Judith Stacy (5 page)

“Brandon, we agreed that you’d oversee the landscaping,” Jana said. “It is your responsibility, you know.”

“Of course I know, but—”

“I hope in the future you’ll show a little more commitment to your duties.”

Jana hurried up the staircase, not waiting for a reply, but feeling Brandon’s hot gaze following her.

Supper was tiring and irritating. Halfway through the meal, Jana disliked the Gentrys as much as Brandon did.

This morning when she was trying to come up with someone to invite to supper, a couple who would annoy Brandon to no end, the Gentrys seemed the obvious choice. She remembered them from the first three months of marriage when she’d been trying to fit into Brandon’s social circle. The Gentrys were, indeed, opportunistic, the only couple Jana knew who would accept a supper invitation on a few hours’ notice.

Now that they’d departed, she was glad to see them gone. She headed up to her room wondering if, for her own peace of mind, she should think of a different way to annoy her husband.

“Jana?”

She stopped outside the door to her bedchamber, surprised to see Brandon striding up the staircase and through the hallway toward her. Since her first night back in the house when she’d told him not to expect any intimacy between them, he’d made himself scarce when she’d retired for the evening.

She braced herself, expecting an earful over her choice of supper guests, but Brandon looked unruffled, as he approached, calm, thoughtful…

Handsome.

For an instant Jana gave in to the feeling, let it wind through her, coil around her heart.

Good-looking, smart, successful, ambitious. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to such a man? As a girl of nineteen, Jana had been entranced by those qualities. But for a woman of twenty-one, they weren’t nearly enough.

Brandon stopped in front of her, not coming too close, and slid his hands into his trouser pockets.

“The Gentrys were…”

“Obnoxious?” she suggested.

Brandon grinned, sending a shiver arrowing through Jana’s heart. He smiled so seldom.

“At least now people will know I actually have a wife,” he said, lifting his wide shoulders. “There was some talk…before…that I’d made you up. That I’d concocted an imaginary wife.”

“No need to worry this time,” Jana said. “I intend to keep up on social obligations—even if it means filling the house with couples like the Gentrys.”

Brandon didn’t protest, as she’d hoped. In fact, he said nothing at all, as if he hadn’t heard her. Then she knew why.

He eased closer and his eyes darkened. A look Jana knew well.

“You look quite lovely tonight,” Brandon said, his voice low and mellow.

Jana’s heart picked up a little as he drew even nearer. She knew she should dart into her bedroom, yet something held her in place.

“I haven’t seen you in this gown before,” he said.

He glanced down at the low plunge of her garnet dress, his gaze alone making her breasts tingle, urging her to snuggle against his hard chest. She fought the temptation.

And thought herself doing an admirable job of resist
ing that temptation until Brandon drew even closer and the heat of his body covered her. He touched his palm to her cheek and leaned down. For a moment, his face remained only inches from her, his breath fanning her lips. Then he kissed her.

His mouth covered hers, warm and familiar, delicious and exciting. Jana opened her lips to him and he slipped inside, where he belonged. She sighed and rose on her toes. Brandon eased closer until their bodies met, then groaned deep in his throat. She looped his neck. He splayed his hand on her back and pulled her against him.

A hunger claimed Jana, alluring and demanding. She hadn’t experienced it since—

Fourteen months ago.

Jana pulled away. Brandon’s lips stayed with hers, then finally released them. They hung in their embrace for a few seconds, hot breath puffing against each other.

Jana stepped back. Heat throbbed in her cheeks. Her body warmed in old, familiar places that Brandon had brought to life fourteen months ago, and again now.

“I—I told you I didn’t want us to resume our—our lovemaking,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper. She kept her gaze down, unable to meet his eye.

“This is kissing,” he said, a gentle teasing in his voice. “Lovemaking is something entirely different.”

Jana looked up at him then. He lowered his head but didn’t kiss her. Instead, he touched his cheek to hers, nuzzling her, brushing his lips against her.

His mouth played along the curve of her jaw, then dropped lower until his lips fanned her neck.

“If you’ve forgotten the difference between the two,” Brandon murmured against her ear, “I’ll be happy to demonstrate.”

His lips claimed her neck once more, sending a rush through her. Jana closed her eyes for a moment, then drew in a breath and pushed away.

“No,” she said, wanting to sound forceful but failing miserably.

Brandon didn’t protest, but she saw the wanting in his darkened eyes, his heavy breath, his flushed cheeks. For an instant, Jana wanted to throw herself into his arms once more, have him carry her into her bedroom as he used to do.

But that would only complicate things. As Jana already knew, all too well.

Brandon seemed to read her thoughts. He backed up a step.

“I always thought we made a good-looking couple,” Brandon said, his voice still low, heavy with need. “Both of us tall. A good match…physically. Did you like that about us, Jana? Before? Is that one of the things you liked about us? Surely, there was something…”

He’d asked her that question the first day she’d come to the house, when she wanted a divorce and he wanted to try again. Wasn’t there something she liked about them as a couple?

“No, Brandon,” she said, forcing strength in her
voice. She straightened away and pushed up her chin. “No. There was nothing I liked about us.”

She turned and hurried into her room, closing the door behind her, not wanting to see his face.

B
randon sprang in Jana’s mind the instant she opened her eyes the next morning. It didn’t surprise her, given that he’d prowled her dreams all night.

She pushed herself higher on her pillows and yanked the coverlet up to her chin. Dozens of mornings—three months’ worth—floated through her mind. Mornings when she’d awakened with Brandon in her bed. Mornings when they’d awakened together after a night of lovemaking.

Jana’s stomach quivered at the memory. From the very first night they’d spent as husband and wife, Brandon had been gentle and coaxing and loving. Never in a hurry, never annoyed with her inexperience, never distracted from the moments they shared. Alone in her bedroom—they never made love in his room—Brandon forbade the servants to interrupt; there would never be
a circumstance that warranted it, she’d overheard him say. Her room was their world.

From the whispers of her girlhood friends, Jana had learned the ways of men, how they visited their wives on occasion, then went on their way. Brandon never left her side. All night they lay together, listening to the rain or the wind, or watching the moon through the window as it arced through the heavens. In the morning, they awoke snuggled like kittens, and each morning Brandon whispered that he never, ever wanted to leave her. She believed him. She knew how he felt. She never wanted him to go.

But he always did. He walked out of her room and, in crossing the threshold, became a different person.

Jana gazed through the open curtains, out the window she and Brandon used to lie beneath. Her heart warmed at the memory of how handsome he was, how she treasured those moments, the feel of him next to her and the closeness she enjoyed.

But she couldn’t remember one single thing they’d talked about.

Jana sat up. How could that be? She recalled in great detail nearly every word the overbearing decorator Mr. McDowell had said, each and every slur bestowed upon her by the cantankerous cook. She remembered the other women in her newly evolving social circle, those who’d been accepting, those who hadn’t.

But she couldn’t remember a conversation with her own husband?

Oliver Fisk flashed into her mind, and it vexed Jana to recall that the quite proper newspaper editor had known the location of Brandon’s office, but she didn’t.

Had she simply forced it all from her mind these last fourteen months?

Another sort of longing suddenly filled Jana’s heart. Brandon had hardly been the biggest thing on her mind once she’d arrived in London.

A brief knock sounded on her door before it swung open and Abbie came inside.

“Morning, Mrs. Sayer,” she said in greeting.

“Good morning, Abbie,” Jana said, rising from the bed.

“How was your night?” Abbie glanced at the barely disturbed coverlet. “Uneventful, as usual, I see.”

Jana smiled, finding Abbie’s frankness refreshing. “And they will remain uneventful.”

“It’s not hardly my place to say, but if certain things go unattended for too long, well, they might go wandering off.”

“Yes, I know….” Jana slipped her arms into the sleeves of her robe, troubled by the thought that Brandon would take his affections elsewhere, as any man would do, if she spurned him long enough. Even though she didn’t intend to stay. Even though he’d certainly sought comfort from someone while she was gone.

“I suppose Brandon had…company…here while I was away,” Jana said.

“Oh, no, ma’am.”

She swung around to face Abbie as the maid opened the closet doors. “But surely—I mean he must have—”

“Mr. Sayer never brought a woman into this house,” Abbie told her with such conviction that Jana believed her.

“I suppose he went elsewhere,” Jana said.

“I suppose he would, being a man, and all,” Abbie said. She shook her head. “But I’ve got my doubts. The way he pined after you…”

“What do you mean?”

Abbie hesitated a moment, then said, “After you left, I came in to clean, keep things looking nice, you know, just in case. And several times I found Mr. Sayer here, in your room…all alone.”

Jana frowned. “Doing what?”

Abbie shrugged. “Just lying on the bed, sometimes. Or touching your things left on the bureau. I saw him standing at the window once, looking out, holding your pillow.”

Jana reeled back, the vision filling her head, making it spin. Sorrow and guilt clutched her heart. She’d had no idea….

“Good morning.”

Jana whirled toward the sound of Brandon’s voice. He stood in the hallway, his head tilted to see around the partially opened door.

“Good—good morning,” she said.

He stepped through the doorway as if he weren’t sure he should, and his gaze bounced around the room.

Was he remembering their nights spent together
here? Jana wondered. Or the hours he’d wandered alone through her room in the wake of her departure.

“I thought you’d want to see this,” Brandon said and held out a newspaper.

Jana glanced at the mantel clock and saw that it was past time for Brandon to have left for the office. Her dreams had caused her to oversleep.

“The advertisement,” Brandon said, holding the newspaper out farther. “I thought you might want to see it.”

Jana crossed the room and took the paper. Her fingers brushed his, making her keenly aware that she wore only her nightgown and robe—a fact not lost on Brandon, given the way his gaze traveled over her.

When she didn’t answer, he stepped back. “I’m going to bed—” Brandon stopped, looked pained and said, “Downstairs. I’m going
downstairs
now.”

She couldn’t help but grin. He gave her one last lingering look, then strode away.

Jana leaned out the door, watching as he disappeared down the stairs, a part of her wishing that he’d stop, come back.

Then she admonished herself for having the thought and reminded herself to be on guard against him. So far, Brandon had respected her wishes about not sharing a bed. He’d held back.

She had to do the same…somehow.

“Dammit…”

Brandon cursed as he cradled the elbow he’d just
banged into the wall behind him. The storage room Jana had converted into his study barely held the makeshift desk, the spindly chair and a side table laden with a teetering stack of papers and ledgers. He’d hit his knee and banged his elbow twice as he tried to get some work done in the small, airless room.

He should have gone downtown to his office where he could be comfortable and actually get something accomplished. But after seeing Jana in her nightgown and robe this morning, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house. So here he was, crammed into this tiny room, waiting what he judged to be sufficient time for his wife to dress and come downstairs so he could see her again.

“Fine thing…” Brandon grumbled as he shifted in the tight space. Business—important business—awaited him, yet when Jana hadn’t appeared at the breakfast table he had decided to delay leaving for the office. Then he’d come up with a silly notion of bringing her the newspaper just as an excuse to go to her room and see her—his own wife.

Of course, that hadn’t turned out badly at all.

A warmth curled through Brandon at the memory of seeing Jana in her nightclothes. Nothing on underneath. The light streaming in the window behind her had provided him with an enticing glimpse of the curve of her hip through the thin fabric.

The craving that had plagued him for so long worsened. He remembered those hips. The way they curved gently, fitting the palm of his hand. Her long silken legs, sliding up and down his thighs. And her breasts.
Without a doubt Jana had the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen—or imagined. If he’d caught sight of them in her room just now, he’d have—

“Hellfire.”

Brandon shoved back his chair and surged to his feet, cracking his elbow against the wall once more. His head banged against the low-hanging light fixture.

“Dammit…” He stomped from the room, rubbing the spot on his head. “Jana! Jana!”

Charles scurried down the hallway toward him looking as concerned as the butler ever looked.

“Where’s Jana?” Brandon demanded. “Is she still upstairs?”

“The kitchen, sir. I saw her go in the kitchen a moment ago,” Charles said, and quickly stepped aside.

The kitchen? She’d dressed and come downstairs already? For some reason, that didn’t suit Brandon either. He straight-armed the kitchen door and planted himself beside one of the worktables, prepared for the flurry of activity his unusual presence in the room always brought to the kitchen staff.

But no one noticed him. The attention of everyone—the cook’s assistants, the grocer delivering at the back door and two maids—was riveted to Jana and Mrs. Boone who appeared to be in a standoff of sorts across the room. Neither woman looked happy.

“If you’ll pardon me for saying so
again,
Mrs. Sayer,” Mrs. Boone said, “I’ve been Mr. Sayer’s cook for a very long time now.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Jana told her.

“I was here, you know, cooking for him the whole time you were gone. To wherever it was you ran off to,” Mrs. Boone said. “And I can tell you that Mr. Sayer won’t like any of those new recipes you want me to prepare.”

Brandon bristled at the cook’s tone. Mrs. Boone had been a loyal servant for a long time. He’d never heard her speak so disrespectfully to anyone before.

Then it occurred to him the reason for the confrontation. Jana was attempting to change the menus.

“You needn’t concern yourself with my travel schedule. You should concern yourself with doing as you’re instructed,” Jana informed the cook. She dropped the small book on the sideboard with a thud. “These are the recipes I want you to use, and here is the menu I’ve written for this week. I expect meals to be prepared accordingly, beginning this evening.”

With a crisp nod, Jana sailed past the cook and their audience of servants. Her footsteps faltered when she caught sight of Brandon, yet she didn’t stop.

He followed her into the hallway.

“What the hell was that all about?” he asked, striding after her. “You’re changing the menus?”

“Yes, I am.”

“But I like the meals the way they are,” Brandon insisted.

Jana stopped abruptly and swung around to face him. “The meals are my responsibility now, aren’t they?”

“Yes. But you know I’m particular about the food—”

“The recipes needed updating. And what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m going to the office later,” Brandon said, feeling a little odd that he was required to give an explanation.

“Fine. While you’re here you can speak with the gardeners,” Jana said and started walking again.

“Jana?” Brandon hurried after her. “Jana, wait. I want to talk to you.”

She stopped, and he couldn’t help but notice the most appealing flush to her cheeks. His body warmed anew at the recollection of Jana in her thin nightgown earlier this morning.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I, uh…” Brandon gaped at her, trying to remember.

“You wanted to talk with me?”

Brandon rubbed his forehead. “Yes. Yes, I did.” He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “How much longer before my study will be finished? That little room by the kitchen is intolerable.”

“Let’s go have a look,” Jana said, and took off down the hallway again, leaving Brandon to trail after her.

The sound of hammers and saws greeted them as they drew closer to the study, this wing of the house in even more disarray than before, it seemed to Brandon.

He stopped at the entrance to the parlor. Inside, a dozen workmen balanced on scaffolds and ladders went about their jobs. But to Brandon, something was amiss.

“Weren’t these men farther along on this job
yesterday?
” he asked.

At his elbow, Jana nodded. “Yes. But I changed my mind. I decided I didn’t want the walls removed. I told the workers to put them up again.”

“Put them up again?”

“And I don’t want the floor lowered either,” Jana said. “I decided to raise the ceiling instead.”

“Raise the ceiling?” Brandon’s eyes widened. “But there’s another story over it. You can’t just—”

“I’ve changed my mind about your study, too.”

A thread of hope flickered in Brandon’s chest. “Does that mean you’re not making it pink?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Jana mused, waving her hand to dismiss the entire idea.

“Thank God,” Brandon mumbled.

“I’ve decided now to make it yellow.”

“Yellow?”

“Yes. Pale yellow. A shade somewhere between sunflower and goldenrod,” she said, touching her chin thoughtfully. “With a mural depicting bunnies with fluffy tails amid a field of pansies.”

Brandon’s shoulders sagged. “Let me guess. The workmen had to start—”

“—over. Yes.” Jana gazed up at him. “I don’t want to ask them to rush. I want your study to be just perfect for you, Brandon. No matter how long it takes.”

“But, Jana—”

“Do talk with the gardeners before you leave,” Jana said. “I’ll see you tonight at supper.”

“We’re not having guests again, are we?”

“Of course,” Jana announced. “You needn’t worry, Brandon, I’m committed to establishing our rightful presence in the city’s social scene.”

He watched as she walked away, her bustle bobbing down the hallway. “Where are you going?” he called.

She paused and glanced back. “I have a full day of luncheons, teas and social calls.”

“But—”

“Do be on time tonight,” she said, then turned and walked away.

A little groan slipped through Brandon’s lips as the sight of Jana’s bobbing bustle disappeared around the corner. Unwanted supper guests. New meals. The house under construction. And a yellow study—with bunnies. The massive disruption of his schedule, his solitude, his accustomed surroundings. Jana was making his life miserable.

And still, he wanted her.