Saving Marilee Read online

  "Marilee."

  I stood to greet him as he entered, his hands outstretched. "Good afternoon, James."

  He took my hands in his, seeming not the least offended by my brazen arrival as he kissed my knuckles before gesturing for me to sit once more. He searched my face and his eyes filled with concern. "What is troubling you?"

  My defenses broke and I struggled to compose myself before answering. "My husband's brother is at Bridgefield."

  "Edmund?"

  "Yes."

  He narrowed his eyes. "Has something happened? Has he—"

  "I don't know what to think. He's been obliging and helpful for the most part. But just this morning, he tried to dismiss my guard. My guard. The men my father allowed to leave his service so that they could protect me. Edmund wanted to be rid of them and replace them with his own. When I confronted him about it, he backed down, so perhaps I am overreacting. But the only security I have right now is that I am surrounded by men loyal to my father. So I suppose the idea that that might be stripped from me, it just..."

  "Do you wish him to leave?"

  "Yes—no, I—" I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. "I don't know. It scared me, I suppose. The idea that what little control I've gained could be taken from me..."

  He nodded his understanding. "That would be terrifying."

  I nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I don't actually have the right to ask him to leave."

  He thought this over for a minute. "Did you not inherit?"

  "I did, or at least I will. We are waiting for the legalities to be worked out, but it seems oddly delayed. And until it is official..." My words trailed off.

  James tipped his head from side to side, considering his answer. "Then I suppose that legally, you're right. The Rockwells own that house until all titles are in your name. But I've never known them to be completely unreasonable. If you asked him to leave, he would probably do just that."

  "And if he refused?"

  "You could fight it."

  "I don't want to fight."

  "Then you would have a decision to make."

  James was right. I could decide. If I lost my claim on the house, I could walk away. It would actually be a relief in many ways.

  My mind drifted away from the present as thoughts of Damian and Edmund tumbled over each other, trying to make sense of their actions, trying to be brave while keeping my guard up.

  "May I show you something?"

  I snapped out of my thoughts. "Pardon?"

  "You look as though you could use a distraction, and I have something I'd like you to see."

  "Certainly."

  He offered his hand and helped me to rise before curving my fingers over his arm. "It's a project inspired by you."

  The words "Oh dear" slipped from my mouth.

  He chuckled under his breath but otherwise remained silent as he led me two doors down the hall. He released my hand and threw the doors open with a flourish.

  The room was rather sparse. Though it was a lovely room, it was almost entirely devoid of furniture. Even the rugs had been removed, leaving the smooth wood floor, perfect for— "Dancing?" I suddenly realized, turning to him in surprise.

  "Yes, indeed. It occurred to me that if I am ever to become proficient in dancing, I would need to have a space to practice. Of course, that leaves the difficulty of finding a partner willing to put up with my clumsy ways."

  "Looking for compliments?" I teased, while fighting a grin.

  He lifted a shoulder. "Perhaps my clumsiness is a matter of opinion. It is my opinion that my skills in dance could be improved, so I ask in the humblest of terms if you would be so kind as to help me." He gave a formal bow and extended his hand. "My lady?"

  I placed my hand in his and gave a mock sigh. "Is our dancing without music going to become a habit?"

  He stepped into dance position and cocked one eyebrow. "I sincerely hope so."

  A laugh escaped as he pulled me into a spin, setting us off on a whirling circuit of the room. After I missed a step and nearly brought us crashing to the ground, James slowed the tempo, taking us into a steady rise and fall rhythm. I closed my eyes, wishing to savor the moment with our palms pressed together and his hand at my waist.

  He brought us to a gradual stop and I stepped away, my heart lightened. "Do you suppose that was enough practice for one day?"

  "It will do." His voice was quiet, much quieter than I would have expected. He seemed suddenly intent as his eyes roamed over my face.

  He reached for me, the movement of his hand slow, tentative. The uncertainty in his eyes held me captive and I remained still, allowing his fingers to brush my cheek. His eyes followed the movement of his hand as he tucked my hair behind my ear, then ran one finger from my cheek bone to my jaw before shifting his gaze to mine.

  Heat climbed up my neck, burning my ears as I waited for him to do something more. Finally I could stand the pulsing silence no longer and asked in a breathless whisper, "What are you doing?"

  "I'm going to kiss you."

  I could not have been more surprised if he had declared he was going to turn himself into a wolfhound. Kiss me? Whatever for? "Why?"

  "Because you desperately need to be kissed by someone who isn't trying to control you."

  "And you're not?"

  He dropped his fingers from my face, linking both hands behind his back. "No. I'm not."

  His head dipped closer, giving me time to back away or protest. His breath brushed my cheek, and my body tensed, ready to flee. Damian's affections after we were married had been cold. Never violent, but rarely tender. However, this wasn't Damian, and as much as I was terrified, as much as Damian had taught me to dread this situation, there was something in James's eyes, something in the way he had dropped his hand, choosing not to touch me, leaving any physical contact up to me. It made me want to see if maybe, just maybe, he could make me remember what it felt like to want to be kissed.

  My breathing hitched and my heart hurt from the pounding, but I fought down the fear. I closed my eyes and waited for the contact, only to have them pop open when James's voice sounded at my ear, in the softest of tones, "Might I have your permission to kiss you, Marilee?"

  I swallowed the nerves threatening to strangle me and managed to nod, though my hands still fisted and bunched the fabric of my skirt.

  My eyes pinched shut again and I sensed him moving closer, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything beyond breathe and stay upright.

  Finally, I felt the lightest caress on my mouth. His lips skimmed back and forth over my own in a steady rhythm until my breathing had slowed to the tempo of his lips moving over mine, until my mouth relaxed under the gentle caress. He increased the pressure, but only just, only enough to leave me disappointed when he pulled back.

  I opened my eyes, searching his as they delved into mine. The sound of both our breathing filled my ears as I waited for him to move away from me, while hoping he would move closer.

  "Marilee?"

  "Yes?"

  "Might I have your permission—"

  "Yes."

  My answer surprised me just as much as it did him. The corner of his mouth twitched and he brought his hands from behind his back and gently coaxed my own hands away from the now rumpled fabric of my dress. He grasped them in the gentlest of holds, one I could pull away from at any moment. Then he focused his attention on my mouth and bent to kiss me a second time.

  I summoned my courage and did my best to return the kiss. His slow and steady attention to my mouth made my shoulders relax, the fear subsiding as I breathed him in. How had I let Damian turn this—this thing swathed in emotional vulnerability and meant to evoke bliss and passion—into a tool to be used against me? How had I let him twist it into something to fear?

  I didn't want to fear it. I slipped my hands from his and just before he pulled away, I wound my arms around his shoulders and leaned into him, raising up on my toes. His hands slid across my back, pressing me to him for only a momen
t before he loosened his grip, giving the control back to me. I pressed my mouth to his for one long moment before drawing back just enough to search his eyes. His gaze swept my face, like he was checking for injuries. But I wasn't hurt.

  "Thank you for that, Mr. Sutton."

  He blinked, then let the worry slip from his eyes. "It was my pleasure, Marilee."

  We studied one another, one of my arms still wound around his neck as the other gripped his upper arm. I should have let go, but his hands still rested on my back and he didn't seem in any hurry. I found comfort there and was hesitant to let go, but as his eyes strayed to my mouth a time or two, the air thickened and I forced myself to return my heels to the floor and step back. He followed suit, leaving a kiss on each of my hands. "Thank you for the dance, Marilee."

  I bent my head in acknowledgement, too flustered to find words. He guided me toward the door and as we stepped through it, I noticed that Beatrice was situated on a chair just outside the room. She winked at me over James's shoulder. My cheeks burned and I turned away.

  James and I returned to the drawing room and resumed our seats. James smiled and reached up, untangling my hair from around my finger. I hadn't realized I'd been doing it. "So. Edmund has inserted himself at Bridgefield."

  I nodded.

  "And you are worried he will take control of the manor?"

  "Perhaps it is simply my paranoid tendencies, but yes, I am worried."

  "I certainly won't claim that he's a saint, but I think you can expect him to be fair."

  "But my guards."

  "I'm not saying you should trust him implicitly. The incident with your guards is certainly cause for concern. But I should think that if you gave him a chance to explain, you would find that he is not unfeeling."

  "I am more worried that he will think me unfeeling. I am the one who didn't attend my own husband's funeral. I've given Edmund and his family very little reason to think that I am loyal to the Rockwell name. He could very well use that as an excuse to try to shunt me aside. He could say any number of things to undermine my character."

  "I still can't imagine Edmund Rockwell dislodging his brother's widow from her home."

  At that moment, everything came into sharper focus. "Widow." That's what I was. I hadn't thought of myself as a widow, because I wasn't wearing black; I wasn't in mourning over my husband's demise. I felt more like a caged animal finally set free than a poor soul to be pitied. "I'm a widow." I looked down at my hands, which had found their way into his. He had kissed me and it had been...sublime. "I've been a widow for eight weeks and I let another man kiss me." I stood, walking away from James. This was wrong. If the staff talked and word got back to Edmund.... I knew better than this. What had I been thinking?

  James caught my hand, pulling me around to face him. "Marilee, I'm sorry."

  "No." I gently pulled away. "I'm the one that is sorry. I wasn't thinking. Again." I stepped back toward the door. "Thank you for your advice. Good day, sir."

  I scurried from the room, Beatrice following after, and found Falstone waiting in the entry hall. He didn't question my quick departure, but followed me through the front doors and helped me mount my horse.

  Foolish, foolish girl! When will you stop acting like a naive princess? Had I forgotten so quickly the folly of letting my guard down? Had I forgotten my renewed commitment to do the respectable thing and follow the rules? There had been rampant rumors about my reputation and my sanity when Damian lived. It would be simple indeed to resurrect those rumors and slander my name with other accusations. Then I wouldn't be simply adorable and naive. I would be a disgrace.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I MET WITH Mr. Vaden that afternoon to discuss the estate and to be sure that Edmund was sticking to his word.

  "Princess," Mr. Vaden greeted. "I am glad to see you. Lord Rockwell has made inquiries about purchases he plans to make for the estate and I wanted to be sure that it was all done with your approval."

  I blinked in surprise. Bless this man for his loyalty to me.

  "Would you like to look over the requests?" He indicated that I should take a seat and then set several documents in front of me. We went over each item and the cost. I approved each one, as they were all changes that Edmund had already discussed with me. Perhaps he was not quite as underhanded as I had feared.

  Still, after the incident with my guards, I was in no mood to deal with him, so when I finished meeting with Mr. Vaden, I returned to my sitting room and ordered tea. I asked Cecily and Beatrice to join me and though they were reluctant, they obliged me.

  "Tell me what Lord Rockwell has been doing." I blew on my tea before sipping at the rim.

  "More of the same, mostly," Cecily answered. "He seems happy with the state of the new wing now that a few rooms have been opened up again, but continues to inquire about the old wing and why you've settled yourself here."

  "Why wouldn't he simply ask me that question?"

  She shrugged. "He's concerned over the lack of servants, and from what I heard from Mr. Tennsworth, he was right confused about the remains of your bonfire. Can't seem to imagine what would need to be burned, but Mr. Tennsworth and the rest of us aren't about to tell him."

  I smiled at that.

  Beatrice spoke up. "Your guards are keeping a close watch on him. Seems they don't trust him much."

  After the incident this morning, their suspicion was to be expected.

  "Mr. Vaden seems like a good fellow, though." Beatrice kept her eyes on her tea as she said this, and I had the odd suspicion that she was embarrassed over her admission.

  "He is a good fellow," I agreed. "He seems reliable and very competent."

  The sound of a throat clearing drew my attention to the doorway. Edmund stood there, looking confused and perhaps even a little shocked.

  Beatrice and Cecily flew into a flurry of activity. They took themselves and their tea things off in a matter of seconds. I wanted to ask them to stay but knew it would only embarrass them. Edmund stepped out of the way, allowing them to leave with their heads bowed and their eyes averted.

  I remained seated. I should have stood; that would have been the polite thing to do. But he had chased off my friends, leaving me with nothing but a cup of tea for company.

  "Might I join you, Highness?"

  I nodded.

  He entered and brushed off his seat before he sat. "I'm surprised to see you keeping company with your staff."

  "And who else would you expect me to keep company with?" The question seemed to baffle him. "I have no friends outside of this house. Damian prevented my leaving and convinced the majority of his acquaintances that I was mentally deficient."

  "I beg your pardon?" Shock blanketed his face.

  "So you have not heard the rumors?" I stared down into my cup as I stirred. "I suppose that is a bit of a comfort to me."

  "You have no friends? Acquaintances?"

  "I am acquainted with no woman outside of this house. So though it may seem strange to you that I would invite mere servants to sit with me, those women saved my life." I gave him a frank stare. "Forgive me if I don't see the virtue of putting them in their place."

  He thought on that for a moment, the cleft in his chin becoming more pronounced as he sank deeper into his thoughts.

  I sipped my tea, curious to see how he would respond to my admission.

  He rested his forearms on his knees and toyed with his signet ring for a moment. "How did they save your life?"

  I swallowed. "By making me realize I was not what Damian made me out to be. By being friends to me."

  He cocked his head, one eyebrow rising. "It is a shame my sister is no longer living. I believe you two would have liked each other."

  There was a loneliness in his voice and countenance that pricked my heart. He had lost his sister, and now his brother. His parents had raised three children, and only one of them was still living.

  His eyes fell to his hands as he continued to spin his ring. "I want to ask your f
orgiveness for my overbearing behavior where your guards are concerned."

  He looked at me, but I stayed silent, waiting for the explanation I sensed was coming.

  "I am the oldest, so I've always felt a stewardship over the affairs of my family." He lifted his hands in resignation and brought them back together. "It will all fall to me. I enjoy the workings of estate life. It's something that makes sense, something that I can rely on. It was my escape after my sister died. And I suppose I was looking for that escape again by coming here. Looking after this estate, looking after your interests; those were things that I could do, a way to help even though I know that there really is no help."

  My empathy reached out to him, seeing for the first time the evidence of a man lost in grief.

  "I won't try to explain or justify the way that my brother treated you. But he was my brother, and I do mourn for him."

  I nodded, knowing that his grief had nothing to do with whether or not he approved of Damian's life.

  "I've always worried over Damian," he said. "He had a tendency to act before thinking things through. Your whirlwind courtship concerned me."

  "And it turns out you were right."

  His eyes met mine and I wondered if he understood my meaning. But I didn't expound because I had no wish to compound his loss by heaping more accusations at Damian's feet.

  "I think I understand now why you feel so adamant about having your own guards. I had a candid conversation with Mr. Tennsworth. I can't explain just how shocking it was to hear him outline, in such straightforward terms, the way my brother ran his household." His gaze focused on my neck.

  My fingers itched to reach up and cover my scar, but I clenched my fists and held his gaze.

  His eyes fell away. "I want to help you, Highness. I want to repair some of the damage that my brother caused—for your sake, yes, but for his sake as well."

  I only nodded. He sought restitution and there was no good reason not to let him try.