Fantasy 03 - Double Fantasy (27 page)

Sarah stepped in so that she and Ophelia were toe-to-toe, and Sarah's wrath was so evident that, for a brief second, Ophelia's smug expression flickered with alarm.

"I'm finished being terrified of you," Sarah stated. "My worst fear has always been that Anne would discover what I had done. You told her, and I survived. Your hold over me is severed."

Ophelia shrugged. "If you assume you can proudly introduce your bastard to the neighborhood, then carry on as you have previously, be my guest. I can't wait to see what happens to you."

Casually, she sat at the table to continue eating her breakfast, but Sarah snatched Ophelia's plate and flung it at the wall. It shattered, eggs and toast oozing down the plaster.

"You are insane!" Ophelia bristled.

"Your days of sponging off Anne are over."

"Says who?" Ophelia replied. "Since this is—and always has been—my home, your gall is astounding."

"We'll see, Ophelia. We'll see who is still standing at the end."

"Yes, we will. Why am I positive it will be Percy and me?"

Sarah looked at Anne. "I'm having the carriage prepared. Would you have the servants pack a bag for me?"

"Why?" Anne asked.

"Jamie Merrick needs to know what's occurring. / am going to London to fetch him to Gladstone."

"He'll never come with you," Ophelia insisted.

"We'll see," Sarah said again.

"Try his mistress's house," Ophelia snidely suggested. "I hear he spends every waking moment in bed with her."

The terrible remark was meant to wound Anne, but Anne would never let Ophelia know that it had had any

effect.

"Sarah," Anne calmly said, "would you tell my husband that I wish he'd come personally, but if he's busy, have him send some of his sailors, would you? They're just as ruthless as he is. Advise him that they should be heavily armed and ready for trouble."

"That's a great idea," Sarah agreed. "I'll let him know. Will you be all right while I'm away? Would you like to go with me?"

"One of us should remain here," Anne asserted.

"If you stay by yourself," Ophelia simpered, "aren't you scared of me and what I might do to you?"

"No," Anne answered. "Jack taught me to shoot a pistol. I intend to load it, then follow you around so you don't have a chance to steal any of the silver."

"If I take anything," Ophelia retorted, "it belongs to me and Percy—not the paltry, common wife of an impostor."

"I'm certain Jamie will have an interesting opinion on the subject," Anne sweetly responded. "Be sure to mention it for me, will you, Sarah?"

"I'll make Ophelia's position very clear."

Sarah spun and hurried out.

.

“A
nne, there you are. I've been searching everywhere."

Anne whirled to see Percy lurking in the doorway of her bedchamber.

Without argument, she'd relinquished the earl's suite to him and she'd moved to the other wing of the large mansion. She'd wanted to be far away from him and Ophelia, and in light of the morning's events, she didn't care to have him dropping by.

In the months he'd been away, he'd begun falling apart. He'd lost so much weight, his pudgy torso turning lean and lithe, and his clothes—about which he'd always been so fussy—were stained and messy. She could smell alcohol on his breath and figured he was inebriated, which was his usual condition. She didn't like dealing with him sober, let alone half-foxed.

"What is it, Percy?"

"You've been quarreling with Ophelia."

"It's much more than a quarrel, Percy. She's pushed me to my limit, and we can't go on as we have been."

"I understand that you're upset, Anne, but it's not your place to order her to leave. I've notified her—and the servants—that she'll be staying."

Anne's temper flared, but she reined it in. At that moment, with little power on her side, it was pointless to fight with him. She would trust that Sarah could convince Jamie to come home as she—Anne—could not, but Anne wouldn't count on Jamie.

While Sarah was away, Anne would talk with the vicar, would perhaps discuss the situation with a lawyer and seek legal assistance.

Percy and Ophelia would ultimately be evicted, but Anne would inform them when she had a few brawny men to back her up.

"Sarah told me about her son," Anne said. "You and Ophelia constantly threatened her."

"We hardly threatened her. Everything we did, we did for her own good."

"How can you justify your conduct?"

"If she wants to make a fool of herself and publicly claim the lad, it's fine by me. The two of you simply need to consider the consequences before doing anything rash."

"I plan to have the boy found, then brought into the house to live."

"Then don't come crying to me if Sarah is shunned afterward."

He walked into the room, so he was between Anne and the door, and an odd prickle of fear slithered down her spine. She felt as if he was blocking her in, and he seemed bigger than she remembered.

He took a step toward her, then another, till he was very close, and she forced herself to keep from retreating. She'd never been afraid of Mm, and whatever peculiar whim had spurred him to visit, she wouldn't be intimidated.

"You know, Anne, I've always been particularly fond of you."

"I'm glad to hear it, Percy."

"And I've been very generous over the years. Haven't I been generous?"

"Yes, you have been."

"If you'd like Ophelia to go, I might be amenable. You'd have to persuade me, of course."

"What would you have me say?" she naively inquired.

"Well, you wouldn't have to actually say anything."

He reached out and trailed a finger down her neck, across her nape, and she was so shocked that she stood there and let him do it. When he kept on—as if he might continue down to her bosom—she slapped his hand away.

"What are you thinking?"

"It could be you and me at Gladstone, Anne. We could rule here. Would you like that? It would please me enormously."

"I'm married to Jamie."

"A minor technicality, I assure you."

He leaned in and trapped her against the bedpost, his body pressed to hers, and down below, his cock was on her leg. He had an erection! Was he insane?

What would make him suppose she'd welcome this type of behavior? He was her cousin, like an older brother. She had no passionate feelings for him, and she'd never given the slightest indication that she was interested in him in an amorous way.

"Percy! Stop it!" She shoved him, but he was heavy as a boulder and wouldn't budge.

"Jamie stole everything from me—even you. Do you have any idea how it galls me to admit that I could have had you, but he had you first?"

"You're mad to reflect on it. I would never have lain down with you."

"I shouldn't have given you a choice in the matter."

He cupped her breast, having the temerity to pinch her nipple. For a stunned instant, she wondered how one man—her husband—could have touched the sensitive spot and sent her into spasms of ecstasy, while another could do the very same but merely be an annoying and offensive nuisance.

Then her wits caught up with her brain, and she groped behind her on the mattress, where earlier she'd tossed a shoe. She snatched it up and whacked Percy alongside the head as she let out a bloodcurdling scream that had him staggering away.

Freed from his weight, she scurried to the hearth and grabbed a fireplace poker. She pointed it at him, menacing him, eager for an excuse to inflict more damage.

"Get out of here," she seethed. When he didn't move, she shouted, "Get out, or when Jamie returns, he'll kill you."

"He's never coming back, so you'll never be safe from me."

"He's on his way this very second," Anne retorted, feigning bravado, her knees knocking together under her skirt.

"So trusting," he crooned, "so gullible. You should have wed me, instead of him. You know it, and I know it."

"I know nothing of the sort."

He started toward her again, not deterred by the poker, and Anne swung it, just missing his ribs. He jumped out of range and reined in his aggressiveness.

"I'll go for now," he vowed, "but you can't keep me out forever."

"I have a lock on my door."

"I have many, many keys."

"If you try to use one of them, I have a pistol that's loaded at all times. I'll shoot you right between the eyes, and I won't even blink."

"Who says I'll give you opportunity to aim?"

He stomped out, and as his angry strides faded, she ran over, slammed the door, and spun the key in the lock. She studied it, deciding it seemed very flimsy.

If Percy truly wished to enter, how sturdy would it prove to be?

Why aren't you at Gladstone?" Jamie snapped. "I've left," Jack curtly explained. "I thought you loved it there." "I was wrong. I loathe it."

"But... who's watching over Anne?" Jamie sputtered. "You were supposed to; we agreed."

"I guess you'll have to find yourself another nanny."

"I don't want anyone else to do it."

"Well then, you're in a pickle, because you've ended up with Ophelia and Percy."

"They're at the estate?"

At least Jamie had sufficient concern to look aghast. On a half-dozen occasions, Jack had written him but received no response.

"Yes, with Percy fully ensconced in the earl's bedchamber."

"He would dare?" For once, Jamie was completely at a loss, and he commanded, "Get your ass back there. Deal with him."

"No," Jack said. "I'm taking the ship and heading out."

"You're what?"

"I'm leaving England. I'm taking the ship."

"Like hell you are. I can't believe you have the nerve to ask if you can use it."

"I'm not asking, Jamie. This is merely a courtesy visit to say good-bye."

Jack walked toward the hall, prepared to depart that very moment, and Jamie huffed, "Just a damned minute. What are you doing?"

"I've told you, but you can't seem to get it through your thick skull."

"That ship is mine. If you presume you can simply take it and go, you've tipped off your rocker."

Jack was so furious that he wondered if he might explode. He stormed over till they were toe-to-toe, loving his brother, hating his brother.

" 'Mine, mine, mine,'" Jack mocked. "You sound like a fucking parrot."

"I won that ship. Not you."

As if Jack could ever forget the brash, reckless boy Jamie had been! How could it be fifteen years later and nothing had changed?

"I was with you, remember? I know how it was."

"I spent my life on that hunk of wood, and I won't let you have it without a fight."

"I was with you every step of the way," Jack fumed. "I did everything you ever wanted. I went everywhere you ever suggested. I participated in every foolish, dangerous raid you ever planned. I stayed at Gladstone for you, while you were here in London, screwing women and gambling your money away. In all that time, have I ever asked you for a fucking thing?"

"No, but that doesn't mean you can have my ship."

"Why is everything yours?" Jack bellowed, surprising them both with his rage. "Why can't something be mine for a change?"

"You don't want anything badly enough to make it yours. You always give in. You always give up. Now get your sorry ass back to Gladstone. You're trying my patience."

Jack hit him as hard as he could. Jamie hadn't been expecting a punch, so he stumbled to the side and knocked over a fussy decorative table, sending whiskey glasses and figurines crashing to the floor. In all their years together, they'd never come to blows, and Jack couldn't describe the careening emotions that had driven him to lash out.

He had such vivid memories of how it had been when they'd first arrived at Gladstone, and he was tormented by them. There'd been a remarkable sense that he was finally home, but it had all been a chimera, and he was frustrated by how little he'd accomplished, by how unwelcome he'd actually been.

He stood, rubbing his knuckles, as Jamie sat up, then stood, too. Jamie was massaging his jaw and eyeing Jack as if he were a rabid dog.

"What the devil is wrong with you?" Jamie seethed.

"I hate it here," Jack lied, in his heart, yearning for Gladstone as he'd never yearned for anything before, but it wasn't his and never would be. "I hate England, and I'm never coming back."

"Is this because of Sarah Carstairs?" Jamie probed, reading Jack's mind. "Why don't you propose to the blasted woman?"

"I did, and she won't have me."

"So you'd go off and leave me—just because she hurt your precious feelings?"

"No, I'm going because you're an obnoxious prick and I can't stand you anymore. Go help your wife. She needs you."

After that, there wasn't much else worth saying. Jack marched away, hoping Jamie would call for him to halt but also hoping he wouldn't. His pull had always been too strong to resist, and Jack was too weary to battle the subtle pressure Jamie could exert.

As Jack reached the threshold, Jamie said, "Just like that? You're really leaving?"

Jack spun around, studying Jamie, anxious to recollect every detail. "Yes, just like that."

Jamie scoffed. "I'm placing guards at the ship, to make sure it's securely tied to its moorings. Don't even try touching it."

"Fuck you. I don't need your paltry vessel. I have my own funds; I'll book public passage." He started out again, then paused. "If Sarah Carstairs comes sniffing around, tell her I have what she's searching for. Let her know ... that ah ... that I'll keep it safe."

"Did you steal from her? Will she demand payment?"

"No. I have something invaluable that she never wanted. You couldn't put a price on it." "What the hell does that mean?" "She'll know."

Detesting how long their parting had turned out to be, he whipped away and left.

*-

What do you think?" Percy inquired. "Do I look like Jamie?" "Oh yes," Ophelia responded, "you definitely look like him."

She assessed her brother, intrigued by the transformation. She'd known that he and Jamie had similar features, but with Percy's recent loss of weight and his having donned a black wig, a fake ponytail in the back, the resemblance was uncanny. Jamie and Jack Merrick could have been triplets instead of twins, with Percy the third wheel. If Percy was spotted, especially in the shadows, in the dark, any witness would absolutely swear that he'd seen Jamie.

She slackened the collar on Percy's shirt and tugged some of the hem from his trousers, so that the fabric billowed around his chest and waist.

"Jamie never wears clothes that are tightly tailored," she explained. "He doesn't?"

"Haven't you noticed?"

"I wouldn't pay him that much attention."

"Relax your shoulders and hips," she advised. "You have to be more loose limbed." Jamie moved as if he anticipated trouble, as if he was a moment away from slipping a dagger out of his boot.

"Like this?" Percy mimicked as he scrutinized himself in the mirror.

"That's excellent. And your mouth ..." She considered, then suggested, "Can you quirk your lips in a half smile, just there on the right-hand side?"

"How's that?"

"Perfect."

Too perfect. She scowled.

She still recalled the night early in the summer, when she'd gone to Jamie's bed and had been rebuffed. While he'd inflicted many indignities on her, she hated him for that humiliation most of all.

Percy was the only paramour she'd ever had, and she'd presumed herself content in their relationship— until she'd met Jamie. The fact that she desired Jamie and could never have him was infuriating, but she would have her revenge, and it would be so satisfying.

Suddenly, Percy spun from the mirror and lay down on the bed!

"Come here," he ordered.

"Why?"

"I want to fuck you while I look exactly like Jamie. I want to pretend I'm him and that I'm forcing myself on you."

"That's disgusting."

"Did I ask your opinion? Just come here." She glared at him. He could be so tiresome, but she'd been bound to him her whole life and couldn't

imagine another path. Yet she had to admit that it was titillating to picture herself trifling with Jamie rather than Percy. If she blew out the candle, it would be sufficiently dark that it would seem as if she were with Jamie.

Would it be more arousing? Or would it be no different, at all?

"If you want me to believe you're Jamie, you need to be a bit more demanding."

"How so?"

She shook her head in exasperation. The man was thick as a brick.

"You've watched him with Anne. He doesn't take no for an answer. So no, I won't climb into bed with you. You'll have to make me obey."

He frowned, ready to berate her for denying him, when he realized what an amusing game she'd devised. He was as excited to play it as she was.

Ever since Jamie had appeared on the scene, Percy had grown more violent in their couplings, but Ophelia wasn't complaining. She enjoyed his more spirited side. It was thrilling to know that—after so many years—Percy still wanted her so desperately, and that she would forever be his one true love.