Lisa Bingham (17 page)

Those tears flowed more strongly when Evie launched herself at John, offering him an exuberant hug before self-consciously returning to the carriage.

Standing now, Louisa crossed to the window, pushing aside the curtain and staring out at the darkness beyond.

She still had no idea why Charles had arranged for a bodyguard. John had insisted that there were those who wished to harm her, but other than Boyd, she’d sensed no discontent from anyone. She had been treated with respect and gentility.

So why was John here?

More importantly, how long would he stay?

She wrapped her arms around her waist, suddenly chilled.

When had she begun to depend on him, even…care for him?

Shaking her head in impatience, she crossed the room and began to hang Evie’s new things in the wardrobe with savage efficiency. But she had barely begun the job before she was inundated by a wave of restlessness and discontent. A loneliness she couldn’t deny.

Hanging the last of Evie’s petticoats on a peg, Louisa closed the doors, resting her forehead on the cool panels.

Had she no shame? No pride?

But even her inner castigations were unable to derail her thoughts. Squeezing her eyes shut, she knew she was on a one-way track toward disaster. She was a widow, a guardian. She should be a bastion of respectability.

But she was also a woman.

Behind her, the door opened, and she knew immediately who stood there. She could feel him with every part of her being. She knew the instant that he found her in the darkness. She felt his gaze as if it were a hand stroking down her spine.

A yearning swelled within her, filling her with a sweetness that she had come to know well. As she turned to face him, she felt the tension of her body ease into a deep, delicious languor. She became infinitely conscious of her own femininity.

“She’s asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Any problems?”

Louisa shook her head.

“She missed two doses of her tonic,” John said softly.

Louisa flushed when she realized that she’d forgotten such an important detail.

“She seemed a little more clear without it,” he noted.

Louisa realized he was right. The more the day had worn on, the sharper Evie’s awareness had seemed to be.

“Perhaps her dosage needs to be changed. I’ve always thought she’s seemed…drugged.”

“Yes.”

Silence pooled between them, reminding them that Evie was safely sleeping and any precautions they might need to take would have to wait until morning. Until then…

When John took a step forward, Louisa met him halfway. The moment he touched her, she felt as if she were home, melting into his arms with a familiarity that frightened her.

Her arms swept around his neck at the same instant that he took her weight, lifting her against him, his lips covering hers.

A storm of sensation rushed through her, sapping the strength from her body and leaving her trembling but oh, so alive. Clutching at his broad shoulders, she met each of his caresses with one of her own, absorbing the taste of him, the feel of him.

When he finally drew back for breath, she rested her face in the hollow of his shoulder.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

For a moment, she couldn’t think of a single objection. “My situation is…complicated,” she finally managed to say.

“The only thing that complicates matters is you.”

She nodded, wondering what he would say if he knew just how complicated her life had become. “So why am I so willing to make things even more difficult?” she murmured.

She felt him take a deep breath, felt the beating of his heart beneath her cheek. “I’ve asked myself the same question, but I don’t have any answers. I only know that…around you—” he tipped her chin up “—I can’t seem to resist the temptation.”

Then he was kissing her again, his mouth firm, insistent. She willingly opened her lips, allowing him to search her intimately. She was so tired of being “good.” She didn’t want to push him away any longer. When he held her in his arms, she felt beautiful and desirable.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered against his cheek, gasping for air. “I have always been a sensible person.”

“Always?” There was a smile in his voice.

“Most of the time.”

“And have you never been tempted to do something outrageous?”

Her laughter was rueful. “Yes, but I have rarely allowed myself to give in.”

He drew back suddenly, taking her hand. “Then come with me. Now.”

Before she knew what he meant to do, he was tugging her out of the room, down the hallway and out the rear door.

The night was thick and black around them as they left Beatrice and Evie sleeping in the house behind them and made their way to the nearby trees.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh. Don’t talk. Just surrender to the experience.”

She didn’t need a second invitation. Laughing softly, she allowed him to pull her along a convoluted path, her skirts whispering in the grass, stray branches teasing her hair from its pins.

Soon she became aware of the gurgle of water and she wondered at its source.

“Is there a brook up ahead?”

“Wait and see.”

She didn’t know how she was supposed to see anything at all. The thick leaves overhead obscured what little light the moon might have to offer. But before she could wonder any more, the trees suddenly gave way to a small clearing.

“Oh, John,” she breathed.

In front of her lay a deep pool surrounded on all sides by verdant grass and patches of wildflowers. Overhead, the moon shone high, seeming to hover in the center of a frame of leaves and tree branches.

“Let’s go in.”

She gasped. “I couldn’t possibly. I—I don’t have… I couldn’t…”

Before she could protest any further, he silenced her with a soft kiss.

“For once, don’t analyze what you should or shouldn’t do. Follow the dictates of your heart.”

The dictates of her heart…

What would he say if she were to tell him that her heart begged her to do anything that would allow her to be closer to him?

John gave a low, throaty chuckle. Drawing her to him, he stroked her back with his hands. Strong hands. Broad hands. They were big and powerful, yet still had the ability to soothe her or bring her to a fever pitch of desire.

“Don’t think so much, Louisa. Follow your instincts. It’s only by listening to one’s heart that anyone can be truly happy.”

Happy.

Was she happy? She’d been given everything she’d ever wanted—a home, wealth, a family. So why did she feel so hollow inside? Why did she sense that in accepting the sudden windfall, she was missing or forgetting something?

“Are you happy, John?” she asked, grasping his wrist when he would have touched her face. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to absorb his answer without the clouding affects caused by his touch.

“I have known happiness.”

“When.”

“As a child. I had an…unconventional upbringing, but there were moments of superb happiness.”

“What made them so wonderful?”

“A good friend.”

Louisa smiled, realizing that in that respect they were alike.

“Was childhood your only source of happiness?”

“No. I was lucky enough to be raised on a sprawling bit of land that offered me a chance to work hard and see things grow.”

“But you still feel…unsatisfied.”

“That’s an interesting choice of words.” His tone was wry.

She felt the heat of embarrassment seep into her cheeks, but refused to be derailed.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I do.”

He thought for a moment, holding her in the circle of his arms, his fingers laced together.

“No. There are things I still long for.”

“Such as?”

“Children. Sons.”

“Would they have to be sons?”

He stared into the darkness, but she sensed that he was seeing something with his mind’s eye.

“No. I don’t suppose they would.” There was a hint of wonder in his response, as if he’d never considered the alternative before.

“What else?”

“A wife.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Not necessarily.”

Again, she felt the heat seep into her cheeks.

“Does Betty know of your plans?”

“Betty?”

He stared at her blankly and she prompted, “The barmaid you spoke of.”

“Ahh, yes. Betty. She’s a real corker.”

“And is she to be the mother of your children?”

He didn’t speak for the longest time. Instead, he regarded Louisa with such intensity, such thoughtfulness that she would have squirmed away if he hadn’t held her fast.

“I don’t know if Betty is the gal for me, after all.”

Louisa’s stomach flip-flopped, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. Instead, it felt very much like pleasure. Joy.

“Why would you say that? I thought the two of you seemed very much alike.”

“Mmm. Perhaps. But in the last few weeks, I’ve broadened my outlook. I’ve begun to see that there are other types of women.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’ve discovered that women can smell sweet and smile prettily and act with all of the gentility and propriety that a person could ever imagine. Yet simmering beneath that facade of respectability is something else.”

Louisa felt as if the breath were being squeezed from her body. “And what would that be?”

“The sensuality of a siren.”

“Didn’t sirens lead sailors to their doom?”

“Yes.”

She felt his body tense. Moonlight revealed the gravity of his expression.

“What about you, Louisa? Will your sweet passion lead me to my doom?”

L
ouisa opened her mouth to offer an immediate denial, but the words wouldn’t come.

Would she lead him to his doom?

Or would she cause both of them to suffer for her weaknesses?

In that instant, Louisa realized that she was trapped in the life she had chosen. As much as her heart might urge her to surrender and indulge in this man’s heated embraces, she knew she mustn’t. She was a newly widowed woman in a society where appearances were everything. If she was to ensure the proper place for Evie—and indeed, for herself—in Boston’s upper elite, she must behave in a way that was above reproach. Indulging in a romance with one’s bodyguard did not fit into the scheme of things.

Neither did losing one’s heart to one’s employee.

The thought was so shocking, so wrenching, that Louisa shied back, covering her mouth with her hand.

Had she allowed herself to fall in love with John Smith?

No, not love. This surely wasn’t love.

But it could be.

Horrified at how she’d stupidly allowed her emotions to hover on the precipice of commitment, she took another step backward, then another, and another. Then, knowing she must flee from her thoughts as much as from the man, she picked up her skirts and raced back to the garden house. She didn’t stop her headlong flight until she had closed herself in her room, shut the door behind her and turned the key in the lock.

Sobbing, she rested her forehead against the wood. How could she have done such a thing? How could she have allowed herself to become emotionally involved with that man? He was everything she had fought to escape, the very life she had sought to avoid. He was living from job to job, pay to pay. He had no real home to call his own and his only real family was…was…

A barmaid named Betty.

Sinking to the floor, Louisa cried even harder, her heart feeling as if it were actually cracking in her chest.

Why hadn’t she been smarter? Why hadn’t she found a way to make him leave? And barring that, why hadn’t she guarded herself against him more carefully? She’d been such a fool, such a brazen, wanton, lonely fool….

Swiping at the tears that coursed down her cheeks, she crossed to her bed and threw herself upon the mattress.

Too late, she had learned that money truly didn’t buy happiness. She’d thought that she would lead a life free from responsibilities—or at least none greater than running a household and arranging flowers. All too soon, she had found that even wealth had a host of taxing duties that could not be denied.

So what was she going to do? She had already tried everything in her power to make John Smith leave—and it was evident that she would not be able to resist him if he were near.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she realized the time had come to “make a scene”—something she had hoped to avoid. On Mr. Pritchard’s next visit, she would consult with the man and see if he could have John removed through legal avenues.

Even if it meant hiring another man to take his place.

The tears came again, stronger, faster.

No. No man could ever take his place.

After their stolen embrace by the pool, Neil became more troubled with the mysteries surrounding his old childhood friend.

When he’d asked if she would lead him to his doom like the sirens of old, he had expected her to laugh at the comment—or better yet, to respond to the challenge. But to his infinite regret, he had seen her expression settle into something akin to horror. Then she had turned and fled.

What had caused such a reaction? Until that moment, Neil had known that she shared his passion and his overwhelming need. When he’d drawn her into the forest, he’d envisioned that they would laugh and swim, kiss, perhaps even…

Make love?

Staring up at the ceiling of the screened porch, where he’d been assigned to sleep, Neil rested his arm on his forehead, his fingers absently tightening into a fist, then releasing again.

What had gone wrong? Something had scared her.

But Neil could think of nothing. She’d gone with him quite willingly. The way she’d reacted to his kisses had been heartfelt and immediate. And then…

What? What had he done?

He grew still when he realized that it might not have been anything that he’d said or done, but rather what they had been about to do.

Had the thought of making love to him scared her? If so, was it because she was innocent of such intricacies of physical love?

Or was she familiar with lovemaking and didn’t want him to know that fact?

His eyes squeezed shut as he remembered the look that had settled over her features. Not hesitancy, not even fear. But horror.

Dear sweet heaven above,
was
she pregnant? Had she known that by undressing in front of him—even if it were only for a midnight swim—she would reveal her condition?

Should he ask her bluntly?

As he pondered such a course of action, Neil realized that knowing the truth was only half the problem. The larger dilemma lay in his response once he had the knowledge he sought.

Rather than acting, Neil did nothing. Despite their correspondence, he really knew nothing about her other than that he’d claimed her as his own—and therein lay his greatest weakness.

In his mind, their engagement had been as binding as marriage. When he’d discovered that she’d donned a new identity, he’d refused to believe that any woman would scorn him in favor of a stranger. But after spending time with Louisa, after experiencing her beauty and passion, he was learning just what a prize he had lost. For the first time, he was forced to acknowledge that his emotions involved love, not just passion. He wanted to spend his life with her.

But he was also honest enough to know that he wanted her on his terms. He didn’t want “Charles’s widow.” He wanted Phoebe Gray, the innocent Scottish lass who had befriended him as a child and written to him for years.

He couldn’t seem to reconcile his earlier dreams with the reality that confronted him now. If Phoebe’s innocence had already been compromised, would he be willing to play father to a child who was not his own? Would he be able to live with a woman who had originally agreed to marry him only to provide her baby with an unwitting father? A woman who had been willing to trade a life with him for a fortune from a stranger?

Despite his reservations, Neil found himself growing even more protective of Louisa…and yet, protective of what? There still had been no threats made against her, no signs of attempted violence.

As the days continued to unwind without incident, Neil grew puzzled. He knew that his time as her bodyguard was limited unless he could prove that his concerns were justified—especially if she enlisted the aid of Mr. Pritchard. Neil sensed that she had already considered such a move since she’d grown particularly agitated when a note to the lawyer’s offices had been returned with an explanation that Pritchard was away on business for a week.

One week. Neil had so little time to resolve his situation, one way or another.

With each day that passed, he grew increasingly restless. He supposed that he should be pleased that his concern for Louisa’s safety was unnecessary. And yet his instincts continued to warn him that disaster was about to strike.

Needing something to keep his mind occupied, Neil decided to investigate the sudden death of Louisa’s husband. Yet even in that respect he found nothing suspicious, despite the whisperings of his spirit. Instead, what he uncovered was more information about the character of the man Louisa would have married.

Neil often wondered if Louisa knew how close she’d come to disaster. From more than one source, Neil had learned that Charles was a brilliant businessman. But Charles Winslow was also an ornery, cantankerous despot. He’d been a stingy, mean old man who had thoughtlessly shipped his daughter to an asylum soon after her mother’s death so that she would be “out of sight.” No wonder Evie was distraught at the mere sight of the castle.

“How is she today?”

Louisa started. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Beatrice had come up behind her. Slipping her diary into her pocket, Louisa rose from where she’d been resting in the porch swing.

Folding her arms, she regarded Evie as she sat beneath the trees in the distance. Knowing that the girl would eventually need to return to the castle and leave the cramped confines of the garden house, Louisa had begun to spend a small portion of time each day near the larger house.

At first, Evie had reacted with open hysteria at being so near the castle. But as the bond of friendship between Louisa and her had strengthened, she’d gradually accepted the fact that she would spend part of her day here.

“She’s had a…difficult day.”

Louisa’s comment was an understatement. The afternoon spent shopping had proved to be the exception to Evie’s usual behavior. More and more, she tended to vacillate between being fractious—or even violent—and passive and completely unaware of her surroundings.

Beatrice touched Louisa’s shoulder. “You mustn’t blame yourself. She’s been to the finest physicians possible. She simply…isn’t well.”

“There must be something we can do. No one should have to live like this.”

“Her tonic is a godsend.”

But Louisa wasn’t completely sure of that. From what she’d seen, the tonic did little to help matters. It merely drugged her enough to make her more manageable.

“I’d like to take her to someone else.”

Beatrice shook her head. “There
is
no one else. She’s been from Boston to New York. Charles tried everything.” Her eyes shimmered with tears as she watched the girl aimlessly pace back and forth among the trees, mumbling to herself and casting fearful glances at the castle. “Her mother was the same way, poor thing.”

“What was she like?”

Beatrice wrapped her arms around her waist as if suddenly chilled. “Frightening.”

Louisa was shocked by the way her features hardened. “In what way?”

Flushing, Beatrice hastened to explain. “Virginia was a beautiful woman, truly. She was so young when Charles brought her home—all wide-eyed innocence and golden curls.” Beatrice stopped, choosing her words carefully. “I was gone a good deal of the time, but when I returned after Evie had been born, there was a change. She was overly protective of the child, to the point of locking them both in the nursery and refusing to let anyone in. Day by day, things grew worse until…”

Evie’s aunt shuddered, biting her lip. “She used to scream and scream. Charles had to take the baby away from her, but that merely made her more frantic. Then one day…” A sob burst from her lips and she shook her head, clearly too upset to continue. “I see the same thing happening to Evie.”

Louisa shook her head, refusing to believe that anything so horrible could ever happen to the girl.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to return her to Hildon Hall?”

“No!” Louisa was horrified that Beatrice could even suggest such a thing. “I’ll arrange for an army of doctors and nurses to come here before I’ll ever take her back.”

Intent on escaping Beatrice and her abhorrent suggestion, Louisa turned, planning to rush down the stone stairs that led to the garden, but she found her way blocked by Boyd.

Sure that the man had overheard the conversation, Louisa waited for him to make a cutting remark. But he simply stared at her with dark, hooded eyes before stepping aside to let her pass.

Rushing through the weedy garden to the orchard beyond, Louisa took Evie’s hand, urging her to return to the garden house with her.

Louisa would never allow Evie to be taken back to the asylum.

Never.

From that moment on, the rest of the day seemed to go from bad to worse. Evie grew more unsettled by the minute. Her emotions began to seesaw wildly. One moment she was weeping hysterically, the next she laughed and talked to herself in a feverish manner that frightened Louisa. Even Bitsy ran beneath one of the beds and refused to come out.

Alarmed, Louisa finally sent for Evie’s doctor, but as the man emerged from the bedroom, he shook his head. “I’ve given her a sedative to help her sleep through the night.”

More drugs. In Louisa’s opinion, the last thing Evie needed was something to cloud her mind even more, but she held her tongue.

Her gaze bounced helplessly to John. He stood at the far end of the hallway, his large frame nearly filling the doorway to the kitchen.

“Is there nothing else that we can do?” she asked.

The doctor shook his head. “Evie has always been a delicate, nervous child.” He made a tsking noise with his tongue. “I’m afraid that she has required special care since birth—and the demands she makes will only grow, I’m sure.” He settled his hat on his head and donned his cloak. “I’ve left a stronger tonic on the bedside table. Administer it every three hours without fail. Other than that…” He regarded Louisa gravely. “May I be frank with you, Mrs. Winslow?”