The Muse (56 page)

There was more to play out with the Everleys, yes, but there was another who might serve his purposes adequately in the interim.  The lovely Lady Rothvale had an unmarried cousin who’d caught his attention in the shop that day in London.  Very young and quite pleasing to the eye as he remembered her.  The Honourable Cariss Wilton, daughter of Sir Oliver Wilton, Baronet.  But there was more—an even more attractive feature to recommend Miss Wilton as the object of his pursuits.  The newly minted Viscount Wyneham was her older brother…and
that
piece of information would do very well for his plans, he decided.

Yes…indeed, she would do
very
well.

Odeman watched the wax seal on the documents boil and sizzle within the flames of the fire that licked at the paper until it was consumed to ash.

GRAHAM’S gift of
The Grandparents
portrait was the final piece in Imogene’s recovery.  She was able to let go of her loss and looked to a brighter future.  Being young and strong, she had suffered painful losses before, so she drew on her strength to help her move forward and get on with living.  There was plenty of work to do and service to give to those in need.  She saw it as her duty to care for other mothers who may find themselves with such loss.  She understood.  She could grieve with them.

James Trenton had written to accept the position of rector to their great relief, and it was with good feeling that they prepared for his late autumn arrival.  Imogene was glad to immerse herself in the readying of the church and rectory for their new occupant, both buildings having been vacant for years.

There was one aspect of their marriage that was not yet restored, though, and Imogene felt its absence keenly.  She ached for Graham to love her in the way he always had because she needed his closeness, and felt ready to try for another baby.

Graham, however, was terrified of another pregnancy.  The fear of losing her, either physically or emotionally, made him extra guarded.  The one time they’d been together intimately had been disastrous; both of them self-doubting and insecure, their sensitive emotions smarting; neither daring enough to bring it out into the open and face their problem.

It happened the night after he showed her
The Grandparents
portrait.

Imogene reached out to him when he came to bed, and after such a long time without her, Graham was nearly frantic in his response and rushed himself.  Then, he kept asking if what he was doing felt good for her, and if she was finding pleasure in it, which readily snuffed the passion of the moment.  The most awkward part though, was that he pulled out of her and spilled on her stomach when he found his release.  He withheld his seed from her, and Imogene was devastated by his decision to do so without talking to her about it.  She felt greatly insulted but didn’t tell him so.  She just cried in his arms, and Graham, misunderstanding her tears, assumed he had imposed himself on her and into intimacies she was not ready to resume.

To make it easier on both of them, Graham started coming to bed late after Imogene was already asleep, and slept in a nightshirt, something he had never done before.  He was still an attentive husband, loving and generous, ever watchful over her.  Imogene had never appreciated his tendency to over-worry and fuss, but indulged him in allowing such behaviour because she knew he was only doing it out of love for her.

Eventually their situation had to be faced because they just couldn’t keep going on as they were…

Imogene had walked to Tristan’s house earlier, hoping for the companionship of her friend for an hour or so to break up the monotony of the day.  Graham met her on the path as she returned, concern clearly showing in his expression.

“From where have you come?” he asked.

“I went to visit my friend, but he is not at home.”

“Oh…”   He looked sad and weary.  “I could not find you and I was worried.”

She sighed in frustration. “Do you live in constant fear for me, Graham?”

He didn’t answer.

“I do not recognize this person before me.  I do not know you anymore.”  Imogene felt her tension give way to anger.  “You are not the man that healed my broken heart, Graham, you are breaking it anew.  You will not touch me.  I am not loved by your hands or your body anymore.  I am rejected.  You have broken your promise to me, as well.  The promise you made when you offered yourself to me, ‘with no other requirements other than to care for me and to make me happy.’  Do I appear happy?  Do I sound happy?  Do you see happiness in my eyes when you look into them?  Can you live your days and nights in this way?  How can you even bear it?”

He winced at her questions as his eyes filled with pain…and what looked like shame.

“Do you love me or is it just the fantasy of me?  Because if it is just the fantasy of me, then, Graham, you have nothing!”

His head snapped up, tortured eyes targeting her.  “I love you!  More than my own life.  How can you even ask me such a thing?”

“But is it reality?”  She held firm in her opinion.  “Graham, if I cannot be loved by you as a wife should be, then I am already lost to you and you to me.  You see me as a fairy princess—you always have.  But I am not!  I am an ordinary woman, who wants nothing more than the real junctures of life, with you, and if it pleases God, to be mother to our children.  I want to live a
life
, not be a rack for your ornaments of beauty!”

He flinched.

“A regular…ordinary…life, Graham.  You want the fantasy of me.  But it is just that, a fantasy. Not.  Real.  And not me!”  She shouted at him.

His head down, he couldn’t even look at her.

“Everyone must die someday.  Even
I
will die, Graham.  It is already fixed for each of us, and not in your power to control.  It might be fifty years from now or it might be five.  But if it is five years, I would hate to think we would spend them in this way, frightened and aching for love.  I can’t bear that idea.  I would rather wish my life over now and done with.”  She whispered the last part. “Face your fears, Graham.  Be brave, my love. Rescue me from that future?”

HE saw that she waited for him to say something, to do something, but he was frozen, unable to step out of the prison he’d forged around his heart.
I am afraid, Imogene…so afraid of losing you.

When no response was forthcoming, Imogene turned from him and began to walk away.

“Where do you go now?” he blurted.

Sighing heavily, she spoke slowly and with mustered patience.  “I go to the house to change my clothes for I am going riding.  If you would wish to join me you are welcome, if not, do not worry yourself. I will ask Ben to come along with me.”

She turned again and left him standing on the path.

Graham must have stood there for a long time but he couldn’t be sure because his mind was busy.  Very busy swirling with the visions of her he had created since he’d first known her—those gorgeous visions juxtaposed with the words she had just spoken to him.  They spun around his head, whirling and forcing a reckoning, shifting the fear out and rattling off the chains that had bound him.

Imogene was so strong and brave.

He felt weak and stupid, ashamed of what he’d done, and of how he’d treated her.

But it’s not too late…she wants me still.  Imogene, I am coming for you!

Racing back to the house, he took the stairs three at a time until he reached the top and made his way to her rooms.

He burst through the door.

She was dressing into her riding clothes.

The view of her standing in her shift and stays stopped him dead.
Regardless of her feelings about how he saw her, it was undeniable: Imogene was an extraordinarily beautiful woman…and she belonged to him.

Looking boldly at her, he saw the slight curl of a smile form on her luscious lips.  He would have those luscious pink lips on his skin soon.

“Hester, you may leave us.”

“Yes, Lord Rothvale.”  Hester bolted from the room.

Graham approached Imogene, locking onto her liquid brown eyes, willing her to keep them on him and not break their gaze.  Without speaking any words he reached his hands around to her back and began to untie the lacing of her stays.  She continued to look into his eyes for they were both familiar with this game already.

They had played together many times.

Corset removed, he reached down to grasp the hem of her shift and pulled it up and over her head.  He stroked her face and caressed her lips with loving fingers, admiring her bare exquisite flesh on display before him.  He put his hands on her breasts and cupped them, his thumbs brushing back and forth over her nipples as they tightened into buds he wanted to suck and bite with his lips.

His eyes never looked away from her.

She touched him, too.  By feel, she unbuttoned his shirt, pulled his arms through, lifted it over his head, and caressed his bare chest.  She smoothed her hands down to his abdomen and lower.  His Imogene held onto his eyes and claimed his body with her hands, showing him that he belonged to her, too.

Both of them were finding the way back to reconnecting the threads that had hung tenuously between them for too long.

Imogene was gloriously naked already.  And Graham needed to join her in that state.  So when she moved her hands down lower with a purpose in mind, he knew what it was and waited for it.  He sucked in a breath when she unfastened his trousers and pushed them off his hips, her hands still moving until one of them took hold of his prick and stroked the length slowly up and down.

“I will never stop wanting you like this,” he whispered, their lips very close but not touching.

“And I will never stop needing you like this,” she whispered back in the lightest voice.

Stepping out of his clothes, Graham moved forward, forcing Imogene backward, step by determined step, until they reached the edge of the bed and could go no farther.

Their hands both grazed over the naked flesh of the other’s body as their eyes stayed locked together.

He pushed her back, and went with her as they fell down onto the softness of the bed together.

Settling her beneath him he fit his hips in between her thighs and let his cock find the way to the gate of her delicate flesh.  “I’ve loved you always, and I’ll never stop loving you,” he told her as he sank his cock down deep into her wet, divine warmth.  It was heaven to feel her wrapped around him again, the walls of her quim tight and clutching.

He could die this way and never feel a moment’s regret when he was buried inside her.

Knowing she was ready and wanton for him only fuelled his need to possess her again.  And he would—thoroughly.  There would be no part of her unclaimed this time.

She arched her hips into his with a gasp of pleasure as he filled her, flinging her neck backward, her throat and breasts exposed for his pleasure, and waiting for his mouth and tongue to claim them.

He did all of the things he wanted to do to her body.  Things he had done before, and some he had not.  All of it done in love.  Nothing mattered except being inside of her.

Graham in Imogene.

Imogene in Graham.

She
was
inside of him, too.  She was inside of his heart.