The Vacant Chair (21 page)

“Ohhh,” she gasped, lifting. Her hands clutched at his hair, demanding more. 

His head swam as the sweet scent of her arousal reached him. Holding her still with his weight, he worked two fingers into her and pressed upward, searching for the spot that would give her the most pleasure. He knew he’d found it when her hips jerked and a broken moan spilled from the back of her throat. She was so responsive to his every touch, so uninhibited. His muscles trembled with the effort of holding back.

Justin withdrew his fingers and swirled them in slow circles across her glistening nub. She let out a choked cry and buried her face against his shoulder. All his protective instincts lit up.

“Shhh,” he crooned in reassurance, leaning more of his weight on her. Anchoring her with his body as he drove her higher. “Don’t hold back. Give me all of you.” He kept circling that fragile bud and made note of her every subtle movement that told him what felt best for her.

Brianna panted against his throat and dug her fingers into his back. She trembled beneath him, face flushed, eyes squeezed shut. Exactly as he’d imagined her in his fantasies, only a thousand times better. Her erotic cries sliced through him.

“I know, love,” he murmured against her breast, slowing his touch a little. Caressing the sensitive bundle of nerves. “So sweet.”

She turned her head away with a gasp. “Please.”

“Shhh.” He stretched out over her to drop fervent kisses over her chin and nose, across her cheeks and eyelids. With an inarticulate sound of need, she grabbed his shoulders and twisted her head to find his mouth and stroke her tongue against his. Breathing hard, Justin rose up on his forearm. Brianna held his gaze and raised her hips, bit her lower lip as the head of his erection lodged against her. He stopped, held himself still though his body screamed at him to plunge inside her.

His beautiful wife lay panting beneath him, offering her body and heart to him. This was his chance to show her what she’d meant to him all these long, lonely months. He would give her unspeakable pleasure in return for every soothing touch she’d given him in the hospital, for every time he’d dreamed of her when he’d laid his head down at night, shivering out in the field. He wanted to love her with all the longing he’d carried in his heart, through the hell of war and his brother’s horrific death.

Staring down into her luminous eyes, Justin flexed his hips and buried himself inside her. With a throttled groan he dropped his head to her shoulder, struggling to hang on. Brianna squeezed him so tightly every ripple of her internal muscles threatened to send him over the edge. His hands fisted in the sheets beside her head. Sweat broke out across his skin at the sweet friction of being inside her. He shuddered, tried to breathe.

“More,” she whispered, arching up.

Justin lifted his head, shifted his weight and reached a hand down to where their bodies joined. He stroked the swollen bud that throbbed under his fingers, caressing it in lazy circles as he watched her face. The sounds she made turned sharp, plaintive.

Giving rein to the savage need inside him, he thrust into her with a hard, deep rhythm as the pleasure intensified. A ragged sound escaped him. So damn close… 

“Yes,” she urged.

He slid his tongue into her mouth and gave her what she wanted, swallowing her frantic cries as he took her hard and fast. The incredible friction intensified, and the feel of her hands digging into his shoulders sent a dark thrill through him. Her breathing changed, turned shallow. She threw her head back, and the muscles deep inside her body clenched around him.

Justin rode her hard and fast, the ropes under the mattress creaking as he watched her ignite. Her pink lips parted in a throaty cry, her body pulsing in the throes of release. His cock swelled, caressed by every intimate flutter. Sensation rocketed down his spine as he held her there, release racing toward him. Helpless to stop it, he let out a guttural cry and exploded, the pleasure so intense he couldn’t breathe. When the spasms finally faded, he dropped his head next to hers on the pillow and breathed in her scent, limp and satiated. He couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it.

A long time later, Brianna began raining gentle kisses on his face. He raised his head to find her eyes were damp with a sheen of tears. His beautiful, amazingly erotic wife. “Bree,” he whispered in awe. He had no words. None at all.

“Hmmm.” Her sigh was dreamy. “That was definitely worth the wait.”

With a laugh, Justin kissed her smiling mouth. “Glad you think so.” And to think this intimacy would only get better between them with time. He turned them so she was sprawled against his chest and soothed her with sweeps of his palm over her back, tender kisses across her face.

She pushed his hair away from his temples and gazed up at him with languorous silver eyes. “I love you.”

He grinned. “Love you too.” Wrapping her up in his arms, he pulled the blankets over them and ran one hand over her curves, savoring the velvet of her skin against his palm. So far, marriage was even better than he’d imagined.

Chapter Twenty One

Detroit, MI 

January 9, 1865

“Let’s go, Bree.”

She didn’t want to.

“Come on.”  Chuckling, Justin took the hand she’d wrapped around the carriage door latch and pried her stiff fingers loose.

She wasn’t ready to do this yet. The two-story brick manor loomed outside the coach window, shadowy and imposing. She wished they’d stayed in Winchester for the rest of their honeymoon instead of coming to Detroit to stay with his mother.

Justin sighed at her reluctance. “Angel, we’ve been stuck in here long enough. Stop worrying. There’s no reason to be nervous.”

That was the second time he’d said that, and she still didn’t believe him.

Because
he
was the reason she was so nervous. In the three days since they’d left Winchester, he’d become increasingly remote and withdrawn, so unlike the attentive, affectionate husband she’d come to know. And his posture had changed the moment the Detroit rail station had come into view outside their frosted train car window. The whole carriage ride to the house he’d been distracted. He wasn’t looking forward to coming home. Was it because Mitch was buried here? Or was it because he dreaded seeing his mother? He’d already warned Brianna that she wouldn’t be herself, still grief stricken over Mitch.

Whatever was bothering him, Brianna was about to find out what it was.

He tugged again. “Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

She allowed him to help her climb out, then gripped his arm and followed him to the front door, mentally preparing herself for meeting her mother-in-law.
What if she doesn’t like me?

She didn’t know why the thought came to her. She hadn’t even met the woman yet, so what could she have possibly done to earn her dislike? It was just that she’d known Caleb’s parents for years before he had asked for her hand.

Justin glanced down at her and caught her chewing her lip. He gave her a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine. I love you, and so will my mother.”

Heart racing, she smoothed her hair. What a sight she must be, with her traveling outfit all wrinkled and her hair mussed. She wanted to make a favorable impression.

The door opened, and she almost retreated a step when a tall, gray-haired tornado roared out and grabbed Justin in a bone-crushing hug, crowing in a thick Scottish accent. “There’s my lad!”

Justin removed himself from the woman’s arms to introduce her. “Aggie,” he announced proudly, “this is my beautiful wife, Brianna.”

“Brianna!” Aggie crowed, holding out her arms to envelop her. “Praise be! I’m the housekeeper and mistress of the kitchen, among other things.”

Brianna gasped at the strength of the woman's grip and darted an uncertain look at Justin, who eyed them in obvious enjoyment. She patted Aggie’s back, her cheek smothered against the ample bosom. What would Mrs. Thompson’s welcome be like if this was the housekeeper? “Hello, Aggie,” she managed, pulling her face from its apron-covered cushion. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Aggie grinned at her. “Och, saints! Did ye hear the lass? She’s
pleased to meet me,
she is. Such a polite little miss. My, my, I never did meet anyone with such nice manners.” She released Brianna long enough to let her straighten and then grasped her upper arms to hold her still. “Oh! Isn’t she a picture.” She gave Justin a wink. “She’s a keeper, she is.”

“Glad you think so, Aggie. I agree.”

Aggie took each of them by the arm and ushered them inside. Brianna caught the smug look Justin gave her that said,
I told you so.

The house was enormous, filled with dark wood and the lemony scent of furniture polish. Everything gleamed with a rich luster, from the parquet floor where she could almost see her reflection to the walnut banister that led up a curving stairway. The place smelled clean and fresh, and the rooms she could see from the foyer were inviting and cozy, despite their grandeur.

Shuffling footsteps from above made her look to the upper landing. Someone hovered there, hidden in shadow. Justin came up behind her, and Brianna sensed his sudden tension as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Hello, Mother.”

The figure stepped into the light, and Brianna swallowed a gasp. This was Justin’s mother? She was diminutive, almost shrunken in her shroud of black. Her grayed hair was pinned back into a severe chignon that pulled at the skin of her eyes. As she made her way down the stairs, her gait was stiff and awkward, making her look much older than she was. Her white fingers clutched the edges of her black shawl together at her throat. No smile of greeting showed on her pale, pinched face, or on the thinned, bloodless lips. Her dark eyes were sunken, her cheekbones sharp blades beneath her skin. The shadows beneath her eyes looked like bruises.

Justin’s hand tightened a fraction on her shoulder. Unease settled in Brianna’s stomach. She waited in breathless silence to see how this would go, but she already feared the worst. Just as she’d dreaded, this was not a happy homecoming. Her heart bled for Justin.

His mother paused on the lowest step and curled skeletal fingers around the newel post as if she needed the support to hold her upright. She cleared her throat and managed a hoarse, “Hello.”

That was all. No cry of gladness at seeing her only son. No hug. Not even a smile.

Brianna’s gut knotted. This was awful. Obviously the woman was unwell, but still she would have expected his mother to show some sign of warmth or gladness. The silence stretched taut as a wire between them. Brianna stepped into the breach, desperate to make things right.

“I’m Brianna,” she said, stepping away from Justin. As she approached to shake the woman’s hand, her steps faltered. Mrs. Thompson stared at her out of sunken eyes, but her expression remained curiously blank. Brianna cast a furtive glance over her shoulder and caught the grim set of Justin’s jaw. She gathered her nerve, put on a smile to face her once more. “I’m…your new daughter-in-law.” Had she not received Justin’s telegram informing her of the marriage?

The woman might have been a statue for all the reaction she gave.

Keep talking. Smooth it over
. “I’ve heard so much about you, and I’m pleased to finally meet you.” She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. Even if the wedding news came as a shock, didn’t she remember the letters Brianna had sent to her when Justin was in the hospital, and afterward, when he and Mitch had come home to recover?

Those thin lips pursed into a harsh line then smoothed back out. A flicker of movement, nothing more.

Utter silence filled the room. Brianna swallowed the lump in her throat, not knowing what else to say. Justin came to her rescue, saving her from more embarrassment by pushing past and going up to his mother. He bent to draw her into his arms, but the tiny woman remained stiff, her eyes glassy, almost vacant. After a second he stepped back, and Brianna caught the flash of pain on his face. It almost broke her heart.

“Perhaps Aggie could make us some tea,” he said in a rough voice.

He returned to take Brianna’s elbow but wouldn’t meet her eyes. She wanted to draw him into her arms and comfort him, and refrained only because it would hurt his pride. Wanting to be anywhere but it this dark, depressing house, she nonetheless let him escort her to the parlor and seat her before returning for his mother.

Aggie bustled in with a hopeful expression. “How did it go?”

Brianna swallowed. “I…I think it might be best if we stayed somewhere else.”

Aggie made a scoffing sound. “Nonsense. This is his home, and yours now too. The both of you are welcome anytime. The mistress…she isn’t herself these days.”

Ever since Mitch had been killed, she meant. “Has she been like this since it happened?”

“Aye. Though she’s improved somewhat.”

This was
improvement?

“Tonight’s the first time she’s been downstairs.” Aggie’s eyes darted to the doorway, a pucker forming on her brow. “How’s my dearest lad taking it?”

Brianna wrapped her arms about her waist. “He’s…”
Devastated. Guilt-stricken.
“He’s bearing up.”

Aggie shook her head. “Poor lad. I was so hoping seeing him would snap her out of it, but I suppose I was bein’ fanciful.”

Brianna sensed great kindness in the woman. Judging from how warmly she’d greeted Justin, she loved him to pieces, and Brianna knew she had an ally where her husband’s welfare was concerned. “What should I do?”

The other woman’s eyes filled with sympathy. She set a motherly hand on Brianna’s arm. “Just love him, lass. Love him with all ye’ve got. Lord knows the missus won’t be able to. Not for a few months, maybe years. Maybe never. She was bad the first time, but this…” She shook her head. “This about killed her, it did.”

Brianna frowned. “The first time?”

“Och, aye. After the master died in the last war, she didn’t come out of her room for months, and that’s when she had both the wee lads to cheer her. Took almost two years to get her off the laudanum.”

Laudanum
. Of course. Why hadn’t she recognized the signs and symptoms right in front of her? The unnatural pallor, the gauntness, the glazed expression. The grief was part of it, but the drug explained the total lack of emotion. Well, Brianna could definitely do something about that, couldn’t she? She’d wait a while, see if things improved, and if they didn’t, with Justin’s permission she could intervene and wean her off the medication.

His booted footsteps hit the parquet floor, and a moment later he appeared in the doorway. His expression was set, shoulders stiff. “My mother won’t be joining us tonight. She’s retired to her room with a headache.”

An excuse? More likely another symptom that she was addicted to the laudanum and became ill when she went too long between doses. Brianna held her tongue, in truth relieved that they wouldn’t be forced to suffer more of what they’d endured in the foyer. She hated to see him hurting like this, though.

She rose and slid her hand into his, twining their fingers together, and gave him a loving smile. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen? I can help Aggie, and you two can catch up.” She tugged on his arm, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes full of gratitude.

“I love you,” she told him simply. Mitch would have wanted him to find love and happiness, she was certain of it. When she glanced back at Aggie, she saw tears in the woman’s eyes.

“You know, lad,” she said to Justin, “you definitely picked a keeper with this one.”

He smiled a little and stroked his hand over Brianna’s spine. “I sure did, Aggie.”

****

The next few days passed with no improvement between Justin and his mother. Mrs. Thompson spent most of the time in her room, taking meals only if someone brought her a tray. Brianna and Aggie made a valiant effort to lift Justin’s spirits, but the tension was already taking an emotional and physical toll on him. She’d noticed it the first night there.

Brianna woke every morning alone in their bed, and at night when Justin came up—if he didn’t wander the house all night or sleep elsewhere—he crawled in beside her long after she was asleep and didn’t reach for her. During the day, he’d been at the lumber mill to meet with his foreman, to the bank to discuss his finances, and to his lawyer to amend his will, making her a beneficiary. On the second night he’d had a bad nightmare, and when she tried to talk to him about it he’d shut her out and left the room.

Brianna attempted to ignore how lonely and isolated she felt, telling herself he was grieving all over again, for both Mitch and his mother. As much as she could, she gave him his space. But the last time she’d tried to initiate physical intimacy, Justin had instead turned her onto her side and pulled her back against his chest and pretended to sleep. Not like him at all.

His withdrawal from her might not have worried her so much if she hadn’t noticed the smell of the whiskey on him last night when he finally came to bed. That, coupled with the shadows beneath his eyes and the buried pain in his expression, made her feel as if a giant fist squeezed her chest. Being here was the last thing any of them needed. They should leave well enough alone and go back to Winchester, enjoy what little time remained of Justin’s leave.

On the fourth day of their visit, she was in the kitchen with Aggie when her eyes strayed to the door off the main hall that was always closed. No one ever went in there but Justin’s mother, Aggie had said, except to clean. “Aggie, what’s so special about that room?” she finally asked.

Aggie paused in the midst of mashing potatoes, lips flattening into a hard line. “That’s the den, lass. Mr. Brandon’s portrait and chair are in there.”

Justin’s father. Justin avoided the room, too, she’d noticed.

Looking around to ensure they were alone, Aggie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Nothing’s been changed since the day he died. Not one thing. His pipe and tobacco pouch are still on the side table where he left them, and his empty tea cup is still beside his chair.”

A shrine. To a dead husband.

At her shocked expression, Aggie sighed. “Might as well see it now. You’ll understand better what I’m sayin’ to ye.”