by Raine Miller
Her voice only seemed to inflame him more. “Chérie, you smell soooo good. You’re soooo soft and beautiful,” he muttered, kissing down her throat and opening the neck of her gown in an attempt to take it off her.
“What? Graham?” She smelled the whiskey on his breath and could hear his garbled words. “Are you foxed?” she demanded.
“Yes, chérie, but I love you…soooo much,” he purred, pushing her gown down to her waist. “I know you are vexed with me, chérie. I don’t know why you are.” He kissed her mouth, demanding a response, his tongue preventing her from speaking. “What did I do? Please, chérie?” His hands began to claim her. “Let me…please, Imogene, I need you.” Caresses growing more urgent, his mouth devoured the flesh of her breasts. “Tell me you want me too. Please tell me.” The words tumbled out of him, the desperation in them clearly audible.
“I do,” she assured, moving against him, “I do want you, Graham.”
Even in his inebriated state, Graham comprehended her willingness and forcibly tugged her gown off, before ditching his own garments. Once he pressed into her and felt the full contact of their skin coming together, he sighed a great relieved breath. “You feel so heavenly and soft, and I love you so much. You are my everything—I need to be inside you,” he rambled, the words coming out breathy and disjointed.
Imogene felt his hands move over her, touching and penetrating with determined purpose. She wanted him, no question, completely aroused and yearning, her full attention awaiting on him. He had her splayed out underneath him, hands entwined. She relished the whole exquisite length of him covering her. “Ah…oh…Graham…” she moaned as he slid his cock into her hard and deep, and began to move.
He thrust into her with delectable intensity. Just a little more. Almost…there…almost. Imogene pushed herself toward that desired, glorious end of pleasure. But it was not to be, because he climaxed right then. Looming over her, she felt him stiffen. No…not yet! He groaned and spilled into her, shuddering out his release. No…no…NO!
Graham felt like a log on top of her, not moving. You have got to be joking!
“Graham?” She nudged him. He cannot be asleep…leaving me unfinished like this. “Graham!” she barked in frustration. Nothing from him. No response except the heavy breathing telling her he was indeed alive. Realizing the futility of her situation, she pushed hard at his shoulders and shouted, “Get off, Graham.” Still nothing. She struggled and wriggled, eventually extricating herself out from underneath his limp, comatose form.
Her husband was out cold, sprawled on his stomach, looking quite peaceful and content.
She studied him ruefully for a moment before leaving the bed to clean the effects of him from her.
Imogene had much to ponder when she returned seeing Graham still snoring softly, unaware in his slumbering unconsciousness. She sighed heavily, feeling guilty for how she’d treated him downstairs.
He was hurt. I hurt him and I must make amends when he wakes. I don’t know why I was so unkind and horrid to him.
But if she was honest she did know why.
Imogene was jealous and there was no getting around the idea. She was jealous of the women he had known in his past, the artist’s models he had seen…and been intimate with. She was jealous of the life he had lived in Europe before her and she wanted to punish him for it, even as irrational as she knew that to be. Last night she’d been feeling emotional and a little heartless, she knew she’d been cruel but in the moment hadn’t been willing to try to come to terms.
You cannot be angry with him. You caused the whole thing. Wounding with your words and turning away from his kiss until he was so anxious with worry he drank too much. When have you ever seen him drunk? Never! He came to you tonight begging for reassurance. Let go of your angst. He is nothing but honorable and good at every turn. You know he is the best of men. Whatever happened before cannot be undone and forcing guilt for his past is cruel and unfair. It has been very painful—his past—and he was entitled and likely to seek out comfort somewhere. You were wrong to treat him as you did. You know how much he loves you…and how much you love him.
Imogene’s conscience told her what she needed to hear and she vowed to make amends to her beloved on the morrow.
The next morning when she woke before him it was no surprise. The spirits he had over-imbibed the evening before were still holding sway over his body. For now.
Imogene quietly removed herself to the adjoining dressing room, rang for Hester, and prepared for her day. It was early but she wished to get outside and take advantage of yet another blessing of pleasant weather. She met Mina at the stairs on her way down to breakfast. “You have arisen early, Imogene. Are you well?”
“Very well this morning, thank you, Mina.”
“The men were deep into their cups last night I believe. Is Graham still feeling the effects of it?” Mina asked with a grin.
“I fear so,” she remarked, shaking her head. “I have left him undisturbed. I wish to be outside on this fine morning. What are your plans, Mina?”
“I was just going in to have a quick bite and some tea. Then I thought to be off for a walk. You are most welcome to join me if you are inclined to it. I often walk early in the morning, although Julian does not thrill to my going off all on my own.”
Imogene nodded her acceptance. “I would be delighted to join you. A good long walk would heartily do me good I think.”
“I have just the place to take you—I think you might find it enchanting,” Mina told her.
GRAHAM woke slowly. The cheerfulness of the morning sun belying the havoc being wreaked inside his head that all was well. He suffered through the pounding pain and began to sift over the events that had led him to this point: the rift with Imogene in the evening; the over-indulgence of drink with Jules and Colin; his agreement to ride with them today to view that estate as a possibility for Hargreave; staggering up to bed; Imogene in the bed…
It was here in the sequence of events that his memory betrayed him. He could not recall anything beyond that point, and felt the flicker of unease wrap itself around the cotton that seemed to be stuffed inside his brain.
It is late. I’ve overslept.
Realizing he had agreed to ride today, he moved to get up from the bed. Groaning at the pain that gave the impression of having merrily taken up residence inside his skull, he flipped the covers off.
He was nude.
The flicker of unease from before had now developed into a hammering panic. Damn! What did I do? Did I force myself on her? I could not have…could I? Dear God. No…not that! She’ll never forgive me.
Graham willed himself to think and concentrate. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his escalating anxiety. He remembered a single thought from last night. He remembered thinking he should not do something, but wanting to do it anyway. The words ‘You should not,’ rang true in his memory. There was also a vague but beautiful image of her splayed out on the bed. Damn it all to hell! What does that mean…that I wanted to make love and I did, or that I wanted to, but I did not? Hell, I always want to. Did she resist? What did I do to her? Blessed Christ, please tell me I did not take her against her will. He made an audible cry of anguish, “Imogene, I cannot remember!” He hit his palms repeatedly upon his forehead.
Graham prepared himself for castigation, accepting that it would surely be his fate. There was nothing for it but to face his wife and ask for the truth. He called for Phelps and made haste to dress so he could get downstairs and find her, and see about repairing the disaster in his marriage that had erupted overnight. Headache and malaise dissipated quickly in the rush of panic-laced fear that gripped him in totality.
MINA and Imogene had been walking for a good hour when their destination was finally revealed. She had led them to a hilltop glade covered in light forest. In the middle of the glade was a small circle of nine stones. The location was dreamlike and unusual in that the stone circle was surrounded by woods. The setting and the ancient sto
nes presented an atmosphere of quiet and sheltered peace.
“Oh, Mina,” she breathed. “It is simply magical, a fairy land. What is this place?”
“I thought you might like it. I know you favoured the ruins high above Kenilbrooke estate. Julian tells me the local people call it, ‘The Nine Ladies.’ They are ancient standing stones. Not very large as some are, but ancient indeed. They were set here before the Romans came even into Britain. It is said that Druids turned up to standing stones such as these and used them for their magical arts.”
Imogene absorbed Mina’s every word. “I don’t care who set them here or why, I love this place. It is so captivating…pure magic, Mina. Do you not think so?”
“Oh, I think so. I am just glad you are so delighted with it and that you have an appreciation. I have not long discovered it myself as the weather was not fit for great walks such as this until recently. Shall we sit and take a rest? I do get more fatigued than usual, now.”
“Yes of course, Mina. I am so sorry to have forgotten. You must rest and regain your strength. My sister Philippa told me your body gets tired from growing the baby and you need to take your rest often.”
They both settled their backs against stones. Mina took out a flask of water and sipped. She offered it to Imogene who gratefully took a drink.
“I was thinking that you might be feeling some tiredness, maybe? You have needed to take your own rests, Imogene, I have noted,” Mina said with a gentle smile.
Imogene blushed but could not suppress the excitement she was beginning to feel in greater measure as each day passed. “I admit I do have some suspicions, but I think it is still early to know for certain. I have said nothing to Graham or anyone. My last courses were the third week of February. It is now the third week of April and they are not come. Do you think I have the start of a child?”
Mina took her hand and patted it. “Honestly? Yes, you probably do have the start of a child. You have missed two courses and you are more tired than is normal for you. Other than that, do you feel well?”
Imogene nodded. “Very well, except…I have felt irked and provoked by things that should not be a bother to me. When we return I must beg pardon to Graham, in fact. I was discourteous to him last night, for no reason really. Is peevishness a symptom?”
Mina laughed lightly. “According to my dear father, it is. And he would know, having lived through three such events.” At seeing Imogene’s remorseful expression she reassured her quickly. “Do not fret, Imogene. Graham loves you so he would forgive you anything, especially at your joyful prospect. Do you not believe that he will be in high spirits at the thought of his child?”
“Oh, I believe he will be very happy. I am just not ready to tell him yet, thinking I could wait until his birthday. By then I could be more definite.”
“That sounds very reasonable and sensible, Imogene. I am so glad you are here with us. I hope we have many, many visits such as this over the years. I can see how happy Julian is to have his dear family all together at Everfell.”
“I know. I can see the same happiness in Graham and it is good for him to let go of some of his painful burdens.” She had a pleasant thought and smiled at Mina. “And soon after this visit you will join us at Gavandon, and we will all be together again.”
GRAHAM could not find Imogene anywhere. He inquired to Hester who could only tell him that Lady Rothvale had risen earlier than usual and had gone down prepared for the day. When he asked Hester as to her disposition she said, “My lady was as she always is—proper and elegant, my lord.” Thank you, Hester, for that thorough and insightful description as to Lady Rothvale’s spirits this morning. I am so relieved! He barely managed to hold back the sarcastic thoughts before dismissing the maid with a curt nod. Where are you, Imogene? How are you?
He encountered Jules and Colin in the breakfast room. Both of them nursing strong cups of coffee and possessing the blood-shot eyes fruitful of their particular indulgence of last eve.
“There you are,” Jules croaked, looking him over. “God, Graham, you look quite stalwart, like a man single-minded in his purpose. Are you not feeling ill effects of our indulgence last night? I sure as hell feel it and Colin here could barely make it safely down the stairs.”
“Appearances can be deceiving, Jules. I feel it all right, I can assure you. Say, I am looking for Imogene. Did she leave word with anybody?”
“Yes. Mrs. Lake tells me that she went on a ramble with Mina. Both of them up early this morning, awaking to a quiet house I assume. To be honest, I am grateful she went along. I do not like for Mina to walk so far all on her own. She loves it though,” he said wistfully.
Graham relaxed a little, sitting down to the table with his own portion of strong coffee. He tried to push his anxiety down and away, but it was mostly futile. The gnawing pit of fear inside his heart gripped him fiercely. He nodded his head and grunted monosyllabic answers to the questions and comments directed at him but couldn’t have recalled one word of what was discussed at breakfast.
Mina and Imogene had not returned from their walk when it was time to leave for the ride over to the estate. With a heavy heart weighing him down, Graham accompanied Jules and Colin on their scheduled trip, knowing it would be hours until they returned, until he could make right with Imogene.
MINA and Imogene made their way back to the house at a slower pace than they had left it. Both feeling a little worn but thought the walk to the Nine Ladies had been worth the effort. Mrs. Lake, who was charged with the essential duty to know where her mistress was at all times, greeted them upon their return. “Mrs. Everley, Lady Rothvale, I hope you enjoyed your walk this morning. I informed Mr. Everley you had gone together. I must say he expressed his happiness that you were in company,” she said knowingly, to Mina. “Luncheon is set to be ready in an hour. Miss Vickering and Miss Wilton are in the music room, I believe.”
Imogene wanted to speak to Graham. Her conversation with Mina had cleared away any doubts that lingered about what she needed to do, and she did not want to wait a moment longer. She turned to the housekeeper, asking, “Do you happen to know where my husband might be keeping himself, Mrs. Lake?”
“Oh, Lady Rothvale, they are not here. Lord Rothvale, Mr. Everley and Mr. Colin have all ridden out together late this morning. I am not certain of when to expect their return.”
“Yes, that’s right, Imogene. Julian wished them to view a neighbouring estate that has come up for sale. He seeks their opinion on the suitability, and to evaluate its possibilities for the Hargreaves. I cannot deny I am thrilled at the prospect of them coming to live in Warwickshire. But please say nothing for now, in case you should write to your family as no final decisions have been made.”
Imogene smiled kindly and offered her hopes for a happy result for the Hargreaves. I’ll have to wait after all. Graham, my darling, can you hear me? I am very sorry. Accepting that it would be some time before she could right her wrong, Imogene settled in to quiet indoor pursuits with her cousins and thought of all the things she had to be thankful for, and vowed she would not forget it again.
The hours passed slowly.
Imogene grew more anxious at being separated from Graham.
She hated having this friction between them without possibility of immediate repair. It is all your fault. You caused every bit of it. Think of how he must be feeling. It will serve you right if he rebuffs your apology when he gets it. He would not do that…would he?
Despite her growing despair, the exertion of the morning walk demanded restorative rest. Imogene excused herself and went up to the room intending to lie down with a book for some quiet reading, but within minutes drifted into a dreamless sleep.
THE long morning and early afternoon had stretched interminably for Graham.
The estate had been thoroughly viewed and evaluated, and the three men had lunched at a public house afterward. Now that the welcome view of Everfell was finally in his sights, Graham felt that he could not wait a moment longer to g
o to her. He veritably leapt from his horse and shoved the reins toward a waiting groom before dashing up the steps and into the house. He went directly to the day parlor where he knew the ladies liked to go. Entering the room with trepidation, he bowed in greeting, and was crestfallen to see that Elle, Mina and Cariss were there, but not his Imogene.
“You are back,” Mina greeted him.
He tilted his head in acknowledgement, offered a weak smile and spoke, “I had thought …Imogene…might be in here with you.”
“She has gone upstairs to rest. She was feeling tired,” Mina told him.
Worry flooded him. “Is she ill? It is not like her to sleep in the day.” He frowned.
“I do not think she is ill, just tired. Our walk this morning was quite vigorous,” Mina answered.
“Ladies.” Bowing first, he indicated his impending departure and quickly made his escape.
The girls shared humorous glances all around before Elle disclosed her thoughts out loud. “My cousin is the most besotted husband in all of England. At least it appears that way for others to see. He reads like an open book. I hope that when he finds her, she puts him out of his misery.” They all laughed.
It would have been easier to cut off his own arm, than to keep away from her. He entered the room very quietly and found that she was indeed asleep. He stood and studied her for a moment: so beautiful resting on her side, her hands tucked under the pillow edge. The book she had been reading was next to her on the bed. Tilting to get a glance at it, he smiled, recognizing the volume of Robert Herrick’s poems he had given her at Christmas. That is a good sign. Very quietly he stepped back and seated himself on the settee. He made himself comfortable and focused his eyes onto the form of his sleeping wife, content to stay there watching over her until she was ready to awaken.