Lord of the Abbey (13 page)

He had not burned so for a woman since he was infatuated by Lady Alice Swindon when he was eighteen. Lady Alice was nineteen to his eighteen years. Their families were engaged much together in London. Lady Alice, who probably never even noticed him, barely spoke more than a total of ten words to him. The infatuation lasted only a season, remaining completely one sided.

When he next returned to the Grange in Glastonbury for the summer, he discovered Sally Pickley, more appropriately Sally Pickley’s ample bosom, at the White Hart, and he quickly substituted infatuation for the randy lust of a green young man. Harry spent many hours in the company of the buxom and lusty barmaid during the summers when he was in Glastonbury over the next several years. Until he matured and discovered what discreet and delectable delights there were to be found in London. Delights with no strings. No commitments.

There were many peers’ wives who sought dalliances with young and handsome first, second and third sons. And a good many lusty widows, who enjoyed their social freedoms too much to be again confined by marriage. They used liaisons with handsome and passionate men to sate their renowned lust. There was a well-kept mistress for a little over two years. She became too needy. Too confining. In London, there were countless places for a man to slake his lust.

This need was different. He felt it to his toes. This need he possessed for Rowena, was not an infatuation, nor was it mere lust. Though he knew it to be deeper than that, Harry could not name it.

His thoughts cleared somewhat, Harry began to plan his way forward. He entered through the spectacular original Tudor gatehouse opening. The actual gate he guessed to be long gone. His first priority was to see Rowena. To make certain she was comfortable with what transpired between them the previous night. He wanted to make certain she was not frightened by what they shared. He was not sorry for his actions. He had no regrets. He planned on their being more interaction of the same nature between them in the days ahead.

Harry always planned to delay marriage as long as possible, thinking it was a duty, a chore, an inconvenience to the full freedom he finally obtained. Oh, he’d had freedom the whole of his adult years, but he still at times was forced to bend to his father’s dictates and orders on occasion regarding the family businesses and the running of the estates. And he was instructed to do everything the way his father wanted it done.

Now, he was free to do whatever he wished. He thought to taste and savor that freedom for a little while before being chained to a wife. Yet, he always knew that upon stepping into his role as the Earl of Glaston it was his duty to take a wife. To beget an heir. It was expected.

Harry never dreamed there may come a day when he might
want
to pursue a wife. A day such as today. A fine spring morning such as this. Though such thoughts might be considered premature, Harry knew one thing for certain. At this moment he wanted Rowena Locke. In his bed. And to be his wife. To be his Countess. Though he did not understand the why of it, he knew, deep down to his core, he had to make her
his
.

The challenge, he realized, after remembering Rowena’s words the prior evening that she did not want to or need to marry, was to change
her
mind. He guessed that Rowena did not look favorably on marriage, having so narrowly escaped being forced to wed Dalworth. He wanted to help her through her fear. Help her change her mind.

He needed to speak with her aunt. Find out exactly why Rowena feared marriage so. For it was obvious to him, Rowena believed marriage was something to fear, and to run from. He definitely had to help her change the way she viewed marriage. At least, change how she viewed marriage to him. Harry was now, as of this very moment, actively wooing Rowena Locke for the purpose of becoming his wife.

Rowena was mortified. Had she truly kissed Harry Bellingham? Or was it he who kissed her first? She wasn’t entirely certain. It was difficult to remember every little detail. Some parts of it were so foggy in her mind. No doubt because she was tipsy.

No, drunk was probably the better word. She only remembered the most incriminating of her offenses in perfect detail. That she kissed him back.
With her tongue!
Touched the muscles of his chest and abdomen through the linen of his shirt, and almost, oh she wanted to touch his – that, oh
that
– very object which proved the evidence of his desire. The very
hard and protruding
evidence she felt so acutely against her belly. Thank goodness she hadn’t put her hand on it as she remembered wanting to do! Whatever would he have thought of her then? And she was more than a little tipsy. Why he’d practically carried her up the stairs. Pushed her into her chamber.
Oh dear!
Rowena gasped. She behaved shamelessly.

She cringed when she remembered telling him about seeing the ghost of William Dulac. She told herself all the while she dressed to not be surprised if she found out Harry had returned to Abbey Grange at first light. To escape the mad, spinster from Stonedown. And if in fact it was
she
who kissed
him
, stuck her tongue in his mouth first, and because of what transpired between them, he no doubt wanted to escape the mad,
promiscuous
, spinster from Stonedown.
Oh, what he must think of her!
Rowena’s cheeks flamed at the memory.

Rowena decided she could always move to Italy. She liked Italy.

Her cheeks flamed bright red remembering the kiss they shared and how close he held her. And feeling his muscles beneath her hands and that…oh my, his man thing against her belly. Rowena wasn’t sorry. She never enjoyed a kiss so much. She was kissed all of three times in her life, the first two so innocent, a fleeting touch of lips with a young man in Bath when she had been but eighteen, the horrible kisses Dalworth forced on her had never counted. Harry Bellingham’s kisses were quite enlightening. More than enjoyable. Extremely enjoyable. And left her wanting more.

And it was true, she really wanted to touch that…well the
hard
evidence of his desire.
His man thing
. Though she doubted she’d ever get the chance now. Harry Bellingham most likely thought her promiscuous and did not want her touching
his
thing! For, he was probably no longer at Stonedown. She had no doubt Harry Bellingham had fled before dawn. Hardly any doubt. He might have left Stonedown. Still, she hoped he had not. She wished for Harry Bellingham to still be at Stonedown.
Please God, let him stay!
She wanted him to stay.

It was doubtful there would be anymore kisses from Harry Bellingham. He might avoid her. Oh, he probably would. Sir John and Aunt Frances would wonder why.
She’d have
no choice but to move to Italy. Florence perhaps? Maybe Rome? Even Venice might be a nice place to live.
For she couldn’t stand the pain of Harry Bellingham avoiding her. Somehow Rowena just knew that she could not. She was perfectly happy for every other man in the world to avoid her. Just not Harry Bellingham.

Get hold of yourself!
Rowena took a deep breath before leaving her room. There was only one way to find out how Harry would treat her after last night. That was to exit her bedchamber, find him, face him and see what happened. If he were still here. Once she saw him, she would know.
Then she could begin packing her trunks. And depart for Italy. Oh she would miss Glastonbury!
Rowena sniffed and left her bedchamber.

She saw Harry Bellingham in the entry hall near the door as she made her way down the stairs. She nearly froze, however, being in mid step on the stair. She righted the near stumble quickly by grabbing the smooth railing.
Was he leaving?
She felt her heart pounding in her chest. No! Harry was not leaving Stonedown. He was walking toward her.
He was smiling!
Surely that was a good sign!

“
Good morning, Lady Rowena.” Harry waited at the bottom of the stairs, his hand resting on the balustrade, as he smiled up at her.

“
Good morning, Harry.” They were familiar all last evening, no point in going back to the formal now. How could she when his man thing rubbed against her belly and she put her tongue in his mouth?
Oh dear.
Oh, well. She might be moving to Italy soon, in any case.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry offered his arm. “May I escort you to breakfast,” his voice lowered, became a whisper as his lips grazed her ear, “Rowena?”

“
Yes, t-thank you, Harry.” Rowena stole a quick glance at him as she placed her hand on his arm. She was still unsure how he felt about what transpired between them last night. He looked normal. Like he did yesterday and the day before. Kind, congenial.
Hmm?
Oh dear.

“
Lady Rowena, I was wondering if you minded my telling Lyon, Micah and Charlie about the visit you received from William Dulac. I assure you, they will not think poorly of you in any way for seeing a ghost. They will believe you, as I do. I’ve not yet had the chance to explain the complete nature of our society, the Avalon Society. It is not limited to just historical pursuits, but to the study of the paranormal as well. I do believe we should check the wardrobe in your room today, since that is where William Dulac’s ghost was pointing.”

He felt her tense beside him. He placed his free hand over hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze before removing it. “Will you trust me, Lady Rowena, with your secret?”

Would she trust him? Could Rowena trust him? She wanted to. She looked up. Searched his eyes, his expression. In his eyes she saw no mockery, no anger. She did not feel as if she were being manipulated or controlled. Harry merely smiled down at her. It was an irresistible smile, one that made him look even more handsome, if that were possible. Rowena shyly returned his smile. “If you think it best to tell it. I will trust you with my secret, Harry.”

“
I do. Now, is your Aunt Frances aware of your gift?”

Gift? Didn’t he mean curse? Well, he saw ghosts too. She’d wager it was not as complicated for him as it was for her. “Yes, Aunt Frances knows. No doubt Sir John does as well. There are not too many secrets between him and Aunt Frances.”

“
I just needed to know how you felt. I’d never bring any undue discomfort to you. If you do not want me to, I will not bring up the subject before them.”

“
I don’t mind, but can you tell them for me?”

“
Of course, Rowena. I will be honored to relay what took place when the ghost of William Dulac visited you. We shall say you just bespoke it to me as we met in the hall this moment.”

Good thinking on Harry’s part. She did not want to admit to anyone she put her tongue in Harry’s mouth and almost touched his man thing last night.

Together, they fixed their plates at the sideboard in the dining room. Sir John was already seated. Aunt Frances joined them some minutes later. Once the four of them were situated, Harry relayed the tale of William Dulac’s visit to Rowena. Rowena added some of her own comments. Neither Aunt Frances nor Sir John made a fuss. They simply accepted the fact that she saw William Dulac’s ghost as easily as Harry did.

Following breakfast, Rowena and Frances made their guest list for the picnic and Ball. They joined Harry, who was perusing the library for any tomes that might aid in their search. Sir John napped in a large chair before the fireplace until Lyon, Micah and Charlie arrived mid-morning.

Lyon was his jovial and gallant self. Charlie was polite and affable. Micah was hardly able to contain himself. It was Lyon who told of Micah staying up most of the night to read William Dulac’s letter and peruse through
The History of the Dulacs of Glastonbury
.

Black satchel in hand, Micah immediately sat at the large table in the library and began removing numerous books, the letter and a pile of papers from his case. “Sit down, I have much to tell!” He looked up at all, still standing where they were. “Lady Sperring, Lady Rowena, there is a great deal to tell you about your family, the Dulacs. Sit down, please,” he urged, his excitement evident.

“
But Micah,” Frances began as she sat next to him, “in truth we are not Dulacs, but Fotherby’s, because of William Dulac not truly being Lady Dulac’s grandson, you know,” Frances said as the company moved to sit at the massive table.