The Mistress of Trevelyan (17 page)

I grew light-headed. I'd been too nervous to eat this morning, had only picked at my food last night, and now the flood of sensations sweeping over me seemed to be carrying me away with them. Spots wavered before my eyes. My arms and legs became heavy with a tingling sensation. My blood rushed faster and roared a warning in my ears. "Mr. Trevelyan, I do believe that I am going to fai—"

The last sensation I had before a dark fog filled my mind was that of strong arms wrapping around me, picking me up before I fell.

I quickly recovered my senses and found myself ensconced in Benedict Trevelyan's arms, my heart still thundering, my mind dazed. Heavens, the man had the most unprecedented effect upon me.

He'd carried me to a bench inside the stables. The wall above us had various metal bits and leather reins neatly hanging from shiny hooks. Wooden structures draped with colorful blankets supported expensively carved saddles. I could smell lemon oil, hay, animal sweat, and earth. But stronger than any other scent around me was his scent. He stared at me, a deep frown furrowing his brow. I stared at him, taking in the shadow of his granite jaw, the curving softness of his lips, and the heated interest in his eyes.

"Forgive me, Miss Lovell. I had no idea how deep-seated your fear was. Are you all right? Do I need to call the doctor?"

Never in my life would I tell him that it wasn't my fear of horses that had overwhelmed me. "No. No doctors. I am of the opinion that unless I am upon my deathbed, they are more apt to hinder than help. A cup of tea most often does more good."

His lips twitched, drawing my attention to them. "I see we are of the same opinion, then, but I swear by a properly aged brandy rather than tea. Since we have neither here, I suggest you rest a minute. You are quite flushed."

As he spoke, I found myself fascinated by the smoothness of his lips and the dip that split his chin. My fingers itched to feel the textures filling my vision—rough, silky, smooth, and warm.

I didn't think there was any part of him that wouldn't be warm, very warm. No wonder I was flushed, and in a quandary, too. I didn't know whether to embrace the fact that I had fainted—for otherwise I don't think I would have ever known how heavenly it felt to be held by him—or to be appalled, a reaction that would have been instinctive two weeks ago. A few short weeks ago, I would have found the notion that a man could make me faint laughable.

"Somehow, Miss Lovell, you have managed to attract a piece of hay." He reached up and brushed his fingers through the wisps of hair just behind my ear. His action brought to mind the words he spoke to Gunnlod as I stood outside the stable.
You are greedy for affection this morning, aren't you? You love being stroked, love the feel of my hand upon your neck.

"Yes," I whispered to the voice in my mind.

His eyes dilated, his breath rasped, and I bit my lip to keep myself from whispering yes again.

"Careful," he said. "You will hurt yourself, you... should not... do that" He brushed his finger over my lip, soothing my bite. I gasped as a lightning-like bolt of pleasure struck me deep inside. I freed my lip, and he bent his head toward mine. I knew with a shock that he would kiss me. My lips parted. My breath caught. Then his warm, supple lips touched mine, briefly, fleetingly, as if it were something not quite real. Indeed, were it not for the strength of his hands digging into my arm and leg where he gripped me, I would have thought I had imagined it

He stared at me, his face but inches from mine, his eyes so intense and black that I was but seconds from drowning within them. He appeared flushed and quite shocked as well.

I could not possibly allow myself to faint again. Yet that dizzy sensation seemed determined to render me senseless again. Practicality saved me, or ruined me—I was not sure which—for when I tried to sit up, he helped me do so, then quickly moved away from me. I immediately felt the loss of his body next to mine. He looked at me, then began to pace as stiffly as the granite his eyes and fisted hands had become.

Had I thought everything about him warm? He seemed cold now, as if winter had suddenly rushed in and covered him with frost.

"Miss Lovell, I fear I have taken horrible advantage of your weakened state. I understand if you wish to leave my employ."

His words sparked my anger. I jumped up from the bench, steadying myself. "Are you terminating my employment, Mr. Trevelyan?"

"No, but I understand should you wish to. I should not have kissed you—"

"Let me be perfectly clear about this matter. If and when I have no use for you as an employer, you shall hear those words directly from me."

His eyes widened as he realized that I'd used—almost exactly—the words he had said to me in his office Friday afternoon.

Some people are given to misinterpreting the actions of others, led astray by the intricacy of their thoughts. Apparently, Benedict Trevelyan and I were two such people. Just so he would have no doubt that as an employer and as a man he had in no way taken advantage of me, I let him know exactly what I thought about the situation.

"I am insulted that you think me such a ninny. I assure you, Mr. Trevelyan, that had I found your kiss repulsive, I am intelligent enough to say no. Why, I am even capable of protecting myself in certain situations. I can shoot straight and know all men are vulnerable if you know where to strike. Besides, I cannot say that you really did kiss me. I hardly felt your lips upon mine."

Turning on my heel, I marched from the stable, barely restraining myself from kicking at the hay. I had always known I wasn't a woman who incited passion; but I suppose in my secret dreams, I hoped that should I ever be kissed, the man would have felt something more than guilt. I expected that when the grand event happened, there'd be no question in my mind that I had been kissed either. Shouldn't it have been like I felt before swooning, instead of a frustrating feather of a promise?

When I reached my room, I determined I wasn't fit company for anyone and spent the rest of my leisure time with my sketchbook. I could not decide if I wanted Benedict Trevelyan to kiss me again or not. Sitting on the cushioned seat beneath the window, I drew until the lowering of the afternoon sun and the tolling of the grandfather clock told me that my first day and a half of freedom had ended. The picture I had drawn of Benedict was the best I had ever done. I drew him at the helm of a ship amid a raging storm, his hair wildly blowing, his dark eyes daring and determined, his muscled limbs and torso bursting with energy. Every stroke I had drawn held a sensual longing that was made readily apparent in the miniature picture I had sketched in an upper corner—that of Benedict kissing me as if I were the only woman in the world for him.

Heat fanned my cheeks, and I nearly ripped the picture from my pad, but I couldn't. So I gathered a good dose of my practicality and ignored the portrait and my spinsterish musings. Though I might entertain in my dreams a kiss from a man such as Benedict, such things had no business in reality. His kiss in the stables was but a brief incident of intimacy brought on by my foolish behavior. Fainting, indeed. Why, I was shamed on behalf of my stout constitution and issued myself a stern lecture. After that, I busied myself planning the lessons for the next day over several cups of bolstering tea before changing for dinner.

Last night it had only been Benedict Trevelyan, Stephen Trevelyan, and Constance Ortega at dinner. Both Mrs. Trevelyan and Katherine Trevelyan had sent their excuses, something I had almost done after finding my new belongings tossed to the floor, but then I decided to present a calm, unruffled facade to Mrs. Trevelyan's chicanery.

And tonight I would do the same, only this time it was because of Benedict Trevelyan. He'd mentioned at dinner last night that he would be traveling frequently over the next few weeks, and fool that I was, I didn't want to miss seeing him. As I left my room, I again felt as if I was being watched. It was a most exasperating situation. Though no one stood in the hall and all doors appeared shut, I decided to confront whoever was spying on me.

I turned in a pirouette, holding my dress out prettily. "Don't you like this? It is so comforting to know that you are watching over me. I give you my thanks." Then I curtsied and started walking primly down the corridor, but then decided to go one step further. I swung back around and began opening every door all the way down the hall. There were nine other rooms besides the schoolroom, the nursery, and mine, and only one of them was locked— the door to Nurse Maria's. The rest of the rooms were neatly turned out and apparently unoccupied. I decided that I had a good idea who my watcher was. Having settled that matter, I headed downstairs, feeling rather triumphant.

Entering into the parlor adjoining the dining room, I met Benedict Trevelyan's gaze first. He stood across the room, one elbow on the mantel and an uncustomary drink in his hand. It looked suspiciously like brandy. He gave the appearance of being relaxed, but I felt an undercurrent of wariness from him.

My lips twitched as I recalled that he'd substitute a brandy for a doctor. It would seem he was in the need of bolstering, too. Our gazes held for a moment longer than usual, but his manner toward me didn't change. "You look lovely tonight, Miss Lovell."

"Thank you, Mr. Trevelyan," I said, slipping farther into the room, feeling confident in a cornflower muslin gown with sprigs of white lace adorning its modest neckline and sleeves. "I find this shade of blue perfect for a summer evening."

He visibly relaxed. Apparently my response eased him from the eggshell on which he'd perched. "It suits you," he said. "Would you care for sherry?"

I glanced at his brandy. "No, thank you. I had tea earlier. Several cups of it"

His lips twitched, and I felt relieved to find humor had found its way into the situation.

Stephen Trevelyan sat near his mother in the midst of a hushed conversation. Katherine, alone on the settee, was engrossed in her embroidery. Constance always waited until a quarter after the dinner hour to make her grand appearance.

Crossing the room, I sat next to Katherine. She glanced shyly up at me, smiled, then turned back to her work. I saw that the tapestry she worked was a hunting scene done in deep colors and accented with gold. She used a gold needle, just as her mother did.

"How do I tell her the tapestry is beautiful?" I asked, looking up at Benedict Trevelyan. His eyebrows lifted in surprise. He moved to the edge of the settee and touched Katherine's shoulder. When she lifted her gaze, he motioned with his hands, ending with a finger pointing my way.

Katherine turned, motioning with her hands. The gesture was so simple, and I knew immediately she'd thanked me. "You are welcome," I said. She nodded and I smiled.

Speaking to her reminded me of the arrangements I had made the day before. I looked back at Benedict Trevelyan. "Yesterday I arranged for Justin and Robert to begin music lessons. We will start learning the rudiments of music on the piano and then decide if they have an aptitude for another instrument. I know several teachers whom I have heard play and I think are good candidates to instruct the children. If you can give me a convenient time for them to come and audition for you this week, I will set up the appointment."

He blinked.

"Is that not to your liking, Mr. Trevelyan?"

"Not at all, Miss Lovell. You have taken me by surprise. I do not expect you to spend your day off arranging lessons for my children."

"It was an errand I thoroughly enjoyed. I have also arranged for the children and me to receive sign language instruction, beginning this Thursday. A Mr. Anthony Simons will be arriving at ten-thirty in the morning."

In the middle of drinking a sip of brandy, Benedict Trevelyan choked. I jumped up, concerned, but didn't move his way after he held up a staying hand. When he regained his breath, I noticed the room had gone completely silent. Mrs. Trevelyan was staring at me in horror, and Stephen Trevelyan looked rather amused. Katherine continued to sew, unaware.

"Whoever thought man was the architect of his own fate had yet to encounter a woman," Stephen Trevelyan said, then laughed. I thought I heard very little humor in his voice.

"What is wrong?" I looked to Benedict Trevelyan for an answer.

"Anthony Simons and my sister were engaged to be married last year."

My hand flew to my heart. Mr. Simons had been quite handsome in a golden-haired-poet sort of way, with eyes so kind I had wondered if I had met a saint. I could clearly picture her with him, the angel and the saint "What happened?"

"No one knows," Stephen Trevelyan said. "Neither Katherine nor Anthony will say." He shrugged. "Their engagement was marred by the death of my father, then by"—he shot a dark look at his brother—"Francesca's death. Maybe it was all too much for Katherine to bear. She was close to both of them. She shut herself off from everybody after their deaths."

"That's enough said," Benedict Trevelyan interjected.

"I will cancel the lessons," I said, even as I wondered if I should. Why had Katherine secluded herself from the world?  Unless...my eyes widened at the awful thought. Surely I was letting my imagination run far too free. Just because Katherine broke her engagement didn't mean that Francesca had come between Katherine and Anthony. But then what if...

"No," Benedict Trevelyan said, and I jumped, thinking he'd read my mind. "I will tell Katherine that Anthony is coming later. She can decide whether she will see him this time."

"Who can decide to see whom?" Constance asked, floating into the room in a white and silver gown as light and delicate as a cloud. She wore her hair in an intricately woven upsweep with fat pearls upon her hair combs, at her neck, and dangling from her ears. She fluttered her perfect white hands. I clenched mine.

"If you wish to hear all the news, Constance, you should make the effort to be on time," Benedict Trevelyan admonished. "For now I am starving and have no wish to delay dinner any longer." He motioned to Katherine, who rose and went to the dining room.

Constance pouted.

"Pay him no mind. He's been worse than a barrel of sour apples ever since he left the stables today. You look absolutely divine and well worth the wait, Connie, dear." Stephen Trevelyan offered Constance his arm. "Come with me, and I will give you the latest news."