Lillian's Light Horseman (24 page)

“We should get out of bed,” Lilly murmured. “Mrs. Thompson will wonder how you are and any moment she’s going to come knocking on your door.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. Yes, he had no doubt that his intrepid housekeeper would come seeking him out very soon.

He climbed out of bed and strode to the basin for a washcloth. Returning, he pulled the covers back and grasped the hem of Lillian’s nightdress. “Lift your hips,” he requested.

She sighed and lifted her backside. He took his time drawing the fabric up to her waist and marveled at her supple legs as they were revealed to him.

“You have beautiful skin,” he whispered and bent to plant a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh. He swiped the washcloth between her legs and diligently cleaned her. It surprised him that she didn’t blush as she usually did when he performed such intimate acts on her body. The fact pleased him. It meant that she was becoming comfortable with him and her nudity.

He returned to the basin and refreshed the cloth. “Turn over, Lilly.”

She rolled onto her stomach and he swept the washcloth over her back and in the crevice of her lush backside. The sight of her smooth, round curves, displayed so temptingly to him, had him growing solid again within seconds. He quickly finished cleaning her up and pulled her nightdress down, cursing inwardly that he couldn’t afford to risk diving onto the bed and ravaging her a second time.

He collected her gown and held it open for her in invitation. Just as she’d slipped her arms into the sleeves and was fastening the front ties, a knock on the door startled them both.

William quickly grabbed his nightshirt and shrugged into it. Satisfied that he was decent, he called out for his housekeeper to enter. Lillian had taken up her previous position in a nearby chair.

Mrs. Thompson bustled into the room with a breakfast tray. “How is the patient this morning?”

“I’m fine, Millie. Lillian just checked my bandages. I have no headache. In fact, I feel as good as new.”

His housekeeper appraised him shrewdly before depositing the tray on a side table. “You shouldn’t overdo things, William. You had a bad fall,” she admonished.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lillian stand and walk toward the open door.

“Well, I shall leave you to your breakfast,” she said quietly, before slipping out of the room.

He endured the attentions of his housekeeper for a few minutes until he managed to convince her that he felt fine and was suffering no ill effects from his fall.

When he had his room to himself once more, he finished his breakfast and performed his morning ablutions.

He thought about Lillian and pondered about taking their relationship to the next level. The truth was that he was terrified of losing her. She belonged to him. After all the years of separation, he finally had her in his grasp and in his bed. He didn’t want to let her go—he couldn’t. Of course, the rational part of his brain knew that it wasn’t just up to him. Lilly, of course, had to be in agreement. He just couldn’t be sure what he’d do if it looked like she was going to run. Could he stop himself from detaining her? He didn’t know.

Unfortunately, even though it hurt to admit it, he wasn’t yet certain of Lilly’s feelings toward him. He was positive that she cared for him. She wouldn’t have ridden after him yesterday if there was no fondness on her part, but he couldn’t discern the
depth
of her feelings for him. Hitherto she hadn’t expressed any particular sentiments of affection toward him but he hoped that it was just her attempt to protect herself. He could appreciate that feeling. He still suffered from the suspicions caused by the pain from their years of separation. He
also
found it difficult to voice his feelings, as his mind continued to whisper for him to be careful, that he had to armor himself against the risk of heartbreak. Then his heart spoke to him and told him to go for it, to throw caution to the wind and embrace the passion he felt for Lillian with both arms.

He sighed heavily. He wouldn’t think about it now. He didn’t have time. He’d missed two days of work. Even though he employed good men, they were one man down with his absence and they would need to make up some lost ground.

He dressed quickly, anxious to get going, and had just grabbed his bush hat when a knock sounded on his door. He turned to find Lillian standing on the threshold. The sight of her made his chest ache. She was attired in a sensible blouse and skirt and she’d pulled her beautiful hair into a tight chignon. Her emerald eyes were clear and her cheeks rosy. His eyes drifted to her plump, red lips—lips that just begged to be kissed. Quite simply, she was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen, even dressed as she was in her conservative governess attire.

“I thought that we could do away with the head bandage and I’ll replace it with a sticking plaster. I daresay you’ll be more comfortable.”

He grinned and moved toward a chair. “I would much prefer that. I don’t think that I can wear my hat with this gauze wrapped around my head.”

She walked toward him and set the medical kit on a nearby table. “Are you sure you’re up to working?”

He smiled at her worried tone and the concern clouding her eyes. “I’m really quite well, Lilly. I wish everyone would stop worrying.”

She deftly unwrapped his bandage, checked his wound and hummed in approval. “It still looks good. It’s closing nicely.” She applied antiseptic ointment and sticking plaster to his temple.

“I’m going to be gone for one, perhaps two, days.” He grinned. “I’m telling you of my plans. I don’t want you to worry. I won’t have you racing around the countryside on horseback alone again.”

She smiled sweetly at him, then lifted her hand and grazed his jaw with her knuckles. “You’ve shaved. I quite liked that roguish, stubbled look on you.”

His breath stuttered at the scorching look she offered him.

“Thank you for telling me, William. I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

He stood swiftly, shoving his chair back at the same time, and reached for her. Grasping her uppers arms, he pulled her against his chest. “I’ll miss you too, Lilly, my sweet.” He lowered his mouth to hers, barely grazing her lips with his own. “More than you’ll know.”

Her body was so soft, so compliant against his harder, muscular form that he couldn’t help but tug her closer. Sweeping his hands down her back, he found her round buttocks and squeezed the lush cheeks in his palms. She moaned low in her throat as he took her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her taste—so sweet, like marmalade and tea. He cupped her backside harder and ground his pelvis into hers, demonstrating to her how much she affected him. He took their kiss deeper, drinking from her as if she were an oasis in the desert. Finally, he pulled away so they could catch their breath. Panting, she looked at him, her lips red and puffy from his harsh treatment of them. He rubbed his thumb across her mouth, gently caressing and soothing.

“You look so beautiful right now. All flushed, your lips swollen from our kiss. Remember this moment when I’m away and know that I’ll be thinking of you.”

He cupped her cheeks in his hands and bent his forehead to hers. “I’ll see you in two days, my sweet Lilly. Take care and
no
riding around the countryside on your own.”

“I promise.” She smiled, pecked him on the cheek and left him, closing the door softly behind her.

He stood staring after her for a few seconds. He was worried. He wasn’t superstitious, but something sinister at the back of his mind told him that this could be the last time he’d see her, and that possibility scared the life out of him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was midday, the day after William had left, when Lillian noticed the telltale dust cloud that alerted her to the fact that someone was approaching the property.

She set her trowel aside and stood from where she’d been kneeling in the garden bed planting seeds. Shading her eyes from the fierce sun, she peered into the distance and tried to determine who the visitors were. The red haze surrounding the vehicle made it difficult to identify anything, but she thought she detected just one occupant in the automobile. She tried to remember if William had mentioned that he was expecting company. She couldn’t recall anything, but evidently someone was on his or her way and Lillian needed to hasten inside to freshen up.

She made her way into the washroom where she scrubbed her hands and face free of dirt then she hurried to her room to remove her scarf and fix her hair. The clothes she was wearing were reserved solely for gardening but she had neither the time nor the inclination to change. She had no idea who the visitor was, but she doubted that they were coming to see her. It would be enough that she looked tidy and presentable.

She was descending the stairs when Mrs. Thompson was making her way up. “Lilly, Mr. Dawson is here to see you.”

Lillian frowned. “I don’t know what he could possibly want with
me
.”

“He came by one of those infernal automobiles. Perhaps he’s just giving it a run and has popped in to say hello,” the housekeeper suggested.

“Perhaps,” Lillian muttered distractedly as she continued down the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, she entered the drawing room. “Mr. Dawson.” She dipped her head in greeting. “Please allow me to apologize for my attire, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Hamilton. Please don’t distress yourself, you are looking lovely as usual.” He took her hand and placed a kiss on the back. “Shall we sit?”

Lillian nodded and took a seat opposite. “I’m not sure why you want to see me.” She needed to get to the bottom of his mysterious visit.

He smiled congenially. “Cartwright mentioned that you and he grew up together.”

“Yes, our fathers were friends.” She wasn’t going to divulge any more information. As far as Lillian was concerned, her and William’s history was no business of George Dawson’s.

“I think it was quite evident to everyone who attended the Picnic Race Day Ball that you and he are quite close. In fact, William’s attentions toward you drew a lot of comments.”

Lillian flushed when she thought about William’s high-handed behavior that evening. At the same time, she determined that she wouldn’t be drawn into whatever game George Dawson was currently playing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dawson, but you still haven’t told me why you’re here. Is there something that you wish to discuss with me?”

He smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes, and Lillian immediately felt uneasy. A sudden and disturbing sense of foreboding washed over her, turning her blood to ice water.

“Let me get straight to the point, then,” he sneered. “Your Mr. Cartwright, pillar of the community and decorated war hero, has impregnated my daughter!”

Lillian gasped in shock, her hand shooting to cover her mouth, an involuntary moan erupting from low in her throat. Cold, hard dread settled like a stone in her stomach. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard—it
couldn’t
be true. She knew William, knew him to be a gentleman of integrity and honor. But even as those thoughts raced through her brain, so too did a sinister subconscious whisper. “
He was intimate with you. You gave yourself to him with no promise of something more
.” He’d shown, too, concern for the possibility that she’d become pregnant—was that because he’d suspected that the same had happened with Margaret?

A fierce nausea slammed into her. She doubled over where she sat and wretched pitifully, wrapping her arms around her stomach in a futile attempt at self-comfort. She breathed deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth, her vision focused blurrily on the floral carpet as she fought the sick feeling sweeping through her. She had to regain control. Nothing could be achieved by her turning into a weak, blubbering mess, particularly in front of the likes of George Dawson. She peered up at him through lowered lashes to find him gazing dispassionately at her, his expression almost one of disdain. Like she was an irritating inconsequence, a technicality to be dealt with swiftly and with no fuss.

Pain speared through her and settled on her chest like a heavy weight. Then one thought worked its way through the morass of her mind and took root above all others. If what George Dawson said was correct—and she had no reason to believe that he would lie about such a serious matter—then William needed to support Margaret and their unborn baby. He had to make an honest woman of Margaret Dawson and take her as his wife immediately.

Lillian drew herself upright in her chair and faced the man sitting opposite. She fixed her facial features into an impassive mask. “I daresay that you have a plan,” she probed, gazing steadily at him.

He gave her a crocodile grin that turned her stomach. “I do, indeed, and there is no time to waste.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Fuck!” William roared, kicking a chair viciously and sending it splintering against the wall. He whirled around and, spying a large glass vase, he snatched it up and sent it flying into the wall after the chair, where it shattered into hundreds of crystalline pieces.

He braced both hands on the mantelpiece and hung his head between his arms, trying to rein in his rampant temper. He took a couple of deep breaths and speared a hand through his hair in anger and frustration. He couldn’t believe that she’d do this to him. He refused to believe that she’d take his heart, rip it out and fucking shred it—
again
—just like she had ten years ago!

The evidence, though, was bloody irrefutable! He stalked to the letter, which he’d crushed into a ball and flung against the wall after he’d read the bullshit written in it. He stooped and retrieved the missive, smoothing it out so he could once again torture himself with the words that were sure to finish him.
Her
words, which had obviously been designed to cut him deeply, to crush all sentiment and leave him heartbroken—and they would. He knew that he wouldn’t get over losing her a second time.

Throwing the letter on his desk, he poured himself a large whiskey, needing something to calm his nerves and temper. He downed the liquor in one swallow, relishing the burn down his throat and welcoming the warmth when it hit his gut, grounding him. He poured a second, smaller glass and settled behind his desk. He stared at the flattened piece of paper, at the cursive written in her hand, but in words that he’d yet to fully comprehend.