by Wendy Vella
“James told me last night.”
“There will be no other boys for me to play with.” Warwick entered the conversation. The boy looked forlorn. He had stared out the window for the better part of today’s journey, mourning the freedom and wide-open spaces he had left behind at Oak’s Knoll.
Unlike most families, who longed for the excitement of city life, Eden’s father had taught his children to loathe London. His favorite quote, which he had never failed to deliver to any child who expressed a wish to leave the family home, was “country air does not blacken the lungs and wither the muscles as it does in London.” Of course, it seemed the late Lord Sinclair had been exempt from this particular statement, as he had spent much time here, usually gambling away their money.
“Rubbish! Now enough of this nonsense, we are all weary and after a good meal and night’s sleep everything will look so much better,” Eden stated, hoping she was right. “Furthermore, there will be many new and exciting things for you to do and see here. We shall have some wonderful adventures.”
Eden saw her words were not having the desired effect, as her siblings all looked as depressed as she felt. How long she wondered, before they saw the familiar sight of their home once more.
James was looking forward to getting off his horse. His ribs pulled, not that he would tell a Sinclair that, and he wanted brandy and a soft chair. Eden had ignored him since they had greeted each other this morning. Her words had been cool, and her eyes had looked over his right shoulder. She had then completely ignored him, which should have been exactly what he wanted, yet perversely wasn’t.
He was not himself around her. In fact Eden Sinclair had achieved what no one else had ever managed. She made him lose control, and that would never do. He would have taken her innocence in that dark room without a second thought last night, and that was a sobering thought. Without even trying she had twisted him in knots, and James could only imagine what would happen to him if she put her mind to seducing him. He shuddered at the thought. Distance, he reminded himself. Keep your distance from her.
He had been relieved when she had chosen to ride in the carriage; at least for the remainder of the journey he did not need to constantly battle his need to look at her.
It seemed without Eden riding beside them, the Sinclair brothers did not have much to converse about. James realized after spending a few hours observing them that they were not as comfortable with each other as he had first thought. Sinclair rode like a man who had been in the military, his brother slouched in his seat, stretched out like a yard of pump water. They looked alike, yet on short acquaintance he knew this was their only similarity.
Sinclair was head of the family and James had to acknowledge the man took his responsibilities seriously. He was constantly asking his siblings if they required anything. Dropping back to ride beside the carriage to check all was well. His little brother was usually draped across his lap, and he told him stories and pointed out things as the journey progressed. Cam, however, sang Warwick Sinclair naughty songs that the boy should not be hearing.
“Ah, the sweet scents of London,” Cambridge said.
The late afternoon sun had brought out people from all stations of life. Peddlers, pickpockets, and peers, James thought.
“Duke.”
“Lord Harlow.” James tipped his hat to the elderly man trundling by on a large bay.
The noise was deafening and James usually loved the distractions London offered. It was a place where life moved at a clip, however, this time he had Samantha with him, and it worried him that life in London may be overwhelming for her.
“I believe your aunt lives not far from my town house. We will stop there first if that suits you, Sinclair?”
“As you wish, Raven.”
Gritting his teeth, James remained silent, just giving the brothers a stiff nod. Even when they uttered something as simple as “as you wish,” he felt they were needling him. He’d never had a brother or even a close friend, and if this was how uncomfortable they made you feel, he was revising the opinions of his youth, when he had longed for just such a companion.
He knew this area well, having lived most of his life here. The houses were large, imposing, and spoke of the wealth their owners had. Had he a choice, he would have purchased a smaller house, but the Raven town house had been in his family for generations and he could not bring himself to sell it.
He and the brothers followed the carriages through a set of tall black gates, and swept into a circular courtyard. This was the residence of the Earl and Countess of Wynburg. Lady Wynburg had been a friend of his grandfather’s and as such, knew more about James than was comfortable to his mind.
Four imposing pillars marked the front entrance of the large town house. There were plenty of colorful beds of flowers to soften the hard gray stone exterior, and windows gleamed on all floors. The Earl’s coat of arms fluttered from a flag on the roof. It was imposing and yet welcoming.
Climbing from his horse, James could not quite swallow the grunt of protest as his ribs tugged against the sudden movement. Cam, who was next to him, shot him a look, but thankfully refrained from commenting. Handing the reins to a groom, he then went to the carriage to talk with Samantha.
“Hello, James.”
“Miss Somerset,” James said, taking her small hand in his as she appeared in the doorway and helping her from the carriage. James had not had much exposure to children in his life, well none actually, but he had come to like the three littlest Sinclairs. Unlike their elder siblings, they were open and honest, and more importantly, they had befriended his sister.
“Are you unwell, Somer?” Her sweet face was sad.
She shook her head then sighed. Tilting it back, she stared up at him.
“I want to go back to my home, James.”
James had no call for excess emotions in his life. Laughter had its place, as did anger and sadness, but too much of it turned a man weak. However, looking into the solemn face before him he felt something uncomfortable stab at his chest.
“I had planned to take Samantha to Astley’s Amphitheatre one evening, Somer, and had hoped you and your brothers and sisters would accompany us.” And I have no idea where those words came from.
“Oh, James!” Somer squealed, she then threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing before he could stop her. Releasing him, she began to chatter to her siblings and Samantha with no sign of her previous sadness he noted.
“Dorrie, Warwick, did you hear? We will see Samantha soon because James is taking us to Astley’s Amphitheatre!”
The other children all piled out of the carriage and formed a small circle, proceeding to talk over the top of each other, their good humor now apparently restored. James noticed even Samantha managed to get a word in.
“Nicely done,” Essie said, climbing down next. “But you will have to follow through, James, as they will not relent in their quest to get to Astley’s now you have mentioned it.”
“They shall badger us from dawn till dusk now. There will be no peace for any of us.” These words came from Cam. “One thing you have yet to learn is that children never forget, James. Most especially when it is something they want. A word of caution, if I may,” he added. “Never promise until you are sure you can follow through.”
“I would not have said the words had I not intended to honor them, Cambridge.”
“Just as well,” he muttered.
Shaking his head, James wondered what the hell had possessed him to make such a promise to Somer. Maybe he was more tired than he realized.
He watched the gaggle of children make for the door, and turned to look for Eden, who as yet had not appeared. Looking inside the carriage, he noted she was gathering armfuls of bonnets and coats from the seats and floor.
“Can I assist you, Eden?”
His words demanded a response, and as he had come to realize, the Sinclairs may be loud and boisterous, but they were well-mannered. She really had the m
ost remarkable eyes; in some lights the gray depths held a blue tint and in others green. At the moment they were flat and cold.
“No, thank you.”
She slid along the seat toward the door, now inches from where he stood, looking at him with cool reserve that shattered the resistance he had told himself he must have when she was near. James knew she wanted him to step aside, just as he knew he should, yet he didn’t. Call it idiocy or exhaustion, but he had carried the taste of her on his lips all day. Bracing his hands on the doorway so no one could view inside, he leaned in until his face was inches from her own.
“Open your mouth, Eden.”
“Wh—”
He swallowed the sound her word made and the small shriek that followed. His tongue swept inside her mouth, marauding and conquering. Her hands gripped the lapels of his jacket to steady herself and his fingers dug in to the carriage roof as he battled the urge to pull her closer. She tasted of the woman she was, spicy and alluring, and her response was instant. Arching toward him she sank into his kiss. Their tongues met, danced, and flitted away and James could feel his control begin to slip.
“Eden,” he whispered as he eased back from their kiss. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing ragged like his own.
“I don’t want you to ever do that again.”
“Eden, I—”
“I am not to be toyed with,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he sighed. “I know that, but—”
“Please just go.”
It was the please that had his feet moving. He did as she asked and called himself every kind of fool for once again playing with fire. He had no rights to that woman and yet he had still kissed her... again.
What has become of you?
James was disciplined; he did not give in to impulses or urges. Yet when she was near he was consumed by a madness to be with her, possess her, touch her, and it bloody well had to stop! He would get Samantha and leave before he could do anything else without thinking. Then he would stay away from Eden Sinclair.
“At last you have arrived!”
James had met the Earl of Wynburg often, as they frequented the same club. He was a jovial man who did not rattle on excessively and had a wise head on his shoulders, unlike his wife.
The small gale-force wind that was the Countess of Wynburg had picked up her skirts and was now running down the steps at a rapid pace.
Moving to the rear of the small group of Sinclairs that held his sister, James shot a quick look behind him. Eden had not emerged.
“My darling nieces and nephews, this is one of the happiest moments of my life!”
“James,” Samantha said, slowly backing into his legs, “that woman’s hair is the same color as a carrot.”
Cam snuffled beside them. His eyes too were fixed on the woman approaching. James didn’t think she was overly tall, however her hair—likened to the color of carrots—added at least a foot to her height. Styled in some elaborate fashion, it was festooned with ribbons, feathers and....
“Is that a bird in your hair, Aunt?”
“Oh you clever child!” Lady Wynburg cried, reaching Warwick first as he spoke and sweeping him into a fierce hug that the young boy was doing his level best to break free from.
She was not a nasty person, just a woman whose presence you always felt. She laughed and spoke louder than most, her gestures were flamboyant, and she was everything James would not choose in his future wife. The few times the Countess had singled him out she had made him feel uncomfortable. Her brown eyes would look into his own, almost as if she could read his every thought, she would then hug him, “because I have the right due to my close relationship with your late grandfather, Duke,” she would say. And perhaps that more than any was the reason he avoided her, because she had known the only person James had loved.
“Aunt,” Cambridge Sinclair said, stepping forward next with obvious reluctance.
The problem was she didn’t just greet people with the touch of a hand, she enveloped them. James watched her go to each of her nieces and nephews and welcome them.
“Where is Eden?”
“Here I am, Aunt.”
James watched Eden grip the bundle of clothes in her arms tight as her aunt hugged her. Awareness shot through him as she looked at him briefly over her aunt’s shoulder, and then just as quickly looked away.
“Come, Samantha, make your good-byes,” James said quickly as Lady Wynburg released Eden and turned his way.
“Duke!”
“Escape is impossible.” Sinclair laughed as his aunt made her way to where James stood with Samantha in front of him like a shield.
“And who is this beautiful child?”
“May I present my sister to you, Lady Wynburg. Lady Samantha Raven.”
It was the first time he had ever seen her speechless. Her eyes filled with tears and then she sank to her knees, right there in the street where anyone looking in the courtyard could see her, and hugged Samantha. More surprisingly, his sister accepted the gesture. Seconds later she once again stood before him.
“I had no idea of her existence, James, or I would have told you.”
He could see the genuine distress in her brown eyes. She really was quite a striking woman; her skin was lined yet still soft and creamy and had always carried the faintest scent of lavender.
“I know you would have, Lady Wynburg. As I did not find out myself until after the death of my father, I am sure not many people were aware of Samantha’s existence.”
James grunted as she reached over Samantha’s head and hauled him into her arms.
He did not fight it; indeed, the small boy who had always wanted such a hug even enjoyed it, yet he remained still the entire time. James was not used to hugs and kisses of a maternal type. He may have loved his grandfather, but the man had not comforted him with anything but words.
“Of course I know you live nearby Oak’s Knoll, yet what has you travelling to London with my nephews and nieces,” she said upon releasing him.
“Raven wished for company for his sister, and as I met him in the village one day, we discussed our travelling together.”
James nodded to Sinclair as he spoke. They could not tell the woman the truth, as he had no wish for anyone to know about the attempt on his life.
“Excellent!” she cried loudly, making James wince. “Well then, we shall take tea.”
“If I may decline, my lady. Samantha is tired after the journey and in need of rest,” James said. He had no wish to spend more time in Eden’s company.
“Very well, however I insist on you coming to tea one afternoon soon so I may become better acquainted with Samantha. And of course, I am sure she and the twins are now firm friends.”
“Yes!” Somer cried. “And James has promised to take us all to Astley’s.”
“I did warn you,” Cam drawled softly.
“That you did.”
James said his good-byes and minutes later he was leaving the Sinclair family. He sat inside the carriage with his sister while she waved good-bye.
“Do you like the Sinclair family, Samantha?”
She gave him a small smile.
“Very much, they are happy.”
He could read so much into those simple words. She wanted to be happy? She had never been happy? He was not a happy person? The possibilities were endless. But one thing James did know was that he would do everything in his power to make her happy.
Chapter Eight
The refreshed elder Sinclair sisters left their rooms the following morning to make their way to the breakfast parlor. They had been too tired last night to venture far. After ensuring their younger siblings were being entertained, surprisingly by their aunt, uncle, and several maids, all of whom had been gathered around the fire toasting crumpets in the nursery wing, Eden and Essex had eaten and then fallen back into bed, once again slipping into a deep slumber.
“Good morning. I am the butler, Pennyroll.”
“Good morning, Pennyroll,
” Essex and Eden said in unison when he appeared before them as they entered the long hallway. He was tall with wide shoulders and wore an immaculate black suit with crisp white shirt. Thick and the color of newly fallen snow, his hair was swept back from the forehead. Round eyeglasses enhanced a pair of bright blue eyes.
“You have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, Pennyroll,” Eden said, leaning closer. “In fact, I would go so far as saying they are more indigo, don’t you think, Essie?”
The butler didn’t flinch as the two young ladies peered into his eyes.
“I think you could be right, Eden. They really are beautiful, Pennyroll.”
“My mother said they were wasted on a boy.”
“Surely not,” Essie laughed. “I should imagine you are quite a success with the ladies, Pennyroll.”
The butler merely smiled then led them down to the breakfast room at a stately pace.
The house was grand in every way, from the plush carpets to the softly painted walls. Light spilled into the rooms from large windows offering views of gardens and parks. Mirrors and paintings hung in huge gilt frames.
“It is very grand, Eden.”
“Yes it is, but also strangely comfortable don’t you think?”
“Yes, not what I expected at all after father’s descriptions of our aunt and uncle. I must admit to preconceived ideas of gold fittings and lavish surroundings,” Essie said, looking at a large print of a house in the countryside surrounded by wildflowers.
“Perhaps not everything Father told us was true,” Eden whispered as Pennyroll opened a door before them. The entire Sinclair family were seated, as were their aunt and uncle.
“Now we are all together!” their aunt cried as she saw her two nieces enter the breakfast parlor. Waving to the only empty chairs at the table, she urged them to take a seat.
“Good morning,” the sisters said to the room.
“Eden!” Dorrie said, getting out of her chair and running to her sister. “We played games after you left last night.”
“It sounds like I missed all the fun,” Eden said, replacing Dorrie in her seat and giving Warwick and Somer kisses.
