Simply Irresistible (7 page)

The sound of panting brought her attention to the path where the Sokorvsky footman had caught up with her. He leaned against the tree and concentrated on regaining his breath. She turned back to her view of the lake and stared into the murky grey depths.

Oh yes, everyone would be happy if James Beecham simply ceased to exist. Her husband could live out his life in total submission to his overseer lover, Jamie would inherit a title and grow up not surrounded by scandal, and she would be free to marry again.

Or not.

“But it's
wrong
,” she whispered.

She took out her handkerchief, dabbed at her eyes and set out for the Sokorvsky household. She'd have to think up some story to deceive Valentin and Sara as to Mr. Hodges's purpose in seeing her, which would not be easy. Then she would return to the countryside to see her son. The one fixed point in her life. Her steps slowed as she approached the gates of the park. Did Peter know what had happened? And if he did know, what would he think?

She wanted to go and find him and climb into his lap so desperately it hurt to breathe. But if the scheme was to succeed—and she still hadn't decided how she felt about that—she could tell no one that James Beecham was very much alive....

In freeing himself, had James simply transferred an intolerable burden to her? And what would she do when Peter returned and thought she was a widow? Would he expect her to marry him, and if so, what in God's name would she do about that?

Chapter 7

“Abigail?”

Abby looked up from the remains of her untouched breakfast and found Valentin staring down at her.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Would you mind coming to my study?”

Aware that things couldn't get much worse, she pushed back her chair and followed Valentin. It was one of those cold, blustery grey days that made her long for her home and the ability to curl up in bed with the dogs, her son and a good gothic novel. She wanted to go home quite desperately.

“Thank you for your time.” Val nodded as he sat behind his desk. “I know that you are busy planning your journey back to Beecham Hall.” He paused. “But I have a confession to make.”

Abby narrowed her eyes at him. “What have you done?”

“James wrote to me a few months ago, asking my advice as to whether I could help him procure a divorce from you.”

“He was planning on divorcing me?”

“He wanted to know the legal position if he attempted to do so. When I explained it in all its gross unfairness, he was appalled and very angry that anything he did to set you free would adversely impact your future relationships and your son's inheritance.” Valentin sighed. “I've since wondered if the information I supplied made him more careless of his continuing existence.”

Abigail blinked at him. “You mean you think he might have died deliberately to set me free?”

“One has to wonder. I only meant to help, Abigail.” He looked straight at her. “If there had been a way of setting the marriage aside, I would've done anything in my power to achieve it for you and Peter.”

“Thank you.”

“For what? For being so inadequate?”

She smiled at him. “For trying.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It was all for naught anyway. You are a respectable widow now, and men will be flocking around you like bees to a honeypot.”

“You've given up on the idea of my marrying Peter, have you?”

He sat back. “I've given up trying to tell the people I love how to run their lives. Sara says it is a very annoying habit of mine.” He half-smiled. “She also says it's lucky that I only care for about half a dozen people in the entire world, although those involved might beg to differ.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Abby stood and smoothed down her skirts. “Now I really must get on.” She paused. “What would you have done if you were in the same position as Peter, Valentin?”

“Before James's demise?”

“Yes.”

“I don't know.” He met her gaze full on. “I suspect I would've stayed with you and endured.”

“Endured what?”

“Society's scorn, being given the cut direct and all that rubbish.” He snapped his fingers. “I would've taken you and Jamie away and not come home for so many years that by the time I did, everyone would've forgotten about the old scandal.”

“That's because you are a peer of the realm. The rest of us, those of us of lesser quality, are too afraid to ape the antics of aristocrats and behave appallingly.”

He shrugged one negligent shoulder. “You might be right, but you did ask. Have you asked Peter the same question?”

“It is scarcely relevant now, is it? And Peter isn't here.”

“Oh, but he is.” Val gave her a wicked smile. “In fact, he's coming to this house in about an hour. I do hope you'll see him.”

 

 

“Lady Beecham.” Peter bowed low.

When he raised his head, she spent far longer than was polite simply looking at him, cataloguing the changes in his sun-bronzed face and the lightness of his blond hair, which were at such variance with the wary expression in his blue eyes.

“I wasn't aware that you had returned to London, Mr. Howard.” She hesitated. “I was just about to leave for Beecham Hall when Valentin told me you were here. Did you have an enjoyable voyage?”

His smile was wry. “It was . . . interesting. It was also strange to be back on a ship again and realize how much I enjoyed the experience.”

“You intend to resume your responsibilities at the shipping company, then?”

“I believe I will.” He hesitated. “But you won't have to worry about tripping over me every time you come to see the Sokorvskys. I don't intend to stay in the London office. My job will be to sail the seas and find new trading opportunities for our company.”

“Then I'm glad I caught you before you left.”

She motioned him to a chair, and he sat opposite her. For all intents and purposes, they might as well be oceans apart now. She was achingly aware of the distance between them that stretched far wider than the length of the marble hearth. Of words left unsaid, of secrets she could never share . . .

“Are you quite well?” he asked abruptly. “You look rather tired.”

“London always has this effect on me. I'm much happier in the countryside.”

“You always were. James and I had to—” He stopped and winced. “I'm sorry; it's probably far too soon for you to hear jolly anecdotes about your deceased husband.” He sat forward, his hands clasped loosely together between his knees. “I'm so terribly sorry he died, Abby. I wish I'd been here when you heard the news.”

The concern in his voice almost undid her. “You must have mourned him, too.”

“Aye, I did. If he hadn't befriended me and come up with his scandalous plan to introduce me to your bed, I would never have met you.”

“Perhaps that would've been for the best.”

His smile died. “Of course you are probably right.” He sat back. “But I have to say in James's defense that he only wanted to make you happy.”

Abby pressed her lips tightly together in an effort not to blurt out everything to him. He'd always been her friend as well as her lover.

“Was there something in particular you wished to discuss with me before you left Town, my lady?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “I have engaged a new land agent for Beecham Hall.”

“That is excellent news.”

“I was . . . hoping you might be able to spare a day or so to come down to the estate to show him how you managed things.”

“I can do that if you wish, my lady.” He didn't even attempt a smile. “I would prefer it if the visit took place secretly.”

“You still think I'm afraid of the gossips?”

“No. Why should you be? This is more for my sake. I'd rather Jamie didn't know I was there.” He risked a glance at her face. “I don't know what I'd do if he asked me why I couldn't stay. I couldn't bear to upset him.”

Abby stared at him for so long that he began to look concerned. He was more of a father to Jamie than James had ever allowed himself to be. All his concern was for the boy's feelings and not his own.

“Are you sure you are quite well?” He rose to his feet. “Perhaps I should fetch Sara or your maid.” He started toward the door.

She blurted out, “Mr. Hodges came to see me.”

Peter paused and slowly turned toward her. “Mr. Hodges?”

“Yes, James's lover. He was in England, settling his affairs before leaving on an extended trip around the world.”

“I—”

“I met him in his bedchamber.” She took a gulp of very necessary air. “He introduced me to his new valet, a Mr. John Smith.”

He turned fully to face her, his expression curiously intent. “Why are you telling me this?”

‘Because we're all free now, aren't we?”

“I'm not quite sure I understand you.”

She held his gaze. “James found his freedom in his own way, you are free to sail the seven seas, and I am free to go back to Beecham Hall and bring up my son without fear.”

“I am glad you and James are free,” he said carefully. “I'm also glad that being cast adrift, being
freed
by you, didn't destroy me as I'd always feared it would. It made me realize how much stronger I'd become. How all the love that had been offered to me over the years had finally taken root in my soul.” His smile was breathtakingly sweet. “And believing myself loved, I found it impossible to give up.”

“I am very glad to hear it.” She smiled back at him. “You are very much loved; never forget that.”

“I have a confession to make.”

“It must be the morning for them. I just had the same conversation with Valentin.” She braced for heartbreak. “You have met someone?”

“Well, yes, but not quite in the manner you mean. When I left England, I sailed for the West Indies. My original plan was to find James and drag him back here to honor his responsibilities to you and Jamie, whether he liked it or not.”

She gripped her hands so tightly together that it hurt. “After everything I said, you did that for
me
?”

“I reasoned that if I couldn't make you happy, maybe James should.”

“But when you arrived at Trade Winds, you found out James was already dead.”

“Yes. We stayed there while our ship was being provisioned. It gave me an opportunity to find out how Mr. Hodges ended up owning the entire plantation.”

“James changed his will.”

“So I gathered.” He studied her carefully. “One might say he had the second sight, to have arranged things so perspicuously.”

“I—” She opened her eyes wide. “You
know
, don't you?”

“About Mr. Hodges's new valet? I walked in on Jeremiah cursing and fucking him and demanded to know what was going on.”

“So they lied to both of us?”

“No. James lied to everyone. He took advantage of the fire to disappear. He returned that night to seek out Mr. Hodges because he knew our ship had docked. He reckoned he would have an opportunity to come back to England and finally lay the ghost of James Beecham to rest for all of us.”

“But why?” Abby demanded. “
Why
did he do it?”

He angled his head and stared at her. “He wanted us all to be free.”

She sprang to her feet and started to pace the carpet. “Free for what?”

“Abby—”

She rounded on him and he went still, his hand stretched out toward her.

“Why aren't you angry with him?”

A slight frown marred his brow. “With James?”

“He's manipulating us again, using us for his own selfish needs.”

He sighed and leaned back against the door. “You know that isn't true. James might be an impetuous fool, but his heart is in the right place.”

“With Mr. Hodges, playacting as his servant!” She advanced toward him, but he didn't look away. “Don't you see? We're still dancing to his tune. We always will be.”

“So you'd rather he'd really died, Abby? That we'd lost him forever?”

“Yes!” she shouted at him. “Why did he have to come back and tell me the truth? If he was going to do this, why didn't he leave us in ignorance, and then we could've—” She stopped speaking and covered her mouth with her hand.

He reached out and took hold of her elbow. “Could've what, Abby?”

“Been together!”

“We still can! James made a sacrifice for all of us. Are you going to let that sacrifice go to waste?”

Her mouth quivered, and his expression intensified.

“I'm not, Abby. If it comes to it, I'll take you and Jamie away from this narrow-minded country to somewhere we can live together and raise our son as a decent human being. I'm done with hiding how I feel. James is no longer willing to live a lie, and I'm not either.”

“You'd do that for me. For Jamie?”

“Yes! If you don't want me, or won't leave with me, just
tell
me. I'd rather know now.”

“But I wanted you to be free,” she whispered.

He yanked her hard against his chest and then pivoted until she was crushed between him and the door.

“I'm free, Abby.” He bent his head and kissed her, claiming her mouth. “But that doesn't mean I still don't want to belong to you forever.”

 

 

She struggled to release her hands and wrapped one of them around his neck, holding him as close as she could while he continued to kiss her. He groaned into her mouth and pressed against her from knee to shoulder, making her all too aware of the hard ridge of his cock against her stomach.

“Oh God, I've missed you.” Peter nipped her lip. “I want to be inside you so badly, I could die of it.”

“Then come upstairs with me right now.” She pushed at his chest. “We can use the servants' stairs.”

He took a reluctant step back and she held out her hand. “
Please
.”

“As if I could deny you anything.”

She practically dragged him up to her bedchamber and locked all the doors while he fought his way out of his tight-fitting blue coat, cravat and waistcoat. As he wrenched his shirt over his head, she fell to her knees and nuzzled his cock, shoving his underthings aside to lick and suck the crown.

He reached down and lifted her up with surprising strength. “I want to come in you and I need to do it right now.” Backing her up to the bed, he sat her on the edge and pulled her skirts up.

“I can't be slow, Abby, and I don't feel gentle. I feel—”

She clutched a handful of his hair and yanked hard on it. “Just do it, Peter. I want you just as you are.”

He shoved his cock deep. She welcomed each thrust, her body struggling to catch up with the willingness of her mind, making him aware of each inch of hardness pushing through her tightness. God, it was glorious, and he wanted to come....