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Thea felt a bitter smile tug at her lips, but managed to banish it. He had dismissed her with one shrug of his mighty shoulders. Instead of learning to love him, she could just as easily hate a man who could so casually say his goodbyes to her.
Chapter Four
‘Goodbye, then, Major, and thank you for my new post. I did little enough to earn it.’
‘Goodbye, Hetty, and thank you. Would that I were a different man.’
‘Should you not say if I were not so humble, or so poor?’ she challenged, and let out a great shush of breath when she was clipped into a powerful embrace and kissed ruthlessly.
‘Say rather if I were a better, more worthy man,’ he told her in a dangerous undertone and despite all his warnings that they might be seen, he obviously enjoyed the experience and promptly did it again.
Now she knew why she had never responded to the halfhearted overtures of Grandfather’s fortune hunters, she decided hazily, and if she had a shudder to spare it might go on Granby’s revolting embrace. As it was, she was too consumed by the explosion of heat that seemed to course back and forward between their greedy mouths. Of course she could not possibly have felt such intimacy with another man, she decided dazedly. He was the one designed to unlock the passionate nature she hadn’t known she had until that morning in the hut, and she was more than half inclined to wish it imprisoned again. This would come to nothing, despite the heated magic that bound her to him as if for life itself.
If she had not loved its presence so deeply, she might have bitten his sensual mouth for awakening her to such need, such endless, unmet need, when she might easily have gone through life never knowing what passion was. He nibbled a line of infinitely gentle bites along her lower lip, then smoothed them away with his tongue, running it along her soft damp skin as if he loved the taste of her.
She whimpered, and a stern part of her longed to think it was in protest against what he was doing, but what she really wanted was more; more of him; more of his kisses, just simply more. She moaned her approval as he once more deepened his kiss and this time opened his wicked, wonderful mouth on hers and probed her velvet warmth with his tongue. All the steel seeped out of her bones and she arched towards him ever more closely, binding her soft curves to hard muscles and strength without any menace but the one she wanted.
For all her lofty resolutions that she would stay untouched for a lifetime in memory of a man who would soon forget her, she suddenly knew that she was wrong. To be loved and left by Major Ashfield of the 95th Rifles would warm those stark and lonely years that were all the future seemed to offer her now. She could never have his respectable attentions, so why not simply melt into his powerful embrace and save her regrets for after he was gone?
Now he was trailing more urgent kisses down the exposed length of her throat, and when exactly had he exposed it? She felt fine tremors of heat shake her and knew they were both on the edge of being consumed. Could the fact that they were standing on a public highway where anyone might see them go hang? Could she ignore the last whisper of caution that warned against this? Could she throw away all the kindness Lady Lydia was offering her for one tumble with that lady’s handsome relative?
Probably, she conceded, as his wondering hand trailed a line of fire down her backbone, but she could not do the same for him. Despite those bitter words that seemed to condemn him as a heartless philanderer, she knew her seduction would haunt him once he found out he was her only lover. The only one she would ever have, for how could other men follow ardent desire combined with such tenderness? Yet the thought that he would wake up one morning in his new life and remember what he had done, and feel it as a betrayal rather than a glory, was one she could not live with.
Forcing her dazzled eyes open, she saw how his molten grey gaze dwelt on her disgracefully open gown, apparently fascinated by the rise and fall of her creamy breasts. She catalogued the flush of heated desire across his hard cheekbones and the wondering curve of his shapely mouth, that looked as if it remembered hers and wanted more. Then she drew back and shook her tousled head. His dark hair was disordered once more, by her wandering, wondering hands. I did that, she told herself in awe. I was his lover for just a brief, uncrowned reign of mere minutes. And now I am not.
‘No,’ she whispered when she could find enough breath even for that feeble objection. ‘I would not have you dishonour yourself, Major.’
With an almost animal sound of denial and possession, he went to tug her back into his strong arms and cover her all-too-willing lips with kisses, so they could both forget her ‘no.’
‘Nor would I have you dishonour me,’ she added inexorably, scant inches from the ultimate temptation of surrender, and still he seemed ready to read actions rather than words.
That earlier promise he made about honouring his obligations bit like acid into any lingering dream she was clinging to. ‘And I could not let you tarnish your name, Major Ashfield.’
He stepped back from her as if she had slapped him and stood, chest heaving and looking as if he had just run a heat with the devil.
‘Tarnish?’ he rasped out. ‘How could I tarnish a name my father dragged through every patch of filth he could mire it with?’
‘By muddying your own along with his.’
‘Oh, preach me no such piety, Miss Smith. Just tell me no and mean it, then have done with me.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispered miserably and for just a few seconds felt useless, hateful tears salt her eyes.
‘At least that’s honest,’ he told her fiercely.
‘As am I,’ she informed him proudly, and for the first time in weeks truly meant it. She had been in danger of taking herself at the Winfordes’ valuation.
‘Then you cast your bait in dangerous waters, madam. You must be more careful what you catch.’
Sending him a look of pure hatred, Thea decided she would never forgive him for what he had done today, then looked down her nose at him as if he was Sir Granby Winforde himself and stalked away without another word.
‘You had best do up your gown and tidy your hair if you don’t want to be run out of this village as well,’ his deep voice taunted behind her.
Overcome by an irresistible impulse, she swung round and stuck her tongue out at him like a street urchin.
‘Goodbye to you too, my dear,’ he called cheerfully, then turned on his heel and strode away whistling, as if not a single kiss or caress of that steamy encounter had meant a thing to him.
‘I am not your dear!’ she yelled defiantly and stormed up the wooded bank and on to the Common, completely forgetful of her safety and the dictates of everyday good sense for once.
‘I hate you, Marcus Ashfield. I hate you every bit as much as you want me to, and I wish I could forget you as easily as you will me,’ she raged. ‘When you find a more deluded female to warm your bed, I hope she leads you a merry dance, then walks away as if she hasn’t a care in the world.’
She calmed down at last and returned to her temporary home and scrubbed and dusted every corner of Miss Turner’s cottage in return for her kindness. By the time the woman came back from clucking over her precious Master Nick that evening, Thea was calm again and ready to share their simple supper. They retired early, for Thea had a brisk walk to look forward to and a hard day’s work. It was a very long time before she slept. When Thea did, she was glad her hostess was rather deaf, for she had woken from a nightmare on a panicked scream.
It was strange living on the wrong side of the myriad of doors designed to hide servants in the service of their betters. The sun rose and set on her labours, but Thea got used to her duties. The news that Major Ashfield was the new Viscount Strensham galled her more. Of course it made no difference. With her name besmirched she couldn’t marry him, although his title would free her fortune. Yet could she have lived with his cold logic, if he had found out who she really was and offered marriage for mercenary reasons? Yes, the instant reply came, then she contemplated such an unequal match and shuddered.
The great idiot had already hurt her more than the Winfordes had succeeded in doing by stripping her of home and worldly advantages. Marcus Ashfield had left her without the luxury of hope. Some last childish part of her had harboured the delusion that one day she might meet a man who valued her for herself alone. She did not have that vague hope now and, if she hadn’t been so busy, she might have been miserable.
She found comfort in the thought that, even if she were a lady, he would dish out the same hurt. The deluded girl she had been could well have gone into a decline, so at least she was saved making that discovery too late.
Then one April morning the sounds of church bells pealing out joyously interrupted the calm of Rosecombe, and such small considerations as a bruised heart faded into unimportance. The now nearly recovered Captain Prestbury rode out with his cousin to find out what was going on, to be met with the joyful news that Bonaparte had surrendered to the Allies. The cousins galloped back to Rosecombe with joy in their hearts.
‘Peace at last, my love!’ Sir Edward shouted, and threw himself off his horse to share the glad news with the woman he loved so much.
‘Oh, Ned, is it truly all over?’ her ladyship gasped breathlessly, as he seized her and swung her round, all the time laughing with joy.
‘Unless Farmer Boughton has been at the apple brandy, which I doubt as he has been a teetotaller ever since I can remember.’
‘Then we must ring the bell so we can share the news, my love.’
As they were standing in the hall under the bemused gaze of most of their household, there was no need, and there was much cheering and chattering with joy and relief. They were given a half-day to celebrate and by nightfall bonfires were blazing for miles around.
‘Not celebrating, Miss Smith?’ Captain Prestbury asked Thea as she melted into the shadows where he watched joy being unconfined.
‘Of course, Captain, who would not?’ she replied cautiously, wishing she had checked the darkness before she tried to melt into it.
‘Someone who finds it hard to believe it’s all over I suppose.’
‘It does seem strange.’
‘Strange is too mild a word. After so many years of fighting that genius of a madman, I can’t believe it’s over.’
‘You think Bonaparte mad?’
‘Not in the sense poor old Farmer George is, but anyone who seeks to rule the world is unhinged.’
‘I see what you mean.’
‘Do you, Miss Smith?’ The light mockery was back in his voice and Thea wondered if anyone was allowed to catch more than a glimpse of the real Captain Prestbury.
‘Only a fool refuses to acknowledge his enemy’s strengths.’
‘And you are far from being a fool.’
If only that were true. ‘Neither am I very wise.’
‘Yet, does a hard start explain your contradictions, I wonder?’
Now his voice was speculative and Thea felt her heart race for a very different reason than it had in Marcus Ashfield’s company. Both cousins were dangerous in their own way.
‘I must leave you, sir, lest we be seen.’
His grip was surprisingly firm for a man who was recovering from dreadful wounds. Most unattached females in Wiltshire were in love with this tall, dark and handsome Hussar, but she just felt a twinge of regret that they could never be friends. His cousin had dealt with any weaknesses she had for rogues ready to break her heart and leave without a backward look.
‘Just a warning from one adventurer to another,’ he continued, his grip impersonal and his gaze steady.
‘I’m no adventuress.’
‘Yet you’re not what you seem either, are you, Miss Smith?’
‘I am exactly what I seem, sir. Someone who needs a job to stave off destitution.’
‘Those are the plain facts,’ he agreed, but she could still see the glint of cynicism in blue eyes that were dark in the distant light of the flames. ‘Yet it is my business to look beneath them, even if my intentions are pure for once.’
‘You can hardly expect me to believe that, now can you, Captain?’ she told him, with a significant glance at his long fingers fettering her wrist.
He chuckled and let her go, trusting his words to keep her.
‘You have a way of looking adversity in the face and defying it that says you are a kindred spirit, Miss Smith. Would I had met you on the dance floor.’
‘You must have a touch of fever, Captain. Housemaids hardly ever go to grand parties.’
‘I observe, my dear. I don’t report unless my commanders decree it, and even if you were Boney’s best spy it could hardly signify now.’
‘Well that’s a relief.’
Thea saw him smile by the intermittent light, but he was sober and unsmiling when he finally came to the point. ‘My cousin Marcus is a fool, but a very determined one,’ he said gently.
She held up a hand in protest, feeling as if someone was probing a wound as tender as the one finally healing in his arm.
‘I’m not always so fast asleep as I seem, Miss Smith. With the number of stitches in my arm, I am often pressed to do more than doze.’
‘You have the habit of deceit, Captain,’ she told him disapprovingly.
‘True, but perhaps we had best not to examine that trait too deeply, since you share it. At first I was sparing the great oaf worry by staying still, then I nearly ended up blushing like a schoolgirl.’
‘Serves you right.’
‘True, but I was glad you finally remembered my presence.’
‘I recalled my own good sense, you had nothing to do with it.’
‘I’m suitably mortified, but nevertheless you did well. Marcus decided long ago to have nothing to do with love. I doubt anything less would seem worthy of throwing your bonnet over the windmill.’
‘I realised that for myself.’
‘Yet it can’t hurt to say he’s as stony hearted as I’m thought to be.’
‘No, Captain, the gossips are wrong.’
‘That they’re not. Marcus is quieter than me, but he’s still dangerous, and your sex has a way of yearning for the unattainable.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said softly and reached a gentle hand up to touch his still-thin cheek. ‘Lord Strensham is essentially cold, but I think you, Captain, are far from it.’
He looked uncomfortable, more used to brazening out misdeeds than fielding praise. ‘I leave at the end of the week to continue my recovery at my grandmother’s house in Bath,’ he said with every sign of revulsion.
‘Poor Captain Prestbury.’
‘Oh, confound it, why not call me Nick?’
‘Because I’m the under-housemaid.’
‘My friends call me by my given name.’
‘Thank you, Nick, but when we meet again, please forget you ever set eyes on me?’
‘Aye, but a letter to the Dowager Lady Prestbury in Sydney Place will find me.’
‘I will remember,’ she said softly and with a gesture of farewell, went to find the solitude she needed. If only she had a brother like Nick Prestbury, how different her life would be.
At the end of April the Darraine family left for the capital to enjoy the Season and to join the peace celebrations. Although most of the senior staff went too, the rest stayed at Rosecombe. Which could hardly be described as a holiday, Thea thought one sunny day at the end of June, considering the housekeeper would pounce on any neglect of their duties. Yet, if she made up her work in double time, a few minutes could be stolen from the day.
‘You’ll get caught one day you will,’ Carrie, the head housemaid, informed her cheerfully when she came upon her second lieutenant illicitly reading one of Sir Edward’s beloved books.
‘Caught dusting the library? That’s what we maids do.’
‘The rest of us don’t read the books while we’re dusting them, but you’d best be more careful, now.’
‘Why?’ Thea got on very well with the cheerful country girl and doubted her warning was a threat to reveal her secret.
‘Family’s coming home, and bringing guests with them.’
‘I thought they were off to Brighton.’
‘So did I, but we was both wrong. His lordship and the Captain will join them later, or so Mrs Meldon says, and she wants their rooms got ready before we start on all the others, just in case one of them takes it into his head to arrive before we’re ready.’
Thea’s heart thumped at the mere mention of the new Viscount Strensham, but she told herself not to be a fool. He had made his feelings, or lack of them, clear last time they met. He was just another stranger who would fill her days with work as Lady Lydia had promised.
‘I’d best hurry up in here, then,’ she said calmly and put her book back.
