REMEMBRANCE Page 11

  Thomas had seen her every move, for he had watched her as she moved away from the party. He felt a little amused by her odd behaviour, for she was drunk and he had seen the way she had giggled to herself as she staggered over the top of Upper Bank, apparently thinking that no one had noticed, but he had. He had noticed everything since the first moment she had walked into the ballroom at Whitmore Manor. He knew exactly where she was going, as they had gone there many times as children. After waiting for a few minutes, he slipped away himself.

  She stood within the small stream hidden from anyone that would be at the top, for the small group of trees barred their view. Her skirts were hitched up in her hands exposing the silkiness of her calves. The running water cooled her heated feet. She was still giggling to herself as the water tickled her toes. She was feeling very drunk now and wished she had not had that last glass. How was she to control herself in this state?

  This is where Thomas found her; to him, she was a sight to behold—she was like a water goddess, exposing most of her lower legs as she dipped her small feet in the clear water. She wobbled slightly on her feet and was still chuckling to herself. He watched her for a few minutes, hidden within the shelter of the trees. How he longed to walk over to her and take her in his arms, to whisper his feelings for her against the soft lobe of her ear. She looked so innocent, but yet, tantalisingly erotic. Her perfectly formed figure was silhouetted through the fine fabric of her dress, as the sun’s light shone behind her. He ached with awareness. What was she doing to him? She was bewitching. He knew that he could not stand there any longer.

  “I thought that I would find you here,” he said on his approach.

  There was a slight flush on her cheeks and several of the loose curls stuck to her neck.

  “It is far too hot to sit out on the top,” she said, sighing. “It is much cooler down here.”

  He stood at the water’s edge, admiring the expanse of flesh she so carelessly showed as she tried to gather up her pretty dress, trying to prevent it from getting wet.

  Drunkenly, she looked over at him. “Come on Tom, what are you waiting for?” She beckoned him to join her.

  Thomas hesitated for a moment, not wishing to take advantage of her intoxicated state. Finally, no longer able to resist her, he pulled off his boots, treading carefully to come and stand beside her within the flowing water of the stream.

  He laughed silkily and deeply, which caused her heart to give a little jump.

  “You are right; it is much more pleasant in here.”

  “Pray, forgive me Tom, for I think that I am a little drunk,” she tried to apologize, but her words were slurred.

  He was highly amused that she actually admitted to the fact that she had drunk too much.

  Her heart was beating so fast at his closeness. She was vividly aware of his strong masculine allure; his manly aroma invaded her nostrils and she felt an ache low down in her abdomen. Never before had she been more aware of a man than she was of him at this moment. She wanted to unbutton his shirt and press her face to his chest, so that she could breathe in his masculine scent and taste the saltiness of his skin. She shook her head, trying to shake the image she had formed in her mind. It had to be the alcohol. She needed to distract herself from her wicked thoughts.

  She lifted her face to the sky, wobbling slightly, and noted the grey clouds that threatened to cover the sun.

  “I do believe that it may rain soon,” she smiled.

  “I believe that you are right,” he followed her gaze.

  Unable to contain herself any longer, and suddenly rather courageous due to the amount of wine she had drunk, she looked at the man she loved.

  “What have you done with poor Miss Cartland? I was sure that she would faint from the heat.” There was a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  “Ah, Miss Cartland,” he sighed. “Poor Miss Cartland is not fond of picnics, from what I can gather.”

  “Oh, that is a shame! Maybe next time, she would decide to stay at home?” she smiled sweetly in his direction.

  “I take it that you do not take kindly to Miss Cartland’s presence, M?” he commented, eyeing her knowingly.

  “Oh I did not mean it unkindly, for she cannot help being who she is, but I fear she has her sights set on higher things.” Her sarcasm was evident again.

  He was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke.

  “I believe that you may be right. A woman of Miss Cartland’s standing would receive a number of proposals from wealthy bachelors,” he watched the emotions cross her face as she absorbed what he had said. Did she believe that he might be one of them?

  “Maybe we should encourage Miss Cartland and Mr Grainger to take to each other’s company?” she giggled. “He could talk to her non-stop of boring no-nonsense stuff and she…”

  “And she could constantly moan about her complexion and all manner of things that involve just her,” Thomas added.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  They both laughed.

  Maria stepped from the stream and sat in the long grass on its bank.

  “Do you remember when we used to come here as children?” Tom asked, as he lowered himself beside her.

  She giggled. “We would always end up wet and muddy. Uncle would be furious because it was not proper to act in such away.”

  “Do you remember the time we made fishing rods from sticks we found in the woods…?”

  “And used the cotton from my petticoat to make a line,” she finished for him.

  Their laughter filled the air in remembrance.

  “It has been a long time since we have sat on this bank, M,” he said quietly.

  “Yes it has, Tom.”

  “In fact, I would go as far as to say that I regret that it has been such a long time since we have laughed at all without the restraints of society.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “I did miss you,” he confessed, taking a slight glance at her face.

  She turned towards him, “And I missed you,” she said sadly.

  As their eyes locked, something that couldn’t be explained passed between them. All they could hear was the symphony of the small stream trickling as it moved over the pebbles on its bed, a wood pigeon in the branches of a nearby tree, their hearts as they beat so fast against their chests, the rush of the blood in their veins, and the heaviness of their breathing as their eyes linked their souls.

  They were both oblivious to the darkening clouds and the first drops of rain that splashed into the stream, causing circular ripples on its surface. It was only as it became heavy that they were awoken from their trance. They suddenly jumped to their feet, and started running to the cover provided by the dense group of trees.

  They were laughing as they shook the water from their clothes. She ruffled her fingers through her flattened hair, as water droplets clung to her cheeks.

  “M?” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied, laughter still on her lips.

  “My mother thinks that it would be a good idea if I was to take a profession.”

  “Well, how absurd,” she said, still laughing as she shook her hair.

  “So I was thinking of joining the Navy.”

  Suddenly, she stopped what she was doing to look at him, “Pray Tom, why on earth would you want to join the Navy?” she asked a little shocked.

  “Well, I have nothing to keep me here at Nedgely and I would dearly like to travel.”

  She was silent for a moment. How could he think of leaving now? “Tom, you do not have to join the Navy just to see the world,” she said, trying to sound more light-hearted than she really felt.

  He studied her reaction, noting the way her eyes had widened in disbelief and her perfect little mouth parted slightly as she inhaled sharply. He could see that she was trying to think. He wished so much that she would say the words he had waited six years to hear. He had no notion of why he had said that he was going to join the Navy; he supposed that it was a test to see if she
would respond, to cry out to him not to go, to beg him to stay so that they could be together. He saw the softness of her lips, as they parted to speak and he held his breath with anticipation, almost expecting that she would now finally tell him her true feelings.

  “You are to be one of the wealthiest men this side of the English border. Not only will you inherit Nedgely Hall, you will also inherit Whitmore Manor when Uncle passes on. Why on earth would you join the Navy with all its constraints, when you can just pay for your way in luxury?”

  He stood before her, disappointment sweeping over him. He cursed himself inwardly for trying to trick her into submission and he knew deep down, that she would tell him when she was ready.

  She tried to smile but the muscles in her face did not want to move. She knew that she wanted to say so much more to him, but she just could not utter the words that burnt the back of her throat in their haste to be released. Thus, instead, she used humour as a shield to protect herself from the rejection she thought he would give.

  “Look at me,” she waved her hand in the air, “for I shall have nothing to inherit, for you shall take my home…” she paused, “so it would…” A smile formed on her face, “it would only be right that you did travel the world and because I will be homeless you should take ME as your travelling companion.” She giggled.

  “Is that so?” he asked, trying to sound amused, quickly recovering from the disappointment.

  “Yes… but, of course, you would have to put up with my infernal rattling and constant moaning, and of course because of my upbringing, you would have to keep me in the manner to which I have become accustomed.”

  “And?” He could tell that she had not quite finished.

  “And… it would be your duty to bow to my every need; it would be your obligation after taking my home. You would have to be my complete slave.” She couldn’t contain the giggles.

  “Is that so; anything else?” he said, now truly amused, as he watched the mischief on her face.

  “Yes…”

  “Yes?” He too was having trouble holding onto his laughter.

  “When eventually… as you will do… when you marry and no longer have need for a travelling companion. Being duty bound, as you would be, you would have to set me up in a small cottage on the edge of your estate, where I can live out the rest of my life…” she laughed, “raising chickens.”

  “Chickens?” he questioned.

  “Yes, chickens.”

  “Why chickens?”

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  By this time, she was creased over with stitch as her small body was racked with laughter.

  “You have one very active imagination, M, and it is amazing what a little drop of wine can do to a person.”

  He watched the way her wet hair fell about her face. Her skin had taken on a high pink colour and little flashes of light danced in her eyes; she was truly beautiful. Even as her hair clung to her head and her clothes outlining her slim figure were covered in mud, he still found her the most adorable woman he had ever seen.

  By now, the sky had grown ominously dark, as the dirty grey clouds blocked out the sun’s rays. The rain fell hard onto the dry ground, causing little water streams to run in its cracks; it started to drip from the upper branches of the trees to fall at their feet.

  “Will this rain never stop? How will we watch our sunset if the cloud does not clear?” she implored, trying to contain her giggles.

  Thomas stood quite still; it was as if he had just stepped back in time. He had heard her say that exact line six years ago in the identical circumstances. Still, back then, she had only been 14 and he a little older. She was no longer that child, but a young woman.

  “Do you remember the last time we got caught in the rain like this?” he asked, moving a little closer.

  “One minute, the skies were clear blue, and the next, the heavens opened,” she said.

  “We made it to the old oak tree, do you remember, M?”

  She nodded. “We were soaked through; I was sure that Uncle would be quite cross with us.”

  “And?”

  “And what?” She turned to face him.

  “What happened next?”

  She looked into his eyes, there was something else, but she couldn’t remember. She blinked her long eyelashes and licked her lips without thinking. She saw his eyes watch the movement as she nibbled her bottom lip nervously.

  “I cannot remember,” she confessed, shaking her head.

  He watched to see if she was teasing, but was disappointed to realize that she truly couldn’t remember.

  “Why can you not remember, M?” he asked her quietly.

  She fidgeted slightly under his gentle stare.

  “I do not know, Tom.”

  He moved until he was only inches away from her; his body was so close, they almost touched. Even through their wet clothes, he could still feel the heat radiating from her skin.

  “I remember as if it was only yesterday,” his voice was husky.

  She shook her head slowly, her green eyes unblinking.

  “Then why can’t I?” It wasn’t a question and she didn’t want him to answer; she just wanted to understand why memory of an apparently important event was evading her.

  As he looked upon her, she then saw something in the blueness of his eyes, which sent little excited pulses up through her body; it felt as if there was an invisible thread that pulled at her to move closer still.

  “Then maybe this will remind you?” he whispered as he cupped her face gently in his hands and his lips met hers with all the pent-up passion that he had tried so very hard to control.

  Her body swooned towards him, as if her legs could no longer support her weight; the hardness of his body pressed against her chest. Her hands found their way to the damp softness of his hair, as she willingly threw back her head and opened her mouth to taste his sweetness. Her body ached with a need for his nearness. This was what she wanted, needed, longed for—to steal the very breath from his mouth, to touch the soft moistness of his mouth with her tongue. Her heart was drumming out a rhythm all of its own, causing the blood to rush through her veins. A fire burned low in her stomach, radiating out through her limbs, pulsing through the secret passages of her body.

  All morals deserted her as she abandoned herself in her wantonness, yearning for the sensation of his skin against hers; the inner parts between her thighs throbbed, begging for his touch. She was almost feverish with the desire that engulfed her.

  He could not control the passion that surged through him. His hands became hard on her delicate skin, his palms burning at the contact. She was trapped between him and the rough surface on the sycamore trunk. He leaned into her, his hands moving through her hair. He deepened the kiss, his tongue duelling with hers, his breathing coming in laboured gasps. His body was hard to the point of being painful.

  Never had he dreamt that passion could overwhelm him, but it did; and he could tell that she was as hungry for him as he was for her. The nails of her slim fingers dug into his back, exciting him even more. Soft moans left her parted lips as he sucked the smooth skin of her neck. The urgency in their bodies was like a thirst that needed to be quenched.

  He lowered his hand and eased the fabric of her skirt up her legs. Gasping, as he felt his fingers touch the silky smoothness of her thighs, he kneaded their softness, caressing slowly until he was only millimetres from the hot centre of her body. He heard her catch her breath and her hands gripped the broadness of his shoulders, as he slowly eased his finger into her honeyed wetness. God, he was going to explode, his body was demanding its release; and she was so warm, the scent of her arousal was driving him crazy.

  He could ease the burning pain for both of them; it would be beautiful, magical—here, now, under the branches of this ancient tree. But did he really want their first time together to be like this? Did he want her to remember him taking her roughly against a tree like some back alley light skirt? God, he was no better
than Dudley was, if this was how he treated her!

  He tried to regain some reason in his already screaming mind. He wanted this more than anything! He dreamt of this moment for so long. His hand, already coated in her sticky warmth, was only adding fuel to his already pulsing body. He struggled with the reasons why he shouldn’t continue when she ripped at his clothing so she could touch the smooth muscles of his chest. Taking in his male scent, she pressed her face to his throat.

  “Heaven help me,” the air rushed from his lungs, “No, no!” he finally managed to utter, as he forced himself apart from her, trying to steady his breathing and control the fire that gripped his body. “No M, not like this.”

  Her face was flushed with arousal, golden curls draped around her shoulders; she was the picture of exquisiteness. Her eyes were still flashed with passion and he had to look away in order to keep his resolve.

  “You don’t want me?” her voice was all but a whisper.

  He swung back and saw the hurt on her face, “Oh God no, M! Of course I want you,” he came back to her, cupping her face in his hands. He saw the tears escape from her eyes, and before he realised what he was doing, he was kissing her again, losing himself to her touch.

  Already, her hands had worked their way beneath his shirt, tentatively brushing against his nipple. Ripples of pleasure shot through his body, enhancing the pressure already building in his groin.

  By sheer willpower, he forced himself to stop and raise his head. Trying to control his ragged breathing, he looked down into her watery eyes, “Not like this M!” His voice was shaky, when he whispered, “I have waited too long for you to ruin it this way. Our first time will be irreproachable.”

  He needed to put some distance between them before his self-control snapped and he would no longer be able to pull back. He feared that, if he came any closer to her, he would do exactly what he had told himself he would not do. The image of her wrapped around him, gasping out his name as he took her, made his shaft pulse painfully in the confines of his trousers. ‘God help me’ was his silent prayer as he opened the space between them. He stroked a finger along the length on her cheek and smiled, “Come M, the rain has stopped and we must get you back before your uncle sends out a search party.”