A Seven Year Hitch (15 page)

Her own feelings were in turmoil. She enjoyed being in his company and savoured their verbal duels and battles of wit for he really was a worthy opponent.  Erica was also intensely aware of the physical attraction she felt towards him and that she found frightening. Much against her better judgement, she was falling deeply in love with her husband but seven years of anger and negative feelings for him could not be jettisoned easily. He had married her and abandoned her and as yet, had not actually offered any feasible explanation for either action.

She was also unsure of Trevellyn’s feelings.  It was obvious he wanted to keep her as a wife, but whether it was for convenience sake or as a matter of pride, was unclear. Whatever his reasoning, Erica felt that it would not be sufficient enough to turn their sham marriage into a reality. Fundamentally, she was a committed romantic who wanted a marriage built on a mutually deep and enduring love. To love Ross so deeply but not be loved in
return would be difficult to bear, and Erica was determined to save herself from such pain and humiliation. Recognizing her own weakness whenever he took her into his arms, Erica knew it was imperative to keep her distance. He was, she disdainfully acknowledged, an experienced seducer and therefore dangerous for someone as innocent as she in the arts of lovemaking; but she had been blessed with a sharp intellect and was determined to use it to win the wager.

Several days after the ghost walk the weather, to everyone’s discomfort turned heavy and sticky. The older family members opted to stay indoors, occupying the rooms out of direct sunlight that offered some relief from the heat, while the younger people decided that swimming in the lake and making use of the shade of the trees was the only way to keep cool. Having established that everyone was happily ensconced in his or her chosen activity, Erica spied the chance of catching up with some pressing business matters. She had ensured that Ross went down to the lake by simply indicating to Gerald that she would be joining him and the others just as soon as she had consulted Mrs. Kavanagh about the dinner menu. As she had expected he had informed Ross of her intentions without delay and she was able to wave them off with a sigh of relief.

The menus had been sorted in advance and so, after a quick check with the housekeeper that everything was in hand, Erica was able to retreat; not to the study where the main estate business was carried out but to her own little office, which was tucked away beyond her private parlour. Within minutes she was engrossed in letters, documents and business proposals.

Trevellyn waved to Erica but upon her turning away, excused himself to his brother-in-law and hurried back to the house. He had waited patiently for several days for just such an opportunity as this to get his wife alone. The fact that she had been avoiding a tête-à-tête with him, he interpreted as a positive s
ign for he was sure she was succumbing to their physical attraction and did not trust she could withstand his onslaught. All the more reason therefore, to push his advantage.

Upon reaching the house, he knew enough of Erica’s movements to know that she would seek out the housekeeper in her own quarters near the kitchens. Glad for his years as a spy that meant he was adept at becoming ‘invisible’ when tracking a quarry, Trevellyn waited for her to finish her brief conversation with Mrs. Kavanagh before furtively following her to a part of the house he had hitherto not visited.

              Cautiously opening the door through which Erica had passed moments before, he was surprised to find a pleasantly decorated, cosy sitting room furnished very much for comfort rather than show. The sofas were saggy and faded, enticing one to flop down into them with a good book or for an afternoon nap. Bookshelves lined the alcoves beside the fireplace and upon browsing he realized that Minerva Press novels rubbed spines with business directories and studies on modern farming. Personal affects were littered around the room and the walls were hung with watercolours and sketches with a variety of themes from landscapes and portraits to still life and even, he noticed, the finger painting of a young child. Relatives of the Wilmshurst family were responsible for them all. In one frame were several handprints and on closer inspection, he realized that each pair of little hands had a name and date written neatly beneath. Trevellyn found the prints of a five-year-old Erica and also those of Gerald, Charlotte, Stephen and Fiona at a similar age. The overwhelming atmosphere of the room was one of family love and belonging, making him all the more determined to make his marriage work, for it was where he wanted to belong and where he wanted to see the handprints of his own children; his and Erica’s. 

Of his wife
there was no sign but an unobtrusive door in the far corner of the room stood slightly ajar. Careful to tread quietly and not to alert her to his presence the Marquis edged closer until he could gently push it open and see into the room beyond.

His elusive wife was sat behind an old, paper strewn, desk engrossed in studying those papers, occasionally scribbling notes and referring to a book that lay open at her elbow. Ross propped himself against the door frame and folded his arm
s, drinking in the sight of her; hair tumbling around her shoulders, fingers stained with ink and a frown of concentration fixed upon her face. She was so wrapped up in her employment that she did not immediately perceive his presence, and it was only as she tossed her hair out of her eyes and reached for yet another piece of paper, that she noticed him.

To say that she was shocked and annoyed at seeing him was an understatement and she made her feelings quite clear on the matter.

“Why are you sneaking around Trevellyn, like some reprehensible thief? These rooms are my own personal domain and not open to guests, so please take yourself off. Immediately!”

“Is that any way to greet your husband, Erica?”

“It is the only way to greet you, My Lord. You seem impervious to more polite hints. Now please go away, I’m busy”

“You have been avoiding me, wife dear.”

“We are in each other’s company for most of each day.”

“That is not what I mean and you know it, s
weetheart. You are afraid of me,” Ross said

“How can you say that? When have I ever shown the least fear of you? ” Erica asked incredulously, and when he remained silent she added. “I am not afraid of you.”

Ross pushed himself away from the door and sauntered towards the desk before saying,

“Prove it. Come and kiss me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That would not prove anything!”

“You’re afraid of me. Or more importantly afrai
d of the affect I have upon you,” he repeated with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders, silently challenging her to prove him wrong.

For a moment their eyes locked hers defiant, his testing, but commonsense came to her aid.

“No.” She muttered, looking back down at her desk and ignoring his teasing laugh.

Trevellyn wandered around the desk and peered over her shoulder, interested to know what had held her attention so thoroughly before he had interrupted her.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh nothing much.” She hurriedly gathered the papers and her notes into a pile and shoved them into a drawer before standing and walking around the desk away from him.

“There are an awful lot of papers for ‘nothing much’,” he said as he followed her.

Erica returned to her side of the desk and picked up the large, red, leather-backed tome, holding it in both arms before her, as if making it a shield.

“What book are you reading?” he asked as he pursued her.

Erica moved again.

“Woman’s literature, My Lord,” Erica answered, hoping to put him off.

Trevellyn leisurely followed her again.

“Oh what’s the title, maybe my mother has read it?”

Erica was getting dizzy but did not dare relinquish the safety of the desk.

“I doubt it. It’s an obscure book by some unknown writer”

Trevellyn turned and walked the other way around the desk.

“It would make an excellent present then, for I could be sure that she hasn’t read it.”

She turned and walked back to the front of the desk.

“No, I believe it would make an awful present. It isn’t very good. I probably won’t even finish it.”

He ambled after her.
“What is it about?”

Erica quickened her pace.
“A nosey, arrogant lord, My Lord.”

“Not a realistic character then
,” he stated keeping pace.

“Oh I don’t k
now. He resembles a Lord I know,” she smiled archly, continuing her navigation of the desk.

“Erica. Stand still
!” Ross commanded softly.

“I think not, My Lord
,” she replied making a dash for the exit with an impressive turn of speed for someone carrying a large, heavy book.

Ross anticipating her move was already around the desk before Erica had a chance to reach the open door but she was not deterred. Releasing one hand to hitch her trailing skirts, she ran into her sitting room but was not able to avoid being seized from behind. She lost her balance and toppled to the floor, taking Ross down with her.

She lay face down; pinned by his body with the book wedged under her and his arms still clasped around her. She wriggled in an attempt to dislodge him and heard him groan. She was immediately concerned, fearing he may have hurt himself in the tumble, perhaps even hitting his head as they had fallen perilously close to an occasional table set beside the sofa.

“Are you hurt?” s
he asked whilst wriggling again; this time endeavouring to roll over.

“Don’t squirm like that, sweetheart!” he groaned hoarsely.

Belatedly understanding the cause of his discomfort, Erica managed to free an elbow and poked him hard in the ribs.

“Get off, I can’t breathe
.”

Sighing theatrically, Ross released his hold of her and raised himself just enough to allow her to breathe more easily. He then placed his hand on her bottom and gently squeezed it.

“Stop that!” Erica squealed, struggling to get up.

“God! I want you!” was his only response and he began to stroke her buttocks in a shockingly intimate way, fully aware that the desire it stirred in him was also affecting her.

“Do you really want me to stop, Erica?” he asked as he felt her quiver under him. “Or would you prefer me to show you some more sensual delights?”

He lowered his hand to her leg and slowly, provocatively, stroked upwards, along the outside of her thigh before lowering it again and trailing it up the back and onto her bottom.
With each stroke Erica’s breath shortened and she had to clinch her teeth against crying out and begging him to satisfy the longing building within her.

“Your body torments my dreams, wife
,” Ross confessed, once again squeezing her voluptuous behind.

His use of the word ‘wife’ penetrated the fog of desire clouding Erica’s mind and cleared her head in an instant.

“No. I won’t give in. You will just have to control your lust, Trevellyn.” She pushed against him and he let her up, well aware that he had made a serious error by referring to her as wife.

However all was not lost because, as he surmised, they were unlikely to be disturbed in this part of the house and he was damned if he was going to let her escape without at least one kiss. Erica still clutched the book and look poised for flight so instead of approaching her, he sat on one of the saggy sofas and crossed one elegantly clad leg over the other. 

“Slipped up there didn’t I, using the word ‘wife’?” he smiled sheepishly at her.

“Yes, you did,” s
he returned his smile and visibly relaxed at his tone.

He glanced around the room.

“This is a fantastic room. No wonder you keep it all to yourself. And these sofas are incredibly comfortable. It appears I made a mistake in lusting after you when it’s these sofas I really want. Perhaps we could come to some sort of deal. I’ll negate our marriage and take them instead,” he joked.

“I’m sorry, Ross. No deal. I could not p
ossibly part with them,” she played along with his banter.

He was elated that she had used his name but pretended nonchalance as he said.
“I’ll just have to put up with you then. A small price to pay for such luxury, I suppose.”

“How about I give you the name of the manufacturer then you could have your own made. Perhaps in
something a little less flowery; say a plain gold or red?”  Erica was glad to be back on surer footing.

“But I fear the comfort of this has come about with use over time, a new one would not be the same. It has to be this
one and its partner, I’m afraid,” Trevellyn pointed out.

Erica excused herself for a moment and returned the book to her office closing the door firmly when she came back.

“How about we go to the morning room and I can ring for refreshment?” she suggested brightly.

“No, for that would disturb Aunt Clara and my mother who are already in there. I’ve got a better idea. How about we stay here and take pleasure in each other’s company, undisturbed by either relatives or servants.”