Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (12 page)

He lifted her fingers from his arm. She couldn’t move. She felt frozen in place. T
ears threatened before she
modulated her breathing and started counting. And it worked. The moisture
retreated. That made is easy to watch him lift her hand,
touch his lips to her fingers, swivel, and then disappear somewhere in the crowd; leaving her more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.

Ever.

***

There was something to be said for true insanity, and she
knew it.

Only those truly bereft of reality had freedom.
Sometimes, in the worst times, she’d tried to find it. After Regis
had roughed her up a bit, or another guard slid his hands along
her nakedness, Helene truly had wished to be insane. In such a
place, there was no reason to do anything. Nothing made sense,
because nothing was supposed to.

It was a Christmas Eve when she’d finally faced the
truth, too. There was no God and no reason to celebrate a miraculous
birth when the sun rose, because there was no Jesus, either.
All she knew was bone-numbing cold, rats that wouldn’t
stay away no matter how she kicked, and guards that took one
look in her door before walking away, shaking their heads.

Thank goodness for that small mercy.

The doors they opened led to the
women who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak. Helene, with her
superior, jaundiced, sarcastic view of the world, thought those mindless women were to be pitied. She’d often prayed for them to a nonexistent God. That had been extremely foolish.

It was strange how clearly one could see when the entire
landscape was spread before her, without a blemish to mar the silken surface. Helene should’ve embraced insanity long before. And she
would have, if only one of those women had said something.

It would’ve alleviated so much suffering, like when her belly ached
from hunger and all they threw her was the contents of a
chamber pot, or when her only contact with another human being
had been a fist, and she’d been almost desperate enough to taunt them for more.

Those other women could’ve said something sooner, and she would have embraced the heavenly texture beneath
her, the warmth at her side, and the perfect feeling of absolute security.

She opened an eye on a rose-colored sheet and knew she
finally found insanity — and it was nirvana, not just mindless twaddle.
She’d sharpened her wits on the stupid
guards, pressed her mind for more games to keep her occupied, woven countless stories in her mind. In retrospect, it was
probably the most insane thing she could’ve done.

Perhaps there was a God after all.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share some of that sheet
? No? Too bad. I’m getting rather cold.”

Helene stiffened instantly as Gil pulled the material from beneath her cheek. Gillian Tremayne? In her bed?

“I’ve about had it with the frost bitch, Helene. I want back
the woman who charmed the hose off the entire household. Is
that too much to ask?”

She almost laughed
. That woman didn’t exist. She never had.

“Fine, then. Keep the blasted sheet. I’ve more to do than
whine and beg at your heels. I’ve got to find Reg and shove a fist through his mouth. ‘Act like a love-besotted fool,’ he advised me. Christ! I’d rather slit my throat.”

The mattress swayed as Gil left it, and Helene smiled to
herself. He didn’t sound like he was in a very good mood, but that was probably due to the previous evening, when
his little plot had backfired. He left her alone on the stage? Well, he shouldn’t be surprised at her success. She’d
acted like a shy little bride should. But instead of
appreciating her efforts, he sent her black looks from across the
drawing room. Even his mother noticed and called it, ‘Gil’s
jealous glare.’

Helene choked back a giggle, but the bed shook
.
Gillian Tremayne? Jealous?

She put her hand to her mouth, but a snort escaped even as
she smothered it with a pillow. She heard his grunt from
behind her.

“Oh? You find it amusing, do you?”

He was using that iron-hard whisper again. It made the
flesh on her back tingle. And that caused an instant realization. Of air. Nakedness. She
didn’t have anything on her back? No wonder the sheets had felt so wondrous. 

She’d never been
so vulnerable in her life.

Helene held her breath and waited, wondering if she dared
cover herself without attracting attention to it. If he knew how being naked affected her, h
e’d use it to his own ends, just as he used all her
other fears.

What am I thinking?
Any other man she’d met would
take what she couldn’t protect…without even thinking about it. Compared to those men, Gillian Tremayne was saintly. And for that, he deserved the
best acting she could give.

“I do hope you’ll forgive my laughter, love. It’s just so…strange. I mean you’re here. And…and e
verything’s new to
—.”

She rolled over as carefully as she could, and then her words stopped. So did her mind. G
il was looking at her from the chamber window. He wore an expression of absolute
scorn — and nothing else.

“Oh, sweet Jesus!”

S
unlight touched his skin, mellowed by pink-tinted drapes so that he glowed. She
had to swallow past a lump in her throat that
hurt. Her eyes wouldn’t obey her command to look away, either. He was absolutely jaw-dropping, like a chiseled marble statue
, from his tousled head of hair to the foot he’d
placed on the window ledge as he looked out.

“Not bad, Helene. Why…if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you
actually desire my company.”

Desire?

Oh dear! If he didn’t put something on, desire was the least thing that might happen
. Helene’s clapped a hand to her mouth as soon as the
thought occurred. She had to stop any of it from leaving her
lips!

“Hmm. I don’t think it’ll rain. That’s something worth giving
thanks over.”

He leaned toward the window, talking stupidly
about the weather. The weather? S
he didn’t care if it rained all year if he’d just don a robe. Or at the least, a pair of trousers
.

“We should count our blessings, I suppose. Mother isn’t
giving us many. The woman is even planning a congratulatory ball! And I wish to hide!
What’s the matter now?”

She’d pulled the sheet from the mattress, wadded the cloth into balls, but that didn’t come near stopping feelings that coursed her, sending shivers down her limbs, turning her nipples into tight darts, and causing her to part her lips to gain breath
. He had to put something on. And soon.

“Something bothering you, sweeting?”

Oh, dear God! He turned and walked toward her. Helene’s eyes flew wide, her mouth mirrored it, and then the cold iron of the headboard stopped her. Her back slammed into it without even thinking. Th
ere wasn’t anywhere else she could go. She tried to make her mouth work, say
something flippant, but nothing came out.

“You’re white as a sheet, Helene.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her.
Helene tried to close her eyes. They wouldn’t even obey
. Her
expression was probably one she’d rue.
She was half dizzy with
something.
H
e didn’t have to say a word.

“I wasn’t going to ask for the bedding back. You can keep
it if you like.’’

He swiveled onto his knees and crawled onto the uncovered ticking, and somehow she managed to shut her eyes. It didn’t help. His image was emblazoned on her eyelids.

“Go...away,” she whispered.

“You don’t want me to, love. And you can cease denying it. I am a
man, after all. I can tell desire when I see it. I’ll even admit to it. But not you. Oh, no. You’d
rather die than admit you want me. True?”

His breath caressed her nose. She turned her head aside.
“You...flatter...yourself.”

“Do you think I could talk to Brandy for just a bit? Please?”

“Why?”

“I liked her honesty.”

“No.”

“You’re losing, Helene. And I’m not immune. Within moments, I’ll have you beneath me, and we’ll finish ripping those sheets off the mattress for an entirely different reason.”

“Don’t, Gillian! Please. You’re mistaken. I...I couldn’t possibly....”  She sounded weak. Breathless. Confused. She couldn’t even finish the sentence? 

“Couldn’t you now? Well, that tart, Brandy, wouldn’t
hesitate. Please, Helene? Can’t I talk to her for just a bit?”

He’d picked up a lock of her hair and twirled it
about his finger. She bit the side of her
cheek to keep silent.
She should’ve known she’d curse the day Helen and her maid
decided Helene would suit their purposes.

“My…Lord?”

“Gil.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Helene.”

He sighed, released her lock of hair, and then the mattress swayed as he moved from it.
Helene forced her eyes to watch the wall.

“I have eyes. I
can see I’m not the sort you fancy. Pity. That would have made
these mornings entertaining.”

Helene’s head snapped around. He was just belting the robe he’d donned. She should be thankful. Relieved. Soothed. She wasn’t. If anything, her skin felt too tight and parts of her thighs were still twitching. She had to disguise it somehow, so she cleared her throat and spoke, doing her best to sound aloof. Cool. Prim. Proper. Exactly as Helene. She should’ve waited. The words trembled, and had a breathless quality.

“
These
… mornings?”

“Yes, Helene. These mornings. Every morning. It’s part of the act.”

“It is?”

“I have to be the first thing the servants see in
your rooms in the morning.”

“Servants?” 

“Servants always know the truth, Helene. Remember that
when you resort to lies. The servants would be able to spot our act if I didn’t visit your chambers. And we are hopelessly in love, remember? I do hope you’ll give it a better effort than the pathetic attempt last night.”

“Pathetic?”

“You heard me.”

“You, Sir, have no eyes if you don’t think I fooled
every last one of them!”

“Look who’s flattering herself. It was late, the candles dim,
and Mother made certain the spirits flowed freely.”

“I can’t believe this. I acted the part of a lovesick fool. And I was perfect. And it was one of
the most difficult things I’ve had to do.”

He turned around. His robe had an open collar. And he had a lot of chest. And she really had to look at something else. Like the door frame beyond his shoulder. Helene focused on it.

“A stone could’ve acted better. I do hope
you’ll put more emotion into it today.”

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

“That’s the only way we’ll be rid of each other,
remember?”

“I remember.”  Her voice croaked but it was there.

“Good.” 

Helene took a deep breath, counted to five, and then moved her eyes to his, and started acting.

“I recall our little arrangement perfectly, Gillian.” 
She put such a husky tone to his name, he flinched.
“And the day I can’t fool a batch of
aristos
is the day the Thames runs dry.”

“
Aristos?
” He raised his eyebrows. “One would actually
think you were in the revolution, Helene, but you forgot the most
elementary item.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” For once, it was
true.

The Bingham servants, my dear. You’re damned all right. And this time by your
own tongue
.”

“What?”

Her query coincided with a knock on the door. Gil walked across to open it, and his robe did little to disguise one inch of that masculine frame. The one she’d seen.

Naked. And nothing banished the image!

“Oh. Look darling. Here is your breakfast. I was beginning to lose
faith.”