You know that about him. I would rather not have children at all than allow him to be a father to them. And I have no doubt that he would be cruel to me if I ever denied him his husbandly rights. Try to understand that, Sebastian. I could not bear it. I only wish for a way out, no matter how preposterous it might seem to you.”
Her brother sank into a chair beside her and cupped his forehead in a hand. For a long time, he sat in silence with his eyes closed, then at last he spoke. His voice was quiet and resigned.
“I’m sorry, Chelsea,” he said. “I have been so wrapped up in my own responsibilities and failures that I have not stopped to think about what it would be like for you. What it would really be like. I should have considered your happiness before I took Mother’s side today. It was wrong of me to push you to marry our cousin. I hope you can forgive me.”
Chelsea lifted her gaze and thought of all the days on the lake with Sebastian when she was a little girl, no more than five years old—casting a line, swinging a fish into the boat, laughing and learning. He had been the one person who understood her need to be free in a soulful way—to connect with nature, to explore the natural world.
“But I still do not think this is the solution,” he said, nevertheless.
They were all quiet for a moment, then Chelsea stood and walked to the window. “Mother said I have dragged you all down, and for that reason, she believes I have a debt to pay. You must believe me when I tell you that this would at least be a debt I would enjoy paying.”
“Are you suggesting you wish to do this for pleasure?” her brother asked with utter disbelief.
Melissa rose and joined Chelsea at the window. She spoke quietly. “How can you be sure you
would enjoy it, Chelsea? We know nothing about this man. You are forgetting that he attacked you last night.”
“No, I am not forgetting. He apologized for that, and I believe he was sincere.”
“Well, he is definitely more attractive than Lord Jerome,” Melissa said after some consideration.
“That is hardly the point, darling,” Sebastian put in.
“I think it has some bearing on it,” his wife argued.
Chelsea interjected. “She is absolutely correct. It does indeed have some bearing. I am not going to deny it. A few nights with that handsome stranger would be far preferable to a lifetime of the equivalent with our despicable cousin.”
That was putting it mildly. Chelsea had already entertained a number of elaborate daydreams about the stranger’s hands on her body.
“The man down the hall is not a stud for hire,” Sebastian declared with a scolding tone. “And what happens when he remembers who he is? Have either of you considered that? If he is a gentleman, as you believe he is, he may want to do the honorable thing and marry you, whether you are with child or not.”
Chelsea shook her head. “No. As far as he is concerned, it would be nothing more than a few wild nights of debauchery, and he would be long gone by the time my belly grew round. I doubt he would suspect anything if I seduced him. He already knows I am ruined.”
“How does he know that?” Sebastian asked.
“I told him so.”
“Just like that. You told him. Out of the blue, you said, ‘By the way, I am soiled goods.’”
She nodded. “Yes, that is quite accurate.”
Sebastian rose to his feet and strolled to the window. “You are unbelievable.” After a moment, he added, “It is a risky plan.”
Melissa went to him and took his hand in hers. “But it could work, darling. You could have an heir—a Neufeld heir. And I could be a mother.”
He turned to her. “But the child would not be a legitimate issue,” he said. “The title cannot pass through a daughter.”
“But no one would know,” Melissa repeated.
“It is dishonest,” he said.
“The dishonesty you are referring to is a legal matter,” Melissa said, “and an unfair law in my opinion, that a title cannot pass through a daughter. Family blood is family blood, but that is another debate.” She squeezed Sebastian’s hand. “In our hearts the child would be legitimate. He or she would have your father’s blood running through his veins, in a direct line through Chelsea. We are a married couple. We have been so for ten years. If we are blessed with a boy, he would be our son, without question, both in our eyes and in the eyes of the world. Why shouldn’t he inherit the title?”
Sebastian touched Melissa’s cheek and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “It might just as easily be a daughter,” he reminded her.
“He is right,” Chelsea said from the sofa, where she now sat. “It is important that we are prepared for such an outcome.”
Melissa turned to her. “I hear that if you eat asparagus, it increases the likelihood of a boy.”
“Then I shall tell Cook to serve it tomorrow.”
Sebastian turned his gaze to her. “So, you have decided, then? You are determined to do this? There is nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“And decide that I would prefer to marry Lord Jerome after all?” Chelsea replied. “Believe me, I shall never choose that option. This way, I will have done my duty for you and Mother, and I shall not have to worry about her trying to marry me off ever again.”
“But what if you could marry someone you loved?” he pressed. “What if you fall in love with this man?”
“That is a very distinct possibility,” Melissa abruptly said, not having thought of it before. “What would you do?”
Chelsea considered it for a moment. “I shall make every effort to prevent that from happening. I will not let my heart become engaged. But even if it does become engaged, I will simply be broken-hearted, which is nothing I haven’t experienced before. I know I would get over it eventually, like I did last time. At least in this case, there will be a silver lining, because you and Sebastian will have a child. It is worth a few tears.”
Melissa gave a melancholy sigh, then her expression grew forlorn. “But what will your mother think?”
Sebastian went to pour himself a drink. “Does she even have to know?”
Chelsea looked at him with dismay. “How in the world would we keep it from her?”
He took a sip of his brandy and set down the glass. “The same way most English ladies keep their illegitimate children secret. We would hide your condition for as long as possible, then the three of us would go on an extended holiday.”
Melissa’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “Switzerland. I would love to see the Alps.”
Chelsea moved forward, took hold of her sister-in-law’s hands and gazed at her with affection. “Then that is where we will go.”
Chapter 6
On that fateful night in the library, Chelsea, Sebastian, and Melissa stayed up until dawn discussing methods and strategies to bring their plan to fruition.
Melissa was a romantic. She suggested that Chelsea spend time with the convalescing gentleman over the next few days, reading to him and charming him, until his heart was won, and he would initiate a tryst.
Though Chelsea, too, was a romantic, she was against this course of action. She argued that they were already being dishonest enough as it was about far too many things. To woo him that way, romantically, when she had only one thing in mind, only increased their deceptions.
She explained that while she was willing to use her feminine powers to swindle the English legal system—which, in her opinion, favored men unfairly when it came to inheritance laws—she was less inclined to trick the stranger into believing that she was falling in love with him. It would be best, she insisted, to be straightforward about what she wanted. A few nights of coupling, nothing more. Men did that sort of thing all the time, didn’t they? Surely, he would take what she was offering without believing it ever had to lead to something more.
In the end they decided she was right. They would give the man two days to recover from his ordeal and gain his strength back—because he would definitely need his strength, Melissa whispered to her privately—then Chelsea would enter his bedchamber when the household was asleep and offer her body to him.
It was a simple, perfect plan, just like a scene she would write in one of her stories.
The following night, Melissa was kind enough to share with Chelsea all she knew about the marriage act and how to arouse a man’s desires. She was straightforward and explicit, and described various activities in clear, colorful detail. She even suggested what to say, and how a woman could use her mouth for more stimulating purposes than simply talking and kissing.
Chelsea was both shocked and inspired. She had already seen the man naked, so not everything Melissa described came as a surprise.
What did surprise her, however, was how fearless and eager she felt, and how impatient she was to get under way. Seven years had passed since her passionate elopement with the fortune hunter, and since then she had been alone without the company or affections of a man—a spinster without prospects—though she had not forgotten the pleasures of kissing a man and feeling his hands on her body through her clothes.
As she sat in Melissa’s bedchamber remembering all the sensations that had been promised to her but were never delivered—for her father had intervened before the marriage could take place—Chelsea felt certain that she was going to succeed most spectacularly.
By the time the night of her deflowering arrived, Chelsea was beyond prepared to embark upon her wild escapade. In the hours leading up to it, she took a bath in rose-scented water and scrubbed her hair into a thick, sweet-smelling lather. After she rinsed, she laid her head back upon the rim of
the tub and dreamed about the mysterious man in the bedchamber—about his naked body in the sea cave, the fire in his eyes when he woke and threw her violently to the floor, with great hulking strength.
And his hands...those strong, manly hands. She imagined them sliding up her bare legs, touching her face, kneading her breasts. She pictured herself naked on the bed beside him, and felt warm and relaxed in the tub, almost too weak to rise and get out.
She managed it, however, and stepped out dripping wet. She sat by the fire with a glass of brandy, completely naked, while her hair and body dried in the heat. Then, without the assistance of her maid, she combed and curled her hair so that it fell in loose, shiny waves down her back.
Earlier in the day, Melissa had come to her room and presented her with an exquisite silk dressing gown and her most expensive perfume, and Chelsea put everything on in a leisurely manner, taking her time to make sure all the details were perfect. She applied a balm to her lips to make them soft, and applied powder to her face and neck and arms, so that she smelled of roses.
When the clock in the hall finally chimed midnight, she was ready. She left her bedchamber with a bottle of wine and two glasses and tiptoed barefoot down the corridor to the stranger’s room.
Finally, there she stood, outside his door, arrested on the spot by the sudden beating of her heart while she fought a howling storm of apprehension inside her belly, which seemed to have come out of nowhere.
It was real now, no longer a story playing out in her imagination. If her seduction was successful, he would kiss her and touch her and have sexual intercourse with her.
She took a deep, shaky breath and felt a sudden cowardly urge to return to her room.
But no. She could not do that. She had made a decision and would not withdraw now. It was only natural to feel nervous, for no man had ever seen her in her dressing gown before, or even with her hair down, for that matter. She was not even wearing stockings. And this was nothing compared to what would occur once she was on the other side of the locked door.
When a Stranger Loves Me (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 3) Page 5
